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transmascissues · 2 months

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it's silly but the biggest reason why im not into t yet is bc im so afraid of losing my hair. do you have any solutions/tips for it?

first of all, i don’t think it’s silly — it’s natural to be worried when hair loss is talked about by so many people as like…one of the worst results of aging for men. listening to my dad talk about how much he hates balding definitely did not make me feel particularly good about the knowledge that i may very well be joining him someday. i’m not saying the fear is right, because i don’t think hair loss is something awful that we should avoid at all costs, but it’s an understandable fear given the beauty standards we’re working with, and it’s one that a lot of us (myself included) feel.

one thing that’s helped me is just…paying more attention to the guys that i interact with on a daily basis. i’ve learned two things from it: 1) hair loss is super fucking common. i’d say it’s much harder to find an adult man who isn’t balding at all than it is to find one who’s completely bald. and 2) if you forget everything you’ve been told about how bad hair loss is, you’ll realize that quite frankly, every single one of those guys looks totally fucking fine. it doesn’t ruin their appearance and make them ugly, it looks totally natural and isn’t really even something you’d notice if you weren’t looking for it. we put so much weight on it but it’s really just not that big of a deal. i’ll hear my parents talk shit about men in my family who are losing their hair when i didn’t even notice a difference last time i saw them. it’s one of those things (like so many other appearance-related things) that you really only notice at all because you’ve been taught that you’re supposed to care about it.

this isn’t something i’ve done personally, but if you really want to desensitize yourself to the idea of it, embrace the time-honored queer tradition of just shaving your whole damn head! find out what you’d look like without hair, find out how you feel about it and what you can do that makes you feel good about your appearance without hair, test the waters while it’s still a temporary change and not something permanent. that way, it won’t feel like this big scary unknown, and you’ll actually have a frame of reference for your feelings about how you look without hair rather than accepting the societal assumption that you’ll inevitably hate it. if you don’t want to actually shave your head, you could also just fuck around with bald filters or photoshop and see what happens.

oh, and if you’re attracted to men, keep an eye out for guys who are bald or balding and also hot as fuck. in my experience, there’s no insecurity or potential future insecurity that being gay for other men hasn’t helped me with. just off the top of my head, i can think of a couple actors who i think are absolutely fucking gorgeous who have helped me get over my fears about losing my hair. despite what our anti-aging-obsessed world might want you to think, there is no such thing as a physical feature that automatically makes someone less attractive, and while making attractiveness less of a priority in your life is good, it can’t hurt to also give yourself some proof that actually, you might lose your hair and look hot as hell doing it.

basically, entertain the possibility that it won’t be a bad thing at all! whether that’s just because it turns out to be a neutral thing for you or because you end up actually liking it, it’s not an inherently bad thing. i’ve ended up liking a lot of things that were “supposed to” be bad effects of t — i love the weight i’ve gained and the new shape it gives my body, i get a lot of gender euphoria from the fact that my acne is now on parts of my face that i saw a lot of guys in high school get it and i’m not complaining about the scars i get from it either because i’ve always liked the added texture that acne scars give my skin, and so on. i think there’s a lot of joy to be had in the changes we’re taught to fear, once we look past that conditioning and actually explore how we feel about it.

but if it’s something you really don’t want and you just want to improve your chances of not having to deal with it, it’s not like there’s nothing you can do! products like finasteride (oral) and minoxidil (usually topical but i think there might also be oral versions) are pretty commonly used among trans guys, for the purpose of avoiding hair loss and for other reasons, and there are plenty of other anti-hair loss products out there (though i don’t know how effective any one of them might be). if it’s a big enough deal for you, you can just decide that you’ll go off of t if/when you start noticing signs of it, since no longer having higher t levels would stop the process in its tracks. and if you don’t find prevention options that work for you so it ends up happening, you can always explore different hair styles (judging by the pattern of hair loss i see in my family, i suspect that keeping my hair long would make it less obvious if i started losing mine), find your preferred method of covering it when you don’t feel good about it (personally i love a good beanie generally and would probably wear them a lot more if i didn’t have hair to worry about because my main complaint is the way they press my hair onto my neck), or just shave it all off if you don’t like the look of the partial balding but don’t mind a shaved head. the point being — you have options!

at the end of the day, whether you go on t or not, you’re going to see your body change as you age in ways that aren’t always going to be attractive to others or aesthetically pleasing to you. that’s just the reality of having a body. even if you never went on t, you’d get older and you might see your hair thin out even if you don’t bald, you’ll see your skin start to wrinkle and sag in places that used to be smooth, your metabolism might slow or your body fat might start to gather in new places; hell, you might lose your hair for a totally different reason and end up in the same place but without the benefits of having been on t that whole time. life is full of bodily changes like that. transphobes will fearmonger about the permanent changes of testosterone all day long but the truth is, there is no escaping permanent bodily changes. whether or not you go on t, your body now isn’t the same as it will be in 1 or 5 or 10 or 20 or 50 years, just like it isn’t the same as it was at any point in your life before now. our bodies are never supposed to stop growing and aging and changing throughout our lives. there’s no guaranteeing that we’ll love every single change our bodies go through, but that’s okay! there are so many things in life that are more important than the way our bodies look. even if you go on t and lose your hair and don’t like how it looks, your life won’t be ruined; plenty of other things will bring you joy and more than make up for the insecurities.

just think about the gender euphoria and relief from dysphoria that t could give you. would losing your hair be bad enough to outweigh all of that? or is it just the pressure of a society that decided balding is bad that’s making you fear one single change despite how much joy you could have if you let that fear go? only you can decide if going on t is worth the potential downsides for you, but i suspect that for most of us, the benefits of going on t far outweigh the possibility of side effects like hair loss happening down the line.

#when i say i love helping people beat their fears about t this is what i mean. i will simply write a whole essay about it #some people might think it’s silly to answer a question like this so extensively #but i don’t think it is! i feel like this is a really common fear but also one i don’t see talked about much #maybe because it’s so common among cis guys that people don’t see it as a question to ask in trans spaces? idk #but i think we should talk about it more. especially when transphobes use it as a way to talk shit about t #ask answered #testosterone #hrt #ftm hrt #hair loss #trans men #transmascs

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malleleothreesome · 6 months

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Femdom!Reader x Sub!Malleus Draconia

💚 summary: Malleus grovels before you as you sit upon his throne in the Diasomnia dorm lounge ༶༶༶ 💚 warnings: afab fem reader, no pronouns (use of you/your) but Malleus does refer to you as his Queen. Malleus has two cocks, consensual bdsm scene, all actions taken agreed upon offscreen prior to starting and are within Malleus' boundaries, collar & leash, you use him as a footrest, use of good/bad boy, you slap him (it doesn't hurt), punishment: you masturbate in front of him, edging (him), orgasm denial (him), face sitting cunnilingus, vagina stretching spell, breeding, creampie, aftercare ༶༶༶ 💚 word count: 4.5k words ripped from my tortured soul

Oh, how easy it was to turn the powerful, brooding future King of Briar Valley into a needy, desperately loyal little puppy. Completely dependent on your attention—and your touch. Who could have known he would fall so deeply—and wretchedly—in love with the first girl who didn’t run away? After centuries of Malleus walking alone under the dark void of night, you came and filled the sky with bright, twinkling stars. From the very second he was met with your crinkled, smiling eyes—a far cry from the usual look of dread—he was yours, and yours alone. Without a second thought, you’ve folded him into your sweet embrace, promising eternity. You’ve taken it upon yourself to fill his days with love, companionship, happiness—things he has indeed always deserved, but all of which, until now, were missing entirely.

You were inseparable. When he wasn’t tending to Kingly duties, he could be found close behind you, clinging to your comfort and familiarity. Malleus always admired your confidence, strength, and what seemed to be sheer fearlessness. You packed a lot of spunk in that tiny, mortal body of yours. You were determined to get the other students to accept him—you would have done it by force if you’d had to. (You didn’t have to. You were far too clever for that.)

He was your plus one, always. You introduced him with such adoration, that any preconceived ideas of him were pushed aside without much thought. If someone dared question his presence, you’d make an example of their rude presumptions. All the while, Malleus towered sheepishly behind you, blushing, and elated. You were the only one in his life who truly saw him.

Dominance was Malleus’ birthright. His ability to command inferiority and trepidation from every single person in a room was an unwanted side effect that had been passed down for generations. Dominance is a role he was forced into by his Kingdom—it’s all he’d ever known. But then, there was you. The way you stand up to and for him with no fear or hesitation. The way you simultaneously treat him like he’s Just Some Guy, and also the most precious treasure in the world. Watching you take the lead makes his heart race—and loins ache—faster and deeper than anything before. He was absolutely desperate for you to take advantage.

So there you were, sitting on Malleus’ throne in the Diasomnia lounge, in the depths of the night. Everyone else had retreated to their rooms. The Prince of Thorns was kneeling before you, his alabaster face enveloped in the faint purple and green glow that danced around the throne—the only source of light in an otherwise pitch black room. Your feet—costumed in 6-inch, dagger-like heels that might be lethal to both body and soul—rest heavy on his shoulders. If only Malleus’ ancestors could see their tyrannizing heir being used as a footrest by a common human…

Your lingerie is devoid in the places it matters most—a corset that leaves your breasts propped up and completely exposed, panties with a slit that perfectly frames your exposed, wet cunt. So close, yet so far away. A flick of his forked, serpent-like tongue slips out of his mouth. His eyes get lost in the view. For you, he would reduce himself down to just a tongue—how he yearns to be useful. His twin cocks create a prominent bulge against his tight, leather pants. You keep a short, firm grip on the leash that connects to the patent black collar around his neck.

“What are you looking at?” You ask rhetorically, taking your right foot off his shoulder and placing the toe of your stiletto against his forehead, forcing his gaze to meet yours. You let it linger there, making a point: The feared crown Prince of Briar Valley is beneath you.

His heart stammers and he gulps, lips parted but unable to form an answer. A low moan escapes his throat, eyelids fluttering closed—this is pure ecstacy. Unfiltered submission. Total loss of control. Absolute surrender. It was intoxicating. He had no control of his body, and he could hardly form a coherent thought. His cock muscles begin to flex against his pants, as his desperation to create friction shows face.

But it’s not time for relief or release. You yank his collar, forcing his face toward you. “Bad boy!” you purr, through gritted teeth, slapping him hard across the cheek. “Did I give you permission for pleasure?”

His eyes roll back, hand instinctively rushing to his cheek. Not to tend to the wound—to relish in the feeling of your touch. The slap didn’t hurt, but the sheer audacity of the move was almost enough to make him cum right then and there. In his long life, no one had ever dared challenge him in such a way. You loved how your precious Malleus showed his emotions so plainly on his face. A strong wave of arousal flooded your nervous system as you admired his flushed face. His eyes had gone hazy, drool glistened on the corners of his mouth, which had curled into the lewdest smile you’d ever seen. There was no doubt—he was getting off to this.

You yank the leash again, forcing him out of sexual gratification. “What a shame.” You look down at him with so much contempt that he winces. You almost wanted to break the scene and comfort him, but these were the rules. This was what he wanted.

You continue to follow through with your punishment, reminding him of his place and purpose in the bedroom: service and obedience. You take a deep breath and sigh. "I was really looking forward to using that pretty face of yours to make myself cum. Guess I’ll have to take matters into my own hands.”

You remove your feet from his body, bracing them on the seat of the throne and spreading your legs in one smooth motion. His pout transitions into a dropped jaw as your free hand crawls down your stomach to spread your labia apart. You hold his eye contact and you see his slitted pupils dilate. You begin to draw slow, sensual circles around your clit.

Every neuron fires off in delicious agony, screaming that he should be the one pleasuring you. His heart aches—he vowed to himself that his Queen shouldn’t have to lift a finger as long as he was around. Malleus was holistically devoted; your pleasure has become his entire purpose.

He dedicated his days to chasing the high of your smiles and his nights to getting drunk off of your moans. He didn’t deserve to revel in your precious light, but you let him in without a second thought. That was just the type of person his beloved human was, and for that, he would serve you until his last breath.

But now he had to sit idly and watch as you enjoyed yourself without him. What a beautiful torture. A fitting punishment. Perfect for stripping away his ego, forcing him out of everything he knew, all while reminding him of his subservient status. As much as it hurt him… he craved moments like these.

Malleus studies your movements carefully, internalizing every detail of how you pleasure yourself. The way you slid your middle finger up through your delicate folds, gathering the slick of your own arousal for lubrication. How you alternate between light flicks on your clit and flat, rapid rubbing with two fingers. The way you allow yourself to become absorbed in your lechery.

You’re sure to drag out Malleus’ punishment, taking time to honor every part of yourself. You explore every surface of your body, through your hair, teasing your hardened nipples on the way back down to your cunt. What a naughty tease. How beautiful it was to watch your vulva swell as you got closer and closer to orgasm. His heart raced, breath running ragged as he became consumed by theories of what you could be thinking of to bring yourself closer to the edge. Were you thinking about him? What dirty fantasy about him would transform your pleasure, forcing you to the point of no return?

Whatever it was, you couldn’t fight it. Your eyes widened, and Malleus watched as you wrapped his leash around your wrist to grip the armrest of his throne, holding on for dear life as you rode out the high of your orgasm. Malleus made a tight fist with his right hand, digging his nails into his palm to prevent himself from cumming too, just from the sight of you. There was no bigger turn-on than seeing you receive the pleasure you deserve. It had been weeks since his Queen had allowed him to cum. His balls were desperate to release—even a nipple poking through your t-shirt was enough to feel like he was edging.

Currently, it was taking every fiber of his being not to slip up. He was ever careful not to take any action that his Queen would consider stepping out of line, lest his orgasm be denied further. But that look on your face… every sound of pleasure from your sweet lips… every involuntary twitch of your legs and each curl of your toes—safely filed away in his mind to replay when his Queen finally gives him permission to cum.

“What a good boy you were. I know that was hard for you.”

You sit back up on the throne, leaning towards Malleus’ face, smiling sweetly as you let your smug, cunning eyes tell a different story. You know you’re driving him mad—and you’re goddamn proud of it. You lean even closer, lifting his chin with your blood-red, manicured fingertips. You can’t help but giggle as you poke and prod, rubbing his pale, soft cheeks with your thumb, dragging your fingernail along his pointed ear. His blush deepens. You lift his upper lip up with one teasing finger, admiring his cute little fangs.

“How adorable you are. My perfect little obedient pet. My perfect lover. I love everything about you.”

You settle back into the chair, cheek resting on your fist, face arranged in a coy little smile.

“You may speak.”

A faint, “T-thank you, m-my Queen” is all he can muster before dropping eye contact and falling silent again, cheeks sizzling. He doesn’t know how to process your earnest adoration.

“Aw, is that the best you can do? I can only hope you have more to say when giving a royal address, or appearing before the faerie courts. Let’s hope the domestication of a future King isn’t grounds for dethronement. By a human, no less.”

You both know Malleus remains ever-so-diligently authoritative when it comes to his duties to his Kingdom—it’s one of the reasons you felt so honored how eager Malleus was to lower himself for both of your pleasure.

“You know, I don’t like punishing you when you’re a bad boy. I want to take care of you, too.” You yank his leash in a final act of correction, watching his upper body stumble forwards once again. “Don’t make me do it again, or I swear on the Seven you will not like what follows. Now lay on your back. I’m not even close to being satisfied.”

Without hesitation, Malleus falls to the floor. Another place you shouldn’t find a powerful crown Prince: laying on the cold, hard, dirty ground. He wears a stupid smile on his face—he knows what’s coming. Rolling your eyes, you get in position; feet framing his eager face, offering a direct bird’s-eye view of your plump, glistening cunt. Slowly lowering yourself into a squat above his face, you purr, “beg for it.”

He can smell the musk of your pussy and his cocks throb painfully against his pants. His heart races, eyes once again hazy with arousal, mouth completely agape. His body twitches—he’s already edging. I guess a month of being denied orgasm will do that.

He looks up at you, eyes watering, lip quivering, hands in tight fists as he fights the urge to touch himself. He closes his eyes, savoring the warmth radiating from your cunt, and deeply inhales your scent. A deep, warm exhale swirls around your clit—still sensitive from your first orgasm—which sends a surge of electricity through your entire nervous system. You can’t help but shudder.

The corners of his lips curve upward, his ego is beginning to show itself again. You yank his leash upwards, meeting his eyes with a narrowed stare. Malleus knows the drill. He doesn't want his Queen's kindness to turn cold, after all. He gulps, all arrogance vanishing in an instant. You relax your grip.

A pathetic whine accompanies his plea: deep, smooth, and dripping with arousal. "Please," he begins. His eyes are wide and his lip trembles, desperate to satisfy his Queen. "I will worship your beautiful body. I will show you my love, my loyalty, my devotion, with the entirety of my being. My tongue will show you my adoration and gratitude. Please..." he begs and whimpers, more pathetic with each word.

"You're drooling." You wipe his mouth with your thumb, smearing it across his lips and forcing them apart. You stick your thumb into his mouth, on which he sucks hungrily. You can't help but smile—he really is greedy for your love. "Such a filthy, desperate, pitiful, whiny boy."

His eyelids flutter and he moans, loving how your words make him feel. His cocky, confident demeanor completely dissipates as you degrade him. He's a complete mess, completely dependent on your words and your touch. The second your finger is out of his mouth, he begins begging again, more frantically. "Please. Sit on my face. I want to be useful. I want to make you feel good. Please, please, use my mouth, I want to make you cum. I want to be covered in your essence. I want to taste the sweetness of your arousal. I want to drink it up, and breathe you in. I want to be completely engulfed in the warmth of your cunt. Please, my Queen. Use me for your pleasure. Let me worship your pussy.”

"You may."

Those two words felt electric. Malleus' heart raced and his cocks leaked and his eyes rolled back, lost in the euphoria of this moment. His arms reach around to squeeze the sides of your thighs, pulling your dripping cunt to his face before you could change your mind. A demanding action like that normally wouldn’t have been allowed, but you were already losing yourself to pleasure.

He pressed his nose into your pubic bone, licking at every inch of skin he could reach. Malleus wastes no time giving his Queen exactly what she wants. His tongue strokes up and down your pulsing pussy, lapping up your wetness and savoring every taste. His eyelids flutter in carnal ecstasy and his mind floats away, primal instincts taking over. Breathing deeply through his nose, practically drowning in your scent, a moan escapes his lips. He licks faster, swirling his tongue around your clit. He looks up, moaning again as he takes in the view: the plump undersides of your breasts bouncing lightly with every lick, fire-red fingernails squeezing your right nipple, your head thrown back in unmistakable pleasure. His moan pulsates against your soaking wet pussy, intensifying your pleasure to something even more carnal. Your pelvis—suddenly with a mind of its own—thrusts and grinds against his tongue.

He's hungry and messy, but he knows exactly how to please you. You run your fingers through his dark, sweaty bangs, pushing his hair back to expose the gorgeous scales hidden on his forehead. You hold onto his horns like a saddle, taking back some control.

"You're such a good boy, Malleus. Keep going." His long, forked tongue is immediately thrust inside of you, desperate to gather up every bit of slick from your last orgasm. You can feel his thick tongue prod against your sensitive, contracting walls as he eagerly laps up your sweet, musky juices. His tongue could do things a mortal man couldn’t dream of. You grind down harder, pushing his face further into you.

Arching your back, his tongue continues to devour you, licking and sucking with primal desperation. He licks the entire length of your vulva and then sucks his way up your labia, finishing his trail with a wet “pop,” leaving your clit swollen and throbbing. He revisits your labia with his entire mouth, sucking it taut and letting it go. The sensation of the blood rushing back is divine, and your whole body shivers. You’re so close. His fingers dig into the soft flesh of your plush thighs, holding on for dear life as his adrenaline pulses through every blood vessel.

Your moans are music to his ears, and he wants more. He sucks on your clit, circling it with his tongue, flicking and licking up and down, positioning it safely between the fork of his tongue. It's too much, but you want more. He vibrates his tongue, sending shockwaves up and down your spine. Your leg muscles twitch and your breath catches. He can tell that you're almost there, and his cocks throb harder than ever. He’s desperate to cum when you do.

"Don't cum." You read his mind. "If you obey me, I'll let you cum in my womb."

He moans loudly, and his hips involuntarily jerk upward, trying to find friction in the air. His cocks are dripping, his pants soaked with clear, sticky precum. He feels so hot and needy, it's almost painful. But he loves it. The idea of finally releasing into you—his Queen. His love. His entire universe. If he could cum right now, he'd fill you to the brim, and then some. He'd give you the family you've always wanted. He'd make sure you'd never want for anything else. He'd give you everything in his universe, just like he promised.

Malleus can't help but whimper as you pull his hair, forcing his mouth back against your pussy. "Focus," you remind him. You can feel him nod, and then his tongue is back to work, licking, sucking, and flicking your clit, vibrating his tongue and moaning against your folds, the sound muffled by your flesh.

"You're such a good boy," you praise him. His eyes roll back and he moans even louder, sending vibrations up through your pussy. "Mmm... that's a good boy, Malleus. Such a good boy." He's getting sloppy, moaning and whimpering and bucking his hips uncontrollably. "You're so needy. Just a little more... a little longer. I'm close. Don't stop. Make me cum."

You feel his fingers digging into your flesh, his whole body is trembling. His face is red, and tears stream down his cheeks. His cocks ache—he won’t be able to hold on much longer.

For his finishing move, he pulls your clit between his lips and begins to suck, swirling his tongue around, and then flicking the tip. He vibrates his tongue as hard and as fast as he can, sending shockwave after shockwave straight through you until you’re completely uninhibited. You shudder and convulse, completely lost in orgasmic ecstasy. “MALLEUS,” you scream, cumming so hard that your juices squirt into his mouth and run down his chin. He shoves his tongue deep within your pussy, feeling your walls contract around him, lapping up the sweet, sticky liquid as it releases. He's in Heaven. His eyes are closed, breathing ragged, his chest heaves. He's panting, covered in sweat. His cocks twitch, and his balls ache, but he wouldn't dare let himself go over the edge. His prize awaits.

You crawl away from this face, legs wobbling and mind scrambling to catch up. Looking back at him, you see smudged eyeliner, swollen lips, and a face glistening in your juices. His chest heaves, cocks leaking with desperate arousal. He looks so pitiful, completely lost in the throes of carnal desire. He meets your gaze, his eyes out of focus. Small, desperate whimpers escape his lips. He's desperate for your touch—and you love seeing him this way.

You slowly undo the buttons on his shirt, one by one, taking the time to appreciate each reveal of toned muscle. He's so beautiful. Pure. Innocent. Perfect. You run your fingers down his chest, feeling the smooth, firm skin, and the rise and fall of his chest. His nipples are hard, and you can't resist. You tease them with your red, stiletto fingertips, feeling him shudder under your touch. He's so cute when he's aroused.

"M-my Queen..." he mumbles, and you know exactly what he wants. You kiss his chest, he moans. Arching his back, his hips buck forward, and a frustrated groan exits his airway. You kiss his nipples, playfully sucking, then a quick nibble. He cries out, body trembling, cocks twitching with excitement.

"Patience, my love," you coo. "You’ll get your reward."

You trail kisses down his torso as he squirms beneath you. His cocks are painfully hard. By the time you reach the waistband of his pants, his entire being is begging for you to take them off. In the same moment you’ve tugged the zipper down, his cocks spring free, bouncing against his abdomen. They're hard as rocks, covered in precum, and twitching with need. He's whimpering, and you know he can’t hold on much longer.

Slipping his pants down, you free his legs of their final constraint. You look up to find him gazing at you through half-lidded eyes, breathing heavily. He's so beyond ready for release. You climb back up him, straddling his hips, careful not to make contact with either cock—you don't want him to cum just yet. Not before he fills you up, and makes you his.

"I want to take both of them. I don't want to waste a single drop." This is new. Usually it’s one cock inside of you while you jerk the other off or rub it against your clit. Two at once require a bit of fae magic. He nods, shuddering. Reaching up, his fingers brush against your pussy. His gasp is voracious—he felt how soaking wet you are. His hand glows green and he pushes two fingers into your tight little pussy, his magic spreading inside of you. It tingles in the best way. You feel like you're being filled up with warmth and love and ecstacy. Your body buzzes, pussy throbbing. As his magic begins to take effect, he adds two more fingers, your pussy eagerly and willingly stretching to accommodate his entire fist. Euphoria courses through your veins.

“Give yourself to me. Fill me up with every last bit of you. Make me see stars.”

Finally, permission.

In one swift motion, Malleus removes his fist and plunges both pulsing, throbbing, needing cocks inside of your enchanted pussy. Within an instant, Malleus can't hold back any longer. He erupts, and a guttural moan escapes his lungs as his orgasm hits him like a freight train. His whole body convulses, hips jerking violently, pumping his hot, sticky, viscous essence deep within your womb. Your eyes roll back, feeling his thick, warm cum paint your insides. The sheer force of his orgasm pushes you over the edge, and you cum for the third time that night, your walls clenching around his cock, milking him for every last drop. The feeling is almost indescribable—both of your aching bodies become one, pleasure and cum filling you to the absolute brim. He pummels you again and again, your eyes rolling back, jaw slack, holding on for dear life.

He's continues to cum—it's been a month, after all. His moans are desperate, his breathing ragged. His hips buck, and his body trembles. His fingers dig into the flesh of your ass cheeks, pulling you flush against him. He can't get enough. His head spins thinking about how badly he wants to impregnate you. To breed with you. To have you bear his children. To make you a mommy. He imagines your beautiful, swollen belly; a physical manifestation of the love you share.

After what may have been eons, his orgasm finally subsides. His vision clears, and he's met with a glorious sight: you, above him, blissed out and dripping with cum. His heart swells, his love for you now deeper than ever. You allow him to kiss you, after seeing him yearn for it. You taste his love, his desperation, and his complete submission to you. It's divine.

You collapse, falling on top of his chest. Lay there together, breathing hard, you both come down from the most intense orgasm of your lives. His cocks soften, and slip out of your overflowing cunt. Your body shudders. It feels strange to be empty again.

“Bathe me," you command him.

"Anything for my beloved."

You both stand, legs wobbly. With a flick of his wrist, Malleus uses his magic to clean up, restoring the room to a pristine state. Before you can protest, Malleus scoops you up, and in a flash, you're back in his dorm room. The green teleportation fireflies fade as he carries you to the bath. You relax into his arms. With one, strong hand, he turns the water on, making sure it's just the right temperature, cuddling you until the water fills. Sleepily, you disconnect the leash from his collar, leaving his collar fastened around his neck as a sign of ownership.

Malleus carefully slides the straps of your corset off your shoulders, unlacing the back and letting it fall to the ground. He kisses along your clavicle, leaving goosebumps in his wake. He kneels before you, slowly pulling your panties down. Watching them fall, he can't help but blush, remembering the way he'd seen them just moments before. Your nudity is absolutely mesmerizing.

You step into the soothing water in the tub, and Malleus steps in behind you, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you onto his lap. He's so good at caring for you. He washes and scrubs every inch of your skin, finishing with a scalp massage. His movements are soft and intentional—full of love and adoration. He wraps his arms around you, holding you tight. You let your eyes close, listening to his heart beat, feeling the warmth of his skin.

"Thank you for tonight. It was perfect," he coos into your ear.

"I'm so happy you trust me so much with your fantasies." You feel him smile as he buries his face into the crook of your neck. "Do you feel more comfortable in your submission?"

"Every time, it gets easier. I've never felt this safe or this loved. I am forever indebted to you. I love you, now and always."

"I love you too, Malleus. Now and always."

His hands rest on your lower belly. One day, it will swell with change, and you'll bear his heirs. You'll live your life together, and you'll rule his kingdom by his side. He can hardly wait—he’s already vowed to serve and protect you and your future children with every bone in his body. But for now, he takes pride in knowing you choose to be with him. To show him that his submission is not weakness, it’s power. It's a privilege. And more than anything, it's love.

You fall asleep like this, in his arms, dreaming of your future together. He holds you close, cherishing the moment. You're his everything—now, and always.

This was my first ever fic! If you enjoyed it, it would mean the absolute world to me if you told me either in the replies, in my ask box, or in the tags! Please know you have my endless gratitude for reading my fanfic — thank you for supporting my passion. I have been a long time lover of fanfic and I am absolutely honored to finally contribute to the community I care so deeply about! I hope you had a great time! 💚 Erica Malleleothreesome

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twisted wonderland smut #twisted wonderland x reader smut #twst smut #twst x reader smut #twst malleus draconia x reader smut #twst malleus draconia smut #twisted wonderland malleus x reader smut #malleus draconia x reader smut #twst malleus draconia #malleus draconia smut #twst malleus #twisted wonderland malleus x reader #malleus draconia #twisted wonderland malleus #malleus x reader #my writing

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bitethedustfools · 3 months

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TWST Story Idea (5)

A story where Yuu didn't tell anyone they were from another world, making some of their quirks seem strange. For instance, these quirks involved staring at beastmen too long, not knowing much history, and being unfamiliar with most plants.

It could be argued that Yuu was much worse off than Kalim since Yuu didn't know almost anything, but Kalim, even though occasionally wrong, had some knowledge.

This resulted in Yuu being an alien among everyone, so out of tune, so different, and very much out of place. Despite all of this, Yuu still had friends.

Yuu had friends who teased them for their quirks; Yuu could only smile at their friends. They were also dumb, but Yuu was even more dumb for not knowing things, and that's a fact.

Gradually, Yuu grew homesick, and everyone noticed that Yuu was acting weird. However, they didn't pay much attention to it because acting weird was common for Yuu.

Yuu, too, didn't mind that their friends barely cared about it because, after all, Yuu was just an outsider, and their behavior only intensified the homesickness.

Yuu started to develop nightmares. Every night they dreamed of their family, and no matter how many times Yuu reached out or how loudly they cried, their family couldn't hear or see Yuu. Yuu dreamed that they would never meet again, and that terrified Yuu the most.

Their friends were there for them despite the hurtful jokes, but still, the nightmares wouldn't stop. Yuu couldn't sleep well, and their homesickness grew as days went on.

Yuu ended up picking one of the many rooms in the ramshackle dorm and renovated it with a magical artifact that looked like a hammer, changing the room to resemble the one Yuu had back in their own world.

Nobody knew about the room except Grim, and Yuu firmly let Grim know that he wasn't allowed to enter or tell anyone. Yuu didn't have a cat before, and if Grim entered, he would ruin it. If Grim entered, he will reminded Yuu that this was not theit world, and the same went for the rest of them if they entered.

Though when Yuu finished, they found out that the room didn't do justice to the one they owned. Yuu couldn't change the window type or position, nor could they replace the wooden walls with bricks which Yuu settled with wallpapers. The pillows might be the same color, but they lacked the texture and still looked new compared to Yuu's old pillows that went out of shape from years of sleeping on them.

It wasn't the same, but this was the only thing Yuu had. It cured their homesickness just a little bit until it came back in full force one day.

The ghost camera in Yuu's hand could only take pictures in this world. Yuu had pictures of their friends and places, but there were no pictures of their family. Yuu couldn't even if they tried because Yuu was in another world. Yuu missed their family and feared that they probably wouldn't see and forget them.

So Yuu decided to draw in an effort to remember them. The problem was that Yuu was not an artist and had nothing but hazy memories of their family's faces as a reference. Yet, in Yuu's desperation and frustration, they kept drawing despite how none of the lines and shapes showed any semblance of their family's faces. Yuu had to be good at drawing and draw them right fast, or else, they would truly forget them.

Yuu drew until the room was full of sketches of their faces that were either stopped midway or too strange to be called a familiar face.

One day, the others took notice that Yuu could draw pretty well and jokingly asked Yuu to draw them. Yuu looked at them blankly and made a strange smile while declining.

Yuu's heart was a bit heavy. They wanted to talk to someone about their family; however, their friends didn't ask about the people in the drawing, so Yuu kept quiet.

Yuu put the family drawing in a frame and hung it on the wall of that room. The walls continued to hang a new drawing as days went on, and it became a routine for Yuu's gaze to sweep over their faces before sleep took them.

The yearning to go home doesn't stop here. Yuu had turned to eating foods that reminded them of home. Yuu absolutely refused the fancy delicious foods served and sold at the canteen. Yuu gave excuses to avoid eating the desserts made by Heartslabyul, declined the invitation to the Scarabia feast, and avoided going to Mostro Lounge.

A long time ago, Yuu would drool at the sight, excitedly line up to take the food, savor and gush over the new delicacies their tongue never tasted before, and never turn back offers of food since they didn't have money.

Instead, Yuu cooked the food themself, wanting to taste their mother's cooking that Yuu failed to achieve as they fumbled around their way in the small kitchen. Yuu tried to buy the ingredients from the Sam Mystery Shop and found that it was limited or just didn't exist. Yuu was desperate enough to taste-test the plants that didn't exist in their home but were sometimes used in alchemy.

Yuu's friends took notice of this once more and joked about how Yuu had become more diligent as a student. They mistook Yuu's actions as someone who wanted to improve their alchemy grade.

Days turned into months, almost a new year, and there was still no good news.

Yuu tried to cope with living in this world even if the yearning grew stronger. It was hard. Yuu had already surrounded themself with familiar things, and it killed them that Yuu was still stuck here, stuck with their own fantasy that they were truly home.

The homesickness got stronger, and Yuu felt so lonely, angry, and so many things at once.

Yuu began to detach, and this time, the others finally realized that there was something wrong.

#twisted wonderland #disney twst #twst wonderland #twst #twst yuu #writing prompt #angst #make it painful guyss

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halfghostwriter · 1 year

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Wraith Radio Pt. 2

Part 1

“You’re listening to Wraith Radio, your number one link to the living realm. I’m your host, the wandering ghost, Ellie Phantom. It’s day two of my adventure in Gotham City, and I gotta say, today was… wild. Bit of context for those who missed the start of yesterday’s show, long story short, I publicly told the Red Hood that I would wait for him at this place called Park Row so I could take him to a doctor in the ghost zone because his body is bad.

After I ended the show, I got this call from my cousin, Danny. He and his friends back in Amity had been listening, and they think that, because I never showed off any of my powers or anything, and cause I look like any other human, he might not have actually believed I was a ghost. Which, fair, I guess.

So now I’m thinking, ‘well, no big deal, I can just show him my ghost form.’ Buuuuut then I remember the stupid amount of curses and stuff all around this city, and as part of the ghost population who technically never experienced death— no, that time I melted does not count— I’d like to prolong that experience for as long as possible if you don’t mind. Where was I? Oh right, so now I’m thinking, ‘well, no problem, I can just open up a portal, bring him to the zone, and transform there.’ Quick, simple, no problem.

So we come to today. I’m at the meeting spot, it’s five minutes to the meeting time, and I’m sitting on the edge of this rooftop, keeping an eye out for the arrival of the Red Hood.

And then a building blows up.

Right across the street, the top floor of this sketchy run down place I had been staring at, just. Boom! And then I hear all these gunshots, and screaming, and I look down at my watch, and I have about four minutes before noon, so I turn invisible, float over, and poke my head through the wall. Right there, center of the room, I see Batman, Robin, Red Robin, and Red Hood fighting this… I dunno, skinny twink with like a burlap sack over his head? Look, it took me a week to memorize the Gotham vigilante’s names and costumes alone, I wasn’t going out of my way to look up their entire rogues gallery. But anyway, they’re fighting this guy and a bunch of people who I assume are working for this guy, and I see some people tied up in the corner screaming their heads off for no clear reason. I mean, yes, I know it’s scary being tied up by an evil scarecrow of a man, but when I say screaming, I don’t mean ‘please, save me, I’m in distress’ screaming, I mean ‘the soulshredder just sliced through me and now I’m seeing my worst fears manifested in front of my eyes’ screaming.

So I get a little closer, I land on the floor, and just, to go off on a bit of a tangent for a second, the Gotham vigilantes are just. So much taller than me. I felt so incredibly tiny being in the same room as them. Like, yeah, I know I’m short, but I had hoped that I would at least be the same height as Robin, but no. I swear, every time I stand next to someone who’s supposed to be close to my ‘physical’ age, I become more and more convinced that the billionaire who made me had absolutely no idea what he was doing. He brought me to life and was like ‘you’re a twelve year old!’ and I was like ‘you’re right!’ because I had no frame of reference because I was born that morning. Anyway, so I get closer to the screeching humans being held against their will, and I feel this scratchy, almost burning feeling in the back of my throat. I try to brush it off, but then I look down, and I see my body fucking melting.

Now this isn’t be my first time melting, so my first thought isn’t ‘oh god I’m gonna go from half to full ghost,’ or even ‘ugh this shit again,’ but rather ‘why the fuck doesn’t this hurt?’ Because I know exactly what melting is supposed to feel like, and it isn’t a feeling you can just ignore. Like, I can’t really describe it to someone who’s never had every muscle in their body suddenly coalesce into one, with every attached nerve ending screaming louder than a heavy metal band, but trust me when I say that the “pain” I was feeling was barely anything compared to actually melting, like it felt more like my skin was itchy than anything. So, I try poking one of the places where my body is melting— don’t ask me why, I don’t really know why I did it— and instead of feeling ectoplasm drip over my hands, I just feel… my arm. And I realize, ‘oh, not only is this just an illusion, it’s a shitty one.’ Or, y’know, at the very least one that doesn’t work too well on a halfa.

So I shake that off, cause yeah, I don’t like seeing myself melt again, but as long as it’s not actually happening again, I’m good. Plus, if it does start again, I do still have my extra ecto dejectos in my bag, and yes, Danny, I will call you if it actually happens, sorry if I almost gave you a heart attack a few minutes ago. Anyway, I turn back to all the tied up screaming people, and I notice these, like, fog-machine-looking-thing next to all of them, and I get closer to one, and the scratchy feeling at the back of my throat gets worse, so now I’m thinking ‘oh, this must be what’s causing everyone to see things.’ So I turn my arm intangible, stick it into this machine, and I pull out this bottle of just… the worst smelling chemicals I’ve ever been near, which is saying a lot for someone born and raised in a basement lab. But, it stops the fog machine, so I plug it with some stuff from my bag, and pocket it so I can’t smell it anymore. I keep doing this to each of the nearby machines, and eventually the front pocket of my bag is just completely stuffed with gross chemicals.

So that’s over with, and I look over to see if the fight’s done, but no, they’re all still going at it, which means I still can’t talk to Red Hood and get him to the Zone, so I figure I have some time to kill. And I remember that there’s, like, ten or so people tied up against their will, so I start freeing all of them. Obviously, the ropes themselves are really easy, all I really need to do is phase them off. The people, on the other hand, are crazy hard to get to actually do anything other than scream. Like, I try pushing people towards the exit, I try dragging them across the floor, anything to get them to leave the building which is— in case you forgot— on fire. I mean it’s just the top floor, but I’ve heard from Ember that a fire anywhere in the house could be the cause of a human’s death, especially if no one’s watching it, and I doubt that anyone is actually watching that fire.

So now I’m kinda panicking, cause I was hoping the fight would be over by now and all these people would have been brought outside, but not only is the fight not over, I look over and see the bad guy throw these cans over at the people, and I realize that they’re giving off the exact same poison-fog as the machines from earlier. And I’m just. So pissed off. Like, I just took care of that!! For all I knew, that illusion stuff could’ve worn off in a few minutes, and I wouldn’t have to worry about keeping all these people alive!!

Side note— Danny. I get it now. I get the whole ‘desperate need to protect any and all humans’ feeling you were talking about.

They are just… so easy to put into danger.

Holy shit.

Anyway, I’m feeling that whole ‘selfless anger on behalf of strangers’ thing for the first time, and I think it turns my brain off, cause I just pick up the cans and throw them at the bad guys head while yelling ‘FUCK YOU, DIPSHIT!’

And my invisibility drops.

So.

Not my best decision.

But not my worst, because my aim was perfect.

I’m pretty sure I knocked him unconscious, but I’ll be honest I wasn’t really paying attention to that guy anymore because I had just revealed one of my abilities— not to mention I think my eyes were glowing— in front of the fucking Batman. Now, I don’t know if the rumors about him hating metas are true, but I do know that most humans fucking hate ghosts, that I definitely don’t know what he thinks I am, and that I’m not risking my ass to find out. So, invisibility goes back up, and I start to book it before I remember that the whole fucking reason I showed up was to help out Red Hood. So I take a flyer, write “sorry, try again tomorrow?” on the back, and then I get the fuck out.

I wind up flying so fast back to this little hideout I’m staying at that I guess I wound up jostling some things in my bag? Yeah, by the time I get back, I feel this… leaking through my bag. And I take it off, so I can check out the damage, and uh…

Ok, so remember how I mentioned those ecto dejectos I keep on me? Well, I tend to keep them in the front pocket. And the scary-illusion-liquid-stuff was also put in the front pocket. And one of the bottles and an ecto-dejecto hit each other just a bit too hard. And apparently. When these two things are combined. You get… a blob ghost. Who only knows how to melt.

I’ve named him Goop, and he’s the most pathetic creature I’ve seen in my life. He just melts until all of his body is liquid, then it all just blorps back together. He’s solid for like a second, then he starts to melt again. Also he keeps trying to drink the scary-illusion-liquid. I’ve been holding him in my lap this entire time, and while he’s not hard to stop, I do still need to sleep, so if anyone has any advice on how to handle a mutant blob ghost, I’m all ears. Also, if theres any specific way to get rid of mysterious chemicals that honestly shouldn’t exist, please tell me, otherwise I’m just gonna find a sink and dump it.

Anyway, that’s enough about my day, onto things I’ve heard about the city…”

————————

The batfam stared silently at the glowing radio that Jason had brought.

And an unspoken agreement was reached.

Meta, ghost, whatever— this was a child with absolutely no adult supervision, severe trauma, an unknown set of powers, and a ridiculous amount of fear toxin. Not to mention something that she described to be a “mutant blob ghost.”

It was time to do a bit of research into the kid.

Or, it would, were it not for the fact that “Wraith Radio” didn’t seem to exist online, nor did “Ellie Phantom.” It was also likely she used a fake name for her show, since there didn’t seem to be any records of an “Ellie Phantom” anywhere.

Of course, that wasn’t enough to deter them. After all, she herself had mentioned her family.

And so, they began looking into Amity and her cousin, Danny.

#danny phantom #dp x dc crossover #dp x dc fanfic #dc x dp #danielle phantom #wraith radio

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julesclues · 2 years

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Leave a Mark pt. 2

Warnings: mentions of abuse, cursing, cleanup of injuries, sexual references

Word count: 5.42k

Pairing(s): Eddie Munson x Henderson!reader

Not proof read :p

Summary: After a harsh encounter with your father, Eddie continues to clean you up in his trailer now that the coast is clear.

You and Dustin decided that sleeping over Eddie’s was a good idea. Dustin was supposed to do it anyways, and you didn’t feel in the condition to drive home, especially with him in the car. Your head was still killing you, and it hurt to walk for the most part.

After the boys had settled down from their little play session of running around the trailer, Eddie went in his room and grabbed some blankets and pillows for Dustin. “Woah, wait a minute. I’m not sleeping in a bed?” Dustin asks, as he follows Eddie out of his bedroom and onto the couch, where you sat. “Nope! I like you Henderson, but I will not be giving up my precious bed. Capisci?”

“But-“ Dustin turns to you to protest but you’re already giving him a death glare. “Eddie was nice enough to let us stay here. You’re lucky you’re not sleeping on the floor,” you say while Dustin’s shoulders fall in defeat. He turns to Eddie and Eddie wiggles the pillows and blankets. “Yeah, keep complaining Henderson and you’ll be outside.”

You chuckle slightly as Dustin accepts sleeping on the couch, and you get up so Eddie can set it up for him. “Where should I go?” You ask softly, rubbing your hands together. “You, lovely lady, can go in my room. I’ll be there in a minute.”

“Why does she get your room!?” Dustin protests, but Eddie hits his arm. “She’s hurt. And besides, she hasn’t been complaining this entire time. I think she’s starting to become my favorite Henderson.” You blush at his playful words, but Dustin is just kinda disgusted. “Don’t you dare start flirting with my sister! I liked it better when you two weren’t friends. Fuck.” You laugh a bit and glance at Eddie, but he’s already looking at you with a sparkle in his eye, causing your breath to hitch in your throat for a quick second. His eyes were beautiful.

“I-I’ll be.. I’ll just go now. Yeah..” you say a bit awkwardly. You clear your throat and walk toward Eddie’s room, hearing his chuckle fade. You walk into his room and it matches him exactly. It’s exactly what you thought it would look like. Posters of Metallica, Dio, and Black Sabbath hung on the wall, worn down but still standing. Magazines of metal bands flooded the floors and his desk, along with guitar picks and music sheets. On the nightstand besides his bed was a little notebook titles “dnd campaigns” which made you smile. It was cute how Eddie hated English class and yet kept a notebook of creative ideas for a game he was so passionate about.

You picked up the book and sat on his bed. You scrolled through the notebook, glancing at the thousands of words plastered on the pages. There were also some doodles on the corners of a couple pages, which made you smile. But there was one that made you stop scrolling and your smile widen.

It was Dustin. A cute little sketch of Dustin wearing his hat that said “thinking cap.” The sketch wasn’t as good to put in a museum, but the fact that you were just able to see that it was your brother made you smile widely. You knew Dustin loved Eddie like a lot, but you didn’t really put together that Eddie shared that same love. Now you definitely understand how wrong you were about him. You had always thought he liked to be feared, that he was a scary cult leader but really, it was the total opposite.

“Snooping, sweetheart?”

You jump from being startled, dropping the notebook on the floor and turn to face Eddie leaning against the door frame. “I-I’m sorry,” you apologize. “I know I shouldn't have been looking through your stuff, but your room is awesome. It’s exactly how I thought it would be.” He smirks, a small blush forming on his cheeks at the mention of how awesome you think he room is. “So, you've imagined what my room would look like?” Your eyes widen as you chuckle at his playful banter, picking up the notebook. “In your dreams, Munson.” He puts his hand on his chest like he’s wounded, and sits down on his bed. “Who told you about my dreams?” You sit down next to him and throw your head in a circle, ignoring his rhetorical question. “How’re you feeling?” he asks with concern. You turn to look at him but he's already looking at you with those goddamn puppy eyes. “Honestly, my torso hurts a bit.” He jumps up which, yet again, startles you. You were confused as to what he was doing when he went to his drawer and started looking through it, mumbling things you couldn’t quite understand. You see his tongue stick out a bit, which you find absolutely adorable. “Ah! Here it is,” he says quite loudly, turning around to face you.

In his hands were a couple of elastic bandages. “We can wrap these around you to help with the bruises on your torso and legs. Besides, it’ll make you look badass.” You chuckle softly as he sits besides you again, making the bed dip down. You admired how easily he can make you smile or laugh, even in the shittiest of moments. You never knew he had such a sense of humor. Maybe that’s why Dustin got along with him so well, so quick. You stare at Eddie as he unravels the bandage, ready to put it around your torso first. “You can totally do this yourself if you’re uncomfortable, but I need you to lift your shirt a bit so I can wrap this around you sweetheart.” You were a bit hesitant.

Not because it was Eddie, but because you didn’t want to reveal such a bruise. You felt it even if there was no pressure on it. It was throbbing and the pain was definitely there. For some reason, you were embarrassed.

Eddie noticed your hesitation and was quick to reassure you. “I know I’m supposed to buy you dinner first, but I promise I’m still a gentleman. Say the word, I’ll leave the room, and you can patch yourself up.”

“I know you’re a gentleman,” you say a bit too quick. “I just get a bit nervous to show people my injuries. Don’t know why,” you chuckle nervously as he gives you a small smile. “You don’t want me to see you differently,” he says. You tilt your head in confusion, wondering how he was able to connect with you so easily and understand what you were feeling. “My childhood wasn’t the best,” he admits. “Before moving in with Uncle Wayne at around 7, I lived with my dad. My mom split when I was young. Never really knew her,” he chuckles sadly, but you just continue to listen, leaning in a bit so he knows you’re really listening.

“My dad was a selfish prick, exactly like yours. Textbook definition and all. I always defended him though. Always told people he was amazing and the best father ever, even though he would do that same thing to me,” Eddie admits, pointing to your face quickly as he mentions the last couple words. Your eyes widen in surprise a bit, not expecting Eddie to share the same experiences as you and your brother. “It wasn’t until Uncle Wayne took me in that I started to notice the real reason I never told people the truth. I was embarrassed. Everyone spoke about their parents being the highlight of their life yet my highlight was a fantasy board game about warlocks and dragons and creativity. No wonder people call me a freak, huh?” Before you could respond, he shakes his head.

“But this isn’t about me. This is about you, sweetheart. I never told anyone that, but I needed you to know that I understand you. Maybe not personally, but I’m not exactly in the dark here, you know? So I get it. I’m here for you.”

I’m here for you.

Those four words were words you were longing for, and you didn’t even know it. Eddie saw tears form in your eyes as you just inhaled slowly in silence. “I’m sorry you went through that,” was all you said before a couple tears starting falling. “Hey, don’t cry. Come on, we should be patching you up like a potato head.” You chuckle in confusion, wiping a tear as he scoots closer to you. He was so weird.

“Like a potato head?” You question.

“Yeah,” he says nonchalantly. “Like, those weird doll things. That you put together and stuff? You can take off their eyes and mouth and then put them back on.”

“How does that relate to me?”

“Cause like.. you know. Putting you back together.”

“But I’m not broken.”

“Well no, but I mean, you’re not a potato either so don’t take it too literal, sweetheart.”

You hummed, smiling at him in silence. “You can patch me up,” you say after a moment. “I trust you. And besides, with these bruises, I don’t think I have the strength to turn too much.” He nods slightly and picks up the bandage again. “If you would be so kind, m’lady,” he says, mimicking the action of lifting up your shirt. You do exactly that, lifting up until it reaches right below your chest area. You saw Eddie’s face drop a little bit when he noticed your bruises, and it made your heart hurt.

It was a deep purple and it looked like it wasn’t done forming yet. The color circled from your belly button to your back, and went up about two or three inches. It was one hell of a bruise. Eddie had never seen anything like it. He was shocked this wasn’t from a car accident or something along those lines.

“Y/n,” he whispers, looking up at you. But he saw you were looking down with a slight redness to your face from embarrassment. So, Eddie being Eddie, he tried to make you feel better with the one thing he did best - humor!

“Ever go mechanical bull riding?” He asks, starting to wrap you up with the bandage. Very lightly, but it still hurt when you get his fingers graze your stomach. “What’s that?” You ask in curiosity. He looks up at you and scoffs. “What- wait, you don’t know what that is?!” He asks in disbelief. You smile and shake your head, as he mentally praises himself for helping you loosen up a bit. “You get on this mechanical bull, hence the name, and the operator tries to throw you off. It starts off slowly, but the longer you stay on, the quicker and harder it gets. Eventually you get thrown off. You only hold on with one hand though.”

You laugh, imagining yourself on it. “I’d get thrown off almost immediately. It sounds like a lot of fun though. I’d pay good money to see you ride it, Munson.” Eddie laughs, halting his hands and looking up at you. You were smiling wide now, almost as if nothing had happened within the last 24 hours. God, did he love your smile.

“Well guess what, sweetheart? I’ve gone on one before.” You gasp in surprise, your eyes widening as you lean closer to him. “No way!” You squeal. “Yep, no bullshit. Went with my band once and-“

“Corroded Coffin, right?”

He almost died right then and there.

“Y-yeah. That’s us,” he smiles. “Anyways, they dared me to do it,” he starts off, continuing to wrap you up. He was almost done. ”Once I got up there, it was actually decent. Stayed on for quite some time. Until that shit starting spinning. Let me just tell you, it was not a pleasant experience. Almost shit my pants and puked at the same time.” You laughed for probably the hundredth time tonight, and yet Eddie could listen to it until he died. He loved to make you laugh. It was his new favorite hobby.

He laughed along with you, finishing the wrapping of the bandage, admiring his work. You lower your shirt with a strain and a wince after a couple of minutes, causing him to look up at you. “You alright?” He asks in a sincere voice. You sigh, but nod. “As good as I can be. I just hope that little one out there is okay.” You say with as much concern as Eddie, turning your head to the door. “Oh he’s got a 5 star couch for the night. He’s more than okay, sweetheart.” He knew you meant about the whole situation. About your father and the fear and the hurt. But Eddie promised both you and himself that he’d protect the Henderson siblings. That meant both physically and emotionally. And he’s not one to ever break a promise.

You smile and put your hand on top of his, making him tense for a second. It was unexpected. “I can’t thank you enough.” He flips his hand and interlocks it with yours. “Don’t need to thank me sweetheart. It’s the bare minimum.”

You hum, knowing he’s right but still finding it a bit unbelievable that someone can be as funny and sweet as him. You hated how people called him a freak. You felt guilty for ever thinking of him other than a good guy. Dustin was right about him. He was so right.

“Anyways!” He says with enthusiasm, jumping up from the bed and slapping his thighs. “Let’s get you ready for bed, huh? It’s already..” he glances at his watch and is somewhat shocked. “12:17. Damn.” He opens his drawer, searching for some clothes he could give you. “Aha!” He says, similar to when he found your bandage. He pulls out a hellfire shirt, most likely an extra one since he was wearing his, and some black pajama shorts that were way too similar to boxers.

“I hope this is okay,” he asks. You smile as he places the clothes next to you on the bed. “It’s more than enough,” you reassure him. “Thank you Eddie.”

“Like I said sweetheart, no need to thank me.” He pulls out clothes for himself as well. An oversized Metallica shirt and red and black flannel pants. “How’s my outfit for the night?” He asks, putting the clothes up to his body and posing. You chuckle and shake your head slightly. “Makes you look like Metallica’s number one fan,” you joke. “Matter of fact, are you part of their band? With all the merch you have..” your voice trails off as Eddie smirks in satisfaction that you’re opening up to him.

“Ah, she’s got jokes, huh?”

“Guess you’re rubbing off on me, Eds.”

Eddie pauses, his breathing becoming a bit quicker than before. “E-Eds?” He repeats in a whisper. Your eyes widen in nervousness. “I’m sorry! I just thought that- I mean you call me sweetheart, so I thought a nickname for you would make sense. I’m sorry, I’ll stick with Eddie, I wasn’t thinking-“

“No!” He interrupts, making you stop talking. “I liked it. Trust me, I liked it. It was just unexpected, that’s all. Please, keep calling me that.” He knew he sounded kind of desperate, and he had to admit it was a bit embarrassing. But not to you. Your still expression turned into a happy one, as you bit on your bottom lip for a second. “Eds it is then,” you grin.

“I guess I am rubbing off on you, sweetheart. Nicknames, jokes. Third base for me is using humor to cope. Seems like you share that same trait, huh?” You chuckle, grabbing the clothes he left for you on the bed. “Don’t think so, Eds. Third base is me telling you about my father.” He smiles as you were able to make a small joke about the harsh events that had happened.

“Marriage seems like the next plausible option then,” he continues.

“Let’s elope.”

“Dibs on Dustin being my best man.”

“No fair, I wanted him as the flower girl!”

This time, it’s Eddie’s turn to laugh. Never in a million years had he thought he would be joking about third base and marriage with Y/n Henderson. Life surely is unpredictable.

“You go change now,” he says, his laugh fading a bit, but his smile ever faltering. “Let me check on Dustin.”

“Ever the babysitter,” you huff with a playful tone.

“Hey, that’s Harrington’s job.” You smile and glance at him once more, before disappearing into the bathroom with a click erupting from the bathroom lock.

Eddie is frozen in his room, replaying the encounter in his mind over and over again. You were definitely something else and he absolutely loved it.

You on the other hand were a blushing mess. “Okay,” you whisper to yourself, looking at your reflection in the mirror. The bathroom was quite small, considering it was a trailer home but you didn’t mind one bit. It was still spacey enough to change in.

After a couple minutes, you changed into the hellfire shirt and the shorts. The hellfire shirt was somewhat long on you, and when you would move a certain way, it made it seem like you didn’t have pants on. It made you chuckle a bit.

When you walked out of the bathroom and back into Eddie’s room, he was no where to be found. He was probably still checking in on Dustin and changing into clothes as well. You sat on the bed once more and lifted up the shirt to view the bandage. You ran your fingers along the material, feeling it’s rough surface. You winced a bit, but the bandage helped soothe the pain a lot.

You got back up after lowering the shirt and decided to explore Eddie’s room some more. Even though you did briefly before, it was cut short after he had caught you. You go over to his guitar hanging on the wall and play a couple of strings. It makes a small sound which causes your mind to drift to how and what Eddie would play. Definitely Metallica that’s for sure. You thought about if he would play Iron Maiden or even Möntley Crüe. After a couple minutes of thinking, you came to the conclusion that he for sure knew how to play songs from those two bands.

You shifted your attention the his nightstand beside his bed where you had previously found his dnd notebook. There were some cassette tapes and you knew you just had to go through them. What kind of music did Eddie Munson really listen to?

Majority of it was metal bands, of course, but there was one cassette that made you chuckle to yourself and smile widely.

Abba.

Eddie Munson listened to Abba. Maybe not religiously, like he did those other bands, but holy shit.

And as if on cue, Eddie walks through the door of his bedroom. The sight of you in a Hellfire shirt holding a Metallica and Abba cassette in each hand made his heart absolutely swoon. “I see someone’s snooping again,” he says with a bit of a shaky voice. Sure, his demeanor was confident, but seeing you in this way made his nervous. In a good way, of course.

“And yet again, I’m sorry,” you apologize. “But Abba?” You question. “No way the Edward Munson listens to Abba in his free time.” He scoffs at the name ‘Edward’ walking up to you and snatching the cassettes out of your hands, throwing them into his pajama drawer. “Calling me Edward makes me seem like an 80-year old grandpa.”

“You sure look like one.”

“Henderson with the jokes! Where is this coming from?”

“Like I said before Eddie, you’re rubbing off on me.”

“I think you’re right. I even have you in a Hellfire shirt.” Eddie couldn’t help but imagine that the shirt was his shirt. It was an exact match, they only had one design. It made him blush ever so slightly, but it went unnoticed by you.

“This is pretty comfy,” you say with happiness, gripping the ends of the shirt and hopping on his bed. You yawn softly and he notices, turning on the lamp next to him bed. “Why don’t you sleep, sweetheart? It’s been a long day, you need to rest.”

You nod slightly, getting under his comforter and laying down. He shuts off the overhead light and walks over to you, smiling while looking down at you. You meet his gaze and smile. “I know you told me not to thank you Eddie, but that’s all I can say right now. Thank you for helping me and Dustin.” He smiles at your kind words and nods, not trusting his voice to respond. He turns around to leave, but he feels you grab his wrist. He doesn’t move his body but turns his head so he’s looking at you once more.

“Where are you going?” You ask, a slight worry hidden in your voice. “I’ll just be in Uncle Wayne’s room. It’s right across the hall.” He tries to reassure you but your grip on his wrist doesn’t falter. “Please don’t go,” you whisper, making his heart beat faster than he thinks it ever has. “I.. I don’t want to be alone. I’ll know you’ll be in the other room but-“

Eddie doesn’t allow you to finish. With his other hand, he grabs yours that’s on his wrist and smiles widely at you. “Y-Yeah,” he stutters a bit. “Of course I’ll stay.”

He walks over to the other side of the bed and grabs a pillow, ready to set up on the floor. You sit up in his bed and look over at him. “What are you doing?” You ask, hands folded in your lap. “Setting up on the floor,” he says nonchalantly. “Oh..” you say in disappointment, and this doesn’t go unnoticed by Eddie. “What’s the matter, sweetheart?” You bit your lower lip in hesitancy. “Nothing, I just.. is it weird to ask if you c-can stay up here.. with me? I mean, the bed is big enough for both of us- obviously you know that, it’s your bed,” Eddie chuckles as you ramble on. “You don’t have to sleep with me- n-not like that, obviously! I mean if you don’t want to l-like.. fuck, I’m totally botching this, huh? I’m gonna go crawl in a hole.”

Eddie laughs, putting the pillow back on the opposite side of the bed and tilting his head toward you, silent for a moment. “Yeah that totally sucked,” he admitted, making you throw a pillow at him. It hits his face but he catches it before it hits the floor, making you laugh for a second. “Shut up,” you scoff. He sits on the bed with a hop, handing you back the pillow. You put it back under your head and lie back down. He looks at you as you snuggle yourself in his comforter, wondering what it would be like to see you like this every night. Magical is the only word he could come up with.

Soon he mimics your actions and turns toward you as you stare up to the ceiling. You were silent, the injuries on your face still very much evident. Eddie took his time to really take in your appearance, past the bruises.

Your side profile was beautiful. He had never seen anything like it and mentally degraded himself for ever ignoring you. You looked peaceful just laying on his bed and wearing his clothes. He allowed his mind to drift to what it would be like to go star gazing with you, or even take you out to Lovers Lake and have a picnic. He normally hates doing those sorts of things. It just wasn’t his style. But the more he got to know you, the more he realized that he’d do anything you’d ask him do. Dare he say, even listen to Tears for Fears and The Cure.

Your voice brought him out of his little daydream, as he realized you were now facing toward him and your lips were moving. “You’re not uncomfortable, are you?” You ask with concern. “Not one bit,” he admits a little too quickly. You smile, relaxing a bit and turning back to face the ceiling. “I hate that this is my life,” you whisper, causing Eddie’s smile to drop. He doesn’t say anything though. He just allows you to continue. “I just want a family. I want Dustin and I to be able to sit at a dinner table with others besides just us two. I want to talk about nonsense and have someone listen to me anyways because they care about me. I just want someone besides Dustin to care about me.”

“I care about you.”

“You basically just met me. You didn’t know me before.”

“And look at the impact you made. I could listen to you talk for hours.”

You turn your head to Eddie once again, feeling your heart race. “Really?” You whisper in disbelief. “Are you kidding?” He whispers back. “I was a fool to not have known you sooner. We could’ve been eating those microwaved dinners together and talked about nonsense for years!” You smile at the mention of microwaved dinners. Sure they tasted like shit most of the time, but they provided you comfort. Dustin too. He must’ve told Eddie about them.

“Maybe we can do that then,” you say with some confidence. “Like every Saturday or Sunday or something. The Henderson’s and the Munson’s. If that’s okay with Wayne, of course!” You had never met Wayne, but just by the way Eddie’s eyes lit up at his name, you knew he was a good parental figure toward him. “That sounds perfect, sweetheart. I’m sure Dustin would love it. Maybe we can teach you and Wayne to play dnd.” You chuckle at the thought of you playing the one game you swore you never would. Yet when Eddie mentioned the idea, you couldn’t help but feel hopeful that it would become a reality. “I actually really like that idea, Eds,” you admit. He hums and you could hear the happiness he radiates.

“I’m tired,” you whisper. “Sleep then, sweetheart. We’ve always got tomorrow to talk and goof around.”

“Eds?”

“Yes?”

“Are we friends?”

“I think sleeping in the same bed unlocks that level of our bond, don’t you think?”

“I do. I just wanted to make sure you thought the same way.”

“Don’t worry. We’re on the same page.”

You felt your eyes getting heavier as each word spilled past your lips. Sooner or later, you had fallen asleep, not even realizing the lingering touch of Eddie’s hand on yours.

Hours later, you presume, you woke up to a bright light shining through Eddie’s beat up window. You felt very warm, and looked down to realize that you were tangled up with Eddie, kind of like a knot. You felt your face heat up almost immediately when you say how your head rested on his chest and your legs were engulfed in his. His arms were wrapped around your figure, somewhat keeping you from moving or shifting without waking him up. You had to admit, it was the most comfortable you had been in a while.

You look up and see Eddie snoring slightly, his eyes closed and his mouth in a small smile. You wondered if he was dreaming and what it was about. While admiring him, his eyes fluttered open and instantly, he made eye contact with you. His raspy voice comes out in a whisper. “Hello sweetheart.” You smile at him and yawn, nodding to reciprocate the greeting. “How long have you been awake?” He asks, not breaking eye contact with you. “Just a couple of minutes,” you admit. Before he could respond, a harsh opening of the bedroom door startles you both, causing you to break eye contact and glance at the door. It was Dustin.

“Eddie! Where the hell is the milk? I’ve been looking for-“ his little rant was cut short when he takes in how you and Eddie are in each other’s arms, in the same bed, under the same sheets. “Please don’t tell me you two were fucking!” Dustin screams, turning around quickly. A deep blush creeps on your face almost instantly as Eddie starts to laugh. “Dustin!” You scold. “We weren’t- God, I need to teach you how to speak properly.”

“We’re out of milk,” Eddie says nonchalantly. You wondered how he could be so chill about what Dustin said, but when you looked up at him, you realized his cheeks were just as red as yours. It made you smile.

“How can you not have milk?” Dustin protests, turning back around to make eye contact with Eddie. “And more importantly, why the hell are you all over my sister?”

“He’s not all over me!” You yell, causing Dustin to roll his eyes. “I can see his hands wandering!”

“You must be hallucinating because his hands are-“

Before you could finish though, you were interrupted by Eddie’s fingertips circling your right thigh under the sheets. There was no way Dustin could see, but you would still deny it until your last breath. At first, you were confused why Eddie was doing what he was, until you looked up at him to see he was smirking but not looking toward you.

He was teasing you.

“J-Just go drink s-something else,” you stutter, trying hard to ignore the butterflies erupting in your stomach as he grips your thigh. “But I want milk!” Dustin says, stomping his foot. Eddie then speaks up. “Henderson, how about you drink some water? Stay hydrated, huh?” You were glad Eddie spoke up when he did. You didn’t trust your voice to not crack or stutter. Dustin huffs in annoyance, and leaves Eddie’s room with a quiet close of the door. One thing you had taught him was to never slam doors. Once Dustin was out of view, you slapped Eddie slightly on the chest.

“What the hell was that?!” You ask, getting up out of his embrace. You felt cold without him. “No way you’re mad at me,” Eddie fights back with a smile, getting up with a stretch. “I’m not mad, I’m just..” you didn’t really know how to feel. “Turned on?” Eddie jokes, which causes you to throw a pillow at him. “Am not!” You contradict, chuckling as he catches what you threw. “Sure Henderson, deny it all you want.” All you do is scoff playfully, looking at him with a smile. “Eds-“

“Go on a date with me.”

Your eyes widen in confusion and surprise at his sudden boldness. “W-What?” You stutter. He was on one side of the bed with you standing on the other side, so the distance wasn’t too far. “Stop me if I’m reading this wrong but I enjoy hanging out with you,” he admits. “And yeah, I love being your friend now but.. I want to care for you in a different way. I don’t want to apologize for my lingering touches or glance at you only when you’re not looking. I want to try with you. And hey, if it doesn’t work out, then it doesn’t work out. But I want to try this, Y/n.”

Y/n. That’s how you knew he was serious. Not sweetheart this time, but your actual name.

You were silent for a second before walking over to his side of the bed and smiling up at him. “I never would’ve thought that Edward Munson would be asking Y/n Henderson out on a date.”

“Again with the Edward.” You chuckle and pull him into a hug, which he doesn’t mind reciprocating. “Of course I’ll go on a date with you,” you accept. Your soft voice tickles his neck but he doesn’t care, it felt good.

“Yeah?” He whispers.

“Are you kidding?” You say, pulling away from him. “I’d be a fool not to. You helped me and my brother so much, it only proved how good of a guy you are. I want this, Eds. I want to try with you.”

He smiles, looking down at you. You’ve never seen him smile like that, not even when he’s playing dnd.

“Eddie! Get your ass out of that room! I want fucking milk!” You both hear Dustin scream with a voice crack. You laugh along side Eddie, not breaking eye contact. “Your brother is a handful.”

“What gave you that idea?”

🏷 Tag list: @thatonedemonbitch @mrs-billyrussooo @underthebatcape @variety-fangirl @kiarabellerum31 @scenesofobx @theloser007 @fieldofsecretss @delicateharrystan @chrisevansmarvelmcu @gerim-1995 @meaganjm @jade-04 @spencers-abit-weebish @joequinnluvr @scarruby13 @fluffycookies22 @a-lil-bit-nuts @jargotquinn

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catgirl-kaiju · 2 months

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i'm saying this as a trans man and someone who has watched this infighting that seems to be brewing for a long while so don't think i want to continue it further by dragging you in the mud of it all especially after seeing that you already get targeted by terfs i for one don't even follow genderkoolaid and have a lot of bad takes but i know that their good ones do circulate in my circles for things like databases for trans man hate crimes and what have you things that are invaluable to trans people to have as support in the community the baggage behind a lot of these words that get thrown around like "transandrophobia" just leave a bad taste in my mouth and i feel like if they will have any validity in academia and social justice all the theory will get ironed out in the next few years and so i just don't see any use defending THE WORD let alone THE SLUR THAT MANY USE but i think that it needs to be understood that the word """"transandrophobia"""" is not a organized school of thought with everyone attached to some discord group that has secret infighting targets and takes pot shots at trans women all i ever see is people using the word, talking about WHY THE SLUR IS A SLUR, and wanting to talk about problems trans men face without always having to use the word "misandry" because it is deeply upsetting that in so many ways we are born women, we live as women, and will never escape womanhood i feel like not being able to escape the things people perceive you as and the assumptions and fears (especially the fears people think are justified when they are very much not) are a universal trans experience and so it really hurts to just see people spot a basic word like "transandrophobia" being used in a post and deem an entire group of people bigots i see trans mascs and intersex people do the same for "tme/tma" where they just totally avoid anyone who uses these terms its tearing the community apart and making it harder to remember how much we have in common and bigots want us to be alone and defenseless like that... sorry that this was long winded, i'm sure you've heard all of this before i just felt i needed to vent because its really not about the blog its about the general way people navigate in fighting genderkoolaid is not someone i'm really willing to defend, let alone the other blogs that get tossed around that have been in heavy water so i hope i've made that clear here at the very least

hey i don't really follow what you're saying here. i'm not sure what slur the slur you're referring to is, and i'm very unclear what your point is abt transandrophobia. i'm also confused abt which intersex people u are referring to that don't like the terms tme/tma. i'm intersex and use those terms, and i've seen other intersex folks actually prefer those terms for discussions about transmisogyny because of how it shifts the focus away from very binary way that sex is talked about in the AGAB model.

this is, in general, confusing and makes me uncomfortable in ways i can't really articulate atm. i think chief among them is a kind of "but, what about me" vibe i'm getting from this at a time i am being more vocal than ever abt how transmisogyny affects me and other tma folks.

although i'm not sure what your stance on the term "transandrophobia" and the ideas behind it are, i can say that very much disapprove of it for reasons others have articulated so much better than i could. i think issues that uniquely affect trans masc folks are worth talking about, but i think the framing of conflating those issues with the way transmisogyny functions is just the wrong way to go about it. much like how "misandry" is not really a helpful way to talk abt the ways that cis men are affected by patriarchal systems, as those issues are not equivalent to the way misogyny functions. very telling that before the term "transandrophobia" was used, the same ideas were being described with the term "transmisandry"

#ask #anon

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morgue-ratt · 1 year

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A lot of my job is pretty mindless so I spend a lot of my day daydreaming and I couldn't let go of this idea. This is my first time writing for MHA but I did my best <3

Kai Chisaki OVERHAUL x reader in Painkiller

warnings: captive reader, manipulation but like. on the molecular level

word count: 922 words

THE boredom had gotten painful. There were no windows in the sparce, spacious room you’d been sentenced to. There wasn’t much of anything. A bed with coarse yellow sheets and a thin blue blanket was pushed up against the wall, beside it was a plastic table that your meals were placed on that served no other purpose. The cold, clinical white lights embedded in the ceiling were on a timer than did not coincide well with your sleep schedule and you’d learn to sleep with them on, directly above you.

You had not been told where you were or who had brought you here. When you last asked how long you’d been here the man had cocked his head slightly and gave you a pitiful look. Overhaul’s pity cut like a knife. You wanted nothing less. He was the only person you’d seen since being taken but you knew you two weren’t alone.

He’d introduced himself as Kai. But you refused to call him something that familiar. You knew it irritated him when you referred to him as Overhaul, especially when you made no effort to keep the seething hated out of your voice.

You used to cry. When you had first been brought into this terrible room you cried and begged to be let go, by now you wished you hadn’t shown that vulnerability. You had asked why you were but he always gave vague and untrue answers. At first, he found joy in your every struggle. You could see his eyes crinkle as he smiled from behind the horrible mask.

Eventually you stopped crying. You buried your fear and despair and only nurtured your anger until Overhaul could feel it in waves just by entering the room. You sat on the floor beside the bed, curling yourself as small as you could managed like a coiled spring, waiting, waiting, waiting to snap. You didn’t know what he wanted but you would give nothing. He touched you with gloved hands and you’d flinch backwards like his rubber skin burned. He would laugh at this and you were used to it, growing up Quirkless you’d had expirence being picked on. You were an easy target, what’s the worst you could do?

But both of you were getting sick of this, Overhaul was obviously annoyed that he hadn’t managed to break you yet.

When the door to the room opened that day your eyes flicked from the floor to him, silhouetted in the frame. You barely even reacted, shifting on the floor where you sat.

“Get up.” He said and you smirked only slightly. You loved when he told you what to do, it made it that much easier to get under his skin. The door closed behind him and he approached in measured steps. You’d never see him anything but cool and restrained despite your attempted to drive him up the wall. “Did you not hear me?” He asked, standing above you and you met his eyes. “I said get up. Off the floor.”

“I heard you.” Your voice was raspy from lack of use.

Overhaul crouched down so he could better assess you and your expressions. He was close, only his beak between you but you knew by now that for whatever reason, he wasn’t going to hurt you. “Do you know how long you’ve been here?” He asked, though he knew you didn’t. “I’m getting tired of this.” He admitted and you jutted out your chin slightly. There was a small part of you that was proud that you hadn’t given in. He could have everything he wanted, but not you.

Until Overhaul started peeling off his gloves. Your eyes widened and you pushed yourself back into the wall. He was so close, there was no way of escape. “Wait.” You didn’t know what exactly his Quirk did but it must have been dangerous if he wore gloves everywhere. As he reached towards your face, you felt the panic rise in your chest. “Don’t fucking touch--”

He rested two fingers on either one of your temples and the effects were immediate. A rush so fast your head would’ve fallen back if he hadn’t been holding you upright. For a few seconds you couldn’t even breathe until your eyes met his again and he shifted his fingers slightly, flooding your system with what could only be described as bliss.

As Overhaul meticulously replaced the adrenaline in your system with dopamine, serotonin and oxytocin you couldn’t keep the dazed smile off your face or the near love in your eyes. It was something he’d never tried but it had worked better than he’d hoped. You were smiling at him like you never had before, his hand went from your temple to your cheek and you leaned into his touch. “How are you feeling?”

You couldn’t even answer, just smiling even wider. He pulled his hands away and you practically fell over trying to get him to touch you. He wrapped his arms around you and you had no resistance left in your body as you curled into him. He was warm, there was a heartbeat. It suddenly hit you, just how lonely you had been. If he hadn’t been holding you, you would’ve surely been floating, you felt high as he wrapped his arms around you and held you close.

#kai chisaki #overhaul #overhaul x reader #overhaul x you #kai chisaki x reader #chisaki x reader #my hero academia #frenzy scribbles

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and-stir-the-stars · 11 months

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Since saffron evan is used to seeing people terrified bc of. Y'know, life or death situations. What would he do if he witnessed Michael in maximum panic mode? Like, would he be surprised because Mike's been the one taking care of him and helping with his trauma as much as was possible, or would he just be so numb from exposure that he's like :|

That probably depends on where in the timeline we're talking about.

If it happened in the time between the Bite and Mike moving out ~18, then Evan isn't quite William's perfect little killer yet. I'm not sure yet if Evan's first kill happened before or after Mike moved out, but either way, Evan isn't used to killing or seeing the looks on people's faces before they die. He definitely isn't desensitized to it yet. I think seeing Mike in "maximum panic mode" would be confusing to Evan at this stage, because Michael has spent years making fun of and tormenting Evan for things like crying and not being able to control his breathing, so... why is Mike doing it? It's especially confusing with William's whispers in his ears about crying being weak, and how these feelings that should make you 'weak' should be turned against others so you can be strong. Why isn't Mike doing that?

If Evan sees Mike panicking post-capture but before he connects with Mike after Mike gets custody, things would be way different. At this point, as ironic as it is, Evan basically sees Michael as a weaker version of himself.

Michael is the one who wasn't good or strong enough to carry out the family business. William specifically chose Evan over Mike because EVAN was the one William knew could be strong (or so Evan thinks). Michael is the coward who ran away at 18, the one too weak to even carry the Afton name (Mike changed his name to Schmidt in the au). Seeing Mike in panic mode would give this Evan a grim sense of self-satisfaction, both because William has encouraged him to want those who hurt him to suffer and now the guy who tormented him for years is suffering, and because it's further evidence that Evan is the strong one and Michael is weak.

Or, Evan could see the panic attack while he and Mike are just starting to form a tenuous, fragile relationship. In which case, Evan is unnerved. Ev remembers how bad his own panic and crying attacks used to be (once he stops repressing the early days of William manipulating him, at least), but Evan doesn't have a very good frame of reference for appropriate ways to calm someone when they're panicking, given the way he grew up. Evan feels like he's supposed to be doing something to help-- he knows that a good person should WANT to help-- but Evan has no idea WHAT he should do to help, or how to tell... if... he... WANTS... to help?

And given that this Evan is just starting to be crushed under the weight of what an awful person he must be to have helped William, the fact that he doesn't know what to do to help Mike is crushing. The guilt and uncertainty leads him to either leave the room entirely and just leave Mike to it, or just stand/sit there and watch Michael as he is paralyzed and unnerved by what he's seeing. He feels guilty for it later, but he doesn't apologize for doing nothing, and unless Michael initiates a conversation about the panic attack, then neither of them mention it ever again.

Evan doesn't want to, but he's stuck thinking about it for weeks afterward. Thinking about how it unsettled him to see Michael so weak (re: the proper word is vulnerable but Evan doesn't know there's a difference between weak and vulnerable yet). How Mike isn't all that bothered that Evan saw him at such a "weak point" when Evan knows he should be VERY bothered about that. How he (Evan) didn't know how to respond, how guilty Evan felt for not knowing and doing nothing.

There could potentially be anger/fear at this point, too; Evan has lost the only person he thought could ever take care of him or love him (William), and yes, Evan is starting to see that William was abusive now, but how is he supposed to trust Michael can take care of him if Mike can't even take care of himself? Michael's the one who took him in and made him feel all these vulnerable and weak feelings again and told Evan that he's "just a kid" and shouldn't have all this horror and weight on his shoulders, and yet, here Mike is, not being strong for Evan like he promised after SPECIFICALLY making Evan vulnerable/weak again.

Evan has confusing feelings for a long time afterward (thankfully, he has some pretty good therapists to help him through it).

Which leads to what would happen if Ev saw Mike panicking post-Actual Formation of Brotherly Relationship. Evan's still plagued by the fear of not knowing what to do, but he tries to act through it anyway. Maybe at first through small things; he grabs a box of tissues and a blanket and a snack and leaves it next to Michael for his brother to have when he comes down from the panic before leaving the room entirely. Maybe one day Evan brings up his paralyzing fear that crops up when he sees Mike upset because he Does Not Know What to Do in therapy, and the therapist tells him "well, have you asked your brother how you can help him when things get that bad?"

Evan's brain short-circuits at the idea of it really being THAT simple. There's still emotional constipation between the two of them (Evan being too anxious and proud to ask, and Mike being too proud to give an actual answer plus not wanting to put the burden of having to help him through panic attacks on Evan's shoulders), but eventually they do talk things through and things get a little bit easier for the both of them.

#this was a really awesome and interesting ask #not even lying #thank you anon this was amazing to think about #saffron pawn au

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eddiebillysteve · 2 years

Text

cat and mouse

(( harringroveson prison au )) chapter twelve | find the rest here

a/n | @leticheecopae has released the first chapter of her companion fic and you can find it HERE. In it, Nancy finds herself framed and tossed into prison after doing a little investigating into Steve's arrest. Her cellies are Chrissy (the top dog of their prison and Billy's best friend from the outside), Robin and Vicki. IT IS SO GOOD AND THERE'S GNA BE CROSS OVERS AND REFERENCES AND JUST. I KEEP REREADING IT OVER AND OVER DFNPSFN. Find this chapter of cat and mouse on ao3 here !!

warnings | daddy kink, mention of suicide/child murder, dom/sub themes, possessiveness, steve being a gay panicked confused mess (this is a permanent tag), general prison talk, stuff like that !!

tag list | @whoringrove @darkandstormyslash @devotionsofmaryoliver @nowhereinthedenn @cherixsays - let me know if you'd like to be tagged in future updates or removed from the list !!

moodboard by @a-redharlequin !!

“I’ve got something for you. A little surprise, just because you’ve been so good for me,” Eddie could barely contain his grin as he looked at Steve from the doorway. He had something held behind his back, hidden from Steve’s view, and maneuvered himself to be able to shut the cell door while still keeping it hidden.

“What?” Steve sat himself up. It had been nice having Billy gone - no one had hurt him, he didn’t live in fear, no one watched him go to the toilet. He’d gotten to know Eddie very well and had gotten to know Argyle decently well during work duty every day, too. The poor guy was a wreck without Jonathan around, so Steve liked distracting him by telling him about the most recent films and albums that had come out the last few years that he’d missed while being locked away.

Every time his eyes glanced towards Eddie, whether it was the laundry room, cafeteria, or during their outside time, he noticed he was always being watched. Not in an intimidating way, but more out of admiration. Eddie was smitten with him, much like he was smitten with Billy, but in a completely different dynamic. With Steve, he was the one in charge.

It made Steve feel really fucking good, too. He liked Eddie more and more as the days went on.

Sometimes it reminded him of the beginning days with Nancy, when they both couldn’t stop sneaking glances at one another across the classroom.

“You heard me. A present, just for you,” Eddie grinned so big. “Close your eyes.” Steve gave him a bit of a should I trust you? look, and he couldn’t help but laugh. “It’s not a bomb, baby. Relax. You’ll like it. Promise.”

Steve shut his eyes after another second of hesitation.

“Now, hold out your hands. But keep your eyes closed,” Eddie instructed as he crept forward. When Steve did as he was told, he counted down from three before putting the stuffed little thing into his palms.

Every now and then in the commissary, they received little stuffed bears that the inmates could buy. They were intended for the men to use as gifts for their children that visited, or for them to send out along with cards and drawings for special occasions on the outside, but there weren’t any rules against the men keeping them for themselves – or giving them to other inmates.

A stuffed animal was the last thing Steve was expecting to first feel and then see. It was a classic brown bear and he blinked slowly at it. He had absolutely no idea how Eddie had gotten his hands on a bear, but he definitely wasn’t complaining.

It got really lonely in the cell during the night with Billy gone and Eddie locked in his own.

“I… What?”

“Do you like it?” Eddie asked, clearly trying to contain his excitement and grin as Steve processed what it was he’d been given. “To keep you company when Billy and I aren’t around. He looks like he’d make a rather good snuggle buddy to me.”

“Yes– yes, of course I like it,” Steve finally said, touching his fingers over the bear . It was basic, no accessories or anything, but the little thing didn’t need it. The material was soft and gentle against his fingers, and it had an embroidered brown nose and two tiny black eyes. It was the type of toy he would have longed for as a child.

They were unsightly, his mother had said. Children’s toys strewn all over the place didn’t look good in their home when they often had their work friends coming in and out. The very select few he’d gotten from his grandparents were solely to be kept on a shelf in his closet when they weren’t in use – he treasured them, still had every single one tucked away for safekeeping.

His bedroom had been very dull and boring until he’d hit his teens and his parents had given it a makeover and covered the basic beige with plaid wallpaper. He’d never been allowed to have any sort of mess, not when his parents were home, at least. When he was older, allowed to stay home alone for weeks at a time, he’d gotten a little messier, a little clumsier, but he always made sure everything was perfection by the time they returned from Italy, or Paris, or London, or wherever it was they’d jetted off to for meetings and business affairs.

A lot of the time, for as long as he could remember, he wondered why they’d even had a child. As soon as he discovered what sex was, what condoms were, he’d come to the realization that their condom must have broken. He’d been a mistake, there wasn’t even a slight doubt in him about it.

“You didn’t get gifts a lot growing up, did you?” Eddie asked after a few moments of silence, tipping his head to the side. His big smile had faded into warm curiosity. “You don’t know how to process people giving you things just because.”

“I just don’t really understand, I guess,” He finally said. It should have been so easy for him to accept it with a thank you and give Eddie a hug, but his brain just… couldn’t. It didn’t work like that for him.

“There isn’t too much to understand, sweetheart,” Eddie moved forward, reaching out to grab his upper arms and rub them gently. “I saw it, it made me think of you, so I bought it. I don’t want you to be lonely. I used to have a stuffed animal when I was a kid, it went with me to all the foster homes and made me feel better. I just thought it might make you feel better, too. That’s all. Don’t overthink it. You don’t have to do anything for it, you don’t have to pay me back. It’s just a gift from me to you. Okay?” His hands trailed up, over his shoulders, up his neck, until he was firmly holding Steve’s face in his big palms. “Can I kiss you?”

He could feel Steve’s cheeks warm under his touch, but Steve stared at him with the biggest doe eyes he’d ever seen in his life.

“Steve?”

It took him a second to understand what he was being asked, and even though he could have, he didn’t feel like saying no. He wanted a gentle kiss, the kind of kiss he used to get from Nancy and all the other girls in high school. The kind of kiss that didn’t belong in prison.

And it was exactly what Eddie gave him.

The kiss wasn’t the same as the other ones where Eddie fought for control to prove he could be in charge, because he already knew he was. He had split ownership over Steve with Billy now, Billy just didn’t exactly know it yet.

Eddie had been avoiding thinking about it. He didn’t want Billy to lose his mind the second he got out and found Steve cowering under Munson for protection. He wanted to swing it in a way that Billy could feel like he was even more in control, not like he was losing it.

“Thank you,” Steve finally murmured when Eddie pulled away, looking at him through his lashes.

Eddie grinned, rubbing his thumbs over Steve’s cheeks, underneath his eyes. “Thank you, what?” He really didn’t mind correcting him – he actually sort of loved having to do it. It always made Steve so shy.

“Thank you, Daddy,” He mumbled, tipping himself forward to rest his forehead on Eddie’s shoulder. There was a hand in his hair, massaging his scalp, another reaching around him to rub up and down his back.

“You’re very welcome. Good boy,” Eddie murmured against his hair. “ My good boy.”

***

The second the infection had cleared up, Billy demanded he be allowed back to his cell. It was only agreed upon when he promised not to work for a week, to stay in his cell to rest, and to take it easy at all other times.

“No sex, Mr. Hargrove, unless you want to be right back here with torn stitches. Do you understand me? Even thrusting can do it. You’ve got to give it another week and a half, at least.”

He had grumbled at the terms, like he was a child being told off, but he reluctantly agreed because the nurse hadn’t explicitly said he couldn’t get off, couldn’t get blown. She’d just said he couldn’t have too much movement. If he stayed still and had someone else do the work, it would have been fine.

It had to be fine, because it was pent up in him by now and he needed a release – and to see if Eddie had taught Steve any pointers during his time away. Eddie had kept him in the loop somewhat, had told him he’d gotten Steve a teddy bear after hiding Billy’s had given him the idea, and that they’d gotten fairly close. Billy was eager to see if they’d gotten too close, but he knew there was no way Eddie had been stupid enough to have taken Steve’s virginity.

They released him on a Saturday morning, a time and day specifically chosen because Creel had the weekend off and he could have two full days to rest in peace and quiet without having to feel the anxiety that he would come and fetch him at any given moment.

He didn’t know what he was expecting to see when he reached his cell – a walk that took triple the amount of time it normally would have because of the pain that came with every step and the exhaustion he felt – but it wasn’t Steve curled up in Eddie’s arms on the bottom bunk, sunk against his chest with a little brown bear practically dancing on his own as he sung a little song, but it came to a stop when they realized the door had opened and Billy had made himself known.

“Holy shit,” Eddie bursted out, gently untangling himself from Steve to get up and throw himself around Billy in a tight hug. “About time. Jesus Christ, man. It’s been fucking forever.”

Billy wrapped one arm around Eddie’s waist, the other tangling in his curls. “Definitely feels like it,” He chuckled softly, pressing a kiss to his head.

He was in a good mood, or an okay one at the very least. Eddie hadn’t expected it and the relief that washed over him was heavenly.

If he had been in Billy’s situation, trapped in the infirmary for a week because of a psychopath disguised as a guard, he thought he would have been broken. Creel would have snapped his– or Steve’s– psyche like a twig, just like he had Jonathan’s, but Billy was strong. Stronger than most. He knew how to protect himself and how to bounce back. He’d been doing it since he was seven years old.

“What did I walk in on?” Billy asked then, pulling Eddie off of him so he could duck down and look into the bottom bunk where Steve had stayed. “Miss me, Princess?”

“Steve was just explaining a movie to me. Came out a few months ago. Really popular, he said,” Eddie cut in so Steve didn’t feel like he had to answer.

“Oh yeah? Well, don’t stop on my account. I’ve been locked up a hell of a lot longer than Eds, I want to hear all the new movies,” Billy gave a lazy little smile before gesturing for Eddie to crawl back in on the bottom bunk. He didn’t hesitate to, climbing over Steve to smush between him and the inside wall before Billy took the spot on Steve’s other side at the edge of the bed. The three of them were packed together on the tiny little bunk, Billy rather conveniently pressing his crotch against Steve’s hip, but he didn’t try anything. At least not yet. “Go on. What film were you talking about, anyway?”

“Ghostbusters,” Steve mumbled, very carefully lifting the bear up from where it’d been trapped in between him and Eddie to put it back on his chest.

“Don’t think I’ve heard of that one. Was this guy acting it out for us?” Billy propped his head up on his elbow and looked at the bear, free hand slipping around Steve’s waist. He slid it beneath his shirt, wanting to touch the skin there, and Steve didn’t protest.

“Well, sort of, but–” Steve mumbled, heat rising to his cheeks. The hand gliding across his belly was gentle, soft. It felt good, like Eddie’s touch. “It’s stupid.”

“Says who?” Billy looked down at him. Steve couldn’t believe how soft Hargrove looked; there wasn’t any furocity in his eyes. He wasn’t trying to be intimidating or frightening and if anything he looked tired. “Because I don’t think it’s stupid. That should be the only thing that matters. You were singing something. Sing it again.”

Steve hesitated, turning his head to look at Eddie for a mix of both encouragement and permission. “Go for it,” He whispered to Steve. “No one’s going to make fun of you. You’ll get a sweet if you do it.”

Billy’s eyes narrowed as the words hit his ears, but not out of anger. He was simply perplexed. He knew Eddie had taken over looking after Steve while he’d been away, but he hadn’t anticipated him getting so far with it. Steve was looking to him for permission, for guidance, the same way Eddie had looked to Billy for so long – and still did.

After another moment of hesitation, Steve slipped back to what he was doing. He put on a little performance, singing the theme song that was the same as the title.

It made Billy smile.

***

“Harrington!”

Steve nearly jumped out of his skin when his name was called from down the hall. Billy immediately pushed him into Eddie’s arms, maybe a little too hard, not letting him leave the cell before going out on his own. Whoever wanted to speak to Steve had to go through him.

It wasn’t another inmate, though, instead one of the guards. “Harrington’s in here. What is it?” Billy yelled out, half out through the cell door and half in.

“Mail.”

Billy’s eyebrows shot up in surprise and he glanced back at the men in his cell before taking the short walk down the cell block. He was playing a dangerous game by moving around as much as he had been – he’d been to the showers, too, and to the cafeteria to get hot water for noodles – but Argyle had given him strong painkillers and the pain had trickled away until he felt numb all over. Whatever they were, they were much better than the shitty ibuprofen Nurse Betty was providing him with every day.

It was an envelope, shaped like a card, and Billy plucked it from the guard’s hand. It wasn’t allowed, inmates collecting mail for one another, but anyone with eyes could see that Steve belonged to Billy now – including the guards.

On his way back to the cell, he tore it open and pulled out a birthday card. It made his eyebrows scrunch in confusion.

“Hey,” Steve blinked when he saw Billy with the letter already open. “You can’t just–”

“He can. And he does. He reads all of my mail, too,” Eddie murmured to Steve to try to shush him without actually saying the words.

“Just checking to make sure it’s alright for you, Stevie,” Billy glanced over to a fairly pouty looking Steve. “Who’s Dustin?”

“One of my kids. I want to see,” Steve tried to reach for the card, but Eddie grabbed and held his hand back. He would get to see it as soon as Billy decided he was finished with it. “I look after him, drive him to and from school, stuff like that. He’s thirteen. He’s friends with Nancy’s little brother. Met him through her.”

It hadn’t been bizarre for Nancy to pull him along to babysit her brother. Steve hadn’t gotten close with him, though, not like he had Dustin – Mike had always been standoffish, quiet. Nancy used to say it was because he was mourning.

“Holy shit,” Steve blurted out of the blue, and both Eddie and Billy looked at him. “The kids. Dustin, Nancy’s brother. They were friends with Will. Jonathan’s brother, the one that was murdered. We didn’t get together until he’d already passed on but she used to say Mike was so withdrawn because he was mourning. Will was his best friend.”

Billy plucked out something from the card, a polaroid, and held it up.

It was a picture of the three kids– Dustin, Mike, and Lucas– each holding balloons and making dumb, silly faces. Steve immediately reached out to take it, bringing it close to his face to look them over.

He’d been thinking he never would have heard from the little shits again. There was no way their parents would have let them stay in contact with a criminal – as far as Steve knew, they’d never written to Jonathan. They never even spoke about him, really. Never Will, either. He’d never had to bring them to buy a card, or to the post office. He had no idea who Jonathan even was before entering prison.

“You didn’t tell us it’s your birthday,” Billy handed the card over after another second. He’d send Eddie to grab Jon, who’d only been off of watch for a few days, and Argyle after they’d heard his explanation.

“I don’t celebrate it,” Steve muttered, eyes scanning over the card. Each boy had written something, though Mike and Lucas’ were short. Dustin’s message covered most of the card and it made him laugh out loud.

Of course Dustin would go on and on about how he was a badass and how they weren’t getting bullied in school anymore because all they had to say was that they knew someone in prison that would beat their ass once they got out.

He was glad they were taking it light heartedly.

“What do you mean, you don’t celebrate it?” Eddie asked, very gently using his finger to tip Steve’s chin up so his eyes were on him instead of the page.

“I haven’t really ever celebrated my birthday. My parents didn’t like birthday parties when I was a kid and they were never really around when I got older. So I just… didn’t. It’s just like every other day to me,” Steve revealed to the two of them, using all of his might to keep his eyes from dropping back down to the picture. He had no idea how the three children had even known how to write to a prisoner and he wondered, for a moment, if it was Nancy.

She may have told them he was locked away, or may have explained to them how they could write to him, but her name wasn’t anywhere on the card – not that he was expecting it.

“Well, Stevie, that’s not how birthdays are in prison,” Billy tossed the envelope onto the bottom bunk so Steve could use the return address on it. “Just because you may not have celebrated it before doesn’t mean we aren’t now.”

***

Jonathan couldn’t believe the photograph when he got to see it. The boys looked so grown up since he’d last seen their faces; he hadn’t seen them in a long time, not since Will had originally gone missing. Their parents and siblings had all helped with the search, the boys had zipped around on their bikes, determined to be the ones to find their friend.

Mike Wheeler had tried especially hard. He was out and searching from daylight to dark. Will had been his best friend since kindergarten, Jon had looked after him nearly as much as he had his own little brother. And then it was all gone the day they’d found Will’s body.

He’d lost his brother, the boys who were like his other brothers, his life, his freedom, his relationship with his Mom. Even if Joyce didn’t believe he’d done it, she never looked at him the same after he’d been arrested. The one time he’d asked her about it, she said it was because he looked too much like Will, but he could always tell when she was lying. He just knew there was a teeny tiny part of her that thought he was capable of doing something so heinous, the rarely seen part of him that had his father’s temper.

“Wow,” He finally murmured after staring at it a solid ten minutes in silence. “I can’t believe it. Mike’s so grown up. How do you know them again?”

“Mike is my ex’s brother,” Steve sat beside him quietly, so close their knees were touching. “I’d help her look after them and Dustin got really attached to me. He’s family. I spend a lot of time with him and his Mom.”

“So you were with Nancy Wheeler.” Jonathan got the story straight.

“Right. We didn’t meet until after everything happened, though. I never knew your brother,” His voice dropped lower and he could feel Jonathan cringe down.

Maybe it was too soon. He’d only just gotten off of watch a few days prior.

“She’s a nice girl. Really smart. Used to always stay and help clean up after Will’s birthday parties when they were little,” Jon smiled for a moment, but then it dropped. “That was the most time I spent with her. I wonder if she believes I did it.”

The pain in his voice throughout the last sentence left Steve’s heart torn to shreds.

“No. She doesn’t,” Steve reached out and took the picture from his hand to be able to hold it instead. “We talked about it, what happened. Mike was always so distraught, always acted like he hated me. When I asked why, she told me what happened. Said he was mourning. She doesn’t think you did it, man. Mike doesn’t either.”

But he didn’t know why Mike had never written to Jonathan. Chances were it was because their parents believed it, though, and wanted their son to stay far away from the Byers despite their history.

Jon nodded his head, clearly not convinced by the words. “Thank you for showing me. I really miss them.”

“You’ll get to talk to them again soon,” Steve murmured. “I’ll tell them I’m in here with you and they’ll all be writing right away, you’ll see.”

“I hope so, Steve.”

***

“So you get off on being in charge now, huh? On being Daddy instead of my little baby bitch?”

With Steve in the cell with Jonathan and Argyle, Billy had yanked Eddie outside of it to have a word with him about what had happened while he was away.

Eddie’s hands were pinned beside his head, Billy so close their fronts were touching. He forced one of his legs in between Munson’s, nudging them apart. If there weren’t any painkillers flushing through his body, the stance he had probably would have been painful. There would have been strain on the bruises covering his body and a little bit of strain to the stitches near his hole, but he admittedly forgot about it.

It was easy to forget when the pills were strong and gave him a soft buzz of a high. Not only did it take away his pain, but it made him feel good, too.

He couldn’t have cared less about who saw them. The guards would turn a blind eye, especially after knowing one of their own had gone a little too far with him. He would have some leeway for a week or two, could milk the guilt they felt to use to his own advantage.

“You wanna take over and have Stevie all to yourself?” Billy leaned in so his mouth was at Eddie’s ear. His tongue snuck out to tease the shell of it, breath hot against Eddie’s skin. “Do I need to remind both of you who really is in charge here?”

“No,” Eddie immediately shook his head, squirming a bit though he didn’t try to break free. He knew this reaction had been coming and had been building up inside of Hargrove while he played nice with the two of them. It was inevitable, he had been given time to come up with what he wanted to say, yet his mind still felt blank.

“No?” Billy pulled back to look at him with raised eyebrows.

Shit .

“No, Daddy,” Eddie corrected himself, but he knew it was too late. He’d already fucked up.

“Could’ve fooled me,” Billy scoffed before letting him go.

The only outcome that would have been worse than a painful punishment would have been being iced out again. If it wasn’t for Creel’s playtime, Eddie wasn’t even sure they’d have been on talking terms just yet. Billy would have forced him to grovel and beg for scraps of attention for too long to teach him a lesson.

“I like him. A lot. But I’ve just been trying to train him for you,” Eddie blurted, reaching out to grab onto Hargrove’s shirt to keep him from backing away. “Just listen, okay? He’s scared of you. Really scared. I’ve just been trying to make his transition easier. You’re not exactly the softest dominant to have for someone that has only had submissive girlfriends and you fucking branded him, Bills. He’s terrified to even breathe around you in the wrong way. I just thought we could work together on this. Make him into a really good pet for you. You do the rough stuff and I’ll be there to comfort him after. He’s fragile, he needs it. He’s not like me. You’re not going to be able to get him to turn into someone who likes pain. You have to treat him like Argyle treats Jonathan, and you know you’re not always into being real soft.”

Billy narrowed his eyes, but he listened to every last word. There were moments when he could be soft, but he was afraid of being vulnerable. It was when he was vulnerable that he was taken advantage of and hurt and he’d learned to shut that side far away. Providing gentle aftercare wasn’t his thing, not unless it served him some sort of purpose, lulled his pet further into his grasp.

“Keep talking,” he finally said, waiting for Eddie to continue.

“Think about how good you’d look to the other inmates if you let me look after him a bit. You’d be in control of another Daddy , you’d own someone else that’s in charge. That’s a whole other level of control, isn’t it? It’d make every other top in here realize they still bow down to you just like I do. Might stop some of them from thinking they can rise up against you.” He was trying hard to sound convincing, desperate to make Billy be okay with him caring for Steve, too. They’d made progress already — Steve looked to him for encouragement and confirmation that what he was doing was okay. “I can build him up while you break him down. Help you make him into a doting pet. And then you still have me to do all your extreme stuff on.”

Billy did like the idea of owning someone who owned someone else, but he wasn’t about to give Stevie up. “I’ll think about it. Everyone already knows you as my pet, Eds. They’ll think I’m losing my touch.”

“Then they don’t have to know. It’ll just be in private,” Eddie didn’t realize how much his voice had slowly shifted into a plea, but Billy did. And it had him even more intrigued than he already had been.

After another second of looking Eddie over, mentally chewing over his words, Billy grabbed his wrist and yanked him back into the cell.

“Out. All three of you. Now.” It wasn’t posed as a question, and Argyle raised his eyebrows a little. “Just want a second with Eds, Argyle. I’ll come get Stevie from you when I’m done here.”

“All good, amigo. C’mon, boys,” Argyle nodded towards the door and Jonathan was up quickly, but Steve was a little more hesitant.

“It’s alright, sweetheart. Go on. You’re safe with Argyle. I’m sure Jonathan has some stuff in their cell he’d love to show you,” Eddie gave Steve a smile and a nod of encouragement. “We won’t be long.”

“Okay,” Steve nodded before his eyes went to Billy. It wasn’t until he nodded in return that Steve actually left.

Billy shut the door behind them, locking the two of them in. “You really like him?”

A wave of nervousness hit Eddie then; he wasn’t sure if he was about to be fucked, or beaten, or shouted at — or kissed, or held. He couldn’t gauge Billy’s mood and it was scaring him a bit.

“Well, yeah. But in a different way than I like you,” Eddie’s voice was quiet and he took a step back when Billy stepped forward.

“And why is that?”

Hargrove’s voice was softer than Eddie expected, like he was actually trying to communicate rather than explode with anger.

“Because he’s sweet. And he’s gentle, and he’s scared, and he’s naive. He’s also a fucking goofball that’s actually hilarious if you get him in the right mood,” Eddie murmured, and this time when Billy stepped forward, Eds didn’t take a step back. “When I tell him he’s a good boy his eyes light up like he’s come back to life and it’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever fucking seen. His heart is the biggest heart I’ve ever known and he just wants to be loved, Bills. And he wants to love. He wants a family. Just like me and you. I can give him that. We can give him that.”

Billy was close enough to reach a hand up to cup Eddie’s chin as he spoke, his thumb rubbing over his jaw.

“I’m not taking him away. He’s yours. I’m yours. I just want to care for him with you,” Eddie’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Please, Bills. I haven’t asked for anything in so long. I’ve done everything you’ve ever said. Please .”

There was a long moment of silence before Billy was pulling Eddie in for a kiss by the chin. “Alright,” he mumbled against his mouth. “But I’m Daddy. You call me Daddy, Stevie calls me Daddy. You have to be called something else.”

“Really?” Eddie pulled back enough to look at him and make sure he was being serious. When Billy nodded, he crashed their mouths together again. “Thank you, Daddy. I owe you one.”

“You always owe me one, baby. Always.”

#harringroveson #harringrove #mungrove #steddie #harringroveson fic #harringroveson au #stranger things au #stranger things fic #prison au #tw: daddy kink #tw: prison #cat and mouse #my writing

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spyridonya · 1 year

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A, O, X for Kadee please?

Activities - What do they like to do with their s/o? How do they spend their free time with them?

Lann is the one she takes walks with and exploring nature, much to his surprise. She shows very little fear when they do this, despite the demons and aberrations within the Worldwound. She also likes to read with him and read to him, notably when it comes to novels and history books. She's not nearly as good with her aim as Lann is, but they do enjoy causal hunting together and foraging. During the winter they're prone to escaping to play in the snow if the snow isn't acid based. They play card games and she teaches him chess and he teaches her dice games.

Daeran is completely different. Though they're very much into stargazing and midnight picnics, they're a little more inclined to go to taverns together, though more or less the upscale ones compared to the ones that Lann would favor. They go to art galleries and museums after the crusade, and there are parties that Kadira would… rather not attend but she does. And when Daeran finds out she can draw? He poses. All. The. Time. Like Lann, Kadira reads with Daeran, though in different genres. They do go swimming, in more controlled environments than ponds in the wild, and Daeran tolerates Kadira's fawning over flora.

O n Cloud Nine - What are they like when they are in love? Is it obvious for others? How do they express their feelings?

It is… extremely obvious when Kadira is in love to her other companions. The first signs began with Daeran with her gentle bias towards him, finding excuses to spend time with him, she being a little brighter in her step. She smiled more. She never told anyone about her feelings though her actions were apparent enough. It got a little strange when the relationship became a thruple, and Kadira became more obvious with her bias towards Lann and her being a little more hesitant and fragile with Lann. Seelah threatened Lann if she ever saw Kadira looking unhappy, she'd throttle both Lann and Daeran. Sosiel had utterly no idea and Ember found it all fascinating.

XOXO - Are they very affectionate? Do they love to kiss and cuddle?

Kadira is an awkward duck in public. Daeran doesn't display affection in public for several reasons, mostly to keep Kadee's reputation safe, and she respects it. Lann is also an awkward duck in public, meaning the two of them aren't sure how to display it, and it becomes even more awkward when Daeran is far more open of PAD to Lann, because PAD isn't going to hurt Lann's future reputation.

In private, Kadira is a fountain of affection and so much of it is based on touch starvation. She loves to cuddle, she loves to kiss, she loves to be touched. Daeran is far, far more receptive to her affection and he craves it like a starving man and relishes a safe place not to be judged and even acts this way when in company with Lann. Lann is absolutely baffled by this affection despite being just as touched and affection starved, and there's a long, uncertian period between them on how to be with one another… simply because both have sucidial idealiation that frames their reference to one another. Once Lann realizes he wants to live and when Kadee realizes she can live, their relationship becomes far more open and affection. Eventually, Kadira is very public with her affection with both men after the Crusade is over.

#answered ask #turbulentpumpkin43 #(thank you so much as always!)#character: knight commander kadira #character: daeran arendae #character: lann the mongrel

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henrysglock · 8 months

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finally got the time to read chapter 3 of ptolemaea…. MISTER NIFTY AND MISTER NEAT JSKSBSJSNS CRYINGGGG SOBBING

Bob and henry have my whole heart I love them so muchhhh and young Scott is exactly how I’ve envisioned him, I also love how u write henry in regards to his trauma n how it can warp your perspective of situations, I relate so hard to how he downplays or twists things in his head because of what he’s been thru like being excited by hearing that Scott liked him to deciding it must just be fascination or something and settling on that. And I like how u don’t hold back w him still being triggered by the actions/words of ppl who have good intentions, that’s v real. And his pang of fear at the mere mention of doctors, also v real.

I felt it IN MY SOUL henry would take to sleeping in an oversized t shirt that’s why I always draw him it one !!!! I started kicking my feet when I read that

THE WAY I GASPED WHEN THEY WENT TO THE LIBRARY AND READ THE EDWARD TIMELINE PAPER DJSKSNS not bob calling it all a big coincidence lol

I also just love the small touches of references from the show like Henry’s insistence on “it’s not safe” and a bunch of others I noticed while reading like that

The pacing of it all is rlly satisfying too Im so intrigued

<3<3<3 shsksnsj

THEY'RE A PAIR!!! DO NOT SEPARATE!!!

The Bob-Henry dynamic has been so fun because like. Bob's in kind of this Steve-like role? Where he's a teenager himself but he's just got this kinda batshit kid attached at his hip and he has NO idea what the hell is going on. but he's here for it 🫡 Which is kind of akin to his role in ST2. Mans has NO idea what he's getting into, but dammit he's going to be helpful!!

Young Scott is my sweetie pie pookie little guy. He's got so much enthusiasm. He's dramatic and a little over the top sometimes which...looking at the dramatics he uses in canon as an adult? Yeah. 15 year old Scott feels like an absolute goober of a kid. He puts so much energy behind his interaction with Henry, it's just natural for him to. He's kind of puppy-like in that way; he charges forward with so much enthusiasm, only to realize a bit later that he may have come on a little strong and that he needs to be a little gentler. He's learning how to interact with Henry in a way that isn't overwhelming, but he's doing it without framing that change as burdensome (like we see with Max in canon, when she corrects him on her name and he just goes with it like it's no big deal). I adore him. He's such a good kid.

Young Henry has been a joy to write honestly. There's a delicate balance between capturing the fact that he's just some snarky teenager and having that trauma come in with a steel chair every once in a while. Because like a lot of the time that's how it is with trauma. Henry's got baggage, sure, but it's not everything all the time. He can still be and think about so many other things outside of his experiences in the lab. It just means his perception of himself is a little warped and certain settings/phrases make the hurt kick up a little dust.

Like that's how trauma goes! It's the lights going on in the foyer, something Bob doesn't think twice about re: the Creels, and Henry being hit hard with the last time he was there. It's Henry having a nightmare about something that was done to him, or a mistake he made that had disastrous consequences, and that turning around to color his self worth, making him go from expressive and present to completely shut down in a matter of seconds. Like you said, it's Bob with the best intentions (Bob, who's 100% correct), trying to get him to see a doctor for his concussion and him getting snappy about it out of fear.

And that's something that follows Henry, too, into adulthood. His mother still haunts him. Brenner still haunts him. The self-esteem issues still haunt him. It all just happens less frequently/with less intensity. It never goes away, he just...gets used to it. He gets better at pushing it away.

But anyway moving on!! Yes!!! He's such an oversized t-shirt guy. Personally I was thinking about that John Mulaney bit about the ghost of the little girl vs him in the too-big sleep shirt, because that's SO Henry. (Was there ever a ghost? Or was it just me all along?)

And okay like. As one of the main timeline theorists on this hellsite, I had to include my baby Edward in here somewhere. Yes, he is going to be plot important. It may or may not end up being canon compliant. We'll see how it fleshes out!! But yeah Bob doesn't know what he's getting into lmao he's seeing the Surface. Hell, even Henry doesn't know what's going on with that, but he knows that every "coincidence" has something more to it, even if he doesn't know what that something entails.

Okay okay and finally. I'm a slut for direct references to canon. Henward/El/Will are all canonically very similar to each other, it's just that they're shaped by differing circumstances. That is to say, 15 year old post-lab Henry would react to things in a mixture of El and Will: shoving hurt down/turning it inwards while also taking matters into his own hands and refusing to let others help. So...I would die before missing chances to make references!! (there's also a Robin-Steve reference, in chapter 2, I think, about being friends with 15 year olds pfft)

Gougjhfghjf I'm so glad the pacing is coming across alright!! I have No idea how long this fic is going to be so I'm just. writing how it comes and seeing how far it goes!!

<3 <3 <3

#asks #ptolemaea (blessed be the children)#comments on ao3 are shut off for the foreseeable future

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emeraldspiral · 2 years

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So after Dracula I started listening to some other gothic horror audio books.

First was Dr. Jekyll & Mr. Hyde

I don’t think I’ve ever watched an adaptation of the story as much as things which reference or are inspired by the original story, like the Hulk or Two-Face. I feel like you most often see Jekyll or Jekyll-analogues as good guys with a repressed dark side they hate. But in the original story that’s not really the case at all. Like, Jekyll outright confesses that the experiment wasn’t about separating out good and evil so he could get rid of his dark side or anything noble or purely curious. He basically just had a mid-life crisis where he wanted to relive his youth as a party-boy and resented having to give up his old habits and act like a respectable adult. He took the formula so he could shed any feelings of empathy or guilt and do whatever he wanted without caring and without having to face any consequences since no one recognized him in his Hyde form. It’s basically the same concept as the idea that if you gave a man a ring that made him invisible he’d turn into a complete psychopath because fear of consequence is the only thing stopping us from being evil.

Jekyll is conscious of what Hyde does and enjoys it for the most part and continues taking the formula despite the havoc Hyde wreaks in what seems to be an allegory for addiction. He only tries to stop being Hyde after he murders someone and he can’t bribe his way out of trouble as Jekyll. And when Hyde starts to take over even when he hasn’t taken the formula he kills himself to escape the consequences of his actions, not to prevent Hyde from doing further harm.

Frankenstein similarly, I know doesn’t have a lot of faithful adaptations and the idea of the monster in popular culture isn’t accurate to the book at all, but I feel like the way people talk about the actual book Victor and the Monster doesn’t quite reflect what I took from it.

Like, I definitely agree with everyone who calls Victor out on being a shithead for bringing life to the Monster and not nurturing it at all, but I also think the Monster isn’t as sympathetic as he’s often portrayed as. I guess it’s easier to feel bad for him in a lot of adaptations because he’s usually portrayed as having low intellect and not hurting people on purpose (like Lenny from of Mice and Men) or only reacting when scared or threatened, like an animal would.

But in the book the Monster is highly intelligent and kills innocent people unprovoked and on purpose out of pure spite. He’s basically the kind of person who becomes a mass shooter.

When Victor finally comes face to face with the Monster, he starts off by essentially saying he used to be a “Nice Guy”, and at first you’re inclined to believe it when you hear his loving description of the family he stalked and how he tried to help them and befriend them. But bear in mind, he didn’t have a real relationship with them, he just fantasized about having one. And when his dream didn’t come true he torched their cottage in revenge when he heard they were so scared of him they wanted to move.

Then he tells Victor he murdered his kid brother just because he hates his life and wanted to punish Victor for giving it to him. Then he framed a girl for the murder knowing she would be executed for it when she didn’t even know he existed purely because she was pretty and he wanted her companionship and knew he couldn’t have it because she’d be terrified of him like everyone else, and therefore deserved to die. Total incel logic.

Further, he tells Victor that if he can’t have human companionship he wants him to make another like himself so they can at least have each other. He literally says he only does bad things because he’s miserable but if Victor makes him happy he’ll stop, and he thinks a girlfriend is the magical fix that’ll solve all of his problems. Big Chris-Chan asking Santa for a girlfriend for Xmas energy.

I think Victor is completely in the right to not buy it. The Monster isn’t really a nice guy if he goes around attacking innocent people who haven’t done anything to him just because nobody loves him and he resents them for being happy when he isn’t. He’s also right to worry that giving the Monster a bride won’t be the fix he’s hoping for. She might not be his perfect waifu fantasy. She might not even like him. Or just having each other while still being outcasts might not be enough. The bride might be just as pissed that she was commissioned and brought to life, condemned to be an abominable outcast, as the Monster was with Victor. Then Victor would be responsible for bringing two violent hyper-intelligent super-powered monsters with a hatred for humanity, and him specifically, into the world.

I also think Walton is right when he calls out the Monster at the end as a hypocrite. He dedicated his life to making Victor miserable by killing everyone he loved and then baiting him to chase him into the arctic purely to make him suffer from having to endure the cold, then claims to mourn him when he dies, as if he wouldn’t still be endeavoring to torture him if he were still alive. He says he knows the things he did were awful and he hates himself for it, but he still did them and kept doing them until he’d accomplished his life goal of making Victor suffer. He didn’t stop because it was wrong, he stopped because he was done.

Of course, Victor is still a dick. Like, aside from bringing the Monster to life and immediately rejecting and abandoning it he lets a lot of people he supposedly cares about die because he’s a coward. Like, he knows the Monster is out there and just ignores it for most of the story instead of warning his loved ones or proactively trying to stop it. He also allows a good family friend to be executed for a crime the Monster committed. He claims he would’ve confessed to the crime and taken the noose himself if he didn’t have an alibi which made it impossible, and didn’t speak up about the Monster because he thought he’d just be dismissed as crazy. But if he were really a good person, he would’ve tried no matter how unlikely he was to be believed.

I definitely see the homoerotic undertones in the story. Like it opens with Walton cryposting to his sister about how much he wants a BF and then he meets Victor and instantly falls in love, while Victor is so passionately in love with his BF he goes into a months long angst-coma when he dies. It also feels kinda deliberate that in the original version his relationship with Elizabeth was incestuous and even in the revised version people keep asking him if he really wants to marry the girl who was raised with him as his sister and tells him it’s really okay if they’re not into each other like that. He keeps saying “Yeah, I’m fine. I totally wanna bang my sister” and yet he dreads his wedding day because he believes his life will be over because of the Monster’s promise to “be with [him] on [his] wedding night”.

There’s a running theme in the story about isolation, depression, and the need for companionship. Walton, as I said before, begins the story lamenting that he doesn’t have any friends (and apparently doesn’t see potential in any of his crewmates) and is ecstatic to meet Victor and find he’s exactly the sort of person he was looking for. When Victor’s story begins he’s had a pretty good life with a loving family and some good friends growing up but finds himself lonely and having difficulty making friends at college. He starts becoming enraptured with study instead of socializing, then once he starts working on his Monster he becomes so obsessed with it he neglects his relationships until people start to really worry about him. Once he returns home his friends and family try to nurture him, but the trauma of creating the Monster and consequences that arise thereafter make it a struggle to enjoy life no matter what they do to try to cheer him up. Meanwhile the Monster’s heartache over being friendless transforms him into a bitter misanthrope who can’t stand the thought of Victor being happy while he’s so miserable. When Victor gets to the end of his tale, the takeaway he seems to want Walton to have isn’t “Don’t tamper in god’s domain” as much as “prioritize your companions over your ambition”. Because his whole story started with him neglecting the people who loved him to pursue his creation, and then that creation systematically robbed him of them. Victor and the Monster are both extremely miserable throughout the story, but they both live for each other. Victor feels that he can’t die and leave the world and his friends to deal with the Monster on their own so long as he’s on the loose (not that Victor does anything to protect them while alive). But the Monster also feels that he can’t die as long as Victor lives because he needs his revenge and can’t be satisfied with the possibility of him ever moving on with his life and finding happiness again. Only when Victor dies is the Monster’s spiteful purpose fulfilled so that he can finally allow himself to die and free himself of the wretched existence of being shunned and hated by all.

It does kinda make you appreciate Young Frankenstein more. Even though it’s based around the pop-culture Monster and not the book Monster its main purpose is still redeeming the original sin of Victor’s failure to nurture the life he created, which exists in all versions of the story. His grandson creates a Monster of his own, but this time he not only chooses to love his creation, but to fight for him to be accepted by society so that he can find friendship and love too.

#frankenstein #dr jekyll and mr hyde

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alexcaldownapier · 1 year

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Film Project - Week 4-6

https://docs.google.com/presentation/d/1pm8pHm5VDb_m-m-4lgjCcXpciGIrP1pLj1Lo8v_UUsc/edit?usp=sharing

Exercise 3

Analysing how a change in aspect ratio affects our perception of a space/feeling. I think we’re starting to get somewhere... Again, not totally happy, mainly due to the inconsistency in the colour palette and I find that there isn’t the best sense of space throughout the shots. BUT, I am happy with some stuff - the close-ups are nicely lit and framed, I think and they convey the grimy, dull focused feeling of a late-night study session.

I wanted to create this idea of finding someone alone in a space almost surprisingly, from a voyeuristic perspective, so we start off with these details of the space and then her presence invades the frame and we take notice of her. I staged Zoe in a tucked away corner of the Kilby to emphasise the emptiness, and create these long leading lines in the wide angle shot.

I tried to use this exercise to also test out some ideas I’ve had for Longboard Nights. As it’s going for a high-concept, spectacle feeling, I wanted to see how widescreen aspect ratio would add to this idea. The vague, but telling, compliment of “cinematic” was used a couple times by the class when talking about the widescreen shots compared with the 16:9 shots. I agree, I think the shots in widescreen add a lot to the space and the feeling of the images, emphasising the expanse of emptiness and, as Andrew said, also made the use of negative space feel more deliberate. So I think it is something we want to use for Longboards... Still kinda unsure.

Film Project Development

The other thing I was testing out in this exercise was this grimy green/yellow colour palette paired with a wide angle lense. This is the approach I want for the bathroom scene in Longboards. The colour palette and lenses is something I’ve been talking to Ben a lot about in terms of their metaphoric/subtextual purpose. The bathroom scene is the peak of the film, where Alex is confronting her past and talking it through with her friend. She’s feeling insecure and scared, on loose footing after being reminded of her father and getting her friend hurt. So, the warping of the room and her face makes her seem sickly and uncomfortable while the yellows have connotations of insecurity and cowardice, showing Alex’s mental state. At the start of this week, I began testing lighting and camera set-ups for the scenes. I shot a reference for the bathroom scene, with the lighting and lense choices I’ve talked about.

This scene will be handheld, so I can use these slight dutch angles easily and inconsistently throughout, to add to the fear and discomfort. This edge light paired with the ultra soft wrap around bounce allows us to totally see our character, one of the first shots of Alex without dark shadows on the face. She’s exposed in this moment so we want her to have nowhere to hide in these shots, getting right up in her face with a wide angle lense. I love the way the 14mm looks - the warping isn’t as extreme as I would have originally wanted but, I actually prefer this slightly more subtle look. The close-focus is excellent and the lense flaring is also quite nice - very soft. For this I used a 1.2k HMI, a couple gels plus trace frame, a LEDgo and the natural bounce that occurs in the chapel. For the actual shoot, I think a 650w would give the right amount of light to bounce around the small bathroom. The light would be outside, with diffusion taped to the outside of the window and instead of the LED, I will be using the practical lights that are built into the bathroom mirror that I noticed during our recce. I’m also considering, depending on the amount of bounce I get on set, to flag off the wall behind camera as negative fill, to remove some of the bounce straight on to the face. I’m really happy with this test and am confident I can make the bathroom scene look and feel the way the story needs it to.

I also tested the lighting plan for the garage scene - high contrast, isolating, red lighting.

I first tested the ECU’s we have planned for the exercising/flashback montage. these were quite simple, using one large light with red gel and light diffusion. The one thing I added was the shutter angle, shooting 360 degree gives this gorgeous amount of motion blur. I think this will be the shutter angle for the whole film, I really like the abstracting effect and the emphasis of the speed of movement. It also gives me more exposure when shooting these dark scenes with only one or two lights without having to bump up the ISO, a mistake I won’t make twice with that bloody URSA. I tested the close-up as well, this time adding an LED for an eye-light.

This one I’m less happy with - need more shadows on the face! I didn’t have it booked out, but I should’ve added in some negative fill on the left side to counteract the bounce off the walls. But the edge light works really well on the face and the eye-light is doing wonders, just might need to be a bit brighter in the final scene. For the actual scene, I plan on using (again, one trick pony) the 650w with a triple-layer red gel and a trace frame and an LED, motivated by the projector used in the scene. There is also a practical fluorescent tube light in the location that I want to use, with a couple layers of ND and red gel that we can have in the shot to add a bit more depth and motivate the lighting. These are all shot on the 50mm which I plan to stick with for the shoot as it gives a nice feeling of tightness without a lot of depth compression. Again, feeling confident when it comes to lighting and shooting this scene.

The pitch could’ve gone better I think - lots of ideas thrown out without the clearest angle through them. But the feedback given has helped us hone in to the core of the story and streamline our script.

For Natalia’s project, I’m getting more set up. We have a recce on Monday which I will be taking a mixer to so I can start building the sound library I want to use for the film. With my sound work on this film, I’m trying to get the specificities of the location into the film, with close recordings of small details and wider recordings of a whole place’s ambience. I’m excited to start getting my tools together and have more discussions with Nat about my ideas. The pitch was far more cohesive for this project, maybe only having our director and producer pitching kept it more focused.

Anyways, exciting week ahead, starting to shot list/storyboard with Ben, starting recording for Nat and doing tests for the grad film I’m working on. Busy, busy, busy.

#film project

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blacklodgemusictx · 1 year

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Feeling Yourself Disintegrate

I don’t have what I would consider a fear of needles. I’m covered in tattoos. I am perfectly willing to sit serenely in one place and be stabbed hundreds of times in a row – it’s an asset. I deal with the repetitive psychological pain of doing my job every day the same way (civil service, amiright?)

IV placement is another matter altogether. I seem to attract phlebotomists who forget how veins work. Something about me says, “Dig under my skin, poke, jab, hurt me.” After each failed venous expedition, I’m left shaking. It’s almost like being cold: shivering, gasping, teeth clenching.

I take Ketamine infusions due to Major Depressive Disorder (Google it: there's evidence it makes old, dim synapses light up and start "talking" to each other again). 12/30/22 was my second Ketamine “booster” (after an initial series of six as close together as possible for maximum benefit, I am now taking infusions longer and longer apart trying to maintain the drug’s therapeutic benefit without being as dependent on frequency.)

This infusion was another bad stick. Please, I beg the kind woman who runs the clinic when the Vein Abuser is out of the room, please don’t let her poke me again. Please? Kind Lady has never missed the target. Her deft hand sinks the needle in place every time. No, she assured me. She will do it next time.

I am wrapped in a blanket, shoes off, feet reclined, giant noise cancelling headphone, padded sleep mask I bought off Amazon. Usually, I bring lip balm as I have a weird habit of smacking my lips pretty vigorously when down my K-hole. Today, my only focus is a small baggy of nausea candies and alcohol prep swabs – I saw a video on Facebook suggesting the quick inhalation of alcohol during a spell of nausea will sometimes help alleviate the symptoms. As of treatment seven, the Ketamine suddenly started making me violently sick.

I hate being nauseous. I won’t even resort to being coy: if you want my secrets, you don’t even have to torture me. Just spin me around in an office chair for half an hour ‘til I’m sea sick. No more, coppa, I’ll talk, I’ll talk!

The only reason I was willing to submit to getting sick again is the fact that I truly believe the Ketamine is working. I’ve been a slave to my depression since I was ten years old. Even though the Ketamine’s benefit so far has just been a kind of Flowers for Algernon effect (improvement that quickly wears off), the brief, clear windows of hopeful feeling have been indescribably beautiful.

(The only reason I am going in to this kind of detail instead of just saying, “Ketamine, it’s a thing I do. And then this other stuff happened” is because I know there are people out there stumbling in the darkness that is depression who want to know what it’s like.)

I never did drugs. People laughed at Bill Clinton when he said he smoked pot, but “did not inhale.” I feel you, Bubba, I could never really get the hang of it either. I was high maybe twice in high school. I’ve done Delta 8 since people swear by CDB and all it’s offshoots for pain relief (I have crippling back pain from degenerative disk disease and spinal arthritis). So I have a vague idea what getting “high” is, but tripping? No clue. I might drink once or twice a year. For the most part, my mind is one of the few things I truly possess (if just barely), I’ve never liked the idea of using substances that could potentially make me a stranger to my own inner self. I hate Delta 8, HATE it. It affects my ability to form short term memories. I refer to it as “roofie-ing” myself.

Acid, magic mushrooms? I had no frame of reference.

And if you don’t either, here’s exactly what it’s like: living in album covers for an hour.

I actual fed the prompt “Describing the cover of ‘Unknown Pleasures’ to someone who has never seen it before” in to my WONDER AI generator and got some pretty close representations of what I saw.

I was instructed before my first transfusion to just get on Spotify and look for “curated ketamine playlist” to listen to during my trip. I found the equivalent of “oooohhmmmm” bells and hippy, navel contemplation stuff. Nothing I read mentioned anything about the vital nature of having good music with you on your journey.

My first trip was a bad needle situation (they learned to give me Clonidine beforehand to get me to calm down enough to submit my arm without hyperventilating. The first experience being a painful one conditioned me to fear all future experiences there unfortunately. Like I said, Kind Lady has been just right with the needle, but the other lady who works there… no… not so much). I didn’t switch to my Ohhhmmm playlist. I left it on my Salim Nourallah playlist. Initially, I was just trying to calm myself, but once the IV was started, the trip happened so fast I was already falling before I realized.

This has made all the difference.

I related this to Kind Lady later and she said there was no way to tell. She knows a very quiet, unassuming gent (I swear she said he was a doctor or some sort of medical professional) that takes gangster rap on his trips.

My cousin is a Physician’s Assistant. She said she had seen people come out of Ketamine situations in emergency rooms (used to set bones and such) where people who were unprepared would flip out (have a bad trip.)

I, personally, have only had pleasant experiences (except for the recent bouts of nausea). You are responsible for setting the tone for your own experience. As someone whose depression has been a lifelong companion, my mind isn’t a bright or cheerful place per se, but I know myself. It’s been a relatively intuitive process. I don’t watch scary movies beforehand. I try to just be calm and collected. Stay peaceful. The limbic system doesn’t know the difference between watching/listening to emotionally fraught material or experiencing it so I try not to take chances.

Being accompanied in to my first trip by a familiar voice was so deeply comforting. Salim Nourallah is my favorite singer, but he also happens to be a dear friend and fantastic human being to boot.

Ketamine (again this is all purely subjective. Everyone’s experiences will be different) creates any level of dissociative experiences for the user. I don’t know if it’s just because I don’t have experience with “substances,” I but I disassociate… hard.

Complete dissolution of self. Out of body. Soaring. Flying. Falling. Colors.

Because music is so much part of my psychological make up, it’s sounds, colors and textures interpreted in musical context: album covers.

I have cried a lot. The feeling returns gradually to my fingers and toes, my eyes stop jittering in their sockets and reach up to feel my sleep mask is wet. The feeling/theme to all my trips has just been overwhelming gratitude. I feel so much love for those people I have in my life who continue to stand by me no matter how the darkness sometimes affects my mind.

Ketamine for me is half medical treatment, half vision quest. As I the chemicals wear off and I can feel myself again, I try to listen to anything I was told. Call it messages from the subconscious, whatever you want. I’ve come out wanting to reach out to certain people. I sent a message to someone else I knew of who has severe depression (a voice actor on a podcast I’ve listened to for years). He let me send him a care package of little, cheerful things. Another trip, I came out and message someone I used to think of as a friend who hadn’t spoken to me in 12+ years. I cast the missive out in to the digital sea not expecting anything back… but he responded.

I curated a special playlist of songs I wanted to “disintegrate to” and have emerged and tweaked it each trip. No song has tilted the trip to the negative, but I have taken one band off (who shall remain nameless) as – under the influence – the singer acquired super human powers of grating annoyance.

I am allowing myself Flaming Lips songs even though I have been estranged from my fandom in their regard for over a decade now. But you have to admit: for tripping, they are kind of perfect.

I return to Salim though. His voice is consistently silvery blue. “Miette” became so achingly beautiful I could barely stand it. There are not words to describe how meaningful it is it have the voice of a friend accompanying me in the darkness.

My playlist:

#ketamine #khole #major depressive disorder #major depression #infusion #treatment #music #curate #salim nourallah #flaming lips #u2 #darkness #depression #playlist #special k #psychadelic #dissasociation #out of body #Spotify

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