#you could radically swing this in any direction
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crazy-pages · 1 month ago
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Okay so evaluating US mortality rates minus comparable OECD average mortality rates, times 0.9 to remove accidental deaths, multiplied by the 157,000,000 people UHC "serves", UHC is directly responsible for about 59,000 deaths a year. Even generously assuming the CEO of the company is only responsible for 1% of that, he would have killed someone roughly every 15.5 hours for profit.
I'm guessing the suspect list of people with motive is rather long.
Anyway, crab rave gif time? Yeah I'm gonna break out the crab rave gifs.
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https://www.reuters.com/world/us/unitedhealthcare-ceo-fatally-shot-ny-post-reports-2024-12-04/
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Took him to the hospital but still died. Guess they couldn't get prior authorization approval to save his life.
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inventors-fair · 3 months ago
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The Penthouse: Room Contest Winners ~
Our winners this week are @an-anarchist-shapeshifter, @corporalotherbear, and @curiooftheheart!
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@an-anarchist-shapeshifter — Secluded Bedroom / Dark Closet
I think this card's theoretical art direction—or I suppose, the spacework that it's purporting to show—is a phenomenal trope execution. The Dark Closet spawning a Beast is a great little Goyf relative. For limited, having that ability to "feed" on your graveyard is another delirium payoff, even if it is a single token. Even if that token goes away, I love the Bedroom's ability to pump out manifested creatures. Very powerful, of course, but at mythic, that kind of pumping is perfectly reasonable; if you somehow don't have any creatures, well, too bad for your board state. And then the Closet awakens the beast! Or whatever order you choose, yadda yadda.
But back to the flavor. I personally haven't payed too much attention to the flavor of canonical Duskmourn rooms, so it's reasonable for me to get off my high horse and actually pay attention to these. My take/feeling is that the Bedroom is the place where, by sending a creature to "rest," it's summoning the monsters from their imagination, whereas the Closet is the place where the actual monsters are, feeding on the dreams and nightmares and growing more powerful because of that. And hey, I love what you've done with it! Just make sure you add that last quotation mark to the Beast reminder text.
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@corporalotherbear — Center Stage / Splash Zone
You're a disgusting performer, ain'tcha. This is supremely gross and very powerful, mostly on the Splash Zone side of things, IMO. I think that out of all the directions that Rakdos could go, having that kind of direct fiery damage is a great way to throw the viscera. I really don't know where this design first started! The idea for a Rakdos-themed room opens you up to many options, of course, but maybe the sacrifice-to-damage came first because, of course, mechanical synergies. It's hard to tell, and that's a good thing. It makes me feel that the design went through some cohesive thought processes before you settled on this choice.
Maybe it didn't and maybe having a splash zone as a room was just the best way to go about a "wouldn't this be messed up" mindset. I'm down for it! I'm also down for some very strong limited enchantments. Early draw is great for the aggro side when you're curving out to a turn-five swing having built up your board. There's a small chance that balance might lead this to six mana, but either way, that's such a small tweak for such a strong effect. I will say that I almost want to see a Ravnica that has two different guilds representing different directions now. One rooms leads to Rakdos carnage, one to Gruul tribal unity—or, one to Rakdos showmanship, the other to Orzhov austerity. Y'know? Lots of neat possibilities that this card brings out.
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@curiooftheheart — Worn Nursery / Maids' Chamber
Overall, I think this card's function is kinda perfect. Like, printably perfect. Someone might raise the point about playtesting for the tutor and that kind of power (see: Recruiter of the Guard), but I would say that you could maybe bump it to 2W easily if necessary. Is it necessary at this point? Honestly, without the body, I don't think you need to change it. It fits the theme of white cards in this set, and I really like how you have the caveat for the Chambers so that you have to be aggressive to get that lifegain; lifegain hasn't been as much of a presence in Duskmoun from my experience, but the cards that go with it are great.
And with this to go with it—yeah, no, I'm thoroughly impressed with the cleanness of this card. It's not blowing the tops off of any design specs in terms of 'radical innovation,' and it doesn't have to, and I'm sure you're aware of that. This card is a design-first gameplay-matters cut-and-dry explicitly functional piece of tech. It would certainly see both limited and constructed play, and it's appropriately pushed for its power. Hard to go against, easy to love. I think that you've done awesome work here! It's kind of a shame that D&T has been pushed out of the Legacy meta a little bit, because we both know that brewing with tutor rooms would be super fun.
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Runners in the next room... @abelzumi
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grayintogreen · 5 months ago
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Back to my point earlier, it is really funny that people clown on the dub of the first Pokémon movie to shift the meaning to an anti-violence statement in the acceptable dog fighting anime, but no one clowns on the meaning of the second two Pokémon movies equally making allegedly erratic swings at what people perceive as the Point of Pokémon (specifically that the villain of the second is an extreme collector and the villain of the third is a child who went too deep into her imagination and is now out of touch). And I’m sure [Kenan Thompson voice] YOU KNOW WHY, but like… hold up here.
Even if people DID clown on those things and I just never saw it because I choose love, it’s an incomplete read on both of those morals just like seeing movie one as anything but an anti-hate and anti-racism message in the dub of movie one is dumb. Good old Lawrence III isn’t a piece of shit because he collects Pokémon like any trainer who follows the old gotta catch ‘em all mantra does- he’s putting them in cages for display. In a fucking more brutal version he’d probably be killing, mounting, and stuffing them but that’s for grimdark fanfic. It isn’t a clap back at the tagline for Pokémon. What he’s doing is more of a clap back at adults who raid spaces for children and make them unsafe. He’s a reckless brony who is willing to cause global weather collapse for his pony waifu. It’s simultaneously a statement about rich people destroying the planet for personal gain (a message the dub definitely heightened by intensifying the message that a single person can tip the scales of balance and affect radical change, which is TRUE and fuck you if you hate it for being cheesy that shit turned so many millennial kids into advocates for recognition of climate change, myself included) and a more softer shin-kick to adults who ruin spaces meant for children with their greed and intensity. It reminds me of people who buy up Pokémon cards or Star Wars action figures for display or collector value and take the fun out of it for kids who just want to play. I imagine many kids have felt this at the time, so seeing an adult villainized for selfishness when kids are often repeatedly told to share or risk punishment that isn’t levied at adults is a good message. But without thinking about it critically, the message gets lost as LOL KIDS COLLECTING POKÉMON YELL AT OLD MAN COLLECTING POKÉMON. Which is dumb.
Bringing us to Molly Hale who could, on surface level, represent the need for children to live outside of their own imagination and seek value in reality, which… honestly, I don’t think that one really sunk in as a moral at all, though it is interesting that the third movie WAS the last wide release Pokemon film in the US. All the others were limited releases or eventually relegated to direct to DVD. So it feels like the message of “stop imagining adventures and go have them” actually worked, which, again, is a pretty cold read when the actual source of Molly’s retreating from the world was GRIEF. It isn’t about “lol little girl with a wild imagination can’t accept reality” it’s LITTLE GIRL SUFFERING A PHENOMENAL AMOUNT OF GRIEF AND LONELINESS RETREATED INTO THE ONLY SOURCE OF COMFORT SHE HAD. The end is LITERALLY her accepting that the only way to save everyone is to accept that her father is gone and that she has to return to reality and move on. And yeah, her dad comes back at the end, but she doesn’t know that! The moral is about grief and how you can’t shut yourself away from it. I’ve never seen any wank about “lol the message is put down the game and go outside” but also I’ve never seen anyone examine it as a beautiful example of childhood grief and how to heal from it.
Tl;Dr: goddamn those dubs had good messages that still hold true today.
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wizardpartier · 6 months ago
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okay hmmm. This post might not be coherent, I'm on the bus and it just occurred to me and I haven't thought it out very thoroughly. But I listen to a lot of Knowledge Fight, which is a podcast where the hosts listen to Infowars and explain and analyze what Alex Jones says there. It's a good way to keep up with what's going on with the conspiracy far right without having to actually consume it yourself.
This space still believes that the 2020 election is stolen and that Democrats are going to also steal the 2024 election. Alex Jones is constantly telling people to vote for Trump with the logic that, even though Democrats are going to try to steal the election again, if Trump wins by a large enough majority they won't be able to deny him the win. There's a slightly more convoluted logic to this that I won't get into now, but overall it's almost as dumb a plan as it sounds. If the "globalists" are as all powerful as Alex claims and have that much power over the election, how could that work? His catchphrase has been "too big to rig", but why can they steal the election if Trump wins by 2% but not if he wins by 50%?
If I were a far right conspiracy theorist, I would feel like I was being bullshitted right now by Alex because, come on dude! The globalists are all powerful, if they're planning on stealing the election then the election is already stolen!
I feel a similar way when I see "vote blue no matter who" posts on here. The one that inspired this post was one that made me especially upset was one that said, "if people had been voting for the last 20 years, we would have had Al Gore, Obama, Hillary, and Biden". Which is intensely frustrating because people DID vote for all these candidates! All of these candidates won the popular vote!
Anyway, "your vote only matters if you're in a swing state" is not a radical thought, it's something we've all probably heard our entire lives so I'm not going to hound on the flaws of the electoral college here. But it feels so victim-blamey to be constantly told that we just need to keep voting to keep Trump from winning!!! When we already did! People DID vote for Hillary in 2016, and she lost anyway because our electoral system is trash!
Obviously these two situations are very different in that the far right's victim complex is based on a fictional narrative of a stolen election, while the past 24 years have shown us that our electoral system is genuinely biased against popular opinion. However, I think the fact that the slogan "too big to rig" could apply to both sides is telling. The underlying logic for both is that, if we just keep voting in large enough numbers maybe we can beat the odds!
I guess I don't know where I'm going with this other than to say, aren't you tired? Aren't you tired of yelling into the abyss to try and convince randos that their vote matters when, for the majority of people in the US, that's demonstrably untrue? I know that, living in a blue state and a blue city, I'm tired of hearing it, and I'm sure I would be even more tired of hearing it if I was living in a swing state where I was the direct target of these posts!
Anyway I'm glad I only have like, 5 followers who regularly interact with my posts bc if I had any sort of audience on here I'm pretty sure the notes on this post would force me to deactivate. Which would probably be for the better lmao 🤪
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tenaciouspostfun · 2 years ago
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Robert Massimi.
Is it any wonder that the Mark Taper Forum, SF's ACT, The Public are financially hurting right now? For starters, New York City, Los Angeles and San Francisco are crime ridden cities with massive homeless problems. People in San Francisco are afraid to leave there homes due to the horrible drug and crime problem. In fact, when polled, 60% of San Franciscans want to move out of the city all together. Los Angeles too has a very bad homeless problem, crime isn't as bad as San Francisco's, but very bad none the less. New York City with its cashless bail has made crime a large topic. NYC also has a bad crime wave since DE Blasio and continued onto Adams.
When you couple the lousy woke theater that many theater companies are putting on, it spells disaster for theater companies. What were once some of the greatest theater companies in the world, a radical agenda has had many a subscriber heading for the exits. Back in a bye gone era when radical theater was well written AGITPROP, a person may not agree what was being put on stage, but could respect the point of view, the writing and direction; but not anymore. The writing today is to weak, too over the top radical with little to say to the deep thinking theater goer.
As far as entertainment is concerned, places like The Tank on 36th st in Manhattan, The Signature Theater and the Playwrights Horizon ( both on West 42 end St), all are putting on poorly written plays that give the paying customer no entertainment value at all. Even with cheaper ticket prices the public refuses to go. The newer writers today just can't cut it as far as being good, let alone great writers.
In years past, a person could arbitrarily pick a Broadway, or off Broadway show and be satisfied at what they saw. Sure there were horror shows like the three that Kenny Greenblatt produced (Moose Murders, Teaneck Tarzan and Legs Diamond), but most of it was passable, respectful and organized by way of how theater was produced.
Many of the classics today are being modernized (Camelot and A Dolls House). Producers are betting that the younger, more modern theater goer will carry this play and all the while thumbing their noses at the older, more well healed theater goer.
For theater companies to survive they need to get back to better written plays; better directed plays. Ever wonder why the Park Avenue Armory does so well? The reason is that they put on great, moving, as well as deep plays. Many of the Armories shows are around three hours long and yet, you have the audience resonated by what is put on over there.
Here is a prediction... If producers do not start putting on quality from all theater, Broadway, theater companies etc., theater will go broke. I am amazed that theater companies and producers haven't seen this already. The producers pool on Broadway since the fall season has thinned out dramatically. If Broadway seasons keep taking hits like this who do you think is going to step up to the plate and put money into a show?
The Public, ACT, Broadway, The Tank, Kenny Greenblatt, Adam Greenleaf, Tony Awards, Mark Taper Forum, The Park Avenue Armory, Adam Godley, Hamilton, Camelot, A Dolls House, swmnimbus.org, www.mannabouttown, www.25amagazine, my life publications, the gathering, swing time canteen, Alison Frasier, Charles Busch, Rattlestick Theater Company, The Tank, Signature Theater Company, Playwright's Horizon, Romulus Linney.
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wildernessuntothemselves · 4 years ago
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I'm Yours, You're Mine | 5
Word Count: 4.1k
Genre: Smut, angst
Warnings: Cheating, yandere!felix, sub!felix, mention of blackmail, public sex, pussy eating, guided masturbation?, fingering, hella jealousy, assault mention, jisung inclusion lmao
A/N: link to the gorgeous dress the OC wears made a super lovely anon thank you babe
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GIF CREDIT
“What is taking you so long?” You grunt, walking into the kitchen to find the freckled boy pulling a tray out of the oven. At the sound of your voice, he springs up and flashes you a brilliant smile that explains just why he’s nicknamed the sunshine boy. You smile bitterly at the reminder. Oh, how you used to believe that.
“I just finished the brownies for the picnic, noona.” He chirps happily, looking so angelic, like a bad thought never crossed his mind ever.
Felix wants to take you on a romantic picnic date beside the river. He volunteered to do everything, making you both the food and drinks you’ll need so all you’ll have to do is sit there and enjoy the pleasant early summer weather.
Taking a deep breath, you steal yourself, preparing for the transformation you’ve come to expect from him. “Oh, we’re not going on a picnic. I changed my mind. I wanna go to the mall instead.”
You know the commercial, impersonal place would upset the sentimental boy, and that’s why you do it. The sharp fall of his smile makes your heart stop for a second and your body stiffen, preparing for an attack.
“What?” He asks gruffly.
“I need new summer clothes.” You try to appear nonchalantly.
“Can’t you do that any other time?”
“I want to do it today.” You shrug, stopping yourself from flinching as you see his jaw clench. “You promised you’d take care of me. You promised you’d do what I want.” You remind him of the promises he made after attacking you last time. The promises he made to make you give him another chance. You didn’t believe in any of his promises, and you were provoking him on purpose to prove that he can’t himself in check so you’d have a reason to call this whole thing off.
And it seems he’s getting there. “But we agreed on this date. I prepared a lot for this. I made you fucking brownies.”
“You promised you wouldn’t hurt me.” You accuse, and he flinches, his body immediately deflating as the anger rushes out of him. “No, I won’t. It’s okay. We can go wherever you want, noona. You just took me by surprise, that’s all.”
You didn’t expect this reaction from him. You thought he’d lash out again. Maybe it really was a mistake like he said, and you should give him another chance. You’re lost in contemplation when his soft, low voice breaks through to you.
“Would you at least try the brownies?” He pleads, his pretty eyes sparkling, making you believe that the universe truly is a cruel, uncaring place if the stars would agree to light up the eyes of someone like him. Still, you can’t resist the constellations reflected in his eyes and onto his cheeks, finding yourself compelled to lean down and press a kiss to his pouty lips.
You suck in a sharp breath at the exploding light that brightens his face at such a small action, like a supernova, blazing your cold heart.
“Okay.” You breathe, and he, giddy with excitement, cuts off a piece for you. You reach out for it but he swings his hand out of the way, wanting to feed it to you himself. You open your mouth and accept the food, biting a piece of it off and chewing it.
Felix watches you with bated breath, as if your opinion would win him a national baking competition. You’re scared by how much you’re enjoying his attention, and it scares you. It’s too easy to get addicted to him.
“How do you like it, noona?”
“It’s sublime.” You smile, the divine taste of the dessert and his angelic features could fool you into thinking you’re in heaven. How can one person give you such radically conflicting feelings? You feel like you’re teetering on the edge of a cliff, not knowing if at the end of fall you’ll be greeted by the refreshing ocean water or the jagged, deadly rocks.
Felix’s smile gets impossibly wider as he giggles. “I knew you’d like it, baby.” He leans in to give you a peck that’s sweeter than the food you just had.
______________________________
You can’t find anything you like. Nothing at all.
Frustrated, you turn to Felix who had been following you obediently like a little puppy through the countless stores.
“I don’t know. Do you see anything good?” You huff, and he seems surprised by your question, not having expected you to actually take his opinion, albeit how last choice it is. You feel bad. He not only didn’t complain like he promised, even though you cancelled the picnic he wanted, but he actually hyped you up and showered you with compliments every time you’d try on something new.
“What do you like your girl to wear?” You tease him, knowing your words will bring a pretty blush to his face.
“I--I like dresses.” He replies sheepishly.
“Yeah? Like what? Show me.”
It’s your turn to follow him around as he bashfully picks out a few dresses for you. You notice they're all so girly and pretty with bows and frills and lace. Seems like he has a type.
“Do you want me to try them on, baby?” You ask when he hands them to you.
“Please.” He breathes, impatient to see them on you and you think it's adorable how excited he is. You don’t wear dresses, and you know you won’t wear these, but you try them on just for him, not expecting how much his reaction will affect you.
"Wow." He sucks in a breath, his widened eyes taking in every inch of you. Smirking, you ask, "You like it that much?"
He nods vigorously, looking at you with adoration and want you’ve never had directed at you before. It takes your breath away, how genuine it looks, compelling you to do everything in your power to earn it.
The dress is made of a pretty pink Chiffon material, with a pink bow circling under the chest and a sweetheart neckline that exposes your collarbones and dips down to show quite a bit of cleavage, serving to emphasize your breasts that Felix can’t take his eyes off of. The contrast between the light and princessy look of the flowy skirt, and the seductive neckline hints at a certain corruption of innocence begging to be undertaken.
But just as you prepare to be engulfed in the sparkly blue-green of the ocean water, you find yourself crumpling over the rocks as Felix pulls out his phone to take a picture of you.
“You and your pictures.” You comment bitterly, happiness gone. “Gonna blackmail me over this too?”
He gasps, and the hand holding his phone immediately drops down, as if he couldn’t believe you’d say that.
“What, did you forget that you forced me into this?” You mock, “I bet you’re loving this. Making me do this. Dressing me up like I’m your doll? I bet your little dick is hard right now.”
He shakes his head, and you’re not sure if he’s trying to deny your words or just defend his actions. Pulling him close by his jeans, you press your thigh between his legs and laugh when it’s met by his hard-on. “See? I know everything that goes on in your sick brain.”
“Just wanna be good for you.” He whimpers, but even as he says that, his eyes fall to your breasts and his hand reaches out to run over the neckline of the dress you have on.
“Of course you do.” You snarl, and he cowers under your harsh tone. But like a kid at a candy store, he can’t stop his hand from straying, his fingers trailing down to circle around your nipples pushing through the soft material of the dress.
Grabbing his wrist, you bring his hand to your mouth and take his middle finger into your mouth, sucking on it lightly, grinning as his knees buckling and a small whimper leaves his lips. He tries to push you back into the fitting room but you don’t budge, taking his finger out of your mouth and humming. "I suddenly want something to suck on. Why don't you buy me a popsicle baby? I'm feeling hot."
He gulps harshly, "Yes, noona."
________
Felix buys all the dresses for you and you keep wearing the pink one, wanting to make him suffer more through the trip.
You strut to the ice cream store, feeling unstoppable in your flowy dress with your lovestruck lover in toe, hand on your waist and eyes glaring at everyone, trying to fend off anyone who would try to approach you.
Felix sits you down in a booth at the far end of the store, hiding you from view as he goes to get what you want. You sigh, playing the skirt of your new dress, lost in thought about Felix and how you feel about him. He’s sweet, addictively so, but he’s volatile and that scares you. Would you pick him over Chan? What if he just wants you because Chan has you? Maybe this is some kind of sick competition for him. Or maybe it’s the contrast with Chan that makes you like him at all. Maybe you’re just upset with Chan.
Your thoughts are interrupted by a loud, cheery voice. “Noona, how are you?”
Coming out your daze, you blink, taking in the new figure. “Oh, hey, Jisung.”
“What are you doing here?” He asks giddily, eyes raking over your body, stopping over your breasts the same way Felix did, and lingers on them too long. You clear your throat, smirking as his eyes snap back up to your face as he flushes.
You’re quite aware of the crush he has on you. So better get rid of him before Felix comes and throws a tantrum. Unless…
This could be your chance to get back at Felix for what he did to you and for forcing you to go on this date. He can threaten to tell Chan on you but what is he gonna do to Jisung? Nothing.
“I’m just hanging with a friend.” You smile broadly, “Why don’t you join us?”
“Wouldn’t your friend mind?” He asks, already moving to sit down. You grin wickedly, “No, he’ll love it."
“Okay.” He sits down opposite you, unsuspecting of the storm about to come over. Right on time, Felix comes back with your popsicle.
“Oh, hey Lixie! This is Jisung. We work together.” You pull him down, ignoring the sour look on his face.
“Hey!” Jisung pipes up with a friendly wave that Felix doesn’t return. Felix pins the other boy down with a glare that makes Jisung shrink back.
“He’s just a little shy.” You reach over the table and place your hand over his to comfort him, a gesture that only makes Felix angrier and he in turn grabs your thigh under the table and squeezes it in warning. Turning to him, you pluck the popsicle out of his hand and take a big lick. “Hmm, this is tasty.”
You take the part of the popsicle into your mouth, giving Felix a wink before you turn to the other boy. “So, how have you been, Sungie?”
“Um… good.” He fidgets as you swirl your tongue around the popsicle in an obviously suggestive way.
“How's your girlfriend?” You ask, knowing full well that they broke up. His eyes follow your tongue for a second before he clears his throat and answers. “We’re not together anymore.”
“Oh, no!” You pout, lips cherry colored and glistening with melted ice cream. “That must be very hard for you, baby.”
You feel Felix’s hand clench around your thigh, but you don’t spare him a glance as you continue, “How have you been handling that?”
You place the popsicle back in your mouth, sucking on it enticingly as you eye Jisung up and down and wait for him to answer, but the poor boy can barely string his words together. “It’s--I’m...o-okay.”
Pulling the popsicle out of your mouth with a wet slurp, you smile while licking the tip of the treat. “I’m so glad. Hmm, this is so good.” You moan out, and extend the popsicle towards him. “Wanna try it?”
Jisung chokes on his own spit, and you can tell that a handprint will remain on your upper thigh from how hard Felix’s fingers were digging into your skin.
"No that's okay, noona." Jisung fidgets, and you know he’s rubbing his thighs together under the table. You ignore his refusal, pushing the popsicle towards his mouth. "Come on baby, open up for me."
He obediently opens his mouth despite his refusal, but before he can close his lips around the ice cream, you pull it away with a laugh. "Why don't you stick out your tongue for me?"
He sucks in a sharp breath and his eyes snap to Felix. You can only see the other boy from the corner of your eye, but the rage rolling off of him in waves more than explains the terrified look on your coworker's face. No, that wouldn't do.
Leaning over the table, your ass in Felix’s face barely covered by the short dress, you curl a finger under Jisung’s chin and turn his attention towards you. "Don't look at him baby. Keep your eyes on me."
He nods weakly and you smile, moving to sit back down when Felix grabs your hips and pulls you down onto his lap, a small gasp escaping from your lips as you feel his hard-on against your thin underwear.
Your grin grows bigger, and you grind down on Felix’s dick as you tell Jisung, "Now show me your tongue, baby."
The sight of Jisung’s glazed eyes and pretty tongue out like a cute puppy makes you moan a little, something only Felix can hear. You feel his hand move from your hip to your pussy, fingers rubbing over you now soaked panties. With a shuddering breath, you move the popsicle over Jisung’s tongue, delighted by how he doesn’t pull it back into his mouth until you tell him to.
"Such a good boy." You coo, and you feel Felix’s fingers slip under your panties to rub harshly at your bare pussy. Shuddering, you open your legs wider for him. "He's such a good boy, isn't he, Felix? I bet he'd never act out or disobey me."
Felix grabs your clit between his thumb and index finger and pinches lightly, making you jump in his lap and bounce on his cock, the two of you groaning out in pleasure and making poor Jisung whimper as he clutches hard onto the table to keep from touching himself.
Opening your legs wide, you order Felix, "Put your fingers in me. Wanna show you what you're not getting by being a brat."
His hand leaves the tight circles he’s drawing over you clit and dip down to your hole, plunging a finger right in. “Oh, fuck.” You shudder at the delicious intrusion and the thrust of Felix’s dick against your pussy, the both of you clearly wishing that was his dick instead of his finger.
“Feels good, baby?” You whisper back to Felix and he nods sharply, finger pushing in and out of you incessantly as if you’ll tell him to stop at any moment. "Yeah? Tell Jisung how it feels."
Felix growls against your skin, sinking his teeth into your shoulder angrily, not wanting to think about the other guy with you right now. But you don’t back down. "Tell him or I'll have him find out himself."
He stuffs another finger inside you, and obeys, voice grave and hostile. “Noona’s pussy is tight around my fingers. So soft and wet for me. Only me.”
You laugh breathlessly, bucking your hips against Felix’s hand so that your clit can rub against his palm. Poor Jisung’s hands were white from how tightly he was gripping onto the table, and you’re worried he would either break it or hurt himself.
“You getting turned on watching us, baby?” You drawl, getting his attention. “It’s okay. You can touch yourself.”
As if he was waiting for your permission, Jisung instantly sticks his hand between his legs, and humps against it to relieve some of the pressure.
“Good boy.” You murmur, and Felix abuses the spot he bit in your shoulder again, deeping the mark forming there and making his feelings clear about you praising another guy while he’s fingering you. "Did you fantasize about my pussy, baby?"
“Yes.” Both of them answer, and you laugh.
"Hmm, seems like you've got competition, kitty. Maybe I chose the wrong boy to play with."
Felix stops abruptly, pulling his fingers out of you and pushing you onto the seat next to him. Your heart beats rapidly against your chest, thinking that he’s about to make a scene. Instead, he slips under the table and pulls on your hips so your ass is at the edge of the seat. Yanking your panties off, he spreads your legs wide.
"Gonna prove to you that I'm the one for you." He buries his face in your pussy, angrily licking every little inch of it and sucking harshly on your clit.
“Oh, fuck---Felix!” You moan, grabbing onto his hair as he devours your pussy. “Good boy. This is exactly where you belong.”
From the barely open slit of your eyes you see Jisung frustrated and on the verge of crying as he’s not getting as much stimulation as he needs.
"Pull your pretty cock out for me baby.” You drawl, trying to entice him so he’d forget about being in a public place and give in to you. “Don't be scared. Noona wants you to be dirty."
He discards his fears, pulling his dick out and yanking on it fast.
“Good boy. Such a good boy.” You effuse, and under the table, Felix pulls back to slap your pussy in punishment, furious that you’re still giving Jisung attention even though he’s on his knees under the table eating your pussy out.
“Brat.” You hiss, tugging on his hair and pushing his head back between your legs, grinding your pussy against his face.
"Wanna cum, please." Jisung begs, and you tear your eyes away from Felix’s shiny and livid ones to look over at him. He doesn’t look pretty or angelic as Felix looks even under the cramped table and surrounded by the pink Chiffon as he ignores his need to breathe in favor of pleasing you. Instead, Jisung he looks sweaty and fucked dumb, his eyes barely focused and his jaw hanging open.
"Wait for noona." You gruffly answer, squeaking in surprise as you feel Felix’s tongue push inside your pussy, a growly moan ripping out of him as he feels your tight walls around his tongue.
"You are doing such a good job, kitten.” You purr down to your lover, fucking his pretty face.
“No, I can’t, n-noona… please.” He cries, and you glare at him. “I said wait.”
“Can’t….ahh...noona, I’m sorry….fuck, fuck!” He squeaks, body convulsing as little ropes of white stain his shirt.
Seeing the mess he makes, you’re tipped over the edge yourself, cumming on Felix’s tongue and closing your thighs around his head, trapping him there. Obediently, he stays still as your hips buck a few more times against his face before your body relaxes and your legs fall open.
Felix gives your pussy a couple of soothing licks before he pulls your dress down and emerges from under the table, his face glistening with your cum. Yet somehow, he still looks as delicate and beautiful as ever as leans into your hand cupping his cheek.
“Good boy.” You murmur, your other hand reaching out to palm his crotch when a wet spot surprises you. You raise an eyebrow "oh?"
"I'm sorry. I know you didn’t say I could cum. I just wanted this for so long. Wanted to make you feel as good as you make me feel." He sobs, thinking you'll laugh at him. But you find it so incredibly sexy and flattering. You never thought you'd meet a guy who enjoyed pleasing you that much.
"You did good, baby." You beam, patting his cheek. ”Sitting there while I flirt with another boy? Maybe next I just make you watch while I fuck him. How does that sound? I bet it will make your little cock so hard, you little pervert."
He shakes his head violently, getting upset. "No, please don't. It would kill me. I love you so much." He breaks down and starts babbling about how he never wanted it to be this way. How sorry he is, begging you to not do this again.
"Hush, my dumb kitty." You press your finger against his lips to stop him from talking. “It’s okay. How about we go home and get cleaned up then have some coffee and brownies?"
He nods gratefully, and you’re about to get up when you hear someone cough. You look in front of you and remember that you had a guest.
“Oh, Jisung. Let’s talk tomorrow, okay?” You say, pulling Felix up and ignoring Jisung’s protests, and walking to the door.
However, Jisung isn’t the only one with something to say. As you’re about to leave the shop, an employee intercepts you. You can immediately tell what he’s going to say from the severe look on his face.
“Please, don’t try to come back to our shop or we’ll have to call the police.”
You nod, cheeks burning in humiliation as you run out and drag a smiling Felix behind you to the car.
__________________
When you head off to work a few days later, you wonder what you’re going to say to Jisung. You had set off to work with a promise to Felix that you’re not gonna pursue anything with the brunette, but he weirdly didn’t seem particularly concerned about the matter, despite how upset he was that day.
Yes, you’d been extra nice to him these past few days, acting much more receptive to his affectionate ways and responding in kind, but you still didn’t expect that much change.
Your brain is buzzing with all the possibilities about how Jisung will react and your lover’s one-hundred-eighty flip in attitude as you step into your office, but then you realize that Jisung isn’t there at all. Asking around, you find out that he’s at the hospital. Apparently he’d injured himself while playing with a knife. You roll your eyes. That boy is a danger to himself.
Still, you decide to go check up on him at the hospital.
You expect him to act awkward around you, to blush and stutter and look away. What you don’t expect is the sheer horror on his face upon seeing you.
“Wow, did I scar you that bad?” Is the first thing you say to him once you’re inside his hospital room.
“Why are you here?” He asks shakily, staring behind you as if he’s expecting someone to pop out from there.
You frown, “I realize I may have crossed the line yesterday but I just wanted to make sure you’re alright."
“I’m fine. Now please leave.”
“Thanks, I’m so reassured right now.” You roll your eyes, moving closer to him. ”How did this even happen? How does one stab their own leg?”
But as you reach out to touch his shoulder, he screams. "Don't touch me! You can't touch me!"
"What's going on? You're freaking me out." You jump back, and once again, he looks behind you. "Does he know you're here?"
"Who?"
"Your boyfriend."
"Chan?” You ask, confused. What does Chan have to do with this? “He doesn't even know you."
"No, Felix. The one that was with you yesterday."
"Felix? He's not my---" Your face suddenly falls as a horrible thought crosses your mind. No. It can’t be. "Did he do this to you?"
Jisung pales and shakes his head violently "No. I told you it was an accident. Now please leave."
He seems to be on the verge of breakdown, and maybe you should try to calm him down, but your mind is in an upheaval right now, and all you could think of is running to Felix to prove to yourself that you’re just being crazy. He would never do something like this, would he? It can’t be. It’s simply outrageous. But then again his weird change in behavior, his volatile attitude that always keeps you on edge… No, that’s crazy talk.
Numbly you go out of the room and make your way to your car to head back home. You’ll talk to Felix and he’ll tell you how stupid you’re being, and it’s all gonna be alright.
__________
A/N: this chapter was written so quickly because of all the lovely feedback you guys gave me so yeah feedback feeds me
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writingsbychlo · 4 years ago
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sun in the shadows (08)
word count; 12,516
summary; noah does his best to fit in, and it doesn’t quite go as planned, but that’s okay.
notes; it’s finally happening.
warnings; noah is a bit of a jerk, but it’s over pretty quickly.
The sun was out again, the grass was filled with people, and it seems that they had gained the good luck you had missed. This sun was bringing warmth, a radical change from only a  week ago, as your sundress today was entirely fitting. With hair clipped back away from your shoulders to keep cool and sunscreen on your bare skin to stop yourself from burning, you were soaking up the rays.
The group you were gathered with had been lucky enough to snag a table to sit out at, blankets laid out and pinned down in the light breeze by picnic blankets, shoes and rocks for those who hadn't made it to a table in time, and you didn’t envy them at all. Despite the warmth, the grass was still a little damp, mud still tar-like as it moved toward drying out, and yet the space was still heaving. It mildly resembled that of a festival or a beach on the Fourth of July.
Leaning back a little, your face tipped up to the sky, the chatter of your friends surrounding you drowning out as warmth washed over your face, lids closed but barely doing anything to block out the light, and you smiled. You loved the summer, always had, it was your favourite season. Something about the warmth, the longer nights and the smoky smell that came with barbecues or the salt of the ocean at the beach. As you sat, face directed to the sky, the sun was suddenly blocked, a cooler air falling over you, and your frowned, cracking your eyes open to see what had happened.
“Noah, hi.” You beamed, sitting up properly to turn around, and the man nodding his head, a hint of a smile on his face. A pair of dark black sunglasses were sitting on his nose, a pretty contrast to dark hair and darker denim jeans, a charcoal t-shirt on his shoulders, but there was no jacket. His bag was slung over one shoulder, and as his presence was made known, several others around the table greeted him, too. He seemed to have a warmer reaction to them, a wonderful smile as he offered his greetings, and your brows furrowed a little.
You ignored the action, despite its unfamiliarity with you. He was treating you once again like he had done months ago, when first getting to know you, a time when there was no trust built between you both. Taking a seat beside you at the table, you only just had a chance to move your skirt out of the way before he was sitting down. Swinging his bag over to the side, you waited for him to say anything else, his hands sitting atop the table as his forearms leaned on the wood, and your frown was only deepening.
Running a finger along his forearm, his face turned to you, brows rising up from behind the glasses, and a smirk on his face.
“You okay, there?” He teased, your eyes narrowing on him just a little, and his arm flexed slightly under your touch, before he was pulling his arm away from you, and the smirk on his face widened. “What? There’s something going on up there, so you might as well spill it.”
“Nothing, I guess.” Your words were mumbled out, and he only nodded, not bothering to wait for a second longer, before he was turning back to the conversation. Something within your stomach twisted. Confusion at his behaviour, uncertainty whether it was something you had done, or whether this was simply who he was when he didn’t let his anxiety get in the way. “I just thought I wasn’t seeing you until later, is all?”
“I thought I’d join you for lunch. Is that so bad?” He was grinning again, a more cocky smile than you were used to seeing from him, and on the few occasions you had seen it, it was never in a setting like this. “I thought you wanted me to get out there, make friends. Is it because I’m not all yours anymore?”
A couple of the other boys around the tables chuckled, various girlfriends and partners slapping at their arms in retaliation for the joke about being controlling, and your lips pursed into a thin line. “No. I just wasn’t expecting you, is all.”
He seemed a little taken aback by your shorter tone with him, one of your brows raising slightly in a challenge to his behaviour. Taking his glasses from the tip of his nose, he folded them in the middle, tucking them into his shirt, to rest on his colour. Sweet brown eyes were searching your own, and you shrugged a little. His smirk lessened, becoming a slight frown, and for a moment, you thought he was going to leave behind whatever it was that was wrong and let you in, but then, he was stolen away into a conversation.
Just a brief mention of his name was all that it took, and his focus was moving away from you entirely. You were glad that he had made more friends, you really were. You’d been working hard to try and introduce him to new people in a way that wouldn't spark his anxiety. Run-ins on walks the two of you shared, people you bumped into while out getting coffee or simply introducing him to someone you knew that you thought he’d get along with.
You’d seen Noah every single day for the last week, there hadn't been a moment that wen toast that the two of you hadn't been in contact, whether in person or via text. For as many days as you could count now, he was the last person you’d spoken to before going to bed, and the first person you had spoken to when waking up in the morning. He was the person who made you laugh when you were stressed, and the man who sent you recipes when you didn’t know what to cook. He was the person who sat by your side doodling on the tops of your work pages while you tried to get some studying done, before eventually distracting you enough to give up.
You couldn’t place anything you’d done wrong. The last time you’d seen him had been the afternoon before, when you’d gotten a coffee together and walked around campus, and you’d spoken to him only an hour or so ago. His behaviour made no sense to you, it was unprompted and without reason, and it was leaving the feeling of a put welling in your stomach.
The thought of it being some kind of reverse attempt at soothing his anxiety flittered over your mind, and so in an attempt to test the theory, you leaned over. Shuffling up close to his side, your arm looped through his, and he paused his speech for just a second. He’d been talking to the boy across from you both, telling them all about the renovation work he’d spent a summer doing with his dad on the house, and he turned to look at you.
You weren’t sure what you were expecting. Maybe for his arm to tighten around yours, to pull you in a little closer. A smile, a kiss to your forehead, something softer than the look you got with an arrogant smirk that made you feel like you were locked out from him, and when he turned back to continue the conversation without any of the options that had run through your head, your discomfort only increased.
Your arm sagged against his, his arm flexing for a second a spike of hope raced through you. But, he was simply shifting, his arm moving away from yours in a way that made you shuffle backwards. Reaching into his pocket, he produced his phone, laughing slightly at a joke that you hadn't caught from someone else around the table, and you pulled your hand back into your lap instead of placing it back through his arm.
Everything about it made you uncomfortable. The wondering, the insecurity, the fear of having done something wrong and forced him back into his shell with you. It was enough to make you feel sick to your stomach, and despite your lingering gaze on him for minutes now, he never turned to you. Checking your phone, the afternoon was tickling on. Your lunch was passed finished, your afternoon wide open with nothing else to do, as it seemed all plans with Noah seemed to have fallen through with his new personality.
You weren’t sure what had gotten into him, the new attitude was like that of half of your exes, or your friends and the people who were around you. You didn’t mind it so much on them, of course, it would the attitude that they would greet you with, because there was nothing deeper between you with them. Every friendship you had was teasing, there was nothing that merited anymore more. With them, your physical contact was limited to that of greetings and goodbyes, hugs and the occasional kiss to the cheek.
With Noah, though, you’d felt like something was different.
You’d felt like perhaps there was something more between you both, something a little beyond simple friendship. Something flirty, the kind of sweet-like-honey feeling that made you get butterflies and have your cheeks ache from smiling, or your eyes sore from staying up late, staring at a screen in the dark just to talk to him.
Clearly, that wasn’t how he felt, too.
You tried to join the conversation, to talk to the girls around you as the men were all sucked into a chat that you evidently weren’t intended to be a part of. You could keep up for a while offering your input on everything they talked about. You liked that about the girls you were friends with, they were easy to skip between topics, moving from one thing to another with ease, and sharing gossip that they had heard.
For a while, it made you feel better, a little more comforted and a little less alone, but despite his presence right next to your side, the warmth from his body and the brief brushes of his shoulder with yours when he moved, but it only made you feel more lonely. You felt shut out, as though the cold wall that you had spent so long breaking down had shot right back up, twice as thick. You couldn't take it anymore.
Packing away your books into your bag, you stood from the table, several pairs of eyes moving to you as you stood, and you offered them all the best smile that you could muster at that moment. Once they were all sealed away, you placed your bag up on your shoulder, and your hands met the wood. Leaning over slightly, the conversation went quiet as you became the centre of attention.
“Sorry to break this up, but I got to go.” Several soft complaints came, attempts to convince you to stay, and you smiled at the effort that at least some of your friends were making. “If anything exciting happens, text me.”
“You sure you don’t want to stay? I was just thinking we should go and get some coffee, or something.”
Laurel was staring up at you expectantly, her eyes a little wider and you sighed, shaking your head. As much as you’d loved to, the bad mood you had gained from Noah’s new attitude was bringing down your social battery, and you weren’t sure how much longer you’d last. “I would, but I have some studying to do, and a couple of other things. I’ll catch up with you later, though, alright?”
There were some goodbyes, and even a hug from the girl beside you, before you were beginning to trail away from them. The chatter around the table was quickly replaced by the groups you began to weave through, a polite smile on your face to everyone you passed by as you tried not to encourage any more conversations. By the time you were reaching the edge of the grass and moving to the concrete, the heavy footfalls of another person moving slightly faster than you were catching you up.
A hand on your shoulder, pulling you lightly to a stop, and as you turned around, you yes scanned up to find the face of a man you were familiar with as your instinct kicked in, accustomed to his height by now. “Where you goin’?” He questioned, panting a little from the effort he’d exerted to catch up with you, and you tried not to scowl at him as he stared.
His face was softer now, instead of the cheeky look he’d been holding all afternoon, it was something much more genuine and earnest, the kind of look you were used to from him. It was throwing you through a loop just trying to keep up with him. “Home. I have some work to do.”
You moved again, walking away from him, and he let out a confused grunt, boots scuffling on the tarmac of the parking lot as he caught back up to you. “Wait, wait, wait. I thought we were supposed to be going to the garage? I’m working on your car tonight, I brought new bulbs for your headlights because they’re kinda’ dimmed, and I don’t want you getting into an accident or anything.”
You frowned, eyes narrowing on him for a second, and your shoulders slumped under his gaze.
“What’s wrong?” His hand reached out, trailing down along your arm towards your hand, and he had the audacity to let a hurt look flicker across his face when you pulled back from him by just a fraction. It was enough, though. Enough for his hand to fall away, his fingertips brushing over your arm, before it fell back to his side, dismay evident on his face.
“What is with this hot and cold act you have going on?” His jaw dropped, no words coming out, and heat crawled up along his cheeks slightly while he gaped at you. Instead, you took the initiative, shaking your head a little at him, and he only sank in on himself a little further. “You were so sweet this morning. The Noah I’ve come to know, and then suddenly at lunch, you’re this different person. Kinda’ a jerk, actually. Now, you’re all gentlemanly again. I don’t get you, but I don’t want to hang out with someone who’s gonna’ pick me up and drop me like a yo-yo.”
His eyes flicked over your face, lips pursing closed in a tight line, and you waited a moment longer. As the silence grew, you moved away from him, taking steps again a little further, and it was a few more seconds before he moved again. He was slower, long strides falling him into step beside you, and he didn’t try to stop you, but his head hung a little, and he cleared his throat. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine, alright? But when the other Noah shows back up, let me know.”
He chuckled, dry and hollow, before he was rounding in front of you, giving you only a second to stop before you were colliding with him, and there were mere inches between your bodies. Staring up at him, your brows shot up again, and he tried to offer a gentle smile to you. “I just thought that if I acted the way your other friends acted, I’d fit in a little better, and you’d like me more.”
“You were trying to get me to like you more? By acting like a dick, and making me feel weird about ‘us’?”
“Reverse psychology?” He whispered, and he relaxed when the smile on your face came out.
“I’m the psychology major, leave that to me.” You teased, and he nodded his head. Leaning down, his nose brushed over your forehead, lips pressing to your skin in a soft kiss, the act you were used to, and you sighed as he did. “There he is.”
His hands smoothed over your sides, pulling you in closer and your hand came up to rest on his cheek. Stroking the skin across his cheekbone gently with your thumb, his head tipped into your hand.
“I don’t want you to be anyone else, okay? I like you plenty enough just the way you are.”
“You’ll still come hang out with me, then? Because it gets lonely when you don’t keep me company at the garage, now. I’ve become accustomed to having company.” He reached out again, his hand smoothing along your arm, and you didn’t pull away this time. Rather, you let his hands find yours, fingers weaving together until your palms were pressed up to one another. He smiled, something bashful and dopey, and it was an adorable kind of expression. The cold of the band he had wrapped around his thumb today was rubbing against your finger, and you squeezed at his hand. “I’m gonna’ take that as a ‘yes’.”
“‘Kay, I forgive you. Don’t get weird again, though.” He nodded his head, making you grin as he tugged you in a new direction, a ninety-degree angle to head towards the bike. He made his promise, making you grin when he held out a tattooed finger for you to link your own with, sealing the promise together.
Opening up the back-box on the bike, and pulling out your helmet. Letting you settle your things inside, he placed the helmet down on your head, pulling your hair back and out of the way. Leaning in, his lips brushed over your nose, breath panted lightly over your lips, something heavier settling over the both of you, and you couldn’t help the breathy giggle you let out.
You reached for his helmet, having learned where the catch underneath the seat was, and you opened it up to select the protection from inside. Lifting it, he ducked his head to let you place the helmet on his head, brushing back the longer strands of chocolate-brown hair to settle it there. Smoothing your fingers down along his jaw, you fastened up the catch under his chin, his head tipping up to let you do so. Before his head moved down, you shifted upward, pressing a kiss to the underside of his jaw, and he was beaming when his head came back down.
His finger spinach the tip of your nose, between his thumb and his index, your face screwing up with a soft laugh when he did. “You’re cute, you know that?”
“I’ve been told.” Swinging your leg over the bike, you settle down first, your hands landing on the steering, a dangerous look portrayed him as you smirked. “In a summer dresses and lollipops kind of way, right?”
“Mhm.” He teased, fastening your helmet up and tipping it to sit properly on your head as he stood before you. Moving his eyes further down, his sights scanned over you “You look good on my bike.”
“You should let me drive. I think I’ve got it, now. I would be awesome at this.”
He chuckled, shaking his head as you shuffled back to make space for him. With every catch done up and the boxes sealed, his leg swung over the bike, settling himself down on the leather. With the impact of him sitting, you slid down the seat, the insides of your thighs pressing to the outsides of his own, and your front was pressed to his back. His hand came out, circling behind his body to find your wrists, and he pulled your arms around his body. “If you drove, how would I get you to hold onto me like this? I like the attention, what can I say?”
“You could just ask.”
“Oh, yeah?” He twisted the keys in the ignition, the bike sparking to life underneath you, and your hands tightened a little more around him. Revving the bike slightly, he kicked off the latch that kept it secured to the ground, balancing it between his own feet as you tucked yours away. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“You should.” You mumbled, chin tucked over his shoulder to whisper the words near his ear, and you could see the smile stretch on his face. Pulling back, your forehead rested between his shoulder blades, squeezing him once in signal to let him know you were ready, and then he took off.
You’d grown used to it now, the slight grind of the tyres on the concrete as he took off and then the streets whizzing by. You like the sights, the way the lights seemed to become like a blur when you moved, The tips and tilts, the way the bike bounced when you went through potholes or over the bumps in the road, it had all started to feel natural. It was the same when you were with him.
Noah had been a stranger to you, but he was a constant in your life now. He was by your side more than he wasn’t now, and you couldn't deny the bond that you’d formed with him It was like nothing you’d ever experienced before. He didn’t force you to be anything you weren’t, he didn’t make you feel insecure, or less worthy, or like you had to constantly be the best version of yourself to impress him. He didn’t drain you down like others did, he didn’t make you feel less, or like you couldn't be yourself. You loved who you were around him, and how being with him made you feel.
Twisting your head, your eyes closed, cheek resting against his back as he moved. He was going slower than usual today, the journey taking a little longer, and while the quiet was filling the space between you both, it was comfortable. Everything with Noah seemed to be that way, now. The two of you were seemingly opposites, everything about you felt like something that would clash but there was just something between the two of you that worked. Like magnets drawn together, or opposing puzzle pieces, you fit together perfectly.
He forced you out of your comfort zone, to do things like ride a motorbike while you forced him to approach the people he’d seemingly decided hate him, only to discover he was capable of making friends. Each of your downfalls, he seemed to lift up. One by one, he was raising you up, making you a better person, and giving back to you just as much as you gave to him. It was effortless to be around him, something that had happened both slowly and at light speed. Winning his trust had turned into so much more, once the door had been opened, it was like the two of you had moved past acquaintances and friends, to hover on the verge of something else.
He was constantly on your mind, and when he wasn’t, it didn’t take long before you saw something that reminded you of him, a joke or a comment online, even just the way someone would walk across campus or the outfit they’d wear, it all seemed to come back to him.
When the pair of you had finally pulled up to the edge of his garage, he was cruising slowly between the sheds. More doors than usual were open today, the crowds were a little busier, but with the sunny weather, you weren’t so surprised. The tones of different music melded together, more students willing to come and spend prolonged periods of time outside when the weather was warm, and the days lasted longer.
Setting up the stand on the bike, your feet reached the floor, trembling a little still from the vibrations of the engine. The sounds went dead as he pulled the keys from the machine, but neither of you moved, his hands dropping down to find your own for just a second, and you lifted one hand. Your fingers weaved with his, before he was pulling your hand up, kissing the back of your hand gently, and the feeling made something explode within you. Butterflies, a tidal wave, something crushing and exhilarating and racing all in one, your heart beating erratically as he lowered your hand back down. “I’m sorry about before. I just wanted to be more like other people you hang out with, other people you’re friends with, or you’ve dated, or whatever. I didn’t want to be a freak.”
Standing up from the bike, you undid the catch on your helmet, putting it down on the seat as he copied your actions, going from looking up at you to once again looking down as he stood taller than you. “You know, when I’m with you, I feel so much better than I do when I’m with them.”
“I just want to be the right guy, you know? Be someone everyone likes, be someone who can fit in. Stiles does it so effortlessly, I can’t be like that.”
“You shouldn’t have to, because I think you’re great the way you are.” You tapped the tip of his nose, the same way he had done to you, and his face screwed up with ticklish responses exactly the same way that you had. “It’s a good thing you cut that out, though, because I got you something.”
“A gift?” He whispered, and you only nodded. Opening the box on the back of the bike, you swapped the helmet in your hand for your bag, laying it out onto the seat so that you had access to it. Opening up the bag and digging through it, you searched until your fingers brushed the silky material, and you could grasp the small item.
“It’s just something small.” You mumbled, beginning to untangle it from the contents inside, and hoping it hadn't gotten creased. Producing the item, his eyes dropped down from your face to the item in your hands, a neutral expression taking over as he considered it. “I like to put decals on my laptop, and all the ones I had were getting old and peeling. I was ordering some new ones, and I saw this one. It made me think of you.”
“It's a daisy.” He took it from you, thumb stroking across the shining plastic, and you nodded.
“Yeah, from the day that you and I sat in the field, and you let me put daisies in your hair.” You reached up, brushing your fingers through his hair lightly, and fluffing it back up from where it had fallen flat. “I figure you could put it on your laptop, or bedpost, or maybe don’t stick it to anything. You could put it on your pinboard in your room, or use it as a bookmark. I don’t know.”
“I love it.”
“You do?” Your heart had been racing, the uncertain expression he had that you couldn't possibly decipher became something like the sun, a wide smile as his chewed-down thumbnail picked at the edges. Peeling the plastic backing away from the transparent and inked design, your brows raised. He moved, pressing the edge of the plastic onto his bike, and sealing it down firmly, your eyes widening. “Noah! That’s your bike!”
“I know. I’ve never had a decal on it before.”
“But, what if it ruins your paint job, or something? I didn’t expect you to stick it on your bike, of all things!” He smirked, his hands coming up to cup your cheeks as you rambled to him. Your eyes moved to the sticker, your face cupped by warm palms as your finger smoothed over it, the white and yellow standing out prominently against the black. “What if you decide you don’t like it, or you hate where it’s positioned, or-”
Your breath was held in your lungs as he dipped down closer than he’d ever been as his nose bumped against yours. Your lips brushed, his tongue poking out to wet his lips slowly, and you let out a shaky groan as he did. Your eyes closed, lashes tickling against his as he lingered there The tension was palpable, the split second that he lingered there felt like a thousand dragging on, before his lips met your own.
Soft and warm, his lips pressed tentatively against yours at first, a second becoming two that was filled with hesitation. It was simply his pressed to your own, nothing happened for a second, before it did. His lips moved, fingers digging a little more firmly into your jaw, and his palms slid down. His hand was sitting over your neck, feeling the pounding of your pulse under his hand no doubt, and your mind finally seemed to catch up.
Your lips twisted, a smile making itself evident, and your giggle was muffled against his lips as you sagged a little in his hold. His grip loosened a little, his kisses stopped, pulling back enough to press his forehead to your own, taking a breath, before he was pulling away. “That’s not the reaction I was hoping for.”
There was gravel in his voice, and he swallowed thickly to clear it away, pupils wider than you’d ever seen them when he looked back to you. “I’m sorry, I’m not laughing at you. I was just caught off-guard.”
“Couldn’t have been that off-guard, I’ve not really been subtle, lately.”
“I just figured I’d have to make the first move.” You teased, his eyes rolling, and one hand lowered further. Smoothing over your side, his hand found your hip, rubbing soothing circles through the material and your whole body felt lost. Like you were floating in the clouds, but weights were tied to your fingertips, arms heavy as you raised them to loop around his neck. “Kiss me again. I won’t laugh this time, I swear.”
“If you do, I’m never kissing you again.” He mumbled, dipping down to brush a pout over your lips, and you scoffed slightly, head pushing up to meet him.
“Liar.” Your words were lost, mouth meeting his in a sweet kiss, and he sighed through his nose as you connected with him. This time, you were ready. Your lips moved back with his, a soft and slow kiss that nothing like you’d ever experienced before.
It was like fireworks, every place he touched as the hand on your waist flexed, and the one from your neck smoothed down along your bag to pull him closer. Your fingertips were tingling, one hand slipping to the back of his neck to hold him close as his mouth worked with yours in a way that emptied your mind. You were clinging to him, one hand down over his chest, feeling his heart racing through his shirt, and as he pulled away, one of his hands came up to hold onto your own on his chest.
You didn’t say anything, and neither did he. You didn’t know what to say, and neither did he. In fact, you were both completely speechless, a few more stolen pecks and bumps of your noses, before there was a grin cracking on your cheeks that you couldn’t contain, and he stood tall again, a kiss on your forehead before he was tucking you under his chin and close to his body.
“I’ve been thinking about doing that for a while. I didn’t know it would feel like that, though.” He whispered, hands taking yours on both sides, linking your fingers together as you rested against his, and you could only nod in agreement.
“Why didn’t you do it sooner?”
“I didn’t know you wanted me back.” He shrugged, and you pulled away, shock written on your face when he peered down to see you.
“I’ve not really been subtle, lately.” You threw his own words back at him, slightly pinker lips than usual showing off white teeth in a smile, and you rolled your eyes at him. “Wanna’ fix my car and talk mechanic to me and I’ll pretend I know what you’re saying?”
“I’ll simplify it for you.” He teased, letting go of your hands after one final squeeze to retrieve his belongings. Zipping up your bag and slinging it over one shoulder, he swapped his helmet for his backpack, tucking his keys into the front pocket, and you followed him around to the front of the building. Putting in the code on the padlock, he undid the lock at the bottom, the rickety metal shutter rolling up higher and higher until the whole doorway was exposed.
Your car lay inside, the hood already popped open and the engine was taken apart. Pieces were on the floor and the counters, like some kind of mechanic gore scene, and you jumped a little as he threw the heavy padlock onto the wooden table. Your bag followed, his was dumped by the side of the car, and he pulled it open, producing four boxes of lightbulbs for your car, shaking each one for a second to ensure they hadn't broken. He seemed pleased with what he heard, laying the boxes along the roof of the car.
It was propped up now, sitting on an angle as it was elevated into the air, and the board that he used to slide under it was still on the floor, indicating that it had been recently used. Taking your phone from your bag, you grabbed for the speaker, hidden in the same place you’d put it on your latest session with him, and began to untangle the wire. Once it was set up, pulled out as far from the wall as it would go, you set your phone down, plugging the device in.
The light on the base changed from red to green, signalling that it had connected, and the speaker let out a crackling sound to confirm the volume. Adjusting the dial a little, and being aware of Noah’s neighbours surrounding you, you turned it down a fraction. As you scrolled through the first couple of sounds, beginning to choose a set to start queuing up, a warm body was meeting your back, and hand smoothing around your waist to sit over your stomach, and once again, your mind was going blank.
His chin hooked onto your shoulder, your heart racing in your chest and a flush covered your entire body, somehow managing to feel like you were on fire in your own skin while also shivering a little, goosebumps rising along your exposed arms. He leaned down, pressing a kiss to the skin of your shoulder just to the left of your dress strap, and you leaned back into him a little.
Physical contact was nothing new between the two of you, and had he taken these actions only a day or so ago, you probably would have had a calmer reaction than you did now, but there was something more hanging over it now. A line crossed, a new page in the book, something entirely different that made it that much more exhilarating.
You continue your scrolling, the soft melodies of ‘Brandy’ playing across the air, and the man behind you hummed approvingly. “I forgot that this song even existed. It’s a good choice.”
“It’s my favourite song.” You mumbled, your body beginning to sway side to side with his own in a very simple dance. The tune took up, and you sang lightly under your breath to yourself, Noah humming along behind you as you continued to add songs. Occasionally, he would join you, his finger coming out to tap or point at the screen, a silent suggestion on which ones to add, and within a few minutes, the songs were collected. Enough for an hour, at least, possibly even two, and then you could reconsider what to play when the music ran out.
“Your car should be up and running soon, I’ve been making some pretty good progress on it.”
You turned to face him, sitting down backwards on the spinning stool with the wooden top, and he was walking back toward the car, the toolbox on the opposite workbench already open. His back was to you, grey shirt stretched across broad shoulders, the muscles in his back evident when he leaned over and you let your eyes linger a little longer than usual. The blush you got every time you realised you were checking him out was still present, but it didn’t feel as taboo as it had previously.
“There’s something rattling in your engine and I can’t figure out what, I’ve taken out everything he could be, so I’m starting to think it’s something underneath.”
“That why this place looks like a car’s worst nightmare?” You teased, eyes moving across the pieces of removed engine, and he chuckled, sifting through the tools inside.
“Pretty much. I’ll put it all back together, though, don’t worry. I’ll feel better knowing you’re out on the road in something safe.” You cooed a little at him, his sweet gesture making your chest flood with adoration, bursting from the inside out, and he only rolled his eyes at you, glancing back over his shoulder for a split second. “I’m not sure what we’re going to do once it’s fixed, or where we’ll hang out.”
“Oh, I’m sure we’ll figure something out.” Your tone was coy, and he chuckled, turning back to look at you. He had chosen what he was looking for, something that looked like a short and blunt tool. You weren’t sure what the folded end would be used for, but he was straight into action, leaning over your engine and reaching inside. Twisting in your seat, you reached for your bag, pulling out all of your books. Flicking through your notebook to find the latest empty page, your bag sat open. You’d gathered more than enough information from the pair to be able to start making your conclusions now, but you still felt behind.
Stiles was much further ahead, he had started forming his conclusions and searching for holes in his evidence almost three weeks ago, and he was beginning to redraft his final presentations as he produced a first copy. You were still a while off of being at that stage, becoming progressively more distracted by Noah and the puzzle he presented as you deciphered him, but you couldn't help it.
He was rattling around behind you, a sound that had distracted you for a while at first but had become background noise just like the music had, fading into something that helped your mind to work better than the silence ever did. Your notes seemed like they were blurring on the page, your mind far too busy thinking about recent events than the notes you’d taken on the two.
The songs ticked by, the tinkering behind you fading away and starts and ends of your engineer turning on and off, rattling slightly and making the air around you vibrate for just a second. Your pen scribbled song your paper comparing answers and beginning to draw what information you could and in the times that your mind wandered, you doodled borders around the notes that were just for you to see. The notebook that had once been fresh and crisply pressed was now ragged around the edges, worn pages from constant flicking back and forth, filled with ink and your thoughts as you tried to get them all down.
Occasionally, Noah would come over to join you, a half-drunk bottle of water that he was getting through as he leaned don the unit beside you. His notes had joined your one, his thoughts written down onto the paper, sometimes a joke, something with a sarcastic comment about what you had written, and sometimes it was just his one doodles to join yours.
The work was progressively getting done, and while it wasn’t nearly proceeding at the rate you would get it done alone, you preferred working slower and having his company than racing through it but being all alone. It was more enjoyable, especially when he began to relax more, the deeper rasp of his voice like a security blanket that forced your body to relax once he let go enough to start singing along lowly to the songs.
By the fourth one he had sung, you realised you hadn't written anything in almost ten minutes, pen hovering over the page, and it was beginning to feel hopeless. The sweltering heat was beginning to settle over you like a thick blanket on a too-hot summer’s night. As the afternoon moved on, the breeze was dying down, and the once temperate heat was becoming stifling as it sat stagnantly.
Closing your book and folding your pen inside, you called it a day, deeming it a good day’s work as you put your notebook into your bag, zipping it up, and a soft sound of something dropping beside you caught your attention. Turning around, a slightly damp pile of grey sat beside you, and upon picking it up for further inspection, you released it was a t-shirt.
Turning to the car, the man you were with had disappeared underneath, melodic voice bouncing from the metal on the underside of your car, but the happy trail of dark hairs along the bottom of a toned stomach was still visible, and your mouth rapidly dried at the sight. You turned away, feeling wrong for staring, but like a magnet, your gaze was drawn back to him.
Folding the material you still held neatly as something to simply busy yourself, the chair squeaked as you twisted to place it back down on top of your bag, no longer in a crumpled heap, before turning back to the vehicle. With elbows braced on the edge of the wooden counter, your eyes moved along it. Still covered in a layer of dirt and dust, it needed a good wash, but you’d hadn't bothered to venture as far as the carwash in a long time, trying to save the little life it had left for important travel. As soon as it was back in your possession, however, that would be one of your first priorities.
Moving a little further along, your eyes reached the back wheels, new tyres having been one of the first things Noah had done for you the grip on the other’s fading away, and you vaguely remembered him telling you all about the brake-pads at some point. His chatter about mechanics always became a mess in your mind, much like you were sure your psychology chatter became for him, but you listened intently and tried to keep up, just as he did for you. Simply hearing him talk so passionately was a treasure in itself.
“Oh, my God, you got that dent out.” Your eyes honed in on the spot, and while it wasn’t exactly perfect, it was considerably better than it had been. The wheels of the board scraped along the ground, sliding his body out from under the vehicle.
“Yeah, I noticed it when swapping out your tyres.” You turned back up him, the wide beam on your face dimming a little in shock, because you’d managed to forget his shirtless state for just a second, but now, it was crashing over you all in a sudden rush. His hands were stained with oil, and he stood up the folded muscles from his hunched position going taut as he stood, and he grabbed the nearest scrap of fabric he had, trying to wipe down his hands as best as he could. “It wasn’t too hard, I just had to hammer it out and smooth it over.”
“That was there since I got the car, I thought I’d never get it out!”
Your voice was a little shaky, and as he made his way over, your eyes were drawn to the tattoos on his chest. You’d seen him shirtless twice before, but you’d never had the chance to observe the designs up close. Slightly distorted by sweat and the grease from the underside of the car, you couldn't make them all out, and your fingers itched to reach up and trace the drawings that you had yet to discover.
He took the bottle from by your bag, undoing the cap with ease and raising it to take a gulp of the liquid, and every muscle he had seemed to shift and flex under his skin with the simple action. He wasn’t even trying, tired and dirty and sweaty and he was putting no effort in, but you were sure that you hadn't had a coherent thought for hours now. The song playing came to an end, the music fading out into silence, and you waited for the next one to come, but it never did. That was the second loop you’d put the music on, the hours having flown by, and the sun was shining in to leave longer shadows across the floor as it moved across the sky.
“You’re bored, aren’t you?”
“Little bit.” You grinned, holding up two fingers but making sure they were very close together, just to show a small amount, and he chuckled. Wiping the back of a hand over his mouth, he cleared excess water from there, before he was holding the bottle out to you. Taking it gratefully, your mouth had been dry and desperate for a drink since the moment he’d pulled away from you after that first kiss, leaving you dried out and thirsty ever since.
Taking a sip, he stepped away from you, moving to grab your car keys from the side unit and moved to the driver’s seat. The door was already open, and rounding it to the other side, he twisted the key to start the car up. The engine came to life almost immediately, no spluttering or grinding of parts, no multiple attempts needed, and it purred happily as it rotated inside itself, as though it was a brand new vehicle. It wasn’t loud or clunking, and there was no unusual sound being made. Clearly, Noah was just as happy with that result, because he cheered a little to himself.
Shifting inside, he checked various options, everything from the indicators to the headlights and the fog lights. The new bulbs were lighting up perfectly and brightly, clear and start white as opposed to the faded yellow they had been beginning to gather with age. “I am so impressed. Like, awestricken, really.”
“Thanks, kitten.'' Just when you thought you’d managed to put a cap on it, and get your head in a reasonable place, he had thrown a petname in your direction. Once again, you were speechless, thoughtless, and senseless, unable to control the dreamy sigh that was almost a breathy giggle at the sound, trying not to fawn too obviously over the new treatment he was giving you. “I think that pretty much does it.”
“So, when do I get to take her home?”
He was beaming, tapping the roof of the car and killing the engine, before nodding his head at himself. “You can drive her home right now, if you just give me a second to unhook and lower it back to the ground at the back.”
“We’re leaving?”
“You’re bored, and we’re pretty much done here.” You frowned, not having intended to bring your time to an end, as though he could read your mind, he continued on with what he had to say. “Doesn’t mean we have to say goodbye just yet. We can find something else to do.” He rounded the car, hooking a finger under your chin to tip your head up to meet his gaze. He was looking down on you with a sweet smile, nothing but peace and serenity written on his face. “You’re sure you really like me? We’re, like, total opposites.”
“Opposites attract.” You teased, his eyes rolling, and he stepped a little closer to you. The chair made you feel too low, his hair falling into his face as he leaned over you, and you stood to meet him, his gaze following you as he did.
“I thought you were just going to be a burden, you know. I thought that doing this study was gonna’ suck, and I was going to be miserable, but getting to know you has been so different so what I expected.”
Lifting his hand, his palm smoothed over your cheek, letting you tip into his touch. “Yeah, well, first impressions can be misleading. I can be pretty cool.”
“You’re the coolest person I know.” He whispered, gaze dropping down to linger on your lips for a second, and you smiled softly, his face mimicking the notion.
He stared for a second longer, before dipping down. He hesitated for just a second, a laugh carried on his breath that you barely caught, and you leaned up too. Your nose brushed his, nervous breaths shared in the hardly-existent space between you both as your lips continued to brush lightly. He dipped down, his lips pressing lightly to your own as the tension finally came to an end, and there was a smile on his lips as he did. It made it hard, the smiles that neither of you could contain, and your hand roe up to cup his cheek.
Timid pecks, delicate laughs between broken kisses as your noses bumped and lips puckered, trying to contain yourselves. Your heart was racing, he was just as nervous as you were, the new boundary as a friendship turned to a relationship, and it would take a little longer to get used. When he pulled back, a final and longer kiss pressed to your lips, that same sweetly dopey expression was on his face, warm cheeks and sparkling eyes.
“I like that.”
“I got oil on your face.” He mumbled, picking up his shirt from beside you both, shaking it out from its folded position. Hooking the edge of it over his thumb, he wiped at the smear on your face, leaning down to press a kiss to the spot once it was cleared, and your cheeks were almost aching for your smile.
He stepped back from you, lips rolling together to contain his smile, and as he walked, he was pulling his shirt up and over his head. Beginning to pump at the jack behind the car with his foot, your car was lowered back to the ground the back wheels finally touching against the concrete again. With a screeching sound against the concrete, he dragged away the piece of equipment, metal scraping on the stonework floor, and he left it abandoned in the back of the shed.
Reaching for the keys at the edge of your car, he threw them to you, barely giving you a second to catch them before he was snickering to himself at your fumbling, the keys jingling in your touch. “C’mon then. You must be excited to get back in your car.”
You nodded, slinging your bag from the side into the passenger seat, and he was holding your car door open for you, letting you settle inside. Closing it up carefully, you reached for the lever under your seat, adjusting it back to how you liked it. He’d clearly been inside, the distance between the pedals and the seat of legs much longer than yours, and as you adjusted yourself, his arms folded against the edge of the door. Plugging in the key and switching on the engine. As it tumbled to life, you were able to roll the window down, finding it much cleaner and smoother in its movements than it had been.
He leaned in more, bent at the waist as he peered inside, and your fingers flexed on the wheel. “How’s it feel to be back in your car?”
“I feel independent again.” you turned to him, the car still rumbling underneath you. “Thanks to you.”
“Well, try your air-con.” He pointed to the nozzle, all wiped down and polished inside, and you did as told. Instead of sputtering and squeaking, they came on quietly, warm air from the engine turning to cold a second later, and it was a refreshing relief compared to the heat of the day as the sun dared to meet the horizon. “Better, right?”
“Incredible.” You mumbled, daring to mess with the other controls. Your wipers didn’t scrape at the glass, but moved quietly and conveniently, and the windscreen wash was even functional, a little burst of water covering the glass and being quickly wiped away. The gear stick wasn’t so sticky and the pedals were easy to press on once again, just the right amount of pressure underneath. There were no unusual noises coming from your engine. “Almost feels surreal.”
“Yeah, well, the only thing I didn’t do is put gas in the tank, so you’re gonna’ have to do that on your way back.”
“Back to where?” You turned to him, a cheeky look on your face and he smirked, matching you, and settling a little lower until your eyes were level.
“Stiles isn’t home. We can play video games in the main room, and I can do more of this-” He leaned in, pulling you in with a thumb and forefinger on your chin. The smirk he wore became a pout, his lips pressing to your own, and there was more confidence behind it now. All of your kisses so far had been shy and scared, testing the waters and adjusting to how it felt, but now, he was a little more sure of himself. His lips teased over yours, more enveloping than a simple kiss, and you were melting into him. Leaning closer toward the door of the car, your hand was coming to brace yourself against it, finding his arm on the edge of the rolled-down window.
“I like that plan.”
“I’ll meet you there, then.” He stood up, hands patting the edge of the car, before stepping backwards. With a wave before leaving, you undid the clutch, shifting it into first gear, and creeping forwards. Weaving through the boxes carefully, you were unfamiliar with the pathways, making your way towards the road as Noah walked alongside you guiding you to the main quarter. As soon as you knew your way, he was pausing, waving at you in your rearview mirrors and walking back towards his garage shed.
The drive was much easier, a car you felt like you could rely on as you went along, and you were barely along the road before the warning light on your dashboard was flicking on to warn you of a petrol depletion. It seemed that you had only just missed the rush-hour traffic, the roads starting to clear out a thin down, and you were almost disappointed by it. It meant that you didn’t get a chance to test out all your gears and brakes, with how seamless your journey went, but the last thing you wanted was for the car to overheat as you drove along, breaking again already.
Dangling from your mirror as you checked behind, you became aware of the little tree hanging there. A small piece of green felt, the pine smell filling the cabin as you drove becoming less of a mystery, and you lifted your hand to it. Running your fingers lightly over the surface, the cupboards underneath was sturdy, the tree spinning on its string when you let it go.
It was such a small gesture, and yet something so sweet about it as it hung there. Like a permanent reminder of him, something you’d see every time you drove, whether he was with you that day or not. Pulling up into the gas station, your car came to a stop, easy and simple without a lot of stuttering and jerking motions. It was like a miracle. Hopping out, the air-con that had been inside had grown comfortable, the warm air outside was suddenly prickling along your skin, like an itch that you couldn’t get to.
Rounding to the side and beginning to start the pump, your eyes moved over the station. There was only one other car, a mother with two children in car seats in the back, who both seemed to be hyperactive. They were screaming at the top of their lungs, giggling and smacking their hands against the window, and as her eyes met your own, she gave you a tried smile. You offered a little wave, the two small children inside the car reciprocating it too, and only a moment later, her husband was appearing from inside the shop. The bell overhead jingled as he exited, jogging slightly as he put his wallet back into his pocket.
They were pulling out as you finished, letting the nozzle drip clean for a second before you were putting it back on the hook. Locking up the car and making your way inside, there was a swift breeze of air conditioning over the doorway, the air inside chilled, and it was almost a little too cold. Rows full of treats and food for road trips and hungry children, or simply just bored snacking were laid out, multicoloured wrappers that were eye-catching.
Wandering through the aisles, you built an armful of the treats, unable to resist temptations as you bought a range of everything from pretzels and chips to candy and chocolate. The cashier behind the counter was chewing gum, a bored look on his face and you thought that he couldn't possibly be older than Junior year in high school as he rang it up. Packing it all into a bag and adding your tab from the lot outside, your card was pressed into the reader. Punching your PIN in to follow it, the out of date machine took a few extra seconds to go through, before your payment was confirmed.
A full tank and a bag of snacks, and you were back in the car, tucking the recent purchases down into the shadowed footwell and out of the way of the sun that was just beginning to brush the horizon. The clock on your dash told you the veering was rolling in, the night going to be uncomfortably hot and your car started back up with ease. The display flashed for a second as the engine restarted, and then, you were on the road.
Parking up beside Stiles’ building, windows rolled up and your snacks hidden in your backpack, you swung it onto your shoulder. Three flights of stairs, one long corridor, and two knocks on hardwood, and you waited. It was nostalgic to be here waiting for him, but the nerves you’d had months ago when waiting for a boy you barely knew were entirely washed away. Swinging it open, Noah filled the doorway, a smile so bright you wanted to cover your eyes on his face as he greeted you.
“Wow, what a surprise. Fancy seeing you here.”
“Oh, were you expecting someone?” You played along, and he let you inside, closing the door behind you as you toed off your shoes to leave beside the doorway.
“You know, I was. I have a super cute girl coming over soon, so you’re gonna’ have to make this quick.” He shrugged, his hands coming to find your waist and pull you a little closer as soon as you’d put your bag down on the couch. “Oh, wow, super cute girl alert. Hi.”
You’re secretly a total dork, huh?” Leaning up, you pressed a kiss to his cheek, hand sliding down over his chest, and there was the sticky printing of a patch under your skin. Looking down to his shirt, it was navy blue now, a logo for a band you didn’t recognise beginning to fade on the front. “You changed.”
“I was sweaty and oily.” He took your hand, dragging you over to the couch, and pushing you to sit down with the other hand on your shoulder. He moved away, switching on the televisions and the console, two drinks of soda laid out before you, and he slumped down into the couch by your side. Your legs folded underneath yourself, taking the bag from the cushion it lay on, and dropping it into his lap. “A school bag. Thanks so much, just what I wanted, how’d you know?”
“Look inside.” Your eyes rolled involuntarily despite your grin, and he did as told, nimbly undoing the zip on it, and opening the bag up. Pulling out the folded brown pair, he indeed the top, peering inside at the contents.
“Oh, you brought snacks.” He stared in at them, before he was turning to you, a playfully accusatory look on his face as his eyes narrowed. “What did you do? Did you break that car already?”
“No.” You frowned, his finger coming up to poke and smooth at the wrinkled forming o your forehead. “Why do you think I did something?”
“Because all the previous times you’ve brought me food, it’s because you did something.” You scoffed, smacking at his arm and pretending it was an accident as you picked up a candy bar out of the bag, peeling the wrapper down.
“What the hell do you mean ‘all’?” You bit a chunk off of it, and he shook a bag of chips, distributing the flavour inside, before tearing it open. He crunched loudly as he placed one of the triangular chips into his mouth, twisting to face you some more.
“Okay, first time; You bought my coffee after ambushing me in my home and insulting me-”
“I did not insult you, you jumped to conclusions!” He pressed a finger to your lips, silencing your words, and grinning cheekily.
“It’s rude to interrupt people, you know.” He placed another chip into his mouth, chewing happily, and lowering his hand from your mouth. “Second time, you brought pizza after ambushing me on my lunch break.” Your jaw dropped, but you remained quiet, a huff and a scowl on your lips at his words. “Third time, you brought lasagne after ambushing me at the coffee cart.”
“I don’t like the way that you portray me.”
“Fourth time, you forced me to go out to a restaurant, which you technically didn’t bring food to, but it was still overwhelming.” You sighed, taking a bite of your chocolate, and he wiggled his fingers a little as he rode his thumb to create a fifth finger. “Fifth time, you said you were planning to bring me food but didn’t have any after the first time you ambushed me at my garage.”
“Why do you keep saying ambushed?” You scowled, his hand coming down to rest on his knee, and you pushed it away. That only made him laugh, his hand coming back, leaning down to grip just above your ankle at your calf a little more firmly, and lifting your leg up.
“Because that’s exactly what you did.” He pulled you closer, your legs slinging across his lap as he dragged you across the couch, and he looked overly proud of himself for the shocked noise you elicited as he did so. “But, somewhere between the third and fourth times, I stopped being irritated by it, and your continued persistence and unwavering enthusiasm because kinda’ cute.”
His hand came up to brush through his hair, he broke the silence with the loud crunching of another potato chip. “Can I ask you a question, though?”
“Only if you promise to kiss me afterwards.”
“Deal.” You teased, shuffling a little closer to him, and he moved the bag of snacks from leaning on his stomach to sitting beside the both of you. “You know that first time I came to see you here, when I asked you about the study? You said some really mean things about yourself, like ‘criminal’ and ‘lowlife’, what did you mean?”
His lower lip dragged through his teeth, eyes leaving yours for a second, and the sweet and joyful moment between you both came crashing down into something much heavier. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, I’m not actually a criminal. People just started that because one night I was at a bar on the edge of town that seems a little sketchy, and a bar fight broke out, The cops showed up, and a guy got stabbed. I was actually out the back smoking at the time, so, I didn't even see all the excitement.”
“I’m sorry that the rumour started, though.” Your hand sank to his cheek, thumb stroking over his skin slowly.
“Stiles got really mad when he heard that rumour, and he cleared it up on his podcast, but the damage was done. Yet another reason why nobody wanted to be my friend.” You leaned in, kissing his forehead like he tended to do for you, and he tipped up, nose bumping yours in a silent ‘thank you’ for the comfort. “I just saw myself as a low-life. I let the rumours travel, I wasn’t even trying to make friends. I let my whole college experience slip away because I wanted to avoid confrontation or stress. You might have ambushed me, and forced me out of my comfort zone, but I think someday, I’m gonna’ look back on that and be grateful.”
You grinned, forehead resting on his as your hand slipped down, finding his shoulder instead, and his head tipped a little further upwards.
“Now, make good on that promise.”
“Oh, I plan to..” You whispered, lips brushing against his teasingly. You stayed where you were, though, letting him lean in a little closer until he almost had his lips pressed to yours, before you were shifting. He huffed, chasing you again, and you repeated the action, making him groan at the brief teasing. You chuckled, his hand flexing around your ankle, before his hand was sliding up to your knee, and you laughed a little more at the needy action.
“You’re being cruel.” He whined, and you were ready to give in, fingertips pressing into the flesh of his shoulder through the new shirt, before there was muffled shouting from the corridor. Loud, and angry, only getting clearer as the voice moved closer to the apartment, and it wasn’t until there was a set of keys in the lock and the door was opening.
You pulled back, sitting up a little further as Stiles came in, but the man didn’t seem to notice the two of you yet. He was yelling, a series of curse words to whoever was in the corridor behind him, and you recognised the equally angry voice of Derek, before the door was slamming shut. He paused, letting out a loud scream of anger at himself as he stared at the closed door, and you twisted on the couch, kneeling on it with your arms braced along the back to look at him.
Hanging up his jacket, Stiles turned to you both, jumping as he saw you there. The anger remained for only a second, before it was melting away into guilt, quickly followed by sadness. His shoulders slumped, scowl becoming a heavy frown as the wrinkles loosened into something sad, and he was frowning at you both.
“Sorry for all the yelling.” He started at you both for a second longer, his lower lip practically wobbling with his sadness as his hands came up to clutch together in front of himself.
“Is this a best friend or a brother moment? I can’t tell, what did Derek do?” You tried to keep your voice low. Shifting your bag to the floor with a sweep of your hand to make space for Stiles, and shuffling up so that he could sit in the middle of you both.
“If it’s a sex thing, it’s definitely a best friend thing.” Noah added, and you turned to stare at him, incredulous above all, but Stiles let out a weak and watery laugh.
“It’s really nice to have you both here.” He came over, staring at the snacks that were laid out, and your bag on the floor, shoulders only slumping further. “I’m sorry for interrupting whatever the two of you were doing.”
“We weren’t doing much. Yet.” Noah sighed, and you twisted to him, glaring for his joke, and he shrugged, biting the inside of his cheek and trying to keep a serious face. “Okay, fine, I’m sorry. You wanna’ watch movies, or something?”
“Yeah. That sounds nice.” He kicked off his shoes, leaving them abandoned by the coffee table, and he settled down between you both. Placing a cushion on your lap, you patted it, and he shot you a thankful look before moving to lay down. Resting his head against the cushion, his feet landed in his brother's lap. “Will you stay?”
“If you want me to.” You mumbled, nails scraping in feather-light patterns along his hairline.
As you stroked his hair gently, he began to relax a little further, and once he did, he began to spill. He was steady long enough to select a film, one of the Star Trek movies, surprisingly, and he sat silently, eating the snacks that you had purchased, for almost twenty minutes. After the food was finished, though, he broke.
The volume on the television was turned down and he was dominating the conversation, spilling everything that was weighing on his mind and heart. The problems came back to Derek, and the future between the two of them concerning the end of college. Derek had set plans that he’d always been planning on, and Stiles wanted to be more flexible, but neither was willing to budge. The conversation had never come up before, and now, with only a couple of short months left until the decision had to be made.
He admitted how nice it was to have you both here, the three of you sitting in companionable silence to follow his confessions about his relationship, and Noah stretched his arm out along the back of the couch towards you. It wasn’t the night that either of you had expected, and it wasn’t the most exciting, but it was enough. Your fingers wove with Noah’s sitting along the back of the cushion, and Stiles was mouthing along with the words on the screen as the movie came to an end.
It was cooler now, the sun having passed beyond the horizon, and you’d texted Lydia to let her know where you were as dusk was setting in. By the time that the credits were rolling, the man with his head in your lap had fallen asleep, snoozing softly with snores that were barely audible. Noah’s thumb was stroking over your hand, and he leaned over, empty wrappers crinkling as he moved, before the television was being switched off.
“So, that didn’t exactly go as planned.”
“It’s okay. Stiles needed us.” You shrugged, fingers weaving through the sleeping boy’s hair again, and his face had finally gone back to relaxed as he rested. “I should get going, though. It’s getting late. We can just rearrange.”
You yawned, covering your mouth as you did. Using the edges of the pillow, you lifted Stiles' head, enough to slip out from underneath him and you stood up. Your head had gone numb a while back, the pins and needles having passed and you shook your leg to try and wake it back up. Your butt was aching, making you wobble with each step you took, and Noah grinned as he followed your actions.
Grabbing the stray wrappers and putting them back into the paper bag, he reached for one of the spare blankets, tucking it over his brother and making sure he was secure.
“Why don’t we have breakfast together tomorrow morning?”
“I’d like that.” Your arms looped his waist, and his circled your shoulders, pulling you a little closer. “Where?”
“Here, if you stay over?” You studied him for a second, and his eyes widened, a pink colour coating his cheekbones. “Not with me. Not, y’know, I mean-” His blush only deepened, and you chuckled at him. “I just meant that you can stay in Stiles’ room. He won’t wake up until the morning now, anyway, and you’re tired. It’s dark and you shouldn't have to go home alone.”
You smiled, leaving him hanging in the suspense for a second longer, before putting him out of the suspenseful misery. “I think that would work just fine for me.”
“Good.” He smiled, lips brushing over your forehead, before he was straightening up. “Can you get the lights and the locks, I’ll go grab you something to wear.”
He stepped back, letting you do as told, as you moved around the room. Checking the door first, you flicked the catch on the door and double-checked it, before beginning to turn off all of the lamps. Stiles was snoring to himself and rolled over, facing the back of the cushions and clutching the blankets up to his chin. Pressing a kiss to the tips of two fingers, you smoothed it over your best friend’s forehead, mentally wishing him a quick recovery from his broken heart, before turning out the final light.
Noah was waiting in the hallway when you arrived, a pair of sweats, a t-shirt and a jumper in his hands, with a ball of socks on top, and he presented them to you, a shy smile on his face.
“I don’t think I’ll need all of that. It’s the summer.”
“Well, you know, I didn’t want you to get cold in the night, or anything. Now you have options.” You took them from him, tucking them under your arm, his hands went into his pockets. You were both lingering, the darkness only illuminating you both from the light on in his room that was spilling out around him. “Okay, well, goodnight then.”
“Goodnight, Noah.” Despite the words being spoken, neither of you moved, brown eyes with wide pupils sealed on you, searching you for some kind of reaction, and he swallowed thickly. His mouth opened, more words to come, before his jaw was snapping shut again, and his brows furrowed.
“Goodnight. Again, I guess.”
“Goodnight, Noah.” You smiled, humour in your voice again, and he took a minuscule step back from you before pausing again. Taking a step with him, your hand came up, the one not clutching clothes found his shoulder, and you pressed your lips against his in a simple peck. He let out a sound that made your heart flutter, leaning in to return the affection and he kissed you back slowly, before letting you sink to the ground and step away towards Stiles’ room. He watched you go, never moving until you were giving him a final smile, and closing Stiles’ bedroom door.
Resting your back against it once you were inside, you heard his bedroom door close too, and your heart was beating so fast you could feel it all the way to your fingertips. The day had been nothing like what you’d expected, a whirlwind adventure from start to finish, but you didn’t regret a thing.
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malachi-walker · 3 years ago
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Heyo, always wondered...what is the perfect sword you would like to own? How much would it weigh? Is there a sword store that really impresses you?
K, so. I'm really glad I'm answering this at 28 since half a decade ago I would have probably answered katana like the damn weeb I was. I still think katanas are good swords (I think all swords that aren't gun swords are good swords) but I'm not that person anymore.
Anyway, since this is a dream sword scenario, what I really want is a kilij.
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Source: wikipedia.
And the main reason is that kilijs are an absolute masterwork of design that manage to get the cutting power of a two handed sword into a single handed blade. And the way this is done is so brilliant my jaw dropped when I first found out. You see how the straight part of the blade is narrow, but then the curve widens out so the blade becomes meatier?
That extra weight means that when you swing this sword, the curved portion of the sword transfers that weight into increased velocity once you get going. So as a result, you have a one handed sword that can do what normally requires two hands. If you want to see the kilij in action, watch this. (WARNING: the video demonstrates the sword using a pig carcass because it's close to human flesh. While the animal is already dead, I think they loaded it with fake blood so it's still gory. Just in case.)
This along with it's habit of encouraging scientific and military development while the rest of the world was very much still in the "education is evil" stage of history is a huge chunk of why the Ottoman Empire skull fucked an enormous area of the world for centuries. But we never hear about that because we all know how history classes are about non-white people's accomplishments. 🙄
Now as for the weight question. Despite what you may think, swords really don't weigh a lot when you get down to it. The weight of an average sword is about 2.5 to 3.5 pounds and even the big two-handers rarely got over 4.5, for the simple reason that if you're swinging around something really heavy you're gonna get tired pretty quick. Since a kilij was one handed, it's generally about 2 to 2.5 pounds.
And the simple answer to that last question is I have never once in my life had the kind of disposable income I would need to get a sword of the quality I want, so I haven't even bothered to try and find a store. And the simple reason is that if I'm going to spend that kind of money, I want a battle ready weapon. Note: I never want to swing a sword at anyone. The thought of having to do so makes me sick to my stomach. But my underlying personality will not let me spend that kind of money on something that's just gonna look pretty but fall apart the instant someone looks at it funny. And it turns out that making a sword look pretty and making a sword capable of standing up to combat are radically different skillsets.
That said, if I ever did get to the point where I could afford the sword of my dreams, I'd hit up any local HEMA (Historical European Martial Arts) training school or it's equivalent and ask them where they get their equipment from. They can probably point me in the right direction to at least get started figuring out who to get my swords from. Barring that, assuming that I had more money than I can currently imagine, I would love to be able to get a sword made by any of the guys who have won Forged In Fire, and if I really wanted to shoot for the stars, one of the judges. Probably David Baker, since he's a historical weapons recreation specialist and also the snappiest dresser on show.
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Rock on you funky bladesmith man.
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guiltgoreglory · 4 years ago
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Heat Waves (Chapter 1: A Warm Welcome)
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(Very) Brief Summary: Reader is a government contractor joining the team in Benghazi.  (Eventual Tanto x Reader) (2,684 words)
Chapter 2
Foreword: In this series, the reader will be loosely based off of Nikita from the TV show Nikita (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nikita_(TV_series)). The reader has an extensive background in black-ops and is currently an independent contractor working with the department of defense in coordination with the executive branch. If you have any questions about the character, feel free to reach out to me and I can clarify. The story will generally follow the plot of the movie with the exception of a few scenes. Lastly, the POV will shift throughout the story, a change in POV will be signaled by a line.
Author’s Note: Hey guys! I have a full plot already set up but it has been a long time since I’ve written a fic. I’m so sorry if the writing is kinda shitty but I really wanted to get it down in writing. I hope you like it!
You closed your eyes and rested your head against the headrest, trying to find an ounce of comfort in the cramped seat. The dull hum of the plane was cut through by various murmurs amongst the travelers. After a minute or two, you deemed the effort fruitless, letting out a frustrated sigh. Instead, you opened your eyes and looked out the window, watching as the monotonous view trailed by. For the next several weeks, maybe even months, you’d once again become acclimated to discomfort. This shitty seat is probably as good as it gets, you thought. The department will likely have you shacked up in some storage closet on a grimy 20-year-old cot. You have had worse and at least you’d be occupied. 
Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Silva shift. You turned, watching him from a row back, across the aisle. He grimaced as he took off his wedding ring, putting it into a small metal container. He didn’t appear to notice your gaze as you turned your attention back to the window, the heat already radiating in. You felt sorry for him. Leaving people behind is never easy, especially kids. Luckily, you didn’t have that problem. 
As the plane began its descent you skimmed the team comp in your head. You’d been thoroughly briefed on the contractors, on top of all the research you had done on your own. You were joining alongside Jack Silva. A family man in real estate. Pushed to fly back overseas for the money to support his family. From all that you had seen, he’s a good guy. He seemed to be good company. It’ll be nice to not be the only strange face, you thought.
You readied yourself. Benghazi is far worse than most believed. Ever since the department even suggested you might be helpful here, you’d been keeping track of the chaos. It was only a matter of time before it erupted into a full-blown civil war. 
As the landing zone came into view you checked your hijab, making sure not a hair was out of place. You wore a casual white button-down shirt with a gray tank top underneath. You unfolded the sleeves, covering as much of your skin as possible. Given the heat, you’d love to run out in something a little more breathable, but the beige cargo pants would have to do. Next, you checked your “cello” case that sat in the seat next to you. Moving the strap towards you for a quick and effortless disembark. Being you had its perks, one of which was bringing some of your own firepower. 
You cracked your neck as a familiar ding came over the com. 
“Welcome to Benghazi.”
_
The two men settled into the car, watching over all the civilians walking past. Rone leaned forward, pulling a handgun out of the back of his pants. “It’s loaded.” Jack accepted the gun readily, cocking it within his lap. 
“How’s the team here?” 
“Good. Three ex-marines, one ex-army ranger. It’ll be nice to have some more team guys around.”
Jack briefly glanced back at Rone. “Guys?”
“Yeah. We’re waiting on one more before we head out.”
“You work with him before?”
“Nope. Defense department assigned her.”
Jack furrowed his brow slightly, pursing his lips in surprise. “Alrighty then, what’s she look like?” Jack looked more intently for another westerner standing out like a sore thumb. 
“No idea. I’ve been told that she will find us.”
“Oh how ominous.” A smile tugged at the corner of his lip. 
Rone hummed in agreement as he eyed the rearview mirror. Out of the crowd, a body began to beeline towards the car. “Think that’s her.”
Jack nonchalantly stretched, turning towards the back of the car to catch a look. 
_
You approached the dust-covered truck, already craving shade from the burning sun. Your sunglasses did little to protect your eyes from the glare off of the ground. As you got closer, you could see Tyrone eying you from the side mirrors. You adjusted the straps of both your cello case and your duffel, making sure not to make any sudden movements. You made your way to the driver’s side door, turning to face him. “You Tyrone?” you asked, knowing full well it was.
“Yes, Ma’am. And you are?”
“Y/N.”
“Nice to meet you, Y/N. Hop in.”
You nodded, moving back towards the rear of the car. Swinging the back door open, you threw your stuff onto the ground next to the seat. Leaving just enough room for you to climb in. As you sat down, you angled yourself towards Jack so that you could have a proper introduction. He noticed your movement, turning back to face you. He reached out his hand for a handshake. 
“Jack Silva”
You took his hand. “Y/N.” 
He settled back into his seat as Rone started the car. “Just Y/N?”
“Just Y/N.” You affirmed. 
As Rone made his way through the city they began to catch up, making friendly jabs at each other. You yanked your duffel towards you, rummaging through the various clothes. You could feel Jack’s eyes peeking at you ever so often through the mirror, making sure you weren’t doing anything unsavory. Trust is earned.  Finally, you found your shoulder holster. You unbuttoned your shirt, throwing it on the seat beside you. You put on the holster, adjusting the straps as needed so that it sat comfortably. After you were satisfied you again began to look through your luggage, pulling out two black pistols. You loaded a magazine into both of the guns. The sound quickly drew the attention of both men as the conversation briefly paused before they returned to their conversation. You paid them no mind, knowing that any response would probably make them more antsy. You then cocked them before placing them within your holster. Grabbing your shirt, you put it back on, leaving it unbuttoned. It was opaque enough to conceal your firearms as long as no one looked too close. 
“So, Y/N,” Rone directing the conversation towards you, “The Defense Department didn’t tell me much about you. What branch you from?” 
You turned from watching out the side of the car. “Covert operations.” 
That definitely piqued his interest. Jack let Rone do the questioning, but it was clear he was just as curious as him. 
“Alright. SEAL Team?”
“Uh, no. It’s a little more complicated.”
“Oh I get it, you’re on some James Bond shit huh.” He chuckled to himself as you smiled and rolled your eyes.
“Pretty much.”
Rone left the questioning there, knowing he’d probably not get much more of an answer, at least not until you’d come to know him a bit better. The two of them shared a look before the car came to a sudden stop. 
“Shit. No, no, no, no, no this isn’t good.” Rone’s body tensed as he assessed the situation. 
Civilians began to run around the car, whimpering in fear. You straightened up, readying for a shit show. You positioned yourself in the middle of the back, between the two men so you could see as much as possible through the windshield. 
“Fuck.” Rone’s discomfort quickly seeped through his cool resolve. “Who the fuck are these guys?” 
“What do we got?” Jack stayed still, his eyes scanning over the various armed men.
“Brigade we coordinate with, February Seventeenth Martyrs. This ain’t them.” He looked back past you and he switched into reverse. Moving back a few feet, the path was blocked and the car jolted forward. “Shit we’re boxed in.”
You settled on your knees, carefully unclipping the straps keeping your guns in place, just in case. Both men leaned out of the window. Jack looking up towards the man on the balcony readied to run.
“We bailing?” He asked, voice calm and collected.
Rone, giving no response, pulled out his radio. “Base this is Rone. Come in, over.”
“This is Base, go Rone.”
“I’m in a Jam off Fifth Ring Road. I’m lookin’ at about 8 armed tangos here.”
“Copy that, sit tight.”
“Sit tight, that’s great advice.” Everyone in the car became increasingly more agitated as the armed militia made its way in your direction. 
You took a deep breath. “If we’re bailing we gotta do it now.” You glanced at your bags. You could leave the duffel. There wasn’t anything particularly important in there. The case on the other hand couldn’t be lost to a rampant terrorist cell, if you did, the government would be up your ass about it for at least another 10 years. You fidgeted slightly, knowing that the opportunity to flee was about to pass.
Jack clenched his jaw. “They got a KPV.”
Fuck this is bad. 
“Base we ain’t got all day.”
“Hey, Rone. They’re trying to get Feb 17 to back you up, but we’re coming.”
Deeming that transmission utterly useless, Rone whipped out his cell. “Oz I’m in a jam of Fifth Ring.”
“Ty.” Jack interjected as the men became uncomfortably close.
“Rone, 17 Feb QRF is being alerted.”
“Fuck that, the only Quick Reaction force I want is my guys.” Without an immediate response, Rone continued on. “Send them. I want my guys.” He said more adamantly. 
“Negative, Rone. Just hang in there.”
“Maybe I’m not making myself clear. I’m looking at multiple radical insurgents with AKs and a 50-cal technical set to blow my rover all the way back to Zimbabwe. Over.”
You watched as a man dressed in a disheveled suit made his way around the vehicles and debris. He’s the big guy.
“It’s not my call, brother.”
Goddamnit. Looks like we’re either talking our way through this, or we go out quick. The thought gave you the slightest bit of comfort.
Rone looked towards Jack frustrated. You could sense he felt an inch of guilt for getting his friend stuck in this hellhole.
“Here we go.” Jack said nonchalantly as he could given the circumstances.
You crossed your arms, giving yourself easy access to your handguns without looking too conspicuous. A man stood at the front of the rover, yelling something you couldn’t understand. He pointed his AK right at you, maybe it wasn’t on purpose but you couldn’t help but mentally scoff. Well, that’s not very nice.
“Welcome to Benghazi.”
The man in front banged on the hood as the leader moved towards the driver’s side window. Jack raised his hands up innocently as Rone smiled at the man. 
“Salaam.” Rone raised his badge up to the man in the suit as he gazed at him incredulously. “Libyan visa. Official. Libyan government.” The leader looked him up and down. 
The guy with the AK was now in Jack’s face. His gaze shifted forward, doing his best to remain calm despite the barrel of a gun being inches from his forehead.
“Friendly? Hm? Friendly?” Rone again gestured with his badge.
Rone whatever game you’re playing it better fucking work because last time I checked a friend of Al-Qaeda is no friend of ours. You did your best to blend into the back of the car, feigning as the harmless woman. 
“Pull over for inspection.” The leader said sternly.
Rone shook his head. “No.” 
“Pull over for inspection!” He was now angry, his voice shaking with every word.
Alright, this is how it’s gonna go. You crept your hands slightly closer to your guns.
Rone’s voice remained steady. “I’m sorry, sir. I can’t do that.”
The man at Jack’s door yelled once more. Banging his palm against the dirty surface. Then the slightest movement came from Jack. 
It’s showtime. You thought. You gripped your pistols and whipped them forward, pointing them as the secondary soldier positioned at the front of the rover. Jack and Rone acted similarly with Jack’s gun pointed across at the leader, and Rone’s gun pointed at the soldier beside the door. The soldier at the front adjusted his AK, pointing it more fervently towards the car. 
“Look up.” Rone pointed towards the sky with his empty hand, never moving his gaze from the leader’s eyes. “Go ahead, look up.” Some of the aggression left the leader as he looked towards the sky, confused. “You see the drone?” The man looked back down. “No? That’s okay. The drone sees you.”
Nice play, Rone. You thought to yourself. A couple of Americans? No problem. We don’t pose that much of a threat. But good ol’ American air support? Now that carries a little weight. 
“Sees your face. We know who you are.”
Jack, facing the soldier at his door, swallows hard. Keeping with Rone’s power play, he maintains eye contact.
“If anything happens to us, your home, your family, boom, gone. Give us the order to let us go.”
Jack, looking past the AK in his face, doesn’t flinch as the soldier gestures with his gun.
 “I want the car!” 
Within a brief moment, Jack and Rone switched their aim, with Jack now pointing his handgun at the soldier and Rone at the leader. You flinched ever so slightly at the movement, but you remained steady, watching for any worrisome movement amongst the militia. Adrenaline pumped through your veins as you could feel your heart pounding in your chest. You ignored the harsh metal of the rover digging into your knees. This was your guys’ only shot to make it out of this cramped alley. They had to think your little caravan of three had the power of the entire U.S. military revolving overhead when in reality, you were just three Americans with a couple of guns in the middle of fuckin nowhere.
“No, I’m not gonna do that.” Jack shakes his head, leaning forward towards the man. The energy around the car was beginning to shift. Despite the KPV having enough firepower to destroy your car, and about 5 cars behind you, you three possessed the upper hand. They recoiled at the barrel of your guns, not the other way around.
The leader’s eyes began to soften, his harsh exterior falling at the thought of losing everything. For a moment, you actually pitied him. “I earn the right to decide the future of my country.” You understood the sentiment behind his words. Once again the U.S. had shoved itself into the center of a country, with no right to do so. But you, and the men sat beside you, just wanted to keep others safe. You had no agenda.
“You’re talking to the wrong guy. How willing are you to die for your country? I’m ready to go right here, right now.” Easy, Tyrone. Don’t push it too far. 
The leader’s frown deepened as he considered the weight of Rone’s words. He slowly backed away from the car. “Leave here. While you still can.”
You stopped yourself from relaxing your figure even though it felt like the weight of the world had just been lifted off your shoulders. Rone leaned back into his seat, beginning to maneuver the car between the debris. Jack slowly lowered his pistol to the door as the car inched forward. You followed suit and lowered your guns into your lap. You could hear the leader yelling to his men, and their posture relaxed enough to show they weren’t an immediate threat. Air filled your lungs for the first time in what felt like 5 minutes, before you looked behind through the dusty back window, making sure the leader was true to his word and you weren’t about to get shot in the back. You settled back onto your seat, leaning back against the warm metal. You debated holstering your weapons but decided it was best to have them at the ready until you were within the walls of the base.
“We got air support?” Jack’s voice was calm but demanding. You knew the answer to his question but left Rone to give him the bad news. Rone didn’t take his eyes off of the road as he did his best to make it back to base in one piece. 
“We don’t have any fucking support.”
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vintage-london-images · 3 years ago
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You cant park that there sir! The Royal Docks 1950.
The Royal Victoria Dock, which was opened in 1855, was the first dock built expressly for steam ships and the first to be planned with direct rail links onto the quay. The Royal Albert Dock was opened in 1880 by the Duke of Connaught after whom the modern swing bridge is named. The Albert was equipped with hydraulic cranes and steam winches to handle vessels up to 12,000 tons and was served by the Great Eastern Railway. The two docks were linked by the Connaught Passage.
By 1886 there were 7 enclosed dock systems within the Port of London, namely the London and St Katherine's Docks, the Surrey Docks, the West India Docks, the Millwall Docks, the East India Docks, the Royal Victoria Dock, the Royal Albert Dock and Tilbury Docks. By this time there was over-provision of dock facilities and this gave rise to financial difficulties for the dock companies, and the East and West India Docks Company went into receivership in 1886. Low financial returns led to a lack of investment in new facilities and, at a time of rapid advances in technology, the ports' facilities became increasingly obsolescent and inefficient.
A Royal Commission was appointed in 1900 to look into these problems and as a result the Port of London Act was passed in 1908. The Port of London Authority (PLA) came into being the following year and took over the powers of all the existing companies. The PLA began an immediate programme of modernisation, including the construction of a new dock able to take ships of up to 30,000 tons. Following a considerable debate on the merits of enclosed docks as opposed to deep water berths the PLA decided to build an enclosed dock south of the Royal Albert Dock. The King George V Dock was opened in 1921, completing the Royal group of docks which, as a whole, formed the largest area of impounded water in the world. Marsh land to the north, which is now Beckton, was earmarked for further expansion of the dock system but this was not to be. Royal Victoria and Royal Albert Docks handled bulk grain. The great mills on the south side of the Royal Victoria Dock - some now demolished – remain as a reminder of this.
The period from 1910-1950 the Royal Docks were relatively prosperous. The docks' layout permitted trans-shipment of break bulk cargos from ship to rail, to road and lighter transport or into warehouses for storage. Most of the cargo passing through the dock group was from deep sea trades, particularly with the British Commonwealth.
As refrigeration methods improved, they started handling frozen meat as well as fruit and vegetables. During the 1926 General Strike, the threat was posed of some 750,000 frozen carcasses in the Royals rotting when electrical power was cut off, but two Royal Navy submarines sailed in to save the Royals' bacon by connecting up their generators to keep the freezers going.
Passenger cargoes also became big business. King George V Dock could berth the biggest liners of the time. Passengers could travel from mainline London stations by rail, some staying overnight in the now Grade II listed Gallions Hotel.
Traffic through the Royal Docks reached its peak in the 1950s and early 1960s. After that containerisation and other technological changes, and a switch in Britain's trade following EEC membership, led to a rapid decline. By 1978 the financial losses incurred by the upper docks, and the Royals in particular, had brought the PLA to the brink of insolvency. On consulting the Government the PLA were told to prepare restructuring proposals with a view to achieving commercial viability. The PLA's initial solution, known as the Radical Approach, was to close the upstream docks which were losing £9m a year without any prospect of paying their way. From then on it was a down hill struggle and with the decline in trade the docks were used for the storage of laid up ships.
But by 1982/83 it was all over.....
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nightwingmyboi · 5 years ago
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Hey so I was wondering about Dick's Romanian heritage. Is it mentioned a lot in comics or media? Is he dark skinned in any adaptations? Is it true he originally went to Juvie after his parents died? Where would I go to find this stuff out? Thanks!
Sure! So, Dick’s heritage is a pretty complex topic. I think it’s best to leave the explanation to [this post]. Since I know not everyone will click the link, just to briefly clarify something: Dick is Romani, not Romanian. Being Romanian means being from the country of Romania. Romani people are scattered across the world. Also, Dick is typically depicted with light skin in canon...him being Romani would not conflict with this, because the Romani people have a large range of skin tones. Not at all opposed to him being depicted with darker skin, but just so that you know. Very, very strongly recommend checking out the post for the whole story (edit: and checking the reblogs for the counterpoint to said post!!) 
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Robin (1993) Annual #4
As for your other question...in one version of Dick’s origin story, following his parents’ deaths, Dick was sent to Gotham’s Youth Center. This center was essentially a juvenile detention center; most of the kids were sent there for committing what are described in comic as “adult crimes.” It was a very rough environment for Dick, especially in the aftermath of his parents’ deaths. 
Dick going to the center after his parents died is technically a retcon of his origin (ie it was something added later). I know for some reason certain people hear the word retcon and immediately are like “then it doesn’t count!!!” but I think that is very much the wrong approach. True enough, some retcons are bad--that is, those that completely ignore previously established characterizations or plot points, and in doing so often radically change the story for the worse. It’s fine if people want to ignore those bad retcons, I do so myself. But, that’s not true for every retcon lmao. I’d say the juvie origin retcon is a great example of a good retcon. It really helps to clarify and enhance the original story, and I don’t think it should be dismissed. Hear me out here: 
1.) The juvie origin doesn’t replace any previous origin story--it really only adds to and improves upon the timeline of Dick’s original origin. 
For the most part, in previous tellings of the story, Dick’s origin went pretty much straight from his parents dying to him and Bruce in Wayne Manor. It’s a pretty sudden, jarring jump; the in-between was largely left to the reader’s imaginations or implied to not exist at all. And I’ll be real...the pacing and immediacy of events is pretty wonky and unreasonable. In one of the most extreme speed runs through Dick’s origin I’ve seen, Dick’s parents die and Batman immediately swings down from the rafters and tells Dick that he’ll solve the case...while Dick’s parents’ bodies are still cooling a couple feet away (Batman #436). Yeah, that is absolutely ridiculous lmao, as is the idea that Bruce just immediately adopted Dick the day his parents died. I think that the juvie origin very nicely slows things down and helps to organically fill in the gap of time that would and should exist between Dick losing his parents and being taken in by Bruce. 
2.) The juvie origin helps to rationalize Bruce’s reasoning for taking Dick in. 
In previous origin stories, Bruce’s main motivation for taking Dick in is that he saw his own suffering reflected in Dick and wanted to help him. I dig the parallels between Bruce and Dick...but this is very flimsy reasoning to adopt someone lmao. With all the tragedy that occurs in Gotham, you cannot tell me that Bruce had not run across some orphans before. Bruce sympathizing with Dick certainly should be part of what motivates him, but there needed to be something more. If there is not some immediate, urgent reason to adopt Dick, then it makes zero sense that Bruce would try to raise him honestly. Why would Bruce tear Dick away from his remaining family and friends at the circus? Why would Dick want to leave? And even if Dick could no longer remain at the circus, why wouldn’t Bruce allow Dick to go to a good foster home, especially since Bruce is so laser focused on his solo crusade against Gotham’s crime that he doesn’t even allow himself to have a steady girlfriend half the time? Lots of plot holes here!
The juvie origin fixes a lot of these issues! Staying at the circus is not an option for Dick, not because Bruce just snatches him away, but because legally Gotham Juvenile Services says that the circus is an inadequate environment for raising a child. Dick is sent to juvie, and the comic makes a point of showing Dick nearly being beaten to death almost immediately upon arriving. 
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Dick is in danger and he’s lost in the system, so there is no longer a possibility for him to land in a good home. Initially, when Bruce goes to find Dick, he’s still tracking him down only with the intention of getting justice for Dick by solving his parent’s murder. But Bruce is a good person at heart. When Batman finds Dick trying to escape from the juvenile hall, beaten to hell, he intervenes. The next morning Dick is taken in by Bruce Wayne. 
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So now, taking in Dick isn’t Bruce tearing Dick away from the chance of having a loving family and throwing him into the dangerous life of a crime fighter; taking Dick in is Bruce saving Dick from a horrible situation, possibly even saving his life. The only way to get Dick out of the potentially deadly situation he was in quickly was for Bruce to take him in as a foster parent. Bruce’s actions actually make a lot of sense! And Bruce is forced by necessity to take on a fatherly role that he does not feel suited or prepared for, rather than him adopting Dick on a whim. The juvie origin gives this scenario the urgency and necessity that it desperately needed. 
3.) The juvie origin has been around for a long time, and pretty successfully adds nuance to Dick’s character without completely altering or changing who he is. 
The juvie origin is a retcon that has been established for about 25 years, fyi. Robin Annual #4, which is where this idea first came into play, was released in 1995. There are also references to this origin story in Nightwing Vol. 2, and that comic series ran from 1996 to 2009, so it’s not like the juvie origin is completely baseless or totally removed from the narrative. 
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Nightwing (1996) #11
Also...Dick Grayson has been around for 80 years. In DC comics, I’m pretty sure he is predated only by Superman and Batman. You are inevitably going to have to add nuance to his character as time goes on. The juvie origin adds a very interesting complexity to the character and his fight against crime, considering he himself has been in the system...there’s so much untapped potential there!! So yeah, I feel like the juvie retcon is a very valid addition to Dick Grayson’s origin story. Plus, Robin Annual #4 is just a very well written and well thought out comic book that really fleshes out Bruce, Dick, and Alfred’s initial relationships to one another in a realistic way, and more people should check it out. 
What I’m saying...is that more people need to get on board and accept the juvie origin guys!! It’s my favorite origin for Dick, hands down. Thanks for giving me an excuse to talk about it anon. 
As for where to go for more info…well, you can always check out Dick’s DC wiki, or anyone else’s, for basic summary info. For me, I always like going straight to the source. You could find a comic rec list that focuses on what you’re interested in and just dive in and build your knowledge that way. Sometimes if you google around, you can find neat creator interviews that address questions like the ones you asked. If nothing else, I’m sure there are people on tumblr (like me :D) or elsewhere online who are willing to help you out and point you in the right direction if you’re curious about something in particular. Idk if other people know of a good resource for things like this?
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astrowithkaro · 3 years ago
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Hello Karo!
I love your Language of Birthday series and was hoping that you could create one for April 9th.
Thank you for considering ❤️
Language Of Birthdays: April 9 - Aries
[You can find the rest of the series here; or check out my masterlist]
The Day Of Excess
April 9 people are certainly one of a kind. They are often the extreme embodiment of unusual trends in society, their talents conveyed in excess. Any compromise, restriction or tempering of their abilities is out of the question. Usually they leave no doubt as to their views on any subject—they are outspoken, direct, sometimes even harsh. But talking about what they do is not really their speciality; they just prefer doing it, which usually means doing it a lot.
April 9 people have a particular genius for translating ideas into action, giving rein to their fantasies in the most practical ways. They can even make a good living doing so. Fortunately, their ideas are usually of a social nature and thus enrich the lives of others. April 9 people have strange thought processes, often quite humorous, but are not idle dreamers. On the contrary, they have a strong realistic streak and the uncanny ability to know when an idea's time has come.
Not overly social people, those born on this day may find their ideas the principal link between themselves and their associates, family and friends. More often than not, the world of the April 9 person is a highly individualized and somewhat lonely one. There is a great desire to share personal discoveries with intimates, but this is not always possible. The greatest gift an April 9 person can give is to reveal him/herself at a deep level to another: too often, however, this gift is never given.
The strong influence April 9 people have on others is not always for the best. Their families or followers should beware of adopting their more strongly biased and excessive ideas literally. To do this could have shattering results. Above all, those born on this day set an example for freedom of action, for discipline in work, for a kind of uncompromising behaviour that most people cannot emulate. When the aim of April 9 people is to radically change the thought of others by way of example, they usually succeed. But because April 9 people usually have a strong amoral streak, those around them may even see them as unprincipled or selfish. Those born on this day would do well to periodically evaluate and study their own ideas, critically assess their own lifestyle and change it for the better, if possible.
The physical orientation of this day is marked. The tangible concerns and bodily limitations of the human condition interest April 9 people greatly, and they constantly strive to transcend these limitations. Often this striving begins with earthly matters and proceeds toward the spiritual. The danger is that less highly evolved April 9 people will get stuck in the physical plane and proceed no further. They should generally seek to expand their horizons and to view all of life from a more philosophical point of view.
Strengths:
Strong minded
Persuasive
Progressive
Weaknesses:
Misleading
Overindulgent
Destructive
Advice
April 9 people must be very careful of literally destroying themselves and others with their energy. Self-inflicted injuries of all kinds are a danger. Mars influences are so strong in April 9 persons that they may also attract antagonism, even violence, from others who do not like their outspoken views and direct forms of expression. In many people, strenuous exercise is to be encouraged, but in April 9 people the physical aspects of life need to be tempered. As far as eating is concerned, there is a tendency for April 9 people to swing from fasting to over-indulgence. For this reason they do far better when they allow themselves a well-rounded diet (i.e., balanced nutrition, reasonable fat).
You must learn to compromise
Beware of selfishness; giving and receiving love is important for everyone
Don't get stuck in the physical; always reach for the stars
Temper your wildest urges and learn the lessons of balance
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alwaysalreadyangry · 4 years ago
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Charlotte, I've wanted to get into poetry for a while but haven't really known where or how to start, mostly because I have this kind of maybe weird tendency to rush through poems like I'm gulping down water. Curious how one actually like, reads and enjoys a poem; would love to hear your thoughts on reading and reception. Also I'm looking for lush, angry, queer, weird poems filled with longing, and would love to hear any suggestions or recs you might have!
ooh this has been really interesting to think about!! have been rolling it around in my brain for a while.
so, first off, a disclaimer: i don’t necessarily think i am a great or even a very good reader of poetry a lot of the time, and that’s fine -- if it’s worth doing it’s worth doing badly, etc. i am easily distracted and i tire out quickly and my magpie brain will focus on like, the language of a poem to the detraction of all else, and unless i’m being paid to write about a book or a poem or something then i don’t think reading in a way that feels wrong or inadequate is a problem on its own. sometimes i just enjoy quickly skimming for the language, and that’s good, that’s fine.
BUT for wanting to read to get more pleasure from poetry: i tend to say to read it like this the first time if that comes naturally to you, as it often does to me. skim, read it through without paying attention to the narrative or syntactical structure, but instead just looking for anything that makes your brain sparkle -- for me it’s going to usually be imagery and/or sound-patterning. see if there’s anything that makes you curious enough to dig in, any lines or sentiments that you like on their own. the surface-level or immediate pleasures with poetry are great and often what makes it worth digging down into the other stuff.
then, if you want to dig into a poem, it’s time to re-read! this time i’d recommend reading with closer attention to the most straightforward level of narrative or meaning: what is the poem most obviously saying? i am not someone who subvocalises, and sometimes my instinctively fast reading speed makes it hard for me to actually do this if the poem is at all playing around with language. in that case, it helps to read out loud, and to only move on from one sentence or stanza (or whatever unit of meaning the poem is using) once i have figured out what it means on a semantic level. depending on the length of the poem, once you’ve figured out as much of it as you can or care to, i’d recommend another quick read through to try and consolidate all of that in your mind.
then -- well, then you’ve kind of got the basics and the stuff that you’re interested in, and it can be fun to look back at the bits you liked in the first place to see what they mean to the rest of the poem, what they mean in terms of what the poem is saying. it could be that a rhyme or a repeated use of assonance emphasises something... you might find that two words are being linked by internal rhyme that don’t seem to have much to say to one another otherwise. is there any meaning there, in that connection? does it change what the poem says? how does the poem and what it does make you feel?
and depending on the poem you then want to just read again looking for anything else significant. is there a part of the poem you dislike? if you reread looking out for that, can you work out what’s going on there and why you dislike that aspect of it?
this will only work with certain types of poem, admittedly. i like a lot of poetry that is more innovative and abstract, where i have no clue what a poem is saying or doing, but i like the language and the feeling of the syntax inside my brain. so i’ll reread those a few times but don’t really have a semantic framework to get into them. it’s more about the language.
and then there’s visual poetry which doesn’t make use of words but of like -- shapes or the relation of shapes to space, and then it’s just about, idk. how i decide to try and “read” those relations and shapes, which i have no real roadmap for. i often just find myself staring at it like i would visual art, or trying to somehow reenact the shapes with my body as i “read” (like when i read a visual poem earlier today that is just a sequence of bells ringing in different directions -- to keep track of it i followed the bell’s movement with my head, tilting it right and then left).
does that make sense? i truly think that we don’t need to understand poetry to enjoy it; that there’s no right way to read or enjoy poetry, and that if we find we’re reading a poem that doesn’t interest us or make us happy, you can just stop. although if a poem makes a reader uncomfortable it can be a good idea to follow this kind of reading pattern to try and work out why! i hope this makes sense -- i’m afraid my answer is essentially just “reread the poems a lot”, but it’s good to go in knowing what to pay attention to each time, even if it’s just “this time i pay attention to what i like” and “this time i pay attention to what i dislike”. my brain needs structure like that because otherwise it is too flighty and sticky and will just roll around one phrase it likes in there for hours.
in terms of poetry recommendations, this is oddly tricky because there’s such an unexpected gulf between UK and US poetry -- i read more UK poetry and while there’s been a big explosion in the amount of interesting & vital queer poetry being published here over the past decade or so, a lot of it is relatively hard to get hold of unless you’re constantly keeping track of all of the new presses publishing pamphlets. so this is going to swing more US-focused but i will see if there’s any UK stuff i can think of too.
so first off, a cheat: i would recommend getting hold of these two big anthologies of trans poetry and having a look through to see if any of the writers grab your attention. hopefully academic libraries will have these or will get them on request? i say, hopefully. there is we want it all: an anthology of radical trans poetics, which came out recently (and i don’t have a copy yet). and then there’s troubling the line: trans and genderqueer poetry and poetics, from 2013. not as politically radical i’m guessing, but still could be worth looking through to see which writers you connect with.
i am drawing a blank on other anthologies right now, but in terms of exploring UK poetry, you can access issues of the zine zarf online here and i recommend it. not all queer but the editor is and there’s a great collection of stuff in there. i also recommend getting hold of their pamphlets as PDFs here, try alison rumfitt and gloria dawson.
second off, these are some poets i think you might like, i will link to some sample poems. mostly contemporary but not all:
dawn lundy martin
CAConrad
jackie wang
robert duncan
jack spicer (PDF)
jay bernard
miriam bird greenberg
sofia samatar
samuel the nagid
vahni capildeo
sophie robinson
frank o’hara
agha shahid ali
i am sure there are many many others i am forgetting but! i hope this is helpful!!!
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seventeensarmy · 4 years ago
Text
(3) Stuck With You (OT7!HybridAu)
Pairing: OT7xReader, Jungkook x Reader, soon Jimin x Reader x Jungkook; rest will come in the course of the story
Warnings: a tiny bit angst, fluff, toxic relationship to food, abuse (Like one slapp), flashbacks of JK´s past, tell me if I missed something
Words: 4.204
Summary: Jungkook´s shopping trip brought something home that wasn´t on the shopping list
A/N: I planned to upload this earlier, but TikTok came in the way, sorry
Previous / Next 
Chapter three
“ You're older than me? But you are soo small ”
Taglist: @imezz​ @anxietylovesme​ @holaaaf​ @ot7purple​ @calling-dips-on-j-hope​ @greezenini​ @givebuckysomelove​
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(not my gif)
One year ago (Reader 20/ JK 20/ JM 22) "Kookie, can you buy me some of that matcha detox powder?", you asked your boyfriend who was about to leave to go groceries shopping. You sat on your knees on the couch, hopping to appear bigger so he would see you. Jungkook groaned and looked at you, "What do you need that for?" You looked passed him, thinking of your next words. It was powder to help you lose weight, with Jungkook forcing you to have at least to meals and one snack a day you felt like you gained weight. Weight that would have made your mum make you go on an ice cube diet for weeks. So you felt like your solution to lose weight should be taken better by the bunny than what you could have done instead. Jungkook wasn't stupid, he knew what you would use detox matcha powder for, but he wanted to see if you would lie to him. He started to inform himself about diets and work out methods as soon as he could, he wanted to better understand what you doing to yourself and he himself wanted to work on his body. He was trying really hard to get you to understand, that your way of viewing food, weight and your body was a toxic view that your parents taught you. And while you knew, that your parents weren't the best, you found it hard to let go of the way that things have been. "Baby, look at me. What do you want that for?" Jungkooks voice was gently, but firm enough for you to understand, that he wouldn't ask again. You looked at him and bit your lip, "Well first of all, it's really good for your body, it gets rid of all the bad stuff in your body.", you started and Jungkook scoffed, doubting that there would be too much 'bad stuff' in your body, seeing as you were living strictly plant based. Claiming you couldn't eat animals, when your boyfriend was last animal and you didn't want to hurt anyone. Jungkook had cooed when you told him that, thinking how cute his little dancer was, though that didn't stop him from sometimes enjoying a nice steak or fried chicken (not too often though, because he also had a strict diet, due to his rabbit parts). But not only did you live plant based, you also never ate any junk food and sweets. So what bad toxins were you keeping in your body that you needed to get rid of? "Is that all Baby girl? Just having a little detox?" You wanted to scream, you didn't want to lie to him, he would be able to tell right away, you knew that he knew, but you didn't want to see his disappointed face. You sighed defeated, "It also helps with weight loss" You didn’t know what to expect, would he yell? No, Jungkook never raised his voice at you, but he didn’t need to. He could voice his disappointment just fine with a calm voice. "y/n. We talked about this." Jungkook let out a tired sigh. You felt bad, biting your lip, you knew he worried about you, but you didn't really see any other solutions. Your mothers’ words burned too deep in your head. "I know Kookie, but, the competition is just a week away and Ive been eating a lot recently" you tried to tell him, stuttering. You hadn't noticed that he had moved from the door to the couch and was now kneeling in front of you. Jungkook furrowed his brows, what should he do. He saw your slouched position and how you were avoiding his gaze, he knew you were wary if his reaction, because now it was his move, you told him what he wanted to hear. "Okay" Jungkook breathed out, having decided on plan. "I'll buy it. But I'll keep it and you only get to take some after you ask me. Got it? And no other tricks." He was stern, but he figured, that this way he could help you easier. He just needed to slowly show you, that there was no need for such radical diets. He saw a documentary on eating disorders and while he was no expert, Jungkook realised that people suffering from it, often didn't even realise it or don't see it as abnormal behaviour. So he tried to reteach you, trying to destroy the ideas of beauty your mother gave you. Helping with and controlling your diet plan was a new strategy, but he was sure, it only could be better than the last. Over the years Jungkook had tried again and again to make you see your toxic behaviour towards food, sadly it often ended in arguments. Leaving you crying and Jungkook frustrated. You knew Jungkook didn't like how or what you ate and you saw the disappointment every time you turned down a new dish, because you didn't know how many calories it had. Your eyes met his and though you were happy, this win for you came with a lot of guilt and you almost told Jungkook he shouldn't buy the powder, then your mother’s voice reminded you, "It's important to look pretty, the judges will like that. So even if you can't dance, you can at least be pleasing to the eye" Jungkooks hand came to cup your face, "I love you, you know that right? And I only want you to be happy and healthy" you were looking into his eyes, nodding. Jungkook wanted to say more, telling you that he knew that being happy and healthy was lying in two different directions right now, but he knew that this would upset you, so he kept quiet. "I love you too Kookie, I know you want me to be happy and I'm happy whenever I'm with you" you smiled, turning your head to kiss the palm of the hand; that was cupping your face. Jungkook pulled you down for a real kiss before standing up and grabbing the shopping bag again. "I'll be back in like an hour or so okay? Be good, love you" Jungkook yelled and left the house. You knew what he meant when he asked you to be good, don't train. You already practiced for hours today, so he would expect you to rest for the remaining day. And you found yourself listening to him, being actually exhausted from dancing all morning. You grabbed a book from the study your dad used to work in; you changed it into a reading room purely. There were beanbags and a bunch of pillows and two large shelves full of books. Since the weather was nice you decided to read in the garden, sitting down on the Hollywood swing in the back of the garden. Jungkook was walking to the supermarket. It wasn't unusual that he was the one going out for groceries; you were often too tired after your training to do anything. The bunny was sure that part that was due to you not eating enough, he noticed how after a tough day you would shakily sit down and sip your water. He hated how he felt like he couldn't help you. He walked past your elementary school; he remembered how he would always wait for you in your garden. Sometimes you brought your homework with you and explained what you had to do to him. He couldn't always follow the explanation of an eleven year old, but he was thankful for trying. Nowadays he had also started to study with you. Jungkook couldn't do the maths that you could, but he wasn't too worried about that, he saw that school didn't always teach you what you needed to know for life. Best example was biology, why would you, a dancer, need to know about photosynthesis? He didn't understand why they would teach that, they should have teaches you that eating is fu*king important. He crossed the streets, Busan was pretty, he thought. You would be soon, after finishing school in six months, there was nothing keeping you here. Both of you had a lot of bad memories here. You, from your family. Jungkook from his days on the street, he can't really remember if there was a time before he was on the street. He never met his parents, or at least he can't remember them. He also can't remember ever having an owner before meeting you, he just knew the streets and it wasn't easy. The nights were often freezing, he remembers breaking into a shed one night, because rain was pouring down and the bridge he sometimes slept under was flooded. The next morning he was woken up by a screaming woman, who then quickly proceeded to kick him out, yelling something about calling the cops. After he met you, life became easier, but not completely. In the beginning he still didn't have a place to sleep, it had taken you some time till you realised, that he needed some place to sleep. Jungkook wasn't mad that you sometimes kept forgetting to unlock the shed in the back of your garden; you were young and had your own problems. But as soon as you had realised you came running to him, apologising and bringing a bunch of food for him. When it got colder you started to steal some of your dad´s overalls and took pillows and blankets from the guest rooms, your parents never bothered to enter. All so Jungkook wouldn't freeze. As soon as it got cold you also always started to bring him some traditional Christmassy snacks and tea. Jungkook couldn't believe it when you stood in front of him on December 25th, with a present in your hand. "It's not much, but I thought you'd like it. I got it myself”  you said proudly and when Jungkook opened it, he saw a pair of headphones. He was excited that he got a present for the first time, but he was confused what to do with it. He didn't own anything he could plug them into. You noticed this and handed him another box, in it was an ep3 player. Jungkooks eyes grew wide, "Why would you gift me something like that?"  You grinned, "Because I know you'd like it" Jungkook swore he could have started crying then and there, but he opted for pulling you into a bone crushing hug. That night he fell asleep, listening to the music you downloaded onto the player. Jungkook kept walking, thanking whoever was responsible for him ending up with you. While he was walking he realised, that there was your old dancing studio on the way. He remembered the time, where the teacher didn't come to your house and someone had to drive you here, your mother never wanted to do it, so she hired a private trainer for you, who came over. Sometimes he would even pick you up from school, so you could immediately start practicing; those were the days when you were too tired to even wave Jungkook who was living in the shed in your garden. You told him that having a private teacher had a lot of pros, seeing as the teacher had his whole attention on you, but that also meant that you couldn't dance with you friends anymore or have a group play, from that point on, you always danced alone. Jungkook stopped at the window of the studio, watching the children dance. As he continued to walk, he saw someone dance in the back. Jungkooks eyes grew big, that was a hybrid dancing. He tried to make out what kind of hybrid though, probably cat by the way he elegantly jumped, his bushy tail helping him keeping the balance, but a beanie covered his ears, so he wasn't 100% sure. Before he could continue to walk, Jungkook saw how an elderly man came up to the hybrid, starting to yell at him. Jungkook couldn't tell what they were talking about, but he guessed it was about the hybrids dance, because the man kept showing him with gestures what the hybrid should do. The hybrid said something; his tail was slowly swaying from side to side, meaning he was getting angry. Jungkook had his fair share of meet and greets with stray cats, so he knew when to back off. The man didn't apparently, because faster than Jungkook could track the movements of the man’s hand was the hybrids face slapped and turned to the side. The man had slapped him, the hybrid stood stiff. Jungkook didn't know what happened next, because something wet hit him, then again. He looked up to see dark clouds forming in the sky, he cursed and started to walk quickly to the store, knowing you didn't like him being out when it rains or starts to get dark. As he arrived at the shop he pulled out the shopping list you wrote him and he marvelled again how pretty your handwriting was. He grabbed the veggies that you needed for dinner tomorrow and decided he would try to prepare steak again. The last time he tried to make it, it ended up being really though and he couldn't even chew it properly. He grabbed to already cut steaks, in case he would ruin one again and headed to the next aisle. The shelf in front of him was full with protein and weight loss powders, how was he supposed to know what to buy. He sighed and texted you, if you had any specific wishes. While he waited for your reply he continued to stroll through the market, grabbing some snacks, dips and frozen berries that you could use to make smoothies with. When you didn't answer after ten minutes he decided to just grab something himself. He studied the content of the boxes and compered them, because he still didn't want to just grab anything, when it was you who would consume it. Jungkook was a bit worried and annoyed when you didn't even answer, after he was already on his way back home. It didn't help his mood that the rain was still pouring down. Jungkook pulled his hood deeper, regretting that he bought so much, that he was now carrying five shopping bags. It was starting to get dark and there was almost no one on the streets, that why Jungkook was surprised to see someone sitting on the ground. He scoffed at first, why would someone sit outside in the ground while it was raining. When he walked closer he recognised that the building the person was sitting in front of was your old dance studio. And then he realised who that person was, it was the hybrid who got slapped. Next to him a small bag and Jungkook put two and two together, not thinking much before coming to a halt in front of the hybrid. The hybrid immeasurable looked up, hissing at Jungkook and Jungkook quickly understood why. His hood covered his ears and the rain probably washed most of his scent away. He slowly pulled his hood down, revealing his bunny ears and the hybrids position changed. "What do you want?" asked the hybrid a bit annoyed, but Jungkook didn't let himself be irritated by that, he had seen that the hybrid had a bad day. "I- I was wondering if you are alright? I saw you dancing earlier. I also saw what that man did." Jungkook didn't sound as confident as he wanted to, but while he was speaking he realised that he had no idea what he was even doing. The hybrids eye grew wide, "You saw?" Jungkook felt guilty as he looked into the hybrids eyes. Should he have done something? He couldn't have just walked in there and told the man off, maybe if he was a human, but not as a hybrid, he would have been probably slapped too. "Yeah.. I was passing by when I saw. Did he kick you out?" Jungkooks eyes landed on the bag next to the hybrid, "Gee, what gave you that impression?" the hybrid scoffed sarcastic, but quickly caught himself, "He was unsatisfied with my dancing for a while now, I guess me talking back didn't really help my cause. Who knows, maybe he's right" the way the hybrid talked remembered him of you, before his mind told him otherwise his heart already spoke for him. "Do you want a place to stay? It's supposed to be raining all week. Trust me; it’s not fun looking for shelter in the rain." The hybrid narrowed his eyes, looking for a sign, that this could be a trap, but he only found Jungkooks sincere eyes. The hybrids gaze softened and he agreed, he too thought it would be hard to find a place to sleep, so when a nice bunny hybrid offered shelter he wouldn't say no. "Great!" Jungkook smiled his bunny smile, "I'm Jungkook, by the way. And since we have the same destination, how about you take one or two of the shopping bags?" The hybrid stood up and Jungkook smiled as he saw, that the man in front of him was smaller than him. The hybrid pulled off his hat, combed quickly through his blond hair and put the beanie back one. Jungkook saw that the hybrid in front of him a cat was, which should have made him feel unsafe, but right now Jungkook could only focus on his dripping wet clothes. It must have been an hour since he left you at home and you also still didn't text back. The cat took some bags, before looking at Jungkook, "I'm Jimin" The men walked in a quick pace back to your home, doing some light small talk. "You're older than me? But you are soo small" Jungkook exclaimed, earning an evil glance from the man next to him which made him shut up real quick. They didn't have long till they reached the house when Jimin spoke up again, "So your owner..." Jimin realised that Jungkooks owner probably didn’t sent him out to get groceries and a new hybrid, he didn’t want the younger one to get in trouble, but when he saw a loving smile growing on the bunny’s face he relaxed a bit. "Oh y/n! She's amazing, she'll be surprised when she sees us both, but I'll talk to her. She won't mind you staying with us, we have more than enough room at the house" Jimin wondered how the house would look like if Jungkook said, that the house was big. His last owner lived in the tiny flat above the dance studio, so Jimin couldn't imagine how a spacious house would look like. Now that he saw Jungkook up close he recognised that the clothes he wore were from pretty big and expensive fashion labels. Jimin couldn't deny it, Jungkook was pretty handsome, he could imagine how the bunny would look under him. "It's just around the corner", Jungkook said and Jimin looked at his surroundings, they were definitely in the more wealthy part of town and Jimin started to think about how you would be. Jungkook said you were amazing, maybe you were a lawyer or a business woman, and you were probably pretty busy if you sent Jungkook for groceries. He imagined a woman in her thirties maybe, you would have to be pretty rich to be here. Jungkook opened the gate to the house and Jimin looked amazed. It was a two story building, not necessarily a mansion, but big enough that Jimin understood why Jungkook said, that space isn't an issue. They walked through the front door to be met by silence. "She's probably sleeping" Jungkook said as he took off his shoes and Jacket, telling Jimin he would take his Jacket so they could dry it. Jungkook explained Jimin were the kitchen was and asked him to put the groceries there while he sorted out their drenched jackets. Jimin was amazed as he walked through the house, almost scared to get to close things in case he broke them. There was a sculpture in the entrance hall that he was sure cost more than his last owner would make in a year. He looked at the pictures in the hall, almost everyone had a small girl in it, he decided that this was probably the daughter of y/n. He smelled the place, but Jungkooks was the most prominent, though he could make out something sweet, which alone gave him a comfortable feeling already. "Yah, you're slow" came Jungkook from behind, carrying the rest of the bags. They quickly sorted the food in the kitchen, well more like Jungkook did that and Jimin was amazed by how many things they had in the kitchen. "Okay, you should meet y/n real quick then you can have a shower", Jungkook said looking at the older who nodded, a bit nervous. There was a chance that you would tell him to go, he looked out the window, it just stopped raining, but that would only be for today. "She should be in the living room, I looked in the bedroom already" Jungkook mumbled and walked with big steps to the next room, only to find it empty. Jungkook groaned and threw his head back, exposing his neck, hut Jimin shouldn't focus on that, y/n was missing apparently. Not for long though, because the second Jungkook saw the open garden door he huffed annoyed. "She better pray she only just went out now and did not fall asleep in the rain. I swear to god" there were a few more curse words and Jimin looked at Jungkook, why would he talk like that about his owner? It's not like the bunny could actually do something. But Jimin was even more confused when Jungkook came back with the girl from the pictures. That couldn't be y/n the owner, you were so young. Your sweet scent filled the room, but it didn't match your whiny tone or Jungkooks mad face. "Kookie", you whined, curling further into his arms, as he was carrying you, your clothes were wet. You had fallen asleep on the Hollywood swing and had luck, that it was partially covered, so you weren't completely exposed to the rain. "Don't 'Kookie' me, baby. I told you to be good didn't I? And where to I find you? Outside, completely soaked and asleep" Jimin turned his head to fast he swore he got whiplash. 'Baby'?! Jimin had the feeling this wasn't really an owner-pet situation, the way Jungkook spoke, even if it was low, because you were still sleepy, made Jimin want to drop to his knees. Which would never happen of course, seeing as A) Jungkook obviously already had someone and B) Park Jimin would never fall to his knees to submit to someone. You opened your eyes to look up to Jungkook and pouted, "I was good. I was reading, it's not my fault I fell asleep, I wasn't planning on it" Jungkook chuckled quietly at how whiny you sounded at the aspect of not being a good girl. He quickly kissed you, forgetting the cat that was looking with big eyes, only as he sat you down, he realised he should maybe make you aware of your new guest. "Baby, there is something I should tell you. On the way back, there was a small incident, that lead me to take a hybrid with me" he carefully watched your reaction, while Jungkook was pretty much in charge, this was still your house and in a way he only had power because you let him. He knew with other people it wouldn't be like that. You blinked slowly, "Wait a hybrid? Another bunny?" you asked him, before your eyes found Jimin and quickly realised, that he was not a bunny. "He has nowhere to go, baby. You know we have enough room", Jungkook continued and you nodded, "A serious incident?" You asked and both men nodded. "Okay, stay as long as you need. I'm y/n" A smile grew on both men’s faces and the cat quickly introduced himself as Jimin. After that you and Jungkook showed him his new room and the bathroom he could use, before leaving him on his own. In your shared bedroom you removed your clothes, shivering in the cold, quickly jumping into the shower with Jungkook, who started to massage shampoo in your hair. You lean back and enjoy the sensation, "Such a good girl" he praised, "Letting someone in need stay here. My little dancer has such a big heart. Love you" you didn't know, why he was thanking you for letting Jimin stay, as if you would let him back on the streets. You smiled up at him, "My big bunny saved him in the first place didn't he?" you asked, only to sneeze immediately after, Jungkook groaned. "Of course now you're getting sick. Because you just had to fall asleep in the rain", he complained, but you both knew that in the end he didn't mind taking care of you.
Next 
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raptured-night · 4 years ago
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Hi - I hope you don't mind me querying this - and also that you've not answered it before but you mention at least 3 times in that massive 'Severus doesn't deserve redemption' thread that following the werewolf prank, Dumbledore threatens Severus with expulsion if he reveals Remus as a werewolf... Can you point me in the direction of where that information is shared? Is it the pensive in book 7 or..?
Hello! 
First, allow me to apologize for the delay in my response. I’ve been on a temporary hiatus from Tumblr due to an increased work-load. I keep trying to get back into the swing of it but work has left me a bit foggy and not as up for the lengthy meta I enjoy writing. As I like to produce meta of quality, I mostly have just been popping on Tumblr sporadically and I sometimes miss things like this. 
Explanation out of the way, in Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, Chapter 18 when Remus Lupin is attempting to fill Harry, Ron, and Hermione in on everything he is the one to bring up Snape and their history together at Hogwarts. He notes Snape had opposed his appointment to the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor because he suspected he was in league with Sirius Black and didn’t trust him, in large part because he believed Lupin had been in on the “prank.” It is then that he reveals that Snape had been forbidden after the incident to speak of it to anyone by Dumbledore. 
Essentially, Dumbledore capitalized on his authority as Headmaster to secure Snape’s silence because (1. if it got out that Remus was a werewolf and the lengths that he went to allow him to attend Hogwarts as Headmaster (i.e. planting the Whomping Willow and keeping his condition a secret from other students and their parents) it would give his enemies (e.g. Voldemort) an opportunity to remove him from the school and (2. Remus would have been forced out of the school as well as a consequence of Sirius’s “prank.” So, ultimately Dumbledore had a difficult choice and that would have colored Snape’s perception of his situation at Hogwarts. While we can step back and appreciate the strategic necessity of ensuring Snape did not expose a secret that could not only ruin a student who had also been made a victim in that situation but also weaken Dumbledore’s position in the ongoing war, Snape would only have seen what seemed a clear case of institutional bias so extreme other classmates/bullies could make an attempt on his life and the highest figure of authority at the school would still protect them seemingly because they are of the same house as the Headmaster. 
I try not to paint Dumbledore in too dark a light because I do see the reasoning behind his choice; however, I also think he could have handled the situation more evenly and it might have at least given Snape a little more reason to believe the system wasn’t quite so rigged against him (thus making him more vulnerable to the kind of indoctrination and grooming that often leads angry and disenfranchised youth to join gangs, cults, extremist organizations, become radicalized, etc.). At least some consequences for Sirius’s actions would have gone a long way yet canon only tells us that Snape was forbidden to speak about a traumatic experience by Dumbledore personally (i.e. as the victim of an attempt on his life he is the only one singled out for any administrative action) and his meltdown many years later as a man in his thirties is a painful glimpse into the way a bullied child forbidden to vocalize their trauma or have it validated can have a lasting impact on a person’s psyche. 
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crowleyellestair · 5 years ago
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Could you write a Geralt x healer!reader where she is tagging along with Geralt & Jaskier. Over the time she has spent tending to his wounds and on occasion, saving him, Geralt begins to develop feelings for her but he doesn’t understand them (obvs) so he pushes it aside. But on one particularly awful part of their trek, she falls through some ice and plot twist! He has to save her now. The terror he feels when seeing her so close to death makes him realise what she means to him🥺
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AN// Had fun writing this!! Let me know if you want a part 2!
Masterlist
 Jaskier was the one to convince Geralt that she would be a great asset to their team. The Witcher could hear the bard’s voice ringing in his head as he sat there in silence. His chin was laying on his clasped hands that were propped on his knees. Geralt hadn’t left that spot in roughly a day and he was willing to stay for as long as he needed to. He scolded himself, hating that his mind replayed the bards voice on loop.
“The Dynamic Duo turned Terrific Trio,” was said with as much gusto as Jaskier could muster. Geralt had rolled his eyes at the comment, but didn’t disagree. Jaskier was known to leave him for periods of time to focus on monopolizing the music community in any given area. Geralt had just assumed at the time that the same would be said for Y/n. He knows now that that was a fatal mistake.
He had been convinced she wouldn’t be a burden as their first encounter had involved her saving him. It was a ‘wrong-place-worst-time’ scenario that she had quite literally walked into. Y/n had left the apothecary through the back door and into a skirmish that was forced onto the man. Some radical townsfolk had thought it wise to try and pick a fight with the ‘abomination’ known as Geralt, and normally he would have been fine. But it was seven against one in hand to hand combat. Geralt couldn’t use a weapon to dispatch them, as that would fuel the rest of the town to take arms against him as well. He had taken out five, but the sixth member was really sucking his attention.
The woman had walked into their fight, the ruffian pushing her out of the way and onto the ground. Geralt gave a look, showing that using force against her had pushed a moral line of his. He laid a hit directly on the man’s nose, and he stumbled back far enough for Geralt to turn to finish off the last man. Y/n had regained her bearings, and noticed the sixth wasn’t completely taken care of. He quietly stalked up behind the Witcher, pulling out a small shive. Geralt had taken care of the last man, but she knew he wouldn’t turn fast enough to catch the aggressor. She jutted her leg out in front of the radical, effectively tripping him. He let out a loud gasp and he threw the knife rom his hand to safely catch himself. Geralt had finished him off before giving a silent look towards her.
They had stayed there in silence for a moment, Geralt breathing heavy and looking down at his surprise savior. She rolled her eyes before pushing herself off the ground.
“No, thank you for needing help.” Her hands went down to pat the dust and dirt off her pants. She let out a soft curse as she swung her satchel forward, taking inventory and praying none of the vials had gotten broken. Geralt just watched with a quirked brow before releasing a mechanical and awkward,
“No, thank you?” Her gaze snapped to him, giving a genuine, humor filled smile.
“You’re welcome. Safe travels.” She gave a halfhearted, friendly salute before walking away. Jaskier had pushed himself from his hiding spot, clearly and loudly criticizing the warrior.
“Geralt, that was plain rude. Even a cute girl can’t get you to show gratitude. You truly are lost sometimes.” Geralt had given a displeased, guttural noise in response.
 They had met again when he was given the task to liberate a small camp from a horde of wraiths. It was a few towns over, about a month from when they first met. He had been outnumbered tenfold, and when it seemed that he was exhausted and losing, a loud crash could be heard. His amber gaze raked the floor, finding four broken vials and a material quickly going airborne. He held his breath, but the odd shimmer was all too familiar. At first, he was impressed, thinking it was the bard who had come to aid, but when he turned to find the woman from before, he was taken aback.
His surprised gaze was met with an expecting one, and when he didn’t move, he finally heard the melodic voice that he couldn’t let go since the first encounter.
“Are you going to finish them off, or did I throw those in vain?” He had shifted immediately into action, swinging his sword and delivering fatal blows. He had sheathed his weapon as she approached with two empty vials in hand. She crouched down, gathering wraith dust in them, before straightening and meeting his gaze again.
“Why are you here?” He was confused at her innocent gaze and gesture to the vials. She had shown knowledge of dispersing dark creatures, and yet, she stood before him with purity in her eyes. She shrugged as her nonverbal reply didn’t receive a continuation of conversation.
“I didn’t think there would be twenty, I thought there would be like two. I was planning on using the bombs, pierce them with my sword, then collect the remains. I need it to help relieve a boy who caught yellow fever. I’m a healer, you see.” He gave a hum of acknowledgement and he started to walk back into the direction of town. When she followed, he gave only a questioning side glance. “Well, we both need to get back to town, so why not walk together? I didn’t catch your name before.” It was a fib, as she had heard Jaskier that day, but she wanted to hear him say it.
“That’s because I didn’t give it.” He was being honest, but quickly felt a tinge of guilt, as the phrase is usually used in a dismissive and rude context. She scoffed, and he gave her another side glance.
“Okay, that’s a little much. Heroes shouldn’t be shown such an attitude, but I’ll let it slide, Bartholomew.” Geralt fully looked to her, eyes furrowed. She matched his gaze with a playful smile. “Well, I need to call you something. Especially since it seems like you are my personal ‘damsel in destress’.” He looked forward, but after a moment, a quiet “Geralt,” passed his lips.
Her smile grew and gave a curt nod of content. They walked in a comfortable silence back to town, Jaskier waiting for his friend right outside of the tavern for his friend to return. When his gaze fell on Y/n, he looked to Geralt and smirked.
“Well, if it isn’t the lovely lady you failed to fully thank from before.” He grabbed her hand, bringing it up to place a kiss on her knuckles. “Let me give you thanks for him- tenfold because of the delay.” She laughed, but Geralt was surprised to find the usual blush women had to the bard’s tactics was missing from her cheeks. It seemed to him that she genuinely found Jaskier’s attempts funny. She dropped her hand, and smiled.
“Charming, but I’m going to have to pass.” She gave a polite and small bow to the bard. She turned to bid them a farewell, when Jaskier’s voice shrilled out of worry and surprise.
“Geralt, you’re hurt- how’d you get hurt?” Y/n’s gaze shot up to meet the man’s, before looking him over. Her brows drew in confusion, but she then stalked to the other side of him and lifted his arm. Her brows flew and her hands started pressing and prodding, trying to assess the damage. Gently dropping his arm, she gripped his wrist.
“Follow me back to my tent, I can patch you up.” She looked down; her next expression spoken in a hushed tone. “Why didn’t you tell me after I mentioned I was a healer?” Geralt threw a glare at Jaskier who shrugged, but returned a stern look. When Geralt looked back to the woman, who was solely absorbed in his injury, his gaze slightly softened.
She had never marveled or spat at the fact that he was a Witcher. Anyone who dare call themselves a healer knows about Witchers. They were born of magic, science and pharmaceuticals and revolutionary to the world of alchemy. Nothing she said was ever borne of awe or disgust. The only things to fall out of her mouth were friendly jests and inquiries. Even Jaskier wasn’t passive about Geralt’s true nature.
And since they first met, he hadn’t forgotten those facts.
So, when he caught his gaze softening, he was confused. This was the second time they had met, and the man had already lost self-control over his expressions around her? Geralt thought it uncomfortable, to say the least. His gaze hardened again, explaining,
“I don’t need help. I’m a Witcher.” Her gaze shot back to his again with an unconvinced and uncaring look.
“I can see that. The wound is deep- I won’t make you pay if that’s what you’re worried about.” That too confused him more, making him try to dissociate from the situation.
“I heal faster than humans. I’ll be fine.” He watched as she rolled her eyes and dropped his writ. Y/n planted her hands on her hips, puffing out her chest.
“Fine. I am looking to hire a Witcher to escort me back to my tent. As I am a healer, the only payment I can give is tending to wounds.” He squinted his eyes, the only reaction he could muster from the confusing emotions swirling inside.
“I decline. There is no danger here.” She leaned in, matching his squint with one of her own.
“I heard wraiths were running rampant in these parts.”
“Luckily for you, I just took care of the horde. You should be safe getting to your destination.”
“Unlucky for both of us, you didn’t let me finish. I heard men were also quite despicable here, just like every adjacent town. I heard you had a run in a month ago, so you should understand where a simple woman, like me, is coming from.” Geralt was impressed- and so was Jaskier for that matter. He didn’t know how, but this was definitely worming its way into a song or poem.
 Geralt hadn’t known that, when she successfully convinced him, he would be convinced again and again for the following year. After Jaskier’s suggestion on their third run in, Y/n stayed with the boys to travel. Geralt often gave up his bed roll for her or let her come along to hunts without argument only because he just did. He simply let it happen. He didn’t know why or when it started, but he never thought about doing it when he made these decisions. Geralt seemed to stop thinking when she was around, and all he had left were his instincts. It seemed to him that instincts said to bathe her with temporal affection. He hadn’t tried- no, hadn’t wanted to dwell on the meaning behind the instincts. He had reflected on how it never got to the extreme level it was at, ever with Jaskier. And he was sure Jaskier would be jealous if he really knew how much Geralt spoiled Y/n, in his own way, of course. The only other person to make him have this effect was… Yen. But he constantly thought about his feelings with Yennifer, and how if they did stay together, it would be too toxic. It would implode at any second, and Geralt didn’t have the inner strength to go through that.
Time and time again, Y/n saved Geralt in more ways than one. She would help out when he found himself stuck in battle, she would tend to his every wound, and she would keep him company even if all they did was sit in silence. He had just assumed that this was the making of a true friend, and he never dwelled on it passed that line of logic.
The trio had split up earlier in the week, Jaskier staying in Aar Carraigh. Y/n was planning on travelling to Aedd Gynvael, a fort close to Kaer Morhen, so they could continue traveling once winter had passed. The fort wasn’t too far past Kaer Morhen, so Geralt had offered to escort her there safely, especially since the terrain was treacherous. It was only a week into winter, but since they were so far north, ice and snow covered everything the eye could see. The only way to the fort from Aar Carraigh, where they had dropped the bard off, was to pass over Gwenllech River.
It was complete ice, and the crossing bridge was too far out of the way to get to in a timely manner. The two were doing great until something hit the ice from under them.
“What could have possibly done that?” Y/n’s tone was short and tense. Her arms were held out for balance, and her feet splayed. Her eyes were pinned to Geralt, who was trying to decide what it was. Sadly, he couldn’t come to a conclusion.
“It doesn’t matter. We only have a couple feet left.” She nodded and took a step towards the other side. The ice ratted again, and to keep her balance, she had to slide back, out of Geralt’s reach. From this pressure from under, the ice began to crack. Geralt knew he’d be fine on his own, but Y/n would need to carefully pass over the unsafe terrain. While he was confident in her, he wsn’t confident in the surface. He couldn’t pass to help her as one pass could break the ice, and they wouldn’t be able to get back over. Or, if it was structurally sound then, both of their weight passing over it surely would send them into the water. Gwenllech wasn’t known to be a passive body, and there most likely was a fierce current.
It seemed to the Witcher that Y/ had realized she was on her own by the look of terror on her face. She swallowed hard and looked down to the cracks. Geralt reached an arm out in a comforting way while trying to meet her gaze.
“Look to me, and only me. It will be easier that way.” She nodded with her eyes closed and took a deep breath. Her eyes, which the Witcher had grown quite fond of, instantly found his. She didn’t lift her feet off of the surface, slowly and gently making shuffling movements to close the distance.
Geralt hadn’t blinked- he wouldn’t dream of breaking the eye contact, but in a second she was gone. His gaze dropped just a hair too slow to find her body disappearing under the ice. Luckily, she had known to throw her arms up, instead of trying to catch herself. He was there in an instant, his hand piercing the water’s surface, and grasping her outstretched hand. He pulled her out as fast as she went in, but it was enough to have the ill of winter set in her bones. Being closer to Kaer Morhen, he simply brought her there.
Eskel would pop in every hour to check on Geralt in his quarters, but Geralt refused to leave the room. So, they sat and chatted, the brunette trying to get the significance of the girl out of the ashen haired one. Geralt saw Eskel as a brother, but he had yet to figure it out himself, only telling him it was complicated. Lambert had caught that end, pestering him, trying to understand if it was like the Yennifer situation.
Geralt had felt sour discussing the witch with Y/n in the room. The only emotion he could pin it closest to would be guilt. But why would he feel guilty? It wasn’t lost on him that she went out of her way to tend to Geralt’s every need. He was sure that if he were to receive a paper cut, she would still give him full treatments. Y/n had a pure heart, treating everyone to the best of her abilities, but it had never reached the level it had with anyone else. She would help Jaskier with blisters and callouses from playing his lute for too long, but he knew that if Jaskier would receive a paper cut, she would probably jest, and go they’d all about their day. Jaskier knew this too, constantly giving him nudges and suggestive shoulder or brow raises when Y/n would do something that qualified as ‘cute’. And it wasn’t that she hadn’t done something that qualified as that because she did- every damn day, just by being herself.
Friends could think the other is cute, dote on their every movement, and instinctively give them all the other had to offer, right?
Right?
Fuck.
 When Y/n had woken up, the first thing to catch her eyes were the wall to wall decorations. Different skulls and pelts were found littering every space of them. She would most likely find it off putting if her senses weren’t being berated by her favorite scent: Geralt. It was leather, metal and celandine flowers. Most wouldn’t assume that from a Witcher, but he was constantly around them as they were ingredients for a lot of the potion’s Y/n would make for him. They didn’t have an overbearing or really distinct scent; she was only familiar since she worked so closely with it. Y/n wouldn’t have it any other way, being convinced that no other scent would match him best.
When she shifted to her elbows, her eyes continued to inspect the place. She sort-of jumped in place when she spotted the crown of white hair at the base of the bed. Geralt hadn’t been facing her, and had settled on his knees to meditate. She felt bad, assuming this was his room. The only place he ever really considered a permanent home. And she was taking up his bed. Y/n pushed out to find that she wasn’t wearing her clothes. A Geralt-size shirt hung low enough to cover her small clothes. A blush crept up her neck, and she looked to the bed. The only disturbance was where she left from the middle of the bed. There was a mountain of blankets and a fire raged in the corner of the room in a small hearth. The moments before her passing out rushed to her, and it all fell into place.
Walking in front of Geralt, but a few paces out of reach, she called to him. She had learned that touching him or being too close alarmed him, as all he could process was something disturbing him. And while he didn’t have a ‘swing first, ask questions later’ mentality, it would still be jarring.
His amber eyes opened to her, and it immediately raked up and down her form. She thought she made it up when she heard a faint grunt of approval, but he small smile that graced him when their eyes met, told her otherwise.
Y/n felt her stomach drop when his smile wiped from his face. He felt that twinge of guilt again seeing her tense, but it suddenly came across Geralt that somehow, he would have to tell her his feelings.
Fuck.
 Part 2 is up - Called Geralt's Problem
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