#There is a truly scary amount of people out there calling her a “he” and it makes me irrationally angry. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

runningfrom2am · 1 month ago

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moon river // part one

summary: people in lincoln county are dropping dead alongside their livestock, the wells are running dry and children are prompted from their beds to wander unconsciously in the night. billy has been hired as a last resort by the lawmen as a bounty hunter, charged with the task of hunting and killing the witch responsible in exchange for a reward and the clearing of his name. how could he turn that down?

pairing: william h. bonney x fem!reader

wc: 7.6k

masterlists / nav / requests

tags/warnings: witch!reader x bounty hunter!billy, warning for like,,, witchcraft and stuff i suppose?? mentions of death, minor amounts of gore and animal mutilation. devil worship and other supernatural/biblical tea. also angst. probably.

a/n: impulsive new series dw ab it. i'm thinking this'll be only a few parts but based on how long part one is, i don't think that means much lol. buckle in.

my asks are also open to talk about this series! (i do have emoji anons open now too!)

send me any and all of your thoughts! here!

series masterlist // pinterest board // playlist

The reward had been posted for weeks, and any man who dared to set foot in the woods on the hunt for the witch who had been cursing local crops and killing livestock didn't return at all. Billy was confident, though. He could draw and shoot quicker than anyone, and he had not only been offered the reward, but also the clearing of his name and a clean slate- and damn if that wasn't an impossible offer to turn down. Even if the sheriff was pretty damn desperate in order to seek Billy out unarmed to beg him to go after this witch.

Rifle in hand, he walked for hours hunting for a girl he'd only heard rumours of. Of her pretty hair that fell in enchanting waves and her bright, sparkling eyes that were deceptive in a way that could suck a man in and kill him with nothing more than a quick flick of her wrist. But he'd met plenty of girls like that before. He also heard she was horrid, scary and old and plucked straight from everyone's mother's horror stories passed onto them as children to keep them in their beds at night. In truth, he had no clue what he was walking into.

The forest was quiet today, eerily so, without even the chirping of birds or the wind in the trees to keep him company on the foot journey. Nothing. He wasn't welcome here and something deep inside of him knew it. Walking into a clearing, he gets only the mildest relief as the wind brushes the long grass against his boots and the woods isn't suffocating him any longer. Until the breath is vacuumed straight out of his lungs when he sees the first sign of life in miles.

This girl must be his age, of all the things he heard he didn't truly expect that. It was hard to tell as she was crouched over one of many graves in the open clearing, the sun making her hair glow like it had hand picked that surface to reflect off of. She can't be the witch everyones afraid of. He can even hear her now, the subtle humming of a tune coming from her lips as she laid out flowers from a basket below the shoddy cross. This was just a girl taking care of a forgotten grave, that was all. Despite his better judgement, he wants to believe that.

"Hello?" He calls, tilting his head slightly as he takes a hesitant step closer across the clearing.

You already knew he was there, of course. You could feel the shift in the air when he entered the space a minute or so prior. You turn your head, standing up straight again and brushing off the front of your dress.

"Hello, there." You reply, offering him a small smile as you pick up the basket from your feet. Admittedly, he was the youngest (and handsomest) of the men you assume had come to kill you, but you're surprised the woods had even let him get this close. The forest can see something in him you could not, clearly. Who are you to deny its very will?

The power in your skin thrums like a second heartbeat in your fingertips and against your ribcage, and you bring a hand up to grasp at the crystal hanging around your neck.

He notices the way your hand tightens around the necklace in your fingers almost anxiously, and it makes his own hand subconsciously itch to raise his rifle as he takes another step closer towards you. He swallows, trying his damndest to not show even a flicker of fear behind his eyes. There is none. She's just a girl, he has to convince himself, but you can see it. Feel it in the air around him even as he stands perfectly steady and strong in front of you.

"Who are you?"

A pretty girl, alone in a forest that no-one else dares tread into. It's a curious sight, and it only serves to make him more on edge. No one in their right mind would be in this forest of their own will.

You tilt your head slightly, watching him as he steps closer but making no attempt to move away yourself.

You answer with your name, soft and sweet as honey as you twist the chain around your neck slightly, eyes locked now on the gun in his hands.

"You're..." You pause for a moment to think, taking a deep breath and closing your eyes. "Billy. That's your name, right?"

His hand tightens on his rifle. The feeling of being somewhere he was never supposed to have entered made beads of sweat roll down the back of his neck as he felt the air thicken all around them. "How do you know that?"

You hesitate on how to answer. You can't very well tell him that you felt it, that you just knew. That you just knew he was here to kill you. You are far from the most social of girls, but you had to save face.

"You look like a Billy." You smile softly. "And it's a common enough name, is it not? A safe guess."

His eyes narrow slightly as his grip on the rifle relaxes. You were hiding something, that much was blatantly clear just from looking at your face, but still, he couldn't imagine someone like you to be the reason the townsfolk kept their doors locked and children well away come sundown.

"I suppose." He finally says, a hand coming up from his rifle to pull his low brimmed hat off his head- a small show of reluctant respect. Though, he still keeps his distance.

Your smile relaxes a little bit just as the subtle sounds of birds chirping and the wind through the leaves surrounds you again in background noise. "It suits you." You tell him, grabbing the basket handle with both hands now.

A hint of surprise flickers across his face at the odd compliment, but it fades just as quickly as it appeared. He lets out a hum of acknowledgement, watching you carefully. If he was being honest, he didn't want to believe that the woman in front of him was a witch. You are far more delicate than that.

"What are you doing out here anyway?"

"Oh, well, I was passing through and saw all these graves. I couldn't help but feel they were lacking some flowers." You explain, lying easily and glancing down at the ones you had already spent time laying lavenders over, five or six of them still looking fresh, without as much grass regrowing over the dirt just yet. "Lavender helps with sleep, you know. It ensures a peaceful rest."

He takes a moment to look at the surrounding graves, his stomach twisting at the sight of how many there were. Ten, at least. He'd seen graveyards before, many times, but something about the lack of proper head stones and the makeshift crosses that were just wooden sticks shoved in the dirt made this feel so much darker.

He frowns as he turns his eyes back to you. "Aren't you afraid of what people say about this place? That it's cursed or something."

"Cursed?" You ask, brow furrowing slightly as you look back at him with a slightly confused smile. "It isn't cursed. It's just a forest."

You knew as much as he seemed to that what you were saying wasn't true, but "cursed" was definitely not the right word to describe it. Though, if the townspeople were saying it was cursed, well, it made more sense as to why people came in here intent on killing you more and more recently.

He can't help but notice the way your smile tightens ever so slightly at the comment, like it was forced to remain on your lips in an attempt to keep up appearances when in reality you wanted to do anything but. You were nervous.

"It don't take a genius to figure out that no one goes in these woods alone for no good reason. A lot of people get lost in here. A lot of people don't come back." He can't help but look back at the headstones of people who most likely went missing, forever lost to the forest. To you. "And I ain't ever seen you in Lincoln."

The two of you stand in the clearing for another moment, neither of you speaking. Neither of you moving as the world around the two of you seems to hold its breath. He feels himself wanting to reach out and touch you, like he was in a trance of sorts. He wants to know what you're hiding, he wants to know who you are. A large part of him already knows, subconsciously wishing it wasn't true.

He tears his eyes away, shaking his head. He wasn't here to make friends, he was here for the reward- not to start sympathizing.

"Oh," You reply quietly, unsure what to say as you force yourself to keep your eyes on him instead of looking over at the fresh graves. "I... I am sorry to hear that."

He studies you for a moment, trying to decipher your carefully worded reply. He can't tell if you actually feel sorry for those who came here and never made it out alive, or if you're just trying to cover up the fact that you may be connected to it.

"It's a shame, really. A lot of good men have gone missing out here, never to be seen again."

He looks like he's about to ask another question before he notices the way your knuckles start to turn white from gripping the basket so hard.

"Your hands are shaking." The observation is formed more like a question, an accusing tone you pick up on easily.

You look down at your hands, eyes widening a bit before you tuck them behind your back with the basket. "Oh, uh... sorry. I can't control it sometimes." You admit sheepishly.

He watches the way you try and hide your hands out of view, and it only serves to make him more suspicious of you. Why would the thought of him seeing your hands shaking make you so anxious?

He doesn't call you out on it, though. "What do you mean can't control it sometimes? Are you nervous?"

"I-I just... I haven't eaten yet today. And it runs in my family, you know. Shaky hands." You explain, trying not to sound as nervous as you are.

"You're lying." He accuses, watching your reaction carefully.

As he speaks the previous chirping of the birds and the wind in the trees and in the grass halts in an instant, like the forest itself was tensing with you. You knew what that meant. Your gaze flickers from his face down to the gun in his hands and back quickly as you take a small step back. "I- I'm not, honestly." You reply with a slightly nervous laugh, trying to lighten the atmosphere again and delay the inevitable. Either he wasn't going to hurt you, or he was the one meant to hurt you. It was a mystery of the universe you were less than eager to discover the outcome of.

His eyes flick over to the surrounding trees as the forest goes quiet, as if it was listening- waiting. He grips the rifle a little tighter when you take a step back, his shoulders tensing slightly.

"You're a very bad liar." He responds, his eyes back on you again. The change in your behaviour doesn't go unnoticed by him, as he slowly starts to lift his rifle to an almost aiming position.

"Don't-" You urge him quickly, your eyes going wide again with more urgency as you hold a hand up to try and stop him. In the same moment he starts to lift his gun, the clouds seem to cover the sun and the beautiful beams of light entering the clearly through the trees is all but gone to gray.

His eyes flick up to the sky as the forest is cast into darkness. He isn't an idiot, he doesn't believe that clouds could move across the sky that quickly- only one other thing could make a place this dark this fast.

"...You did that." He points out with an accusatory tone, his eyes back on you as he adjusts the rifle, aiming the barrel straight at you.

You drop the basket, raising your hands as the still air picks up a somewhat electric buzz to it, the sky darkening further. You didn't know what the forest had done to the other men, but you suspected you were about to find out.

"I-I didn't, I haven't done anything. I swear." You promise him, voice shaking a bit.

He holds the gun steadily as he watches you closely, the way your eyes dart around the clearing as if searching for a way out, the way the air is now thick with something that he can't put his finger on. It's something that makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand straight up, it's something that feels dangerous. He's always been attuned to it.

"Don't bullshit me." He says, cocking the rifle with a click. His eyes watch you like a hawk, the barrel of the gun now pointed directly between your bright, enchanting irises.

"I know why you're here." You stammer out quickly, slowly moving your hands out to your sides toward the trees on either side of you as the leaves start to rustle more urgently in the wind. "I mean... I don't know why but I know you're here to kill me, right?"

He tenses slightly as you begin to move your hands toward the trees, his finger hovering dangerously close to the trigger of his rifle. "You have the townsfolk scared shitless. They put a damn price on your head, and word spreads fast." He tilts his head, continuing to watch you intently as the air becomes more and more electric.

"What?" You ask, to him looking genuinely confused as you watch his finger graze over the trigger. "I-I've never even been into town. I've never done anything to them."

The wind picks up then, blowing wickedly through your hair and ruffling the skirts of your dress.

His body tenses at the feeling of the wind blowing so fiercely, the trees beginning to sway with the force of it. The air is thick, almost electric in a way that can't possibly be natural, and he's beginning to realize just what he's gotten himself into.

"You expect me to believe you?" He responds, the barrel of the gun still aimed at your head. He doesn't know why he hasn't fired already, he knows he's staring down the sights of his hunting rifle directly at the witch he was meant to kill. Who has killed six of Lincoln's bravest men and is currently standing over their graves.

When he moves the gun you wince, and the sound of the trees shifting becomes almost more intentional now as you hold your hands up higher at either side of your body. "I-I'll explain... Just... just put down the gun. Please."

"Why should I do that?" He asks, keeping his aim on you despite the trees that now seem so alive all around you- like they were whispering.

"You just have to trust me!" You call out, now that the wind was getting louder and louder, the sky darker as the trees closed in on the two of you, more specifically, the branches reaching for him.

He clocks it quickly; the branches slowly creeping down, the leaves reaching out towards him. It was like they were going to reach out and grab him at any moment, and the idea is making the hair on his arms stand straight up. It wasn't real, he knew better than that.

"How... how are you doing this?" He asks, his eyes flicking back to you, his rifle still raised.

"I'm not!" You shout, hands pushed out on either side of you as you squint against the wind, expression tense as the air pushes in on you from every direction. "I'm trying to stop it, just drop the gun!"

His eyes dart between you and the trees, noticing the way the branches are slowly inching towards him, and how you seem to almost be trying to push them back, your entire body tensing with some unknown effort.

"And if I drop the gun and you try something, huh?" He yells back, his finger still resting against the cool metal of the lightened trigger.

"You'll end up dead either way!" You shout, squeezing your eyes shut now as a couple small roots start to slowly coil around his ankles. "I don't want to bury you! Just drop it!"

He glances down at the roots slowly making their way up his lower legs, and his eyebrows furrow as he tries to comprehend how in the hell something like this is even possible. Finally, he grunts, clicking the safety back on his rifle and dropping it to the dirt. As soon as the weapon is out of his hands, the atmosphere in the clearing changes.

Even with your eyes shut, you can feel the pressure get taken off of you as soon as he drops the gun.

You drop your hands back down to your sides, winded from the exertion of keeping him alive. It seemed to have moved quick, the forest in its efforts to eliminate the threat, but you have to imagine it was much slower than it was when it set its sights on the other men who set foot in here to kill you.

"Are you okay?" You ask, gasping to catch your breath as the roots remain wrapped loosely around his ankles, incase it needed to grab him again quickly. Though, the skies had mostly cleared and the wind had stopped now.

He stands frozen in place for a moment, his breath heavy in his lungs as adrenaline courses through his veins and his heart hammers violently in his chest. "I.... I'm fine I think..." He responds, looking down at the roots still clinging to his ankles. He's at a loss as to how the hell something like that can even happen, even more so how you could make that happen.

He tries to get his legs free from the roots, but they cling to him stubbornly, even when he pulls with his full weight. He huffs in frustration, dropping himself to sit down on the ground. "Are you gonna get those things to let go of me? I dropped the damn gun."

They tighten a bit as he talks to you like that and you watch as more vines slither across the ground and wrap around his rifle, dragging it away while also doing the same with the revolver on his hip.

"I... I can't." You admit quietly, wringing your hands nervously in front of you. "I told you, I'm not doin' it."

His eyes widen as the roots from the ground pull his revolver off of him, and the vines drag his rifle towards some far off tree line. He realizes promptly he's being toyed with- like a mouse to an un-hungry cat.

"The hell do you mean you can't?" He asks frustratedly, his eyes locked on you as you fidget in place. His heart is still pumping faster than it has in years. "Do it!"

"I-I, well-"

You start, ready to try and explain but you don't get very far before he's quickly hoisted up off the ground by his feet, being hung upside down as bullets and coins rain from of his pockets. He curses loudly over your yelp of surprise as the forest tosses him up into the air, leaving him to hang by his ankles nearly twenty feet above the ground. He can feel the blood quickly rushing to his head, leaving him dizzy as the items in his pockets come tumbling out. As he tries to reach for something, he loses his balance and starts to swing back and forth like a pendulum.

You wince in sympathy as you hesitantly reach out toward him before pulling your hand back quickly. "Sorry, sorry..." You say through clenched teeth, a guilty expression on your face.

"Could you... please... get me down?" He asks in a strained voice, trying his hardest to keep what was left in his stomach where it was.

You frown, taking a small, hesitant step closer. "I... I told you, I'm not doin' it." You repeat, glancing down at the small objects that fell from his pockets.

"Do you... always carry that many bullets?"

This is the first time in a forever that he's felt so defenseless, hanging from his feet in some clearly, definitely cursed forest. Still, he tries to ignore the humiliation he feels at being in this position, trying to keep his cool while also trying to keep in his breakfast.

"I like to be prepared." He responds tightly, his eyes staring at the ground as he continues to swing back and forth slowly above you.

"For what..?" You ask, knowing that now probably isn't the time, but you truly are curious. And it's not like he could hurt you at the moment.

He pauses for a second, thinking it over before shrugging awkwardly in his hung up position. "You never know when danger might come knocking." He explains, his eyes continuing to be locked on the grass below him. This was a damn embarrassing position to be in with an audience, especially a pretty one.

"Yeah I... I guess so..." You agree, unsure what to do as the vines circle him further, searching inside his clothes for more weapons, no doubt.

He lets the forest strip him of his weapons in silence, his pride already bruised for the day anyway. He only lets out a small grunt as a particularly sharp branch pokes him in the stomach, searching for anything else that might be hidden.

"If I ask you something, these things aren't gonna try and strangle me or anything, right?" He calls down, gritting his teeth as his blood continues to rush to his head.

You can't help but giggle a little as you look up at him, his arms dangling below his head and his shirt starting to fall a little bit as well.

"I don't think so." You say, tilting your head slightly and squinting against the sun as it comes back with your quiet laughter, surrounding you in more warmth and lighter air.

He watches you as you laugh, watching the way your eyes crinkle and the way your smile spreads across your face. He's starting to realize that he's pretty unfortunately attracted to you, especially with the way the sunlight hits you the way it always seems to. Taunting him, tempting him- you were a gift from the trees he doesn't think he would do very well to try and pluck away from the stem.

He takes a breath, swallowing hard and lifting his hands to try and swat away the vine digging into the waistband of his trousers to get at the dagger he had there. "Why aren't you scared of me?"

You giggle again, lowering your hand as some of the tree branches grow up and out in the perfect spot to shield only your eyes from the sun.

"No offense, but you're not exactly very fear-inducing at the moment." You reply, watching in slight amusement as he dangles from the roots, spinning slowly without an ounce of control over it.

He watches you shield your eyes with the branches, finding himself a little surprised at how the forest seems to bend to your will. Despite that, a small smile appears on his face, his arms crossing in front of his chest. "What're you talking about? I'm terrifying."

You let out another laugh as he tried to cross his arms over his chest, and then the birds are singing again. The roots start to lower him just a little bit at his lighthearted joke and the way it made me smile, and he finally stopped resisting.

"Yeah, I'm quakin' in my boots."

He rolls his eyes as he lets the plants lower him down, still trying not to look completely humiliated. "Very funny, smartass. Mind telling them to lower me the rest of the way?"

The roots quickly jerk him back up again at the comment and your smile drops as you wince again. His lips form into a tight line when the roots yank him back up again, his head spinning as all his blood shoots straight back to his brain. "I can't tell them what to do, unfortunately." You remind him, head still tilted back at a mildly uncomfortable angle to look up at him.

"They seemed to listen to you just a minute ago to give you some shade." He mutters, feeling like an idiot just hanging there.

"I didn't ask for them to do that." You reply, another small smile tugging at your lips that seems to bring the sun back just a bit.

He watches as your lips pull into a smile again, noticing the way the sun seems to come back just a little every time it does. He's starting to get it, even if he was far from a comprehensive or even realistic understanding.

"Oh, so this stuff is just what- a coincidence now?" He asks, gesturing to a nearby tree that had pushed its branches out to act as your own personal umbrella.

You look up at the branches over your head before back at him. "Okay, well, I never said that." You chuckle, standing on your toes and reaching up to one of the leaves, letting a ladybug crawl onto your fingers.

He watches you stand on your toes and reach up, nymph-like in the most graceful of ways- a sight if he's ever seen one. He can't help but notice how the sun seems to break through the trees a little more now, lighting your face and hair up in a way that's almost angelic. He can feel his mouth starting to go dry as he watched you play with the ladybug. "So... you talk to bugs too?"

"What? No." You giggle, letting the bug crawl up your arm and into your hair. They did really seem to like your hair, something you had always picked up on. You didn't like it much, but they never stayed for long. Just explored for a few moments before continuing on their merry way. "It's... it's more complicated than that. More like a feeling. Not with bugs," You explain quickly. "Just like... the space, if that makes sense."

He lets his eyes linger on the small red bug that was currently making a home in your hair, trying to distract himself from the way a few strands of it seemed to fall against the exposed skin of your collarbone.

"I'll be honest... not really." He responds, a small smile on his face, "I'm not much acquainted with stuff like that."

When you look up at him again, smile widening a bit when you see he's smiling too, the roots start to lower him another foot or so again. "That's alright. I don't really get it either." You shrug softly.

He lets out a small huff of laughter as he's lowered down again, finally feeling like he's starting to get used to hanging upside down. "Well, I guess we're two peas in a pod then, huh?" The sun breaks through the trees even further, casting a golden glow on both of you and the plants surrounding you.

You grin up at him and his flushed red face as you step out of the little umbrella and pick up his hat from the ground, dusting it off before starting to gather all his things and setting them inside like it was a bucket.

"So... what did you say was happening in the town? Livestock are dyin'? People gettin' sick?"

He watches you dust off his hat and collect his belongings as you speak, trying to ignore the flutter in his chest that he felt when he saw you handling his stuff like it was the most casual thing in the world.

"Yeah..." He responds, his voice sounding a little distracted, "No one's been able to figure out why for months now. They tried blaming it on all sorts of things, but nothing's worked so far... that's why I'm here."

"They think it's me." You comment, nodding slightly, picking up the last of his things before standing up again, looking up at him.

He watches you brush down your dress, his eyes lingering longer than they should on the gentle curve of your waist and how your seemingly soft hand smoothed over the surface. With the sun lighting you up like you were an angel sent from heaven itself? Maybe you were just as dangerous as they said. "Well... are you?"

Your brow furrows slightly and you shake your head, a small frown pulling at your lips. "No... I... Like I said I've never even been to the town. Okay, well, maybe once or twice, but I just like to go to the farmer's market every once in a while. I'd never want to hurt anyone."

He watches you look down sadly, noticing how your expression shifts to the sad one he saw when you were tending the graves not too long ago. He feels a pang of guilt in his chest, realizing his comment had been a little thoughtless.

"Hey, I didn't mean..." He starts, pausing for a moment as the vines slowly let him down even lower, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have assumed."

"It's not your fault." You reply, watching him get lowered a little bit further. "If everyone believes it, I wouldn't expect you not to."

He's finally almost on the ground now, hanging just about eye level with you. At this point, looking at you from the upside down view makes his head spin a little.

"Yeah, well... I guess I still shouldn't have jumped to conclusions." He responds, watching as a soft breeze blows in through the clearing, messing your hair up for a moment and filling the air with the scent of wildflowers.

Your smile grows a bit at that. "Well, thank you. I appreciate that."

Then the roots are suddenly turning him upright again before he has the chance to even consider what to say, lowering him quickly to the grass and thrusting him forward into you. "Whoa..!" He stumbles forward, suddenly upright again, only to be flung forward at full speed straight into you. He grabs your arms by instinct, trying to keep from knocking you both backwards but failing as both of you land on a soft area of moss. The two of you fall back onto the ground, him landing on top of you with a soft thud. He can feel his heart racing in his chest as he looks down at you below him.

You're shocked at first, getting your bearings quickly though as you look up at him and into his blue eyes. It feels like you're looking straight through him at the beautiful and now clear sky above you, and you can't help but giggle when you've realized what happened. Clearly, the forest didn't see him as a threat to you anymore; stripped bare of his weapons and armed only with an apology for making assumptions.

His heart skips a beat the moment you start to laugh, the sound like music to his ears. He'd never heard a prettier sound than that. His heart hammers against his chest as he looks down at your face, the sunlight streaming through the tree tops to perfectly light up your face, giving you a golden glow. He can feel his mouth going dry again, just like it did earlier. He had never found someone so beautiful before, and for a moment, he's scared he's fallen victim to your rumoured enchantments.

He realizes after a moment how long he's been staring, and how close the two of you are. His face was so close he could see the individual lashes framing your eyes, the freckles spread across your skin, the light flush across your cheeks. His eyes fall to your lips, realizing how soft they looked... and how he badly he would like to taste them... Oh, he must be enchanted somehow.

"Are you quite alright?" You giggle, shifting a little bit, unwilling to outright ask him to get off. "I didn't expect them to throw you like that."

The giggling helps snap him out of it, and he suddenly realizes just how embarrassing the situation looks, and how strange it is that the forest would even do that to begin with. He scrambles to get off of you, sitting beside you on the ground.

"Yeah.. yeah... I'm fine...." He responds sheepishly, a flush on his own face as a few stray pieces of moss stick onto his clothes.

His face was still burning, and he couldn't get the sight of you laughing out of his head. The way your eyes had sparkled, how your hair had been splayed out around you against the grass... he shakes his head, trying to dispel the thoughts. He didn't have time to be getting all distracted like this. He glances over to you, noticing how your hair was still messy from the fall, a few blades of grass sticking out of it as a few flowers from the surrounding area are caught in the strands too.

You close your eyes, letting out a soft sigh as he moves off of you, smiling a little to yourself as you feel the sun on your skin. Just for that, it seems to burn a little brighter.

After a few moments you push yourself up so you're sitting as well, your gaze finding him again. "You must really believe me."

He tilts his head slightly, watching you push yourself into a sitting position beside him, your back against the tree and the sun still shining through the branches onto your face. He can feel his heart skip a beat as he stares.

"How do you figure that?" He blinks, trying to snap out of it and trying not to think too hard about how he was starting to feel towards you so quickly.

You nod over to the roots and vines retreating slowly back into the tree line. "They wouldn't have let you down otherwise."

He glances back over to the trees, watching the roots and the vines disappear back into the underbrush. He'd almost forgotten they were there, so distracted by you. A frown tugged at his lips, he should never be this distracted.

"I guess you're right..." He responds.

"You were the first to even get that close." You admit quietly, a thoughtful expression on your face as you glance over at the makeshift crosses and mounds of dirt a few feet away.

He lets out a soft breath of disbelief, his eyes flickering back and forth between you and the little burial site, a wave of guilt washing over him as he realizes just how rude he'd been when he first got there. You had been taking care of something really important to you and he had just thrown accusations at you without even knowing you. And for some reason the forest had even allowed him to get that close... there must be a good reason.

Even in these past few minutes of speaking to you, he'd been able to tell that you weren't dangerous, and hell- you were honestly one of the nicest people he'd ever met, and by far the prettiest. Not that that mattered.

He finally looks away from the crosses and focuses back on your face, noticing the grass and the flowers, and he can't help but think that they look kind of cute on you.

"Who are those for? ...If you don't mind me asking."

"The men who came before you, I assume." You tell him, looking down and picking at the grass. "You mentioned that people were hunting me, and no one came back. And I was wondering why bodies kept turning up here..."

A lump lodges in his throat as you confirm what he already knew deep down inside. He swallows hard, trying not to let the realization that he could've been just as dead as them show on his face, but by the look on yours, he knows you can tell what he's thinking anyway.

"You... didn't kill them?" He asks, trying to sound strong, but not quite keeping the trepidation out of his voice.

Your eyes snap up to his and you quickly shake your head. "No! No, I-" You defend quickly, sitting up a bit straighter and pushing yourself back a bit. "I... Like I said, they just turned up here. I come out here often to check on the older ones and lay flowers, I started coming back and there would just be someone laying there dead. I didn't... I just buried them."

His face softens slightly as he sees the panicked expression on your face, how defensive you were at the accusation, how you quickly scooted away from him as if you would run if you had to. He knew you were telling the truth. He curses himself for letting his imagination create the image of you again, standing over a corpse with your hands covered in blood- that thought alone made him somewhat nauseous.

He lets out a slow, shaky breath, his eyes glued to the little crosses. He could've been there too, no better than carrion for the animals. Of course they were the men who came before him, and he's sure the forest was much less forgiving than just hanging them by their boots and taking their guns.

"Why do you come back here every day?" He finds himself asking.

"I... uh... I don't live far." You explain, glancing back over your shoulder. "And... um... my parents are here. And my brother." You add quietly, fiddling with the crystal around your neck as you look briefly over at some much older graves at the edge of the clearing.

His eyes follow your gaze over to where a group of older, smaller crosses laid on the other side of the clearing, and the realization finally set in that you were here every day to tend the graves of your family.

"You're an orphan...." He says it like a statement instead of a question, not realizing he'd said it out loud until a moment later.

You nod softly in response, leaning back on one of your palms.

"You are too." You reply, tone gentle in the observation.

He freezes, his eyes going wide as you call him out so delicately. The way you say it, it was almost like you had looked inside and had seen him for exactly what he was.

"How'd you know?"

"I can feel it." You tell him, knowing how vague it sounded- but you didn't have any better understanding of it than he did.

He blinks, looking down at the ground as he processes that. An uncomfortable feeling settled in his stomach, knowing that somehow, you'd seen straight through every front he put up in seconds."What do you mean by that?"

You shrug slightly. "Exactly what I said. I can just... feel it. Like you can see or hear things, you know? I just... know. It's hard to explain."

He was silent for a few moments as he nodded slowly, still watching the way your fingers fidgeted with the necklace around your neck. He knew something was up with you, with how the forest seemed to welcome him when it made everyone else run. But he was starting to get the feeling he was only just scratching the surface.

He took a moment, looking up again at the simple crosses and mounds of dirt littered around the clearing, the thought that you'd had to bury your family by yourself and continue tending to their graves for who knows how long was making his heart ache in a way he didn't know was so familiar to him until he was faced with it.

"I'm sorry." He finally speaks after a few stiff moments, his voice sounding a bit softer and more tentative than before. "How old were you?"

"Fourteen." You answer quietly, looking over at him again and offering him a weak smile.

A lump forms in his throat as he takes in your answer. You'd taken care of them at only fourteen years old. The realization settled heavily in his stomach like a rock, how impossibly unfair the world was, to be dealing hands just like his out to others. To sweet girls with soft skin and perfect smiles. "Jesus ...." He mutters quietly, rubbing his hands over his tired eyes.

Picturing you as a reflection of himself, nothing more than a child, all alone in the dark forest trying her best to dig a hole for all her loved ones overturning into a vision of the last he had seen of his family. Year after hurtful year, standing over graves and tossing in handfuls of dirt to send them on their way. It made bile rise in his throat.

He looks over at you silently, and his heart aches again. He knows what it feels like to be all alone. You, in the cold, dark woods for so long with no one to look to and him, in the cold and bright lights of being hunted for his actions. You, sitting next to him on the soft forest floor, were his only chance at leaving that behind. Of looking to the future, burying you and the harm you supposedly caused behind him with his wanted posters left to blow inconsequentially in the wind. He wonders how long it had been since you had seen another face other than his in this little graveyard, and he realizes he couldn't stomach carrying your corpse back into town. If the trees would even let him take your body so far without leaving your cold skin covered in the claw marks of it's efforts to keep you here with it, nestled in the safety of its tree cover.

"No one should have to live like this... all alone." He says quietly, the words leaving his mouth before he even realizes it.

You pull at the grass in front of you mindlessly as you shrug. "I'm not alone. Not really." You say quietly.

You look over at him again, studying him for a few moments. "You're a lot more lonely than I am, I think."

He pauses at that, his heart panging in his chest again at the truthfulness of your statement. He knew you were right, he was lonely. No family, no friends. Hell- before today, he's pretty sure no one's ever looked at him the way you are now. With something like kindness. He lets out a rough sigh as he rubs the back of his neck.

"Guess we've got that in common, then."

"I guess so." You agree quietly, giving him a small, slightly sad smile.

You lean over and pick up his hat from the ground next to where you'd both fallen, checking inside that it still held all his pocket change and bullets before holding it out to him.

He stares at the hat in your hands for a moment before looking back up at you, studying the way you sat beside him with your head tilted to the side, the way your dress clung brunched up around your hips and the way your hair fell over your shoulders in messy waves in the afternoon sunlight.

He swallows hard as he reaches out and takes the hat from you, his fingers brushing yours for a second. "Thank you..."

"Of course." You hum, tucking your knees up to your chest and brushing some of the stray grass and moss off of your calves and arms. "Thanks for not killing me."

He lets out a short laugh, setting the hat back onto his head after shoving its contents back into his pockets. "I'm not going to kill you." He says firmly, his eyes following your fingers as you brush off your skirt.

A small smile twitches at your lips as you look over at him, and you feel that familiar pulsing of power in your fingertips and chest, running through your skin again.

You can feel that he means it, and you felt safe before, but even more so now.

The two of you sit in a comfortable silence for another moment, listening to the sounds of the forest around you, and he feels a sense of peace in this quiet space he'd stumbled into.

There were a hundred different ways he could be spending his afternoon. There were bounties to be collected, townsfolk to cheat at poker, and cards to be dealt and drank to. But instead, he was sitting in the middle of a makeshift graveyard with a lonely, beautiful, witch in the middle of the woods and he'd never been more at peace in his entire life.

"Are you... hungry?" You ask after a minute or so, glancing up at the sky to see whereabouts the sun was. It was likely mid to late afternoon by now, and you still hadn't eaten yet- that hadn't been a lie. You had to get back, but you didn't just want to let him go without making sure he would be able to make it back safely.

He was actually a little surprised that he hadn't thought about it. After all, he'd been walking around in the forest for hours. Now that you mention it, he can feel a hollow emptiness in his gut and a sharp pang of hunger go through his body.

"Yeah.. I could eat." He says, rubbing the back of his neck as he tilts his head up towards sky and squints against the sunlight streaming down.

You push myself up from the soft moss you were sitting on, ignoring the bits of it that clung to your dress and hair for the time being.

"Alright, well, c'mon then." You grin, glancing back at him over your shoulder as you go to collect the basket of drying lavender from the grave you were tending before he interrupted.

His eyes widen a little as he watches you stand up, his eyes lingering a little bit too long on the curve of your hips again. He shakes his head before getting up himself, gathering his things and brushing himself off before following the witch deeper into the forest that would inexplicably kill to keep her.

no taglist this time around!! my fics usually get over a hundred requests to be added to the taglist so instead i made a library! follow me over on @runningfrom2am-library and turn on notifs to get updates when i post new parts!!

#billy the kid x reader #billy the kid x you #billy the kid #tom blyth #william h bonney x reader #william h bonney x you #billy the kid 2022 #billy the kid fanfiction #billy the kid imagines #tom blyth x reader #tom blyth fic #william bonney x you #william bonney x reader #william bonney #william h bonney #billy bonney

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kaizokuniichan · 1 year ago

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Zoro x reader; gn! reader; some heavy petting; alcohol use; MDNI; purely self-indulgent

The one in which Zoro finds ways to irk the shit out of you because it’s fun.

(Divider by @cafekitsune )

Zoro loved being annoying. More specifically, he loved annoying you. From the moment you’d stepped aboard the Sunny; wide-eyed and subtly inching away from him, he vowed that his sole purpose was to fuck with you. It was quite easy to fall into that routine, considering there wasn’t much fanfare in the development of your relationship as crew mates. He acted as he pleased simply because it felt right.

You couldn’t stroll past him without him cracking his eye open and calling out to you, badgering you with a lofty quip.

“Oi.”

“What? What is it now?”

“Pass me that bottle of sake.”

You’d look down, noting the bottle mere inches from his boot, and with an exasperated sigh, toss it back to him with all of the force you could muster. He’d catch it one-handed, devilish smirk widening at the impact of it hitting his palm. You’d been trying to aim it at his head, and the thought of your petulance made his ego swell. Irritation radiated off of you, but you’d still obliged. And that fact scratched at something so deep within his chest that he simply couldn’t, and wouldn’t, stop. And that’s all there was to it.

He’d also taken up startling you whenever he could. You tended to be very uneasy around him after all. He’d sneak up behind you, and with his gravelly baritone, inquire “what is it that you’re doing, staring off into nothing like that?” You’d jump with a shout, whirling around with fire in your eyes and a curse upon your tongue that dripped syrupy sweet into his ears. Smacking his shoulder, you’d stalk away, mumbling to yourself about how childish he was.

It was more than obvious to mostly everyone what he was doing.

“You seem to be paying an unusual amount of attention to someone,” came Robin, that mysterious, all-knowing twinkle in her gaze.

“You’re acting like such a little schoolboy,” Nami scolded.

“You know, you could just use your words,” Usopp would murmur.

But Zoro wasn’t one to care much about what people thought. And you remained oblivious, just how he liked it.

Drinking with you made him truly insufferable. It was one of the few times you could stand to be in his presence for more than ten minutes, given you were just as much of a lush as he was. Unabashedly he’d cling to you, whining about how frosty you were towards him. You’d try to go off on your own in search of a local pub. But he insisted you were “too much of a weakling” and “there’s too many big and scary men out there, you need someone to protect you.”

“That is literally the most insane pile of bullshit I’ve ever heard come out of your mouth,” you spat. “Either you come along or don’t. Regardless, leave me the hell alone.” Without bothering to hear his reply, you began to walk away.

“Actually, you know what,” you spun around, “I’m not gonna babysit your hopelessly, directionally challenged ass. Just wait right here and I’ll go grab some booze from the kitchen.”

You had a real mean streak about you when it came to Zoro. But that’s ok. He liked it that way, too much in fact. Your short fuse made it all too easy. It wasn’t his fault you kept fulfilling his every whim, albeit, begrudgingly. He’d have nothing to work with if that wasn’t the case. As it stands, he was the only one who could push your buttons like that, and boy did that feel good.

You’d barely made it back to the deck, balancing an armful of booze, when he hooked his arm around your neck and guided you to the crow’s nest. Silently, you followed his lead.

As the two of you sat on the rounded bench overlooking the deck, you took one of the bottles of wine and passed him his own bottle of sake. Drinking in silence, he watched you out of the corner of his eye, following the golden shafts of sunset caressing your skin. Once twilight and stars speckled the sky, you both were well, and truly buzzed; him red-cheeked and buoyant, and you relaxed and giggly. It was his favorite look on you.

Somehow, his head found it’s way onto your shoulder, and your fingers carded through his mint-colored hair. Both of you took a swig from your respective bottles and settled deeper into the cushions of the bench.

“Why do you keep testing my patience like that’” you inquired.

“What do you mean,” he sighed, turning his face into the crook of your neck. You were always so warm, and you smelled so, so sweet.

“You know what I mean.” Your fingers continued crawling along his scalp, grip tightening slightly.

“Ah. Well. It’s fun I guess. Gives me something to do.”

You hummed, turning your face slightly towards his. With one hand you tapped his forehead to get his attention, and he looked up at you, unfairly long lashes fluttering over his eyes. Squeezing his cheeks with your other hand, you bumped your nose against his.

“Stop fucking with me, or I might start to think you like me,”

“And what if I do?”

Your body recoils, but his arm wraps tightly around your waist before you can shuffle your way out of his reach.

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Come on, I know you’re not that dumb.”

Your grip on his jaw grows tighter.

“I swear to God, if you’re actually fucking with me…”

“Ooh, I like it when you threaten me like that. But really, you know I’m serious.”

With a resigned scoff you unthinkingly crush your lips to his, a soft moan of relief bleeding into his mouth. His hand at your waist squeezes possessively, and he pulls you so that you straddle his lap. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you allow the alcohol in your system to guide your tongue past his lips. His hands make a journey to your ass, squeezing and pulling you against him. You release his mouth with a sigh; he bites into your neck, tongue darting out to soothe the pain. You’re a squirmy little thing, grinding your hips along his pelvis and thighs. His other hand makes it’s way to the back of your neck and he presses his lips against your ear.

“I knew you wanted this.”

“Shut up. Shut the fuck up.”

A dark chuckle escapes his lips and he tightens his hold around your waist, flipping you onto your back.

“Well now that I know you want me. Where do we go from here?”

Your hands grip his robe, pulling him closer as your chest heaves. Thick, calloused fingers crawl up your shirt and grope your chest. Widening your legs to allow him to settle between them, you mirror his trademark smirk

“You can start by removing my pants and putting that smart mouth of yours where it belongs.”

#roronoa zoro x reader #zoro x reader #myfic #idk if that’s even my original tag but fuck it we ball #I got too much shit brainstorming in my head so this gotta come out #roronoa zoro

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anteroom-of-death · 11 months ago

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Teacher's Pet part 4

(No gif today since I can't find one that fits)

Synopsis: Reader has a small mental breakdown over her developing feelings for the Doctor.

A/n: yall are the realest bitches I ever met for enjoying this. I love you. Also, I'm going to keep some things mysterious for now. But hey, I got a vague plot and I pound out these to keep the scaries away.

Stupid, stupid and foolish! Pig-headed! Dumb! Childish! Total Moron! You chastised yourself as you went into the women’s restroom and locked yourself in a stall.

Where did you get off developing feelings for a professor? Where did you get off by allowing yourself to get yourself to even begin that? Especially this fucking fast? You knew how men were! You knew that even the good ones weren’t ‘good’ in an empirical sense!

They lie, they cheat. They steal. They manipulate. They go on their phones and take hundreds from “Timmy’s uni fund” and transfer it to their private bank account (often that their poor, downtrodden wives didn’t see or have much access to!) to get their dicks fucking wet. They refuse to shower and they bullshit their way into places they really shouldn’t be.

But him? His smile? His poetry? The way he adored his wife even from a few sentences. Like every cell of his body belonged to this dead woman? The deep Scottish brogue? The way he was tender and cared for every single student? Including your dumb ass? The arch of his nose…and his hands?

It got inside you so quickly.

You continue to internally scold yourself, breaking down into tears.

It borderlined on cliché. Hot for teacher. Daddy issues. One man made you feel special so you got giddy and went and got yourself a crush. You truly were exhibiting what people called “Fatherless Behavior”!

You sobbed deeper into your arms, bringing your legs against your chest. Trying to keep balanced on the toilet, you gently banged your head on the wall beside you a few times. You had to meet with the accommodations people in about forty-five minutes. You had to pull yourself together. Even if it would demonstrate a point. You still had to retain some of your dignity.

Plus, you thought quite pathetically, what if he was out roaming and saw you like this?

You banged your head on the wall about it some more.

You let yourself cry for a few more minutes. Just to exorcize whatever was in your system. You weren’t going to allow yourself to cry over a man, even if that was exactly what you were up to!

After that little emotional outburst was over, you scraped yourself off the toilet and back into the general restroom area. You had to put yourself back together.

Splashing your face off with cool water in the wash basin, you noticed that your skin was inflamed and you had some pimples on your forehead.

“Oh, that’s attractive.” You muttered and started on trying to find the willpower to not pick at them. That’d make it worse. And would affect everything. No amount of makeup covers a sucking wound in a visible area.

You didn’t have much on you except for a medicated chap stick and some concealer, so you made do.

You really regretted listening to him and not smoking now…

Deep breaths, you told yourself. Just keep breathing. Healthy stuff. Plenty of people had told you before. 1, 2 3. Hold, longer 1, 2 3 release. Wash, rinse, repeat.

It worked a bit.

You didn’t work tonight, or tomorrow night. You could afford a bit of a drink. Tonight. Tomorrow would be too late and you’d have dry skin for Thursday night.

That’s what you needed. A night of shit TV, skincare and most of a large bottle of coconut rum drowned in a can of Coke Zero.

Would help remove the feelings coiled in your chest a lot.

Reset the system.

Remove ‘it’, whatever ‘it’ truly was…

You steadied yourself and went to the Disabilities Office and sat in the waiting room after signing in for your appointment.

You pulled out your phone and started flipping through a familiar social media site. The memes perked you up and put a smile on your face. Helped you keep composure. You even replied to a few mutual’s messages and congratulated the one on their new job.

Your meeting came and went. Apparently you could go to student-lead tutoring from people who already took the classes. You got signed up and thanked the councilor, taking the emails for the students to message them and get more in-depth about the struggles you were having

You’d do it later, once you got home…

Speaking of which, you stopped at the store and got a can of Coke and a bottle of rum before trudging inside of it.

You started studying and sending out the emails to your new tutors. Truly a task from hell.

You stopped yourself from having thoughts of another type of tutoring.

The drink you mixed was strong. Perhaps too strong. The show you put on in the background was harshing the vibes so you closed the tab it was on. You checked the site for your place of work. You scoffed at your photos and wondered how little you could pay to get a professional update to them.

Back to school work. Back to projects. You couldn’t afford to let yourself have a stray thought.

The liquor highlighted the slight soft pain you had on the side of your head from the pounding you gave it. You touched it gingerly and gave up.

You weighed your options, you could drop the class and take the failing marks. Or you could be brave and normal. And take the class, just skate by. Hardly ever speak. Take the lowest grade and still fail.

It was a matter of what left you with the most amount of dignity, but also didn’t waste your money or time.

Or heart ache.

Could you really spite yourself like that?

Or just cut off contact for good.

What would not break your heart nor your bank nor your ethics? Was there any option that left all intact and unscarred? Let alone your precious, stupid dignity?

You had too much on your plate as is, now this stupid crush?

And disposing of it?

You drained the rest of your glass and did the bare minimum in the shower. Mainly just let the hot water spill over your head while you stared at the wall.

You put even less effort in on your skin care and teeth brushing.

Just climbed in bed and let sleep find your semi-drunk body and fully-fucked up and over brain.

Your alarm shot you out of bed, leaving your heart racing and your chest heaving. You just didn’t go to get up, let alone do anything. You sent in a mass email from your phone saying that you were sick. You’d let yourself go to work tomorrow night. But you didn’t want to set foot on that campus until you had a better, more stable grip on yourself.

You had a hangover and a sore throat anyways, so it wasn’t a total lie.

Responsibilities be dammed. You chose to rot in bed and doomscroll on social media. It was your mental breakdown and you chose to make it worse. It was your right! And entirely your fault!

You kept yourself in that ball of blankets far too long. Going in and out of consciousness, phone in hand.

Before you knew it, it was Thursday. Late afternoon. You sighed and got up.

You were quite dehydrated and famished. Hardly leaving the bed and relying on the cups that littered the side of your table for your main sources of water for well over twenty-four hours had left you weak and you fainted upon leaving the coil of your bedding.

When you came to, you thanked your lucky stars and any God that may have been paying a half-lick of attention to you in that moment.

You kept it simple and reheated some Chinese takeaway you had in your fridge. It was edible. That’s all you could ask for at the moment. Edible and got you through the waking world…

You went into your bathroom and started not only the long ritual you did to prepare yourself for work, but also repair work for the past two days of neglect. It was hard work. Your face was inflamed, your left side had creases in the skin from the corners of your blankets bunched up.

You stretched out and did a bit of a warm up exercise.

After all of that malarkey, you started chugging a bunch of cold water. Then you started to get your work bag together.

This, this, that, that other thing there, you kept mentally chiding yourself. You were out of materials, hopefully one of your coworkers would be able to lend you some. Just enough to get you by until Friday when the shops would be open. You were pulling a double shift anyways, so what was a sneak out and in. Maybe you’d convince the owner/manager to let you work when you’re usually not on during Friday. Whatever little cash you would make would certainly be welcome, and certainly wouldn’t hurt. You could sleep between appointments or walk-ins!

Maybe you would break your promise to Professor Smith and get yourself a pack of cigarettes and to hell with the entire engagement!

You stretched again and got into street clothes.

You repeated to yourself that you had to keep your mind on money and money on your mind. That it came naturally. Whatever all those dorky manifestations you occasionally saw said. Anything. Just to keep your spirits up and get your mind off other subjects.

Money on your mind was a whole lot healthier than a certain silver-haired professor being in there. And his class you were skipping today…

Who knows, maybe something bad would happen to you and you would be sworn off men in any way except the bare minimum to survive this world for good! You thought catastrophically.

You slid on your street shoes and your coat, slung your work bag over your shoulder and made your way out your door.

What was that one song? And how did it go?

‘So for once in my life

Let me get what I want

Lord knows, it would be the first time…”

Yeah, like that.

#personal #doctor who #the doctor #12th doctor #12th doctor x reader #reader x 12th doctor #you x 12th doctor #12th doctor x you #i wrote this #self insert fanfiction #morrisey mention #teacher student #doctor who fanfiction #no beta we die like men #peter capaldi #my own bitterness comes out a tad in this lol #slow burn #ughhh

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ultrakontakt · 9 months ago

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i have made the executive decision to share my DFTM fanchildren/Ocs on here despite me being painfully embarassed by it. I'll post my Ramona kid when i finish her fun drawing, but you get Renard for today. Can yall watch him while i go smoke?

more info under the cut, just specifying the universe he'd exist in

SO BASICALLLYYYYYYY in the verse he exists in, ramona *was* successful in killing off MOTHER. however, this raises a problem for all assimilated hosts. Would they still act maliciously? My belief is that, they really wouldn't? In verse terms, the whole event is called "The Great Disconnection". Their bodies shut down for a set amount of time, with the people close to the hosts bein like "what da heck get up", and then them waking up weeks later. Weird thing is that they snap out of the cruel stupor they all have, becoming like their old selves. IE, Antonio/Victoria normal mode/whatevs.

As for shippy shite, Mark had affectionate feelings for antonio but it never truly felt real due to antonio being uhhh. Like That. After the disconnect Antonio feels more real to mark, leading to gay romance blah blah. As for victoria, i think she makes up with alex(and wesley too). carl? gets on better term w/ mark. of course things will always be different due to everything that'd happened to everyone, but not all changes are bad.

Jared's probably still hanging out at the HMF facility though. poor guy has no moms now

As for ramona, i'm not sure if she should be alive or dead in this verse. i like to think she's either happy in heaven with her family or living in alex's garage. she's like having a scary looking aunt who showed up one day, though alex and her(and his friends) like her company. anyways bye byes

#don't feed the muse #muse arg #nextgen #fanchild

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theoxenfree · 2 days ago

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Do you care about what others think of you? Sometimes, I really dislike myself for being so sensitive.

Unfortunately, if I ever have to confront a man who is not a family member, I know I won’t be able to do so without facing consequences. It’s not that I’m physically weak as a short woman; rather, I believe the law wouldn’t protect me adequately, and he might not face proper repercussions for his actions. Additionally, I would likely encounter severe victim-blaming, gaslighting, and guilt-tripping. Essentially, there is little support from the legal system unless one has money.

I wish I had been born in the USA. While that country also poses risks for women, it seems like a much better option than my own. Here, people prioritize protecting the country’s tarnished reputation over acknowledging the harsh realities we face. The way men in my country sexualize Russian women is truly disturbing. I still recall a boy asking a friend about a girl, questioning if she was Russian, a euphemism that implies prostitution because of her light coloured hair, and speculating about her price( basically they think white women are easy especially russian). I had no one to share this experience with without fear of judgment, which is why I’m confiding in you.

To the girls, especially white women dating 1st generation South Asian men, please keep in mind that our society is often regressive, and it’s very rare for people in our country to marry outside their religion, caste, and social circle.

Sorry,for trauma dumping, I won't do it again.

hello! I'm assuming you're same anon who asked me about how I handle shit men, yes? if not, I apologize.

to answer your question: sometimes I care what others think about me.

do I care that people think I'm highly efficient at my job and able to do what needs to be done in emergencies? absolutely.

do I care that I have a great rapport with the doctors and anestheists and other hospital staff? yes.

do I care that people know I'm a safe person to approach if someone is in danger? yes.

do I care whether my friends think I'm a good friend or not? yes.

do I care if men find me sexually attractive or approachable? no. do I care if I hurt shitty men's feelings and call them out? no.

but, I'm human. so, I do have my moments where I care if people perceive me as this big, scary woman without any softness bc that's not who I am at my core. and, people who know me find the dichotomy between how I look vs how I actually am absolutely fascinating.

the amount of times I've had people say they're genuinely "surprised" that I enjoy hobbies like writing, reading, crafts, and video games is insane bc they all assume I'm just into hardcore stuff, y'know?

so, the answer to your question is a very complex yes and no. bc I'm a woman born into a society where I don't fit into the neat, nuclear box of traits that I should have and outwardly exhibit. people either love it or hate it and that's on that.

onto your overall ask: thank you for confiding your life experiences in me and telling me these things. sometimes, it is easy to forget that the world is as large as the cultures, societies, and people in it and that it's not all homogenous.

I know what I have to say isn't helpful in the slightest, but I am not... worldly enough to give you a strong opinion on these matters since my life experience is limited to living in the U.S., but you're doing what you can with the system that is in place where you are.

I believe that it's the small things that we do to make changes that amount to larger ones in the end. subtle acts of kindness to other women, hard conversations where we are firm in our convictions and we don't let men gain an upper hand over us when we speak. protecting other women however we can.

the fears that you have about repercussions are very real, and I wish more than anything that they didn't exist and that you could speak out how you want and need to. but, please don't forget that, sometimes, you don't need to be the loudest person in the room.

at the end of the day, as much as I could encourage you to go for the eyes, I understand that not everyone will be able to do that and receive an outcome that won't be overall detrimental.

so, what I'll tell you is: simply do what you want and care for the women around you. and, above all else, be safe.

you're so much stronger and resilient than you give yourself credit for. I sincerely wish you didn't have to be, and that the place where you lived would protect you and other women better, but thank you for what you do do and taking care of yourself in the process

the euphemism about russian women is fucking awful, btw. I'm terribly sorry you had to hear something like that. but ty for taking the time to write this out to me and share it.

I'm always open to folks unloading their troubles into my inbox if that's what they need in the moment ❤️

#.05

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spotsupstuff · 1 year ago

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I wanna learn more about Blessing / Boreas. What’s up with all the bat flies with him? What’s his city like?

-rubs my hands together like a fly- uuuuuu boy, time to shake my blatantly favorite child Hell yeah huhuhuhuhuuu

the batflies enter the scene a good while after the Mass Ascension- they are his coping mechanism after Zephyr collapses and goes dark!

from the comic where they talk about Euros' n Sparrows' relationship, one can probably guess how close these two are. Boreas might be the big scary dog of the whole Eo family that punches things in the face rather than take any miniscule amount of shit, but when it comes to Zephyr he is very open and sweet. she's the only person who can actually influence his opinions and ideas greatly, because he loves and trusts her enough to allow her to do so. so when she collapses, he takes it the worst out of everyone. in a very quiet way. his pain if for him to keep, nobody else can know he's hurting

bear witness to Ňuňu

this lil shit was basically Boreas' therapy dog. just.. very very feckin teeny

child...

she is as smart as your typical bat, but the thing was that when she accidentally made her way into his chamber, he didn't have much will in himself to send the animal to eeby deeby so she got to flutter about. and as animals do, girlie used the empathy trap card to figure out this person who doesn't seem to be posing any danger is Sad. so she landed on his head, crawled up to look into his eyes and chirped

n that was the straw that broke the camel's back and Boreas had his first grief-inflicted breakdown ever. Ňuňu stayed during it and even after it, so emotionally-empty-feeling Boreas decided to take her in. hardly can replace Zephyr, but at least he isn't alone

Ňuňu later brought friends and Bee decided that he will look after them then. even after Ňuňu passes away, he still houses and raises them. the younglings like sleeping on his antennas so he has to watch himself to not move them too much sometimes. Euros has a folder full of photos like that

to his city- the name kush is:

originally from me looking for latin words for Rage. ended up going with Desaevio, because Bee is indeed positioned in a fitting place for the word

and the storm connection plus the last two are the main reasons why the Ancients called the city as such. after project Abet Zephyr ended in such a failure, they had to vent some stuff out. and we are going to claim that it is anger because that isn't as pitiful as shame or embarrassment

(the fact that almost every translator i put it into gives me "i'm sorry" works wonderfully, too. because what else will ultimately Boreas do, but quietly mutter to himself a mantra of apologies when he'll be lying in his chamber 30 seconds from his death, drowning in his regrets and mistakes?)

Desaevio was capable of comfortably supporting over 5 million people (no other Iterator city ever reaches that far- the max is ambitious Gen 3 cities that only ever reached around an estimate of 2.7 million) but at times housed over 6-7 million. despite lying close to the geographical location of Bergen in real life, Desaevio is very far from reaching such nice vibes (the old towns Boreas' structure overshadows come close, though). it is way closer to New York, but more dystopian. if u look up dystopian city on google images u get to see pretty closely what it looked like. combine it with Coruscant from star wars for bonus authencity with the layering

made up of skyscrapers, with endless layered bridges for means of transport (most commonly expres trains), with what little decoration of the buildings chipped away by time without anybody caring enough to restore the beauty- the grey, gloomy expanse of Desaevio is as majestic to witness as it is absolutely harrowing

with it being a layered city and one with Boreas' consciousness/structure, some wonder when does one truly leaves the borders of the city and enters the giant's actual insides. it's hard to tell, with old models of Iterators not being all that enclosed and isolated like Five Pebbles is. there is no karma gate to tell you when exactly the walls turn from homes for people to homes for wires, tubes and alien-like organic life of a colossal Hivemind

despite the whole "Iterators are above the cloud level" thing, i like to imagine that it rains in Desaevio either way. at least- some levels are just straight up Wet like after rain. but it'd be those normal rains like we have, not the annihilating ones that the old towns need to bear with down below. or maybe it's just the upper layers' waste water seeping through the ceilings

most of light of the lower levels comes from streetlights, neon signs and Boreas' own systems once deep enough

cameras and such security systems litter all the streets and every public room- and the private homes are still accessable by overseers- and All of that feeds directly into Boreas' memory cache

this omnipresence is why Boreas later suffers with the fuckin

nobody is as unhappy with Boreas' omnipresence as Boreas himself. no wonder he's always ticked off, imagine being a witness to All of New York's road rage 24/7

#Spot says stuff #rw #oc tag #oc: boreas' blessing #desaevio is very. Factory-core. idk how else to explain it it all feels vaguely like a giant factory #for someone like sparrows its Hell. its almost like the place forgot that religion is supposed to come with certain Cleanness #the motherFUCKERS made a LOWER CLASS FOR THE HIGHER CLASS WHAT KINDA FECKIN DEPTH DOES THE DISCRIMINATION GO TO!!!!#you have city like Ales that is all white and gold and dedicated to birds and the divinity- sunlight is Always present everywhere #and then theres Desaevio. our beautiful capital city that we love built on top of our biggest pride and joy Boreas' Blessing that we Also-#-super loving towards -casually administers paralyzation venom of lower circles into his puppet when he misbehaves at a wrong time-#gotta LOVE it there #the lower levels or whatever throw a rebellion against the omnipresence thing n hes like “-side eyes- yes actually listen to those there”

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boowhumps · 9 months ago

Text

Whumpril 2024

Day 4 - Swaying

⚠TW⚠

- Swearing

- Mentions of Trauma

- Slightly Suggestive (NO NSFW)

Enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~

Amne brushed her hair, glancing at the mirror ever so often.

A birthday party, Lua had said, but this seems more important.. more extravagant.

Maybe Lua just liked big parties.. or this was forced on them..

Either way, Amne was pretty much forced into it too, since she was sitting in a dress far too fancy for a simple party.

However, she wasn't exactly complaining. The dress was gorgeous, far more than anything she had ever worn before. The black base with the red accents was beautiful, but she was still dreading this party.

Even if Celestial managed to be a place where nothing could harm you, Amne's anxiety somehow surpassed that. The amount of people that would be there.. people that she didn't know.

Amne finishes brushing her hair, and sets the brush down. Looking at herself in the mirror is surreal. She doesn't look like herself, but she hasn't really since she got here.

Amne proceeded to wait patiently. The only good thing was that Silas would be there with her. He always managed to make things less scary, less stressful..

That boy was truly an angel. He was so sweet, caring, understanding.. it almost caused her nostalgia every time they interacted, or maybe more a sense of deja vu..

Amne perks up suddenly as she hears a knock on the door.

"It's open." She calls out a bit.

The door opens silently, and Silas pops his head in, looking a bit flushed as he stares at her.

"Y-you ready.?" He asks, stuttering a bit at the beginning.

Amne manages a small smile and a nod. She stands up and exits the comfort of her room, joining Silas in the hallway.

Finally seeing him makes her own face flush. She can't deny that along with his amazing personality, he's also very attractive, especially in a suit matching her dress..

Fuck, no Amne, no relationships, none of that, not anymore..

Amne breathes deeply, composing her racing mind.

"You uh, look great.!" Silas says, smiling awkwardly.

Amne widens her eyes a bit. "Thanks.. so do you."

Silas nods, and extends his arm.

"What are you-" Amne asks before Silas interrupts.

"It's called being a gentlemen," He says. "No, but seriously, it's just to help you walk, I can't imagine it's easy to walk in such a long dress."

Amne nods, feeling silly. "Right.." She says as she links her arm with his, letting him guide her away..

~~~~~~~~~~

Reaching the main ballroom takes almost no time, and it suddenly reminds Amne of why she never was a party kind of person.

Even with how big the place is, it seems packed to the brim. So many angels.. demons.. and even mixes of them pack up the room almost entirely.

Amne feels the suffocation in the room, and it's enough to make her feel uneasy. A squeeze from Silas brings her back to reality as he looks at her, his usually happy face vanishing for a second.

"It's pretty crowded.. will you be fine in here.?" He asks. "It's okay if you're not, I just-"

Amne sighs. "I don't know.." She says, looking around. "I'll have to test it out for a bit first."

Silas nods. "Yeah, we can do that, just.. don't wander off."

Amne gives him a look. "I'm not a child, Silas."

"Your Uncle told me, in very unagressive words that I had to keep you comfortable all night, so that's what I'll do." Silas replies staring straight ahead.

"Of course he did.." Amne grumbles. "Don't let Zaaron scare you, he wouldn't hurt you."

Silas raises an eyebrow. "It wasn't him, it was Roman."

Amne perks up. "Oh, I just assumed-"

"No no, it's alright, I get it, you're not used to, uh.." Silas starts.

"Communicating with my dead uncle?" Amne asks.

"Not.. that wording, but basically, yeah." Silas responds.

Amne nods. "Wanna.." She stops, sighing in frustration. "Oh for fucks sake, what the hell are we doing?"

Silas raises his eyebrows in surprise. "What do you-?"

"This isn't me, hell, this is not us." Amne remarks. "We aren't party people.. not at all."

Silas frowns. "Yeah, I guess we really aren't.."

Amne taps her foot before getting an idea.

"Hey, you don't still happen to have the key to the old ballroom, do you?" Amne asks Silas.

Silas nods slowly. "Yeah.. I do, why.?"

"Well, there's our escape." Amne states, beginning to walk away as Silas scurried behind her.

The old ballroom wasn't used anymore, for some odd reason, but somehow, Silas has access to it. Amne recalls him telling her about it a while back, how he would go there when things got too overwhelming.. An outlet of sorts.

Even if Amne couldn't imagine a day where Silas wasn't.. Silas, she was glad that at least there was some place in the castle unoccupied..

And maybe the idea of being alone in a room with him excited her more than she would admit.

Amne cleared her head as Silas opened the door to the ballroom, and immediately Amne was caught off guard.

The ballroom was gorgeous, yes, but that wasn't the reason. Even with all the shades of blue and gold, the thing that stood out to Amne the most was the stained glass portraits.

There were eight of them, all along the walls. Amne could point out the ones that looked like Lua, and Silas..

But the one that stood out the most looked exactly like her.

'Uh, how long has that been there.?" Amne asks, pointing at the portrait with a concerned look.

Silas smiles. "Oh yeah, that got here a little bit after you did!"

Amne deadpans. "Right.."

Silas laughs. "I get it, this all must be really weird and new for you."

Amne nods slowly. "Weird is an understatement.."

Silas urges Amne over to a door, opening it to reveal a balcony. As they both step out onto it, Amne feels her heart flutter.

"So.. I don't mean to push you or anything, but you never told me about your life.. before Celestial.." Silas tarts, sounding unsure.

Amne sighs. "Yeah.. I guess I haven't." She looks at Silas. "I can't remember much.. honestly.."

Silas nods in acknowledgment. "I figured.. but I think you do remember something.. or someone."

Amne raises an eyebrow. "What-?"

Silas shrugs. "Sorry, that came out wrong, it's just.. when I was with you for the first couple of nights after you got here.. you were always mumbling about people in your sleep.."

Amne feels her heart stop momentarily. "I-I was..?"

Silas nods. "I didn't want to say anything.. I figured you were already dealing with a lot of new adjustments.. I just.. can't forget what you said.."

Amne turns to him. "What did I say.."

Silas sighs. "Mostly incoherent things, little bits here and there.. but you constantly said a name.."

Amne stops, looking down. "Kaiden, I said Kaiden, didn't I.?"

Silas looks over at her. "You did, how did you-"

Amne's face pales, and she takes a deep breath. "He's-.. someone I was close with.."

Silas frowns. "Like a partner?"

Amne nods, her hands shaking. "For a while, yeah, but we ended a bit before my.. accident." She closes her eyes. "I remember dreaming a lot about him when I first got here, he was always.. so sad, so.. empty.." Amne opens her eyes, looking up at the dark sky. "I miss him sometimes.. but he's also the reason I'm here.."

Silas nods silently, just listening. Amne works up the courage to continue speaking.

"Actually.. you remind me a lot of him.. or, who I thought he was.." She says. "When we first met, he was like you, happy-go-lucky.. sweet.. loving.. the whole gist.." Amne sighs. "But you two aren't the same, I know that, I know he isn't here.." Amne turns to Silas once again. "But you are."

Silas perks up, surprised. "Amne, I-"

Amne seems to get closer to Silas. "You've been here with me through every challenge so far, and you did it because you wanted to."

Silas hands slightly hover over Amne's waist, the temptation to pull her in strong. "I had to help you, I just had the urge.."

Amne looks up at him. "But why.?"

Silas lets out a breath. "I think it's because.. I love you.."

Amne gives a subtle smile. "Then what are you waiting for..?"

Those words are the last thing spoken as the two finally push past their own hesitation. Silas pulls Amne in, kissing her as if she would disappear at any moment. His hands keep a firm hold on her waist as Amne's hands automatically travel into his hair, the way they always have.

Amne is backed up against the wall, helplessly trapped by someone she always claimed was only a friend.

In reality, how could they ever just be friends.?

The once passionate kisses turn sloppy as things begin to get heated. They both feel the desperation to be closer.. to be up against one another, without an inch of space between them. They could only go so long without love, starved to the point of ravishing the smallest amount of love they could get their hands on.

They were meant to find each other, that was for sure, and nothing could separate them.

"AHEM."

Amne freezes up at the sound, feeling Silas tense up as well. They both turn to the door, the one they'd forgotten to lock, but to be fair, neither of them expected the night to go this way.

Lua stood in the doorway, looking a mix of disappointment, anger, but most of all, disgusted.

Amne slightly nudges Silas away from her as they both straighten themselves out awkwardly.

"You gotta be fucking kidding me.." Lua groans. "She just got here a few weeks ago, Silas!"

Silas gets flushed. "What, no, we weren't-"

Lua stomps up to him. "Are you going to lie to my face and tell me you weren't trying to fuck Mrs. Sain-Santos, daughter of psychopathy, over here?!" They yell, pointing at Amne.

"Hey!" Amne shouts back. "Watch it!"

Lua glares at Amne. "Don't even get me started on you!" They turn back to Silas, who still looks incredibly embarrassed. "You, come with me."

Amne crosses her arms. "What about me?"

Lua sighs. "You stay here, and fucking pull yourself together, you look like a mess." With that, they march out of the room, Silas trailing behind looking like a sad puppy.

As soon as the door shuts, Amne loses it.

"Oh Selyna, what did I just do, did I just make-out with a high-rank Angel?! Shit.. What if Zaaron finds out.. or Roman.. oh fuck, I'm so fucked, what was I thinking?!" Amne panics as she paces around the room, pulling her hair from the stress.

She continues to spiral until she hears a commotion start up outside the room. Amne looks at the door, wondering if she should even bother leaving-

The commotion then turns to screams. Amne reacts quickly, rushing out of the room as people run past her in fury. She spots Lua and Silas in the main room, and rushes over to them.

"What the hell's going on?!" She shouts.

Silas looks at her in fear as Lua scans the room.

"Briar and Brennan, that's who." Lua states.

"Am I supposed to know who those people are?!" Amne shouts back as Silas tries to calm her.

Lua turns to Amne. "Did your psycho family at least teach you how to fight?!" They ask.

Amne barely musters up a nod as Lua sighs.

"Good, because we're in for a fucking battle."

~~~~~~~~~~

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zerodaryls · 2 years ago

Text

Reminders for the U.S. trans community (especially our youth) in the midst of everything going on right now:

Estimated reading time: ~5 minutes

1. Gender is a construct. Transphobic legislators can only enforce "adherence" to their idea of gender to a shallow degree.

Physical and social transition is our right, and we will continue to fight for it, but we do not need to present in any particular way in order for our sense of self to be valid.

Even if there are those who refuse to recognize us as we are, we will always know the truth.

We already know we're in the right. They can't take that knowledge away from us.

2. No one can ever take away your sense of self. You will always know yourself best, and no one, not a single soul on this fucking planet, can take that away.

If 99% of the world insists that you're one gender, but you have an internal sense that you're another, then 99% of the world is wrong.

You and you alone have the right to define yourself and your experience in the world.

If a young trans girl's birth certificate lists her as male, her teachers call her "he/him" and use her deadname, she's denied access to puberty blockers, she's forced to wear a "boy's" uniform, play on "boy's" sports teams, and use the "boy's" bathroom, but she feels deep inside that she is a girl? She is still a girl.

No amount of legislation can ever take away her sense of self. No amount of forced conformity to the most shallow aspects of gender will ever mean that we are that gender.

We know who we are. Their insistence that we abide by their willful misunderstanding of us cannot rob us of who we truly are.

3. We will always have each other.

We will continue to support and affirm each other.

Trans people have always found ways to acknowledge, support, and uplift one another, even before we had modern tools like the internet. Even back when community had to be found in secret.

We will always have some sense of community. They cannot take us away from each other.

4.We will always have allies.

For as long as there have been oppressed groups, there have been those who recognize oppression for what it is and stand up for what is right.

Even as access to healthcare is stolen from some of us, even as some states deny our right to accurately represent ourselves in official forms and documents, there will always be people on our side.

While our government may fail us by insisting that they have a right to tell us who we are, there will always be those who instead say, "Who do you say you are? I believe you. I see you. I respect you."

They cannot legislate hatred. They cannot enforce their bigotry.

Good people will always be around.

We are not alone, nor will we ever be.

I know times are scary and uncertain right now. I know it looks hopeless, especially in some states, and especially for the most marginalized among us.

But I am begging you to not give up.

What transphobes want is to scare us back into the closet, force us to conform, or push us out of existence entirely.

They do not get to win. They do not get to rob us of our joy. They do not get to threaten our lives, especially the lives of our youth.

We are more resilient than they could possibly anticipate. We are not going to fade quietly into the background.

We are here, we have always been here, and we've come too far as a community to accept this regressive bullshit.

If you are feeling unseen in your gender identity, know that I see you.

I believe you are who you say you are.

No matter how hard the government may try to make you feel otherwise, you are not (and you will never be) alone.

There will always be people who see, love, and respect you for who you are.

Even if you don't have people in your personal life who make the effort to truly know you, there are thousands of people all over the world who are here in spirit who love you in all your trans glory.

I don't know that I believe in any literal form of spirituality, but I do believe that the metaphorical trans "spirit" is unbreakable.

We will not be erased. We will not be stamped out. We will not give up on ourselves or each other!

I love you.

I don't know where our country is headed. I wish I could say with certainty that it couldn't possibly get any worse, but I truly don't know how much more pain we'll be subjected to.

But I am certain we will make it through these times. I am certain that there are more loving and accepting people in our midst than there are bigots. I am certain that we will raise our voices to be louder than the bigots. And I am certain that we will continue to be ourselves, loudly and proudly, no matter what obstacles they try to put in our way.

And whenever we find that we do not always have the strength to be loud and proud, others will then be even louder and prouder on our behalf.

We will take care of each other, check in on each other, and reassure each other that we are seen, loved, accepted, and worth fighting for.

We're gonna keep going, and we're gonna show the world what it means to truly embrace the fullest expression of oneself.

There is no acceptable alternative.

Allies are welcomed and encouraged to reblog. Expressions of support and encouragement are welcomed and encouraged in the replies / reblogs. I know many of us are scared, but please refrain from catastrophizing on this post; we see enough of that in the news. Those who have given into bigotry are not welcome anywhere near this post; any amount of transphobic bullshit will be immediately blocked and reported without mercy.

#trans #transgender #nonbinary #agender #trans community #trans kids #protect trans kids #protect trans youth #protect trans people #trans rights #i know there are issues facing the trans community in countries outside the u.s.#but this is where i live and i am not qualified to address the trans rights issues in other countries #long post #but important

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corcnaiism · 8 days ago

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;-- headcanon time: bill is more well known and more worshipped/feared than pandora herself. this is due to the fact that, unlike pandora who has to follow by a certain set of rules created by The Natural Order as to not get smited, bill can do whatever the heck he wants since he's not personally connected with the big scary Axolotl...well, at least for the most part until pandora puts a stop to his schemes bc 1+2=3 and they will cease to be if she lets him get too out of hand and disrupts the balance. he also can exist within the human realm more than pandora ever can, so he's bound to show himself more often to humans than her. people actually think that pandora is just a little henchman to bill, when in reality, he can't even come close to the amount of power she truly possesses but doesn't reveal...at least not within the human realm.

this also brings into perspective the amount of influence bill has had on the human realm since he has been created bc this yellow dorito has cults that worship him AND organizations dedicated to eliminating/countering him. the natives of the past had had to call upon the god of prosperity and wisdom herself in order to aid them into creating the force field around gravity falls to prevent bill from exiting and spread his virus-like mentality to the rest of the world. sure, he may be contained, but his reach had already infected several others before and still does to this day to the inhabitants of gravity falls and tourist alike ( the tourist def help with spreading his word once they go back where they came from ). and while bill may not be present to physically rule over the world, since his followers have created "ciphertology", the biggest cult in existence up to date, just by people thinking about him is enough for him to vanquish everyone while sitting comfortably in his own realm or someone's else's dreams are. at some point, someone is gonna fuck up and thats all that bill is waiting for to unleash his reign throughout the entire world. but ofc humans have also created anti-bill organizations to put a stop to ciphertology, so there's an ongoing battle in his steady he is pretty proud of.

and this brings back to pandora's presence to the humans where, yes, she had made a name for herself of being a "devil with the face of an angel" who goes around twisting reality and fueling people with hysteria, but she isn't around as often nor has there been much records on her, considering she either killed or made those who did have classified info on her go mad. to those who have seen her and lived to tell the tale, assume her to be working with bill in some capacity due to their similar color scheme. some even believed her to be bill himself in a giant human disguise. due to this, pandora had been "captured" and interrogated by the anti-bill organizations whilst also worshipped under the wrong name. this gave her front row seats to how the humans perceived her first creation and can't help but feel immensely proud of both him and herself for having created him. while she may not have a lot of worshippers who know of her for who she really is, those who followed bill fueled her with that godly "aura" gods get whenever devotees are dedicated to them bc technically speaking, those people are also worshipping her indirectly by default. so she doesn't really care much to having people know her personally bc as long as there are those who believe and worship her creations, she's getting a lot of that godly "aura" in return.

ofc this also had pandora notice bill more often which in turn was a both a good and bad thing for bill bc 1) he wanted nothing more than to be noticed by his creator and given praise and 2) his visibility only made it difficult for him to avoid her when she would punish him for stepping out of line. it was a hard balance to maintain and one that bill didn't understand why it even existed

#;ooc #;headcanons #:^)#this turned out longer than i had thought but uhhhh ye #just brainworms #also yes im rewriting canon to fit this alternative universe where pandora exists #im mostly keeping bill's canon lore to the canon verse where pandora doesn't exist but ye #im kinda leaning more towards pandora existing bc yes #anyways these have been on my jogging a lot lately #i really need to be giving bill some more screen time tbh #since he's pandora's baby

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herculiess · 7 months ago

Text

As a little girl I passionately explored the endless universe of music. At the age of seven was when my young and unestablished mind collided with Her Majesty, The Queen. And, boy, was it awesome!

The New Year’s celebration was coming to an end at my grandmothers house. All the guests have already left leavening my gran and me to fetch the table. Grandfather, also know as the Grand Chief of our family, was in the kitchen.

I knew that grannie were tired, a whole day in the privet clinic with not enough personnel, or was it the year when my mother had an open break of her wrist and grandmother had to visit her in the countryside every day for a few month because mom could sterilize her wound by her self. My point is, gran was always shit ass tired after any day of her life and now she had a hyperactive kid on her shoulders to raise. That must’ve been hard times for her.

She looked at the dirty plates with her all forgiving smile and told me we should bring some music to our party. I was delighted!

As a chubby child leaving afar from her school in a yet to be fully build neighborhood I didn’t have many friends, yet alone ones I could’ve had a party or a sleep over with. So she was my best and only friend in this whole world.

She brought computer back to life after an unspeakable amount of cartoons watched on it (Holiday’s special!), сinjected the speakers to it and then He came into my world rocking like a hurricane.

I can’t describe the feeling I had the moment the chorus started, I couldn’t even understand a word in English back then. But something in my chest stiffened. And I jumped on the chair pretending to be a rockstar lighting up the stage, shaking my head so furiously I nearly fainted before I finally fell on the floor.

Grannie was smiling, collecting those Champaign glasses and forks and oily plates with leftovers. I guess somewhere in that dream of mine where I absolutely lost the sense of time, dancing and hopping to the song, she called Granddad. I saw him staring at this crazy circus with laughing eyes, as if he new that day that in time I will be as mad as he was about rock n’ roll… and maybe even more.

I was just a child what chance could I have against the best bend of all times?

From that day has passed eight years until I came back to where I truly and wholly belonged, to where the music had it’s meaning again and not just beautiful faces and high paid mv’s.

So I cut my bangs and did my makeup, got up and went to school at the unholy time of the morning listening to Death on Two Legs, and then I’m In Love With My Car , and after that the whole bloody album. Again and again for months…

As delighted as I was I soon understood that in this world liking the music that no other kid in your school finds interesting or entertaining at least and what’s more rumbling about this music all the time makes you an outcast. The label I hoped to get finally rid of that year.

Why couldn’t I just listen to Stray Kids or other fancy thing. Or maybe be born sometime earlier? Approximately thirty years previous to my actual birth date. It was the road I chose and I couldn’t fully understand that thing for the next few years. Being and moody teenager, don’t miss those times!

Well, maybe a little. Do you?

Queen became a part of my life, the best one, and alike for the billions of people before their music helped me to deal with my demons, to concur the evil one finds inside himself sooner or later, to accept who I am.

And during that period I started idolizing Freddy Mercury. I felt connected to him after watching the Bohemian Rhapsody movie because we are all great liars mostly to our own selves. And finding out where the path of destruction can take you if you’re not careful enough is downright scary. Sometimes I’m afraid I would die poor and alone, though I know it must sound cynical. Not sorry for that part.

So, I try to stay close to my real family. If Freddy has taught us one great lesson is that you have to be close to those who truly care about us. And you know that there will be fights, plenty of them, but you know that when the days grow colder, and you feel heartbroken they will be by your side, no matter what, no meter when. Sometimes we have to listen to even the most unwanted comments and pushes they make because the love us and want what’s best for us. Sometimes we disagree… and it’s totally fine!

What I’m trying to say here, is that Queen were the ones who taught me the lesson that, as cliché as it sounds, saved my life. It’s been a long way. So, thank everybody… This is the reason I want to believe in eternal life for the greatest teacher I’ve ever had.

#queen band #bohemian rhapsody #diaryposting #Spotify

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sk3l3t0n444 · 9 months ago

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been seeing you have breakdowns over yttd in the tag how ya doing buddy (i love watching other people suffer)

i am not ok, im very close with my older brother so gin calling sara big sister sara and with sou and kanna and kannas guilt and reko and alice fucking wrecked me. and the fact that i saved kanna instead of sou fucking destroyed me because ajdbdjemebgdjd

in any media where a character has a sibling or sees another character as a sibling i will bawl. and the amount in yttd killed me.

i relate to more characters than i should in yttd LIKE WHO THE FUCK RELATES TO HINAKO OTHER THAN ME?

the list of favs is too long and im going to put all my favs here because this is my blog and i do what i want. kanna, gin, keiji, sou, reko, kai, alice, ranmaru, hinako, anzu, ranger, safalin are my favorites and i will explain in detail because i can

kanna: she has a sister!!! and and and and she felt bad and she was a fucking wreck! i love it when my characters are wrecks!

gin: THE HIM HES SO SILLY AND THE AUTISM AND HE CALLS EVERYBODY HIS BIG SIBLING IM GONNA CRYYYYYY

keiji: i made an entire post about him

sou: HES AN ASSHOLE BUT HES MY ASSHOLE...wait...thats not...YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN!!!

reko: ...hOT...preTYy...LAdyyy...and shes so niceeeee AND SHE HAS AN OLDER BROTHER??? FUCKING SOLD!!!

kai: he just wanted to protect! (and hes kinda cute ngl)

alice: AWESOME HAIR 10/10 and also HE CARES SO MUCH FOR REKOOOOOO he truly cares about reko and he just wants the best for her <3

ranmaru: i saw his victim video where he said he he didnt know what to do with life and how he was nothing special and i knew he would be my fav. he pretends to not care and to an extent he doesnt, but he does care about everything. and hes kinda cute :)

hinako: chaotic evil...and she reminds me of niffty...and the dark circles are a mood but also shes just a middle school student, she was either bribed, threatened, tricked, forced etc to do this. there is no way she chose to be a pawn. shin took sous name to survive, the fake hinako must have a reason similar to that.

anzu: SILLY!!! AND PRETTY!!! and also she clearly puts up a silly front but shes scared, she feels so much fear but tries to make everybody else laugh

ranger: tbh hes just god damn cute and i relate to him a scary amount and i think thats my red flag

safalin: she truly cares about the players and helps them. not out of obligation but because she wants to. shes scared that she would be forced to hurt them so she warned them and told them not to trust her :(

ok ive ranted enough

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finnofamerica · 2 years ago

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Waking Up Slow - Eddie Munson X Reader || Fluff / Angst

Summary: After ending up in detention, you end up making friends with an unlikely person

Word Count: 1,228

Date Posted: 08.25.2022

TW: Mentions of abandonment, loneliness, cheating, parentification of a child.

Note: N/A

|| Masterlist || Request Here || Ask Box || Fandoms/Characters ||

You were never the type to get detention. You were a cheerleader for christ sakes. You may not have been quite as perfect or popular as Chrissy, but you were just as well part of the group, adored by the basket ball team. You just so happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, but that awful English Lit teacher had it out for you and refused to hear anything different.

You had a singular detention buddy as you were stuck in the library, redoing the protective coverings on the entire paranormal fiction section. Trust me, the one and only Eddie Munson was just as shocked to see you as you were to be in detention in the first place. His offense? Tardiness. For the third time that week. You knew that because you were in his first period biology class, which he missed.

“Y/l/n, Right?” Eddie asked as he plopped down on the floor next to you, in a home made Corroded Coffin shirt. You’d never heard of the band, you figured it must’ve been something you weren’t into.

“Yeah.”

“How come you’re in detention? Aren’t you in the group that never does anything wrong?” He asked. It came across dick-ish, but part of you knew that it was pure curiosity.

“Because Mr. Fitz hates me,” You grumbled. “Fucking asshole. He probably off fucking Mrs. Lynde right now, not that her husband knows of the affair.”

“Such a mouth on you, Princess. Not what I expected from the almighty cheerleading squad.”

You rolled your eyes at his teasing, carefully pealing and resticking the cover you’d messed up.

“You’d be surprised, Munson, not all of us are perfect like Chrissy.” You loved Chrissy, everyone did, but she was a tough act to follow. She was your best friend, but somehow you felt you always amounted to second best. “Aren’t you supposed to hate cheerleaders?”

“I can always hate you tomorrow,” He shrugged, making you giggle, “There is nobody here to judge either of us. What happens in the library can stay in the library. Besides I wouldn’t want to damage your reputation.”

That was the moment you decided you liked Eddie Munson, very much. He was not what you expected in the slightest. Everyone always told you that he was a freak, violent, scary. He was sweet, funny, caring.

After an hour of small talk, the custodians came and left, all except the emergency lights went out, shocking you out of the book you were half reading.

“What the hell?” Eddie wondered out loud, getting up and stretching his long legs. He rattled the library door, unable to get it open. “I think they locked us in here.”

Your face went deadly serious, “You really think that Fitz left us here?”

“If he was fucking Mrs. Lynde like you say he was, then there is a good chance he forgot all about us.”

“I don’t have a phone.” You admitted.

“The school phones block out bound calls without an admin code.”

“I don’t wanna know why you know that.”

“We’re stuck, may as well get comfortable, Princess.”

You slumped back against the bookshelf, resigning yourself to the situation. Eddie took his spot across from you.

“Are your parents going to worry?” He asked.

“It’s just me and my mom. And No, she works overnights at the hospital, so, she’s usually gone before I get home from cheer practice, and back after I’ve left for school.”

“That’s shitty.”

You chuckled bitterly, “Yeah. It’s not really her fault though. She’s doing what she can to support us.”

You realized how truly lonely you were. Even though you were “hot” and popular, most people never really cared enough to get to know you. Most of the popular crowd only cared about image and gossip, and tedded to bully others, intentionally or not. Others assumed that because you were a cheerleader you were dumb and wrote you off without ever having a conversation with you. Hell you didn’t even spend time with your mom most of the time. You made yourself dinner, did your homework without help, found your own way to school.

“Eddie,” You found yourself asking, fiddling with your chipping nail polish, “Do you think, had we not been stuck together, you would’ve taken a chance on me?”

“How do you mean?”

“Getting to know me. Talking to me beyond the latest gossip.”

He thought about it for a long moment.

“Would you have taken a chance on me?” He returned your question.

It was troubling. Would you have risked getting judged by those who were supposed to be your friends all for someone they told you was a freak? Would you have sought Eddie out, not knowing what you do now?

Finally you nodded. “I would. If I saw you alone, away from the Hellfire club, I would.”

“I’d be willing to take a chance on someone willing to chance it on me.”

You smiled softly, blinking back tears of yours.

“Tell me about DnD.” You requested, wanting to know more about the club and the game that so ostracized Eddie from everyone else. He smiled at you, explaining the general rules of the game, before launching into the campaign that he was running. You asked questions where appropriate.

He asked you about cheerleading, wondering what drew you to the sport.

“Not to get sad on you,” You chuckled, “But ever since my dad left I’ve felt so lonely with my mom having to pick up extra shifts, and Chrissy and I were always friends, she asked if I wanted to try out with her. So I did. At first, I loved the idea of belonging somewhere, being part of a group, but soon I realized that most people just care about their ‘popular’ image. I realized that they didn’t really care about me, I just made them look good, y’know? But now that’s where I belong. Y/n the cheerleader.”

“If you want, you can always join us at Hellfire.” Eddie offered, “The guys might be hesitant at first, but we take care of our own.”

“I think I’ll take you up on that.”

“Wake up,” a voice prompted you, shaking both you and Eddie slightly. “Hey, were you here all night?”

You felt a weight around your waist and warmth pressed against your back. It took your tired brain a minute to realize that you and Eddie were spooning.

“Ms. Yates?” You asked quietly, rubbing your eyes. “What time is it?”

You knew the young librarian was always here earlier than any of the rest of the staff.

“7am, dear,” The librarian helped you into a sitting position, a kind smile on her face, “Lets get you both some coffee.”

You startled Eddie awake, narrowly missing his flailing appendages.

You both sat in Ms. Yates office, as she called your parents, sipping on freshly brewed coffee.

“I am going to be taking this up with the principle, believe you me,” She said to your mother on the other line, “Absolutely unacceptable behavior from Mr. Fitz, leaving two students locked in the library.”

You were barely listening to the conversation, half asleep on Eddie’s shoulder.

After another thorough questioning from the principal, you and Eddie were excused for the day. Leaving the school with something you never thought possible. A new perspective.

Tags: @munsonthemisfit @eddiemunsons-girl

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #finn writes #stranger things x reader #Spotify

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songmingisthighs · 2 years ago

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[1.06] mingi × reader

⇀ happy birthday, my love

As expected, Mingi's birthday party was a blast. While he couldn't invite all his friends to the dorm, he was glad he could spend it with his group members and parents.

It was the first time you met them so of course, you were nervous and even scared. But to your luck, his parents loved you to bits and his mom even pulled him to the side to tell him that she was very much happy that he was able to find someone like you.

His mom's comment made Mingi pull away from the festivities for a bit. He never really thought about how you fit into his life so much better than he could ever imagine.

The first was with his idol life. Not everyone could keep up with having an idol boyfriend what with the hectic schedule that goes to 5 am and starts at 6 am, then the unconventional and borderline inconvenient dating locations such as his practice room, dorm, and van, and also the constant anxiety of being found out and not knowing how people will react. No matter how much he trusts his fans, he knew that you will still be in danger.

The second was with his friends, specifically ATEEZ. The amount of time he overthink about how you will blend in with the boys before he introduced you to them was insane. He didn't want to have to choose between the people who has been with him through all of his ups and downs and the person who will be there from that point onwards. It was scary when he first brought you to meet everyone. But thankfully, first hour in and Wooyoung had already insisted they re-debut as a 9 member group.

The third was hours ago, when you met his parents. Of course, having spent his youth focusing on his career, he's inexperienced with romantic relations. So when his parents hears that he had began seeing someone, they were initially apprehensive, telling him to be cautious. But not even half an hour later, his mom had told you to call her 'mom' and that she expect to see you in family events. She didn't even care if Mingi also came or not (which made him whine).

So after cleaning the dorms from the festivities, basking in the euphoria from his birthday, Mingi laid you down on his bed and draped himself on top of you. With his head on your chest and your fingers carding through his hair, he was at his most peaceful state yet.

"I love you," he blurted out of the blue. You looked down and grin at him, "I love you too, Mingi. Why so sudden?" You asked, curious at his sudden proclamation. Mingi shifted so his chin is resting on your chest, he gazed at you with such loving eyes that you wanted to just squish and kiss him.

Mingi pursed his lips and shrugged, "Just... for being with me," he reached forward to kiss you fully on the lips. "Having you here is the best birthday present anyone could ever give," he muttered against your lips. You can only giggle and wrap your arms around Mingi and pull him close, "Happy birthday my love," you said in between pecks. "To many more birthdays to come," you added softly without pulling away from him.

With fluttering heart (and swollen lips), Mingi's head floats to the thought of the future with you. And truly, he couldn't wait.

taglist :

@rdiamond2727 @ikonic-loser @kodzukein @phenomenalgirl9 @skzatzloveismonsterous @seoulscenarios @forjupiter @dreamlesswonder86 @maddiebabyxoxo @imababywolf @do-you-actually-care @marievllr-abg @ilsedingsx @wasteitonserendipity @bbymatz @seonghwarizon @noonaishere @jo-hwaberry @honeyhwaaa @ateezourstars @yoonjunshi @yoongiigolden @camillelafaye @charreddonuts @hyvn-jaeee @kpopnightingale @starryunho @atinct

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boop-le-snoot · 4 years ago

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@buckyownsmylife hey babe! Remember that one time you threw that cool challenge? Here's my entry. Prepare to get absolutely ruined because daddy!Bruce is exactly that sort of man.

main masterlist ☀️ taglist

emotional support nerd

Your best friend's dad, Dr. Bruce Banner, is hotter than you thought he would be. 6k words, NSFW. Kind of Alt!Reader - she refers to herself as 'goth' in one instance. Tony Stark makes an appearance because God forbid I write a fanfic without him in it.

This is filthy pron, ft. age difference (reader is college aged) daddy kink, throat fucking, dirty talk, praise kink, cream pie, possessiveness, belly bulge and ending with a hint at a threesome. I really crammed all I could from Eyre's wheel in here, didn't I. Oh well.

"How much longer, dad?" Lyra's annoyed voice struck a chord within me. I tried to hide my snickering - unsuccessfully might I add - causing my best friend to shoot me a hurt look, equally fed up with me as she was fed up with her forgetful adopted father. "You know what, we'll take the subway."

Lyra's father's voice, both agitated and apologetic, reached my ears in bitten-off phrases as the traffic noises around us grew in volume, NYC rush hour rapidly approaching its peak.

With a sound huff, Lyra removed the phone from her ear, staring me down with the most amount of petulance I've ever seen on her usually reserved, placid face. "It's twenty more minutes. Apparently he's driving Tony's car," she offered in the way of explanation, like it actually did anything to better the cold, wet situation we found ourselves in. "Please, and I can't stress this enough, please don't be weird."

I felt a flood of amusement at Lyra's pleading tone. "Darling, if you wanted a normal friend, you should have looked elsewhere," I gestured to my outfit. I looked like a goth boy's wet dream: chunky platformed boots, fishnets, heavy eyeliner. Of course, all in black.

"You know what I mean," she whined, waving off my pointing hand and fixing me with a hard stare. "The least my dad needs is someone that is terrified of him just because sometimes he turns into a big green monkey. It's not as exciting as internet thinks, anyway," the last part of the sentence was mumbled but I heard it nonetheless as Lyra stared out into the traffic, clever eyes looking for a particular car model.

What Lyra didn't know was that I was not at all considering to be terrified by the man who dosed himself with radiation and developed an advanced version of split personality disorder. I could be intimidated by him, sure, because he was incredibly intelligent, a world class scientist with more PhDs than I had zeroes in my bank account, but even despite his green problem, Dr. Bruce Banner was about as far away from 'scary' as a man could be.

The few scarce pictures of him on the internet showed a short, stocky man with kind eyes and salt-and-pepper curls, always dressed in un-ironed, crumpled button-ups with dorky patterns. Looking at him, I mused that there was a high chance he spoke with a stutter and that fact amused me to no end. Jekyll and Hyde, alright.

Lyra was much the same way. Shy and reclusive, with curly brown hair and doe eyes, she spent a good chunk of her first semester in college being avoided by everybody because of her last name; I, on the other hand, avoided everyone out of habit, I'd never been a social butterfly, but the way people subtly made sure to exclude Lyra from all the activities filled me with quiet, seething rage, and I stepped over my general distaste of people and removed my bag from the seat next to me so Lyra could at least study in relative peace.

Yeah, yeah, you've heard it all, I'm sure. Weird goth chick adopts a socially awkward, shunned nerd and they become best friends forever. I had to admit that under the shy exterior, Lyra was smart, witty and even funny sometimes. She was willing to entertain my crude jokes without moaning, at least, and I was perfectly okay with listening to her rant about science every now and then.

Rain banged on the slanted roof of the café we were hiding in, the autumn wind howled, making both of us shiver at the prospect of having to go outside, even if it was for a short moment to run to Lyra's dad's car. The day had started out warm and sunny, but much like a badly calculated chemical formula, it all went downhill a split second after we had set out to leave campus.

"There he is," the grouch in Lyra's expression had me once again unsuccessfully attempting to conceal my snorting.

Nonetheless, I followed her out into the rain, struggling to keep up with the brisk running in my platformed shoes, unceremoniously crawling into the car behind her without sparing a glance at the driver in my eagerness to get out of the freezing downpour.

"Hi, dad," Lyra's tired voice spoke up at the same time as I angrily shook out my hair.

"I've just about McFuckin' had it with New York," I was afraid the dye in my hair would bleed out into my clothes, or even worse, the nice, cream-colored car seats.

"Hello, ladies," the voice that greeted us was low, gravelly and apologetic to boot.

My eyes shot up, meeting an expression full of surprise and amusement. I stared at the shockingly handsome face of Dr. Bruce Banner like a deer in the headlights.

The fine mimic wrinkles had stretched into a resemblance of a smile, soft, plush lips revealing a set of straight, white teeth. The five o'clock shadow framed his jaw, giving it a sharp, defined edge, his clever brown eyes slid down my form, faltering on the pentagram on my belt and my fishnet-covered legs, settling on my chunky boots before hastily snapping back up to my face.

"Dad, this is..." Lyra's voice was full of suspicious bewilderment as she attempted to dissipate the sudden awkwardness.

"Oh, yeah, I'm Dr. Bruce Banner, but you can call me Doc or Bruce," he cleared his throat, turning himself towards the windshield and starting up the car.

"Nice to meet you," I busied myself with putting away any stray hair just to occupy myself with something during the time I needed to recuperate from being just... Looked at by Lyra's dad.

It sounds ridiculous, I know, but I was so taken aback by his handsomeness and his aura of a gentle but powerful man that the ride to Stark tower, however swift, went on in slightly awkward silence. The streets outside were, thankfully, noisy, and the lack of an attempt to have a conversation could easily be attributed to Bruce's need to focus on the road, but Lyra's increasingly concerned looks did very little to settle the sudden racing of my heart.

"C'mon, I'll give you some sweats so you can let your..." Lyra's vague gesture towards my upper body disappeared behind her side of the door. "Hey, Tony," she suddenly interrupted her sentence, very obviously addressing another person who I managed to miss as Bruce parked in the spacious garage.

"I've been told you're finally bringing your friend, Green Pea," a voice I'd heard a thousand times on the TV poked fun at Lyra.

She bent down to retrieve her bag, shooting big eyes at me and mouthing an exaggerated "Sorry!"

Tony Stark looked about a week in debt on sleep, a contrast to the way he usually appeared in public. The exaggerated eyebrow raise made me shuffle awkwardly in my spot; the Led Zep tee caught my eyes as I lingered on it, aware of my own Mötorhead top on display. He noticed it too, causing his face leave the snide territory.

"Wow, I didn't expect kids these days to have any resemblance of taste in music but you've surprised me, Corpse Bride," he gave me a quiet wolf-whistle, watching me through lidded eyes.

I felt my eyebrow crawl upwards at his attitude but Bruce spoke up before I could say anything: "Tony, no," so firmly, I had to raise both of my eyebrows. I felt a smile tug at my lips, the situation strikingly familiar in it's essence. Like father, like daughter...

"No," Lyra's identical expression, fond and annoyed, topped up with an accusing finger pointed in my direction had everyone snorting a giggle at the situation.

"Lyra," I whined, just so I could coax her grin that she was very obviously trying to conceal. "See, I told you, every crazy genius needs their emotional support nerd," I fixed her with a pointed look.

She promptly grabbed me by the arm, leading all of us to the elevator as the two men behind us shared a hearty laugh at my well-timed joke. It was either that or I would have completely embarrassed myself by gaping and drooling over both THE Tony Stark and Lyra's father.

The rush didn't stop there. I was promptly and generously offered not only a spare pair of pants but also a whole room to stay in after an invitation to dinner I simply could not refuse. Dr. Banner firmly coaxed me into staying overnight with his pleading eyes and a hearty seasoning of guilt tripping, softly crooning how he simply could not let a young woman to wander the cold, rainy night in NYC alone.

Tony added something too, in a tone way too surefire and patronising. I guessed he noticed my eyes lingering on Dr. Banner, being a genius and all.

In a short amount of time, I found myself seated at a dinner table next to a happy, giggling Lyra who'd downed a glass of wine and was well into her second. I found it adorable how much of a lightweight she was; not hesitating in the slightest to point out that fact when she made hands for a pitcher of water.

Tony was the first one to snark back something vague about his college days and all the wild parties he used to throw, booing Bruce upon discovery that he, in fact, actually studied in college in favour of partaking in various illicit activities. That had both me and Tony giggling with Lyra promptly joining in, both of us losing it over the running joke or her being either a test tube baby or the result of immaculate conception.

Bruce's face blushed scarlet. He sputtered, a few stray drops of his lemonade landing on the (ironed!) collar of his purple shirt, cough disappearing in the wake of Tony's truly amused cackling. Dr. Banner was well on his way to either choke on his Lo Mein or turn green; thinking quickly, I decided to defuse a situation by sharing a harmless, funny story that happened to me as a freshman.

"I went on a date with this guy who said that music was the most important thing in his life, and I thought, wow, that's so beautiful!" I began my story over Lyra's incessant snickering. "So we had dinner and went back to his place because I'm a whore," the whole table erupted in laughter at my deadpan remark, Tony reaching over to give me a high five.

"And as we got there, he put on one of his demos which was just a bunch of sampled and remixed Guns'n'Roses songs, and I thought wow, that's gotta be one of the worst things I've ever heard," I pointedly looked away as Lyra's cackling grew in volume, having heard the same story several times by now and the outrage I expressed at the situation first hand.

"But instead of that I said, wow, that's so cool! Then we did the thing and his whole bedroom was covered in Axl Rose posters and I'm sure at some point Mr. Rose stared right up my asshole," there were tears streaming down Lyra's face as Tony flopped his upper body onto the table and Bruce convulsed helplessly in a silent fit of giggles. "And then I thought to myself: wow, I would have to pretend to like his music if I dated this guy and I just couldn't do that..." I breathed out, succumbing to the mirth at the dinner table. "It was good but not November Rain good, y'kno?"

Bruce snorted loudly, sliding down his chair with a hand over his face. The table shook with the force of Tony's cackling; I didn't see his expression but the howling, rasping noises sent me into another fit of laughter, right on par with Lyra.

"Is this..." Tony rapidly inhaled the much-needed oxygen. "Is this why you keep wincing whenever I play the 'Roses in the lab?" Tony wheezed and Lyra nodded.

"I just... I can picture it, and I-" she made a vague, encompassing gesture and a face.

"Please, don't," I urged with a snort. "There are better ways to get disappointed."

Dinner went on by smoothly after that, everybody happily making remarks on my dating fail, the topic of Lyra's birth and Tony's college shenanigans dismissed.

I caught Dr. Banner's pointed look as we finished our dessert - he was studying me, eyes searching for something that he very obviously wished was there. From the damp roots of my hair to the soft, cotton top clinging to my chest, I wasn't left unscrutinzed and unexamined. Like one of the many specimens he studied on a daily basis, Bruce lingered on the many characteristics that made me stand out in the grey crowd.

"Would you like to see the labs?" He asked, appearing behind me without a single sound.

The freshly cleaned dishes clattered in my arms. I'd almost dropped them, startled, but Bruce's hand landed on the top of the stack right before the top plate would have slipped off and shattered into pieces on the cold tile of his kitchen.

Blood rushed to my ears. "I'd love to," my brain had briefly returned to reality, the rush of meeting both Stark and Banner succumbing to logic and reason. My and his fields of study briefly overlapped, the question he posed was more than reasonable. In fact, many people would cheat, lie and steal to be in my position.

Bruce smiled, opening a cabinet and taking half of the dishes I was holding to stack them up in their proper place. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up, exposing wide, muscular forearms littered with dark, coarse hair.

I was sure my face was flaming. After waving off Lyra's attempts to put shoes on me and leaving her to watch her TV show, a wide, warm palm rested on the back of my waist, gently steering me towards the elevator.

I tried to keep my eyes off Bruce in the large mirror on the walls of the car as it swiftly moved down, scrutinizing my appearance instead. My throat bobbed, the elevator car suddenly too small and too hot.

His eyes left marks on me - invisible ones, the kind that I knew were there just from the scorching heat sizzling on my skin.

There was a certain je ne sais quoi about him. Perhaps, it was in the way he was acting - a polar opposite of what I'd had expected, Dr. Bruce Banner possessed a quiet confidence and his patience appeared to be endless, heartily doused with an appreciation for his closest ones. The way his eyes lit up in response to people smiling around the dinner table was hard to miss.

When Bruce spoke about his research - whatever wasn't classified, anyway - the spark expanded into a mischievous fire. I could hardly understand the nuances in his work, scratch that- I could not understand a single word he was saying, at all. The individual syllables registered as they should, but my traitorous brain could only focus on the way he licked his lips in between quickly inhaled breaths.

"You're not... Following, are you?" The corner of his mouth lifted upwards, clever brown eyes fixed on my face.

God, I hoped I wasn't drooling. But to deny the obvious would have been a stretch. "No, not really," I swallowed, willing my eyes to lift from the large veins on the hand that was pointing at a set of equations. Reasonably good at math any day, they looked like the scribbles of a madman to me at the time.

Dr. Banner sighed, letting silence creep among the whirring machinery in the lab for a brief moment. "I don't scare you?" He removed his glasses, cleaning them with the corner of his shirt.

The question reeked of self-doubt and, perhaps, insecurity. "No," I answered simply, not giving him the slightest chance to find doubt in my words. I was barely holding my voice from shaking, afraid he'd misunderstand my reaction to the sudden change in atmosphere.

He was closer to me than I recalled. My hip was almost brushing his, the bulk of his shoulder millimeters from touching against my bare skin, the smell of something herbal, like tea, and sharp chemicals clouding my senses. It was such a contrasting experience.

Bruce turned to me, an expression between hunger and regret forcing me to shiver and look him straight in the eye. A hand landed on my waist, holding me in place with gentle firmness. "I'm a monster, I could hurt you," he whispered, leaning into me like a touch starved kitten. The man screamed contradiction. "We shouldn't."

Vivid images of the Hulk and the rampages years prior flashed through my mind; the rubble, the collateral damage in the form of many lives. I barely remembered it, having been too little to really understand what was going on. One thing, though, I knew for sure: ever since the world became aware of Lyra's existence, there had been no incidents. Sure, the Hulk still appeared when there was a threat, but there were no documented incidents of the green creature running amok, accidentally.

"You won't hurt me," I spoke with conviction. Perhaps, I was bluffing just slightly but I wouldn't lie like that to myself. The variable, the... Twelve or so percent chance of things going... Awry, it made a small, malicious worm inside of me rejoice and fill my limbs with familiar adrenalised yearning. "You're not a monster. Far from it, actually," I used the hand that was not supporting me against the desk to gently cradle the side of his face, letting my fingertips brush over the rough five o'clock shadow on his cheek.

Bruce emitted a sound somewhere between an agitated grown and a pleading whine, sagging with the sound exhale, pressing himself flush with my chest. His face slipped from my palm, the warm tip of his nose running a steady line up my neck, sending goosebumps running wildly down my back as his hot breath tickled the arch of my throat.

"Baby," the nickname punched a stuttered gasp out of me with the intensity contained in just that one word. "I've been hearing all these amazing things about you," his voice dropped, low baritone rumbling straight into my ear. "I won't be able to hold back. I'll want you all to myself," his bicep flexed under my hand.

My knees would have bucked if I wasn't grasping onto Bruce for dear life after those words. I had some sense of personal pride in me, so while my body was an easy, traitorous thing, my mind was more than eager to participate in this game, to ping pong a little bit before... "Yeah? What things?" I breathed.

Teeth briefly closed around my tender skin, nipping for just a second. "You're kind, beautiful," his hand took a steadfast hold on the back of my neck, exposing my throat to his mouth. More skin to mark, more time to whisper. "Intelligent, bright and clever," the more he spoke, the fiercer he became. Bruce's grasp tightened until I was pliant in it, willingly following his silent commands. "A bit of a pain in the ass," a healthy dose of humour was added into the mix as my ass was roughly grabbed, our fronts pressed together at his insistence.

"That sounds about right," I didn't resist the sudden urge to snark, thoughts lazily floating in my head, like clouds on a bright sunny day, fleeting and sparse. None of them caught on. I was focused on feeling the need, on my need to feel.

A sharp smack landed on the plump of my ass, the sound resonating in the eerily quiet lab. The sounds of machinery had dulled at some point, leaving just the two of us panting our lust into each other's space. "I know you can be a good girl. Will you, princess?" His fingertips dug into my flesh, surpassing the soft sweatpants as if they weren't even there.

I could only nod, dumbly, overcome by the sudden rush of blood to my body. The life coarsing through me sang, demanding a release of the pent-up tension.

"What's that?" Bruce removed himself from my neck, catching my unfocused eyes with a crooked smirk on his lips.

"Yes," I swallowed, breathing through my mouth.

"Mmm," he hummed, running both hands over my sides, over the frayed edges of my Mötorhead top. He admired it, briefly, setting his eyes on the band logo that was right over my breasts. Having decided something to himself, Bruce promptly removed it, lifting it over my head with ease and leaving it right on the science lab table.

Taking hold of my hand, he walked over to a hidden set of sliding doors that revealed a rather large, frequently used bed, shutting them just as I walked in, wearing only my bra and borrowed sweats. My back was pressed to the door in mere seconds, hot palms chasing away the chill of the lab as Bruce slotted his lips over mine.

He tasted like something I've never had before. His lips - so plush and supple, took hold of the kiss with practiced gusto, sucking me in without a chance or the desire to escape. I drank from him, sucked on the bottom lip as his tongue explored my mouth, danced with mine.

The room was spinning, the ringing in my ears growing in volume. I was only partly aware of the sensation of sliding down the wall; our knees thudded on the carpeted floor simultaneously, heavy breathing the only noise I could distinguish.

"Breathe, baby, that's it," Bruce coaxed, gently stroking my nape. The soft cotton of his shirt crumpled under my fingers where I held onto him, desperately searching something to ground myself with.

The buckle of his belt clattered and then clinked again as he wrapped the worn leather around my wrists, bringing them together in front of my chest. I exhaled sharply at the intimate gesture, a whine bubbling up from my chest when Bruce used a single fingertip to raise my chin.

My eyes met his; a brown iris tinged with the faintest of green around the outer edge. "This okay, princess?" He sought my face for confirmation, for agreement, for anything.

I nodded, stuttering mid-gesture, remembering our previous interaction. My mouth did not want to cooperate but I forced it to, even if it came out as little more than a pitiful mewl. "Yes, daddy," the word, sweet and sticky like fruit syrup, poured from my lips.

My eyes slid shut as my conscience - or was it common sense? - took hold of the situation. I was on my knees in front of my best friends dad, a virtual stranger, and I'd just-

Bruce's soft chuckle stopped the negative spiral of my thoughts. "That's my girl," he sounded a tad more breathless now, a hairliner in his perfect façade of self-control. As if he'd sensed my indecisiveness, he tugged on the makeshift restraints, pulling me closer, closer and into his lap.

A warm, solid chest with a healthy amount of fluff greeted me. Bruce let my lax, pliant body fall into his arms, catching me effortlessly and bringing my face to his lips. "You have nothing to be ashamed of, you're my good girl," he peppered soft kisses all over my flaming cheeks, my twitching nose, my fluttering lashes.

"Please," I begged, shame giving way to the flood of arousal that seemingly hit me all at once. I was aware of the dampness collecting in my panties, the stiffness of my limbs from holding back the ravenous desire to paw at Bruce like a wild animal. "Please, daddy..."

"I know, I know, baby girl," he soothed, not stopping his tender assault on my face. "Daddy will make it all better. I know just what you need," Bruce finally pulled away. I heard the sound of him undoing his zipper and then the awkward shuffle of him shucking off his pants.

Somewhere in between of all that, he'd ended up sitting down on the bed, wearing only his boxers, his shirt hanging open. The red crawled down his chest, partially masked by the coarse salt and pepper hair; his lips were cherry red and his hair was sticking out in odd directions. Bruce looked sinful.

My eyes inadvertently landed on the impressive bulge in his boxers; in response to my widened eyes, he reached out for it, stroking the outline of his thick cock through his boxers. "Like what you see, baby?"

"Yeah," My mouth watered.

"Baby wants a fat cock?" He teased, sounding like he knew exactly what he was doing, testing my self-control like that. With a flick of his wrist, it sprang free, slapping against his tummy, coating the fine hairs with drops of clear, musky fluid.

I swallowed, feeling the taste of him from afar and yearning for more where I was parked between his spread legs.

In a gesture almost loving, he tugged on the belt still wrapped around my wrists, bringing my face to his leaking shaft and my hands to the base of it, letting me feel the weight of his balls in them. The cock throbbed, neglected, weighed down by the heaviness of his full balls.

"Go ahead, baby, suck my cock," the encouragement came with a gentle push to my head.

I obediently followed, wrapping my lips around the pink, moist crown of it, a hum beginning in the back of my throat. My God, Bruce tasted heavenly... I whirled and slipped my tongue a around his head, I dipped into the slit to drink the nectar right from the tap, idly coming to awareness of the broken, choked moans coming from the man above me.

Raising my head got me a view of his chin; head thrown back, the lax O of his mouth glistened in the meager light. My eyes slid lower, to the flex of his abs. Bruce fought hard to stay still. The desire consumed me, a sudden rush of power at having Dr. Bruce Banner's cock in my mouth and the man at my mercy; I inhaled, sliding my mouth further and further down his throbbing length.

"Fuck," I heard him mutter before his hands gripped the sides of my face. "Hungry, baby, are you?" His eyes glowed a faint green; I shuddered at the power he held within himself. Held back for me. "Tap my thigh twice," he spoke and I had no choice but to obey. "Okay. Do that if it gets too much, alright?" I nodded. He gave me a wide, beaming smile. "Good girl," he praised, experimentally bucking his hips into my mouth a few times.

In and out. I focused on my breathing, sharp, little inhales: his girth took up all the free space in my mouth, the tip of it barely fit into my throat. The burn, the stretch; I felt every tenth of an inch, every bulging attempt of my body to accommodate Bruce's huge cock. It was delicious, I couldn't help but crave the same stretch in my neglected, sopping wet pussy.

"Fuck, you're taking it so well," Bruce moaned wetly. "Your mouth... S'like heaven... Could fuck it all day, that's my good girl," the rambling increased in it's intensity as the pace of his hips hastened. Drool and tears flowed like a river; my chin was dropping with it, spit connected my face to his pelvis. "Oh," there was a brief pause to his movements; suddenly, he pulled out, fisting the base of his cock, staring me down with a ferocious gleem in his eye.

I must've looked a straight mess; my face like a crime scene, my clothes disheveled, covered in fluids and most of all - I was desperately grinding against my own feet, too focused on the glorious cock in front of me to notice the weakness of my own flesh. "Daddy?" I questioned, wincing at the grating of my own voice.

Without a word, the belt was tugged once more; in a set of movements just slightly north of acrobatic, I found myself laying on my back in the middle of the bed, my sweatpants suffering a haste demise in the corner of the room.

Bruce crawled atop me, leaving a trail of sloppy kisses on every inch of my skin he could reach, mouthing something inaudible into every pore of my body. As he drew closer, I discerned bitten-off phrases, stringing my desire into sticky, tangy mess at the apex of my thighs.

"My perfect baby girl," the words reached me; all tongue, he kissed me once more, arching into me as much as I arched into his hot grasp. A brief inspection of my face - he was satisfied with what he saw - and Bruce crawled back, settling in between my spread legs, breathing hot air on the lips of my sex still covered by a sopping wet piece of fabric.

"Oh fuck," I yelped, feeling him smooch it soundly, the hot wetness of his tongue penetrating the meagre lace barrier with ease.

He moved it aside anyway, with a single finger, giving my pussy a broad lick, moaning into my cunt like a man gone mad. It took a few more licks for him to feel sated enough to surface, all the while holding my hips down. I was so sensitive, I felt even the tiniest flicks to my clit, I was sure if I didn't cum then and there, I would explode.

"Such a pretty pussy, princess," his heavy breathing paused briefly. He nipped my thigh. "So wet, is that all for me?"

"Yes, yes, daddy," I rasped, pushing my cunt into his face, losing all shame and trepidation.

"So tasty," he continued the torture, outlining my lower lips before taking another nosedive right into it, swirling his tongue around every fold, sucking onto my clit.

Bruce ate my pussy until my thighs shook, until my core quivered and I could no longer hold back the choked, ragged screams starting somewhere in the low of my belly and coming out as unholy, all-consuming yowls filled with unadulterated lust.

"Louder for me, baby," he inhaled rapidly, and then, he sucked on my clit.

The world stopped, halted on it's axis, every muscle going rigid in my body and every nerve ending simultaneously coming alive. Faintly, I heard a chant, repeating two syllables over and over, it sounded like my voice - but I had no control over myself. All I could do was weakly grind my hips against Bruce's mouth, faltering when the crashing waves of my orgasm began to recede.

The infuriating overstimulation stopped; blinking hazily, I saw Bruce's eyes glimmer brown and green in front of my face. His nose and his chin was glistening with a thin coat of sticky fluid; disheveled and red, he looked a man on the verge of a revelation.

Something hot and blunt nosed at my cunt, bringing back the moment to me - I realized, with a great deal of impatience - how empty I felt. The decision was minute. "Daddy, fuck me, please, I want your cock," the words came easily.

"That's my girl," his eyes fluttered shut as the first inches squeezed through the snug of my cunt. I was sopping wet and as relaxed as I'd be, but even then, it was a stretch. "Good girl, good baby," the mumbled praise made me whine and my pussy clamp on his cock. "Relax, let daddy fill you up." Breathing through it, I consciously unwound myself around him, letting my palms rest freely on his shoulders. "Let daddy take care of you."

Like melted sugar, his husked words stuck to me inside and out. Short, sharp thrusts; Bruce was patiently burrowing himself inside of me, making his way to reach the deepest parts of me I didn't even know existed. His cock head pressed against something hard and spongy inside of me; stars burst behind my eyes I'd clamped shut on reflex.

I moaned weakly, tugging on his arm, pressing myself closer. It felt so, so good. Like a raw nerve had been exposed and he was stroking it, pushing that little switch with every stroke of his hips.

"I'm not gonna last," he muttered as once again, my cunt squeezed him snugly in place, just as greedy as I was to feel that tiny explosion spark up within me again.

"I want..." I panted. Bruce set in a punishing pace after that, a palm under my ass, squeezing it so hard there would definitely be bruising. I craved it, I needed to see the evidence this was not some elaborate fever dream. "I want... Daddy to fill me up," words came out garbled; it sounded like gibberish to my ears but Bruce - they spurred him on.

"Oh yeah?" That breathless, boyish cockiness was back in his voice again; despite how fucked out he sounded, I prepared myself for something truly out of this world. I just knew.

He sat back on his shins, dragging me by the hips with him, making me shiver and moan and twitch and clamp onto him again as his throbbing cock hit that special spot again. And again. And again.

"Look at me, baby," a hand on my belly and his eyes burning right through me. As they slid down, towards the apex of my thighs where he was still moving within me almost lazily, I saw it.

"Oh fuck," I couldn't utter much more than a two-syllabled profanity. There was a bulge in my belly, just above my pelvis, moving in rhythm with Bruce's hips. And then he pressed on it and I-

Something, someone, somewhere was screaming. The noise was loud and pitched, but even then, I could barely hear it though the neverending waves of bliss that enveloped my whole being. Gold and silver at the edges of my rapidly darkening vision; I was drowning in something that smelled and felt like Bruce. The safety of his arms, the warmth of his heated body, the rapid snapping of his hips-

Oh.

"I'm gonna, fuck," the last word was but a ghost of a human speech. Growling low and filthy, Bruce leaned into my ear, his breath hot and moist. "Mine," his hips stuttered, his cock nestled deep, the sensation bordering on painful, forcefully extracted pleasure. It throbbed with every spurt of his seed; each one felt like a solid punch in the gut to my abused pussy.

"Daddy," I mewled, my body jerking away from him but my mind and my soul yearning for more. His rapidly softening flesh made the idea of being separated unbearable.

"S'good, s'my good girl, m'so proud," he mumbled, looking slightly disoriented as he removed himself from me, immediately pressing me to his side and interwining any free, flailing limbs.

We laid in silence, each of us slowly coming back to Earth after the completely unreal experience we just had. I didn't know what to think, didn't know what to do as the realization set in, the post-orgasmic haze giving way to a sudden rush of clarity.

"I can hear you overthinking," Bruce's voice was fond.

Before I could muster up the courage to snark back, the divided doors opened, one very concerned Tony Stark standing there, armed with a tranquilizer gun in one hand and a pack of cookies in the other. His mouth, previously open to (probably) yell at us, remained as open when his eyes had registered the scene in front of him.

I stared at Bruce. Bruce stared at Tony.

"The noise," he offered in the way of explanation, dangling the pack of cookies, looking, for once - speechless. He recovered quickly, however, even if the remark was a thin ghost of his usual sass: "You pick the nerd over me? I'm hurt," he scoffed in mock irritation, although I was pretty sure I saw some satisfaction in there, too.

Bruce looked at me. I looked at Bruce.

A mischievous grin slowly crept up his face, an identical one beginning to appear on my own face seconds after.

"Hey, two nerds is better than one, right?" My response is what did it; or, rather, it was the evidence of my previous throat-fucking clearly audible in my voice... Tony dropped the cookies and then, the tranq gun.

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