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moonstruckme · 2 days

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The other day I fell down the stairs of my building and had to just like. Get back up and go to work and my knees are all fucked up and I’m so sore. Do you think you could write doctor!remus or casual dom Remus when his girl tells him about it hours later? Or whatever you think is best story wise lol.

Don’t worry about it if not, your writing is literally my absolute favourite right now, you are so amazing!! -angie

Hi Angie, thank you for requesting <3

cw: blood

doctor!Remus x fem!reader ♡ 666 words (oooo)

When the car stops, Remus won’t let you get out on your own, which is embarrassing even though there’s no one but him around to witness it. Remus is overall in a horribly embarrassing mood.

Though you tried to hide it, you’d noticed him noticing the stiffness in your legs as you walked out to his car after work, and before you’d had a chance Remus had reached over and buckled your seatbelt himself. The whole drive home he’d been spooky silent, occasionally shooting narrow-eyed looks to the blood stains on your work pants.

“I’m okay,” you try to reason with him now, when he sets his hands on your hips to take some of your weight. “I’ve been walking all day, baby.”

“I know, that’s worse.” Your boyfriend is huffy. He seems to be contemplating fully picking you up and carrying you inside.

You press your lips together while he supports you the rest of the way to the door, holding you firmly to his side when he needs one hand to unlock it. The two of you go straight to the bathroom, where the dress you were originally going to wear to work today still lies on the floor. Remus frowns but doesn’t comment.

When you’d taken a tumble on the concrete stairs outside your apartment this morning, you’d been running too late to be concerned with anything but looking presentable and getting to work. Your dress left your bloody knees exposed and made you feel like a child fallen from their bike, so you’d screwed up your mouth and forced a pair of work pants on over the burning cuts, then changed into an appropriate top to match. Your knees have been alternately stinging and aching all day, and when walking back home from work seemed too much you’d called your boyfriend for a ride. He seems determined to make you regret it.

“Sorry,” you murmur after he lifts you onto the counter.

Remus looks at you. “What for?” The question isn’t patronizing or a test. He wants to know.

“For not telling you.”

He sighs softly, looking down to fiddle with the button of your pants. You trace the cruel line of a scar from his forehead down to his cheek.

“I wouldn’t mind so much if you’d taken the time to clean them properly,” he says. “But if you were in my place—lift your hips for me, love—and I called you to say I couldn’t get home by myself because I’ve been hurting all day and not done anything about it, wouldn’t you be a bit distraught?”

“I would,” you admit. You suck in a quiet breath when he starts pulling your pants down over your knees.

“Sorry,” he says, unsticking the fabric from your ruined skin as gently as he can. They slide the rest of the way down far easier, and Remus kisses his teeth when your knees are revealed. “Dovey.” He sounds equal parts pitying and disappointed.

“Sorry.”

“Let’s stop trading apologies.” There’s the barest hint of humor in your boyfriend’s tone as he finishes tugging your pants off your ankles, letting them puddle on the floor and leaving you in your underwear. The countertop is cold on your bare skin. Remus wraps a hand around your thigh, careful of your knees as he leans forward to give you a kiss. “I’m not going to ask you not to do it again—although I hope you won’t—because I know you, but I get that you’re sorry, sweetheart.” His thumb swipes over the unbroken skin above your knee, lips turning down unhappily. “I’m sorry you hurt yourself, and that you’ve been in pain. I promise to try and lecture you about it as little as possible, okay?”

You can’t help but smile, your voice coming out wry. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome, dove.” He gives your hip a condescending little pat. “You can make it up to me by sitting still while I take care of these and tell you about infection.”

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http-paprika · 8 hours

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BLUE / simon riley

my very, very late submission for @glitterypirateduck simon "ghost" riley challenge. this was heavily inspired by the new billie eilish song of the same title because I thought it fit him so well. i used the prompts "face touching", "the heat goes out and it's freezing", and "a confession is made"

simon ghost riley x female reader / 1106 words / contains angst, alcohol, and smoking

WITH every patron that hurried into the bar, cold and snow blew in with them—leaving those even in the darkest corners of the bar chilled and draining down more liquor. The drink spilled through her veins, warm and potent as she waited another hour, shrunk away in the shadows with her cost pulled tight. Simon wasn't coming, she knew better than to keep waiting for him.

Finishing her glass of whiskey, she lets it sting her throat the same way the tears in her eyes did. With remorse, she sets the glass down and rises from her chair. Through the crowded bar of happy couples and friends, someone's celebrating a birthday, another girl is sobbing in the corner with her friends trying their best to comfort her. The whole room pulses with life, feelings, love, and hate and she can't seem to find herself amongst the crush of emotions. Dull, apathetic, and removed as she slinks out of the door and into the blue moon night.

Winter still holds a fierce grip over Manchester, spilling white flurries in the air as she walks down the quiet streets with a cigarette to warm her from the cold. If he were there, they'd be sharing the smoke and she'd be warmed by the blushed haze that always befell her when their hands brushed exchanging the cigarette.

Her hand fumbles with her phone, the bright, blue light warning her of how late it was. But even with the early shift she had in the morning, she loiters along her route imagining he’ll be waiting by her flat like Simon would sometimes do. Giving her the delusion that he cared enough to come looking for her, even if he couldn't be bothered to grab drinks with her.

Despite all logic telling her not to bother with a call, she finds the number that she's left a hundred voicemails for. Sounding desperate and pathetic with every call as she tries to convince him into calling her back.

“Hi, Simon. It's me… again. I'm just calling to check in, I haven't heard from you in a week and I just want to make sure you're alright. Okay, I'm going to go, I'm at my flat. Call me, please.” The sound of the voicemail being replayed causes her to cringe, maybe he'd never hear it like he never hears the rest. Maybe he's got a new number, that was the type of thing someone as shifty as Simon would do. But she can't find reason in his sudden absence, no foreseen notice of a deployment or mission. No text to tell her he'd be unavailable. Nothing.

When she rounds the gate into her apartment complex, she can see in the low light of the second-floor walk, the lone figure waiting in front of her door even though he had the keys. Burly hands shoved into the worn pockets of his jacket with head tilted down as she climbed the stairs to join him.

She didn't need to see Simon’s face to know that he was thinking. Always thinking about the past he refused to tell her about. One that she could only dream up, trying to picture what had happened to turn him into the man he was. The man who she desperately tried to get over, but couldn't move on from.

“I waited for you. It's the third Wednesday of the month, or did you just forget?” She asks, stubbing out the cigarette on the melt railing. The frame creaks as her fist tightens around it in frustration. “Simon?”

“Was busy with work, forgot to call.” He shrugs, pushing his hood back and shaking out his dark blond curls. A rough, wartorn face that she'd memorized like the back of her hand. It was so enticing to her, mesmerizing with his pale lashes and dark haunted eyes. The type of man that kept her safe at the bar and kept her up at night in stress.

“You're always busy.” She holds back a scoff, knowing arguing never got anywhere with Simon. He'd go silent with every accusation she'd throw, leaving her intimidated and guilty for yelling. Even if she knew he deserved it.

“It can't be helped. Times are tough.” Simon responds, his eyes trailing over her as she moves to unlock the flat. Fumbling with the lock like she did with the phone until his hand reached out and steadied her grasp. He leads her into the apartment like it was his own, with an empty place on the coat rack for his jacket, and a spot next to all of her shoes for his boots. An indent left throughout her home for whenever he'd find it in him to return.

“Would you like a drink?” She asks, still feeling the need to play hostess as if he were a stranger visiting for the first time. At the edge of her seat waiting expectantly for a response and reaction.

“Sure.” He shrugs, pulling off the cloth mask as she shuffles into the small kitchen. Tiny enough that when he joins her there's tension as she tries not to bump into him. Pretending like she wasn't up the night before craving the warmth he gave, the firm touch of his hands, when her space heater died.

“I am sorry, love. I'll be there next time, I promise.” Simon apologizes, watching as avoids his presence like the plague. She chewed the inside of her cheek, knowing that she'd accept this apology like she'd done before. Knowing full well he never changed, and she’d never ask him to.

He reached out, sensing her indifference, and cupped her cheek in his calloused hands. That touch always turned her into mush, clay for him to mold to his will and whims. She knew it was pathetic how easily she swayed for him, knew that her friends always criticized her for being so weak-willed. But how could she possibly say no to him when he always came back, even if it was days late? Wasn’t she better off with him than trying to find someone else to love, wasn’t the heartache worth it?

“You could do so much better than me, sweet girl. Sometimes I wish you would.” Simon confesses, his voice low and full of regrets. He turns his head down towards her, wrapping her close in his arms, taking the glass of water out of her hand, and setting it down.

Her mouth opens to speak, but no words form when she realizes she’s just as guilty as him. She’d never change, he’d never change. Together, they’d stay unmoving, frozen in the longest, blue winter.

#glitterypirateduck #cod challange #ghostchallenge #call of duty #call of duty mw2 #simon ghost riley #cod mw22 #ghost #fanfic #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost mw2 #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x f!reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon riley

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specshroom · 12 hours

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hello hello, I stumbled across your writing and wanted to say how much I enjoyed “Blood In The Water” I was curious about how reader struck that deal with all the mer-creatures in the first place?! did they try to eat reader too? or did one/many have an attachment or attraction since reader grew up around that place? the whistling was soooo cool, like they were dogs trained to a command! does that mean they had struggles with communication at first? do the mer-peeps understand language or just body language? I’m full of questions 😂❤️ it was just so enthralling and love a good morally grey character! is reader struggling to make ends meet and that’s why they do this? or is it more of ‘it’s either me or them’ type scenario? OR reader is just like this is the easiest way to get money?! 👀 oml lemme stop here this is getting quite long— LOVE UR STUFF 😚

I'M SO GLAD IT INTERESTED YOU SO MUCH (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

I like to keep things up to interpretation cus I think it's more fun BUT I can answer a few of those.

- They definitely struggled at first lol. The merfolk can't speak human language and don't understand it. Humans can't speak mer-language either because it's mostly high pitched clicks and chitters. Reader figures out that the closest they can get to making sounds the merfolk understand is by whistling because it's loud and high pitched enough that they can hear it easily even through the water.

- They do share a lot of body language and mannerisms with humans (like kissing👀) so that made things easier.

- The merfolk do recognise Reader as a local and that made them more trustworthy. (Later on they marked the bottom of Readers boat so they know it's them🥺)

I wrote a little drabble to answer the "How did this happen?" question.

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

You sigh as you row your way out of the canal and into the open waters.

Your new patron lounges in his seat on the opposite side of the gondola, staring up at the clear blue sky. You preferred doing business at night when it's quiet, few braved these waters at night. Alas dwindling funds force you to suffer the business of the day. There's just too much comotion in the daytime, too many tourists.

Its been like this since the first rich fool "discovered" that your relatively small and unimpressive lake town actually boasts some magnificent and horrific monsters in the depths of the decievingly calm waters surrounding it. Now flocks of fools come to "test their bravery" by crossing the dangerous waters.

Conservationists and locals convinced them that hunting down the monsters in the lake would lead to environmental catastrophe and the snobs decided that it would be a better investment as a tourist attraction.

"Don't you get bored of this?"

Your patron slices the silence in half. You blink out of your thoughts, releasing the iron grip you had on your oar.

"I could give you a different job."

The well dressed man's tone is almost convincingly sympathetic. You keep your gaze locked onto the familiar waters ahead of you...until you hear the distinct sound of coins being jostled against one another. That changes things.

You hesitantly turn to where the stranger sits comfortably, grinning with pride.

"I thought so, it's always the same with you locals."

The tourist opens his money bag and takes out one gold coin. At least enough for a small meal.

"What would you do for it?"

He plays with the coin in his fingers before tossing it out of the boat and into the water. The carelessness with which he tosses his gold makes your blood run hot. Through the thick permanent fog that hangs over the waters, you can just barely see the gold coin as it sinks into the abyss and your stomach growls pitifully.

He holds out the pouch over the side of the boat, dangling it over the water.

"Would you dive for it?"

The sick thing is that you actually consider it. You stare intensely at the stupid pouch that could keep you going for a good while.

The man suddenly drops the pouch and you jump forward to catch it but he yanks it back up by the drawstring before it can touch the surface of the water. He laughs at his cruel humour and your blood reaches it's boiling point.

You don't know why it was that patron in particular that made you snap or why that bad day in particular made you finally put the knife skills your father taught you to good use.

But before either of you know it his laughter turns to bloody choking. You scramble off of him, panic clear on your face. He reaches for the knife in his neck but it's useless. His body sags over the edge of the boat and his blood mixes with the water. You watch with wide eyes as he takes his last struggled breaths.

It's silent for a while before you take your eyes off of the man Infront of you to look down at your red stained hands. You look around as if anyone could've seen your crime through the fog anyway.

After a while of just staring blankly at the still body Infront of you, you try to compose yourself and lift him off the side of the gondola. You manage to tip him over and watch his body sink down.

You stare at the corpse fading deeper into the water. Just as you ready yourself to leave the scene something rocks the gondola slightly and you fall on your ass, gripping the side of the boat.

You feel a breath on the side of your cheek and jump when you look over and see two big pitch black eyes staring at you from over the side of the boat. Your skin turns to ice, unable to move.

You hear chittering from the other side and jump again as another one peers over the furnished wood of the boat. The first one takes your frozen hand in their cold clawed hand and inspects the drying blood covering it.

They stick their tongue out and slowly lick all the way up your shaking hand, licking away at the blood as if cleansing you of your sin. The other makes a clicking sound that sounds oddly like laughter.

Once all the blood on your hand has been licked off, the creature looks up at you for a moment before disappearing below the surface once more. The other one doesn't look like it wants to go but a few clicks from the water convince it to slowly lower back into the depths.

You lean over the side of the gondola trying to get a better look at the creature before it leaves. You deflate when you don't see so much as a ripple in the water.

Suddenly, just as you were sure they weren't coming back, the same one from moments ago bursts from the water. In a second it cups your cheek and kisses you. It's hard and deep, more passionate than you'd ever had before. The creature releases you and this time before it leaves it gives a little wave with its strange webbed hand. You wave back, a little dazed, as the monster dives back into the water.

You have to sit there for a good while staring at the pouch of coin the tourist left behind and then back to the murky waters, touching your lips while contemplating what the hell just happened.

#monster x human #monster x reader #monster lover #monster fucker #monster boyfriend #monsterfucker #nsft fantasy #merman #merfolk x reader #merfolk #teratophillia #terato

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tangent101 · 2 days

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The worse crack-ship... Delilah/Imogen

Imagine for a moment, one day Laudna wakes up but... she's Delilah now. But she's not Delilah at her full power. She has no spells to quickly escape, she knows that she needs to stick around because they're in Aeor and alone she's going to die... but if she reveals the truth, she's dead. So she keeps pretending to be Laudna.

After all, she's watched Laudna for decades. She helped shape Laudna's personality. She even has Laudna's memories. It's easy to slip into the Laudna persona. And she continues to flirt with Imogen. In fact, she seems to be improving. She's not calling on her Patron anymore, she's not sucking in magic items to empower her... and Imogen is relaxing around her. But Delilah has to keep up appearances. Until finally they escape Aeor and for a moment Delilah considers escaping but... she suddenly feels a pang of remorse.

Imogen would miss her.

And in her horror she starts to realize... she's fallen in love with Imogen Temult. She's in love with the girl who broke her Shadowfell domain, who tried to murder her. She's gotten so used to flirting with her and she's alive and vibrant and... she's there. Sylas is dead. It will take time and effort and resources she doesn't have to bring him back but this strong and passionate lady... she's there, right now.

So she stays. She continues being Laudna. I mean, she can be patient. Of course she can... but she also knows she is lying to herself. That she's falling deeper and deeper in love with a girl who would murder her in an instant if she realized Laudna was gone, and Delilah was the one making love to her and flirting with her and again talking about retiring to a cottage someday and it's sounding... it's sounding tempting. It would be so easy to just... surrender. To just be Laudna, from now on. To love Imogen.

#delilah briarwood #imogen temult #laudna #alternate universe #critical role #lavender and violet

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deliciouskeys · 2 days

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Cozy Corner Domaystic Prompt #18: Snow Day

Maevlander, 2.5K, rated T. AO3 link.

Jan 23 2016

“I just don’t really understand,” Homelander grumbles, pacing back and forth in front of the large glass wall in Maeve's apartment, periodically stopping and looking out the window.

“Which part don’t you understand,” Maeve asks wearily, not looking like she really wants an answer, still in pajamas, still lounging in bed vaping as she stares blankly at the TV screen mounted on the wall with the news on silent, the red ticker-tape at the bottom listing school and university closings in New York and New Jersey. “It’s a city-wide travel ban. Vought headquarters had to close for business today and tomorrow. I’m sure some people came in anyway.”

“I don’t remember New York City shutting down because of a little snow in recent years. Don’t we pride ourselves on infrastructure? Don’t tell me they can’t clear the roadways. And come on, Vought should be one of the last places to shut down because of a little weather!”

“John, it’s literally the weekend. And there’s like three feet of snow on the ground.”

“They said 29 inches.”

“Well however much it is, it’s enough for them to declare an emergency.”

Homelander leans his forehead against the glass staring down. “If it’s really so dangerous, why is Central Park full of people sledding?”

Maeve cocks her head. “You really don’t know what to do with yourself on a day off, huh.”

“Nooo...” Homelander drags out the word, trying to be patronizing but Maeve is unfazed. “I’m just saying. I could clear the roads in an hour all by myself if the mayor or governor thought to ask.”

“I’m sure you could.” Maeve rolls her eyes.

“What, you don’t think so? I could melt Manhattan in a fifteen minute flyby.”

“Yeah, people will be delighted to see you light every street on fire.”

“I wouldn’t be setting anything on fire.” Homelander sounds defensive and it makes Maeve smile.

“Nobody asked you to melt anything,” Maeve says, groaning. “Why can’t you just give things a rest and let people enjoy a snow day?”

“Because it’s dangerous! Ambulances can’t get through. Just because there’s a snow day you think people stop having heart attacks?”

“I never knew you were so concerned about people not being able to get to the hospital. Maybe you should go on runs for the hospitals yourself then. Airlift the people having heart attacks.”

Homelander makes a scoffing sound, still staring intently out the large wall-window, the poor people who dared to go sledding on a Saturday not knowing that they were being scrutinized and judged from 90 floors up and 10 blocks away.

“So saving people is beneath you, but standing there bitching about how few people came into work today isn’t? You can really tell you never got to experience a snow day in childhood, Mr. Grinch.”

Homelander turns toward her sharply at the last part. Maeve wonders if she’s gone too far now that his gaze has been torn away from the rabble on the ground and directed at her. It's never a good idea to bring up his childhood. But he cracks a smile instead of getting angry at her bluntness and walks over to the bed, sweeping his cape off to the side before sitting down.

“Fine, Maeve, enlighten me. Tell me what makes snow days so fucking magical.” The sarcasm in his tone is off the charts, but his gloves are off and Maeve has learned to recognize that that’s a sign that he wants intimacy, no matter what he says or how it sounds. She cautiously slides her hand into his and she can see an endearing uncertainty and neediness flicker across his face, his expression settling into something softer.

“It’s nothing complicated. You’d wake up in the morning and pray for the robocall to your parents’ landline to tell them school was out. And if you were lucky enough to have a snow day, you had the entire day free to play in the snow.”

“Like, what, build snowmen?”

Maeve smiles at the defensiveness of his tone. He’s so intent on proving to her that he didn't miss out on anything important.

“When you’re little, yeah. Snowball fights, snowmen, snowforts. When I was a bit older, my dad would take me skiing sometimes.”

“Is skiing fun?” Homelander asks, looking away from her and staring off into a corner of the room, but still holding her hand.

“Yeah. I haven’t done it in a while. But when I was seven, I got my own skis and everything. It’s cheap thrills for a kid, I suppose. You can speed up like all hell if you go down a steep enough slope."

“Would you like to go skiing?” Homelander asks, and despite some misgivings Maeve realizes that she would like to. She relents and says yes. Anything has to be better than being cooped up in the Tower having an argument in her apartment about why people have no work ethic.

Homelander seems to brighten right up when she asks to go. Maybe Maeve underestimates how lonely and lost he feels without a daily agenda, without a script telling him where to be and what to do for most of the day. She's saved him from unstructured time.

“You’re going in that?” Homelander asks, wrinkling his nose slightly at the civilian winter clothes she's changing into.

“You don’t really expect me to ski in my skimpy uniform, do you?”

Homelander shrugs. “I’m just going as I am.”

“Yeah, you won’t be the only douchebag on the slopes wearing spandex, so you might as well.” Maeve looks him over. “You don’t think you can leave the cape at home?”

Homelander gives her a look that says she must be crazy to suggest that.

He flies her in his arms all the way to New Hampshire, where there’s plenty of snow but no blizzard going on, and where the slopes turn out to be more crowded than either of them would probably like.

They have to rent skis of course. Maeve is about to pay for both of them but the employees frantically shake their heads, and assure her it's on the house and that it’s such an honor that she and Homelander have decided to grace their humble ski resort with their presence. Maeve is pretty sure they wouldn’t have recognized her had her partner in crime been wearing anything slightly less conspicuous than full regalia.

Homelander looks skeptical when he’s asked to try on ski boots. As if the boots he came in with are any less of a fashion faux pas, Maeve smiles to herself. The poor teenager helping them starts to visibly sweat when Homelander waves him off dismissively after he offers them helmets. The staff are starstruck and ask for selfies with the two heroes, and a picture of the two of them to hang up on the bulleting board. Homelander and Maeve indulge them for a few minutes before finally heading outside with skis and poles in hand.

“Why are these boots so awkward?” Homelander asks as he follows her out of the lodge and into the snow.

“Because they’re not for walking,” Maeve grumbles. Homelander watches and mimics her as she puts the skis on. She should be grateful that he’s humoring any of this at all. Even if she’s wondering whether she’d enjoy this outing a lot more alone, there is something entertaining about seeing Homelander navigating mundane everyday life with none of his usual self-assurance.

She leads him to the ski lift, the people in line behind them clearly debating whether these were real celebrities or just really good cosplay. Homelander ends up signing a few autographs before Maeve tugs him forward to get in position for the lift.

“So this is just to bring people up the mountain?” he questions, looking around and swinging his skis like a bored kid. And maybe that’s what he is, Maeve thinks.

“Yeah,” she says. As they ski down the small ramp at the top of the lift, Homelander is clearly just taking his cues from her. Maeve hasn’t done this in so long that she hesitates and turns toward the intermediate difficulty slope. Homelander simply follows. He glides with relative ease for someone who’s never been on skis before. Then again, Maeve realizes that he’s not really skiing. As they head down the slope, she decide to stop abruptly. He glides down a little bit past her before halting and skiing himself backwards up the slope to stand in parallel with her.

Maeve smirks. Just as she thought. “Quit being creepy.”

“What?” he asks, and seems genuinely confused.

“What you’re doing isn’t skiing. Stop hovering and put your full weight on the snow.”

Homelander shrugs and visibly settles himself deeper into the snow’s surface.

“Skiing is about getting momentum from sliding down the mountain on two thin pieces of wood, not flying around pretending to ski.”

Maeve expects him to roll his eyes or get defensive and snarky. But Homelander just stares at her and even nods slightly as if she’s some guru dropping knowledge on him.

“You pivot and turn abruptly to stop. You can use your poles to help push off and change direction.” He’ll get annoyed at being tutored at some point, right?

But Homelander still nods. And before Maeve can push off herself, he starts down the slope, looking much less smooth this time, apparently testing things out, trying to do it by her rules. She still suspects he’s using his powers when he stops and looks back at her as if to ask ‘did I do it right this time?’ She skis down to join him.

“Yeah just like that. You’re getting the hang of it.”

They finish the run and get back on the lift, more and more of the crowd at the bottom wisening up to the fact that they’ve got a celebrity among them, but Homelander signs fewer autographs this time before getting on the lift again.

Maeve's getting strangely emotional, sitting here, legs dangling far above the treetops, feeling like she’s gone back in time, almost forgetting who this is. Homelander isn’t her dad. They’re nothing alike, even if she hates both of them. And yet, sitting here in the lift chair takes her back to the times she misses so much, before her dad impressed upon her that becoming part of a Vought-sponsored team should be her goal in life.

“Sorry, I know the lift must be boring when you can just ski up the mountain,” Maeve says. She doesn’t know why she’s apologizing.

Homelander shakes his head. “I don’t mind. I like sitting here with you.”

When he wraps his arm around her, Maeve can’t believe she starts crying. Homelander looks confused and retracts his arm.

“Did- did I hurt you?” he asks, and there’s not an ounce of disdain in his voice, only worry.

“No, it’s nothing,” Maeve says, laughing it off and furiously wiping the tears away. “I just remembered the last time I went skiing with my dad. We never really got along. But I did like to go skiing with him.”

Homelander looks at her, and– even though he can’t possibly understand how she feels– uncannily enough manages to look sympathetic, and she doesn’t even flinch when he wraps his arm around her again, squeezing her closer.

The moment is only ruined by a wolf whistle from the chair behind them.

Homelander’s head starts swiveling back but Maeve pushes his chin back so he keeps facing her. She doesn’t even mind when he takes that as a prompt to start kissing. It’s gentle and feels maudlin– the way he prefers it and she doesn’t. When he’s like this, she can almost forget how violently possessive he gets over her, can almost forget how Vought forced her to hide her sexual past and pretend Elena doesn’t exist. Can almost forget how she was forced into a relationship with him– first a PR one for the ratings, then a “real” one, still for the ratings. Can almost forget that Madelyn Stilwell volunteered all sorts of tips about how to navigate his capricious mood swings and exploit some of his strange vulnerabilities, which made Maeve wonder what sort of relationship they had and may still be carrying on. No, she won’t think about any of that while they’re sitting on this ski lift together, the air cool and crisp around them, his skis overlapping with hers.

She decides to go down the black diamond side this time. People gawk. Maeve feels invigorated, brave, fulfilled, and heads over the bumps so fast that she does end falling into the snow ungracefully. Homelander skis up beside her, looking concerned even though she gets up laughing, wiping snow from her face and hair with the back of her gloved hand.

“You okay there?” he asks, clearly not worried that she hurt herself, but maybe a little worried at other skiers witnessing this. There is someone who stopped further up the slope and whipped out his phone, probably filming all this.

“Yeah. Falling’s part of the fun,” she says. “You should try it sometime.”

“No thanks,” he bites off tersely.

“Yeah, wouldn’t want to get that cape wet,” she mumbles under her breath as she starts heading down the slope again. She knows he heard her, no matter how quietly she said it.

They keep skiing even after sundown, just like she used to do when she was a child, not bothering to take a break for a meal. Truthfully, she has no interest in walking into the lodge cafeteria and creating a commotion of people wanting selfies and autographs. Homelander is just taking her cues, following her around like a puppy the entire time. He doesn’t deign to fall over, not even for her sake, but he takes the lift up each time, never insisting on being an asshole and skiing up the slope or flying to show off. She suspects sitting on the lift with her is actually his favorite part of this whole escapade leaving Vought Tower for the day.

“Still bitter about the snow day?” she asks playfully on one of their more silent trips on the lift when he seems lost in thought.

He’s staring off into the distance with a strange look on his face, then seems to look down and study his skis. “I did have snow days as a child,” he says. “They just weren’t very fun.”

She tenses a little bit. When Homelander reminisces about his childhood it’s often the death knell of any fun, normal interaction between them, and a turn toward a morose angry mood. But he looks calm.

“When there was a snow emergency, only a skeleton crew would come to work in the lab. Nobody interacted with me. Most of the scientists would stay home. The whole building was much quieter than usual. They never did experiments on me on those days, I guess, but it wasn’t a good tradeoff. I’d sit there listening to the snow landing on the roof of the building, without really knowing what it was. I’d only seen it in pictures and movies. I didn’t even imagine that it’s something wet.”

Maeve feels herself shudder and quickly pretends it’s because she’s cold, prompting Homelander to hug her in closer. He even wraps his cape around her, and she knows he hardly ever uses that for anything so utilitarian. She’s not going to let him know she shudders whenever she hears yet another tidbit about his lab days and realizes anew that the way he was raised means he can never be a balanced, pleasant person, and that it’s a miracle that he can mimic people enough to blend in. Vought have managed to raise an alien creature on earth.

Homelander leans his head in even closer and whispers “Can we have sex tonight? When we get back?” in a wheedling tone, and she nods automatically without even thinking, terrified of him and at the same time full of pity.

A smile spreads wide on his face and he releases her from the embrace as they near the top of the lift and prepare to ski off.

A/N: This blizzard was a real thing :)

#cozy corner domaystic #maevlander #queen maeve #homelander #the boys #the boys tv #mystuff #fic

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the-pen-pot · 1 day

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So I'm starting to do "Next week on Patreon" videos for my patreon in June. Partly it's because I feel that maybe editing videos is a skill I could do to learn (vaguely, at the ripe old age of 40) and partly it's because I wonder if it'll help foster a bit of a sense of community. Maybe??

And Oh My God.

1. What the fuck, why do I sound like that?

2. I am not that peppy IRL, but I can't do it without it being a bit of a performance.

3. I say the word "really" way to much.

4. Speaking is actually just hard? "Patreon" is not a word that comes naturally.

5. Eye contact with a camera is challenging. I either don't look at it or I stare, and forget to blink. Like a WeIrDo.

6. My whole soul leaves my body during the experience.

7. SO. MANY. TAKES. You can actually see the point where I think "fuck it, that will do."

8. Aggressively British. There's nothing I can do about that.

9. I never knew I rolled my eyes so much while talking.

10. So. Freaking. Awkward.

These travesties videos will be available to free members and paying patrons alike.

What fun!

#Patreon #Personal #The horrors

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echantedtoon · 22 hours

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Single Dad Michikatsu Snippet

A small Snippet based on my single dad Michikatsu headcannons.

The day was bright and beautiful as the mid-day light fell through the window and grazed over the few patrons still in the small cafe you worked at. The murmuring hums of light talk, generic elevator like music, and the occasional care passing by outside. It combined with the sounds from the kitchen. Clinking dishes, utilities, and the occasional shout of an order ready to be served. Relatively peaceful and normal day for you.

You smiled from your place behind the counter happily handing a woman her order of a donut and way too sweet frappe when the door opened and the most unusual sight came walking in-

"There's no dam way you saw a ghost let alone drop kick it!"

"We did so! The academy's haunted and we saw the old man ghost! I kicked it and then all these little ghosts popped out of it!"

You and everyone else still in the small cafe had stopped what they were doing to look up and over at the yelling. The tallest man you've ever seen had walked in through the door jingling the doorbell above as he did. You couldn't help but look at him and the menagerie surrounding him.

The man was tall, at least six foot something, and was adorned with long mahogany hair he wore in a long ponytail draped down his back except for the long bangs framing his tired but stoic expression. The dark purple eyes looked like he was done for the day and visibly you could see bags under his eyes. He looked mid to late twenties at most. But that wasn't the unusual thing about him. It was the amount of children that surrounded him.

"You wouldn't know what a real ghost is if it was right in front of your face!," yelled out a teen boy. His black wild hair and scowl reminded you instantly of a feral cat. Why he couldn't have been older than eighteen or nineteen years old. "It was probably just someone pulling a prank because you're so dam gullible!"

"WE ARE NOT!!," two voices shouted as one. Both boys were obvious twins. They looked exactly alike with long strangely colored hair and turquoise eyes. Both looked thirteen maybe fourteen years old?

The one on the right pointed at him. "Tanjiro was there with us when it happened! You can ask him!"

The black haired teen scoffed crossing his arms with a sneer. "Tch. All of you are dumb if you believe that stuff. Is the ghost that haunts the art room real too then?"

"Yeah! We saw him crawl out of his vase!"

That earnt another round of arguing as you blinked at the sight before realizing that the tall man had stopped walking and stood right in front of your cashier. However your gaze didnt go to him at first but instead to his torso as you noticed a tiny pair of eyes blinking at you. The eyes were of an infant and they were currently drinking from a bottle held to their mouth by a large hand. You blinked at the tiny innocent eyes strapped to his torso..Before you slowly looked up. Once again stopping at a second pair of tiny eyes belonging to a toddler with black hair pulled up into a small ponytail. Why he couldn't have been older than four as he was held on the man's hip. Without even acknowledging you he turned and tugged on the man's shirt.

"Daddy!," he shouted pointing his other hand at the menu board behind your head stapled to the wall. "Nuggets! Nuggets!"

"Uh..." You finally looked straight up at the man's face and jumped finally realizing he was staring at you....Quickly you shook your head and smiled at him in perfect customer service form. "Hello, Sir. What can I get you?"

The man didn't say anything at first continuing to listen to the teenagers arguing behind him and the toddler tugging for his attention in deep thought for a long moment deciding what to say.

"....Give me a cup of your strongest coffee."

#demon slayer #dad kokushibo #kokushibo x reader #kny kokushibo #kokushibo demon slayer #kokushibo #kokushibou #kimetsu no yaiba #kokushibo x you #kokushibo x y/n #demon slayer michikatsu #michikatsu x reader #michikatsu #tsugikuni michikatsu #kny michikatsu #michikatsu tsugikuni #michikatsu x y/n

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jossambird · 8 months

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you can still post even if you’re depressed

✨ I could, yeah, but I wont, just for you ✨

#what there missing a question mark anon?#because if not that just sound patronizing #trash confessions #jossambird confessions

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quilleth · 5 months

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I'm going to need a dlc to go fist fight mystra, mizora, and zariel. IDK how we get to deal with Shar or Vlaakith so might need to throw them in there too.

I'm on a quest to fight some gods, devils, etc for fucking with my friends. Like no, fuck off. You already had a chance to not be a dick, now meet me in the fucking pit bitches.

#quilleth plays baldur's gate #cazador's not here because i already know we get to beat the shit out of him #mizora is so slimy...like...ew can you fucking NOT?#i get she's wyll's patron but did she need to be so skeezy about it?#literally first thing after she shows up is me/ my characters going 'ok we need to break your pact wyll'#she's gross and you deserve better #mystra and zariel are self explanatory i think #idk what's up with shar but like.....seems sus. but shadowheart's personal quest is so tied to the main plot #so i haven't seen much #vlaakith is sounding pretty sus for the bits i've unlocked so far from snooping in the creche #bg3 is just turning into me going 'ok time to beat up everyone in your lives' with the companions xD #except tara. she can come on the beat the shit out of mystra again mission.#bitch should've stayed where she was #idk enough canon dnd/ faerun lore to know where that was but i'm going to send her back

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kebriones · 6 months

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Maybe i will sound biased but i am an artist but I don't understand abstract art. I understand their importance and significant in the art world and history but when i go to a museum i am amazed to the old art like renaissance and rococo.

Of course not everyone must like everything in art but now with modern art they tend to favour abstract and bright colours and i am a little insecure when i want to approach something more realistic and familiar:(

*cracks knuckles*

I will attempt to not go on another huge rant so I will make bullet points -One thing that I very often find myself talking about is that you do not have to understand art. Take that idea, right now, and throw it in the trashcan, and then throw the trashcan out too, just in case. Art is meant to be experienced first, enjoyed second, and only incidentally understood. -What the current trend in art is around you, despite what art teachers or whoever might say, should NEVER stop you from making the type art you want to make. Look at videogames, or movies. How miserable would we be without the small indie creators who do their own, refreshing thing? It is not a good thing to force yourself into the current trendy or mainstream mold, and you absolutely do not have to.

-We are always insecure as artists. Just make stuff, and feel as insecure as you want doing it.

-As one artist to another, try not to conflate what you make and what you want to make and what you enjoy seeing. They can be completely different types of art. I love textiles and i find them incredibly impressive, and would buy something to hang on the wall of my house, but I could never imagine myself doing textile art like embroidery or weaving.

#sunday more like rantday #the anons are enabling me help #I hope i'm not coming off as patronizing because I have been told I sound patronizing in english but I can't understand the mood and nuance #I'm saying everything very lightheartedly I just can't convey that through typing

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kinokoshoujoart · 8 months

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this mf really can, without ever meeting you (since you can skip the town introductions now) show up on your doorstep exactly a year after you arrive with some kind of gigolo application. it’s entirely possible for this to be your first ever interaction with him.

#sorry i’m just cross checking his dialogue in every language because i’m insane #someone who knows french please help me i’m being bewitched by his french dialogue variants despite knowing no french #i am going to look so fucking stupid but i need to know him in every language. he’s my mr worldwide #i AM annoyed that they matched the english ‘bud’ thing by having him call you poto constantly #kind of hilarious that his speech quirk that sounds flirty in jp was rendered in every other language as him constantly friendzoning #even during the proposal #in jp it’s a second person pronoun that sounds patronizing and overly familiar but also comes off very flirty if used towards a girl #which is why natsume translated it ‘dude’ in awl and ‘babe’ in anwl #i wish they’d have just gone with babe regardless of gender it captures the cheesy outdated feeling #or ‘baby’#t the three gender… dude babe and bud

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lestatthelittlelion · 11 months

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should i change my url to bowlerhatlestat and my icon to a picture of lestat in a bowler hat

#bowlerhatlestat just sounds so SATISFYING #but i'm identifiable right now #i literally just said a couple of days ago how us lestat urls can't change shit or nobody will know who tf you are #i'm attached to the little lion because i'm patronizing him :(#and he'd like it :(

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bellamyroselia · 2 years

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What would you consider as Achilles greatest offense?

Hmm... Gotta go with Troilus' murder and kidnapping of Polyxena. The whole thing is just really upsetting and I guess that's why it's not really talked of all that often - it really makes Achilles look like a psychopath (which he apparently is, according to some studies I've seen floating around in internet - same goes for him being a narcissist). It's pretty hard to root for someone who beheaded a begging child in his father's altar and then took his sister as prisoner, made worse by the fact that he intended to take her home as a trophy once the war was over.

Also apparently it's really hard to for some people to understand that this is why Apollo hates Achilles. Idk, Troilus was his child, how could he not hate Achilles? Though I guess you could say it's because people don't want to acknowledge Troilus' murder...

#personal thoughts #i guess that's why he liked patroclus - people who kill kids together stay together!#i'm only half-joking. patroclus was a child murderer in both senses of the word #okay. it's not the only reason why apollo hates achilles. troy's his patron city after all #but i've seen some people just ignoring that and troilus in favor of saying that he was jealous of achilles and patroclus #like wtf?! if he was jealous he wouldn't have looked after hecuba who was an old woman by the time of war #honestly i guess one of grievances with achilles is the constant woobifying & refusal to see him outside his relationship patroclus #.... sounds like certain someone now when i'm thinking of it #but like. achilles isn't a good person & it's fine. i would probably like him a lot if it was acknowledged #horrible people can be interesting characters!#isn't that one of the reasons why people like greek mythology? lot of nuanced characters. almost everything comes in shades of gray.#this is honestly one of the reasons why i don't like medusa either. the constant woobifying!#ovid's rolling in his grave because of people taking his book literally

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scorchedhearth · 2 years

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you remind me of guy bc of your snark but also jason because you have a joking sense of righteousness sometimes when you analyze things/talk about characters or plot lines that are important to you and it’s just so fascinating to be there for that hehe

just so you know, i was going to make a snarky remark (*insert that post that goes "post about the same character for months and then ask who do i remind you of"*) but then i got to the last part and its fascinating to read. i am in general a very passionate person, for the better and the worse, and i easily get lost into things, especially if i like or care about them so it makes sense i would come off this way. channeling my inner "jason talking to bruce about saving gotham speech" every time i post

which character do i remind u of

#like. i do know that i can end up sounding patronizing with some of my posts #its just that sometimes its on purpose and other its because i dont get off my high horses </3 #and i use passion in the greek root sense. the overwhelming that you do not control #this is going into my folder of asks that rearranged my thoughts. not many get into it so thank you!!#asks #pendulum north

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leatherbookmark · 2 days

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god i have to talk about it otherwise i'll die

look at san's tongue in the last gif here.

the voiceless dental fricative does not occur in korean -- the first syllable of the english word "thanks", in korean, would be pronounced like 땡- (soundless tense alveolar stop/plosive? i think?). so his tongue would have been behind his teeth but it clearly isn't!! he's doing this! i am so happy

#shrimp thoughts #idk if it sounds patronizing but I AM NOT i genuinely find this really cool because i don't think it's something #'normal' people know. like i only know it because i actually did a semester of english studies LMAO otherwise i'd just say 'thank you'#and other th-words with an f sound. or maybe a slightly aspirated t sound i genuinely don't remember what i did in high school lol #i don't overhear people talking in english often but when i do they always have audible polish accent even if they're around my age so #san's english is (i think?) the most smooth-sounding of them all and i'm wondering if it's because he took classes or because he just #has a good ear for language things like sounds and intonation because he's got the latter down PAT #auogh i had too much caffeine it's half past 2am i'm most probably talking Nonsense but i just. gwah. san

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giantkillerjack · 1 year

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Today my therapist introduced me to a concept surrounding disability that she called "hLep".

Which is when you - in this case, you are a disabled person - ask someone for help ("I can't drink almond milk so can you get me some whole milk?", or "Please call Donna and ask her to pick up the car for me."), and they say yes, and then they do something that is not what you asked for but is what they think you should have asked for ("I know you said you wanted whole, but I got you skim milk because it's better for you!", "I didn't want to ruin Donna's day by asking her that, so I spent your money on an expensive towing service!") And then if you get annoyed at them for ignoring what you actually asked for - and often it has already happened repeatedly - they get angry because they "were just helping you! You should be grateful!!"

And my therapist pointed out that this is not "help", it's "hLep".

Sure, it looks like help; it kind of sounds like help too; and if it was adjusted just a little bit, it could be help. But it's not help. It's hLep.

At its best, it is patronizing and makes a person feel unvalued and un-listened-to. Always, it reinforces the false idea that disabled people can't be trusted with our own care. And at its worst, it results in disabled people losing our freedom and control over our lives, and also being unable to actually access what we need to survive.

So please, when a disabled person asks you for help on something, don't be a hLeper, be a helper! In other words: they know better than you what they need, and the best way you can honor the trust they've put in you is to believe that!

Also, I want to be very clear that the "getting angry at a disabled person's attempts to point out harmful behavior" part of this makes the whole thing WAY worse. Like it'd be one thing if my roommate bought me some passive-aggressive skim milk, but then they heard what I had to say, and they apologized and did better in the future - our relationship could bounce back from that. But it is very much another thing to have a crying shouting match with someone who is furious at you for saying something they did was ableist. Like, Christ, Jessica, remind me to never ask for your support ever again! You make me feel like if I asked you to call 911, you'd order a pizza because you know I'll feel better once I eat something!!

Edit: crediting my therapist by name with her permission - this term was coined by Nahime Aguirre Mtanous!

Edit again: I made an optional follow-up to this post after seeing the responses. Might help somebody. CW for me frankly talking about how dangerous hLep really is.

#hlep #original #mental health #my sympathies and empathies to anyone who has to rely on this kind of hlep to get what they need.#the people in my life who most need to see this post are my family but even if they did I sincerely doubt they would internalize it #i've tried to break thru to them so many times it makes my head hurt. so i am focusing on boundaries and on finding other forms of support #and this thing i learned today helps me validate those boundaries. the example with the milk was from my therapist.#the example with the towing company was a real thing that happened with my parents a few months ago while I was age 28. 28!#a full adult age! it is so infantilizing as a disabled adult to seek assistance and support from ableist parents.#they were real mad i was mad tho. and the spoons i spent trying to explain it were only the latest in a long line of #huge family-related spoon expenditures. distance and the ability to enforce boundaries helps. haven't talked to sisters for literally the #longest period of my whole life. people really believe that if they love you and try to help you they can do no wrong.#and those people are NOT great allies to the chronically sick folks in their lives.#you can adore someone and still fuck up and hurt them so bad. will your pride refuse to accept what you've done and lash out instead?#or will you have courage and be kind? will you learn and grow? all of us have prejudices and practices we are not yet aware of.#no one is pure. but will you be kind? will you be a good friend? will you grow? i hope i grow. i hope i always make the choice to grow.#i hope with every year i age i get better and better at making people feel the opposite of how my family's ableism has made me feel #i will see them seen and hear them heard and smile at their smiles. make them feel smart and held and strong.#just like i do now but even better! i am always learning better ways to be kind so i don't see why i would stop

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