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s4kura-tr3 · 2 months ago

Note

i loved your hurt/comfort insecure nanami fic! could you do some drabbles for the other jjk guys (reader comforting them about an insecurity)? i love them all so your choice which ones

Perfect

A/n aww ty so much! I really love writing stuff for jjk it makes my day

Since I have already did Nanami he won’t be added if you haven’t read it got to my materialist and there you should find it!

Characters: Gojo, Geto, Toji, Yuji, Megumi, Sukuna

Tw: a hurt/comfort, insecurity, a little suggestive in Tojis part. Sukuna being a lil ooc, A long one folks..

Satoru Gojo

Satoru wasn’t usually the type to doubt himself. In fact, self-doubt seemed like something that didn’t exist in his vocabulary. Yet, recently, the words of others had been getting to him more than he cared to admit.

“You’re so loud all the time, Gojo.”

“Does everything have to be a joke with you?”

“You’re like a kid in a man’s body.”

It had started as harmless comments, things he shrugged off with his usual smirk and a witty retort. But after hearing them again and again, from friends, colleagues, even strangers—it stuck. Maybe he was too childish. Maybe his carefree nature wasn’t as endearing as he thought.

For the past few days, he had been… different. You noticed it almost immediately. The usual playful banter, the teasing remarks, and the exaggerated antics? Gone. Instead, Satoru had been unusually reserved, his words measured, his energy dimmed.

He wasn’t being himself, and it worried you.

One evening, the two of you sat on the couch together. Usually, Satoru would have sprawled himself out, dramatically flinging an arm around you while rambling on about something ridiculous. But tonight, he sat upright, hands clasped together, eyes glued to the TV without really watching.

“Alright,” you said, turning to face him fully. “What’s going on?”

He blinked, feigning innocence. “What do you mean?”

“You’ve been acting… weird.” You gestured at him. “Quiet, serious, like you’re trying to audition for a role in some boring corporate drama.”

That got a small smile out of him, but it faded quickly. He sighed, leaning back against the couch.

“Do you ever think I’m… too much?” he asked softly.

Your eyebrows furrowed. “What? No. Where is this coming from?”

“It’s just…” He hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck. “People are always saying how I’m loud or immature. I thought… maybe I should try being less, I don’t know, annoying.”

Your heart sank at the vulnerability in his tone. This was so unlike him, the usually confident and larger-than-life Satoru Gojo.

“Satoru,” you said firmly, taking his hand in yours. “You’re not annoying. You’re you. And that’s what I love about you.”

He looked at you, those stunning eyes of his searching your face for any hint of insincerity.

“You’re loud because you want to fill the room with laughter. You’re childish because you remind people not to take life so seriously. And yeah, maybe you’re a bit over-the-top sometimes, but that’s what makes you you. You light up every space you walk into. Why would you want to dim that?”

His lips parted, but no words came out at first. Then, a soft chuckle escaped him.

“Man,” he said, his voice lighter than it had been in days, “how’d I get so lucky to have someone like you?”

You grinned, leaning closer to him. “You’re lucky because I happen to think noisy, dramatic boyfriends are the best.”

He laughed, the sound warm and familiar, filling the room like sunlight after a storm. The playful glint returned to his eyes as he leaned down to nuzzle your cheek.

“Okay, but just for the record,” he teased, “you’re also pretty loud sometimes, you know.”

“Yeah, but you love it,” you shot back.

He smirked, pulling you into his arms. “You’re right. I really do.”

And just like that, Satoru Gojo was himself again—bright, lively, and utterly unapologetic.

Geto Suguru

Suguru Geto had always been confident. He carried himself with a quiet grace, his long, jet-black hair tied neatly behind him, flowing like a curtain of silk. To you, it was one of his most striking features—something that made him uniquely him.

But lately, he had been feeling… off.

The comments were small, casual, but persistent enough to stick.

“Why do you keep your hair so long? Isn’t that a girl thing?”

“Don’t you think you’d look more manly if you cut it?”

“Guys with long hair just look weird.”

He brushed them off at first, but the more he heard, the more they lingered. The words gnawed at his confidence until he started questioning himself. Maybe they were right. Maybe it was time for a change.

Late one evening, you noticed he wasn’t in bed when you reached out for him. The soft hum of the bathroom light spilled under the door, and curiosity tugged at you. Gently, you knocked before opening the door, only to freeze at the sight before you.

Suguru stood in front of the mirror, scissors in hand, his dark eyes shadowed with uncertainty. His long hair, normally tied back, hung loose around his shoulders, cascading like ink down his back.

“Suguru?” you asked softly, stepping into the room.

He flinched, lowering the scissors but not letting them go. “You should go back to bed,” he muttered, avoiding your gaze.

“Not until you tell me what you’re doing.” You walked closer, your voice calm but firm.

He sighed, his shoulders slumping. “I was thinking of cutting it,” he admitted, his tone low.

You tilted your head, confused. “Why?”

He hesitated, then finally met your eyes. “People keep saying it’s feminine, that it doesn’t suit me. Maybe they’re right.”

The vulnerability in his voice made your heart ache. This wasn’t like Suguru, the man who usually carried himself with unwavering confidence.

You reached out, gently taking the scissors from his hand and setting them on the counter. Then, you turned him to face you fully, your hands resting on his shoulders.

“Suguru,” you said softly, “do you want to cut your hair because you want to, or because of what other people are saying?”

He hesitated again, looking away. “I just… don’t want people to think I’m weird.”

You shook your head, a small smile tugging at your lips. “You’re not weird. You’re you. And your long hair? It’s one of the things I love most about you. It’s strong, it’s beautiful, and it’s you. Don’t let anyone make you feel like you have to change that.”

He looked back at you, his expression softening. “You really think that?”

“I know that,” you said firmly. You reached up, running your fingers through his hair, marveling at how soft and smooth it was. “This hair of yours? It’s perfect. And even if you decided to cut it, I’d still love you. But don’t let anyone else decide who you should be. You’re already perfect just the way you are.”

Suguru exhaled, the tension in his shoulders melting away. A small, genuine smile crept onto his face, and he leaned into your touch.

“You always know what to say,” he murmured, his voice lighter now.

“That’s my job,” you teased, grinning up at him.

He chuckled softly, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you close. “Thank you,” he whispered into your hair.

“Anytime,” you replied, your voice muffled against his chest.

That night, Suguru went to bed with his long hair intact, feeling more like himself than he had in days. And as he lay beside you, your words echoing in his mind, he realized that the only opinion that truly mattered was yours—and his own.

Toji Fushiguro

Toji wasn’t one to dwell on things. Life had shaped him into a man who took things as they came, without much fuss. But lately, as he looked in the mirror, he couldn’t ignore the signs of time creeping up on him.

The faint wrinkles at the corners of his eyes.

The silver strands starting to thread through his black hair.

The way his back ached after sparring, when it never used to before.

The chubby softness that replaced the sharp definition of his youth.

He hated to admit it, but it all gnawed at him. The years had taken their toll, and it made him wonder—did you notice? Did you still see him the same way?

For the past week, Toji had been… off. He wasn’t teasing you as much, his trademark smirks less frequent. He avoided his reflection and spent extra time at the gym, only to come home frustrated when his body refused to cooperate the way it used to. You couldn’t help but notice the way he lingered in front of the mirror longer than usual, his brows furrowed in thought.

One night, you found him sitting on the edge of the bed, his shoulders hunched. He was staring at his hands, his calloused fingers flexing absently, lost in thought.

“Toji,” you called softly, sitting beside him.

He glanced at you but quickly looked away, as if embarrassed. “You should get some sleep,” he muttered.

“Not until you tell me what’s been bothering you.”

He hesitated, his jaw tightening. Finally, he sighed, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “It’s nothing. Just… getting old, I guess.”

“Old?” you repeated, blinking in surprise. “What are you talking about?”

He gestured vaguely at himself. “Look at me. Wrinkles, gray hair, a bad back… I’m not the man I used to be.” His voice was low, almost bitter. “It’s like every time I look in the mirror, I see someone else. Someone… weaker.”

Your chest tightened at the vulnerability in his words. Toji, the man who always seemed so sure of himself, was doubting his worth because of something as natural as aging.

“Toji,” you said gently, reaching for his hand. “Do you know what I see when I look at you?”

He glanced at you, his green eyes shadowed with doubt. “What?”

“I see the strongest, most handsome man I’ve ever met,” you said firmly. “I see someone who’s lived through more than most people could imagine and came out the other side. Every wrinkle, every scar, every gray hair? They’re proof of that. They tell the story of a man who’s survived, who’s grown, who’s loved.”

He stared at you, his expression softening as your words sank in.

“You’re not defined by how you look, Toji,” you continued, your voice steady but full of emotion. “You’re defined by the way you protect the people you care about, the way you love me, the way you never give up no matter how hard things get. That’s the man I see. That’s the man I fell in love with.”

Toji’s lips parted slightly, but he didn’t speak right away. Instead, he reached up, brushing his thumb gently along your cheek.

“You really think that?” he asked, his voice quieter now.

“I don’t think it,” you said, leaning into his touch. “I know it.”

A slow, genuine smile broke across his face—the kind of smile that made your heart flutter no matter how many times you’d seen it.

“You’re too good to me,” he murmured, pulling you into his lap and wrapping his arms around you.

“Not true,” you teased, nuzzling against his chest. “You deserve every bit of it, old man.”

He snorted, shaking his head. “Watch it, or I’ll remind you how ‘old’ I am in ways you won’t forget.”

You laughed, the sound warm and full of love, and for the first time in days, Toji felt like himself again. Sure, he wasn’t as young as he used to be, but with you by his side, he realized he didn’t need to be. Because to you, he was—and always would be—perfect.

Sukuna ryomen

Sukuna was not a man who doubted himself—ever. He was the King of Curses, feared and revered, and he didn’t care what anyone thought of him. Or at least, that’s what he told himself.

But the comment from one of his servants had hit a nerve he hadn’t expected.

“It’s only a matter of time before they leave you. Who’d want to stay with someone so… volatile?”

Sukuna had brushed the remark off at the time, beheading the servant without hesitation. Yet, the words lingered, festering in his mind like a curse.

The days that followed were… off. Sukuna wasn’t himself. The sharp edges of his personality were dulled. He no longer snapped at minor annoyances or barked orders with his usual commanding tone. Instead, he was quiet, withdrawn, almost measured.

And it worried you. Sukuna, the man who always seemed larger than life, who never hesitated to speak his mind or express his emotions, was holding back.

You found him one evening in his chambers, sitting on the edge of his throne, his usual confident posture replaced by something almost… unsure. His clawed fingers tapped against the armrest, his gaze distant.

“Sukuna?” you called gently, stepping closer.

He stiffened, glancing at you. “What is it?” he asked, his tone gruff but lacking its usual bite.

“You tell me,” you said, crossing your arms as you stood in front of him. “You’ve been acting strange. What’s going on?”

He clicked his tongue, looking away. “It’s nothing. Drop it.”

“No,” you said firmly, surprising him with your persistence. “You don’t get to brush me off like that. Not when something’s clearly bothering you.”

For a moment, he said nothing, his jaw tightening. Then, with a frustrated sigh, he finally spoke.

“One of the servants said something,” he admitted, his voice low. “About you. About me.”

Your eyebrows furrowed. “What did they say?”

“They said you’d leave,” he said bluntly, his crimson eyes meeting yours for the first time. “Because of my… temper.”

The words were almost hard for him to say, and it hit you just how deeply they had affected him.

You took a step closer, your expression softening. “Sukuna…”

He scoffed, looking away again. “It’s not like I care what some pathetic servant thinks. But… it made me wonder.” He paused, his claws flexing against the armrest. “If they’re right. If I’ll drive you away one day, and my love is bigger then my pride..”

Your heart clenched at the vulnerability he was showing, a side of him he rarely let anyone see. You knelt in front of him, resting your hands gently on his knees, forcing him to look at you.

“Listen to me,” you said firmly, your voice steady. “You’re not perfect, Sukuna. No one is. But I didn’t fall in love with you because I thought you were. I fell in love with you. The good, the bad, the angry, the terrifying—all of it.”

His eyes searched yours, as if trying to find any hint of a lie.

“Yes, you have a temper,” you continued, “but you’re also loyal, protective, and so much more than the anger you feel. And if you ever do lose control, I know you’ll never hurt me. You’ve had every opportunity to, and you never have. That’s what matters.”

He was silent for a long moment, the tension in his body slowly ebbing away. Finally, he reached out, his clawed hand cupping your cheek with surprising gentleness.

“You’re too good for me,” he murmured, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it.

“No, I’m exactly what you need,” you said with a small smile, leaning into his touch. “And I’m not going anywhere, Sukuna. Not now, not ever.”

A faint smirk tugged at his lips, the closest thing to a smile you’d ever see from him. “You’re either brave or foolish to stay with someone like me.”

“Maybe a little of both,” you teased, rising to your feet and leaning in to kiss him softly.

When you pulled away, his crimson eyes held a warmth that wasn’t there before. “Don’t let them get in your head again,” you said. “I love you, Sukuna. All of you.”

For the first time in days, he felt the weight in his chest lift. He pulled you into his lap, wrapping his arms around you as if to keep you anchored to him.

And just like that, Sukuna felt like himself again—not because his anger was gone, but because you had reminded him that he was more than just the storm inside him.

Megumi Fushiguro

Megumi wasn’t one to get rattled easily. He wasn’t the loudest in the room or the most expressive, but his quiet presence was steady and dependable. You loved that about him.

But after meeting one of your old friends over lunch, a lingering doubt began to fester in his mind.

The conversation had been light and casual until your friend brought up your dating history.

“You’ve always had a type,” your friend teased, grinning. “Super affectionate, touchy guys—remember that one boyfriend who used to write you love notes every day?”

Megumi had sat there, quietly sipping his tea, but the words stayed with him long after the lunch ended. He wasn’t affectionate—not in the way your friend had described. His love wasn’t shown through constant words of affirmation or grand romantic gestures.

But was that what you wanted? Was that what you needed?

The days following the lunch were strange. Megumi was… different.

You’d been dating long enough to know his rhythms, the small, subtle ways he showed his love. The way he’d brush his hand against yours when walking side by side, or how he’d make sure you were always on the inside of the sidewalk. He was never loud about his affection, but it was there, constant and unwavering.

But now, he was acting out of character.

He was holding your hand more often, lingering in hugs longer than usual, and—most surprisingly—he kissed you on the forehead in public. It wasn’t bad, but it was so unlike him that you couldn’t ignore it.

One evening, as you sat on the couch together, you decided to bring it up.

“Okay,” you said, turning to face him. “What’s going on with you?”

Megumi blinked, his expression a mix of surprise and guilt. “What do you mean?”

“You’ve been… different,” you said, trying to choose your words carefully. “Not that I don’t appreciate it, but you’ve been more… affectionate than usual. It’s not like you.”

He stiffened, looking down at his hands. For a moment, you thought he might deny it, but then he sighed, running a hand through his messy hair.

“I overheard what your friend said,” he admitted quietly. “About how your type used to be affectionate guys.”

You frowned, confused. “So?”

“So,” he said, his voice quieter, “I figured I should try to be more like that. More like… what you’re used to. What you deserve.”

His words made your chest tighten. The thought of Megumi, your stoic, thoughtful boyfriend, feeling insecure about something so fundamental to who he was broke your heart.

“Megumi,” you said softly, reaching for his hand. “You didn’t have to do that.”

He looked up at you, his green eyes clouded with doubt. “But what if it’s not enough? What if I’m not enough?”

You squeezed his hand tightly, your voice firm. “You are enough. More than enough.”

He stayed quiet, so you scooted closer, cupping his cheek gently and forcing him to look at you.

“You don’t have to be anyone else for me,” you said. “I don’t need over-the-top gestures or constant affection to know you love me. I see it in the way you make me tea when I’m stressed, or how you check on me after a long day without saying a word. You show your love in a million small ways that mean more to me than any grand gesture ever could.”

His expression softened, a flicker of relief passing through his eyes.

“I love you, Megumi,” you continued. “Not some version of you that you think I want. Just you.”

For a moment, he didn’t say anything. Then, slowly, his lips curved into a small, genuine smile.

“I guess I overthought it,” he murmured, his tone lighter now.

“A little bit,” you teased, grinning.

He sighed, leaning back against the couch and pulling you into his side. “I just… didn’t want to let you down.”

“You could never let me down,” you said, resting your head against his shoulder. “And for the record, I like your type way better than anyone else’s.”

He let out a quiet laugh, the sound warming your heart. “Thanks,” he said softly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

And just like that, the tension between you melted away. Megumi realized he didn’t need to change for you—he just needed to keep being the person you’d fallen in love with.

Yuji itadori

Yuji Itadori had always been the type to wear his heart on his sleeve. When he cared about someone, he showed it—whether that meant pulling them into a random hug, texting to make sure they got home safe, or just being around as much as he could.

But lately, he’d started wondering if maybe… it was too much.

It happened after a passing comment from one of his friends.

“Man, Yuji, you’re always sticking to them like glue. Don’t you think they’d want some space?”

The words weren’t meant to hurt, but they stuck with him. Did you ever feel suffocated by how much he wanted to be around you? Did you secretly wish he’d dial it back a little?

That thought alone made him pull back.

You noticed it almost immediately.

Yuji, your usually cheerful and affectionate boyfriend, had started acting… distant. The hugs were shorter, the playful touches less frequent, and he didn’t lean into you on the couch like he usually did.

At first, you thought maybe he was tired or stressed, but as the days passed, it became clear something was bothering him.

One night, after dinner, you decided to address it.

“Yuji,” you said gently, setting your plate down and turning to face him. “Is something wrong?”

His head shot up, his wide eyes betraying his guilt. “Huh? What? No, nothing’s wrong!”

“Don’t lie to me,” you said, your voice soft but firm. “You’ve been acting different lately. Did I do something to upset you?”

“No!” he said quickly, his hands waving in front of him. “It’s not you. It’s me.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You?”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair as he looked away. “I’ve been… trying to give you more space. I didn’t want to be too clingy, you know? I don’t want you to feel like I’m smothering you.”

Your heart sank at the insecurity in his voice. Yuji, who had always been so confident in how much he cared, was now second-guessing himself because he thought it was too much.

“Yuji,” you said softly, scooting closer to him. “Why would you think you’re smothering me?”

He shrugged, his eyes still avoiding yours. “Someone said I might be, and I started wondering… maybe they’re right. Maybe you’d want me to back off a little.”

“Hey,” you said, reaching out to take his hand. He looked at you then, his brown eyes filled with uncertainty.

“Listen to me,” you said, your tone firm but warm. “I love how affectionate you are. The way you always check on me, the way you hold me, the way you make me feel loved—none of it ever feels like too much. If anything, it makes me feel lucky.”

“Really?” he asked, his voice soft and hesitant, like he couldn’t quite believe it.

“Really,” you said, squeezing his hand. “I’d rather have you be your clingy, caring self than have you pull back and act like someone you’re not. You’re perfect the way you are, Yuji.”

He stared at you for a moment, his expression unreadable, before a small smile broke across his face.

“Thanks,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I guess I was overthinking it.”

“You definitely were,” you teased, leaning in to press a kiss to his cheek.

He laughed, the sound light and full of relief, and pulled you into a tight hug—the kind of hug that only Yuji could give, warm and all-encompassing.

“I missed this,” you said, nuzzling into his chest.

“I missed it too,” he admitted, resting his chin on top of your head. “I promise I won’t hold back anymore.”

“Good,” you said, grinning against his shirt. “Because clingy Yuji is my favorite version of you.”

His laughter rumbled in his chest as he held you a little tighter, and for the first time in days, Yuji felt like himself again.

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mushroommanstan · 2 years ago

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Edging creepy Tenko until he’s a whining drooling mess with a swollen leaky cock Ɛ>

“A-aaah please-se-se”

Tenko didn’t know how much more of this he could take. It’s true, he’s always loved being touched by you, your velvety hands never failing to make him feel like he’s in heaven. But like Lucifer falling from said heaven, the pleasure had quickly turned into hell for him. Fuck, he’s sorry, he’s sorry!

“Mmhmphhh, I’m-I’m sorry! I’m sorry-hyyy”

You giggled, watching his desperately hard cock throbbed painfully, the whole shaft painted red due to you denying his orgasm again and again. You can practically see his balls throbbing as they beg to be emptied.

But you didn’t listen. Instead you waited until he was ever so close before pulling your hand away, letting his cock slap back against his stomach as he wailed out. You waited for him to cool down before wrapping your hand around his cock and jerking him, repeating the cycle.

“Oh? And what are you sorry for baby? You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Despite this, he continued blabbering apologies, the lack of relief seemingly having short circuited his brain and only letting him say those words.

“I’m sorry! I-Iaaah, I’m s-sorry!”

You smirked.

“Baby I’m not doing this as a punishment. Not to my good, sweet boy~” his dick twitched at that making him moan in painful pleasure.

He then surprised you, switching it up and adding a new phrase to his currently limited vocabulary.

“T-then wh-aaah please, then w-why-then-then-why-“ he can feel tears gathering in his eyes, from what he doesn’t know. Frustration, yearning, insecurity, all of those feelings melting down and forming melancholy.

He refused to let those tears fall. He’s a man, he’s a manly man. And manly men don’t cry.

You grabbed him forcefully by his chin, making sure he was looking at your erotically devious face. “Because I want to see you cry for me.”

Maybe some men cry.

He wailed out, a mess of ‘please’s and ‘sorry’s tumbling out as he yet again reached his high, scared you would deny him. He felt his warm tears coat his cheeks as he broke down, begging you to let him finish in the most desperate, lewd moaning.

Satisfied, this time your hand didn’t stop, and you could practically see the relief on his face when the first rope of cum shot out of his dick. He threw his head back, legs quaking and back arched as he opened his mouth in a silent scream. Ropes and ropes of pent up cum burst out of him, coating him, you, and the sheets in his jizz.

You smiled, continuing to pump him until he was completely finished, his cock immediately turning back to the pink, soft state you knew and loved.

Wiping your brow (with your other hand), you finally look back up at him after admiring his fountain.

“Feel better baby?”

He doesn’t respond. He doesn’t do anything really, hanging limply in his leather restraints. You snapped your finger in his face but got no response, pulling his head up only to find his eyes rolled back into his head, passed out.

You quickly checked his breathing, before patting his shoulder affectionately after making sure he was ok.

You then sighed, leaving him to get a towel to clean him up with.

Damn it, he passed out again.

#shigaraki tenko #my hero academia #shigaraki fanfiction #my hero academia shigaraki #shigaraki x reader #shigaraki x y/n #boku no hero academia tomura #shigaraki fluff #shigaraki tomura #shigaraki smut #tenko shimura #tenko smut #shimura tenko #shimura tenko smut

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purpledemonlilyposting · 5 months ago

Text

Okay it's time for me to go a bit crouching retard hidden genius here, take off the clown nose and put my thinking cap on. Cause unlike many, many people who reference Nineteen Eighty-Four I've actually read it. Several times. And not as a school mandate.

What does "He loved Big Brother" tell you about media literacy?

Like what even is that point, Lorch? What does just knowing the final sentence of the book tell you about someone's media literacy? What do YOU even think that line means? Cause I'd love to hear it and I doubt you've ever actually read the fucking book.

There are many take-aways you can have from Nineteen Eighty-Four regarding the control of the populace through deception, fear, propaganda, regulation, indoctrination of the young, the dumbing down of language, and sheer hypocrisy. I'd be more interested in someone's take on passages like this to gauge their media literacy:

'It's a beautiful thing, the destruction of words. Of course the great wastage is in the verbs and adjectives, but there are hundreds of nouns that can be got rid of as well. It isn't only the synonyms; there are also the antonyms. After all, what justification is there for a word which is simply the opposite of some other word? A word contains its opposite in itself. Take "good", for instance. If you have a word like "good", what need is there for a word like "bad"? "Ungood" will do just as well -- better, because it's an exact opposite, which the other is not. Or again, if you want a stronger version of "good", what sense is there in having a whole string of vague useless words like "excellent" and "splendid" and all the rest of them? "Plusgood" covers the meaning, or "doubleplusgood" if you want something stronger still. Of course we use those forms already. but in the final version of Newspeak there'll be nothing else. In the end the whole notion of goodness and badness will be covered by only six words -- in reality, only one word. Don't you see the beauty of that, Winston? It was B.B.'s idea originally, of course,' he added as an afterthought. A sort of vapid eagerness flitted across Winston's face at the mention of Big Brother. Nevertheless Syme immediately detected a certain lack of enthusiasm. 'You haven't a real appreciation of Newspeak, Winston,' he said almost sadly. 'Even when you write it you're still thinking in Oldspeak. I've read some of those pieces that you write in The Times occasionally. They're good enough, but they're translations. In your heart you'd prefer to stick to Oldspeak, with all its vagueness and its useless shades of meaning. You don't grasp the beauty of the destruction of words. Do you know that Newspeak is the only language in the world whose vocabulary gets smaller every year?' Winston did know that, of course. He smiled, sympathetically he hoped, not trusting himself to speak. Syme bit off another fragment of the dark-coloured bread, chewed it briefly, and went on: 'Don't you see that the whole aim of Newspeak is to narrow the range of thought? In the end we shall make thoughtcrime literally impossible, because there will be no words in which to express it. Every concept that can ever be needed, will be expressed by exactly one word, with its meaning rigidly defined and all its subsidiary meanings rubbed out and forgotten. Already, in the Eleventh Edition, we're not far from that point. But the process will still be continuing long after you and I are dead. Every year fewer and fewer words, and the range of consciousness always a little smaller. Even now, of course, there's no reason or excuse for committing thoughtcrime. It's merely a question of self-discipline, reality-control. But in the end there won't be any need even for that. The Revolution will be complete when the language is perfect. Newspeak is Ingsoc and Ingsoc is Newspeak,' he added with a sort of mystical satisfaction. 'Has it ever occurred to you, Winston, that by the year 2050, at the very latest, not a single human being will be alive who could understand such a conversation as we are having now?'

The speech had been proceeding for perhaps twenty minutes when a messenger hurried on to the platform and a scrap of paper was slipped into the speaker's hand. He unrolled and read it without pausing in his speech. Nothing altered in his voice or manner, or in the content of what he was saying, but suddenly the names were different. Without words said, a wave of understanding rippled through the crowd. Oceania was at war with Eastasia! The next moment there was a tremendous commotion. The banners and posters with which the square was decorated were all wrong! Quite half of them had the wrong faces on them. It was sabotage! The agents of Goldstein had been at work! There was a riotous interlude while posters were ripped from the walls, banners torn to shreds and trampled underfoot. The Spies performed prodigies of activity in clambering over the rooftops and cutting the streamers that fluttered from the chimneys. But within two or three minutes it was all over. The orator, still gripping the neck of the microphone, his shoulders hunched forward, his free hand clawing at the air, had gone straight on with his speech. One minute more, and the feral roars of rage were again bursting from the crowd. The Hate continued exactly as before, except that the target had been changed. The thing that impressed Winston in looking back was that the speaker had switched from one line to the other actually in midsentence, not only without a pause, but without even breaking the syntax. But at the moment he had other things to preoccupy him. It was during the moment of disorder while the posters were being torn down that a man whose face he did not see had tapped him on the shoulder and said, 'Excuse me, I think you've dropped your brief-case.' He took the brief-case abstractedly, without speaking. He knew that it would be days before he had an opportunity to look inside it. The instant that the demonstration was over he went straight to the Ministry of Truth, though the time was now nearly twenty-three hours. The entire staff of the Ministry had done likewise. The orders already issuing from the telescreen, recalling them to their posts, were hardly necessary. Oceania was at war with Eastasia: Oceania had always been at war with Eastasia. A large part of the political literature of five years was now completely obsolete. Reports and records of all kinds, newspapers, books, pamphlets, films, sound-tracks, photographs -- all had to be rectified at lightning speed. Although no directive was ever issued, it was known that the chiefs of the Department intended that within one week no reference to the war with Eurasia, or the alliance with Eastasia, should remain in existence anywhere. The work was overwhelming, all the more so because the processes that it involved could not be called by their true names.

Also please read Nineteen Eighty-Four everyone. It's a very good book, it's not very long, and it's still scarily relevant to today.

#Lily Orchard #Lily Orchard Critical #I get things into people I like through Lily being ignorant about them lol #Sai's Writing Tips

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likeadevils · 1 year ago

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I trust your opinion. If you were making bets about what TS11's themes, concepts and sound would be like.. What would you like& prefer? and what would you think Taylor would do?

thank you for trusting my opinion but i am god awful at predicting what taylor is going to do next. that being said:

i think something taylor learned with all too well, anti-hero, and cruel summer is to… trust her instincts, i guess? not that she hasn’t in the past, but she’s mentioned that those songs were her favorites of their respective albums, and she didn’t expect that the general public would enjoy them as much— at least, not to the degree that they have been. but they’ve all been #1s, and more impressively to me, they’ve all broken through into wider pop culture in a way that’s super hard to do nowadays. like can you tell me what’s #1 right now because i can’t. but anyways i think she’ll be following what she wants to hear a little bit more, and trusting that her and the general public’s taste is pretty aligned at the moment. so like, to boil it down into a bingo card prediction, the lead single is going to be taylor’s favorite song on the album

also, bingo square, the color will be white. no evidence just vibes

i think another thing taylor recently learned is trusting that not only her fanbase, but the wider pop landscape would accept complex ideas delivered with a complex vocabulary. in some ways i think she was really burned by me!— she had been taught that it’s the we are never ever getting back together and shake it offs that you send to pop radio, not the all too wells. and then me! got torn apart (deservedly or not), and then the world shut down and it’s not like she needs to find a tour off her next album so what the hell, let’s take out the immediate hooks and replace it with flowery language. and it was a massive hit! twice! but it’s not the kind of music she wants to make forever. so midnights was an added gamble— can you marry the hooks with the collegiate vocabulary? and you can! anti-hero was her biggest chart success ever! so i expect more dictionary/thesaurus starter pack memes in our future, no matter what genre it’ll end up in

that being said, i think she’ll be staying in pop. i maaaaybe could see a kind of pop rock thing happening— think like, the electric guitar she adds to don’t blame me when it’s preformed live.

regardless i do think she’ll be pulling in more rep influences— i’m not super in the buisness of trying to track down when exactly she’s been re-recording, so this is coming from swiftie brain rot not timeline brain rot, but if i had to guess i would say she was mostly recording rep over the summer and with the occasional ts11 track thrown in as well. but i could be wrong maybe she has three albums recorded. idk. i am very interested in what the rep sounds like though, i think that’ll be the biggest clue to what ts11 will sound like

i’m curious how auto-biographical it’ll be. honestly, i could see taylor creating a single character to inhabit and tracking their story throughout an album, which would parallel the emotions she’s going through, but not the exact situations. but that’s me projecting what i would need to do to process the fucking year she’s been through, and taylor has consistently been saying how much she gets from having people sing back the words thought she must be alone in thinking, so like maybe it’ll be intensely About Her, who knows

as for release, i’m a big post eras tour believer. like i know it’s been said a million times but god how impossible would it be to add another set to that thing. like we might get the announcement and lead single while still on tour, but not a full album

i’m also expecting a more talk-y rollout. i would bet we’re getting a couple of print interviews— not anywhere near 1989 or lover levels, but like, you know. rolling stone, vogue, maybe another time, that kind of thing. and in front of camera stuff too— zane lowe, a bbc live longe, some late night appearances, maybe going on kelly clarkson’s show. and maaaaybe a hot wings episode. maybe. i think taylor got a bit burned by the long roll out for lover, and regardless she had other priorities when it came to the midnights release, but it’s been a while and she does like to surprise people by doing something completely predictable. but also this is totally me being like pleaseeeee give interviews they help me with timeline research so much

i predict this every time but visual album!!! if i keep saying it one day it’ll be true!!! it just makes sense she’s been getting so into directing!!!

while we’re in the realm of things that would make me specifically go insane i just think it would be funny if she got paul mccartney to feature on a song. just to be petty. imagine your ex is releasing an album and she gets one of your favorite musicians to play on it. and after the sweet nothing debacle too. oh. so ouchie. also she would have paul fucking mccartney on an album that’s insane in its own right

while we’re throwing spaghetti at the wall. two word title. let’s get crazy maybe 3+ words why not (this is by far the least serious prediction if the title is more than one word i’ll lose my mind)

maybe some religious imagery for the visuals? i’m trying to think of aesthetics taylor hasn’t thoroughly explored. what’s coming to mind is stained glass windows and like, the wild west. this is not at all influenced by me being raised catholic in the american southwest what are you talking about

so to sum up i think i want a pop rock opera with a title along the lines of “the blank of firstname lastname” about a woman in the wild west that has climatic scenes in a cathedral?? i guess that’s the shape i want?? i was not aware that’s what i wanted when i started writing this post okay

#asks*#i’ve thought about this for like hours sorry to keep you so long

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mysticsparklewings · 4 months ago

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Obscutober 2024 Day 3: Horology 🕰️

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Horology (n.)

the science of measuring time

the art of making instruments for indicating time; clockmaking

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I assume real clock-making is rather time-consuming 😉 Making a clock-making-inspired mandala sure was!

...It took more time than I care to admit to come up with that joke. At least the art turned out nice? 😅 Bad puns aside: Click the "Keep Reading" and we'll talk more about my thoughts/process for this piece ✨

⭐️ Like My Art and Want to see more of it? Here's All My Links! ⭐️

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I'm a little bit conflicted with this one, Sparklers. (But hey, at least I should be getting this one posted a little bit earlier! 🤷‍♀️ ) I am happy with how it came out, and I was pretty excited to see what I could do with the ideas of gears and metal that immediately sprang to mind for this word, however...The act of making said metal and gears ended up being a lot more trouble than I anticipated. 😅 Those emotions are so equally matched it's hard to separate them. The biggest hurdle was the fact that in order to look "right," I had to be more careful about getting curves looking circular-ish and uniform with each other. For full circles, that's generally not so bad. For semi-circles and arcs, it tends to be a big pain. 🙃

It also didn't help that I chose to make the outer ring of gear teeth a size that was really "too small" for Procreate's symmetry tool to help me out as much as I needed it too. So I also had to be more careful with those as I worked me way across what area the symmetry tool wouldn't fill in for me. The background was a bit more challenge than I expected, too. If anyone remembers how I mentioned yesterday I had decided some spot color "within" the mandala lines is okay but I still want to keep things loose: This one definitely pushed the boundaries on that. I tried leaving things more abstract, but I kept going back and re-defining certain color areas because it felt wrong otherwise.

I think that's a conflict between the general clockmaking concept and the abstract nature of how I'm approaching these prompts; Clockmaking, or at least the physical components needed to do it, is so very rigid and precise. Although, on the other hand, there's a kind of irony in that, isn't there? Since the way we humans measure time is something we made up—it's pretty arbitrary as far as nature is concerned.

...I seem to be wandering away from talking about the art and into higher concepts I am really not an expert in. 😅 Let me try to get this derailed train of thought back on track...

My point was that it felt like I needed more color, placed more carefully, to help with the definition between the different gear and cog pieces. This was not helped by how a lot of the images I kept seeing when I looked up clock/watch insides did usually have pieces that stood out because they were differently colored metal. Two related asides: 1. I apologize to anyone that does work with watch/clock components and may be getting a headache from my lack of proper vocabulary to describe said parts...Or the general lack of sense the "clock parts" I tried to draw here make compared to the actually insides of a time-telling machine. Many, many artistic liberties were taken! 2. I do actually kind of recommend looking up watch/clock insides sometime when you get a chance if you're not familiar with what that looks like; I found a lot of the pictures oddly soothing for reasons I don't fully understand. But even so—A lot of them are pretty even though I don't think they're trying to be. The screws on this one make me think of tiny gemstones! [I did consider adding some spots of color to background to mimic that jewel-like feel I just mentioned, but ultimately I didn't want to over-complicate the color palette.]

Anyway, going back to the lines/mandala portion for a moment: I knew going in that the fact I'm taking up the center for the word definitions would make a time/clock-themed one more difficult. After all, one of the primary things you think of with those concepts are the clock hands in the center of a clock face. Usually, even if you don't read analogue clocks that often that's still true!

For that reason, while I normally make the mandalas from the inside-out (aside from adjustments/tweaks that happen later), this time I started more on the outer edge. The clock hands hanging out there were still one of the very last things, but the gear teeth and general round "clock border" were the first and I more or less worked my way inward.

And at a certain point I realized so far I really just had a "gears" or industrial-themed mandala that showed no hints of being tied to clocks specifically. 😅 You can see from that, I ended up opting to put roman numerals in the 4 primary "clock" positions—12, 3, 6, 9. If I'd had room, I might have gone for the full set of 12, but by that time (ha-ha) I'd spent way too long making those four "gear spoke" semi-circle things that hang over right where most of the other numerals would go and I was not of a mind to either re-do or erase them. 😵‍💫 I then spent way too long trying to figure out how to "compensate" and fill the "clock face" just a little bit more because the big 4 numerals weren't quite enough for me. It's not very exciting but I landed on just some small lines—Tick marks, you might say. 😃 You may also notice that, true to something else I said yesterday, this is now the first example of one of the Obscutober mandalas in black rather than white. I did start out with it in white, but as I was moving into work on the background I thought the white was coming off a little too "soft" or too much like the mandala was glowing. Black felt like a better fit for the illusion of depth and the more "rigid" feel overall.

Although while I was in the process of changing the lines from white to black, I was very tempted to leave it in a half-state where some of the uppers layers were in black and the lower ones were still white. That got vetoed for consistency's sake, but it did cause me to go back and play with some of the contrast in the background a little more to kind of echo the idea.

I was also very tempted to try dark brown or sepia lines for this one, but, say it with me: I decided not to to keep things simple and consistent.

The final product doesn't necessarily look that much like what I originally had in mind...But to be fair, my original vision was pretty fuzzy. At least unlike yesterday, there isn't too much I feel like I'd change or do all that differently if I had to do it over.

I do hope I can say at least that much about tomorrow's piece—Tomorrow is shaping up to be a busy day in my offline life, so I'm a little bit concerned about how I'm going to fit Obscutober in...But that's a key point of the challenge, right? 😅

There's definitely a joke in here somewhere about "use your time wisely," but I can't quite put it together, so you Sparklers will have to think on it and let me know if you can figure one out. 😉 Until tomorrow, Sparklers... 🤗

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See the Prompt List

Artwork © me, MysticSparklewings

Obscutober Concept Inspired by nikolas_tower

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⭐️ Like My Art and Want to see more of it? Here's All My Links! ⭐️

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wellwells · 1 year ago

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Finally you found him. As the most powerful sorceress in the world, you just used your reality-warping powers to find him. He not only stole some rare gem from a museum, but also apparently built himself a harem of obedient women. Since the police or government couldn't find him, you saw it as your duty to stop this asshole.

Your transformation into this overpowered sorceress came randomly to you, but you swore to always use it for the good. You could completely change literally everything about reality, making you the most popular woman on earth, rule it with unquestioned authority, you could do literally everything. But you don't do that. You have always had morals that prevented you from abusing that power.

Those morals now led you to this sleazy man, looking at you with a grin. You remain calm and professional and say

"Your time has come. Return the gem to the museum and free the women you have enslaved somehow. Nothing you did to them is above my power. I could turn you into dust, make you nice, or send you into some hell for eternity. You should tremble with fear and repentance. Be glad that I am giving you a chance right now."

The man smiles and says "You should have used your powers from the start then, bitch."

Before you can do anything, the man holds up the gem. It is red and shiny. You look at it and... stop.

"Can't move anymore, huh? Can't even talk or use your powers? I told you, you wasted your only chance."

You can't do anything but watch in silence.

"I never got it. You have infinite power! You could do absolutely anything you wish for! But of course, you're just a stupid bitch who doesn't know any better. Morals, morals, morals. You whore, you just wasted all this potential. I will not waste it, I promise you. Say that you will obey me and call me master."

Your eyes are still fixated on the most beautiful gem you've ever seen. You have absolutely no chance to resist it whatsoever. "I will obey you, master."

"Let's start with you. Use your powers to give yourself huge, fake looking tits. And change your clothes too, so I can see them."

"Yes, master." You can't resist at all. You use your reality-warping powers to change your body, adding barely any clothes to show off your melon-sized breasts.

"Great, my stupid slave. Now I guess I won't need that gem anymore. Use your powers to change your mind. Make yourself my loyal obedient slave. Erase all resistance, all morals, all thoughts. Erase your memories of ever being a hero, a sorceress or whatever else made you you. You will be my tool. Oh and also, forget your name, whatever it was. From now on, your name will be Cockslave. Do you understand?"

For a moment, you try your best to snap out of it, but his words immediately become your gospel. You use your powers to do exactly what master told you to do. You can feel your memories and personality slip out of your grasp. You lose the concept of what thinking for yourself actually means. What was my name? Cockslave, of course! I am Cockslave and I am just a tool... I am Cock...slave... and... I...

You stop thinking entirely. You are no human anymore.

Master puts away the gem. "Let's try if it worked. Cockslave, give me a titjob with your massive melons."

You obviously obey. He is your master and his word is your command.

You present master your massive tits and he puts his cock in between them. Obey master. Obey master. Obey master.

That is all that loops around in your brain.

He cums in a sticky explosion, getting his seed all over your tits, neck and face.

"This is your purpose, this is what you live for, serving my cock is your only personality."

Obviously what master said became true. That IS your entire personality. Serving his godly cock is everything. Every cell in your body works towards serving his cock.

He continues. "From now on, your only response to anything I'll say is 'I love masters godly cock.' That will be literally the only words left in your vocabulary. You don't know how to say any other words in any other order."

"I love masters godly cock." That's all words you know how to say. Fitting words.

"Now, let's make this world my own. Cockslave, change every human on earth except you and me. Make every human on earth a hot woman hungry for my godly cock."

You obey without question. There is nothing left for you to say but the obvious. "I love masters godly cock."

"You sure do."

#breast enlargement #f2f #f2f transformation #fsub #hypnosis #mdom #mind control #transformation #brainwashing #degrading k1nk #hypnotized

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malleablemusic · 5 months ago

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the queen is dead - the smiths

i’ve never listened to the smiths, and have tried to avoid them my entire life as much as i can. i successfully avoided watching 500 days of dummer for 23 years before giving in and deciding i should experience it in order to form my own opinion without any preconceived notions. it’s safe to say i was not surprised by how much i disliked the film, which definitely doesn’t make me feel better about branching out now, but hopefully the smiths will not disappoint. as a disclaimer, these opinions are a practice in separating the art from the artist- i still hate morrissey as a human being. here are my notes:

the queen is dead: 3.3/5 stars

"oh, has the world changed or have i changed?" this hit harder than i expected it to

his voice is so unique and special, and i love that he acknowledges that with the line "she said, 'eh, i know, and you cannot sing'" and then to follow this up with a joke about his piano skills being worse is unfortunately iconic of him

obsessed with the voice cracks he allows himself to sing, specifically on "were" in the line "i swear to god i never knew what drugs were" because it adds such a youthful vulnerability

i love how he compares the inconvenience of his hair being messed up by the rain to "love, law, and poverty"

overall, i think the lyrics are fire, but i don't love the beat. the drums are very cool, but it's lacking in guitar/bass

frankly, mr. shankly: 3.6/5 stars

groovy fun beat that i enjoyed immediately

the way that he sings "fulfilled" and "mentally ill" to rhyme them scratches my brain

"flatulent pain in the ass" is an epic insult that i will now be adding to my vocabulary

i know it's over: 2.9/5 stars

soothing beat and singing voice

"loud loutish lover treat her kindly, though she needs you more than she loves you" felt like a slap to the face and made me gasp out loud

morrissey is so good at dragging himself, "then why are you on your own tonight?" ok ouch

"it takes guts to be gentle and kind" !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

beautiful lyrics but didn't stun or wow me, unfortunately boring

never had no one ever: 2/5 stars

wait was he 20 when he wrote this??

we get it morrissey, you are alone

this was very whiny and not in a hot way

cemetery gates: 3.8/5 stars

love the guitar so much

love the simplicity of this lyric, "they were born, and then they lived, and then they died / seems so unfair, i want to cry"

"'you say 'ere thrice the sun done salutation to the dawn' and you claim these words as your own" trying very hard not to be a misandrist here but it is so unrealistic for a man to have this experience and not the other way around LMAO

bigmouth strikes again: 4.3/5 stars

immediate banger

"sweetness i was only joking when i said I'd like to smash every tooth in your head" and "when i said by rights you should be bludgeoned in your bed" HUH???? what did he sayyyyyy

"and now I know how joan of arc felt" probably the best lyric I've ever heard, once again not sure a man could ever know what she felt but sure ok

obsessed with the high pitched echoing voice in the background

the boy with the thorn in his side: 2.6/5 stars

"behind the hatred there lies a plundering desire for love" i think in this song morrissey really gives himself away in that he confuses love for acceptance. he doesn't seem to wish to be loved by someone and acutally love them in return

hard to empathize with this song not gonna lie

i like the little scatting thing he does in the second half of the song

vicar in a tutu: 1.6/5 stars

in the least chronically online social justice warrior way possible i don't love how this song is just a big joke on how funny it would be if a man wore a typically feminine piece of clothing

dumb and stupid and not funny or entertaining (though i do love a good jab at the church)

there is a light that never goes out: 4.3/5 stars

another banger

the kind of song i want to scream out my car windows while speeding down a highway

is that a flute or recorder in the background? either way, so fun!

quintessential angst teen experience of driving around in your car

some girls are bigger than others: .1/5 stars

the opposite of going out with a bang

following a banger with a FLOP

the title made me flinch

what is the point of this song?? so so lame

didn't even want to finish the song, it just repeats the one stupid lyric "some girls are bigger than others"

overall, i did not hate the album as much as i anticipated! a few bangers to add to the playlist, but definitely a few flops. this album gets a 3.4/5 from me!

#Spotify #the smiths #the queen is dead #music #musicreview

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lunarcry · 1 year ago

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youtube

anyway i was reading nene & ruis cards from this event ('only now?' yes.<3) but emus voice line at 34:48 always makes me ssooo emotional.......like the way its performed....the 'dakara'.....i tear up every time<//3 (tbh her entire part starting from 34:18...) also how they dont use the Actual happy face expressions for her, so its so clear that shes faking it. ough. something something about the times emu shoulders stuff herself (but also this is about the park and her brothers...also another line she has about not being sure if it was okay for her to try to keep her promise with her grandpa....

ANYWAY THATSB NOT THE POIINT HERE THE POINT WAS their card stories<3

first of all ichika lending nene an ear cuz she notices nene seems down...nene knowing she goes to the same school as emu & doesnt want to worry her, proceeds to go "uhhh someone i know has a friend.." to which ichika ALSO ends up going "my- no, someone i know..." T_TLOL i like nene & ichika a lot and seeing 1) nene talk about emu and how she does it 2) opening up to ichika about it......well "opening up" LOL

Nene: (She always says or does weird stuff, and gets everyone mixed into her antics... But I've enjoyed every minute of it so far... I want Emu to keep doing outrageous things with Tsukasa. I want her to keep concocting crazy ideas with Rui. And... I... I want her to laugh and smile like always...)

the expression the choose for this was unreal btw. so tender. her lil smile...

also rui knowing emu only knows 2 places in their school. nenes classroom and tsukasas classroom (rui's next to it). skull emoji

AS FOR RUIS...the way he immediately goes to the mascot(emus bodyguard) AKDJADBKJ HE RLY GOES STRAIGHT FOR THE PROBLEMSOLVING. they dont tell him anything but

Rui: In truth, I am incredibly thankful for Emu. Her determination to save the Wonder Stage and her will to not give up allowed me to meet the wonderful people I am with now. And we're able to put on shows that deliver smiles to countless people.

Rui: I... No, we, as WonderlandsxShowtime, want to keep putting on the best shows possible, together. Which is why if anything that would rob us of that opportunity were to arise, I will refuse to simply let it happen. And I will not let my friends be openly insulted either. Even if it's Emu's family we're dealing with.

unreal things to say knowing the current arc btw.

emu then proceeds to chase tsukasa with a caterpillar cuz "lets find out what kind of butterfly it turns into". tsukasa runs to nene. nene gets roped into it (does not want the bug near her either). rui just laughs. peak

Tsukasa: It looks like she's back to her usual self, but doesn't something still seem a little off...? I feel like she hasn't been adding Yahohoy! or Zoom! or any other nonsensical words to her sentences lately...

Rui: Ah, I see... Some time did pass before we heard her trademark Wonderhoy! again as well. Tsukasa: Exactly. The last time she said that was... When we all put our hands together and shouted that on stage, right? Nene: Now that you mention it, she always said stuff like that every day... Rui: Yes... Well, this is just me speculating but... She has a tendency to emote using her unique vocabulary when she feels absolutely compelled to do so... Tsukasa: Hm? Wait, that means she... Rui: Hasn't been able to feel that way lately. She may be choosing her words more carefully than normal.

-> they then put on a special show for her that essentially just bullies tsukasa and she starts saying nonsense again but ughhhT_T this group... when she says wonderhoy again nene & rui comments on it too... but in general things i will think about for the next ten years

#stardust speaking !#video. emu #post. emu #the en channel needs to upload the events faster. jp upload will have to do for now #i have nothing additional to say im just. ough this event as a whole.................................

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worldofl0re · 11 months ago

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"The louder you shouted the name or title of your attack, the more powerful it would be," everyone said.

"Mega Death Blast!" A thick beam of molten light carved through the air, heading straight for my face. I leapt to the side, rolling behind a large rock. My face felt hot as I looked at the orange column of raw heat blasting past me.

It was also called the Rule of Cool. Magic was dominated by the subjective: our own understanding of reality. In a sense, we influenced how magic works, and since for most of us, cooler things are better than un-cool things, magic would soon come to follow. Hence, the louder you shouted, and the more adjectives you added, the stronger magic was.

"You can't hide forever!" A taunting voice called out. I looked at myself. I was unarmed, not in a practical sense, at least. Behind me was a wizard, someone whose spell list was only bested by their massive vocabulary.

"Collapsing Mayhem!" The wizard shouted, and I felt the hairs on my neck stand. I dove to my right, landing flat on my stomach just in time for a giant, invisible force to split the rock clean in two. I immediately picked myself up, and started running.

I wore a black longcoat on top of all black clothes and tall, leather boots. In the summer weather, and in a green grasslands, I stuck out like a sore thumb, and was sweating, too.

"Complete And Total Annihilation Beam!" The wizard shouted, pointing a finger gun at me. A thin beam of white light connected from their finger to my chest, and for a moment all the light in the world went dim. I dove again, hitting the ground in a roll just as the thin beam became a destructive blast of purple-white energy. The blast made the air shriek; I couldn't hear anything for a moment as the attack faded, and I ran into melee range of the wizard.

There were few words to describe how much I loathed magic. It was so showy, so pompous and pretentious. Everyone followed the same rule of cool: dress garishly and keep a thesaurus on you at all times. I hated it; I was mellow, quiet, just plain against eveything this wizard was.

I raised my fist, and opened my mouth to cast my attack. The Wizard watched, and drew in breath to shout back.

But I found there was another kind of cool, too. One which came not from showing off, but the exact opposite: being unassuming, mysterious.

Edgy.

"Silence," I hissed, planting my other palm against the Wizard's chest. They had no time to prepare any long spell at all; the air bursted around me, popping and exploding as if a bomb went off between my fingers. The shockwave rolled into their chest; I heard ribs crack, and the wizard reeled back. They looked at me, blood now running from their lower lip, and trying to draw breath to curse me.

They couldn't.

They fell to the ground, and soon they were no more. I stood there, breathing deeply, and finally the consequences or wearing all black coats on a hot day caught up to me. I fell into a sit, stripping my layers and wiping sweat from my forehead.

I was the first edgelord, and I was starting to learn that it had its own drawbacks, attire included. You had to fit into a persona, one that was cold and distant, and frankly, that just wasn't me, but it was cool, and that's all that mattered.

It still kinda sucked, but you still wouldn't catch me dead shouting quotes in latin at people in order to do magic. That's just stupid.

You hate showmanship, but in a world where shouting the name of your move makes it stronger and the rule of cool is a verified phenomena, you have learned to adapt. Sort of.

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birinboom · 11 months ago

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🛼 🔪 🍅 🪲 🧩

Ooh, a second ask! Thank you so much! 💖💖💖

🛼 ⇢ describe your latest wip with five emojis

❗🐦🪭🌉😻

🔪 ⇢ what's the weirdest topic you researched for a writing project?

Oh dear, which one to pick… I’ve researched plant poison, I’ve researched which weapon is better (between a long bow and a crossbow) if the intent is to injure but NOT kill, I’ve researched whether a metal ship stranded in a desert would get colder the further you get into the hull and by how much, I’ve researched how much rust on a gun renders it unusable, I’ve researched male infertility to the point I got ads for fertility centers. Most of my fics don’t call for super outrageous research topics…

🍅 ⇢ give yourself some constructive criticism on your own writing

Try to expand your vocabulary, it would add some new flavor. Reading more would help with this.

Vary the length of your sentences, you have a habit of droning on and on (like now!) or making all your sentences the same length.

🪲 ⇢ add 50 words to your current wip and share the paragraph here

“When pressed about why he didn’t want to marry any of the court ladies, Jing Yuan just laughed, stating with a smile that he had neither the time nor the energy for that kind of courtship. But the emperor saw the slight downturn of the corners of his lips. He saw through the facade of his best and oldest friend.”

Yup I started working on the Apothecary Diaries AU 😶 Guess the emojis above make more sense now…

(Also, this is what took me so long to reply, I needed to actually write those 50 words)

🧩 ⇢ what will make you click away from a fanfiction immediately?

Lack of proper tagging. I have some subjects and kinks that are traumatic to me, and I either have to be in the right headspace to read about them or I skip them altogether. Nothing’s worse than reading a fic and out of nowhere getting slapped in the face with a subject I didn’t want to face that day because the author thinks it’s no big deal 😅

If a fic has such poor grammar that it’s practically unreadable. Like lack of any punctuation, or sentences that end up confusing. The last one can happen in a scene where there are two or more characters who use the same pronouns and names aren’t used. If I read ‘he did, he said, he thinks, he laughed, etc. etc.’ it becomes difficult to figure out which he does what. I’m guilty of doing this too, because it’s so obvious to the writer who does what. But as a reader it can become nearly incomprehensible.

When it’s very clear (to me at least) that the writer didn’t research something. I once read the first few paragraphs of a fic (gonna try to make this generic) where the reader went berry picking at a berry farm and proceeded to absolutely mangle the plants. And the owner thought it was cute! Like, oi, that’s your income being broken here! I would’ve felt better about the whole thing if it was a plot point, the reader doesn’t know what they’re doing, farmer comes over to help - and to save his bushes - and romance ensues. And maybe that is where the fic went and I would’ve found out if I continued reading, but… that and a dose of ‘he would not fucking SAY that!’ meant that I stopped reading.

Writer's Truth or Dare Ask Game

#ask #ask game #akumicchi #precious moots 🐸

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prey-4-me · 2 years ago

Text

Yeyinde: Ch 2 - There’s a Starman Waiting in the Sky

Yautja x fem!OC, developing relationship

Ooman - Yautja for human

Hashori - Yautja name (feminine)

Pyode amedha - Yautja for soft meat

Yeyinde - Yautja for Brave One

***

She had been very cold at first. He wrapped her in the furs of various species, trying to make her comfortable. Space was cold, after all. But he hadn’t remembered how susceptible oomans were to low temperatures.

She was very appreciative. This struck him as odd; of course he would help her. But perhaps she had not always experienced this attitude from her own people? He wondered how oomans typically treated each other.

“You gonna keep this thing around for how long?” His companion questioned judgmentally. She was a lesser Yautja, not even Blooded yet. He took offense to her tone and she backed off, chastened. The half day flight home was a bit awkward, but his ooman didn’t seem to notice. She steadfastly ignored the other Yautja, only interested in him.

“So, you are the leader?” She had woken up from a nap, and was apparently feeling talkative. He glanced over at her, under a pile of furs. Only her face poked out. Clicking in an amused way, he responded, “Maybe. I am Blooded; they are not.”

“What’s that mean?”

“It means… I hunt bigger prey.”

“Like my kind?”

“No, bigger. Kiande amedha,” he grumbled, switching to Yautja at the end.

She couldn’t enunciate. “Huh?”

He tried to translate, “…hard meat. Oomans are soft meat.” He gestured, unsure.

“Oh.” She seemed thoughtful. Finally she asked, “Why do you hunt… oomans?”

He shifted uncomfortably. Should he lie? “Hummbbrr…. Practice.”

She nodded, “Thought so.”

He wasn’t sure what to say, so he remained silent. After a pause, she asked timidly, “What are you gonna do with me?”

He grumbled. “Don’t know. You will become part of my clan…” He wasn’t sure if he wanted to explain that his clan was he and his cousin only. They had elected to break off from his mother’s clan a few years ago. Living relatively alone, they were happy to share their lives with the other for the time being. But it was a bit odd. But then again… she wouldn’t know that, being non-Yautja.

“How big is your clan?” She piped up.

“Mm, three, with you.” He opted for transparency.

“Oh.”

“What?” He felt defensive immediately.

“I dunno. I just thought like… there would be more,” she shrugged.

Annoyed, he grumbled to himself in Yautja.

Suddenly, she perked up. “Is the… the other clan member female?”

“What is ‘female?’”

“Like me, not like you.” She pointed to her chest. He still didn’t understand.

“Okay, like… uh, there’s two kinds of each animal on Earth. That you need to make babies…” she continued as he tried to follow along. Eventually he added the words “male” and “female” to his haphazard ooman vocabulary. She circled back, “So, male or female? The other clan mate?”

“Female.”

“Are you… um, in a relationship?”

“What is ‘relationship’?” He immediately regretted asking.

“Okay, so…” she took off again trying to educate him.

***

“Why?” Hashori was looking Ai up and down.

“H-hi,” Ai managed. She seemed perplexed as well as afraid of Hashori.

He shrugged, grumbling, “She asked to come.”

Hashori snorted, “So? Pretty face though.” She reached a hand out and brushed it along Ai’s face. Ai faintly turned a different color for a moment, he guessed expressing fear or shock. She quickly returned to normal and commented, “You must be the other clan member, Hashori.”

Hashori grunted in Yautja, “Bit presumptuous. Unless…” she clacked her mandibles, annoyed. “You invited her to stay with us?”

He grumbled again, sheepish. “I might’ve… said she could.”

Hashori boxed his ears. “Fine. But you pick up after it.”

“She’s not an animal,” he grumbled back, rubbing the sides of his head resentfully.

“Whatever. So how was the hunt?” She laughed darkly. It was her he had lost the bet to, causing him to have to go on the pyode amedha hunt to begin with. Ai was looking back and forth between him and Hashori. Clicking softly, he extended a hand to calm her. Surprisingly, she took it and pulled herself to him. He noticed she was shaking a bit so he put his arm around her. Hashori laughed again, “You sure like each other a lot already.”

He growled low, trying to end the conversation. Hashori only laughed, but she backed off. Retreating back to her work bench, she turned back to her project. He turned Ai around to head to his rooms, at the back of the bungalow. She let him guide her all the way there.

When they were alone, she turned to him, wide eyed, “Your clan mate is so much bigger than you!” He shrugged, “Females are bigger.” She seemed pleased by that piece of information, but she changed the subject, “Where is my room?”

“Uhm, well…” he would have to give her his spare room. But where would he put all the stuff he didn’t want anyone else to touch? He sighed, annoyed at his shortsightedness. “I’ll, uh, show you…” he gestured for her to follow.

The room was brightly lit. It had no windows, but made up for it with two huge skylights. The suns shone through them, illuminating everything. “Hmmm, lots of dead stuff,” she assessed. “Your trophy room?”

“Well, now it’s yours. I will move these things out.”

“It’s okay.” She sat on a low chair, “Just need a bed.”

***

It turned out their old sofa was big enough for her to use as a bed. He’d drug it into the middle of the room, under the sky lights. Ai was very pleased. She had set to reorganizing the room, grouping the trophies in ways she thought looked nice. He couldn’t complain.

Hashori sidled up to him. Pulling his dreads in an annoying fashion, she questioned, “So, what’s your plan here?”

***

Dear reader: what’s the plan?

♥️♥️♥️♥️

#predator x human #yautja x human #predator fanfiction

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midgardianweasley · 4 years ago

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Your grace! Bless us with a Natasha x reader where the team is invited to a wedding by a close friend of Tony’s. Then when the bridal bouquet is thrown, the bride throws it too hard where reader accidentally catches it and the team is just going “Oooooh!” And reader is like “I’m not even in a relationship!” But the team know in secret that reader and Natasha have feelings for each other but are too dumb to know. Just funniness and fluff! 🥰😍 (Your writing is brilliant btw!)

I loved this request!! I hope i did it justice <3

it’s a wedding thing

Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

^idk Nat, you tell me^

Summary: When the Avengers get invited to a close friend of Tony's wedding, what hidden feelings will surface? What relationships will bloom? Who will be the next bride?

Warnings: none!

word count: 4.1k

Message/ask if you want to be added to the taglist!

requests are open loves

“Alright gang, this one’s for all of us, we all listening?”

A cluster of ‘yes’ ‘go on’ ‘come on Tony’ filled the room, everyone eager to hear what the fancy envelope held inside. It was amusing to watch Tony take advantage of everyone’s excitement, slowly peeling the envelope, gasping when he pulled the letter out of the casing slightly, not letting anyone else see what was written on it.

You, Natasha and Wanda all seemed to share a look of amusement at the dramatics and the almost visible frustration coming off of everyone. It was like watching children try to wait patiently for sweets in a shop, almost completely off of their seats. It wasn’t until Tony noticed that Pepper was giving him a warning look, that he, begrudgingly, hurried up and announced what was written on the letter.

“Wow. Caleb’s getting married.” He spoke, eyebrows raised in surprise. “And he’s invited the team.”

“Well, I’m not going.” A voice spoke from the corner of the room, clearly un-amused by what was currently going on.

“Luckily for you, I don’t see ‘reindeer games’ anywhere on the invitation. So you’re off the hook.” He replied with a tight lipped smile, Thor had been visiting recently to see Jane and pay the avengers a visit and wanted to bring Loki to meet her.

‘A pleasant trip’ Thor said.

‘A living hell’ Tony corrected.

It got a laugh out of the team though. Nat and I especially. We’d spent the last couple of nights in each other’s bedrooms, making a list about our favourite moments through the day where Tony and Loki clashed, making stupid insults towards the other. I think it’s safe to say that we went through multiple bags of popcorn over the nights, though you were both thankful it was there, it was the only thing muffling the laughter, if it hadn't, you’re almost certain the entire compound would have woken up at the sound of our laughter.

You nudged Natasha’s side gently, the bicker between the two men still continuing.

“Hey, Nat.” She turned and tilted her head questioningly.

“So we know how a physical fight between those two worked out. But, if they had to compete in a rap battle, who do you think would win?”

Her face immediately lit up, eyes sparkling which only enhanced their beauty, you could almost feel the cogs turning in her head, trying to go through every logical option.

“Well. Loki seems pretty well spoken, so vocabulary wise, I think he’d be strong. But Tony is sarcastic which can help with quick quips. But then again, Loki-”

“Hey lovebirds, Romanoff, Y/L/N” Tony clicked his fingers, earning himself a pair of eyerolls at the term he’d used. “Anything you wanna share with the team, or can we move on?”

“Actually-”

“Overridden. Moving on.”

You looked towards Natasha, snickering slightly at how blunt he’s being, Loki having found his way under his skin again. A part of you felt bad for the man, but that feeling is soon replaced by amusement. It was obvious Nat felt the same way, her sharing the same expression as you, although, you could hide yours much better. She had to physically put her hand over her mouth in the hopes the man wouldn’t notice her.

“So, the wedding is next week, a little short notice but when do we ever have enough notice, who’s in?”

Looking around the room, there were a handful of nods, each looking to see who else was going to go. You looked towards Nat again to see if she was planning on attending, only to find her already staring at you.

“So Y/L/N, up for a wedding?”

“It would be a nice change of pace. Are you going?”

“Only if you are” You blushed slightly at the response.

“Better get your nicest dress on Romanoff.” You winked, her turn to blush and focus back on what the rest of the group was saying.

“It’s probably easy if I list couples first on the RSVP and then the singles.” Tony took a glance around the table, mentally taking note of those who had shown signs of agreement. “So there’ll be Wanda and Vision, Legolas and his wife, Romanoff and Y/L/N, Thor and Jane-” You felt your face morph into one of confusion.

“Woah woah, Tony, back up, what did you say?”

“Thor and Jane, they’re-”

“Before that.”

“I’ve said this before Y/N, Legolas isn’t actually real. I meant Clint.”

“Very funny.” He held a proud smirk. “Romanoff and I aren’t a couple”

You wish.

“That’s not what Rogers said when he saw you both cuddling up on the sofa last night.” Before you had a chance to look in Steve’s direction, you could practically feel the daggers Nat was sending him, making his face cringe slightly and his back straighten.

“That’s what Rogers said, is it?” She spoke, tilting her head in question. You knew she was partly joking, but you’d still decided to intervene before anyone lost any limbs.

“My head fell onto her shoulder when I dozed off during our movie. It wasn’t ‘cuddling’ , thank you very much.” You laughed, internally wishing that Steve’s words were true.

“See? So cut it out.” Steve put his hands up in surrender, despite having a cheeky grin on his face.

“Okay okay. Fine!” The billionaire said, writing something on the envelope. “I’ll just put ‘couple pending’” He muttered

“Stark!”

__________________________

You and the girls had just come back from dress shopping, all three of you had spent the whole day in and out of different shops, hours in dressing rooms and your voices were almost completely gone with how often you were telling each other, ‘that looks stunning’ ‘that’s the one!’ and the most common one by the end of the trip; ‘please just pick a dress so we can go home and nap’. That one was from our very own black widow, her patience wore a little thin after 8 hours of staring at dresses.

You had gone through all the colours and styles while you were out, ranging from classy jumpsuits to figure hugging dresses that felt like a second skin. Wanda and Natasha had chosen their dresses and were eager to find you one, and what a mission that was.

“I promise you, we’re not going home until we find this dress, okay?”

“Wanda’s right. We’ll stay out until they all shut if we have to. But, let’s make that a last resort.” Natasha eyed you both warily.

You’d been walking around for hours now. Each dress you tried on had potential, but there was always something that didn’t sit right with you. It was either too baggy, too tight, the cut wasn’t appealing, the length wasn’t ideal, it was starting to feel hopeless. You’d even suggested just going in your pyjamas, but Wanda’s death glare had made it clear that wasn’t an option.

You and Natasha were both dragging your feet, Wanda still having a slight spring in her step as you walked into the final shop and picking up a couple of dresses before then going into the dressing room to try them on.

The first two were okay, but you weren’t a fan. Then there was the third one. The third one was a gorgeous Y/F/C dress that fell just past your knees, it had thin straps and the skirt was simple and loose so that when you spun around in it, you felt like a princess. You looked in the mirror and you adored the reflection, you still wanted the others opinions though, though you didn’t doubt that they’d feel the same way.

Pulling the curtain back and gaining their attention from where they were looking elsewhere, you smiled when you saw their reaction, more specifically, Natasha’s. Wanda was complimentary, walking up and feeling the fabric, gushing about how beautiful you looked, but you barely heard it, too focused on the redhead sitting in front of you, her eyes glazed over and her jaw almost on the floor, completely zoned out on you.

“This dress is it, Y/N, you have to get it! Nat? What do you think?” Her head shook, bringing herself back to reality and briefly meeting your eyes, only to quickly dart between You, Wanda and your dress in an attempt to compose herself.

“Yeah, I mean, wow, you look- wow.” Her hands flailed in your direction. You’d knocked the assassin speechless. Wanda rolled her eyes playfully at the interaction. She’d known about you and Nat’s feelings for each other for a month or two now, silently cursing the both of you when there was an opportunity to confess, yet never did. It was obvious to the rest of the team, why were neither of you picking up on it?

Keeping quiet, she ushered you back into the changing room, much to Natasha’s relief, both because she wanted to head back to the compound and she wasn’t sure how much longer she would’ve lasted seeing you standing there looking literally flawless. She always thought you looked amazing, but there was something about the way you looked in front of her just then that made her brain feel like a haze.

It was pretty safe to say,

You bought the dress.

Collapsing on your bed, dropping your bags to the side and letting out a loud sigh, you heard your door shut and someone fall into the chair by the window. You already knew who it was.

“I’m exhausted.” The woman groaned, rubbing her hands up and down her face to attempt to physically remove the tiredness from her body.

“Sorry for dragging you around for so long, I just-”

“Hey, no, don’t apologise for that. We all said we’d find the perfect dress, and it was worth the wait.” Heat rose to your cheeks at her words.

“You really think I looked good?”

Natasha could sense your underlying tone of doubt, unsure as to why you would doubt her opinion, she’d always been honest with you. Nonetheless, she heaved herself out of her seat and made her way to the end of the bed, kneeling down so that your now sat up figure could look down into her eyes, with her hands on each side of your face to focus you on her and her alone.

“I wouldn’t lie to you, okay? You looked incredible and I'm sure you’ll look even better at this wedding on Saturday, if that’s even possible.” You let out a small chuckle at her words as a smile made its way onto her face.

“You’ll be the prettiest one there.”

“Better not tell the Bride you said that, Nat.” She laughed, looking down for only a few seconds before looking at you again.

“We’ll make that our secret.” You nodded in silent agreement, grateful that she’d made you feel so reassured.

“Thank you, Tasha.”

“You’re more than welcome, sweetheart.” She replied.

You were so lost in her words, you hadn’t realised how close her face had gotten to yours, and how her eyes swapped between your eyes and your lips. You didn’t realise how she subconsciously had kept edging towards you, hands trembling a little with every inch closer she gets.

She wanted to kiss you. Every nerve in her body was almost electrified with the temptation to just move her lips over yours and become one. Her pulse raced, almost to prepare her for doing so. Which is why she wanted to kick herself with a pair of her highest heels when she uttered her next words.

“We should get some sleep.”

You broke out of your trance, jumping backwards slightly when noticing limited space between you both. You awkwardly coughed as she stood, heading back over to her chair to grab her bag and return to her room.

“Yeah, yeah of course. Big today, rest is probably a good idea.” You both nodded, she was already one foot out of the door when she gave you a small ‘goodnight’ and left, not waiting to hear you say it back.

Just like you hadn’t realised her actions early, you were oblivious to her hitting her head off of the wall in the corridor just outside of your room, wondering why she’d backed away. Where was Thor’s hammer when you needed to knock some sense into yourself? She thought before dragging herself back to her room where she would fall asleep, unable to get you out of her head.

_________________________

“Right! Headcount before we go in! And I want us all on our best behaviour Avengers, this is a wedding” Steve had completely lost you after ‘Headcount’. Not only are most of you fully grown adults, sorry Peter, but he seems to be oblivious to the fact that some of you were wearing high heels, and patience in high heels had an expiry date.

“Y’know, if he doesn’t let us in soon, I’m not afraid to threaten him with his own shield.” You heard a whisper just behind your ear, smirking at the comment.

“I’ll join you.” You answered, Bruce and Clint sharing a knowing look from afar when watching the two of you have your own quiet conversation, though short lived when they saw Natasha’s head move in their direction, their gaze coming to a halt so as to avoid any conflict with their teammate.

You guys could try to hide it all you want, but your entire team knows better than that, they just had to wait it out until you both finally admitted it to the other.

______________________

You and the Avenger’s were currently sitting at a guest table, now in the reception part of the evening. The ceremony was beautiful, the bride wore a crisp white ball gown with her makeup and hair done to perfection, the groom looking like a prince in his black tux and a look full of adoration towards his wife to be painted on his face.

Their looks weren’t the best part of it though. The clothes and the accessories were lovely, of course. But all you could focus on was the love shared between them as they shared their vows telling the other how they believed they were each other's soulmate, and that they promised to always be the other’s rock. You’d found yourself with tears in your eyes, barely able to appreciate the sight with how blurry your vision was now. They finally fell when they said their ‘I do’s’, feeling only happiness for the newlyweds.

Although marriage hadn’t been something you always thought about, you’d hoped that you would meet your special someone and settle down, retire from the missions, the battles, the superhero lifestyle and just be with your soulmate for the rest of your days.

Despite not being a couple, whenever you thought of the person you wanted to spend the rest of your time with, there was only one person that came to mind. And she stood right in front of you throughout the ceremony, comforting a sobbing demi-god while he was also trying to explain to Vision why he was in floods of tears.

Music filled the room, upbeat, but calm enough for the couples on the dancefloor to sway gently to the beat, soft lights occasionally shining on them as they danced, the bride and groom being one of them. You smiled gently at the sight, feeling dreadfully single with all of the love in the room, but grateful that you could see so many people look so content and in love with their significant other.

An elbow could suddenly be felt in your side, pulling you from your thoughts to instead be met with gorgeous green eyes and a bold red smirk.

“Penny for your thoughts?” She leaned in, curiosity clouding her mind.

“Nothing much up there really.” You glanced back at the dance floor quickly. “I’m just happy to see everyone so happy.”

Natasha followed your direction of where you were looking, an idea soon popped into her head. She was going to ask you to dance.

Her mouth opened to speak, but as if it was done on purpose, a ‘screech’ echoed in the ballroom, catching everyone’s attention, including taking yours away from hers.

“We’re taking a break from dancing for a minute folks, It’s time for the bride to throw the bouquet!” He announced, soon followed by shrieks and the sound of feet padding on the wooden floor, women all gathering in a small bunch, huddled together as if their lives depended on it as the men all returned to their seats, shaking their heads at the commotion.

Not really wanting to take part, you turned back around again.

“Sorry Nat, what were you-”

“Y/N!” Your head fell as you were interrupted by a very excited Maximoff.

“Y/N! C’mon! We need to do the bouquet toss!” She started to pull you up, refusing to listen to any excuse you could possibly conjure up to avoid having to take part.

Giving the team a desperate look, hoping someone will help you escape, you’re instead met with encouraging and amused faces, including Natasha’s a clear indication that not a single person was going to help you. Traitor’s.

With a half serious eye roll, you quickly grabbed your glass of champagne and kicked off your heels, heading towards the group of screaming women basically crawling on top of one another when the bride was barely up on the ‘stage’ yet. You let Wanda wander off into the group but remained towards the back, sipping from your glass and sending the occasional sneaky glare towards your table.

“You guys ready?” The bride yelled, only to be met with more screams and a faint chorus of ‘yes’ heard among it as they all threw their hands higher. Wanda saw you were just stood there, and subtly used her powers to raise your hand, earning loud laughs and cheers from the Avengers, taking great joy in the scene unfolding in front of them.

“Okay! Three...Two..”

You kept your arm up, pretending to be enthusiastic about the toss, when you realistically didn’t really expect much from these kinds of traditions. What you definitely hadn’t expected, was for your figure to stumble backwards as you suddenly felt petals and stems in your palm, a faint feeling of silk brushing against your thumb as your fingers wrapped around the item.

You almost spat out your champagne, eyes widening in shock as you looked to see the arrangement of flowers in your grip, looking up to see women both disheartened and elated at your catch. How the hell had you managed that? You were literally the farthest person away, and on your own! You must’ve been set up. Okay, a bit of a stretch, but still!

“WOOO, Y/L/N IS GETTING MARRIED!”

“WHO’S THE LUCKY SOMEONE Y/N?”

“Y/N CAUGHT THE FLOWERS, Y/N CAUGHT THE FLOWERS.”

The bride noticeably laughed at your friend’s cheers, she hadn’t meant to throw it that far back, her arm just kinda went full force, but seeing the reaction it caused, she didn’t regret it. She didn’t even regret it when she saw the look of embarrassment on your face, as it was soon replaced with a contagious beam as you walked towards them again, a very proud Wanda in tow,

“Guys! Guys! I’m not even in a relationship! I highly doubt i’m the next woman in this room to get married.” You joked

“Well, I wouldn’t be so sure.” Sam laughed “Romanoff, you got an engagement ring handy?” He yelped as a peanut from the centre of the table was thrown at him, and of course with being a trained assassin, Nat had hit him right in the centre of his forehead, earning a dramatic noise of pain to leave his mouth.

These guys will be the death of you.

__________________

After some teasing, the room had filled once again with happy couples dancing, now including some you were very familiar with, one being a genius billionaire playboy philanthropist and his CEO wife, and another being an Asgardian with his Midgardian girlfriend, both gently moving side to side in time with the music.

Letting out a content sigh, you were met once again with the flowers, however, this time, they weren’t on the table, but were held by a gorgeous woman in a flawless navy dress.

“So, I know we aren’t a couple, but, would the future bride like to dance?” She asked, you let out a content sigh, pretending to think it over for a minute.

“Y’know what, I would, thank you for your kind offer.” You took the hand she’d held out for you and led you to the dance floor. While her hands went to your waist, gently tugging you closer, your arms went around her neck, hands interlocking behind her as you, like the others you’d admired all even, swayed.

You’re unsure when it happened, much like a time before, but your head had made its way onto your dance partner's shoulder, your body following suit as it left no room between the two of you, though you weren’t complaining. Neither was the fellow Avenger.

It was peaceful for a period of time, the only sound being the slow music and a quiet chatter of people across the floor. It wasn’t long before you heard the red head above you whisper in your ear once again.

“You really do look amazing tonight, Y/N.” You raised your head so it was directly opposite hers, sending her an appreciative gaze.

“That future fiance of yours is lucky.” She winked.

“Hilarious” You scoffed, fully aware of her humorous tone.

“I know, sometimes I amaze even myself with my jokes.”

“Well, it really is funny, because I honestly don’t see myself getting married anytime soon.” Nat’s eyebrows raised in what could almost be described as confusion.

“And why is that? Do you not want to get married?” Her hands started grazing up and down your waist, like she was comforting you, but really she was bracing herself for what was incoming.

“No, no it’s not that. I just..”

“Just?”

“I don’t think the person i’m interested in, is necessarily interested in me.” Her heart dropped. So you did have someone of interest. She pushed the sinking feeling to the side quickly so that she could respond.

“Right, and why is that?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never seen them make a move. I thought it’d be obvious. I think it has been to some others.” Your eyes wandered, lingering for longer than what was probably appropriate, on Natasha’s plump lips, wondering if you’d ever get to experience what it’d be like to feel them on yours.

This time, Natasha didn’t miss it. She would’ve blamed it on alcohol, saying that she must’ve just imagined it, but she had only consumed a few drops all evening, being too entranced by you didn’t leave much room for hydration. She hadn’t been more thankful, because it made a light bulb go off in her head as the pieces came together in her head of who you were referring to. She didn’t make a move the other night. It was obvious to the team. How could she have been so blind?

You didn’t see it coming, even when your chin was held in her grasp and you saw her face leaning in towards yours, the reality only hitting you when you finally felt what you’d been wanting to feel for the last months, right now. Your surroundings had just disappeared, the only thing that was running through your head, was the way her lips were moving against yours, and the way her lips tasted faintly of vanilla, and how she smelled like her floral perfume she wore for special occasions.

Whooping and cheering brought you both back from your bubble with just the two of you, your head falling just below her chin, her hand stroking your back as you could feel her chuckle bubbling where your head lay. Well, hid. Her arms had muffled their comments, but you had an idea of what they were, probably a mixture of ‘finally!’, ‘i knew it!’ and you’re almost certain you heard a ‘You owe me 20 bucks.’, that one making you shake your head.

Remaining in your hiding spot, that wasn’t very well hidden, but was keeping your bright red face to yourself, a pair of familiar lips lingered right beside your head.

“So, about that bouquet..”

You weren’t getting married, but by the end of the night, you definitely didn’t feel so dreadfully single as you had earlier.

taglist: @the-dumbass-that-throws-knives

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noblehcart · 2 years ago

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myhiraeth:

Lieutenant Commander Dominic Lewis. An impressive man with an impressive title. A man with dark, intelligent eyes that could sharpen or soften with the change of his tone. A man she could quite like, if not for the strange circumstances of his arrival in her life. The Ivanovs had seemed a functional, contented unit as they were. And then suddenly, the patriarch was gone and in his place was the sudden appearance of a long lost sibling who seemed to be a reflection of Stefan, still a military man but with a more easygoing nature.

Instinct wanted to dislike him as much as it wanted to stay in his good graces because a militarily trained individual was never a bad person to have in your contacts. But on the other hand, instinct was heavily influenced by the sway of Stefan’s emotions. Logic was where she lived, and logic said to bide her time, get to know the newest addition, and figure out his usefulness in her own time and in her own way.

Her head tilted the slightest, letting her hair fall over her shoulder, a tic Dominic wouldn’t recognize as one of needing comfort, needing the soothe of the dark curtain of her hair to narrow her eyeline and her thoughts to the moment at hand. As she contemplated her answer though, he added to his question, and her own expression softened in sympathy, her lips curving in an almost playful, almost apologetic smile. “What do I make of them from my own perspective, or what would I make of them from yours? I hazard to say our experiences are wildly different from the start.” For one, Stefan wasn’t entirely annoyed by her mere existence upon her arrival in Liesel’s life.

“If you’re asking what their personalities are like- Liesel is in all actuality as kind and big-hearted as she appears to be. She is not to be trifled with, but she prefers to meet others with kindness and generosity. There is no act in her altruism. If you desire a relationship with her, if you desire to know more about her, if you desire to spend time with her- you need only ask, and she will oblige you.” Stefan was a more complicated being, and she wasn’t sure where to begin.

"What do you think of them as people? I mean, maybe you're best and worst person to ask considering you're engaged to Stefan- bias and all." His laugh was soft and warm as he looked at the petite brunette taking in her own smile and reaction. A quiet sigh followed after from him as he continued on though leaning slightly closer to her. "-but I think you probably know them best. I'm generally a good people reader and I think you'd be honest with the answer."

Although nothing she said about Liesel was anything new to his own experience with his little sister. It was a title and word he loved to add to his vocabulary. Family. He so desperately missed having family. Liesel had been kind and gentle and he almost couldn't believe that she could be so welcoming to begin with. It couldn't have been easy discovering in your thirties that you had an even older brother.

However, it made more sense when he heard how their little family came about.

He immediately had a sickening feeling about his father and his carelessness, but Gabriele had produced a letter intended for him by Andrei all along. He learned that his father had searched for him in his latter years, but couldn't find him. Though Andrei did swear that he did love him and regretted not fighting to keep him somehow; he couldn't quite blame his father in that instance though. No sixteen year old is ready to be a father. He wasn't sure he ever would be. Liesel swore up and down that their father was a good man and a man of his word and that she always wanted more siblings. She had taken both his hands warmly and embraced him in a way he always dreamed that family would again.

"I'm glad to be related to someone so kind then. I expected a bit more of a cold shoulder-" Like Stefan. His younger brother. He could read people well enough to know Stefan was unsettled by his arrival and he couldn't entirely blame him. Though he didn't know exactly why- he didn't want anything from the Ivanovs... just to know that there was someone else out there connected somehow someway.

#myhiraeth #/ dominic lewis / threads

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livingforthewhump · 3 years ago

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Oh my gosh plz plz more of the one where caretaker snaps at whumpee so that whumpee leaves and caretaker feels so guilty

today’s the day, folks! I wrote this while being forced to kick a soccer ball in gym class so hopefully it’s decent :)

sequel to this drabble

—

It took calling them five times before Whumpee picked up. At that point Caretaker was almost too scared, too lost in tears, to say anything. But the sound of Whumpee’s scared breathing on the other side of the connection spurred them into action.

“Whumpee? Please, I’m sorry. Will you… will you come home?”

There was a painful beat of silence before they answered, softly. “I-I can’t.”

Caretaker’s heart wrenched, but they heard something new and bad in Whumpee’s tone. “Is something wrong?”

“I’m, I, I’m sorry but can you, can you come get me?” A muffled sound that might have been a sob followed the words.

Caretaker was on their feet in an instant. “Of course. Where are you? What happened?”

“I, I went to the restaurant down the street? Because, cause you always told me if I was scared to go someplace in public,” they said, sounding hesitant, shaky.

Caretaker grabbed their keys before deciding walking would be faster. “Okay, good. That’s good.”

But Whumpee was still talking. “But Whumper is here and I don’t know if they’ve seen me yet but I’m scared and I know you’re mad at me but please please don’t let Whumper take me again, please, I’ll be good, and won’t bother you, please—“

If Caretaker didn’t have proof that they were living by their feet pounding on the sidewalk, they would have sworn their heart had stopped in their chest. “I’m not mad at you, Whumpee, I swear. I never should have said that and I’m so so sorry. Just stay on the phone with me, okay? And let me know if Whumper does anything. I’m going to be there as soon as possib—“

And the line went dead.

Caretaker ground out all of the curses in their vocabulary as they called back and waited and waited, but Whumpee didn’t answer. If possible, they started to run faster.

By the time they arrived at the restaurant they were out of breath, throat and lungs burning from the air pumped in and out. Their hair was a mess and they were sure they had a crazed look in their eyes, but none of that stopped them from bursting inside.

They immediately spotted Whumpee tucked away in a corner booth, staring at something in front of them with wide, tearful eyes.

Caretakers hands curled into fists as they surged forward, eyes fixed on Whumpee until they stopped beside them.

“Hey Whumpee, you ready to go?” They forced their tone to stay casual, fooling nobody.

Whumpee looked up at them and their heart panged at the helplessness in their eyes as they nodded. Caretaker finally clenched their jaw and turned to look at Whumper, who was studying them with interest, lips quirked in a smirk.

“So you’re Caretaker.” Whumper winked at Whumpee. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

“Stay away from them,” Caretaker snarled. Whumpee stood behind them, practically hiding behind their set shoulders.

Whumper’s smile grew. “Seems like you should keep a better hold on them.”

Caretaker shot them a glare and walked away, but the words stuck like barbed wire in their mind, jumbling their thoughts as they took Whumpee away.

“Are you okay?” Caretaker asked as soon as they were out of sight of the building. “ What did they say to you?”

Whumpee just hunched their shoulders, shaking their head. “Thank you for coming. I’m sorry I had—”

“Whumpee, don’t ever apologize for asking for help. I’ll always be here for you.” They took a deep breath, watching Whumpee carefully. “You know I didn’t mean what I said, right? I didn’t mean any of it. I was just stressed and overwhelmed and I took that out on you, which wasn’t fair at all and I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

Caretaker frowned. “I don’t want it to just be ‘okay’. I don’t want you to say that and let things like that happen just because it’s what you’re used to. It wasn’t okay, and if you need to be angry at me for a while, I deserve it.”

Whumpee shook their head again, slowly reaching out to take Caretaker’s hand. “I forgive you. Not… not because it was okay. But because you’re okay. I believe that you didn’t mean it, even though it was…scary. To hear you say it.”

Caretaker’s brow tightened and they found themselves blinking back tears. “I don’t deserve you, you know.”

“That’s too bad, cause it seems like you’re stuck with me.” Whumpee flashed them a shaky grin, and they felt a tear trace down their cheek.

—

Taglist (let me know if you want to be added or removed): @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @twistedcaretaker @lonesome--hunter @poppys-writing @endless-whump @multifandoms-multishipper @shadowylemon @utopian819 @whumpkitty @journey-the-panda @freefallingup13 @shameful-indulgence @1becky1 @temporary-whump-sideblog @chartreusephoenix @thelazywitchphotographer @mylifeisonthebookshelf @badluck990 @lockedupuniverse @luna-rein @broadwaybabe18 @pinescales-whumps @silverwhisperer1 @embersalive

And some others interested in the continuation! @swift-perseides @whumpymirages @hurting-fictional-people

#worried caretaker #protective caretaker #soft caretaker #whumpee #scared whumpee #whumper #my writing #mine #whump #whump writing #whump drabble #emotional whump #angst #comfort #kinda?

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