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vrystalius · 1 month ago

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Hi. I know you're super busy and stuff with school and the events and all so no rush or anything (and we did kinda pm about it), but you recently did "Injured, but hiding" with Giyu and I was wonder if (when you have the time) you would be up for doing a Sanemi or Muzan version of that. I just find the concept intriguing. (I'm so not nice to these boys.) Anyway, it really isn't pressing but just if/when you have the time. Hope all is well and you are taking care of yourself. *hugs from afar*

Hiding an injury

You’re injured greatly after being foolishly attacked by some lower rank demon. In order to not appear like a helpless and weak human in front of your husband, you decided to hide it.

Pairing: Muzan x gn!reader

(Muzan sewing your wound)

Muzan knew the moment you stepped into his laboratory that you were injured. He needed just a small glance to know everything that needed to be known. You looked clean but your posture was hunched over, a small speck of blood on your shirt just right next to your collar. The sweet smell of blood surrounded you like a veil, urging and seducing Muzan to move closer and just ravage you all over. Despite being wounded. He smirked to himself and turned back to his experiments, waiting for you whine and tell him about your wound to please treat it for you. Since he was across the room, the severity of your wound wasn’t known to him yet.

Yet, you didn’t come to him. Instead, you dragged yourself to the bathroom and locked the door behind you. Curious, he thinks. Why not come to him first? Muzan’ll happily clean your wound and maybe take some blood samples to check on your general health as well while he’s at it. But no, you’re seemingly content taking care of yourself. Fine then. Already, his brows furrowed and a scowl tool over his face.

Meanwhile, you removed your shirt and inspected yourself in the mirror. The wound was done by a recently turned lower rank aggressively pouncing you. Its master’s smell was all over you but it attacked anyway, causing a rather large and still bleeding wound on your right shoulder. You hissed as you tried to disinfect it, but given its location it proved rather difficult. You didn’t want to go to your husband and whine about your little human pains. You knew that he hates the weak and you’re not sure if he’ll be too happy seeing the spouse he chose being so defenceless against a demon like that. Also, he’a probably busy.

But you are really struggling here, your wound refused to stop bleeding and the amount of towels you were using to try and stop it is already suspicious enough. Who knows if you’re ever going to get the colour and smell out of them? Your reflection in the mirror stared back in disappointment as you threw the bloody towels and shirt aside, opening the bathroom door. You stared at Muzan’s back and how neatly he is dressed, just like always; a black, beautifully patterned west, white button-up shirt, a black tie, his neatly ironed dress pants and shiny leather shoes. You slowly stepped forward, awkwardly fighting with your fingers behind him to wait until he’s finished with whatever he’s doing.

“You smell awfully bloody, darling. What happened?”

He never moved his gaze away from his vials, checking how the colour changed from red to a dark brown. You saw his neck tense by your silence wich made you quickly speak up.

“I-I need your help. Can you help me.. patch.. up?”

The last few words almost sounded forced as your words grew quieter and quieter. Muzan slowly turned to you, standing there, upper body bare. He saw some dried patches of blood reaching over your shoulder and simply raised an eyebrow. His hands slipped the vials back into their holders before turning around and paying his full attention to you now. His finger lifted and made a small spin, silently ordering you to turn around. You lowered your eyes in shame and spun your body slowly, exposing your wound to him. You heard his hands start to go through his desk and a lid of a vial popping off.

Muzan didn’t warn you before applying clean alcohol onto your wound. You suddenly reached behind you to grip onto his dress pangs so you can hold onto something while tanking the pain. You felt his anger brooding inside his body while cleansing your flesh-wound.

“I smell some lowly demon on you. Were you attacked?”

You nodded silently. He hummed before removing the alcohol-drenched cloth and placed it aside, now preparing a needle and a thread. Again, he didn’t warn you before sticking the needle into your skin, sewing your wound together. You cringed at the feeling. One of his hand was stretching the skin a little to make the puncturing of your skin easier. His thumb was softly caressing your shoulder, trying to comfort you silently.

“I’ll deal with whoever injured you, do not worry. Your wound is taken care off, I’ll just need to put some bandages in place.”

You knew his pride was hurt for not telling him sooner, but yet you’re thankful for his help. You nodded your head silently before being turned around by Muzan again. The bloody sewing needle was placed down onto the desk again, his hands resting on your shoulders. His face was awfully close to yours, wich would be romantic or comforting in other moments, but not in this one. In this moment, you felt his eyes ready to burn holes through you. You sensed his hurt pride and anger.

“Tell me in the future right away. I do not wish to see my wife perish so soon. Understood?”

Muzan’s eyes did not leave yours as his hands moved from your collarbone to your cheeks, giving them a small squish.

“I love you.”

You couldn’t help but grin a little.

“Love you too. Sorry for not coming to you right away, I didn’t want to bother you.”

He scoffed and placed a kiss on your cheek, his thumb brushing over your skin. His voice was much more hushed and affectionate now.

“Nonsense, you are no disturbance. Come to me whenever, dear. I’ll always welcome you. Now, be a good wife for me, will you? A kiss, on my lips. Please.”

Even if that magic word “please” was practically pressed out by forcing himself to say it, you happily obliged. One kiss on his lips, one kiss on his nose and one on both of his cheeks will do for now.

🎃

Whumptober prompt: Injured, but hiding

Hello hello! I was planning on writing this anyway since you asked for it while were messaging (or at least expressed the wish to see a version of Injured but hiding with Sanemi or Muzan). I hoped you like it! I’m always super happy seeing you around so I really hope this made your request justice. Big, large bear hugs from afar! You’re one of the first people who began following my blog, so again, thank you for everything!

Anyways, make sure to EAT, SLEEP and DRINK enough!!

Take care of yourselves <3

My October event masterlist 🎃

#💠 house of vry 💠#💠vry’s events💠#demon slayer #demon slayer x reader #kny x reader #fluff #muzan #muzan x you #kibutsuji muzan x reader #muzan x reader #muzan x y/n #demon slayer muzan #kny muzan #muzan kibutsuji #kimetsu no yaiba muzan #yandere muzan #demon slayer x y/n #demon slayer x you

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bettsfic · 6 months ago

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dads have it right. reading the newspaper first thing in the morning is the shit. i subscribed to my local newspaper recently and i, a neurodivergent person who cannot for the life of me develop habits, immediately took to reading the newspaper with my coffee each morning. like it's some kind of evolutionary instinct: fight, flight, freeze, read the obits and sip on some lukewarm folgers at 9am. is the news depressing as hell? yeah. but now i know the local arby's failed its health inspection. i know that all those sirens i heard last night were for a domestic dispute two streets down from my apartment. i know there's a new food truck a town over. i know the middle school principal has been on administrative leave because he refused to punish a boy who stole clothes from the girls' locker room. i found out two dudes were fired from the state teachers' retirement treasury for mismanagement of funds and i called my grandma like, "hey have you heard about this?" because that's her primary income and of course she has because she watches the news 3 times a day, and we gossiped about state teachers' retirement fund embezzlement. i wake up and i don't even think about looking at my phone. i turn on the coffee pot, step outside, and grab the paper. touching grass first thing in the morning: life changing.

#my goal this year was to unsubscribe from streaming services #and use that money to subscribe to things i want to support #local news is important!#zero regrets

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normal-thoughts-official · 4 months ago

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In the remote recesses of the world, north even to the great Maghreb, live a people with a weird and offputting cousine.

The French, as they're called, partake in the consumption of unique, and oftentimes alarming, ingredients, such as snails, frogs, fish eggs, and, on occasion, juice made of rotten grapes.

The most surprising part of this appalling cultural norm is that it is not, as no doubt thought our readers, the result of famine or lack of resources. Although mainly known for their violent culture, in which it is widely accepted to burn other people's cars, (and, before modern civilization made its way to the region, even take off helpless people's heads with a giant cleaver called the guillotine), the French also have access to rich resources often not exploited by the modern world. One such place is the Landes forest, home to the adorable rabbit, which recently has become a choice of pet for those leaning towards the exotic.

No, the French don't eat such slimy, questionable items out of necessity; it is by choice. As appalling as it may sound, they actually consider the foods derived from such ingredients to be high cuisine, and dishes containing them can be particularly expensive in the small region's economy.

With the blessing of my editor, and the guarantee that a medical team specializing in gastroenterology would be at the ready in case of an emergency, I agreed to travel to the faraway region to sample some of the so-called "delicacies". They were prepared by real, native Frenchs, although inspected by a health expert to make sure the hygienization was adequate. I've always been an adventurous eater, but even I must admit that the prospect filled me with aprehension. Would I be able to stomach the foreign dishes without getting sick, or worse, offending our arson-happy hosts?

My anxieties were initially heightened by the conversation with the French who hosted me; as is typical in their culture, he was offputting and rude, often commenting on the mistakes I made on the weird, twisting tongue I was doing my best to emulate. Still, in the spirit of cultural acceptance and not getting my head cut off, I accepted his socially inapt behavior with grace.

I must admit that the rotten grapes were what I was most curious about. The juice derived from them, known as wine, is considered a delicacy, and there are hundreds of different types of it. In French culture, there are even people whose entire job is to appoint the correct choice of wine to go with any given food; such men and women are caled sommeliers and held in high regard by French society.

I quickly learned that the making of wine is something of an art to the native Frenchs. As my self-important host dizzied me with endless descriptions of different wine varieties, I realized I may have gotten too deep into the turbulent waters of the unique region's palate. Out of the exhausting and oftentimes confusing technical detail, however, I was able to extract an important piece of information: the extent of the rot is important in the making of wine.

That's right, dear reader: they actually prefer it when the grapes are more rotten! Spanning not only decades, but sometimes whole centuries, the French's grapes are left to rot in humid wooden barrels - a tradition that's been kept alive since the Middle Ages -, becoming thoroughly ruined so that their juice may be extracted for the making of wine. And the longer they have been left decomposing with their local fungus, the more valuable the juice is.

I was simply too curious to wait. And even more delighted to find out about yet another culinary tradition I didn't know about: the social gatherings known as wine and cheese, in which wine is paired with a variety of solid, yellow, rubber-like wheels derived from fat extracted from cows' milk - the cheese.

Such unique, foul-smelling dishes are a frequent part of the everyman French's life, being consumed by rich and poor alike in a variety of different recipes from all sorts of French subregions. Among them, I found yet another that would delight my intellect and terrify my stomach: gorgonzola. To the reader not quite as deep in diving into the intricacies of French culture, I shall explain: gorgonzola is but a piece of the aforementioned cheese, left to mold.

I could not believe my ears. These people drank rotten grapes and paired them with rotten cow fat, and they enjoyed it. What to us would be a nightmare scenario in a case of extreme poverty, and a surefire way to earn a trip to the hospital, to them was a quite enjoyable meal.

I later learned that gorgonzola is actually from a neighboring nation close to the French - the Italians. Although officially considered a different tribe, Italians share much in common with the French, including the love for wine and cheese, a quite long border, and a language derived from the same roots - the long-dead Latin, ancient language in which their holy book, the "Bible", was once written.

I am happy to report that my experimentation did not lead to hospital trips, and the most I got was an unusually long carsickness. But I have taken with me much more than the curious experience: traveling to France has helped me expand my horizons, meet new people, and connect with cultures other than my own. Although violent and offputting, the French can be quite amorous, and I was even gifted a piece of cheese from a little girl. It is not an experience I would like to repeat anytime soon, but it's made for an interesting story that helped me grow as a writer, investigative journalist, and, most of all, eater.

I can only hope my stomach has taken some good lessons out of the experience, too.

Cremilda Castanho is a writer, cat-lover, and known foodie, with a knack for finding unexplored depths of cuisine across the world. Her book, What Weirdos Eat, was a Folha de São Paulo best seller, and paved the way for culinary exploration in journalism, earning her a Pulitzer prize.

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auras-moonstone · 5 months ago

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Hi!! So the Canucks just lost to the oilers 😔 could we get some more Ethan or Jack x Hockey??

Or sm cowboy Jack related yk bc of his most recent ig post🤭

Anywayyy hope you are having a great start of The Weekend, love your writing 🫶🏼💋

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ sparking up my darkest night — ethan landry

ᡣ𐭩 word count: 3k

ᡣ𐭩 pairing: cowboy!ethan landry x pop star!fem!reader

ᡣ𐭩 summary: y/n goes to her grandparents’ hometown to hide from the drama, and she meets ethan, a cowboy who helps her through the darkness as they fall in love with each other.

ᡣ𐭩 warnings: fluff. cheesiness.

after long, exhausting hours of driving, y/n arrived to the minuscule town where she was going to hide for undefined amount of time. according to her publicist, disappearing from the public eye was the best choice, primarily for her mental health.

the two grammy award winner fell victim to the manipulation of another famous singer who, using his power as a big figure in the industry, twisted a story and went as far as editing conversations and calls to paint y/n as a villain.

and it had worked like a charm. at the moment, y/n’s name was trend on every platform and the hateful comments outlawed the positive ones, that were practically non-existent. people who already disliked her took the situation as an opportunity to unleash their hatred and some of their fans even turned their backs on her.

the castle y/n had built crumbled overnight, and so she decided to hide in the town her grandparents grew up in and try to pretend she was a normal person and her career and future weren’t slipping through her fingers like sand.

y/n stood right next to the car as her eyes inspected the house from outside. the flowers on the front garden were very much alive, the grass was perfectly cut, the windows were practically glowing. there was no aspect of the house that indicated it had been uninhabited for the last five years, and it sent y/n in a spiral because why was the place in such good conditions?

“y/n?” a boyish voice pulled her out of thoughts.

the girl went stiff and adjusted her sunglasses. “um, no?” she turned around to find a boy her age and a brown and white horse by his side.

amusement filled his eyes. “you are not sure if you’re y/n?” he asked, evidently trying to hold his laugh. “what’s with the big glasses and the bandeau?”

the pop-star instinctively ran her hand over the silk cloth. “i’m undercover.”

“in a vuitton bandeau and driving a benz? hate to break it to you, but that’s not how you go undercover. does your team hate you or something?”

“wouldn’t be surprised.” she muttered under her breath. “anyways, how do you know my name, smartass?”

“i’m ethan landry, nice to meet you.” he extended his hand for a shake and his calloused fingers met hers. to his surprise, they were calloused as well, and then he remembered that y/n played way too many instruments so it made sense. “my parents are friends of yours, they asked me to check if you’d arrived safely and to help you settle.”

“oh, that’s nice of you. thank you.” y/n smiled gently.

“no problem at all. at your service, ma’am.” he jokingly tipped his cowboy hat.

y/n laughed. “nice hat, want to exchange?”

ethan scoffed. “get that overpriced thing away from me, i’d rather stay true to my roots.”

“whatever, cowboy. are you going to introduce me to this gorgeous creature?” she eyed the horse with soft eyes.

“i already told you, my name’s ethan.” he winked, making her roll her eyes. but the boy was charming, there was not denying that. “this is my horse, pegasus, and his favourite song of yours is white horse.”

her shoulders shook with laughter and ethan’s heart skipped a beat. that sound was as angelic as her voice. but he quickly locked those thoughts away, he could not go there. she was not only here for a short period of time, she was also beyond untouchable.

“hi, pegasus. aren’t you the cutest horse ever? yes, you are.” she baby-talked the gigantic animal while petting him. “i love your name.” the horse made a sound and the next thing she knew, he licked the side of her face. “aww! it’s nice to meet you too. you’re as charming as your owner, huh?”

“thanks for the compliment but i’m not going to lick your face.” ethan joked, but he was screaming from the inside.

y/n sighed, feigning disappointment. “well, i tried.”

they got to know each other a bit more as ethan helped her get settled in the house, which he knew like the back of his hand because he was the reason why the house looked good as new. her parents payed him to clean the house and take care of the garden.

“well, i’ll leave you to start getting familiar with your new home for the time being. i wrote down my number and sticked it to the fridge. you can call me or text me any time, i live five minutes away so it’s no inconvenience for me. don’t hesitate to reach out, okay? whether you need help with something or if you need a friend to talk to.”

a friend. that sounded so nice. her so called friends from the city let go of her hand as soon as the drama unfolded, not giving her a chance to explain. they didn’t even ask what happened, they just disappeared. they discarded her once her reputation went down the drain.

“hey…” he said softly. she met his gaze and the look in her eyes splitter his heart. he lived in a small town and even though he wasn’t on the phone that much, he didn’t live under a rock. ethan knew the reason behind her escapade, and because of his parents’ friendship with y/n’s family, he knew all those things the singer said about her were fabricated and far from real. “the truth will come out. it always does. you’re allowed to feel sad, and angry, and whatever you’re feeling, but don’t let them bring you down.”

“they already did. my career might be over, everyone hates me, the record is thinking about letting me go because i don’t bring them a good image anymore, i have no friends left. they made me ran away from my home, ethan. i can’t even defend myself because they’re so filled of hatred that they won’t hear my side of the story.”

“so you don’t play the part of the victim, even though you are one. you gather all the awful things they’re saying about you and laugh it off. make it your brand. they can’t use it against you if you embrace the hate.” he said all of those things, and he truly believed it. but at the same time, he had the urge to bring him into his arms and secure her from the outside world.

she pressed her lips in a thin line “that sounds great, ethan. but i don’t know if i can do that.”

he nodded in understanding “and that’s normal. the wounds are still raw, but you’ll get there eventually, because you cannot let them win.”

“you’re kinda wise, cowboy.” she finally smiled.

“thank you, super star. maybe in your next album you can mention a hot cowboy who helped you see reason.”

“oh, do you know any hot cowboys? introduce me please.” she teased him.

ethan gritted his teeth. he did not like the image of her with someone else at all. he had met her two hours ago and he was already having possessive thoughts. ethan was definitely not going to survive y/n. he feared she already had him under her spell. after all, her funny comebacks and soft heart were impossible to resist.

“nah. you already have the best combo in town, the hottest, most charming cowboy—me—, and his sweet sidekick—pegasus.”

y/n shook her head in amusement “you’re so full of yourself.” but she couldn’t deny that she agreed with him.

“more like aware of myself.”

“i don’t know how that hat fits in that big head of yours.”

“it’s custom made, darling.” he winked.

“and pretty ugly, too. here, let me help.” she took off her bandeau and wrapped it around his hat. “now you’re a fancy cowboy.”

“i’m going to be the town’s biggest disappointment.” yet, he didn’t take it off. “i really have to go, but let’s do something tomorrow, okay? maybe i can show you around town.”

she smiled like the cheshire cat. “can i ride a horse?”

“sure, we can borrow my sisters’”

“yay! can’t wait. see you tomorrow, ethan.”

“it’s fancy cowboy for you, super star.” he winked and then left the house.

as she watched both pegasus and ethan disappear from her sight, she realized it had been months since the last time she had smiled so genuinely. and even though she had been in this town for a couple of hours, she already decided it was the best decision she could’ve made.

as soon as ethan caught sight of y/n standing in the porch, he smiled like a little kid. she was adorable, with a basket in hand, short overalls and cowboy boots and excitement lighting up her face.

“dressed for the occasion, i see.” ethan said.

“like it?” she asked, doing a little turn.

“you look gorgeous, y/n.” he answered softly making the singer blush. “though, there’s something missing to complete the outfit.” her curious eyes met his, and he simply smiled as he took a cowboy hat from his bag. he put it on y/n’s head and hummed in content. “now we’re talking.”

“i love it! thank you so much!” y/n didn’t even think before jumping and throwing her arms around his slim waist.

“you’re very welcome.” he murmured, hugging her back. her figure felt so perfect against his, like puzzle pieces. “what’s on the basket?”

“i made cupcakes, a cheesecake and sandwiches. i was thinking we could stop to have a little picnic.”

“that sounds very nice. i know a spot by the lake.“

y/n admired her surroundings. the sun reflecting on the lake, the green grass, the quietness, the tall trees, the animals living so freely. she felt so at ease, not needing to be in high alert for invasive paparazzis or overstepping fans.

“a penny for your thoughts?” ethan asked, curious about what thoughts had her smiling so big.

“it feels so good not being under scrutiny. no hunters with cellphones at sight, i feel so fucking light.”

“you don’t miss the city?” he asked curiously.

“not even a bit.” she answered truthfully. “when the drama began, i realized i have nothing there.“

“what about your friends? boyfriend? girlfriend?”

“no boyfriend or girlfriend.” thank god, ethan screamed internally. “and all my supposed friends turned into smoke. being friends with a liar is not good for their image, and that’s the whole reason why they hung out with me i now realize.”

“fuckers.” he spat angrily. “when your next album breaks all the records they’re going to came back with their tails between their legs and you’re going to laugh at their faces.”

how could someone she had met less than a day ago make her feel so much? “you’re setting the bar too high for my next album. what if it ends up sucking and you have to eat your words?”

he shrugged “easy, you just have to work your ass off so my ego isn’t hurt by not being right.”

“working hard is the way of making a good album? damn, i would’ve never thought of doing that!” they exclaimed sarcastically.

“lucky you met me, then.”

jokes aside, y/n really was lucky. the soft spot on her heart was slowly becoming reserved for him. feelings were already blooming and there’s nothing she could do to stop it.

she really liked how funny he was and god, she was part of hollywood yet she had never encountered someone more breathtakingly beautiful than ethan landry. but the way he constantly made her believe that she could truly get her reputation back? the way he truly had faith in her? that’s what made her certain he was the best of the best.

“would you…” he started the question, then hesitated. y/n raised her eyebrows, urging him to keep going. “would you consider leaving the city to move here?”

“right now? i would say yes, i’d really consider it. but that’s because in l.a everyone is going to shove a camera in my face and ask questions and i wouldn’t be able to go out without hate being thrown at me.”

ethan nodded. “yeah, that makes sense.”

“i guess time will tell.”

“maybe i’ll have to make sure to give you endless reason to stay.”

she had a feeling it wouldn’t take too much work. besides, him living there was enough reason to make her stay.

six months had gone by. everyone wondered where y/n was, if she was going to drop new music, if she was going to show her face, activate her social media again, if she was going to address the drama and explain her side of the story in detail. everyone speculated that she was drowning in her own misery—which they agreed she deserved for being a liar and manipulator—, they had no idea she was going better than she ever had. or that she had just finished writing her comeback album.

“this is amazing, y/n.” ethan said when he finished reading one of the songs. “everyone’s going to love it.”

they were currently sitting in y/n’s living room, just right by the fireplace. they had brought down her mattress and made a fort with the covers and pillows. ethan had begged her to show some of the songs, and she accepted. she was not showing him the ones she had written about him, though.

“i don’t know about that.” she shook her head. “anyways, i’m not doing it to be liked again. i guess the only reason i’m dropping this album is because i don’t want to keep my side of the story to myself. if i want to close this chapter of my life, everything needs to be let out. and i also want my remaining fans to know.”

“you don’t want your career back? you deserve it. you’ve worked so hard to get the spot you had before that jealous prick ruined it.” ethan spat with hatred. honestly, at this point he was more angered by the whole thing than her. it made her heart melt, the way he cared about her.

“i do want my career back, but i don’t want it to be the center of my world anymore. i’ve found other things that brings me joy, too. i don’t want to let go of them.”

ethan pushed himself up on one elbow and looked down at her. “and… what are those things?” he asked hope invading his chest.

“picnics next to the lake, taking care of farm animals, riding horses while watching the sunset, just… enjoying my life with no pressure.“ she spoke, then shoot her gaze up, meeting his. “but mostly, i enjoy doing those things with you. having you in this house, making dinner with you, baking, making forts, dancing around the kitchen… you make me want to leave my old life behind.”

ethan smiled and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “there’s nothing i’d love more than for you to stay here with me, but i’d never ask you to give your career up.”

“i know. i know you wouldn’t, and that’s why i like you so much. you’ve been supportive since the beginning. you’re the main reason this album is going to exist. not only because you were my muse, but also because you gave me the strength to want to get my career back.”

“y-your muse? what are you talking about?”

“i only showed you two songs, the album is going to have around sixteen songs. those i showed you are about the drama, but… the concept is going to be about how finding love got me through the drama.”

“finding love? you…?” he would’ve been embarrassed of his high pitched voice if he weren’t so shocked by her choice of word.

she nodded softly, and eyed him hesitantly, trying to figure out if she’d read the signs wrong. next thing y/n knew was ethan rolling on top of her and his soft lips pressing against hers. “i love you. i love you. i love you.”

“i love you, too.” she kissed him back. “eth?” he hummed. “what do you think about the basement?” she asked, making him blink in confusion.

“the basement?”

“yeah, do you think it would be a cool place to build my little recording room?”

his jaw fell open. “what are you saying?”

she traces his face features with her fingertips “i’m saying that i’m moving here. and there’s no way i’m driving to L.A everyday to record the album, i would get too tired and i’d miss you too much.”

“we could move to your apartment until you finish.” he suggested.

“you would move to the city for me?” she asked, getting a bit emotional.

his eyes sparkled. “i would do anything for you.”

“you’re so fucking sweet, but you don’t need to move. i really want to move here, for good. i would probably have to drive a few times a month for important meetings or for interviews, but this is my home. both you and this town.”

he had no words, he simply kissed her softly and then hid his warm face on the crook of her neck. after a long, peaceful silence, he finally asked. “can i read those love songs?”

y/n smiled. “why don’t i play them for you?”

“this is the best day of my fucking life. don’t move, i’ll get your guitar.” he quickly got off her and ran up the stairs like an over-excited puppy.

y/n couldn’t believe what a turn her life has done. a couple of months ago she wished to have a time machine to avoid that call that turned her life into hell. now, she found herself feeling grateful that happened. not only she felt stronger but it also showed her the fake world she had blindly been living in. and most importantly, it brought her to ethan, and she would go through hell thousands of times for him.

#ethan landry #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry scream #jack champion #ethan landry smut #scream smut #jack champion x reader #ethan landry fluff #ethan landry x y/n #ethan landry oneshot #ethan landry fic #scream au

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daistea · 6 months ago

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If you ever have the time, would you ever feel like taking a request with mithrun x an elf reader who's been taking care of him for a while? I've been thinking that they'd know of each other pre-demon, but weren't well acquainted (different circles, and reader is more introverted (like misril)) at the time until post-demon where they help nurse him to health and mayhaps join the canaries as a healer/support for the group.

If that's too specific, that's fine! You can take liberties.

If youre like "yeah that plain just won't happen with mithrun/hes not like that", that's fine! You don't need to write it if you don't want to

I don't want to force you or anything; it's just something that's been floating in my mind, recently!

Of course my friend! You asked so nicely <3

I think I’ll use she/her pronouns for the reader with this one if that’s cool!

Sooooo I’m assuming Mithrun was one of the Wardens in his squad. I don’t recall if it ever mentioned if he was in the first squad or the second. If it’s the second, then Milsiril might’ve been the Vice-Captain of his specific squad at the time, and Mithrun was her second in command like Pattadol is to him now. Cus u know Pattadol is second in command because she’s nobility, and Mithrun is nobility.. Yadda yadda. Let’s just go with that for simplicity’s sake. And since there’s only two Wardens to a squad, I’ve taken the liberty of making the reader a criminal, but it’s for something stupid like… jaywalking lol. Jaywalking using black magic. Or uh maybe using black magic to heal. Both? Two criminal charges, you rebel you

anywho..

tw suicide, mental illness, self harm, blood

Dungeon Meshi Spoilers ahead!

4500ish words

"Vignettes of a 40 Year Old Desire" - Mithrun x elf/healer female reader

●・○・●・○・●

Getting started was the hardest part.

You took a deep breath, your hands hovering over the wound. The slice in Mithrun’s arm was clean, with no brutal ridges. It would scar, but it would be a straight, neat white line on his skin when it was over. Even Mithrun’s wounds were perfect.

“Are you okay?” He asked. His voice was soft, and it reminded you of warm blankets on winter days. Your eyes flickered up to meet his and he offered a smile.

“Yeah,” you said. You sat beside him with your legs curled up beneath you. He sat with his legs criss-crossed, casual as if his bicep hadn’t just been nearly sliced open by the sword of a living armor. He had to be in pain, it was a deep wound. You’d managed to stop the excessive bleeding, but the paleness of his cheeks betrayed that he was feeling weak.

Still, starting was the hardest part.

You summoned your stores of mana, connecting to the spirits that made up the world. They were all around you, willing to obey, willing to lay upon Mithrun’s wound and graft his skin back together. A soft light glowed from beneath your palm as you ran your fingers around the edges of the wound. You weren’t sure why getting started was difficult for you, perhaps it was the feeling of magic pulsing through your veins that startled you, or the very fact that you had the ability to defy nature in this way. And there was that little bell that rang in the back of your mind, that urge to go further, deeper, darker.

That damn bell and its ringing had gotten your ears clipped.

You pulled back from Mithrun, letting your hands drop into your lap. “Done,” was all you said.

He blinked in surprise, then lifted his arm to inspect the spot where he’d been sliced. There was a faint scar, but it would probably fade if he got some sun. His lips twitched into a frown at the sight, but that expression immediately died, pushed aside and replaced with a smile. Mithrun didn’t need the sun, actually, he carried enough shine in his smiles…. Is what someone stupid would say.

“Thank you,” his voice was soft, polite. He pushed down the sleeve of his canary uniform and rolled his shoulders. Nearby, the rest of the team was setting up camp for the night. They laughed and passed around a wineskin. There was a spot on the ground between two of your peers, saved for Mithrun. Milsiril was a distance away with her back pressed against the wall and her knees pulled up to her chest. She had a sewing needle that she meticulously threaded through the body of a ragdoll.

You expected Mithrun to stand up and cross the room to join the others. Yet, he didn’t. He stared at you, two silver eyes filled with curiosity. You returned the look and raised a brow as if to silently ask what he needed.

Finally, Mithrun offered a slightly bashful smile, “You don’t really socialize much, do you? Oh,” he perked up, eyes widening, “I don’t mean that in a bad way, of course. I mean, you’re shy, right? I just don’t know that much about you.”

And that drove him mad.

You were entirely too aware of Mithrun’s true nature. The others were too busy basking in his light, caught up in his orbit, trapped in his web. Even Milsiril deigned to notice. She could’ve if she wanted, she simply didn’t want to— it would be like looking in the sun, and once you got past the blinding light and actually looked, you would already be burnt.

You saw the looks on his face when nobody was looking. You didn’t mean to see them, you didn’t mean to stare, but it had become a habit to watch his reactions. There was a flicker of irritation in his eyes sometimes, the hint of a frown when someone didn’t play his game exactly how he planned. There were moments when his shoulders would tense and his smile would turn tight. There were moments he’d avoid answering questions about himself and turn the subject around on the inquirer to keep his history and feelings and thoughts hidden behind a very sturdy, well-guarded wall.

You were more interested in him than you’d like to admit. You’d drawn several conclusions: Mithrun genuinely enjoyed the company of others, but he couldn’t help himself, he couldn’t help but scowl when they weren’t looking and judge their decisions and look down on everything they said and did. He even did it to you.

Which was precisely why you avoided him for the most part. You didn’t want him to know more about you, to provide more ammunition so he could reload his weapon and fire it straight into your back.

So, all you had to say was, “Yeah, we don’t really talk much.” And you smiled as innocently as you could before standing up and wandering to a corner near Milsiril.

Mithrun’s eyes lingered on your back. He was probably making that face he made when displeased that his charm didn’t work; analytical, a hint of darkness, one could practically see the red-inked assumptions scribbling onto parchment in his head, destined to be filed under a wildly critical and exaggerated category and kept there until the end of time.

You only wished you understood why he was like that.

Mithrun disappeared without warning. The squad had been dispatched to the Central Observation Tower because yet another person had disappeared in the area. Mithrun offered to take his friend’s scouting duty into a dark tunnel because she was afraid of spiders and was convinced that there were millions of them in that specific dark tunnel. Milsiril offered to send you along with him, but at that time you were trying to heal a sprained ankle of another squad member. Mithrun waved a dismissive hand and smiled, “It’s no problem. I’ll be fine on my own, but thanks!”

That was the last you saw of him.

Milsiril had someone slumped on her arm. She held them up, breathing heavily and covered in dirt and blood and dirty blood. You rushed toward the scene. The person had silver hair caked with quickly drying streaks of red. His head lolled. But he was breathing. Thank goodness, he was breathing.

Milsiril gently laid Mithrun on the ground. Immediately, you sat beside him, your hands on his cheeks and forcing open his eyes— eye. Singular. The right one was a mess. There was no time to question that, though. You summoned a light spell and opened his eyelid and black irises greeted you. Weren’t his eyes silver before? It was dim, too. Yet, his chest moved up and down and his heart was still beating. You let go of his face and he closed his eyes again, head lolling to the side as he let out a soft exhale.

“So, this is where he’s been?” You asked Milsiril.

She nodded, “He became the dungeon lord. This place…” she glanced up at the twisted walls and long corridors that led to nowhere. There were monster corpses nearby. So many monsters, strong ones, weird ones with horrific teeth and eyes. “It’s a representation of him. I never knew…”

You knew, sort of. You just didn’t think it would get to this level. You didn’t think he’d fall to the demon. You didn’t think—

There was no time for thinking. You had to get started on healing him. For once, getting started wasn’t so hard, not when your heart raced, not when you were desperate for someone to live.

When Mithrun was conscious again, you offered your hand to help him stand.

He didn’t take it.

Of one thing you were certain: Mithrun of the house of Kerensil had no desire to live.

“You should’ve let me die.”

You perked up at the sound of his voice. It was the first time Mithrun had spoken in perhaps a month, and his vocal cords betrayed that fact. His voice was scratchy with disuse, and it was a struggle for him to speak. As you glanced over your shoulder to look at him, he didn’t bother meeting your eyes. His gaze was on the window near his bed, but he wasn’t looking at anything, not really.

“I should’ve let you die?” You echoed. You could hear the anger in your own voice. Mithrun didn’t care, you knew.

He simply nodded. A lock of silver fell over his bony shoulder. His collarbones were too pronounced. The sight made a fire start in your chest.

“Mithrun?” You asked.

He turned his head to look at you. One eye, as black as an endless pit, landed on your face. The other was covered by bandages.

And he waited. He didn’t actually care about what you had to say, you knew. But you had to say it.

“Don’t ever say those words to me again.”

Mithrun only stared, “Alright.”

Then he returned his attention to the window that he was not looking out of.

You don’t know when or why you started to care so much.

You’d always cared about people. You’d always wanted to help. But you didn’t even really like Mithrun before the dungeon incident. Now, his recovery was all you could focus on. And you were absolutely obsessed with the state of things.

“I don’t know what to do,” his brother whispered, desperate, “I’ve hired so many caretakers but they just don’t do anything for him. I mean, they do things, but he’s not getting any better.”

Someone had to break the news to him. “I don’t think anything we do is going to make him any better.”

“I want him to be better,” his brother furrowed his brows and took a deep breath.

You wanted the same. But for now, all you could do was keep Mithrun alive. As long as he ate and slept and breathed, that was good enough for now. That was all he could manage.

You visited the Kerensil family home more often these days. You weren’t sure why, but you cared. When he screamed at night and scratched himself to the point of bleeding, you healed him without a word. When he got ahold of a kitchen knife and put it to his throat, you wrestled it away from him, then helped his brother install locks on all the cabinets and drawers. When Mithrun snuck out at night to go slaughter every goat within a 50 mile radius, you cleaned the blood from his hair and hands.

You’d basically moved in. The captain had given you permission to dedicate time to Mithrun’s healing, since they would’ve liked to have him join again once he was better. To the other Canaries, this was part of your sentence. To you, this was part of your purpose.

You and Mithrun talked a lot. You talked the most. He stayed quiet, so you weren’t sure if you could consider it as actually holding a conversation. You weren’t sure if he was even listening. But once, when you were softly explaining the importance of getting rune shapes exactly right, you stopped and stared at your hands. You’d begun to enter dark territory, the study of black magic that had brought you to this place in life.

The silence stretched on for a minute or two before Mithrun tilted his head. His hair was splayed out on his pillow and his good eye was open, blinking, slightly alert.

“Continue,” he said.

So you continued. And he stared at the ceiling. And you knew that he was listening. He didn’t care, of course, but he was listening.

One night, Mithrun nearly hit a vital organ with a piece of glass from the bathroom mirror that he’d shattered.

You healed it, the light from your hands growing brighter than usual. Your shoulders were tense and you couldn’t help but scowl and growl and mutter.

Mithrun just looked at you, “You know this isn’t what I want.”

“I don’t care,” you answered immediately.

He grit his teeth, “I don’t want to live.”

“I want you to live!” You exploded. He flinched backward, but no emotion passed over his face. He simply stared. You gulped down your feelings and continued healing him.

Maybe that was selfish of you. You didn’t care.

Milsiril was a mother. Milsiril was a caretaker. Milsiril was a toymaker and she knew how to wind them up and set them on the path again.

“I’m ready to go back into the dungeon,” Mithrun said. His voice was still scratchy, but he was sitting up on his bed for once. He’d gained a few pounds and his shoulders weren’t sharp as knives anymore.

Milsiril only shook her head, “Not yet, I’m sorry.”

Mithrun looked at you as if he expected you to ally with him. You knew him the best, you knew what he wanted in life. You even knew what his secret desire was, the one he couldn’t admit to himself.

You shook your head as well, “You’re still underweight and you haven’t quite gotten the hang of taking care of yourself yet.”

Mithrun’s expression only darkened, “Then let’s keep practicing.”

Where Milsiril was more concerned with making Mithrun socially acceptable enough to rejoin society, you were much more concerned about his living conditions, health, and dignity. It was a relief that he’d stopped trying to pick the locks on the knife drawer. It was not a relief that Mithrun was planning for his inevitable death against the demon— not that he’d admit that.

He wanted different things now. No longer was his goal to die from withering away, but rather to die at the hands of the god who once served him. Still, it involved him dying. There was this feeling you had inside, comparable to the feeling you had when you were first being hunted by the Canaries. You knew it was inevitable that they would find you and jail you or make you join them. Anticipation rose in your chest until it finally burst when they tied up your wrists and clipped your ears.

Now, anticipation was rising again. It had been rising for the last twenty or so years that you’d spent at Mithrun’s side. You could only wonder when it would burst, and when you’d end up as scraps on the floor like the shreds of a popped balloon. You could only wonder.

When Mithrun rejoined the Canaries, you went with him. He said nothing about that. You were the one who cut his hair shorter for functionality reasons. You were the one who delivered his new uniform and made sure it fit. You were the one who sat on his back as he did push ups for training— which was actually the most fun with him you’d had in the last twenty years. It was kind of silly, but it was good to see him willing to do things like exercise and challenge himself, even if his end goal was just to reach the demon.

There was a lot of teasing involved when you two returned to the Canaries.

“Are you in love with him or something?” Helki asked behind his hand. He cast a glance at Mithrun, who was sitting nearby and silently staring out the window.

You made a face, “With Mithrun? No. I love him, but not like that.”

“Are you sure?” He snorted, “You’ve been like his little wife for the last few decades.”

“I don’t think I would consider all that as wife-like,” you retorted.

“Why do you do it, then?”

Was it truly so impossible for someone to comprehend caring for another individual without expecting something in return? Or not having a motive? You supposed there was a motive, but it wasn’t romance. You just… cared. You wanted him to stay alive and get better. And he was relatively better, now. Relatively.

You patted Helki’s shoulder, “Because he’s my friend. Nothing more.”

You didn’t notice, but Mithrun’s head tilted. He always listened to you, even when you didn’t think so.

“Can you help her?” Flamela jutted a thumb toward where you and Mithrun sat. Her voice, louder than everybody else’s in the Canary’s headquarters, caught your attention. Mithrun kept his arms crossed and his gaze on the recruits training outside.

Cithis blinked in surprise. Her eyes landed on you and you returned the look with a hesitant smile.

“It’s a lot to explain,” Flamela continued, “but Captain Mithrun needs help and [name] needs a break.”

Your brows furrowed. You hadn’t expressed needing a break before. You were fine. You liked taking care of Mithrun. Yet before you could protest, Flamela was already walking away. And Cithis stood there with her hands folded and her eyes curious, analyzing.

Dread settled into your chest.

“You’re not some helpless baby, Mithrun,” you didn’t mean to yell, nor pace, nor gesture so wildly with your hands, but you couldn’t help it. “You’re not a dog, not a slave, not someone who can be exploited for entertainment! You’re a person and you deserve respect!”

Mithrun only raised a brow, “So, you’re mad at me.”

“I’m not mad at you,” you snapped, sounding quite mad at him. Yet you pulled yourself together and took a deep breath, “No, Mithrun, I’m not mad at you. It’s not your fault. I just wish people saw you as more than what you’re going through. You’re the damn Captain of the Canaries now, you’ve risen above some really tough shit and you’re capable and strong and—”

Lord.

The realization hit you like a slap to the face.

You froze, mouth hanging open, eyes on Mithrun. He only stared, as he tended to do, waiting for you to say something. But you couldn’t. You’d been slapped in the face by reality and now everything ached.

“I’ve got to go,” you managed to squeak out before running toward the door. You left his bedroom behind and darted down the hallway of the Canaries Headquarters. You shared a room with a few other criminals, but they weren’t there when you burst inside and collapsed onto your bed. You were in your late 100’s yet there you were, screaming into your pillow like a 60 year old.

You’re in love.

“I’m in love,” you said out loud, which you immediately regretted because that made things real.

You’re in love. You’re in love. You’re in love and it hurts so much because Mithrun could never love you back. Were you a masochist? Probably. Your heart hurt. You suddenly understood the concept of heartbreak, it felt as if your heart was about to physically fall apart. Realizing that you’re in love should be a happy moment. It shouldn’t hurt so much.

Alright, you decided. You’re going to ignore it like an adult. You’re going to take this secret to the grave.

Captain Mithrun’s team was a mess.

But they were fun.

“Hey,” Lycion elbowed you one night at the dinner table. He leaned down to whisper while you were mid-bite of a piece of chicken. “Do you think the Captain would let me check out the fighting scene on that island? Like, we could put off the whole negotiations thing for a day so I can go see it?”

Mithrun personally wouldn’t care, you knew, but he would refuse Lycion’s request for the sake of getting into the dungeon faster. You swallowed your food and sent him a glance, “Why’re you asking me? Pattadol’s the one that does all the decision stuff with Mithru— the Captain.”

“But you know him best.”

True enough. Still, you were just the healer, still a criminal sentenced to another 40 or so years of Canary service. You sent Lycion an apologetic smile, “Sorry. I don’t think he would.”

“Can you ask him?” Lycion used that purring voice he always utilized on certain targets unwilling to obey.

You remained unaffected, “I don’t see why you think me asking him would make a difference.”

“The Captain would do anything you asked!” He explained, “Within reason, of course. You’re his girl.”

Your heart skipped a beat and you forced the satisfaction down. “I’m not his girl. And he pretty much does whatever anyone tells him to do as long as it doesn’t interfere with his goals, so I’m not any different.”

“You’re blind,” Lycion muttered, “so blind.”

Mithrun had been pulled into the stupid pit thing or whatever with that stupid Kabru guy. You were going to pull your hair out.

When he reunited with the Canaries, he actually looked rather well-taken care of. You begrudgingly admitted that Kabru may not be as stupid as you thought, but you couldn’t let go of your anger at the entire situation. You still wanted to pull your hair out, mostly because you were resisting the urge to wrap your arms around the Captain and squeeze until your bodies melted together.

Mithrun noticed your stress and slowly approached you. He patted your head, “I’m fine,” he said.

He could be shot in the chest and he’d still claim to be fine.

“When this is all over,” you managed to say through the fog of anger and worry and adoration and fury, “we’re taking a holiday. We’ll go to the Eastern Archipelago and we’re sitting on the beach and we’re going to do very safe things like build sandcastles or take naps.”

Mithrun looked down at you. He stared, as was his tendency. Then he raised both brows and you thought that just for a second, there was a hint of a smile on his lips. An affectionate smile. Perhaps it was hopeful thinking, an illusion brought forth by stress. You weren’t sure.

His hand that was on your head slowly ran down the side of your cheek and to your chin, lifting your face so you’d look at him. He didn’t hold you for long, though, letting his arm drop to his side when he had your attention. “When we have time, I will go where you go,” he said.

You wanted to smack him in his stupid beautiful face for being so sweet. What was wrong with him? Was he in a good mood? You could only narrow your eyes in suspicion.

Of course, Mithrun walked away after that, back to the mission at hand. Yet his words echoed. I will go where you go.

That was more like something you would say to him. You’ve made the decision to be at his side for the last 40 years. You would follow him to the ends of the earth.

Surely, he didn’t mean it.

But then again, Mithrun wasn’t in the habit of lying unless it served his purpose. And he wouldn’t lie to you, of all people. Surely not.

The demon was gone and Mithrun had lost his purpose in life.

How scary, you thought. How terrifying to lose your one reason for living. You’d most likely be on the ground, slumped up against a tree and expecting to wither away just like him. But unlike you, Mithrun had people who cared for him, who wouldn’t accept that fate for him, who loved him.

Senshi and Kabru said their pieces. The Canaries all agreed with a chorus of encouragement and opinions and friendship.

You offered your hand, like you always did, like you’d been doing for the last four decades.

He took it.

Mithrun placed his hand in yours. And the anticipation bubble that had been building in your chest for so long finally popped. But you were okay. It was okay. He was okay.

Mithrun pardoned you, surprisingly. You told him that wasn’t necessary and that he should use his pardon on someone else who had a longer sentence. There were only 40 years left for you. Surely they wouldn’t be as long as the last 40 years had been.

“No, it's you I want,” Mithrun said rather casually, “you’re staying with me in Melini.”

He wanted something. He wanted you.

You forced yourself to stay upright, “Alright. If you insist.”

Living with Mithrun in this state was very different. It was fun, heartbreaking, difficult, easy, calm, chaotic. Some days, he laid in bed and stared at the wall. Other days, he made noodles and walked through the forest and sat on the beach with you, doing very safe things like building sandcastles and taking naps. Many people in town assumed you two were married. You always corrected them, Mithrun never did.

He observed monsters and would need healing sometimes. You would push up the sleeve of his tunic and trace your fingers along old scars, none of them perfect. Then, heal him, as you tend to do.

“Are you sure you want this?” Mithrun asked one day.

You looked up to meet his eyes. Ink black, your favorite color. “What?”

“You can spend your life any way you want now,” he explained, his voice flat, “you’re free. I’m not your burden anymore.”

Your heart clenched in your chest. “You have never been a burden to me.”

“I used to hate you for keeping me alive.”

“I know.”

“And you never hated me?”

“I sometimes did,” you admitted softly, fingers tracing over his skin. You recalled this certain scar, from a pair of scissors you wrestled out of his hands at two in the morning years ago. “But it was the kind of hate that only stems from love.”

“You have always treated me like a human,” Mithrun murmured. His free hand went to your chin and lifted your face, “Like someone that deserves to live. You loved me despite my inability to give you anything in return. But I’m able now,” he leaned closer, “so allow me this.”

Damn. That had to be the first time you’d ever heard Mithrun say anything like tha—

He was kissing you.

It took you a moment to realize what was happening. His lips were on yours and your heart felt as if it might explode. Your hands shook as you raised them, eventually finding their way to his hair. That felt right. This was right. He deepened the kiss, slowly pushing forward. It was slow and careful and calm. It held so many words that neither of you were able to say. As he gently ran his hand up your thigh and to your hips, you couldn’t help but shiver.

40 years of longing accumulated into this moment. In a dark house in a new kingdom in a demon-free world, you started something new, and for once it wasn’t difficult at all.

281 notes · View notes

aonungslvr · 1 year ago

Text

like mother like daughter

pairing ; mama! neytiri te tskaha mo’at’ite x baby!daughter! reader

taggings ; 🪽🍄

summary ; neytiri recently gave birth to her first daughter, and she has never been happier.

2.5k words

the omatikayan people did not have the same tools that humans did during pregnancy. the mother would receive monthly check-ups from the tsahìk herself to ensure her and baby were strong. when the day came, the mother would be brought to the tsahìk and her top healers to help guide her through the birth and bring her baby into the world.

the navi get no information on their babies before they are born, so when mo’at had placed you in neytiris arms for the first time with her words,

“the great mother has blessed you with a baby girl.”

your mother cried, as did jake. she had already welcomed a son into this world and the news of being able to raise a daughter brought her such joy.

neytiri held you against her chest letting her tears sink into your bloodied hair. all she could do was stare at you, though you were unable to do the same as your eyes hadn’t opened yet.

she rocked you against her chest, expecting your cries to ring throughout the room. when they didn’t, your mother worried and in turn asked her own mother if you were okay.

“sa’nok she isn’t crying. why isn’t she crying?”

mo’at picked you up from your mothers arms and investigated your small body, checking for anything that could be wrong.

the other healers rushed over to their tsahìk offering their aid, blocking view from your mother.

“what’s wrong with her? is she okay? please tell me she’s okay.” neytiri expressed, her lips quivering.

she tried to push herself off the hammock but fell back down due to her weak body after birth. a younger girl in the tsahìks tent lended her aid to your mother, doing her best to calm her.

after a through inspection of your external and internal health, mo’at smiled and placed you back into your moms arms. she gladly took you back and rocked you again, looking at your scrunched up face.

“nothing is wrong. she is just a happy baby.” your grandmother spoke, brushing neytiris hair out of her face.

your mother lightly laughed as she held you even closer. neteyam was such a loud baby when he was born, this was a shock to her.

you let out baby babbles and reached your tiny arms out towards your mothers face. neytiri put her index finger infront of your small hands, and you grasped on. you were only a few minutes old, but you let out a smile to the contact.

“have you and jake decided on a name?”

“(y/n) te suli neytiri’ite.” neytiri said with a smile.

you were presented to the clan by your father, the olo’keytan. everyone was there, young, old, healer, hunter, even some of the humans.

your father held you high and proud, with your mother by his side. neytiri couldn’t speak due to the overflux of joy she was experiencing. after neteyams presentation, she thought the next wouldn’t be as emotional. that was far from the truth.

“(y/n)!” your father spoke sternly, raising you in the sky.

“(y/n)!” the clan repeated after him.

everyone around felt blessed as they welcomed the tsakarems newest child into the omatikayan clan.

when night fell, it was time for the moment your mother had been waiting for since she first held you. your first connection to eywa was beautiful and full of emotions.

your mother held you this time, jake by her side. she guided your small queue towards eywa’s as you made tsaheylu with the tree of souls. when you and your mother made this bond directly after your birth, you felt neytiris joy and she felt your curiosity. connecting to eywa was different, the feeling was indescribable.

when the bond was made, both of your pupils widen in response. your face was blank a moment, until your broke out into a smile. the only way to describe it was like a hug from the great mother, feeling her warm embrace as she welcomed you into her great creation.

the bond first felt like a feeling, until you blinked and opened your eyes in a meadow within the forest. you saw everything in what seemed to be third person, not truely being there, just observing.

the first thing you saw was a female navi running into the middle of your view. she looked like your mother, though slightly older. she gasped in joy and scooped up what had to be you, as once she did you suddenly were aware of your surroundings and saw the world in first person once more.

“aw, tsu’tey look! she’s so pretty!”

a navi male then entered the scene, coming up behind the female.

“sylwanin, be calm. she is just a baby, you will spook her.”

your mind wasn’t old enough to comprehend what these people were saying, you didn’t understand your language yet.

“ok ok, i’m aunty syl! your sa’nus sister! your such a gorgeous little girl!” the girl who had introduced herself as sylwanin yipped, as she motioned to herself.

she bumped the males shoulder encouraging him to speak up.

“she can’t not even understand m-“ a quick shove to the leg shut him up. “sweet eywa, i am tsu’tey. your..uncle?”

sylwanin, your mothers sister, and tsu’tey, your aunts lover. they rested eternally with eywa now, though you didn’t know it at the time.

“sempul!” your aunt spoke, referencing the much older man now approaching you.

“look at her! isn’t she gorgeous? neytiri makes such cute children.” sylwanin held you up to the elder navi.

“she possesses your beauty as well.” he replied.

“this is your grandpa! eyuktan! he is your mother and i’s sempul.” syl spoke again. “look! everyone is here (y/n)!”

your moms sister held you up and let you see around the forest. there were countless navi surrounding the area, spread throughout the floor and trees. they were all focused on one thing, you. you had been presented to the living memebers of your clan, and now the dead admired you through the great mother.

sylwanin handed you to tsu’tey, speaking to him,

“it is better if you do it.”

tsu’tey held you tight and then to the sky as your father had once done.

“(y/n)!”

the fallen navi spoke loudly,

“(y/n)!”

outside of eywa, at the tree of souls, you were smiling with your eyes closed. once neytiri saw your emotion, she knew you had seen what the great mother intended you to see, and broke the bond.

“sit neteyam.” your father announced.

your mother sat on the floor of your families kelku, holding you gently in her arms. neteyam sat infront of his mother and put his hands out, wanting to hold his little sister.

“now you have to be gentle, understand? (y/n) is a baby. you can not handle her roughly.” neytiri explained.

“i will! i will! i’ll be super careful sa’nu!” your older brother pleaded his case.

neytiri began to pass you onto neteyam, placing you in his 3 fingered hands,

“support her head.”

your brother held you softly with one hand on your hand and another on your back. he stared into your eyes then back to his mother and smiled,

“she looks like you mama!”

he moved his head and faced towards you again and leaned in,

“i’m ne-te-yam. i’m your tsmukan, and i’m gonna be here forever and ever.”

your mother smiled at her two children, there was nothing in life she would ever desire more then the moments like these.

“sa’nuuu when will she talk?”

not everything was all sunshine. nights with you were restless. you hadn’t cried during birth, so your mother expected you to be quiet at night, she was wrong.

“shh, ma (y/n) you are okay. there is nothing to cry about.” your mother rocked you and softly tried to put you back to sleep.

your crying didn’t halt and you sobbed. neytiri had done everything to make you comfortable, you were simply being a baby.

at this point you had woken your father and brother. your crying had upset neteyam, and while he was older than you, he was still just a toddler who cried too. jake held his son and tried to calm him.

“what is the mighty warrior crying about? you’re not a baby like (y/n) why do you cry?”

neteyam shook his head and cried harsher which made you cry even louder. his sister waking him up during the night and not being quiet annoyed him so much, there was nothing else he knew how to do but cry.

neytiri was exhausted. with her daughter and son both crying in the middle of night she didn’t know what to do. she rocked and rocked you but nothing seemed to help. she was trying to hold herself together but you paired with your brother made an extremely loud combination.

“jake, i can not. i can not do this. i cant calm her, i am such a bad mother i cant even console my children.” neytiri ranted to her husband, doubting her skills.

her father sat neteyam down despite his protests and embraced his wife as well as you.

“you are doing great love. (y/n) is a baby, babies cry. she will stop eventually, this is not your fault.”

neteyam clung onto his leg sniffling, wanting to be held again.

“sempu!! make it stop!”

you continued crying and weeping, seeming even louder than before now.

jake sighed, “give her to me neytiri.”

your mother reluctantly handed over her daughter to her mate, and picked up neteyam, having an easier time calming him.

jake shook you from side to side, rather than up and down; a trick he learned on earth.

as your cries softened, neytiri stared with wide eyes, mostly thankful but with a hint of jealousy.

“w-wha- how - how did you do that?” she stammered over her words.

“if up and down doesn’t work, try side to side. all babies are different.”

you quickly fell back asleep and jake placed you in your smaller hammock. neteyam sighed in relief and returned to his sleeping quarters as well. now it was neytiris turn to cry.

“i don’t understand, i am her mother. i should know what is best for my baby. i am just failing her ma jake.” she exclaimed, falling back onto her and your fathers shared hammock.

“woah, woah slow it down baby.” jake approached and sat next to her.

“you are a wonderful mother neytiri. i wouldn’t want anyone else raising my babies. you have bore me two strong children, and you will learn their way as they learn ours. doubting yourself will get us nowhere as parents.”

neytiri looked up at him through watery eyes and squeezed him, letting her tears fade away.

“come to mama (y/n)! use those arms, i know you can do it yawntutsyìp!” neytiri sat shortly away from you, encouraging you to crawl towards her.

your father stood in the kitchen, preparing lunch, as your brother played with his wooden toys; most likely annoying his dad.

you babbled a little and got onto your knees and started crawling, wanting to feel your mother.

“yes ma (y/n) come! you are doing so good!”

you continued with help of your mothers encouragement, wanting to be held even more. you had a big smile on your face as you approached her. once you had made it neytiri swooped you up and hug you as tight as she could without hurting you.

“i am so proud of you my little nantang! you did so good!” she happily spoke

you stared up at your mother and giggled.

“yes that’s right! sa’nu is so proud of you! sa’nu loves you so much!”

your noises started to form something clearer, “saa- sa’nnnu!” you laughed and reached towards your mama.

jake dropped his knife in the kitchen and neteyam had started staring at you.

“you said what? what did you say (y/n)?” your mother spoke in shock and doubt, looking at you intently. “did you say sa’nu? sa’nu?” she asked more questions as jake approached and sat aside you and neytiri.

“sa’nuuu!” you dragged on the word into a weird baby noise and clapped your hands.

“she just- right?” your mother stared at her mate in shock as they both smiled.

your father hugged your mother and smirked while speaking, “sa’nu! your so smart (y/n), so smart! that’s her first word yeah?” he looked towards your mom with the biggest smile.

“yeah! oh- yes (y/n)! sa’nu! your so amazing my little syulang, oh your so great!” she finally spoke, breaking out of her confused silence.

neteyam ran up to the 3 of you at the family celebration, “she can talk to me now right?!”

your mother let out one more sigh of shock and hugged her son and and husband with you still on her chest.

several weeks later, you had been working on crawling and speaking. you could crawl longer distances and knew a few little words. you and your mother had been alone this time, playing with wooden ikrans.

“whoosh! catch it (y/n)!” neytiri was moving the ikran around in the air, making noises to indicate it flying around.

“you can do it ma yawne!”

you pouted and sat on your knees reaching up, it took a while but you stood up as well, which you had learnt a few weeks ago. neytiri taunted you, raising the toy higher.

“sa’nu! sa’nu!” after you were able to speak a word or two, you never stopped.

“no (y/n) you have to come get it!”

“sa’nu! ikrab! sa’nu!” your pronunciation wasnt the best, but ikran was one of your favorite words.

your mother started backing up on her knees to tease you further, “it’s getting away!”

you started to whine at your mom leaving you behind and would’ve broken out into full sobs if the flap to your home didn’t open.

your father walked in with neteyam behind him, holding a fish in his hands.

“look what this fisherman caught!”

neteyam spoke up, “all by myself dad!”

jake repeated what his son had said, “yes all by himself!”

neytiri clapped for her son, allowing his ego to quickly grow as he puffed his chest out.

“sempu! sem!” you used some of the furniture to assist you in turning around and slowly waddled over to where your dad stood.

at this sight, jake got down on his knees as neytiri gasped.

“hi baby! come on (y/n) keep going!” he motioned his hands towards himself.

your mother teared up behind you, and once you made your way to your father he grabbed you up into the air with a tight hug.

“i’ve got two mighty kids! (y/n) the great walker!”

neytiri rised up from her spot and ran over to her daughter, taking you from jakes arms.

“oh my baby! your getting so big!”

neteyam wasn’t having it with the attention being placed onto someone else.

“mama i walk everyday! i’m the mighty walker!”

both of your parents laughed as your dad picked up your brother, then initiating a family hug.

neytiri wouldn’t have her family any other way.

#neytiri #neytiri te tskaha mo'at'ite #neytiri x reader #neytiri x daughter!reader #neytiri x baby!reader #daughter!reader #platonic neytiri x reader #platonic #platonic fanfiction #neytiri fanfiction #avatar #avatar the way of water #co writes !!

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ahaura · 1 year ago

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(Oct. 26) The White House is deliberately smearing the Gazan Ministry of Health's reports of the death toll in Gaza as means of genocidal denial, saying that the "'so-called' Ministry of Health is [...] not reliable." But the Biden Administration has cited the Ministry of Health as recently as last year.

This is not the first time the United States has engaged in genocide denial on behalf of an ally.

Highlighted on Twitter, from The Representation of the Holocaust in the Soviet Press, 1941–1945 by Corinne Ducey (pub. 2008) [Link] (Sci-Hub)

The American and British press also shared a widespread mistrust of Jewish eye- witnesses. Although the Anglophone press reported on stories released by the Soviets or smuggled reports from Jews trapped in Eastern Europe, these stories were ‘not worthy of complete trust because Jews were “interested parties”’. The press tended to believe non-Jewish sources over Jewish sources and ‘generally during these years, whenever the Pope or other leading Christian religious leaders spoke out on the Jews’ behalf [. . .] their comments garnered more attention than a similar story coming from a Jewish [. . .] source’. As late as January 1945 an official from the Refugee Department of the British Foreign Office wrote, ‘Sources of information are nearly always Jewish whose accounts are only sometimes reliable and not seldom highly coloured. One notable tendency in Jewish reports on this problem is to exaggerate the numbers of deportations and deaths’.

In November 1943, W. H. Lawrence of the New York Times travelled to Kiev for an inspection of Babi Yar after the Soviets had retaken the city, and filed a sceptical story about the massacre. The article includes phrases such as ‘it is the contention of the authorities’ and, when referring to eyewitnesses, ‘who said they participated’ or ‘the story was told by’. Lawrence visited the ravine personally, but still found it difficult to accept the Soviet version of events. He states that he saw only a bone or two, a handbag, some hair and ‘that there is little evidence in the ravine to prove or disprove the story’. He therefore concludes that ‘On the basis of what we saw, it is impossible for this correspondent to judge the truth or falsity of the story told to us’. Alexander Werth notes in his book about his experiences with the Red Army, Russia at War, that the BBC turned down his report on Majdanek because they could not believe that Nazi Germany had taken its racial policies so far. Werth also quotes the response of the New York Herald Tribune to the report on Majdanek: ‘Maybe we should wait for further corroboration of the horror story that comes from Lublin. Even on top of all we have been taught of maniacal Nazi ruthlessness, this example sounds inconceivable.’

The Ministry of Health has published the names of over 7,000 Palestinians, including almost 3,000 children, killed in Gaza. The full report can be found here.

#palestine #geopol #uspol #📁.zip

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fieriframes · 5 days ago

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[I made a reservation at the restaurant of love. Where they only have tables for two. Instead of taking my order, the waiter gave me a kiss. Instead of food, I ate perfume. The love restaurant failed its recent health inspection. Because the kitchen is infested with rats. I'm not talking love rats; these are regular rats. And they're biting all the customers and staff. I got food poisoning at the love restaurant. Pretty sure it was caused by the rats. I posted a one-heart review on Yelp.com/love. Then the business owner contacted me privately. He said, 'Why'd you give my restaurant a one-heart review?' I said, 'Because it was full of rats.' He said, 'This is a small business, and this review could ruin me.' He cried over the phone and said he was trying his best.]

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propertyofkylar · 2 months ago

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kinktober day six: dubcon (m!harper x afab!pc)

word count: 1055

tags/warnings: dubcon, medical kink, inspection kink, fingering, reader has a pussy but no explicit gender, gross medical malpractice

Trips to the doctor always filled you with trepidation, and they always had. Now, with Harper as your doctor, these feelings only worsened. You were sat on the uncomfortable paper of the examination bed, feet swinging awkwardly as you tugged the gown to cover more of your thighs. You felt so exposed, with nothing on underneath the gown, as your doctor requested. Only your socks were offering some semblance of modesty.

Your doctor had you see him weekly, which would be fine, only he insisted on doing a full examination every time. You weren’t sure why you always needed a physical. Harper said it was necessary for your…health.

“And how have you been sleeping lately?” He asked from his seat, scribbling on his notepad.

“Fine,” was your short response. It didn’t faze Harper, though. He simply nodded. Like he always did.

“Mhm,” Harper replied. “And your sexual activity?”

Your fingers clenched the hem of your gown, knuckles turning white. “...same as always.”

“I see,” all you could hear was the scritch of pencil on paper. “A little more detail, please. Activity with penises or vaginas?”

Now, you were chewing on your lip. “...both.”

“Oral, penetrative...?”

“Both.”

“And are you using protection?”

Images of your recent sexual encounters - consensual and not - flashed through your mind. “Um…sometimes.”

“I see.” A few more scratches and Harper set the notepad down, looking at you. “Well, you should know that isn’t very safe. I’ll now need to conduct a physical examination. Please lay back and put your feet in the stirrups.”

You had done this so many times by now, the motions were like riding a bike. Did you even have the right to feel embarrassed with your hole exposed like this? Was there a point to feeling bad?

Harper snapped on his latex gloves and moved closer to you, shining a light into your crotch. He hiked the hospital gown up towards your waist and gently placed his hands on your hips, making mildly approving noises as he moved further down your legs.

“Ah,” now he was looking directly into your cunt. “It doesn’t look inflamed or anything, which is good. I need a closer look, though.”

The same old song and dance, every week. Why did he keep up this pretense? Then again, why did you go along with it? Something shameful burned in your chest. Something that you kept pushed down, out of sight. You liked it.

No, no way. You shook your head. “Doctor, I don’t see why you need to…”

“You are my patient, and I am a doctor. It is my duty to ensure you are in peak condition,” Harper said smoothly, his hands creeping closer to your pussy, which unfortunately, was starting to feel wet. “And you just indicated you are having unsafe sex. A closeup exam will show if you have contracted any sort of STIs or other diseases.”

You weren’t entirely sure that was how it actually worked, but there was no point in saying anything. What would you do? Run out of the office, half-naked? You had heard rumors of places they sent patients who acted out, and they did not sound pleasant. The mere thought made you shiver. So, complacency it was again.

One gloved finger slid into your cunt as heat coiled in your belly. Harper’s fingers were slim and long. He hummed a tuneless song as the finger moved around inside, curling against your gummy walls. The other hand came to rest on top of your lower stomach. “Everything feels normal so far,” he said. But you knew the doctor was far from done.

Another finger slipped in and you let out a small gasp as his knuckles brushed against your g-spot. “I see that sexual pleasure is still normal as well,” Harper said with a light chuckle. “No need to feel embarrassed. This is, of course, completely normal.”

The pair of fingers slowly started to pump in and out, all under the guise of an examination. You whimpered softly, your body squirming subconsciously as it sought out more friction.

“Please try to stay still, or it could mess with my process,” Harper said. The hand on your belly dipped down to tweak your clit, eliciting another gasp from you. “Your clitoris seems normal, too.”

His fingers continued to stroke your insides as his other hand slowly rubbed your bundle of nerves. “I think,” you took in a sharp breath, trying to cover up a moan threatening to spill. “I think you’ve gotten your answer by now.”

“Please don’t interrupt.” You knew that was all you would get out of him.

Both of his hands were making quick work of you, and Harper added a third finger. “Very good,” he said appraisingly. “See how well you took that? Very nice elasticity. That said, you may want to work on strengthening your pelvic floor. We can practice some kegel exercises after this.”

“Ngh–okay,” you managed to squeak out. The consistent pumping of his three fingers combined with the circular rubbing of your clit had you nearing your limit.

“I can feel your walls tightening around my fingers now. I see you are close to climax. This is good, I’m glad to see your functions are working as they should,” Harper kept up his tempo, trying to draw that orgasm out of you.

And no matter how you tried to hold it back, it burst forth from you, just as it did every week with Harper. A low moan came from your lips as it hit you, and stars danced before your eyes. You also felt a gush from your aching cunt as it clenched around those latex fingers.

“Wonderful!” Harper said with a smile, drawing back and disposing of his gloves. “And look at that. Ejaculate.”

You looked down to see a large wet patch on that crinkly exam paper. No fucking way. You squirted on the doctor? Now, your cheeks truly were burning with shame.

“Ah, please don’t feel embarrassed!” Harper was entirely normal, standing up and heading over to his notepad. “It’s completely, totally normal. A perfect response to sexual stimulation. And you did excellent work. It seems like your body is in excellent shape.”

Harper offered you a grin, which seemed kind, but a hungry, predatory look lingered in his eyes. “Same time next week?”

#degrees of lewdity #dol #dol fanfic #harper the doctor #harper x reader #cw dubcon #kinktober #writing #bitches be like 'no fic tonight'#then post fic literally 30 min later #fucking ridiculous

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yeehawbvby · 3 months ago

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We’re dealing with a mold issue in our home, and I need help

(Images of some of the afflicted areas will be below the cut)

We got an inspection done which came out to about $600, and actual remediation could cost thousands. My partner’s parents aren’t helping with the cost, and I was laid off recently; so it’s basically entirely up to my partner cover it, which obviously has him reluctant to do anything about it.

I really need this shit gone. My health as you all know by now has already been deteriorating, and I wouldn’t be surprised if the mold is contributing if not worsening it all.

If you could donate to my kofi (linked here and in my pinned post) I’d really, really appreciate it. If you donate more than $10, I’ll draw or write for you in return (more $ = longer fic/more detailed art) if you want - just DM me whatever you want done.

#my life has just been a whirlwind of Bad Things for like a year now lol I’m so fucking tired bro #idk how to tag this that won’t attract bots #so please please please reblog #don’t just like it and keep scrolling #please #shut up crisa

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in1-nutshell · 9 months ago

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Hello! I hope you’re doing well! So, in G1, there is an episode where four Autobots ended up briefly turning into humans, called Only Humans. That episode was fun, but sadly, there were too much actions and not enough bots experiencing common phenomenons of a human body, which would have been SO fun! So may I request a similar scenario with TFP Ratchet, Optimus Prime, Arcee, Bee, and Bulkhead? But this time the times where they stayed humans were longer than that G1 episode, and during the time these guys got to experience all kinds of human body experiences like hiccups, goosebumps, throwing up, falling inside of their sleep, strung by mosquitoes, and maybe even a cold, so on and so on. And tbh I just want to know who do you think would be the ones to freak out ant goosebumps (think that bugs are crawling under them) and who would be the one to think that a 39 Celsius fever + a nasty throw up is probably normal for human body and no cause for concern? And to make this funnier I ask for a random unlucky Autobot to actually got to suffer from motion sickness (ironic, since they used to be cars themselves, and now they can’t even ride anymore without feeling like dying), and another to be truck by a tough cold/flu and had to suffer through unfamiliar symptoms like coughing, sneezing, chills, and stomach aches, and another to find out they have nasty allergies of a random kind and effect (these can all be more than one if you are feeling evil)

but of course the three kids are there to help them through this tough time— not without occasionally making fun of them a bit tho.

you can do this either in a story telling form, where you write out a whole entire story chapter, or the bullet point list regarding how different the reactions of everyone would be.

YEEEE! This request was fun to do! The bots are going to get the 'whole' human experience.

Hope you enjoy!

Human Buddy and the Kids helping turned humans Ratchet, Optimus Prime, Arcee, Bumblebee, and Bulkhead

SFW, Platonic, mentions of puke, Human reader

TFP

Relic accident. Enough said.

The relic, as it turned out, had the capability to turn anything of Cybertronain origin into the organic version of it depending on the planet it was on.

That was how the charges found their guardians on the floor looking dazed and confused.

Thank goodness they had clothes on.

After further inspection from Wheeljack, they all got the news.

The good news this was all temporary, they would turn back when the effects wore off.

The bad news was that this was going to last for entire week.

Which shouldn’t have been a problem… if some of them didn’t get sick.

Oh joy…

Ratchet

The Cold.

Ratchet was fine for the first day, though he was constantly complaining about the work that still needed to be done.

It was the next day that the symptoms came up.

Buddy and Raf are the only ones who manage to convince him to lay down and rest.

“Please Ratchet, your sick and need rest.”--Buddy

Ratchet trying to pass Buddy but Raf steps in front of him.

“Do it Raf!”--Buddy

“Do—cough—what?”--Ratchet

Puppy Dog Eyes activated.

“Please?”--Raf

“… fine.”--Ratchet

Buddy high-hives Raf before helping him back to his bed.

His immune system was new to its surroundings, easier for illness to sit in.

Worse that he was older than the other as well.

He was much more vulnerable to catch simple things.

Most of the bots and recently turned humans are worried about Ratchet’s health when he started sleeping more. But June and the others reassure them that Ratchet’s going to be fine.

Ratchet wants to work, but the kids and Buddy don’t let him.

Jack and Buddy oversee Ratchet’s temperature and basic medical supplies.

Buddy does their best to explain to him what is happening to his body, for reassurance.

Miko plays him classical music for once.

Blame it on the pitiful sick look on his face.

He expected some loud rock music but found it surprising when Miko began playing the keyboard softly.

Its an almost foolproof way to get him to sleep fast.

Raf sat by him telling him stories and helping him eat his food.

This wasn’t his best experience, but he certainly has much more respect on human biology and for the kids now.

Ratchet now has a mini human well-care kit in his habsuite.

Optimus Prime

The Hiccups.

Optimus was just trying some of the different waters the kids had been recommending.

“And what is this one?”--Optimus

Optimus already starting to drink.

“Sparkling water.”--Buddy

Optimus stops and looks at the water horrified.

“Why are you looking at it—OH! Wait Optimus its not ‘sparkling’s’ water is a type of water with minerals!”--Buddy

Optimus puts the water down but swallows the water in his mouth.

“Human’s drink minerals? As in the deposits?”--Optimus

“… I’m not explaining this one. Raf! Your turn!”--Buddy

Then they heard the sound.

Optimus was surprised to hear it.

Then he made it again.

He looks a bit disturbed.

He wasn’t voluntarily making the noise it was just coming out of him just like that.

Jack and Miko try to explain what hiccups are.

He gets a bit more disturbed yet intrigued.

This wouldn’t be so bad… if that noise would stop trying to interrupt him from talking and making his chest go bump!

Raf suggests ways to get rid of them.

They all go through the list until they reach the last one.

Scaring him.

They knew it was going to be a tough one, Prime wasn’t scared easily.

But Buddy had an idea.

A very dumb idea.

Optimus was talking to Jack when he noticed Buddy leaning on the railing.

He was a bit on edge seeing them so casual near the ledge.

They sat on top of it.

Then began tittering backwards until half of their body went to the other side.

Optimus is running to Buddy’s side trying to stop them from falling backwards.

Buddy just hung from their ankles looking up at him with a smug smile.

No more hiccups.

Problem solved.

He does try and scold Buddy for the recklessness… but he is also glad the hiccups are gone.

When Optimus turns back to normal, he insists to Agent Fowler to have better rails in the base.

Arcee

The Mosquito bites.

Oh, Jack had warned her about these little guys.

And now she knew why the kids were complaining about.

She wanted to eradicate every single one.

Arcee trying to squash some of the mosquitos with her hands.

“Why!”-Arcee

SMACK!

“Won’t!”--Arcee

SMACK!

“These!”--Arcee

SMACK!

“Things!”--Arcee

SMACK!

“Die!”--Arcee

SMACK!

Buddy and Jack already dosed with repellent.

“Felt that.”--Buddy

“Yep.”--Jack

The two humans fist bump while watching Arcee fail to smack another mosquito.

With some heavy rain, some had managed to get into the base. There weren’t many, maybe four, but they were enough to leave Arcee’s arms and legs littered with little bites.

The kids did get bitten too, but not as much as she did.

Arcee did try to use the repellent, it didn’t do anything for her.

Buddy and Miko help put anti itching cream on her, but she wants to scratch them all so bad.

When she thought they weren’t looking she would begin to scratch furiously.

Arcee didn’t know that her skin would show that she had scratched. She freaked out a bit when she scratched a bit too hard on one and it started bleeding.

Raf and Jack clean and disinfect the scratch which welcomes her to the pain of antibacterial spray.

She swears that it was the most painful thing she had to endure yet.

Raf decided to decorate the little scratches with band aids so she would scratch them.

When Arcee turns back to her normal self, she is relieved.

She has much more respect for the things humans have to do daily.

Will never tell Jack to suck it up when he has a mosquito bite again.

Bumblebee

The Motion sickness.

Oh, the Irony.

Bumblebee was a fast muscle car before!

He shouldn’t get sick when going over 15 miles per hour!

Now he was getting queasy in riding with Smokescreen and Buddy.

He feels awful.

Sweaty

Clammy hands

And something feels like something is trying to crawl out of his throat.

Bumblebee looking a bit pale as Smokescreen makes another sharp turn.

Buddy looks at Bee.

“Hey Smokes, you mind rolling the windows down a bit?”--Buddy

“Why?”--Smokescreen

Bumblebee groaning.

“Unless you want to see what the inside of a humans stomach holds, I suggest you open up the windows.”--Buddy

Windows immediately roll down.

Bee sighs with a bit of relief as the wind rolls past his face calming his stomach.

At first the two thought it was Smokescreen crazy driving that was making him sick.

But that wasn’t the case.

Buddy Bee and Raf were inside Ultra Magnus and he got queasy there too.

Magnus was one of the safest and slowest drivers on the team.

It was just him.

Bumblebee refused to leave the base after they came back.

He’d rather hang out with the kids on the couch and play games with them than go outside in another vehicle.

When Bumblebee returns to normal, he is so thankful the queasiness didn’t follow him.

He is now much more attentive to the kids when he is driving now.

His subspaces now have barf bags, just in case.

Bulkhead

Throwing Up.

All Bulkhead wanted to do was have the full human experience with Miko.

He went with her to a monster truck rally that Buddy had managed to get tickets to.

“Wow! I can’t believe you got us ticket to the rally!”--Miko

“Me neither!”--Bulkhead

“No problem, guys, just enjoy yourselves.”

“I mean I tried booking these babies in advance, but everything was booked or too expensive. How did you get the tickets?”--Miko

Buddy simply starts drinking their soda.

“Buddy?”--Bulkhead

“What you don’t know, don’t hurt.”--Buddy

“What?”--Bulkhead

“What?”--Buddy

The trio bought all sorts of junk food and sodas.

He found himself enjoying the time at the rally.

Everything was good.

Until he got back to base.

He suddenly became pale and sweaty.

The next thing Bulkhead knew, he was staring at a trash can with a bunch of mushy stuff with Buddy and Miko on either side of him.

Buddy had some of the mushy stuff on their arms, while Miko was rubbing his back gently.

The mushy stuff did stink a lot.

He felt something come out of his mouth and spew it into the bin, once again getting it on Buddy’s arms.

Bulkhead tried to apologize but it was hard to catch his breath.

Turns out a whole lot of junk food and soda was not good for you after all.

No matter how good it tasted before.

He doesn’t want to touch food while he is like this.

The kids try introducing him to lighter foods so he can at least eat something while his stomach recovers.

He likes the different kinds of broth they bring in.

When Bulkhead returns to normal, he asks Miko to stash barf bags in his interior.

He wants to have them just in case the kids need them.

Has so much more respect for them.

Will slap someone in the head if they mention to the kids to get it over with while their stomach is not feeling good.

#transformers x reader #maccadam #tfp #tfp x reader #human buddy #tfp optimus prime #tfp optimus x platonic reader #tfp ratchet #tfp ratchet x platonic reader #tfp arcee #tfp arcee x platonic reader #tfp bumblebee #tfp bumblebee x platonic reader #tfp bulkhead #tfp bulkhead x platonic reader

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coralinnii · 2 years ago

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Villainess au Side story: the villain in my heart feat: Vil genre: fluff, suggestive(?)

Note: follows the villain/ess series Vil ver. but can be read independently, no pronouns were used, villain/ess!reader is a simp (as I am), roughly 1.1k word count

I say I mostly just do SFW but why did this one feel a little uhhh… I genuinely had to pause a couple of times cuz I had to stop getting thirsty

“S-Sir Vil, you really needn’t do this”

“Hush now and keep still”

Since your recovery, you finally went back to your duties as part of the Schoenheit family, which includes healing the family’s image after your “incident”. You planned to accept invitations from other families to prove your return to health and you were happy to see that your dear friend Neige has sent an invitation to you like he usually do. But this time will be different.

“I will be accompanying you” Vil adamantly announced which surprised you knowing his absolute disdain for the young ravenette noble.

“You really don’t need to, Sir Vil. I’ve been to the LeBlanche manor before-”

“I’m going”

Honestly, Vil can’t tell if you’re too nonchalant about this or just plain oblivious to the situation. How can you believe that someone of such a high status such as yourself would not be subject to more scandalous rumors should you visit a man’s house alone, no matter how kind and innocent he may be. There is also a more selfish reason as the idea that his partner would choose to visit his rival so casually did not sit well with him, not that he will ever tell you.

Which is why you were fidgeting as Vil was seated close to you, carefully tying a detailed knot on your tie before he plans to pin a brooch that was from an expensive set, with your husband wearing its matching pair. Vil’s long fingers would occasionally brush against your neck as he soothes your collar leaving goosebumps from his touch which you were sure he could see with how close he was.

Was heaven supposed to be this hard to breathe?

“S-Sir Vil, I don’t want to rush you but we’ll be late” you barely spoke through your nerves but Vil kept on with the task he personally took on.

“Beauty is not to be rushed, I have taught you that” Vil replied, his eyes inspecting the brooch placed upon you before raising to lock his eyes on yours “Speaking of which, I need to teach you out of that bad habit of yours”

You felt cold sweat as you mentally combed through your recent memories for what the handsome man may have been referring to. Did Vil find out that you’ve been secretly asking for more desserts after dinner when he leaves? Or that you've skipped your beauty routine two days in a row in favor of napping longer? Perhaps he knows about the letters you’ve been exchanging with Rook to gush about Vil that’s been taking away your scheduled beauty sleep.

Vil watched the internal crisis in your head leak into your expression which leaves him to have an exasperated look on his own face. “I can’t imagine what must be going on in that mind right now but it’s probably incorrect. I’m talking about your manner of speaking”

Vil continued to surprise you today as you weren't expecting that comment. You supposed you spoke more casually with Rook and Neige (primarily as they’re your fan club buddies) but you were sure you kept your dignity with the nobles as to not disgrace the Schoenheit name.

“To be specific, I’m not satisfied with the way you address me” Vil clarified your confusion. “I’m not some noble but your husband. As such, calling me by a title such as Sir reflects badly on our relationship.”

“So, you’re telling me t-to-“

“Call me by my name” Vil cut to the chase. “I would rather you’d call me by a more affectionate name but this would suffice for now”

Vil’s nonchalance over the matter does not extend to you as your mind is processing what the man just requested from you like it wasn’t the most stressful order he has ever made to you. Being able to call the man you’ve idolized before and after you reincarnated so casually is akin to being given the chance to hold the most beautiful diamond in the world, a great but heavy honor to be bestowed upon.

Vil was silently waiting for you so you had no choice but to give your best attempt, which resulted in a soft utterance of his name with your eyes looking away. Your body burned in embarrassment as you feverishly ask your heart to calm down.

However, Vil was not merciful as he narrowed his lavender eyes in dissatisfaction. In a swift moment, he gripped your chin between his fingers in order to force your gaze to meet his.

“It’s rude to speak while looking away, I've taught you better” Vil sternly said but his finger lightly stroked your chin as though he was enticing you rather than reprimanding. “Try again, louder and clearer this time”

But you couldn't. Your mind was racing as you felt overwhelmed by the beautiful man before you. Loose strands of his soft locks fell from his braid and tickled your burning cheeks as his touch flooded your senses. You might just perish right then, a quick but happy end of your second life.

But Vil thought differently. He was typically a patient man but there was a subtle burn in his heart that called for his attention. A new desire he realized has been building the more he spends his days with you. It builds with every giddy smile you send his way, with every time he sees the sparkle in your eyes as you tell him about your day, with every waft of your perfume that he recommended you and has been wearing every day. This time, he craves for more than fleeting gazes and quick exchange of smiles. He commands you,��

“Say my name”

“V-Vil!” You startled yourself as you immediately responded. Your voice obeyed without a second thought and that quick reply left you flustered over the secret glee you’re experiencing. It felt like opening Pandora’s box. Now that you have crossed the threshold so to speak, you suddenly crave to say it again and again with a smile on your face. Is this normal, you wonder?

Vil on the other hand, felt an odd wave of satisfaction hearing his name leave your lips without that pesky title. That subtle act of intimacy has momentarily sated that itch in his heart.

“That’s a good start. Well done” Vil praised your efforts as he slowly released his grip, sneakily brushing his fingers across your cheek to indulge in the heat of your cheeks. He pondered on this new teasing side of him that seems to appear around you but he’s not too worried about it, especially when you don’t seem to hate it.

A smirk graced his lips as Vil finally stood up from his seat, before making his way to the door. He paused and turned his head, unsurprised by your immobile figure and mind still processing the events mere seconds ago. His voice cut through your thoughts, breaking your daze.

“Let’s go. As you said, we’ll be late”

#this one got to me in a way #I need to step back #twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland imagines #twst imagines #twst x reader #twst scenarios #vil schoenheit #vil x reader #villainess au

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