#it just doesn't have any of the personality

[moon-fics]

Run Hot

Pairing: Bob Reynolds x Reader

Summary: The heating in the tower has broken in the middle of winter. This leaves everyone trying to find warmth any way possible.

A/n: I can't write angst anymore. I love comfort fics with Bob. He doesn't deserve pain.

This had to be a punishment or some sort of payback from Valentina. There's no way a fully operational and multimillion-dollar tower suddenly lost heating in the middle of winter. It's freezing, and the number of windows that cover half the building isn't helping.

You walk into the main room, where a fireplace is displayed on one of the screens. Almost no one is there due to how cold it is. The only people around are Alexei and Bob, who are sitting on opposite sides of the room.

Alexei is using alcohol to fight the cold. He's sitting on one of the couches with a bottle of vodka next to him. You don't try to disturb him as he watches his phone screen and laughs to himself.

That leaves you with Bob, who is reading a book near one of the windows. He's created some sort of nook in the corner to relax. There's a large bean bag that he hoards along with blankets and a pile of books. Ever since he settled into the tower, he's been reading wellness books.

"Anything interesting?" You ask while crouching next to him. You don't encroach on his space. "I haven't read a wellness book in years." You admit.

He looks up from his book with a subtle smile. He doesn't close it, but he leaves his thumb in the middle of the crease. You don't understand how he can sit this close to the window and not be shivering. He actually looks rather warm.

"It's mostly on how to create positively," He explains with a shrug. You won't ask further because that sounds like someone only he'd be interested in. "Hey, where did everyone go?" He asks while glancing around. You're astounded by how oblivious and unaware he is.

"It's like 5 degrees in here. Everyone is in their rooms under the covers," You say with amusement. "Did you not notice?"

"No, not really. I mean, I'm pretty comfortable with the temperature. It's actually nice." He scratches his neck. You can't stop yourself from glaring at him and feeling a bit jealous. Of course, the guy with god-like powers doesn't get cold either. "I usually run hot, so not having to prevent myself from sweating is pleasant."

"I hate you." You grumble while moving to sit on the floor. Your legs are aching from crouching, and you don't want to end the conversation here. "I hope the heat turns back on and you sweat through all your clothes." You tease.

"You can just sit closer to me," He suggests while patting the bean bag. There's enough room for both of you, so you don't hesitate to climb on. The moment you do, you can feel his warmth. He's practically radiating it.

It's not enough to keep you from shivering, but it's better than nothing. You glance down at his book and read a short passage. He's too far into it for you to understand what is being told, but you continue to read anyway.

"I could read it to you," He places the book on his knee for you to get a better look. You honestly doubt you'd be able to absorb the words he'd be saying. "If not, you could pick a book from my pile and read with me." His offer is sweet. He wants to include you in his activity and space. The only other person he's offered that to is Yelena, and she usually doesn't take up on reading.

"I don't mind just looking out the window," You say. You glance out the window to see the snow falling over the city. From this high up, you can see the rooftops that are blanketed in snow. The people below are leaving trails on the sidewalk.

After a few minutes, you can sense yourself growing tired. Even as you force yourself to follow snowflakes as they fall, you can sense it. You can't stop your head from lulling a few times, nearly hitting Bob's shoulder.

After the fifth time, he shuts his book and places it down on the floor. "You can use me as a pillow. I'm not going to... You know." He gestures to his head, and it makes you smile. Out of everyone on the team, you fear Bob the least. "I've got it under control for the most part." He says in a quieter voice.

"Yeah, but you're busy reading. I don't want to disturb that." You say. You rub your face to stay awake. The feeling of your cold hand against your cheeks gives you a tiny boost of energy.

"Just use me as a pillow!" He says a bit louder. Bob is never one to shy away from physical touch. If it's gentle, he'll happily accept it. So, you let out a groan and do something you'll probably regret later. You swing your legs over his and position yourself against his chest.

There's a moment of silence where you debate standing up and rushing to your room. Before you can suck up your dignity his arms wrap around you. His body is like a furnace that prevents you from running.

You go to look up at him, but he quickly places his head on yours. You force your eyes to roll up as high as they can. You can barely see his face, but there's no mistaking the redness of his cheeks. You also notice his hand reaching for his book again. He opens it but fidgets with the page instead of reading it.

"All good?" You ask. He clears his throat and nods his head as best he can without hitting yours.

"A- all good," He confirms. He can't hide the rasp in his voice or how his words escape him. It's like seeing him in the vault all over again, meek and nervous. "Just, uhm, just trying to read." He lifts his book slightly to show proof.

With his confirmation, you shut your eyes. Except you don't sleep. You're listening to his heartbeat and how fast it is when his hand begins playing with a strand of your hair. It's light, and he avoids pulling on it.

"Bob?" You whisper. He lets out a hum in response as his eyes scan the page. "Do you want a better strand?" You ask in a joking tone. His fingers let go of your hair, and you're disappointed. You enjoyed the feeling of his hand twirling the small strand.

"N-no, sorry. I didn't realize..." He mumbles. "I'll leave it alone."

"You don't have to. I wasn't complaining." You assure him. You take his free hand and lift it back to your hair. You're about to let go when his grip tightens around yours. His rough palms slide against yours, and when you don't pull away, he lowers them.

"Then is, uhm, this ok?" He asks with hope in his voice. Although you're feeding off his warmth, you can now feel your body producing its own. Your face burns, and you're so glad he can't see it right now.

"Perfectly fine." You say while trying to hide any signs of being flustered.

You stay like that for a while, and eventually you do fall asleep. Unbeknownst to you, so does he. This gives Ava and Walker a great opportunity to snap a photo for later. Just to save in their 'We Knew It' album.

[sangunary]

Yandere Batfamily × other dimension Reader.

SYPNOSIS: Your other family are willing to kill to have you... So is your orginal family.

>Part 1< >Part 2<

The world you have left was turned into ruins in a matter of months. Barely any crime in the street of Gotham since the so called hero's were taking that job trying to find you.

The night became more dangerous than ever since they were willing to ruin their prestige reputation to bring back their lost bird.

"Tell me where the fuck they are before I blow your brain into pieces!"

Jason threatens the poor boy with guns against his head ready to pull the trigger if not satisfied.

Amongst the family Jason was taking it the hardest, he was already violent as he was but your sudden disappearance was taking a toll on him...

"I- I don't know anything! I swear... Please just don't kill me please!"

The boy beg as wet tears stream down his cheeks.

Nobody was safe now, their hero's have turned against them.

Even the Justice League were trying to reason with Bruce but he wasn't very willing to hear them screech about what justice was.

He wasn't batman at the moment, he was a father searching for their young one that have gone astray... He wasn't going to loose his precious bird because some freaks in costume tell him to forget.

A father that could not die at peace knowing he practically left his own child to rotting from the inside.

"... Kid you really are getting on my nerves."

Jason threatens as he push the cold end of the gun into his forehead, fingers dangerously close to the trigger.

"I don't know... I promise you... I don't know anything about her... Please..."

The kid's wept harder, their face contorting into one of sorrow and desperate in one frame... Their hands trembling badly as they hold onto Jasons hands as he was holding them by the back of his shirt leaving him off the floor. If the boy weren't to be holding onto the savage man he would he chocking.

"Kids... I have no problem shooting that clown in the head for joking around too much... What makes you think I would treat you any differently?"

Jason voice was loud and clear as the boy just couldn't stop sobbing.

Yes, it is true that the Joker was killed. More than one hand were tainted with blood. The rage of a bird is intense and brutal...

Suddenly the comma began to ring, prompting Jason to drop the kid flat on their ass. As he listened to the signal carefully.

"I have a trace... Everyone at the batcave, fast"

Barbara words were demanding and seem slightly anxious which was never a good sign. Ever since your sudden disappear she could barely get herself to get out of her operation room.

You used to stroll her around all the time and she wouldn't even notice you during those days. She would rather talk to herself than to you and personally asked you to not speak so she won't get agitated. Now she missed you badly.

She have been going through thousand of files, looking through files of anyone who have a criminal records, they don't have to he a major criminal... People who are arrested for playing loud music are also under her watch..

For month's she would send them out to meet specific rodents in hope of finding whoever was responsible for your disappearance. She doesn't always sit behind large tecnology she would also go out and beat some rodents in your name.

Jason was ready to leave but not before he turns back and look at the kid who was sweating profusely... Couldn't even look at his shadow due to fear.

With a bang the kids clenched onto his left leg which was bleeding profusely after Jason shot at it...

"I marked you down so don't ever think of doing anything I won't like. Cause next time your head would be display infront of your family..."

With that said he jump off the building going towards the batcave.

Jason was being extremely out of character even he could see that. He was protective of kid's especially one that reminded of him... Excluding you.

Whenever he saw your face he just can't help but be irritated. You remind him of himself as a kid, your big guilty eyes... How excited you were and all the others... You were just like him.

He shouldn't have taken his anger out on you for being a better version of himself.

He would avoid you like the plague, make your day worse than it had to be and how he made sure you'll never get the mantle.

He hated Tim for replacing him and he despite you for being happy.

He planned for weeks on how to make sure you never get that mantle... which was also a twisted way of getting revenge on Bruce.

He had broken your leg which was on accident. He was aiming for your spine but you moved and he shot at your knees instead.

Although he realised even if he didn't shoot you, you wouldn't inheret the mantle cause you were deemed too 'odd' by your father.

Bruce was originally going to re-home you since you were not fitting for the family, but after Jason shot you Bruce realised he had to take responsibility as his son shot you.

If it were to he anyone outside the family that were to shoot you he would still have re-homed you as soon as possible. So your presence could be swept under the rug faster and alot more efficient.

Inside the cave was gloomy as usual, the lingering smell of iron was strong and the air purifier were working extra hard.

"There's a problem in the multiverse..."

Barbara started.

"Again?"

Dick asked, he was wearing his usual black and blue uniform no red stain yet the strong sense of iron was coming off of him.

"It is unlikely but there is another way..."

They all listen to her patiently, concern about your well being and what kind of dimension you are currently on.

On the flip side, you were just having the best time.

Everybody cherished you, loved you. And you definitely took advantage of that.

Your scare were slowly healing just by being with the right people.

"Aha! Caught ya' birdie!" Before you could even process some words Dick pick you up. You forgot how strong they were since you never interact with your other family.

"This is humiliating get me down!" You struggle but not enough force, he was picking you up like how the monkey from lion king did to Simba.

"Do not fling her across the room! I demand you let her down this instead Richard!" Damian spoke as there he was holding pillows from Tims room.

Duke who just entered the room just look around and sigh, stealing the pillow that Stephanie was resting her head on.

"...Oh so you want war huh? Bring it on yellow ranger" Stephanie with a smirk stood up as she instead reach for the towel which was beside her.

"That's illegal... You have a machine gun and I have a knife? What kind of war is this?"

Before Stephanie could continue somebody throw a pillow with all their strength combined towards her. She stumble and plop down on the couch as she looked at the person.

"That's... what you get for taking my coffee, you witch"

Tim stood confidently near the entrance, his arm crossed as he glare at Stephanie who smiled without any guilt knowing damn well what she did was an unwritten crime in the family. Which nobody follows.

Before Stephanie could throw the remote at him someone else throw a literal a book at him which... unfortunately land at him hard.

"I've always wanted to do that..." Jason spoke as there were more books in his hands. The book's were for children under 4... a nursery book which was given to him by Tim each birthday of his...

Unfortunately the books were thin so it wouldn't hurt him much.

"Hey! that's illegal! Ganging up and using hard material is against the law we made!"

You watched as Stephanie throw a pillow at him, headshot. You couldn't help but feel the warmth crept up your heart and throughout your body.

"I-" "Æ!".

Dick thrown you onto the couch without warning as he was getting ready for war.

"What the fuck, Richard?"

You asked as you rub your back, for being young your back do hurt like it's about to retire already.

"Don't worry little wing... This bird won't hurt you..."

Dick assured you as he picked up a pillow that was laying on the ground.

"You dare to protect me from my blood... You've chosen the wrong blood to messed with..."

Damian dramatically spoke as you couldn't help but be abit entertain. It was like watching a theater kid's role-playing free style during break hour.

"This is like claiming a vulture is related to a Robin... Eitherway birdie you won't live to see that glorious light of victory. Cause I, the gre-"

Before Dick could continue Damian throw an award worthy throw at him, he stood tall and prideful as he look down on the older brother.

"They are worthy of sharing my blood, they woll be recognised as such"

"G-"

Before Tim could finish Damian throw a devastating hurl at him which made Tim to kiss the floor again.

"You should learn to shut that mouth of yours, Timmy"

Jason suddenly decide to give Tim some word of advice but after that he just dropped all the kid's book ontop of Tim.

Stephanie too ended up throwing a blanket which she pulled out of thin air at Tim who was hugging the floor.

Beneath the perly mansion lays a secret, underneath the Wayne manor the batcave was there... Bruce, Alfred, Cass and Barbara all together.

"Cass you will be by their side at all time... We do not know when or whom will come here to take her."

Bruce spoke, his eyes still on the large computer that was set infront of him. The screen show a picture of you, dna, background and alot of personal records.

"Yes, Will protect her. At all cost"

Cass replied, she was still in her usual indoor clothing but it still made her look badass. Barbara who was sitting on her wheelchair gave Cass a quick smile to reassure her that you were going to stay.

"Those alternative version of us clearly made it clear that they won't stop at any cause to have them... They won't be so spoiled here.

Barbara continue as he gave Bruce some files... which documented every single detail of how the glitching worked and your actual family problems.

"How about the rest? We can't just not tell them"

Barbara added another thing on her curiosity list.

"They're well aware, they'll stay her one way or another... And get rid of those ungrateful heros..."

[inkfire-scribe]

I used to think that this was such a depressing way to look at the world. But you know why I thought that way?

Because that's what the adults in my life told me to think.

"It's so sad when you have nothing to believe in," they said. "There are people out there who think that we're a mistake, that our actions and dreams and hopes don't mean anything, that all the beauty in the world is just an accident and that life has no purpose at all. How sad it is that they believe in nothing. How sad they must be, how depressed, all because they cannot see that there is purpose and truth and reason behind everything that happens."

That's what I was told when I was young. That there were only two options: believe that Everything Everywhere All The Time is part of God's plan, or believe that there is No Purpose, No Reason, and No Goodness in the universe.

Shockingly, this absolutist binary is complete dogshit, exactly like every other absolutist binary I was taught.

Being poor doesn't mean I don't know how to handle money, and being rich doesn't mean that I'm financially responsible.

Being disabled doesn't mean that I'm incapable of working in any capacity ever, and being able-bodied doesn't mean that I'm capable of or suited to any job I see fit.

Being in the majority doesn't mean that minority rights don't affect or benefit me, and being in the minority doesn't mean that my rights mean less than anyone else's.

Being educated doesn't make me intelligent, and being uneducated doesn't make me stupid.

And most importantly, for the point above:

Just because I believe the human body was not "intended" for anything and that there is no "inherent purpose" for human life does NOT mean that there is no meaning or value or goodness in the act of living.

Actions have meaning.

Choices have value.

What that meaning is, and how to measure that value - that's something called "philosophy," and each person has a slightly different set of thoughts, reasons, and beliefs that create the ideological paradigm through which they view the world.

Belief is not a moral binary, a cosmic light switch marked "Good" and "Bad" or "On" and "Off."

The question was never "does human life have a purpose"?

The question is: What purpose do you assign to your life?

Is your purpose to tell people that they are Sad and Wrong?

I hope not.

women’s bodies weren’t “made” to do anything, nature didn’t “intend” anything, no human action is “unnatural” and there is no inherent “purpose” to a human life

[violetrainbow412-blog]

Let them see [B. R.]

Bob Reynolds x fem!reader

wc: 3.3k

summary: you and Bob are forced to attend an event hosted by Valentina, where more is revealed than you would have liked.

masterlist

warnings: established relationship (kinda) mentions of comic characters like Norman Osborn (Green Goblin), Wilson Fisk (Kingpin) and Danny Rand (Iron Fist), some kissing and I think that's it!

Now that you were The heroes who would protect the earth and Valentina held a high position in the government, it was a prerequisite for the team to appear in public. You all knew it was like a huge, manipulative, and fake publicity campaign, but if it saved your ass, you didn't really care much.

Strangely, you had the most experience speaking to the press and with political figures, from whom Miss de Fontaine wanted to profit. So it wasn't a surprise when she said she wanted all of you at a charity dinner, where, at the same time, she would try to convince various businessmen to finance some of your projects.

You had to cover as much ground as possible, so she would arrange for you to be seated at different tables and, in addition, assign you a partner for that. She didn't ask your opinion, she never did, and you knew where you'd be until she handed you a small map with your assigned seats.

"I had to sit down with the owner of Oscorp Industries."

"Wilson Grant Fisk. Sounds important, doesn't it?"

Your friends were arguing and bragging about who they'd been assigned to sit with at dinner. You glanced at the names on your map, realizing none of them really interested you. Only one was familiar.

"Hey, Bob, we'll sit together."

The boy checked his own piece of paper, frowning to read it, and smiled widely when he checked what you said. You two had been trying to be a thing for a few months, though no one knew it yet. While they suspected it, you had been careful enough to make sure there weren't any incidents. So the coincidence made both of you happy.

"Huh, that's right. Valentina told me to tell you that you can't change your partners because every fire has its extinguisher, whatever that means."

“What are you talking about?”

"Every couple has one person who could break political relations if they don't keep their mouth shut, and another who turns out to be more cautious or diplomatic."

"No surprise my partner is Ava," Walker murmured, suddenly "No offense."

"No, it's okay. I'm used to hearing your bullshit, I'll probably know how to help you avoid it."

While they argued, you tried to guess the other combinations. Bucky and Yelena went together, obviously. They were like the team leaders, after all. Only Alexei remained, whom Valentina had probably paired with herself to prevent any mishaps.

"So you're the fire or the extinguisher?"

"Oh, I don't think that applies to us," you laughed, looking softly at Bob. "I think he just put us together so you don't have to interact too much. You know, the shyest one on the team whom I could talk myself into."

Your partner—would boyfriend be the correct term? No, perhaps lover, in any case—and you shared an amused expression, more pleased than the others with the arrangement your boss had made.

Bucky announced that Valentina would send some stylists who would take care of getting you suitable clothes, makeup, and a good hairdo—yes, the event was that important—and then the matter was settled.

At night, you could see that they had done a good job. Yelena was radiant, Ava looked like a supermodel, and the men didn't look ugly at all. Although, of course, for you, the most pretty was Bob. He was wearing a brown suit, with a nice striped tie, and shoes that gleamed in the light. His hair had been trimmed and was slicked back, but it didn't look stiff, just sleek; a wavy lock fell over his forehead, as if it had been intentional.

"I want all of you to rave about this project," Valentina warned you before walking through the door into the living room. "Make friends, chat with businessmen, tell them jokes, just be yourselves! Okay, a little more charming and less psycho, okay? Have fun!"

The entire group looked like a school classroom that had been forced to go on a field trip, but most of them managed to hide it. As you were entering and the camera spotlights began to flash, you took advantage of the chaos to approach Bob and grab his arm.

"You look handsome," you whispered to him. With your heels, it was easier to reach his ear.

"I feel weird. I was never a big fan of formal wear."

"Well, I say it looks great on you, darling."

A shy smile spread across his face, and although you couldn't see it, your eyes radiated tenderness and love; as if you were bewitched by him. Once you found your table, you took your place and were disappointed to see that you were at opposite ends of the circular table. You would have liked to sit next to him, but the seats were already labeled with each name.

You didn't know how the rest of your friends were doing, but apparently at yours, all the businessmen seemed pleased. It was probably because you were pretty—and wore a tight dress—or because their wives were smitten with Bob, pestering him with questions like seagulls around bread crumbs.

At one point in the evening, billionaire Danny Rand demanded your full attention. He wanted to talk to you about other charitable efforts his company was involved in that The New Avengers could join. He didn't seem as flirtatious or pushy as the regular millionaires, but you knew that if he tried to cross a line, you'd have to hold yourself back to avoid dislocating his shoulder or breaking his wrist.

"You know, now that I'm CEO of Rand Enterprises, I want us to be a more… how should I put it? Humanitarian, maybe. I want to help people, just like you."

"You're quite the philanthropist, I see."

"I'm trying to use my family's fortune to do more than build glass towers. Many people don't have a voice. I want Rand Enterprises to amplify it, not drown it out."

"And you repeat that idealistic speech at every gala?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.

Danny laughed softly, not offended.

"You know," Danny said, turning the glass between his fingers, "all this… the galas, the donations, the campaigns… it's all good. But if people don't reconnect with themselves, it's all a band-aid. You can't heal a broken system if you don't first heal those within it."

You crossed your arms, listening to him with a barely raised eyebrow. He spoke calmly, without a trace of ego. There was something genuine in his voice, though it wasn't exactly the kind of speech you expected to hear from someone with such an obscene bank account.

"Are you telling me that what the world needs is... meditation?"

"I'm saying we need silence. Inner silence. That people are afraid to be alone with themselves because they don't like what they're going to find. And if they don't confront that, no social change will be sustainable."

"Deep," you murmured, taking a short sip from your glass. "Maybe even a little depressing."

"Not if you think of it as an opportunity. The internal work is the most difficult, but also the most necessary. If every entrepreneur in this room took half the time they spend planning tax evasion and took an honest look at themselves, the world would be different."

"You have surprising faith in these people's capacity for introspection," you replied, amused.

Danny smiled at you. Not like someone trying to win you over, but like someone who truly believed what he was saying.

And then you felt it. That look. Subtle but piercing. You barely turned your face and saw him. He didn't do anything, he didn't say anything, but his expression was enough to understand. It wasn't explosive jealousy, but that kind of sad insecurity, as if he were afraid he wasn't in the same league as a man like Daniel Rand.

Without missing a beat or a smile, you looked him in the eye and winked graciously. A quick, playful gesture, like a secret password: I'm in control. This is all for the cause.

Bob looked away, but the tense line around his mouth softened. You tried to ignore the fact that his cheeks had turned red.

"Did I lose your attention for a second?" Danny asked calmly, following your gaze, though without reproach in his tone.

"Just for a moment," you replied with a light smile, settling in naturally. "But don't worry, I'm still listening."

Danny held your gaze for a moment longer... and then followed. His attention slid naturally to the other side of the table, right where Bob Reynolds was pretending to pay attention to an elderly woman chatting. He didn't seem to be looking at you at the moment, but his body betrayed him: his chin tense, his back slightly rigid, his thumb pressing restlessly against the glass of his drink.

"He's part of your team, right?" Danny asked, without malice. It was a simple question, but loaded with insight.

"Yes. It's... complicated," you replied, staying on neutral ground.

Danny nodded slowly, with that calm that always surrounded him.

"He has the look of someone holding something very heavy," she commented, without looking away. "As if he were standing in the middle of a chaos he doesn't know how to calm."

"Your reading is not bad," you murmured, somewhat surprised by the clarity of his perception.

"I don't judge," Danny added, finally looking back at you. "Some have to survive here, amidst the noise of the world”

There was a moment of comfortable silence between the two of you. He didn't press. He didn't probe. He just offered you a sincere, almost compassionate, unpretentious look.

"Sometimes," he added gently, "the true act of spirituality isn't meditating or helping others. Sometimes it's knowing when not to take someone else's place."

You looked at him, this time without pretense. Because in that moment, you understood that Danny wasn't trying to steal attention or gain your sympathy. He was speaking honestly. And he'd also seen more than you expected.

"You are much more perceptive than you seem."

He smiled barely.

"I try"

You remained silent for a few seconds, observing Bob more closely. His shoulders were still somewhat tense, but now he was pretending to be engrossed in a conversation with a woman who was talking more than he seemed to want to listen.

"He doesn't like these places," you commented, your voice barely above a whisper. "He's not exactly a fan of galas. He barely tolerates protocol, and the idea of having to smile for strangers seems like torture. He's… shy. It's hard for him. Much more than people imagine."

Danny nodded gently, without a hint of mockery. Only understanding.

"But he's here," he said. "For you, isn't he?"

"For the team, actually."

"He seems like a nice guy," Danny added honestly. "If you want, I can go talk to him for a while. That way he won't feel so out of place... and I'd have the perfect excuse to stop talking to businessmen who only want photo ops and tax breaks."

You let out a short, grateful laugh as you looked back at Bob. This time, you gave him a clear signal, a gesture with your fingers that said, "Come here."

Bob seemed to hesitate. Not because he didn't want to, but because he seemed unsure about interrupting. But you held his gaze pointedly, and that was enough. He apologized to whoever he was talking to, then walked toward you with a measured stride, as if trying not to inconvenience you.

When he reached your side, you smiled.

"Daniel, meet Robert Reynolds," you said naturally. "He's a fundamental part of our team."

Danny calmly extended his hand.

"Nice to meet you, Robert. I've heard good things."

Bob nodded as he shook hands, a little tense, but polite.

"Nice to meet you"

"How about you two chat for a while? I can sit where you were before and deal with the ladies for you."

Bob tried to stifle a laugh, but he couldn't. He was amused to think that his annoyance had been so obvious.

"Alright"

You took advantage of the moment to lean toward Bob and place a soft kiss on his cheek, taking him by surprise. Nothing exaggerated. Nothing over the top—just a brief, deliberate show of affection. Enough to calm him… and claim him.

"Be nice to him, Mr. Rand. Besides being a key part of the team, I'd say he's also the most handsome male member"

Both men laughed at your joke and then Bob sat down, a little calmer than before.

The gala continued with the calculated elegance of any event funded by millionaires with a socially responsible attitude. The glasses kept refilling, the music became a constant background, and you did what you did best: reading the room, smiling intelligently, leading conversations without seeming to. Bob, after his conversation with Danny, seemed more relaxed. Not extroverted, of course. But at least he wasn't on the verge of collapse anymore.

A couple of hours passed. You exchanged greetings with politicians, activists, and heirs. Until then, amidst the hustle and bustle, you felt a familiar presence at your side. Bob.

"Do you have a moment?"

You nodded at his request and then excused yourself to the guests. Bob took your hand in a gesture so casual it almost seemed unconscious, but there was a restrained urgency in his movements. He gently led you to a secluded corner of the room, a refuge between columns and shadows where the noise and curious glances couldn't reach you.

He stopped and looked at you, his deep, dark eyes filled with a mixture of nervousness and a determination that made your pulse race.

"Are you okay? Did something happen?" you asked, trying to soften the moment, searching for a connection that went beyond words.

Bob inhaled deeply, his chest rising and falling slowly.

"I'm fine," he replied sincerely. "But I needed a break… a moment away from all of this. Being with you helps me catch my breath."

You smiled, almost without thinking, and reached out to gently straighten his tie. Your fingers brushed the skin of his neck and you felt that invisible electricity that connected you, like a silent magnet that couldn't be avoided.

"Sometimes everything is so overwhelming, right?"

"I've wanted to leave since we got here," he confessed, making you smile.

One of his hands went to your waist, holding you gently and moving his thumb up and down, as if with that he could calm your anxiety.

"Hold on a little longer, just a little bit."

"And you? Are you okay?"

"Wonderful"

"I haven't told you that you look beautiful, have I?"

"I don't think so."

"Well, you look gorgeous."

At his compliment you smiled softly, and caught his gaze slipping to your lips. You knew what he wanted. Or what would make him feel better, anyway.

"Do you think they'll notice we've been gone for a few minutes?" you asked, tilting your head. Bob smiled back, the sweet, mischievous glint in his eyes only deepening what you already felt for him.

"Maybe," he said in a low voice, "but what does it matter?"

Without further warning, Bob brought his face closer to yours with restrained patience, as if he wanted to record every second before giving in. His other hand rested firmly on your cheek, while his lips sought yours with an intensity that took your breath away.

The kiss started slow and uncertain, but within seconds, passion erupted. His lips pressed against yours with a mixture of desire and tenderness that left you speechless. The hand that had previously been on your waist slid purposefully down your back, pulling you closer, melting into that small space that was now yours.

The world disappeared. Nothing mattered more than that burning touch, that electric brush that made you feel alive and yearned for. At some point, he lowered his hand to your thigh, and you lifted your leg, letting him caress your skin.

You continued for a while, and when you finally broke apart, Bob leaned his forehead against yours, breathing heavily, a satisfied smile curling his lips.

"I guess you feel more relaxed now, huh?"

"Definitely," he exclaimed.

His hand gently released your leg until it was back in place, and then you both took a step back. You tried to smooth your dress, and Bob tried to fix his suit, hoping to look as natural as possible. A giggle escaped you when you noticed Bob had traces of your lipstick on, which you tried your best to remove.

To avoid suspicion, you left first, and a few minutes later he did. Just in case.

That was the calm. And then—the storm.

The next morning, well into the day, you woke up intending to find something for breakfast. The sight of all your friends gathered at the bar made you frown, thinking the worst. Most of them looked shocked. Bob, on the other hand, was completely pale.

"Good morning, young lady."

"Is something wrong?"

"Haven't you seen your phone?"

Everyone was focused on you while you tried to remember where you'd left off. You were barely awake yet, and you already had to deal with them.

"It's dead. I couldn't find my charger last night," you explained simply.

Yelena, still in her pajamas, reached out to give you hers. On the screen, there was a conversation, apparently from your group chat.

Mel: Valentina wants to know what this means.

Accompanying the message was a link to a compilation of headlines and photos from various digital media outlets. They all featured the same images: Bob and you arriving at the gala together, walking arm in arm with the ease of a long-established couple. But not only that: someone had captured on camera the fleeting, secret moment when you were secretly kissing in a corner, the intimacy of the moment glimmering in the shadows. The most scandalous outlets had added the obscene moment when you had your leg raised against his side.

"Fuck…"

"At least now we'll talk about the gala, right? That's what Valentina wanted."

"I think that you were more like firewood and fire than an extinguisher and fire."

"Yelena, will you shut the fuck up?"

"What? I'm just saying. Some articles say you look like you were about to take off your clothes…"

Overcome by anger, the embarrassment of the moment, you reached out to push your friend off the stool she was sitting on. There were two problems: you didn't measure your strength, and when she fell, Yelena made sure to grab your arm to pull you with her.

Bob was the first to spring up, approaching you to help you up, worried that either of you had hurt yourselves. You expected her to lunge at you and start hitting you, but that didn't happen. Instead, the loudest laughter you'd ever heard burst from her throat.

"Why did you do that?!"

"Lena, I'm so sorry…"

"You threw me out! What's my fault if you two decided to make out last night?"

"Shut up, for God's sake…"

While Bob tried to lift her, you reached out to cover her mouth, completely in vain. He gave up helping you when he saw you struggling, more out of pride than because you were actually upset.

"Who would have thought it, Bob? You've tamed the beast."

"Shut your mouth, Walker, you're next!"

Walker joined in the chorus of laughter. Soon, everyone else followed suit.

You thought that now that your affair was a matter of public interest, at least you wouldn't have to think about how to tell your friends. Valentina could go to hell.

In a strange, yet pleasant way, the revelation of the secret felt like a weight had been lifted from your chest. When you looked at him, smiling shyly, you suspected it was a shared feeling.

[shysuccubusstuff]

Milking time!

Content: Cow hybrid! Caleb + Possessive! Caleb; Size difference + Mentions of abuse and neglect + Scent marking + Rut + Facial + Face fuck + Masturbation + Cumshot + Dacryphilia

Note: Just read some new manhwa (smut) about hybrids and a farm and it was so good! Sadly there are no more episodes by the moment (right now it only has like 6) but it's so freaking good, gosh I could eat it completely, the dairy cow is so so handsome... and a cutie ദ്ദി(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧ I hope I explained the position correctly, it's like, laying on top of the person and using your lower thingy on their mouth... not that good with explaining positions, sorry! Let me know if I should make a part 2!

Cow hybrid ! Caleb who recently arrived to the farm. He was found in the middle of nowhere, with his body completely scarred as the rain soaked the small piece of clothing that barely covered his lower half. Just what the hell had happened? You had been trying to get the enemy farm to leave the town after the rumours abou them abusing their workers. You kept cursing under your breath, just why couldn't you do it faster? Well, of course you couldn't, by the time you had found out you barely had any proof apart from what some of the hybrids told you about, so you already knew that this was to be expected... Still, you had to rub your eyes, cleaning the tears that had started to fall down your cheeks and rushing towards the poor young man, trying your best to carry him to the truck so you could bring him to his new home.

Cow hybrid! Caleb who becomes extremely attached to you. It doesn't take more than a few weeks for him to recover from the injuries the old "owners" had caused to him, now constantly following wherever you go. He liked grabbing you by your hips, hiding his hand inside your pocket so he could stay as close as possible to you. You know this could be a bad idea, as you are planning on simply allowing him to choose whatever he wants to do next in life, and growing attached to you was not the best option for that, but you were unable to do anything. After all, he had recently been rescued, surely it was normal for him to become so attached to you, right?

Hybrid bull! Caleb whose possessiveness only worsens. It has been quite few months since Caleb had completely healed, so you had expected him to go back to the "usual" behaviour of the other bulls, who had already found someone to love within the vast farm. In contrast, Caleb had stayed with you, still following you everywhere you went, with a... slight change. He had become extremely possessive of you, constantly trying to start a fight with the other males every time he saw them giving you those glances... Just who did they think they were? Yes, he might have arrived way later than them, but that didn't mean they were allowed to give you those lustful eyes. Since that moment, Caleb had started to pick petty fights with the other hybrids, always acting as if he was simply protecting you from them, while he giving you those sweet puppy eyes he had learnt to do... It seems he did learn quite fast.

Cow hybrid! Caleb who is no longer able to handle his ruts. You used to let him use the toys you had bought for him during those special days, with Caleb using them without much interest, seeing as if it was just something to get over with. During this time, you had to make sure to keep some distance between you and him, trying your best to avoid leaving your scent on him in fear of another female thinking he had a partner, even politely removing his hands whenever he tried to get a bit too handsy with you. Not like it mattered to him, as he soon began to retaliate. Oh, you removed his hand from your hip because other females were watching at him? No problem, next time he would surround your waist with his beefy arms, making sure to pull you to him so you could feel his hard cock pulsing beneath his working clothes. Now you refused to get even a few metres close to him? Guess he simply had to make you come closer yourself.

Cow hybrid! Caleb who takes advantage of you. You were suddenly awakened by a strange noise, not only that, but it was then accompanied by a rustle, someone was moving under your blankets. With your heart thumping, you slowly moved the sheets, finally seeing the reddened and exhausted face, chest puffing as he kept pressing his hard-on against your ass, breath becoming heavier as he started to rub his hips even faster, with you already feeling how his underwear was getting wet from the precum. "Please... please... just help me... It hurts..." Caleb looked at you with tears in his eyes, almost making your chest hurt from seeing how he was struggling to keep himself together. "Just... fine. But don't get used to it, ok?" You tossed the sheets to the side, getting on top of Caleb and removing his wet boxers which had already been stained by his thick cum. Slowly, you started to move your hand up and down, marking a slow rhythm that almost made Caleb groan outloud, biting his own hand to stop himself from making some embarrasing sounds. You kept this rhythm for some minutes, confused as you kept feeling his dick throbbing, almost as if he was close to cumming, still, Caleb kept biting his hand, eyebrows furrowed as he forced himself to last as much as possible, what other opportunity would he have after this? "Maybe... Maybe if you lick it I will end faster...?" Caleb suggested, voice soft as if he was whispering, still, you could feel how much he had been waiting for him to suggest that. "Caleb... just where did you...? Ugh... just... just the tip, ok?" You kneeled, getting one of your legs between his, using your hand to keep his member up, slowly getting closer to it as you sticked out your tongue, carefully entering his tip into your mouth and sucking on it, using one of your hands to masturbate the rest of his member. "Fuck... So good... please, just a bit more, yeah? Please, I've been so good... Didn't fight with the other males for over a week, just a bit?" Caleb looked at you, his muscular body now looking even bigger due to the dim light that entered the window.

Before you noticed, Caleb's hands were already playing with your hair, petting it as you had done so many times before, the caring touch mixed with the feeling of his tip rubbing against your tongue almost making you moan from the pleasure. "Please...? Come on baby, let me do it..." You locked eyes with him from where you were, gradually entering his member until the tip was hitting against the back of your throat, the pressure on it making you gag on it. Caleb's grip got a bit tighter, now grabbing your hair as he restrained himself from pushing his hips forward and fuck your mouth without mercy. "Just do it..." You whispered to him, face flushing as you felt how Caleb's chest puffed up in joy, swiftly pushing you against the couch and straddling you, his cock now being just in front of your face. "Open wide~... here comes your big reward." Caleb abruptly pushed his whole length inside your mouth, using his arms as a way to keep this position in which it looked almost as if he was doing a plank, his happy trail now pressing against your face each time he forced his cock inside you causing tears to form in your eyes as you tried your best to take a deep breath each time he pulled out. Caleb stopped for a second, smiling at you as he saw your chest moving up and down rapidly, after all, he had set a ruthless rhythm for you, making sure to push his cock till it reached the back of your throat, then staying still a few seconds so he could feel your throat tightening around his cock, soon letting you breath once more, smirking as he saw you struggling to adapt to it. At the same time, he kept stroking your hair with care, almost as he wasn't practically bullying your poor mouth, pressing your whole body against the mattress and leaving you with little to no choice than to take it. "Keep your mouth open, here comes your reward..." All of sudden, Caleb moved away his dick moving a bit away so he could put the tip in front of your open mouth, strocking his cock with his right hand as he used the left hand to stay still, heavy ropes of cum falling into your mouth, a sweet aftertaste lingering in your mouth after you swallowed it completely... You hoped this wouldn't awake anything in you.

[deikshen]

Shen Yuan, who opens his eyes and has just transmigrated into some strange demon deep in the Endless Abyss. Well, GREAT! He's a demon, and while he's not OP, if he behaves and doesn't mess with Binghe's women, maybe they could even be traveling companions. Cool! Incredible!!

It doesn't take long for him to find Luo Binghe in the Abyss some time later. He leaves a trail of carnage... And he's speedrunning!! Ignore the wife and solo plots, just mow down monsters and charge forward! He's awesome!

Shen Yuan tries to avoid the red flags that the stallion protagonist isn't, well, forming a harem. Maybe he would form later, when he had more power!! He's not exactly sure in which narrative arc are.

However, his days of watching Luo Binghe through the shadows are soon over. Luo Binghe catches him!! He has obviously noticed Shen Yuan following him. What does he want? Is he looking for him to kill him?

Shen Yuan ducks out a bit, but ultimately decides to impart his honed Abyss 101 knowledge from months of Wiki editing. He disguises himself as a demon who has been searching for a way out of the Abyss, and he knows that he can only do so with Xin Mo, but he knows he doesn't have enough power to wield it. So, he will tell Luo Binghe where the portal-opening sword is, if he allows him to travel by his side and accompany him when he leaves!!

... It's very easy to become travel companions after that.

Luo Binghe is suspicious (of course he would be!! After all, who wouldn't be?!) but he's nice when he's not on his monster-killing rampage. Shen Yuan kills minor monsters, but in reality, he might be getting into more trouble than he should... spiritual flora, ancient artifacts! Luo Binghe should collect them and become more stronger with them! Shen Yuan rambles a lot: he talks about flora, beasts, monsters, demonic history, he throws out fact after fact of PIDW backstories that never got fleshed out from the old demonic civilizations, banished kingdoms, people literally turned into black jade statues...

Luo Binghe seems to find it irritating that he's talking at first, but actually... It's like he can't stop looking at him afterward. Shen Yuan guesses that he must be considering getting rid of him, sometimes: Luo Binghe looks at him with an expression of dismay and doubt. It's like he's searching for something in him. Like he sees something familiar, but Shen Yuan finds it ridiculous. Bah!! As if there's something familiar about him to some random NPC in the world!

One day, after several weeks of traveling, Luo Binghe asks him: "Little Demon. Do you have a name?" And it's not like Shen Yuan has introduced himself, but he considers saying "Shen Yuan" to him not to be wrong.

After that, Luo Binghe... gets worse? He also becomes a little more talkative, which is good, they can have conversations. Shen Yuan enjoys learning little things about his favorite character: how he likes tea, what he misses most is not water or clean clothes but being able to cook with spices, his favorite food, his mother's favorite recipe, about his life on Qing Jing Peak...

That's when everything goes to hell.

A kind Shen Qingqiu? What the fuck? Luo Binghe speaks about his Shizun with more passion than he has spoken about Ning Yingying or any other person or thing. That he had had this horrible qi deviation, but right after, he had been so kind, giving him medicine, a new cultivation manual, fair training, even letting him live in the bamboo house! For the past few years, Shen Qingqiu had practically spoiled him: the best missions, all the running of the Peak, he was basically the head disciple in all but name.

That Luo Binghe had fallen in love with him. Deeply, devastatingly. And Shen Qingqiu had pushed him into the Abyss when his heritage was revealed. However, Luo Binghe will not doubt! He will leave the Abyss, return to his Shizun, and show him that his heritage does not determine who he is. He will become a righteous cultivator and will have his respect to reach his heart.

OOC! So OOC! What the fuck!? Where was the scum villain!? Why is Luo Binghe gay now!? What weird fanfic did he end up in!? Actually, Shen Yuan supposes, well. That means at least he wouldn't destroy Cang Qiong and all that. Wow. Dramatic but calm ending. A better world!! And worse for him, being a demon. Maybe Could he find a way to disguise himself as a human? He believes he has already won Luo Binghe's friendship and sympathy. Maybe he'll even help him to disguise.

Revelations are a rare thing, but Shen Yuan guesses, it's okay. They continue their travel, collecting flowers along the way (for real, not meimeis) who improve the cultivation, and occasionally fight for their lives. Shen Yuan has defended himself very well with his claws so far, but Luo Binghe teaches him how to use a sword, and it's nice to have one.

Shen Yuan has drawn a map, more or less: it is the path that must be taken to reach Xin Mo. He knows that some of those places will be more difficult than others; he explains to Binghe many times that collecting things to strengthen him is necessary: it's a waste of time for him to meet with his Shizun now, but he'll be grateful! He'll need to get strong fast!

Shen Yuan shamelessly takes advantage of all his knowledge of the plot: he teaches Luo Binghe everything he knows, all the weaknesses of the beasts, all the strengths of certain flowers or roots. However, the more Shen Yuan teaches him over the weeks of their travel together, the more Luo Binghe seems... weirder. If he looked at him too much before, now it's incredibly worse. Sometimes he even asks extremely specific questions and seems frustrated when Shen Yuan doesn't answer exactly as he expects. Once, even, when they are crossing some paths surrounded by magma and the heat is suffocating, Binghe improvises a folded fan of leaves for him, and he seems clearly aggrieved when Shen Yuan's first instinct is to fan Binghe!

Luo Binghe is a frustrating little creature who seems to be testing him. Constantly. Shen Yuan assumes it's normal, but still!! He thought he had the protagonist's confidence!! Something seems to sparkle in his eyes when Shen Yuan stops halfway to explore a forest of giant mushrooms and talks at length about the properties and, above all, about the mole-squirrels who get high off their asses biting mushrooms, and he even seems fucking frustrated when he offers some weird herbal blend similar to a bitter tea and Shen Yuan accepts it just out of politeness because it tastes awful. It's like they're running in circles!!

Still, they continue on their way.

There is still a large stretch of the map to go, which Shen Yuan translates into a few more months of travel, when they are cornered by some beasts. They're horrible, disgusting spider-beetles the size of a fucking elephant; it's an unfair fight, seven against two, and even with their swords the bugs are fast, their legs sharp, and Shen Yuan is too exhausted after hours of only being able to defeat two of them.

Luo Binghe fights majestically, but even so, there is one thing Luo Binghe cannot fight: being outnumbered. And when Shen Yuan sees the giant insect's attack at Binghe, his only instinct is to get in the way.

The insect's leg pierces through him. It doesn't quite touch Binghe, but Shen Yuan isn't even aware of the pain from the way his nerves have been ripped apart. He's stunned, disoriented, and only a moment later Luo Binghe enters that desperate berserk mode that the protagonist only got once every two hundred chapters. The horrible insects fall, and Shen Yuan doesn't even know why he's still alive.

He supposes that dying while Binghe is fighting is a bit anticlimactic. He's in a pool of his own blood and he's sure that not even the blood parasites will be able to regenerate any of it. He's dying, he knows it, and from the way Binghe drops to his knees beside him after defeating the insects and holds him, Binghe knows it too.

"It's okay," Shen Yuan manages to speak, weakly patting Binghe's face, "follow the map, leave the Abyss and meet your Shizun. I bet you'll scare him to death, but hey. You're a great boy. A very good one. Show him there's no one better than you for him."

Luo Binghe holds him. Shen Yuan is aware that there were blood parasites in his food months ago, but oh well. Nothing can be done now. It's too much.

Actually, he wants to say something else, something other than a pathetic goodbye talking about how the ex-stallion protagonist should go after his Shizun's bone, but while he recognizes that he is dying (he already died once, damn it, he recognizes death) a blue screen flashes in his head.

[ Recalculating data... Correcting recipient... Downloading files... Importing... ]

[ Bugs fixed! ]

[ Returning the Host to his main user... ]

At the exact moment Shen Yuan dies, Shen Qingqiu wakes up in Qian Cao with a gasp, suddenly touching his chest where a second ago he had felt a hole that pierced him from side to side. His head hurts, his muscles burn, and someone definitely screams in surprise because a bunch of disciples call out to Mu Qingfang and, damn, it's fucking chaos.

He's apparently been in a coma for the past eighteen long months since the Immortal Alliance Conference. A qi deviation? No one knew. It was as if he were just asleep, but nothing woke him. His vital signs were normal, low, but active. Except for Without-a-cure, there was nothing else in his spiritual veins, and Without-a-cure could not cause his current state.

Now, with a huge headache, Shen Qingqiu remembers. He remembers not only the last year and a half with Binghe in the Abyss, but his last years as Shen Qingqiu. And he remembers that, just after of pushing into the Abyss, the fucking System COLLAPSED! Damn SHITTY AI! And Shen Qingqiu believed that he was really going to deport him back to his body even if he pushed Binghe into the Abyss! ... But he hadn't. Just to a random demon's body until the system repaired itself.

The story he tells to Mu Qingfang about the qi deviation after Binghe was swallowed by the Abyss is as good as any. So, Mu Qingfang finally lets him rest until he recovers, and Shen Qingqiu accepts it.

During the Abyss, he had been... Free, somehow. He had no memory of being Shen Qingqiu, and he hadn't had to pretend to be anyone else. It had been the greatest freedom he had had since he arrived. Fuck, he has a lot to think about. How, above all, what the hell he's going to do now that, damn it, he knows Luo Binghe has somehow fallen in love with him. Fuck.

... Well, at least the other transmigrant on the scene will surely have something to say. Eighteen months in a coma! Ha! Shang Qinghua wouldn't even know what hit him.

[mmaurysiek]

while I personally went for, like, lace up combat boots for stability, for they're more suited for high levels of physical activity (hello adhd) — and hair that's mostly just short except for bunned up top (and it's green now, I loved the idea of green hair ever since I read about it in the Anne of Green Gables) — I haven't yet found any equivalent of the comfort that corsets are said to provide, and I don't yet have the skills to sew myself an actually supportive corset (custom corsets are prohibitively expensive)

speaking of which, and I'm asking like a total ignorant probably, wouldn't it be more practical to lace corsets on the side, where it doesn't too visibly interfere with the clothing outline, if one chooses to wear a tight t-shirt or something? like, any uneven bits could be blamed on the t-shirt's seam, right? and hidden under the arm for most of the time, besides?

The ehlers danlos syndrome person to historical costumer pipeline is or will be a thing and I shall explain why.

At some point one discovers that some sort of supportive structure around your torso feels incredibly comfortable and gives your tired muscles a rest. What’s the coolest and most non obtrusive torso bracing garment? A corset. Believe me when I say that when your torso has the structural integrity of a wet sack of jello, a tightly laced corset makes you feel like a god.

And because historical corsets tend to be more comfortable and are usually made with regular wear in mind, they are the natural choice.

Then you have the shoes. What shoes is someone with unstable ankles supposed to wear, you ask?Lace up boots, for stability. And due to their middle of the heel heel placement, historical lace up boots tend to be way more comfortable than the modern variety.Even the non healed ones, really. Couple that with the fact that Edwardian and Victorian boots are really really pretty…

And after the boots and the corset, it’s a very slippery slope.

Pretty soon you’ll be wondering how to hide your corset under your clothes for when an outer corset is not the vibe, and you’ll be buying yourself a corset cover. Or making one yourself. They’re a great starter project. But that looks weird with a fitted top so cool flowy blouse it is.

Then you realize wearing this with a skirt makes you feel intensely powerful but you don’t want to keep tripping over it so you add petticoats.

And then you realize your neck isn’t so great at holding up your head so you really need to find a hairstyle where your hair sits on top of your head instead of to the sides or to the back so that it’s balanced and you don’t get a neck ache. A high bun it is. Not too tightly, because your scalp is sensitive, but a high bun still works if you bobby-pin it in place.

And then one day, you look in the mirror and you’re dressed like Anne of Green Gables.

And you’ve never looked cooler.

[iamthatonefangirl]

So I’m not completely sure how requests work but I NEED a fic where the reader like gets into an argument with the winter soldier about something small or big like how he never opens up to her (whatever you prefer) and then some HATE sex after (not really hate just frustrated yk)

disconnect - nsfw winter soldier

I received a few asks that inspired me to develop a story combining them. this is my interpretation of them.

pre-established relationship. if you're new here, there's a mention of a prior event.

disclaimer: fully consensual by both parties although not explicitly stated. dark/sad themes, similar to depictions of depression. read at your own discretion.

~~~

it's stupid, really.

the mud boot tracks all over the entryway when you get home. the huge disaster area the kitchen is.

is it really that difficult to not leave a mess everywhere?

you make your way to the bedroom and drop your bag somewhere on the floor, sitting on the edge of the bed to chuck off your shoes and jacket.

you sit there for a moment, head buried in your hands.

the weight of your situation gets to you more often than not. a lot of those thoughts in your head go unsaid for a number of reasons, particularly because he doesn't have the emotional capacity to care, in your opinion.

is this really the life you thought you'd end up living?

if you wanted to quit working, you could. he brings in more than plenty.

and you'd never have to worry about being sexually frustrated a day in your life.

is that really the sum total of your relationship?

you let out a sigh.

you feel stuck.

~~~

he comes into the bedroom ten minutes later, fresh out of the shower, covered in water from head to toe minus the towel wrapped around his waist.

he goes straight for the bed, lying down on the fresh sheets, soaking them.

"seriously?" you ask, looking up at him, exasperated at this point.

he tilts his head in your direction and gives you a blank stare as though he has no clue what you're talking about.

you take a deep breath and shove down your anger. he's been gone for a week, cut him some slack, you tell yourself.

"everything go okay?" you ask.

you don't want to know the gory details, and he wouldn't tell you, anyways. his face contorts, giving you a disgusted look as though you're crazy for even asking.

he proceeds to shove his hands behind his head, closing his eyes to get some rest.

another deep breath.

"are you hungry?" you offer. the mess in the kitchen tells you that he's not, but you're seriously trying here.

he lets out a low grunt, which you take to mean 'no.'

"can you stay awake for five minutes to fucking talk to me?" you say, anger rising in your chest as you struggle to keep your head straight.

"not talking to you about work," he grumbles, not even opening his eyes.

"clearly, you're not talking to me at all! fuck, I mean, when do you ever?" you yell, standing and walking over to the side of the bed next to where he's laying.

in your anger, you grab his arm and roughly yank it out from under his head, surprising him. his eyes shoot open and he glares up at you as though you've just personally offended him.

"you never fucking talk to me! I- I don't even know if you like me! it's like you just live in my apartment so you can fuck me whenever you want!" you yell at him. your emotions are getting the better of you, your insecurities and your anger twisting in your head. you're completely helpless to stop your mouth from speaking them into reality.

not a word in response. his face is completely devoid of any emotion.

"I don't even know why I expect anything different from you," you scoff. "you're a heartless motherfucker. you don't even care about me."

you feel so empty inside. all the sacrifices you've made, all the times you've cried over the fact that you can't just be normal, all because of what he does for a living, who he is.

all while having to stomach the nausea of simply knowing why you have to keep him a secret.

it's too much to deal with anymore.

he watches as you drag an empty duffel bag out of the closet and begin throwing various items of clothing inside it. it takes a few moments, but it finally clicks in his head: you're leaving. and he doesn't know when, or if, you'll be back.

he stands, grabbing your arm as carefully as he can, stopping you from continuing to pack. "no. stay," he tells you. he sounds so calm, his voice is void of its usual sternness.

he's only calm because he's panicking inside.

you take his calm demeanor to mean that he genuinely does not give a fuck.

"get off me. I'm leaving," you tell him, pulling your arm away from his grasp. that's all you can say, because that's all you know right now. you have no plans for where you're going or when you're coming back.

if you're coming back.

you shove a few more things in your bag as your eyes tear up.

what has your life come to?

~~~

the door slams behind you on your way out, shaking the whole apartment. eerie silence follows.

no sounds of pans clattering in the kitchen. no music blaring while you shower. no keyboard clicking while you work. no more of your laughing as you watch videos on your phone.

no more you.

all there is is dead silence.

he used to live in the silence. he took comfort in it; he'd be able to hear a threat coming from a mile away as long as he lived in the silence. it was his way of protection, his entire way of life.

it doesn't have that comforting effect anymore.

because now?

he's alone.

now, alone, in the silence he once reveled in, he roams the apartment in contemplation. he sees everything he didn't see before.

the mess he left everywhere, destroying the effort you put in every day to keep a tidy home.

but more importantly? he sees the disconnect. the stark contrast between your carefulness and his tendency to act as a bull in a china shop opens his eyes to reality.

he always saw you as a team.

but now?

he realizes that you're not.

you're normal. he isn't.

he never could be.

~~~

your best bet for now is to go to a friend's place, you think. you sob your eyes out as you sit in the driver's seat of your car, and you come up with a lie that's at least semi-believable.

you take a few deep breaths as you click her contact on speed-dial.

"hey, so you'll never believe my luck," you begin, trying to hide your sniffling from the microphone. "my building is infested with rats. I don't know how long it'll be until they've dealt with it. at least a week, probably. do you think I could spend a few nights at your place?"

your voice is choppy as you speak, and it's clear you've been crying, but she doesn't question it. she gives you the 'okay' to come over, and you hang up quickly before the tears start again.

that's how you end up sleeping on her couch that night, sobbing silently into your hoodie as you try to determine what the hell you're supposed to do now.

for so long, you've put up with his bullshit, kept his secret, kept your mouth shut, all for one reason: you love him.

but he's not capable of loving anyone.

~~~

for a while, the feeling of isolation doesn't bother him. all he feels is indifference.

yet as he finally cleans up after himself, the ache in his chest begins. he almost wonders if he's having a heart attack; he's never felt this before.

yes, he has.

he freezes in place, the memory coming to him. he injured you, once, purely by accident. that's when he's felt this helplessness, this emptiness, this deep-seated pain in his chest.

guilt?

he's not sure.

he kneels on the cold hard tile of the entryway, not bothering to put on longer pants or a towel to protect his knees as he wipes up the mud he tracked inside. he doesn't deserve that comfort.

he lays in bed alone that night, mind empty. sleep never finds him.

the following morning, before the sun has risen, he makes a decision.

he opens his bank account and navigates to the most recent transfer, forwarding it back to the sender with one message: deal's off. busy.

~~~

the next morning, you wake up, still feeling terribly nauseous. you look in the bathroom mirror to find your eyes are puffy and bloodshot from crying.

you never should've gotten involved with a cold-hearted killer.

every bone in your body is saying to leave. get out of New York, quit your job, leave him and this whole life behind.

instead, you make a cup of coffee and force some yogurt down your throat before going to work.

you're up early, and don't care to deal with the traffic driving further into the city, so you might as well take the train.

~~~

he has absolutely no clue where you are.

he knows none of the addresses of your friends where you might have gone, not even a single one of their names.

if you didn't have to work, he wouldn't even be sure that you were still in the state.

work.

he doesn't even know the address of your workplace. he has a vague sense of the name of the company, how hard can it be to find?

so that's where he starts.

he camps out down a side street near your office, giving him a narrow field of vision to the entrance while staying hidden. it's the end of the workday, you should be coming out soon.

normally, scouting out a target is easy. he takes a short amount of time to watch them, determine their routines, and find the best course of action to take them out in the most efficient way possible.

there's always a plan, an end goal there. here?

he has no plan. there is no end goal.

for now, he needs to know where you're staying. so he watches and waits for you to come out of the one place where he can count on being able to find you.

he's not prepared for the pang of some unfamiliar emotion that he feels when he sees you come out of the building. you look exhausted; clearly, you didn't sleep last night, same as him.

you still look perfect.

he assumes you're heading to the parking lot, and he realizes he didn't think this far ahead. he doesn't have a fucking car, how is he supposed to follow you to find out where you're going?

he would never make this kind of bullshit mistake on a job.

he's scanning the area, trying to find the most inconspicuous car he can find that he thinks he might be able to hotwire-

you walk right past the parking lot.

he begins to trail you from across the street, mind working through all the possible answers as to where you're going. for now, his focus is keeping his eyes on you at all times.

he refuses to acknowledge the way his chest hurts even more as he follows you down the street and into the train station.

he hates when you take the train, hence why you always drive. to him, the train isn't safe. there's too many variables, too many things could go wrong. today, though, it works to his advantage.

all he can do for now is get on the train car behind you and wait to see where you get off at.

~~~

you're so tired, it's probably for the best you didn't drive today, lest you wanted to accidentally total your car by falling asleep at the wheel.

you want nothing more than to go home to him.

you don't. you get off the train and walk into the first bar you see.

it's after the workday, just past 6pm on a Tuesday, so it's packed, full of both blue- and white-collar workers in need of a drink.

you sit at the bar with the rest of the men as you all contemplate your life choices. you drink way too much, consuming more alcohol than is safe for you to have in your system while walking back.

oh well.

as you walk in the darkness, your head feels heavy, your body warm from the alcohol. you're being reckless, you know you are.

you don't have it in you to care. you feel like your entire life is being ripped apart at the seams, and it's all your fault. you're aware of the reality; you shouldn't ask for more than he can give. that's not fair to him.

no. this isn't fair to you.

~~~

he hates every fucking second of this. you're acting stupid, putting yourself in danger, getting drunk in public while operating under the assumption that you're all alone on these dark streets.

is this how you feel every day? do you feel alone even when he's there?

is he nothing more than a nuisance to you, a reminder of all your fears and all your lost dreams rolled into one?

at least he knows he's there to protect you.

to him, you were his savior.

but to you, he's nothing more than a ball and chain around your ankle.

his chest grows even tighter.

once you get inside the place you're apparently staying at, he relaxes somewhat. you're inside, you're safe.

that means nothing to him. to him, you're only safe within the confines of your own home. you're only safe when you're with him.

does he make you feel unsafe?

he finds another dark alley to hole up in. he's not going anywhere, not going home, not sleeping until you've got this figured out.

~~~

days go by. he learns your friend's schedule, learns the area, learns that you're drinking every day after work.

he knows he doesn't have the right to approach you. he'd lose you for good if he did, he thinks.

except on the fourth day of you being gone, after all these sleepless nights of him sitting on the cold, hard ground, you don't go into work. he watches your friend leave, but not you.

something's wrong.

in the back of his head, he hears your voice from your fight, if he could even call it a fight, saying,

"I don't even know if you like me!"

"you don't even care about me."

the words float around his mind, amplifying the tightness in his chest by 100 times.

that's it. he's done waiting, done watching you like you're a target, done pretending like you're both not miserable. he's done pretending he doesn't care.

~~~

you don't go into work on Friday.

you've spent all week ignoring your problems, ignoring the nausea in your stomach, drinking so much alcohol that you're lucky you don't pass out in the street, alone.

it's time to make a decision.

you don't get up from the couch until mid-morning, getting up to take a shower before heading to the kitchen to make a cup of coffee.

as you finish preparing your drink, staring down into the mug, you think you hear something in the distance. but the noise is so faint, you attribute it to your lack of sleep and food. you're fine, there's nothing there.

you hear it again, louder this time, and you turn towards where you hear the noise coming from-

from behind you, a hand slips over your mouth, and an arm wraps itself around your waist. you're about to panic when you hear the figure speak,

"it's me."

you let yourself relax against him. he scared the absolute shit out of you, making you fear for your fucking life, but you don't care. he's here.

but then your anger returns with a vengeance.

you put all your weight into throwing yourself forward, out of his grasp, and he lets go.

"how dare you!" is the first thing you say, and then you turn to face him.

woah.

if you thought you looked like shit from lack of sleep, it was nothing compared to how he looked.

you pause your yelling at him for a moment to take in the fact that he looks so tired he might be ready to collapse, that he looks like he hasn't showered or eaten in days.

you push past your worry and begin again, your anger boiling over as you continue yelling.

"how do you know I'm here? have you been fucking following me?"

he forces himself to speak.

"yes."

you scoff. of course he has.

"I'm not a child! I'm a fully grown adult, James!" you yell.

"then why the hell have you been acting like you're a goddamn child?" he yells back.

you've never heard him raise his voice like this before.

"you could have gotten yourself killed. you're lucky I was there. you did everything wrong, against how I taught you to keep yourself safe!"

your entire body is vibrating with the range of emotions you feel right now. you're so pissed off at him, but you've finally gotten him to speak to you. you hate that he's been watching you like his prey all week, but it means that maybe, in his eyes, you're worth losing sleep over.

you both stand there for a minute as you delay responding. your hair is soaking through your pajama shirt, which you realize as you stand there, is one of his t-shirts. your coffee is spilled everywhere from when he startled you, the mug flipped on its side on the counter.

you try to gather your thoughts to respond. you end up coming back to the one thing that you haven't been able to forget about all week, the one thing that breaks your heart more than any of it.

"you didn't even fight for me," you say quietly. you do everything in your power to take deep breaths, blinking your eyes quickly to stop the tears in their wake. "you didn't even fight for me to stay. you just let me go."

you give him the benefit of the doubt when he doesn't respond immediately. you know he needs to gather his thoughts.

you wipe your eyes a few times, listening to the silence, just praying that you mean enough to him that he'll respond.

"I'll never make that mistake again."

you've missed him so much, even in your rage and despair, that those words are all the reassurance you need to hear from him. he steps closer to you, slowly, waiting for your permission to approach.

you take in his appearance once more. he clearly hasn't eaten or slept in days, and he looks dirty. you connect the dots in your head: he hasn't even gone home, hasn't left your side once all week.

the idea of him following you all week pissed you off only minutes before. but now?

your tears spill from your eyes as you wrap your arms around his neck, embracing him as though he's your entire world.

he's never felt as relieved as he does when you cling to him. the aching in his chest finally begins to dissipate for the first time in a week.

you may be in some random apartment, but he's finally home.

he wraps his arms around your waist and picks you up. you get the hint and wrap your legs around his hips, holding onto him as he walks you over to the couch you've spent the last few days crying on.

he lays you down and begins to peel his shirt from your body, revealing every inch of your beautiful skin to him.

he knows has to show you how sorry he is, the only way he knows how.

he adjusts your positioning so you're sitting face forward on the couch, legs dangling over the edge, and he spreads your thighs as he gets to his knees in front of you.

it about takes your breath away.

this man, who is so possessive over you, so afraid of showing even a sliver of weakness or vulnerability, so against the idea of giving up any form of power, is on his knees for you in apology.

you know this isn't easy for him. this is the biggest display of trust you think you've ever seen from him, and your fears about not meaning anything to him begin to disappear.

you're the most important thing in his life. he wishes he had the words to tell you that.

he wraps his hands around the back of your knees, bringing you closer to him, and he pushes his tongue between your legs so softly.

his mouth is wet, and warm, and he hasn't eaten in days, but he'd rather you be the only thing he tastes for the rest of his life, anyways.

a few more involuntary tears spill from your eyes as he laves his tongue over you. you feel so sensitive, the combination of lacking his touch for so long and the emotion behind his actions is making you so much more conscious of his every movement.

he buries his tongue in you over and over again like it's his only mission in life.

he feels the entire lower half of his face, having gone unshaved for the last week, is soaked, covered in you. he hopes he leaves you with a mild rug burn between your thighs so you feel him for days afterwards.

you're so perceptive to his every move, you feel it distinctly when he begins to trace shapes over your clit.

A, E, S is all you make out.

James.

he's writing his name on your skin with his tongue.

you let out a whimper when you realize it, and your gentle hold on the back of his head tightens, pulling his face closer against your cunt.

"James," you whisper as he begins to work you faster, "please."

that's all it takes for him to push you over the edge. your thighs close on either side of his head, and he can mostly hear the way you whine his name as you come for him.

you barely have a second to relax your muscles before he's crowding you on the couch, repositioning you so you're laying underneath him.

his mouth begins to attack your neck, your rules against him putting hickeys on your neck be damned. and you gladly let him, you don't care right now.

he takes no time at all to shove the fabric of his pants out of the way, wrapping your legs around his hips once more, pushing himself down into you.

"fuck," you whisper at the stretch.

he continues his assault on your neck, marking you up and down all the way to your breasts, anywhere he can reach.

he bites back a groan every time you moan so perfectly, filling his ears, repeating his name every few thrusts.

but there's still something in the back of his head he needs you to know.

he doesn't stop, doesn't quit fucking you so beautifully as he brings his mouth to your ear.

"of course I like you," he admits so quietly, and his tone makes it sound like it's the most obvious thing in the world. you're brought back to the other night when you expressed your deepest vulnerabilities to him, and now, he's making up for what he should have told you then. "and of course I care about you."

you clutch him against you as tight as humanly possible until you're both letting yourselves go, feeling the comforting warmth as he releases inside you.

his body gives out, collapsing on top of you, exhausted from the physical and emotional toll of the week.

you finally feel tired too, more so than you have all week. it's as though your body is finally poised to truly rest now that he's with you again.

you can't sleep yet.

"take me home, James," you whisper, and he doesn't hesitate.

~~~

(guys as I'm writing this I'm about to cry)

yeah so I think I spent about six hours on this total y'all

masterlist

join my tag list

bucky tag list: (send an ask or dm to be removed)

@clavedelune @starfly-nicole @avengersfan25 @thewiselionessss @hextech-bros @a-book-lover-things @ruexj283 @mrsnikstan @sleepysongbirdsings @sapphirebarnes @bananababygirl10 @multiversefanfics @winchestert101 @andziabarnes @chrisevansleftnipple @daisydark @luckyhornet @maryevm @avengemepercy @starstruck-cowgirl @doubledizzy22 @yvespecially @shereadzzz @flow33didontsmoke @blaineandergel @iiamlynn @tellybearryyyy @belovedmoony @doilooklikeagiveafrack @analovesmarvel @izzy698 @ketchumid24 @annabethboleyn @luv4koo @uh-buckybarness @buckyseternaldoll @planetzeidy @thegirlfatherr @mandoloriancookie @cieraboobear @k1gi-3 @wint3rbarnes @quinnofdrama

[ariadne-mouse]

I feel fandom would get along a lot better if there was mutual understanding that liking a character, agreeing with a character, and thinking the character is well constructed/executed are all separate (if often overlapping) positions, each with their separate tastes and subjectivities. Also: character portrayals are intended to make the audience feel things; this is separate from (if often overlapping with) analyzing/appreciating their actions and role in the story.

[queenerdloser]

that mark (very recently!) was so fucking pissed about helena using the wrong name for gemma that he went to immediately do experimental brain surgery as a giant fuck you and then DIDN'T anticipate his innie self getting pissed when he got helly's name wrong really underlines how much mark doesn't think his innie loves helly and also doesn't consider his innie to actually be him at all.

[forgettable-au]

FORGETTABLE-AU (page 82-85)

THAT LAZYBONES!!

[BEGINNING] [PREVIOUS] [CONTINUE]

[lucabyte]

even dogs pass the mirror test

[tritoch]

this will forever be the funniest moment in final fantasy xiv to me. you are a bright young officer of the globe-spanning evil empire. over the last few months you've watched the entire empire crumble from the edges inward after the former crown prince killed his father and seized the throne so he could redirect the state toward his own occult ends. you have witnessed unbelievable horrors. you had to kill your own family. finally, you get a chance to stand across from the man who caused all this and ask: why? what was it all for?

and he goes, uh, because i wanted to, dipshit? that's literally the only reason anyone does anything? fuck, you're stupid. if you don't believe me ask literally anyone else. or even like an alien. they'll tell you they do whatever they want for the specific reasons they made up. and like that's literally fine we're all just doing what we want for the cool made-up reasons we each picked.

then a teenager roasts him and he vanishes from history forever. you were probably the last of your countrymen to ever see or speak to him, the man who burned down everything you knew and loved for nothing at all. and like the second to last thing he ever said to you, right between imparting his existentialist philosophy and threatening to kill you, was that aliens are real. he didn't even pause, just said "go ask an alien" and went on with his speech like aliens existing was a baseline assumption everyone could agree on.

[rotationalsymmetry]

Some thoughts on this: the problem with "where are you from originally" (for anyone who doesn't know this yet) is it can come across as "so, you seem to be not white, what are you anyways?" which is just a ruder (implications of "you don't belong here") way of asking someone's race/ethnicity, which is not a small talk question because it's not light and neutral. "Did you grow up around here" as far as i am aware does not have any of those associations.

In general how much people like small talk and other social interactions kinda like that has a great deal to do with social power. People tend to not like it when they're forced into it or might end up listening to someone else's obnoxious opinions while not getting to state their own (for instance, being trans and being in situations where it's socially acceptable to complain about they/them pronouns but not really socially acceptable to express too much frustration about, for instance, people endlessly complaining about they/them pronouns. Hypothetically.) And...in general the younger someone is, the more they're used to always being on the less powerful side of an interaction, and ditto for the more disabled someone is. What I mean is: I think sometimes the barrier to learning small talk that people need removed before they can feel OK about it is not feeling like it's OK to just not do it when you don't want to. Things tend to be a lot more appealing when they're voluntary.

So it can help to start with excuses for ending the conversation or not engaging. I'm not the best at this, but something like: "it was nice meeting you/catching up with you, I have to (do work thing/use the restroom)" or, I'm not thinking of the words right now, but that thing where you're at a social event with many people and you say you want to walk around talking with a bunch of other people. (It's normal at many kinds of social events to only spend a couple minutes talking with each person -- or only spend a couple minutes talking with each person until you find someone you want to spend a long time talking to.) In a work context when you obviously don't have work to do right then, that might be something like "sorry, I'm really tired today, I'm not really up for chitchat." (That's not a real apology "sorry", that's a smooth things over "sorry.")

Small talk is generally considered a nice thing to do and can help build relationships and also make routine interactions more pleasant, but it's not doing any of that when one person really doesn't want to do small talk, so it's ok to dodge out of it (or keep it to, like, one exchange) when you really don't want to do it.

I'm trying to figure out a good way to say "you really should actually learn the basics of small talk" with sounding like I'm biased against autistic people.

[nothorses]

I think the other thing about it is that sometimes what you get out of art says a lot more about you than it does the artist. and what you see in people says more about you than it does them.

the people who looked at Gaiman's work and saw beauty and love for humanity and a life worth living may have been looking at the mask of a monster, and they may have been seeing a bit of something real in an otherwise abusive person, but what they were definitely seeing was a reflection of something already inside themselves.

your relationship with art isn't just about the art, and it isn't just about the artist. it's about you. you are a lens the art shines through, and you are a part of the conversation the art is having, and you are reflecting and being reflected through and by the art, and you are echoing and interpreting pieces of yourself alongside pieces of the art.

it's not foolish to see good things in art made by shitty people. it's not foolish to see good in people who are lying. it's not foolish to trust, believe, hope, or love. I think you might just have hope, love, and joy in your heart, and you might just be finding it in all of those places because you carried it there with you in the first place.

[adrianastrix]

I would like to add that you can know an artist by their work, but not surface-level things like "is attracted to x" or "likes y" or "thinks acting like it is fine" just because one or two characters happen to share those traits. Things that come from the author usually become patterns throughout their whole fiction, and the pattern might seem "likes x, dislikes y", but if you read an author's biography, it might immediately become "oh, it's the author's abusive parent here" or "oh, it's the author's pleasant memories about their childhood or college", or "hey author's spiritual beliefs/existential conflicts, haven't seen you in a whole 20 seconds, would you believe it!".

I can say with confidence that any character I spend long enough developing end up with traits from me (and not just traits I like in me), but it's not a conscious, planned process, so it's hard to gauge the "me/not me" ratio in any of them without a lot of introspection. Even for me, the one who created them and supposedly know myself better than anyone.

In Ryoko's case (though it might be a hell of a projection), I felt a kindred soul in the "scientific fascination" club. Science and scientific interest is always regarded as something cold and calculated, that disregards basic empathy and decency, but it's the same as saying that love is cold and calculating because you only see TV psychopaths exhibiting it. The main difference between scientific interest and love is that, when you love something, you are attracted to it and want it closer to you. With scientific interest, you don't need to love the thing. You might even start by hating it. But you need to understand it, and, if you are honest in your scientific ethics, you will want to present your object of study was accurately as possible and will force yourself to not disregard its virtues because of your bias. Because bias weaken arguments and open yourself to attack by rival scientists.

And that, I think, is one of the reasons Delicious in Dungeon can be so appealing to people even if Ryoko herself don't care much for most foods or by certain body types. She was presenting her world as a scientist sees nature: fascinating by what it is, by it's variety and mystery. It's not disgusting or scary because you don't like or understand it, that's exactly what intrigues you.

I'm pretty sure that, despite her neighbour being off-putting to her with his habit of taking out the trash semi-naked, in the face of something she doesn't like or understand, the scientist in her didn't went "ew, he must be dangerous or disgusting", but "why would someone (that I have other evidence towards being 'normal') act in that way I don't like or understand?". And that's why Senshi isn't a walking gag screaming "BEING SEMI-NAKED IS FUNNY BECAUSE IT'S DISGUSTING AND NO ONE NORMAL WOULD DO THAT", but a person that might be a bit eccentric, but is otherwise normal and functional. Like her neighbour. And, like her neighbour, some people also find him funny and a bit off-putting and some people are thirsty for him.

Saw this on Twitter and I obligatory need to share it