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ewanmitchellcrumbs · 8 months

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Best Intentions - Chapter One

Pairing: Tom Bennett (World on Fire) x femme Warnings: Angst. Smut. Mentions of shell shock and trauma. Word count: ~4.3k

Summary: An overview of how Tom and her came to be friends, and the set up for the story now that he's returned to Longsight. Series masterlist.

Author's note: I don't have a tag list. Please follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications. Community labels are for cops.

The imposing red brick building of Plymouth Grove Primary School is gigantic and intimidating to her as she enters through the gates to the playground, the thought of being left here for the entire day makes her clutch at her mum’s hand with tight desperation.

Her first day of school is one she’ll never forget, forever imprinted in her mind, owing to a big pair of blue eyes filled with mischief, and a grin with a pair of front teeth that remind her of a rabbit’s.

It’s morning break as she surveys the playground nervously, trying to decide if she feels brave enough to join in on a nearby game of hopscotch. It’s then that she feels a warm puff of air ruffle the back of her hair, and she spins around to see a sandy haired boy running back towards a group of laughing lads.

“I did it! I gobbed in her hair!” He shouts.

Humiliation warms her skin as tears prickle her eyes, and she hurries inside to the girls’ toilets to unsuccessfully try to locate where the offending spittle has landed, all the while sniffling back sobs.

It’s when dinnertime comes and she sits unhappily sipping her milk that she sees him again. He sidles up to her, alone this time, a sheepish look on his face.

“I didn’t really,” he shifts awkwardly from foot to foot, “Gob in your hair, I mean. I was dared to, so I pretended,”

“Oh,” is all she’s able to manage, not sure of what else to say.

“I’m Tom. Mates, yeah?” He says with his bunny toothed grin, and she can’t help but smile back.

He sits himself next to her, opening his own milk and they spend the remainder of the hour getting to know each other.

She’s surprised to learn that it’s his first day too, she had assumed from his confidence that he would be a couple of years above her. He lives with his dad, Douglas, who works as a bus conductor, his mum - Josie, and his sister, Lois, who is a couple of years above them.

He learns all about how she lives with her mum, and it’s just the two of them as her dad had passed away when she was a baby. Her mum runs the shop off of Stamford Road with her uncle, who lives in the flat above it.

Tom’s eyes light up at the mention of this. “The one with the jars of sherbet straws?”

“Yeah,” she smiles, “And treacle toffees!”

By half past three that afternoon, as the children file back out of the school gates, her and Tom are firm friends.

Her mum and Josie stand waiting to collect them, and they discover that they live only a few streets apart, so the four of them and Lois walk home together, chattering excitedly about her and Tom’s first day of school.

From that day forward, the thought of being at school for the entire day fills her with excitement. Tom makes it a less scary place to be, and is quick to defend her if ever anyone tries to give her trouble.

Their friendship remains solid as the years pass, as does Tom’s compulsion for finding trouble. He adores showing off and being the centre of attention, but it’s always her he runs to when it’s time to face the consequences. She is a privy to a side of him that nobody else is, she has seen his fear, his sadness and his doubt.

They sit on the wall adjacent to her mum’s shop, a paper bag rustling between them as they help themselves to sherbet straws. Tom and Lois had walked home with her and her mum. Josie hadn’t been there to pick them up, she hadn’t been for a few days now.

“Should probably go home soon,” she slurs around a mouthful of sweets, “Need to do my homework.”

Tom nods slowly, moving his own sweet around in his mouth. “D’you…d’you think you could help me with mine?”

“Why?” She chides, “‘Cause you spent all lesson mucking about?”

“Come on,” he pleads, “Me mam’s not well, last thing she needs is me getting into trouble because I can’t do sums.”

She clicks her tongue and sighs. “Fine,” she says, jumping down from the wall.

“Smashing,” he grins, following after her.

She smiles over her shoulder at him. “What are mates for?”

Josie’s illness worsens and she passes away around the time that they start secondary school.

Tom’s behaviour becomes more uncontrollabe, exacerbated by his mum’s death, but with her and Lois at the all girls school, and him at the all boys, there is little that can be done to stop him.

Things come to a head one day when Douglas opens the door to an angry neighbour, who berates him for Tom having stolen the milk from their doorstep, running away laughing, before dropping and smashing it when they’d chased after him.

He’d come to her after Douglas had given him a stern telling off, head bowed and looking sorry for himself.

“He hates me,” Tom had said sullenly.

“He doesn’t hate you, Tom, you just need to behave yourself. Why’d you do it?”

“Was dared to,” he says with a shrug.

“Like when you spat in my hair?”

He presses his lips together, lowering his eyes. “I dunno why I do it. It’s just hard since mam’s gone, dad doesn’t understand me like she did.”

It’s then that she notices the tears that rim his eyes, and she pulls him into a hug.

When had he gotten so tall? He feels massive compared to how he used to.

“Thanks,” he whispers, “I’m glad we’re mates.”

The next few years follow a similar pattern; Tom gets into trouble and immediately runs to her each time, basking in the safety of her presence and comforting words.

As they grow older, Tom’s misbevaiour evolves into petty crimes which soon attract the attention of the police.

She also begins to notice the smell of cigarette smoke clinging to him each time she pulls him into a hug, a troubling new habit he’s developed, no doubt to impress the older boys.

He now seems impossibly tall, and with every inch he grows it feels like he pulls a little bit further away from her. It makes her heart ache.

She grows used to seeing him walking home in the mornings looking bedraggled, a cigarette perched between his lips, after having spent the night in the back of a pub to avoid the police, who would no doubt have been knocking at the door of the Bennett household the previous evening.

When news of war having broken out in Europe reaches them and lads Tom’s age begin signing up to the draft, Tom decides he’s having none of it.

“Signing up as a conchie!” He tells her, as they sit on the wall together, waving the green booklet for emphasis.

“Your dad was a conscientious objector,” she says, narrowing her eyes in disbelief, “Your beliefs are suddenly the same as his are they?”

Tom tuts, flicking his lighter absentmindedly. “Just don’t wanna sign my life away for a load of bollocks that’s got naff all to do with me,”

His mind soon changes once the police come knocking again. He enlists in the Navy, action he considers less direct than fighting on the front lines.

The night before he’s due to ship out, he has a rowdy celebration in the local pub, jeering and clinking glasses with those who’ve not yet joined the draft. She watches on with a heavy feeling in her chest, she knows behind all his claims of how many Germans he’s going to kill and how he’ll have a bird in every port that he’s terrified of what’s to come.

That much is proven as he walks her home later that night, unsteady on his feet and reeking of beer. He sways in front of her once they reach her front door, big blue eyes misty and filled with emotion.

“You okay, sailor?” She asks with a soft smile.

“Can I– can I stay the night?” He asks, suddenly seeming like the little boy he was back when they were in primary school and he’d apologised for pretending to spit in her hair. “I don’t wanna be alone.”

She’s never shared a bed with Tom before. They’ve always been just friends. Her throat runs dry at the thought, but in that moment he seems so vulnerable, she can’t deny him anything.

They creep up the rickety wooden stairs to her bedroom, careful not to wake her mum, and squeeze into the single bed that occupies the space. He clings tightly to her, long limbs wrapped around her, like a drowning man grasping onto a lifesaver.

“I’m so scared,” he whispers into the darkness.

“You’ll come back,” she reassures him, “You have to, who else would be my mate?”

She feels him smile against her shoulder. “Yeah, who else would put up with you?”

They giggle, before shushing each other as she elbows him in the ribs, and they fall asleep curled around each other.

Tom’s gone when wakes up.

They write letters back and forth to each other, but each one feels distant and lifeless. He’s writing with the mask he shows to the rest of the world, giving an emotionless recount of each of his days. She supposes he might be afraid or whose hands his words may end up in, and he doesn’t want to embarrass himself, so she clings to every letter, vapid as they are, grateful to still have a connection to him.

She visits the Bennett household once a week, to share the letters they’ve been exchanging - to her disappointment, the ones she receives are much the same as the ones he sends home to Douglas and Lois.

Over time, her mum and uncle join her on her visits. Her mum brings cakes and her uncle gets into the habit of playing cards with Douglas. She is glad for the closeness between their two families, it makes Tom’s absence seem less daunting.

It’s at the Bennetts’ house where she learns the news of the attack on the HMS Exeter, the Naval ship that Tom is stationed aboard. Her blood runs icy cold at the news, though the Exeter was victorious it is not without deaths and casualties.

The weeks spent waiting for news are agonising, and it’s Tom she’s thinking of as she leans against the shop counter, eyes fixed on the large front window, but too lost in her thoughts to see through it.

“Quarter of sherbet straws when you’re not away with the fairies,”

The familiar voice startles her out of her reverie and she looks up wide eyed at Tom’s smiling face.

God, he’s grown into those bunny teeth. Has his smile always been so handsome?

“Tom!” She squeals, rushing from behind the counter and throwing her arms around his neck. “Do your dad and Lois know you’re back?”

He hugs her warmly before pulling back. “Yeah, popped home first to say hello. Left me new bird there, actually, thought you’d wanna meet her?”

She hates the way her heart sinks at this, but nods regardless, flipping the closed sign on the shop door and locking it behind her.

Tom tells her all about the Battle of the River Plate as they walk back to his house. He grows solemn when he’s finished, glancing sideways at her.

“I saw people die,” he says quietly, “I thought I was gonna die. Can’t believe there’s so much of my life I’ve pissed up the wall.”

It’s then that she notices how much more mature he seems, wise beyond his years. He’s seen things that no man his young age should have seen. She reaches for his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze, a gesture which he returns.

“So, this is Vera,” he gestures towards the kitchen table as they head inside.

She laughs, relief washing over her, when she sees the little canary sitting in her cage.

For a few days it feels like everything is back to normal, until Tom gets a new posting and has to leave again.

“I’ll come back,” he tells her, taking her hands in his, “who else would be your mate?”

She can’t help but smile. “No one else would put up with me,”

He’s away longer this time, his letters are fewer and the worry gnaws at her with more intensity than ever before.

For the second time in her life she cries over Tom Bennett when she hears that he’s been declared as missing in action on the beaches of Dunkirk, a suspected capture by opposing forces.

Lois falls pregnant, and for a time the advancing stages of her pregnancy and eventual birth are a welcome distraction, a reminder that there is life amongst all the death that surrounds them.

Her grief is amplified when bombs fall over Manchester, a bottomless pit opening in her gut when she finds out that there was a direct hit on the Bennett house. Her uncle and Douglas had been inside playing cards at the time, neither had survived.

Her mum moves Lois and her baby into the flat above the shop, with her uncle gone the space is no longer occupied and it makes sense for them to have it, considering they no longer have a roof over their heads.

It’s comforting to have them so close, a little piece of Tom to hold onto until he comes back, if he comes back. She hates herself for thinking it.

When Tom next steps through the shop door, there’s no trace of his grin from last time. He looks skinny, haunted, he’s aged. There’s an anger within his blue eyes that replaces the mischief that used to sparkle there.

He doesn’t need to ask for her to know what he’s after. There will be no hugs of greeting this time.

“She’s upstairs,” she says softly, her stomach tied into knots.

He simply nods and walks towards the back to go up.

It doesn’t take long for her to be able to hear the muffled sounds of arguing and not five minutes later he storms back downstairs and out into the street. She follows after him, grabbing the quarter of sherbet straws she’d bagged up for him.

He’s sat smoking on their usual spot on the wall, and she hops up beside him, placing the paper bag between them. He doesn’t touch them. She wonders when the last time he ate anything at all was, he looks so thin.

The silence between them feels painful, she doesn’t know what to say, but she can tell from the way his hands shake and the urgency with which he drags on his cigarette that if she doesn’t say something then he certainly won’t.

“You can’t be angry with Lois, y’know,” she says gently, “it’s not her fault,”

“Then whose is it?!” He snaps angrily, eyes narrowing as he looks at her.

He’s never spoken to her like that before and she shrinks away from it. “It’s not my fault either,” she whispers sadly.

His face softens, a look of shame replacing his anger as he averts his gaze, his lips twitching. “Sorry about your uncle,”

“Sorry about your dad,”

His return is brief, only a couple of days this time. Enough time for him to visit Douglas’ grave, but not enough for them to talk, not properly anyway. He reveals that he was taken to an American hospital in Paris, after being shot in Dunkirk. A woman named Henriette had helped him to escape France and he’d made his way home via Spain. It’s all so matter of fact the way that he recounts it, but she only has to look into his eyes to see the turmoil he’s feeling. It crushes her.

He looks fearful and uncertain when they say goodbye, the urge to cling to him and beg him not to go is overwhelming.

“You’ll still be here when I get back, won’t you?” He asks.

“Course I will, I always am,” she replies with a sad smile.

He cups her cheek, his large palm engulfing her face and leans down to press his lips to hers. She startles at first, they have never kissed before, but she quickly reciprocates, moving her mouth against Tom’s. His lips are so soft and there is a tenderness behind the gesture that brings tears to her eyes.

She’s breathless when they part, his forehead resting against hers, his hand still cupping her cheek.

“Mates, yeah?” He whispers.

The word makes her heart twinge. “Yeah, mates.”

Her fingers trace lightly across her mouth as she watches him walk away, kit bag slung over his shoulder.

Tom sends no letters at all the third time he leaves, so eventually she stops writing to him. She figures it can’t be nice for him to hear about how life is carrying on without him, how his niece has started to walk and talk, a new house built in place of his old one with a new family living inside it.

She can’t bear how the world continues, while she feels stuck in place, waiting for his return. It isn’t fair that there are people getting to laugh and love and live their lives, while he’s sacrificing his so that they may have the privilege.

With the exception of the morning paper sort, her mum has taken a step back from the shop, needing more rest than usual, and without her uncle around to help out, she’s taking on more hours in order to keep things ticking over. The sweet jars sit empty, rationing is difficult to get used to. She’ll never be able to come to terms with sending people away without the food they want and need, simply because the shop either doesn’t have enough stock, or they have already used their allotted portion for the week.

Her mind drifts back to how skeletal Tom had looked when she’d seen him last. She hopes he’s managing to eat.

It’s the beginning of September, the dying embers of summer glow dark orange on the horizon, as the evening battles the day for dominance in the increasingly earlier darkening of the sky.

Lois is on an evening shift, so her mum is round at the flat looking after the little one. She has the house to herself, and has lost count of the amount of times she’s read and re-read the same passage in her book, unable to take the words in.

She frowns when she hears the door knock, unsure of whether she should answer it or not, she’s not expecting anyone. Her hesitation provides enough time for a second knock, more urgent this time, so she relents, going to the front door and opening it.

It feels as though time freezes when she sees Tom standing there, gaunt and tired looking.

He doesn’t give her time to react, dropping his kit bag to the floor as he closes the door behind him and presses a bruising kiss to her lips. His hands pull at her clothes as he backs her towards the living room sofa, and she lets him.

She just needs to feel that he’s real, that he’s really back, so she loses herself in the moment, allowing him to climb on top of her, her own hands moving to strip him as he does the same to her.

Her fingertips stroke down his back and she’s shocked to find she can feel every vertebrae in his spine, and all the ribs that protrude through the skin. She’s never touched him in such an intimate manner before, but she knows he’s never been so emaciated. He feels hollow, yet there is strength to how he manhandles her.

Pulling her thighs apart, he settles between them, pushing her open with the thickness of his cock. She gasps, arching against him, clutching tightly to his shoulders as he pistons his hips in quick succession against hers. This is no gentle lovemaking, it is filled with raw animalistic need, a desire to feel something, anything.

His breaths are ragged against her neck and he finds release quickly, spilling inside of her with a grunt before collapsing and pulling her tight to his chest.

They lay quietly on the sofa together, nothing but the sounds of their heavy breathing filling the space. She has a thousand questions she longs to ask him, yet none of them seem appropriate. Despite the fact that Tom has just brutally had his way with her, she’s still in shock that he’s returned.

“I’m sorry I never wrote,” he says eventually, “was tired of never having any good news to tell you,”

“You’re back now,” she says quietly, fingers tracing over the bullet wound scar in his shoulder, “that’s all that matters,”

“Still mates then?” He asks.

Her heart lurches at the word. Is that all they are after what’s just happened?

“Yeah, still mates,”

He drifts to sleep in her arms and she holds him, until his thrashing pushes her from the sofa. She lands with a heavy thud on the living room carpet, watching in horror as Tom’s sweaty body writhes and cries out in terror in his sleep.

She kneels beside the sofa, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder to still him and coax him awake. He startles, wide eyed, before clutching at her, burying his face in her neck and sobbing until he drifts into unconsciousness again.

As Tom settles back into life in Longsight, he goes right back to wearing a mask for everyone.

“Are you a hero?” Children shout as he walks down the street.

“Always have been, always will be,” he says with a lopsided grin.

Yet each day ends with him muffling his cries into her neck after she’s soothed his night terrors, she knows better than the act he puts on for everyone else’s benefit. She suspects that Tom may be suffering from shell shock, but doesn’t dare to bring it up. Knowing his father had the same, it is likely a sore subject for him.

His return sees a new development in their friendship, them sleeping together the night he came back isn’t a one off occurrence, yet each time he still continues to refer to her as a mate. It’s confusing for her, but not an issue she wishes to push, knowing that Tom is struggling with enough already. He’ll figure it out when he’s ready, she just needs to be there for him.

Tom gets a flat nearby, and finds a job at the local garage. Having served in the Navy has imparted mechanical skills to him, and he can easily work his way around an engine.

She sits perched on the workbench of the garage, admiring the view. Tom’s sandy coloured hair is pushed back from his forehead, his navy overalls tied around his waist, leaving him in just the white vest he wears underneath. His first customer of the day has yet to arrive, so he’s clean for now. She bites her lip at the thought of how dirty he’ll be by the end of the day.

It has become routine for her to spend a few mornings a week watching him work - her mum has never gotten out of the habit of insisting she wants to open the shop and sort the morning papers before heading home, so she is left to her own devices most days until the early afternoon. Tom doesn’t seem to mind having her hang around the garage.

When a car pulls in, a portly gentleman stepping out, Tom walks to greet him.

“It keeps overheating, I can’t understand why,” he explains to Tom.

“I’ll take a look for ya, mate. Come back in an hour, yeah?”

The man looks over at her with slight concern. “Will she…uh…be assisting you?”

Tom grins. “Nah, she’s just a mate, won’t let her near your motor, don’t worry.”

Just a mate.

She thinks back to how he’d knelt behind her not long after they’d woken up, just a couple of hours ago, pulling her hips back to meet each of his thrusts.

Just a mate.

Mates don’t do that.

Tom’s voice breaks her out of her thoughts. “Stupid old sod, just needs to put coolant in the engine. Gonna tell him I replaced the fan belt and charge him extra.”

She giggles, shaking her head. “You’re unbelievable, you know that?”

He gives an easy shrug. “He’s loaded, he can afford it.”

She sighs, looking at her watch. “I’d better push off, mum’ll be expecting me at the shop. I’ll see you later, yeah?”

“Probably not,” Tom says. “Booked solid tomorrow, but come round to mine after?”

She nods, waving and walking away. She’s used to Tom letting her know when the garage will be busy, so makes a point to stay away so he’s not distracted.

It’s not until the end of the day, when she fishes around in her pocket for the keys to lock up the shop that she realises she has Tom’s lighter. She’s too tired to pop round and drop it off at his, so decides she’ll swing by the garage in the morning to give it back.

Her fingers wrap around it in her pocket, preparing to take it out to hand back as she approaches the garage the next morning.

She stops in her tracks when she sees a sleek black motor car parked in the vehicle bay, a tall, sophisticated, beautiful woman standing beside it. Her perfectly manicured nails stroke down Tom’s bare arm as her ruby red lips pull back into a smile.

Her heart lurches in her chest as she watches him reach out to tuck a strand of the woman’s long, dark hair behind her ear.

Her throat tightens, nausea bubbles in her stomach as she turns and walks away, the lighter long forgotten. It feels as though the bottom of her world has been ripped away. She angrily swipes at the wetness that rims her eyes.

Just mates.

Fine, if that’s what Tom wanted then that’s all they’d ever be.

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st0rmyskies · 10 months

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i have a dilemma......does linkshipping count as proshipping you think??? because i definitely don't support other problematic stuff like pedophilia or incest or whatever but someone told me that linkshipping was still proshipping so now i'm confused...what do you think stormy?

I'm gonna be honest with you, anon. I'm a little too old to know or to care what the proshipping label even means in fandom. Posts about it circulate on my dash now and again. Others have made arguments both for and against shipping, and those soliloquies often seem rather long-winded and impassioned, so I tend to ignore them.

You know the things that keep me up at night? The military coup/mutiny in Russia and what that means to the geopolitical ecosystem. The fact that climate change threatens to cause the next major global extinction event, and that the large corporations responsible for the lion's share of the damage will never be held responsible. The rapid erosion of women's reproductive rights and autonomy in my country. The income-to-debt ratio in my field, mental health and wellness, planning for my future and my family, contemplating business ownership, the list goes on.

These are the things that make me feel anxious, and helpless, and small. I have so many more pressing, more impactful things to devote my mental energy to that "proshipping" isn't even a fucking blip on my radar.

My general philosophy is pretty simple: What I devote my increasingly dwindling downtime to is my business and no one else's. I couldn't give less of a shit what the anonymous masses at large think of me. I know what I enjoy, I know what I support, and I know those things that I don't support. It sounds like you know that about yourself, too. Especially in this case, A does not equal B or C, and anyone trying to argue that is trying to control what you do. You need to ask yourself why they're trying to do that.

I don't owe anyone an explanation for anything that I do, and neither do you. That person can take their baseless assumptions and shove 'em.

#stormy asks #morning coffee thoughts #happy Sunday bitches

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empyrangel · 2 years

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Cannot fucking believe the nerve of some queer people to just… demand that others disregard trauma for them. Yeah this is about “sex positivity” woohoo.

“You shouldn’t call yourself sex negative or neutral, you can be sex repulsed and still be sex positive!” No I’m literally going to call myself whatever the fuck I want because I’m the only one that gets to decide my labels. Just because you can be both sex repulsed and positive doesn’t mean under any circumstances that you have to be.

“All the sex repulsed people would gladly pass out water bottles at an orgy, there’s no reason you shouldn’t feel the same.” I have every fucking reason to not want to do anything under the sun. Especially the out of my hands reasons. Everybody can speak for themselves. I wouldn’t be caught dead at an orgy on the account of I would literally have a panic attack, but I guess that doesn’t matter.

“Just be sex positive. Even if you have trauma, it doesn’t give you an excuse to say sex is bad. Nothing gives you that excuse. It’s not that hard to just be okay with it.” You. Cannot. Fucking. Negotiate. Trauma. Listen, due to events in my life, I have certain involuntary reactions and voluntary opinions on sex and sexuality that concerns other people besides myself (and fictional characters). I did not ask to be this way. It isn’t my fault. And it isn’t my obligation to overcome to appease people. I am sex repulsed and sex negative. There’s nothing I or anyone else can do about it. If this offends anyone I’m out of fucks to give. I simply am this way. It is a fact. It is the truth. The truth is supposed to be a good thing, why should I lie and pretend I’m something I’m not for other people’s comfort. I do not use this as an excuse to shame people, to try and stop them from doing sexual activities, or to say or do anything mean, negative, or hurtful to anyone (unless I’m defending myself). So what’s the problem? There isn’t one. I don’t want to be involved in this at all, I just want to be left alone. But some people just won’t stop going after non sex positive people, so I inevitably get dragged into this.

People can use whatever labels for whatever reason they want, and nobody owes you a fake version of themself.

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theconstitutionisgayculture · 1 year

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I saw you went from militant atheist to agnostic. I'm seeking advice as a 17-year-old agnostic who is still upset with religion. I'll try to articulate it to the best of my ability.

How do you respect people's religion? I have some form of religious trauma (raised Protestant), and leaving it was very hard for me. I'm done with religion, but I was very angry for a while. I've mostly moved away from the Anger Phase, but I still, feel annoyed.

For example, when religious people oppose and demonize homosexuality (no wokeness, by the way), it annoys me. I don't think there is an objective reason why homosexuality should be seen as sinful/evil, and bringing up nature doesn't mean anything. It's frustrating that they're willing to die on that hill to please a God they can't see and to adhere to some book dogmatically.

I don't have an incentive not to hate religion. After all, the environment that I'm in (friends and school peers) has normalized it. But I'm starting to realize that it's not worth it, and I want to be indifferent to the lifestyle choices of others. How can I achieve that?

First off I'd look at the term "religious trauma" and evaluate if it's accurate. Did being raised Protestant actually traumatize you in the legit, phycological sense? Or did you just have an unpleasant upbringing because you didn't identify with or support the religion you were being taught? I don't know which it is, but one thing that everyone should learn is perspective. Not every bad thing is traumatizing. In fact, most aren't. Trauma is a very real, very serious thing. If people go around labeling non-traumatic things as traumatic, it can make you react worse to something that really isn't that bad.

But aside from all that, the best advice I can give you is you need to learn that what someone else believes has nothing to do with you. You are never going to convince the religious to give up their religion. In fact, if you try, you're just going to make them dig in further. Don't try to burden yourself with the need to "enlighten" the religious. It's pointless. And all it does is lead to frustration, anger, and hate on both sides. Some people are always going to believe things you don't believe. And as long as they aren't pushing those beliefs on you, it shouldn't effect you at all. You don't need to like those people or hang around those people. It's perfectly okay to keep them at arms length. And this goes for anyone you don't get along with. Instead of getting angry, learn to just roll your eyes internally whenever someone starts going on about things you find silly or stupid. Change the subject, or think about something else, or walk away if you can. You don't owe anybody your time or your attention, especially if they're being rude by preaching to you when you don't want to be preached to.

The thing about religion is that everyone interacts with it in a different way. Yes, some use it to bully others and justify their hatreds or their bad actions. But many more use it as a guiding light in their life. They take comfort from the idea that some all powerful being exists and loves them. They take comfort from the idea that their loved ones who have passed away are in a place of perfect happiness and are waiting for them to join them. How do we deal with our own inevitable death? A lot of people believe that something better is waiting for them on the other side. Or that we get reborn into a better live if we live well in this one. Or that we'll become part of the spirit of the Earth. Or that there's nothing after death, and some find comfort in that, too. Humans have always dealt with the unknown by telling stories and trying to understand things that don't have an easy explanation. Some of us turn to science. Some to religion. Some to philosophy. Some to other things. Some to all things. Just because someone chooses a different path towards understanding doesn't automatically make them wrong.

And if you want a scientific reason for benign agnosticism over militant atheism, in an infinite universe like the one we supposedly live in, anything that can happen will happen. Because even if something has a 0.000000000001% chance of happening, 0.000000000001% is still more than zero, and if you roll the dice an infinite number of times, eventually every result will come up, and more than once, too. If it's at all possible that a God, or Gods, exist, then they exist. Or have existed. Or will exist. What we don't know vastly outweighs what we do know. And it always will. We will never be able to explore even 1% of the observable universe. To me, that's one of the saddest things I've ever heard. I cope with that sadness by hoping that one day, humans will discover a way to break what we now call the laws of physics and learn how to build faster than light hyperdrives, or create wormholes, so we can explore more than what we think we'll be able to. I have a kind of faith that humanity will go beyond what modern science says we can achieve. Have you ever had similar beliefs that fly in the face of all accepted logic? Or do you only believe things that other people tell you is true? I really hope it's the former. And if it is, then that feeling of faith is what the religious feel about God. It's a commonality believers and non-believers have. So that can be a starting point to understanding the religious and how they think. It might even be a starting point to finding some common ground with the ones who aren't super zealous.

As for the "gay being a sin", thing, I do agree with you. Despite the sometimes abhorrent actions of the so-called "gay community", the act of being attracted to your own gender is no more inherently evil than being attracted to redheads, or blondes, or people with glasses. My logical brain tells me that any system of beliefs would reflect the times those beliefs came to be in. Back when Judaism was created, which is the foundation for Christianity and Islam, the Jews were going through hard times. I can easily see how, in a small, persecuted population that had already experienced slavery and violence by the time of Moses, the act of homosexuality would be potentially dangerous. If more men are laying with men instead of laying with women and procreating, then one day there might not be any more Jews. Especially if they keep getting killed and exiled every time they try to settle somewhere. So those Old Testament passages about homosexuality make more sense, from a secular, historical perspective, if you think of it that way. In addition to that, there have been literally thousands of religions invented since humanity has existed. They're all different. Even the ones that share a common origin are different. Just ask the Catholics and the Protestants. And we're just one species, on one planet, in a potentially infinite universe. To assume that any one single human religion has gotten everything right seems to be to not only be unrealistic, but massively hubristic. Maybe God exists, but he doesn't care who we fuck. Maybe he cares a lot, but Jesus got him to calm down about it. Maybe Apollo killed God and now the only deity that's still alive wants everyone to be gay. Who knows? We don't. And I think it's pretty silly to get upset when someone else believes something that is, in all probability, at least somewhat wrong.

I don't know of any of this helps you. But when I first got out of my militant atheist phase, thinking about things like this helped me a lot. It made me realize that I was acting just like the religious zealots I hated when I tried to push atheism on everyone and lashed out when they didn't convert. And I think that's the second best piece of advice I can give: Don't become the people you hate, or even the people you dislike. Be better than them. Or at least different. You'll be a lot happier that way. I know I am.

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cruelsister-moved2 · 1 year

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you said you weren't gonna elaborate but ifyou have time could you on that point that most cis women will only give their genitals as what ties them to womanhood. not sure I understand the implication bc in my experience that's true and I've also wrestled with the same idea a lot bc of being in that space between cis and nonbinary where it's like well I don't feel like what society says a woman is but to pretend that all cis women do is misogynistic. jw your thoughts because i think abt it a lot

yeah I think about it too... obligatory The Quote:

anyway yeah I just I don't know how to say this without coming off dismissive to people who find other frameworks useful to understanding their existence but there really is only how you want to live in reality and what gets me is the... assuming people who don't use certain labels dont have the same interior complexity as you(ie the pansexual effect). no one can ever see your internal Experience of Gender and you can never see anyone else's so it feels like there might actually be an upper limit to how useful it is to engage with. idk maybe I'm just too autistic for all this stuff but I feel like on the internal level you, to yourself, are just you. gender is literally a relational framework that we use to categorise OTHER people so we are all going to feel some amount of awkwardness about the attempt to apply it to ourselves internally. I think some people, upon discovering this, are a little too hasty to assume everyone else (esp cis women) has an easy time doing that. So i guess THAT'S what i mean, like a lot of people are just straight up NOT doing that and just not considering themselves as having a say and therefore not thinking about it. which isn't to say that they don't have complex feelings about themselves as individuals in a gendered society, or even that they might not hypothetically feel equal or better about existing in the opposite category, if they were able to consider that for themselves.

Like im femme4butch I'm obviously a big enjoyer of fun with gender performance but I do feel like ultimately your options are like "I'm expected to be in group A but group B feels at least somewhat less terrible to me" or "neither group A nor group B feels at all comfortable for me" or "existing sometimes in group A and sometimes in group B depending on the context is preferable to me" etc. and each of those encompasses a host of internal experiences of gender but it just skips feeling like that is something fundamental that we automatically owe each-other and require to understand each-other and decides that actually in terms of interactions with other humans our efforts are best placed in facilitating others moving through the world in a way that's most frictionless for them. and internally within the LGBT community who even cares because its only recently that cis gay people have even had a category resembling cisness open to them bc previously manhood and womanhood were so inherently contingent upon heterosexuality (spoiler: they still are it's just you can at least theory cut out the gender of attraction and replace it). i think this is why people are increasingly identifying with terms like transsexual again because it DOES feel relevant to their identity that much of their lived experience is organised around moving through the world as other than their cagab. ithink once you acknowledge that gender isn't defined for you (either by your genitals or like your Male Brain or Female Soul or whatever) then it kind of turns the concept of what even is gender into soggy cardboard anyway, and trying to articulate the specific qualities of ur handful of soggy cardboard is largely pointless in comparison to what container youre going to put it in. and if that begs the question of why we're putting soggy cardboard into all these different containers anyway, well then there you go

#ask #anon #i feel like you already know how you feel bc like #yeah i dont feel like what society says a woman is > who the hell does though > what does this mean for whether we accept the category #(on the condition that we modify/recreate it on our own terms)#or reject the category to create a new one that accomodates us #is that actually a meaningful binary #etcc #anyway i would read kadji amin if ur having these questions #i dont always agree w how scathing he is but he kind of critiques the nonbinary-as-political-statement-as-identity thing #his book is called 'we are all nonbinary' if that gives u an idea lol #i have like.1001 thoughts about lesbian relationships to womanhood in particular but thats one for another day bc this is already too much #i feel like attempting to inhabit the brain of a cishet women in order to write this response has drained me so much

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intersex-questions · 8 months

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Hey! This is the anon who asked about early puberty. I've been looking up stuff about NCAH for the past 2(?) days, and I seem to experience everything except infertility (I have no idea whether I'm infertile or not). We're getting our hormones levels tested, hopefully sometime next month (was recommended by our friends mom, who is a nurse. After hearing about our health issues and seeing the amount of hair we have on our legs, she said that all of that together sounds like we have a hormonal imbalance and we need to get it checked out). Would it be a good idea to bring this(ncah) up to a doctor? If so, what would be the best way to do so?

Also, would it be bad/wrong to refer to myself as intersex before getting a diagnosis? I really don't want to be disrespectful.

First, it's absolutely not disrespectful to refer to yourself as intersex without a diagnosis. Many intersex people do not have, will never have, or can't have a diagnosis. Whether it's due to their personal comfort, financial situation, medical situations, anything. There are some people who believe you need a diagnosis, but, respectfully, they are exclusionary and gatekeep the community. Also, you never owe anyone information on how you're intersex or why you are. You don't have to share that! You can be yourself, unabashedly. You owe no one anything.

I think bringing up NCAH specifically to a doctor can be tough, just since you never know how a doctor will react. What I personally recommend is saying something like,

"Hey, my friend with NCAH noticed I share a lot of symptoms like and experiences with them, like...(list symptoms) and thought I might be and should get it checked out..."

By establishing that you were recommended by someone else and not your own research, many doctors are far more receptive.

Also, you might want to say, "My friend with NCAH and hyperandrogenism" as well, since you might be experiencing hyperandrogenism without NCAH (and your testing you get likely will be to look for hyperandrogenis), as both are good to look into for your case! You could also mention all the other things you've experienced that relate to intersex experiences in general.

I can't say if it's a good idea or not, but if it's something you want to try, go for it. Keep in mind that having an official intersex diagnosis can open you up to medical discrimination because doctors might be able to see that you have it and decide treatments or plans in ways biased against intersex people. But you might also have doctors who see that you have it and account for it in positive ways that help you. It can be a scary and stressful process, so I wish you luck.

And I wish you lots of luck on any testing as well! Testing can be tough and stressful, but you've got this.

For example, I am autistic and trans, I went through an autism diagnosis, but my healthcare provider people agreed to leave it off my chart so I would be able to transition easier as many autistic people face discrimination in transition care.

But again, your experiences absolutely align with intersex experiences. You don't need a diagnosis. If you feel the intersex label, term, and/or community give you a place to explain your life's experiences and align with how your body is different from perisex ones, then you are absolutely welcome to use it.

#asks #questions

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mischiefandspirits · 2 years

Text

The Rise of Batman III

In a world where Bruce’s acquisition of his kids isn’t as legal, but is just as well-meaning, Superboy finds a bat flitting about in Cadmus.

This takes place a little over three years after the events of Internship

Click here for more of this AU

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

“I’m so feeling the mode,” Impulse groaned. He tried to vibrate through the restraints keeping him in the cloning tube, but stopped almost immediately, face pinched.

“What? What are you staring at, creep?” Wonder Girl snapped, glaring at Superboy from behind the glass of her own tube.

“Please don’t tick off the kryptonian, Wonder Girl,” Arrowette said, twisting her wrists. She turned to Superboy. “Please, you need to help us.”

“Uh, he’s the one who threw us in here, remember?” Impulse pointed out, slumping down in the tube as much as he could.

“Impulse,” Arrowette said, giving him a look. She turned back to Superboy. “You can’t want this. You’re a clone of Superman. He wouldn’t do this.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not him,” he snorted, crossing his arms and looking away.

“You’d rather be Cadmus’s puppet?” Wonder Girl hissed.

“I’m nobody’s puppet!”

“Then why are you helping them?”

Lex asked him to. “They helped create me. I owe them my life.”

“They made you for Luthor and he’s evil. He probably had you created for evil purposes,” Impulse pointed out.

“That’s enough,” Dr. Desmond barked.

Superboy frowned as his least favorite Cadmus scientist stomped in, only looking up from his tablet long enough to glance over the sidekicks and shoot Superboy an annoyed look. “Activate the cloning process. And get the Superboy back on its patrol.”

“Did you seriously call him it? These are the guys you want to work with, Jr. Supes?” Wonder Girl asked.

Superboy didn’t look back as a different scientist led him out of the room. There was no point in arguing the point because he’d be lying.

He hated it when something came up that meant Lex had to leave him at Cadmus. Lex could be controlling, but at least he talked to Superboy like he was a person. He was just another experiment to Cadmus, one that could be ordered around like a guard dog. Desmond especially seemed to think Superboy was nothing more than Cadmus’ weapon, even though Lex had completely funded his creation.

Superboy couldn’t wait until Lex’s people finished the compound in Hawaii.

He was imagining beaches, hot girls, and sunshine when he heard something shift in the corridor he was passing. It was quiet, so quiet he barely picked it up even with his increased hearing.

The scientists weren’t quiet. They stomped around the labs with a purpose. The sidekicks hadn’t been quiet either. Impulse was a chatterbox, Wonder Girl was heavy-footed when she wasn’t flying, and Arrowette’s arrows had clicked together every time she had grabbed at them when the three reached a corner during their sneaking.

Whoever was sneaking around now was near silent, which made them a problem. One Superboy would have to deal with.

He sighed and floated down the hall. When he reached a door labeled Project B.B., he flashed his badge, but the door didn’t unlock. Frowning, he tried again, to no avail. He glared at the door, debating whether he should try a third time, tear down the door, fetch someone else, or just pretend he hadn’t heard anything. Trying a third time probably wouldn’t get him a different solution and Desmond would call him stupid if he found out, but if his badge did work Lex would be annoyed if he only tried twice. Tearing the door down would definitely get him inside, but it would also tick off so many people and he’d get a lecture from Lex about using his head. Going to get someone would be annoying and would risk letting the intruder get away, which would definitely earn him a lecture from at least one person. Pretending he hadn’t heard anything would get him in trouble if someone found out he knew, but the intruder had made it that far without getting spotted by anyone but him…

The door clicked open near silently and a head poked out. “Only the head scientist has clearance for this lab. Alarms will sound if you try a third time.”

Superboy stared blankly at the person in front of him. They wore a black (helmet? Hood? Mask?) thing that had two points at the top of the sides and covered most of their head with only their mouth being visible. Even their eyes were hidden behind white lenses.

They watched him for a moment, then nodded and pulled their head back into the room.

He quickly grabbed the door before they could close it. “Hold on, who are you?”

“Cleaning staff.”

Superboy snorted as he opened the door to see their mask-thing connected to a black cape with a gray lining. Underneath they wore a black, sleeveless suit that had a white utility belt wrapped around their waist and the gray silhouette of a bat stretched across their chest. The latter matched the gauntlets protecting their hands and wrists. Black straps wrapped around their arms and across their chest, appearing to be the same material as the cape and slightly obscuring the bat.

“Pretty sure the cleaning staff doesn’t dress like that.”

“We’re trying something new,” they said with a shrug.

“What’s your name then? Where’s your badge?”

They hummed and patted their belt. “Must have left it in my other belt.”

“Then how’d you get in? Especially since Only the head scientist has clearance for this lab. Huh?”

“He let me in.”

“Sure. Then you won’t mind if I go check with him.”

“I mean, if you want to bother him. I don’t think he’d appreciate the interruption, but feel free.”

Superboy fought down a smile. “What’s your name again?”

“Tim.”

“Tim…?”

“Tim.”

“Just Tim?”

“Yup. Any more questions, Mr. Luthor?”

“That’s not my name.”

They frowned, leaning back against a control panel. “So what is your name?”

“Superboy.”

“Superboy isn’t a name. It’s a mask. Don’t you have an actual name? Didn’t Luthor give you one?”

“I don’t need a name.”

“I guess… but do you want one?”

Superboy leaned against the door with a shrug. He’d never really thought about it. “If I need one Lex will handle it.”

“If that’s what you want. It’s your choice in the end. So, Superboy, what brings you here?”

“An intruder,” he said pointedly.

“There’s an intruder? Then you really should be going after them.” Tim nodded and he snorted.

“You’re the intruder, remember?”

“Me? No, I’m cleaning staff. Pretty sure we went over this already.”

“So you’re not with the sidekicks in lab thirty-seven?”

Tim’s mood dropped instantly and they straightened up. “What sidekicks?”

“Wonder Girl, Impulse, and Arrowette,” Superboy said slowly. Did they not realize their buddies had gotten grabbed?

“They’re here?” Their voice was blank, but their body was stiff and Superboy got the impression they were staring at the door now, not him.

“Uh, yeah. Didn’t you come with them?”

“No, but if they’re here, the League can’t be far. Shoot, shoot, shoot.” Tim spun around and started typing on the panel they’d been leaning against. “Hurry up!”

Superboy shot forward and yanked Tim away from the panel, which had a lot of information on the screen alongside a progress bar that was at ninety-eight percent. “What are you doing?”

Tim glared at him. “Look, SB, I don’t want to fight you, but I will if you keep me from leaving here with my family.”

Superboy glanced past the panel to see a cloning tube. Not the kind the sidekicks had been locked into, made to extract DNA samples and memories, but the kind that grew clones, the kind he’d been made in. This one held a baby (toddler?) with pitch-black hair, fair skin, and East Asian features.

Project B.B.

“That’s a clone.”

“So are you. What’s your point? He can still have a family.”

“I can’t just let you steal him from Cadmus.”

“Why not? They stole my mentor’s DNA to make him. Seems only fair to steal him in return.”

“He’s Cadmus’s -” Property? Weapon? But then what would that make Superboy? “He’s Cadmus’s.”

“He deserves a chance to be more than just Cadmus’s mindless weapon.”

“As opposed to -” A sidekick? But Tim hadn’t known the others were there. They’d almost seemed afraid of the League. They wanted to get out of Cadmus before the League arrived, so did that make them a villain? “- whatever you are?”

Tim’s chest puffed up. “I chose to do this. Like this, I can watch my family’s backs and I can make sure no one else ends up in the kind of situation I was in when my family found me. If he wants to be a vigilante when he’s older, we’ll support him and train him until he’s ready. If he doesn’t want to, then he won’t. Heck, B -- my mentor -- would probably be happy that at least one of us is staying home. Just… he deserves the chance to make that choice, to decide what -- who -- he wants to be, doesn’t he?”

Superboy jokingly wondered if Tim was some sort of telekinetic meta as he felt something in his chest clench as they stared into his eyes.

He’d never really had a choice about who he was going to be. He had been created to replace (and maybe defeat, Lex had been kind of vague) Superman. He ran protection or rescue missions because Lex gave them to him. Don’t get him wrong, he liked being a hero. Saving people, fighting bad guys, and sweeping potential dates off their feet (sometimes literally) was great and he’d probably have been a hero even if he’d been given the choice.

But he wasn’t given a choice.

B.B. wouldn’t get a choice. Cadmus would give him his orders and he’d be expected to follow them. The kid wouldn’t even have a Lex to step in for him when Cadmus started to get too pushy or creepy or forceful. Instead, his version of Superman…

“And your mentor wants him? Like he’ll take care of him?”

“Of course! He’s B’s son. It’s not his fault that Cadmus is awful. We all already consider him part of the family. B would have been here instead, but the Court was causing trouble so he couldn’t get away.”

His version of Superman wanted him, had a whole family ready to welcome him in instead of just wary looks and the desire to be around him as little as possible. In a way, this B guy was more like B.B.’s Lex, and Lex was going to keep Superboy away from Cadmus once the compound in Hawaii was ready so why shouldn’t Tim’s mentor be able to keep B.B. away from Cadmus?

Because Cadmus would take it out on Superboy if he intentionally let their property be stolen and he couldn’t be sure Lex would be on time to stop them.

The control panel gave an alert.

“I can’t let you take him,” Superboy said, looking at the panel to see the bar had reached one hundred percent.

“Yeah, I figured,” Tim said, sounding understanding. “I’m sorry about this.”

Suddenly there was pain lacing through Superboy’s entire body. His throat felt like it was closing up and his skin felt like it was cooking. He collapsed with a groan as his strength left him.

Tim stood above him, holding an open metal case with a glowing green rock inside.

Suddenly, Superboy understood why Lena had thrown such a fit when Lex had suggested presenting him with small amounts of kryptonite in short intervals to attempt to build up a resistance to the pain. The few times he’d felt pain over his few months of life were nothing compared to what he was feeling as Tim set the case down next to him and bound his wrists and ankles with zip ties.

Vision hazy, he watched as Tim rushed over to the opening tube. They pulled the straps off their back, revealing they’d been wearing one of those backpacks designed to carry babies. They changed B.B. into a baby one-piece covered in birds, tossing aside the cloning suit that Superboy knew contained trackers, then tucked the boy into the carrier.

“Let’s get you home, little bat.” They kissed B.B.’s head and put him on their back. A flick of their cape hid the boy, though it gave them a humpback. They walked over to kneel next to Superboy. “I really am sorry, and I owe you one. If you need anything, come to Gotham. We’ll find you.”

Tim was gone in a flicker of black, taking B.B. and the kryptonite with them.

Every second the kryptonite was gone, the easier it became to breathe and the cooler his skin felt. His strength trickled back until he was able to rip the ties off and get to his feet. He dusted himself off and tried to listen for Tim or B.B.

He was relieved to find he couldn’t pick them out from anyone else in the building. He could, however, hear the sidekicks, and their screams made his stomach turn.

B.B. was free of Cadmus, and Superboy would soon be following, but the others… Tim seemed sure the League was coming for them, but Superboy couldn’t hear any sign of them. The extraction had to be nearly done. If it finished before the League got there, Desmond could get away with the samples. There was no telling if the sidekicks would care about their clones the way B cared, but they were only teenagers either way. They’d have to rely on the League wanting to take care of the clones too. If Superman was any indication, they’d leave the clones to Cadmus, and then there would be three more clones under Cadmus’s control. There would be three clones who were treated like property without a Lex to watch their backs.

Because of Superboy.

Well, Lena had said to stand up for myself or leave the next time Cadmus goes too far. This sort of fits the bill.

Or at least that’s what he hoped as he shot off towards lab thirty-seven.

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

“We didn’t expect you to turn up so soon.”

Superboy jumped and spun around to see Tim Drake, Ghost Bat, dropping down to sit next to him on the edge of the roof. “How did you sneak up-Wait, we?”

Tim nodded to the side and Superboy looked over to see a man standing on the next roof over. Jason Todd, Red Hood, wore a black suit like Tim’s, though a bit bulkier and bearing a blockier red bat silhouette. His dark gray utility belt had gun holsters hanging from it and instead of a cape and cowl, he wore a red hoodie under a brown leather jacket, a black domino mask with red lenses over the eyes, and a red metal face covering that the internet called a muzzle.

The older teen gave Superboy a salute with the hand not spinning a tire iron like a baton, but didn’t move to join them.

“My family,” Tim said, drawing Superboy’s attention back to him. “I told you we’d find you if you came looking for help in Gotham. I’m just glad you were subtle about it. You’re not supposed to be here.”

“Why not?” He knew the Gotham police and mayor had worked together to pass a law banning superheroes in Gotham after a bunch of lesser-known members of the Justice League got hit with Fear Toxin (whatever that was) and went on a rampage. He’d read the whole story while looking for information on Tim. He wasn’t sure why that would apply to him, though. He might not be quite as strong or durable as Superman, but he was still immune to all toxins and diseases as long as he wasn’t under the effects of kryptonite or red sunlight. At least that’s what Lex said, and he’d run every test he could that didn’t involve dosing Superboy with said toxins and diseases. Besides that, “The only ones listed in the ban are the League and Titans, and I’m not with either of them.”

“Aren’t you?” Tim said, leaning back on his hands. “We heard about you rescuing the sidekicks from Cadmus. Was that just a one-time team-up?”

Superboy shrugged and similarly relaxed. “I dunno. Impulse added me to their group chat and we’ve joked around, but we haven’t done anything. Besides, they’re not part of the Titans either so it doesn’t matter.”

“Fair enough. You should still probably keep a low profile here, though. GCPD can be trigger-happy around capes and while you might be bullet-proof, the people within ricochet range aren’t.”

“I don’t wear a cape,” Superboy pointed out, not mentioning that the police being trigger-happy was probably because of Tim’s family. He wasn’t sure how to approach the Batman thing. The news never showed Tim being as defensive as Jason and Dick, but he’d seemed pretty fond of his mentor when they’d met.

“You know what I meant,” Tim snorted, tilting his head back. He frowned and looked at Jason. Sighing, he sat up. “So what’d you need, anyways?”

“How’s B.B.?”

“B.B.?”

“The kid. Clone. The lab door said Project B.B.”

“Oh, right. B.B. for Batman Beyond,” Tim chuckled. “That actually fits. Wing’s been calling him Baby Bat.”

“B.B.’s fine. B’s a little freaked out about having to take care of a literal baby this time instead of an overly-competent nine-year-old or preteens who’re used to taking care of themselves, but The Nest is helping him through it. Wing dotes on him whenever he’s in town, Hood’s gone full overprotective big brother, -”

Jason gave a sharp whistle and Superboy looked over to see him flipping off Tim.

The younger vigilante didn’t react as he continued, “- and I’m enjoying the freedom that comes with no longer being the baby of the family. Then there’s Catwoman, who’s decided B.B. is her kitten despite having even less experience with children than B.”

“Catwoman?” The only people he’d turned up while looking for info on Tim were Batman, Richard “Nightwing” Grayson, Jason, and Batgirl (who’d disappeared shortly after Tim became Ghost Bat). He’d read some rumors about people called The Nest and Oracle, who the Bats could supposedly be heard talking to sometimes, but not a Catwoman.

“Yeah, long story. Point is, B.B.’s doing good. I’d offer to let you see him, but…”

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

In case it wasn't obvious, Kon doesn't know he’s half Lex at this point.

I didn’t have a good point to put this in since this is in Kon’s POV and he doesn’t know babies, but Terry is about a year old (biologically, a few weeks chronologically) when Tim rescues him. Also, I haven't decided if Matt's going to be a thing or not, so I didn't clarify if Tim destroyed Cadmus's samples of Batman's DNA.

#Tim Drake #kon-el #terry mcginnis #Superboy #Batman Beyond #batnapping au #witness protection: vigilante style #fanfiction

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ssj2hindudude · 1 year

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U think u can come up with headcanons or incorrect quotes about Sydney relationship with the OWS commanders? As they are their creator?

Hmm, I could try. Let's see... Got it!

Sydney has "the talk"

Sydney: Grandpa, may I ask you a question?

Leon: Certainly, Sydney. What's on your mind?

Sydney: Where do babies come from?

Leon: *spits his water* Why do you ask?

Sydney: I am well aware of my own creation as the Professor downloaded my own schematics into my hard drive, but he failed to show me how humans are typically created. And for some reason, whenever I attempt to look up the topic in my database or the local libraries, the 1987 Parental Advisory Label obscures my vision and a blaring noise prevents anyone from reading it to me.

Leon: ...AARIV-

*later*

Aariv: Look, I just didn't want them going around blabbing it to the students by mistake! Besides, they're pure!

Leon: That may be so, but they were built as an adult and deserve to be treated as such. Now, find a way to bypass that child block at once.

Aariv: Maybe if they heard it from someone else...

*even later when all of the OWS are gathered*

Aariv: And that's the situation.

Astoria: Understood. We'll do our best- Maya, what are you still doing in the room?!?

Maya: I wanna know where babies come from!

Cleo: C'mon, Maya.

Maya: No! I'm more mature than half the people here! I want to know-

Cleo: They just added Street Fighter 6 to the arcade!

Maya: ...Forget babies! Let's go!

Aariv: Ok, so who wants to go first?

*everyone takes turns*

Cyrus: A man and a woman light candles, get romantic, cuddle, and after a wild night, the woman ends up preggers and a baby is born nine months later.

Sydney: I do not understand. What is meant by a "wild night"?

Irida: They f**k.

Astoria: IRIDA!

Irida: C'mon, granny. It's not like that's not what happens.

Astoria: At least have some tact! This is a delicate topic!

Sydney: What does it mean to f**k?

Aariv: Oh, now look what you've done! They learned a curse word!

Astoria: Sydney, I'll handle this. Babies are born after a man and a woman...who love each other very much...they touch...OH I CAN'T DO IT! GIVE ME A WAR TO FIGHT ANY DAY! JUST LET IT BE SOMETHING OTHER THAN THIS!

Leon: Are you still not done yet?

Sydney: Please, Grandpa. Explain how humans produce their offspring!

Leon: Sex. It's a process called sex. It's how most creatures on earth produce their offspring and while it's nothing to be ashamed of, it's a very delicate subject that is not to be taken lightly or talked about so openly.

Sydney: Ohhh. Understood.

Leon: Good. There, see? That wasn't so-

Irida: Hey, look out the window, you'll find an example through two squirrels in that tree!

Everyone: IRIDA!

Sydney: Fascinating!

*later*

Sydney: Kara! Would you like to have sex with me!

Kara: WHAT?!?

*starts hugging her*

Sydney: I never knew humans created progeny through hugging! Our child will be adorable!

Kara: Ha ha, yeah. Amazing... *thinking* Oh gods, they don't know a thing. It's so cute!

*Cleo watching through the OWS camera*

Cleo: I can't believe those idiots forgot to teach them about consent...

#2nd gen pandavas #OWS incorrect quotes #aru shah #aru shah headcanon

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unwelcome-ozian · 2 years

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That ask that was asking about your trauma history/"autobiography" felt so slimy and manipulative to me, it's actually making me feel genuine anger because of how these kinds of questions are frequently used against trauma survivors as a form of manipulation and usually as a means to gain the tools for further abuse.

To that anon: literally nobody, not a SINGLE trauma survivor owes you jack shit. You DO NOT get to ask for personal details about someone's trauma, to judge whether you should believe them or not. The fact that you had the gall to do that tells me you're either knowingly manipulative towards victims of trauma, OR incredibly insensitive and uneducated. This might blow your mind but it doesn't matter whether you believe someone or not, at all. Trauma victims don't need to "earn" your support or belief by telling you personal details, because honestly, if you weren't going to believe them WITHOUT personal details, your belief would not have been very genuine or sincere in the first place, and thus, isn't worth it to begin with.

Survivors do not need to "buy" someone else's belief in their trauma being real in ANY way, and statements like that, which basically boil down to "I want to hear your personal history to make the call to either believe your trauma, or label you a 'fake survivor'." are just a sign for trauma survivors that it's better to just stay the hell away from that person altogether, than to even try to "convince" them by opening up about incredibly personal and difficult things.

Even IF Oz & Ozzie (and the rest) chose to share their "autobiography" as anon put it, and the anon chose to believe them, to me it shows the anon's support would have been very disingenuous and insincere in the first place, because the anon had to "decide" based on incredibly personal details in the first place.

And honestly? When it comes to people who consciously ask this stuff as a means to learn someone's trauma history, "supporters" like that are literally not worth it. Their belief in someone's trauma being real is not worth it. Because if someone's belief is conditional- i.e. "I need to know xyz personal details about your trauma first, before I'll choose to support you", they are already setting up a manipulative dynamic between the trauma survivor, and themselves as the "supporter".

People who consciously ask stuff like this (and continue to do so even when told why it's manipulative) most likely know very well how suspectible trauma victims are to manipulative language and how desperately many of us crave to be believed, seen, and recognized, to have our trauma seen as real and "valid". Holding one's belief and support over a survivor's head as a thing they have to "earn" is absolutely disgusting, and something many of us have already experienced coming directly from our abusers.

Often these people are trying to create a dynamic where they'll have leverage over the traumatized person by knowing deeply personal details about them- such as what could trigger them, what they went through, and how their thinking may be warped by trauma. And guess what? Only abusive people need that kind of information! Only an abusive person would demand to know such personal things as a condition for their support, because it gives them the tools to manipulate the victim later.

Rant about manipulative people and statements aside, I understand there are people out there who do ask genuinely out of curiosity, and don't realize how insensitive it is, and the dynamic it creates. Intention is always key in these things, and if anyone reading this HAS asked something like this in the past from a trauma survivor, I urge you to examine your motivation for asking and the reason for your curiosity overall. Also, please learn from it, and don't do it again. Everyone makes mistakes based on not knowing any better, but it's important to learn from those.

I truly hope this anon learns, too, but if not, well, they're not the kind of a person who trauma survivors should keep close in their life.

Thank you for sharing your thoughts and your support of us.

Oz/Ozzie

#answers to questions #trauma survivors #boundaries #supporting a survivor #personal

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personalblogsposts · 2 years

Text

Hard lessons learned:

- Threw a lot of people that I teached to walk over me out of my life. Which was basically... Anyone. Turns out most people that want to be friends with a insecure doormat yes-man aren't really that interested in you, but the attention and validation you give them.

- you can not be 'right'. There is no universal right or wrong, just do what you really want while keeping the people you affect in mind. Sometimes you will fuck up and you will learn from that.

- the feelings of others aren't universally right and you don't need to walk on egg shells around anyone. If they say you hurt them, evaluate that. You absolutly can and should tell people off when you feel manipulated and gaslighted. If the person is overreacting tell them off too. You help neither them or yourself if you enable their poor emotional management. Yes that will hurt them, but you deserve people you can have the relationships you need with. Yes you may be wrong. But you will learn from that too.

- you don't need to love yourself. Just be yourself, you'll be fine.

- your 'bad' parts are you as well. You don't have a higher self and you shouldn't convince yourself of such bullshit. Your higher self is just another unrealistic ideal you will never life up to.

- I need to stress this: Humans. Are. Not. Made. To. Be. Happy. All. The. Time. !!! Our uncontentness is the reason we are so successfull as a species. It's not biologically possible to be that rainbows-out-your-ass gaia hippie orange peeling mary oliver kindness girl you want to be. Be angry, be spiteful, be sad. Enjoy all the shades of human emotion and not just the stuff that's desired. By shutting out negative emotions you give them power to mess with your subcontious. You do not want that shit.

- self improvement is nothing but capitalist propaganda. Stop licking the boot, allow yourself to enjoy resting, living, breathing

- if you would rather be suffering and thin than emotionally thriving and overweight: get. Help. Gurl that aint normal

- instagram body positivity is honestly just as toxic as 'toxic beauty standards'. Your looks shouldn't matter to you, all bodys rule, abolish the concept of beauty

- there is absoluty no need for anyone to post their body and face online. Stop taking selfies, delete social media, thrive

- delete social media.

- you need conflict to grow and evolve a romantic relationship. if there is no fighting, someone is not being honest about their feelings

- you *really* don't need to safe anyone. most of the time the people that beg you to safe them are stuck in learned helplessness. helping them will actually enable them. don't play therapist, you're only playing yourself girl

- if someone in your life constantly complaines that everyone leaves eventually, there is probably a reason for that and it's probably them. If you are *that* person, yes, the reason is you (been there, done that). Try to see a therapist

- talk about your feelings but listen to the feedback

- sometimes you are the bad one in someone elses story and ther's nothing you can do about it.

- if any kind of relationship drags you down, leave. you don't owe anything to anyone actually

- balance is key, there is no one fit all approach, you'll always have to adapt and stay adaptable for what's actually happening. That's why there's no need for overplaning and overthinking anything. Just pick a direction and keep going

- check your ego. no need to kill it, but just check it from time to time

- stop comodifying yourself. You don't need all of those labels and aesthetic markers for someone to love you.

- twitter politics are so far removed from how real people think and feel it's actually funny

- it really doesn't matter anymore what anyone anywhere thinks about you if you start to value your own opinions

- trying to second guess all the time what others are thinking and feeling towards you isn't healthy. stay in your lane and get out of their business.

- the people who broke you cant fix you, don't let them in again

- some things you can't heal, but you can manage to live with them

- there is no magic fix, the beginning of healing is a long, dirty road that hurts more than being back on your bullshit

- your pain isn't anyones responsibility but yours.

- you've got to safe yourself

#recovery #mental health #growth

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xprojectrpg · 27 days

Text

Moment of Awesome - Maya Lincoln-Lopez/Echo:In the wake of Behold A Pale Horse, Gabriel Cohuelo checks up on Maya and they talk about the unmentionable - the betrayal by Wade Wilson

“I got shot,” Maya agreed, her accompanying sign almost a dismissive flick. “I’m not dead. You’re not dead. It’s a win.”

"Stop it," Gabriel frowned. "It's not a win." He couldn't believe she would be pretending otherwise. "You got shot, and you needed days to recover. And..." He didn't even want to have to say it, and he was starting to get annoyed that she was going to make him.

“After the man I think of as an uncle was just lucid enough to shoot me in the foot.”

Maya said it matter of factly, the snap of the words harsh as she picked up her can of soda and looked down at the label.

“He didn’t kill me, Gabe. He was crazy enough to, he tried to kill Clarice. But not me. Me he recognised. Why do you think that’s a loss?”

"Because he's a fucking lunatic who fucking shot you!" He would not, ordinarily, have been so furious in front of her. Not because he thought she needed to see him maintain composure — they knew each other too well at this point — but because he didn't like to lose it in front of anyone. "That's not — it's not okay, Maya. Do you know how lucky you were? You don't think he and Clarice were close too? I mean, what the actual fuck!"

Maya launched the can of soda at his head with a furious scream, on her feet before she remembered and then collapsing downward as she got tangled in pillow, chair and the sheer agony of having put weight on a gunshot wound that wasn’t ready for it.

Gabriel, grateful for his powers, caught the can. He wordlessly went to her bathroom, pulled a bottle of over-the-counter painkillers from the medicine cabinet and tossed it in her direction before returning to his seat.

Maya swore viciously in Spanish, calling Gabriel’s parentage into question and telling him exactly what he could do with his painkillers as she struggled back up into her chair and settled in again.

She took several deep breaths, and then glared.

“What good does it do, mi hermano? I can’t do anything about it.”

"No," Gabriel acknowledged. "You can't." He refused to break eye contact with her. "But don't pretend it's fine. It's not." He kept calm, because he'd already lost his cool once, and it clearly hadn't served him. "You're not supposed to be fine. None of this is fine. And you're not stronger for pretending it is."

“Speaking from personal experience?”

Maya dry swallowed both pills and sat back into her chair, allowing the headrest to cradle her suddenly exhausted self.

“Why is it that people only offer advice when it’s someone else doing the same thing they were just doing not months ago, like nobody will call them on their bullshit.”

He bristled slightly at that, but he refused to let it fluster him. He'd been dealing with Maya for years; he knew how she operated, and he knew she wanted to get a rise out of him. "There's so much you think you know," he said after a second. "But yes, I am speaking from personal experience, actually." He wanted to tell her that he had been trying to deal with his shit, recently. But that would mean explaining just what his shit is, and he didn't owe her anything.

But he'd give her something small. "M-Day was one of the five worst days of my life," he said, standing and moving to the kitchen, because he refused to look at her while he told her this. "And I would probably be dead by now if Wade had not dragged me back here and forced me to deal with my shit instead of drinking myself to death." He opened the fridge, peering inside. "I was barely holding it together. You think I'm a mess now? You have no idea."

“I don’t.”

It was tired, and sad but it was honest. It was a concession. She stared into the middle distance, wondering when she’d ever felt more tired.

“You leave all the time. You don’t talk to me, except about easy things. It makes me crazy. You want me to say things but you never say them either. Don’t I get to care too?”

#moment of awesome #echo #velocidad #plots #plot #xprpg #xproject #x-project #rp #rpg #phase 2

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hellagoddessenergy · 1 year

Text

"You should..."

Do you know what gets me so fired up? When people try to use guilt to get me to do something, to try to impose what would serve them on to me. It’s a form of manipulation lol.

I’m a grown ass woman you really think you’re going to use guilt to get me to do what you want? Are you that naive? You think you’re going to get me to do something by making me feel like a “good girl” for doing the “right thing”? 😂

You’re barking up the wrong tree.

Ok now if mom is guilt tripping you into going to see your grandparents, fine, that’s a different story. You’re aware of the guilt trip, but it doesn’t mean you have to let it get to you. It’s family, and seeing your grandparents shows respect for the people who raised you and I believe in that value.

Being aware of people using guilt, that’s what I’m going for here. Being aware of how powerful guilt can be just in general.

When I talk about “good girl” programming, I’m talking about the sense of right and wrong that I was taught. What I was brought up to believe that I should and shouldn’t do.

When people say “you should…” it implies that there will be external approval (aka “good girl!”) and potentially a reward

As kids, parents use the reward/punishment system to get their children to behave, think, and act in a desirable way.

“If you are a good boy, mommy will give you a candy!”

“If you’re a bad boy, Santa will put you on the naughty list!”

It makes a lot of sense really, adults have a lot of shit going on in their life and having kids is a lot of work, even if they are little angels (which most kids are not).

I’m not saying that I disagree with the notion of using the reward/punishment system. I’m not a parent, I have zero idea how I would deal with my kids behaving in an undesirable way other than to use that system.

What I AM saying, is that I’m aware that I’ve been wired that way. This gives me, and now you, you lucky reader/listener, our power back because now we only do, think, and say things that are in alignment with our own values and intentions.

We only do things because it serves us. We don’t do anything that doesn’t serve our highest good.

And let me define “what serves me”, it’s doing what would be good to do or good to have done. It’s choosing the path that will take me where I want to go. And it’s choosing whatever is going to put me on that trajectory, over, and over and over and over again until I’m there. That’s just fucking manifesting right there lol.

Okay so now that you have this awareness of how guilt can start running your life and make you a resentful ass bitch, you should know that this power you’ve just re-discovered can be dangerous lol

because I know that when I realized this programming about myself and understanding how guilt works, I became ignorant for a second. Selfish. Bratty.

“I’m not doing anything that I don’t want to”

Sometimes when you get your power back you feel like you have to hoard it. It’s okay I get it, when you’ve been feeling powerless for a long time, you never want to experience what it’s like to lose that again. The feeling of not owing anyone anything, the feeling that no one has any control over you, the feeling that you only do things because you want to not because you have to… it’s liberating as fuck.

The thing with that power is, it was never lost, it was only forgotten, because of the programming.

When I came to this understanding of how guilt works, I stopped going to the gym lol I was like fuck that shit, I don’t want to.

I ate whatever I wanted. I stopped reading. I stopped responding to emails.

Why? Because I felt like I was only doing those things BECAUSE I felt like I SHOULD. Because I felt guilty if I didn’t.

And that wasn’t serving me. Doing things because I feel like “I should” or “I ought to” made me feel like I was living someone else’s life, not my own.

Because the moment I took the “importance” label off, I was able to finally just breathe. I was able to get back to the understanding of what I actually wanted, what was actually valuable to me instead of trying to keep up with the rat race.

Instead of trying to keep up with other people and what THEY were doing, I got REAL clear about what I wanted to be doing.

Are there things in life that I do that I don’t want to all the time?

Fuck yeah there are. The gym. Eating right. Paying my bills.

This isn’t about not doing things that you don’t want to. This is about changing the way you perceive doing things that you’re not necessarily stoked about.

Now you’re doing things that you don’t particularly want to because you know it’s for the highest good. You know that if you don’t pay your bills, the power is going to be shut off. If you don’t go the gym and eat right, you’re going to start feeling like garbage and probably looking like it too. You UNDERSTAND there are consequences to every action (or inaction) and because you’re an adult.

I used to complain a lot about how hard it was to fit everything in a day. Reading, getting ready, work, exercise, laundry, cleaning, cooking… I’d whine and get all frustrated because I felt like it was this uphill climb constantly.

So when I stopped doing things because of guilt and started doing things because I knew that it would shape how I wanted my life to look like, all of a sudden I had all this energy again.

I stopped focusing on what I thought I HAD to do and started focusing on what I could do everyday to get to what I see my higher self as.

I dropped the attitude of “I’m not doing anything that I don’t want to do” and I started manifesting my life through doing the hard shit and knowing that it would get easier.

You know that getting out of your comfort zone expands your mind, makes you stronger, and things that used to be hard, aren’t so hard anymore because you’ve created all these new neural pathways that have taught your brain that just because you once perceived something as hard, doesn’t mean it ALWAYS will be.

It's like the first time you drove a car. It took a lot of mental energy. Watching for traffic, keeping the speed limit, knowing where you are, turning on your blinker, slowly and precisely stepping on the brake, you’re lucky if you didn’t drive a manual that’s a whole other story.

But now, all of that is AUTOMATIC. A neural pathway was formed because you started driving more and more and because your mind IS WELL INTENTIONED and wants to serve you as best as it can, it doesn’t want you spending all your energy and focus on doing something that you do everyday.

It wants it to be automatic for you so you can use that energy learning how to do other things.

#discipline #manifestation #higher self #awareness #intention #success #ambition #determined #focused

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endofthelinegang · 2 years

Note

tasm! peter coming in through the window to spend the night just to cuddle and talk after 1 or both of them had a bad day, he gives 10/10 cuddles and is a total lovebug

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ tasm! peter parker x fem! reader

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ uh well almost smut if not a little bit of smut i'm sorry i know that wasn't a part of the request i just got extra creative update this is smut so if you're under 18 DO NOT READ THIS I DONT WANT TO HAVE MY BLOG SHUT DOWN.

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ i feel awful for this boy at every turn bc oh my god why can none of the peter parker's catch a damn break. even the multiverse is fucking mean to them. the trauma anyways enjoy

join the gang!

It was a particularly nice night outside, the wind was blowing creating a nice breeze that came into your room from under the window that was cracked slightly to bring some cold air inside since it was so hot inside. You sat on your bed watching tv and doodling in a notebook ringer on your phone in case Peter or someone in your house needed something knowing that no one was going to get out of bed. That’s when you heard an “ow!” come from the short balcony that came off of your room. Chuckling you put your notebook away properly placing the pencils in the cup on your nightstand. Moving the blanket off your body you put your legs off the side of your bed watching to see who could possibly be saying ow right next to your window.

“Hello Peter.” You whispered yelled as you saw a body tumble up to the window before accidentally kicking it up against the wall breaking the glass and the frame as he rolled out of the window onto the floor.

“Since when did your mom start a little window garden?” Peter took off his mask, shaking his head around running a hand through his hair trying to straighten out his appearance a little even though he was clearly exhausted.

“Oh god what did you do?” You laughed as he rolled around on the floor like a dog before getting up and shaking his foot around that had some dirt on the suit.

“I may have stepped in a pot and then another one before realizing what was sitting there, don’t worry I’ll get her some new ones.” Peter walked over and sat on the edge of the bed with you as you laughed at his little story.

“You gonna help me put in a new window too?” You pointed at the glass that was now all over the floor and the frame was bent up into the wall. Peter let out a breath hanging his head not realizing that he had done that.

“Yes, I’m sorry it’s just been a long day.” Peter threw himself onto the bed, handing you his mask, closing his eyes. You laid down next to him reaching up to your nightstand again to put the mask in your top drawer where it always was when Peter came over so that it didn’t get lost.

“Why? What’s going on?” You turned your heads towards his encouraging him to do the same by taking a hand and touching his face to gently touch his cheek.

“It just feels like everywhere I go I get beat up. I go to work and have to take pictures, usually of myself, and sometimes those aren’t even good enough. It seems like I always pick the wrong one. Or I’m late because I am trying to do Spiderman stuff and take pictures for Peter Parker stuff. Then during the Spiderman stuff I am always getting my ass handed to me before I have any if any success. Like today I sat through and had to pick pictures of myself for an article that was basically calling me a killer. Then on top of that I had to pick through other pictures to add to other articles that no one else is gonna read because I’m on the front page labeled as a possible murderer.” Peter sounded exhausted and really upset by what he had read and even if that wasn’t what he was trying to sound like his face said it all. That blank far off stare his lips folded in turning his face farther into the bed.

“But you don’t kill anyone babe, that’s just bullshit. I’m sorry it;s all taking a toll on you, I hate seeing you all stressed out just remember that you are the people's hero whether the newspaper says it or not. You are always my hero and I think it’s neat you get to take pictures of yourself even though it’s for a bullshit reason. Just remember that you get money for it and that you still get to take pictures. But remember that if you hate doing it you can always quit you’re a smart boy and you’re amazing at everything. You need to take that suit off and get in bed, you look tired.” You sat up grabbing his hand to try and pull him up with you. But he laid down like dead weight.

“Hey I thought you liked the suit?” Peter laid there propping his head up just a little cocking his head to the side.

“I think we both know I like it better off.” You scrunched up your nose smiling at him as he laughed back at you sitting up on his own holding your hand that still held his. Then to try and convince him to take it off even more you took your hands from his placing yours on his chest.

“Alright it’s it’s coming off.” Peter stood up quickly stumbling around almost tripping over objects including the bed all over the room almost throwing himself out the window again.

“Slow down Spiderman, you're gonna hurt yourself. Or you’re gonna wake someone up and have to hide in the closet or under the bed again.” You laughed at him as he hopped around the room, not being quiet in the least.

“Sorry sorry.” He stood with his suit halfway off his chest and upper body fully exposed arms now out with his palms facing you listening closer to make sure he hadn’t woken anyone up that was sleeping in your house.

Peter creeped around hopping in a quiet little circle taking off the bottom of his suit and then began to fold it in order to hide it better just in case someone were to unlock the door in the morning. You pointed to under the bed where it was supposed to go and he hurried up to shove it under the bed. The moment it was under the bed he jumped on top of you holding your waist with one hand the other was keeping himself from crushing you.

“Peter, you need to sleep.” You mumbled against his lips as he continued to kiss you and grab at your waist hand moving down to your thigh.

“Want me to stop?” Peter whispered in your ear as he continued down your neck kissing and biting from your jawline all the way down to your collarbone moving up and down over and over again in a fast pace.

“I-I want. God Parker. You are not helping me say no.” You gasped as Peter grabbed your breast and the bottom of your shirt as he pulled at it to take it off your body.

“Yknow what would make me feel better?” Peter was no longer touching you, just hovering above you looking down with a smile on his face.

“No I don’t. Enlighten me.” Your smile was wide and your tongue was in between your teeth before Peter went to speak he breathed out a lot of air into your neck once more.

His utterances aren't loud enough to be heard outside the confines of the room. You can barely hear them yourself, to be honest. Nobody is going to hear your talk because of the blowing air from the window hole in your wall and the sound coming from your wall-mounted tv. "I'll enlighten you right now. But if-if you don’t want to say no and I will stop.”

You've never had to say no to him, he's never made you feel uneasy, and he always knows what to do and when to do it. Instead, you simply nod and return your gaze to the ground. Peter continues from where he left off. He continued to move fast downward, lifting your shirt off your body, but altered positions so that both of you were totally on the bed. His lips have just barely touched the center of your stomach, and he isn't going to stop until you tell him to. His hands are now at your sides, applying pressure onto your hips on the bed. When Peter slips your panties to the side and his mouth from your stomach to your clit in one motion, it catches you off guard. You take a deep breath and cover your mouth with your hands. He licks a stripe up your pussy again, murmuring as he does so, pausing to delicately tickle your clit with his teeth this time. With his tongue, he soothes over the playful bite, making you squirm. Peter effortlessly hooks both of your legs over his shoulders, his face pushed into your center. He licks every inch of your skin with his tongue. He encircles your clit with his tongue, sucking at the sensitive nub. You have enough confidence in yourself to take one hand away from your mouth and grasp his dark hair, tugging it passionately. You work hard to be quiet, even if all you want to do is call him by his name and tell him how wonderful everything is. When someone knocks on your door, you're so close to letting out a gentle whimper; it's just at the back of your throat, ready to run over your lips and thank Peter.

“Hey, are you okay? You didn’t answer your phone, we heard glass break and texted you but you didn’t respond.” Peter halted at the sound of your fathers voice looking up at you with huge eyes.

“Uhm, yeah no I’m good it was my fault I accidentally knocked my window with my uh phone actually, I went to throw my phone on my bed and over shot.” You took a deep breath in before speaking, your words coming out loudly as you cleared your throat a bit.

“Oh my god do you need help cleaning up the glass?” You could hear your dad leaning on the door as his voice grew.

“N-no I got it all and I just I just,” Peter was motioning toward the bathroom in your room trying to help you find the excuse you were looking for.

“Brushed my teeth?” Even you sounded confused as to why he was pointing towards the bathroom. Peter rolled his eyes, shaking his head violently.

“What?” Your dad whisper yelled outside the door just as confused as you did.

“Shower! I just got out of the shower.” Peter made a motion to say “glad you figured that out”, you smacked your knee against his head.

“Oh okay well tomorrow after I get home from work I’ll go in and make sure it’s all cleaned up. Hey, I meant to talk to you about this earlier but have you read the Daily Bugle today?” Your dad wasn’t about to come in the room after hearing you had been in the shower but he clearly wasn’t done talking. But Peter wasn’t about to make you hear all about that again. Instead Peter's tongue lunges out again, licking at you. Your hold on returns to his hair head thrown back on the bed again.

You take a deep breath, but it's wobbly. You must remind yourself to relax and breathe. With Peter and his amazing tongue between your thighs, both of those things are difficult. "No I haven’t, why?”

Peter's lips encircle your clit , and then one of his hands departs from your hips to join his mouth in between your legs. When your hips buck up off the bed and you squirm, he shoves two fingers into you, chuckling quietly as your father continued to pester you,

“Spiderman killed someone, can you believe that? He might be catching criminals but he is damn close to becoming one. You ever see him around you go in the other direction.”

You have absolutely no idea what he’s talking about, in fact at that moment you had no clue who Spiderman was but you don’t question it knowing that if he was standing outside the door still talking that he found it important. “Yeah, sure I prom-” When Peter sticks his tongue into your hole, you cut yourself off. “Promise,” you finish.

“Okay good, I don’t want you caught in that dumbass kids crossfire.” He sounded serious that time but you didn’t barely hear him, you couldn’t focus on both things at once. For a brief moment, you mistook your father's departure for the end of the conversation. Until he says something such as, "Hey, are you still hanging out with that Parker kid?"

“Y-yes and we don’t hang out, he's my boyfriend has been for a really long time now.” When Peter's name is mentioned, he pauses. His two fingers are still buried deep inside you, and his lips still wrapped around your clit, but he lifts his head enough to look at you and cock an eyebrow up.

“I don’t like him, he seems shifty, kinda strange.” Your father mumbled out not sure what all to say not wanting to upset you at all.

“He’s just shy dad.” Peter chuckles at what you've said. He nibbles at your clit before sucking the sensitive bud again, his tongue flicking out every now and then to tease it. Peter's fingers begin to move again, softly thrusting in and out of you, but it's evident he hasn't fully shut out the discussion.

“Well I could tell that I just, something about him makes me feel off.” Peter sinks his teeth into your clit once more, this time with a little more force, but not enough to injure you. It was enough to make your pelvis buck up into his face. You're keeping yourself quiet by biting firmly on your bottom lip with your teeth. He presses his fingers into you, a sensitive area in your body. Peter uses his free arm to hold you on the bed as you wiggle again.

"Dad, he's a lovely guy. If you’d just talk to him every once in a while-" Peter has now added his tongue to join his two fingers, so you can't continue your sentence.

“All I’m happy about is that he’s a nerdy little bastard so I don’t have to worry about him getting in your pants.” Peter pulls his fingers out of your body until only the tips are visible. Without warning, he rams them back in, his tongue diving into you as well.

You can't stop the moan from coming out. It's quiet, ideally quiet enough to keep what's going on behind the closed door a secret. "Yeah, I know dad," you say, trying to pass it off as a sigh of relief.

“You sound tired, I’m gonna let you go to bed. I’ll look for extra glass in the morning, goodnight.” You could hear your dad's body coming up off the door.

Peter's brow furrows as he locks eyes with you once more. He draws his mouth away from you and licks his lips before smiling brightly, evidently humoured with what you just said. His fingers, on the other hand, are still inside you, crooking up to touch that delicious place time and over. You're on the verge of cumming. The knot in your stomach is ready to untangle. Peter's tongue flicks at your clit as his mouth wraps around it once more. You can hear footsteps outside your door, and while you still need to be quiet, you don't have to be concerned about your father being exactly outside your door. You're cumming minutes later, thanks to Peter's lips on your clit and his fingers going in and out of you. As you achieve your release, you clutch at Peter's hair, murmuring his name. Peter licks his fingers clean as he takes them out. He nods and returns his mouth to your thighs and lapping your pussy clean. He starts kissing your inner thighs once he's satisfied. He leaves a few minor blemishes, but nothing that won't fade away in a few days. He then works his way back up your abdomen, between your chest, and under your neck till he's face to face with you.

“So I’m a nerdy little bastard?” Peter laughed above you as he remembered the part of the conversation that shocked him the most.

“Shut up.” You touched his face with your hands pulling it down to kiss him hard.

“I can’t get in your pants huh?” Peter was moving his head from side to side looking you up and down, making his way forward so that you were positioned with your thighs between his eyes looking down at your naked body.

“Peter shhh cmon, you gonna let me return the favor?” You tried to drive him away from the conversation not wanting to have to go over the conversation.

“Tomorrow morning, not right now we both need sleep, you look like you’re about to pass out.” Peter winked at you before getting up and going to the dresser. “So you brushed your teeth and threw your phone at the window?”

“Okay that first one was your fault, pointing at the bathroom what does that even mean? Secondly if I didn’t say that he would have asked me why I didn’t answer my phone.” You explained to Peter curious as to what he was doing until he pulled out a shirt that was his and threw it in a ball at your direction. Then he opened another drawer.

“Everyone knows that means shower, especially right then. And alright I’ll give you that one but I have no idea as to how you’re gonna explain the pots broken with footprints up the side of the building to your mother.” Peter pulled out a fresh pair of underwear from your drawer throwing them at you as well.

“I’ll just tell her that I got bored I guess because I don’t know what else to say about that one.” You laughed putting on the clothes he had provided for you before he jumped into bed, grabbing the comforter and pulling it over himself, grabbing you and pulling you under as well.

“You’re adorable when you’re half asleep.” You yawned as Peter pulled you onto his chest to rest your head, wrapping his arms around your body.

“So are you Peter Parker, you spending the night?” You jokingly asked him as he kissed your temple.

“Yes of course I am.” Peter snuggled you closer into his body as he reached up to turn off the lamp that was blaring in the two of your eyes. He pulled the blanket even further up your body as he laid his chin on top of your head. Peter continued to kiss your forehead, running his hands up and down your arms. Your back pressed against his bare chest which was incredibly warm, his heartbeat was a pattern against your back which made you even more tired. He was holding your hands in front of your body, the two of you were as close as you could be with clothes between your bodies.

“I love you Parker.” You looked up and kissed his lips lightly.

“I love you too Y/n.” Peter scrunched up his nose and looked forward at the TV as he started to close his eyes and drift off to sleep. Happy he got to talk to you and even more happy that he got to make you happy…

#peter parker smut #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x you #peter parker x fem!reader #peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #tasm peter parker smut #tasm peter parker x you #tasm peter parker imagine #tasm peter parker x reader

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gladerwolfstarkimagines · 3 years

Text

Imagine being Sokka and Katara’s cousin and having a complicated romantic relationship with Zuko.

Your cousin Sokka had initially set you up with Zuko because he figured the firelord needed some fun and you were exactly that. You weren’t interested in titles or riches you were just an infectious whirlwind of carefree energy. He figured Zuko could learn something from you and so arranged the date.

He could tell by how light Zuko walked into the room the next day that his plan had worked and he liked seeing the positive effect you were having on Zuko. The pressures of the throne had really been weighing down on him and you helped him to get some much-needed freedom and connect with his non-Firelord side....however it always had a way of coming back.

Zuko loved dating you but he’d gotten pressure from every single fire nation noblemen on the council to break up with you. They disliked you because you were from the water tribe so many viewed you as an outsider trying to influence the fire nation. Zuko’s reign was still so new and with rebellions breaking out more frequently Zuko agreed. He had to put his country first even if that meant losing you. One thing Zuko hadn’t realised however was you had a very different view of your relationship...for one thing you didn’t even realise you were in one with the Firelord.

Your POV

Zuko was always pretty tense but you noticed tonight he was even more stressed and quiet. You tried to make conversation but he was sombre throughout dinner and when you’d finished he put his cutlery down and looked across at you. “Y/n I need to speak to you”. You nodded folding your arm “sure, what’s wrong?”. Zuko sighed "Y/n i’ve really enjoyed our time together but i...have to break up with you, I can’t see you anymore". You blinked surprised, one at Zuko’s honesty and two at the news you had apparently been dating the Firelord. You and Zuko weren’t dating or even close to dating, in your mind you’d just been having fun and sure you were definitely not just friends but you also didn’t think you were boyfriend/girlfriend. Regardless of what the label was you quickly realised what Zuko was telling you and it made a heavy weight settle in your stomach. Whatever this between you was...it made you sad to think it would be ending. "You do?" you asked remaining composed and Zuko nodded. "It’s nothing to do with you it’s me, being firelord i don’t have the time for dating or fun, i don’t think it’s fair to keep this going when I can’t guarantee i’ll always be able to give you my attention". You nodded your head "that sounds fair, thank you for thinking of that". "No problem" Zuko said smiling sadly and you nodded awkwardly. “I’ll be going then” and you went to walk away when he spoke again "but i really enjoyed our time together y/n, i really did". You smiled "me too, you’re pretty fun for a royal" and bowed "see you around firelord” and you walked away.

Zuko’s POV

You walked out of the room and Zuko sighed. He felt a mix between relief and sadness. That had gone a lot easier than he thought it would and that should be a good thing but it didn’t feel that way. A part of Zuko had wanted you to argue with him or to dig to find the real reason he was breaking it off. He knew if you’d have challenged him in even the slightest way he’d have told you the truth and taken back what he’d said but you had just agreed and let it go without a fight. Zuko couldn’t help feeling disappointed and a little hurt. You remained on his mind the rest of the day and Zuko couldn’t stop wondering about your reaction. He was sat with your cousin Sokka when he decided to bring you up. "Just so you know I’ve ended things with y/n" Zuko explained and Sokka blinked "i’m sorry what?". "I know i should’ve warned you seeing as she’s your cousin...i’m sorry". Sokka shook his head "no i’m confused how do you think you were dating her". Zuko blinked "what do you mean? You literally set us up". "I introduced you because i thought y/n could make you loosen up a bit but Zuko y/n doesn’t date". Zuko blinked "but we hung our several times and...kissed and stuff". Sokka sighed "oh god as gross as this is to have to explain about my cousin...Zuko that doesn’t mean you were dating". "It doesn’t?”. Sokka sighed "okay here’s what you need to know about my cousin, she grew up in a town that was heavily sexist and married girls off at young ages, so as times started to change she leapt at the new opportunities. She refused to ever date anyone, it’s too much commitment and so instead she has fun with people, typically for short periods of time and then she flutters away, usually leaving a broken heart or two". Zuko blinked "but we were dating!". "Did you ever agree to make it exclusive?" Sokka asked. Zuko shook his head "well not in words". "Did you ever ask her to be your girlfriend?". "No but i thought it was implied". "Did you ever call her your girlfriend then?". "No i...it was new i didn’t want to come on too strong" Zuko sighed. Sokka patted his back "and there’s the broken heart". "I’m not heartbroken just confused! Why did she let me break up with her if we weren’t even dating?". "Well breakups are awkward, imagine having to explain to someone in the middle of one, that you're not even dating, i bet she did it just to spare your feelings". As soon as those words left his mouth Sokka regretted it. "No i didn’t mean that...i meant". Zuko stood up angrily "it appears i need to find your cousin".

Zuko was furious. He felt like he’d been living two different lives this whole time and that had caused so much stress. One half of him was the teenager who wanted fun, the freedom to go on dates and just be careless. Then the other half of him was the Firelord who knew he had to be responsible. He knew all the elder nobles thought he was too irresponsible and all his friends thought him too boring and conventional. He liked you because you opened him up to new things and made him feel normal. Not too young or too formal, just right, you made him feel valid.

But he’d sacrificed all that for the “greater good” and now not only was he regretting his decision he was also furious because apparently he wasn’t anything to you anyway. The thing he’d struggled so much with, you weren’t even aware of.

Zuko walked into the large living room the gang had taken to lounging in and saw you sat with Haru. He felt his temper rise as Sokka’s words filled his mind. How you broke hearts and moved on instantly. You laughed at something Haru said and Zuko’s eyes narrowed. He really meant nothing to you. Zuko stalked across the room and came to stand in front of you both. Haru jumped "Firelord Zuko" but you took your time glancing at him. You eventually raised your eyes to his and nodded "Firelord Zuko". Zuko tensed "y/n we need to talk". "Is it urgent because....". "It is, now...please" Zuko said and he walked away.

Your POV

You blinked as Zuko stormed away and apologised to Haru before following him. You had no idea why Zuko wanted to speak to you, surely everything was wrapped up now you were done but he seemed so angry. You’d heard about this famous fire nation temper but you’d never seen it on Zuko and part of you was a little impressed. You liked fire benders for that reason precisely, their inner fire and passion but Zuko had been completely composed and calm the whole time you’d know him. Not now though.

You followed Zuko into a room and he shut the door. "Zuko what’s wrong?" you asked and he spun to face you rapidly. "What’s wrong?" he cried "why did you let me break up with you and say all that rubbish if I meant nothing to you?". You paused "who says you mean nothing to me?". "Sokka!" Zuko cried "he explained how you flit from person to person, never dating them just having fun and how you move onto your next person when you get bored. We were never dating, why didn’t you correct me?". You shrugged "i... I didn't want to be rude, but Zuko I wasn’t just waiting to flit from you to someone else". "Ow yeah, Haru’s just a coincidence?". "You broke up with me! Why are you angry even if something was going on with Haru?". "Because i didn’t want to break up with you y/n" Zuko explained "i did it because i had to and it was a really tough decision for me to make. It felt like a big sacrifice to me and then to find out you didn’t even think twice about me" Zuko said rapidly before staring at the floor almost deflated. "Zuko i do think about you" you said softly "whatever Sokka said isn’t completely true. Yes i don’t like putting labels on things but that doesn’t mean i don’t care or feel the same things anyone does at the start of something. I think the reason i move on or flit around so quickly as you said is because i move on as soon as I start feeling things, i don’t like being vulnerable so me not thinking of you as my boyfriend wasn’t because I didn’t care about you, it was more to protect me from the opposite". "So you do like me?" Zuko asked and you took a breath. "I do...a lot". Zuko rushed forwards hastily and kissed you. You kissed him back wrapping your arms around his neck before you paused "but wait...i thought you said you literally weren’t allowed to do this". Zuko nodded but didn’t remove his hands from your waist "i did, as Firelord i’m expected to behave dignified and composed all the time, i’m not supposed to get emotional or act irresponsibly for example by dating an unconventional water tribe girl" Zuko smiled "but i don’t care! I don’t care if they disapprove! I don’t care if we’re boyfriend and girlfriend or it’s just casual, all i know is i really like you and really really want to kiss you". You smiled and rehooked your arm around his neck "then kiss me".

Zuko was obedient and kissed you passionately before moving onto your neck. You were both surprised and pleasantly fascinated at Zuko’s confidence. Usually he was shy and kissed you quickly before moving away but now....now he was confident and purposeful with each touch. It was very attractive and you suddenly saw why the fire nation had such a strong reputation. Zuko caught the look in your eye and smiled "if you want we can....go to my room?". You smiled "lead the way”. Zuko stepped towards the door so quickly he knocked a table over but he just tugged you past it "leave it, it can stay that way for all i care right now" he muttered and you laughed at how spontaneous he was being. It was nice to see him let his hair down and you grinned as he pulled you through the fire nation halls hastily. He yanked his door open before pulling you inside and slamming the door. Trapping you on the other side. "Hmm i don’t think running through the hall is dignified Firelord Zuko". Zuko shrugged "neither is this" and began to kiss you again.

***

You laid side by side and Zuko seemed very relaxed but you were wondering about something. "Should I be going...am i even allowed to stay here in your room overnight? Doesn’t it break some century old fire nation tradition?" you asked. You’d never been in Zuko’s room before and only now did it really hit you he was the Firelord with a whole country on his shoulders and hundreds of advisors all monitoring his every move. If they’d gotten so angry at you for spending time together surely the nobles would be furious at you spending the night in his quarters? Zuko however did not care. "Of course you can” he said immediately “no servants will bother us and my guards will know to leave so we can be alone...of course that’s if you want to? If you don’t want to stay the night...". “Are you kidding me? And miss sleeping in these silk masterpieces?" you asked wriggling against the royal bedding. Zuko laughed watching you before he looked more serious. "I meant what i said" Zuko said softly "you don’t have to be my anything...i like you, i don’t need any labels or anything". "But do you want them?" you asked. You’d been more honest with Zuko than you’d ever been with anyone and now a part of you....wasn’t terrified by the idea of making him something more. But Zuko had also listened to you too and didn’t want to scare you off. "All i want is you" he smiled coming closer "if you don’t want labels then they won’t come anywhere near us". You smiled at the effort Zuko was making and leant into him. Zuko wrapped his arms around you and you buried your head in his chest. Ignoring the feeling in your stomach that you should have been more honest.

1 week later

Zuko definitely took what you’d said into account. He was a lot more confident with you both in private and publically. Apparently almost losing you made him more determined to make the most of his time with you. He invited you to royal events and was attentive to you throughout them. When nobles questioned him about you he would tell them it was none of their concern and refuse to answer any further prying. You liked seeing Zuko stand up for himself using his dominant abrupt side but also kind of missed his soft sweet side. Sure having a temper and attitude were hot in the moment but after a while they lost their depth and you got the feeling it was an act Zuko was putting on for you. As if Zuko thought by acting tough and in control with his court you’d be more attracted to him when in reality you loved how caring and considerate he was.

Zuko was also struggling. As well as maintaining the imposing Firelord who didn’t care what others thought of him, Zuko was also pretending he was okay with being casual. Zuko was not a casual person in any meaning of the word. He was a dramatic over-thinker, he had never been carefree and although in the moment with you he did enjoy it, afterwards his mind fretted over everything he’d done. He also worried about your open relationship. He knew freedom was important for you but he couldn’t help but wonder if when you looked at another person you’d start seeing them as well. Zuko liked you a lot and was sure he never wanted to see you with another person. He wondered if it was selfish but he wanted you all to himself and wanted an exclusive relationship....but he’d promised you he would be fine with this and that meant more to him.

So you and Zuko continued the charade to please the other, no idea that the other person actually felt the exact same way.

Your POV

You and Zuko had just had a pleasant evening with his friends and were retiring to his room for the night. On the way you passed a guard who looked at the two of you and then frowned. Zuko immediately tensed and went into Firelord mode. “Something you want to say?” Zuko called and the guard lowered his eyes “no Firelord Zuko”. “I thought not” Zuko agreed and took your hand. Zuko led you into his room and shut the door with a loud snap. You watched Zuko and all the things you’d been feeling this week came up. You needed to say something and now was just as good a time as any.

You prepared for the night and sat down on the edge of the bed watching Zuko warily, wondering how he’d take what you were about to say.

"Zuko i’ve been thinking about something and I think we need to talk” you said suddenly and Zuko jumped standing up taller. "Are you okay?" he asked immediately coming to sit next to you. "I am and i want to thank you for all the effort you’ve gone to but i think we need to reassess the situation”. Zuko immediately panicked, you’d realised he wasn’t a cool collected leader and that he was faking it....you weren’t attracted to him anymore. "Y/n i think i know what you’re going to say" he frowned when you carried on "i miss how it was before". Zuko blinked "what?". "I know you’re trying to be more dominant in your rule and to be more protective of us but that doesn’t mean you have to act all unfeeling and unbothered for my benefit. You’re a kind sweet person Zuko and I like when you show that, so i guess i’m asking have you been trying to change for me?". Zuko looked down "i have....you just reacted so intensely to me being more confident and so i thought you’d want that more". "I do love it when your confident" you smiled "but you don’t have to keep that in every aspect of our lives, maybe just when we’re alone?". Zuko felt a blush rise to his cheeks but he nodded "okay". You smiled "and sorry one more thing....i know i said i don’t like labels but i think i’d maybe like to try them?". Overcome with the realisation you felt everything he did Zuko just kissed you passionately. You kissed him back before laughing as you separated "what was that for?”. "For weeks i’ve been playing this character and restraining myself from asking you to be exclusive with me and i thought if i felt this way how can we be compatible but all along you felt it too". You blushed and nodded "yes i....i’ve felt that too”. Zuko grinned and kissed you again before pulling away "wait let me make sure i understand this correctly, you’d like us to start dating? Properly and officially?". "And exclusively" you smiled and Zuko grinned "i’m going to do this officially then, y/n will you be my girlfriend". "I thought you’d never ask!" you cried and kissed him again.

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priortoallthoughts · 3 years

Text

Don’t Mess With the Commander’s Caf

(or do, because it’s gotten you this far)

Rating: T

Word Count: 3.6k

Pairing: Commander Fox x afab!reader

Warnings: Mild swearing; gets a bit spicy at the end but nothing explicit.

Summary: What is supposed to be a night out at 79s turns into a night in the drunk tank, and the morning starts a startling new relationship with a certain Coruscant Guard Commander. All over a cup of caf.

// [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5]

Masterlist

A night out in Coruscant is never complete for you without going to the clone bar, 79s. You may pre-game somewhere else, but you always end up there, recognizable as one of their regulars. You love the atmosphere, honestly. It’s so jovial, just vode – and weren’t you surprised when you found out that clones spoke a different language with each other – coming to forget the war for a night. Living life as much as they could. You’ve picked up a few words of theirs purely because you hear them so often. Many a curse word too, which are your favorites.

And they were about to be put to good use.

You’re already buzzed and walking with a group of grey-clad troopers that had pulled you into their group when they saw you walking alone. You chat easily with them even though you never met them before. That’s the funny thing about being sociable when you’re sober – you’re even more chatty when you drink. And giggly apparently, considering you couldn’t stop laughing at the mission gone wonky they were telling you about.

When 79s came into view your smile widens. There really is nothing like the neon lights and bass you can already hear resonating from inside. Were there probably millions of places just like in on Coruscant already? Sure. But there isn’t anywhere aside from 79s you could find this kind of ambiance.

There is one downside that pisses you off like no other though.

There’s yelling coming from over by the speeder-way and when you look over, another civilian is getting in the face of a Coruscant guard member. The frown the graces your face feels wrong after laughing so much, but you can’t help it. You pause in your tracks. Usually when you see this kinda shit it deescalates fairly quickly, but this civilian is getting louder and more violent the more the (admittedly nervous acting) guard tried to calm him down.

“Hey.” A hand lands on your shoulder and you look up to see one of your group. “We can’t do anything. The punishment would be too harsh and that civvie chakaar won’t even get a slap on the wrist.”

Your frown turns into a snarl. “You can’t do anything.”

Fishing your flask out of your jacket pocket you take a swig before shoving it into the chest of the closest trooper. The steady click of your heels is the only thing you can hear over the growing volume of yelling.

“Hey! Shabuir in the stupid shirt!” Your own yell interrupts.

You have exactly one second to reconsider things before you think about all the vitriol this jackass is spewing at the guard for nothing. The sound of your fist hitting his face is the most satisfying thing you’ve heard tonight, along with the yelp he lets out when he hits the ground.

“What the kriff is your problem, bitch?!”

“You talking shit about this trooper is my problem!”

He turns towards the guard again and the trooper flinches. “I want her arrested for battery!”

You lean down to grab his collar and shake him out. “Oh, so now you want him to do his job? The one you were just belittling him for? Can’t have it both ways, chakaar!”

“Let go of me!”

You drop him so suddenly that his head cracks against the ground. He scrambles to his feet and points a finger at you. “You’ll regret this! They’re nothing but meat-droids!”

“Say that again, you little pissant. I dare you.” You go to take a step forward but he’s already running away. A hand on your shoulder again makes you look over to the one you defended.

“I’m sorry, ma’am.” And he does sound sorry. “I will have to take you in tonight. I… can’t ignore you attacking someone right in front of me.”

You smile at him. “No problem, trooper. Do your job; I don’t want you getting in trouble.” You offer your wrists to him and next thing you know they’re in a pair of binders behind your back and you’re being placed in the back of a speeder.

“A night in the drunk tank should sort you out.”

The smile you give him is blinding, because not only do you know that’s not the proper booking for what you just did, at least you look cute while you’re being taken away.

---

When you wake up in your cell (lucky you’re the only one there) you’re beyond tired and in desperate need of some caf. You can’t function without it in the morning.

There’s a guard member who lets you out not long after you get up. You follow him like a zombie. Presumably he’s leading you out of all the twisting hallways, but you stop short when your nose picks up the distinct smell of caf.

But not just any caf. You know the smell of Death Wish anywhere.

Your favorite.

You follow your nose to a mess hall – sparsely populated but still enough that everyone stops what they’re doing to look at you as you make your way to the caf machines in the back. You’re basically falling asleep as you walk so you don’t notice. Maybe you should care, considering you’re still wearing your clubbing outfit from last night, but no, you don’t actually care.

When you get there you see two different machines. One is labeled with some cheap, generic caf name and the other is simply “Fox’s Starfighter Fuel.”

You grab a flimsi cup and fill it with the second one. No cream. No sugar.

No life, only caf.

You finally notice how deathly quite it is as you take your first sip and turn around. There’s one trooper standing in front of you, helmet tucked under his arm, and the most severe look you’ve ever seen before gracing his features. You look him over with half-lidded eyes, noticing he’s dressed differently than the others, and casually take another sip of caf.

“You must be Fox.”

“Civilians aren’t allowed in this part of the building, who let you in here?”

Still waiting for the caf to kick in, you shrug. “Spent the night in the tank. No one stopped me when I walked in.”

Fox turns to glare at everyone sitting at the tables. They all look down at their food like they weren’t obviously watching and someone starts whistling.

“You need to leave,” he says when he turns back around.

“Can I finish my caf first?” You ask, taking more sips hoping to stall.

He glowers even more. “That’s not even your caf!”

“Shame.” You chug the rest of the still mostly full cup and coughs wrack your chest when you finish. “I think I just burned my esophagus,” you rasp.

“Get out.”

“That’s completely fair.”

You toss your cup in the trash on the way out. Turning the way you were going before you got distracted, you make your way to the exit; no need to bring the wrath of Fox down on you for sticking around. You feel like, once again, you get off light and dont’t want to press your luck. The smile that graces your face as you step outside is probably a strange thing for anyone else to see considering you’re walking out of jail, but you had a good night, and the morning is shaping up to follow suit.

---

The next day you walk into the caf shop you normally stop at on the way to work. The barista behind the counter waves as you walk up. “Your usual, hun?”

“You know me,” you smile brightly, “but, uh, can you make it two?”

Her eyes widen. “I can’t imagine the morning you’re expecting to have!”

You laugh and wave her off. “Nothing bad. I owe someone a cup.”

“You mean someone else drinks this sludge?”

“Imagine my surprise. And it’s not that bad!”

She places two large flimsi cups in front of you. Your hands rub together nervously before you get your thoughts together. “Can I borrow your marker?”

She hands it to you with a raised eyebrow and you quickly scribble a few words on one of the cups. It isn’t a lot, and it completely gives away who you are without having to sign your name, so you hope it’s okay.

“Thanks, gotta run!” You scurry out of the door before the barista can ask anything about what you’re doing.

You aren’t even sure yourself if you were being completely honest. The Coruscant Guard building is a little out of your way from your route to work, but you leave early in the mornings anyway, so you can still make it in time even with the detour. You feel a bit nervous walking in this time. Where did all your confidence from yesterday go?

You flag down the first trooper you see that doesn’t look busy.

“Can you give this to Fox, please?” You hold out the cup for him to take.

He doesn’t.

He only stands there, and you imagine he’s making a face behind his helmet because he doesn’t say anything either.

After a few seconds of silence you lower the cup awkwardly. “Uhh, oh, sorry, am I allowed to bring caf?”

“Why are you bringing the Commander caf?” He finally asks.

You squeeze the cups so much the tops almost pops off. “Fox is a commander?”

“Commander Fox is head of the Coruscant Guard, ma’am.”

The top of your own cup does pop off this time, but nothing spills.

“The entire guard?” You squeak.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Heat is quick to crawl up your face. “Oh stars, I can’t believe I took his caf.” Your internal panic is quickly becoming external as you try not to drop either cup. You hid your face behind one in embarrassment.

“Wait.” The guard member tilts his head. “You’re the one they were talking about yesterday? The girl from the mess hall?”

There’s a few second where nothing but incomprehensible noises come out of your mouth, but you finally get out, “how many people know about that?!”

“It’s made its way around.”

“I’m gonna - kriff - go throw myself off the senate building I swear-“

You’re cut off by the sound of a chuckle and you snap your head up to see the guard member’s shoulders shaking. “So you’re not trying to poison the Commander, huh?”

“No!” You yelp, but quiet down after you see others turn to look at you. “I was just trying to repay the caf I drank! We like the same kind!”

“That’s disgusting.”

“Can you please just give this to him before I die of embarrassment? You’re killing me here!”

He laughs again and finally takes the cup from your shaking hands. “Who should I say it’s from?”

You slap a hand over your face to hide your grimace. “At this point I’d rather not tell you. I want to keep some of my dignity intact,” you mutter.

“Nobody’s dignity is intact here, ma’am.”

“Oh… joy.”

“You best be on your way then.”

He is giving you an out and you’re taking it in full.

“Have a good day,” you say as you turn, the only proof you’ve been there being one guard member and a note on a flimsi cup.

“Sorry for taking your caf yesterday.”

---

One week later you find yourself standing outside of the caf shop, once again with two cups in hand through no fault of your own. It makes you think that maybe another trip to the Coruscant Guard building wouldn’t be such a bad thing. Why waste a perfectly good drink after all?

You pause immediately when you step through the door, because the man you’re looking for is standing across the room talking to someone with a datapad in hand. The decision on whether to interrupt is made for you when the person he’s talking to looks over and spots you.

He waves and Fox finally looks over as well, tilting his head as he does so. You take a deep breath before walking over to them.

“Caf girl!”

You raised your eyebrow at the other trooper. “I really am known around here for that, aren’t I?” You say as you stop in front of them. You have a sneaking suspicion that he is the same one you talked to last week.

“Well you never gave me your name,” he shrugs.

Yeah, it’s him.

Your head snaps to Fox, however, when he addresses you.

“You know my name?”

“Your information was processed and put into the system when you spent the night in the tank.”

“Osik,” you mutter.

“Did you need something?” He asks.

You perk up some, and hold out the second drink in your hand. “Right, there was a mixup at the caf shop, and I got an extra drink. I thought you might like it.”

He takes it carefully, but your bare fingers still brush against his gloved ones. They tingle when you pull away, and while the heat on your palm from holding the hot cup fades, the heat in your fingertips does not. You have the sudden urge to find out what holding his hand feels like, but you push that thought down along with the blush you can feel rising. Now isn’t the time. You have to get to work. Maybe if you come by earlier next time….. would there be a next time?

“Thank you. I… appreciate the thought.” You think you hear him trip over his words, but there’s no way.

You smile brightly at him. “You’re welcome!” You check the time on your chrono. “Looks like I gotta bounce. Enjoy your caf, Commander!”

Your retreat is quick, but hells if you don’t add a little extra sway to your hips as you walk out the doors.

And scribbled on the cup now in Fox’s hand is:

“I know day old caf when I taste it. Fresh is better.”

---

You start to bring Fox caf every week.

“This has become part of my routine, so I hope you don’t mind.”

Every week turns into every few days.

“Your filing system is horrifying but at least your chair is comfy.”

Every few days turns into every day.

“Tell Thorn that if he sees me at 79s tonight, he can’t arrest me just so I’ll hang out with him.”

And leaving early just to see Fox is the best part of your day no matter what. You hope you’re not the only one who feels like this. That maybe as you walk to the Guard building in the morning, you’re not the only one smiling and counting down the minutes until you get to Fox’s office. He never turns you away, and he’s always there to take the extra caf from your hands if he can be. Sometimes you have to leave it on his desk if he’s not in, but you understand that his job isn’t easy by any stretch of the word.

He is in this morning, however, seeing as the door opens promptly at your knock. He sits behind his desk, a few data pads already stacked next to him and a frown marring his face. That won’t do.

“Credit for your thoughts?” You say as you set his caf down next to his helmet and lean against his desk.

Fox looks up and gives you a tired smile, unaware of how it makes your stomach flutter. “Shaping up to be a long day.”

“Giving yourself more grey hairs already?” You say, giving a pointed look to his already greying sides.

“Like I need any more,” he huffs.

“I dunno,” you reach up and run your fingers lightly through his short curls, “I think they make you look distinguished.”

He lets out a breath you didn’t know he had been holding. “At least one of us thinks so.”

“It’s okay, I can like it enough for the both of us.”

“Should I count myself lucky then?” He smirks, finally taking a sip of his caf and sighing contently into the cup.

You give him a cheeky grin. “You should.”

He looks at you then, not saying anything, and you can’t help the flush you feel crawling up your face. You swear, you had never blushed so much around anyone before you met him. You distract yourself by drinking your own caf, the liquid welcome to your suddenly dry mouth.

“I do.”

“What?” Your head snaps back up to him and he’s still looking at you, but not in a way you’ve seen before.

“I do count myself lucky.”

You look away shyly, a small smile forming at the corners of your mouth. Sure, you two have been lightly flirting with each other, or at at least you’re definitely flirting with him, but this is the most straight-forward thing he’s ever said to you.

“It’s a good thing I got myself arrested that night then, isn’t it?”

It’s uncharted territory, where this conversation is heading. The thought of what it could be sits low in your belly and causes you to let out a shakey breath.

“It’s quite the holovid to watch,” he says offhandedly.

You’re lucky you aren’t drinking your caf, otherwise you would have spit it everywhere. You turn your head so hard you think you give yourself whiplash, mouth agape, looking at him in wide-eyed mortification.

“There’s a holo of that?!” The pitch of your voice would be embarrassing if you weren’t in the middle of spontaneously combusting on the inside.

He nods empathetically, which is shit because you know for damn sure he’s not empathetic about it; he’s having too much fun with this. You know he is, with that stupid, heart-stopping smirk playing on his face.

“Our HUDs record each incident for our files to make sure everything matches up with the reports.”

“Nooooooooooooo,” you whine quietly into your hands that now cover your face. You hear him get up and move to stand in front of you, but you don’t react. Mainly because you have no idea what he’s doing, but also he’s so kriffing close you can barely handle it.

His pries your hands from your face and presses them to his desk, effectively caging you in. He’s even closer now, and you’re hyper aware of how hard your heart is pounding even though you stop breathing. It’s the last thing from threatening, but you’re still frozen.

He leans in so his mouth is right next to your ear. “You look good in that little red dress of yours,” he whispers, his voice octaves lower than before. “Especially when you’re beating the kark out of a civvie – standing up for my vod.” It sends a pleasurable shiver down your spine and straight to your ovaries.

You suck in a breath when he pulls away. This is much more than you could have expected. “You’re not giving me much incentive to not be arrested again,” you tilt your head, “now that I know you’d be watching.”

“Always watching you, cyare.”

You hum, pulling one hand away from his to run up his armor and trace lightly over his jaw. “Gonna have to try harder to get a pair of binders on me next time, then.”

“Would you run?”

“Only if you’re the one chasing me.”

You move your hand from his jaw to the back of his neck and scratch lightly, feeling more than seeing him shiver under your fingertips.

“I’d find you.”

“Oh, I’d be counting on it, Commander.”

It’s a mutual surge that leads you two to lean in, culminating in the most charged kiss you’ve ever received. You throw your other hand around his neck, holding him as close as you can, while his hands latch onto your hips, pulling you up and into his embrace. He leads you back until he’s sitting in his chair and the next thing you know you’re falling into his lap to straddle him. You break for air, and to process that yes, this is happening, before you’re kissing again. A little slower; a little deeper.

You moan quietly into his mouth, and his hands move to your ass so he can pull you even closer.

There’s a chime from your chrono and you pull away, panting.

Fox’s eyes are dark and hungry when he looks at you. “You have to go soon.”

You nod, not breaking eye contact, and not moving either.

He grins, and it looks absolutely predatory. He slides the top of your blouse down slowly, just enough for his mouth to latch on to you right above your collarbone. You let out another breathy moan, and his teeth graze your skin in response as he sucks harder. His tongue soothes the area over when he lets go, and he looks at the quickly darkening spot with what you can only assume is possessive pride.

“For you to remember,” he says huskily.

Knowing he’s just staked his claim on you stokes the fire inside you even more. You give him your own feral grin, and pull down the collar of his blacks as he stiffens. “Who am I to allow you to forget, then?”

You suck hard at the column of his throat, higher than he did on you, knowing it would still be covered. You taste the sweat that had been building up, and his skin which you can’t even describe except that it tastes like him.

He groans lowly into your ear and you shiver when you pull away. You drag your nail lightly over the dark bruise in satisfaction before pulling his collar back up.

You slide off his armored thighs slowly. He follows you to stand, and gives you one last, long, kiss.

“Until next time, cyare.”

When you leave his office, you wish you had written something more on his cup than a crudely drawn fox with a smiley face next to it. Tomorrow though, you wonder what you can get away with saying.

“Next time I’m wearing that little red dress, feel free to search me. Who knows what I could be hiding.”

#prior writes #star wars #swtcw #clone wars #the clone wars #commander fox #cc 1010 #commander fox x reader #commander fox x you #afab!reader #coruscant guard #writing #fanfic

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