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evilminji · 3 months

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You know all those Cults in Gotham?

Bet at least ONE of them could spring for both a Legit Magic User and a Cloning pod.

Because The Wayne's? Hearts of Gold. Long standing pains in the asses. Probably the only thing standing between this gods forsaken wasteland of a city and Their Dark Lord. For GENERATIONS no less!

It's sooooo obnoxious!

So they want to Curse Um dead. Just a good ol fashioned bloodline curse. Destroy um from within, etc. BUT! To do THAT? You kinda need a blood relative to sacrifice!

And Bruce is... well... rather infamously An Orphan With No Biological Kids (at that point).

So? What do you do? Make one, obviously. You send in some of your own on a Holy Mission. Honeypot that playboy! Get us a kid to sacrifice! Our God will reward you etc! But... FFS! What? Are brunettes not your TYPE or something?! Pretty lady! Throwing herself at you!!

TAKE THE BAIT!

But he DOESN'T. Because he's both really used to that behavior, as The Wayne Heir and a False Playboy, AND because? He's fuckin Batman. He can see through your schemes.

Okay.

Okay!

Plan B!

Get us some DNA. We'll CLONE the sucker. That should be doable, right?

........OH COME ON! How?!

Batman: [REDACTED] / Cultists: 0

Fuck it! This is impossible! How are we supposed too... *eyes drift over to the Wayne Family Private Graveyard* .......Idea? Ideeeeaaaa~! Someone get us a shovel!

So they, cultist bastards that they are? Fuckin rob a grave for some DNA.

OBVIOUSLY though, it can't be one of the more RECENT graves! He probably VISITS those! Watches them! No we gotta be SNEAKY! Get one a bit further back! Mwahahahaha! We're so brilliant! Our God is gonna give us SUCH a Good Grade in follower!

A thing that is both REAL and possible to achieve!

So, while a Weirdly FURIOUS Batman? Is just... VIOLENTLY breaking ALL of their bones? Cultist 17 is furiously digging like his life depends on it. Either somebody snitched or Batman was hunting them down! Either way?

Gotta! Get! That! DNA!!! *digs faster*

Ah HA! Got it!

Fucking SCATTER! Run you fools, RUN!!! *everyone bolts*

And AT LAST! They have it! Wayne DNA! Now? Pop that sucker into the machine and make us a baby! Too sacrifice! *relieved noises* Man, that was hard work you guys. But we DID it!

Except??

Theoretical Babies? And "Real, slowly forming in front of me and becoming a human child" type babies? VERY DIFFERENT psychologically. It's ONE thing to sacrifice a HYPOTHETICAL baby... but when you're the guy running and monitoring the Cloning machine? Watching it slowly form and come together into... into a CHILD?

You start asking questions of yourself. Of God.

Of what, EXACTLY, you are willing to do.

What lines you find yourself unwilling to cross.

And yeah, your life was SHIT before the cult. Yeah, you were alone. Adrift. Without purpose. Angry at the world for all of its ugliness and failings. But... sitting, alone, in a dark room? Nothing but the steady hum of machines and the cool light of that pod? You are left with nothing but time... and your thoughts.

And the baby.

The one... the one YOU made.

Almost... he's almost like a son, in a way. Your son. Floating there, innocent and unknowing. Destined to be born, only to die painfully, for a cause he could not even begin to understand. Because he's too young. Too small. Just... just a baby.

The baby YOU made.

Doubt seeps in like mist. Creeping into the cracks forming in your faith. Surely there's another way, right? Why not save up for a better magician? Or... or hire a hitman? Why involve a child? Surely... surely your God would not WANT this, right? Or if He did! Surely, he would want the boy to be able to CHOOSE, right? A noble sacrifice, for the cause?

The pressure builds. Batman is tearing the city APART looking for your fellow Believers. Leadership is pressuring you to get "It" ready all ready.

He's not an "it".

They are dismissing your questions. Threatening and posturing, as you grapple with your faith. Where? Where is the COMMUNITY that you joined? The camaraderie? Every day, Believers are being torn down. The faith has lost so many!

How can this be WORTH it?

Your faith is slowly, cruelly, strangled in your chest. A death, by ten thousand silences, and ten thousand more cruelties.

Your son is ready.

You do not tell them.

The Clone of Bruce Wayne's great-grandfather is small, but healthy, in your arms. A tiny warm body, with a strong beating little heart. You call the police. Leave your phone, call running, on the desk. No one thinks to stop you, as you calmly walk out the back door.

Why would they doubt?

You are Faithful.

You drive. Pray to a God you have lost faith in, beg forgiveness for what you do now. Your beat up old junker of a car makes decent time, as you leave Gotham. Your son, asleep in a carefully made nest of blankets, on the seat next to you. You drive. You keep driving.

Past towns.

Past cities.

Out of the state.

Stopping only to feed your son and fuel your car. You... you can not bring yourself to care about what will happen to you now. You know they will find you. Know this is the end. But something ancient burns in your chest. A caring you never thought was REAL.

You are afraid.

But you will not let them harm your son.

Finally, a town. Far from Gotham. Quite and cheerful. It calls to you.

Here. It... it has to be here.

You find the hospital. Tears choking you. There is a place to drop of children. You've seen them before. How strange, that now you stand before it and HURT. Your arms not listening to your command. You... you have to do this. You HAVE too.

He is just a baby.

He is your son.

You have to keep him safe. And... and that can not be with you.

You gently put your baby boy into the drop off. Press the buzzer. And then? You make yourself walk away.

Get back in your car, and drive. The gun in your glove box will insure they can never pry from you, what you have done. Where he is. He is safe now. He has to be. You... you did your job. As his father. You made sure he was safe.

You can barely see the road, through your tears.

You take your secrets to the grave.

And Danny? He grows up. Is adopted young and never knows different. Both a Fenton and a Wayne. Knowing only one of these, to be his. But... that Wayne? Was a damn fine man. A pillar of his community and a champion of the people.

Got tossed more then a few blessings, in his life.

They weren't the STRONGEST. But they added up. And more importantly? Were hardly the refined magics of the more powerful. They were cast onto "Him". By blood and bone, more often then not. Which was all well and good!

When there was only ONE of "Him".

Cloning technology did not exsist. So why would you word carefully against it? Danny becomes a VERY lucky boy. Survives many things he should not. In fact, the kindness and hard work of his original? Gifted back in magically powered well wishes? By this, he survives something NO ONE could possibly expect him too.

It saves his life.

His template would be quite pleased, knowing that. That his life of good deeds, saved the life of the child he never got a chance to meet. That it protected his children, from even beyond death.

And in Gotham? At long, long last. The program Bruce made in his helplessness and despair, to search EVERY child until the child made of his bloodline was found? Spits out a match.

A Watchtower engineer.

Daniel J. Fenton.

@hdgnj @hypewinter @lolottes @babbling-babull @nerdpoe @mutable-manifestation

#dpxdc #dp x dc #dc x dp #dcxdp #dc x dp prompt #danny phantom #that baby is my great grandpa! au #spice up the cloning au #minji's writing

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fangswbenefits · 6 months

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The Arrangement (3) - Inconvenience

Chapter summary: It is poetic irony that sharing a prison cell with Astarion is what eventually gets the two of you attempting to have a much needed conversation...

Pairing: Astarion x female!Tav

Warnings: 18+. Poison sucking. Blood. Angst.

Word count: 3.5k

Previous chapter . Series Masterlist . Ao3

"You're bleeding."

"I know."

"It's distracting."

"Then look away."

He scoffed. "I can smell it."

It really wasn't a desirable occurrence to end up in one of Baldur's Gate's prisons. The last time you had the displeasure of descending into one was to liberate Gortash's victims from the Iron Throne Prison.

You had rarely been on the side that needed rescuing.

But fate worked in strange ways and had you thrown into a cold and rusty cell, trying to figure out how you ended up in this situation to begin with.

The torches scattered along the pillars of stone outside the cell provided little to no sufficient light, and it only added to the looming sense of dread.

Ripping a scrap of cloth from your clothing, you wrapped it firmly around the bleeding slash across your wrist.

Astarion sat across from you, eyeing your every move with a faint smile on his lips.

"You could have just run away, you know," you began, bringing your knees up to your chin with a sigh. "You are immune to Sleep spells."

He scoffed again with an eye-roll. "Please. I allowed myself to get caught. Gods know you could use the help."

The throb in your head intensified and you winced as discomfort tore through your body, as his words hit you.

"What help? We're both trapped inside," you ground out in annoyance.

He lifted a finger. "That, my dear, is merely an inconvenience. I am quite sure I'd be able to lockpick our way out of this."

The damp-scented mattress underneath you squeaked as you leaned against the ragged wall. "Using what? Your fangs?"

Astarion clicked his tongue. "Creative, but no. I just need to find anything to help me get through that lock." He rose to his feet and moved to inspect the sturdy door with attentive eyes.

As promising as it sounded, you knew deep down that it wouldn't be an easy feat. The guards had stripped both of you down to only your shirts and trousers, and removed anything deemed too creative.

Besides, this whole ordeal had to be a misunderstanding of sorts. It would be wise to, at least, get some enlightenment.

"Maybe we should just wait for Wyll."

He turned to you, a touch of disbelief crossing his face. "His guards put us here, in case you need a reminder."

"We did nothing wrong," you said, clutching on to reason. "We are not criminals. It's all a misunderstanding, I'm sure."

Whether it was a case of you trying to believe your own words, or because there was truth to them, remained to be seen.

As a sorcerer, it would be rather easy to blast through the cell door and be done with it, but you would only entertain that option as a last resort.

"Well, I suppose it could be worse," he said in resignation, curious fingers still prodding the lock. "At least, they didn't shove us in a cell with windows."

The lack of any opening to the outside had made it hard for you to keep track of time, but given the silence and snores from the inhabitants in the adjacent cells, you reckoned the sun had yet to rise.

Astarion would be safe from its scorching rays, for the time being.

You felt something trickling down your wrist, and upon closer inspection, you realised the cloth around it was soaked with your blood.

Odd.

Astarion was still very much entertained with the hinges and structure of the cell door to take notice of your finding.

You quickly brought another rag torn from your cloak and wrapped even tighter over the existing one, applying as much pressure as you could withstand through the pain.

Very odd.

He was now squatting down, taking a closer look at the lock, fingers tugging and rattling the device.

A true rogue at heart.

"Or, I could be sharing this cell with someone far less entertaining – like Gale," he continued. "I'd just beg the guards for a stake to rid myself of my misery."

He finished off with a dramatic laugh, but you found yourself scowling deeply.

"Can you give Gale some credit where it's due? He's helping you out."

His narrowed crimson eyes met yours. "By 'helping' you mean what, exactly? Cooking abhorrent meals and reading books that would put a screeching babe to sleep? Hardly helpful, darling."

You decided to fully ignore his taunt as patience slipped from your tired mind.

"He's going to Waterdeep in a fortnight to speak with someone willing to help out with the Wish spell," you informed as calmly as possible. "I was on my way to tell you that a couple of hours ago before… well, this happened."

His features eased and he rose to his full height, his undivided attention on you.

"Truly? That sounds promising, I suppose," he said, folding his arms. "And here I thought you were simply longing for my company. My apologies, darling."

He wasn't entirely wrong, but you would never let him know.

Suddenly, the sound of metal shrieking echoed throughout the room, and a jab of pain drummed steadily in your head.

"Wake up, you loiter-sacks!" One of the guards yelled.

Pandemonium ensued.

A wave of groggy protests were heard all around. The insults and taunts came immediately after, and your eyes widened at the vulgarity of all of it, while Astarion held the most amused smile you had ever seen on him in a long while.

He truly thrived in all things chaotic.

Another voice was heard. "Shut it, will ya?! Or no food!"

It effectively subsided most of the protests, though an occasional whispered 'fucker!' slipped through the mouths of some prisoners.

Squeaking wheels of a cart came to a halt just outside your cell, and you bolted out of the mattresses, gripping the vertical metal bars.

"Can you please call for Wyll. We need to talk to him."

The grumpy man frowned. "Am just delivering food, sweetheart. Now, have yours and get back."

He shoved a bowl of what looked like powdered wood shavings. The smell was positively nauseating , and your stomach twist and turn in revulsion.

You placed your meal on the floor, not daring to take a single bite.

A laugh burst from him before he attempted doing the same to Astarion, who visibly shuddered as he dodged the man's hand.

"Ugh. I'll pass."

He snorted, grinning maliciously. "Food strikes ain't going to get you out o' here, pretty boy."

Astarion's face twisted into an outraged look, but before he could voice out a snarky remark, the same man as before was heard.

"That one's the vampire spawn."

The guard came into view, and the atmosphere in the prison cell shifted considerably. Silence took over, only broken by some vague whispers.

"Give him pig's blood."

A few gasps erupted.

"I prefer fresh blood, thank you very much," Astarion scoffed, visibly offended. "I am not feeding on scraps."

"Astarion…" you warned him lowly, not wanting things to spiral out of control.

The delivery man shrugged to the guard and pushed the food cart out of the way so he could attend to the other prisoners.

Another guard joined in, removing his helmet to take a closer look.

"Then you'll have nothing. You are in no position to make demands, spawn."

Astarion tensed by your side but merely pressed his lips as a reply.

"Thought so," the guard chuckled.

You gripped the bars tighter, earning their attention. "Tell us what we are charged with, then."

They both exchanged looks and the first one bared his teeth. "Playing dumb, are we?"

"We didn't do anything that would warrant an arrest!" You nearly yelled in frustration. "Call for Wyll, please!"

The older man leaned in with a snarl. "The Grand Duke is absent. He might return later today."

Your heart dropped.

"Might?"

He nodded in indifference. "His duties don't bend to the will of his friends."

"We didn't do anything wrong," you said in a shaky retort, pressing your forehead against the bars. "We didn't…"

"Look, not to sound ungrateful given our luxurious abode," Astarion interjected light-heartedly, gripping your shoulders to have you take a few steps away from them. "But you do know who we are, don't you?"

"We do, and you are not above the law."

"And which law did we break, if you don't mind clarifying, of course."

The older guard was clearly running out of patience. "Killing a civilian."

Your eyes shot up immediately, and your mouth dropped in shock.

Astarion spoke before you could, his voice bearing confusion. "What? We didn't kill anyone."

"We found the body in the alleyway."

You gripped the bars again. "No! I used a Sleep spell – and he wasn't a civilian! He attacked me!"

He was now dangerously close to your face. "Listen here, princess. You are both in a sticky situation, and I advise you to watch your words."

Astarion pushed you back with his arm once again. "Lay a finger on her, and you might just turn into a vampire meal."

Tension increased tenfold all of a sudden, and you could only glare at Astarion who remained unmoved and determined to hold his menacing gaze.

"Maybe you'd prefer an overground cell, hm?" The guard spat in amusement. "Having the sun to keep you company. I'm certain we'd be sweeping your ashes from the floor before midday."

An intense wave of anger burst through you, and you reached through the bars, nearly gripping one of them. "Fuck you!"

They both laughed hysterically at your failed attempt.

One of them reached for a pouch and threw a vial at you. "A healing potion. Drink it, princess. You're bleeding out."

"Unless you are to be his vampire meal."

The other guard cleared his throat. "Oh, and be on your best behaviour, and don't even think of escaping. This place is riddled with traps."

"And we have our own mages," the other glared at you.

They laughed obnoxiously loud again before turning on their feet and walking out.

You glanced at the vial in your hand, its crimson content undulating faintly.

Blood kept on seeping through the makeshift bandages around your wrist. The blood flow hadn't decreased, and a couple of droplets were dripping on the floor.

"Drink it," Astarion urged you, pulling his eyes away from the sanguine mess.

You could tell he was extremely tense all of a sudden, slowly pacing away from where you stood.

The compulsion to drink blood could be blinding at times, and you couldn't blame him for wanting to keep a distance given the current circumstances.

You quickly popped the lid off the container and downed the sweetened liquid, immediately feeling a rush of warmth coursing through your body with each pump of your heart.

Unwrapping the soaked pieces of cloth, you noticed the slash had barely healed at all, and that the blood kept pouring out.

Astarion had definitely noticed your confusion, gripping your forearm.

"Poison," he finally said upon inspecting the wound.

You stared at him wide-eyed, as the realisation hit you hard.

They had poisoned you?

"No wonder the flow didn't decrease with the potion."

Panic spread quickly. "Why would they poison me?"

"It was most likely unintentional," he concluded, smearing his thumb across the layer of blood near your wound. "They must have coated their weapons with it and slashed you by mistake."

"We need to call them for an antidote."

He shook his head. "I doubt they have one at hand – one that actually works. These idiots aren't well-versed in poisons to begin with."

Unlike him.

"What now?"

His eyes met yours. "Do you trust me?"

You stiffened, alarm bells going off in your head. He would never ask this unless… "You're about to do something questionable, aren't you?"

"Questionable, but potentially life-saving. How do you fancy your odds?"

You swallowed the lump in your throat. "What do you have in mind?"

"I will suck the poison out."

Instinctively, you tried to yank your arm from his grip. "No."

He simply glared at you. "This is your best option, darling."

You eased slightly, knowing fully well he was far more experienced in poisons than you were, and between 'bleeding out to death' and 'trusting your vampire friend who also happens to know a lot about this subject', you were far more inclined to pick the latter.

But then…

"What about you? It can be dangerous."

He chuckled in amusement. "I'm undead. Besides, I won't swallow this blood. I am vehemently against wasting yours, but exceptions must be made."

"Just… be careful."

He nodded, and you watched in awe as he brought your wrist to his lips, enclosing them around the wound. As he started off with gentle suckles, you saw the first droplets of blood dribble down from the corner of his mouth.

His touch was cold as ice, and you felt his fangs lightly press against your skin, but not hard enough to break the barrier. After all, your open wound – even if not that deep or wide – was enough to draw blood.

Somewhere along the line, his eyes fluttered shut as he held you in place, and your heart skipped a few beats.

Oddly intimate.

He parted from you not long after, all bloodied, and spitting the remainder of the warm liquid on the floor.

"What a terrible way to taint your blood," he said with a wince. "It tasted… rotten."

He then grabbed a hold of your cloak – or what was left of it – and wiped his lips and chin clean.

"Just horrid."

Under different circumstances, you would have reprimanded him for it, but it was a fair exchange.

The flow of blood had already begun to waver, and you heaved a sigh of relief.

"Are you well?"

He nodded dismissively with a shudder. "The things I do for you, honestly."

Surprisingly, that did bring a faint smile to your lips.

Even if only for a fleeting moment, you were reminded of the many perils you had faced alongside each other.

He had your back, and you had his.

No matter what.

However, It still felt grim that it took an erroneous arrest and being shoved into a prison cell to catch a glimpse of the trusting bond you once shared.

One that wasn't built on a mere transaction.

He silently eyed you for a moment, with an expression that was hard to decipher.

Then, he cleared his throat and walked over to his own mattress, placing his cloak along the length of it as a way to keep the damp at bay, before taking a seat.

Classic Astarion.

"Do you reckon I can now blame Gale for us ending up in this situation?"

You arched an eyebrow, wrapping yet another piece of cloth over your closing wound. "If anything, I should be blaming you, no? We're all doing this for you."

He shrugged with a side-smile. "Fair enough."

"I didn't kill that man… I don't get it…"

"I know you didn't, but it's not me you need to convince."

You sat down in defeat, rubbing your temple. "None of this makes sense…"

"No point in dwelling on it now," he said with a click of his tongue, inspecting his nails. "Get some rest."

You blinked. "I cannot rest in a place like this."

His eyes lifted briefly. "Darling, we've had worse."

"... and better." You mumbled.

"I'll give you the 'better' once we get out of here, then. Happy now?"

You winced at his words.

"Why do you do this?" You asked, unable to contain yourself.

He dropped his hand to the side, brows furrowed. "Do what?"

"This! This constant push and pull," you said, feeling the impulsiveness take control. "I try to have a proper conversation with you, and you just… push me away."

Astarion scoffed dramatically. "This is hardly the time or the place to be having this conversation."

"I tried to have you come stay with us… even when you're feeling more… vulnerable… you never let me in," you said in exasperation, words stinging in your throat. "You just…"

The words died in your mouth at the look he gave you.

It wasn't a look of anger or annoyance or outrage.

Just… nothing.

Like he wasn't even listening to you.

"Astarion?"

As if you had just snapped him out of his thoughts, he shook his head briefly, but didn't look in your direction.

"Go get some rest."

Had you pushed too far? He didn't sound upset, but then again, he was a master in deception whenever the situation called for it.

"Astarion…"

He was gazing out of the cell door, as if something far more interesting was worthy of his attention.

"I wasn't the one who pushed you away."

You sat up straighter, heart hammering fast against your ribcag. "Then who?"

"You did."

"What?"

He turned his head to you this time. "Don't pin this on me. You had all of me, and you chose to walk away."

A growing feeling of discomfort began to rise within you, competing with the confusion that had taken root.

And then…

Moonrise Towers.

That night.

"You didn't need a lover."

He sneered. "What about what I wanted?"

"Astarion, you–"

He immediately cut you off. "Don't. I wanted to be with you. I yearned for you like I never did for anyone else, and you chose the easy way out."

You were at a loss for words.

The conversation with Gale the day before immediately came to mind.

"Easy way out? You actually think I didn't have feelings for you back then?"

"Gods, then you should have fought for me – with me!"

He was being unreasonable. The pain of rejection had certainly seeped deeply into him, and it was now resurfacing brutally.

"And I did that! By giving you time and space. Besides, we had more pressing matters back then that required our undivided attention."

He looked back at you coolly. "How many nights did we spend thinking it would be our last?"

That caught you off guard.

"How many nights did you cry yourself to sleep, not knowing if we'd live to see another day?"

You fell silent, unsure of what to say.

"Yet you preferred having that emptiness and despair for company instead of being with me," he went on, his words were as knives that cut through you ruthlessly. "So do not lecture me about pushing others away, when you so clearly excel at that."

It took you a moment to find your voice again amidst the concoction of emotions that swirled in your head.

His accusations were unfounded. You knew this. But realising that that was how he really felt about the entire situation made you feel sadness beyond comparison.

That he mistook your altruism for selfishness.

"I did what was best for you… and for us."

You wouldn't cry.

You couldn't cry.

"And was that what you wanted?"

"What you needed mattered more than what I wanted. That's how much I cared for you," you said, voice wavering. "And I still do. Even through all your deception and lies and manipulation… you still came first."

That seemed to have taken him by surprise, and his face softened.

"You constantly mistake what you want with what you need, not even caring about the possible consequences," you went on with newfound vigour.

He scowled yet again. "I constantly cast aside what I want in favour of others."

You scoffed in disbelief. "You're not the epitome of selflessness you think you are, Astarion."

"What I want still matters!"

"If you'd done what you wanted, you would have sacrificed the souls of seven thousand spawn!" You exploded in a fit of rage.

You were met with silence.

Deafening silence.

"You would have become the Vampire Ascendant and lost yourself in the process."

After glaring at you for a while, he then had the nerve to laugh. "Maybe that would have been the better option."

A sudden wave of nausea settled in the pit of your stomach. "You don't mean that."

"Stop speaking for me," he said through gritted teeth, words dripping with poison. "I had enough of it for two hundred years under his command – stop it!"

Your mouth had dropped open, and you were left speechless.

"Oi! Lovebirds, quit the chit-chat." One of the nearby guards rattled on the metal bars with a mace. "I'm afraid marriage counselling is postponed until further notice."

The other prisoners laughed and whistled teasingly as he walked away.

Decided you were done with this conversation, you leaned back and rolled down to your side, facing the wall and fighting back the tears that had begun to roll down your cheeks.

You just couldn't stand looking at him.

Or even being near him.

You could only hope that Wyll would come back sooner rather than later, so you could finally get away from Astarion.

For good.

Disclaimer: sucking the poison from one's wound (in case of a snake bite, for example) has been discredited many decades ago. It's not really effective, and can do more harm than good, especially to the person doing the sucking. But for the purposes of this story, it works because fiction and magic and all that! Let's suspend our disbelief for a moment 😌

I don't keep taglists, so please consider adding this story to your alerts on Ao3 🩷

Next chapter: Solution

Series Masterlist . Masterlist

#astarion x female tav #astarion smut #astarion x female reader #astarion x tav #astarion x you #astarion x reader #astarion angst #astarion bg3 #astarion #astarion fanfic #astarion x mc

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thethief1996 · 3 months

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For the past 100 days, Israel has been waging a genocide campaign in Gaza without any sort of reprieve from western countries. Palestinians are suffering from a human-made famine, surpassing the scale and speed of any other famine enforced in the past 75 years. Healthcare professionals are being cornered into Rafah by constant airstrikes, sniper attacks and bombardments at hospitals, forced to leave patients and medical supplies behind. Unmaned quadcopters opened fire on the maternity and ICU unities of Al Aqsa Martyrs hospital and killed 8 civilians. Yesterday, the hospital ran out of fuel and the babies in incubators might die anytime soon. Only 127 aid trucks are being allowed into Gaza of the 500 allowed before the war, under "normal" blockade conditions. The distribution of food and water is made basically impossible by the destruction of communications and the looming threat of executions against people gathered to receive it. Just today snipers killed 3 people in line to receive food in Gaza City and Israel officials have the gall to say the problem is that humanitarian organizations, whose volunteers are being executed at unprecedent rates, aren't putting in enough effort. The IDF drops leaflets telling desperate refugees to flee and then station tanks on the roads or bombs the safe zones.

Ever since I read South Africa's submission to the ICJ I can't stop thinking about how they label it as the demication of Gaza and its people. On every sphere of the government, there are statements calling for the anihilation of the people of Gaza (pages 59 to 67). The Prime Minister has directly adressed the army telling them to wipe off the amalekites (page 60), and South Africa showed tiktoks of the soldiers repeating his speech word for word before committing massacres. And yet they have the gall to come to the world and say they haven't targeted hospitals, they haven't withheld aid and that the statements are "random assertions." To prove that Netanyahu isn't a blood thirsty pig, they pasted a statement he made ONE DAY before the hearing started, which is frankly ridiculous we're supposed to believe isn't a PR stunt (page 34).

No western outlet streamed the highest stake court hearing in the 21st century, but you can rest assured they streamed Israel's pathetic defense. And Canada, Germany, the UK and the US, countries which have in no way reckoned with their own genocidal pasts, have come forward in defense of Israel like they have any moral high ground to patronize the world about genocide.

Take action, for their sake. Motaz has said "Don't call yourself a free person if you can't make changes. If you can't stop a genocide that is still ongoing". We need to fight in any way we can to stop their massacre.

Keep yourself updated and share Palestinian voices. Muna El-Kurd said every tweet is like a treasure to them, because their voices are repressed on social media and even on this very app. Make it your action item to share something about the Palestinian plight everyday. Here are some resources:

Al Jazeera, Anadolu Agency, Mondoweiss

Boycott Divest Sanction Movement

Palestinian Youth Movement is organizing protests and direct action against weapons factories across the US

Mohammed El-Kurd (twitter / instagram)

Muhammad Shehada (twitter)

Motaz Azaiza (instagram) - reporting directly from Gaza.

Hind Khudary - reporting directly from Gaza. Her husband and daughter moved South to run from the tanks but she stayed behind to record the genocide. The least we can do is not let her calls fall on deaf ears.

You can participate in boycotts wherever you are in the world, through BDS guidelines. Don't be overwhelmed by gigantic boycott lists. BDS explicitly targets only a few brands which have bigger impact. Right now, they are focusing on boycotting the following:

Carrefour, HP, Puma, Sabra, Sodastream, Ahava cosmetics, McDonalds, Disney and Israeli fruits and vegetables

Push for a cultural boycott - pressure your favorite artist to speak out on Palestine and cancel any upcoming performances on occupied territory (Lorde cancelled her gig in Israel because of this. It works.)

If you can, participate in direct action or donate.

Palestine Action works to shut down Israeli weapons factories in the UK and USA, and have successfully shut down one of their firms in London.Some of the activists are going on trial and are calling for mobilizing on court.

Palestinian Youth Movement is organizing direct actions to stop the shipping of wars to Israel. Follow them.

Educate yourself. Read into Palestinian history and the occupation. You can't common sense people out of decades of propaganda. If your arguments crumble when a zionist brings up the "disengagement of Gaza", you have to learn more.

Read Decolonize Palestine. They have 15 minute reads that concisely explain the occupation (and its colonial roots) and debunk popular myths, including pinkwashing.

Read on Palestine. Here's an amazing masterpost.

Verso Book Club is giving out free books on Palestine (I personally downloaded Ten Myths about Israel by Ilan Pappe. If you still believe in the two states solution, this book by an Israeli professor debunks it).

Call your representatives. The Labour Party in the UK had an emergency meeting after several councilors threatened to resign if they didn't condemn Israeli war crimes. Calling to show your complaints works, even more if you live in a country that funds genocide.

FOR PEOPLE IN THE USA: USCPR has developed this toolkit for calls, here's a document that autosends emails to your representatives and here's a toolkit by Ceasefire in Gaza NOW!

FOR PEOPLE IN EUROPE: Here's a toolkit by Voices in Europe for Peace targeting the European Parliament and one specific for almost all countries in Europe, including Germany, Ireland, Poland, Denmark, Sweden, Netherlands, Greece, Norway, Italy, Portugal, Spain, Finland, Austria, Belgium Romania and Ukraine

FOR PEOPLE IN THE UK: Friends of Al-Aqsa UK and Palestine Solidarity UK have made toolkits for calls and emails

FOR PEOPLE IN AUSTRALIA: Here's a toolkit by Stand With Palestine

FOR PEOPLE IN CANADA: Here's a toolkit by Indepent Jewish Voices for Canada

Join a protest. Here's a constantly updating list of protests:

Global calendar

Another global calendar (go to the instragram of the organizers to confirm your protest)

USA calendar

Australia calendar

Feel free to add more.

#free palestine #save gaza #gaza under attack

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olderthannetfic · 28 days

Note

I have really mixed feelings about the small proportion of F/F fiction (original or fanfic), because yeah sure, people have their desires, they should write what they want, I get it. It all works out when I hear it from person to person. But somehow the logic only ever applies in one direction? "There are more male protagonists because men only care about male characters! Women also mostly care about male characters, because that's the majority of characters they get!" And then somehow we also yet kvetch when men write female characters (because it's incorrectly or something, nevermind if women are writing male characters correctly). Why don't we expect gay men to feel compelled only by femslash for the same reasons (but gender swapped) as the lesbian slashers/fujoshi? All of those very rational justifications are applied selectively, "for me for not for thee," and it all only leads to "idk I just don't wanna write femslash", for Reasons. Do we get to call them microaggressions yet?

No, you don't get to call other people's fantasy life a microaggression.

That is indeed "for me but not for thee" in the sense that you get to want what you want but other people aren't supposed to follow their id.

Do you also police gay men who spend too much time on drag and obsessing over female divas? That's an actual real world behavior that's somewhat equivalent. It frequently goes unchallenged, at least by progressives, because men are allowed to do whatever they want with chick stuff, while women are "stealing" if they dare to stray into dude stuff.

(God, I've seen so much more policing of drag kings being ~problematic~ for acting out stereotypical gender than policing of drag queens for the same. It's nuts!)

Fujoshi are often queer, but it's absurd to think we're mostly lesbians. We tend to be bi or asexual women with gender stuff going on, though there is a mix of everybody, including lesbians. There are also a lot of AFAB non-women who get lumped in with us. On the rare occasions I find a man willing to admit to being a similar demographic, he usually does like gender play in his hobbies and entertainment. It's just that men face even more pressure than women do to fit into tidy categories. Bi women get told we're whores. Bi men are told they don't exist.

Yes, I know plenty of lesbians who write more m/m than f/f, but in the big picture of all of AO3 or all of fanfic or all of media, they aren't the demographic driving these numbers. They're vastly outnumbered by the bi women, the asexual women, and the straight and gnc women.

The men we should be looking at as an equivalent aren't cis gay men but bicurious soy boys and the like.

Do most of us fujoshi object to equivalent men doing an equivalent thing? I've seen it sometimes, and I agree it's hypocritical. I'd like us to afford men the same ability to play and take on identities in their art. I remember enjoying Ranma fandom back in the day and reading quite a lot of f/f that was probably by men. It had some of that same sense of distance and fantasy that I so enjoy in m/m aimed at fujoshi. (I do consume some by-cis-gay, for-cis-gay content, both m/m and f/f, but it's often too literal and too bound up in specific named identities for my taste.)

On average, the people I see complaining most about men producing f/f material are the same people who think that because I have a clit, I should center my life around women exclusively. In other words, people spouting radfem ideology, perhaps on purpose or perhaps without realizing.

I do agree that some of the ways of expressing a lack of desire to write femslash can get pretty douchey. I want us to move away from some of the less accurate ones like "There are no compelling female characters" because of this.

But the reason for all these jerkass explanations is that women and people perceived as women who like m/m are constantly asked to explain ourselves. These aren't usually microaggressions: they're openly hostile. People get defensive and try to answer with important-sounding reasons about identity and pain because society at large won't accept "I like this" as the true explanation.

Pleasure is never enough of a reason for a woman to do something.

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xxchumanixx · 1 month

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Okay, Tim Bradford x reader, but the reader is a police captain and becomes the captain of the mid-wilshire division after Zoë and that one dude. They are married, and the reader is expecting?

It's Captain, baby

Tim Bradford x wife!reader

Warnings/Tags: fluff, Tim being a little grumpy Word count: 879 Authors note: Hello love, thanks for the request! I hope you like it. It was very fun to write and I really like the idea!

Enjoy!

It was meant as a surprise - really.

He knew you wanted to become a captain one day, so when the LAPD asked if you wanted to become the captain of mid wilshire, you instantly said yes.

That you'd be the captain of your own husband, slipped your mind in said moment, though.

You decided not to tell him 'for now', pushing the matter further and further away, until there was no further anymore - until the day you were supposed to start as captain.

Maybe it wasn't the best idea, risking that he'd have a heart attack or get mad, when he saw you - especially considering that you were six months pregnant, and your new position meant stress and pressure - something you weren't supposed to have until in at least about three months, when you were in labor.

Biting your lip and rocking on your heels, you nervously waited for Sergeant Grey to announce you.

The moment he'd say your name, Tim would find out - and he wouldn't like that you refrained from telling him beforehand.

But he was a professional - he wouldn't let you see any emotion on his face during roll call - no, he would tell you how he felt in detail afterwards, giving you an even more guilty conscience.

"And now, I'm happy to introduce our new captain: Y/N Bradford! Please give her a warm welcome." Grey announced, causing your heart to miss a beat, as your hands doubled their sweating.

Taking a deep breath, you entered the room, trying to avoid Tim's face - which, despite your supposition, showed the slightest bit of shock and anger - as you made your way to the pult.

Forcing yourself to smile at the numerous people applauding you, you braced yourself for the speech you had prepared.

"Hello, for those who don't know me yet, my name's Y/N Bradford - yes, I'm sergeant Bradford's wife, and yes, I am pregnant." you started nervously.

A fit of quiet laughter echoed through the crowd, lifting some of the weight off your shoulders.

"I'm proud to call myself captain of the mid Wilshire department." you continued, nodding slightly. "I started here as a rookie, thinking that I knew everything and could do everything. But I didn't - which is an important thing to realize. We're all here for one goal: the safety of our city."

Your eyes briefly found Tim's, his jaw clenched. He looked straight back at you, not even blinking.

"But that means, that we have to learn a lot, especially about ourselves. I know how hard you work for this goal, and I know what it takes to do so. I once was where you are now, and I will have your backs, no matter what. If there's something you wanna talk about - let me know. I'm here to support you, and it's an honor to be your captain. That's it."

They applauded again, causing your cheeks to turn pinkish. Your heart beat fastened in your chest, hands trembling a little, as you smiled at them.

They were your people now, they counted on you, and you'd do everything in your power, to never let them down.

When the room cleared, Tim was the only one still sitting with his arms crossed over his chest.

He was clearly angry.

Taking a shaky breath, you walked over to him, preparing yourself for his speech.

He stayed silent for a couple more moments, just staring at you, before he stood, hands on the table as he leaned towards you.

"Did you even plan to tell me at all?" he wanted to know, brows furrowed. It took all his might not to get too loud, trying to look calmer than he was as well.

His colleagues didn't need to know that he was angry - fuming even.

"Did you think about our baby? What if it's too dangerous - not to mention the stress! Why didn't you tell me beforehand?"

"I did want to tell you." you stated, biting your lip. "But I didn't know how to. I wanted to surprise you, but I pushed it further and further away. I thought it all through, and I'm gonna take it slow - no harm for the baby. Imagine my surprise when they asked me to become their captain - me of all people!"

He bit his lip as well, the corners of his mouth twitching treacherously. At least he wouldn't stay angry at you for long.

"Are you happy?" he wanted to know, glancing at your belly. It was getting harder each day to find something that covered it up at least a little.

Nodding, you pressed out a dry laugh. "I am, but I'm scared as shit." you admitted, causing the crinkles around his eyes to deepen.

"I mean, I wanted to become a captain for so long, but - how to captain? How does this work? It's like my mind suddenly just went blank."

He chuckled, keeping himself from kissing you in front of the curious eyes watching you - didn't they have any work to do?

"I'm glad you like it, baby." he said honestly, his lips wide in a proud smile, as you huffed, cocking a brow.

"It's Captain, baby."

#the rookie #the rookie imagine #the rookie x reader #the rookie x u #tim bradford #tim bradford x reader #tim bradford x you #tim bradford imagine #imagine

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cher-rei · 1 month

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hey could u do a comfort fic with trent alexander arnold where he’s maybe read stuff on the internet about him that are very hateful and the reader comforts him

reflection— [ T.A.A ]

but I love that man like nobody can [how to disappear- lana del rey]

pairing: trent alexander arnold x fem!reader

summary: after his injury, comments start to flood trent's mind and you want nothing more than to make sure he knows that they aren't true.

genre(s): established relationship, hurt/comfort, angst, fluff

[wc: 2.3k] masterlist

notes: while I'm writing this I can't stop thinking about cody and the amount of hate he's getting because of the united match. he's human too and the fact that people are going to his instragram and commenting the most horrible things about him and telling him to leave the club genuinely hurts my heart because he's so sweet and doesn't deserve any of this. it's normal for footballers to make mistakes and they have their bad days, but putting them down isn't going to make the situation any better. we're supposed to be supporting the team and not blaming individuals for a loss </3

it's strange how the people that swear that they're a clubs supporter can switch up on players over something as minuscule as missing a goal or losing a tackle. it's the way players get dragged for making human mistakes, but because of the pedestals they're put on it adds even more pressure.

the comparing of players, telling them to leave their clubs and so much more pile up on the list of hate they get. no matter how good of a footballer you were there was always going to hate thrown your way, chipping away at your self esteem ever so slowly.

trent was headstrong, he knew who he was and hardly took harsh comments and criticism to heart. it was one of the many things you admired about your boyfriend, the way that he was able to be better and prove people wrong so effortlessly.

but he was only human after all, and it was bound to get to him at some point. it was after his first match back after injury that everything happened. he acquired the knee injury against arsenal in january, recalling the exact moment you saw him limping and biting his jersey to ease the pain.

you were in the stands obviously, worried sick but he wasn't subbed off for whatever reason. while everyone was rejoicing the win you couldn't bring yourself to forget about his knee, immediately rushing to the tunnel so you could see him.

trent swore that he was fine but you were absolutely furious that he still played the full 90 minutes instead of asking for the medics to at least check up on him. that was water undet the bridge however, and he was put off for three weeks but even then you felt that it was too little recovery time.

and you were right of course but he was eager to be on the pitch again. you couldn't pass judgement there because of course he missed playing, he felt horrible for being at home and not having any way to contributing to the teams victories. so when they gave him the green light for the match against burnley he was ecstatic.

and you were happy for him, but that didn't push your worry to the back of your mind. and then it went south when he was subbed off before half time because he wasn't playing at his best. the entire time he was on the bench he was silent, his thoughts running wild and his heart heavy with disappointment.

you were watching the match from home so you immediate reaction was to message him, his dull responses taking shots at your heart.

when he got home that evening your heart shattered seeing him look so beaten up. all he did was drop his bags and come to lay with you on the couch, his head resting on your chest while you reassured him that everything was going to be fine.

trent barely spoke a word to you until the following afternoon when he got back from his physio assessment, in an even worse state than when he left. he was limping, his head hung low and motivation to do anything at its lowest.

you knew that he just needed some time alone before you tackled the situation, so you gave him his necessary space until he was ready to talk. but then the evening came when his side of the bed was empty, and when you checked your phone you were even more surprised to see that it was only 2 a.m.

you got out of bed in panic, immediately rushing downstairs to look for trent but all the lights were off. he wasn't in the kitchen, the living room or even in the backyard. by now your thoughts were running wild, shear panic settling on your chest until you heard the front door unlock.

trent walked in, his lips pursed. "why are you awake?" he took a few steps closer to you, confusion settling on his face. "do you know what time it is?"

a dry scoff left your lips in disbelief. "I could ask you the same thing."

he went silent, not knowing what to say except apologise but you were fed up. you gave him his space and kept your worry to yourself, not wanting to make him feel any worse than he already did but your patience wore thin.

your expression hardened at the recollection of how distant he'd been the past week. "talk to me. please."

"there's nothing to talk about, I'm fine--"

"--that's absolute bullshit" your tone was harsh and it took him by surprise because you rarely raised your voice at anyone, let alone him.

he took a few weary steps closer only to see the tears walking up in your eyes. oh shit, what has he done.

"no baby why are you crying?" he asked soothingly and pulled you into his embrace, his hands gently stroking your back in comfort. his heart sunk at the few sniffles from your side, he couldn't believe that his injury had you crying.

you tightened your arms around his torso, an overwhelming feeling of hurt washing over you the more he comforted you. "because you're hurt."

he sighed. "and I'm getting better. the recovery is going well honey."

you shook your head against his chest. "I'm not talking about your knee trent." you finally pulled away to look up at him with teary eyes, which didn't make him feel any better.

"I know you read the comments, and I know that you're taking them to heart this time but--" you swallowed the bile in your throat, the mere thought of all the hurtful comments having you sick to your stomach. "--but you're not talking to me about it and it makes me feel horrible because they're not true."

trent's heart had just been shattered to pieces, his lips parted in shock because you knew him so damn well. he had been reading the comments, and at first it didn't mean much but the more they came about, the harder it was to push it aside.

honestly the worse 45 minutes anyone had played this season. trent has exited his prime and it's showing.

this is who you guys call the best right back in the league?? have you seen that match against burnley? kyle walker over this dude any day.

he was good until he wasn't. sorry not sorry.

I'm sorry what was that play?? all he had to do was keep the ball for more than 2 seconds. this guy is a joke.

nah get this man out of my club, I can't anymore.

trent my man this is burnley we're talking about. what are you doing??

he's seen it all. and for the first time in years he let the negative comments get to him even though he knew better. and now here you were, standing in front of him teary eyed in the middle of the night because he wasn't man enough to talk to you— his own damn girlfriend.

a heavy sigh disturbed the silence and that was an indicator to you that he was ready to talk. he took your hand and lead you to the couch, making sure that you were settled down comfortably in front of him.

"you know when we played city the away fans were yelling at me when I went to take the corner," he began with a half hearted laugh. "apparently I'm a shit kyle walker."

your grip tightened on his hand instinctively, but you remained silent and listened to him express his concerns and thoughts on the entire ordeal. he brushed the kyle walker thing off and said that he found it rather amusing instead of hurtful.

"but after the arsenal game when I hurt my knee something just snapped I guess. and you were so worried when I got home too so I just wanted to get better because I don't want you to panic over my injuries."

a lump formed in your throat, the tears resurfacing but trent was quick to wipe them away. "and now people are saying that I played like absolute shit against burnley," he shook his head. "which is true by the way."

this was were you grew defensive. "you just came back from injury of course you weren't going to be in the best shape trent."

his eyebrows raised for a moment, a soft chuckle leaving his lips but you didn't find it funny at all. "ever since this whole thing you've been saying my name an awful lot."

that was surprisingly true. you were upset so of course you weren't going to call him something endearing. you were upset!

you cocked you head to the side, a judgemental look on your face that trent didn't want to worsen so he carried on talking. you weren't going to bed until he had everything out.

"anyway," he chuckled. "I've just been feeling really anxious and self conscious because what if they're telling the truth you know? like okay I score goals and I play well but what if that's just me thinking that?"

his breathing had begun to pick up and you were quick to notice, and alarm going off in your mind and telling you that he was nearing tears. trent groaned in frustration and shut his eyes in attempt to push the tears back.

he bent over to put his hands on his knees to try and calm himself down before you started crying as well. your hand was running up and down his back soothingly, only for him to get back up and take refuge in your arms.

everything was finally starting to pool out, and it broke you knowing that he felt this way and hadn't spoken to you because he didn't want you to worry. the dark living room was filled with his silent sobs that you tried to ease until your own started to fall.

you shut your eyes and held trent as close to you as possible, your shirt slightly wet because of his tears. you wondered how the other players felt when something similar happened to them, if they broke down in their partners' arms as well.

it wasn't easy for them to welcome the vulnerability you assumed— especially if it were over something like hate comments. but it was difficult and they were only trying their best.

"It's okay if you cry baby. there's no need to apologise," you hushed when he said sorry. "It's normal to feel this way, you're human too and I can't tell you not to let those things get to your head but they're not true."

his silent sobs came to a subtle halt but his head remained on your shoulder as he listened to you speak so softly, telling him that everything was okay.

"you know what you're capable of so don't let anyone tell you what you can and can't do. as long as you know that you have people who support you and are rooting for you, nothing else should matter," you retorted reassuringly in hopes that it would help him realise that he didn't have to worry about things he couldn't control.

it was out of his hands, he lead the arsenal match in pain like a proper leader and that showed immense strength. instead of giving up he pulled through and made sure that the team were at their best before thinking about himself.

you put a small kiss to his temple. "I'm so proud of you. every single waking moment of every day, no matter what happens— I will always be proud of you for doing what you can."

this made trent smile when he finally got up to look at you with glossy eyes. "really?"

you nodded eagerly. "you breathe and I want to scream 'that's my boyfriend'."

that got a laugh out of him and he felt his heart strings tug. he loved you so much for standing by his side no matter what, for being patient and for just being you. he was grateful beyond comprehension and sometimes he felt that he didn't express his love for you the correct amount.

you deserved so much and here you were comforting him at the dead of night because he got insecure. his heart was overflowing just for you.

trent put his hand on your cheek and wiped away the stray tear that fell. "I'm sorry for making you worry. if I do it again just kick me out."

you laughed and his heart exploded. "oh definitely. pull a stunt like this again and I'll feed you to the wolves."

his eyes widened a fraction. "okay that's a bit too far."

you disagreed wholeheartedly and told him that it was the only correct form of punishment for the heart attacks that he gave you. "my heart broke like five times in this past week trent, so no."

he hummed and leant in for a kiss. "I'll fix it again I promise."

you felt yourself melt at the touch of his lips on yours— a tender kiss that held so much sincerity and love, an apology slipping through along with a silent I love you.

he pulled away and took a moment to look at you, drinking in every bit of your presence silently to which you hit him on the arm, a giddy smile and blush having you weak in the knees whereas he was mesmerised, not even realising that you had been trying to get his attention for a bit.

"earth to trent," you called and waved your hand in front of your face but he quickly caught it and pulled you closer to him, a yelp leaving your mouth before laughing.

"call me trent one more time and we're going to have a problem," he said through a smile but you just played along, finding it amusing.

"oh really?" your tone was playful and he wasn't having any of it. "well trent wouldn't-- ah!"

your boyfriend had you lying on the couch in a fit of giggles, him hovering over you as he tickled you but stopping every so often to litter kisses on your face which you weren't fighting at all. because everyone needed a little love, right?

#footballer imagine #fanfic #footballer x reader #trent alexander arnold fluff #football imagine #footballer x you #liverpool fc #trent alexander arnold x reader #liverpool x reader #trent alexander arnold fanfic #trent alexander arnold #liverpool football club #trent alexander arnold imagine #football #fic rec #cherrei rambles #cherrei writes #writers on tumblr #liverpoolfc x reader

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sonder-paradise · 1 year

Note

Oooh, am I seeing this right? Requests are open! ( ᗒᗨᗕ ) I’ve been waiting for this day..! If you can, can I please ask for Chuuya and/or Dazai drabble or oneshot (whichever you feel like) with an enemies to lovers trope? I’m a sucker.. thanks and I hope you’re taking care of yourself! <3

𝐅𝐥𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐫 𝐅𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠? — 𝐁𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐨𝐮 𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐲 𝐃𝐨𝐠𝐬

◊ ft. chuuya nakahara, osamu dazai, gn!reader

◊ genre. enemies to lovers, drabbles, pining the hell outta each other

— 𝐂𝐡𝐮𝐮𝐲𝐚 𝐍𝐚𝐤𝐚𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚

"what the hell was that?"

chuuya's voice echoed from the hallway as the two of you trudged down after a rather inconclusive mission. it wasn't primarily your fault that you had forgotten the new series of instructions he had given you on the spot.

but then again, it was basically his fault for going off-script as well. you frowned, grasping the arm you were currently nursing.

"what do you mean, 'what the hell was that?' what the hell were you doing?!"

"i was doing fine. i thought i told you if things went south to go back to base."

"oh, shut up. i practically saved your life, nakahara."

"i didn't need that help, l/n. you're a pain in my ass anyways."

the two of you shot a glare at the other before the ache in your limbs caught up with you both. he flinched, his leg clearly going through a rather upsetting time in addition to your arm.

"c'mere let's get fix up before the Boss lectures us both," you sighed, pulling him into the room.

he frowned, shifting down on the seat across from you. upon noticing the way you struggled opening up the first aid kit, he clicked his tongue, reaching out a hand to snatch it from you.

"hey!"

"shut it. you're fucking arm isn't even working. i'll do it."

"i don't nee—"

"i didn't ask."

oh, this man! this stupid, idiotic fool! the very thought of his callous tone was enough to burn your bones and grind your teeth.

he grasped your arm, eliciting a loud wince. you expected him to scold you for the noise, but instead he lessened his pressure, holding your arm as if it were porcelain.

"sorry," he mumbled. and you practically didn't catch it if not for the fact he had gotten ever so close to you. his hands carefully bound the arm that you nursed and there was this... odd look in his pretty eyes.

wait, pretty?

you paused, starstruck at the mere thought of finding chuuya nakahara of all people 'pretty.' but there was something fascinating and hypnotizing about the way he gazed at your injuries. he seemed almost upset at them.

"stop glaring at my arm, there's nothing i could do about it."

"yeah, right. at the very least, stop squirming you're fucking up my wrapping."

"it's too tight."

chuuya paused, looking up at you before leaning in just a bit closer. a wicked smile crept into his expression and a spark of something close to lust and hatred seeped into his eyes.

"complain anymore and i'll tie your pretty, little wrists together."

— 𝐎𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐮 𝐃𝐚𝐳𝐚𝐢

"you're infuriating, dazai."

"idiotic, perhaps?"

"antagonizing."

"absolutely vexing?"

"oh shut it, we're supposed to be working right now, not fooling around in a silly cafe."

dazai grinned, cupping his hands around a warm mug of coffee. you rolled your eyes at the smile, finding this situation to be nothing less than nonsensical.

"we're supposed to be looking into the assignment fukuzawa gave us. can you please explain to me what we're doing here?"

you tapped a finger against the desk, observing the foolish man before you. he was certain a character. a wild card, if that was accurate. but, even now, when the two of you were supposed to be at work, he was fooling around.

"what's wrong? do you not like our little outing?"

dazai took a sip from his drink, smiling like a mischievous child. it's clear he's trying to overrun your patience, but you were not willing to let that go.

"i just think we should be working."

"ah, but we are, my darling! i'm working on a side project on my own."

this again. you were certain this was the fifteenth time he had mentioned this silly little side project of his. whatever it was, he clearly was getting closer to the conclusion of it.

"what's wrong, y/n? not liking the company?"

"not at all, actually."

he gave you a brief pout from behind the cup. there's something oddly adorable about it. just from the way he seemed so earnest towards you. as if there's something he wanted to admit for the first time.

"sorry," you mumbled, seemingly surprised at your own apology.

"not need, i'd say you aren't exactly my cup of tea either."

oh, you have half a mind to throw hands with this man right here and now. but you pause that thought when he flashes that familiar grin all over again.

"but those sorts of feelings are what people usually sort out on first dates, no?"

"i suppose so... wait... first date?"

dazai seems amused at this. the laughter that trickles out from him as you burning from the neck up.

"yes, first date. is this not what this is? after all the hard work i put into planning my little side project..."

oh, this little bastard...!

Taglist: @todorokichills @alittlesimp @greenshirtimagines @darlinqserenity @nameless-shrimp @whorefordazai @requiem626k @missrown @nonsense-corner @kiyokoxd @jessbeinme15 @starglow-xx @shadyteacup @scul-pted @kuraxmasha @yochicoz @pompompurin1028 @trashykawahq @swrdemon @life-sus @foolishestchildofchilds @fyodorscello @planetxiao @dazaiaiko @chuuyasboots @allisonlol @questioningmyownexistence @sebtomm @nullified-kiss @nathansside @cuteflowers-101 @sigmafied @boombboi @scarletta-ruan @skgch @daz8i @httpsobi @dazaiscum @thekaylahub @luciferspen @dazaisfavgf @alice0blog @irethepotato @monastary @kageyama-i-want-tobiors @disa-ster @mastering-procrastinating @wonpielle @ay-chuu @killmewithafanfic @aestellia @goldenglow149

#[🖋] writing #chuuya nakahara x reader #chuuya x y/n #chuuya x you #chuuya x reader #chuuya nakahara #chuuya fluff #bsd x reader #bsd x y/n #bungou stray dogs x reader #bsd chuuya #dazai x reader #dazai x y/n #dazai fluff #bsd dazai #osamu dazai x reader

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princesssarisa · 5 months

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Some thoughts on "Little Women" and the "Little House" books

In the endless discussions by Little Women fans of the issue of "Jo vs. Amy," I've noticed a slight recurring theme, both when Amy's defenders discuss Jo and when certain Jo fans put Amy down. It's the idea that the books' narrative inherently favors Jo and is biased against Amy. That Jo is the character whom readers are clearly "supposed to identify with," as if Louisa May Alcott expected most of her young girl readers to be free-spirited, ambitious tomboys who struggle with gender expectations. And that Amy's portrayal is "negative," or at least that we're supposed to view her femininity and love of refinement as slightly silly and annoying.

Not too long ago, I found similar sentiments in an essay by a woman writing about her childhood experience of Laura Ingalls Wilder's Little House books. She wrote that she never identified with spunky, tomboyish Laura, but as a girly girl and as an eldest daughter who felt pressured to be "the responsible one," she related more to Mary. Then she complained that the books seem to expect readers to identify with Laura, and that we're "not supposed to like Mary."

I'm not sure those claims ring true for either of these literary works.

Both Little Women and the Little House books are autobiographical. Louisa May Alcott based the March family on her own family and Jo on herself, while Laura Ingalls Wilder wrote explicitly about herself and her family without changing the names.

In Little Women, I don't feel as if Alcott expected readers to identify more with Jo than with the other three sisters. Yes, Jo gets the most emphasis of them all, but that's because Alcott personally identified with her. Likewise, in the Little House books, Laura is the protagonist because she was the author. It's only natural that she wrote about her childhood from her own viewpoint, not because she thought readers would relate more to her than to her sisters.

Nor do I think Little Women is overly biased against Amy. Is her portrayal complex, and does it reflect Alcott's complex relationship with her sister May? Yes. Does Alcott use Amy to make fun of May's childhood foibles? Yes. Does she make it clear that May often drove her crazy when they were young, and does her envy of May's charms and social life sometimes bleed through the text? Of course! But none of it seems really mean-spirited; her affection and respect for May also come through clearly. Besides, she's just as willing to use Jo's foibles to make fun of herself.

And in the Little House series, do we really think Wilder set out to insult the memory of her beloved and by then deceased sister Mary? Just because she was honest about their childhood sibling rivalry and made readers feel for her envy of her "perfect" sister doesn't mean she wanted the readers to dislike her.

Maybe I'm giving these authors too much benefit of the doubt. But "An author writes about her own family, makes herself the protagonist, and honestly portrays both her closeness and her sibling rivalry with a sister who was very different from herself" doesn't inherently mean "The author expects all readers to identify with her self-insert and dislike her sister."

#little women #little house on the prairie #the little house books #louisa may alcott #jo march #may alcott nieriker #amy march #laura ingalls wilder #mary ingalls

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sailing-through-hawkins · 1 year

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had this in my head and then saw this post by @babyboyargyle so i took it as a sign to write it out! it's not perfect but it was fun (*^▽^*)

Say what you want to about monsters and killers and the apocalypse but at least this time they've got all-day access to pizza. Steve doesn't really know where this guy came from but damn, he makes a great margherita.

"Guys, this is Argyle," Jonathan introduces, waving towards a man with very, very long hair, holy shit.

Steve takes a second from hammering nails into the fifth bat that he's been tossed to give the guy a nod. He nods back, eyes flitting between the bat in Steve's hands to the bandages wrapped around his waist. But Steve's used to everyone keeping an eye on his wounds, from his stomach to his back to his arms to his head. He's a magnet for damage, that's just how it is.

"Hey man," Steve greets with a wave and gets back to hammering. "Welcome to the shitshow."

"Y-yeah," Argyle swallows with another nod. "Glad to be here."

At first, he seemed like a great addition. Argyle's funny, chill in a way that Steve hasn't experienced since '83, maybe even before that. Despite all the monsters lurking and the crackling in the air, dude kept his cool and got to work on food supplies and even teaching everyone how to do tracking shit like something out of a nature show.

But then, on their way back to the base (also known as Steve's fucking house), Jonathan's team is almost swarmed by demodogs and Steve and Robin have to run out to give 'em hell.

Ha, giving hell to the hellbeasts. Is that irony? Dustin would call it irony, Steve thinks.

After a little carnage and some (very therapeutic, according to Robin) violence, they manage to annihilate the 'dogs and get Will to throw their tracks off so they have their safe zone for a bit longer at least, but Argyle is quiet and frantic-eyed the entire walk home. It unsettles Steve, all that antsy energy building up under the surface.

Once safely inside, Jonathan and Nancy start on organizing the new supplies. It's when Jonathan manages to drop a water bottle that all that tension finally bursts.

"Shit, oh man, shit, shit, oh my god!" Argyle's pacing back and forth, hands scrunching up into his scalp which, yikes, not a good look for that mane. "This is so messed up, this is crazy, this is so messed up!"

Jonathan steps forward with a, "Argyle, Argyle, listen -"

"No, no, no, last time I listened to you, there was an open grave in front of me and now there's like fifty thousand demons out there! The world is fucking crazy right now, man, I am freaking out! I am -"

Okay, damage control time.

"Hey, hey, hey -" Steve shifts himself into Argyle's line of sight, holding his hands up and letting out a low whistle. "Dude, take a breath, alright?"

Which is apparently all the guy needs to latch his hands onto Steve's shoulders very, very tightly, holy shit, this guy's grip. "How am I supposed to breathe when -"

"Look at me, in-and-out, alright?" Steve exaggerates his own breathing, letting Argyle take his time in copying the motions. "In, out, in, out, you're doing good. It's pretty scary out here, huh?"

Argyle's grip on his shoulders tenses but Steve quickly grabs onto his wrists, gives them a short squeeze, and suddenly all that tension deflates. Which means physical contact is a go for reassurance, nice. "Yeah."

"I get it, man, I do. First time I got into this shit? I was ready to hightail it outta there and never look back, y'know?" He looks up from under his lashes, giving the guy what he hopes is a comforting smile. Judging by the hitch in his breath, it's not as comforting as Steve hopes. "But I get the feeling you're a ride-or-die type, right?"

Argyle shrugs, eyes fixated on Steve like he's the last hope he's got. No pressure.

"Look, I can't like - I can't guarantee much, wouldn't wanna jinx anything, but we're going to handle this, alright?" Damn, his hands are really warm. Is it because he's stressed? Even Steve doesn't run this warm when he's stressed, dude must be keeping a lot of anxiety under all that...weed? California weed? Whatever, focus, Steve. "It's not our first or second, not even third rodeo with this shit, we can absolutely handle it."

"You can handle it," Argyle says in what Steve thinks might be...petulant? Oh, that's fun, this guy is totally going to be fun to have around for the long haul. "Man, I don't even know what the hell is going on anywhere anymore."

Steve laughs, rubbing circles into Argyle's skin with his thumb. He's definitely wired up but that tight spark of panic in his eye is getting dimmer, so the contact might actually be working here. "If it makes you feel any better, I don't think any of us know what's happening."

"How -"

"That's the thing, we don't need all the answers right now," Steve pats his wrist and tries a different kind of smile this time which, judging by the way Argyle's gulping and kind of just staring at him, might be working? Okay, fifty-fifty on that. "Just need to figure it out one step at a time."

"I don't - I'm kinda freaking out here, dude," Argyle confesses, like it wasn't kinda obvious for everyone in the room, as he lets go of Steve's shoulders (fuck, his grip is killer, there's definitely gonna be marks tomorrow) and lets his hands hang by his waist in a really sad way. Steve nods, patting his shoulder and gently leading him to the closest chair he can find (of course it's the sofa Mike left his socks on, god damn it Wheeler). "I'm not cut out for this freaky stuff, man, what if - what if we don't make it -"

"Hey," Steve says sharply, immediately regretting it when Argyle flinches at his tone. Take a breath, relax, the guy's worried, that's all. Steve softens his voice, and rubs a hand down his back when he buries his face in his hands. Huh, that's a quality shirt. "Hey, I get it. Believe me, I know how overwhelming this all is when you've got like, zero clue how it all happened. But I got your back here, dude, I'll watch your six."

And woah. Argyle snaps his face back to Steve, eyes wide and mouth just slightly agape. "You what?"

"'S kinda my job," Steve shrugs, continuing to rub his back so he can figure out why this material feels so familiar, what the hell. "I'm the babysitter," - ignore Mike's affronted scoff, stay focused - "I keep track with the whole newbie thing most of the time. I mean like, we all got your back but y'know - like - I'll personally make sure nothing happens to you, if that helps?"

Argyle stares at him for a few seconds, making it really hard not to squirm in the silence. Steve settles for scratching at his nose, finally taking his hand off that damned shirt, the fuck kind of brand is it?! Not important, focus, focus.

"Uh, sorry if that - I didn't mean to come on too strong or anything -"

"Holy shit, dude," Argyle breathes out, one of his (very warm) hands coming down to grip Steve's knee. "You're like, a godsend."

"Oh, uh, thank you?" Steve blinks when Argyle beams at him and pats his knee. Huh, maybe he's getting better at this comforting stuff. "Are - you good now?"

"Hell yes, my friend, I have a killer beast 'watching my six', don't I?" Argyle winks and shit, Steve's wounds must be inflaming again, his skin feels hot. "Now who's ready for some pie!"

Steve watches as he swoops up, practically glowing with such a positive energy it's kind of giving him whiplash. He stares as Argyle makes his way to the kitchen, snatching another glance back at Steve and giving him a wide grin, another wink and a salute before he disappears.

"What just happened?" Steve blinks again.

Jonathan pats his shoulder in sympathy which, uh, why? "You've just been Argyle'd."

"What does that even mean?" Steve splutters because what the hell is even happening. "And what did he mean by an open grave?"

"It's a long story," Jonathan sighs and gives him another pat. "Tell you once you help me sort out the water supply."

"The supply that you were supposed to figure out before you left, that water supply?"

"Fuck you," Jonathan grins and Steve shakes off the buzzing heat under his skin.

Everything's fine, all is cool. Just gotta keep an extra eye on Argyle.

Easy-peasy. Fuck, please be easy-peasy.

#stargyle #writing #ficlet #au content #steve harrington #argyle stranger things #stranger things #i just think it'd be funny if argyle thought steve meant he'd watch his ass instead of his back #also that argyle's panicking immediately side-steps for argyle's flirting #sailor✧writes

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mastermindmiko · 7 months

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Secrets

Pairing: Remus Lupin + fem!reader

Word count: 1411

Summary: You and Remus have been together for a while. He's been keeping secrets and you've had enough.

Warnings: negative emotions? breaking up. angst with a happy ending

an: two marauders posts? is this beginning of an era?

hey! if you think this didn't completely suck, feel free to check out my masterlist.

Remus this has been keeping secrets. The reason why I know this is because I know him, or at least I thought I did.

Even before we became official, I always knew that he was hiding something. His disappearances, his mother's illnesses, and his father's random need to need him back home. And even, dare I say it, his scars. I love them in every way. I don't believe that they are flaws like he does, instead, I believe that they only enhance his appearance. However, I do understand that it is unusual for a teenage boy to have them littered across all his body and his face starting from even his first year.

This thing that he had to hide, it never bothered me before. Maybe because I was spending less time with him or maybe because I didn't love him back then. Since we've become official about a year ago, I started to notice it a bit more since he will randomly be very opposed to going out at certain times. Or he would snap at me when we are simply studying together.

I always understood because I get it. His world isn’t supposed to revolve around me? He doesn't have to tell me everything but it's hard to be understanding when you don't really know what you're supposed to understand.

I never pressure him even though I know that it's eating me inside. Maybe they need to help him too, because every time he randomly disappears or goes to help his father, or check up on his mother. I feel like the shine in his eyes dims every time.

I want to help, I want to know what makes the boy I love hurt. I want to make it go away and maybe even fight it to do so.

What hurts me the most is that his friends know. James, Sirius and Peter, all all know, but he never once told his own girlfriend. I would try to find out myself, but I wouldn't want to invade his privacy. Instead, I wait for him to come to me, if he comes...

"Maybe we can go out next weekend instead." Remus suggests, and I frown, it's supposed to be this weekend, not any other one. I ask, "Why not this one?"

"I have-"

"Things to do, your father needs you, there's a prank you need to pull. What excuse are you going to give me this time?" I snap, I shouldn't have, but this weekend is important. If I'm being honest, I could've listed off all the excuses he's given me for hours. I had them all memorized.

"You don't need to act like this. I don't have to go out with you every weekend, we spend enough time together as it is. I don't have to explain myself, I said next weekend." He snaps, and a part of me feels like I deserve it for getting angry first, but I still feel the ache in my chest.

I gulp as I watch him gather his books in a huff and leave the library. When I can no longer see him, I cover my face with my hands and a few tears fall. I feel pathetic, but can you blame me for not wanting to spend our anniversary alone?

~~~

I'm going to talk to him, I'm going to find out what he's been hiding and we're going to talk about it because this is a relationship, he doesn't get to keep secrets as long as they effect me.

It's been a few days since I had that fight? with Remus. I've barely seen him around, but in a way, it helped me.

I first went insane trying to think of what he's been hiding. The possibilities of him cheating have come to mind several times, thinking about why, with who, and when, but ultimately I decided that Remus wouldn't cheat, at least I hope not.

Then came the idea that he might not love me anymore, but he's only told me that he did two months ago, so could he have loved me and then stopped so quickly? I didn't know, what I knew is that I did still love him, and if he didn't love me anymore, I'd rather not waste my time and postpone the heartbreak.

It was after breakfast, and I heard a few first years talking about how the famous Gryffindor boys (Remus, James, Sirius and Peter) were in the hospital wing. I assumed of course that it was because of a failed prank, wouldn't be the first time one of those happen.

I knew Remus was too smart to get involved in anything that could fail, so I assumed that he would be fine. I reached the hospital wing, and Peter's the first one that saw me. He tapped Sirius who looked at me, eyes went wide, then tapped James who had done a similar reaction.

Peter quickly closed the curtains around one bed, and they all came rushing to me, all of them, except Remus. I panic, I rush over to them, but they meet me half way and start turning me around the opposite way. I say, "Is Remus okay? why's he here? what happened?"

I sputter a lot more questions but they already have me out of the wing. They all look panicked possibly more than me. James speaks out first, he rubs a sheepish hand to the back of his neck and says, "Remus is fine, he just had a bit of a headache this morning."

"Well, if he's fine, then I can go see him." I say, and try to push past them, but they hold both my arms to steady me in place. Sirius says, "Yes, but uh- he doesn't want a lot of noise, so we can't let you go in there."

"And of course, when someone wants some peace and quiet they go to you guys." I say, pointedly and give them all unconvinced look because I was unconvinced. Why were they hiding my boyfriend from me? Unless...my boyfriend is the one that wanted to be hid from me. I frown, "Does Remus not want to see me?"

The boys stutter around and look at each other panicked, wondering what to say. They all begin sentences unsure, and it only makes my frown deepen, he doesn't want to see me. James says, "Of course, he wants to see you, just not right now."

Sirius elbows him when he notices my expression turn sadder after James' words. I nod my head and I feel my eyes begin to burn. No, I wasn't going to cry and especially not in front of them, they'd tell Remus in a flash. I take in a deep breath, and say, as steadily as I can, "Well, I wouldn't want to force myself on him, so, uh, tell him I hope he gets well soon, and that we need to talk."

I can see their faces change after I say those last few words. It wasn't a secret that 'we need to talk' was the beginning of every break up talk in the world, but I didn't want that to happen. I loved Remus, we just needed to improve our communication.

I head back to the common room, and on my way there, I can't think of anything else, but the fact that Remus didn't want to see me. My thoughts trace back to the idea that he doesn't love me anymore. They go downhill from there, and I ask myself, what if he really is cheating? Maybe he's too busy with another girl to notice the one he already has.

I bump into someone, and I notice who it is by the flaming red hair. Lily grabs my forearms to steady me and herself, making sure neither of us falls. She chuckles, "Sorry about that, I wasn't looking at where I was going- are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." I say and I give her an unconvincing half assed smile. she frowns and I bitterly chuckle, "Things just haven't been going well with Remus lately."

She turns white and starts to fumble. She avoids my gaze and shifts on her feet. She stutters, "He's got a lot going on lately, he's been busy with...um stuff. I'm sure it'll be over in a few days."

"He told you." I say and it's a revelation that shocks me. He told Lily. He told James, Sirius, Peter and Lily, but not his girlfriend. She starts to fumble for excuses, but it doesn't matter because I already make my away past her and get to common room as fast as I can. I need to be alone.

Luckily, my dorm is empty. People have already gone to classes, but I don't think I can. My heart sinks and I can't believe that my boyfriend doesn't trust me with whatever secret he's got. I try to stop the tears that start flowing, but I cant.

He forgot our anniversary, and he's keeping secrets, secrets that he's told everyone close in his life, but me. A secret that he's been hiding for who knows how long. He doesn't want to see me either. I sob harder and I keep on asking myself what's going on in this relationship that is beneficial for me, and isn't' hurting me.

Maybe it's time that Remus and I break up.

~~~

"Hi, James told me that you wanted to talk." Remus says, two days later. He catches me right as I'm about to leave for another lesson. I check my watch, I have ten minutes before I need to get to class, maybe now's the time to do this.

"I do want to talk."

"James told me that it's going to be something bad, but I know you, I know us. I told him it was nothing." Remus chuckles and I feel myself getting guilty. I push that feeling away, I wasn't the one keeping secrets. I don't say anything in reply and Remus' grin fades.

"It's nothing, right?" Remus asks, with a frown. He takes a few more steps towards me, and I feel my heart race like it always does when he's near. I realize I won't be able to do this if he's any closer. I place a hand between us and he stops.

I hop on the desk, and I avoid his gaze. This should be simple I'm the one who decided, it isn't like he's the one ending this, I am. I look at him, take in a break then exhale. I say, "I think we should break up."

I didn't think anything could've hurt me more that what Remus has done to me, but the look on his face after I said those six words...nothing can describe it. I takes a step closer to me and I shuffle away. The pain becomes etched deeper into his face.

He still reaches out a hand and grabs mine. He looks up at me and his eyes water. He stutters, "B-but why? I love you. Don't you love me too?"

"Of course I do."

"Then why are you doing this? I don't want to break up. I don't ever want to break up. I actually think this happened in a nightmare before." Remus says, and his tears escape his eyes one by one. I say, "Because you're keeping things from me, Remus."

"I don't want to break up, but there's something going on with you, and you don't want to tell me about it-"

"I can't-"

"Yes you can, you very well could when you told James and Sirius. Peter and Lily, you told them all but not me. This isn't about you keeping something to yourself, this is about you trusting me." I explain, I sniffle, I didn't notice when I started crying. I say, "You even forgot our anniversary."

His face comforts with realization. He smacks a hand to his head, and he grips my hand with both of his and he squeezes. He pleads, "I'll make it up to you, please."

"That's not enough-"

"I'll spend every free moment I have with you."

I shake my head and lower my gaze to the floor. He says, "I'll buy you gifts, so many you won't be able to count them. Please, I don't want to lose you. I love you."

"I want you to tell me."

"I can't...you'll hate me." Remus says, and he looks down to the ground. I say, "You're losing me by not telling me."

He doesn't say anything, and I believe he's contemplating walking out right now. It would hurt, but it would make the getting over him process much easier. He takes in a deep breath, and he holds my hand tighter. I realize that he's going to tell me. He opens his mouth then closes it. I say, "Take your time."

"I-I'm a werewolf." Remus says, and I have to say, it makes sense. The scars, the attitude, everything. Even his disappearances happen on a monthly basis, it adds up in every way. I'm surprised, but it doesn't change anything. I say, "Okay."

"I tell you my biggest and possibly only secret and you're answer is okay." Remus says, and I nod my head. I shrug my shoulders and say, "What do you want me to say? It makes sense."

"I doesn't change the way you think of me." Remus asks, and I furrow my eyebrows. I hesitate before saying, "I think it makes you sexier."

"what?"

"You know, I just-" I stutter and flush pink, "It's just so brave that you go through that every month and you know these are kind of like your battle scars."

I smile sheepishly and trace on of the scars on his arms. He looks at me incredulously and he chuckles a bit. He repeats, "You think it makes me sexier? but werewolf are classified as monsters."

"You're a cute, sexy, book-loving, sock folding monster then." I chuckle and he does the same thing. He presses a kiss to my forehead and he wraps his arms around me in a big hug. I mutter, "I really wish you could've told me sooner."

"I didn't want you to hate me."

"I don't think I could ever hate you." I say, and he looks at me as if he doesn't believe me, I'll make him believe eventually. He lowers his head and places a smooth, loving kiss on my lips. He asks, "Am I forgiven?"

"Give me more of those kisses and then we'll talk."

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crplpunkklavier · 6 months

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there is something to be said about how i really barely feel disabled anymore once i'm in a truly accessible space. because the space is no longer disabling me.

so, we went to see the @montereybayaquarium for our honeymoon. we didn't make it through the whole aquarium on our first day, so we went twice. on day 1, i came to the ticket desk with my cane and said i'd like to have a wheelchair. on day 2, i didn't bring my cane, and once again requested a wheelchair. there was absolutely no difference in the employees' reactions: i didn't have to ~look disabled~ to be immediately met with a nod, and a wheelchair that 1) was my size and 2) i was able to move myself.

this is going to seem like a list of things that clear a very low bar, and i suppose it is. but i have been to bookfairs that attempted to take my cane from me because they didn't believe me i needed it, as if cane users carry cane prescriptions around with them (NOT A THING.), and who only let up when my friends and i explained to them (not reminded. explained) that what they were doing was illegal. the cologne zoo only has visitor wheelchairs that can be pushed by a companion, not wheeled by the user themselves. the art museum needs me to bring my own. so, you see where i'm coming from.

the aquarium was fully accessible. (at least for me as an ambulatory wheelchair user - i of course can't speak for people with different disabilities.) there was no exhibit i was cut off from by stairs, because all of them either had reasonable ramps (not too steep), or elevators that were quick and roomy enough not to make me feel like i was missing out. every exhibit was at a height/level that someone sitting down could still see. some of the active touch exhibits (like getting to pet certain animals or feel kelp) were trickier, but staff always came forth unprompted to ask me (not forcibly, just ask) if i could reach everything okay, and if i couldn't, they leaned down and over to help me get where i wanted. there was a walk-through bird enclosure where a staff person followed us, and explained that the doors need to open and close somewhat quickly, so she'll just stay around us while we're there, and as soon as i'm ready to exit through the door i was to let her know. she was fully in the background while we were in there, and at no point did i feel like i was under any pressure to get out soon, or like i was inconveniencing her.

literally the only difficult thing about going through the aquarium with a wheelchair was that at the very end of the day we weren't entirely sure where to give it back. the only difficult thing about going through the monterey bay aquarium with a wheelchair was getting rid of the wheelchair!

am i just advertising the monterey bay aquarium in this post? maybe. yeah. they're good in general and i'll give them as many free ads as i want. they were just also a really good example for accessibility that made me feel like a completely normal aquarium visitor. like i wasn't disabled, because the place enabled me to visit it.

and it's on my mind now that i'm back home in germany, because yesterday i had to take a train from a station that had me crawl up 4 flights of stairs with a cane and a suitcase around crowds of people that didn't help. and it wasn't that the elevator was broken or anything. it's that plenty of train stations even in large cities like cologne simply are not accessible for anyone who can't climb stairs.

and the aquarium was a good example for how it's not just things like ramps and available wheelchairs that are necessary, but how their staff also clearly knew what they were doing. there is an etiquette to learn for people who had never worked with disability before (you will at some point!), and they'd learned it. my needs never stumped them. and i got to spend my honeymoon feeling like an easy customer and only ever weeping because i got to see the ocean.

#this was more structured in my mind but whatevs #thank u monterey bay aquarium and if i never have to go to cologne again itll still be too soon #and also thank u to my wonderful spouse whose first time it was accompanying me on a wheelchair day and who did beautifully <3

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misscinnamonroll16 · 3 months

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Brozone diner au: the day John Dory took off part two

"We're talking about forcing John Dory to take a day off. Like an actual day off. Even when we're closed on the mandatory holidays, he's still here doing something. Cleaning, stocking, rearranging, all kinds of stuff. He needs at least a day to just relax and probably catch up on sleep.” Bruce answered, waving his hands about as he talked. "Ah, ok. Yeah that's gonna be hard. We need to come up with a plan before we do anything else. We need to think of every possible outcome and prepare for it." Branch said, already writing down outcomes. “Or, or, hear me out, we play the health card." Floyd said, a mischievous glint in his eyes. The rest of them gave him a confused look, unsure of what he meant. “We play the health card, the card he plays with me when he thinks I'm ‘working too much’. He says I need to take time for my health and take care of my body. Pull a uno reverse on him. He needs to do the same so when he tries to wiggle his way out of it, we can point out all the things that are causing him stress, anxiety, high blood pressure or anything else. Like working a dinner rush causes high anxiety and stress. Constantly lifting trays full of dishes can cause carpul tunnel. Not to mention the toll it takes on one's mental health. I very rarely get angry customers, he seems to get them all the time, which causes more stress. We just say we're worried about his health, he can't refuse because then he'll be brushing off our worries and he doesn't want to do that. Boom, full proof plan.” Floyd said confidently, crossing his arms. "That's so smart, I'm surprised I didn't think of it first.” Clay said, staring at Floyd, a bit dumbfounded. Floyd was about to stand up and argue with Clay about what that was supposed to mean when Bruce held up his hands. “Ok but when should we do this? We can't just go out there without an idea of when would be a good time to do this." Bruce said, thinking aloud. "Sunday. Probably in the evening. That way he can't argue about taking Monday off. It's our slowest day. So he won't have to worry about us being busy and can actually relax." Branch said, the plan coming together. The brothers quickly went back to work to avoid alerting John Dory to their plan, playing it off as if they were killing time.

Sunday evening comes and all of them are beat, it was the busiest day they had had in a while, making several thousand dollars worth of sales. After closing up, the younger brothers give each other a nod, silently saying it's time to put their plan into action. They went to the office, standing in the doorway as John counted their registers and safe with Clay (Clay just double checking JD's work). "How you doing John Dory?" Floyd asked nonchalantly. “Good." John replied before continuing to count. “You sure? You seemed a bit tired today. Like you needed a break." Bruce said, leaning his back on the door frame casually. “Yeah I'm fine. I guess I didn't get very much sleep last night." John Dory said before handing a stack of cash for Clay to count. Clay barely looked up, they added more details to the plan, like who was gonna say what and in what order. John wrote down the numbers and entered them into the system, a few seconds of silence passed before Branch butted with his own line. “Do you ever get enough sleep? Always seems like you're here late and open early. When do you sleep?” Branch joked, shooting John a cheeky grin that was met with a stern look. "Well I sleep after I clock out and close up. Then I wake up to come open this place up. Some nights it's takes longer to close up. Like today, that was the busiest we've been in like, a month.” John said, taking all the money from Clay and putting it in the safe. "Maybe you should take tomorrow off then.” Branch said sincerely, subtly giving JD the puppy dog eyes. They could see the hesitation in John's face, that was Floyd's signal to go in for the kill. “He's right. It's not healthy to overwork yourself. We worry about you sometimes. It's only because we care about you and your health. When was the last time you had a day off?" Floyd's voice was sweet and gentle, asking a question they all knew the answer to: never. John Dory looked like a deer in headlights, unsure of how to respond. “When was the last time you had a day off John?" Clay questioned, knowing where this line of questioning should go. John Dory got very quiet and tried to avoid eye contact with his brothers. “When was it?" Bruce said directly. John mumbled out an answer, prompting a ‘hmm?’ out of Bruce. “I don't remember." John said quietly but it sounded deafening in the silent office. “WHAT?!?" the younger three said, being a little overdramatic. “John, working non stop is not healthy. You're gonna get burnt out. You should really take a day off at least. You make me worried, man.” Clay said worriedly, causing John to cringe a little. "Clay's right, John. We worry about your health sometimes. You should take the day off, if not for yourself, for us at least.” Floyd said gently, coming over and placing his hand on John's shoulder. They had him right where they wanted him. The office got quiet again, the seconds passing felt like hours. They continued to look at John expectantly until he finally caved. Alright, fine. I'll take tomorrow off. But you guys call me if you need me. And Clay, you're opening, Branch you're closing.” John Dory said defeatedly, Branch and Clay groaning in annoyance. They knew they couldn't openly cheer for their success but opted for teasing their brother about what he was going to do on his day off. As John locked the door, Bruce cleared his throat, catching John's attention. “Oh and John?" “Yeah?" John said as he put his keys back in his pocket. “Stay out of the diner tomorrow. A day off is not meant to be spent at your place of work." Bruce responded in a no nonsense kind of tone. John Dory rolled his eyes, pissed off a little that his baby brothers were trying to tell him what to do. “We're serious John Dory. You don't see us in there on our days off. And the only time we are is when we're with friends. So just take a day away from the diner. I promise we'll call you if we need you.” Floyd said, placing his hands on John's shoulders, letting him know how serious he was. The others looked at John with the same serious look, he inwardly groaned annoyed with his baby bros.

@bzjohndory

#trolls #brozone #trolls clay #trolls floyd #trolls bruce #trolls john dory #branch trolls #idk how to write #idk how to tag this #fluff with angst #just like the tiniest bit of angst #jd being a softy

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cupcakeshakesnake · 6 months

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You have m o r e ?!?!? Omg they're amazing, I love them already and it's only been like 90 seconds (I've just been staring at them because. Wow.)

Wait but are you actually getting rid of them/ discontinuing their story? I mean, I saw that post about Sisyphus, but I would love it if we got to see more of these guys. I mean, no pressure if you weren't but I just wanted to let you know that I'm a really big fan of your work. I appreciate that, for your nonhuman characters, while their designs are very visually appealing in the artistic sense, you can tell that they're not at all supposed to be attractive in any modern human idealized sort of way (and what does it mean to Objectively Attractive anyway? Popular opinion is so hypocritcally subjective) but instead that each individual drawing, whether it's a character of your own creation or your take on a preexisting one, is crafted to serve their exact purpose on the page (whether it's Humor of Incongruity, expressing frustration, evoking the beauty in the imperfect, etc.), because you can see both the soul of that being and the way the Otherness of their design sets them apart as new and interesting yet accentuates the uniquely human part of their character (however buried and twisted that part may be, in some cases. Looking at you, Valek.)

. . . I was going somewhere further with this but I lost where I was. I'm sorry, it's late and I'm tired, but I just saw this and felt I had to say something (other than "cool monsters go brrr"). I know we're just strangers on the internet, and I'm not any sort of people person. We don't know anything substantial about each other, and we'll probably never meet. But I hope you know that, for whatever it's worth, there are people out there who see what you're doing. And that it's beautiful in all of it's imperfection, and beautiful *because* of it. And that, miniscule though my knowledge of you may be (because who can truly know anyone?), I can *see* the beauty of your soul shining through the crack of your art. And that I get a little bit of joy and inspiration every time I come across your work, so I hope this clumsily, hasty little message can give at least some of that joy back to you.

(P.S. I wrote this as a AtNC reblog, but by the time I finished writing this I figured it'd probably be better to send as an ask, so that you can decide what to do with it. You are in no way obligated to make any sort of response to this. From what I understand, you don't believe in a benevolent higher power, and that's okay, I'm still on the fence about whether I do or not, but I just... felt oddly compelled to write this. Like something was telling me I had to try to convey this to you, because you needed it. It's fine if you don't understand what I'm saying, I'm not sure even I do, but just hope that wherever you are, whatever you are doing, whatever you are going through, you know there's someone out there who cares for you, and that your existence is w o r t h something immeasurable.)

I hope you're okay. You are stronger than you know.

First of all, thank you. It took me a while to reply because I've been very busy with schoolwork, but I've reread this message at least several times a day and it has brought me such joy each time.

To answer your question, no, I'm not discontinuing or getting rid of anything - I assume this has to do with my monster OCs, and there are two major stories of them so far.

One is Walter, which I simply decided not to use for schoolwork after being told its plot is too boring. That's all. I will do what I want with it in my own time. The other is that one with the mutated office workers, which fortunately got the OK from the professor. Both are still very rough works in progress.

I'm very glad that you like the way I draw... er, things, for lack of a better wording. Things I draw for myself may turn out far from "conventionally attractive", but I like it that way. You made me think about an aspect of my art that I never really considered before, but you have a point; in a way, I could be trying to humanize characters not by giving them a more human face but by giving them their own ways to express humanity.

That being said, I don't know what an "AtNC" reblog is supposed to be, but I wouldn't have minded either way. Your kind words are appreciated all the same.

#snake got an ask #anonymous #Regarding “humanizing”: One thing I like to do is make expressions and body languages out of inhuman features #It's fun

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stephpotterart · 10 months

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Been thinking about this for a bit since I read @cookinguptales wonderful post.

Yes, you can't be twice turned, and you can’t re-lose your virginity... but that doesn't mean doing it with the person you love can't improve/rewrite the memory (and state of being)

Afanas' test tried to turn his fledgling twice... In my head I'm pretty sure that it’s the double process that makes you go BOOM, rather than just … finishing the first turning?

Season 4 literally showed Nandermo with "Love at First Bite" on a poster behind them, and I would like to assume that that does mean Nandor’s bite/blood can fix this whole clusterfuck. I’ll provide some of my reasoning:

Derek is not his master, he's not even really a friend? Guillermo only goes to him when he needs something (which is actually shitty, but oh well). He's also been a Vampire for a year or 2 tops.... There's almost no power in him.

But Nandor... there's power and age there. They've shown him to be more powerful this season than ever before… Hypnotizing an entire police precinct with little effort (which I mean… is inconsistent with his previous canon, but hey, maybe we can pretend that he just wasn’t putting his all into it before. Maybe he used the Djinn to increase his power off camera, maybe he just wasn’t using his full potential, who knows). There’s definitely power, strength, and age working in Guillermo’s favour if he goes to Nandor. Afterall, Nandor was able to turn a Werewolf into a Vampire (or at least a mixture) without it destroying Gail, so there’s some innate Vampiric power there.

Will Nandor react poorly? Definitely. He will pout, he will attack, but in the end (likely after another drawn out physical fight) he’d come to his senses. Guillermo is his friend, and… well he is Guillermo’s Master. If going feral and finishing the task will keep Guillermo with him, and bind them permanently, I think Nandor would do it. It’d be a way of publicly staking his claim and showing that he owns Guillermo above all others. Even if this means something vastly different in his heart and mind than he lets on in public (love and companionship versus dominion and control).

I personally don't think a second turning wherein Nandor drains Guillermo and has him drink from him is necessary. I think that’s where the test that Afanas and the Sire tried went so horribly wrong. Guillermo doesn’t need to be turned again, he just needs the original turning to be finished.

Memo got one small mouthful of Vampiric blood from Derek due to Derek’s fainting and low blood pressure. That was all that he got from his supposed maker... while being almost totally bled out himself. He was in a weakened state, with very little blood from new/weak Vampire to pull him through it.

I'm under the impression that Memo didn't have enough blood from his Sire, and Derek didn't have the power in his blood to create a strong bond between them, and to fully turn him. Especially not when he's emotionally bonded to Nandor as it is. That’s why Guillermo’s still in awkward Dhampir territory.

I think, if you bypass the draining and just let him drink from Nandor’s throat (wrist wouldn’t offer enough flow for this situation as far as I'm concerned and we're ROMANTIC in this household damn it), I would think Nandor's older, stronger, blood would Kickstart the transformation again, and negate the consequences of double turning - because it's not a second turning, it's just finishing what was already started.

TL;DR: Guillermo doesn’t need to be turned twice, he just needs his lover Master to finish the original turning by giving him his much more powerful blood and rebooting/correcting the stalled transformation.

#wwdits spoilers #nandermo #speculation #vampire turning #guillermo de la cruz #nandor the relentless #wwdits season 5 spoilers #wwdits season 5

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befuddled-calico-whump · 5 months

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wouldnt it be a shame if lex collapsed before getting to choppers………wouldnt it be such a shame if sarah had no choice but to take him back to the rogues………..

part two

cw: fever, aftermath of whump

Sarah's legs shook. Her forearm burned from keeping a tight grip, and her shoulders were on fire, and they weren't even halfway there.

"L-left. Next street."

Sarah managed a nod, too winded to want to attempt words. The only reason she was still standing right now was because she had no choice. It was either push through her stupid muscular exhaustion or abandon Cinder, and the latter wasn't gonna happen.

She took another step forward, her footfall heavy, practically dragging against the pavement. Cinder's breath was hot in her ear, now and then interrupted by a quiet cry of pain when she moved too quickly and jostled his ribs.

Fuck. She really hoped whatever was at the auto shop could help him. He was clearly in a lot of pain, and his temperature was high enough that it made her skin prickle, sweat dripping down the back of her neck despite the cool night.

Just keep taking that next step, and we'll be just---

Cinder's legs finally gave out, sending them both sprawling across the pavement. Sarah's palms stung with the impact, her knees hitting the ground with bruising force, but she ignored both.

"Cinder? Fuck, Cinder?" She grabbed the assassin's shoulder, his body limp as she turned him onto his side. Still breathing, not very conscious.

"Cinder." The only response she got was the weak flutter of his eyelids.

Fuck! What was she supposed to do now? The house was in the exact opposite direction, and she didn't know how to get to the 'chopper', or whatever the fuck Cinder had been rambling about. She couldn't run for help without leaving him, and asking a stranger would be just as bad, if not worse.

Sarah scanned the area, enhancing her eyes to pick up the darkened signs of the buildings around her. She didn't want to break in, especially not in this neighborhood, but--- wait. Just a block over was the flickering sign for a motel.

A really, really shitty motel. She could've wept with joy.

Even if it was further to walk, it wasn't an impossible distance. With a newfound destination, she knew she could manage to drag Cinder that far. What was it, a hundred feet away? Two? She'd make it.

Sarah crouched behind the unconscious man, snaking her arms under his shoulders and around his chest and lifting. A pang of guilt shot through her as a pained expression crossed his face, a weak whimper slipping out at the pressure on his ribs.

I'm sorry. We're almost done.

She was breathing heavily by the time they reached the corner of the building, her calves and arms burning from the effort that came with dragging the assassin. She left him outside, just for a moment, if only to avoid raising too much suspicion.

When the clerk hardly raised an eyebrow at her disheveled, breathless state, Sarah didn't know why she'd bothered.

She was given a cheap room on the second floor, because of-fucking-course, but with the end so close in sight, Sarah couldn't slow down now.

It took a good five minutes to get the unconscious assassin up the stairs, and by the time she was inside, she didn't even have the strength to get him up on the bed.

Whatever. At least it was inside. At least here, the chances of someone snatching him were lower.

She slumped on the wall for a moment, allowing herself time to catch her breath before she started looking Cinder over. The room was about as seedy as she'd expected; a threadbare carpet, cracked walls, stained sheets.

She couldn't even bring herself to feel grossed out, instead turning her attention to the man on the ground.

There was a sheen of sweat on Cinder's forehead and neck, and his face was contorted in a grimace. Sarah stripped sheets from the bed, getting a pillow under his head and a sheet between him and the carpet. It felt at least slightly less sketchy that way.

From there, she went to see if the place had an ice machine, turning up her hearing and pushing through the annoying buzz of the lights to pick out any sound of the electrical hum. Surprisingly, they did have one. Even more surprisingly, it actually worked. She filled a bucket and rushed back to Cinder.

Without much else to use, Sarah filled the garbage bag in the wastebin with ice, wrapping a sheet around it and laying it on top of the assassin's ribcage. His expression softened some, but his eyes didn't open.

Probably for the best. He needed to sleep, and there wasn't a lot she could do without access to a healer.

Fuck. She was glad she'd found him before anyone else could, but fuck.

What if he took a turn for the worse? What was she supposed to do then?

On top of that, Hugo and the others would probably be worried sick when the sun came up and she wasn't home. They really needed to invest in some burner phones. Sarah sighed, closing her eyes.

This is all I can do for now. No use freaking out over what I can't control.

She repositioned the bag on Cinder's chest, then with a hand still cool from the ice, reached up to check his temperature.

Surprise, surprise, he was still burning up. Way to go, Sherlock.

But when she started to remove it, Cinder's own hand reached up, held it there. The movement startled her, but Sarah didn't try and pull away.

"Hey. Can you hear me?"

"S-spyglass." The word was barely a whisper, spoken with pain, but it was something. It made her believe he might be okay.

"Don' leave," he murmured. Sarah didn't know why it surprised her. He was hurt, and barely coherent. Of course he didn't want to be alone, left to uncertainty.

"I won't," she said, and for a moment her worries for her team and tomorrow and even Corp eluded her.

"I'll be right here."

•°•°•

@whumpacabra @enteredin2eternity @kixngiggles @whumpsday @kiichu @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump @shywhumpauthor @distinctlywhumpthing , @bloodinkandashes , @fleur-alise , @whumpy-daydreams , @whumpwillow , @honeycollectswhump

#fluff #ish #lol #Wildefire #cinderglass #not the safehouse but here lol #not me thinking'ok but what if someone captured the two of them together'#fever #caretaking

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