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servin-up-surveys · 2 years

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survey #104

(taken january 22nd; uploading surveys taken while gone)

Have you ever been for a ride in the back of a truck? Yeah, when I was way younger.

Did your grandparents teach you anything? To not be an old-fashioned, holier-than-thou piece of fucking garbage that refuses to change with the times and kiss the feet of an invisible mass murderer in the sky.

What are the longest and shortest romantic relationships you’ve been in? Longest, over 3 1/2 years. I was with Juan less than 24 hours.

Have you ever been obsessive over calories, exercise etc.? I've had multiple phases of this.

What are you listening to? So Rammstein's vocalist has an independent band as well and I sometimes explore his solo work and I'm currently obsessed with "Ich weiß es nicht" and I've just fully accepted chaotic 50-60 y/o men dominate my interests lmfao

How is the weather outside? It's raining. I wish it would just snow already, I really wanna get pretty winter weather pictures this year.

List eight things you like about your best friend. He is extremely patient, absolutely hilarious, a strong listener, the most loyal person I've ever met, very obviously genuinely cares about me, he's a very hard worker that's super dedicated to whatever he sets his mind to, he's very good with animals (especially dogs), and he's super intelligent.

List two favourite colours. Pastel pink and coral.

What was the last book you read? I started Wings of Fire: Talons of Power the other day.

How many best friends do you have? I only feel like I'm being entirely accurate in the sense of what I consider an absolute best friend to be when I answer with Girt, but I know some people will be like "oh he doesn't count" because he's my partner, but whatever. If not him, then it's Mom, buuuut again, I know some won't consider that a valid answer. My closest friends that are just friends and not blood or anything are both Tez and Mazzy, though.

Are you holding back doing or saying anything? Yeah, I guess. Nothing very important, though.

Have you ever been used? Oh I'm sure I have been, in one way or another.

Are you pregnant? Zero chance of that.

Do you want to be? BIG no on that one.

Can you describe your entire family in three words? Complicated, strained, distant.

What’s the first thing you see when you look out your window? Our road and houses across the street.

What’s your favorite fair food? I actually don't know; I've been to so very few and tried barely any food. I do know that I actually don't like funnel cake, though.

What’s something you always wear, even in the shower? Piercings.

How did you feel after your first kiss? There was a whole lotta butterflies and shyness but also tons of happiness and peace and the feeling that I was in the midst of something wonderful. Girl if you only knew lmfao

What’s your state's or country’s minimum wage? $7.25/h 🙃 proven to be properly unlivable here

What was the best thing you ever did for your parents, legal guardians or parental figures? hell if I know honestly

Have you ever worn a suit? No but women in suits is FUCKING HOT

Would you rather make 2D or 3D art? 2D. Sculptures and stuff aren't my thing, at least when it comes to ME making them. I love looking at that kinda stuff, though.

Do you eat candy corn? No, I hate that shit.

Were either of your parents baptized? I can absolutely, positively guarantee my mom was, but idk about Dad.

The last concert that you were at, was there a mosh pit? Nah.

Do you think pepperoni would be good on a meatball sub? I don't even like meatball subs to begin with because the bread gets so damp and gross.

Has anyone killed one of your pets before? Well, yes. Growing up we had cats get hit by cars a lot. I've told the story of our then-neighbors' rottweilers getting loose and going on a cat massacre once too, but I honestly don't blame the owners and haven't for a very, very long time. Those dogs were smart and it wasn't like them getting loose was even a remotely common thing. It was entirely an accident.

Does your bathroom have a theme to it? Neither one does.

Are any rooms in your house themed? Not really. I WANT to redesign mine with more of a nature-y vibe, though.

Is there someone that you have lost respect for recently? My grandmother, who I ALREADY didn't respect at all.

Have you ever edited an article on Wikipedia? No.

Do you remember your first love? I am not AT ALL exaggerating the times I say that I very sincerely doubt that I would forget Jason even if I developed dementia/Alzheimer's. Some patients do remember specific details of their lives and I am fully convinced that would be me with him.

What is something you can never give up (that's not love or family)? The Internet, lmao.

Have you ever waited in line overnight for something? No.

Is there such a thing as being too rich or too poor? Obviously?????????????

Go back to your freshman year; what kind of music were you listening to? Same stuff as now, various forms of metal, but I would also listen to more scream-y stuff.

Do you have an alter ego? Describe them: No.

What is something you think about yourself that nobody agrees with? That I'm incredibly dumb. People who know me, especially family, always love to point out I'm "super smart" (when it comes to book-type knowledge, everyone knows I have terrible common sense) but I very much feel like they just think about how I performed up through high school. I don't know WHAT happened once I started college (my one and only guess is that my trauma genuinely affected my memory and even how I register information), but it did a fantastic job at making me feel appallingly stupid and unable to process new information. It's probably always going to upset me, how much I changed in terms of learning.

What about something people think of you that you don’t agree with? That I handle kids quite well. I always feel like I'm doing or saying the total wrong thing and acting awkwardly, and even seeing evidence that kids DO seem to gravitate towards me doesn't make me believe that I'm actually good with them.

What is your favourite type of video game? Horror, esp psychological-type horror.

Do you sometimes pretend to do things you dont know how to do? No, that sounds like a bad idea.

If you have tattoos, which one that you have was the most painful? I want to say my inner forearm, I think.

Do you have any pets who will bite anyone else out there, besides you? No.

If you died right now, what would be your biggest regret? Never feeling like I found my place in the world.

What do you believe was your greatest achievement? Healing from the breakup. I know it sounds super little and unimpressive, but when you know how desperately I just always wanted to be dead and the psychological damage it all did that I STILL deal with, you'd realize it was a feat of fucking strength and self-love that I frequently forget about.

What have you learned from pain? To cherish every single moment without it and to also have empathy and understanding.

What was the last text or IM you sent? Girt was asking about moving our hangout day to Wednesday, which I told him was fine; he just feels like having the weekend to himself. I wanted to see him, but I'm not actually upset at all; he's allowed to have time with himself, even if I WASN'T okay with it.

What is the simplest way to make you happy? Talk to me about meerkats or Rammstein or Silent Hill and stuff lmao.

When was the last time you had deja vu? Actually when I was writing an RP post yesterday, it was really weird.

Is there something you are always interested in? The main topic of deep interest that has prevailed the longest is meerkats.

Do you like buffet restaurants? I really don't, I find the concept super gross with how people are.

When was the last time you felt like you were starving? Full realism, I've never felt like I was sincerely, truly starving because I never factually have been. Yeah, I exaggerate and sometimes am like "I'm starving" when I mean I'm super hungry, but I'm fully aware I'm actually not. I consider myself an incredibly lucky person to have constant access to some kind of food.

Would you ever dye your hair all the colors of the rainbow? If my hair would actually take it and it wasn't absurdly expensive, fuck yeah.

What has made you laugh lately? I've been watching a lot of Game Grumps lately, and they do very, very easily. More than any other YouTube channel on a consistent basis.

If a Miley Cyrus song was playing in a store, would you leave? Oh, grow up. I'm not leaving a store I went to to get something I need or even just want just because a fucking song comes on.

Have you ever actually discovered someone watching you? No, thank the fucking lord. That would REALLY creep me out.

What would you do if you found an inappropriate picture of yourself online? I would be EXTREMELY freaked out because I've never taken an inappropriate picture of myself and I've never allowed anyone else to either, so someone would've done it in secrecy. I'd also be absolutely fucking humiliated because I hate my body. I'd absolutely try to figure out who got the picture and try my absolute damnedest to get it taken off the Internet.

What do you think of Facebook? I use it to keep tabs on people I care about and also see memes haha, plus other cool or motivational/inspiring stuff, but it DOES sometimes negatively affect me in the sense it makes me feel insanely behind in life.

Would you rather have Junior Mints or Reese’s? Reese's.

Have you ever taken a Polaroid? I'm quite sure I haven't, though I would actually really like to have a Polaroid-type camera. I can absolutely see the aesthetic appeal of them.

When was the last time you felt pressured? This past Friday Emerson wanted to play catch with one of her toys for a little bit, and though I didn't really want to because I was reading a book, I obviously did.

How many times have you broken a bone? Once.

Do you have a preference of chocolate? Milk chocolate with either a peanut butter or caramel interior.

Do you have a favorite author? Nah I really don't.

Do you own anything “designer?” Definitely not. I ain't got that kind of money.

If you had to draw your life, what would it mainly include? A lot of mental illness imagery and also Jason. Mom.

What is your favourite dinosaur? It's always been the spinosaurus. I also really love velociraptors, but their understood anatomy has changed a whole lot. I've found I prefer less feathery dinos. The Jurassic Park iteration of them are more my style.

Have you ever made bread? I personally haven't.

Would your childhood self be disappointed? UH, YEAH.

Has anything ever fallen asleep on you? Yeah, pets, partners, kids. Maybe sisters at some point.

What do you feel about surgeries? Do they worry you? Well, they worry me NOW because I learned sleep apnea (and mine is apparently severe) is a dangerous complicator in surgeries. I've also wondered if my nightmares could be an issue... I also have a considerable fear of anesthesia awareness, but it's not absolutely overwhelming.

Do you have a Tumblr? My Tumblr was (I'm assuming) accidentally terminated over a month ago and I am STILL waiting to hear back from them, even after sending a second report. 🙃 I've been tempted to go back to my old email account (that one was ALSO randomly terminated after a theme edit but was restored), but I really don't want to so am trying to wait. I just don't at all see what in the world I could've done wrong to be fairly banned.

Would you ever consider moving to another country? Realistically I don't think I will. My mom has basically begged us girls to stay together and prioritize our family bond because our extended family ALL live out of state, usually many states away.

Would you like to live in a realm where the zombie apocalypse is possible? How do we know the one we live in now isn't? Zombifying parasites already exist in simpler, smaller organisms; who knows what the future holds. I do remember reading a scientific article about it for some reason just not seeming possible for humans with our current biological knowledge, but. Who knows. BUT ANYWAY, I would DEFINITELY prefer it to not be possible. I will never understand the absolute maniacs that basically fetishize that universe, like bitch you will die within the first couple days like basically everyone else, stop pretending you're a godly badass in the face of a horde of dead humans that are deadset on eating you and accept you're gonna shit your pants like everyone else lmao.

#survey #surveys #random questions #personal questions

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poppy-metal · 3 years

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Demure

Wc: 4k

Pairing: eren jaeger x reader

Cw: car sex, fingering, emphasis on reader being innocent and a virgin. reader is armins little sister. corruption kink

you're 6 years old when you first meet eren jaeger. apparently he'd run off some people that were bullying you big brother, armin. you admire him and mikasa immediately.

you're 8 and he's 11 when you get a scrape on your knee from playing tag. eren runs into your mothers bathroom to fish out the first aid-kit, you know he just doesn't want you to tattle, you never would anyway, but he pulls out a pink band-aid with little ariels all over it and places it gently over the cut. he stays there for a few beats, soothing the skin around the hurt area with his thumbs. his big bright green eyes look up at you, "better?" and that's the first time your heart skips for a boy.

you're 11 and he's 14 when armin starts becoming protective. "he's had like. 5 girlfriends in middle school, who knows what he's gonna be like in high-school"

it intrigue you, for some reason.

you're 13 and he's 16 when he taps furiously on your window at night, wild eyed and wearing a t-shirt and sweats. he falls ungracefully on his ass when you let him in, though he grins at you from the floor. "thanks, squirt"

you wince at the nickname, knowing it solidifies you as someone only platonic to him. armins little sister and nothing more. "what's this all about?"

he gets up and swipes imaginary dust off his sweats, looking around your room. its absurdly girly. he picks up one of your plushies and tosses it up, then catches it, peering over at you and grinning. "i hope you never change," he sighs and flops down onto your pink sheets. "girls my age are fucking psychos"

you creep closer to him, snatching your plush back. "im sure there's something you're leaving out there. im not completely dumb, you know"

he waves his hand, "yeah but you're....i don't know? innocent or whatever. you don't care about shit like boys and drama"

i do care about boys, you think, watching the way his shirt rides up to expose a hint of tan skin. you look away, squeezing your plush to your chest. "im gonna grow up eventually, ren"

he sighs and sits up, looking at you from under his ridiculously cute floppy brown hair. "Just promise me you won't go boy crazy"

you roll your eyes and sit down next to him, he leans in and licks a broad stripe against your cheek with his tongue, grinning "we have cooties"

you swat at him and wipe your cheek, groaning and calling him gross. "i know that. you and armin never let me forget how gross boys are", you side eye him. "what did you even do? really?"

he looks to the side, only now having it in him to look the least bit sheepish, "my girlfriend may have caught me with my hand down historias skirt..."

"EREN JAEGER!!!"

yeah, boys really are gross. but not eren, no he's beautiful and magical and makes you feel all the fluttery things. but he's also a player, a bad boy, dangerous and completely off limits. maybe your crush should have ended there, but of course it didn't.

You're 15 when you go on your first date with a boy. until now you haven’t allowed yourself to even think about men outside of the enigma that is eren jaeger, but that’s a lost cause, a stupid crush you need to let go of. and despite what eren thinks, you’re not that innocent. not in your head anyway. you’re a girl and you have fantasies.

the guy is nice, armin likes him enough. big and tall and humble, reiner brought you flowers for your first date. the age difference is a little weird, he’s in erens grade, a senior, but you think its harmless. you’re turning 16 soon. the date goes well, you smile and giggle alot, and reiner seems smitten by the end of it. he even goes as far as to kiss your hand when he drops you back off at home, at 8pm sharp, just like he promised. he was kind and sweet, and you liked him, but you wonder what it means that there were no flutters in your belly, not like when you’re around him…

you’re still thinking about that when you open the door, and walk inside. the house is quiet, and you wonder where armin is, and eren. thinking they both must be in armins room, you go to the kitchen to get a glass of water, stopping on your path there when you see eren on the couch. he’s lounging back, hand idly wrapped around a gaming controller as he watches you.

you glance around him. “where’s mimmin?”

he doesn’t take his eyes off you. “annie called”, he leans forward a little, propping his chin in his palm as he observes you quietly for a moment.

you squirm in place, his eyes are too hot. “oh” and you make to start moving again but his voice stops you.

“so. braun, huh?” his tone is hard to discern, the words coming out cool and detached, but his eyes are that intense green.

“yeah” you say, shifting on your feet. “he was nice. kissed my hand and everything”

“sounds like a dream” and that is definitely said sarcastically. you bristle but eren is already turning away from you, facing the TV. “didn’t think he was your type though”

because erens been your type since forever, you guess he’s right. reiner couldn’t be more different in both personality and looks, but maybe that’s a good thing. “maybe he can be” you say softly, looking at your feet. you dont see erens eyebrows jump, or his lips twist disdainfully.

“If you wanna settle for missionary the rest of your life, then sure, go ahead” he sounds a little miffed and that confuses you. makes you look up. you don’t even know reiner that well, but you feel the need to defend him from erens usual snarky jabs.

“not every guy that doesn’t live on Xbox and fuck half the school is a bland guy” you huff. you feel a little guilty for calling him out but he started it. eren hated preps, that was obvious, but its not like he was a model person either, if his long track record of promiscuity was anything to go by. reiner wasnt boring he just…..wasn’t eren. but that wasn’t a flaw. It shouldn’t be.

“you been keeping tabs on me, princess?” eren asks wryly, smirking now. you just glare at him, quirking a brow and daring him to prove you wrong, to say he’s better.

he doesn’t. he just looks at you, sets his controller down and does that tick he’d developed since he was young of jiggling his knee, tapping his finger on it. “don’t go on more dates with him”

you squint your eyes, “and why not?”

“because i said so”

“you’re not my boss”

“because..” he scratches the stubble on his jaw, gaze looking far off as he stares at his bouncing leg. “guys shouldn't touch you”

your mouth pops open. you get that, right now, you’re too young for stuff like sex, but being touched? everyone your age had boyfriends, why should you be any different?

It feels a bit like deja vu when you tell him, “m’not staying innocent forever. dating and s-sex are apart of life. you do it, why shouldn’t i?”

you didn’t really get his whole overprotective bit, armin, who was your brother, wasn’t even this bad. he’d seen happy almost, when you told him about your date with reiner, even, so you really don’t see where eren is coming from.

erens lip curls in a smirk and he points a finger at you. “that’s why” he says. “you can’t even say the word sex without stuttering. what’ll you do when you see a cock for the first time?”

your skin heats, hating that he’s right. “I’ll grow out of it” you promise him.

he huffs a laugh. “sure thing, dork” but then his face gets serious. “you don’t need to change though. sex is lame, i promise.”

“you seem to have alot of it, so there must be something good about it”

“for me, yeah” he grins. “but im selfish. most men are, and you deserve better than some highschool tumble with a guy who looks like he can’t find the clit to save his life” his eyes weigh you down. “just keep bein’ you. If i come back from college and hear that you’re the towns tramp stamp, m’ not gonna be happy”

and that’s that.

you’re 16 when eren leaves for college. you get to 18 without ever being touched.

you’re 18 and you wish you hadn’t begged armin to let you come to this stupid bomfire party. it’s just the first time he’s been home in the 2 years since he’d left for college, and you know that means eren is back too, though you have yet to see him. he’s supposed to be at the party though.

you wonder if he’ll react to having seen you after not for awhile, if he’ll look at you different now that you’re grown. you’re wearing a simple pleated white skirt and a pink top, the picture of innocence you’ve always been, never changing.

being around so many people makes you uncomfortable, you want to cling to armins side, but you don’t want to be annoying so you tell him its okay to leave you. your eyes scan the mass of people on the crowded beach as you nervously hold your solo cup to your chest.

your eyes stop their nervous skittering when they land on someone familiar.

college eren is completely different and yet wholly the same since you’d last seen him. he’s wearing a red bomber jacket, over a black t-shirt and skinny jeans, scuffed converse kicking in the sand as he shifts from one foot to the other. you peep tan skin, a hint of a tattoo peeking on his neck and….and black hair. he’d dyed his hair, and, is that jewelry on his ear? rings on his hand?

he’s smiling easily with a pretty blonde and...and reiner. talking to them like old friends as he tilts his head back and laughs, taking a swig from his cup. he’s still chuckling and shaking his head when his eyes flick distractedly over, rove over you and then stop. even from all the way where you are the green of his eyes pins you in place. the warm glow of the bonfire dances across his features, and you see the bastard has a lip ring as well. he takes his time cataloging you and you do him, before his lips tilt, he hands off his drink and he makes his way over to you.

your whole body is tense with nerves as he gets closer and closer.

when he’s standing in front of you, the smell of his cologne wafts over you. his smile is small and genuine. “hey, pip”

pip as in short for pipsqueak. you have to fight the urge to grin at him, your cheeks warming pleasantly, even though you groan out loud. “m’ not little anymore”

“I can see that” eren eyes rake over you, linger on your bare legs before dragging slowly back up. his eyes feel like a caress and when they meet yours again, you’re already tingly. you’ve never been touched sexually, and just one look from eren has you wet between the legs like nothing. “still dress like you wanna be an extra in a Bratz commercial”

the tension disputes as you swat his arm. “shut up!! Its a fashion choice, not like you’d know. dressed like a wannabe rockstar”

“aw, c’mon. you’d be my groupie right?”

you roll your eyes. “you wish, jaeger”

“mm” he hums softly. “s’cute though. always has been”

before you can even register the compliment, he’s leaning forward to peek into your cup, swiping it easily from you. “underage drinking, are we? left you for a couple years and you go rebel barbie on me”

you squawk as he chugs all of your drink back in one gulp, crushing the cup in his fist and tossing it behind him. “ren! I wasn’t even drinking it. It was..” you wave your hand around. “for the aesthetic”

“uh huh” he drones, but then he jerks his chin. “i’ll get you another one to stand around and look pretty with then. C’mon”

cute, pretty. the compliments are gonna make your heart fly out of your chest if he doesn’t let up. you follow him as he leads you to a keg, one that’s a little ways away from the bustle of the party, close to the parking lot where you came in.

you shyly say ‘thank you’ when he fills you a cup and hands it to you, proceeding to lean back against a car as he goes back to observing you.

to distract yourself you mumble, “you can’t just lean on a strangers car for the sake of being cool”

the grin is back. “you think im cool?” when you glare at him he rolls his eyes and slaps the hood of the car. “she’s mine, pip. you can untwist your panties”

you blink at him, “since when did you get a new car? and when did you dye your hair?”

he looks at you curiously, drumming his fingers. “do you not, like. follow me on instagram?”

you look away, kicking your feet in the sand. hesitantly you admit, “didn’t wanna miss you, so i didn’t look”

he doesn’t say anything to that. the silence stretches between you, making you nervous. should you not have said that? you guessed it was weird, after all, but it was true. If you’d looked at how erens life was progressing without you there to see it, you’d have cried and been a total lovesick girl about it.

he finally breaks the silence. “do you have a boyfriend?”

you look back at him. “uh...no? do you?”

the smirk you wanted ghosts over his lips again, and your eyes are drawn to his lip ring when he tugs it between his teeth. “nah, you know me. unattainable”

“yeah, i know” you say under your breath, thinking of how eren jaeger had been an unattainable fantasy for you for years.

“so no current boyfriend or…?”

“no boyfriends...ever” its embarrassing to admit, but less humiliating than admitting that the reason that was is because you’re in love with your brothers best friend, the very man standing before you now.

“that’s kinda tragic, pip” eren hops up on the hood of his car and fishes a cigarette out of his pocket. he waves a hand at you, “you’re rockin’ a bod like that and no one’s bagged you? thought you’d be beating down options with a bat by now”

you watch the smoke that plumes in the air, the way it coils and wisps, and really look at eren. he’s tragically beautiful. his no black hair is boyishly messy, tangled around his head in a dark halo. his face is sharp and tan, his eyes striking and making you feel like you’re sinking into the sand beneath your feet.

you’ve wanted him for so long, it makes you ache. years and years of pushing away men and declining confessions for this man in front of you. you’d never expected anything from him, but you couldn’t move past the fantasy in your head. couldn’t imagine giving any of your firsts to anyone but eren.

“you told me to stay innocent” its out before you can stop the words, they just fumble out, spilling from your lips and into the air like the smoke.

eren stills, pauses from where he’d been about to take another drag. his expression is unreadable. he flicks the ashes from the cig on the sand, stumps it out under his foot as he hops down. the wind ruffles his dark hair as he just looks and looks and looks at you.

“yeah?” and oh, jesus, if the rough gravel in his voice doesn’t make your cunt warm immediately. “and you listened?”

you squeeze your thighs together, an action that draws erens gaze between your legs. to late to back down now, you think, and wet your lips. “y-yeah. I did”

“you didn’t let any boys touch you while i was gone?” eren continues and he draws closer, creeping towards you.

you shake your head, silent as he comes in front of you. he reaches up to delicately push a strand of hair behind you ear with one of his ring fingers. he keeps it tucked behind your ear as he towers over you, staring you down. “you’re still my innocent little girl, huh?”

you wonder if this is how it feels to be seduced, seduced by eren jaeger no less. his eyes are warm, and they make you feel warm from where the rest on your eyes, and then, your lips. they part under his gaze, on instinct. “I am, ren. always have been”

his eyes darken, and the finger behind your ear becomes his whole hand sliding to cup the back of your head, slowly fisitng your hair in it. “shit” he tilts your head up. “you can’t say things like that, baby”

baby, baby, baby. your head swims. you’re on autopilot now, speaking without thinking and you think that’s good because if you were thinking clearly you wouldn't have the courage. “i’ve always been your good girl. no one elses”

you have one second to hear his exhale before his lips are crashing against yours, and oh. oh, he’s good. you feel the metal of his lip ring against your bottom lip as he slides his tongue in your mouth, eating you up.

“god, you’re sweet” he nips your lip. “knew you would be”

you pant into his mouth, your hands curling on his chest, “y-you’ve thought about me?”

“‘course i did, im not blind” he pulls away. “I just really like my dick and didn’t want it chopped off. armin is scary”

you know he can be when he wants to be, knows if he saw eren ravishing his little sister against his car right now, body parts would be strewn about. and that’s just from armins verbal warfare.

you look at eren demurely from under your lashes, “i don’t want anything to happen to your…” you trail off at the end.

erens eyebrows climb up his forehead, he presses close to you, tugs you to him. “my…” he prods, eyes glinting with mischief.

you look away, pouting. “know i can’t say it” you mumble, hating that even now, saying vulgar words is embarrassing for you.

erens chest shakes with a laugh. “you just sucked my tongue down your throat, pip, and you can’t talk about my cock? you’re precious, c’mere.” he starts walking backwards, towards his car. “we gotta be sneaky about it but-” he dips down to kiss you again, once, twice. “i really wanna touch you”

you gulp, and nod, let him pull you to his car and open the backseat for you, climbing in after you. he shuts and locks it behind him and then he’s facing you, eren jaeger giving you his full attention. looking at you like he wants you, like he’s seeing you, like he wants to do alot of bad things to you.

you place a shaking hand on his shoulder. “im- i dont know what to do..”

you want to impress him, but pretending you’re good at something you’re not won’t do that. eren doesn’t like liars anyway.

he scoots close to you, pulling you halfway onto his lap until you’re sitting comfortably against him. you bite your lip when you feel the hard ridge of his cock pressing against your ass under your skirt. one of his hands settles on your bare thigh, scooting it up just barely.

“you ever watch porn, sweetheart?” erens breath puffs against your ear and you squirm on top of him.

you push down your own embarrassment, resigning yourself to be a big girl and be honest. “s-sometimes”

“yeah?” god, why does just that word turn you on so much? “tell me what kind of stuff you watch when you touch your little pussy”

his vulgar words go straight to your cunt, at the same time his hand slides up your thighs and slips under your skirt. you close your eyes when you feel the tip of his finger trace over the band of your panties. “they’re always a couple..” you gasp when his hand dips inside, palm cupping over your pussy. “a-and the guy has dark hair..”

“Imagining anyone in particular?” eren teases, but you hear his breath catch at the same time yours does when he sinks one long finger inside. the folds around your slit part seamlessly around the intrusion, sucking his finger in like your pussy wants it there. “so wet, baby. keep talking for me?”

ever the good girl, you push through the tingles and the heat spreading down your legs, the slick sound of his finger fucking in and out of you filling the silent car as you struggle to find words. “s-shes always inexperienced. Its her first time and...and hes gentle” you moan a little when erens thumb comes to swirl around your clit, hips lips finding your neck. he’s teasing another finger at your tight entrance when you swallow another groan and try to keep talking like he’d asked. “he’s gentle but he takes. t-takes what he wants”

“mm” eren hums, tongue sliding against your skin. you gasp when the tip of his ring finger edges in beside the other one, stretching your tight passage around his digits in thorough little twists of his fingers. “that’s real good, baby. you like the sound of that, huh?”

eren hooks his chin over your shoulder, bunches your skirt around your waist so he can see where your little pussy is clenching and squeezing around him, clit engorged and throbbing for attention. when you don’t answer, he continues, using the slick dripping down your slit, gathering it and then pushing back into you. “I bet” he says, low, husky. “In those videos, he eats her out real nice, yeah? makes sure her little virgin cunt is wet enough to take his cock”

“y-yeah” you pant, holding his wrist but not pulling it away, pushing him more towards you. you’re starting to grind down against the pleasure, walls rhythmically fluttering around his fingers, fucking yourself on them without even knowing it. he curls them, and your head thumps back against his shoulder as you cry out.

“i’ll give that to you” eren promises, pumping his fingers faster, his other hand coming up to cup one of your tits over your blouse, giving it a squeeze. “gonna take you home after you cream around my fingers and lay you out on your bed” he kisses your cheek, holding you firm against him when you start to twitch and writhe. “lick this little flower open. wanna feel your thighs squeeze my face when i drink the cum from your pussy, get you all loose and wet and then i wanna feel you drip down my dick when i slide it inside”

“oh god, ren!” you jerk in his hold as you feel your orgasm crest over you, gushing down his palm, as you ride his hand, milking it as tingles shoot across your whole body. A milky, creamy film rests around his knuckles when he slides his fingers out of your weeping cunt, still pulsating and twitching from the come down.

he rubs the excess slick around your folds and clit, rubbing it in. you whimper and he chuckles and kisses your cheek.

you sag against him, fucked out. eren brushes some hair from your forehead and kisses it. “wannabe punk pounds sweet virgin pussy into her bed”

you look at him, confused and dazed “huh?”

eren grins at you. “s’ gonna be the name of our porno”

#poppy speaks #eren jaeger x reader #eren jaeger smut #aot smut #i hate this kinda but oh well #woof #eren jaeger imagine

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thecarnivorousmuffinmeta · 3 years

Note

If Bella was somehow bitten somehow and woke up alone during New Moon, but the Cullens didn't find her (I don't know if this is still 'Edward mercy kills Bella' territory but if it is then maybe her gift knows this and starts blocking Alice) and she became a nomad, would she still do the diet and if so for how long?

This is shockingly in the realm of possibility and not necessarily in the land of Edward mercy killing Bella.

Though there are some dangers Bella would have to avoid somehow for survival.

Bella is Bitten Alone in New Moon

We have one vampire who meets Bella during New Moon and another who with very little difference in the timeline would have run across her: Laurent and Victoria.

In the case of Laurent, he and Bella have a chat, he decides Bella smells delicious and he'll spare her the pain of being slowly murdered by Victoria, and just as he decides to go for it he gets run down and eaten by giant wolves.

Bella survives her vampire encounter.

In the case of Victoria, she never really gets close enough to do damage until the fight between Edward and Victoria and Riley and Seth in Eclipse.

So we have a few ways this could go:

Laurent's a few seconds ahead of Sam and company. He manages to get a good bite in and doesn't crush Bella on impact. He's run off by the wolves and Bella survives.

The problem here is that Bella has now been bitten and there's no coming back for her. It's a tragedy, and the wolves will feel a shared sense of failure and burden that they failed to save her, but she's dead anyway. They have to kill her before she fully turns.

Bella's gift, while powerful, doesn't appear to help in this kind of situation. Though, that said, in her dire need it could suddenly give her the ability to project illusions like we see in Renesmee. Doesn't seem to be how Bella's gift typically rolls, but hey, this is her darkest hour.

Otherwise, Jake could pull his alpha move much earlier in order to save Bella's life. He ignores Sam's order, flees with the turning Bella, and dumps her in the wilderness somewhere with a note from Jake that she must never return to Forks. She wakes up alone, only guessing though not knowing what Jake has done for her, and stares blankly at the wilderness.

If Victoria catches up to Bella, well, it's not looking good. All too likely, Bella dies painfully, and Victoria leaves a video tape of the entire ordeal in the Cullen house for when they eventually return (as they surely will).

Though, that said, the ease with which Victoria accomplishes this and the complete lack of Cullen intervention could catch her off guard. Perhaps... Edward doesn't actually give a rat's ass. That says terrible things about James' needless death, but Victoria's holding this girl hostage. She will die, in the most painful manner imaginable, and the Cullens aren't there.

Victoria might turn Bella out of pity or else turn her as she figures out, in part from Bella, that Bella becoming a vampire is Edward's worst case scenario. However, in that case, it's unlikely Victoria would abandon Bella, so Bella wouldn't be on her own.

Which, I think for this post, makes Jake's alpha sacrifice the most likely path. He dumps Bella's half-vampire body somewhere in nowhere Canada.

Bella After the Bite

Being dumped in the wilderness helps a lot. For one, Bella already has unbelievable control, for another this is Edward's penguin scenario. There is no one else out here for her to eat even if she wanted to.

So, following the diet is easy.

And it's something she'd very much wish to do. Bella sees the world of vampires divided into two types of vampire: the good Cullen vampires who don't eat people and the bad vampires who, well, eat people.

This left such a mark on Bella that she has very little idea of what a vampire even is.

Bella would be horrified at herself if she became a bad vampire. In wanting vampirism she wanted the vampirsim she sees in the Cullens. Bella might be miserable and alone, without a friend in the world, but she would be horrified to choose anything other than the Cullen way of life.

At least, at first.

The Return of the Cullens

There's a few paths for Bella after she's dumped in the middle of nowhere.

Alice sees that Bella's become a vampire, an abandoned newborn, and is wandering aimlessly around the wilderness somewhere. Even though Edward has forbidden contact, this is probably enough to motivate Alice who was genuinely worried.

She likely goes behind Edward's back and tries to find Bella with Jasper and possibly the rest of the Cullens.

Edward, of course, is still in Rio being a miserable saint for leaving precious human Bella.

Eventually, they manage to find her, and there's a lot of miscommunication, very hurt feelings, and heartfelt apologies even from Rosalie because look what happened to this poor girl. Though they each, either reluctantly or more enthusiastically, agreed to leave this was not what they had in mind.

Bella forgives them quite readily, as she did in canon, because she has the self-esteem of a thimble. The Cullens are awed and very grateful, Rosalie would never have forgiven them for this.

It probably takes them both a) a while to decide how best to tell Edward and break the news to him b) a while to get a hold of Edward because he's ignoring all their phone calls.

Eventually they do, it's a shit show, for the purpose of this post we'll say he does not mercy kill Bella. He might actually be feeling too guilty for that. Instead he grovels on the ground constantly, begging Bella's forgiveness, and refuses to enter a relationship with her because he's unworthy.

This undoubtedly upsets Bella, because she's also unworthy and Edward knows it and doesn't love her, but that's not the point of this meta.

In this world, the Cullens keep Cullening after picking Bella up, Bella's adopted into the fold and made Edward's twin sister due to looking the most like him (which, of course, makes them look actually incestuous in high school to add to the Cullen mystique).

With the support of the Cullens, living the Cullen lifestyle, and having the control that Bella has there's no question of ever leaving the diet.

Bella stays on the wagon.

Bella Seeks Out the Denali

Alice is successful and doesn't see Bella's future for whatever reason. Edward will be so proud. Bella is left alone in Canada to eat moose.

Eventually, Bella decides that however great being a vampire is, she's lonely and miserable. She wants companionship.

Well, obviously the Cullens hate her, so even if she could find them they probably never want to see her again. But what about the Denali?

Bella's already in Canada, she could head over to the Denali National Park in Alaska, and surely the least she could do is actually introduce herself.

Of course, the coven sounds blonde, hot, aggressively female, and very intimidating. Tanya's history of wanting to bang Edward has Bella feeling very small and worthless. More, the Cullens may have told the Denali all about how stupid and ugly Bella, Edward's current human girlfriend, is and they've all laughed at her.

However, Bella's so desperate for companionship, for some connection back to her old life, that she goes for it.

She makes it to Alaska, wanders around until she eventually finds the Denali coven, and introduces herself. The Denali are weird assholes, but Bella's so oblivious she actually doesn't notice.

That said, they've had their brush with the law, and Tanya doesn't want a newborn running around by herself. Eleazar also gives a truly pompous, awful, speech about compassion to their fellow man. It's unbearable, Bella finds it charming.

They take Bella in, she can be the dark-haired sister. Her control is so good the three single ladies quickly take her clubbing and encourage her to sleep away her troubles with human men.

Bella quickly finds that, when you're on the vampire end of the equation, the relationship with human thing is kind of gross. These people smell like food, are squishy and overly warm, and have the substance of tofu.

Bella feels even worse about her relationship with Edward.

She sleeps with human men anyway so that the Denali sisters won't judge her/will think she's cool.

They're so proud of her.

Regardless, Bella stays on the diet as the Denali follow the diet. She will likely have a few accidents with her human lovers, and will be inconsolable, but the coven will be there to offer comfort and help her get back on the wagon.

Bella stays on the wagon

Bella's Low Self-Esteem Wins and She Becomes a Hermit

Bella can't return to Forks and she's so ugly, stupid and boring that even though she's a vampire if she met anyone new they'd realize how ugly, stupid, and boring she is.

Better to just forsake society altogether and live with moose.

Bella's able to do this for quite a long time. Years even. And it's... fine. But her life has no purpose nor any direction to it.

She becomes tempted by society. How many years has it been? Has the world changed since she left? Has Forks changed? Is Charlie still alive? Is Renee? What about her classmates?

Bella starts travelling and visiting human cities and, thanks to her control, she does very well.

However, it's very likely that one day she'll slip, she takes her control far too much for granted and all it takes is one mistake.

And that's where Bella starts getting into trouble.

She's horrified at first, of course, and that likely doesn't break her. She gets back on the wagon, but the second time it happens...

There are no consequences to her breaking the diet. She has no companions, no one cares. Why is she living in constant agony, every single day, for people who will one day die anyway? Why is Bella choosing to suffer?

As time goes on, as humans start to mean less and less to her and all the humans that she knew when human herself are dead, Bella starts forgetting the reason that the diet seemed so vital to her existence.

At one point, it stops meaning anything at all, it's just Bella pointlessly choosing to live in agony.

Bella falls off the wagon.

TL;DR I think it'd take a while, at least ten years, but if she becomes a solitary nomad, it would inevitably happen.

#twilight #twilight meta #twilight headcanon #twilight renaissance #bella swan #jacob black #edward cullen #anti edward cullen #edward/bella #anti edward/bella #alice cullen #the cullens #the denali #tanya #eleazar #anti eleazar #meta #headcanon #opinion

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shakey-hands · 3 years

Note

please please can we get fukuzawa awkwardly having to tell ranpo he’s dating reader and the two of them start fighting and reader is subjected to it??? 😍😍

haha yeah. first ask that imma answer, let me know if you guys want more. my asks are open for any (except mineta gross) mha, ouran, or bungo characters :)

{this one is gonna be done with she/her pronouns but if you ask for gender neutral or he/him or any other pronouns, i can do it}

---

The clock struck two when Y/N looked at her phone, leg bouncing up and down in a way that always annoyed the people around her. Great. It was thirty minutes past their meeting time and her boyfriend still had not shown up with what she understood was his adopted son.

It had been a good plan. Meet on neutral territory, gas up (what Y/N assumed was) a teenage boy with a sweets addiction, and then break the news. Y/N was not sure why they needed to go through such lengthy troubles to inform her boyfriend’s son that they were dating. He was at least old enough to understand what dating was. And from what she had heard from Kunikida, Fukuzawa’s son had a very prominent dating life of his own. But Y/N trusted her boyfriend, no matter how many times he looked off into the distance with quiet wisdom that felt vague.

Y/N sipped her tea, realizing that caffeine would only worsen her anxiety. It didn’t matter how many times Fukuzawa and Kunikida tried to tell her that the meeting wouldn’t be a big deal and that the son would love her, she wasn’t so sure. He was working at the Armed Detective Agency and was good at what he did. At least those were Kunikida’s words as Y/N and him were quietly reading in the same room as they did on Saturday nights. While Y/N appreciated Kunikida for his straight forward/driven personality, he did not fare well in comforting her.

Which brought her to her boyfriend. His solid, piercing eyes would always soften as she talked about her day over their dinner dates and he would brush the back of his hand on her cheek in the moments they were alone with one another. While Y/N rarely noticed because she herself was too infatuated with him, Fukuzawa cared deeply for her after seven months of dating. Their last hurdle was introducing Y/N to Ranpo. Fukuzawa was not at all worried since Y/N had a knack for making sweets and made people feel as if they were special when she smiled at them. There was never a shortage of praise around her.

Y/N checked her phone again, hoping that an apology text would come through and she would not be left in the dark. That however was proving difficult. Fukuzawa was driving with Ranpo eating cotton candy in the passenger seat. He had to be bribed away from the sweets table Dazai had set up for some ungodly known reason to mess with Atsushi. It was embarrassing how long it took for Kunikida to pry Ranpo’s little grubby hands away from the snacks and then another amount of time for Fukuzawa to get Ranpo to put on his seatbelt.

It made Fukuzawa nervous that he was so late. He knew Y/N would be understanding, it was part of the reason he enjoyed her company so much. Knowing her, she would probably be bouncing her knee and staring down at the table, overthinking things. He, of course, was right.

As Fukuzawa was pulling into the parking lot, he spotted his girlfriend’s car. It was pristine, as always, and had a small cat paw sticker on the back left bumper. He smiled inwardly, realizing that he had been waiting for this. There was a future with Y/N and Fukuzawa couldn’t wait.

Ranpo still had yet to get out of the car, his glasses dangling from his shirt pocket and a light dusting of sugar crystals on his lips. He was pouting, of course. Kunikida did not pack enough snacks for the car ride, meaning Ranpo did not have the mental energy to get out of the car and go into whatever flop coffee shop the president insisted they go into. People were so stupid and Ranpo already just finished a case that was so obvious. The local police really needed to be more useful.

“Get out of the car,” Fukuzawa said, getting more and more agitated.

“No,” Ranpo said.

“Let’s go. I promise there will be sweets inside the shop.”

“So? There were sweets at the agency.”

Fukuzawa rolled his eyes, knowing Ranpo would sit in the car out of stubbornness. “Ranpo-”

“Yukichi?” A soft voice called out from the entrance of the cafe.

Fukuzawa turned to see Y/N standing right outside. She had a to-go cup of something hot in her hands, jacket sleeves pulled over her hands to stop the warmth from burning her skin. Even though it was overcast and windy, Y/N still seemed to have a certain glow about her that always took Fukuzawa’s breath away. She waved timidly, not knowing why he was awkwardly standing behind his parked car with a weird defensive stance. He nodded over to her, giving her a genuine smile before turning his head back to the car and glaring.

“Is everything okay?”

Y/N began to approach her boyfriend. The only other time she had seen her boyfriend have this stance was when she had bumped into some eyebrowless pale emo kid in an accident at the mall. Fukuzawa seemed to pick the weird fights, but she just smiled through it. His eyes held a certain annoyance the Y/N had not seen before. Her eyebrows furrowed as she took a step off the curb. Fukuzawa held out his hand, motioning her to not get closer. Y/N paused, unsure about his demeanor.

“Ranpo, don’t make me ask again.” Fukuzawa’s voice held a bass to it that Y/N had never heard before. She could only assume it was his dad voice that he has never had to use with her.

The window rolled down on the old car for just a crack. “I don’t remember a question being asked.”

The voice was whiny and slightly muffled, as if the speaker had sweets in his mouth. Fukuzawa rolled his eyes and put his hand on the glass. Y/N was slightly shocked by her boyfriend, but decided to let him do his thing. She was not a parent and the closest time she had ever been was when she had a babysitting gig decades ago when she was a teen. While she was interested in a family, she had neither the time nor mental capacity to follow through. So she stepped back onto the curb and took a sip of her tea, relishing in the warmth it provided.

“Ranpo, if you don’t get out of the damned car, there will be no sweets at the agency for a year.”

A clear threat had been made.

The door slammed into the car next to it, causing a dent that Fukuzawa watched form. Out from the passenger seat, a short man with a slight pout crawled out of the car. Definitely not the young teenager Y/N had been expecting. He was only slightly taller than Y/N and wore a cape. In fact, he looked like a full grown adult, maybe only ten years younger than Y/N. Her face said it all, though neither men were looking at her. They just stared one another down before Fukuzawa remembered his loving girlfriend stood awkwardly behind him. He motioned for her to come over.

Ranpo did not look impressed as he looked her up and down. Y/N looked too ordinary to know Fukuzawa in her jeans and plain jacket combo. Her shoes were dirty from all the yard work she had done throughout the years. As she got closer, Ranpo watched closely as Fukuzawa gently touched the small of her back before wrapping his arm around her waist. While Ranpo had never seen the President act like this, he did not care.

“Ranpo, I would like you to meet-”

Ranpo yawned loudly. “She’s way too old for me. Almost to hag status.”

Y/N’s eyes widened. She began to stumble over her words, not knowing how to respond. Fukuzawa’s cheeks burned with embarrassment. He couldn’t believe that Ranpo would even think he was trying to set them up. Ranpo made a disgusted face.

“No offense lady, but you don’t even look fun. Like all you do is sit in the dark and contemplate the excitement of frostingless yellow cake.”

How do you respond to that?

Y/N looked down, not sure if she wanted to laugh or cry. She was suddenly thankful for the sudden gust of wind that burned her cheeks, a sign that snow was rolling in. Who insults like that? The little sniffle that Y/N let out set Fukuzawa back into the present instead of the daydream he had slipped into where Ranpo got his ass beat.

“You can’t talk to her like that,” Fukuzawa said sternly. “And she’s not here for you.”

“Obviously. She could never handle the Greatest Detective.”

“No!” Fukuzawa said, tightening his grip on her waist. “I wanted you two to meet because we’ve been dating for a while and I thought it was finally time for you two to meet.”

Ranpo suddenly scoffed dramatically. Once. Twice. Three times. “And here I thought we agreed never to keep secrets! And all this time you’ve been giving your praise to someone else!”

Fukuzawa looked at the small man incredulously. “I’m allowed to date, Ranpo.”

“Not really!” Ranpo exclaimed, throwing his hands up into the air. Those who were passing by continuously glanced, wondering why they were arguing so loudly in a public space. “How gross is that! You’re like centuries old!”

“Look, I just thought you’d want to be in the know. If I had known you’d throw a tantrum, I would have just waited until after we were married.”

In that moment, Ranpo and Y/N spoke simultaneously:

“Tantrum?!”

“Married!?”

“Oh I’ll show you a tantrum!”

Ranpo pushed the old car to make it move back and forth in its parked place before beginning to punch the glass. There was no real power behind his throws, so there were soft thumps being emitted. Next he started to kick the tires, also without power behind his movements. He truly had transformed into a toddler, making the people walking by walk a little faster. He came off as some random crazy person on the street rather than an acclaimed detective.

Fukuzawa didn’t know where to look until a warm soft hand held his cheek, guiding his eyes towards Y/N’s. She smiled softly, ignoring Ranpo as he began to get physical. Her smile caused a chain reaction in Fukuzawa’s heart, making him resist the urge to get down on one knee at that very instance. He did have the ring adding weight to his pocket. She kissed his forehead, making him awkwardly bend down as she chuckled against his skin.

“You want to marry me?”

Fukuzawa blushed slightly. “In due time, of course.”

She chuckled again and nodded. “Of course.”

“I’m not calling her mom!”

#bungo stray dogs #fukuzawa yukichi #fukuzawa x reader #ranpo

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impossible-rat-babies · 3 years

Text

tuesday, two in the afternoon

fallen hero / 2.1k words / chargestep (nb!sidestep + m!ortega) / cw: smoking

mostly below the cut!

“Why did you bring me down to the beach? It smells awful down here...”

Pollux kicks a rock across the barren sand, watching it roll into the lackadaisical waves lapping at the meager shoreline. The sand squishes beneath his shoes, water leaking through the crappy canvas.

It rained not long ago—almost caught the both of them in the downpour.

His head is still damp from the few fat drops that landed from between the slats in the boardwalk they used to take cover. He runs his hand across the fresh buzzcut, forgetting for a second there’s no curls to tuck behind his ears.

“I thought you liked the beach.” Ortega comes up beside him, keeping pace as they wander through sand and rock, passing by tiny tide pools refreshed by the rain. The sun will dry what the waves can reach soon, but for now they thrive under the cloudy grey sky.

“I don’t mind the beach, but it always stinks like garbage and wet dog down here after it rains.”

“At least it keeps the place private.”

“If you don’t count the seagulls.”

“They’re worse than the tourists.”

Ortega smiles and Pollux turns to walk backwards, cocking a brow over his sunglasses. Of course Ortega is overdressed to be taking a walk on what passes for a beach these days—a fancy shirt and slacks and the watch he’s got on costs more than four months of rent on Pollux’s shitty apartment.

(Disregarding the sunglasses he’s toting around that are without a doubt the third most expensive thing he owns and even then they were a gift. From Ortega, obviously. He disregards the invading thought that the most expensive thing Ortega has won’t ever be his clothing or a watch, but his spine. Pollux thinks *if*—not *when*—he dies if they’ll pry it out and stick it inside someone else; a replacement for an accident of their own.)

Ortega is always dressed to impress, the silly man. Pollux it’s a habit, or he doesn’t have anything else to wear that isn’t something higher class or luxury, or if he genuinely enjoys silk shirts. The tailored slacks with fancy watches and Italian leather shoes. There’s no one to impress but Pollux and he hasn’t fallen for that trick in years.

“Worried about your shoes?”

“They’re...squishy.”

“You’re gonna ruin them.”

Ortega kicks another rock off towards the waves, stuffing his hands in his pocket as an answer. Pollux snorts, rolling his eyes, and he turns back around, falling into step beside him. He’s always been a fast walker--a faster runner.

Silence stretches out between them and apprehension feels like just another word for awkward, this gap between them. The few pointed inches—enough for static electricity to jump between them, for Pollux to anticipate Ortega’s touch and deftly pull away, leaving air beside his fingertips.

It’s still so hard to let him close.

“Why did you want to meet up here?” Pollux asks just to have something to say, anything to avoid Ortega looking like he’s going to throw his arm over his shoulder and pull him in to mumble something fond, or a terrible joke.

“Just to go on a walk?” Ortega tries and oh he tries so hard. More than he used to.

“Since when did you start walking for fun?”

“When you decide to come along with me. It’s fun, Lux.”

Pollux frowns—he knows this game. Ortega’s got this little tell of looking away just the right way.

“You just wanted to get me out of the house then.”

Ortega shrugs—he’s avoiding, nor is he saying no...

“Okay so I lied. I don’t have anything to talk about. But, if I just wanted to spend time with you then you would’ve said no.”

“True...” Pollux hates how he’s right more often than not. Asshole. “So you picked the beach?”

“I didn’t plan on it raining.”

Pollux sighs, tired of the sand and he wanders away--further out of reach--towards the rocks near the pillars holding up the promenade.

It’s deserted right now, the rain and the fact that it’s two in the afternoon on a Tuesday keeping the crowds away. Give it a Saturday on a cool summer’s evening and it’d be packed to the gills; people screaming on the small roller coasters, the stink of fresh fried food and the lights--the dizzying array of red, blue and yellow. All the people and all the thoughts buzzing through his head; there were so many bombarding him--all of them, just as aggressive as the lights. He’s braved that terrible crowd--all because Ortega asked.

He used to do that, do things because Ortega asked nicely. Because they were fun--he had fun. Does he still remember what that felt like? Being on that promenade, breathless and young, laughing like he knew how to laugh?

They walked down to the very end once, away from the bright lights where it was just the ocean stretching out in front of them like a black abyss. All alone. Ortega asking him, pleading for one ride on the ferris wheel. “Come on Lux just one little ride.” Pollux calling his bluff, shoving his face away because it was all just a ploy for a kiss. Like this is some snapshot romance movie still.

It’s stupid to think about bygones.

There’s no temptation to jump into old times down here, just the water swelling against the rocks and the concrete walls. Trash hiding in the crevices, old green beer bottles that will break and turn to sea glass; left to wash up on the shores of Hawaii.

The beaches there are still nice--worthy of memories. Not this smog stained grey sand.It’s just a hop skip and a jump up onto the slick brown rocks smeared with algae and something that shines like oil. It stinks like it.

Pollux stops, shaking a cigarette out of the package and he cups his hand to protect the fragile flame, watching Ortega clamber up onto the rock beside him. He flops down on a relatively dry spot, free of the worst of the gross.

“What are you doing?” Pollux asks with a faint laugh and a cocked brow, letting his cigarette go unlit. It droops between his lips.

“What does it look like? I’m sitting down.” Ortega replies, smoothing a strand of hair back into the salt and pepper waves at his temples.

“Mr. Ralph Lauren is gonna be pissed you ruined your pants?” A raise of the brow and Ortega looks up at him with a look in those brown eyes.

“My shoes are wet, Lux.” Ortega whines and Pollux is *this close* to kicking him off their rock.

“I think you’re getting old.”

Pollux squats beside him, arms draping over top of his knees.

“Now you’re just being cruel...”

Ortega adjusts, grimacing when he inevitably puts his hand on a wet spot. He untucks his shirt, and he’s rather reminiscent of those “aged like fine wine” men on old magazine covers he found in shitty motel lobbies. He’d fit right on a sandy beach in Florida. These aren’t the right beaches for any of that anymore, still mostly rock. Their original glory immortalized in photographs on the fronts of travel brochures.

But they are healing—slowly. The sand creeps up the shoreline more and more each year.

“I’m not cruel. You just an oversized sun hat and a lounge chair. Maybe a nice hot beer.” Pollux teases and Ortega grimaces.

“It’s January.”

“That doesn’t stop people in Florida or Hawaii.”

“Have you even been to Florida?”

Ortega asks so harmlessly and Pollux pauses.

He’s been there half a dozen times before—fuzzy memories from over a decade ago. Rooftop gardens on top of high rise builds off the coast of Miami, galas with thousand dollar dresses and caked on makeup in the low light from crystal chandeliers. It was all for work, watching and scanning, nimble mental fingers coaxing and teasing truth from the mind’s eyes. He would watch, take in the sights and the sounds through other people’s minds. Take the truth and puzzle over the rest. Ask the dangerous questions: why and how?

He still believes the biggest mistake they made was allowing him to learn.

“I’ve watched movies.” He says instead of lying and he knows he isn’t getting away with it. “Besides, have you ever been to Florida? Or Hawaii even?”

“No, but I’ve watched movies before.”

Ortega grins and Pollux groans, resisting the urge to yet again so shove him off his rock and into one of the tide pools below.

“You’re an asshole.”

Pollux fishes around in his pocket and grabs out a matchbook, flipping it open and fuck he grabbed the wrong one. There’s nothing but the empty packaging in this one, uneven lines from tearing out matches without much grace. He flips it over onto the back and nothing--even the striker strip is shot to hell. Fuck.

“Are you out?” Ortega peers over and he grumbles.

“Grabbed the wrong matchbook” Pollux huffs, about to grab his carton back out and stuff the poor cigarette back in.

“Wait, I still got--here.” Ortega pulls a small matchbox out of his shirt pocket, holding it out to him. It’s much nicer than his ten cent books he frequently gets for free from the gas station because the cashier thinks he’s cute.

“You...still carry them around?”

His voice stalls in his chest: it’s meant to be more of questioning incredulity, but it comes out much softer. Forlorn and sticky at the front of his mouth.

Ortega sheepishly looks down at the matchbox, flipping it between his index and forefingers.

“Old habits die hard.”

He ran out of matches a lot, even the crappy little packages where the matches broke more often than actually struck. Ortega started carrying them around, little inch and a half boxes of matches tucked in his coat or shirt pocket. He doesn’t remember when the habit started. But it evolved into a habit of stealing them, seeing how easily he could sneak one away without him noticing.

Ortega protested whenever he caught him and the two of them scrambling for the box until Pollux tucked it away like magic, or Ortega tried tickling him enough times to get an elbow to the nose.

He got him back: a sufficient enough shock and Pollux complained about having a numb hand for the next week.

Pollux had a little stacked collection of them all lined up against the baseboard next to his mattress. He kept the fun ones, the brightly colored and eclectically designed ones--neon blue and mustard yellow. Held onto them until they were falling apart and he painstakingly cut them apart and glued or taped them in the pages of notebooks.

Even now, seven years later Ortega still carries them around and that tugs sharp in the back of his throat and deep in his belly—a sort of nausea that stings his eyes.

He blinks several times and fuck there’s the logo of the cigarette shop Ortega dragged him to once in a blue moon. The floor was some cheap old green motel carpeting--the windows covered in layers of advertisements and wood paneling everywhere else. But god it smelled fantastic--like a humidor stuffed to the brim with anything from cheap cigarettes to fancy and illegal cigars in glass cases.

(Fuck, it was the best place to buy cigarettes--they still had the little machines with the tokens he’d pay five bucks for at the counter.)

“Yeah...” Pollux mumbles, tearing his eyes away. “Kinda literally, you know. Dying.” He chuckles bone dry and Ortega cringes.

“You still recognized the matchbox. I can’t call you a lost cause yet.”

He looks over at him, salt and pepper black hair blowing in the breeze, the little white spots where the scars cut through his beard. The soft smile on chapped lips. Even with all the anger in the world rushing under his skin, he can’t be mad.

There’s just that wistful empty ache and he blinks, looking away. The distant shoreline etched on the horizon of a dark ocean and the patchy grey sky above. He lights the cigarette with a single match, the sharpness of the sulfur and the sweet menthol cloud of smoke the breeze dissolves into nothing.

“Here...” Pollux offers the matchbox back to him.

“Keep it. You need it more than me.” Ortega says, pushing his hand back towards him and he pulls his hand away.

Pollux fixes him with a with a long look before he heaves a sigh and looks back out towards the coast and the ocean further beyond. Smoking the cigarette, filling his lungs on the menthol and tobacco until it burns out at the filter. Ortega sitting beside him, bouncing a leg but he’s quiet. And he doesn’t look over at Pollux.

The sun barely peeks in through the clouds and it looks like this is all the rain they’ll be getting.

#fallen hero #chargestep #fallen hero: rebirth #fallen hero: retribution #fhr #owen writes #oc tag #oc: pollux #i tried to keep it under 2k but! we failed folks #anyway two fics in one week? WILD #i have more stuff i'm gonna spice up lmao but for now. there's this #the lets go to the beech beech fic lsdjlfsd #this is going in the queue hopefully it. shows up lmao

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thickenmyblood · 3 years

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It’s interesting because, like, Laurent being conventionally attractive is a pretty integral part of his character? Just because he’s got people fawning over him and being creepy all the time and it’s interesting to think about how it would affect his defensiveness and stuff if he was just, like… average? And tbh if he wasn’t blond and gorgeous I feel like Nik at least would like him a lot better just bc he wouldn’t be like… Damen’s making bad decisions bc he’s horny

Also in terms of Damen only respecting jocks I literally cannot get over the fact that he spends a good half of book one shitting on Ancel and the other pets for being pretty and useless and then straight up gets raped by him and then two scenes later sees him fire dancing and thinks “huh, this guy has a useful skill after all” and smiles on-screen for the first time because he’s genuinely happy the guy got the interest of the regent like seriously Damen I love you but wtf

I'm sorry. I have thoughts. Again.

I was talking to a friend yesterday about this and she told me, basically, that if Laurent wasn't pretty and/or didn't know how to fight, Capri wouldn't be Capri. It'd be a completely different story (although we all agree that it's not just Laurent's skill with a sword that draws Damen in. It's the fact that he starts to see Laurent as someone who's committed to his people, his men, etc.)

I think "being pretty but singed" is an actual trope, as in, many people enjoy writing/reading about someone who is beautiful on the outside but has dark secrets, an ugly past, whatever. Which is interesting to think about. It's also interesting how sometimes we will take a character who is explicitly described as undesirable and ugly and turn them into a hotter version of themselves. I do that with Govart, especially when I'm reading.

Sadly, I disagree a bit on the Nik part. I think Nik's character sometimes is read and interpreted as some sort of comedic relief, much like Nicaise (the fork scene in Book 1, for example). By this point, we all know there is a difference between canon and fanon, and so some characters become caricatures that can be quite the opposite of what they were meant to signify in the original text. I believe—once again, my opinion, just a way to interpret things, nothing else—that Nik's dislike for Laurent runs deeper than the fact that he thinks Damen is being a horny idiot.

Nikandros is a slave owner. He's the Kyros of Delpha, which we all know used to be Delfeur and belonged to Vere. He underestimates Laurent's abilities again and again, and when Laurent proves himself he has to do so in the Akielon way (so, fool Akielon guards, win the Okton—which I'm not even going to try and explain because I don't even get it myself. I really don't). Nikandros doesn't share Damen's journey as a slave, doesn't know what it's like to be at the mercy of another man simply by a twist of fate, doesn't know that slavery is not as fancy and nice as Damen described it in Book 1. Nikandros is Damen pre-journey, unchanged except for the grief of losing his friend. Not that I think Damen has turned into the Virgin Mary towards the end, but whatever.

My biggest issue with Nikandros as a character is that his whole development and "arch" happens in the third book, which is to me the worst book in the trilogy, full of things that make 0 sense, full of contradictions that not even fandom can "fix" without starting a headcanon war of epic proportions. All I can say is that I think Nikandros hates Veretians (dislikes them strongly? considers them militarily inferior? also, morally dubious?) and I refuse to believe after KR he was suddenly okay with slavery being abolished, became best pals with Laurent, and never had a shitty thing to say about Vere again.

Not only does Nikandros have all this prejudice against Veretians (which we can say he sort of overlooked that one time he was plotting with Laurent), but he's also the only person in the trilogy besides Jord that tells Damen things exactly how they are. I think Nikandros' concerns are very, very valid. You can't just build a cute palace on the border, get married without heirs, and unite two countries that have hated each other for many years. . . and not expect any sort of retaliation, uprising, mutiny, etc. It's simply stupid. But then, Pacat writes that that's exactly what happened. So. . . I don't even know where I was going with this.

Also, Nikandros probably doesn't give a fuck about helping Laurent get his kingdom back. Nikandros wants Kastor's head on a spike and for things to go back to how they were, so he can go back to Delpha and eat olives with bread while a hot slave fans him.

Damen only respecting jocks + the thoughts he has on pets and people, in general, are the two reasons why he's a good character when he's depicted as flawed. He has flaws. He judges people harshly and wrongly. He makes assumptions. He lies to himself. Giving him flaws isn't making him OOC. In canon, Damen is deeply flawed, just like Laurent is. I don't know when Lamen became the symbol for all that is good and pure, when really they're both. . . fucked up. Every couple in Captive Prince is fucked up. Jord and Aimeric? Jord is one creepy fuck. Aimeric is basically raping himself (at least in the very beginning, we can debate the rest). Anyone and Erasmus? Fucked. Up. Like, every version of Erasmus with someone ends horribly. Erasmus and Torveld are gross (objectively, because Erasmus is a SLAVE even though Pacat really tried to say 'Torveld is not like the rest of the slave owners, he's different'). Erasmus and Damen are gross because again, power imbalance, also Erasmus' feelings towards Prince Damianos are worthy of a good old therapy session. Erasmus and Kallias? I have thoughts but this is way too long. Erasmus and Govart? Rapey rape. I think the least fucked up couple is Berencel, BUT it can be argued that they're not part of the trilogy. We only meet Ancel in the short stories, so I don't know. Plenty of people haven't read Pet.

My final thoughts on this are that had Laurent been ugly as fuck, it would have taken Damen 400k words to fall in love with him. And if he was ugly AND not blonde. . . 650k.

#i shall................shut the fuck up already #anon #this is partially satire #partially true #i......................... wish i had enough braincells to host a capri event where we all have to like submit diverse prompts as in #diverse body types #diverse sexualities #trans characters #stuff like that #but i have been recently informed that that is homophobic LMISGJKBDSGJKBDJKNJKkjjdfjgjg sorry #will delete this later #nikandros

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pacifymebby · 2 years

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You answered a anon afew days ago about what makes someone a good or bad kisser but girllll

some of these men out here are HORRENDOUS 😭 as like a person who feels validated when someone gives me attention, I kiss a lot of strangers. like some people call angus thongs a comedy but that slimy little fourteen year old kisses better then most adult men in the world. like why so wet? why so aggressive? why do you insist on licking my face ? i’ve met like one decent kisser in my life and she was a woman. please tel me there’s hope out there 😭

Yeah omg okay it's been awhile since I had a truly bad kiss but for sure to me everything u just said sounds gross and icky.

I swear some guys though just see how people kiss in porn and think that's what we want and like no. No.

Saliva boy in Angus thongs and perfect snogging is a real problem. A plague against the good kissers of the world.

For sure though I think there's hope for you bestie. There is probably a part of like, when you're kissing random people all the time and you're not building up any familiarity that might be part of it? My experience of one night stands and random snogs as a younger adult was that like, well, I never had a good one where I genuinely thought it was the hottest experience ever.

They were always aggressive because they were usually trying to escalate to a shag as quick as possible. Also when ur out at clubs and bars these guys are drunk and probably think they kiss way hotter than they do or whatever. They aren't giving u their best that's for sure.

But also, I feel like I used to feel like that too, where when people give you confirmation you're attractive by kissing you or showering you in attention, you feel validated and stuff.

And like I'm not telling you to stop kissing random men right, have all the fun you like, as long as you're having fun and enjoying the kisses. Like if someone's a bad kisser pill away and walk away bc u wanna enjoy the kiss and not just be a washboard for their tongue.

Like, part of the reason the kisses feel shit is because their isn't any kind of feeling in them, I don't mean only kiss someone you have romantic feelings for because I know that's not everyone's thing, but, there needs to be some form of chemistry there beyond you wanting validation if that makes sense?

Like if the feeling between you and a guy isn't 100% you would drop ur pants for him there and then because he's hot and turning you on, then do not kiss him.

It's something I've been forced to consider recently because there's ways me and B kiss (like with full tongues and a bit aggressive sometimes) (or like he puts his hand on my neck when we kiss) that I have genuinely found have made me feel sick when other people have done it.

I think that's what I mean when I say it's subjective, if you don't find the person gives you that physical turned on feeling just when you're talking/looking at one another, then chances are, when they kiss you your initial instinct will be "ew"

I have an ex that I was pals with prior to going out with them, but like when we started getting stronger feelings there was always this bit in my head like oh but am I actually physically attracted to him because I'm not sure, and sure enough the first time he kissed me, I was thrilled to bits that he WANTED to kiss me BUT, the kiss made me flinch and I had to force myself to like it?

Like that relationship lasted until that ex started being a cunt, I forced myself for a long time, but he really wasn't a good kisser and I used to find myself grossed out every time he pulled away from me. And I think it's cause the chemistry of actually finding him hot and wanting him to ruin me wasn't there and never was?

And when you're kissing random men and a lot of its to do with wanting affection and validation, you'll drop your own standards of who is attractive enough to you to kiss. Whereas the key to a really good snog is havin that intense physical attraction to someone? Like think about it like this right, clinically speaking you're rubbing your open mouth and all your spit into someone else's and you're letting someone else, a stranger, put their tongue and spit in your mouth and like, actually even though its just a kiss that's some intimate shit? Like you NEED to be genuinely physically attracted to someone and not attracted to the validation their affection can give you?

Like I get affection making you feel validated and stuff because bestie, boy have I still got that issue!! I still feel like I need random strangers to want to hit on me or check me out in order to feel validated, even though I have B and I know I'm loved and that he finds me attractive. I think as women were taught to seek out men's affection as validation bc the patriarchy. But you can get that validation AND reject bad kissers or guys you don't find attractive!!!! They still fancy you, and you know they would kiss you, but you don't want to kiss them because actually you're only kissing guys that aren't going to disappoint you?

I hope all that made sense and didn't come off as harsh at all, becayse I totally get what you mean, but for sure there is 100% hope xxx

❤️

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lilith-of-rivia · 4 years

Text

The Blacksmith’s Daughter

Masterlist

Pairing: Geralt X Reader

Word count: 3,259

Warnings: Swearing, slight dirty talk, mentions of death, gross wound

Summary: The blacksmiths daughter in the upper northern kingdoms, is the only reason Geralt of Riva trusts to not only fix his weaponry but his wounds. He travels long and far to see the half mage, every year. During the many years he comes to visit her town, she grows feelings (love like feelinsg) for the creature. one particular visits she realizes she can no longer hide these feelinsg from him. [possibe part 2 if interested]

My father only had one child before my mother died. My mother was someone he always referred to as his soul. The light of his life. She died when I was just a babe. He never remarried, saying he’d never disrespect the love of his life. My mother was a mage. The healer of our village. Her powers passed in some aspects down to myself, but not enough to be considered a full mage. I gained the ability for immortality like my mother, unless by blade or beast. My eyes were different from those around my small town, bright emerald green. My father loved my eyes; “Just like you lovely mother my deer.” He always said to me.

Even with the limited magical abilities I possessed I chose to help my father in his smithing shop. I started when I was 16 that was nearly 30 winters ago. I haven’t aged much past 24. Making all the locals continuously fight for my hand. My father never wavered tho. Knowing I wanted to marry for love.

Over the last 30 years I've become one of the most well known smiths in the upper northern kingdoms. I've been called upon to make weapons for the mightiest King’s, even the Lioness Calanthe herself. My blades were well known across most major cities. I had apprenticed many young men to help and the money I began to bring in, made it able for my father to retire about 10 winters ago. My craft did not only extend in my weaponry but also my herbal skills. I was responsible for training the town healers and herbalists. My mother's talents passed onto me. I was a force to be reckoned with.

“Y/N?” My youngest apprentice, Apollo called to me from the front of my shop. Placing the sword I had been sharpening on a shelf I walked to him. I was covered in soot and dirt, my long [hair color] hair resting in a messy bun atop my head. My hands were covered in thick leather gloves that my father crafted for me many years ago to protect my fragile hands. As I approached the window that my customers spoke to my workers threw I saw a man. He was tall, much taller than myself and even Apollo. Apollo was a strong young man, about 6 '1 a decent build, still looked like a boy. But this man made him look like a child. His shoulders were broad and his hair was a striking silvery grey. I knew who he was, all too well.

“Ahh Geralt of Rivia. I thought you were long dead.” My words were followed with a soft chuckle, as the corner of his lips twitched up in a small smirk. His Bard at his side beamed at me.

“Good evening Y/N. How wonderful to see you!” Jaskier said smiling. I took my gloves off my hands along with my messy apron, glancing at Apollo. He’d never met the famed witcher before.

“Apollo be a dear and go finish with Lord Ferdinand's items. He’ll be back soon to collect them.” He nodded his head before walking back to the forge along with my other two apprentices. I opened the small door to the side of the window and stepped about of my shop, the cool Autumn air chilling my warm skin after being over a hot forge for hours.

Jaskier was the first to approach me, bringing me into a tight embrace. I gladly returned the gesture. I pulled back to examine the bard.

“My how you still have yet to age. Always shocks me.” He laughs and pulls out his prized dagger. He had won it in a game of poker many years ago from a lord. The blade alone cost more than anything he possessed. He didn't need the protection. Due to the brooding witcher he always traveled with. I had mended it and only I had mended it. He never trusted another with his blade. Just as his counterpart.

“It's in need for a good sharpening, maybe a polish to the handle? As always you’ll be paid for with not only my coin, but my recommendations as we travel.” I smiled and took the dagger from him and placed it in my belt before tuning to the brooding witcher.

The relationship we shared was like one I didn't share with any other. When he came through my town, I not only fixed and mended his weaponry but also his wounds. I was no longer an active healer. Unless it was for one particular witcher with a pair of striking golden orbs that could pear into the depths of my soul. He could pry out any secrets I never told anyone. Even my father.

My father loved Geralt. Always made comments about how I should pursue him whenever he came to town. Foolish old man thinking a witcher of Geralt’s status stopping for a blacksmith's daughter. Even one of my caliber. Many years ago he traveled with a mage named Yennifer, I adored her when she came with him. An adoring young thing, always willing to teach me new ways in medicine.

They were lovers for many years until they drifted apart. Yennefer found love in her first mate Istredd. They married a few years ago. Occasionally Yennifer would pass through and we’d catch up over a pint of ale, and she'd tell me of her travels looking for a cure to her empty womb. I pitied the woman, she desperately wanted children.

Knowing women of Yennifer’s caliber were who Geralt went for always made me hesitate from telling him my true feelings. I had fallen madly in love with the witcher. He stayed weeks at a time some years in my town, killing monsters in closer towns and being our own personal Witcher. The townspeople loved him, contrary to many other villages and cities.

“How many wounds am I healing today, wolf?” I asked as I approached him, his small smirk formed into a genuine smile as he embraced me. My arms around his broad shoulders as he bent to hug me. I could feel him grimace under my touch as my chest pressed to his own. I pulled away with a soft frown before lifting his shirt softly. Revealing a large deep gash spreading from his upper chest to his pant line. The gash was angry, yellow pus now oozy in certain areas. My brows lifted on my forehead in shock.

“You bloody idiot. How long has this gone untreated?” I asked quite harshly as I walked back into my shop, gathering my cloak and notebook full of orders to fill. I placed Jaskiers Dagger on a shelf.

“I’ll see you lads tomorrow, don’t forget to lock up tonight. Send for me if you need it.” I called my three workers in the back who all smiled and nodded before refocusing on their tasks.

I walked back out to the two men who were waiting for me. I shot a glare at Jaskier. “You let him walk around with an infection like that ?” I snapped as we started walking to the edge of town, passing the tavern and inn they both had spent many nights in.

“He refused to see anyone other than you, we’ve been traveling to see you for three consecutive days.” I directed my glair to the witcher who had a sly smirk on his lips.

“It's not that bad you drama queen.” I scoffed at his words before reaching over and brushing my fingertips along the cufeather-light. He hissed in pain and nearly doubled over.

“Yeah not that bad. You idiot loaf.” We walked at a quick pause up a small road from the main, up to my small cabin on the outskirts of the forest. I opened the door placing down my belongings before, sitting Geralt down on a chair in my kitchen. Jaskier on the other side, his hands on the book that had set there that I read in the mornings.

I rushed around my kitchen grabbing the herbs and viles full of oils and serums. I grumbled to myself at the stupidity of the witcher while I filled a pail with clean water. “Shirt off.” It wasn't a question or anything he could argue with. I knew he wouldn’t. I could hear his grunts of pain as he peeled his black shirt off. Once the pail was full of water I grabbed a box full of fresh wrapping and set everything on the table as Jaskier read unbothered.

I crouched in front of Geralt, my fingers tracing the angered skin surrounding the gash. I inhaled deeply, the scent of the wound filling my nose. It was badly infected but nothing I couldn't fix.

“Werewolf?” I asked, knowing I was right. The smell of the wolf’s claws being the first I could smell.

“Yeah, a real fucker too. Nearly broke my blade.” He hissed, In part of his anger at his last hunt, and due to the stinging of the alcohol I had poured on the clean cloth dabbing and cleaning the wound. His muscles contracted under my touch. I sighed but continued my work, spreading a lavender oil over the outside of the gash, soothing the skin. I grabbed a jar scooping out a helping of a cream made of hemlock and musk mallow to help the infection. After a thick paste was covering the gash I placed a few pieces of gauze over it keeping it protected. Once I was finished I looked up at the witcher, who was watching me intently. His amber eyes are boring into my emerald ones.

“I suggest you stay here a few days, till you’re healed more. So I can keep an eye on that infection.” I said with a soft smile. He grabbed a pack off his hip and placed three coins on my table, making me shake my head.

“Geralt, keep it I-“

“You just used so many fucking things on me. Take the money. Replenish your stock.” I rolled my eyes taking the coin from the table and putting it in my pocket, knowing I’d be giving it to the needy in town. I had plenty.

Jaskier placed the book he was reading down and smiled.

“Know that the broot is no longer dying, care to get some ale?” He asked, making me laugh.

“Let me see your sword first.” I was the only person on this plant that he allowed to touch that beloved sword. He pulled it from its sheath and handed it to me. I looked over the blade, seeing the dullness, and how fragile the silver was.

“Lucky for you, we replenish our silver last week, I have plenty to fix this blunt blade.” I placed the sword back in its sheath before placing it on a hook on my door. I walked back over to Geralt, taking his chin in my hand making him look up at me from his seated position.

“If you ever come to me with an infection like that again. I will kill you instead of heal you.” My threats fell flat, I knew that. He chuckled softly before kissing my hand softly.

“Thank you, my dear, Y/N. I already feel better.” I smiled softly and looked over at Jaskier who was just watching with an exasperated expression. He knew we had a weird relationship and truly couldn’t understand why we never became anything more than friends.

“How about that ale?” He said after clearing his throat. I nodded, grabbing his shirt from the floor and helping it back over his head. The men left their items in my home after I insisted they stay with me instead of going to the inn. And we were on our way to the bustling tavern. Filed with laughing people celebrating the end of the week with the sweet peach ale our town was best known for. Geralt and Jaskier found a table as I went to thbarkeep.

“Ahh Y/N!! How are you, my dear?” He asked as he filed the tankers with the cold bubbly ale.

“Quite well August thank you. Hope your ax is doing better?” I asked, speaking of the ax I had fixed for him less than a month ago.

“Oh works wonderfully!” He smiled sweetly at me passing me the tankers and I pulled out the coin but he held his hand out.

“First rounds on the house.” I smiled and nodded at the man grabbing the tankers turning my back to him and walking back to the two men I left. As I approached I saw Annabel. A quite permisquess young thing, not that it was my business what she did with her body, all over Geralt. I felt envy course, threw my body as she groped his chest. I saw his face contort in pain as she brushed her hand down his chest, and he gently pushed her back, but of course, she didn't get the message. I walked up behind her, setting the ale on the table firmly before taking her wrist in my hand spinning her to face me.

“He is hurt, a massive gash, infected puss all over the bandages. Stop. Touching.” My voice was harsh as I glared at the young woman. Her head dropped as she walked away from me in a hurry. I let out a huff as I sat next to Geralt. I could almost feel his smirk as he looked at me. I lifted the tanker to my lips sipping the sweet ale as did Jaskier who was also smiling at me.

“I'll stab your eyes out of your head if you keep looking at me like that Bard.” I spat and he rolled his eyes standing with the ale in his hand looking over at a group of young women.

“I’m going to party, but now I’m also leaving you two alone too” He pointed his free hand in between the two of us, “figure out what the hell you are. Don't wait up.” He left us as he walked to the group of women ready to brag about his adventures with the feared witcher. My cheeks were warm at his words, as I gulped down more of the ale, ignoring Geralt’s persistent gaze as he drank his ale.

“Any idea what Jaskier may be talking about, dove?” He asked, his arm now draped around my chair, his fingers brushing my arm lightly.

“Don't get any smart ide,as Witcher, you're in no place to fuck with a wound like that.” I didn't look at him.

“No one said anything about fucking dove.” That godforsaken nickname made my nipples harden. And my cunt moisten. I finally turned to him, he was inches away from my face. His ale is now on the table. His hand gently cupped my face.

“I’m serious. Even if I wanted to, you cant. It could break the scabs forming.” I couldn't help but lean into his warm rough calloused hand. My hands were similar in feel due to my craft.

“I never mentioned fuking dove, but if you really wanted to. You’d be my first pick.” His lips were inches from mine. My breathing became more erratic at his words, my heartbeat was quickening. He chuckled softly. Inhaling deeply.

“I can not only hear your heart but smell your arousal, my love.” I bit my lip softly and closed my eyes gently. I wanted to, more than anything. But I couldn't just fuck him and ignore the love I felt for the man.

“You’ll leave soon Geralt. And my heart cannot handle it.” It was now or never. I pulled back a little looking in his eyes. “I've been in love with you for many many years. You coming threw and staying when you do is the happiest I am all year, but I know you do not feel the same. I can't fuck you and then watch you leave. You may leave now and never speak-“ I didn't even have the chance to finish my rambling because his lips were pressed to mine. His hands now both on my cheeks. His lips were rough and tasted sweet. It lasted mere minutes. Before he pulled away.

“I will always come home to you, my dove. If you’ll have me.” He said with a smile. My heart was beating faster again. His hands were now holding my own.

“I've never been good with words, but there is a reason I only trust you to tend to my wounds and my swords. You are not just another woman to me. I need you in my life. If you’ll have me, I'll always return to you after every hunt and If I’m needed far, you’ll come with me.” My eyes were welling with tears at his sweet words. It was all I ever wanted him to say. This time I pressed my lips to his. It was softer than before, longer. Full of more passion. More love than any kiss I had ever shared.

“I’ll always take you in your stupid bafoon.” He chuckled softly at my words and leaned back placing his arm around my shoulders again, his eyes scanning the crowd, landing on Jaskier who was singing his least favorite tune. But even the hated song couldn't damper the Witcher’s smile.

“You’ll now need to ask my father for his blessing if you plan to take me with you,” I whispered, nodding my head to the direction of where my father was seated, talking to his companions laughing and joking. Geralt cleared his throat and got to his feet, his fingers laced on my own. He led me through the crowd.

“Mr. Y/L/N?” Geralt asked, his shoulders pressed back as he stood behind my father, his hand not leaving my own. My father turned, saw our hands then the face of the man I was with.

“Geralt!! So good to see y, ou my boy!” He stood and patted Geralt's shoulder.

“How’s the hunt these days?”

“Very good sir, I um... actually have a question for you.” My father smiled and looked at me. Winking.

“What's that lad?” He asked.

“Can I have your blessing to take your daughter's hand in marriage?” I nearly choked on my own spit at his words. My heart is now hammering out of my chest. My cheeks bright red as I squeezed his hand. My father laughed and threw his hands in the air.

“Finally!! A more than worthy suitor for my dear daughter!” The men behind him cheered a few men in the bar looking over eyes burning into Geralt in jealousy.

“You are the only one for my daughter's dear boy. My dear wife Gladdis wouldn’t have been happier. You protect my daughter. With your life. And you have my blessing.” My father stuck his hand out and Geralt let go of mine to shake it.

“I’d die before a hair is harmed on her head, sir.” My father laughed.

“So it will be a wedding in the future! A round on me for everyone!!” The tavern cheered and my father hugged me, kissing my cheek before whispering, “I Told you,my dear. And you thought I was wrong.” I laughed softly and hugged him tightly. An arm wrapped around my hip. Jaskier cheered and started to play a tune on his lute. Geralt bent down his lips by my ear.

“I love you to the moon and back, dove.”

#geralt x you #garalt imagines #geralt x reader #witcher ciri #witcher yennefer #the withcer #geralt #geralt of rivera #imagnes #geralt imagine #geralt fanfic #witcher netflix #geralt x yn

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takaraphoenix · 3 years

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Buffy Season 8: Review

It’s bad. It’s just... really... bad. That’s the TL;DR of this review. There was one (1) good thing about this season and that was the return of Oz. So if you’re looking for something that hypes season 8? This is not it. If you are confused, angry or salty about season 8? Hi, yes, me too.

Starting at the beginning. At first, I was really happy that they introduced more characters of color, with Renee and Satsu. And when Renee was then even “promoted” to Xander’s love interest? Nice. The two were even cute.

But no. That was all just the set-up to fridge her. Which, I am so very tired of that trope. And that is what that was. That wasn’t just a slayer dying during a fight. The entire issue of her death focused on her and Xander, building up to their relationship, setting them up for their first date, having her be prominently featured, just to then kill her off and have Xander avenge her.

What made it feel even worse - worse than just the fridging - was that they really had to fridge one of their very few women of color. And, to top it off, spend the entire issue in which she dies having her subjected to racism. Just great. Really, you managed to make an already shitty trope even worse. That’s impressive.

The racism itself too. Dracula. They just decided to make Dracula totally racist now, huh? and it doesn’t get a pass just because Xander points out in the comic that he doesn’t remember Dracula being this racist. Because he wasn’t. This Dracula just throws around slurs left and right in a way that feels more like the writers just really wanted to use slurs. Because the character? He was suave, charming, heck he charmed the straight men and the lesbians too when he was on the show. He was a smooth talker. This Dracula? He just... He was just racist and rude in general. Why.

Moving on from the racism to the next failure in rep. The gays. At this point in time I am simply convinced that Joss Whedon is entirely unfamiliar with the concept of bisexuality.

I know I’ve already made a separate post complaining about this, but it needs mentioning in the review of the season too. Having Buffy hook up with a lesbian twice, but #NoHomo, just a straight girl in her “experimental phase”. That’s just cringey and also offensive. Just... make her... come out as a bisexual? It’s not like the writing in the show hadn’t already set her up with quite the bi vibes.

Instead, the narrative made it sound like the only options would be to be straight or to now suddenly turn “into” a lesbian. Which is also offensive on itself, because - as this very show had proven on screen - lesbians can come out later in life and genuinely, I adore Willow’s arc. For her narrative, it fit to have her come out as a lesbian, the circumstances and her life fit for that. I absolutely agree that it would have been weird for Buffy to have a sudden coming out as a lesbian at that point in her life and after everything, but referring to it as turning into a dyke was just not great.

And lesbian wasn’t the only option. Though, I’m unsure Whedon knows that, considering that 6/6 canon queer characters are homosexual and 4/4 wlw are lesbians. They just keep introducing more lesbians - which, as a lesbian I am always in favor of more lesbians. However, when you have a very small number (2) of queer characters, it figures you can not cover all the sexualities and it’s even fair that even with two, you still choose to have them both be the same sexuality. But... the more you add? The more questionable it becomes that you limit it to one sexuality only.

This arc would have so beautifully set up for Buffy to come out as bi. But no.

And while we’re on the wlw; one of the things I always loved about Buffy was that the lesbians weren’t just there for the male gaze, they weren’t oversexualized. They desired each other, they even had sex. But... in a normal frame work, to a normal amount, meaning equal to how the straights were handled. I always liked that, because especially in early days, lesbians were usually just there to look really hot and have hot sex that straight men could get off to. Well, consider me very unimpressed with the comics, because... man are lesbians sexualized now. Willow gets a hot constantly naked snake goddess girlfriend whom she can only contact by - and I am not making this up - having an orgasm. So we prelude the trip by her having sex with Kennedy, before waking up all nude in snake goddess’ realm and usually having am makeout session or sex with her too while doing whatever business she has with her. So much nakedness, so much oversexualization. Really... disappointing.

Staying on the romance but turning to the other Summers sister, I truly can’t believe they made Xander/Dawn canon. Like, I can not comprehend they decided to make that a canon ship.

Sure, Dawnie’s had a crush on Xander since the literal beginning of Dawn. And that was... cute, honestly. Fifteen year old girls have crushes on cute older guys who are nice to them. Figures. Adorable. But she kind of... grew out of that over the course of the show? Or so it seemed...

And Xander. One of the things I loved about Xander was that Dawn was always a total no go. She was Buffy’s sister, heck, she was kind of every Scoobie’s little sister. He had always had brotherly advise for her. Heck, in this comic he points out that it’s weird since he’s known her since she was little - and yeah it is. It’s not weird when two people were both little together, but when one was sixteen when the other was eleven and one has babysat the other? That’s weird.

Getting infinitely more disturbing by the fact that she... literally... just turned eighteen. If they had put this into a rather later season, or a bigger time skip, had Dawn been A WomanTM for a few years now and Xander had gotten around to separating the idea of kiddo!Dawnie from the woman she has become, but Dawn is only eighteen, she hasn’t become a woman yet. She just turned legal to bang and thus, a switch was flipped in Xander’s mind, putting her on his radar. And just... no. Why.

And even beyond this decision; Dawn spends the first third of this season being slut-shamed in ridiculous ways. Which is also tiresome. I am the last person to defend cheaters, but there’s a difference between “You cheated and are being held accountable for it” and “You cheated so now you are cursed to be a giant, a centaur and then a porcellain doll for weeks at a time, being publicly humiliated and having control over your body taken away from you”. That was... sure a choice.

Moving on to the actual main problem of this season. The plot.

Starting with the incomprehensibly dumb idea of “hey let’s retreat to Tibet, put a huge target on Oz’s new home and get rid of all of our magic. surely that will not come to bite us in the arse when the bad guys find us”. Naturally, it came back to bite them in their collective asses. This was just... No one objected or pointed out how dumb that plan was? Really? No one? Really?

Anyway, let’s talk villains. And work our way up there. The return of Amy and Warren. Once again, I ask why. I’m still salty about the 180° Amy did from sweet Wiccan to wicked bitch after her stint as a rat, but having her now... hook up with Warren, the second biggest misogynist on this show, who is also skinless. She used a spell to keep him alive but she couldn’t... give the spell a color? Anything? Anything to not make him look flayed? Because this was just unnecessarily gross body-horror.

Not to mention the... lack of reaction? Sure, some spoke grumpily against working with Warren. But... this is Warren. The guy who killed Tara when he was trying to kill Buffy. There really should have been more breather-scenes of the Scoobies talking about this, digesting the fact that the guy was still alive and more so when they worked with him.

But nevermind them, because they’re working for Angel. Because Angel’s the villain behind this season. I mean, he was manipulated into that by Twilight, but manipulated means he still chose to do it.

Now let me preface that I might not ship Angel/Buffy, but that really only factors marginally in here, because this plot would be bullshit even if it were my OTP.

We now retcon the creation of the Slayers as not just being something dirty old men did in a cave, it was now all the greater plan of the universe. Which. Might have worked had Slayers been... naturally occuring. And not created by men, forcing this upon a young woman. Sure, what people do can be seen as the greater plan of the universe too if you will, but that seems like a cop-out that absolves bad people of their bad choices and deeds.

Anyway. The universe created Slayers and vampires and the ““balance”“ between them (which is bullshit anyway because 1 Slayer vs thousands of vampires... not balanced at all), including the now supposedly destined romance between Angel and Buffy.

Both get rewarded with super-powers now so they can super-fuck and thus give birth to a new universe. That universe is called Twilight and manifests as a burning, winged, green lion who can talk (because that sure is how I always headcanoned Angel/Buffy’s children to look like /s) and who, through time-travel shenannigans, has been manipulating Angel into his own creation.

The magic pull between them is so strong that it overrides the “Angel just caused the death of over two-hundred Slayers” so Buffy fucks him.

At which point I just... this season was flat-out character assassination of Angel? He was manipulated by the bad guy. Not controlled, manipulated. He caused the death of hundreds. He threw everything he stood for and believed in out the window for the promise of a paradise where he could be with Buffy, when the real Angel has chosen other things, higher goals, over being with Buffy over and over again, because that’s what they do. That is their whole thing, they choose the good of the world over being together. They have always been a “will they/won’t they?” where the answer is they won’t, because they know they are needed elsewhere, by others. But now Angel just... doesn’t care about all that anymore, or heck about his own son and his friends, ready to abandon everything for this.

And then when Twilight is born and consequently abandoned by Buffy, who still prioritizes her friends, family and the world over being with Angel, Angel actually... needs convincing in the abandoning? Because, again, character assassination. Ultimately, Angel gets controlled by Twilight and used to kill Giles and try to kill Buffy.

But thanks to the Deus Ex Machina of Spike dropping in in the final arc, they know how to stop this. He hasn’t been in this season so far, because - truly in line with this season - he was off being the king of a race of alien bugs, traveling in their space-ship.

To stop this all, they go back to Sunnydale, where of course the “heart of the Earth” is located, the seed that contains all magic, and destroy it, and with it all magic. Also, the Master was apparently always just there to guard that seed. He is now back from the dead!

Let me summarize that once more, just for emphasis: The universe wanted Buffy and Angel to fuck so they can give birth to a new universe that personifies as a green, winged, burning lion but before it can destroy our universe, Spike, now king of an alien bug race, delivers the solution to go back to Sunnydale and destroy the seed of all magic that is being guarded by a resurrected Master.

How do you read that with a straight face? How do you pitch that? This is just so incomprehensibly stupid.

We end the comic with Buffy as a waitress, hated by many, Xander and Dawn now have an apartment and are playing house, Willow broke up with Kennedy because she realized she is in love with the snake goddess she will now never get to see again, Giles is dead, Faith somehow inherited everything from Giles and she is also the designated Angel-sitter now.

#Buffy Season 8 #Buffy Review #Buffy the Vampire Slayer

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certainempatheticturkeymuffin · 4 years

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LGBTQ Headcanons

Hi, I’m jumping on the bandwagon, I have solid headcanons for a few of the group, but finally mapping them all out will be great.

Sky: Cassgender, Demiromantic/Gynesexual, He/Him This is mostly because I don’t see him putting much thought into gender, and he just goes with the flow, he’s used to He/Him, but won’t complain if other pronouns are used. He’s only attracted to women, but it does take him a long time to actually fall in love, it’s why Sun is really the only one who’s ever captured his heart.

Four: Aro/Ace, They/Them Because Four is a literal mess of genders and romantic orientations they default to AroAce, because anything else is just weird when they’re all shoved into the same body and they’re all ace anyway. They/them pronouns mostly work for everyone, so they’re a somewhat stable person when fused. Here are the headcanons for each color:

Green: Male, Hetero/Apothi, He/Him Green is your standard straight cis male, but he’s also apothisexual, which is just an extreme version of asexuality that means he is actually repulsed by sex, not just lacking sexual attraction. He’s usually the white bread of my headcanons, but he’s got a crush on Dot so I usually run with that. He doesn’t like they/them pronouns, but he’s gotten used to them so he can make his siblings more comfortable when they’re stuck as Four.

Red: Demiboy, Bellus/Ace, He/Him, They/Them Red is, as usual, a cinnamon roll. He’s just standard asexual, feeling no sexual attraction, and he does enjoy traditionally romantic things like cuddling and kissing, but not in the context of a romantic relationship (hence Bellusromantic). He uses he/him and they/them, but some days he will have a preference and he won’t be shy about correcting you.

Blue: MtF, Aro/Ace, She/Her And you wonder why Blue is always angry. She can live with They/Them pronouns, but absolutely prefers she/her. I tend to flip flop between making her a demigirl or full on female in the context of my stories, but in headcanon form, she’s always a trans-woman. Poor Blue is always suffering since she can’t yell at people to use she/her when she’s stuck inside Four’s body.

Vio: Demigirl, Demi/Apothi, They/Them, She/Her Vio prefers they/them pronouns, but won’t object to she/her. They don’t necessarily take a long time to fall for someone, but you need to have a really deep friendship with them, no matter how long it takes. Unfortunately for Vio, they fell for Shadow and still haven’t really gotten over the heartbreak even though they knew it wouldn’t end well the moment they realized what was happening.

All in all, Four is just a mess. Especially Blue, because oops i made her suffer.

Time: Male, Demi, He/Him Hey, a cis guy. I make him full on Demi because why not, and also him and Malon don’t have children yet which could be considered odd depending on the time period. Normally you’re supposed to have kids like immediately, and both Time and Malon look to be in their mid twenties, which isn’t old by modern means, but definitely was in ye olden days.

Legend: Genderfluid, Bi, He/Him, She/Her, They/Them Pronouns change from moment to moment. They’re solidly bi, and despite leaning more towards women, Ravio managed to capture his heart and they have already gotten married-for tax purposes, of course ;)

Hyrule: Agender, Aro/Ace, He/Him Poor Hyrule didn’t even know what gender was until it was explained to him. He’s too used to He/Him pronouns for anything else to feel normal, so he just goes with it. He also didn’t understand the whole romance thing until he saw Time and Malon. To be honest, he still doesn’t understand the whole romance thing. The woes of being aroace.

Twilight: Male, Demi/Hetero, He/Him Look, another cis! He was good friends with Midna, and it wasn’t until near the end of the journey that he actually fell in love with her. He’s dealing with it rather well, but he’s still salty that his heart would betray him like that.

Wind: FtM, Pan/Ace, He/Him He hasn’t told any of the group that he’s trans, mostly because he doesn’t want them to think of him any differently, even if logically he knows Four is kind of going through the same thing. Tetra’s Crew all know and vehemently defend him when others try to misgender him. Aryll loves her big brother and will also jump to his defense, and Wind is just happy he has such a supportive grandmother, because puberty hit him like a truck and he hated it because it was all wrong. The moment he had a breakdown because of his period was the moment his grandmother knew that she needed to do something because she wasn’t going to allow her grandson to suffer because of her inaction.

Warriors: Male, Bi, He/Him He keeps it on the downlow, mostly because he has horrible taste in men: namely, they’re usually the bad guys, like Girahim, or super fucking weird, like Girahim. He was very conflicted over it and has never brought it up, even if he’s sure Fi has told Sky because it was Girahim. Not to mention he found Volga hot and he’s had a crisis to this day, because which villain will he fall for next, Zant!?

Wild: Bigender, Aro/Apothi, He/Him, She/Her Wild didn’t think anything of it when he actually enjoyed parading around Gerudo Town as a woman. He didn’t think anything of it when he felt only mild disgust when he was told that Mipha loved him. And he felt bad but also a little grossed out when he had to reject Zelda. He genuinely didn’t think anything of it until Teba explained that it wasn’t exactly normal to not ever want a mate. And he was a little embarrassed when Riju explained that no, men usually didn’t take active joy in parading around as a woman. Still, he has a free pass into Gerudo Town now, so he’s good!

And there we have it: Sky’s apathetic about gender and also really in love with Sun, Four’s a mess, Time loves Malon, Legend is pure bi energy, Hyrule is a confused bean, Twilight is salty, Wind is happy now, Warriors has terrible taste in men, and Wild is also another mildly confused bean.

And yes, I shoved as much ace representation in there because Asexuals Need Good Representation and Asexuals Are Part Of The LGBTQ Community.

oh right!

Linkle: MtF, Lesbian, She/Her We need a lesbian on the team, and trans representation while we’re at it? Awesome! And also, her grandmother telling her that she’s the legendary hero when all the heroes are known to be men makes a lot more sense if her grandmother mistook her for a boy when she was younger.

#lgbtpride #lgbt headcanons #Headcanon #linked universe #linked universe headcanons #poor warriors is still having his sexuality crisis to this day #asexuals are lgbt #support asexuals

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rnegitsune · 4 years

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Ok so I thought I'd put together some horror stories from my time as a babymetal fan bc of how drastic the shift in the fandom has been the past year or so. For context I got into babymetal in like june of 2014 (all 3 girls were still underage at the time, I was 22; when I first got into them I thought I would be considered an older fan lmao the naivete, the innocence of new fan me wow I know now I'm not at all in the older half of the fandom esp considering I was born the same decade as su and moa), and I made this blog in I think may of 2015.

I've had people say I should compile men being gross into a post and I just couldn't do that out of fear for my own mental health but this will be pretty close. These are all my experiences with this fandom over the years; I'm definitely missing some but what I do remember should do well to cover most of how this fandom used to be vs now. It's gonna be a lot and tw for men being gross about minors.

Back in my first year or so of this blog I on multiple occasions got dms from men asking to be friends. At the time my bio only said my name and my pronouns. I've always been cautious of dms so I'd ask their age and every single one was considerably older than me. I wouldn't usually answer after that bc no thanks but they would generally try to continue convos til I blocked. The only one I still had was this one

After I put my age in my bio, which was 23 at the time, I never got a dm like that again; take from that what you will. But if you're young please be wary of this hell fandom even now. And if you're an older fan and esp an older male fan reading this, don't dm people trying to be friends. I was over 18 and it still creeped me out to no end.

One of my real first men in this fandom are disgusting moments was a blog back in like 2015 or 2016 who I had some contact with due to common interests; he was a huge yui stan and made bm content. He was like 28 or 29 at the time and I eventually noticed he would tag idols, mostly kpop girls, by their body parts (legs, butt, etc) which is disgusting enough as it is but then I saw him do the same for literal minors, like tzuyu from twice. I messaged him asking what the hell he was doing objectifying women but also actual children and he blocked me lmao. He later unblocked me to let me know that's just how he tagged things and it was my fault he had anxiety and then he blocked me again.

Back before the tumblr purge this fandom was repulsive to a degree I cannot even begin to describe. Someone would reblog something from me, I'd go to their blog and it would be underage jpop idols and japanese p*rn all the way down. I even stumbled upon a man editing underage su into p*rn gifs. Obviously no proof of that but I did go find my initial reaction to it

The number of times I'd get a follow from someone then go to their blog and it would be as mentioned above or their bio would be the most misogynistic trash I'd ever read was staggering. I genuinely considered giving up and deleting this blog so many times bc i felt oberwhelmed and outnumbered by these gross old dudes; and so the fact that this fandom has evolved into a bunch of chaotic wlw?? Amazing, I could cry.

Fun phenomenon of women running bm blogs was men sending messages asking if we liked babymetal. No joke. I think this happened to me two or three times but I spoke w other female creators at the time and it had happened to them as well. My entire blog is babymetal, and yet???

He said the weird guy idk bc he sent some random ass messages vaguely insulting me and when I responded coldly, he acted confused so I said you're some guy idk, hence the above message starting as such. Also that pic and the one up above that has my current pfp bc I just took those screenshots. Like I said I typically blocked weird dms but I guess these passed me by so I still had the messages.

Most people know the sub reddit is the worst and don't need me to tell you but it's a hellscape and I highly recommend avoiding it. A short list of things I've had to see as a result of going there: men discussing at length kano and momoko's appearances and how they look in costume vs in normal clothes. Men discussing at length the hope that the girls would marry men who aren't Japanese, a thread that was from when all 3 girls were underage. They aren't gonna marry you dude they're really not.

The insulting of billie Eilish, a 17 year old at the time, was horrible too. Su and moa got to meet her, something they were extremely excited for, and they posted a pic; the comments were disgusting as you can imagine. The yui rumors were terrible too, fatshaming, slutshaming etc all based on nothing. Some man saying the rumors about yui leaving bc, no joke this was a real rumor, she "got too fat" couldn't be true bc "look at saya." Saya being a barely 18 yo back up dancer who covered the third spot after yui left but before the avengers. Not to mention the upskirt shots from when they were minors, the constant editing of their faces onto explicit photoshoots etc. I remember being a new fan looking for a su pic on google and being horrified at the fact that one of the top suggested results after her name was “bikini;” she was 16 at the time. Also, the uptick in massively creepy posts and messages sent to bm blogs as each girl, but esp moa and yui, approached 18 was disgusting.

Now for some personal nonsense. A big reason why I haven't touched my youtube channel in months is bc I got tired of dealing with the men of this fandom. I poke fun at metal and get told I deserve to die. I say ped*philes and creepy men are gross and get a swarm of middle aged men cursing at me. Had a guy cry about how men are shamed for liking bm and then he turned around and said some gross shit about wlw. Had a guy call me racist for liking a band he also likes (and despite him having no way of knowing my own race) and tell me the babymetal fandom doesn't need my kpop feminist bullshit, which is honestly a great description and I thought about putting it in my yt about lmao. Had a middle aged man unironically say he'd never seen a man be creepy towards bm but fans su and moa's ages calling them hot was creepy. The disillusionment....the level of unawareness is astounding. If you want to see screenshots of some of these comments they are fairly recent in my don't mind me tag; I don't want to see them anymore tho bc they're infuriating so I'm not going to look at them to post here.

Essentially I haven't looked at my channel since may bc men are exhausting and rude and refuse to examine the fandoms they're a part of no matter what. They're told by a woman of the fandom that she's had bad experiences personally and they all start crying about how it's either a lie bc they haven't seen it or unimportant. I did stop reading comments in may and I will never read another one again probably as a result of this shit. Trash men being trash are not worth my time and I refuse to give them anymore of it. I do plan on making more videos tho and let my ~feminist kpop bullshit~ live in their minds rent free.

I will also continue to make fun of metal and the creepy men in this fandom bc it's important and I'm a spiteful asshole who likes disrupting these dudes perfect bubble of a fandom. It genuinely brings me so much joy seeing all the new fans recently (which sidenote if you got into them recently I am kinda curious as to how you found them; I've gotten tons of new followers and considering how inactive they are rn I'm curious). People sending messages about how they finally feel like they belong or that they have a safe space....like I don't even know what to say and I never feel like my responses fully convey how genuinely wonderful that is and how thrilled I am that this is where we're at now and I have had at least some part in it. As this post shows, my experiences have been negative for the most part so the shift recently is such a relief I cannot even begin to explain my gratitude.

So to anyone who read all of this and hasn't disintegrated from the male bullshit, thank you. Keep being yourself and fighting for your place in this fandom, esp if you're a young woman; keep making fun of the creeps and keep making wlw memes!! Babymetal's music is in such a huge way meant for girls and to see more and more finding their way to this previously hellish beyond belief fandom is incredible.

#babymetal #don't mind me #this is long ok

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dearest-alexander · 4 years

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Hither and Thither- 365 DNI fanfic

Summary: She saved him, in so many ways a man could be saved. Massimo x Laura.

Author’s Notes: I’ve uploaded this on AO3 & FF. I’m more active there, than here. Please check the sites for updates.

Read it here:

Archive of our Own

Fanfiction

CHAPTER 1

The Don was talking about something.

The gentle, raspy voice was contrary to the cunning, dangerous man his father could be.

"Molto bene, molto bene, Mario." His father exclaimed in that giddy tone and slapped the man's shoulder, sitting in the front passenger seat. The man gave his father's hand a reassuring squeeze.

He couldn't help but wonder if his father's animateness was a good or bad thing. Being in the family business, the terms are sometimes... interchanged, by certain and normal people anyway.

"What would we do without him?" His father, the Don Torricelli, continued, looking at him for acknowledgment.

"A couple of fun things, for a start." He jested, earning a chuckle from his father and Mario.

Mario was his father's most loyal friend and confidant. He was there ever since he can remember. He was practically family, almost like a second father to him. But he was the strictest man he knew, even stricter than his father. Though, not more dangerous.

He gave a deep sigh and settled in his seat, switching his attention to the familiar scenery of Cefalú.

The familiar streets and alleys blurred as they passed. Locals and tourists alike flooded the white sandy beach. Their big umbrellas providing color to the already-rich scenery. Food carts swarmed the shore, providing refreshments in the scorching Italian summer heat. Everyone seemed to be enjoying the heat.

Everyone one except him.

It was the heat. If there was one thing he hated more than disloyalty and disobedience, it was the fucking heat. He almost didn't want to come today because of it.

But he had to.

"It's part of learning the trade." Mario reminded him this morning— just as he had done on more than one occasion.

Not that he wasn't interested in what his father does—which he was, a hundred percent. But there was this, sort of, defiance. Knowing that the choices he wanted to make have already been made for him, gives him a compelling urge to rebel. To break free and try his own luck in the business.

He wanted to step in, take over, show his father what he's capable of. Show him, without words, that his son was ready to take over. He wanted to see the notorious Victorio Torricelli actually grow old.

He wanted his father to finally surrender his gun in exchange for a quiet life. Because, he was aware that a lot of people in their way of life don't and won't have the same option.

But, like a young cub, he's shunted of his efforts.

"Learn how to walk first before you can run, figlio."

Despite his personal afflictions in anything that involved emotions, he loved his father. He revered him more than anyone else. His father might be the only thing in this world he truly cared about.

And money, of course.

The car stopped at their destination; a restaurant in the middle of a marketplace, right at the heart of the town. He exchanged a disapproving look with Mario through the rearview mirror. It was unusual for the Don to pick such a public venue for a meeting.

He was not hiding his objection and tried persuading his father to change location since the day he knew.

"Pa, it's too public. You can't be serious."

"Ah, figlio. Always worrying about me."

And why shouldn't he?

When your father's the most feared, most dangerous man in Europe, you learn to sleep with a gun in your hand.

As accustomed, they waited for a few minutes for their detail to secure and check the place. He usually assisted them, but under this weather?

No fucking way.

Mario and his father fell into a quick conversation about when they were teenagers. His dad had retold countless stories about his and Mario's prime. Just two privileged Italian legacies, against the world.

"You remember those girls at the beach?"

"Ey! Didn't you sleep with one of them?" his dad chirped.

"No, I didn't!"

"You did! You son of a bitch!"

"I slept with two!" Mario carolled, making him think of something gross.

They laughed, that good-natured laugh, he could aways expect from them.

He only half listened and continued to ogle at the mundane events happening before him.

The crowd was a river of people from all walks of life. A riot of colorful clothes under a huge tent of different loots and merchandise.

Everyone seemed to move from all different directions. The cacophony of blabber outside reverberated even on his tinted windows. Heat radiated their jolly faces. He could easily spot the tourists by their awful hats and big ass cameras hanging around their neck. And the locals, with their loud and rude gesticulation.

There was music coming from the makeshift stage on the beach. A few sunburnt, drunk, and barely clad guests were swaying to the bass. If everything went as planned today, they could stay the night here and he could slip to the rave.

His eyes fell on the bookstand a few feet west from where their car was. A couple of skateboard punks wheezed through the stand. One of them nudged the corner of the table and mountains of books toppled on the sandy pavement. He could hear the owner screaming at the kids, who didn't even turn back. His face was crimson with anger, a book threatening to fly from his hairy hand.

A petite woman with dark hair scrunched under a floppy hat, approached him. Her light skin was a fair contrast to the blue summer ensemble she's donning. She squatted down to help the poor man.

It startled him for a second.

Kindness has always been a mystery to him.

To him, kindness was the coercive reaction and result to fear.

Nothing in this world has been ever genuine—he realized that from a very young age.

Must be a foreigner. He thought. No local could be that generous.

He watched as the man, who appeared flushed all of a sudden, stood up, books recovered under his arms. The lady, who still had her back to the car, offered her gathered books back to the vendor. She must have said something because the man was nodding in a very vigorous manner. She then proceeded to slide her fingers on the display of books.

The merchant was still staring at her with a stupid smile on his wrinkled face. The woman picked up a book. She showed it to the man who nodded and grabbed a bag from under the table.

He observed, with an amused and curious expression as the people passing by the tent all did a double take at the woman. Some women narrowed their eyes, as if envious while all men have sheepish grins on their faces.

He sat straighter in his seat.

Turn around, baby girl.

The woman was and completely in her own element. He found himself transfixed by the way she's skimming her slender fingers on the book stacks

He caught himself and frowned.

What the fuck?

"Cosa pensi, Massimo?" His father asked.

He whipped his head back to his father, and tried to look anything but distracted.

A knock rapped Mario's window, saving him from his father's inquisitive brow. Outside, Domenico, his half-brother, gave them an assuring nod.

Mario got out first, before him and his father. Perspiration trickled down his neck in an instant. His hair clung in clusters on his nape.

He cursed.

He couldn't understand how anyone could enjoy themselves when the weather was dry and as hot as a desert. He could feel the gravel smoldering beneath his shoes. He might as well ask one of his guards to fry an egg on the sidewalk to prove the point to his father.

His father knew how much he hated the Italian summer heat.

"Whoa! Hot! Hot" His dad smirked at him, a teasing glint in his eyes. He was fanning his hands with an exaggerated flair before an umbrella came to his aid.

He groaned and rolled his eyes at his father. Taking pride in himself that he was the only person allowed to do so.

Six men from the entourage, stood beside them as they walked towards the restaurant.

Upon entry, they're welcomed by the loud blabbers and aroma of Mediterranean dishes.

"Buon pomeriggio."

A tall, lean, olive-skinned woman greeted them, her dark eyes lingering on him the most. He removed his sunglasses and tucked in on his dress shirt.

He heard the woman's breath hitched.

He couldn't help the smug smirk that formed on his lips.

Mario stepped in. And the woman bowed her head, as if finally recognizing the dangerous men before her. In an instant, she cast her eyes down and moved out of the way.

May be I'll have my fun with her later.

Domenico lead them to a wooden staircase and outside the balcony. A couple of diners were there, seated under their own umbrellas. Cocktails, appetizers on hand.

Great. More parching heat.

He walked to a secluded tent in the corner, away from the impertinent eyes and ears of civilians.

Two men were already sitting under the canopy, waiting, looking angst.

As they should be.

They're negotiators for a new venture his dad was looking into.

They lowered their eyes as they shook his father's hand. Their adoration was plain on their faces.

But were they real though?

He learned that love and fear, like good and bad, have interchangeable terms.

In this lifestyle, anyway.

Their men spread out and around the perimeter. Their authoritative presence was alarming some of the guests, who didn't hesitate to up and left.

His father and Mario sat down across the two men. While he maintained his distance.

This particular time, he wasn't allowed to join them. Considering what happened last week, he's banned from all negotiations until further notice.

He stood over the railings to past the time and asked for the binoculars from his guard. He occupied himself with the arid and suburban landscape of Cefalu. The heat was emanating from all surfaces and buildings. It's making him even more thirsty than he was

"Get me a bottle of beer. Ice cold. Have that beautiful lady receptionist bring it up to me."

Alek, his guard ever since he was sixteen, nodded and left.

He was looking out into the water when he heard the heightened pitch of his dad. He put the equipment away and observed.

From the pronounced scowl on his father's face, he could assume that it won't be getting any better. His future plans to sneak out later this evening was automatically canceled.

His father stood up and raised his hand in a dismissive wave.

That was the end of the discussion.

He looked pissed.

But as soon as the Don met his gaze, the old man smiled, the corner of his eyes shining with mischief.

"Fucking opportunists." His father cussed, clapping him on the back.

"You want me to talk to them?"

The Don shook his head and glanced back. "Mario's handling it." He gestured to the binoculars. "We don't want you threatening them away again, do we, son?"

He simpered, "But it's so much fun."

"Figlio, sometimes, you have to compromise. We have to make sure that we have certain people on our side exactly when we need them to be."

"I don't think you need anything or anyone else anymore."

His father laughed, removing the binocs from his face. "Have I thought you nothing?"

That's when he realized what how he must have sounded.

"Non accontentarti mai, anche se hai tutto, Massimo." His dad reiterated, forcing another smile from him. "Don't ever-"

"Don't ever settle. Even if you have everything." he repeated. "I know Pa, I know. My bad."

His father grabbed his shoulders so he was facing him. "And you do your best not to forget it."

He beamed down at him. "Sì."

His father cupped his face, like when he was a kid. The dark eyes, feared by many, gleamed with a raw and familiar with emotion.

And he knew why; he has his mother's eyes. His father often told him that he could still see her stubbornness alight in them every time they talk. He placed a hand on his father's forearm.

"You're-" He heard a sharp whoosh of wind and his father's sentence abruptly stopped. The paternal smile faded and a shocked expression replaced it.

His mind and body went numb.

Behind them, someone shouted. And chaos breaks.

He held his father. One hand on his shoulder, the other on the gushing wound staining his chest.

What's happening?

He was trying to keep them upright, but he felt weak, like someone's, something, was sucking the life out of him. His father slipped from his hands and dropped on his back.

His world went into a complete standstill.

A tight, burning pressure permeated from his torso and he fell down. Arms splayed out, the bright, yellow sun, blinding him.

The men were running, their guns poised in the air. The guests on the balcony scrambled down the staircase, screaming their heads off. He saw a flash of blue before he heard Mario shouted different orders to the men.

He closed his eyes and tasted the rust on his tongue. He opened his mouth to scream, but no sound ever came. A pain shoot from his side, like a thousand hot electric needles pricking him. His muscles were tense. He was sweating, but at the same time felt like someone poured a bucket of ice cold water on him. He coughed and thick, warm liquid spurted out of his mouth.

No.

He became aware of his heartbeat slowing down, its weak thumps vibrating in his ears. The excruciating pain doubled, paralyzing him even more. His breathing became shallow, fast, gasps. He heard his name shouted over the dry wind.

Domenico.

Domenico crouched down and shook him. He slapped his face, his expression livid.

He and Domenico loved wrestling and kick-boxing, since they were kids. Being older and bigger than Nico, gave him a huge disadvantage; he always wins. Nico doesn't have a chance.

He almost wanted to taunt his brother and point out that this is the first time he couldn't get up to beat his ass.

"Wake up!" He grabbed the lapels of his shirt, pulling him up. "Don't you dare die on me!"

He winced, both from the pain, shaking his entire body and his little brother's trembling voice.

Idiot.

Leave me alone, Nico.

He never felt so exhausted.

Papa, Go to Papa.

He wanted to sleep.

Leave me be.

He just wanted to fucking sleep.

Domenico stopped shaking him. Somebody from behind grabbed his brother away. Domenico cried out, struggling to get back.

Get him out of here. Get both them out of here.

He closed his eyes and swallowed. He heard voices, so many voices. But they're muffled, like someone put cotton in his ears, drowning him out. He could feel each footfall vibrating on the ground. Somehow, he couldn't feel the heat he felt from it earlier.

He only felt the cold.

Good. I hate the fucking summer.

Everybody seemed to have abandoned him.

Finally.

He wanted to rest.

Time to rest.

But then, a shadow fell above his closed eyes, blocking out the blistering sun. A warm, soft hand touched his, raised it and pressed it on his chest. He felt it ran over his face, leaving tingling, warm impression.

It surprised him.

Without warning whatsoever, the warm, comforting sensation pulled him back. Away from the cold, drab void sucking him.

Then, the warmth left him, as swiftly as it came.

No.

Come back.

It was a struggle to open his eyes. But he did.

He blinked and sees someone, a woman, hovering over him.

Why does she look so familiar?

Then it hit him.

The woman in the bookshop.

The moment his eyes focused on her, she seemed relieved.

He felt it resonate through him.

Somehow, she appeared brighter, more unbearable to look at than the fucking sun above them.

She removed her floppy hat, placed it behind his head and used it as a cushion. She smiled down at him. Her mouth was moving, but he couldn't hear what she was saying.

He concentrated on her dark eyes, and even darker, almost, raven hair, flowing freely over the wind. Her lips were pink and soft as a carnation in full bloom. Her nose, tall and prominent. Her jaws, chiseled to look at but felt so delicate to touch.

He felt the remaining air knocked out of him.

He wanted to reach up and caress her beautiful face, but his body wasn't cooperating with him at the moment. Because everything hurts.

Everything fucking hurts.

The woman worked above him. He couldn't tell what she was doing. But his eyes bulged out of its sockets when he felt her, pressing her hand, hard, on his side.

He looked down and saw her holding a blood-soaked napkin on his torso. A sharp pain lanced through him, making him bite on his tongue. He closed his fist around hers.

Please, stop.

The woman cradled his head, soothing him. Her sweet, but firm voice, muffled by the pain. "We have to keep applying pressure. You're alright. You're okay."

The discomfort from his side was making it harder to think. He saw colorful spots flashed before his eyes, merging and splitting into thousand circular patterns. He let out a strangled scream and held the woman's wrist.

Make it stop.

"I'm sorry, I know it hurts. But I have to, okay?"

Her face swam back into focus again, clearer than everything and everyone else.

Her hair was falling around her face. He wondered what her hair would feel like wrapped around his finger. He wanted to tuck it behind her ear and see her blush.

He wanted to see it more than anything else.

"It's okay, you're gonna be okay." He heard her cooed through the haze before then she roared, "You work for him?!" Her voice as sharp as her face.

"Ye-yes." He recognized Alek's voice, the only one in his men who can speak English.

"Okay!... Bring me a flat surface... No… I don't care! Break the table, if you have to! He needs to be lying down!"

He never heard someone yelled at his men like that, not even his father, not even him. This tiny woman was barking orders to his people like she fucking owns them.

Atta, girl.

He felt his body spasm out of control; he was trembling again. This time, it's more unnerving than the last. The consciousness, he was trying his best to hold on to was slipping.

He was falling through the empty, dark space again; the space he knew was reserved for people like him.

"Hey! Hey! I'm here! I'm here!" she shouted at him, raking her fingers through his hair.

That felt good.

"Look at me."

And he did.

Her eyes were enthralling, it felt like they were the only thing keeping him here. It felt like it would hurt more to look away.

What color are they? He mused.

A flashback appeared before his eyes- a forgotten memory. He's eight again. He's baking. His mom was laughing beside him. He missed her laugh. She was letting him whisk the melted dark chocolate for the cake. She dipped her fingers in the bowl and bopped him on the nose.

Mamma.

"No, no no." he heard the raven-haired woman again. Her voice, disembodied like she's talking from behind a veil.

The wonderful slender fingers stroke his jaw again, like she did those books. "Stay with me." she said. Her tone was the borderline between a plead and a direct order.

He wanted to laugh. Nobody orders him around. But he did as he's told.

"That's it. Eyes on me." She uttered with her big, penetrating eyes.

Gray. Her eyes were gray, like the color of a giant sea storm.

"Where's that table?!" she howled again.

He kept his gaze on her, trying to name and decipher all the grays in her eyes.

If his life wasn't ebbing away, he would've found the situation ludicrous. The great Massimo Torricelli was finally taking his time gazing at someone else's eyes for the very first time.

And the last time.

How fucking twisted is that?

"Stay with me. Stay with me. They're coming." She whispered. One hand was holding his head up, the other was still in the gnashing bullet wound, applying pressure. The blood spilling from him was staining the blue romper she's wearing. He felt sorry. Why does he always have to destroy beautiful things?

I'm sorry. He almost wanted to say.

Dying really does bring the firsts out of people.

"Hurry up!"

He stared at her beautiful, angelic face, committing everything in his memory.

"Stay with me." she murmured again, flicking her eyes to his face and wound every now and then.

His dry lips cracked into an agonized smile. He wanted to comfort her, tell her it's alright.

But he knew.

He'd always known.

From the very first time he pulled the trigger.

Nobody's coming to save the devil.

He stopped believing in God decades ago. But in these few moments of limbo, he realized that this- seeing her for the first and last time- was the cruelest punishment he could ever have.

He clutched her hand with his shaky ones, rallied the remaining power in his body and choked, "Mio Angelo."

And the darkness welcomed him, like the prodigal son that he was.

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5 years later.

Warsaw, Poland

-I'm so sorry. I'll come over tomorrow. I promise, B.

She received the reply a few seconds later:

-Girl, it's okay. I have my wine and a half naked Paul Wesley on tv. It's fine, I'm not thinking about whatishface.

She texted back, guilt shrouding her:

-Are you sure it's okay?

Again, she didn't wait a second for her response.

-I am! Go and kick their ass, Laura. x

The text elicited a smile from her. She shoved her phone in her bag and storms the elevator.

Furious was an understatement.

She's supposed to have dinner with one of her best friends tonight. But because David Sawicki can't do his job properly, she's stuck here for the next hour. She heard the echoes of her most prized heels on the floor tile. Her fists clenched beside her, her lips pursed in a straight line. She felt the anger emitting like, from her skin.

The employees on either side of her parted and flattened themselves on the walls. She made her way to the board room, avoiding anyone's judgmental gaze.

They don't know what happened. Let them look.

She reached the heavy wooden door of the conference room and pushed. There were only four people in the room.

"Good evening, Miss Biel." Oskar, the PR manager greeted. She returned his warm smile and sat on the empty swivel chair next to him.

James, the head of their security sat in the nearest chair by the door. Marissa, the senior head's secretary was eyeing up the bastard sitting across her. But Sawicki was ignoring her. He was ignoring everyone in the room, except her.

She met his belittling gaze.

"Have you packed your shit already, Miss Biel?"

She sneered back at him. "Shouldn't you be asking yourself that question?"

Before he could make a comeback, the doors opened and the senior head entered.

"Good evening." Hayden Marek addressed the room, his eyes glued on the stack of folder he's holding.

Without further ado, he took his seat at the center of the table. "Now, can anyone please explain to me what the hell happened yesterday-"

The room was quiet. Her eyes remained on Sawicki, challenging and unfaltering.

Marek raised his voice. "-And how the fuck did it happen?!"

Sawicki was quick to point fingers—as the child that he always has been. "Why should we ask Miss Biel? Excuse my language, but one needs to have balls to have this job."

The room turned to her.

"Miss Biel?"

"First of all, it's not my fault." She started, cool, calm, and collected.

"Listen, Ma'am-" Sawicki butted in.

"I haven't finished yet." She hissed at Sawicki. "As I was saying Mr. Marek, it's not my fault. I'm in charge of bookings and reservations. It has never been my job to temper rowdy customers."

She narrowed her eyes at Sawecki. "And I think you should explain to us, why in the entire building there are only two security guards in the building? I remember explicitly suggesting that we need more. Since the band is Beatles level famous. I remember telling you that at our briefing, Mr. Sawecki."

Beside her, she could feel her friend trying to hide his smile.

"I booked the band at our hotel on purpose. They're at the top of their game and we need the publicity. We gave them and their team the best rooms. We even closed down the bar and buffet room to give them their privacy. Me and my team went to them ourselves and asked for anything they might need. Even if it's not part of our job."

She continued, holding everyone's attention. "Everything was going smoothly, until a roadie got past security and caused a scene. One of the members got mad because we promised them privacy."

Sawicki was speechless. He knew the story himself, having happened before his eyes.

"The roadie sent messages, bragging how she got in. And before we knew it, a legion of slutty teenagers bombarded the lobby. The band barely got out. If it weren't for the efforts of my team. I dealt with the press and strategized a new approach so we wouldn't lose our loyal customers and patrons. I'm proud to say that we are now booked for the next four weekends." She slid the reports to Marek, whose eyes widened at the numbers at the bottom part of the paper.

Yes, keep the ugly, greedy man fat with money.

Marek averted his annoyance to Sawecki. "You, in my office. Right away." And he stood to leave, James and Marissa followed him.

She leaned forward, elbows flat on the table. "This is exactly you need balls for."

Sawecki glowered at her before turning his leave.

Oskar clapped a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Good job, girl." And he too left, leaving her alone in the big, cold conference room.

She gave him another amiable smile, hoping it'll ease the tension in her chest.

Unlike many, Oskar is different. She felt at ease with the old man. Oskar was probably her only friend in this building. Most of them either feared her or wished her out.

They were unsuccessful with that last part.

But she has to admit, she's tired of this. Men constantly disparaging her and her achievements.

Because of what? Her gender?

Unlike those dumbasses she met in med school, she presumed that men in the hospitality sector would be more... non-discriminatory. But no. All men appear to be the same sensitive, egotistical and easily threatened rats she experienced them to be.

Yes. Even her boyfriend fit the bill, sometimes.

Men always tell society that they need strong, intelligent, independent women. But what they really want were cheerleaders. Someone to boost and feed their ego.

She exhaled the deep breath she was holding.

Calm down, Laura.

To distract herself, she checked her phone for the very first time since lunch.

Still no messages from Martin.

"How surprising." she scoffed.

She has never been the clingy type, but a simple short text after a long day at work would ease her stress.

She and Martin had been dating for four years already.

He came up to her at a hotel event and made an actual fool of himself to get her attention. She thought it was cute. Two years into the relationship, she sold her apartment and moved in with him. One year of living together, he proposed. And to this day, she didn't know what came over her to say yes.

For the past few months, they've been having more arguments. His reason? She's spending way too much hours with her work and no time for him at all. And she felt guilty, because it's true.

Thus, she's been trying to redeem herself. She tried to come home early, prepare his food and do other stereotypical duties of a good fiancé. But still felt... insufficient. Like something was missing.

Olga was having none of it. She hated the man. Unlike Bianka, she has never warmed up to Martin, even after all theses years. "You fool, don't settle for that lazy, bald freak. You're not his maid. Let him wash his own smelly gartered underwear." and she added, for good measure,

"Passion is essential to every relationship, as important as love."

Olga was always the voice of reason- whenever she wanted to be,

But she loves Martin.

She felt passionate about him.

She loves him.

Right?

If that wasn't love, why did she buy their tickets to Sicily for her birthday weekend? Why did she booked those romantic getaways? Martin was pretty excited about it.

That's love.

"I love him." she convinced herself. "You love Martin, Laura. Stop overthinking it."

The door creaked open again and the maintenance guy went in, pushing his mop cart. The man stopped and apologized.

"Przepraszam, Miss Laura. I thought it's empty."

"No, no. It's fine. I was just leaving" She smiled and gather her things. "Have a good night."

"You too, miss."

The floor was now empty, except for the cleaners who waved in her direction. She waved back, sincere and friendly.

As she was about to press the elevator button, when Oskar called her from the doorway of his office.

"Laura?"

She turned. "Mmm?"

"Marek told me that he wants to meet with you tomorrow. His office at 4."

"What?" She couldn't help but the thrill in ringing in her voice. But she toned it down. "Why?"

Her friend jiggled his eyebrows at her. "I don't know. Marek called me to say that Sawecki no longer works here. The General Manager position is open."

Laura squealed and hugged the man. She has not been working her ass off for four years to settle for the beta position. She knew she deserved so much more than what they're already giving her.

"Thank you, thank you!"

"Hey, all you sweetheart." Oskar kissed both her cheeks. "As an early gift, I have my driver take you home."

"What, no-"

"No buts. Besides, I have a date. A very hot date."

"Oh! Where'd you meet him?" She teased.

"Now you know that I don't kiss and tell, Laura sweetie."

"Kinky! I love it."

"Now get your ass out of here, Conrad is already in the lobby."

"Thank you so much." She enveloped him another tight hug before hurrying down the elevator.

Her mind was still reeling from, the possibilities of her promotion. She went over her mental list of the changes she could make to the management. This was probably the best birthday present she's ever had in years.

As he promised, Oskar's driver was waiting for her. Conrad has always been shy around her. He was standing by the passenger door and opened it as she approached.

"Dziękuję Ci." She smiled.

The man turned pink and nodded.

She didn't need to tell him the directions since Oskar has offered to take her home countless of times. Most of those times were, when Martin forgets to pick her up.

It wasn't a long ride, only a good thirty minutes—including the traffic. She could take the cab, if they weren't too damn expensive this time of year. If the bus fumes wouldn't kill her, she would literally take the bus every single day.

She was in her third year of MED school when her grandmother fell ill and died. Due to debt and budget constrictions, she's forced to quit the one thing she cared about the most.

She loved medicine, she loved studying it. The lengthy explanations, crucial step by step procedures, the jargons appealed to her.

With the death of her grandmama and her quitting medicine, she had a relapse and fell into a mild depression.

That's when her body developed it.

She was out with Olga that day she first fainted. She thought it was only panic attacks but it became more frequent. She consulted her doctor and found out she has Supraventricular Tachycardia. In simpler terms, she has a heart palpitations. That meant that her heart was beating more than it normally should. Her condition causes her to, sometimes, pass out and hyperventilate. This prevented her from engaging in strenuous exercises, smoking, stressful situations and caffeine.

She hated it. Everyone who knew has treated her like she's something fragile, like, she'll break at the tiniest push. It was disconcerting. So, she decided to keep it a secret, that even her parents didn't know.

She had no plans to tell Martin because it might affect their relationship—which it did. He accidentally found out a few months after they moved in together.

She couldn't tell anyone at work, except of course, the HR manager. She couldn't let assholes like David Sawicki get the slightest indication that there's a chink within her armor.

The only persons who do know were her college best friends, Bianka and Olga, and her doctor.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket.

Martin.

Finally.

Hey honey, I'm coming late from work. Don't wait up for me.

Wanting to prove to herself that what she felt for him was still valid, Laura smiled deviously. She glanced in the rear view mirror to make sure Conrad wasn't looking where wasn't supposed to.

She unbuttoned her blouse, down to the last three buttons. She recorded a video and captioned it with:

Aww. But they miss you.

When he didn't reply in the first three minutes, she sent him another. She hiked her skirt to her upper thighs, widened her thighs and snapped a picture.

I miss you.

She was feeling hot that she slid her fingers on her inner thighs. She kept her moans to herself.

She waited for his reply, but it didn't come. Not even when she reached their apartment.

The frustration was twisting her abdomen, evil and needy. Martin's coming off late ever since... she couldn't remember.

A few weeks ago, he's required to put extra hours for the insurance firm he's working for. It was a slap to her face; she's finally having a taste of her own medicine. But she didn't pressure him on it. Nor complain to him about it. She loved a hard-working man. Besides, that way, he could finally get off her back for doing the same.

But as a consequence, she's left… dry and unsatisfied. With only her toys and fingers for company.

She sighed and threw her bag on the hook, and shook her hair out of her bun.

She took a quick look around.

At least, he left the apartment clean before he left this morning.

Martin was the messiest person she knew. Seriously, how hard is it to throw your wet towel in the dryer? Or put the scissors back where he got it from?

The knot in her abdomen tightened and she bit her lip. She went to check on her phone.

Still nothing from Martin.

She called him, but it went straight to voicemail.

"Oh, fuck it."

She poured herself a glass of wine before going to their bedroom. Even though she's alone in the apartment, she closed the door as a form of habit.

Martin doesn't like it when she pleasured herself.

She pulled out her special drawer and grabbed the black toy hidden among her sweat pants. The sight of it alone made her insides clenched in excitement. She took s huge gulp of wine and began to undress herself.

Her fingers traced her curves, slowly. The pads of her thumbs brushed over her nipples. She let out the loud moan she's been holding in the car before she switched the vibrator on.

The buzzing filled her ears, making the fire in her belly burn even more. She grazed it over her bra. Her nipples erected in their lacey confine. She removesd the clasp of her bra, to her own slow pace, and shimmied out her drenched undies. She lay on the bed.

There were certain advantages of studying medicine. Aside from treating other people part, this was one of them.

Shew was gasping now. Her hand was rolling the toy over the sensitive spot. Just the right amount of roughness, if not, more. Something Martin could never do, no matter how many times she told him how.

Her moans rocked their stilled apartment. She arched her back as she pumped against her own palm, using her legs and feet to meet her strokes.

She bit the back of her hand as she felt the white heat dripping from her. Her back landed back on the mattress and she waited for her heart to slow down.

But she knew she could take more.

God.

She could take so much more.

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#365 dni #365 days #laura biel #massimo torricelli #Laura x Massimo #Massimo and Laura #michele morrone #anna maria sieklucka #Blanka Lipinska #365 days fanfic #365 dni fanfic

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the-overgrowth · 4 years

Note

Please don't read this ask as combative, I'm just genuinely curious. How do you justify the age difference between Sidra and Val? I know you said Val is technically a teenager/young adult in fae years but isn't that the same justification a lot of immortal/mortal pairings use? (Like Twilight with Edward being "frozen" at 17.) The fact is that Val's lived literally 200+ years more than her and that has to color the experience divide, right? Is there a way authors CAN make these age gaps work?

No worries! I think it’s a good question and gives me an opportunity to clarify some stuff! I should preface this by saying that it’s totally ok if people aren’t comfy with the “young woman paired with ancient magical dude” trope that’s common in fantasy nowadays. It’s not for everyone and that’s fine. I’ve tried to make my take on it more morally palatable, but if it doesn’t work you, then it doesn’t work for you.

Putting this under a cut because it got long, oops.

Val isn’t “frozen,” he literally ages 10 times slower than Sidra, including mentally and emotionally. 50-year-old fae are the equivalent of 5-year-old children. Val being 223 is basically him being in his early twenties, barely mature enough by fae standards to be considered an adult. So while Val has been an adult longer than Sidra has been alive, from her perspective, Val has also been an official “adult” for like, 2-3 years, from his perspective. He also doesn’t see Sidra as being 2 years old, he sees her as being similar to himself in age, as a young adult. In fact, it fucks him up a little that she’s a fully grown person when she’s the same technical “age” as a toddler. The same way it fucks Sidra up that he’s still alive. He can’t wrap his head around how “quick” humans are. To him, growing a mind and a body and a personality takes centuries and she did it in two decades? Weird. Gross.

I should also mention that while yes, technically the sheer amount of stuff he’s seen is more than what Sidra has, the fae also perceive time differently than humans as a result of their immortality. So he doesn’t necessarily retain all of the stuff he’s lived through, or it doesn’t affect him the same way it might affect a young developing human.

However, this is all details compared to what I think is the most important thing in cases like these: framing.

In the case of Twilight, the framing emphasizes how Edward is mature and has been through high school and college multiple times, how he knows and understands more than Bella. His age is written as adding to his power, his allure. He doesn’t consider himself a teenager, and neither do his vampire peers. In every way but physical, he’s an ancient adult. It’s supposed to be intriguing that an older, intelligent and beautiful man would find a plain teenager attractive, and his age is used to reinforce his power and dominance.

If Edward perpetually had the mind of an actual 17-year-old instead of being “physically” 17 and mentally 109 or however old he is, I think Twilight would have the opposite problem of Bella eventually dating a teenager as she grows older unless she turns into a vampire. That’s sort of touched on in the books but it doesn’t go much further beyond “I will be a wrinkly old woman and you’ll be hot forever!” because, again, Edward already had Bella beat in the “life experience” department, and would still have that over her even as she grew older.

In the case of ACOTAR, it’s a similar thing. I don’t recall if it’s ever explained how the fae mature, but I do know that Rhys has been “waiting” for Feyre before she was even born? Like, the mating bond paired him up with a human infant at some point? And he has to wait for her to become an adult before they can boink? Same with Jacob and Renesmee. That’s just straight up magical grooming, fam. These men are adults for an extremely long time while they wait for their younger partner to catch up and become legal, often not even letting her live a life independently before they marry and have babies. These men become their partners’ lives.

In my case, Val’s age is framed against a backdrop of much older fae who patronize, belittle and insult him because he’s a young man poking his fingers into things that he’s too naïve to understand, according to them. This on its own doesn’t automatically solve the age difference, but he’s not framed as having power over Sidra, he’s not considered one of the oldest and most powerful fae, he’s not held up by the narrative as an older man who somehow, against his better judgment, is lusting over someone much younger than him because she’s just so mature and full of life and special. His age isn’t held up as a mark of experience and maturity and power. It’s just a thing that marks him as different from Sidra, on a magical worldbuilding level.

The younger party is also important. Are they inexperienced and naïve? Are they a young sheltered teenager, only now entering their first ever romantic/sexual relationship? Are they entering this relationship without any prior knowledge of who they are and what they want from life and a relationship with this person? Is this adult their first and only entry point to adult life in general? (Not saying you need to have multiple partners before you can find “The One” or anything, but having a frame of reference and knowing what you want out of life and the relationship is important IMO.)

Sidra doesn’t see Val as superior to her, she doesn’t think he’s above her and that she doesn’t “deserve him” or that he’s too good and cool for her, that she’s somehow not enough because she’s younger. She sees him as an equal, which makes any attempt at pulling the age/experience card pretty meaningless, because she doesn’t believe he knows what’s best in any given situation just because of his age. She doesn’t see him as an authority on most things and doesn’t consider herself below him in most things, either. She has already built a solid understanding of who she is and what she wants (or doesn’t want, at least). One of the first things that happens in the book is her rejecting a man because she realizes that she doesn’t want for herself what he wants for her.

And while yes, Val does eventually become a large part of her life and helps her figure out what she wants and needs and what she wants to become, she does the same thing for him. He isn’t a jaded old man taken with a pretty young thing who brings light back into his life or some other cishet-white-man nonsense, he’s young and stupid too and she helps him realize what he wants and who he wants to be. And they don’t do this on purpose to each other, it just happens through their interactions. Even if it were one-sided Val simply doesn’t have the maturity and experience to essentially “groom” Sidra into anything. Plus, they don’t get married and have children at the end (spoilers, I guess). They’re not bound to each other the same way many YA fantasy books often “bind” their young protags to their much older love interests (mating bonds, marriage, kids etc). Sidra still has the choice and ability to leave him whenever she likes and she’s fully aware of it.

That being said, my solution isn’t perfect and tbh I don’t think there is one? But this is fantasy, mortal-immortal pairings will always have weird dynamics because they’re not real and everyone makes up their own reference for how they should or shouldn’t work. Things like these will be subjective, and as long as the characters involved are adults, are making informed decisions and don’t have significant power imbalances because of their age difference, I think it can work!

(The target demographic is also very important I think. Impressionable teens shouldn’t read things that make adult men attractive or desirable. My target demographic is a bit older than that and I hope most of my future readers will have enough sense and independent thinking to know not to imitate fiction. Plus, again, I’m not playing on or emphasizing the typical age gap power dynamic.)

Hope this answered your question!

#long post #worldbuilding #oc: sidra #oc: val #sorry this got rambly #Anonymous

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mx-chrx · 4 years

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Summary: Tim had practically begged Dick to get a flu shot. He probably should've listened.

Barbara checked the time again and sighed. She opened Dick’s contact and sent him a couple question marks. He hadn’t responded in almost an hour and she wondered if she should be worried or annoyed.

When it came to the “Bat Crew,” as Stephanie sometimes called them, tardiness could mean anything from a nap run wild to a slow bleed behind a dumpster.

She scrunched her eyes shut, quickly ridding herself of that mental image and the tension that it had squeezed into her shoulders and was just about to send Tim a text when she finally heard the familiar rumble of a motorcycle pulling into the lot.

Dick hopped off and shot her a goofy smile as he sauntered her way, his hair a sweaty tangle and his eyes somewhat droopy.

Nap run wild, then.

“Sorry about that,” he murmured, his voice brittle with exhaustion as he tilted her chin up to kiss her. “My alarm didn’t go off.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Barbara said. She wanted to seem annoyed, but her relief that he wasn’t mortally injured somewhere made it difficult to maintain.

Part of her wondered if normal girls worried that their boyfriends were dying whenever they were running late for a date. Probably not.

They headed for the theater, Babs’ arm looped around his, and she frowned at the dense hoodie he had on while she was in shorts and a tank.

“What’s with this?” she asked, tugging on the sleeve. “You covered in bruises or something?”

He nodded but avoided her eyes the way he always did when he was either lying or embarrassed. She pursed her lips at him but said nothing as they moved through the ticket line.

It wasn’t until they got to the concessions area and Dick hesitated to join her in line that Barbara found herself on high alert.

“What’s wrong?” she asked. “Don’t tell me you aren’t getting anything.”

She’d personally watched Dick polish off family sized combos singlehandedly. It was equal parts impressive and frightening.

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard a few times, the color slowly draining from his face. “Uh, you know, I’m not hungry,” he said, his voice wavering. “M-maybe later.”

“You don’t eat popcorn because you’re ‘hungry,’” she teased, but she was getting genuinely nervous now. Her heart was starting to pound.

Dick didn’t seem hear her, but an urgency came over him as he shoved his wallet into her hands. “Here,” he said breathlessly. “I’ll be right back.”

“What are you–” she began, but he was already ducking into the bathroom.

Ten minutes later Babs had an armful of popcorn and was waiting impatiently by the men’s room, grinning awkwardly as people drifted in and out. Finally Dick emerged, a rueful smile on his lips and even paler than before.

“Sorry about that,” he muttered. His skin was glistening, and she couldn’t tell if it was from sweat or if he’d splashed water on his face.

“What’s going on with you?” she asked, instinctively reaching for his face, but Dick retreated from her touch, taking her hand in his instead.

Okay. Definitely hiding something.

“Nothing,” he promised. “C’mon, we’re gonna miss the trailers.”

Within the first forty minutes, Dick slipped out at least four different times, each time with a different excuse. A phone call, to get some candy that he didn’t even touch, to get Barbara a refill.

When he left for the fifth time, Babs had had enough. She grabbed her bag and their food and followed him.

She lingered outside the bathroom for only a few seconds before rolling her eyes at herself and going in. Whatever was going on in there, she was sure she’d seen worse.

Thankfully there was no one in there, which spared her any awkward explanations or excuses. The only person happened to be in the first stall, where a pair of shoes were sticking out from under the door.

The guy looked like he was kneeling in front of the toilet. And Barbara didn’t have to do much digging to know exactly who it was.

Dick coughed and groaned painfully, his voice reverberating in a way that made her suspect he had his face in the bowl.

Gross.

The toilet flushed and he opened the door and braced himself against the frame. His hair was clinging to his forehead, his eyes half-open and shadowed, and he looked moments away from sinking to the floor.

Barbara stared, her arms crossed like a disapproving mother, and waited for him to notice her.

When he finally did, his tired eyes went wide. “I– Babs, what are you doing here? This is the men’s room!”

He staggered past her to close the bathroom door so that no one else would come in, and the short dash seemed to take everything out of him because he stumbled over to the sinks to lean against the counter with his eyes squeezed shut.

Barbara waited, arms still crossed tightly, fighting the urge to comfort him right away.

After a moment he squinted at her, apparently battling a headache, and sighed. “I know.”

“You’re sick.”

“I’m not ‘sick’…” He lifted a trembling hand to his temple and rubbed it.

“You look like you’re about to pass out. When was the last time you ate something?” she demanded.

Dick considered that for a moment. The fact that he had to think about it at all made her want to scream.

“It’s been a while,” he admitted. “Haven’t been able to keep much down.” He added the last part reluctantly, his gaze shifting away.

“Dick,” she sighed, finally going to put her hand to his forehead. He didn’t pull away this time. In fact, he leaned into it, his eyes closing.

His skin was way too warm as if he’d been laying out in the sun for the past hour instead of sitting in a dark theater. “It’s probably the flu,” she said. “You should be home.”

“The flu,” he muttered. “Tim is gonna go ballistic.”

“What?”

“Nothing.” He looked at her through heavy lids and tried to smile. “I’m fine,” he breathed, but there was no conviction in his voice.

“You’re burning up.”

“You calling me hot…Gordon?” He could barely muster the energy to finish the joke.

Barbara just rolled her eyes, kicking herself for the schoolgirl thrill that still sent through her.

Damn him for being so charming.

“Why don’t you take this thing off so you can cool down a little?” she suggested, starting to pull off the hoodie, but he grabbed her wrists.

“Don’t,” he whispered, suddenly earnest. “Please. I’m freezing.”

“Fever and chills,” she noted. “Yeah, you’re a picture of health there, Grayson.”

He grumbled something weakly and shoved his hands under his arms as he shuddered.

“C’mon. Let’s go,” she said, tugging one of his hands free so that she could snake under his arm and let him lean on her.

The process was slow, with Dick having to stop a few times to catch his breath or sit down on a bench to rest, and there was one nerve-racking moment when Barbara wasn’t sure he’d even make it to the parking lot without passing out altogether.

She was strong, but she definitely couldn’t carry an unconscious Dick Grayson alone for very long, and the last thing any of them needed was for some well-meaning bystander to call an ambulance.

When they finally did make it to the parking lot, she felt a massive weight lift off her chest, but Dick looked suddenly anxious, his mouth twisted in an awkward frown.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, already searching for the nearest trash can. It wasn’t too far. If she dragged him he could make it.

“I don’t think…” he began, avoiding her eyes again. “My bike. I don’t think I can make it home on my own right now…” His pale face suddenly turned red as he continued to look anywhere but her eyes. “I mean, I could but–”

“It’s fine,” she said, cutting him off before he could dive into a blackhole of backpedaling and caveats. Even after so many years of working alongside people – Batman, the rest of the Gotham crew, the Teen Titans, and even sometimes the Justice League – it struck her how hard it still was for him to just admit when he needed help.

She supposed that was the case for any of them, though. They’d all rather grin and bear it than feel like a weak link, even with something as low stakes as the flu.

She wondered if that had something to do with where they grew up. Weak links didn’t tend to last long in Gotham.

“I brought my car,” she added, tilting her head towards the maroon Nissan.

She loaded him into the backseat so that he could lay down, and as soon as his head hit the seat, he was out cold. When they got back to his place, Babs had to half-carry him up the steps, fumble with one hand for the spare key he’d given her, then awkwardly assure the desk worker that everything was okay before she managed to drag him up to his apartment.

They shuffled to his room where, once again, Dick flopped lifelessly across his bed, and Babs quickly abandoned any effort to coax him into more comfortable clothes. Instead, she slid a trashcan over along with a glass of water and some aspirin, then retrieved an ice pack from the freezer which she wrapped in an old T-shirt and laid across his forehead.

Dick muttered something that sounded grateful, and she kissed his cheek and wandered into the living room.

A few hours later, she was back in his room with a bowl of soup saying, “Come on, at least hold it.”

Dick, now propped up on a few pillows, stared at the bowl then looked at her. His mouth curled into grin that was an odd mix of playful and embarrassed.

“Would you believe me if I told you I genuinely can’t?” he asked. Then he lifted his hands a bit off the bed and turned them slowly. They shook noticeably, and Babs realized he genuinely wasn’t confident that he’d be able to hold the bowl for himself right now.

The sight of Dick being so depleted, the man who any other day was practically backflipping off the walls and leaping across roofs and laughing with his whole being, turned something jagged in Barbara’s chest.

Without another word, she scooped some of the soup and held the spoon to his mouth. “Open.”

“What? No sound effects? Isn’t it supposed to sound like a plane or something?” he teased. “Where’s the ambiance? The mise en scene?”

She laughed in spite of herself. “Sound effects are for people who don’t lie to their girlfriends about being sick for three days.”

“Ouch,” he said, but he opened his mouth to take a bite. Then he paused, the spoon still in his mouth. “Girlfriend?” he asked.

Babs felt her face getting red. “Don’t talk with your mouthful,” she ordered quickly, then shoved another spoonful in before he could respond.

Dick just laughed, a muffled sound since he hadn’t managed to swallow anything yet, and in that moment, he looked more like himself than he had all day.

He made it about halfway through the bowl before he was sick again – and Barbara couldn’t help but think her rapid-fire feeding was at least partially to blame. But after that, he slept for the rest of the evening, with Babs changing out his ice pack and checking his temperature every few hours. She realized that was all probably excessive, but it made her feel better regardless.

The next day the color was back in his face, and he got up on his own and took a shower. The day after that, he was practically back to his normal self, and emerged from his room freshly shaven with wet hair and his shirt unbuttoned and the scent of soap and lotion wafting off of him.

Barbara sat up on the couch, groggy and achy, but pleased to see him on the mend. “Looks like someone’s feeling better,” she yawned.

He plopped down next to her, finishing the buttons on his shirt. “I’m a new man,” he announced.

“The wonders of food and rest never cease to amaze,” she murmured, without much spirit. She felt almost too tired to even smile properly.

Dick eyed her carefully. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m just tired,” she sighed. “I haven’t gotten much sleep these past couple days and unlike you and Tim, I need more than two hours a week to function properly.”

“Right,” Dick said, looking somewhat wounded. It made Babs’ chest ache. She hadn’t meant to make it sound like she regretted staying to help.

“Thanks again,” he said. “For everything.” He leaned over and kissed the side of her head, then pulled back, his brows scrunched together.

“What?”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked. “You feel warm.”

“You calling me hot, Grayson?” she asked. Dick grinned but put his hand to her head. His palm felt shockingly cool.

After a second, his eyes went wide. “Uh oh.”

“Don’t say it.”

“Babs, I am so sorr–”

Before he could finish, her stomach lurched and sent her careening towards the bathroom where she collapsed in front of the toilet and hurled her guts out. A few moments later, she felt her hair be pulled gently away from her face and a hand rubbing circles into her back.

“This cannot be happening,” she groaned.

“’Fraid so,” he sighed. “I’ll make up my bed and get you something to wear.”

“Okay… I’ll be here…” Her words were muffled partially by the toilet seat pressing against her cheek and soon, without realizing it, she’d drifted to sleep.

She was only vaguely aware when a pair of strong arms scooped her up and placed her in a newly made bed. Something cool went across her forehead, then a pair of lips brushed her ear as they whispered, “Guess it’s my turn to take care of you.”

Barbara smiled, or at least she thought she did, before succumbing once again to sleep in a bed that smelled distinctly like her favorite person.

#barbara gordon #dick grayson #nightwing #dick grayson whump #sickfic #batman fanfic #batman fanfiction #nightwing fic #batgirl #dick grayson/barbara gordon #whump

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