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#well ;' ))) my personal life is on fire too but i HAVE to get it
sharonccrter · 1 day
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I saw this really interesting video, which talked about my two biggest gripes with challengers' discourse. Which are that everyone keeps saying Art is the heart of this movie, and secondly, the insistence that Patrick doesn't love Tashi, only Art. The creator pushes back against these two narratives, and I wholeheartedly agree. Patrick is arguably the heart of this movie.
Two of the most important scenes in the movie are the churro scene and the scene between p/t out in the storm, and they both centre around Patrick.
The entire movie is about passion and purpose in life, and Patrick is the passion.
I mean, a lot of people assume Patrick didn't really have feelings for Tashi, but the only person who says that is Art. Who is vying for Tashi and is his biggest competitor. The reason I empathise with Patrick is that he is genuine and loving to Art; he does love him. However, we are shown no evidence to suggest that Patrick is this shitty boyfriend, apart from what Art says when he's trying to get into Tashi's head because his jealous. We find out that they're talking every week while he's on tour (normal relationship shit). It's Art who insinuates that Patrick is cheating while on tour. The only person in this movie who says Patrick doesn't love Tashi is Art, and it's obviously very intentional.
I think the reason both Tashi and Art push Patrick out of their lives is because he forces them to comfort parts of themselves they are not yet comfortable with. I mean, it's obvious why Tashi would react that way to Patrick; she's just lost the most important thing in her life. However, I think it's tragic from Patrick's point of view as well. I mean, what did Patrick really do? He got into a fight with his girlfriend because she hurt his feelings.
And no, he's hurt was not about Art. The fight made him feel unimportant, which made him feel like she didn't actually care about him. And that's where Art comes in, because who was going around telling Patrick Tashi didn't give a shit? You bet ya. Art. Art absolutely got into his head. And even if he clocked it, in that moment, he still allowed it to get to him because he was emotional and upset. And because he was too hurt to support her, he was thrown out of Tashi and Art's lives.
And here's the thing, Patrick never saw Tashi as an idea. He saw her as a real person, unlike Art kinda did. Patrick wasn't going to let Tashi treat him like shit just because she was special. And, tbh, if Tashi hadn't gotten injured, I think it's something she would have eventually been grateful for. But instead, she got hurt; she pushed Patrick away, and Art slid into his place, telling her that she could be his entire world and the star. That's not healthy, and sorry to stay a little manipulative.
And let's talk about Art. Patrick and him were literally fire and ice. They always had this underlying desire. They were perfect opposites. Let's face it: Art could never replicate what he had on the court (and off) with anyone else. But instead of confronting his feelings, he took the first chance he had to get Patrick out of his life.
The girl I was watching said it perfectly, "Art and Tashi allowed themselves to find consolation prizes in each other and allowed them to run from parts of themselves they didn't want to comfort and in turn enable each other's worst habits."
Art tries to become a tennis superstar so Tashi can live through him, and Tashi gives him a family so he can finally be confident in who he is. But is there any passion? I don't know; I think at some point, it drained; nothing about what I saw on screen apart from their initial get-together screams passion.
Cue Patrick walking back into their life and showing them how they can feel. Art was always going to let Tashi live through him, but that was never going to be satisfying for her. Tashi needs to find a way to create an identity for herself, separate from him. And I believe it'll be the only way she'll live a satisfying life. That's why they need Patrick: to make them realise that and to help them rediscover their passion.
I think people think that Art is the heart because Patrick admits to being a piece of shit. But the truth is, they're all dicks; Patrick was just the only one who was willing to admit it.
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The Man 6
Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.
My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.
Character: mob!Lloyd Hansen
Summary: a demanding customer complicates more than your work life.
As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️
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You stare at your phone. It can’t be. After everything else going wrong, you can’t deal with Floyd. It suddenly makes sense why he was messing around with your phone. Ew, he’s kind of a creep.
You don’t answer and put the phone away. Well. You have no money, you’re about to have no home, and your milk is spoiled. Don’t panic. You can figure this out. You’re an adult, aren’t you?
First, go to the bank. You need milk. Once you have a coffee, you’ll worry about the whole eviction thing. You leave the convenience store and open Maps to look for the nearest bank kiosk. Not too far, one block. At least you’re getting your steps in.
You follow the directions on screen and turn to cross the road. You’re so distracted, you forget to look both ways and nearly get hit by a gleaming bumper. You wave a head but don’t look up. You need to get to the bank.
You come up to the pulsing blue dot and glance around. Huh. You don’t see a bank. You turn around and face the ATM built into the side of the building. Oh goddang! You walked to a bank machine, not a bank. Is it you? Are you the problem?
You drop your shoulders. Alright. You’ll just try again. You scroll to the next location and spin around, nearly colliding with a new wall. Oh, not a wall, a person.
You look up at Mr. Henson as he watches you with a line between his brows. Somehow, you’re not very surrpised. This guy is everywhere. It’s almost like he has no hobbies.
“Oh, hi, sorry, excuse me, I’m just on my way to the bank--”
“Ah, running short? Need me to spot ya?” He raises his hand, showing a black credit card.
“Um... noooo,” you utter in confusion. The other day, you ran off after calling him names. You really don’t believe he’s changed his stripes. He’s still a snarling tiger getting ready to feast. “Thanks, but I--”
“Things are tight. Job market’s trash, housing isn’t any better, and those banks,” he whistles and puts his card away, “they like to fuck around, don’t they?”
You look at him, scrunching your face up.
“Y-yeah. Weirdly, I did just get a notice to...” your voice trails off. “Why are you bugging me?”
“Bugging you?” His brows pop up and he guffaws, “oh, sweet lips, you’re funny, you know that?”
“Yeah, I know few jokes but--”
“Think a little harder, cupcake,” he lowers his timber and stares at you.
You blink and wet your lips, pushing them together. Think about what?
“Look, about yesterday--”
“I’m talking about today,” he insists.
“Sure, uh...”
“Do I really need to spell this out for you?”
“Spell what out?” You cringe, clawing for some hint of what he means.
“Your bank card isn’t working, right?” He asks, you nod. “You’re getting evicted.” Another nod. “You have no job.”
You make a face, “yes, okay. Rub it in. Alright. I get it. You’re some important guy and I’m a loser. Don’t worry. You own this city but I think I’m on my way out.”
He sighs and presses his fingers flat on either side of his nose. He drops them and opens his eyes again, “it was me. I’m the reason you—Don't you understand what I can do to you? I got you fired, kicked out, and poor in one day. What else do you think I could do?”
Your chest hollows out and your stomach lurches. What? Him? He just doesn’t stop.
“Sir, what—why would you—I'm sorry I called you a meanie. I was upset and the coffee, I tried--” You sniffle and shudder out a half-sob, “I didn’t mean to.”
“Yeah, well, you shoulda shut those sweet lips and opened those ears, huh?” He grins, “look, cupcake, you’re not going anywhere. You try to run back to your family, I’ll find you. Your mom’s a good lady, you shouldn’t trouble her. She doesn’t make enough teaching brats to put up with another one.”
“My mom—how--”
He spins his finger in the air, “catch up, honey bun. Alright? This is it. I’ll lay it out real clear for you, right now. You have no money, no home, you have nothing. You are nothing.” He jabs his finger at you, “so, I can solve all your problems and make you something.”
You look around. There’s really no way out. He’s a psychopath. You think. You don’t really know the difference between that and sociopath.
“Are you like CIA or something?” You ask.
He scoffs and flinches, “oh man, you are something else. Really, each time you open that mouth, I’m blown away by the idiocy. Rather just get blown, you get it?”
You shake your head and pout.
“Look, I think we can sort this out, Floyd. Really, I’m really sorry and I understand now. I get it. You’re very important and I messed up. I’m nothing and I did everything wrong. And from the bottom of my heart, I apologise. So, can I please have my life back?” You say, “I think we’d both be happier if we just went on our way and never saw each other again.”
His eyes dart away and he stares into the distance. Exasperation wrinkles above his brow and he looks back to you, hands on his hips, “too late, buttercup. So, let me put it as plain as I can. You don’t get a choice. You belong to me now. Just like everything else in this city. You are mine.”
“You can’t... do that.”
“I am doing that,” he insists. “Another thing,” he raises his hand, showing his palm, “it’s Lloyd.” He emphasizes the consonants of his name, “Lloyd Hansen. You can call me sir or Mr. Hansen. Hell, if we’re getting frisky, you can call me daddy.”
“Ugh,” you groan in disgust and curl your lip.
“Ugh?” He mimick the noise, “I’m about to--” He shakes his hand and sucks in the end of his sentence, “fine. Show, don’t tell. Got it.”
You cry out as suddenly he lunges at you. He grabs you by the back of the neck and hauls you forward down the sidewalk. He marches beside you as you writhe and paw at his large hand. You whimper, helpless as pedestrians move out of your path.
“Your mouth got you into trouble, now let’s see if it can get you out,” he growls.
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hepbaestus · 1 day
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Coming home to my family afterward makes the work richer, easier and more fun.
Day 1 of the Hideduo Kiss Week Event by LazyCat
Day 1 prompt: Kiss on the cheek
1.6k words|stardew valley au family fluff| no TW's apply|ao3 link
After a long day in the mines, all Fit wants to do is sit at the fire with his husband Pac and their three kids, Richarlyson, Ramón and Rosa. This is him doing exactly that and what comes after.
Fic under the read more
The sun set slowly as Fit was walking back to the farm from the mountains, having gotten up early to go mining for a quest put up by Shane on the questboard at Pierre’s shop. He was tired and he hadn’t seen Pac all day, both of them having important things to do, on and off the farm. Despite his exhaustion, he still felt like walking back to the farm instead of taking the rickety minecart that he had given away bars of copper, iron and gold to the community centre for its repair. He didn’t yet trust that it wouldn’t break down mid journey, so he took the scenic route; past Linus’ tent and the Carpenter’s Shop.
Pac, the night before, had insisted that he’d stay at the farm the next day, wanting to spend time with their sons Ramón and Richarlyson and daughter Rosa, wanting to get the new animals that they’d bought recently from Marnie to get acclimated to the farm. Fit smiled to himself, despite being the primary owner of the farm, it having been his grandfather’s before him, he would not have thought to try to acclimate the farm animals personally. He’d have just let them do their thing until they were comfortable enough for him to shear them or take their eggs. But that was very in nature for Pac, especially when he, while Fit went mining or to Calico Desert for the Skull Caverns, looked after their two boys and the newest addition to their family. Though that’s not to say that Pac didn’t also do those things, they took it in turns to go mining while the other spent time at the farm.
Reaching the northernmost point of the farm, Fit made a pit stop to the water bowl outside the house, refilling it with water from his watering can. It was a task that normally they’d let the kids do but Fit noticed it to be empty. He didn’t like their cat, at first; it being a mangy old thing that Ramón had fallen in love with when it had made its home underneath the covering over their small orchard. He ’d succumbed to the puppy dog look that his three boys pulled when he suggested moving the cat somewhere else. Having filled Katos’ bowl and emptied his items in their assorted chests, he headed into the house.
Their house was laid out in a pretty standard way, Fit thought, with the first room you entered from the front door being the living room with kitchen on the left, in an open plan design. On the furthest wall from the front door was a fireplace that he and Pac had built together, as the house when he first moved in had no central heating. It wasn’t built well, clearly having multiple repairs made to it over their time living on the farm but he loved it. It was a show of their love of their home. Of their life spent together.
Shouts too loud for the time it was could be heard from the armchair in front of the fire, followed by little footsteps that could only belong to his two sons. He crouched down, reaching their height as they bulldozed their way into his arms, feeling the full force of two young children slamming into his body.
“Well isn’t it good to be back home eh? I hope you boys have been behaving yourselves for your Pai,” Fit looks at the two boys in his arms, having stood up with a child in each arm.
They both nod before, in almost unison, rambling about what happened while he was gone, voices getting muddled as they spoke on top of one another. Fit nods as if he’s understanding the two, when in reality, their voices blend into one amalgamation that no one would be able to understand. The young boys don’t notice this however, both too engrossed in informing their dad of the day’s events.
He walks to where Pac was still sitting with their youngest child Rosa leaning on his chest, sleeping soundly. He gently lowers each of the boys back onto the armrests of the chair, ruffling Ramón’s wavy hair, knowing that it wouldn’t have the potential to badly affect the boy’s hair like it would Richarlyson’s tight, curled hair.
“Oi Fitchie. Tudo bem?” Pac talks quietly, aware of the sleeping toddler, eyes quickly taking in any visible injuries on Fit’s person. Fit smiles to himself at the action, feeling Pac’s love through his searching eyes. He had no injuries for Pac to treat but he allowed his husband to look for some anyways.
“Oh you know, the usual. Too many slimes and cave flies,” Fit reaches a hand out to cup Pac’s face before kissing his cheek, “I’ll let you continue the story while I shower and get ready for bed.” He emphasises the end of his sentence, knowing that his boys do not like the preemptive part of going to bed, but adored the actual act of sleeping greatly. Pac, as if their relationship was brand new and not several years old at this point, blushed scarlet at Fit’s action, still not fully used to the initially stoic man showing such affection.
He heads off to shower and as he walks away, he can hear Pac picking up from where he left off, midway through telling a story of an adventure of him as a teen with their Tia Bagi and Tio Cellbit. The trio were known as the ‘troublesome trio’ growing up, having grown up in Pelican Town unlike Fit.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
Feeling fresh and mostly rested after his shower, Fit walked back into the living room to see Pac having finished his story with their two boys on the verge of sleep, resting their heads on his shoulders. Picking up Richarlyson softly, so as to not rouse him from his almost slumbering state, he leads Pac holding both Rosa and Ramón in his arms to the children’s bedroom. As the two boys were still young they shared a room while Rosa got the smallest room that connected to Fit and Pac’s room. Once the two grew older, they’d commission Robin to build another room in the house for whichever of the kids to move into.
Fit took off Richarlyson’s prosthetic, knowing the boy would be too drowsy to unhook the little bands and clasps, before tucking him into his bed. He also tucked Richarlyson’s hair into his bonnet, preventing the potential for his hair to frizz as he slept. His side of the room was a lot messier than Ramón’s, with a mural in its beginning stages being painted on one wall and paint supplies and sketches strewn across the floor. As Pac had told him once, if it had happened at the orphanage where he grew up, the culprit would’ve been forced to get rid of it themselves; sanding away the paint and giving the wall a fresh coat of whatever bland off-white they’d decided to paint that specific room.
To Fit’s right, he could see in his peripheral vision that Pac was doing the same with Ramón, tucking him in tightly and leaving a kiss on the top of his head before exiting the room. Fit followed after him, having leaned Ricarlyson’s leg against his bedside table so that it was in arm’s reach for when the child woke up. Ramón’s side of the room was no less messy, more it being an organised mess. He knew where everything was despite the numerous pieces of machinery he’d been tinkering with scattered across any available surface.
They go back to the lounge after having put Rosa in her crib, sitting together on the armchair despite them clearly not being able to fit comfortably. Speaking in quiet voices, they tell each other of their days; who they spoke to, what fofoca Pac managed to get and other such things. As they spoke, the crackles of the fire faded into background noise, the two solely focusing on each other with a slight ear out listening for the potential of Rosa waking up.
It’s late into the night when their conversation dwindles down, the need to sleep finally taking hold of their bodies. Pac kisses his cheek before lightly tapping his ass, signalling him to get up from his lap so that they could go to bed. It’s not a common motion for Pac to do, so it causes Fit to stutter and stumble slightly as he lifts himself from his husband’s lap and walks to their room, glancing briefly at all of the different adventures the family had been memorialised in a gallery wall.
Their room was decorated simply. With framed birth certificates for each of their children and the deed to the farm pinned to one wall. Their bed rested against another wall and was a successful experiment of Robin’s, and was kindly given to the pair as a wedding gift when she had heard Pac jokingly complain about Fit’s old bed. They walked to the bed, each choosing a side, before getting comfortable. They were both quite specific on how they slept; Fit needed flat pillows for he slept on his back, having needed to sleep that way when living in a rundown area of Zuzu City, and Pac needed fluffy pillows for he slept on his side facing away from the wall, needing to be aware of his surroundings at all times because of the hostility in the orphanage he grew up in. They fell into a deep sleep quickly, the events of the day fully catching up to the pair.
With the sound of chickens clucking and their other animals waking up, Fit rouses to a weight on his chest. Expecting it to be Pac, he rests his hand on their hair, only to feel the bonnet that he’d gotten Richarlyson to wear not even twelve hours prior. He lifts his head up slightly, looking to his side to see his position replicated but with Pac and Ramón, his heart warming at the sight. 
This was home, Fit thought.
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azsazz · 1 day
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Hiii 👋 just wanted to say I adore your writing ☺️ I always get so happy when I see you’ve written something new 😁
I was curious to ask, what are some of your favourite modern AU jobs/roles for the bat boys (whether you’ve written about them or not)? Or just any ACOTAR characters?
CEO Rhys has been done a lot, but for good reason, it’s so perfect. He almost has to be effortlessly rich and/or in some position of power, like a prince, or a mafia boss.💰 I also kinda like to imagine him as a nepo baby set to take over his father’s company, but he breaks away or gets cut off, so with his very little actual job experience (as he was all set to inherit), he gets a barista job at a lil coffee shop. ☕️
Cass would definitely suit something physical, like an ice hockey player, or a firefighter, or a personal trainer. I could so see him being a gym teacher as well, imagine him coaching a kids ice hockey team. 💪🏽 He would SO volunteer to be a nude model in life drawing classes in his free time 😆 Though I hadn’t considered it before I read your stuff, I think he really fits a small town rancher too. I can so picture him in jeans, boots, and a flannel shirt, driving around in an old rusty faded red truck 👨‍🌾
Az could easily be in the FBI or something, but choosing something further away from his canon role, I seriously think he’d be an awkward computer programmer / software engineer nerd, or a twitch gamer, 👨🏻‍💻 with a secret anonymous OnlyFans or erotic audio patreon on the side. 😏 And I reckon he’d ride a motorcycle and tinker with it in his spare time, so might also enjoy working at a garage. 🏍️ I really love him in Midnight Muse, and think he suits a shy amateur artist / tattoo artist as well.
I also love the bat boy band idea I’ve seen a lot recently, where Rhys is the charismatic lead singer and guitarist, Az is the quiet songwriting bassist, and Cass is the energetic drummer. 🎶
Sorry it’s so long, I just love thinking about this stuff 😄
Hiiii!! Thank you so so much! I saw this message this morning but wanted to wait until I could give it my full attention and have my computer around, so thank you for your patience! 💙
Okay, some of my favorite AUs for the batboys? This is a wonderful question!
Rhys: Normally, I just think of Rhys as always having some sort of money/job inherited. So CEO, mafia, anything that puts him in a position of power, really, but i think it's mostly because those just reflect the books.
I do, however, love love love art school rhys. painter rhys. working at the local art supply degenerate rhys who still has wealthy parents but is trying to stick it to the man rhys. steals erasers and petty things from the art supply rhys. love him so much.
There's also something to be said about young adult rhys who's messing around with his little sister's best friend rhys. he gets me going too.
also captain of the hockey team rhys is a solid choice for him as well.
Cass: LOVE ME SOME RANCHER/COWBOY/SMALL TOWN CASSIAN. but, these are all very different. small town cass doesn't trust women, heart broken at a young age with the girl he thought was his forever. doesn't want to leave town, likes the ranch because its safe and its what he knows. cowboy cass or bull rider cassian, famous for breaking horses and backs. grumpy, gruff rancher cassian always gets me going tbh he's fucking hot as shit
i also always see him in a blue collar role like a mechanic or welder are the two i mostly attribute to him.
def something physical as well, we love hockey cass, rugby cass, wrestler (wwe lol) cass, dang i had another on my mind for sports cass but i forgot. sad. OH surfer cassian. jock type tho i can see him as. love the firefighter vibe for him too, he'd fill out the tight fire department t-shirt WELL LADIES and also volunteers for wet t-shirt contests. omg gym teach cass would be adorable as hell! oof another thought, contractor cassian ffs that would be so yummy
Az: Az i agree fits the FBI (stalker) vibes. i also like to think of him in finance or computer science too. omfg the erotic audio that's iconic and i'd def subscribe to that. hmmm what else could i see azzy doing...maybe something with music or writing...i could see him being a ghost writer of some sort and then one day his song plays on the radio and he's like hey i wrote that and literally no one believes him. something behind the scenes or where he can go unnoticed is mostly where i place him, tbh. honestly maybe even something military because he takes comfort in having a set schedule and people telling him what to do at every minute of the day. he'd fare well i think. perfect. operative because if the mission goes south and he gets captured he's not telling a soul anything.
Eris: idk why this thought came to my head but i was thinking about architecture but i think eris would be a fantastic interior designer lol. like i could see it. maybe i was just thinking about him furnishing az's new place and having a lil sparky. i could also see him as a lawyer too or something like that, something where he can be the know-it-all, smirking at them and looking down his nose at them...
Lucien: Architecture for sure. or professor. I could see him doing either of these. maybe even lawyer tbh, he would be good at that too, though i know he's immaculate at twisting stories and words so you gotta be careful of that.
Tamlin: poet? lol. professional gaslighter? jk i love tammy. maybe he installs security systems? haha just kidding just kidding. he's a tough one tho. idk why i added him but i guess also a musician but low-key soothing music, instrumental for sure...prob has a podcast where he just bullshits all day
hopefully i didn't rant for too long about this 🤭💙 this was so much fun though thank you for asking!
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thegreatwicked · 3 days
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Lover, Fighter
This is a little something special for someone I know who is a lovely person but is also going through a tough time. Self-care is important and so is reaching out, I know it's hard and I struggle to do it too sometimes. But I promise you, there are many people who care and worry about you. It's going to be all right. So, if it's just a bad day or you've been having a series of bad days, take time to love yourself and let others love you.
Where my Obi-Wan Ladies at? Guys, we need a name. Obi-Wans Harem? I'm taking suggestions. Have a good day everyone! It's what Obi-Wan would want.
Part of the 50 Shades of Obi-Wan Reader Insert Series
Lover, Fighter.
Everybody says there's, two kinds of hearts Where one loves and one goes to war Some make peace and others get even No solid ground to stand for
Surely, it's not easy or that simplified I'm dying while you walk away I wanna put my boots on and march to the front lines
I will be your lover, fighter, harder, higher, lover, fighter I wanna fight for lover, fighter under fire, lover, fighter I wanna fight for love, love, love Wanna fight for love, love, love
The day was at its end and no one was more relieved to see it than Master Kenobi. He was fatigued, and his back ached from the long day of Council Meetings, and each moment spent in those chairs was far from pleasant as they had clearly been designed with aesthetics in mind rather than comfort. A little over an hour was all it would take before one’s tailbone began to ache. But being that they were meant to be uniform and accommodate other species aside from humans, there was little that could be done in the matter aside from trying not to look too obvious as you shifted in your seat. 
He felt a bit overstimulated as well, he had long maintained that the life of politics wasn’t for him, but as his time on the council grew he found that politics trickled its way into Jedi affairs more and more these days, and if left a bitter taste in his mouth.
He wanted a soothing cup of tea, the heat of a shower, and the cool caress of sheets on his skin with you securely in his arms, of course. He smiled as he thought of the softness of your touch and the sweetness of your lips in every kiss, and each step that brought him closer to your shared quarters brought him closer to your embrace; home.
As he stepped off the turbo lift, a choppy sensation prickled at the back of his mind, a slight disturbance in the Force that set him on edge. It could have been anything, maybe he wasn’t the only one having a long and tiring day, but as he drew closer to his quarters the disturbance grew more intense, like an awful tinnitus, a tuning fork from hell. There were several turns he needed to take before he reached home but even before those definitive turns he knew— 
"Something is wrong," Obi-Wan muttered under his breath.
He began quickening his pace until he was just about jogging to reach your shared quarters, his robes flowing behind him as only the muted sound of his heavy footfalls betrayed his urgency to reach you. Though not panicked, he was keenly alert and concern coursed through him as his connection to you wavered in the Force. 
As soon as he stepped through the doors, tension gripped him like a vice, squeezing his temples until they began to throb with discomfort. The air was both thick and fragile as if one wrong move would shatter it into a million sharp pieces. It set him on edge, if it was doing this to him, what was it doing to you?
He scanned the main room, but you were nowhere in sight. There was not a single sign of life besides himself. As he made his way towards your shared bedroom, his heart raced with a sense of dread that grew stronger with each step and the hairs on his neck stood up.
Obi-Wan's eyes landed on you sitting on the edge of the bed, and a sense of relief washed over him. But it was short-lived as he realized that the awful disturbance was coming from you.
You sat facing the wall back hunched in a miserable repose, hair cascading over one shoulder like a frigid waterfall as distress radiated off you in powerful waves, sending daggers to his heart. Your shoulders shook with silent sobs that tried at every turn to force their way out of your body, you were locked in combat trying to maintain them, your head buried in your hands. Fingers twisted in your hair, clutching your scalp. 
You were so consumed by your emotions that you didn't even notice Obi-Wan's presence as he stood silently in the doorway, his eyes filled with concern. Who had done this to you? Who had hurt you? His Starlight?
"Darling, what's happened?" Obi-Wan asked softly, his voice laced with worry, but you didn’t respond.
He felt the swirling chaos around you intensify like it was trying to pull him in. Your breath hitched in your chest as you tried to swallow your cries and ragged breaths. To force them back down to that place where they could not escape. A thousand questions raced through his mind, but he knew he needed to remain calm for your sake. 
The sight of you in such pain was unbearable, and he longed to take your suffering away, to shield you from whatever darkness had taken hold. But first, he needed to understand what was happening.
He took a slow, cautious step toward you, his heart heavy with concern. "My love?" He called gently, trying to reach through the overwhelming tide of your sorrows.
There was no response, and so he reached out and placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. You jumped at his touch, finally registering his presence. It was a terrible thing, the look in your eyes; red and puffy, glistened with unshed tears. Struggling to control the tide of tears. Startled by his sudden appearance, you leaped to your feet, hastily attempting to straighten your disheveled appearance. Arranging your hair to hide your face from him, you didn’t want him to see you like this, so vulnerable and small. The distress that was centered on you suddenly faded as though on turned off a tap of water, giving him a glimpse of just what you had been keeping from him. 
Stars! 
What was he even doing here? He was early, wasn’t he? You looked to the timepiece to find that, that was actually not the case, he was in fact, a bit late. You’d been so wrapped up in your misery that you’d failed to notice he was over an hour late in returning. You cursed yourself for being so careless.
"Is everything-" 
"Nothing's wrong," You insisted harshly, not meaning to snap at him, it just came out like that. "I'm just... tired, that's all."
You could feel his stare, not needing to turn around to see those beautiful blue eyes to know that he didn’t believe you. He wasn’t blind to your pain, he felt it in every half-smile, each reserved kiss. You hadn’t been yourself since returning from the front lines and he would have been a fool not to notice it, and you a bigger one if you thought you could hide it from him.
There was no hiding it now. He didn’t believe you for a moment, and you’d have a hell of a time convincing him otherwise now. Kriff! How were you going to fix this? He wasn’t expecting to come home to a simpering mess of a woman, he wanted his strong-willed, playful, passionate lover, but instead, he came home to a crying girl. 
For a few moments neither of you said anything. Part of you wanted so badly to turn around and embrace him; to fall into the arms of the man you loved but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it.
Stubbornness had long been your greatest foe and your most insidious one; that it prevented you from seeking comfort from the person you trusted the most. Your eyes burned as a war was waged within them stemming the tides of those tears screaming to be released. A small part of you wanted him to force the details of your pain so you had to confront them but you knew better. Obi-Wan Kenobi would never do such a thing.
But that didn’t mean he was going to do nothing, instead of the anger or frustration at your deception you expected, he took a different approach. 
"What have I done to lose your confidence in me?"
You looked at him, shocked by his question, and then quickly turned away, placing your hands on the desk for support, hanging your head in shame. The silence between you stretched on, a chasm that seemed to deepen with each passing second.
Your trembling hands, gripped the desk as if it were your only lifeline. He approached you slowly, each step a careful calculation, a deliberate choice to bridge the gap between you. 
“My dear, I know you’ve been melancholy lately, and while I would never presume to know the depth of your despair, I had hoped you might reach out to me when you were ready,”
He hesitated for a moment, feeling the weight of your anguish, before closing the distance and placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. You stiffened slightly at his touch but didn't pull away. 
"I know how difficult it can be to leave that battlefield behind," He murmured gently, his voice barely more than a whisper. "Physical wounds may heal, but not all wounds close quite the same."
Warmth flowed from his palm into your form, easing your rigid posture.
"I could never lose confidence in you, Obi-Wan," You admitted softly, your voice laden with sorrow. "But I didn't want to burden you with my darkness."
You could practically hear him shaking his head, he did that a lot when you let silly things like this happen.
"My darling girl," 
He gently pulled you back by the shoulder, turning you to face him, but you stubbornly kept your gaze on the ground; staring at your boots meeting his. He didn’t try to make you look up at him, though he wanted to see your eyes, he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close to his chest. 
"I would rather endure a hundred battles in the darkest of nights than to see you suffer in stubbornness. But I know asking for help isn't something you're naturally gifted at."
He was one to talk… 
But he was right, you nodded against his chest, a small sigh escaping your lips. Gently, he stroked your hair, feeling the warmth of his body melding with your own, you relaxed in his embrace. He pressed a tender kiss to the top of your head, he did that a lot too, it was one of the things that saw to it that your heart could hardly contain itself whenever he was near.
“If you don’t want my help just push, darling, but if you do, just stay here with me.” He whispered into your hair, the sound of his heartbeat steady and reassuring beneath your ear. "Let me carry it for you," 
After several minutes of silence, a quiet rain began to fall outside their window, the droplets tapping gently against the glass. 
You didn’t push him away. 
Your hands gripped onto his robes tightly and the trembling returned. Obi-Wan took a deep breath, inhaling the damp scent of the air, before he spoke again.
"Will you tell me what's wrong?" 
You remained still for a moment as if gathering your thoughts, and you did your best to steadily let out a breath that shook just like you did. 
"You're right," You whispered "I'm struggling.” 
His arms tightened around you. 
“The pain and the memories. My connection to the Force isn't what it was, and I'm afraid, I feel like I’m drowning." Your body shook more as you spoke, the turmoil within spilling out like waves crashing upon a rocky shore. You hated feeling like this and not knowing what the catalyst was that caused all of this. That there was no rational explanation for the way you were feeling. It felt so… foolish. 
“I can’t find my peace, I can’t silence the nightmares or the ghosts, it feels like they’re trying to drag me down and sometimes I can scarcely breathe.”
You felt it creeping back up on you as you spoke the words aloud like the darkness was trying to claw at you and pull you away from the safety of Obi-Wan’s arms. Your breathing grew increasingly erratic, an invisible weight on your chest, crushing you, tearing you apart and the crippling fear of drowning returned. 
His hand found its way into the tresses of your hair turning your head to rest against his chest, just above his heart. If there was anyone who knew of the ghosts that haunted you, it was Obi-Wan, having suffered their attacks before as well. He didn’t tell you that you were foolish to keep this from him, nor did he patronize you by speaking to you like a little Padawan; telling you to collect your thoughts and concentrate on the force. Sometimes feelings just needed to be felt and acknowledged no matter how irrational or frightening they were. 
Mentoring his Padawan to Knighthood and eventually to the rank of Master had taught him that.
"Shh," he soothed, his hand rubbing gentle circles on your back. "Focus on my breathing, and listen to my heartbeat. Breathe with me, my love."
Somehow, you weren’t sure how, the muted sound of his heartbeat came through the noise and clutter that was crowding your mind. Soft and quiet at first but then as the seconds ticked on, it grew louder and… warmer. He stroked your hair and held you closer to him. He could feel the tension building in your body, the energy coming off you in waves of distress, his cerulean serenity went to silent battle with the demons that persisted after you.
"You are not alone in this. I understand."
He slowed his own breaths, taking deep and measured inhales and exhales. The Force radiating from him, a gentle and calming presence that enveloped you like a warm, soothing blanket. Gradually, your breathing calmed and matched his, the storm within beginning to subside, the waters stilling, the skies clearing.
As you breathed in and out, you gradually loosened your death grip on his robes. Your grip, once tight with fear, now softened. And then, without hesitation, you wrapped your arms around him, clinging to the sanctuary he provided. The rain continued its gentle rhythm outside, washing away the last vestiges of distress from the room. 
"Can you hear it?" Obi-Wan asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper.
His heartbeat. 
You listened intently, your ear pressed against the steady thrum of his chest. "Yes," You murmured, breathing in deeply. The scent of incense and the familiar linnens of the temple robes mingled with his own unique smell, a comforting presence that helped to calm you further.
"You're not going to drown, I won’t let you" He promised, his words firm and unwavering. "You're safe now, away from the battlefield." A few guarded tears seeped into his robes, but he didn't let go, only holding on tighter. "Your secrets are safe with me. All of you is safe with me."
Turmoil within you slowly abated, the Force around you becoming peaceful once more, mirroring the steadiness of Obi-Wan's presence.
He glanced towards the balcony at the rain drizzling down onto Coruscant, remembering your shared fondness for meditating in the rain. You followed his gaze and pulled back slightly, attempting a small smile, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes, but it was trying.
"I'm alright now," 
You insisted, hoping to reassure him. It was a lie, and not a very convincing one but at the moment, you weren’t sure who you were trying to convince more; him or yourself? Though it didn’t matter, one of you needed to think you were alright, even if it wasn’t true.
But that wasn’t good enough for Obi-Wan and he shook his head gently. 
"Not quite yet you’re not, but you are getting there." He took your hand in his, pressing a tender kiss to your palm and wrist before guiding you towards the balcony. 
The air had a chill that often accompanied the rain it felt good on your skin despite the initial shiver due to the sudden change of temperature. He wore that kind smile that made his eyes shimmer, and he looked from the rainy horizon and the darkening horizon to you. The corners of his eyes crinkled as his smile reached farther when he looked at you. 
He swiftly shed his heavy robes, tabard, and tunic then tugged off his boots until he stood tall and strong in only his trousers. Against this dreary backdrop, he appeared almost ethereal, his muscular frame glistening with mist and the soft light filtering through the gray clouds illuminating his features like a painting come to life. It was a striking sight, one that captured the essence of raw masculinity amidst the lush green landscape drenched in water.
It had sometimes seemed a silly thing that he would often insist on taking off his boots whenever he could to meditate, insisting that it grounded him and it was good to feel the dirt beneath one’s feet. There was no dirt on the balcony but the chilly concrete was as good a place to start.
With a graceful motion, he lowered himself onto the woven mat spread out on the ground, extending his hand towards you, a silent invitation for you to join him, and for a moment; you hesitated and you didn’t know why. He opened and closed his hand gesturing for you to take his and something inside you screaming for comfort took control of your limbs and your hand slipped into his, the warmth of his gaze and gentle smile reassured you. 
Your hand trembled slightly as it reached out and slipped into his calloused one. His rough fingers wrapped around yours, pulling you closer to sit across his lap. Your arms instinctively wrapped around his strong neck, hands tangling in the hair at his nape. 
He didn't assume the traditional posture of meditation, instead choosing to lean back against the sturdy wall with you. His muscular arms that wielded a lightsaber with precision and strength, encircled you protectively, their strength reminding you of a fierce swordsman ready to defend his loved ones.
“Come,” He instructed, his tone soothing. "We'll sit here for as long as it takes. Until the shaking stops and the darkness fades. I don't care if it takes all night. Council meetings be damned."
The love of a Jedi was perhaps one of the rarest and most powerful forces in the galaxy, shimmering with an otherworldly energy.
Obi-Wan's love for you was like a warm blanket, wrapping you in safety and comfort. It was also a powerful shield, deflecting the darkness and chaos that threatened to consume you.
Your eyes slipped closed as you allowed yourself to be enveloped by his embrace. The raindrops pattered softly against the floor of the balcony, drops splattering but not quite reaching you.
The cityscape lights of Coruscant twinkled in the night. You smiled weakly into his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your cheek.
"What about Anakin?" 
"Anakin is a grown man," Obi-Wan reassured you, his voice strong and even. "Until you're well, he's Padme's responsibility and I trust she is woman enough to wrangle him even at his worst and most impetuous. There is no greater need of me anywhere else in the galaxy than right here with you." 
Your heart swooned at such words and the tenderness that emanated from them. What lucky star were you born under to have such a man? You stared at his handsome face for a few moments, seeing all your years together play out. From the moment you’d met him as a Padawan you’d known your destinies would be intertwined. You’d loved this man before you even knew what love was. Listening to the rain, you couldn't help but wonder aloud: 
"What would I do without you?"
"You'll never have to know," He promised, his voice filled with determination and love. Your heart swelled with gratitude and affection for him, prompting you to nestle closer in his lap, pressing a gentle kiss to his heart. 
"I love you, Obi-Wan."
"I love you too, silly girl," He replied tenderly. "Now hush, just sit here with me and let me care for you."
As if on cue, the rain began to drizzle down more heavily, the sound of it soothing and rhythmic. Obi-Wan's arms tightened around you protectively, and you felt his light pushing the darkness away. You were unsure if the warmth you were feeling came from his body heat or something deeper, but you knew it was there, keeping the cold at bay.
The clouds obscured the sky, preventing the stars from shining, but you knew they were still there, watching over you. This knowledge mirrored everything you felt from Obi-Wan's presence - not always visible, but ever-present and making the night less dark.
"Will we sit here all night?" You asked, curiosity laced with uncertainty in your voice.
"If that's what it takes," He replied without hesitation. 
"What if we get cold?" You questioned, seeking reassurance.
"Then I'll keep you warm," He promised, he reached for his discarded robes wrapping them around you like a cocoon of warmth and safety. "And if my robes aren't enough, I'll take you to bed and keep you warm in my arms there."
The certainty in his words brought the comfort you so desperately needed, and you knew in that moment that no matter how long the night was or how hard the rain fell, you would be safe and loved in his embrace.
As the raindrops melded with the distant city lights, painting shimmering streaks upon the Coruscant skyline, a stillness enveloped you. Nestled against Obi-Wan's chest, his steady heartbeat resonated within you, grounding you in this moment of serenity.
"Obi-Wan?" You whispered hesitantly, not wanting to break the fragile peace they shared.
"Yes, my love?" He replied softly, his breath warm on your hair.
"Thank you," 
"Always," He said, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. 
You didn't need to say anything more - words were insufficient when it came to expressing the bond you shared. At that moment, you knew, without a doubt, that you could weather any storm together.
Laughing softly, you shook your head. "I must seem like such a mess to you."
"Never," Obi-Wan assured you, a tender smile gracing his features. "You are the most beautiful, strongest person I know. If anyone is messy here, it's the galaxy for daring to challenge you."
You couldn't help but chuckle at his fierce loyalty, feeling your heart lighten at his words. "You really do have a way with words, don't you?"
"Only when it comes to you," He admitted, a hint of mischief dancing in his eyes. "For you, I'd move mountains and cross galaxies."
“Move mountains?”
"Oh, yes.” He paused his lips brushing yours, “We are bound together, through the Force and through our hearts, till the galaxy lies in ruins and our histories are long faded to less than cosmic dusts, you will have me."
Damn tears welled in your eyes as you leaned into him, feeling the truth of his words echo through your being. You pulled him into a kiss, it was nothing that might set loose the fires of passion, not yet, that always came later. Obi-Wan was as selfless a lover as could be asked for, and you knew the look in his eyes, this would be one of those nights where he would guard you and carry you to the edge of gentle and exquisite bliss and in no hurry. He and he would do it again, and again and again until neither of you could keep your eyes open. 
Together, you sat wrapped in each other's embrace, letting the rain wash away your fears and doubts. And for the first time in a long while, the darkness that had threatened to consume you began to recede, replaced by the warmth and light that Obi-Wan brought into your life.
The Clone Wars were over, and though the battles never truly ceased, it was time to start living.
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@burnthecheshirewitch @pickleprickle @split-spectrum @heyhawtdawgs @bad4amficideas @hereticpriest
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darehearts · 27 days
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me signing on after 48 hrs of radio silence  :  does anyone.......  remember me  ?!  hEWWO....... ?!?1  🤧
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thecherrygod · 1 year
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thinking about hdb while holding my head in my hands and suffering
#my posts#i cant fully articulate this#idk if i have the time either#but. help. i will tag this with my organization tags. i may see this at some other time and maybe ill be able to so#disco elysium#hdb#im just thinking about him and martinaise harry and his childhood and the 15th indotribe thing and dora#how probably considering the type of friends he had and how they all ended..... they were probably all like him personality wise#like. im not saying they were bad people like harry was kind of an asshole but not fully#like they were all a bunch of teens in a bad situation trying to make the best of it however they can and well... didnt work out too well#but what i mean is that i think thats partially why he got that level of attached to dora? she didnt go through what he did#she had the money to not go through that she was stable she was a constant in his life that was pure and that wasnt always#going through something. a guide. harry went to her like a moth to a fire with pure devotion bc she was everything he never had#she probably also treated him different than what all his previous friends would have. i imagine her to be very gentle#and harry probably never got to know too much about people being soft so that was also. new. but somethign imposible to him#so i can see how he would love her like that to the point of basically worshipping her as god and how he would still love her#years after it went to shit even when he cant remember anything. it makes sense#i think they were engaged bc the wedding gown but idk if its said in game. but he loved her enough to want to marry her in a world#where real love isnt possible for him but only for new people in a new world he still wanted that with her even if it didnt work out#he holds to whatever he can of her as a lifeline and i. man. dude. yeah no i get him#idk how long they were together but it also doesnt matter bc of how harry is as a person#also of course at first it was all good. she was basically fixing him but he cant get fixed only with love in a world like that!#or with a life like his... it was always going to go down. and i. dude#... i am thinking about this as someone who still loves someone and we werent even dating like#i think if we dated and it went bad like. i think id be in a similar situation to harry tbh. i get him#yeah no yeah lmao i do think of this person also sort of as the only good thing in my life#and i am glad she did reject me when i confessed bc if i had fully lost her i dont know where id be? but also man its been 7 years#of the rejection and basically 10 of falling for her. i get harry so fucking badly on this one USHDGIUHUSG#ok in the end i did say what i had to say but in the tags i dont think ill make a proper post out of it#but i did write it in a way that wasnt articulated for a post so i think i was right making it like this lmao
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mrsmarlasinger · 1 year
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My manager at the call center isn't gonna be here for the rest of the week. Nor is our office manager. I'm gonna throw up. Like I'm literally nauseous with dread
#it's JUST me and my one coworker because they fired coworker libby a few weeks ago#we're so fucked oh my god like#i ask my manager for shit ALL THE TIME oh my goddddd#i don't even have permission to use bonding slots for ortho emergencies omfg i'm gonna actually kill myself#and i took 53 calls on monday?? calls take like 5–10min usually & there's only 480 minutes in a work day?? and now we're down one person??#i was literally physically ill with stress today having to constantly call people back and i only took 43 calls#(7 of which were 10–20min new patient calls which each require like a good 15+ min of follow-up as well. but i digress)#i also got a call that was just fifteen seconds of BLOODY MURDER SCREAMING until i got way too scared and hung tf up. jfc#(which i thought that was one of those scam calls where they just play audio of a woman screaming for her fucking life#but it came from a patient's parent's phone number?? so idk??????)#(sometimes i hear kids screaming in the background cuz it's a pediatric dentistry but this was something different.#no talking just horrific screaming for over ten seconds straight. oh my god)#anyway on the OFF chance we have ANY free time tomorrow taking 80+ calls on our own. we'll have to spend it CALLING BACK MISSED CALLS#AND I'LL NEVER GET MY FUCKING NEW PATIENTS IN. GOD#ONLY 56 HOURS OF THIS JOB LEFT. CHRIST A-FUCKING-LIVE. PARENTS ARE GONNA BE MAD AT ME AND ORTHO COORDINATOR CANDI WILL YELL AT ME#AND I'M GONNA KILL MYSELF. I HATE MY JOB AND I HATE THIS FUCKING DENTISTRY. GODDDDDD#personal#work shit#work blogging#work
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stromblessed · 5 months
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Mizu, femininity, and fallen sparrows
In my last post about Mizu and Akemi, I feel like I came across as overly critical of Mizu given that Mizu is a woman who - in her own words - has to live as a man in order to go down the path of revenge.
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If she is ever discovered to be female by the wrong person, she will not only be unable to complete her quest, but there's a good chance that she'll be arrested or killed.
So it makes complete sense for Mizu to distance herself as much as possible from any behavior that she feels like would make someone question her sex.
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I felt so indignant toward Mizu on my first couple watchthroughs for this moment. Why couldn't Mizu bribe the woman and her child's way into the city too? If Mizu is presenting as a man, couldn't she claim to be the woman's escort?
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However, this moment makes things pretty clear. Mizu knows all too well the plight of women in her society. She knows it so well that she cannot risk ever finding herself back in their position again. She helps in what little way she can - without drawing attention to herself.
Mizu is not a hero and she is not one to make of herself a martyr - she will not set herself on fire to keep others warm. There's room to argue that Mizu shouldn't prioritize her quest over people's lives, but given the collateral damage Mizu can live with in almost every episode of season 1, Mizu is simply not operating under that kind of morality at this point. ("You don't know what I've done to reach you," Mizu tells Fowler.)
And while I still feel like Mizu has an obvious and established blind spot when it comes to Akemi because of their differences in station, such that Mizu's judgment of Akemi and actions in episode 5 are the result of prejudice rather than the result of Mizu's caution, I also want to establish that Mizu is just as caged as Akemi is, despite her technically having more freedom while living as a man.
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Mizu can hide her mixed race identity some of the time, and she can hide her sex almost all of the time, but being able to operate outside of her society's strict rules for women does not mean she cannot see their plight.
It does not mean she doesn't hurt for them.
Back to Mizu and collateral damage, remember that sparrow?
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While Mizu is breaking into Boss Hamata's manse, she gets startled by a bird and kills it on reflex. She then cradles it in her hands - much more tenderly than we've seen Mizu treat almost anything up to this point in the season:
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She then puts it in its nest, with its unhatched eggs. Almost like she's trying to make the death look natural. Or like an accident.
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You see where I'm going with this.
When Mizu kills Kinuyo, Mizu lingers in the moment, holding the body tenderly:
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And btw a lot of stuff about this show hit me hard, but this remains the biggest gut punch of them all for me, Mizu holding that poor girl's body close, GOD
When Mizu arranges the "scene of the crime," Kinuyo's body is delicate, birdlike. And Mizu is so shaken afterward that she gets sloppy. She's horrified at this kill to the point that she can't bring herself to take another innocent life - the boy who rats her out.
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MIZU'S ONE MOMENT OF SOFTNESS AND MERCY, COMING ON THE HEELS OF HER NEEDING TO KILL A GIRL TO SPARE HER THE WORST FATE THAT THIS RIGID SOCIETY HAS TO OFFER WOMEN, AND TO SPARE A BROTHEL FULL OF INNOCENT WOMEN WHO ARE THE CASTOFFS OF SOCIETY, NEARLY RESULTS IN ALL OF THEIR DEATHS
No wonder Mizu is as stoic and cold as she is.
And no wonder Mizu has no patience for Akemi whatsoever right before the terrible reveal and the fight breaks out:
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Speaking of Akemi - guess who else is compared to a bird!
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The plumage is more colorful, a bit flashier. But a bird is a bird.
And, uh
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Yeah.
I like to think that Mizu killing the sparrow is not only foreshadowing for what she must do to Kinuyo, but is also a representation of the choice she makes on Akemi's behalf. She decides to cage the bird because she believes the bird is "better off." Better off caged than... dead.
But because Mizu doesn't know Akemi or her situation, she of course doesn't realize that the bird is fated to die if it is caged and sent back home.
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Mizu is clearly not happy, or pleased, or satisfied by allowing Akemi to be dragged back to her father:
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But softness and mercy haven't gotten Mizu anywhere good, recently.
There is so much tragedy layered into Mizu's character, and it includes the things she has to witness and the choices she makes - or believes she has to make - involving women, when she herself can skirt around a lot of what her society throws at women. Although, I do believe that it comes at the cost of a part of Mizu's soul.
After all, I'm gonna be haunted for the rest of this show by Mizu's very first prayer in episode 1:
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"LET" her die. Because as Ringo points out, she doesn't "know how" to die.
Kind of like another bird in this show:
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wishful-seeker · 8 months
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Tips on how to avoid being unintentionally ableist
1. When a disabled person says they cannot do something, and you wish to offer solutions, do not make a solution that involves them powering through pain, or something thats not accessible to the disabled.
Example:
Disabled person: "washing dishes hurts too much and i cannot do it."
Abled person: "what if you did one dish at a time throughout the day?"
This statement is not respecting that this disabled person just said they "can't". Always respect that. No matter how simple the task would be for you.
Disabled person:" i think ill use plastic silverware so i don't make dishes."
Abled person: "plastic is bad for the environment!"
This statement shuts down the most accessible and disabled friendly option that this disabled person can actually do because of the abled persons personal beliefs. This is not helpful, and ableist.
Better yet, instead of offering solutions, ask them directly "is there anything you need that you do not have that would help you do this?" This allows the disabled person to think about what would work, and they will always have a better idea of what would work than you do.
To add on to this, when we say we have no more energy to solve a problem or do a task, or change our lifestyle, we mean it.
2. If you feel discomfort when a disabled person is talking about their health, good and bad, that is ableist. Your discomfort is coming from a place that deams disabled peoples very existence as a bad thing and you need to fix that.
For example:
Disabled person:" this week has been rough pain wise, ive been through a lot, felt like my body was on fire. Lucky i got new meds though and i think they're helping!"
Abled person: "can we talk about something else, this is a bummer."
Disabled people should be able to exist freely without worrying about your personal comfort. Do you really think its appropriate to tell someone in constant pain that their life is making YOU uncomfortable?
3. Do not treat disabled people as tragedies, do not romanticize their old life or put their current one down.
For example:
Disabled person: "yeah my life is pretty difficult sometimes, ive lost a lot but i still have happy moments."
Abled person: "it makes me so sad to see what disabled people go through :(. You used to love rock climbing and running, i would love to see you move around more again."
This statement is putting more value on the disabled persons abled past, and ignoring their life as a whole.
4. Do not avoid speaking to disabled people because it hurts to see your loved one disabled.
For example: my grandmother avoids conversations with me because it hurts her to see me in pain. While she has good intentions it leaves me being unable to be close to her. This is very isolating to the disabled.
5. Do not stop inviting your disabled friend/loved one out even if they are never well enough to attend. Unless we specifically ask you to stop asking if we can go out, good chances are we want to know you still care because again, disability is very isolating.
6. When a disabled person says certain things in their health have gotten better or worse, do not challenge this because you don't see a difference.
For example:
Disabled person: "yeah things are getting a little better"
Abled person sees disabled person using their wheelchair like usual: "i thought you said you were getting better?"
Better and worse are usually small changes only the disabled experience, its not like abled people healing from a broken arm. Better to a disabled person could mean they can stand for 10 more minutes.
7. Do not expect disabled people to ever be abled again, and again, do not put more value on an abled life.
For example:
Disabled person:"I have been using a wheelchair for 2 years."
Abled person: "oh you're young, im sure you'll be walking around in no time!"
This statement invalidates and ignores the disabled persons current life by hoping they get a more abled bodied life. Its fine to hope disabled people get better, but you don't get to decide what better looks like.
Hope this helps, stay punk.
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duoduotian · 1 year
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tfw everyone has a different way to mark the thing as done and i have to rmb everyone's way depending on who's assessing me next week . um .
#mel 废话时刻#i am disoriented and tired i am at a loss#my chinese is in the gutter i cannot explain shit#when i think i learn sufficient words but it turns out i lack more. lol.#i'm like potentially getting fired from work next week maybe if i fail#when i have yet to do 3 mths and the notice comes and they deduct my salary for the day i took mc... tears#yall only give me one rest day a week w a lot of studying wdyt??? how did i get a headache??#i dont think this field is for me#my shoes are all coming apart i cant do it anymore#my perm retainer is 2/3 off and i can't take this crap anymore so i'll just get it removed anywhere 🗿#like every time they put it on it comes off again so whats the point#cant even go back to my usual clinic bc of my work hours so like whatever#i dont even wear the plastic retainers regularly bc i waste time cleaning it in the morning#as long as it fits everythings fine by me#ppl always say i dont look ok well my not work life is falling apart so#also stupid redacted person in this house has old ppl shitting problems and after constipation meds can't stop shitting#person has no hygiene either like the toilets always stink if they pee or shit. go kys#like i just want the use the toilet to shower or brush my teeth i did not sign up for a stinking toilet after work#i did not think it was possible but someone peed on the toilet floor at work wtfff#oh one time i lifted up the cover i saw period stains too like WHY DID U NOT CLEAN THAT U SICK BITCH#nah why ur whole ass have period stains how tf u is wearing the pad like wtf#i'm losing it
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merrinla · 8 months
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Portrait spamming
Recent discovery. If you click on the portraits of the characters like crazy, they will react to it. And the developers had a lot of fun coding these reactions xD
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Tav / Dark Urge
normal - I'm awake! Mostly. - I'm starting to get a headache. - Must be the tadpole. - Quit knocking around in there! - A thousand needlepricks in my rotten skull.
combat -Ahhhhhhhh! Okay, I feel better. - I have an itch in the worst place. - Is being a mind flayer so bad? - Just waiting to venture forth here. - I'm maiming as fast as I can!
stealth - What's that ticking? - Is it me? Am I ticking? - Bomb in my head about to go off. Great. - Ah, well. I had a good run.
Astarion
normal - Why do beautiful people taste better? It hardly seems fair on the ugly - they have such wonderful personalities. - Ugh. Strahd wouldn't put up with this shit. - More like Drizzt Don't'Urden - no. No that's not funny. - Villains! Dissemble no more, I admit the deed! Tear up the floor - here, here! It is the beating of his hideous hea- oh, no, that's his brain. Where did I leave that heart?
combat: - I'm trying to focus on murder. - *Humming.* - I shot a svirfneblin in Menzoberranzan just to watch him die. - I should've been a drow. They have such stylish armour.
stealth - Shhh. Just think sneaky thoughts. - Shut up, shut up, SHUT UP. - Be very, very quiet - I'm hunting idiots. - I've got a brand new torture chamber, so come and play with me.
Karlach
normal - NOTE TO ACTOR/DIRECTOR: Blow a raspberry at the player. - Don't. Poke. The Karlach. - Who am I? - My eye!
combat - Eyes on the prize - we need to win this! - Not every soldier should've made it out of training. - Eyes on victory, tummy on dinner. - I ought to just burn this whole thing down.
stealth - My back can't take much more of this. - Not now, I'm being a sneak! - I'm getting too old for this nonsense. - I'm not built to crouch.
Gale
normal - I hope Halaster takes good care of Tara while I'm away. - Sembian wine; Cormyrian boar; Waterdhavian conversation. It's the little things you miss while on the road. - Oh, what a tangled Weave we web! - All the world's my stage and you're just a player in it.
combat - Just go for the Magic Missile and fire away. Never fails. - Don't make me go all Edwin Odesseiron on you. - Get. Out. Of. My. Head. - I really wish I could cast a Hold spell on you.
stealth - You made me hide, don't make me come seek you. - Gods, it's like trying to sleep with a mosquito in the room. - A little privacy please. - Stop it - that tickles.
Wyll
normal - Could do for a brew. - Where there's a 'Wyll', there's a 'y'. - Ever get the sense that someone's watching? - So two halflings walk under a bar...
combat - Can't hear myself think! - Wear your scars proudly. - As my father once told me: 'Can we get on with it?' - I find moderation is key.
stealth - Bad time for an itch. - Could do for a brew. - So two halflings walk under a bar... - Shush. No, really. Shush.
Lae'zel
normal - Must everyone be so exhausting? - Weapons high. Standards higher. - Is perfection too much to ask? - Pride is a virtue.
combat - I will know my queen! - There is no right or wrong, only truth. - What is the point, if not victory? - You are right to fear me.
stealth - Hush already. - There is no wisdom in madness. - Is perfection too much to ask? - There is but one way. Vlaakith.
Shadowheart
all modes - I wonder how I'll feel when I remember everything. - Strange. I've had more freedom this past while than my whole life... - Have to keep focused. Can't afford to get attached - to anyone. - If I succeed, maybe I'll be allowed a pet... ugh, stop being silly.
Halsin / his voice is currently bugged :(
normal - What I would not give for a chunk of fresh honeycomb... - Such attention... I never realised I was so popular. - Are you feeling lonely, perhaps? - Unwise, perhaps, to poke a bear this much...
сombat - Battle is afoot - you can poke me once we are safe. - Perhaps try attacking the enemy? - Admirable stamina, yet terrible priorities. - You are insistent, are you not?
stealth - Most consider it unwise to poke a bear. - My, you are eager, are you not? - Please. I am trying to be stealthy. - Calm yourself. There is plenty of me to go around.
Jaheira
normal - Oh, calm down. I'm happy to see you too. - I would poke you back, but I fear that's what you want. - My, such strong wrists. - Well you certainly have the 'omnipresent' part down, don't you? - Please go poke the ranger instead.
combat - You have my attention - now do something with it. - What? What do you want!? - Do you know, I begin to wish they had never brought me back. - Yes, yes, have your fun. It isn't you they're trying to kill.
stealth - Dry those sweaty palms and let us try this again, shall we? - Argh, my knees! Oh. It was a twig. - Would that I could hide from you, too. - Careful, or I will take your toy away from you.
Minsc
normal - ARGH! My EYE, Boo! They went for my EYE! - Know that if you poke Boo, no higher dimension will keep you safe! - Heehee. Heeheeheehee. - Well, Boo? How do you want to do this?
сombat - Are you perchance a squeaky wheel in need of a kick? - I am armed! Armoured! And entirely sick of your foolishness. - I begin to grow annoyed. It is well for you that Boo does not let me learn the bad words! - Ignore them, Boo. Let them gaze deep into their own abyss, and wonder just what it is they are trying to achieve.
stealth - A little to the left? But not so hard you make me giggle. - Boo...? Are you dancing down there, or...? - Hush! I am surprising Boo for his birthday! He is... uh... eh... how old do hamsters get...? - I am the night. A pity, then, that it is so bright out.
Minthara
all modes - You had my attention, now you have my fury. - Phlar Lolth ssinssrickla. - Your suffering will be spectacular. - Stop, or die.
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hyewka · 4 months
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—what a loser! | c.bg
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୨୧ synopsis. hearing rumours of your sex life travel around your campus for the first time has you standing in front of the very person that you’re convinced is responsible. your secret fuck buddy.
୨୧ warnings. stoner!gyu, bratty sub!beomgyu, mean femdom, humiliation kink, VERY public, hair pulling, hate sex kind of, cunnilingus, use of pet, fuck buddies, reader has a priest dad, bit of a toxic dynamic
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“Why’re you here?” he mumbles casting his eyes down to his feet as he idly skates around, not paying you even a little bit of eye contact or actual acknowledgement.
“Can we talk somewhere else? More private?”
He ignores you.
You huff, rolling your eyes, adjusting the bag on your shoulder. The sun had already set, there were even less people out—no one was skating around at this hour but Beomgyu. “Why—" you take a breath, already feeling yourself get emotional and angry, “Why did you go around telling people about us?”
There’s a few reasons circling your head. Attention, bragging rights—attention was a big one but you hoped, no, a part of you believes it was an accident. That he let the information slip from his lips when he was drunk, or out of his right mind. But with the way he’s acting, it’s getting harder to hold on to the belief that Beomgyu was misunderstood and not just a fucking asshole.
Too much time goes by with silence and you think hes blatantly ignoring you again, but then he halts his skating, taking the time to run a hand through his hair. Hair that you’ve regretfully played with days on end, twirling strands around your finger, giggling as if the foundation you’ve built your relationship on wasn’t such a fragile fire that could be snuffed out in seconds if not the tiniest bit careful.
Look where you are now.
“Dunno, ‘cuz I can.”
His eyes are on you, bangs parted, looking straight at you. You can’t get it out of your mind, how the ends of his lips twitched up as he said that. Bitch. Fucking bitch.
He finds this amusing. A game. Your reputation was a game to him. Of course it is. He never took anything serious, not his career, not his relationships, not his future—he never cared.
Your nostrils flare as you stomp large strides towards him, charging and shoving his chest, having him stumble backwards off his board, dryly laughing. “The goody two shoes about to commit an assault?”
“Oh fuck off, you wouldn’t dare try suing me. God, I hate you so much. You’re such a—such a fucking loser!” you yell.
That wiped off the cocky demeanour.
“Here’s some two cents for you, I couldn’t give less of a fuck about whatever this is between us. I really couldn’t. But you—” your face gets heated up, pointing a finger at him. “You will never find anything better than what I gave you. And you’re going to live with that.”
He scoffs like he’s unbothered but it’s so clear with the way he clenches his jaw afterwards he’s pissed—it hit a spot. Good. Good, let him be hurt.
“What do you even—what did you gain by telling everybody my sex life? Having people call me a slut? Some sick pleasure from being superior to me for once? Attention? Huh? Why’re you acting out now?” Your eyes are narrowed as they implore answers out of him, searching his face and eyes, anything, anything that you can read from his unbearable silence.
“Yeah.”
You blink confused. “What?”
“Yeah, I wanted the attention. Happy now?” He walks to shoulder you but you let out a scoff, holding him back by his arm and pushing him in front of you again.
“You can’t for one second act like a man can you? You just run away from everything!” you feel like you could rip out your hair with how frustrating hes being.
“If you’re just going to stand there and insult me like a bitch I might as well just go and do something fucking productive.” he spits.
Your cheeks heat up and you think for the first time you understand the phrase of seeing red. Hes been poking and poking and poking with his nonchalance then later smugness then going onto just straight up disrespect—he was really pushing you. So he should’ve expected the hand that goes to strike him against his face—your chest rising up and down, brows furrowed deeply.
A faint red hand print blooms across his cheek, and his jaw falls slack, eyes blown out and wide. You suddenly grab him by the back of his hair, no doubt burning his scalp with the way he lets out a loud hiss. “I fucking hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you.”
You’re so close to his face and everything about the way he’s looking at you gives you the chills. You hate him. You do. He’s insane, he’s selfish, he’s rude, he’s—
A shaky lopsided grin still manages to break from his face, “No you don’t.”
And that was your last straw.
The addictive nature about Beomgyu is what kept you coming back over and over again—he never lead, he just let you…take him. And sometimes, at a point of your life where you feel like everythings being controlled for you, not having the choice to make the decisions you like, this somewhat served as an outlet.
That’s the more…reasonable explanation.
The other explanation is simple. He’s so fucking sexy.
The way he still melts into a kiss so harsh and mean, attempting to cup your cheeks, but immedietely dropping it when he feels your disapporval, his whimpers already picking up, not taking any incentive to breathe as if this kiss was enough to keep him alive; it’s those little things that have you up in the middle of the night thinking about him. Him.
Beomgyu, the stereotypical bad-boy stoner hipster outcast—the antithesis of everything present in your picture perfect life—he keeps you up at night. The mix of weed and his hilariously bad attempt at covering it with febreeze and cologne wafts your scent, it overwhelms you, but you still can’t get enough. Everything annoying about him disappears when he’s touching you.
“Why? Why do you keep doing this?” you say, finally being able to pull away from him—only after you had jerked on his hair harsher.
His lips are swollen, red and glistening—he looks pretty like this. He really does. But those lips always end up saying something to piss you off. “Keep doing what? Letting everyone know how you really are? Not actually the good girl you pretend to be, huh.”
You don’t know if he’s goading you on purpose because he likes it rough, or if he’s just being an asshole in general. It doesn’t matter. If he’s going to act like a brat, he’ll get treated like one.
Your knuckles had turned white with how hard you were gripping his hair so it feels relieving when you finally let it go. He tries to lean in to chase after your lips again, but you have your hands on his chest to stop him.
The flash of panic in his eyes when you step back from him is hilarious, it really is. It tells you everything you need to know. He wants you. He really wants you. He doesn’t care if you hit him or ruin his life, he wants you.
If his next words are any indication. “Hey, hey what are you doing? Where are you going?”
You walk to sit on a step of the stairs. “Do you think I’m a slut? Is that why you thought you had the audacity? Surely because otherwise if you respected me you wouldn’t have spread those rumors about me.”
He huffs out a laugh, the biggest reaction you’ve gotten out of him so far. He also walks to get closer to you. “What the fuck is wrong with you? You haven’t even come up with one single reason that would paint me in a better light. You really do see me as a fucking douchebag loser.” He’s clearly getting emotional with the way his voice gets higher pitched, the nonchalant front cracking, his lips slightly trembling.
“Because that’s what you are. Douchebag. Loser. You’re. A. Loser. Choi Beomgyu.”
You can see his fists clench at his sides, tight lipped. If you knew any better, you think he might’ve just started crying, but you’re not interested in tears. You angle your feet to point to the ground, “On your knees.”
He only hesitates for a second, he only stands there staring at you for a second, only a second before he crumbles and does as you say, getting on his knees in front of you, between your legs. “Closer.”
“But-"
“But what?” Your skirts already half way ridden up and you stare him down, keeping your eye contact intense.
“We’re in p-public. Anyone can see.”
You know hes blushing when you see the tips of his ears peek out, bright red. Aw, he’s nervous? Embarrassed? Shy?
“You’re never seeing me after this Choi. Make of it what you can or piss off.”
His eyes widen comically at that. “What? What does that mean? Are you leaving me?”
You can’t decipher or understand why exactly hes so surprised but you shake it off, you don’t want your good time to be spoiled. Not when your underwears’ already sticking to your pussy seeing him on his knees, on the ground, with his ripped baggy jeans, no doubt a pavement burn getting to him. “Are you going to eat me out or should I get up and leave?”
He shakes his head vehemently, hands on your knees spreading your legs. “Sorry, ‘m sorry. Don’t leave. Gonna make you feel good, promise.”
He’s already rambling like he’s dumbed out, like he’s about to be a goner. But he’s still hesitant in his actions and you groan, throwing your head back. “What the fuck Beomgyu?”
A pout rests on his lips, “I—…I don’t want anyone seeing you..”
You think he’s giving a fuck for your decency, you think its about you for once. But then another thought pops up in your head and your lips twitch. It’s not for you. It’s for him. He doesn’t want any possible pedestrian to see what only him so far has been able to see.
This isn’t worth it.
You make an attempt to get up before Beomgyu immediately has you sit back down, wasting no time to press his face between your legs, skirt over his head. His tongue pokes out to lick on over your panties, gradually wetting it and you sigh, the tenseness of your body evaporating. “Yeah, thats it. Be good for me pup.” He whines at that.
Beomgyu doesn’t tease any longer the moment your hands go to grab his hair because suddenly he bunches your panties to the side and you feel the contact of his hot tongue on your cunt, already lapping away like a dog. Dumb dog. Dumb dog. Dumb dumb dumb—but shit he’s having you curl your toes at the speed he’s going, the way he moans against your pussy like hes somehow enjoying eating you out more than you are.
“You’re my toy, nothing else. But you just keep—you keep irritating me, you keep being a dick, you keep provoking me.” you breathe out, tightening your fistful of his hair in your hand, making his moans even louder, nuzzling closer in your pussy you think he might genuinely suffocate at this point. But knowing him, he’d probably like that. “God, you absolute loser.”
He whines something intelligible, wet eyes looking up at you with his brows pulling up—it makes you gasp as you bite down on your bottom lip. He’s so pretty it’s unfair. Why’s such a sinful person so pretty? God must really have the time of his life making this hell for you.
You take it upon yourself to lift yourself a bit, grinding on his face harder, trying to reach your high, obstructing your view of his face—even with the anxiety of doing this so out in the open resting at the pit of your stomach. He’s practically mewling in your pussy, and the sounds send vibrations, his nose bumping up your clit every now and then. He lets you use him, he just lets you.
When Beomgyu fully submits like this to you…you see stars, you come hard. “More…more”, he groans, licking up your arousal. It’s so dirty, it really is, but you can’t help but nod.
Having the skater eat you out till your legs were jelly at a skatepark late at night would surely guarantee your place in hell.
“You’re such a whore, letting me fuck your face like this baby—don’t soil your pants yet, I know how you get. Probably getting off at the fact that we’re out l-like this…h-hah—dirty, dirty boy.”
He shakes his head, the glistening sweat of his forehead and the matted strands on his temple proof of how hard hes really going at it. “Not dirty. Just wan’ your attention..”
The second you tut at him for stopping he immedietely dives back in—you don’t know if it’s more him being afraid of a punishmet or because he himself doesn’t want to stop. Never mind that, because now hes wrapping his pretty lips around your clit and you’re fucking losing your mind with how quick your head clouds.
There are so many things circling your head right now. And this always happens whenever he starts talking during a hook up. Yes, it helps you get to an edge even faster but its for all the wrong reasons. He’d dirty talk for a bit before switching up, and suddenly all of his words are loving and cute and adorable and, and that’s bad. When you see him other than the image he’s curated for himself—that’s when you start feeling the unfamiliar butterflies fluttering.
You don’t like it. He’s not good for you.
“Stop thinking, only focus on me.” You gasp, your fingers digging into his tangled hair, disheveling it even more. Only him.
He makes you orgasm again, and when you catch your breath you gently push his head away, then harder when he can’t seem to stop kissing your inner thighs. He sighs, dropping it, but not without giving you one last puppy plea. You avoid his eyes, pulling your panties up and scoping around the area, all of a sudden feeling exposed. Did you really just let this punk eat you out on a staircase?
You stand up, dusting your ass, taking note of the redness of his knees and the large wet patch in between his crotch when Beomgyu follows, getting up from his knees, wiping his ridiculously wet lips. You tuck a strand behind your ear as you awkwardly stand, thinking over what you’re going to say now.
We’re over, bye.
I’ll go home now, don’t call me.
I hope you know how bad you messed up. Bye.
I’m blocking you on everything so don’t even think of contacting me.
“Don’t leave me.”
…That has you snap out of your reverie.
His voice is low, no doubt vulnerable. This is the worst. This is bad. Shit.
You clear your throat. “Why? Why shouldn’t I? Even if I didn’t want to I’d have to…my dad knows about you now because of the little stunt you pulled and he definitely doesn’t approve of you.” You mumble the last part, crossing your arms and keeping your distance. But that’s not of any use when he steps forward every time you take a step back.
“I’m—” He runs a hand through his hair again, clearly frustrated. And you don’t understand why, does he really operate life thinking there aren’t consequences to his actions? If he didn’t want to stop this so bad why’d he tell people about your relationship when you explicitly told him not to? “We can—we can do it in secret like we did this entire time. He doesn’t have to know.”
You sigh, also frankly frustrated. “Beomgyu! Why can’t you just-"
Suddenly you’re in his embrace, engulfing you so gently and yet the desperation in it couldn’t have been any more tighter. “Please, please don’t leave me. I’m sorry. I’ll—I’ll really do everything you want, I’ll be your toy, your pet, whatever shit you’re into—just don’t leave me."
You really shouldn’t give in. You really, really shouldn’t.
But then he nuzzles into your neck, mumbling with that slight whiny drawl in his tone, “I’ll be your good boy, I promise. Won’t misbehave anymore.”
Of course you give in. Again.
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୨୧ note. honestly don’t know where this came from, i was just making up backstory as i was writing. literally only had one thought and one thought only, what if sub!bad boy x dom! good girl? and that was the small attempt made here lol, i love hearing any feedback or even a theory or two concerning the story’s world as i might explore these characters again 🙏
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cryptidghostgirl · 3 months
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hiii can i request a silly little scene i have in my head? ok so!
alastor x wife! reader- theyve been together since they were alive, legit partners in crime they both encouraged eachother to kill and when they reunited in hell after around 8 years they were independent once again UNTIL They got in trouble with Lilith and she took reader to be like her slave until Alastor finished helping Charie with her dream (until he helped prove that demons can be redeemed) so they didnt see each other for another 7 years (his absence)
And all throughout the first season hes like “I miss my wife, Husk. I miss her a lot” (while drunk-) like that one sonic dub meme and starts shaping his shadow creature into reader and talking to it and everyone is like “m yep he’s officially lost it.”
BUT then Sir Pentious is redeemed and Lilith sees and shes like “damn :/“ and send reader to the new hotel via portal and reader just. falls on the ground in front of the big entrance and everyone hears it and they rush out and Alastor is quiet, wide eyed and reader goes smth like “i know- i shouldnt have accepted it in your name but-“ blah blah she rambles on about it and Alastor just goes “Youre as beautiful as the day I los you.” LIKE THAT HEARYBREAKING SCENE FROM HOW TO TRAIN YOUR DRAGON 2 ;-; and everyone reacts in their own way
I REALLY NEED THIS BUT I LACK THE ABILITIES TO DO IT HEEELP (love u)
A/N oh bestie,, i got you. I was actually planning on something similar where Alastor was getting drunk at a bar and talking about the love of his life (I'm still gonna write that one too but I really like this prompt!!) You guys really come up with the best requests, please keep sending them in.
Fuel and the Fire (Alastor x Wife!Partner-in-Crime!Reader)
Pairing: Alastor x Reader
Warnings: ANGST also bad words (idk why i wrote the warnings like this). Also Angel Dust is in this one and I love him but he is a warning on his own.
Word Count: 2,392
Master Lists:
Master Lists 
Hazbin Hotel Master List
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Alastor and Y/n, partners in crime, the fuel and the fire. On a first glance, it would be assumed she was his fuel, the coal and dry leaves he fed himself by. Once anyone got to know them -- and god, what trouble a person was in if they got to know them -- they quickly realized it was the other way around.
Hand in hand from day one, from childhood. Running from the cops, washing the blood off one another's faces. In the living world and life after death, nothing could tear them apart. He was the soil she planted herself in, he was her rock and Y/n? Well she was Alastor's everything. He'd do anything at all for her, all she had to do was ask.
For a decade, they terrified the living world. They were the reason to double check the lock on the door before bed, they were the ominous shadow at the corner. When cold death wrapped them in his reckless grasp, they turned their terror on Hell.
The pair made a name for themselves quickly, filling up the airwaves and making waves in the underworld. For generations, they reigned supreme. For generations, they knew no fear. Then one day, they simply disappeared.
When Alastor reappeared on the streets seven years later without his shadow, the town was alight with gossip. No one knew where he had been, where she still was, or why he had returned but Alastor quickly rebuilt his operation, setting up shop at Lucifer's daughter's Hazbin Hotel along with several of the souls he owned.
The hotel's other residents and workers were distrustful of the man, to say the least. He was shifty, wore a constant smile, and rumors circled around him like birds of prey. That was until about three months into his stay, at least.
Angel hadn't meant to eavesdrop. He'd been coming down to the bar for a drink and a rant of his own when he'd heard the familiar, crackling voice of the Hotel's host.
"I just... I miss her so much, Husk."
He sounded sad, utterly dejected. Angel crouched down on the staircase, hiding his slim body behind one of the ornate posts supporting the railing.
"You keep saying that but do nothing to go find her. She disappeared the same time as you, you know." came Husk's gruff reply.
"I know she did."
"You keep saying that, acting like you know something. Admit it: you don't know shit, Alastor."
Alastor's radio waves faltered, squeaking slightly. Angel tensed in terror, wondering if he'd been found out. This was clearly a private conversation, and the Radio Demon was testy at the best of times. Right now he seemed positively furious.
"Don't test me, Husk." Alastor said after a moment, breaking the tense silence, "She... we both got roped into something. I am doing my part, she is doing hers."
Angel straightened himself up, deciding it was high time he entered the room. He still wanted that drink, after all. He let his feet fall heavily on the stairs, alerting the others to his presence. Husk turned toward the sound, meeting Angel's eyes as he entered the bar. Alastor, on the other hand, kept his back to the spider demon.
Taking a seat beside Alastor, Husk immediately poured Angel a drink and slid it across the counter towards him.
"So, tough night, Smiles?" Angel asked, turning to Alastor who downed the rest of his drink in a single gulp.
"I don't know what you're talking about, my good fellow." Alastor hummed in response.
There was a threat in his voice, but Angel could tell the demon's heart wasn't in it. Everything was just, odd.
"Yeah... sure..." Angel scoffed, taking a sip of his own drink.
"Radio man was crying to me about his wife five seconds ago." Husk grumbled and Angel's eyes went wide.
"You have a wife?" he asked, turning back to Alastor, "I mean, I get it. I'm in to the whole 'tall dark and creepy' thing too but, you care about someone? I don’t know if I can see it.”
Alastor's eyes narrowed as he turned on Husk. The cat demon rolled his eyes in a brazen display of disrespect. He knew his master well, knew this was the only thing he had any leverage with the man on. With a deep breath, Alastor placed his hands firmly on the bar top and pulled himself to his feet. Not saying another word, he disappeared into his shadows.
That had been the first odd occurrence. Of course Angel had told Charlie and Charlie had told everyone, had even approached Alastor about it. The Radio Demon brushed it all off with skill and for a while, things were quiet.
About a month later, the second strange thing began happening. Alastor had always had a certain sway over shadows, everyone knew that. However, he very rarely used them, brought them out if it wasn't to hide him or take him where he needed to be. Then, suddenly, one began to follow him.
"Uh, Alastor?" Charlie had timidly approached him the first time she saw this happening.
"Yes, Charlie my dear?" Alastor asked, turning to face her as he tossed his microphone in the air, catching it neatly in the center of the stand.
"Well, we were just wondering if everything was... okay?" she asked, her hands behind her back and a pointed gaze on the shadow.
"If everything..." Alastor trailed off, following the path of Charlie's gaze and realizing what was going on, "No, no my dear. Everything is quite all right, quite alright indeed."
"Well, okay... If you say so." Charlie had relented after a few moments, unsure of what else to do.
Eventually, the members of the Hazbin Hotel grew used to the shadows, they too slipped out of their minds. Overcome with impending doom of the extermination just a month away, Alastor's strange behavior was no longer a priority.
That had been until the third odd occurrence came into being. It was Sir Pentious who had noticed it first, drawing it to the group's attention as Alastor walked through the lobby and past the group doing trust exercises there on his way to some meeting or another with the other overlords.
"Sir Pentious?" Charlie had called, trying to bring him back to earth as he watched the place Alastor had occupied, "Sir Pentious?"
"Pentious!" Vaggie yelled and his head snapped to her, "You're not coming up with some new plan to attack Alastor, are you?"
"No!" he quickly exclaimed, waving his hands frantically in the air, "Not at all just..."
"What?" Vaggie asked through gritted teeth, advancing a step forward, her spear in hand.
"It's just... doesn't that shadow Alastor has had following him well.... doesn't it kind of look like a woman?"
Husk broke out into wild laughter while Angel widened his eyes.
"Oh, he's definitely lost it now." Husk exclaimed as he calmed himself, clutching his stomach, "If I knew Y/n was the secret to breaking him down, I woulda done something about it years ago."
"No you wouldn't have, ya big talker." Angel teased, elbowing the cat demon lightly.
"Y/n?" Sir Pentious asked.
"Alastor's wife. That was her name." Husk replied.
"Did you know her?" Charlie asked.
Alastor had left the hotel, the threat that had held their questions at bay for months was gone and the topic was right. Husk nodded.
"So, what's she like?" Angel asked suggestively, "Is she more of a dom? Does deer boy like to get dicked down by his lady?"
"Gross." Charlie shook her head, her hands to her temples, "I do not want to know that."
"She's a good kid." Husk said after a moment, "She's nice..."
He trailed off.
"But?" Vaggie prompted, sensing there was more that he wanted to say.
Husk sighed.
"If you think Alastor is trouble, she's a fucking house fire set for the insurance money."
"So probably not interested in being a guest." Charlie dejectedly stated.
Husk shrugged.
"You never know. It has been seven years since anyone has seen her. Alastor allegedly knows where she's at but, he hasn't gone after her. Just keeps whining to me about it so, I don't know. Maybe she's changed. I doubt it though. Sweet as a pea, sharp as a knife."
Charlie had never felt such relief as when she learned Alastor had not died in the chaos of the battle. The hotel was destroyed, heaven was pissed, Sir Pentious had died but, at least he was alright. They rebuilt the hotel, Alastor's same shadow of a woman trailing after him wherever he went. After about a week, thanks to all the angelic and demonic powers involved in the construction, the new Hotel was finished.
It was just as they put the finishing touches on the place, hung the portrait of Sir Pentious they'd commissioned above the fire place, that a portal opened in the lobby. Everyone tensed, banding together behind Charlie and Alastor. Angels were coming, they were sure of it.
A crash echoed from the other side, a sharp yell and then something tumbled through the portal. With a flash, the portal disappeared behind the shape of a person huddled on the floor. She coughed violently.
Alastor's eyes went wide. Everyone else was too distracted to notice, but if they'd have been paying attention, they would have seen his shadow disappear.
The girl was filthy, her clothes torn and her hair tangled. She let out another, sharp cough before slowly lifting her head. Alastor took a trembling step forward.
"Y/n?" he asked, his voice soft in disbeleif.
A smile, wide and sharp, split the woman's bruised face in two.
"Hey hun, I'm home."
In a flash, he was at her side, helping her to her feet, checking her for wounds.
"Jesus, Y/n." he sighed, "You're a mess."
"I know."
"Y/n-"
"I know. I shouldn't have done it, you don't need to lecture me. I didn't have a choice. It was you or me, Al. I couldn't... I can't... I had to. You've gotta understand."
"Sweetheart-"
Y/n cut him off again, her speech a single, constant, stressed-out stream.
"It was stupid, I know. I know. I really do but, she gave me the option and I couldn't say no cause then if I said no you'd really be the one in trouble a-"
Alastor raised a hand gently to her cheek and Y/n's words caught in her throat. She looked up at him, meeting his eyes at last.
"You're as beautiful as the day I lost you."
His voice was soft, so quiet the others could barely hear him. Y/n's cheeks flushed a bright pink. Her hands found the lapels of his jacket, holding them lightly.
"I.." she stuttered, her mind racing.
With a sigh and a slight shake of her head, she gave up in the search for words and buried herself in his chest. Alastor wrapped his arms around Y/n, pressing her tightly into his frame.
"God, I missed you." she said, her voice muffled by the fabric.
Alastor pressed a gentle kiss to the top of her head.
"I love you." she continued, "I'm so sorry."
Alastor pulled her off of him, leaning down the slightest bit so they were eye to eye. Y/n, wiped a stray tear away, letting out a slight, sad laugh. Alastor's eyes traversed her face, caressing every crevasse.
"I'm so glad your alright but, I don't understand." he said at last, "How are you back? The deal..."
Y/n nodded and Alastor's eyes went wider still. Leaning on Alastor's shoulder for support, she turned her eyes onto the rest of the group.
"You must be Charlie." she hummed softly, meeting the young demon's gaze.
Taking a deep breath, Charlie stepped forward and nodded.
"Yes, I am. I run the Hazbin Hotel, which is where you are, to help rehabilitate sinners."
"I know." Y/n nodded, her voice quavering slightly, "I've heard so much about you. You... my dear, it worked."
"I- what?" every other question died in Charlie's throat, shock shot through her body like a bullet.
"It worked." Y/n confirmed, "You did it. I had a deal, a deal which Alastor went to your side to get me out of. If you succeeded in redeeming a soul with his aid, I would be free. And here I am."
"Here you are." Alastor repeated, spinning Y/n to face him once again.
She wobbled unsteadily on her feet. Catching sight of this along with the numerous wounds all over her body, Alastor scooped Y/n up into his arms like he did when they had first been married, when they had crossed the first threshold together. Y/n looped her arms around his neck, exhaustion seeping in with the relief as she let her head fall on his chest.
"Vaggie..." Charlie began as she turned to her girlfriend, "you don't think..."
"Pentious?" Vaggie asked and Charlie nodded.
"It's gotta be." Angel confirmed.
"You did good, kid." Husk smiled, patting Charlie on the back.
Y/n raised her head at the sound of a familiar voice, her eyes opening.
"Husker?" she asked with a smile.
The cat demon stepped forward, bowing slightly.
"Husker! I-"
"Enough of that, my love." Alastor cut her off, tapping her nose gently, "You need a shower and some rest. You can meet everyone in the morning."
Y/n crossed her arms, narrowing her eyes as she looked up at her husband.
"Promise?"
"Yes, I promise." he sighed.
"Does that mean you're staying?" Charlie asked tentatively and the couple turned to her.
"Whatever the little lady desires." Alastor stated, looking back down at his wife in a lovestruck daze.
"Yes, Charlie. We're staying." Y/n laughed, "Things need to start changing around here and I don't see anyone else doing a god damn thing to make that happen except for you."
"I.." Charlie was speechless, the kindness this fear inspiring woman was directing towards her, having never met her before. What Husk had said made sense, she smiled, "Thank you. I don't know what you did, but that you both so much."
"Anything for my favorite girl." Alastor kissed Y/n softly.
"Oh, get a room." Angel scoffed, rolling his eyes.
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rynwritesreid · 1 month
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I like the way you kiss me| Spencer Reid
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A/N: So, I haven’t written smut in a good while, but I hope this okay. It’s defo romantic, but I promise soon there will be some good angst.
Summary: Spencer is nervous about being in a relationship with you, because of what his friends would think and the age gap you two had. But when it comes down to it, all that matters to him, is you.
Content: Smut 18+. Fluff. Fem!reader. Use of nicknames (just princess). oral(R!receiving). PinV.
Masterlist| request are open| navigation
Spencer Reid knew dating you was playing with fire. You were younger, and you had never been in a serious relationship. Spencer knew if his friends found out about the two of you, he would never hear the end of it. But when he was with you, he didn’t care, all he could think about was you. 
He couldn't resist the way your eyes lit up when you talked about anything you loved, or how your pupils dilated when you were looking at him, or how you laughed when he told any joke.  He was infatuated with you, although he knew he should never have got attached to you.
But despite the risks, Spencer couldn't deny the pull he felt towards you. As he watched you across the table, he couldn't help but smile at the way you crinkled your nose when you were deep in thought. Your passion for life was infectious, and he found himself getting lost in the sparkle of your eyes.
Maybe he loved you, or maybe he loved the idea of you, but he didn’t care. He enjoyed been around someone who saw life as colourful and bright, rather than how he saw it and how the majority of everyone he knew saw it. 
But if Spencer was to ever admit what he truly liked about you, he enjoyed the way you kissed him. How every kiss you gave him was memorable. He could tell with every kiss you missed him when he wasn’t around, you cared about him and that he was the last person you thought about as you drifted asleep.
As the night grew late and the restaurant began to empty, Spencer realised he couldn't keep pretending that what they had was just a casual fling. He needed to admit to himself that he was falling for you, hard and fast. The way your hand felt in his, the sound of your laughter filling his ears, it was all too much to ignore.
"I can't keep pretending that you don't mean everything to me," Spencer whispered, his voice barely above a breath. “You make life worth living. Whenever I see your name flash across my screen, or every time I remember your face, I want to kiss you.”
“Spencer Reid as romantic, who could have imagined.” You chuckled, you felt the same way, but you could never put it into such words. “I feel the same way. I want to be yours.” 
“You’ll always be mine. You are perfect for me, and I am, well perfect for you.” Spencer pressed a soft kiss to your lips, feeling the weight of his confession lifting off his shoulders. In that moment, surrounded by the fading chatter of the restaurant and the gentle glow of the streetlights outside, Spencer knew that he had found something rare and precious with you. As your fingers intertwined with his, he couldn't help but smile, a genuine, unguarded expression of happiness spreading across his face.
*
Spencer flagged down a taxi, he couldn’t wait to get you home. The taxi pulled up to the curb, and Spencer held the door open for you, a small smile playing on his lips. The city lights glimmered in your eyes as you settled into the backseat, his hand finding yours instinctively. The ride home was filled with comfortable silence, the air crackling with unspoken words and promises.
Once the taxi had arrived outside his apartment, he leaped out and open the door for you. “A real gentleman you’ve got there.” The taxi driver smiled, giving you a knowing look as you stepped out onto the sidewalk. Spencer chuckled softly, a hint of colour rising to his cheeks at the driver's comment. Escorting you up to his apartment, he couldn't shake the feeling of contentment that settled over him like a warm blanket.
Once you were in the comfort of his apartment, he grabbed your face and pulled it closer to his. He gazed into your eyes, seeing a reflection of his own desires and emotions staring back at him. Without uttering a single word, he closed the distance between your lips, kissing you with a fervour that spoke volumes about the depth of his feelings for you. In that moment, nothing else in the world mattered to Spencer except for the connection he shared with you.
As the kiss deepened, a wave of passion and longing swept over the both of you, enveloping you in a cocoon of warmth and desire. Spencer's hands moved gently to cup your face, his thumb stroking your cheek tenderly as if to reassure himself that you were real and not just a figment of his imagination.
Maybe it was out of instinct, but Spencer moved his hands down the back of your dress and felt the smooth fabric beneath his fingertips. His fingers found the top of the zipper and he slowly started pulling down, while his mouth found its way to your neck.
Your breath caught in your throat as his lips brushed against your skin, leaving a trail of tingling sensations in their wake. “You are beyond beautiful.” Spencer gently whispered against your skin; his breath warm against your neck.
Spencer's fingers traced a delicate path along your spine as he slowly lowered the zipper of your dress, his touch felt like feathers dancing along your skin. Every nerve in your body felt alive and electrified under his gentle caress, and you couldn't suppress the soft gasp that escaped your lips.
His lips found yours once more, the kiss deep and hungry, filled with a raw intensity that threatened to consume you both. Lost in the heady rush of desire, you tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer as if trying to fuse your very souls together.
Spencer was never the kind of man to hurry into get you naked, he liked taking it slowly, savouring every moment and committing it to memory. His hands moved with purpose, but also with a tenderness that spoke volumes about the depth of his feelings for you. As the dress slipped off your shoulders and pooled at your feet, Spencer's eyes roamed over your exposed skin, drinking in every curve and contour as if committing them to memory.
“I don’t how I ever got so lucky.” His voice was barely above a whisper, his eyes filled with a mixture of adoration and desire. Spencer guided you towards the bed, his eyes never leaving yours. In the soft glow of the moonlight filtering through the curtains, tonight felt more romantic, more intimate.
Spencer gently laid you on his bed, his gaze never wavering from yours. The room was imbued with a sense of intimacy and affection, as if every object bore witness to the love shared between you and Spencer. His fingers traced delicate patterns across your skin.
Though Spencer was still fully clothed, you didn’t feel vulnerable, you felt loved and adored. You felt as if Spencer was your biggest fan. But Spencer, been the gentleman he is, wasn’t going to allow you to be the only one naked. He unbuttoned his shirt slowly, revealing the expanse of his chest as he shed the fabric, every movement deliberate and filled with a silent promise.
As his shirt fell to the floor, Spencer lowered himself onto the bed beside you, his body radiating heat and a quiet intensity. His mouth left a trail of kissed down your body, igniting a trail of fire along your skin as he worshipped every inch of you with his lips and tongue. Each touch was a testament to his adoration, a silent vow of devotion that echoed through the room.
His lips started moving down your body, his lips finding your nipples and gently sucking them, his tongue flicking over them. But they weren’t the centre of his focus, because if Spencer was one thing, he was giving. He loved hearing you moan for him, how you complete surrendered yourself to him. He enjoyed knowing he had ruined anyone else for you, because he knew you the best, he knew what made you squirm. He wasn’t usually the type of man who wanted to ‘own’ something, but you were different. He had always wanted you for himself, even if at the start he was nervous.
His hands moved lower, caressing your hips, your thighs, his fingers dipping into you, the warmth of your body accepting him wholeheartedly. He felt you tremble under his touch, your body responding to his every move, and he felt a surge of power and desire within him.
Your breathing quickened, every gasp and moan a testament to the pleasure that was building within you. Spencer's eyes met yours, the fire in your eyes mirrored in his own. He knew then that this was more than just a physical connection, it was a soul-deep bond that took his breath away.
He paused, the tip of his finger hovering over your sensitive spot, teasing you. You knew what you wanted, and you could tell that Spencer knew it too. He smiled, a warm and genuine smile that made your heart flutter.
"Please," you said, your voice barely above a whisper.
“Please, what princess?” Spencer teasingly asked, stroking your inner thigh with his fingers.
You swallowed hard; your desperation clear in your eyes.
“Use your words.” He insisted, his gaze never leaving yours.
“I need you,” you whispered hoarsely, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment.
His lips were soon on your clit, his tongue plunging inside you, tasting you, exploring you. Your body arched beneath him, a silent plea for him to keep going, to never stop. And he obliged, his tongue darting in and out of you, his fingers working in perfect rhythm, driving you higher and higher until you finally shattered apart underneath him. You came with a cry, your body convulsing beneath his, and he felt the wave of your release wash over him, taking him to a place of pure ecstasy.
As your body relaxed, he pulled away, his eyes never leaving yours, his face a picture of pure satisfaction. He moved up beside you, his hands steadily exploring your body, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin of your neck.
But Spencer was far from done. He knew exactly what you needed; he could read your body like an open book.
Spencer slowly slid inside you, feeling the walls of your body cling to him like a force of nature. He moved slowly at first, savouring every moment of the connection that flowed between them. Your body arched towards him, eager to feel him deep inside, seeking the completion of a desire that had been building for so long.
As he thrust deeper, Spencer's eyes locked onto yours, the intensity of the moment making your heart race and your breath quicken. You wrapped your legs around him, pulling him closer, your body craving the warmth and connection.
He picked up the pace, each stroke more fervent than the last, the sounds of your breath and his groans filling the room. The air was thick with desire and the scent of your arousal, heightening the passion between you.
Your hips met his with each thrust, matching his rhythm and pulling him deeper into you. Every movement felt more intense, every touch more electric. In that moment, you and Spencer became one, moving as one, feeling as one.
Your fingers dug into his back, pulling him closer, every sensation heightening, every touch becoming more intense. Spencer's breathing was ragged, mirroring yours. The room was alive with the sound of your bodies moving in a primal dance, lost in each other's eyes.
Your breathing became higher pitched, signalling your orgasm was coming. You arched your back, your head falling back as you screamed his name. Spencer felt the walls of your pussy clenching tighter around him, and he knew that he was going to cum too.
He thrust harder, feeling the heat of your body engulfing him, taking him over the edge. His orgasm was explosive, shooting wave after wave of pleasure through his body. He held you close, his lips pressed against your neck, his breath still ragged with desire.
Spencer collapsed beside you, his chest heaving, his face flushed with exertion and desire. You lay there, breathing heavily, your bodies still connected. Spencer gently stroked your hair, his expression filled with love and affection. "You are my everything," he whispered, his voice hoarse with emotion. “And I can’t wait to tell the world about you.”
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sistertotheknowitall · 2 months
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Danny is Some Guy being followed
Part three? I guess, cause apparently it’s not content to stay in my head. Part One, Part Two
To say Danny was awake when he fist met these guys would be true, but to say he was fully aware would be a lie, and to live in Gotham one needed to be constantly aware.
If not, they would end up in this exact situation. Being stalked by vigilantes.
Him, Danny “Phantom” Fenton, Ghost King of the Infinite realms, was being constantly followed by a vigilante family. At least Danny assumed they were a family after hearing Red Hood call Nightwing “little brother.” (“I’m older than you.” “Yeah but you’re shorter.” “That’s not how that works!”) Also there was a child and at least three teenagers running around in spandex and armor. If they weren’t a family Danny wasn’t half-dead.
Anyway, Danny was pretty-sure they were watching him. His only guess as to why, well it started with a comment he made when slightly delirious. Because on that night when he was awake but not really, he called Batman the the fury-vigilante. In front of who the young king now realizes might be the bat’s son.
Danny understands that it might have been embarrassing but also it was just a comment and not even an original one! A lot of people called him that! And sure, not always to his face but still it could not have been his first time hearing it.
So Danny saw it as unnecessary to send out his army of (admittedly nice) children to harass Danny whenever they could. It was getting old and they always looked at him as if he was the odd one. Which he was but they didn’t know that. Like, Danny is just trying to get to where he needs to go, you people are the ones squaring up to random thugs on a school night.
Not that Danny didn’t appreciate the constant rescues, but he knew the life of a teenage vigilante and it wasn’t an easy one. Danny had a list of regrets and the scars to prove it. Hell, Baby Ninja looked younger than Danny when he first started.
In the first month of being shadowed Danny was sure he had met all of Batman’s children, either by rescue or confrontation. (How was he supposed to know he wasn’t allowed near that wearhouse?) He decided that Red Robin and Signal were his favorites, they spoke to him as a fellow person. Dickwing was his least favorite. After the incident with the Fenton anti-creep stick and four creeps, Dickwing started to lecture Danny on self-preservation and “being too young to put himself in that kind of danger.” Danny had stared pointedly at Baby Ninja on the fire escape (not that Dickwing noticed.)
Danny didn’t really now what their goal was, so far outside the three a.m. gun fights, the hypocritical lectures, and Baby Ninja’s prickly nature, the Batkids weren’t so bad. Still Danny wasn’t going to tell them his name. Hello? they were following him. Yes they were vigilantes but they were also stalkers and Danny had rights.
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