#which I think was supposed to be the point

[tossawary]

I think one of the keys to non-canon and rarepair relationships for me in fanfiction is that you have to respect the relationships that are already there. Not like in a "you have to do the canon relationships and then break them up first" way, because you can definitely make it so that the canon relationship in question never happened OR was never romantic or sexual if you want. But in a basic characterization issue kind of way.

For example, when I wrote a Shang Qinghua / Yue Qingyuan fic, I was looking at the ways to make that work given the Qijiu and Moshang situations. And I ended up making it so that Qijiu either never had or never fully developed any romantic or sexual feelings in this AU, but they're still inseparable as friends / brothers / platonic soulmates of a kind. You CAN'T write a Yue Qingyuan who doesn't care about Shen Jiu. It's just not on the table in terms of characterization.

(I mean, you could, I suppose, but then it's a case of, "Who the fuck even is this guy anymore? You undid his whole backstory and now he's a completely different person." I do think you can write interesting AU stories focused on character development in which Yue Qingyuan learns to move on after post-canon or in which perhaps Shen Jiu's treatment of Luo Binghe becomes an actual breaking point for their relationship, but even if things somehow get REAL BAD between him and Shen Jiu, I don't really think Yue Qingyuan will ever be able to stop caring completely.)

Likewise, I made it so that Moshang never fell into the master-servant situationship, and ended up as cooperative enemies / distant allies of sorts. But Shang Qinghua still thinks Mobei-Jun is sexy. That's his ideal guy! Airplane Bro still being a little weird about his favorite character is not really negotiable to me, even if he's in love with someone else. He has eyes! He can still look at other men disrespectfully! He just doesn't act on his attraction.

Like, you can totally just sidestep any romantic / sexual feelings and make it so they never existed, in order to pursue your pairing of choice. But you cannot easily deny, in my opinion, the basic fact of a character caring on a basic level about someone important to them. I think it gives weird "you're only allowed to care about your romantic partner / no friends allowed" vibes to just completely cut off all other relationships. There's not a hard line between "love-triangle-fixing polyamory" and "completely isolated from even friendships because maintaining friendships with exes is cheating somehow monogamy" as options here.

#tossawary svsss #hey share the weight #tossawary fandom

[rafecameroninterlude]

kook!reader and jj, in which reader gets jj a job and country club but the other kooks are pretty mean to him :( .

warnings: light flirting, fighting, rafe is jealous you like jj and not him, name calling

“so how are they treating you here?” you took a seat at the bar where jj was making a round of drinks. “how do you think?” he looked up from under the wisps of his hair. “okay, cool it with the sass. i was just asking.” he shook his head, huffing out a laugh. “look, i appreciate you getting me this job and all, but this shit blows,” jj glanced in the corner where rafe and his friends were dowing their beers, “and those assholes are the worst part of it all.” you turned around, rolling your eyes when rafe blew you a kiss.

“they’re so annoying, just ignore them jayj.” you sighed, eyeing the veins on his arms. “at least you look hot in your uniform.” jj pushed one of those fruity drinks you liked in front of you, leaning in as he did so. “you think so?” you hummed, a smile forming on your lips as he trailed his fingers down the side of your wrist. “yeah, i like-” before you could finish your sentence, a familiar, aggravating voice cut you off. “i see you’re still doing charity work for this piece of trash.” rafe took a seat next to you, fully aware of the way jj was glaring at him.

“how about you run back there to the kitchen and get us something to eat like you’re supposed to, pogue.” rafe spat the last word, his lip curling in disgust before landing his focus back on you. “do you always have to be an ass?” you shrugged him off, silently begging jj not to do what you knew he was fully capable of. “getting food isn’t in my job description, moron. i think you’d know that if you actually filled out an application.” jj winked, making rafe scoff. “why would i when we have people like you who need it more than i ever will?”

“rafe get out of here, seriously.” you shooed him, only for jj to intervene. “people like me? people who don’t have to depend on their daddy still?” you sighed when you saw rafe get up, his friends all somehow making their way over in unison. “let’s not do this, please, let’s just go jay.” you adjusted your little purse on your shoulder, motioning for jj to follow you out. “jay? you have a nickname for this loser?” rafe narrowed his eyes, “you know your parents would never approve of this scumbag.” jj reached over the bar, grabbing rafe by the collar of his shirt.

you stepped in front of rafe’s friends before they could team against jj. “and if her parents knew who you really were, they wouldn’t approve of you either. how does it feel knowing y/n will never choose you?” jj smiled. rafe was seeing red at this point. pulling his fist back, rafe swung and landed a punch square on jj’s cheek. the club then broke out into complete chaos. while rafe and jj were full on fighting with nothing but the bar between them, you were pushing rafe’s friends, telling them to let rafe and jj handle their business alone.

“what the hell is going on here?!” the director of the whole place came rushing in, his face beet red as he glared at jj. “just a little falling out, sir. they’re already done.” you flashed him a sweet smile, hoping he could just drop it. “you let go of that cameron boy right now, young man! his father is a very generous patron here,” rafe smirked as jj shoved him away, “and give me that apron, you’re done.” you sighed, shoulders falling in defeat as jj rounded the corner of the bar. this is officially the third job jj has gotten fired from on figure eight.

you followed jj as he balled up the material, chucking it in the director’s chest. “good, this job fuckin’ sucked.” you gasped, apologizing for him as you two walked out of the country club. “what the fuck?!” you stopped him, pulling his shoulder so he could face you. “look, i’m gonna do my own thing on the cut, and get money how i want to, alright? this shit isn’t for me. if you want to be mad at me for how i reacted towards rafe, fine, but i’m done with figure eight.” you watched him get on his dirt bike, pinching the bridge of your nose as he rode through the flowers.

#‧₊˚✩彡 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐒 #my first jj maybank post on here!! #leave jj requests <3 #outer banks #jj maybank #jj maybank fanfiction #jj maybank smut #jj maybank x reader #jj obx #jj outer banks #obx #outer banks smut #outer banks fanfiction

[risuola]

▶ FAVOR — Satoru has always been unpredictable and straightforward, but even so, the favor he asked for surprised you.

contents: silly Satoru, college!au, roommates, suggestive, humorous (??), male anatomy in brief detail, reader discretion is advised — 0,9k words

a/n: ok, this part is... a little more into 18+ territory but still keeping it light and friendly between the trio. a crack if you will, let's all appreciate the stupid boy Satoru.

𝙇𝙊𝙑𝙀 𝙈𝙀𝘿𝙇𝙀𝙔 | series masterlist

“Question!”

The moment Satoru stepped into the room, you could tell from the look on his face — the typical mischief twisting his features into a caricature of innocence — that there’s something going on his mind that you may or may not want to know.

“Yes?” You encouraged carefully, flipping your eyes back onto the stack of papers in your hands. Notes, that you wished would transfer their contents onto your brain before you fail tomorrow’s test.

“I have the most random question– a favor, actually and you have to bear with me.”

“Hit me.” You were ready for–

“How many dicks you saw in your life?” –well, not that. “Real life, real dudes, that is. Not porn.”

You blinked.

Once, twice. The air seemed a little thicker than just a moment before and you shouldn’t be surprised. Satoru is unpredictable, he’s vibrant, he’s straight to the point most of the time, but that took you a moment.

“Can you repeat the question?”

“Dicks. Penises, cocks–“

“Yeah, okay, I got that.” You cut him quickly, abandoning the idea of studying and now paying him your entire attention. “You have to give me some context, Toru.”

“I’m curious if you girls have a preference? Speaking about aesthetics. Do you, like, judge the look of a dick?”

“Has anyone made you insecure about the look of your dick or what is it about?” You asked, confused, though confusion would be an understatement to describe the state of your mind now.

“I don’t know, no one said anything but, uh–“ Satoru began, shrugging nonchalantly, but there was a subtle uneasiness hidden underneath his lighthearted tone that you could spot with no mistake. “Every time I am with someone, they look at it as if they saw a ghost and most often it gets me down before the party begins, so it made me wonder.”

You put down the notes, abandoning the hopes and dreams about a good grade tomorrow and your fingers found their way to the bridge of your nose, pinching it — a typical gesture when you tried to collect your thoughts.

“I highly doubt any part of you could not be appealing, Toru. Even your feet are pretty—”

“Irrelevant. So, I’m asking do you have enough picture storage in your head to compare or do girls even pay attention to the looks of a dick?”

“Well, yeah, I guess? I mean, I received a fair share of unwanted dick picks, I’d say I know how a cock look like… But I don’t know, I think the judgement happens automatically,” you said, exhaling. “I think I saw once a very unimpressive dick. The rest was rather similar, I suppose—”

“What do you mean by unimpressive?”

“God, that’s embarrassing. It was my first partner, you probably don’t even know him, but the guy had at max two inches, which is fine as long as you can work with it, but he lasted less than ten seconds and on top of that he was hairy like a gorilla what probably took an entire inch off his length.”

“Wait, you had a hairy gorilla boyfriend and we don’t know about it?”

“It wasn’t my boyfriend, we didn’t even end up having sex. It doesn’t matter, okay?”

“We’ll get back to this, but now, dicks.” Satoru got closer and kneeled on the bed. “So, the favor. Can you be honest? Like, brutally, 100% honest?”

“Honest about wha— Wait, you want me to judge your dick?”

“Yeah?” He looked at you with the pleading expression in his blue eyes, his voice got whiny for a moment and you really wished to flick his forehead right now. “Please? No other girl will be as honest as you and Suguru is not really the respectable source of knowledge about the issue.”

“Christ, okay.”

You agreed.

You said okay, but for some reason it still shocked you when Satoru, instead of talking like he usually does, pulled his sweats down. Looking away was your first reaction. You felt like you shouldn’t be looking, but he literally just asked you to judge, so you slowly allowed your eyes to run down his body, leaving his handsome face and landing finally on the now free manhood, and oh boy, there was a lot to analyze.

The word pretty usually wouldn’t be your first choice when talking about penises. They were usually very similar, more often than not unimpressive and overall uninteresting, but Gojo… He was just that. Pretty. Incredibly long, and girthy too, covered in light skin with the baby pink head. He looked heavy, mouthwatering, like a dessert of sorts. The set of veins spread from below his stomach and wrapped around the shaft. He was mostly clean shaven, with just the tiniest happy trail of white hairs that against his light body was just barely visible.

“And?” He reminded you why you are even taking in the view. “Brutally honest, please.”

“You know what… I really, really hate giving a head, but that dick I’d suck for hours. It actually makes me salivate, you’re fucking pretty Satoru. I don’t get your concern,” you told him, finally looking away and getting your thoughts together, forcing them together. Why was it so hot all of the sudden? “If they look oddly, that’s probably because you’re fucking huge. Christ–”

“It makes you wanna give me a head?” He grinned, obviously catching onto the words you said when you weren’t thinking clearly.

“Hold your horses and pull those pants up. You have nothing to worry about, you’re gorgeous from head to toe, you idiot.”

taglist: @kibananya, @r0ckst4rjk, @rixo-19, @soraya-daydreams, @hyun0200, @ilykii, @roscpctals99, @mushkasstuff, @siimp4youu, @juicedcherry, @themoreeviltwin, @stevenknightmarc, @ms5m1th

#𝙇𝙊𝙑𝙀 𝙈𝙀𝘿𝙇𝙀𝙔 #satosugu #satoru #satoru gojo #suguru #suguru geto #geto suguru #gojo satoru #satosugu x you #satosugu x reader #satosugu x y/n #satosugu fluff #satoru gojo fluff #suguru geto fluff #geto fluff #gojo fluff #jjk satosugu #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x y/n #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x y/n

[b0r3dtod3ath]

Hello hi!

Can you do a challengers fic?

Art x reader, where he and reader had a flirty relationship but he started to experiment with tashi and patrick and she was like "well, it happens" but the trio didnt work out so he tried to recandle that dinamic between him and reader but she lost all the atraction to him.

(lots of groveling)

Thank you!

Thank you for the request!

Warnings: Mention of an injury, curse words. 

You and Art have been friends since middle school and since then he was always by your side. Your shared interest in tennis and joint decision about applying to Stanford resulted in you two being inseparable best friends. Well, maybe not really. Your relationship was quite hard to describe. People constantly mistook you for a couple but in reality you were just really close. Sure, there were a lot of flirtatious moments, some may even say romantic, but you never thought about it too deeply, thinking that it’s just the way Art is. 

Each morning he knocked vigorously on your dorm room door. “You need to wake up! We need to go.” The sight that he sees when you open the door always makes his heart skip a beat. Messy hair and a toothbrush in your mouth give him a glimpse of what it would be like if he was living with you. “Good morning!” He gives you a beautiful smile as he hands you a coffee in your favorite thermos. He insists on doing it because “it saves time in the morning as he’s up anyways”. Oh and also when you finish he takes the cup back to clean it so he doesn't bother you in the morning. His friend Patrick has always made fun of him for those small gestures but he recently got a girlfriend so he’s busy. Actually, you have heard of Tashi. She attends your school and you were supposed to play against her in a local tournament. You have heard that she’s really good but people also always point out your skills.

You head to the canteen, sipping your coffee as Art tells you about Patrick’s new girlfriend. It’s not like you are jealous but hearing your male best friend ramble about another girl is weird. You keep quiet, after all there was nothing romantic between you two. You eat your breakfast without saying much which goes unnoticed to your friend. He stops eating, looking at your face for a moment, trying to figure out what’s going on in your mind “I saw they had watermelon in the fruit section. I can bring it for you if you want. Did something happen? You know you can always talk to me. I will always be there for you.” The gentle tone in his voice almost feels like he is talking to a lost child, scared to make you withdraw. “No, no. It’s fine. I’m just a bit less confident about the next match. You know, after what happened a few days ago, my leg still sometimes cramps up a bit.” you halfy make up a lie. You were stressed about the match but it had nothing to do with your calf. “You should have told me earlier. I will massage it before we train today. You are going to do amazing".

He didn’t listen to your begging not to knead your muscle so you ended up with him rubbing it firmly enough to “help you” but gently enough not to hurt you. As you trained he could sense your frustration. Sure, it made you more confident on the court as you transferred your anger into each fore and backhand. Then suddenly you stop. Your opponent gives you a confused look as you out of the blue ignore the ball. “I don’t feel well. I’m gonna call it quits. I have a test tomorrow anyway that I should study for. I can’t be hitting a ball with a racket my whole life.” you look at him, his expression as shocked as a moment ago. “See you in the evening?” You two usually had some evening tennis sessions or just went for some walks as there were not many people around that time and you could freely chat about anything. “Well. I can’t actually make it today. I’m really sorry. Patrick invited me for some drinks. He wants me to meet Tashi”. His eyes looked like they belonged to a puppy. “Oh, yea. I mean. That’s fine. See you tomorrow then.” you say without giving him the usual light hug as a goodbye.

The following morning Art didn’t knock on your door. You assumed he must have been tired from the day before but it still felt unusual. You decided to push it aside and focus on yourself and your preparations to play against Tashi. The match started at 2 pm so you still had some time to get ready. You followed your usual routine with only one exception - your regular companion. 

The tennis court simmered under the midday sun, a gentle breeze whispered through the air, carrying a promise of an intense match. It was one of the most anticipated matches of the season on the Stanford campus. It was the end of a debate of who is the best tennis player among students but most importantly it was evidence of passion for sports and competition. You looked at Tashi coming on the court, getting a bigger applause than you did. You didn’t let it bother you, it didn’t matter who was the fan favorite, it mattered who was better. You were first to serve. Silence established itself on the court, a neon yellow ball bounced a few times between your hand and the ground. You looked deeply into your opponent’s eyes. It wasn’t a game of tennis, it was a battle for dominance. 

A thunderous serve from you, the ball sliced through the air with precision. Tashi returned it with equal force, the ball skimming just inches above the net. Back and forth you played, each stroke a testament to your skill and determination. The crowd watched in silence, fully immersed in the spectacle unfolding before them. As the match wore on, the intensity only seemed to grow. Tashi unleashed a powerful forehand, sending the ball to the other side of the net. But you were quick to react, sprinting across the court with lightning speed to return it with a perfectly executed backhand. The crowd erupted into applause, recognizing the sheer athleticism on display.  The game continued in this fashion, each player refusing to give an inch. Your muscles burned like they were on fire as you chased down every shot, your mind focused solely on victory. On letting her know who Art belongs to. 

Then, in a heartbeat, disaster struck. As Tashi ran to return a particularly fierce shot, her foot slipped. Time seemed to slow as she stumbled forward, her knee buckling beneath her weight. With a sharp cry of pain, she collapsed to the ground, clutching her injured leg. She started crying like a hurt animal, unable to think what people thought of her. You stood there in pure shock, unsure of what to do. In the corner of your eye you saw Art running up to her and trying to calm her down. 

You felt really bad for her. Not liking her didn’t mean you were happy for her injury. After asking the medical team about her, you got to know that she’s waiting for an ambulance. When you found her, your heart immediately dropped at the sight of Art holding her hand. “I just wanted to say, I’m so sorry it happened, I-” you started to apologize, “Out! Out! Out!” she screamed at you “But-” you tried to say something but Art stood up “Get the fuck out!”. He had never raised his voice towards you. He was always your gentle, soft, good boy. You silently walked away as hot tears rolled on your cheeks. The echo of your sobs filled your room for the whole night. 

For the next few weeks you didn’t see Art. It wasn’t like you didn’t want to see him, you did actually, but he was always accompanied by Tashi or Patrick. It did make you feel a bit lonely but you focused on training and improving. You actually started to do really well and moved up the rank. Despite an opportunity to get an apartment you stayed at Stanford. You told everyone that you would feel lonely living alone, but the truth was you just didn’t want to leave Art. He would still sometimes catch your glimpse across the canteen or the training hall but no words were exchanged. 

He found you one evening, your silhouette illuminated by the artificial glow of the light. You were alone, your movements fluid yet tense as you practiced your strokes with precision. Taking a deep breath, Art approached you cautiously, unsure of how you would react to his presence. "Hey" he said softly, his voice tinged with uncertainty. You turned to face him, your expression stone cold. You said nothing. A hint of bitterness in your eyes. "I-I just wanted to see how you were doing," he said, his words stumbling over each other in his nervousness. "What do you want?" you snapped, you tone sharp and cutting. Determination glinting in his eyes. "I saw you playing alone, and I thought... maybe you could use a partner," he offered hesitantly. You scoffed, your grip on the racquet tightening as you glared at him. "And why would I want to play with you?". Art took a step closer, his gaze unwavering as he met your overwhelming stare. "Because I miss playing with you, I miss you" he admitted softly. "And because I'm sorry. Truly sorry for what I did." You hesitated for a moment, your eyes narrowing as you considered his offer. “Don’t you have to take care of your little Tashi’s leg?” you said under your nose. "Fine. But don't expect too much" you warned.  

As you began to play, your movements were sharp and precise, your shots landing with deadly accuracy. Art did his best to keep up, but he couldn't shake the feeling of unease that settled in the pit of his stomach. You had always been better than him but he could sense something else. After all, tennis was the most intimate out of all sports. Suddenly, you unleashed a powerful forehand that sailed towards Art with an alarming speed. Instinctively, he raised his racket to block the shot, but it ricocheted off the strings with a resounding thud, leaving him staggering backwards. "Are you trying to kill me or something?" he exclaimed, his heart racing as he moved closer to the net. You turned around -  a little habit you gained, you never looked at your opponent after scoring a point. "Maybe," you replied nonchalantly, your tone betraying a hint of amusement. Art chuckled nervously, rubbing his sore arm where the ball had made contact, as he got closer and closer to you. "Well, you can kill me if you want," he offered, making you chuckle. He reached to touch your hand, his expression pleading, as you turned. "Please. I know I messed up, but I can't stand not having you in my life. I... I have feelings for you. And I need you to know that. I don’t see you as just a friend." You felt your heart skip a beat at his confession, your breath catching in your throat. You had suspected as much, but hearing him say the words out loud sent a jolt of electricity through your veins. "I... I don't know, Art” you responded, torn between the anger still simmering inside you and the warmth of his words. "You ditched me for her. "Art nodded, his eyes brimming with regret. "I know. And I'm so sorry. I was weak and I thought you would never look at me the same way I look at you. I'll do anything to make it right, I swear." he got on his knees, both hands holding yours. “I will never leave your side, I will show you how much I love you and I will buy you this diamond bracelet you always wanted.” You chuckled “Art, get up. I don’t need a bracelet from you. I will give this a chance.” A smile broke across Art’s face, relief flooding his features as he reached out to wrap you in a tight embrace. "Thank you, I promise, you won't regret this." he murmured, his voice thick with emotion and eyes wet with tears. You returned the hug. The two of you swayed for a moment before you broke the silence with your dead serious tone. “Never raise your voice at me again, understand?” He looked deeply in your eyes. “Understood, maam. I’m incredibly sorry”.

April 29, 2024

#writers on tumblr #challengers imagine #challengers x reader #art donaldson imagine #art donaldson x reader #mike faist x reader #mike faist x you

[kaizokuou-ni-naru]

In chapter 1113 Sanji gets a kick in against Venus-juro. Right before that, Sanji say smth along the lines "If someone scores points with Bonney, it will be me". TCB translated it like "If someones rescues Bonney it will be me". What exactly is he saying there? Because the official translation sounds..... off....

i knew i was gonna get asked about this line. nah, the official translation is actually closer. so in japanese the verb is モテる/moteru, which is like, a semi-slangy term for being popular or admired, especially by the opposite sex. you might say onna ni moteru about someone the same way you'd say that guy is 'popular with the ladies' in english.

sanji says ボニーちゃんにモテるのはおれだ/bonii-chan ni moteru no wa ore da, so like, "the one who's going to be admired by/popular with bonney-chan is me!" when i read this chapter and was translating it for practice, i did this line as just "bonney-chan's favorite is gonna be me!"

basically, he wants her to think he's cool (and attractive). i see where they got the translation they used in the official, like it makes sense to me, the original term does have a vaguely romantic connotation, but i think the phrase "score points" might give the impression that he's actively trying to get somewhere with her? which is not implied in the original.

(i'll also add, this is clearly supposed to be silly. he shoves past franky to do this and then immediately gets what appears to be all his ribs broken by a giant horse on the next page. i would call this entire sequence fairly standard sanji behavior.)

#also if ur gonna like discourse about this DONT DO IT ON MY POST. PLEASE. I DONT CARE. #one piece #japanese #jonny answers #sanji #bonney #arc: egghead island #ch 1113 #opspoilers

[wittlesissyb4by]

"Okay, so remember, once we have them in their diaper, it's really important that we praise them. They're going to be very averse to their new lifestyle at first, but they have to get used to it.

So we want them to associate their diaper with good things, at least in the beginning. Tell them they're a good boy, that they look super cute in their wittle diapurrs. Pinch their cheeks, boop their nose, and talk to them in your little singsong voice. Guys aren’t used to getting compliments and affection as much, so if they receive that sort of praise and physical touch while they’re in a diaper, they’ll warm up to the idea a lot faster than you think.

Now, once we’ve got them pampered and praised, I like to put a pacifier in their mouth. I find it really helps them regress a few years, makes them more docile, and it keeps them quiet other than their adorable little whimpers. It’s hard for them to do much arguing or fussing when they’re suckling a binky!

After they’ve been praised and regressed a bit, it’s time to *really* get them enjoying their diapers. That means: we’re going to make them cum.

I know, I know, this whole thing is supposed to be a ‘punishment’, but trust me, the ends will justify the means. If it makes you feel any better, the only time they will get to cum from now on will be when they’re in a diaper. That means no sex, and constant supervision to prevent masturbation. You control their orgasms, just like you control where they go potty.

So when we make them cum in their diaper, we never want to reach into the actual diaper. That kind of defeats the purpose. We want them to feel the padding, hear the crinkles, all while changing the way they traditionally garner sexual stimulation.

So what I like to do is place my palm right here on the outside of the diaper, right between their legs, and feel around for their winky. Those of you that have hubbies with little nubbies may have a harder time finding it, but honestly, even if you’re not directly on it, that’s okay. You’ll find they’ll aim their hips the right way for you.

Once you’re on it, you’re just going to do a simple kneading motion back and forth just like this. Long, slow movements at first. Don’t start too fast. You want them to really take in the feelings and sensations. You’ll even see them get a little desperate for more, and it’s up to you if you want to speed up and go a bit harder, keep that same pace, or just take your hand away and watch them wiggle and whimper.

But the most important thing is that this entire stimulation process is never silent. In addition to the crinkling, you want to continue praising them. Really dial up the baybee talk here. You should be reminding them what a good little boi (or gurl!) they are. Remind them what they’re wearing. Obviously they know they are in a diaper, but you need to vocalize it.

‘Wook how cute the wittle baybee is in his diapee!’

‘Hubby wooks so adorwable in his Huggies!”

Things like that.

If they have an erection—which I’m sure they will from all the rubbing—point that out to them: ‘oh my goodness! I didn’t think these pampers could make your pee pee so pointy!’ or ‘somewon sure is getting hard in their Huggies!!’

If they have messes, praise them for that as well. Nothing like getting complimented for pissing or pooping in a pamper. Again, we’re just trying to emphasize the state at which they’re in.

Another way to do that is to have them tell you. Make them vocalize these things:

“Tell me what you’re wearing little boi!”

“Why is it so plump? Did you do something in there? Tell me what you did.”

“Is that something a big boi would do??”

Make them use their little baybee voice, make them lisp, make them make it high-pitched, and make them do all of it with that pacifier still in their mouth!

If they do it properly, reward them with rubbies, if they’re stubborn or not performing up to your standards, pull your hand away. You’ll have them babbling like a baybee in no time!

I know some Mommies that will only do the rubbies while their hubby is jiggling a rattle. If the rattling stops, so do they. Feel free to be creative, as long as they’re being patronized while they’re pampered, you’re doing the right thing!

Alright, so after a few minutes—or maybe even a few seconds—they’re going to be ready to cum. Make sure you emphasize that they have to tell you when they’re close, and they have to do it in baybee talk. I like to have them tell me they have to make a ‘goo goo’. But you can use whatever term you want.

At this point we’re gonna do what’s called a ‘ruined’ orgasm. For those that don’t know, that’s where you get them right up to the edge when they’re babbling and rattling and goo goo ga ga’ing, wait until you see them first start to spasm—then lift your hand away. If you do it right, they’ll be past the point of no return, and all their little stickies will leak out, but they’ll only have a fraction of a pleasurable orgasm.

This is important, because it puts them in this sort of limbo. Where they’re a little satisfied but also still a bit horny and desperate. Don’t be surprised if they whine and cry about it either—you know how men can be. But that’s when you tell them one of your most important lines:

‘Maybe next time!’

That will leave them literally cumming back for more. They’ll be desperate for their next diaper, their next rubbie, or the next stage of their training.

But another important step here is to make them sit in their shame. Keep them in their sticky diaper for a bit, at least an hour or two. Let them feel the warmth of their little load that they made—all while they were in a diaper. And the only way they get to make a load like that again is…in a diaper. We really want to drive this point home. They are not going to cum without the constant sound of crinkling coming with it. They don’t get the love, touch, and affection while they’re in silly boxers and big boy clothes. The only way they get pleasure is when they’re in their pampers.

Wives never believe me, but i promise you, eventually, they’ll actually beg you to put them in a diaper, just so you can make them cum again.

But what we’re not going to tell them is that we’re eventually going to wean them off. They’re not going to get to cum every time they put on a diaper. For the first dozen times or so, yes, they get an orgasm (even a full one) every single time. But then it becomes “well only if your diaper is wet”, which makes them feel good about wetting, cause then they get a rubbie reward. But then they’ll grow used to that as well, so we have to constantly find ways to push their limits.

Wait until you see their face when they push their first poop into their pamper. They’re sooo embarrassed, but they’re willing to do it, all because you said you would give them a goo goo if they make a poo poo. But of course, what you don’t tell them, is that they’re gonna have to cum while they’re still inside their messy diaper. Don’t worry girls, if you get too disgusted, just make them turn over and turn their rubbies into humpies!!

Ohh I just love helping wives turn their useless/ungrateful husbands into helpless and desperate diaper dumpers! I know some that have their husbands wearing huggies 24/7, and sometimes even in dresses too! Even the most homophobic, chauvinistic pig can be turned into a pamper packer, all it takes is a little TLC.

Men are so easy, you can literally control their whole life, as long as you control when and where their balls get emptied. Which reminds me: next week, our workshop is going to talk about a little thing called a ‘chastity device’!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I wrote a caption very similar to this a while back on one of my old blogs, but it was lost in the purge. I tried to recreate it as best I could, but I may have missed the mark. If you like my captions, please consider supporting me so I can keep making more. Go to allmylinks.com to follow me on other sites!

[moonlightperseus]

breathe in the feeling

ambiguously set after the first half of s7 | 867 words

Being in love with Buck wasn’t an option.

It can’t be an option.

Because if it was, Eddie might do something stupid, like kiss his best friend.

Which is—not an option.

Eddie’s done that song and dance before, and that ended badly—leaving and being left, divorce papers, blood on hot asphalt.

But the thing is, Eddie can’t stop thinking about it. It’s been over a month since Buck came out to him, and Eddie can’t stop thinking about how Buck is an option now.

Which isn’t even entirely true, because Buck is with Tommy—Buck is happy with Tommy—and Eddie feels like his entire world is collapsing in on itself.

He broke up with Marisol last week, something that up until this moment, he hadn’t told anyone, not even Christopher—which he knows he can only avoid for so long.

He’s not even sure why he’s telling Bobby, because now Bobby is staring at him quizzically and Eddie is feeling closer to a panic attack than he’s been in a long time.

“You broke up with Marisol,” Bobby repeats back to him, because he’s been waiting for Eddie to continue and Eddie has made a point out of staring at his hands and not saying anything as his brain spirals. “Do you want to talk about that?”

“No,” Eddie says, because he really doesn’t—but he sucks in a sharp breath and rips the band-aid off anyways, “I think I might be in love with Buck.”

Bobby doesn’t say anything for what feels like an eternity.

Eddie finally gives in and looks at him, Bobby’s face is a carefully crafted blank expression—he’s processing the information Eddie has given him, but he’s not going to give any reaction in the meantime.

Eddie resists dropping his head against the table and instead settles for staring at the dormant alarm bell on the wall and hoping for it to start ringing to save him from this situation.

“I see,” Bobby says finally, “that’s… that must be a lot for you to process.”

“Understatement of the century,” Eddie mumbles, allowing himself to drop his head into his hands—it’s not quite as satisfying as the thunk of his forehead against the table would be.

“So how long have you been… processing this?”

“I don’t know, a couple weeks, maybe—” —my whole life, possibly, he doesn’t say.

A hand lands on his shoulder, the touch is gentle and grounding, and Eddie is reminded of why he went to Bobby in the first place.

“Eddie,” Bobby says carefully, “there’s nothing wrong with it—being in love with Buck. If that is how you feel, there’s nothing wrong with that.”

Eddie exhales slowly, because that’s the whole thing, isn’t it? “I know that—logically, I know that. I’ve never had a problem with—I guess it’s different, when it’s yourself. But it’s not like it’s even—I mean, Buck’s with Tommy—Buck’s happy with Tommy—and Tommy’s my friend too, so it is kind of wrong, in a way.” 

“Buck being in a relationship with someone else doesn’t make your feelings for him invalid—or wrong. Sure, maybe it’s a little complicated since you consider them both friends. But whatever you’re feeling—you’re allowed to feel it.” 

“But what am I supposed to do with it?” Eddie finally meets Bobby’s gaze, “I mean—I feel like I’m lying to Buck, somehow, by feeling this way—by not saying anything.”

“Maybe you don’t have to do anything with it, at least—not right away,” Bobby squeezes his shoulder before removing his hand, “maybe right now you just let yourself feel it. I’m not saying you shouldn’t be honest with Buck, but I think maybe you should start by allowing yourself to be honest with you.” 

Eddie stares at Bobby, completely and painfully aware of his own heart beating in his chest, it’s not a panic attack, but he knows it’s a warning sign. 

He takes a moment to breathe slowly, the way Frank taught him. Bobby says nothing, waiting patiently 

“I don’t know what that looks like.” Eddie says honestly. 

Bobby offers him a kind smile, “That’s okay, you don’t have to have it all figured out, but maybe allow yourself the time to really think about it?”

“What if I lose him?” The words spill out of him unbidden. 

“Eddie, if there’s one thing I know for sure, it’s that you and Buck have a way of finding each other, no matter the circumstance, the two of you will always fight to find each other again.” 

Eddie blinks, and for a moment, all he sees is Buck, covered in Eddie’s own blood, begging for him to hold on. 

He blinks again, and the memory fades, and it’s just Bobby sitting there in front of him, watching him carefully.

“Let yourself feel it, Eddie,” Bobby says gently, “and when you’re ready—talk to Buck.”

The bell rings then, because timing never seems to be on Eddie’s side. 

Bobby sighs softly, “well, duty calls.”

Bobby stands to head towards the engine bay, but before Eddie can do the same, Bobby rests a hand on his shoulder again, “I’m really proud of you, Eddie.”

He lets the words settle over him for a moment—breathing slowly in and out—and then follows after his Captain. 

#eddie diaz #bobby nash #911 #911 fic #brotp: bobby & eddie #buddie #my fic #mine #abby writes #fanfic #i do have a potential follow up for this but this felt good enough to post standalone for now #special shoutout to winter who peer reviewed this for me <33 ily

[tbposting]

I think the scene with laios and shuro beating the hell out of each other was rly good for them <3

I did that with a friend once bc we'd been keeping our issues bottled up for a year and then just kicked eachothers asses on the volleyball court, hair pulling, biting, kicking, the works

sometimes the only way to communicate and also get closure is by eating and dishing out a coupla knuckle sandwiches ^^

well, although I would argue that social conflicts that can only be resolved by building up to such explosive pressure that it results in violence could probably be handled in other ways before they get to that point

but then I am a man, and I know intimately just how hard the pressure to Keep A Lid On It™ is. we aren't supposed to have feelings which are not anger, so anger becomes literally the only outlet for everything, and the only place to find catharsis.

and in that regard, the Laios/Toshiro scene felt... painfully accurate to me. Toshiro was literally incapable of voicing his actual feelings until his anger boiled over hard enough to make him break the iron bonds of polite silence. and I know the jealousy that Toshiro felt at seeing another man able to openly and freely express himself, without shame or paranoia about how he is seen by others

#dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon #dunmeshi spoilers

[katnissmellarkkk]

an unpopular take : i don’t think peeta’s prosthetic leg detaches. my interpretation is it was surgically put on and so therefore the only way it can be removed is through surgery.

this comes from the fact that he slept next to katniss all those nights and she never mentions him desiring to remove his leg or aching became he didn’t remove it. some argue this point because he was probably too bashful or self-conscious to take it off in front of her at that stage of their relationship. which is why i’m saying katniss doesn’t give the reader the impression he’s uncomfortable because he didn’t remove it. if he was meant to take it off and let the remains of his real leg rest, katniss probably would have casually dropped a hint somewhere about that.

the second reason which kind of piggybacks onto the first. the quarter quell. katniss never mentions peeta desiring to remove his prosthetic and rest. she never implies his leg is in pain from overuse of the prosthetic while in the arena. she doesn’t suggest he is even uncomfortable wearing his prosthetic 24/7 for days on end in the arena. again, i’ve heard people say in the past “he couldn’t have taken it off in the arena because…” i’m not saying him not removing it while in the games is the clue that his leg is not detachable. i’m saying the fact that we got no implications that it was even a desire on his part to remove the prosthetic is the clue. he didn’t run slower or seemed to have any issues with his prosthetic that was imply overuse or anything like that.

and my last reason is the most convincing to me. peeta was rescued in mockingjay with his prosthetic still on. if snow’s men wanted to torture him, removing his prosthetic would be a basic starting step. they would have wanted to keep him weak so they could abuse him and hijack him. if his leg came off, it would have been a pretty easy decision to take it away so he’d been helpless. and yes, i suppose they could have given it back right before the rescue because we know snow was letting them take peeta, in hopes he’d kill katniss for him. but again, if peeta was hospitalized and all that in thirteen for a while, to heal physically as well as mentally, at some point shouldn’t the doctors there have taken his prosthetic off? let the stump take a break? and if this was happening all along, if throughout the series peeta was detaching his prosthetic regularly, how is it that katniss somehow missed every single time it happened.

also peeta eventually joins the star squad and katniss once again doesn’t make any sort of note towards peeta about how he must want to remove the prosthetic, rest his leg, how his leg must hurt from the overuse. not even during the “i’m so tired, katniss” moment.

so anyways. that’s my interpretation.

#thg #hunger games #peeta mellark #Katniss everdeen

[xenosagaepisodeone]

For the last 2 weeks I've been transfixed on a strain of lost media I've come to call "bad memory induced media", where the supposed media in question does not (or at least more than likely does not) exist, but there are swaths of people convinced that they have definitely seen it at some point. There is rarely anything more to go off of for the hunt than a vague summary outlined in a post on some forum, but the lack of specificity allows people to fill in the blanks with similar types of media that they've seen, giving them the impression that they've already experienced it. I've found that this is extremely common for alleged lost shock media in particular, which isn't surprising. I talked a little about this on my LOL SUPERMAN post, and I get the impression that a similar strain of logic applies on a smaller scale.

Anyway, 2 major cases I have been looking at for a while are Saki Sanobashi/Go For A Punch and Evil Farm Game. Saki Sanobashi in particular fascinates me because an urban legend like this should have crumbled to the wayside by like 2018 at the latest, since that's when anime more or less became demystified to normal people. The basic premise is that it is an 80s/90s horror anime about anywhere from 4-8 girls trapped in a bathroom. The girls talk about their lives, hopes, dreams and philosophies before slowly going insane and dying one by one. If you like horror stuff you probably are already getting the vague impression that it sounds familiar- which could be influenced by any swath of media artifacts from Saw to the Russian Sleep Experiment creepypasta to the Ikea SCP to ClockUp's Euphoria to snippets of Battle Royale to that one Grisaia no Kajitsu arc. OP insisted he found it fully subbed on the deep web (omegalul) and hasn't found a trace of it since, implying some kind of murky origin or legal status (the OVA is not pornographic btw). As you can probably tell, I think this is silly. Like, so much goes into anime production that it would be difficult to hide any traces of this thing's existence. Someone had to voice act those girls. Someone had to sit hunched over a desk and draw that settei. OVAs were such a new thing in the 80s and 90s that both sfw and nsfw series were advertised in magazines. The only way that this could be so lost that not even a MAL entry remains is if it had been a student/indie production or something made for a single comiket event...but even at that....you're telling me that someone still managed to rip this from a vhs and subtitle it? And then chose to upload it to the deep web instead of youtube? even the title sounds like something google translated but didnt format correctly ("Saki Sanobashi" being gibberish while "Saki-san no Bashi" translates to "Saki-san's Bridge").

And yet there are people who will say "I definitely saw this at some point" because they saw a reaction image similar to the alleged scene where the protagonist smashes someone's head into a mirror. "The neck scratching death sounds familiar...." because you watched a higurashi amv! And OP did too, and thought it was so creepy that he involved it in his fake story. It's almost grating how much you have to suspend your disbelief to embrace that something like this exists in the exact way that stories like this insist. While many people have accepted that the series is likely not real in the last 4 or so years, there still persists a cohort of people hunting for Saki Sanobashi, likely because they are kids who are now too old to believe in Squidward's Suicide.

Evil Farm Game gives me a chuckle because it goes like this: a redditor posts to r/tipofmytongue about an old flash game where you play as a farmer who kills his wife and then has to hide her body while going about his farm tasks. The setup is completely fine and actually kind of reminiscent of a few story driven flash games I played on newgrounds as a kid. Many people came forward insisting that they had played this as well, one person even producing a link to a file from their hard drive that they couldn't open, but strongly believed that the game was there. A subreddit was even created to support the search. The twist is that it was a misremembered joke from a vinesauce stream.

Everyone knows that memory is an extremely fallable thing; people can be coaxed into believing that they did or saw things that they didn't with the correct prompts. What gets me is that a lot of people on the hunt for "bad memory induced media" seem to largely be hyping themselves up. They want to believe there is something that exists against all reason no matter what. It's chuuni in nature. Do not get me wrong- the interest in finding a cool, mysterious, haunting piece of media isn't lost on me, but dog, the dopamine hit of finding a previously lost 1985 commercial for almonds in a box of vhs tapes you got from eBay is the same.

[shepscapades]

Hi there! Your dbhc au is lovely and I love it very much! Between base level knowledge of hermitcraft, base level knowledge of detroit: become human from rtgame’s playthrough, and extra extra headcannons about deviancy and all that that entails (I forgot androids can’t eat… the post-game au that I love and follow made it so that they could haha…) I love the way you’ve incorporated androids and deviancy to hermitcraft!!!! Not to mention how electric (pun intended) your art is!!!! <3

One question! Are we working with minecraft death mechanics (aka respawn)? What happens when the androids shut down, normally? It’s just a reboot them type of scenario?

(ignore how long I scrolled down your blog for uh haha… oooo you did not see the timestamps of the posts i reboggled ooo /j)

First of all!!! Thank you so much for your kind words!!! <3 Delighted to report that probably at some point doc and xisuma will develop some kind of way for the android hermits to have the option of eating food… I don’t really have any idea of when that happens in the timeline though LOL

The respawn mechanics question is super interesting!! the way I see it in my head, yes… yeah I think respawning is a thing, some kind of magical innate quality of the world I suppose, connected to whitelisted players/entities or what have you. Naturally, when Xisuma begins to “whitelist” deviated androids, it establishes them as players part of the world, the same way the other hermits are! I think in my brain, most respawns in general are inconsequential… in the way that players don’t necessarily retain scars when they die and respawn, unless it’s a particularly painful or meaningful death? That’s kind of how I’ve always seen respawning anyway!

So when it comes to the androids, I think when Xisuma whitelisted them/ reprogrammed them as player entities on the server, he also programmed a way for androids to detect… things that would normally do damage to biotic/ organic players, in a superficial “taking damage” sense? So while androids don’t necessarily feel… “pain,” they have a pain sensor/set of hearts like normal players that will “go down” the same way a normal player’s would. They aren’t completely removed from the damage, though, because I think Xisuma probably also works up some kind of system that would create similar “feelings” that a player might feel when taking damage? For example, as an android takes “damage,” it might trigger a certain fear, panic, or surprise response (such as up-ticks in thirium pump rate, a slight degradation in motility functions (like fumbling with motor skills when you’re nervous/panicking), or brief stalls in processing power (the same way you might hesitate in surprise)). So even if they don’t feel pain the same way, their experience would pretty closely mimic pain responses in humans/organic players!

The vessels themselves are harder to explain I suppose… such as a body being left behind on a server when a player can’t respawn, but you could probably explain the androids the same way you would explain other player respawn mechanics, like a body disappearing when a player “‘chooses to respawn,” stuff like that.

“Shutting Down” tends to be treated differently than dying or respawning, though. A shutdown is most similar to a permanent death, unless an android is voluntarily rebooting, in which case they would probably use the word “reboot” rather than shutdown. For sleeping or other “low-power” modes, androids kind of go into “low-function” states that have specific protocols and stuff like that, some kind of stasis state that xisuma or doc have programmed specifically to mimic sleep. Shutdowns usually only happen when an android loses the ability to function, somehow. Runs too low on thirium to function, self-destructs from stress, any other reason an android would stop working all together and require maintenance to turn back on. So when Etho shuts down at the end of s8 it’s because he doesn’t realize he has a been leaking thirium for so long and ends up not being able to function, and when Xisuma/Doc shut him down at the end of Destruction, it’s a force-shut down (you’ll see how soon enough LMAO).

THATS SUCH A LONG RAMBLE LOL but hopefully that answers your questions!! I’m gonna go back and start tagging posts like this with #dbhc mechanics for anyone who is curious about the application of androids on the server :]

#dbhc mechanics #dbhc ask #ask #listentothelittlebird #dbhc

[cfr749]

Initial Thoughts on Chenford in 6x07

All right... I'm feeling... a lot at the moment, so just sharing my initial reactions before seeing anyone else's. I'm sure my feelings will evolve. Also this turned into a GD essay and I'm sorry.

The Good

Grey acknowledging that Lucy was going through a lot ABOVE & BEYOND the break up. I just wish he'd mentioned the shooting, too. Lucy deserves to be more than her relationship with Tim and I need to actually see that in the future.

Lucy laying out 2 key things in her conversation with Grey - how easily Tim walked away and that he had no right to make that decision for her

Prior to the last scene (see The Ugly below), I thought Tim's interactions with the therapist were reasonably well done; if only therapy was that easy in real life lol

"You've always got a home with me" - I loved this final scene between Lucy and Tamara. I don't really have feelings either way about Tamara at this point, and this still hit me right in the heart.

Smitty's poll made me laugh, but also another solid indicator that these writers / producers do in fact really enjoy laughing at the expense of the fandom and shippers (which, whatever, I don't care that they do, I'd prob do the same; but it does irk me when people act like these writers should be worshipped because of all the things they "give" us)

The Tim

"I'm not depressed. I broke up with her."

"I was her TO." Not her friend, cuz god knows Tim has yet to deal with the fact that he started banging his former Rookie I suppose.

I dunno whether to put this in The Good or The Bad at this point; it depends on where they take it, so instead Tim gets a section all about why he's a dick.

To be clear, I do not like that Tim is a dick. But I actually do kind of like that it is very clear TO THE AUDIENCE that Tim is being kind of a dick. Do I still think people will bend over backwards to defend him? Of course they will.

From my perspective, I love Tim, I understand that he thinks he's doing the right thing, and has lots and lots of trauma. I've never seen Tim as a character that magically healed at some point between Seasons 1 & 5 (please see his storyline with his dad, his ongoing issues with UC work and unwillingness to confront or deal with them, his feelings about therapy historically, his inability to dump Ashley, etc. etc.). He's never been perfect and he doesn't need to be.

All of those things are true. None of those things give him a free pass to be kind of a dick. He still has to take accountability for how he treated Lucy (which, to be clear, was like sh*t).

The Bad

Lucy being petty AF with the invites to Tamara's dinner - let her be ANGRY, but give me villain Lucy over this dumb sh*t.

Lucy having no one other than Grey to talk to.

Others acting like Lucy is actually kind of pathetic (why do these writers love sh*tting on her so much? girl could not be down and kicked any harder at this point) -- Celina / Nolan and the double dumping crap, Lucy thinking Grey paid actors and him telling her she was out of her damn mind

The last interaction between Lucy and Tim. I am so angry for her. I needed to see that from her, but instead it felt kind of like her being dumped / a kicked puppy all over again. We got it, thanks. What's next? Lucy being incredibly happy with the hottest man on earth? I'm here for it tbh. Lucy plotting Tim's murder? Also here for it at this point. LOL.

The Ugly

I could not hate the implication of that final scene with Tim and the therapist and the door shutting more. There was ZERO reason they couldn't have had him show up during the day, and it actually disgusts me that they are pushing this line again, but especially with Tim. I am literally NEVER this dramatic, but in this case I really hope they did that to just get a reaction, because if anything were to actually happen between Tim and the therapist, I'd be 100% done with this ship and show as would a whole lot of the audience (I think). If I kept watching, it would only be to see Lucy be absurdly happy without Tim.

Well, what'd I miss? What did y'all think?

#chenford #the rookie #the rookie spoilers #see lana ramble #no one tell the writers that women can have storylines that are not about BABIES

[macgyvermedical]

My Experience in Inpatient Psych

So I know a lot of people on here have talked about their experience in inpatient psych facilities, but I'd like to add mine just to give all you writers out there a writer-focused one. It's below the cut just in case you have to sit this one out for your own reasons.

To give you some background, I am 30 years old and have had hallucinations since about 16 and bizarre intrusive thoughts (someone living in my house that wasn't supposed to be there, somebody poisoned my walls, etc...) for about a decade, as well as very severe anxiety since I was about 3 years old. This is something not a lot of people know about me, even people I am friends with IRL.

The only thing I am actually diagnosed with is anxiety, which I'm starting to think is a failing of the psych systems I have been a part of. I have had counseling off and on and prior to this hospitalization I took escitalopram, aripiprazole, and gabapentin prescribed by my primary care doctor- all for the severe anxiety.

Quite frankly, I should have been in inpatient psych at least a few times before this, and it's by sheer dumb luck that I've survived to continue this blog.

On Friday, I was at home alone and made a few pretty bad decisions. I wont say what they were because frankly they're embarrassing, but they have to do with self-harm. I was scheduled to work Saturday and at about 9pm I realized that if I drove myself to work I would crash my car. Since my wife drives me sometimes, I figured I would just ask her to.

I told my wife and she asked- even if she drove me to work, since I was a nurse, would I be able to keep myself safe around insulin or other potentially dangerous drugs? I couldn't answer that question. We talked for a couple hours and came to the conclusion that I probably needed to go to the emergency department.

At this point I figured they would evaluate me and release me because I couldn't possibly meet the criteria for inpatient. I was wrong in this assumption. After telling them the decisions I had made that day, the feelings of wanting to die in a car crash, plus about a previous attempt, they recommended inpatient. Turns out, when you're a nurse, you can make some really bad life choices with the knowledge you have, and they didn't want to take any chances.

I was given paper scrubs to wear (so I couldn't hurt myself with my clothing or a hospital gown). I was also given a patient companion (someone who sits in the room and makes sure you don't hurt yourself).

They gave me the option of signing myself in voluntarily, or putting me on a writ of detention. A writ of detention is a piece of paperwork that allows a medical professional or law enforcement officer to hold someone for 3 days in a psychiatric facility against the person's will for the purposes of psychiatric treatment. Whether you sign the voluntary or get placed on a writ, you cannot sign yourself out. You need to wait until the psychiatrist taking care of you thinks you're ready to go.

I didn't believe at this point I needed to go inpatient, but I took the voluntary option because there are some perks, like being able to leave within 3 days if appropriate. At this point I was convinced I was probably going to have to call off work Saturday and Sunday, probably be out of the hospital Monday, have a few days to rest and be back at work on my next scheduled shift after that, which was Thursday.

Well, that's not what happened.

Because of some of the decisions I had made, along with bed availability, they wanted to keep me in the observation unit overnight before they sent me to psych. I stayed overnight in a unit that shares staff with the unit I work on, so I was taken care of by my coworkers. This was surprisingly not that bad. I like my coworkers and they were really professional about it.

Saturday I felt like I was in a fog all day. I couldn't watch TV. I couldn't color or write. I worked out some in my hospital room and paced the halls once or twice. Mostly I hung out with my wife and occasionally talked with my companion, but even talking was difficult. I had refused ativan because I felt like I had no hope of finding a medication that made me feel better, and I figured I didn't want to take the one medication that might actually work and then not be able to get it ever again.

Around 7PM I took a 45 minute ambulance ride to the facility. Getting my blood pressure taken is a big anxiety trigger for me, but my brain felt so scrambled that I couldn't express this well. They took it every 10 minutes on the ride there and by the time I got there it was in the 170s/100s (BP goes up when you're having severe anxiety). This was not their fault of course, but no matter how much I thought about telling them or refusing the BPs, I just couldn't do it.

When I got to the facility I was greeted by a tech who took my BP again (150s/90s this time), showed me around and looked through my personal belongings (basically just the clothing I came in with since my wife took my phone and wallet knowing I wouldn't be able to have them on the unit) to make sure I didn't have anything I wasn't allowed to on the unit. She showed me around my room and was really thorough with telling me how things worked, what the rules were, etc..

The rules included:

No patients allowed in other patients rooms

No personal belongings that had strings, belts, or laces, or that could be used as a weapon

No caffeine after lunch and no free access to caffeine

No personal electronics (including eReaders and watches). There was a TV in the day room and 2 phones mounted to the wall for patient use

A little later my nurse came into my room and asked me a ton of questions. Here's the thing about any hospital- you get asked the same questions over and over. By the time I'd gotten there I could give my story in under a minute. Or at least, that's what it felt like. There were only 2 clocks on the unit, at the nurses stations.

The unit itself was laid out in a "T" shape. There was a main nurse's station at the place where the two hallways intersected. At the end of the long hallway there was another smaller nurses station, a cafeteria/day room, and a "comfort room" which was a small room off the day room that had a collection of the oldest and worst donated books that have every come together on a bookshelf.

I did some pacing that night and then went to bed, but didn't sleep particularly well.

On Sunday morning the tech woke me up to take my blood pressure, which was, not unsurprisingly, still high. It was about 5 AM so I got up and paced the longer of the corridors for about an hour. Breakfast was served at 8 and the food wasn't that bad. The coffee was about the worst I'd ever drank, which I suppose helped with the no caffeine goals.

Just after breakfast I met with a psychiatrist on an iPad for about half a minute, and I'm not exaggerating there. The only questions he asked were whether I was suicidal and whether I would be fine with tripling my dose of aripiprazole in light of the hallucinations. I had had a 50-lb weight gain in the last year so I asked to switch my med. He switched the med to cariprazine. That was all.

I had a much longer meeting with my nurse later. All the nurses did an excellent job of assessing me, asked tons of questions, and it seemed like they really tried to figure out what was going on. That day I also met with a social worker, and a therapist, and a nurse practitioner. Each of them did an assessment to see what my needs were while I was there.

There was also a music therapy session where I cried my eyes out to Because of You by Kelly Clarkson.

I was really tired by the end of the day but I also didn't think I could sleep so I asked for trazodone. I should clarify that when I say "I" in this piece I really mean my wife convinced me to ask because I legitimately didn't believe I needed or deserved any of the things I asked for at this point. To my utter shock and surprise, they gave me the trazodone.

My first night on trazodone was amazing and I realized I hadn't slept well in a long time. With trazodone I fell asleep and stayed asleep until the blood pressure cart came rolling down the hallway at 5am. The second I got up on Monday morning I was wide awake.

I paced a lot Monday. I went to a goals session in the morning where I gave a goal to write 3/4 of a page. I didn't know if I could do it or what I was even going to write about, but I know I like to write and it might be a reasonable introduction to getting back to life.

I also was having kind of a rough day brain-wise. My brain was coming up with all the ways I could hurt myself in my room. There weren't a lot of them, but it was trying. I told the nurse during her assessment and she asked if I felt I could keep myself safe. I asked her what she would do if I said no. She said they could move me to a more secure part of the unit and give me more supervision. I knew what part of the unit she was talking about, and I didn't want to go there (no space to pace, and pacing was keeping me alive right then). So I told her I could keep myself safe (if anything, the idea of moving was good motivation to do stay safe in itself). I hallucinated some black and white blood cells falling from the ceiling and music coming out of my vents.

I also had another meeting with the social worker to figure out discharge plans. I voiced in the meeting that I wasn't sure that I could trust my wife, since it felt like at the time she was the one who exaggerated my symptoms to get me in here. The social worker said we had really good communication skills, since this was something I felt needed to be said in front of both of them and we both stayed really calm through the whole thing.

I finished the day with an art therapy session that really helped me turn a corner. The prompt was to draw the emotion(s) you felt right now on one side of the paper, and to draw the emotions you wished you could feel on the other side. For the first time I realized that my emotional state was actually really bad and that the suicidality hadn't come out of nowhere, and that I needed help.

When my wife came to visit later that night I was able to tell her about my breakthrough, even though I still felt a little bit like she had done something to get me in here and I still wasn't sure I needed to be inpatient.

Tuesday was a lot better. I felt like I had woken up out of some kind of fog and I had no idea how long I'd been in it. I went to goals group, a spiritual group, and group occupational therapy. My goal was to be more social and I made a friend and we paced together and worked out. I read a quarter of The Martian by Andy Weir (my wife brought it for me because the best thing on the bookshelf was Louis L'Amour). I wrote about how good I suddenly felt. Turns out, I thought, a few days of good sleep, lots of therapy, and a new medication or two will really change things.

A quick side note about The Martian. I highly recommend it to anyone who is chilling in a psych hospital but has the ability to read while they're there (I sure didn't the first few days). I don't really know why, but the first few times I read it, I felt like they had created this superhuman character in Mark Watney just so they could throw a ton of wild things at him for the story. This time reading it, as a suddenly not suicidal person, I realized anyone with Mark's skill would have done the same thing and not just died on Sol 7 to get it over with.

Wednesday I woke up not feeling nearly as good as Tuesday, but still like the fog had lifted. I was a little disappointed (I hallucinated my cat (thanks for coming to visit me, Corina), some spiders, and just felt kinda meh. But I remembered how good I felt the day before, and that really kept me hopeful about going home.

I saw the psychiatrist again and asked to go home. He joked a little about me staying till Christmas, but ultimately he said as soon as his note was in I could go. I ended up leaving at about 12:30 with my wife.

In the time since leaving I have required a lot of support from my wife. The medications are all locked up, so are the blades and anything I could use to hurt myself. My wife has me in eyeshot at all times. I can't drive due to intrusive thoughts, so she does all the driving now. I quit my job because I feel like it was a big part of why I ended up as bad as I was. As someone who has been a pretty independent person this is a big change of pace, but something that is really necessary to my healing.

Ultimately at the end of my hospital stay, I was prescribed escitalopram, gabapentin, trazodone, cariprazine, and then a few days later propranolol. I'm currently on a total of 5 psych meds and honestly I don't care one bit because its so much better than being not on them at this point in my life.

#mental health #personal #writing reference #inpatient psych #suicide mention #hallucination mention

[acourtofthought]

You say you "know the timeline" yet you mention that SJM no longer spoke about ships after she signed on for the spin-off books.

Which was after ACOMAF, and as she was finishing up ACOWAR.

Elriel and Vassien were only introduced in ACOWAR.

So, please tell us: when was SJM supposed to talk about Elriel and Vassien, when - as you yourself stated - Sarah “went quiet on things because Bloomsbury wanted her future books to remain a mystery.”

If Sarah wasn’t able to talk about Elucien post-ACOWAR, then when they hell is she supposed to talk about Elriel and Vassien (who again, were only introduced in ACOWAR)?

The point is: all of the Elucien “evidence” is contained to 2016. Mere months after ACOMAF.

Yet the narrative shifts in ACOWAR. Moriel is squashed, and Elriel and Vassien begin.

As such, your screenshots of “Elucien proof” never this into account. Context matters.

Actually she got signed for the spin offs while editing ACOMAF, it's clearly stated in her Live Talks LA with Eva Cheng.

In my last post I said she no longer spoke of ships once Bloomsbury put her on lockdown so they could cash in on the drama surrounding the next book after Nesta's. She admitted as much in an interview with Steph, that if fans are excited they'll want to make it a thing. If I said in a previous post she stopped talking about ships after signing for the spin offs (since she did talk about Elucien after that but before ACOWAR was published) than I apologize for the error but that doesn't mean I haven't figured it out since or other Elucien's haven't already known.

My point was more in regards to the fact that no Elucien is confused about her Elucien mentions not being recent, they include the image which HAS THE DATE ON IT. Almost all are aware of exactly what year those interviews were done yet you're phrasing it as if we think they happened recently. Nobody claimed she spoke of Elucien after ACOWAR and just because Lucien went after Vassa because he believed in Elain's vision, it doesn't mean the Vassien ship was introduced by the author in ACOWAR 😂. He literally looked at Elain with longing and went off on a suicide mission for her, met her father, and ran to her side (bloody and panting) after the war. It's confirmed SHE'S HIS FRIEND in the next book. Male characters are allowed to have female characters as friends without wanting a relationship with them.

Then continued looking at Elain with longing in SF while paying no attention to Vassa when she looked to Lucien to break up her argument with Jurian. 😂 So ship like!

Context does matter and there's zero of it for Vassien when she and Jurian share the same vision, not she and Lucien.

Also:

ACOMAF

Come now, you can't honestly be trying to tell me e/riel was only introduced in ACOWAR, completely tearing down the entire 4 books of buildup argument your fellow e/riels have been using for years now because it suddenly becomes important to this newest post that e/riel only has "3 books of buildup!"

According to elriels, elriel WAS introduced in ACOMAF yet it was Elucien she spoke of after its release.

And the evidence of SJM saying there was someone special for Lucien on Twitter was said in 2015, prior to the release of ACOMAF which was April 2016.

It's weird how the context supports Elucien being mates, where she personally supplied where they'd vacation together and how they're both happiest in nature yet she supposedly knocked that all down in the very next book. So strange how in one of those same interviews she spoke about Nessian but lo and behold they are still together!

You guys keep trying, I'll give you credit. A+ for perseverance but D - for execution.

Still waiting for that evidence of when the author has ever talked about elriel or Vassien in interviews!

#elucien #anti e/riel

[loveyouanyway]

i'll kiss your scars

buck x eddie | 900 words | teen rating

prompt: trans buck for @steadfastsaturnsrings 🥰 💖

“But y-you like men.” “Yes I do. Particularly the amazing and gorgeous man in front of me.” Buck stumbles across his words, all flustered. “But Eddie, I’m not— like I don’t have a you know.” He glances down there. “That doesn’t make you any less of a man, Buck." or Buck tells Eddie that he's trans and things change between them, but for the better.

read on ao3 or below :)

Buck, Eddie and Christopher are enjoying their dinner together in comfortable silence.

Christopher finishes his plate of spaghetti and meatballs first and now that he’s not eating, the silence feels weird so he speaks up.

“I’m not the only Christopher in my class anymore.”

Eddie hums. “Oh new student?”

“Nope. His name used to be Chloe but now it’s Christopher.”

Eddie and Buck look to each other in understanding.

“So he’s…”

“Trans. Yeah, it’s not a big deal, Dad. Now people just call me Chris and him Christopher.”

“How did people react?” Buck asks curiously.

“Everyone was cool about it. Some people had questions though so Christopher answered them. Then Mr. Nolan told everyone that he will not tolerate any transphobia or homophobia but he’s happy to tell us more about it. And if we ever have to talk to him about it, we can.”

Buck blinks back tears thinking how happy he is that in school, kids can come out and people will be supportive or at least respectful enough that they won’t say anything negative. He thinks about how bad it would be if he came out in middle school. He’s so glad Christopher has a teacher like Mr. Nolan.

He should probably tell Eddie that he’s trans. It’s been over a year since they’ve been friends. He knows Eddie will be accepting and everything but it’s still difficult. He doesn’t want anything to change between them.

“Buck?” Eddie and nudges his foot with his own under the table.

“You okay?” he asks.

Buck quickly nods. “Yeah no I’m good.”

Eddie thankfully doesn’t push and instead asks what movie they should watch tonight.

—

They watch Spiderman: Into the Spider-Verse and Buck suggests they watch the second one next movie night which Christopher enthusiastically agrees to.

Christopher gets ready for bed reluctantly and Buck reads him a chapter of Percy Jackson. Eddie watches them with a sickening fond smile.

Once the chapter’s done, he and Eddie both hug Christopher and tell him “good night” and Buck yearns for him to have this every night.

They walk into the living room and Buck plops onto the couch with a sigh.

Eddie sits down next to Buck and faces him.

“Hey, you know that you can tell me anything, right?” he says earnestly with his stupidly pretty eyes looking him in the eye.

Buck breaks eye contact and nods. “Yeah of course, uh thanks.”

Eddie doesn’t reply as if he’s hoping Buck will say more.

“Just give me a moment.” he adds and to that Eddie hums and rests his hand on Buck’s thigh. Oh god. This isn’t helping his nerves.

Buck takes a deep breath. “I’m trans.”

A second passes.

“Thanks for telling me.” Eddie smiles, trying to act like he didn’t know this but Buck sees past it.

“You already knew. How?”

“I saw your testosterone gel thing in the bathroom once. I guess you forgot to put it away like you usually do,” Eddie answers softly.

“You’re not mad I didn’t tell you?”

“Of course not, Buck. You don’t owe me anything regarding that.”

“We’ve been best friends for months.”

“Yeah well did I come out to you as cis? No. Besides gender is fucking stupid. Am I even a man?”

Buck sighs. He supposes Eddie has a valid point.

“Uh, while we’re talking about more serious topics, I have something to tell you,” Eddie admits.

Buck doesn’t have enough time to panic before Eddie calmly says “I’m in love with you.”

Is this a fucking dream? Buck doesn’t know what to say. “I- What do you mean?”

Eddie continues, “Yeah that was one of the factors in the whole me discovering my sexuality process. Hen called me out so many times about my gay panic for you.”

“But y-you like men.”

“Yes I do. Particularly the amazing and gorgeous man in front of me.”

Buck stumbles across his words, all flustered. “But Eddie, I’m not— like I don’t have a you know.” He glances down there.

“That doesn’t make you any less of a man, Buck. I know how I feel about you. I love you beyond your body but I mean, I really love your body and I hope I can make you feel safe and comfortable with it.”

Yeah this is a fucking dream come true.

Eddie lifts up the bottom of his shirt. “Can I…”

Buck has no idea what he’s about to do but he’ll let Eddie do anything to him. That probably should be concerning but he doesn’t care.

“Yeah,” he says with a shaky breath.

Eddie gently takes Buck’s shirt (which actually belonged to Eddie originally) and looks at him with such adoration, it makes Buck want to cry.

He lowers his head and brings his lips to Buck’s top surgery scars. He softly kisses along the two lines, whispering “I love you” after each kiss.

Now Buck is crying. He is just so overwhelmed with love—both his love for Eddie and feeling so loved by Eddie. He manages to say, “I love you” back before the tears make unable to speak coherently

Of course Eddie understands and doesn’t tell him “No it’s okay don’t cry,” instead he embraces him into a hug that makes Buck feel all warm and fuzzy — like all hugs from Eddie do.

They stay there, holding each other and Buck realizes things have changed between them but in the best way possible.

#also yeah at first i just put mr nolan and then i was gonna change it but i couldn't come up with anything so i am christopher's teacher 😌 #nolan writes #my fics #buddie fic #911 fic #911 abc #evan buckley #eddie diaz #buddie #trans buck #buck and eddie #buck x eddie

[k-s-morgan]

ATLWETD Snippet

I couldn't decide which part to pick for a snippet for ages so I just picked randomly)

“These are all new ones,” Hagrid said excitedly, pointing at the huge self-made basket filled with grass and hay. “I do what I can for them. Visit them every day and bring them meat, all that thing. But it’s getting colder again and I worry that they might freeze to their death. I thought of getting them blankets but—”

Riddle let out a quiet snort. His face took on a haughty look, and Harry didn’t have to even guess to know what he was thinking. That Hagrid was a pathetic half-breed incapable of doing magic, something that was supposed to be inherent to anyone worthy of life.

Anger stirred in his chest, and he turned away from Riddle, focusing on the cubs.

He couldn’t say he felt much affection towards them. They were small, ugly, and they were writhing in their basket restlessly, trying to push closer to one another.

Hagrid was right, they were cold. And it was a problem Harry could easily fix.  

“How did you find them?” he asked, taking out his wand and transforming the basket into something resembling a dog house he’d seen back at the Privet Drive, in the yards of some of the Dursleys’ neighbours. He didn’t know if it would be suitable for little werewolves, but it was better than nothing. Now he had to figure out how to use a warming charm that would stick — he had no desire to venture this deep into the Forbidden Forest again.  

Hagrid began to explain something, but Harry only half-listened. He murmured a spell, waited, and then touched one of the cubs carefully, checking if it was getting warmer.

The moment his fingers pressed against the soft coat, the second cub raised its head and tried to bite him. Harry barely managed to snatch his hand away. His still-broken finger collided with his wand by accident, flaring with unpleasant warmth. He cursed, more out of annoyance at his own carelessness than pain, when Riddle suddenly appeared next to him and grabbed him by his collar, dragging him to his feet harshly.

“What kind of an idiot are you?” he hissed. He clenched Harry’s wrist, examining his hand with burning intensity. “Touching this filth! Do you want to be infected?”

“Infected?” Harry repeated in confusion. Belatedly, he realised that Riddle was probably right. The cubs looked like simple wolves, there was nothing human-like in their shape, so the fact that their bite could be dangerous didn’t occur to him.

“They can’t infect yeh!” Hagrid protested. “They come from humans mating in wolf forms. Their bite ain’t dangerous, they’re like real wolves, just very smart.”

“You don’t know that,” Riddle replied stonily. His voice was cold as ice, and he continued to inspect Harry’s hand, twisting and turning it like it was his own limb. Harry tried to pull away, annoyed, but predictably, Riddle didn’t let him.

“What makes you think they can infect humans?” he asked just to say something. Riddle’s insistence on barging into his personal space and manhandling him was starting to grate on his nerves, although in a strange, awkward way he didn’t know how to deal with.

“No one has determined it for certain. It’s extremely rare for two abominations to reproduce under the full moon and then to leave their bastards behind. How Hagrid continues to find them defies all rules of logic and common sense.”

“Sounds like something you might want to research,” Harry muttered. Riddle sent him a deeply sceptical look, as if he was questioning his sanity. “What? Isn’t it something you’re supposed to be interested in? Werewolves are a part of our society and the way they are treated is disgusting. Anyone who offers them better treatment can get them as allies in—”

No. What was he saying? Or rather, to whom was he saying it?

Harry swallowed the rest of his words, but it was too late, the biggest part of them was out. Riddle’s stare turned calculating, an intrigued gleam lighting it from inside. His hold loosened, and Harry finally managed to get himself free.

He really was an idiot. Sure, he didn’t say anything extraordinary, and Riddle would have arrived at this basic conclusion on his own — Voldemort had. But still… this was something he could say to a friend, a person he trusted, not to Riddle. Never to him. They weren’t a team, and helping him to find more allies was the last thing Harry wanted.

Besides, werewolves deserved better than to be used by someone who didn’t give a damn about them and then discarded — or worse, wiped out of existence. Harry had no idea what Voldemort had been planning to do with them once he got everything he wanted.

Frowning, he knelt next to the cubs and raised his wand again. He had to get that warming charm right.

“That’s what I’m saying!” Hagrid exclaimed. His voice rang with passion. “Werewolves are mistreated. They can be good friends, right, Harry? And the cubs are innocent, they’d never hurt no one.”

Riddle stifled a sigh. He continued to stand next to Harry, monitoring his struggle with the spell. Did he want to make certain that Harry wasn’t going to push his fingers into the werewolves’ mouths? Probably this or something as ridiculous.

Okay, the warming charm. Harry learned how to modify simple spells in one of the books he’d been absorbing lately, and though the theory was surprisingly clear, he had no idea how to voice his intent clearly enough for his magic to listen. A spell that would keep this little shelter warm throughout the winter and early spring without having to be reapplied, which would disappear when the weather got naturally warmer, and which would gain power again when the late autumn came. How on earth could he convey all of this in one simple charm? And how could he know if it worked?    

“Next time, we can go visit the older cubs,” Hagrid was saying. His words were getting increasingly animated. “And the fire crabs, I know where they’re nesting. And I swear I saw the Occamy one day—”

Harry was glad he had his back turned to Hagrid — his face probably reflected the horror he felt at the thought of coming in here again and again in search of the dangerous creatures he was wary of. He loved and missed Hagrid, but there had to be limits to where they went and what they did.

On the other hand… Hagrid was lonely. Would it be so bad to accompany him from time to time?

Riddle’s disgusted snort broke him out of his thoughts. Harry squinted at him from the corner of his eye — surely Riddle couldn’t know what he was thinking? — but it was too late. Riddle was already walking away from him, holding the edge of his robe like he was concerned about getting it dirty.

“I can see that your love for dangerous creatures hasn’t abated since your expulsion, Hagrid,” he said pleasantly. Every warm syllable sounded so artificial that Harry’s jaw ached from how tightly he clenched it. “Tell me, are you still interacting with that Acromantula that killed Myrtle?”

 Harry froze just as Hagrid choked, his excited words dying on his tongue.  

“Aragog… Aragog killed no one,” he muttered. It was difficult to understand him, his voice was thick with emotion. “He ain’t guilty.”  

“I see.”  

That was all Riddle said, but the way he did it left Hagrid with no choice but to reply.

“He didn’t do it!” he insisted, more loudly this time. “He would’ve told me!”

“As a child, have you ever done something bad? Something that you didn’t want your family to know?”

“Riddle,” Harry snapped. He didn’t want to get into it — he just wanted to be done with this stupid spell and go, but he wasn’t going to let Hagrid be brainwashed into believing he killed Myrtle. The audacity of even trying to do it, and to do it here, where Harry could hear them… did Riddle really think he would let this stand?

“I— yeah,” Hagrid threw a lost look at Harry before focusing on Riddle again. “Lots of things.”

“And have you ever lied to cover it up?”

“Riddle,” Harry repeated. He waved his wand at the cubs, directing all his frustration into his spell, but while it clearly worked, it didn’t feel any different from the usual warming charms he’d been using. Maybe it was a little stronger, but it would never hold through the winter, never mind self-regulating its activation and disappearance.   

“Sometimes,” Hagrid muttered.

“Then what makes you think Aragog behaved any differently? He killed the girl and he was scared of your reaction.”

“No!”

Despite the protest, an echo of uncertainty touched this one word, and just like that, Harry knew this battle was lost. Hagrid was gullible enough to fall for Riddle’s manipulation, and Riddle was in the mood to put an effort into it.

 “Think about it,” he said softly. It was difficult to say whether his voice was naturally this compelling or if he was using compulsions deliberately — whatever it was, for a moment, Harry found himself almost lulled by it. “You kept letting it out for some exercise. From around that point, someone started petrifying the students. Then, the attacks escalated, and the girl was found dead. Do Acromantulas have venom?”

“Yeah… in the fangs.”

“In the fangs,” Riddle agreed. “Exactly so. And the venom gets stronger with age. At first, Aragog was too little to kill someone. But you kept caring for him, so he kept growing, and one day, his venom became strong enough to cause Myrtle’s death.”

Did Riddle need to be punched to shut up? Because this was something Harry was more than willing to do. His anger was bubbling on the surface already — one more word, and it would spill over.

“Acromantulas have a natural appetite for human flesh, Hagrid,” Riddle continued silkily, using dejected silence to fill it with more of his bullshit. “Surely you know that. You have always been the best when it came to studying magical creatures. There is no need to deny it now that Aragog is out of danger — I would never tell where you are hiding it.”

Outrage broke through. Harry lurched to his feet, throwing the last warming charm at the cubs and marching towards Riddle and Hagrid, almost shaking with fury. He had no idea what he was going to say, but letting Riddle fill Hagrid’s head with rubbish, make him feel guilty for something he didn’t do—

Apparently, Harry’s approach was also a part of Riddle’s plan because when he reached them, Riddle wrapped a possessive hand around the back of his neck, pulling him close as if he always intended to do so and effectively rendering him speechless.

“I would never tell where you are hiding Aragog,” he repeated to Hagrid, “but only if you convince me that you’ve learned your lesson. Your unique talents allow you to interact with all these creatures unharmed, but as you can see, the same cannot be said about other students. Your actions have already led to the death of one of them — would you really like to repeat this experience? With Harry, of all people?”

“No,” Hagrid breathed out. His eyes were brimming with tears, and this was enough to break Harry from under whatever spell Riddle had put on him — again.

Using his position, he pressed his wand to Riddle’s wrist and burned it with a stinging jinx. Riddle must have failed to see it coming because he jerked away abruptly, releasing Harry from his hold and sending him an incredulous look.

Very soon, his astonishment gave way to malice. Riddle narrowed his eyes, and Harry’s heart jerked from the cold, calculating stare he received. He glared back, crossing his arms and stepping away at the safer distance.

“Don’t listen to him, Hagrid,” he said. “It’s not—”

“What?” Riddle asked coolly. He rubbed his wrist, not taking his eyes off Harry, maintaining the strangest balance between an innocent expression and a hard, dark look. “Do you believe that all these pets are harmless? Were you not almost bitten by a cub of a werewolf five minutes ago without knowing if their bite was infectious? Are you saying you are ready to get acquainted with them all?”   

The urgent need to protect Hagrid and to do something to wipe this expression of distress and heartbreak off his face nearly made Harry blurt out an agreement, but another part, probably a saner one, prevailed for a change.

Even as an adult, Hagrid could never tell the difference between safe and dangerous creatures. Aragog might have been innocent of Myrtle’s murder, but he did eat humans, and he probably would have started doing it at Hogwarts sooner or later if he hadn’t been forced to flee.

Apart from putting the blame for Myrtle’s death on Hagrid, Riddle was right. And Harry had no idea how to convince Hagrid he hadn’t killed anyone without nullifying the sobering impact of this idea.   

He could really do without all these dilemmas Riddle had been creating for him recently.

#my fics #tomarry #atlwetd #harry potter