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rinhaler · 1 year

Text

NOTSCAREDNOTSCAREDNOTSCARED!

✧˖*°࿐ : 18+ only, no minors. ✧. ┊ ⁭frat boy!oliver aiku x f!reader

Genre: college!au (mostly shameless smut tbh) Notes: first fic on my new blog and it's absolutely disgusting, enjoy. Warnings: 18+, noncon, somnophilia, drugging, virgin killer!oliver, implied virgin reader, tit sucking, pussy eating, biting, fingering, marking, love bites ♡, creampie, spit, alcohol consumption, lmk if I missed any!! Words: 5.3k

What a naïve little thing you are.

That’s the first thing Oliver thinks when he sets his sights on you. A shy, sweet girl wearing the one and only cocktail dress you probably own. It’s so simple but makes a loud statement. You don’t look like the other girls here. You aren’t wearing designer clothes that fit you like a glove, no. The ill-fitting garment you’ve chosen to wear speaks volumes to your innocent nature and your lack of confidence. You don’t have friends, do you? You’re here, alone, in the sleaziest and most prolific fraternity on campus. Of course, it’s a party, and anyone is welcome to attend. But the fact that you decided to come here, alone, makes him think you might be a little stupid.

But that suits him just fine.

He doesn’t approach immediately, for fear of giving the game away too soon. He bides his time and observes your behaviours and mannerisms as you wade through the crowds. His eyes have followed your longing gaze a few times and noticed how you keep looking towards the kitchen. It’s the busiest room in the house right now, he assumes. That’s where the keg and all of the alcohol is.

But almost as soon as you look that way, you avert your eyes and look elsewhere in search of a place to belong. You’ve tried starting a few conversations with the girls, but Oliver knows how catty and mean they can be. Poor thing, fresh meat like you doesn’t stand a chance.

You’re lonely, aren’t you? You’ll feel better with a little company, yeah?

He carefully walks by you in a way that will cause you to spill the drink from your grasp. And with that, this sinful game can begin. The one in which he tells you how sorry he is for causing an accident and ruining your dress. He’s so apologetic that you just can’t help but forgive him right away. And his attractiveness doesn’t go amiss. The kindest person you’ve met thus far just so happens to be so deliciously handsome.

“Let me get you a refill, it’s only fair.” he winks. And you hate yourself because your stomach flits at the casual gesture. It’s probably a line that he uses on all of the girls he meets at parties like this. It’s plain to see that he’s confident. You’re sure there won’t be a shortage of girls throwing themselves at him after a gesture like that.

But you aren’t stupid enough to be the same.

He seems older, by at least two years. He seems comfortable enough here to get you a drink so maybe this is his party. He could have a girlfriend for all you know that is in another room and completely oblivious. You don’t want to make waves before you even experience your first day of class.

People seem friendlier towards you when they notice you with him. Is it genuine? Or could they be laughing at you? His hand resides in the small of your back as he guides you far into the kitchen; until you’re standing between an island counter and the fridge. Your body is warming, and, fuck, he can feel it. You’re so shy. He hasn’t seen a girl like you in a long time. The slightest bit of attention and touching and you’re putty in his hand. What a good girl you are, he’s going to have so much fun with you.

You watch him, carefully, as he rummages through the fridge and grabs a can of beer.

You’re a little deflated as he cracks it for himself and begins to chug.

“I didn’t catch your name.” he states as his unmistakable eyes watch you intently. He has eyes you’ve never seen before, and you’ll have a hard time forgetting. Mismatched purple and green. They’re dull, but not uninteresting by any means. They’re the eyes of a man who always gets what he wants. Those eyes beautiful eyes… they’re bored because they are a prestigious, all access key to gain whatever his heart desires. You hum, hesitating for a moment until you decide you’re too awkward and uncomfortable to hide your name from him. “Oh, that’s a real pretty name. I’m Oliver.” he introduces himself.

“Hey… Oliver.” you smile, unsure of how to respond. You’re so on edge. His peculiar eyes are examining each and every movement you make like you’re being graded. And your heart is pounding… you can’t help yourself. Nobody here has extended so much as a pitying smile. You want to pass his test, he’s the only person being remotely nice to you. But still, there’s a gnawing feeling eating away and corroding your insides and it makes you feel like a criminal, like you’re doing something wrong.

Like you absolutely should not be talking to him right now.

“You’re pretty too.” he smiles, brazenly. His voice is so deep and charming, a sonorous lull as he knows all he needs to do is utter these three simple words to get a girl like you to be completely and utterly captivated. It’s such a pathetic, insipid sentence and you can’t stand that it’s working on you.

You get a full view of his wide, toothy grin and you sense that he’s trying to extend a gesture of trust to you. And you’re encapsulated by it. Pristine pearls almost blinding you and short circuiting your brain as you arrive at the realisation that he might be perfect. His features nothing short of perfection and accentuate his beguiling persona that you can’t get enough of. You haven’t even noticed the way your chest is heaving as you devour a mind-altering cocktail with him as the main ingredient.

And he can’t help but chuckle when he notices how flustered you’ve become from his words, you adorable thing. Three little words are making you squeeze your thighs together and fold your arms over your chest. And don’t think he hasn’t noticed the quickened breaths you’re taking and the dampening forehead you’re suddenly trying to wipe away. He’s noticing everything about you and making mental notes in his mind he will use later.

Do you know how vulnerable you’re being?

You should know better than to be so visibly rattled by him. He may be handsome but he’s hardly screaming upstanding citizen at you. It’s the facial hair. It’s so grotesque and sleazy and wholly unpleasant. And still, the only thought swirling around your tiny, tipsy mind is how it would feel against your skin as you kiss. How would the scruff feel between your inner thighs as he devoured your petalled flesh. You shouldn’t be thinking like this, you aren’t sure what’s wrong with you.

You don’t know how to act, do you?

“Don’t be so nervous, sweetheart.” he tells you, getting closer. The smell of his cologne invading your senses. It’s familiar, it smells expensive and suits him just fine. The type of fragrance you’d save for a special occasion to make an impact and impress people you’re around. Your nostrils flare as you inhale more. More of it. More of him. You need more.

He angles his head as he monitors your response to his proximity. He grins when he notes that you aren’t sure where to put your hands. Moving them a few times before you decide to grip the overhang of the counter behind you until the skin covering your knuckles are taut, turning white. You want to feel his chest, don’t you? It’s so broad and muscular and peaking under his shirt, he doesn’t blame you. You probably haven’t had much experience with a guy like him.

He's more than happy to show you.

You’re starting to think your heart is packing up its belongings and preparing to flee from your own chest as you feel it beating rapidly against your ribs. He’s so intoxicating, you feel lightheaded and overwhelmed by the mere presence of him. His body is trapping yours against the counter. He’s so damn tall, taller than you could have possibly imagined now that he’s pressed against you like this. Your cheeks fill with heat, and you think you might actually faint against him if he doesn’t move away. “There are bad guys at places like this, y’know? Dangerous place to be so pretty.” he warns you, whispering gently in your ear. The tone rushing through your veins and forcing you to shiver. His eyes meet yours after he speaks, his stare willing you to understand what he’s saying.

“T-Thank you…” you mumble.

“Hey, don’t worry so much. I’m the house president, I’ll keep an eye on you.” he assures you, moving away ever so slightly while keeping a lingering hand on your shoulder. A commanding touch to make your body and your mind focus on him. His hand is cold to the touch and you realise it’s from holding the metal can, cold from the refrigerator. The cooling caress of his fingers is polar opposite to the warm smile he’s offering you. You aren’t sure what to do or say, but you need not worry about yourself anymore. He had intended on doing all of your thinking for you tonight, anyway. “Oh, shit, you wanted a drink, right? Let me get one for you.” he speaks, his body moving to act before you can even answer.

“U-Um…” you hesitate, seeing him grab a bottle of rum and a mixer. You hate spirits because they always get you embarrassingly wasted. There are four prominent occasions in the forefront of your mind as you reminisce on the states you’ve found yourself in after drinking spirits. The smell alone is enough to make you gag, but you do all you can to ignore it. You don’t want to make a fool of yourself, you don’t want to do something humiliating that will be talked about for years to come.

You aren’t a prude; you aren’t opposed to getting drunk. You just don’t think it’s a good way to introduce yourself.

He’s moving so fast, and his back is to you as he pours your drink, the red solo cup obscured from your vision as he fills it to the brim for you.

You dumb little thing.

Isn’t this something you’ve been warned about? Not letting your drinks out of your sight at any point, ever. Of course you have, it’s rule number one of going to parties or nightclubs or anywhere that your drink can be tampered with.

You just aren’t thinking straight.

And why would you?

You’re so out of place in this big, intimidating environment. You’re hardly going to suspect the first person to show you a bit of kindness is actually the shadiest guy at the party. But deep down, you know you should consider everyone a suspect after hearing what he had to say. If the guys here are so shady, why does he stick with them? If he’s the president, why doesn’t he tell them to do better?

These few fleeting thoughts have been nothing but. Passing ideas that you thought of and discarded as quickly as they arrived. You can’t live your life in fear or you’ll never make any friends here. And he’s going to all of this trouble for you. You’re nobody to him, and he’s still finding it in his heart to extend a benevolent demeanour to you and making sure you have a drink and a friendly face to keep you company for the night.

So you aren’t going to think twice that he’s slipped something in your drink, you can’t see what he’s doing, but for some reason, you trust him. Would you trust him, still, if he wasn’t so good looking? Would you trust him less if he hadn’t announced he is the fraternity president? He knows you’d never have trusted receiving a drink from him if he just offered it to you out of nowhere.

He’s happy he didn’t have to work too hard, you aren’t completely stupid, but you’re still dumb enough to accept a drink from him like this. You barely even think about it as he flashes you a beaming smile and hands it to you. Hell, it might even loosen you up. You knock half of it back in three seconds and you giggle after the fact.

He’s laughing too.

But it’s at your expense, you poor, sweet thing. You’re going to be seeing so many stars tonight, a sight reserved for Oliver’s favourite angels.

“You’re crazy, huh? You like to party a lot, baby?” he wonders, taking another swig of his drink as he rests against the fridge beside him.

“No, never! This is my first big party.” you confess, and he doesn’t miss the way you slightly cringe at yourself for saying something you must think is a little embarrassing. “I mean, I’ve been to parties… this one is just—”

“You’ll get used to it.” he tells you. “The first one is always memorable, though.”

“Really? How come?” you ask, curiously.

God you’re so cute, it’s killing him. Even he can’t hide the smirk forming on his face as he tries to conceal it with his beer. He decides to not answer. Instead, he admires the way you look disappointed at the prospect of him losing interest in you. He thinks he could bathe in the watery sheen glossing over your eyes as you worry that you’ve said something so stupid that he doesn’t want to talk to you anymore.

He's such a disgustingly vile man. All he can think to do is refuse to put you out of your misery. Instead, he revels in the way you knock back the rest of your drink. The way your eyes widen paints a perfect picture in telling him it was too strong for you. Stronger than anything you’ve ever drank in your life. And that’s without the added ingredient he decided to slip in.

“I— do you have a girlfriend?” your question is abrupt as you wipe the excess liquid from your plump lips. Your watery eyes watching him keenly as you do your best to decipher his intentions.

“No.”

You scoff and shake your head. “I don’t even know why I asked you that, as if you’d tell the truth.” you mumble to yourself, but it’s loud enough for him to hear. And just as you’re about to walk away, he responds.

“I don’t care if you know whether I have a girlfriend or not. I would only care if I was trying to fuck you.” the sentence rolls off his tongue with ease. Like he knew exactly what you were going to say before you even thought of it. And you feel a wave of humiliation crash throughout your body; you feel a current trying to drag you under and suffocate you under the foaming sea.

“Y-You aren’t?” you need to stop talking. You need to stop embarrassing yourself like this. For his benefit. For the other people in the kitchen with you. It feels like everyone is staring at you and laughing at your expense. Maybe you’re just drunk and being paranoid. You should go, you should sprint out of here with whatever small scraps of dignity you have left.

He shakes his head, his hand reaching out to yours to pull you closer to him. It trails, up your side and to your chin as your eyes fixate on his. His thumb smooths over your chin, encouraging you to open your mouth for him. He tilts his can of beer onto your lower lip. The golden, yeasty liquid spills from the metal container and onto your tongue. Your eyes don’t leave his as all you can do is stand there and take it. Your little throat expanding with each glug of the disgustingly bitter drink.

Your body is once again pressed against the counter. He snickers when he feels your body jolt against his as you hear the sound of the beer can he was holding clattering against the tiled floor. And he takes great delight in the way your body melts against his touch as he places a hand on your hip. The other, smoothing the shell of your ear before he levels his mouth with it.

“I don’t need to try, I’m going to fuck you.” he whispers, he kisses against your ear a few times and the sound rushes straight to your clit. You squeeze your thighs together again hoping to alleviate the brewing tension. You pray you were discreet enough for him to not notice.

You weren’t.

And it’s worse as he kisses your neck so openly in front of everyone. He sucks and sucks and sucks until his name is signed in blue and purple blooms against your skin. You bite your lip, internally cursing him for forcing you to have to wear a scarf for the coming weeks until it fades away.

“S-Stop it.” your legs buckle and there is something wrong with your eyes. The room won’t stop spinning. You didn’t drink that much, did you?

“Woah!” Oliver exclaims as you fall into his hold. “You don’t know how to handle your drink, hm? I think you need to sleep it off.”

“T-Tax—”

“No, no. I’d be a terrible host if I made you get a taxi all by yourself. C’mon.” he lifts you with ease, your entire body limp in his arms. And he just can’t believe how lucky he is. How blessed he is to be born so genetically gifted. Because he knows there is no way in hell he’d be getting away with this if he wasn’t attractive. Girls looking at him like he’s some kind of hero coming to your rescue. Him, a hero. It would almost be hilarious if it wasn’t so fucking tragic.

There’s no way you’re forgetting your first frat party.

He’ll make sure of that.

As he passes a few of his brothers on the stairs, they all share a knowing look. Like this isn’t the first time Oliver has been in this predicament. And it surely won’t be the last. He winks at them as he walks by, and he puts you down as he reaches his door, your body dropping like a stone as he lets you fall with no care.

You can do nothing but groan as he drags you by your underarms and into his room. God you want to go home. Not to your student accommodation. Home. You want to be with your parents and under your own roof, sleeping in your own bed. It’s hard to even tell where you are. Are you still in the kitchen? No, there’s no way.

All you can think about is how tired you are.

Suddenly, you’re in the air, being flung onto a nearby bed. You feel like your body doesn’t belong to you. You’re no longer in control and you can’t move your limbs how you want to. You want to use your legs and walk right on out of here and into a taxi.

But you’re lucky, really.

Your body doesn’t belong to you anymore. It’s all his. His to do whatever he wants with. You can’t move, and yet Oliver is going to be kind enough to move you however he likes. Maybe you don’t feel so lucky about it. But you’re just confused right now. Oliver knows you wanted this. Wanted him. The pill in your drink was just a little insurance policy to make sure everyone got what they want.

He prefers girls like this anyway.

Nice ‘n pliant.

“Said I’d take care of you, didn’t I?” he smiles, lecherous hands feeling each and every inch of your body. A curious hand reaching up to touch the fat flesh of one of your tits as he massages it over your tiny little dress. “Think you can wear something like this and expect me not to fuck you?” he whispers.

“Mmmpf…” you hum, there’s still a little defiance in you. At this point, he wouldn’t mind if you were on the cusp of sleep. There’s something so special to him about extracting salacious moans from unconscious bodies.

“’m just getting you out of this little thing… gonna find a comfy t-shirt for you to wear to sleep.” he assures you. He wonders if you believe him. He almost believes himself. But as he pulls down the strapless bust of your dress and your supple flesh is revealed to him, the thought of covering it again dies an instant death in his mind. “Fuuuuuck, gorgeous fuckin’ tits.” he moans, his bulge straining against his jeans as envisions himself sucking them until they’re puckered and raw.

He climbs over you, your tiny frame beneath his domineering one. He’s sure you hadn’t neglected to notice how muscular he is before you passed out, even beneath his clothes. He must be some kind of athlete. He’s too beefy not to be. And boy, does he use his weight and size to his advantage when he’s dealing with delicate things like you.

His head practically falls from his shoulder as he decides to let his fantasy come to life. He licks and laves over your tits individually until he gets a little rougher. Softly nibbling the tender buds until they are aching and so sore. His teeth bruise your flesh as he marks them. An assortment of canines and molars as well as decorative love bites.

Any chance you had of forgetting this party are gone.

You’ll know what happened to you.

You might even remember who did it.

But there’s no way a sweet, timid freshman like you is going to have the courage to tell such an unbelievable tale. You might think there are steps in place to protect innocent things like you. You’re a victim, after all. You need protecting. But once again, that would just be so telling as to how naïve you truly are. Drugging pretty girls at college parties is never going to end. The staff, the students, even the police are never going to side with you.

And why would they? These false statements issued by the board, talks of ‘standing with victims’ and offering a listening ear are nothing but lip service. The institution you have found yourself in will say anything to seem like a worthwhile choice. The right and most beneficial choice to you and your future.

But the harrowing truth is that they don’t have time to protect girls like you when they are too busy covering up the messes of men like him.

He pushes your dress up to your midsection, exposing a pair of white lace panties.

“Awe, for me? You knew you were gonna get lucky tonight, didn’t you?” he asks. But of course, you’re unresponsive. His finger prods at the thin material, an involuntary laugh leaving his lungs as he is greeted with the feeling of your soaked underwear on the pad of his digit. “Too dumb t’speak right now… good job your cunt is telling me how much you want me.”

His thumb circles your clit over the material. And even he’s a little dumbfounded at the way your body betrays you. You squirm and your brows furrow as you try to stave off the pleasurable feeling. But for all he knows, you could be trying to fight him off.

He doesn’t care, though, your pussy already gave your true feelings away.

Even he can’t ignore the way his cock is leaking at the sight of your tight heat becoming exposed as he peels away your panties. A slick string connecting your sex to the material.

You must be a virgin, he thinks. Virgins get wet so easily. He suspected it from the moment he saw you. You’re so awkward and uncomfortable around people, but especially guys. You fumble over your words, and you can’t flirt to save your fucking life. But he didn’t care. The thought of your first time being with him was enough to make him want you. And even if you have fucked before. It doesn’t matter, he doesn’t need to know. The very thought is enough.

He pins your knees to your chest, and he begins to feast on your dripping cunt. You shudder as your body feels the tension building with each suckle and slurp against your clit. It’s unrelenting, he can’t get enough of you. He’s fucking addicted to the taste of your slick and he doesn’t know how he’s gone so long without it. Your left leg ragdolls as he lets go, opting to slip a finger into your unprepared hole without stopping his assault on your swollen clit.

And without hesitation, he’s adding another. He takes his time scissoring you open, and by now he’s convinced you’re a virgin. You’re so fucking tight. There’s no way you’ve had a dick inside of you. Or if you have, it must have been small.

You won’t have to worry about that with him.

Even unconscious, he’s sure you’ll feel how he’s gonna stretch you.

Your lazy groans are like a cheer to him. Your body is telling him what a great job he’s doing. How close you are. How badly you want to cum in his mouth and douse his thick, calloused fingers in your syrupy sheen.

The tip of his tongue lashes over the throbbing button at the apex of your thighs. He doesn’t particularly care if you take him well or not. You’re going to take him regardless. But he isn’t so heartless he won’t try and make it a little less painful for you. He’s urging you to cum for him, his free hand pressing down on your abdomen in a bid to enhance your pleasure. With each whip of his tongue against your clit and every press of your spongy insides with his fingers, he’s trying to drag you over the edge.

Your lifeless body surprises him once more.

He pulls away and observes the way your pussy pulses and your walls tighten around his fingers as you begin to cum for him. Your spent little cunt drooling around his thick digits and coating them in your slick. You even moaned for him. Not loudly, of course. A few tell-tale grunts to let him know you were happy with his work.

His eyes ogle your tits once again, admiring the way your chest rises and falls as he sucks his fingers clean. You’re so fucking cute. You must be heaven sent, the way you stepped into the frat may as well have been a gift with a garish bow from Santa Claus himself.

He unbuckles his belt with one hand whilst squeezing and pinching your nipples once again. They’re so pretty, the prettiest pair of tits he’s ever seen. He’s rock hard in his jeans, leaking like crazy and desperate to be buried to the hilt in your sweet little snatch.

And his heavy cock springs free, the tip leaving evidence of just how desperate he is on his v-neck shirt. Pearly pre shimmering against the black material that is soon to dry and harden and meld with the cotton fibres. But he can’t find it in himself to care. He pulls it over his head and throws it into the corner of his room, he’ll deal with it another time. There’s something much more entertaining lying atop his sheets right now.

“Mmm… think this is gonna hurt sweetheart. But you’re gonna be good ‘n take it f’me, yeah?” he lines himself up with your entrance and gives your still body one final look before breaching your insides with his thick cockhead. “Fuckin’ hell you’re tight. You’re so fucking tight, might cum just from this.” he speaks.

He knows you can’t understand him, but he can’t stop himself from communicating with you anyway. He needs you to know how special you are. That out of all of the girls at the party, he chose you. Don’t you feel special? He’s sure you will when you’re stuffed full of his cum. It’ll all dawn on you tomorrow and you’ll feel so honoured that the one and only Oliver Aiku fucked you open and covered you in so many pretty patterns and was even kind enough to pump you full of his cum.

You have no idea how much restraint he’s showing by not instantly splitting you open on his thick, heavy cock. He can’t help but feel that slowly plunging into your virgin walls is a better display of claiming your body. It’s almost torture for him, easing in inch at a time at an agonising pace.

And when he’s fully sheathed inside your suffocating walls, the pleasure is almost too much, he could shed a tear at the feeling. But, of course, he won’t. He’s prioritising the task at hand.

He holds under your knee and pushes it further into your chest and begins to slowly roll his hips. It’s hypnotising, the way even out of consciousness your eyes can still roll back into your skull. He takes note of how he’s moving when your eyelids begin to flutter.

“Oh baby… right there? Like it when I fuck you there?” he wonders, experimenting with his movement and speeding up ever so slightly. His cockhead is nudging your g-spot so perfectly. It’s so deliciously soft, and those saccharine expressions you’re donning are about to drag him to an early demise.

His grip on your thigh is harsh. Another galaxy of purple bruises forming under his fingers on your doughy skin. He hasn’t noticed. It’s second nature to him to be a little rougher than intended. But it’s part of the fun, right? More little discoveries for you to find in days to come.

He’s entranced by the way his cock vanishes inside of your cute cunt. He’s being swallowed whole by your sticky lips. The sound reverberates throughout the room. The suctioning sounds of you pulling him inside and the tackiness of your pussy and his cock meeting again and again and again.

Your eyes squint as he yanks down your jaw until he sees your tongue. He’s so abhorrent and even at this point he knows this to be the truth himself. He just can’t fucking help it. He wants to do anything and everything to you. He wants to humiliate you because you’re just that special to him. With a cartoonish ‘ptuh’ sound, a glob of spit has landed on your tongue and is slowly sliding down your throat.

With a few more presses of his tip against your sweet spot, you’re spasming around him again. Maybe you liked it after all. You wouldn’t cum if you didn’t. Do you like being taken advantage of by reprehensible scum like Oliver Aiku? Do you like being unconscious while getting your insides pummelled? This might warp your tiny little mind. Maybe you’ll think this is love and this is what you’re meant for. It is, as far as Oliver is concerned. He doesn’t let up humping into your tiny hole. He spits in your mouth again, and it’s the final straw to pull him into his oncoming bliss right along with you.

“Little slut,” he pants, his hips faltering as he feels himself reaching the precipice. “Mine. My little slut. My fuckin’ cunt. H-Hear me? Mine.” he practically growls as he shoots load after load into your unprotected womb. “Ah— fuck. Fuuuuuck—” he finishes, fucking his viscous seed back into you.

He pulls out immediately after, admiring the way his sperm drips and squelches out of your spent cunt. You’re clenching around nothing, poor thing. You must miss him.

But you don’t have to worry. You won’t have to miss him for long. You’re not done, after all. He just needs some time to recharge. He wasn’t just going to fuck you once and be done with you. Not a perfect little pussy like that, no. Those drugs will be in your system for a few hours.

He’s far from done with you yet.

#oliver aiku x reader #oliver aiku smut #oliver aiku x you #aiku x reader #aiku smut #aiku oliver x reader #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #blue lock smut #bllk smut #tw noncon #tw somno #tw drugging #tw biting #tw marking #tw spit #tw alcohol

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she-who-fights-and-writes · 30 days

Note

Hi! Firstly, thank you for creating this blog and helping all of us out! Secondly, and sorry if this is such a silly question, but how do you write an engaging summary?

I find my own fic summaries are so… lackluster… and not even I’m interested in reading it — so how I can I expect others to be? Even if I like my story, when I write the summary in the start of my fic/in my masterlist, I’m like “Wow… this is not even remotely interesting! 😭”

So yeah, I was wondering if you had any tips/advice for that? 😭 Totally fine if not, I just figured I’d ask. Thanks and have a great day/night! 😘

HOW TO WRITE AN ENGAGING FIC SUMMARY THAT WILL DRAW IN AUDIENCES

Summaries are the bane of many writers’ existences, including my own. It’s already hard enough to get the words down on paper for the actual story, and now people want you to convince them to read it with something more than “I WORKED REALLY HARD ON IT PLEASE IT’S GOOD I PROMISE!!!!”

Squishing a ton of context into a small blurb seems impossible, but I promise it can be done!

Obviously everyone goes about things differently, and a lot of these tips may not work for everyone, but nevertheless, here are some tricks on how to write an engaging summary!

Here’s a simple template I like to use, which will be the focus of this post:

Hook (Draw the reader in!)

Context (What are the core elements of your story?)

Cliffhanger (Introduce a question/scenario that the reader will want to click to know more about!)

1. Start With a Hook

Just like with the first sentence of a story, the first sentence of your summary should immediately spark the reader’s interest.

A bold statement! A good (short) quote from your fic! A shocking discovery! A cool word definition/the definition of your title!

I always like to put the hook of the story on its own line/paragraph, just to emphasize it.

Examples of a hook (Note, these are rushed and off the top of my head. Just meant to give a general idea, not be literary masterpieces): - "It all started when Character A puked on their Uber driver." - "War was inevitable." - "Character A would be dead by sunrise. That’s what Character B vowed." - "By the time they got to the city, it was too late."

Your hook is probably the most important part of your summary; someone will know within milliseconds whether or not they will continue reading.

Once you’re past that initial hump, it’ll be easier to convince a potential reader to skim the rest of the summary. Giving something that jumps out at them will set your story apart from others and ensure it gets that click you deserve!

2. Give Some Context

For shorter one-shots, sometimes a single hook is enough! But if your fic is longer, with a bit more moving parts, you might want to choose a few highlights. Get the essence of your story on paper.

This can be super hard, so don’t feel discouraged if you feel like you’re not getting it. I’d suggest keeping your context to about 1-3 sentences depending on the length of your story, so make sure they count.

Buzzwords are a key factor in getting the main points across. Use ones that relate to your main plot to your advantage!

For example, if I were to make a short summary of Game of Thrones for someone who has never watched it before, I would definitely include some of these buzzwords: - Dragons - Conquest - Succession - Revenge - Slaughter - Betrayal

Using powerful words (i.e. slaughtered instead of killed) can help draw in your audience!

I can't dictate exactly how you should write your context, since every fic is different and shouldn't be brought under an umbrella of the same rules, so it might help to find inspiration from other people’s summaries.

3. Pose a Question the Reader Will Want the Answer To

The biggest point of a summary is the “so what?” factor. You have all of these tags, but how does the fic make use of them?

A summary shouldn’t be giving all of the answers, but it should still leave crumbs for the reader’s imagination! This doesn’t mean that you literally need to put a question in the summary, but rather pose an unresolved scenario/problem that the reader will want to click to know the solution to.

Here are some example sentence templates that pose an indirect question, often put at the end of a summary to spark interest (Note, these are rushed and off the top of my head. Just meant to give a general idea, not be literary masterpieces): - "Everything changes the moment Character A makes a choice they can't take back." (What is that choice? How does it affect the other characters?) - "As the truth comes to light, nothing will ever be the same." (What is the truth? How does it change things?) - "A dangerous game begins, and only one can emerge unscathed." (Who will be that person?) - “It’s the first time they meet, but it won’t be the last” (What will be these next instances? How do their worlds collide?)

4. Some General Advice

If you don't think the above format works well with your fic, here's just some general advice that can help you out!

DON'T MAKE IT TOO LONG

The biggest mistake I see writers making when posting their work is having a giant four-paragraph summary for their story that takes up half of the feed.

Unfortunately, in an age of fast swiping and instant gratification, a reader may skip over a super long summary simply because they don’t feel like reading all of it.

(The reason why long summaries work for books is because people are more patient when they intend on paying to read something; they’ll take more time considering investments than they would with a free read, since they want to make sure it's worth their money. It’s not fair, but that’s kind of how it goes.)

In my opinion, a fic summary should be no more than one short paragraph, two or three sentences max for a one-shot and maybe five sentences for a long fic.

This isn't exact. It really depends on the length and complexity of the sentence, because no matter the how many you use, if there are enough words to make folks comprehend it as a big block of text, then they’re going to be more likely to skip it.

People looking for long fics will be more patient (since they’re making an investment with their time, rather than money) but if you want to appeal to a wider audience that may be casually browsing and stumble across your fic, definitely consider a more brief route.

PROOFREADING MATTERS!

Because summaries are often an afterthought, many writers don’t put as much effort into it as they would the rest of their story.

I wouldn’t recommend this; people are basing their ENTIRE initial opinion of your fic on this small blurb.

If you rush it and make spelling or grammar errors, people will assume that the rest of your fic is also riddled with errors and scroll past!

Make sure to proofread!

Hope this helped, and happy writing!

#writing #writing tips #writing advice #writing help #writeblr #booklr #creative writing #fic #fanfiction #ao3 #fanfic #fic summary #summary #writing summaries

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aleksanderscult · 1 month

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I love, love so much your blog! I recently finished Shadow and Bone trilogy and my head is like no thought, only Darklina xD So I'm really glad to have found this blog and read your thoughtfull meta!

I have so many thoughts about the trilogy (I've read SoC dualogy but I'm not that big of fan) so I will start with this question: What do you think was the purpose of the donkey dream sequency in S&S? I mean this:

Are they very poor? I ask Ana Kuya.

Not so poor as others.

Then why doesn't he buy a donkey?

He doesn't need a donkey, says Ana Kuya. He has a wife.

I'm going to marry Alina, Mal says.

Then Alina has another dream, where she's the girl but then floats to the sky, leaving the salt behind her.

While reading it, I thought it as a metaphor her being afraid of being with Mal, of becoming ordinary girl and being shackled to him. But with the ending of the trilogy, her losing powers and marrying Mal, didn't she just do that? What do you think LB intented to with this scene? I'm interested knowing your interpration.

Thank you so much, sweet anon! And welcome to this fandom!❤️❤️ You remind me of myself as I was almost a year ago. Be warned though: this suffering will never end. 🥲

Admittedly, I haven't analyzed this scene. Probably because it's too weird and painful.

This couple that they see on the road can really bring Malina flashbacks to the reader.

The man is joyful, carefree, whistling away without a care. He's every inch of Mal from the moment he's been introduced to us.

The woman is tired and struggling. She's Alina carrying this power inside of her without knowing it.

The man doesn't seem to care that his wife is exhausted. The same way Mal didn't seem to care when Alina was sick and dragging her feet. There is this obvious subordination that Mal wants to replicate. Unwillingly or not, Leigh Bardugo really kept Mal's character canon with this vision: he always wanted Alina to depend on him, not to have her own independence.

One could say that his statement "I'm going to marry Alina" is irrelevant with the previous conversation but it does look very suspicious, doesn't it? Mal, a mere child now, seeing this couple and finding it normal for the man to dominate his wife. Was he influenced by such scenes and therefore found them normal?

This scene could be interpreted as Baghra giving advice to Alina regarding her powers and what happens if you suppress them.

But still, why does it kinda look like the same "Have power but only so much as" shit again.

And to be grateful for what? For being a Grisha? Or maybe for having enough strength without needing to search for the remaining amplifiers.

Just like I said in the beginning, these scenes are really sad. For a woman to be compared to a donkey, for a young boy that wants to marry her and (very) possibly treat her that way makes you feel depressed inside. Especially if the reader is a woman too.

The first memory could be real. Or (and I lean on this interpretation) Alina unconsciously conjured a metaphor of how her relationship is with Mal. Deep down she knows how things really are (Mal is the master and Alina just a weak girl trying to catch up on this connection by suppressing the thing that keeps her healthy) but she pushes these things aside, deludes herself and clings on her love for him. The same way she did when she lost her powers. Just look what she said in "Rule of Wolves" to the Darkling. "I am happy. You never saw me this way". Meanwhile Alina's mental state: ☠️☠️

But how Bardugo thought about this scene? That Mal just made an innocent, romantic comment that didn't pass the vibe check. I'm very sure that she didn't want him to be sexist here (she cares about this character too much to spoil his reputation) but she bamboozled herself and made him look like a little prick. Ana Kuya's comment "He doesn't need a donkey. He has a wife" probably reflects the sexist world that Leigh created. Which, by the way, would be fine if she had only let her protagonist break away from these kind of "chains" and find her own power and purpose inside this story *gestures towards George R. R. Martin's female characters*.

#this scene is a jumpscare #you enjoy your book and then Bam! you get hit by sexist bullshit #the only good thing from it is how Aleksander touched her cheek while she was unconscious #thank you for the ask anon! 🩷#anti malina #anti mal oretsev #anti leigh bardugo #alina starkov #siege and storm #shadow and bone #grishaverse

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greg-montgomery · 1 year

Text

Ivy - Part 11

gif by: @hotch-girl <3

Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader (Sean Hotchner x Fem!Reader)

Series summary: Your relationship with your boyfriend, Sean, is going great. Well, that is until you meet his older brother, Aaron.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10

i am back!!!! <3333 we're getting close to the end my besties <3 if you missed the previous chapter, i'm sorry i didn't tag anyone! but now my blog is fixed and everything is back to normal!!

i think i’ll only write one or two more chapters on this story and we’re done 🫶🏻

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

“She’s gonna be alright.” Those were the words Aaron had said to him after getting you back. Sean was holding onto those words like his life depended on it.

“Thank you for reaching out to me for help, even after everything we’ve done to you,” his brother had said. “It means more to me than you know.”

“I would never put my pride above her safety.”

“I’m really proud of you for that.” That statement should have not made his chest swell the way it had. Seeking validation from his older brother seemed like a trap he still fell into; even after being betrayed by his own blood.

“I don’t know if you’ll ever find it in you to forgive me, but I don’t want to lose you.” Sean remembered the way Aaron’s voice had broken after saying those words. “Just know that you’ll always be my family and I’ll always be by your side if you need anything. You can still hate me, I don’t mind, as long as you know I’m always here if you need help.”

“I know.”

“Hot chocolate is ready!” A bubbly voice snapped him out of the memory of that phone call.

“How can you be this energetic at 4 in the morning?” he groaned, taking the cup of hot chocolate from Penelope’s hands.

“Well, my job doesn’t really have a schedule. So I’ve been trained to be alert at any time of the day. Or night.” She smirked.

Penelope had insisted on staying with him after hearing the news that you were safe. Sean couldn’t even imagine how awful he must have looked for a stranger to make an offer like this. But he was glad she did. That woman was full of warmness and light; things that had been missing from his life.

He had only managed to bring the mug on his lips, when he heard his phone ring. It was you.

“Hey,” he said, breathless.

“Hi, Sean.” Your voice was weak, tired; he could tell. But you were alive and that was all that mattered.

“How are you feeling?”

“Better. I slept, I showered, and now I’m having something to eat.”

It stung that it was Aaron who had probably cooked for you; that it was Aaron’s embrace you had found comfort in that night. It was all clear to him now. Sean was the reason you had been kidnapped. Aaron was your knight in shining armor who had come to your rescue.

It would never be Sean again for you. It would always be Aaron.

“God, I’m so sorry,” he cried. “I don’t know what to say. I feel like the bigg-”

“Don’t you dare apologize for this,” you interrupted him. “How could you have known?”

Sean wasn’t able to reply, his sobs choking him, preventing his voice from coming out.

Penelope was quick to sit next to him and take his hand in hers. “Hey, it’s okay.”

“Sean, do you think we could meet at some point? And just talk? I think we both need it.”

You were right. “Yes, we do. I’ll text you when I can.”

“Thank you,” you said.

There was an awkward pause. The times you were giggling on the phone asking him to hang up first were long gone.

“Um…try to get some sleep, please,” you spoke again. “I’ll be doing the same.”

“Okay, Y/N. Good night.”

“Good night.”

A kiss on the forehead by Aaron calmed your beating heart down. “I’m proud of you.”

“I can’t tell whether he hates me or not,” you admitted, letting your phone drop on the couch next to you. “Last time we talked it felt like he didn’t wanna see me again. And now it’s…”

“It’s all very complicated,” he said, leaving another kiss on the side of your head. “He’s hurt, but he still loves you. And now he feels guilty on top of everything.”

“I don’t want him to forgive me because he feels guilty.”

“We need to give him time, my love. Let him reach out to you when he’s ready. He needs to process his emotions first,” Aaron said. “We all do.”

“Thanks for the input, Oprah.”

“Ah…” he said, throwing his head back. “I missed that nickname.”

You laughed and kissed his cheek with all the love in the world.

Brining your attention back to the soup you had left, you brought up a little detail from the phone call you just had.

“As I was talking with Sean…” you started, “I swear I heard Penelope’s voice at some point.”

“Penelope as in…”

“As in Penelope Garcia.”

Aaron raised his eyebrows in surprise. “I guess she stayed there for moral support?”

“Can she even do that?” you wondered.

“Well, your case wasn’t official so I guess she can,” he argued.

“Hmm…interesting.”

At least you were gonna sleep easier now, knowing that Sean wasn’t all by himself.

“Shh…Try not to wake her, okay buddy?”

“Okay.”

After a sleep full of nightmares that you were back in that basement, being woken up by the whispers of your favorite people was a blessing; even if they managed to do the exact opposite of what they had just said.

You opened your eyes slightly, being met with a little Jack climbing up the bed.

“Daddy, I woke her up,” he said, turning to face his dad with a guilty face.

“It’s okay, my angel. Come here,” you said, softly, opening your embrace for him.

Jack was soon in your arms, and to the sight of Aaron smiling at the two of you, you fell back asleep.

This time, without bad dreams.

My family: those two words were on your mind the entire day you spent with them.

Normally, you would be irritated if the people around you acted as if you were going to break at any point, but how could you be mad when those people were Aaron and his son?

Aaron told Jack you were a little sick and that was all it took for him to act as overprotective of you as his dad did. They didn’t let you lift a finger, and somehow, this treatment felt comforting. You felt loved and cared for. You were important to them.

“Need some tea, maybe?” Aaron asked, as you rested your head on his shoulder. Jack was playing in his room, finally giving you some time alone.

“All I need right now is my man to hold me.”

“Okay. I’m sorry if I’m being too much.”

“Don’t be sorry,” you said, placing your palm on his chest. “Thank you for taking care of me.

“I would lose my mind if something happened to you,” he admitted. “I don’t even wanna think about it.”

“Then don’t,” you replied, kissing his jaw. “It’s over now.”

“It is,” he said softly, his nose brushing against yours. “I love you.”

“I love you.”

You cupped his cheek and brought his face close to you, giving him a deep kiss. “My love…”

“Y/N, look what I made!” Jack’s excited voice made you break your kiss abruptly, but not fast enough for him not to see what was happening. To Jack, you were still his aunt – not his dad’s girlfriend.

Embarrassment and surprise were written all over his face as he stared at you, before running back to his room.

“I’ll talk to him,” you told Aaron before he even had the chance to speak.

You knocked on Jack’s door and entered his room after hearing his soft, “Come in.”

Jack was sitting cross-legged on the carpet, a superhero figure occupying his hands.

“Hey, buddy.”

“Why were you and daddy kissing?” he asked, staring at the toy on his lap.

“Honey, uncle Sean and I are not together anymore,” you said, taking a seat next to him.

“You don’t love him anymore?”

“I love him, but not the way I love your dad,” you answered honestly. He was a kid, but you weren’t going to hide the truth from him. Children understood everything anyway.

“You love my dad?”

“Very much.”

“And does he love you too?” Jack finally looked at you.

“He does.”

“So now you’re my dad’s girlfriend?” His tone was curious, not judgmental like you feared.

“Yes, my angel,” you said.

“Isn’t uncle Sean mad at you?”

His question hurt, as innocent as it was.

“He is. And we deserve that.”

“I’d be mad too.”

Thanks, Jack, you thought.

“Max is my best friend,” he said after a small pause.

“Okay…” you said, uncertain where he was going with this.

“But after Christmas break, when we went back to school, he only played with Alex, and not me anymore. And it made me really sad and angry. But then…then…they said they were sorry and we started playing all together. And now we’re all friends.”

You furrowed your brows - trying to ignore your protective instincts that wanted you to fight two children named Max and Alex – and focused on the moral message of his story.

Yes, the three of you would never be best friends. But Sean deserved an apology. The one you hadn’t given him the day you broke up, because you thought it was worthless. An apology wouldn’t fix anything, but Sean deserved to hear it anyway.

Jack interrupted your thoughts by moving closer to you. “I know that uncle Sean is mad, but I’m happy you’ll be here with us a lot. I love you.”

That kid had the ability to melt your heart like butter. “I love you too, buddy.” You leaned in to give him a hug.

“Can I tell you a secret?” he whispered against your shoulder.

“Of course.”

“I kept wishing you were my mom and not my aunt. And I think that my wish came true and that’s why daddy fell in love with you.”

You squeezed him even tighter.

Part 12

ivy tag list: @preciousbabypeter @buckysmainhxe @galaxyofmyown @ssamorganhotchner @romanogersendgame @elhotchner @louderfortheback @northschild @iammirrorball @rousethemouse @kishie8 @save-the-sky @ssacharcoalgrey @realdirectionx @itsmytimetoodream @art-and-thoughts @red-red-rogue @dellalyra @feetgypsy @stella95827 @katieslotherford @jazzymariexoxoc @quietlyignoringyou @justarandommom @sebastiansstanswhore @lelifesaver @aaron-hotchners-girlfriend @whyamihere96 @sylvieofasgard @redbleedingrose @222brooke @xoprincessmel @girlintheredscarf @radical-gecko @yeehawbitchs @jazzerbelle14 @jayxox @adrienette715 @fudosl @sardonic-courtney @emlynblack @kizzywh @formulapierre @crocodilefeet2707 @mojo366 @spicysimpura @twelfthnightorwhatyouwill1998 @mrs-ssa-hotch @clairedragonessbaker @n0t-yours-you-w1sh @tipsyteenstoday @potatoesonacouch @the-fantasy-loving-angel @my-beel @lex13cm @chibsytelford @crimsonincursive

#aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #sean hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #hotch #criminal minds #ivy

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practicalsolarpunk · 1 year

Note

is material consumption ok if it's for hobbies?

I want to start by thanking you for asking this question. It's an important one, and it leads to an idea that we don't really address much on practicalsolarpunk. But we definitely should discuss it more, and this is a good place to start. This may or may not be what you want to hear, anon, but I hope this helps a little bit. (Long post ahead.)

When I started this blog, most of the solarpunk content I could find was aesthetic, fiction, and political action. All of those are very important! Political action and resistance is how we will actually make changes on a systemic level. Aesthetic and fiction content are essential because it lets us imagine a better future, and it's impossible to create a future we can't imagine. But what I wanted was a blog of small things I could do right now or soon to reduce my consumption in general, learn new things, opt out in tiny ways, and make both the world and my own life a little better. This blog is about little things (and sometimes slightly bigger things) that we can do as individuals. Composting, gardening, foraging, and building community may make your life and the lives of those around you better, but they won't change the exploitative and destructive foundations of capitalist society.

practicalsolarpunk is not the definitive guide to solarpunk. It's not even the end goal. In my view, solarpunk has three interlocking aspects: Individual actions towards making a better future, building communities to make a better future together, and political action and resistance to move societal structures and systems towards a better future. On this blog, we mainly focus on individual actions and a little bit of community-building. Individual actions are great, but they can only go so far.

Coming back to your main concept, consumption: It's easy to come to the conclusion that consumption is bad, evil, wrong, destroying the environment, etc. If you hang out in solarpunk spaces, you've probably heard the "There is no ethical consumption under capitalism." And that's true - it is impossible to find anything created under capitalism that is not somehow exploiting the environment or people. However, consumption is required to survive. Eating food is consumption. Wearing clothes is consumption. Living indoors is consumption. Using any method of transportation besides walking is consumption. Even outside of capitalist systems, we must consume to live.

We are prone to black-and-white thinking. We want to sort things into "entirely good" and "entirely bad." When we have those boxes, we can do all of the things that make us good and none of the things that make us bad. It seems especially important to know what's good and what's bad to do when the future and the fate of the world are at stake. But in reality, almost nothing is fully good or fully bad. Everything is somewhere on the spectrum in between.

My guess is you want permission to buy things for your hobbies. (That's my guess because I have wanted the same thing - I hoped permission from someone who knew more than me about what was going on would help me feel less guilty about consuming.) And the reality is that I cannot give you that permission. There are reasonable arguments for either side. Material consumption for hobbies is good because hobbies are great for mental health and you can't change the world if your mental health is terrible. Material consumption for hobbies is bad because even though the consumption reduced is small it can build up to a greater effect over time.

Overconsumption is destroying the planet. We must consume to survive. There is no way to consume ethically under capitalism. All three of these statements are true. That means there is no "right" answer to your question. You can only make a decision based on your values, your needs, and your knowledge. I know what my choice would be in your situation, but I can't say what the best choice is for you.

I'm a huge fan of Maya Angelou's quote,: "Do the best you can until you know better. Then when you know better, do better." Make the best decision you can with the information you have. If and when you get more information, you may need to reevaluate it. Perfection is impossible. Even when the stakes seem terrifyingly high, your best is good enough.

And one final note, because this question has reminded me a lot of myself and I don't want you to fall into the same trap I once did: Don't let guilt dictate this decision. Guilt tells you that you're doing the wrong things, you're not doing the right things, and you're definitely not doing enough. It says that making yourself happy is a moral failing, that it's wrong to do things just for fun while people are suffering and the world is burning, and that you are partially to blame for the state of the world because you chose to consume. Guilt is a liar, and you will destroy yourself before you ever do enough or sacrifice enough to satisfy it.

Ultimately, solarpunk is about creating a better future for people. A future where humans are extinct might save the environment from human overconsumption, but that's not a solarpunk future. Excessive material consumption isn't solarpunk, but denying yourself consumption that would improve your life isn't solarpunk either.

- Mod J

#asked and answered #ideas and theory #long post

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deesseshesca · 1 month

Text

PAC :What are they gagging about u, again ?

Again… A fucking again. Nothing new, nothing changed.

Good morning, pretty souls, today we are diving into the same mess people keep their mouth running regarding you. What’s the remix this time ? What have you done to upset the haters ? Like WTF do they want now ?

FLASH SALE

For the next 2 weeks all readings on my ko-fi is 20$, only

GIVEAWAY

There’s one spot left for a free full audio reading

To participate: You must reblog, like and comment.

Choose the image that’s speak to you and allow yourself to soak ONLY what’s reasoning with YOUR SITUATION

Rules and Disclaimer

I am the type of tarot reader to say as it is. Nothing is sugar coated but everything is sent with good intention. If you are not ready to face some truth, you should vagabond somewhere else.

TW: PANIC ATTACK

Pile 1

Check in : y'all come from a rich abusive household. You are about to run away. Or some of y’all might actually just move.

What’s the gag ?

King pentacles

People are yapping about you, are your classmates or close friends . Y’all come from an abundant family heritage and are living the dream some will never get to even grasp. Let’s not forget your amazing composure. You can get anything you want whenever you want. Probably walking around with an Amex card. Book a ticket overseas at least 4x a year. Whole education in private school even high profile nanny. If you are black, u hear often … « you talk white … ». I fucking hate that statement because what is that supposed to mean 😑… LOSER . They think u must have a very traditional way of thinking. Especially if u are white, they think u lean more towards far right ideologies. And the fact that u call your parents « papa » or « mother » is not helping your case.

What’s actually gagging ?

8 swords

Y’all are going through it with your family. I don’t have any vision regarding what’s going on behind closed doors. But I see you pulling a big bright smile after closing the front door of your house. I see y’all acting literally like a robot. The second that your parents ask for something. You do it. No question or critical thinking involved. Y’all are literally suffocating in your household. This time no amount of money, clothes or first class trip is cutting it.

Bonus💌333, The universe is advising you not to run way. They know you are an individual with good values and you hate acting out of character. But they are giving you the green light to act like a spoiled child and throw a fit. So you can get your own apartment and enjoy a semi independent lifestyle before blowing the big gun. They will hate to see struggle in the real world when u already been through hell in your own home.

FLASH SALE

For the next 2 weeks all readings on my ko-fi is 20$, only

GIVEAWAY

There’s one spot left for a free full audio reading

To participate: You must re-blog, like and comment.

If you want to choose the subject for the next reading make sure to vote on the poll at the end of the post.

PILE 2

Check in : You guys recently got a face piercing. People around u wondered if u are a sex worker. You come from a small town. Y’all have the perfect hourglass figure or peach. Anyway, your ass is fat.

What’s the gag ?

Judgment (reverse)

They feel like too many bad things happen to you. Everyone in town is in your business. Which is not surprising. Like nobody actually minds their motherfucking business ( I’m sorry … I hate when people are in people's business, especially mine . Since I’m a toddler my fav sport is to mind the thinking that pay me … is so annoying when I run around individuals that fucking don’t This is why I never over read in y’all energy even in a collective setting. Like c’mon). I’m sorry pile 2, y’all lost u’re high school sweetheart. Y'all got married but it all scrambles down. They feel like you need Jesus. They think u are bitter, old and alcoholic women. You need to give your heart to God and turn your life around.

What’s actually gagging ?

Queen swords (reverse)

They are partially right (and i oop-). Nah, I have to stay serious. This is a serious matter. You lost the only good thing in your life. I would be turning bitter myself 2. In that nasty old town, where people never let you be in peace. First because of your mom's reputation then because of your beauty. Out here making fun of u because u gain weight. Bitch people are at the gym killing themself to have your curves. Some are dying on the bed of doctor Miami… for what ? I sense that it is constantly like that. Since you’ve been young they made smart comments about you. When they realize, u only get prettier from there… game over. Now they are calling you fast. Then calling you old, they wish. Y’all are between 25-27 like… ok, yeah ok, pipe down bitch (meme reference). You are pondering on doing a 360 of your life right now. You spend all this time trying to please people around you and acting according to people's expectations. Now you want to live in a rather carefree lifestyle. Moving to the big city, where nobody cares about you and nobody deem to care. You might want to be a stripper. Not because you are missing funds or don’t have an education. You just want to go wild for a bit. Seeing if you still got it.

Bonus💌777, When you are ready to share your story that's when great success is going to find you. You might documente your grief on social media or give guideline for other to heal. Some may write a book to help individual going through the trials and tribulations of loosing their ultimate soulmate. Y'all other going to share all the secret tip and tricks of being a stripper.

FLASH SALE

For the next 2 weeks all readings on my ko-fi is 20$, only

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To participate: You must re-blog, like and comment.

If you want to choose the subject for the next reading make sure to vote on the poll at the end of the post.

PILE 3

What’s the gag?

King cups (reverse)

Y’all must be athletes. The people gagging are your teammates. They finally saw you crack. Some were even questioned if you were a human being. Because you are always put on a straight face no matter what. I sense that you had a panic attack in front of them. That was the only time you showed emotion and it was this intense.

What's actually the gaging ?

Queen swords

You’ve been carrying a deep sadness since childhood. You guys are extremely disciplined and private. Y’all also give amazing advice. They think you lost it but you actually lost your mind Because you never really had your emotions under control. You barely know how to cope. The only time that this insanity seems to leave you is when you are practicing your sport. You are actually pouring all you have to the only thing that gives you peace. They will never know that.

FLASH SALE

For the next 2 weeks all readings on my ko-fi is 20$, only

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#tarot reading #tarot cards #tarot spread #tarotblr #tarotcommunity #pac reading #pac #pick a picture #pick a photo #pick a pile #pick a card #pick one #pick a card reading #tarot #free tarot readings #tarot blog

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darcytaylor · 2 months

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I'm so glad I discovered your blog! It's nice to see people have similar opinions on LN. Tbh, he was the cast member I was most concerned about when I initially saw (what I consider to be) the poor writing (and editing) of P2 because he doesn't have the same body of work that the others do to point to and say, see, it's not me! I also think he's going about his career all wrong, but it doesn't seem to occur to him that he is? It's very strange, maybe he's surrounded by yes-men? I genuinely think he's one serious dramatic role away from setting up a steady career for himself, but at the same time suspect that his team is putting him forward for trash projects that ultimately won't do anything for him in the long run.

I actually think he should age up his styling/demeanor because the way he's presenting is too young. I know that the conventional wisdom in acting is to stay up for younger roles as long as possible. However, the issue is that there's a sizeable crop of older Gen Z/Zillenial actors who are killing it right now and if he's going up against them in auditions, he just isn't going to book those parts. What there is, on the other hand, is a vacuum in the 30-something bracket that he could slot into nicely (if he and his team were smart) now that the Redmayne generation has aged out. There's so much he could've done to capitalize on his current popularity, but he's descended into a glorified model. Only booking an animated film and a play with how big the show has been is... weird to say the least. It certainly isn't due to a lack of talent. No short films, even as a favor to a friend? No music videos? Hell, a smart manager would've had him at least drop an EP or do a duet with a reasonably popular singer. He doesn't have any friends who are writers/directors to make a push to get a project made for himself? He's in a position now to try something like that, but I'm not sure he knows it. It all feels like he's spinning his wheels right now.

As to the young gf, on some level, if he's not ready for certain things, I'd actually rather he not waste the time of someone his own age because that's when women start to think about major life milestones and all that sort of stuff. He clearly has some things he needs to get out of his system first. Appreciate you!

I am also very confused as to what Luke is trying to do with his career. I guess from the outside looking in, it seems like he can't get it together, or figure out what direction he wants to go in.

But I am also not in his industry and don't exactly know the ins-and-outs of how everything is done. While I can take note that it seems like he may be spiralling, or confused as to where to take his career, at the end of the day I have NO idea what he is thinking and doing behind the scenes.

His industry is also a very hard one, even when you have a name behind you. It is very competitive so I can sympathize and also wonder if he is auditioning for things but just not getting any call backs.

I also think that some of the drama that he has found himself in has probably set him back professionally behind the scenes, and I think that laying low and not causing too much of a scene may be a good thing (if he doesn't have any jobs lined up).

But then going to smaller events and keeping his name out there a little may also keep the peace for a while, not cause issues and focusing on putting his name in the good graces of professionals and industry folk.

Another thing that could be happening is that he does have some things in the works but he is not allowed to talk about them at the moment. While I don't really have too much hope for this, it could be true! Or maybe he is just happy to wait for Bridgerton season 4 and is only waiting on that to start back up again.

I don't really agree with your statement about him dating young women because age appropriate woman are thinking about milestones. Or that he would be wasting their time. I don't love the narrative that it creates. When you start any relationship you should always voice what you are looking for, your needs, your wants and what direction you see it going/want it to go, communication is key.

But I think that many women who are Luke's age can also be looking for the same thing that he is or are also trying to work through things. Just because you are a woman doesn't automatically mean you want to settle down, have a family, get married. I know lots of women Luke's age that don't want any of that right now.

Most of my friends who are having children are in their late 30s. It's not uncommon for people to start a family at that age anymore. So even if Luke decided to date someone in their late 20s, it would be age appropriate, and I'm positive that he could find one that was on the same page as him emotionally, professionally, and there wouldn't be such a power imbalance.

(also I appreciate you as well! I love a good dialogue between people. It gives different perspectives and even if I don't agree with certain things, doesn't mean I don't want to hear what others think! So thank you for taking the time to read my thoughts, and joining in on the conversation)

#bridgerton #luke newton

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somanyfuckedupiftruebooks · 1 year

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Your blog looks like a tma expert's one and you've probably answered something similar before but do you think social anxiety is more Hunt or Lonely

The singular purpose of this blog is to establish my credentials as a tma expert (something that is both normal to want and possible to achieve) so thank you very much for that. XD

You've chosen interesting entities here. If I could choose from any entity I'd definitely says that social anxiety is primarily the domain of the Eye, but from the options presented, I'd probably go with the Hunt. This is based on a tumblr post I saw ages ago which described stress and anxiety as feeling like "very slow tigers are chasing me" and my own anxiety, which feels like if I make a single mistake I will be immediately and violent eviscerated. I imagine being hunted feels similar.

But speaking more broadly, I was actually just thinking about how interesting it is that the entities can be so diverse in the manner in which they manifest. Each of them have things they are strongly or primarily associated with, but no entity has a singular claim on any one thing. I think if you put the right spin on anything, it can belong to any entity.

The example I was playing with was the fear of being shipwrecked and adrift in the middle of the ocean. There's some entities that make a lot of sense in that situation:

The Vast - oh no ocean too big

The Lonely - ahh i'm alone in the ocean

The End - i will die (lost in the ocean)

But if you put the right spin on the same situation, any and all of the entities could get their greedy little fingers in there:

The Eye - no one knows where i am except the unblinking sun, which is Watching Me Die

The Buried - ocean too big again (but this time i'm sinking in it)

The Hunt - smooth lions are hunting me

The Slaughter - to survive, i must kill all my fellow sailors

The Flesh - to survive, i must consume the flesh of my fellow sailors (that died somehow)

The Stranger - at last i have been rescued by a crew of... people?

The Desolation - i lost everything that mattered to me when the ship went down

The Corruption - the life raft i must cling to is rotting and so am i

The Spiral - voices from the deep are telling me i've gone mad

The Web - i never wanted to be on boat, but it is my fate to die in the ocean and there's no way to escape fate

The Dark - ocean get too dark at night

The Extinction - welcome to Kevin Costner's 'Waterworld (1995)'

I put maybe five minutes of thought into that list, but I'm absolutely confident that I could develop any of those out into a decent statement.

So which entity does social anxiety belong to? All of them, depending on how the individual experiences it. This is true of all fears and all things in all situations. Hope that helps <3

#my posts #asks #tma #tma meta #smirke's fourteen #the entities

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anti-terf-posts · 1 year

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Hi, this may not be the right place to ask, but I’m just wondering what’s so wrong with radfem ideology? I can’t really find any proper resources detailing why it’s wrong, besides screenshots of either toxic people saying toxic things, or screenshots of tradfem blogs. My own research hasn’t brought up anything either, as I can’t really find radfems saying anything horrible like a lot of anti radfem posts describe them saying. Again, sorry if this is the wrong blog, feel free to ignore this ask if that’s the case!

BEFORE WE BEGIN: I AM NOT AN EXPERT. I USED ARTICLES WITH NUETRAL OPINIONS ON RADICAL FEMINISM, AND BASED MY OWN OPINIONS ON IT. USE THIS AS A SOURCE AT YOUR OWN RISK

This one is actually kind of tricky, because some radfem beliefs are actually very valid and are arguably reasonable.

For example, Wikipedia states, "Radical feminism is a perspective within feminism that calls for a radical re-ordering of society in which male supremacy is eliminated in all social and economic contexts" Which like, totally makes sense! The patriarchy needs to be dismantled entirely in order for women to have true freedom.

However, radical feminism dismisses the idea of legal/class based misogyny, which is ridiculous, considering the fact that women in higher classes often have more power over lower class women, and sometimes even enforce gender roles against lower class women (making them do household chores like taking care of the children or cleaning the house for them, etc.)

And let's not forget the racism rooted in radical feminism. Radfems claim that misogyny is the most basic form of oppression, which completely erases the oppression of people of colour, which has been around since almost forever.

In fact, in the early days of this movement, many black women refused to associate with radical feminists due to their ignorance of oppression against women of colour. It was only after radical feminists began to listen to woc, and start including them in their feminism that they decided to join the ideology.

Moving the discussion over towards prostitution and pornography. Radfems believe that both of those are inherently bad things. It is true that women in lower socioeconomic classes have a higher chance of being prostitutes, but it shouldn't be true. Yes, women who are coerced into sex work in any way should have the freedom to quit, but this should not clash with a woman's freedom to join the industry if she wants to.

So, sometime after the radical feminism movement was started, radical lesbian feminism began.

These women believed that they were helping women fight oppression and misogyny simply by being lesbians, because "heterosexuality inherently oppresses women". This statement is incompatible with the belief that women should have the freedom to do what they want. If lesbians are unable to control who they're attracted to, then why isn't that the same for heterosexual women? And let's not ignore the blatant biphobia that comes with that. A bi woman should have the freedom to choose to be in a male/female relationship without judgement (as long as she isn't being coerced into the relationship) and saying otherwise completely erases bi women's experiences as queer people.

Speaking of queer people, we all know and love the classic TERF, or, FART, as I like to call them. (Also, if you couldn't tell, I was being sarcastic about loving TERFs. No one loves TERFs.)

Trans Exclusive Radical Feminists believe that the trans movement "perpetuates patriarchal gender norms," and "is incompatible with radical feminist ideology."

If you couldn't tell, this is greatly untrue. Radical feminism just believes that we need to get rid of the patriarchy and has nothing to do with how people identify. If you take a look at pretty much any article that discuss radical feminism, you'll see the history of anti-trans rhetoric being spread by the ideology.

Being anti trans is probably what radical feminism is most well known for. Over the course of many decades, the ideology has become less about women's movement, and more about punishing trans people for their existence. Hell, even a quick search of "radical feminism" on this god forsaken site will reveal that their main motive is no longer about women's liberation and has now become all about oppressing trans people.

As my mum put it; "it's the cycle of abuse. These women are so traumatized by the patriarchy and misogyny, that they feel the need to abuse the easiest target."

To recap, the radfem ideology is racist, biphobic, and most notably, transphobic. And if that's not enough to convince you that it's problematic, I don't know what is.

#asks #anon #trans #transgender #anti terf #anti gender critical #anti radfem

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queerlilchinchin · 10 months

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Chinchin's WiYS Stream Official Post

This is the official post announcing my Write in Your Style writing stream.

Hello, everyone! Welcome and thank you for your interest in my Write in Your style writing stream.

Stream Description:

To start off, let me describe to you what I envision this stream to look like. Twice a month (every 1st and 3rd Tuesday), I will be getting on my writing streams. Probably somewhere around noon Pacific Standard Time. I will be starting the streams with that stream's strip of writing, then I will read the last stream's submissions.

Of course, I've got to start somewhere, so the first stream will be announcing the start of the streams as well as giving the first prompt. I will be doing livestreaming on twitch, which will then be downloaded and posted on youtube and tik tok. You are welcome to join me on my livestreams. I will open the stream up to questions at the end. It can be questions about the prompt or the concept or whatever else pertaining to the streams.

How to submit writing:

I will likely be making a new blog for it, though I already have a lot of blogs. This blog will be mostly for asking questions about the streams and gaining more interest in them. You may also submit here if you don't wish to e-mail yours to me, which will be the other way. Any submissions left via comments will not be used simply because I don't want to make it easier for others to steal your writing or risk anything like that.

Stream Start Date:

The streams will officially start beginning of December, so the 5th will be the first stream (unless something happens to prevent it starting on time).

Days of the week that the streams occur may change due to my life circumstances being kind of up in the air right now. I'm looking for new work, so my days off may change.

How writing works:

I've had some questions about how exactly the writing part will work and how long you all will have to write. As the streams are bi-weekly, you will have nearly 2 weeks to submit your writing. They will be short pieces of writing, so it shouldn't take terribly long to finish them.

For now, it will only be my original writing that will be used, but as time goes on, I may open up the streams to other writers who wish to also submit their own writing for the original writing for others to rewrite in their own styles.

You may write them however you wish to. It just has to be the same story as the original put in your own way (don't turn a romance about a valkyrie and a demigoddess into a horror about the two characters). You're just recreating the writing, just like draw in your style.

Who can write:

Absolutely anyone is more than welcome to write. I will be reading your submissions for now, but as I figure out the features of streaming, I may open up the floor to writers reading their own writing if they wish. I will also be giving credit in any form you wish (if you just want your name or your tumblr blog or your Wattpad/AO3 accounts linked).

Stream Account Links:

Gotta link you guys to the accounts that will be posting the streams!

YouTube

Twitch

twitch_live

TikTok

Blog

@wiys-streaming

Ending Statements

WiYS streams are really a way to showcase and remind writers that we all have our own style of writing, even if it seems like you don't. You are capable of taking a story that was already written and make it your own (not that I'm encouraging copying, but you know what I mean... hopefully). Being a writer can be really disheartening sometimes, especially when you feel like your ideas aren't original, but sometimes the most unoriginal ideas can be home to the most incredible stories. Cliches are/were popular for a reason. Tropes become tropes for a reason. People love what they love and if they love the thing that you are making that is so "unoriginal," they will love your writing.

Don't forget that originality is not synonymous to good. Or creative. You can write something "trite" and make it incredible. I hope that this new stream will remind writers of that. :)

Thank you for your time and if you have questions, please feel free to send them to @queerlilchinchin.

WiYS "tag me to everything" taglist: @nerd-in-distress, @jvten, @steh-lar-uh-nuhs (fyi, tumblr won't let me tag your other blog or I would have), @aether-wasteland-s, @mjrino, @cheezyratz, @accountusername, @perasperaadastrawriting, @mrblazeflappybird, @forthesanityofstorytellers, @mangofen, @bigwipscholar, @pluttskutt, @doublegoblin, @crazytechpersonzreal, @sitiart, @ashesinthewritten, @achildweanedonpoison6, @quotidian-oblivion, @world-of-my-imagination, @marmeegle, @alesseia

WiYS "tag me to important stuff" taglist: @distortedwhite, @lyssentome, @ah0yh0y, @grollow, @perlen-gold, @saltysupercomputer, @vshushmshu, @lordkingsmith, @gummybugg, @quisyop, @enne-uni, @cometkov, @shado48, @cryscal, @mary-is-writing, @elizababie, @squintclover, @schmem14, @foursixtwonineoh-pieces-of-lego, @wakkoroni

#official announcement #wiys #wiys streams #writing streams #writer streams #writers of tumblr #writeblr

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crybaby-bkg · 1 year

Text

sᴄᴏʀɴᴇᴅ | ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴛᴡᴏ

Bakugou x f!reader Warnings/Tags: OC named Vanity, a lot of man hating, feelings of self doubt, arguing Word Count: 3.4k Minors/blank/ageless blogs DNI!

Main Masterlist AO3

You fall into your hideaway, even though you were sure you weren’t being chased in the first place. You think, though, that if Shouto had decided to run after you—you wouldn’t have made it here in one piece. But you catch your breath finally, leaning against the cold metal door of the warehouse, hands clutched to your burning chest. You stand there for a minute or so, just to make sure there wouldn’t be any delayed sounds of ice breaking and crackling in the air.

Once you believe there really isn’t anybody following you, do you relax, just a little. You breathe out a heavy sigh, uncurling yourself from where you stand, joints popping from the stiffness of holding yourself in place for so long.

You make your way to the room you occupy in the warehouse, passing by another self-made hero, Vanity, as she likes to call herself. She waves a hand to you when she hears you passing by her door, hunched over her craft table as she presumably sews up another hole in her suit. You only knock against the door in response as you continue your journey, body suddenly feeling heavy as your feet start to drag.

The anxiety of everything finally settles deep into your bones, and you collapse on the cot you sometimes crash on when you don’t feel like going home. Your face is smushed against a too flat pillow to be comfortable, and you groan a loudly as you release the tension your body has been holding in.

As you lay there, your mind starts to drift off, thinking back on your exchange with Dynamight. Lifting up, you see only a few small specks of blood dotting the pillow, and it makes a shaky exhale sputter from your lips.

What had happened back there? How could you hesitate like that? Was it because you had never actually killed someone before, much less a pro hero?

Or…was it the honesty plaguing his face, the confusion of your statements, the truthfulness bleeding into his tone? But he was a Pro Hero, a sexist pig piece of shit one at that. He was probably a trained fucking liar—they all were. So why the fuck would you hesitate?

You wipe away the blood still dotting your skin roughly, wipe another hand over your cheeks against the tears that escape you. You sniffle once, twice, sitting up in the cot as you look around the space you have made yours. Its hard to tell its yours though, with how barren it all is. A cot low to the ground, a thin and ratty blanket, an even thinner pillow, your bags filled with clothes, guns, and ammo, a statue of medusa bathed in bronzed gold sitting on the floor beside you.

She was your protector, and you had to make sure that you would always be the protector of other women. You couldn’t afford it to hesitate again. So the next time you see Dynamight—he won’t be granted anymore grace from you.

…

You change into the extra pair clothes you keep in your book bag, stuffing the red suit you always wear under all the other contents you keep in there. After being stopped by police once with your suit right on top, you vowed to never make the same mistake again. You say your goodbyes to Vanity, and check your surroundings before leaving out of the warehouse.

As you walk home, you think about how you have to ask your suit guy to make you a new mask since shitty Dynamight ruined it with his stupid fucking explosions. He shouldn’t be too upset with you though, since you don’t typically fuck up your suit and gear, and if anything, the fucker should be happy to see you again. It’s been a while, and you’re nothing like Vanity who had to start fixing her own shit after tearing it up so often.

You stop at the convenience store by your house to pick up some water bottles and ramen noodles, sneering at the creep who keeps staring at you. His eyes glance down to your chest, brows furrowing when he gets a peek of the tattoo sitting on your sternum. You pull your sweater up quickly, bumping his shoulder when you walk past him, one hand holding your bags and the other under your top holding onto your gun. But the man doesn’t chase after you, only calls out a “bitch” but leaves you alone for the most part.

The rest of the trip home is uneventful, but you still look over your shoulder the entire way there. You take the stairs two at a time, and juggle with your keys until you shoulder the door open. Its cold in here, you think before remembering that the heat was caught off since you were late on the bill.

“Stupid fuckers,” you whisper to yourself as you place your food and water on the counter. You shrug off your clothes and make your way to the shower, feeling as if you were on autopilot the entire time. You don’t look at yourself in the mirror when you get out, too afraid to see the mess that has become of your jaw and chin, even if it was slight. You clean it with the reflection in your microwave as you heat up a bowl of noodles, stomach twisting at the little specks of blood that still stain the white tissue.

Finally, you settle onto your couch, dressed cozily in an even bigger sweater and a pair of sweatpants you had stolen from Vanity. You click on the TV, instantly turning on the news to see if you’ve made headlines again. But, to your surprise, there isn’t a single mention of your name.

They show Dynamight though, frowning as he hobbles into the ambulance, snapping at Deku when he tries to help him. He looks pale, but still the same old asshole that he is, scrunching his nose up at an EMT that tries to get him to lay down on the gurney in front of him.

But…there’s no mention of you. The only headline about Dynamight being shot twice by an unnamed villain—unnamed? You were a fuckin’ household name, a name whispered amongst many, a name cried out when women were in times of need, spat out when men were confronted with their doomed reality. How many fuckin’ villains out there used guns as their primary weapon in a society that hangs off the clits of those with quirks for you to just slide by—unnamed?

You weren’t a fuckin’ villain, either. You were for the people, a savior to those who needed rescuing, the one so many helpless people relied on for aid, help, and saving. How could they just brush you off, like you were nothing but a fucking nobody? As if you hadn’t become somebody from your selfless acts of bravery and saving?

How could they forget the Red Medusa?

The rest of the afternoon goes by fuzzily, your noodles have gone cold. You sit there, feelings displaced and numbed, hand still cradling the bowl to your chest, legs still folded, eyes blurry with unshed tears.

Still—still, are you not good enough? Not good enough to be recognized, to be seen? To be heard, to be listened to, to be respected? Were you still nothing but a worthless bitch, condemned to die alone, to rot away?

Is it still nothing that you’re good for?

…

Days have gone past since your run in with Dynamight, and he still has yet to let everyone know that it was you who added two extra holes in his body. He’s been put on leave for an undisclosed amount of time now, and when he was hounded by the paparazzi after leaving the hospital, he didn’t give up any information. Just a gruff reply to leave him the fuck alone, that he’ll find the perpetrator that did this to him, for villains to not pull any fuck shit because his patrol area will be covered until he’s back.

When did he start speaking like that? Any other time he spoke on the people he fought, he made sure to name drop, get all up in the closet cameras lens, tell them to watch their fucking backs cause he was coming for them. But with you—he’s silent. Doesn’t mention your name, refers to the person that did this in neutral terms, doesn’t even look up at the camera when someone asks if the Red Medusa was responsible for this.

He seems…unbothered, even though, knowing and seeing his attitude from a multitude of TV interviews, the last thing he would want is to be put on a leave of absence. It almost worries you, feels as if he’s plotting something bigger, since he’s seen your face.

You were sure that by now, you would’ve been found. That you door would have been kicked in, that you’d find yourself kneeling with your hands behind your back, or worse if you didn’t immediately comply.

But its been over two weeks now and—nothing. That almost makes it all worse.

You were sure to get a heavier mask from your suit guy, really double down on covering your face. He even made it flame proof, but it provides you little comfort to know that such a big hero has already seen you and spoken to you. He could be plotting to take you down any day now.

You load up on weapons—in your apartment, in your bag, on your person. You don’t go anywhere without it but it still doesn’t make you feel safe enough.

You make another trip to the store, this time for a bit more food and necessities. You know you can’t keep living off of ramen and damn near expired milk, but you don’t really have it in your budget right now to do more than that. Picking up a small basket, you hold it in the crook of your arm, making your way around the store.

You never really have to have your guard up in here—the shop is run by an old friend that you helped a few months ago, and she always tells you that this can be a safe haven for you if you ever need it. But, you know better than to feel safe if you’re not fully suited.

“Why are you in this part of town, Dynamight?” You ask aloud, don’t even have to look up to know the man is peeking at you from around the corner like a fucking creep. You can see the shock in his face from your peripheral, but he only clears his throat as he stands across from you. He picks up a tomato, fat and rounded and red, before putting it back in its place. He doesn’t say anything for a long while, examining the produce and fruit with a faux sense of curiosity.

“What’s your name so I can send you my hospital bill?” Dynamight speaks up, chin jutting in your direction as he finally looks at you since he’s come out of his hiding spot. His proximity makes you anxious, how his scarlet eyes trace your features, before they dip down to your chest. You instinctively cover yourself more with the hem of your jacket, even though you already know the tattoo isn’t visible right now.

“Pro’s don’t have insurance?” You ask him, head tilting to the side. He chuckles at that, airily, though it holds no humor in it. Dynamight stares at you for a long time, mirrors your body when you start making your way down to gather more fruits and vegetables, even though you know you can’t afford all of them right now.

“You know, I searched for you in the database the moment I got my hands on a computer.” He tells you, whispers your full name over the cucumbers you stand over now. You freeze, heart thumping wildly in your chest, lungs suddenly squeezing tight. You wonder how fast his reflexes are since he’s still healing, wonder if he would be able to blast you before you cock the gun resting on your hip.

“’S that why you think I’m a sexist? Because—”

“You are a fuckin’ sexist.” You snap back, defensive, all bite in your words, even though Dynamight only fixes you with an unimpressed look.

“‘M not.” He replies simply, sighing heavily through his nose as he takes you in. He stares for so long that it unnerves you, makes you spin on your heel, heading for the sanitary napkins section. You hope he’s too much of a prideful, egotistical, stupidly shitty man to not follow you there. He’s not.

“I read about you, you know. It’s all in our database.” Dynamight tells you, long legs having little issues to your quick scurrying. He looks so out of place here, all big and wide and tall, resting his shoulder blades against the adult diapers as he frowns at you.

“That’s fuckin’ violating, you shit head.” You snap at him, pretending to search for tampons even though you can’t remember the last time you’ve worn one. You huff, placing a hand on your hip as you try not to get overwhelmed by his words.

How could he have read about you? What fucking database? The hero database? Oh fuck, is it because Miruko saved you? Now you’re forever documented to be a victim in the eyes of those who hold so much power in society? That’s just public fucking knowledge?

“It’s public knowledge.” Dynamight says, his grating voice low as he takes you in. You’re hunched in on yourself, eyes jittery and wild, and you find your hand getting closer and closer to the piece on your hip.

“I think its best you keep your hands either on your basket, or your tampons.” Dynamight huffs, crossing his arms over his chest as he sets his basket down on the ground beside his feet. Your eyes jump over to him, wild and unsure, anxious and terrified. Did he come with the police? Are they waiting outside to make their move? Now that you think about it, you haven’t seen a customer shopping for a few aisles now…

You rest your hand on the gun. You stare at him, breathing shallow, telling yourself to not hesitate again this time. Dynamight only stares at you unimpressed, eyes narrowing, frown deepening.

“We’re not doing this again.” He shoots you down, plain and simple, infuriates you even more. You open your mouth to snap at him, but he cuts you off.

“I only came here to talk to you about being the Red Medusa, and how we could change that.” Dynamight states, chin held high as he looks down the bridge of his nose at you. Hearing your name out in the open like that only makes your anxiety worsen, hands shaking now as you curl your fingers around the warm metal.

“Are you alone, or is this a set up?” You whisper, voice strained. You know you shouldn’t trust him, know that he could dupe you any given second, report you to the police, to his higher officials. Know that he could expose you to Miruko, let her know that the weak victim she saved has now made so many men her own victims. Know that you can’t disappoint her like that.

“Alone.” Dynamight answers. “The nerd keeps hounding me to know who you are, why I told ‘em not to capture you, but I wanted to handle this myself.” He shrugs nonchalantly, hands thrown in the air as if to prove his innocence. You only narrow your eyes at him, tracking his body language, how relaxed he seems, despite his gaze flickering to your hand still resting under your clothes on the gun.

“I don’t believe you.” You growl at him, chin jutting in defiance. Dynamight only rolls his eyes at you, lifting his black cotton shirt to his collarbones and—whoa, what the fuck. You shield your eyes as if he’s blinded at you, trying to erase the quick flash of his toned stomach and chest.

“Look, I ain’t wearing a wire or nothin’.” He frowns at you, and you only faux gag, both hands now covering your entire face as you squeeze your eyes shut.

“Put that away.” You groan, hearing a quiet snicker. You wait a couple of seconds just to be sure he’s gathered himself to be decent in public again, before uncovering your face. You frown at him, mimicking his position as you lean against the tampons behind you, arms folded over your chest.

“Fuckin’ pig.” You mutter under your breath, but he doesn’t address it more than a roll of his eyes. Dynamight stares at you for a long while again, and you don’t understand why he keeps doing that. Is it because he’s not used to seeing a vigilante’s face? Does it make him feel special to catch you off guard like this, with your literal and metaphorical mask uncovered and exposing? You feel naked in front of him, and it makes stones drop into the pit of your stomach.

“Well, get the fuck on with it then.” You snap at him, looking down the aisle to avoid his gaze. Dynamight inhales, goes quiet for a few seconds before he speaks.

“I want to help you get out of this.” His words make your head snap to him, lip snarled back in confusion, but he holds a hand up to let him finish. “I read your file—I have a pretty good idea of what happened to you, and I see why you’re pulling this whole vigilante act.”

“Its not a fuckin’ act.” You snap at him, brows furrowed in confusion. “You think that just because you read a brief piece about my life, that you fucking know me enough to—what? Save me? From myself?” You snarl, pointing a finger to your own chest, taking a step up to the hero as he does the same to you.

“Save you from getting your ass thrown in jail for causing mayhem and civil unrest.” He snaps at you, nostrils flared like a bull as he sneers down at you.

“Have you not seen the people protesting in your name? The movements you started?” He throws his arms out beside him dramatically, scares off a passerby that quickly scurries to the next aisle. “Well the higher ups are seeing you as a fuckin’ riot, in and of itself. Your entire presence is an incitement.” He points at you, and you know its a shit idea, but you smack his hand away from you with a quickness neither of you had expected.

Bakugou growls at you, red eyes aflame, but it doesn’t scare you. You’ve stared into the face of evil itself, and he is only pure irritated rage.

“Then let them fucking riot.” You snap, voice dropped down to a whisper at his proximity. “It’s better than sitting on my fucking hands and being praised for the absolute bare minimum.” You hiss through your teeth, watch Dynamight’s thick eyebrows damn near touch in agitation.

“Is that what you think all heroes do? Sit on their fuckin’ hands, even though we bust our asses to save you?” He doesn’t even try to meet you at your volume, voice raising more and more, and—and you think the store is getting smaller and smaller on you. You think its swallowing you whole, and that you won’t be able to save yourself again. You suck in a shaky breath, teeth bared as you whisper to him,

“Who saved me while I was going through it? While I was being tortured like a fucking diseased animal? Who saved me before it was too late and I had to save myself?” You ask him, eyebrows screwing up as you watch his face loosen, fall, as your words ring in his head. You don’t know how much is in your file, just how detailed and graphic they go into what happened to you, but you hope it haunts him.

He realizes his proximity, his clenched fists, his domineering stance over your and—he takes a step back. His fists uncurl and his eyebrows straighten, but its too late. He’s pumped you full of venom, and you have no choice but to let it all bleed out.

“Fuck you, and fuck your bullshit reformation plan. I’ll stick to doing my own thing.” You bark at him, dropping your basket to the ground as you hurry out of the aisle, hope he doesn’t chase you, hope he doesn’t see your tears, your vulnerability, your weakness.

You guess you’ll just have to get your groceries another day, then.

Chapter three

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#—new treat in the streets! 🍫#crybaby.bkg.scorned

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