#//it's so Indiana Jones ;-; my HEART | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

takes1 · 6 months ago

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p.2 one night stand aftermath with needy!tsukishima

this boy is gonna get whinyyyy in the next one. sorry i haven't been posting like everyday anymore, i'm either hitting a wall or i'm exiting my manic creative fever

warnings. sfw-ish, conversation/narration about sex. minors DNI

info. fem!reader / smut build-up / flirting / one night stand aftermath / needy!tsukki / timeskip!tsukki / museum setting / miscommunication / 1.6k words / reply to be added to taglist for part 3!

haikyuu collection. part one here.

more links. masterlist. my ao3.

"Are you sure they're not in your bag?"

You did not want to bother somebody at their job because of your nephew's inconvenient tendency to leave his eyeglasses around.

The six-year-old stopped and you watched him search through his little Indiana Jones-themed bag. No glasses. Just the sandwich you packed for him, a coloring book, and pencils to go with it.

"Shit," You sighed under your breath. You had already been in the museum for an hour and a half.

They could've been anywhere. You rubbed the back of your neck and looked at the reclined worker behind the service desk in the lobby.

"We'll... we'll ask if they've seen any, alright?"

"Okay!"

You approached, hoping the man would break the ice first when he noticed you.

All he did was keep tapping away on his phone.

If anything, he shrank lower in his seat when you came up to the counter so you couldn't see him as easily.

"Hi, um- Excuse me, we just wanted to know if you've seen any glasses around- Or if anyone had come by to turn some in."

It was difficult enough to muster the courage to speak. But to make matters worse, the worker peeked out from around his shoe with the rudest 'Go away, I'm busy doing nothing' stare that he could muster.

Pressured frustration built in your chest and you readied yourself to speak louder, be more assertive so he could understand this wasn't a problem that would just go away.

It fizzled at a flash of short, fluffy blond hair.

Your fingers twitched from the memory of how soft it was against your shoulder, between your legs, against your palms.

His eyes widened with recognition. He took his legs back down, a lanky hand setting his headphones to rest around his neck.

You realized you had forgotten his name, so you couldn't express that you knew him so easily-- it left you speechless, grabbing at something to say.

Thankfully, it was a problem for later, because he confirmed that he heard you after all.

"You wear... glasses?" He asked.

His face worked, soaking in every new detail of your natural features he didn't get to see the last time you were together.

"No, I don't," Was all you could say.

You motioned to the child hiding behind your back, clinging to your shirt.

A nearly open-mouthed look.

"Oh!" You covered a small laugh at his unnaturally wide-eyed stare, "He's not mine!"

You held your hand to your heart, then placed it atop your nephew's head and ruffled his hair.

"Just babysitting my nephew. He wouldn't stop asking me to come here,"

The kid leaned all his weight to the side and squinted around, using you as an anchor to hold him up. He couldn't be bothered listening to you.

"He loves the museum."

He spared a glance to the little one rubbing his eyes behind you and, to his own surprise, found sympathy in his heart.

It was a quiet and incredibly uncomfortable search. You remembered his name along the way, thankfully.

It didn't help that it was nearly empty besides your small group making a sloth's pace throughout the vast, never-ending halls. Frequent stops at places you lingered at earlier to read plaques or marvel at figures put some occasional ease on the tension.

Tsukishima walked slow, with his hands in his pockets, and looked at anything but you.

Simply by his wordless agreement to help you, you could tell this job wasn't something he took very seriously. If he didn't already know you inside and out, he would've turned his music up to drown out your plea for help.

His calculated, but somehow yet disinterested gaze stood as strong evidence that he wasn't warm.

You held yourself to silence a shiver.

So, why did he look so heartbroken when you left his bedroom?

A quiet, toneless voice wrenched you out of your inquisitive thoughts.

"You do this often?"

You didn't understand how comfortable you actually were with the quiet until you had to come up with something to respond with. What was he referring to? The museum, or the sex?

"Um-?"

His face was so intense when you tried to look at him for more elaboration. Like you had stepped on the back of his shoe.

You quickly looked down.

"With the kid," He muttered.

"Oh, yeah," You blew a breath of relief, "Yeah yeah, I see him every couple weeks. We usually come here."

He hummed.

It was getting quiet all over again. You felt an obligation to try, now.

"Do...you like working here?" You winced. A dumb question you already knew the answer to.

His response wasn't as cruel as you expected. He even pretended to consider it.

"It pays for my tuition."

A generous nugget of information- your nephew began searching on his own accord around this old, interactive archeological sand table and you lingered next to Tsukishima for a minute.

"Tohoku University?"*

He nodded at your question as you both sifted through the sand in front of you.

"Me, too," You smiled, "Kinesiology major."

There was a small laugh on his lips. He smoothed the display back out when it was obvious there were no glasses here and you continued on your way.

"What, are you some snooty med student?" You scoffed at his perceived pretentiousness.

It wasn't rare to come across people who discriminated based on major when you interacted with so many aspiring nurses and surgeons. You liked the student athletes at your university better.

"No," He shook his head, "I- Just- yeah. It's nothing."

You believed him, but he left you confused and hanging on by a thread by his odd mannerisms and avoidant speech. It was difficult to make any lasting judgement about him.

Regardless, he stuck around and, though not enthusiastically, helped you search for the next twenty minutes.

There was the chance he could've been doing it all to repeat that night. If he gave you any indication that he was interested in a round two, you were prepared to take him up on the offer. But you had a feeling he would've already tried to flirt, or talk more, or just flat out tell you instead of dancing around, exhausting your politeness if it was the case.

Another room, another few minutes spent searching.

When nothing came up again, you got his attention with a frown, "You don't have to keep helping. I know this is pretty dull."

His face grew a bit warm. You both looked away.

"I'm not just gonna leave," He managed to work around your invitation to go away and reference your night together.

At first, you trailed behind him on the way into the next hall, but shook your reaction off and caught up to his side.

"So, why did you?"

He cut the niceties and put it all on the table, but you weren't at all expecting it to be laced in guilt, or shame, on his end.

Maybe if he had a sweeter resting face, or didn't kiss you so fast, or wasn't so handsy in the Uber back to his place, or didn't fuck you on the floor because he couldn't wait to get to his room, or didn't talk to you like he owned you, or didn't tell you to scream his name-- maybe if he just had an ounce of patience at the start, you would've foreseen his cuddly side and stayed a bit longer.

Honesty was probably best.

"I just," There was difficulty in your voice, "I just didn't peg you as the type to want more than-,"

His eyes were narrow and focused, fixated on your glossy lips as you spoke. It forced you to end your sentence short.

A minute passed and you were back to the skeleton displays.

As you watched him across the room, leaned under a bench to help search despite it being well over his paycheck, your heart squeezed.

He was a pretty boy- and kind where it counted, as far as you could tell. The most obvious trait of his was how much he liked you, even at the very start.

The way his face worked when he looked at you; intensity in the form of longing you'd never been the subject of before.

You'd be lying if you said it didn't make you feel pretty special to make a guy like that crumble.

"Found them." He called.

You groaned out a yes, excited you didn't have to pay an arm and a leg for a replacement. You jogged over to watch him wipe off the lenses on his shirt and hand them to your nephew.

"Glasses are expensive," Tsukishima placed his hands on his hips, unaware of how intimidating he was to a small child, "You should keep better track of those."

The kid apologized at a barely-there whisper and quickly clung to you again, embarrassed.

After all the searching, you were both tired and relieved to be able to go back home. Part of you weighed your legs down to this spot, though.

"I- suppose I owe you an apology, too," You admitted.

The double meaning was not lost on him. His chest swelled with a tentative, slow breath and he bit the inside of his cheek.

"You don't have to do that."

You were almost certain he was about to invite you back to his place. Just when you thought you had him, he slips away.

It was risky, but as you watched your nephew sprint over to a display he didn't see earlier, you decided it was more appropriate to try again.

"I'd love to make it up to you," You placed your hands on the back of your hips and tried to emulate the same look you passed to him in the club. Through your lashes, real casual, but unwavering eye contact.

His jaw worked at your not-so-subtle request to be invited back. It gave way to a hand rifling through his short, bouncy curls and red-tinged ears.

He looked over his shoulder to check you weren't being listened to.

A familiar sound was his low, interested mutter, "Are you free tonight?"

taglist.

holy shit tsukki gets so much love on here. thanks for supporting and tuning in! part three will be hornier

@little-stitious-studios @sunshinesx-264

@hrts4hanniehae @lord-hqcifer

@inofish @integers @ushijimaschubbs

@sharkubi @imiqz @yuyunhoo

reply to be added!

masterlist. requests closed.

*the uni mention: idk what the fuck i'm talking about lmao fan wiki failed me i tried to find out where he actually goes to college don't burn me at the stake

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queenimmadolla · 2 years ago

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𝐖𝐀𝐘𝐍𝐄'𝐒 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐋𝐃

(dad!eddie x mom/pregnant!reader)

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟏 ─ 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟐 ─ 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟑 • more of the pennyverse here.

Summary: . . . Under a raging storm, your difficult pregnancy comes to an end. And so might you. warnings: angst, a whole lot of angst, near death experience, difficult pregnancy, early labor, preterm birth, talk of loss of infants, birth defects, happy ending.

a/n: sorry I have to post this in parts, Wayne's World ended up being over 16k, so I split it up in three. part one's word count is 5.3k. this was a real labor of love and i hope you love baby wayne as much as i do. and for the people mad about the long post, sorry, had the 'keep reading' tab on but it kept fucking with the format and eating chunks of it. you're gonna have to scroll. let me know what you think? ◡̈

“Do you have a queen of hearts?” “Go fish.” You grumbled as Wayne reached forward, lifting–but making sure not to catch a look of the other side–a card from the deck to hand you. Your frown deepened when it wasn’t a pair for any of the cards you already had. “Nuts,” you mumbled, eyes darting to all the pairs Wayne had matched up on the small living room table, then down to the four pairs you had placed over your bulging stomach. It was risky of you to keep them there so late in your pregnancy considering how active your baby was but you didn’t feel like reaching too far for them, regardless of the fact that his kicks had sent them sliding down your sides twice now.

You’d been playing card games with Wayne for the past hour and a half, the raging storm having knocked out the power for the entire park. Eddie was with your friends, no doubt trapped at the pizza place Lucas’ parents had booked to celebrate his birthday. His actual birthday had been a couple of days prior but the Hellfire session that would have celebrated it had been canceled; you weren’t feeling too good and Eddie had stayed faithfully by your side. You hadn’t been feeling all that great when you’d woken up today, either. You’d forced Eddie to go, refusing to let Lucas down again even though you knew he’d understand. He was a sweetheart. So, Eddie had reluctantly gone, taking Penny with him.

The storm had come out of nowhere, you’d woken to a lovely day but you wouldn’t know it from how dark the sky had grown; the sun having been blocked by heavy rain clouds.

Despite practically living at his girlfriend’s, just a couple of trailers down, Wayne had rushed over to make sure you were okay and to keep you company. You’d been watching an Indiana Jones movie and talking to Wayne about the apartments you and Eddie were looking at when the power went out but Wayne–always practical and level headed–pulled out some candles you’d accrued and a deck of cards he had remembered he stashed in one of the kitchen drawers to keep you amused.

You’d lost just about every game. Clearly, Wayne wasn’t going to let you win just because you were pregnant like Eddie did.

“This ain’t even one of them bettin’ games. How’re you still losin’?” Wayne chuckled, taking a sip of the tea (powdered, of course) you’d served him.

“Just my luck, I guess.” Wayne was referring to the game of Poker you’d played earlier. Unfortunately, you didn’t know how to play. While he taught you a little along the way, you’d still obviously lost and you were positive you retained absolutely no knowledge regarding the game.

Sensing your frustration, Wayne leaned forward from his place on the recliner he’d dragged to the otherside of the small table and placed his cards down, settling back into the chair with his old man creaky noises that you’d grown comfortable with him enough to tease him about (and always made up for with a sweet kiss to his head).

“What say you an’ I just talk, hm?”

That was fine with you. You gathered the cards on your baby bump, tossing them onto the table alongside his, “Eddie won’t let me name the baby after him.”

“Really?” Wayne asked, eyebrows furrowed in a brief moment of confusion. He’d expected his eccentric nephew to want to leave behind some sort of legacy, nothing better than a child.

“He’s playing devil’s advocate, shooting down every name I come up with but never giving his input, I’m starting to think we’ll have to just put names in a cup and pick one after I have him.” You slumped further into the couch, pouting through your exhaustion.

“Now that sounds like ‘im,” Wayne scoffed, raising the mug to his lips once more before he really took in your appearance.

You looked beyond exhausted, skin dull, dark circles around your eyes and you lacked the spark always attached to your personality. You didn’t just look miserable, you looked sick.

The mug was placed back on the table as he regarded you with concern, “You alright, darlin’? Don’t look so good.”

You gave him a tight lipped smile that didn’t reach your eyes, hands settling to rest on your protruding tummy, “I’m okay, really, Wayne. I’m just very tired. I’ve had high blood pressure for the last couple of months, so the doctor says I’m considered high risk.”

You had a doctor’s appointment earlier this week—with another one scheduled for tomorrow afternoon—and she’d also told you to do your best to relax, not to move around a lot and not worry too much about it, or it could get worse, so you added, “I just have to take it easy. Being tired just comes with it.”

Wayne didn’t think it was right, if you were taking it easy, you shouldn’t have been so exhausted. Tired, he could understand but you looked beyond that.

“Why don’t we get you into bed?”

You nodded, agreeing only because you wanted to let him get back to Maude. Wayne moved around the table, offering you his hands to help pull yourself up. It was pitiful, your stomach wasn’t even that big but you were significantly weaker this pregnancy compared to when you’d been pregnant with Penny.

You slipped your hands into his, groaning as he pulled you up.

“Lil’ man’s got you making old man noises, too,” He joked, referring to the grunts he’d make when he stood up with creaking bones for which you’d tease him.

You laughed, small but genuine as you placed your hands on your lower back and stretched, “Alright, alright. You’re not wrong but I’ll remember this.”

Wayne chuckled at your response, hand on your shoulder ready to guide you to your bedroom. He had no intentions of leaving the trailer, planning on camping out on the couch or the pullout that was still tucked into the corner until Eddie returned.

You’d just managed to get your back to pop in the most satisfying of ways when you felt a bit of pressure between your legs—like you really needed to pee—followed by a rush of liquid.

“Oh, fuck,” you mumbled, eyes squeezing shut to keep the mortification of having just pissed yourself in front of your father-in-law at bay, “I am so sorry, Wayne, I didn’t even know I had to… to…”

You trailed off, staring down at the wet patch of carpet surrounding your feet. There was no noticeable urine smell, but what really concerned you was the red mixed into it, staining the fibers of the carpet.

“Wayne…” Your voice was so small as you reached around you to hold your stomach, as if you could somehow protect your baby.

Wayne saw it too, eyes wide and horrified when he’d realized your water had broken.

“New plan: let’s get you to the hospital.” He tried to urge you forward but you wouldn’t budge, trembling in his hold.

“I—I can’t,” you stated, voice hitching and laced with fear as you finally turned your head to look up at him. Wayne could see the terror in your eyes, the panic and the shine to them. Everything he was feeling inside, too, he just knew he had to keep it together for your sake. “I’m barely 30 weeks, he’s too early, he has to stay in there!”

You were nearly hyperventilating, head pounding as horrible thoughts raced through your head. Your hands moved frantically over your belly, trying to feel a kick from your baby. When was the last time you felt him being active? Was he okay? Why was he being so still? Why did your water break so early and why was there blood in it? And what the hell was that loud pounding sound? It was your heartbeat.

“Hey��‘member wha’ you told me earlier? ‘Bout what the doctor said? You gotta take it easy, right?” Wayne was panicking just as much as you but he knew he had to keep you calm, had to reassure you.

You swallowed hard, tears welling in your eyes as you nodded, following up with a watery confession, “Yeah. But I’m scared.”

“Thas’ okay,” he stated, recalling a time he’d said the same thing to another scared mother-to-be just hours before Eddie had been born. “We’re gonna get you to the hospital and they’re gon’ take real good care of you. Everything’s gonna be okay.”

For once, Wayne Munson’s eyes were easy for you to read, you could see the sincerity of them, the certainty and despite the fear still coursing through you, you believed him.

Finally, you moved and Wayne sprang into action, asking you the whereabouts of your coat, if you’d had a hospital bag prepped—which thanks to Eddie’s paranoia, you did—before he’d actually carried you through the heavy rain, out to the car. You’d been surprised, hadn’t expected Wayne to be that strong since he was more so on the gangly side.

He’d ensured you were buckled in, made a last run into the house to make sure the candles were out before the two of you were braving the storm.

It was a rough drive; Wayne was speeding but it wasn’t enough, the pushback from the wind made it seem like he was going uphill, losing speed rather than gaining it. The windshield wipers on his truck were working overtime to clear the constant stream of water from his view.

You were faring no better, feeling weaker and more fatigued by the minute. Despite the cold weather, your skin became coated in a layer of sweat, though you were by no means hot. You couldn’t even register your own body temperature, too out of it as your forehead pressed against the cool glass of the window.

“We’re almost there,” Wayne promised, glancing nervously at your slumping figure. He was scared out of his mind now that he knew you weren’t just sick. Wayne Munson was afraid you were dying before his eyes.

You stirred just as he was a few turns away from the hospital, face scrunching into a frown as you whimpered. Wayne thought you may have been in pain, he was wrong. You were hit with an intense need to push and you did, once and hard.

The dull thud of something hitting the floor mats was somehow louder to the two of you than the raging storm. Wayne glanced away from the road and inhaled sharply when he watched you look down at the unnaturally pale baby, the only color on his skin was that of some of your blood.

You reached down and picked up the smaller than normal baby, cradling him to your chest as you stared at his face. It was all squished up, and his eyes were closed, lips turning blue. He wasn’t breathing.

You turned him over, belly down in your hold as you patted his back. As you grew more anxious and fearful, you pinched the bottom of his tiny, soft foot and while he didn’t cry, he finally moved in your hold, his back expanding with his breath. A sign of life.

The relief you felt was short lasting, your fatigue returning full force as Wayne pulled up the emergency entrance. Two staff members ran to the truck, approaching as their rain ponchos danced wildly in the wind.

“Sir, are either of you injured?” One of them, a woman asked before peering into the passenger window. At the sight of you, clutching the baby still connected to you via umbilical cord, the door was yanked open and she bellowed for a gurney which her partner sprinted to collect.

Wayne didn’t bother moving his truck, it was towards the end of the entrance, anyways. He hurried out and followed as they loaded you and the baby onto the gurney, running alongside as they wheeled you in.

You were trying so hard to stay conscious, trying to ignore the sweet allure of closing your eyes for a few moments of rest. The doctors and nurses around you were all barking orders to each other with a couple trying to talk to you but you couldn’t focus enough to know what they were saying.

Once Wayne saw what operating room they were carting you off to, he ran to the nearest desk, asked for use of the phone and phone book. Once he’d placed the call to the pizza place, relieved the lines were finally going through again, he’d had a staff member search for Eddie. It hadn’t been easy hurriedly explaining to him what happened, but judging by how quick Eddie had ended the call, it was only a matter of minutes before his nephew turned up.

Then Wayne ran to the area he’d seen them take you too, hurriedly dressing in a gown, a cap and mask one of the staff had shoved into his arms. They were still prepping you when they finally allowed him in and you were no longer holding the baby. He was in the arms of a nurse, still connected to you with his umbilical cord.

“Would you like to cut it?” She hurriedly asked, offering him a pair of surgical scissors. Wayne figured he was a better option than a doctor severing your connection so he did as instructed. She immediately carried him away and out of the room in a rush.

“Where’s she taking ‘im?” He asked, voice full of worry.

“Neonatal Intensive Care Unit,” He was informed by another nurse who was setting up a barrier over your lower half, “He was born preterm.”

Wayne was somewhat familiar with it; he remembers Penny had briefly been sent there when she’d been born and suspected to have jaundice. After a few hours of whatever treatment, she was returned to you and Eddie, having a not very severe case of it which had been treated effectively.

Wayne thought the whole process would be faster, he’d seen people rushed into surgeries in the movies and it had been instant but it wasn’t like that. They were still running around, setting everything up and new people kept coming into the room. It took more than ten minutes, but they were doing their best to keep you stabilized. He was holding your hand the entire time, squeezing every once in a while so you’d squeeze back and he’d know you were okay.

You weren’t very vocal, eyes half lidded as they pumped you full of drugs to try to counter your symptoms and numb you.

“‘M gonna check to see if Eddie’s here, alright?” He waited for your response, a very weak and monotonous okay before he gave your hand a final squeeze and let a nurse know he’d be checking to see if the father had arrived.

He’d made it out of the operating room doors and was hurrying down the hallway, just about to breach another pair of large doors when they swung open and he had to jump back to avoid being hit.

“LORD!” He shouted and Eddie cursed, muttering a quick apology.

“Where is she?” He panted out, chest heaving, eyes wild and frantic. Eddie’s hair was in disarray from having run his hands through it so many times as he sped to the hospital. He looked like the personification of panic, a mess.

“Through them doors,” Wayne pointed in the direction he’d come from before yanking some of the sanitation wear off a nearby rack. “Put these on ‘fore you go in there. Where’s Penny?”

Eddie was hurriedly yanking the scrubs over his clothes, “She’s in the waiting room.”

He clutched Wayne’s shoulder, wanting to thank him but desperate to get to you before he made a run for the room Wayne had directed him to while Wayne hurried to the waiting room, expecting Penny to be in the care of a nurse.

He breached the doors and stood shell shocked at the amount of people who jumped to attention, faces filled with varying degrees of worry, anguish and fear; it was all of your friends, familiar faces he’d seen in the trailer before at one point or another. Penny’s curly head was visible from the arms of a tall redhead, wearing glasses.

It seemed the entire party occupying the pizza parlor had filled the hospital waiting room, concerned about your wellbeing.

The sight nearly brought Wayne to tears.

You could make out the sound of various monitors beeping, eyes trying to focus on the ceiling above you but everything was so hazy. You no longer felt fatigued, couldn’t really feel anything. A nurse had tried to check in with you earlier, get your attention but you couldn’t even hold a conversation.

You felt a hand slip into yours again, and you squeezed it, turning your head to look at Wayne. Only, it wasn’t Wayne looking back at you. Eddie’s piercing brown gaze was easy for you to make out through the haze, and you were even able to smile.

“Eddie.” You spoke it so softly but Eddie was still relieved, lowering his mask so he could press a kiss to your head.

“Hi, baby,” he croaked out, tears pooling in the corners of his eyes as he stroked the side of your face.

“Dad’s here,” one of the doctor’s greeted him. Eddie recognized her as your primary Obstetrician, Dr. Eisenerg, the same doctor you had all your appointments with and the same who had delivered Penny. “Would you like the rundown?”

“Please.”

“Pre-eclampsia, I suspected as much during our last appointment, the next step would have been Bed Rest starting with tomorrow’s appointment, but baby couldn’t wait that long, could he, mom?”

Eddie watched as you slowly shook your head, smile on your face because you were happy he was with you.

“He was born nine weeks early, out of the hospital so unfortunately I don’t know his stats at the moment, he’s being looked over and assessed as I speak. He’s in good hands. I’ll have more information about him for you as soon as we get mom settled. We’re performing a Cesarean section to get the placenta out, she’s much too weak to push it out on her own.”

God, Eddie loved your doctor. He’d write rock ballads in her honor for knowing exactly what to say to calm his ass down. After that, Eddie focused on you, trying not to pay attention to what was going on behind the cover they’d put up.

“You sure know how to scare the hell out of me, baby,” he mumbled, eyes crinkling as he smiled under the mask, caressing your pretty face again. He’d never felt more fear in his entire life than when Wayne had spoken to him over the phone, informing him you’d had the baby early and they were taking you into surgery.

You smiled and Eddie chuckled at the doped up expression on your face. He hadn’t seen it on you in months. You had to be high as a kite.

“Sorry, Eddie.”

“It’s okay.” He pulled his mask down to press a brief kiss to your lips which you happily returned. “After you’re out of here, I’ll go check on our little dude, okay?”

You nodded, reassured by Eddie that everything would be alright. You trusted him. Trusted him to let him know something you hadn’t yet voiced.

“I’m tired, Eddie.”

You slurred it so low, Eddie hadn’t caught it. “What was that, sweetheart?”

You didn’t answer him, eyes fluttering shut as multiple monitors began to beep, one at a higher rate and one much slower than the rest.

“She’s hemorrhaging,” Dr. Eisenberg informed her staff, and Eddie paled. He’d heard that in enough hospital movies and shows to know it wasn’t good. The relief he’d momentarily felt fled from his body, quickly replaced by dread.

He watched the movement around him, people shouting medical terms he couldn’t understand. He made the mistake of peering around the cover to address your doctor, horrified at the amount of blood on her gloves and the sleeves of her gown.

Was that all yours?

“What’s happening?” He demanded, breath hitching around the last word.

She didn’t look up at him, asking one of the attendings to escort him out.

Eddie called your name, over and over again as he was pushed out of the room, fighting to keep you in his line of vision. Your face, too peaceful looking to be resting, was the last thing he saw before the doors shut in his face.

He’d made it back to the waiting room on autopilot, collapsing into the free chair next to Wayne, who was now holding Penny. When he’d first walked in, it looked like everyone wanted to bombard him with questions, the look on his face must have stopped them.

He sat in that uncomfortable hospital chair, gaze unfocused and watery as he stared at nothing, the image of you on the operating table, eyes shut and appearing lifeless replayed in his head over and over and over again, torturing him.

He had no idea how long he was in a catatonic state, only forced out of it when he registered a firm grip on his shoulder, shaking him.

Wayne had been trying to get his attention since the moment a doctor called for him near the entrance of the hallway.

Eddie snapped up, catching sight of the small woman, lightning fast and nearly tripping over himself trying to reach her, desperate for any news on your status. You were going to be okay, right? You had to be.

“Edward Munson?” She asked.

Eddie nodded, swallowing hard as he tried to find his voice, his throat was dry, felt like it was made of sandpaper when he cleared his throat, “Y-yes.”

“I’m Doctor Houseman, Cardiothoracic surgeon, your son is one of my patients.”

Right away, Eddie felt a sense of dread ooze over him, thick, heavy and suffocating like tar.

“Your son’s limbs, most of his organs and responses are developing well. Ten toes, ten fingers and he can hear fine. His sight is a little sensitive, but should improve rapidly as should his growth. We are, however, concerned about his heart.”

Eddie was sure he’d left his heart in that room with you, yet he still felt something in him plummet.

“He has what’s known as VSD: Ventricular Septal Defect. A hole in the wall of his heart. It’s one of the more common heart defects at birth, normally the hole can close up on its own, be treated with medications or, if necessary, surgery. Because of his premature birth and how weak his body still is, he may not respond well to the medication and the odds of him surviving a surgery are low.”

He felt the bitter taste of bile rise in the back of his throat.

“We’d like to keep him for an extended stay in the NICU, let the hole try to close on its own. It still may be too much for him, but it’s his best bet.”

Eddie squeezed his eyes shut at the first hot sting of tears, desperately trying to hold it together.

It appeared today would be the day Eddie Munson’s world was due to come to an end, he knew he must have looked pitiful; a red-eyed, pale, clammy, crying mess on the verge of a nervous breakdown. You were lying on some operating table, bleeding out and now his son’s heart could possibly stop on him. Eddie’s was broken. He was broken.

He sniffled, inhaling deeply before he forced his eyes back open, tears immediately cascading down his cheeks as he nodded and agreed with her plan.

Dr. Houseman regarded him with sympathetic eyes.

“Mr. Munson, I don’t believe in miracles. I used to be a general surgeon,” she started, “And then one day, my longtime boyfriend took me out for a night on the town, dancing. He had a heart attack that night, I spent the four hours in that waiting room thinking he was going to die. I’m not religious, but I prayed and I prayed he wouldn’t die. He did.

“I switched my practice, to see if I could save others from the same fate. Some I did, some were simply beyond anyone’s reach. Then one day, they brought in a little girl. Tiny thing, frail, six years old, the size of a four year old and she’d had a heart attack. I was sure she wouldn’t make it, tried like hell to save her but sometimes the circumstances just don’t work out in our favor and her body shouldn’t have been strong enough. But it was. She pulled through and she survived. I don’t believe in miracles, Mr. Munson, but she did teach me to have more faith in my patients. The same faith they have in me. Have faith in your son.”

Then she was gone, whirling out the doors she’d come from. Eddie stared at them, wondering if she was on her way to tend to his baby. It wasn’t fair, he hadn’t even gotten to live yet, wasn’t even a day old and he was fighting for his life.

Eddie felt Wayne’s firm grip on his shoulder and he turned around, briefly staring into his sorrow filled eyes before he collapsed into his arms and sobbed, shaking with each one that wrecked through his body.

Wayne held him like he did when he was younger, when Eddie had finally come out of his room and let Wayne comfort him over the bullying he’d faced and the nasty things the other children had said about him, about the family he came from.

Eddie cried and he didn’t care his friends were most likely watching him, he couldn’t hold it together anymore. Not when there was a chance he could lose his son. Not when he could lose you.

“I can’t do it on my own,” he sobbed out against Wayne’s shoulder. How was he supposed to care for Penny without you? His family wouldn’t be complete, it’d be fractured, it would be broken. And if—it made him sick to know it was only a possibility and not a certainty—he took his son home, how was he supposed to raise him without you? What would he tell them? His son would be too young to remember, but Penny would. She’d miss you so much, he’d miss you so much. “I can’t, Wayne! I need her! She can’t leave me, I need her!”

The statement triggered a worrisome thought process, what if you did leave him? When was the last time he said he loved you? You knew it, right? You had to know, he told you all the time but no matter how hard he tried to recall it, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d said he loved you and it made him sob harder.

Wayne’s arms tightened around him, eyes clenching shut at the agony his boy was feeling. He was hurting too, he’d been in this position before. He’d lost her. Wayne couldn’t let Eddie believe he’d lose you, too. Couldn’t let him think he’d ever have to raise his family alone.

“She ain’t going nowhere,” he forced out, throat thick with emotion. He was trying to believe it just as much as he hoped Eddie would. “It’s gonna be okay. She’s gonna be okay. They both are.”

Wayne held him until Eddie stopped shaking and his sobs had subsided. Even then, he hadn’t wanted to let him go, wanted to protect him. But Eddie had his own kid to protect.

He wiped at his face, taking a couple of shaky breaths. He wasn't okay, far from, but his broken heart was aching for someone he knew would manage to hold the pieces together without even trying, simply by existing.

He gave Wayne a brief, grateful smile that didn’t meet his eyes and walked over to Barb, his daughter curled up in her arms. He obviously hadn’t told Penny what was going on, as far as she knew, they had just been going to the hospital because her baby brother had been born.

Her excitement quickly turned to exhaustion while her dad had been in the delivery room with her mom and she’d stopped running around to sleep in her grandpa’s lap. She’d been knocked out while Eddie was catatonic and had evidently slept through his hysterics, having been passed back to Barb when Wayne got up to comfort Eddie.

He was relieved she hadn’t seen him like that.

It was selfish of him, but Eddie woke her up, pulling her out of Barb’s arms and into his own.

She stirred, raising her head briefly to look at Eddie with sleep heavy eyes, squinting before she nuzzled her head into the crook of his neck. Then, as if she remembered the reason for their hospital visit, she pulled away, an arm lazily resting over his shoulder.

“Daddy?” She asked through a yawn, lips stretching into a plump ‘o’ before she smacked them together.

“Hi, baby,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to her crown and nuzzling his face into her curls, the pleasant smell of her sweet strawberry scented shampoo filling his nostrils. Her scent was comforting.

“Ganpa says the stoke came.”

Stork. While Penny knew her baby brother was growing in her mommy’s belly, she also simultaneously believed a stork would be dropping him off, prompted by a number of childrens’ books and cartoons.

Eddie had tried asking her about her logic once and she’d made him feel thoroughly stupid for not understanding.

“Yeah, it did.”

Penny shook her head, something Eddie noticed she did when she was trying to wake up. You did the same thing, shaking your head whenever you were nodding off.

His heart clenched.

“I see my baby brudder now?”

For a moment, Eddie struggled to come up with a reply. He didn’t want to tell her the full truth, she was still just a baby herself. He didn’t want to lie to her, either, but he needed to protect her.

“Soon, sweet pea.”

She seemed satisfied with that answer, curling up against his chest as he moved back to sit in the chair he’d been occupying before Dr. Houseman called on him. She quickly made herself comfy in his lap, little fingers pulling at the blue material of the scrub top he still wore.

“Know what, daddy?”

Eddie hummed, stroking his hand through her soft curls, letting them wrap around his finger tips and twisting the ends. They were still short, not long or heavy enough to be weighed down so it still looked like she had the Annie hairdo. She was so adorable, it drove him crazy.

“He looks like a ‘tato.”

Eddie stilled, brows furrowing down at her in confusion.

“What?”

“He looks like a potato,” she repeated, matter of factly, “Ganpa says.”

Eddie’s eyes darted over to Wayne in the seat next to him.

“She wanted a description. You try comin’ up with somethin’.” Wayne had only gotten a brief look at the baby, he’d been almost unnaturally pale and covered in something that looked chalky and pasty. Reminded him of how potatoes look after being washed and air dried so it was the first thing that came to mind.

Eddie highly doubted a potato was tucked into an incubator in the NICU.

“I don’t think he looks like a potato, sweet pea.”

“No,” Is all she said, resting her head against his chest and effectively smashing the curls he’d been messing with there. She wasn’t agreeing with him and Eddie knew it. She meant no, you’re wrong.

He snorted, blinking harshly at how sore his swollen eyelids were.

“Alright, potato he is.”

Penny didn’t know it and maybe in the future Eddie would tell her, she was getting him through this. His anxiety and panic had not left him, but it was easier to focus on a little light when it was curled up in his lap, telling him all about her baby brother she had yet to meet, with certainty they soon would.

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copperbadge · 6 months ago

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So the algorithms have informed me of a White Collar reboot: https:// variety.com /2024/tv/news/white-collar-reboot-willie-garson-1236028159/

Which hope is more futile: no more Nazi loot, or canon OT3?

Oh, no, it's like running into an ex you dumped years ago because they were awful but they look amazing and are obviously flirting with you. Oh, no, White Collar, I cannot allow you to break my heart a second time.

I feel like...Jeff Easton did not react super great to the entirely justified yelling about the badly mishandled Nazi Loot plotline last time, but I do think he maybe learned that Nazis are in fact a real thing and not a plot point that you get to play with however you like. And the climate vis-a-vis fascism in 2024 is very different from what it was in 2011. I think any production or distribution company would give him much less of a free hand in terms of "Let's do a lighthearted dramedy plotline about the lasting ramifications of intentional and industrialized genocide. Oh, we will mostly ignore the genocide part, don't worry."

Fuck, I hope. I never even watched the last season of the last run. I couldn't bring myself to do it.

Maybe I'm a sucker, I've been a sucker before, but even though I probably won't watch it, I want to believe that "no more nazi loot" has strong odds. As for a canon OT3...yeah, awful as it is, I want that to be the futile hope, because if it's between "no nazis" or "my OT3 but nazis" I'm going with "no nazis" and if folks feel differently they should quietly walk away from me right now.

Not that you can never write a story with nazi loot in it and make it good and meaningful, but you have to first realize that WWII was not just a setting for an Indiana Jones movie. I'm not confident a lot of people in the White Collar writers room have had this realization.

Man, you either don't get renewed for a third season or you live long enough to become a villain. (Or you are John Rogers. John Rogers, please do not let me down.)

#archwrites #hope it's okay I post this publicly

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little-shiny-sharpies · 1 year ago

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If blizzard didn’t want me to nibble and love them why did they make them the most nibblable and lovable dragons in all of Azeroth

New frames of them got me beating the executive dysfunction slightly!!

#Can’t believe it’s almost our anniversary darlings! <3 #Sabellian: We are fucking under attack.png #loyal like a guard dog.. loyal. not attack dog. guard dog. actually more like livestock dog.#Love you cuddle you kiss you smother you with love. and these same gentle hands and lips will shred any who hurt you #Ten years ago it went like #Blizzard: Yeah this is Kalec hes some loser who’s a placebo leader for the blue dragons for 10 years and gets his heart broken twice #and this is Wrathion. nobody likes Wrathion because he’s a monumental fuckup idiot who’s gay and black so we hate him.#the players will surely think he’s morally grey and not trustworthy #Meanwhile 12 YO me sitting on my hardwood bedroom floor #something just happened.#I want a pretty dragon to whisk me away from my family and be my boyfriend. He’d treat me right.#anyways back to Lego Indiana jones the only wii game I own #Time is a flat circle little Shiny ✨#man my mind train went nuts In here. here’s a cookie for anyone still reading this ❤️🍪

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female-hysterics · 7 months ago

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Stormkobra-5 asked:

sets food down carefully* Fuck or die scenario, you say?!?!

Okay, picture THIS!!!

You and Steven have been been crushing on each other for MONTHS, okay??? And neither of you have made a move yet because you’re both Shy As Fuck™️ or smth, and you end up trapped in some ancient Greek tomb on a mission— my nerd brain is thinking of stories where stuff like this actually happened in some myths I can’t remember which ones atm but— after decoding the inscriptions on the temple that state the victims must either consummate OR get crushed by a ceiling of spikes that descends if they don’t within like an hour or two or smth 🙂🙂🙂 Indiana Jones style traps I guess XD

IDK I haven’t thought of any actual scenarios tbh just the PORN—

Alternatively, I offer you Steven trying an aphrodisiac and he turns into a total dom, and I’ll leave your imagination to run wild 😈😈😈

Oh jeez... 🥵 I honestly don't know which one I like better.....🥴

Dom Steven has my heart SO

Steven taking the aphrodisiac innocently, not realizing what it is, and by the time you do realize what it is he is gone. His eyes are both soft with adoration and burning with pure lust while his hands effortlessly strip you of your panties and yank your shirt and bra down enough to free your breasts.

"I just have to feel you, love. Let me just come inside your tight little cunt, take the edge off, yeah?, and then I'll fuck your throat like a good girl," he all but growls in your ear while bending you over his desk, sending a small tower of his books toppling over, and your head is spinning at his words and you are positively dripping for him.

He does exactly that, fucking you deep and hard until you are seeing stars until he spills inside you with a hurt sound deep in his chest, and then you are on your knees with his hands fisted in your hair and his cock buried in your throat while you drool and choke and moan his name. Steven seems to twist you in every position possible, even some that leave you flushing in embarrassment, but he is ravenous for you. His touch desperate, words filthy as he grunts them into your flesh, and you can't help but notice how hot his skin is. How his hands tremble against you, how his eyes are glazed, and this heart is fluttering like a hummingbird in his chest. You are worried for him, but with each orgasm he drags from you your brain become more and more fried.

Everything eventually becomes a blur at one point and you are lost in a sea of heat and euphoria. When you come back to reality you are a sticky naked mess, body limp and laying sideways on the destroyed bed with Steven curled up behind you, and you dimly realize that he was still holding himself inside you. His breathing was even, skin cooled down to a more reasonable temperature, and his heartbeat is a strong steady beat.

"Was a bit rough, wasn't I?" He suddenly whispered against your shoulder and your throat is raw as you try to croak out a response.

You feel him twitch inside you and then he slowly starts to roll his hips in slow sensual waves that make your eyes roll back in your head. His hand moves up from where it was resting on your breast and curls around your throat gently, tilting your head back until you could pant against his open mouth, and you didn't even have the energy to grasp at his arms as his hips continued to snap against you deep and slow. He groaned against your lips.

"A little longer, love. Let me fill you just a little longer."

#Steven Grant #Moon Knight #marvel cinematic universe #steven grant headcanons #steven grant x reader #oscar isaac headcanons #oscar isaac x reader #Oscar Isaac #the void answers

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batmanisagatewaydrug · 2 months ago

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reading update: september 2024

I'm turning in the reading roundup a little later than usual, but booooy not for lack of enthusiasm! September was such an interesting month for books, not least of all because you'll notice that things take a spooky turn towards the end of the month. in the name of whimsy I decided that October would be the perfect time to go on a themed reading kick and read through everything vaguely spooky, scary, or horror-related on my TBR, and then I thought, hey, why wait? Halloween is a state of mind, and I want to get spooked.

(have I been spooked yet? well... eh. but there's still time!)

my point being, if you want some creepy recs, hang tight because the October reading roundup is going to be great for you. in the meantime, here's what I read in September:

My Nemesis (Charmaine Craig, 2023) - cannot recommend this brief novel enough if you like very stylized prose about very insufferable people. Craig's protagonist is a memoirist who narrates her tale of woe exactly like she's writing a personal essay that's going to do numbers on twitter, intimate from a detached and analytical distance and giving the strong impression of a person who's made a living being intensely self-obsessed and can't quite manage to turn it off. it's a fascinating approach to a story about an emotionally overwhelming friendship destroying two marriages and ending in a woman's death, all without any actual adultery ever occurring. the narrator is consciously self-conscious, unreliable in the subtle and shifty way of someone trying to take exactly enough culpability to avoid being assigned more. it's a heavily interior novel, but Craig managed to keep me gasping with surprise here and there - the stomach-twisting reveal of why the narrator is actually telling her story, for one, as well as the revelation of the work within the novel that shares its name. if you like a tightly crafted character exercise, you're going to eat this up.

Raiders of the Lost Heart (Jo Segura, 2023) - this was the romance novel picked out via poll over on my patreon for September, and if I may be honest I was NOT excited! to my mind it was the dud of the group, the one amongst the four possibilities that I was most dreading. the garish cover, improbable plot summary, and blatant Indiana Jones of it all (the male love interest is literally named Ford) was a tremendous turn off, and you know what? I was wrong for that. Raiders ended up being one of the better romance novels I've read this year, and not JUST because I've been reading an endless parade of stinkers. the characters are largely free of manufactured drama and are instead believably and sympathetically rendered, with the female lead Corrie being a particular knockout; I would love to be her friend. the plot isn't nearly as cartoonish as the synopsis on the back of the book would have you believe, or at least most of it isn't; the silliness doesn't arrive until almost the very end, when Segura decides she needs some action movie stakes in here ASAP. and while the prose wasn't totally free of the genre's worst bullshit (stop reminding me that Ford's eyes are emerald, I beg), it was for the most part refreshingly no-nonsense. I wasn't even a chapter into this book when I found myself realizing I might really like it, and as of right now it's looking to claim the title of my favorite romance of 2024 in a landslide victory. having said that someone should be in thought crime prison for titling the sequel "Temple of Swoon."

Delicious in Dungeon Vol. 11 (Ryoko Kui, trans. Taylor Engel, 2022) - man you guys Dungeon Meshi is so fucking good. what the fuck. what the hell. it's so genuinely insane that Kui is still able to weave in elements of humor that feel so organic and natural to the characters at this absolutely dire point of the game, when all of my faves are actively in so much danger - largely FROM EACH OTHER - that I'm eating my fingers. christ. some of my students who are in an LGBT book club did Legends and Lattes last month and I just kept wanting to ask if anyone had read Dungeon Meshi for, you know, a very D&D-flavored story that's actually intensely interested in dissecting the tropes of the genre alongside race and class and xenophobia and the social rules of an adventurer heavy world but god. I couldn't. because it's not gay. like Senshi I just want to nourish the youngsters but I can't because it's not gay. please everyone for the love of god just read Dungeon Meshi.

The Most (Jessica Anthony, 2024) - I'm a simple man, and I added this tiny novel to my TBR based on a blurb that really gave me nothing but "a 60s housewife gets in the apartment complex's pool and refuses to get out and it freaks her husband right out." god forbid women do anything, right? anyway, at risk of showing my whole ass I think this is exactly the kind of "disaffected adultery and divorce" book that a lot of tumblr users claim to hate, and I fucking loved it. Anthony is a brilliantly sharp writer who paces her microcosmic drama perfectly, revealing everything at just the right moment like a practiced tour guide showing us around the shadowy corners of an aggressively ordinary marriage. I love adultery and I think this book in particular should be taught in writing courses. sue me.

Dear Senthuran: A Black Spirit Memoir (Akwaeke Emezi, 2021) - I think this year I've reread more books than I have any other year of my adult life, and I'm so glad that I took time to revisit Emezi's memoir. it's genuinely like nothing else I've ever read, one of the boldest and bravest things I've ever read. Emezi's account of godhood, of coming to understand themself as a deity trapped in flesh, is absolutely unwavering, completely grounded in their certainty of their truth and proceeding from there without ever worrying about persuading others to believe them. Emezi is a storyteller's storyteller, and their story doesn't need anyone's approval. but while it can be challenging, I wouldn't call the book confrontational. quite the opposite; in many places it's achingly vulnerable, as Emezi guides you through an unabashed tour of the very worst of their heartbreak, trauma, and alienation, and the times they've nearly succeeded in taking their own life. but god, please don't think this memoir is unrelenting misery. Emezi also speaks so, SO powerfully of opulence, of love, of the dedication to their artistry ad unabashed acknowledgement that they are a peerless talent. Emezi talks about magic of writing in a way that makes me feel like I'm being engulfed in golden-white flames; they make me want to transform myself into the artist I want to be. once again: I am an Emezi stan first and a person second forever.

The Beginning and End of Rape: Confronting Sexual Violence in Native America (Sarah Deer, 2015) - listen, I'll be straight up with you: unless you're exorbitantly interested in rape law, alternatives to carceral "justice," and legalese, this is going to be a very dry read, and there are not enough narrative segments to make up for that. for my money, Deer provides a thorough overview of the difficulties faced by American tribal nations in exercising legal power to prosecute and punish cases of sexual violence, despite the staggering levels of violence experienced by women in many Native communities. I really admired the intensely tempered view that Deer (a member of the Mvskokoe nation) brings to her work, discussing the history of Native approaches to sexual violence without pretending precolonial North America was a feminist utopia and offering thoughtful criticism of proposed substitutions to imprisonment. while the rape laws of any one of the 574 federally recognized tribes in the occupied lands of the United States could be a book on its own and Deer is constrained by the need to cover as much territory as she can in the broadest strokes possible, this is a solid primer to an ongoing social, spiritual, and legal issue that too rarely receives attention outside of Native communities.

Things Have Gotten Worse Since We Last Spoke and Other Misfortunes (Erica LaRocca, 2022) - straight up I was only trying to read Things Have Gotten worse, LaRocca's somewhat infamous story of a lesbian relationship that goes extremely wrong extremely fast, but the only copy available through my library system came with two more of his short stories (the aforementioned Other Misfortunes). I'm going to save time on the two extra stories: one is an incomprehensible exercise in religious trauma and I did not like it, and the other one was silly because I, personally, simply would not get so trapped in a sense of social obligation that I let my neighbor do stupid riddles to be until I was in a guillotine. rip to that guy but I'm different. anyway, back to the star of the show. I made the mistake of browsing some other people's thoughts on Things Have Gotten Worse Since We Last Spoke and encountered a truly dizzying number of people whose takeaway seems to be that it's bad not for any stylistic reason but because it depicts two lesbians being in a relationship that's deranged and unhealthy, to which I say you should probably go watch Stephen Universe or something instead of looking for #goodrep in the horror short stories. christ. for my money, Things Have Gotten Worse is messy in the most delicious way, absolutely bonkers from start to finish. escalates pretty much instantly and refuses to let up for truly even a second. cannot believe the predatory mommy dom turns out to be the reasonable one in this dynamic, that one threw me for a loop. it's not incredible but god was I entertained.

Fledgling (Octavia E. Butler, 2005) - another reread, revisiting some of my favorite little freak vampires for the spooky season! although, honestly, the most spooky scary thing about Butler's vampires is probably that vampires look like an Aryan cult and some of them are turbo racist while the other ones insist that it's totally 100% impossible for vampires to be racist and the fact that this gets quite a lot of people killed, something that I'm sure is just a weird coincidence and not any kind of commentary that Butler was making on anything at all. what else is there to say? this is one of Butler's most elaborate explorations of inverted power dynamics, dropping codependent symbiotic sexy vampire polycule cults smack in the middle of the 21st century United States instead of on an alien planet or an apocalyptic wasteland just to really drive home how crazy this shit it. and it's delicious! I love it! what a deliciously different interpretation of vampirism. imagine the utopia we'd be living in if this was the vampire novel that had gotten big in 2005 instead of Twilight.

The Low, Low Woods (Carmen Maria Machado, Dani, and Tamra Bonvillain, 2020) - first I remembered that there are horror comics that I can include in my Octoberish reading, and then I remembered that creepy queen Carmen Maria Machado has published one with DC Comics' Black Label. The Low, Low Woods follows dirtbag teen lesbians Octavia and El in the burnt out coal mining town of Shudder to Think, a town where everyone knows that something's not quite right but no one can seem to leave. the story begins with El and Octavia waking up in a movie theater with no memory of a movie, realizing that they've lost time. the ensuing investigation takes them deep into the town's troubled history, and forces them to realize it's not just the supernatural preying on the town. I love creepy Appalachia and would definitely recommend this for any Old Gods of Appalachia fans, and I will say that so far this is the only one of the spooky reads to really get under my skin and give me a full-body shiver due to the sheer overwhelming awfulness of the implications Machado raises with the revelations in her story. I'm not usually one for trigger warnings in my little roundups, but I cannot emphasize enough that if you have a hard time reading about sexual violence, you'll probably want to skip this one.

The Icarus Girl (Helen Oyeyemi, 2005) - I've been meaning to get into Oyeyemi's large body of work (in part because Akwaeke Emezi speaks quite highly of her) and where better to start than with her debut novel? and why not now, since it was tagged as horror? ultimately I'd concede that the book is creepy but don't know if I'd quite consider myself horrified, and that's completely fine since it's an astonishing piece of prose regardless. writing a believable eight year old narrator of an adult novel is a tricky thing, but Oyeyemi pulls it off beautifully with protagonist Jessamy, effortlessly selling her as an insightful, anxious, and intelligent girl who's still utterly believable as a child. the Icarus Girl revels in the same kind of "powerless child" horror as Gaiman's Ocean at the End of the Lane, following the lonely Jessamy as she initially is befriended and then tormented by a mysterious and powerful little girl that she meets while visiting her mother's family in Nigeria. as her new friends gets increasingly malevolent and out of control, Jess struggles to account for the damage and to be taken seriously by her parents when she tries to explain what's wrong. Oyeyemi apparently wrote this book when she was only a teenager, and if she's been leveling up her craft with each subsequent novel then I have a lot of look forward to.

#bookblr

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r3medialch8os · 1 year ago

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since it is clear to all my favorite episode is my namesake i'm going to outline some of my favorite things about remedial chaos theory.

everything leading up to the Darkest Timeline scenario. before we get to the darkest timeline, several time bombs are planted. we as an audience gradually learn about these but the characters' knowledge of them resets with every new timeline. for one, annie's gun is only adressed in the first timeline. then, in the second timeline when shirley storms out, we become aware of the fact that when the door is slammed hard enough, the rolling boulder model is triggered. further, we learn about britta smoking, pierce bringing alcohol, and the troll doll and its effect on troy. all of these things come to a head in the darkest timeline. troy leaves hastily because he doesn't want to miss anything therefore slamming the door, which triggers the indiana jones model. then the rest follows. it's genius because the chaos was unpredictable but as the audience we recognize all the elements that make it that way.

in every timeline, pierce makes a joke involving eartha kitt. the comedy of it is that every time, the segway he employs is more outlandish. it seems like a gag until jeff's timeline comes up. when jeff leaves to get the pizza, pierce in fact does not make the joke, showing us he was doing it to impress jeff the whole time, offering character insight.

jeff hits his head on the ceiling fan in every timeline. again, it seems random, until at the end annie deems it as 'karma'. we realize then, that jeff hitting his head throughout all the timelines was a karmic punishment this whole time, because he was being unfaithful in his pizza-getter divising system which governed the timelines in the first place.

there is a lot to be said about the implications about what happens when a certain group member leaves. troy's leaving causing the darkest timeline has been thoroughly discussed. what i find most interesting about this particular fact is that the timelines are not real, or so they are denoted. it is emphasized over and over again that abed is the one making up the timelines. therefore we can assume his subjective opinion influences the outcomes of the timelines. we could even assume that the whole episode takes place in his brain. it gives a lot of weight to the significance of troy leaving. in any case, it's not just that particular timeline that's interesting on this front.

when abed leaves to get the pizza, every pairing in the study group has some form of a heart-to-heart and then a disastrous outcome of that very moment resulting into a fight. they go through emotional rollercoasters, maybe more so than they have all episode. it is interesting to note that abed's departure allows the study group to access their emotions more freely, whether they be positive or more negative. it's intriguing how abed assuages these intense emotions, and how these kinds of emotional confrontations would have never happened with his being there.

the timeline where jeff leaves is also fasinating as it clearly illustrates how the group will still have fun without jeff, maybe even more so when he's gone. this is also shown in s03ep01 but becomes even clearer here. the group becomes more carefree, cheery.

the prime timeline, the one where jeff gets the pizza, is when abed catches the die. this scene is hilarious because none of the study group members have experienced the timeline scenarios as we the audience have because they are in fact living their lives in the timeline as is considered normal. this is what makes it extra funny that they indulge abed in his lengthy verbose speech. they really like each other a lot. it's cool.

anyways, this episode is my very favorite ever and i could talk about it forever.

#community #abed nadir #nbc community #troy barnes #abed community #troy community #remedial chaos theory #community analysis #jeff winger #six seasons and a movie #shirley bennett #britta perry #annie edison #trobed #tv show analysis

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gosmigenergy · 2 months ago

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KINKTOBER 2024 / Day Nine

ANAL / PRAISE KINK / FOOD PLAY (@absurdthirst)

Starring: Steven Grant x F!Reader

Summary: You thought it was only you who had a praise kink until you realise Steven was a very good boy.

Rating: Mature

Warnings: No use of Y/N, language, praising, P in V, unprotected sex (protection in real life, please, thank you)

Word Count: 1.8k

There was no denying you had a praise kink.

With any guy you’d been with, Marc Spector included, they could call you a good girl, tell you you were taking them so well and you would fold faster than a bad hand at a poker game. Yet with Steven, the dynamic shifted.

Somehow when the pair of you shared a bed or wherever you decided to allow your primal instincts to take you, you were the dominant one.

He always loved an evening in and tonight was one of those nights.

The cheesy d-grade film based on Indiana Jones was chosen, the British air turning cold enough for the pair of you to snuggle under a blanket, your comfiest attire that you hoped wouldn’t stay on too long. All you prayed for was that this one wasn’t set in Egypt because if it was, you were going to lose him and though you love his enthusiasm, it wasn’t in your plan.

You were already wrapped in the blanket when he joined you.

“What are we watching?”

You shrug, “It’s the sequel to that one we watched the other week.”

“Oh,” he scoffs, “hope it’s not set in Egypt.”

“I hope so too.”

His brows furrow not necessarily at your comment but at the way you give a lascivious look, he sinks into the sofa under your gaze, lifting the soft fabric to his shoulders.

The film was almost alike to the other, boring, but at least last time you had Steven’s commentary about how it should have been done. You’d already brought your body close, your thighs touching his, your fingers playing with his loose curls as your eyes remained fixed on the television.

He was on the brink of falling asleep, the action of you messing about with his hair almost soothing until your hand slipped under the blanket, a gentle squeeze above his knee.

His body flinched, muscles tensing.

“You alright, honey?”

You try to frame your innocence yet he knows what you’re doing.

His heart rate picks up but he likes this kind, not like when he’s asked to become Moon Knight or Mr Knight or whoever he his, this one leads to a more pleasurable outcome. He can’t help getting caught up in himself, body refusing to relax as your hand travels further up his leg.

“Uh-huh.”

You smile, he took too long to answer and he couldn’t say any actual words so your plan was definitely working.

He blinked, dropping his head slightly, his hooded eyes trying to remain focused on what was happening in the film. He began to chew the inside of his lip when your fingertips fell into the crease leading towards his crotch.

The heat rose through his body, his cheeks gaining a nice rosy hue, your lips burnt when you kissed him.

“Fancy doing something a little more exciting than this?”

You use your head to gesture to the screen, moving your upper body in an attempt to block it from view. He struggled not to make eye contact, the quick glance at you revealing the yearn to have you.

“Yeah,” his single word came out with a laugh.

The corner of your lips curled as you dropped your hand into his lap, fingers curling until the weight of his balls was in your grasp. He let out a strangled moan as he arched back, head tilting over the back of the sofa.

You hum, “I always love hearing you moan, it’s like music to my ears.”

His body relaxes, his head falling back even further and when you massage his balls more noises escape him. The bulge began to grow under his sweatpants and in his distraction, you climb over him to settle between his legs. He naturally makes room for you, unfurling his legs to a wide stance so you can perch on the edge.

You roll your shoulders, the blanket falling to your hips, opening Steven up to you.

You tuck your free hand under the hem of his tee, the muscles of his stomach rippling as you spread your warm palm over them. Your fingertips swirl, nails grazing lightly on his tanned skin, encroaching on the drawstring waist that he prays you’ll undo yet you don’t.

He swallows thickly, resisting the urge to say anything.

“Look at you,” you coo, “being so patient…”

He scrunches his eyes shut as you move, pulling up the cotton material, exposing his abs, his chest. Your other hand continues to work him as you stretch to press your mouth to the shell of his ear.

“Good boy.”

He whines as your palm crushes his balls and inflicting a bit of pain makes your pussy clench.

Sometimes, it feels a little bit mean to use Steven in this way, he was sweet and harmless if you take away the fact he turns into a superhero who beats up bad guys. You move both your hands to his neck, allowing him some breathing room as you feel his pulse race underneath.

You sigh, “You have no idea what you do to me.”

“I don’t?”

He opens one eye, sounding genuinely surprised by your admission. You shake your head, sitting back on your heels, watching as he lifts his head drunkenly.

“You sit there, looking adorable…”

Your fingers reach for the waist of his pants yet your eyes are set firmly on his face. His mouth parts, brows knotting as if he doesn’t fully understand what’s happening, all he can think about his is where your hands are. You yank the fabric down, his cock swinging, bouncing between your bellies.

“When you have this fine specimen between your legs.”

He blushes, “It— it’s not that impressive.”

Now he can’t look you in the eye so much so you place each palm to the side of his face to bring him back to you.

“I wouldn’t say that.”

You kiss his lips, slipping away before he has chance to return the favour. Your dewy lips meet the skin under his jawline, the crook of his neck.

“I’d say it’s the perfect fit.”

Your kisses trail down his chest, your hot breath teasing like licking flames.

“Just the right girth to feel that stretch…”

You place a foot on the floor as you crouch to kiss down his navel, your cheek brushing against his stiff cock.

“The exact length to hit that sweet spot.”

His cock jerked when you brought your mouth to the tip, the kiss you deliver featherlight. You hear a ragged breath, you eyes flitting up to see his chocolate eyes wide with anticipation.

“Would you like a demonstration?”

You don’t give him a chance to respond, you’re already straightening up, reaching for your own waistline. Ripping yourself from your pants, you stand there, presenting yourself to him and leaving him dumbfounded.

What he didn’t know was that you’d already prepared yourself, you had imagined how you wanted tonight to go, touched yourself whilst you were getting changed so your folds were already slick with your juices.

You straddle him and he comes back down to earth, his hands meeting the backs of your legs. Leaning forward, you nudge his curved nose with the tip of yours before kissing him squarely on the lips.

“I’m gonna show you just how good you make me feel.”

He nods enthusiastically.

Taking his cock in your hand, you rock back and forth a little, lining yourself up. You tease his tip along your folds before sinking, pushing it into your entrance, clenching the ridge between your walls.

He releases a long exhale, head falling forward to get a better look.

The pair of you moan harmoniously as you go further down, taking inch by inch slowly as you stretch to accompany him. When you settle into his lap, feel him deep inside you, you circle your hips in a figure of eight.

“How do I look?”

He peeked up at you, the glow of the television making you appear heavenly, celestial. You hook a finger under his chin and you don’t need him to say anything as he gazes upon you like all those goddesses he’d fawns over.

You bring your lips softly to his as you start rolling your hips, riding up and down without a hurry.

His hands follow your movements before they rise over the swell of your ass, skimming over your hips before wrapping around your waist. He presses his forehead to the centre of your chest, resting in the valley of your breasts.

He breaths you in, your natural scent mixed with an intoxicating aroma of spices from the perfume he’d bought you.

“Your cock feels incredible.”

Your voice breaks through the sounds of his own shallow pants, his cock twitching as the words manage to sink into that head of his. He allows every one of his senses to be engulfed by you as he pokes out his tongue to gain a taste.

“That’s it.”

Your fingers entangle in his thick locks, burying him deeper into your chest as you pick up the pace, a honeyed sigh escaping you.

Each slap of your hips echoes louder as you force your weight down on him, the tingle of your building pleasure dancing along your back. You keep riding, compliments overflowing as your tongue loosens.

Steven is pleading with himself to not come though he can feel stomach curling in on itself. His licks grow sloppy, moans more exaggerated as his heat consumes him. The hold of his arms on your waist strengthens.

“You’re taking me so well.”

You grind your mound into his frame, the delicate friction on your clit sending shockwaves across your nerve endings. Your walls tighten around his stiff length and his desperate cry vibrates through your bones.

“Not much longer, I promise.”

He holds you stronger, his nails digging into your flesh.

You keep going, your hips finally stuttering when your legs begin to vibrate. Pulling at his scalp, he cranes his head up to look at you and though his vision was blurry around the edges, he still thought you were radiant.

His face was flushed, his saliva dribble from his bottom lip.

Neither of you spoke, all he needed was your approval, a single nod for him to find his release.

His eyes fluttered shut, the crease in the centre of his brow disappearing as his jaw slackened, a hoarse cry coming from his throat. His hips raised slightly, the tip of his cock notching deeper as his load coated your walls.

You pulsated around him, your own pleasure dissipating into a satisfying warmth.

Your hold on the back of his head relaxes and you follow the line of his jaw, thumbs rubbing his hot cheeks calmly.

“My beautiful boy.”

Three words you’d never said aloud before but ones he needed to hear.

He lifts his heavy head, eyelids drooping before a lopsided grin drew across his face.

“Nah, you’re the beautiful one,” he slurs.

The temperature rises in your cheeks and chest and immediately, you cover your face, heart skipping a beat.

“Steven!”

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