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#spent way too long on this for a thing I know will not do as well
fishofthewoods · 2 days
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I see a lot of people clowning on the people of Pelican Town for not repairing the community center themselves or clowning on Lewis for embezzling and. like. Those criticisms aren't entirely unfair. But I think instead of coming at it from a perspective of "why can't the townspeople do this" we should be asking "why and how can the farmer do this?"
Like. Think about it. The farmer arrives in Stardew Valley on the first day of spring. By the first day they're obviously different. By day five the spirits of the forest who haven't been seen by the townsfolk in years or generations are speaking to them. By the second week they've developed a rapport with the wizard that lives outside town.
In the spring they go foraging and find more than even Linus, who's spent so many years learning the ways of the valley. Maybe he knows, when he sees them walking back home. Maybe he looks at them and understands that they're different, chosen somehow.
In the summer they fish in the lakes and the ocean for hours on end, catching fish that even Willy's only ever heard of, fish that he thought were the stuff of legend. They pull up giants from the deep and mutated monstrosities from the sewers.
In the fall, their crops grow incredibly immense; pumpkins twice as tall as a person, big enough that someone could live inside. The farmer cuts it down with an axe without even batting an eye. Does Lewis wonder, when he checks the collection bin that night and finds it full to the brim with pumpkin flesh? What does he think? Does he even leave the money? Does he have the funds to pay the farmer millions of dollars for the massive amounts of wine they sell? Or is it someone--something--else entirely?
In the winter, the farmer delves into the mines. No one in Pelican Town has been down there in decades. No one in living memory has been to the bottom. The farmer gets there within the season. They return to the surface with stories of dwarven ruins and shadow people, stories they only tell to Vincent and Jas, whose retellings will be dismissed by the adults as flights of fancy. People walking by the entrance to the mines sometimes hear the farmer in there, speaking in a language no one can understand. Something speaks back.
The farmer speaks to the the wizard. They speak to the spirit of a bear inside a centuries-old stone. They speak to the shadow people and the dwarves, ancient enemies, and they try to mend the rift. They speak to the Junimos, ancient spirits of the forest and the river and the mountain. They taste the nectar of the stardrops and speak to the valley itself. They change Pelican Town, and they change the valley. Things are waking up.
And what does Evelyn think? She's the oldest person in the valley; she was here when the farmer's grandfather was young. (How old *is* she, anyway? She never seems to age. She doesn't remember the year she was born.) Does she see the farmer and think of their grandfather? Does she try to remember if he was like this too, strange and wild and given the gifts of the forest?
And does their grandfather haunt the valley? He haunts the farm, still there even after his death; his body died somewhere else, but his spirit could never stay away for long. Does Abigail, using her ouija board on a stormy night, almost drop the planchette when she realizes it's moving on its own? Does Shane, walking to work long before anyone else leaves their house, catch glimpses of a wispy figure floating through the town? Does the farmer know their grandfather came back to the place they both love so much?
Mr. Qi takes interest in the farmer. He's different, too; in a different way, maybe, but the principles are the same. They're both exceptional, and no matter what Qi says about it being hard work and dedication, they both know the truth: the world bends around the both of them, changing to fit their needs. Most people aren't visited by fairies or witches. Most people don't have meteorites crash in their yard. Most people couldn't chop down trees all day without a break or speak to bears and mice and frogs.
The farmer is different. The rules of the world don't work for them the way they work for everyone else. The farmer goes fishing and finds the stuff of fairy tales. The farmer goes mining and fights shadow beasts and flying snakes. The farmer looks at paths the townspeople walk every day and finds buried in the dirt relics of lost civilizations.
The farmer is a violent, irrepressible miracle, chosen by the valley and destined to return to it someday. Even if they'd never received the letter, they would've come home.
They always come home eventually.
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yauchfilms · 1 day
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so american ✢ max verstappen
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pairing: max verstappen x singer!reader
warnings: none; just some silly shit, some swearing, google translate dutch
summary: y/n is teasing way too many things at once…..can the fans keep up? 
author's note: this is NOT an original concept i am aware of this. but this hasn’t left my brain in days. i’ve got a very specific vision so let me cook. i know i haven't posted on here in over a year but i've returned an f1 fan. enjoy!
yourname added to their story! 
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liked by delwatergap, maxverstappen1, and 3,491,842 others
yourname: i think i'm in love with montreal. sorry i’ve been so off the grid but i am Loving Life so hard. so much inspo in my life rn. will talk soon i promise. love u all bunches 🫶🏼🌷
ynsbestfriend: hey queen you have done it again!
-> yourname: ugh i love you so bad
user1: UM BAE WHOS THAT IN THE LAST SLIDE?
-> yourname: beats me! 
-> user1: i do not trust you. 
lilymhe: hiiiii pretty girl
-> yourname: stop im blushinggggg
user2: i fear she’s in her lover girl era 
-> user3: girl help im so fucking scared right now what’s happening
user4: so does any of this have to do with your story from yesterday??????
*liked by yourname.*
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maxverstappen1 added to their story! 
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yourname added to their story! 
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liked by honeymoon, danielricciardo, and 3,572,679 others
yourname: life's been a beach lately. clearly i've been loathing my time in spain ://///
user5: IS THAT MAX
-> user6: no bc it HAS to be
heidiberger_: Loved spending the week with you! 🤍
-> yourname: same!!!!!! let's do it again sometime 🥰
-> user6: NOT DANNY RIC'S GF COMMENTING?????? AND LILY MUNI HE ON HER LAST POST???????
user6: no bc even if her and max were dating and she's been traveling with him why have we not seen her in the paddock
-> user7: to throw us off our rhythm????
-> user8: what if they debut at his home race in spa ijbol
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liked by landonorris, taylorswift, and 4,683,892 others.
tagged: maxverstappen1, redbullracing, and ynsbestfriend
yourname: hahaha felt like dropping 2 things at once on u guys LOLLLLLLLL. thank u to redbullracing, spagrandprix, and the city of spa for letting me and my friends crash the race the other week to film the “so american” music video, and to maxie for winning in ur home country. it was so fucking special to be there supporting u. i love u baby!
ps. another thank u to max for thinking i'm the funniest person in the world and making fun of my americanness for as long as i've known him (which is quite a while).
enjoy this tune guys. it's urs forever and i hope u love it as much as i love the person it's about 🫶🏼 🇧🇪 🇳🇱 TU DU DU DU!!!!!
user9: OH NMY GOD I FUCKING KNEW I SAW U IN THE GARAGE
ynsbestfriend: thanks for letting me third wheel mommy
-> yourname: no one else i'd rather drag along!!!
danielricciardo: Welcome to the family! Song's a banger although I can't believe it's actually about Max of all people 🤢 GROSS!!
-> yourname: jealousy is a disease danny.
user10: i actually cannot fathom this this is so me core
alexandramalsaintmleux: I am so glad to know you! Your happiness is everything 🩷
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liked by sabrinacarpenter, carlossainz55, and 4,783,522 others. 
tagged: yourname and ynsfriend
maxverstappen1: Spent a week away in New England with my talented, gorgeous girl. Loved getting away and experiencing America through her eyes! Consider me an honorary American now! Also, stream “So American” wherever you choose. It's about me 😉 
yourname: does this mean i can stop hiding in the garage now???
landonorris: Happy for you mate! Love the song as well yourname 🤍
-> yourname: awe thank u lando 🥺 i got more to show u when i see u next!!!!!!
redbullracing: ❤️💙
user11: MAX IS IN HIS LOVER BOY ERA
danielricciardo: How many more times can you say American?
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liked by charles_leclerc, chappellroan, and 3,694,849 others
tagged: maxverstappen1
yourname: nothing like celebrating the best 2 weeks of my life than showing my boy around ye olde stomping grounds #soamerican
liamlawson30: This is so American of him
-> yourname: like he fits in so well!
lydianight: u'll have him in the american flag board shorts in no time
-> yourname: baby steps :///
user11: she really is in her lover girl era 🥺
clairo: did you take him to the chipotle that is also a historic landmark downtown??
-> yourname: dude of COURSE i did. he said it was "interesting"
yourname added to their story! 
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lexirosewrites · 2 days
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Steddie as rival lawyers who have very different careers.
Steve became a prosecuting attorney after graduating from a top school at his parents’ insistence. It pays well and makes them happy, even if it’s joyless for him to fight for things he doesn’t believe in.
Prosecuting innocent people and fighting for the sake of money without morals.
On the other end of the spectrum is free-spirited Eddie Munson. He’s a defense attorney who shows up in ill-fitting suits that show off his many neck and hand tattoos. Piercings in his ears and hair that’s not tidy or tamed in any way.
He’s a rebel who barely graduated from some lower tier law school with no prestige whatsoever.
Steve naturally assumed their first trial would be a breeze.
But somehow— sheer dumb luck, bad jury selection, or just stupid fate— Eddie wins. And he keeps winning.
Over and over for months.
Steve’s long uninterrupted winning streak becomes a losing one. If Eddie’s in the courtroom too, Steve knows he’s already lost his case.
It’s humbling.
Actually, it’s frankly embarrassing to lose to someone who’s so unprofessional and doesn’t take the law seriously like Steve.
Eddie is respectful of course, but he doesn’t use lawyer-speak unless he’s referencing a precedent of a law. Other than that, he’s overly casual and friendly. Everyone’s favorite lawyer.
He doesn’t lack passion though. No, the guy all but hops up on tables to make speeches about freedom or the American dream during every trial. Utterly ridiculous.
It works though. The juries fall for his bullshit about being down to earth and his clients walk free because of it.
Steve can’t stand it. He can’t stand Eddie and his mockery of his career.
This ultimately culminates in a confrontation in the parking lot one night after a particularly tense trial conclusion.
Once again, Eddie’s guy walked free and Steve knows he’s gonna hear about it from his boss (who also happens to be his dad).
So he might snap a bit when Eddie comes out whistling and looking happier than anything.
“Hey, jackass!”
Eddie looks around like Steve might be referring to some other jackass, despite the otherwise empty parking lot.
He points to himself in question and Steve rolls his eyes in answer.
“Hi, sweetheart,” Eddie finally greets him with a smirk. “Chinese takeout for tonight sound good?”
Steve’s stomach growls at the mere suggestion.
He’d accidentally skipped lunch earlier so he could make changes to his closing argument. Fat load of good that did him.
“Yeah, sure, whatever. You’re not off the hook that easily though. What the hell was that brutal cross examination on my witness, you dickhead?”
Eddie smiles extra sweetly and presses a quick but affectionate kiss to Steve’s forehead first.
“All’s fair in love, war, and court, baby. You can whine about it later when we’re home if you really want to. I happen to know some very nice pillows that would love to muffle your pretty little moans.”
Asshole.
He blushes, glancing around to make sure they’re still alone before he pulls Eddie into an embrace.
They’ve barely spent any time together this week because of the tense trial and he really missed his boyfriend (not to be mistaken for the jackass who argues with him daily in the courtroom).
As much as they can separate their personal and work lives, it’s hard to not be on the same side of things.
“What if I want you to hear me moan, Eddie? I think it’s only fair since you seem to get everyone else off and I’m the one always suffering for it,” he mumbles snarkily into Eddie’s shirt.
Eddie laughs at the pun. He knew that he would.
“Is that why you’re sulking, babylove? You want me to get you off too?” He nods with a pathetic whine. Not getting to cum for a few days can do that to a person. “I think that can be arranged. You’ve been such a good boy for me lately. You’ve earned a treat.”
Steve melts into his boyfriend’s arms, feeling loved.
“I missed you.”
Another kiss to the forehead, but this time Eddie’s lips linger there as he speaks.
“Missed you too, sweetheart. Not sorry for winning, but I am sorry that you lost.”
Steve knew the defendant was innocent. There wasn’t much of a case to be made anyway. It still stings though.
“Yeah... I’ve been thinking about that and it might be time to quit my dad’s firm. I’d much rather be on the same side as you,” Steve confesses.
Eddie pauses.
“Does that mean…”
Steve looks up smiling and confirms, “Yes. I’ll accept the job offer if it’s still on the table.”
The rival lawyer had offered him a job months ago, before they even got together.
By accepting the position, it means they’d finally be allowed to be a couple publicly and they’d be sitting on the same side of the court for once.
It would also free Steve from his dad’s control and disappointment.
“Stevie, I’d love nothing more than to have you as my partner. In both the court and life. I love you, sweetheart.”
He can’t resist.
“I love you too… jackass.”
Eddie makes good on his promise to get Steve off that night. He even brings out the handcuffs for accuracy sake.
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becca-e-barnes · 2 days
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I've spent a while indulging my own fantasies on here recently but I've been tailoring this one so I need to talk about it
I'm obsessed with the thought of sharing your naughtiest, most depraved fantasies with dad's best friend!bucky and him giving you a safe space to try them out.
You almost think he's forgotten all the filthy things you admitted one night, cuddled up in bed together until a few weeks later when you're making out in the kitchen after dinner and he leads you upstairs to his bedroom.
He's placed a chair in front of the TV and your heart begins to race because he's surely not doing what you think he's doing. He couldn't be letting you live out the fantasy you've never shared with anyone else.
He kisses from your shoulder, up your neck and you're glad that he can't see your excitement when he's standing behind you. "Sit down". He whispers, placing a final kiss behind your ear and for once, you're happy to do as he tells you.
While you sit down, he flicks the TV on and starts playing a video you recognise within a few seconds. It's one you'd taken together not too long ago.
In the video, you have your face close to the bedroom carpet, your ass in the air and Bucky is behind you, recording in a mirror, pounding into you in a way that had you cumming mindlessly on his cock. You have one hand barely supporting yourself while the other rubs your clit frantically and although it's the start of the video, you already look over pleasured.
"You see how fucking gorgeous you are?" Bucky brings you back down to earth, kissing along your shoulders while he shuffles the skirt of your dress up, dragging your panties down your legs and letting them fail in a little wet heap on the floor.
Your own moans in the video are breathtaking, you almost didn't know you could sound like that. "Look at you. You take it like a pornstar. I can fucking hear how messy you were." He's right, the video captures every tiny little wet sound your eager cunt makes for him and you hang on every last one.
You hear a quiet click and a faint buzz starting and that's the only thing that could draw your attention away from the video playing in front of you. God, he really did listen to you.
Bucky presses the wand between your legs and even on the lowest setting, the sensation against your clit makes you squirm.
"Keep watching. I'm pretty sure you cum in a minute or two and I don't want you to miss it." Bucky's so smug, holding your chin gently in one hand while he makes your body quiver with the other.
He clicks the toy up a setting, rolling the head right where you need it most.
"Such a pretty little slut. You just want me to fill your holes with cum, don't you? You're desperate for me to cum in you, I can feel you trying to milk it from me. You have no idea how warm and wet and perfect you feel. Might fuck you until I'm totally empty. You know you'd like that; being so stuffed full of my cum you can't sit up without it spilling out of you." Bucky in the video fucks you through your first orgasm and you get to watch the way your body trembles and your eyes roll back.
You're so close just watching yourself but that doesn't suit the man kneeling beside you. He takes the wand away, making sure your impending orgasm fizzles away, despite your protests.
"You cum when I say you can sweetheart, and we've got a lot of videos left to watch."
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vaggie, miss "im not used to fighting with long hair" who's out of practice actually battling someone or really stabbing ppl...
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...still had the arm and hand strength, the REFLEXES, to do a bare handed blade catch on a SWORD, who's user had been doing an aerial dive with it aimed at vaggie's FACE
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then sling around and THROW her opponent with it
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i know she wants a peaceful-ish life with charlie, but i really wouldn't mind seeing her getting into just a FEW more fights >:D
also also side note: carmilla was able to eff her up earlier so easily bc vaggie fought like an exorcist, no thought to getting hurt or personal defense, the headspace of 'i can't get killed! wheee! DIE DIE DIE' that got that other exorcist killed
and the main advice vaggie got from carmilla was take advantage of that sure, but first and more importantly, defend yourself better
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which kinda plays into the whole "be out for love thing" too
aka the fight isn't important, it's what you're fighting to still have Afterwards that matters- the people you love, having a life with them
(the hotel, the hazbins, charlie)
carmilla doesn't send vaggie off with a 'you're ready to go kill angels'. she's only satisfied and ends their little lesson / sparring match when she can say "you might just survive this"
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feels like she wasn't teaching vaggie to take out angels. she was reminding her and showing her how NOT to get KILLED
so it's just so nice seeing vaggie blocking, dodging, and grappling lute later. how good she is at focusing on avoiding or neutralizing those attacks aimed at her. how Seriously she takes them
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binding lute's both lute's arms and wedging them into her own body so lute's sword CAN'T be angled towards her
the way this shot emphasis's the THREAT of the sword hanging over vaggie
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and how her flash-fast recovery and block shows she's READY for it
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dodging, not attacking
she's not in this for blood or vengeance, this lady is trying to stay the fuck alive. she's got things and people to live for
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things like the idea of mercy. that thing both her and charlie show their enemies, people who came down to hell for murder and spent this fight trying to kill them and got damn close to doing it.
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and sure there's a pretty big tone difference between charlie's "Whoa whoa dad. He's had enough" and vaggie's "No, live. Live knowing that you only do because I let you" but both end at the same place, with someone who hates them still getting a second chance
(UNLESS ITS NIFFTY WITH THE ANGELIC BLAAADE)
and vaggie wants that second chance too. she wants a life with charlie, and fights hard so she can stick around for it
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epic fail, lute... have you considered getting a hobby...?
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doeidawn · 3 days
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☁︎ — having a lot of thoughts about Price's thighs; f!reader, nsfw 18+ (MDNI)
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John Price was a man of simple pleasures. It came with the lifestyle of a soldier—he had to learn to appreciate the small victories. And he knew how to wait until reward found its way to him.
He was a man with the patience of a saint and the resolve of a warrior. Never was it more apparent to you than moments like these: sat in his lap squirming and whining while he leaned back against the headboard, puffing on a cigar and just watching you.
"Please," you whine, almost unsure of what exactly you wanted by this point. Your hands brace against his chest, fingers splayed against the coarse hair and calloused skin that covers firm muscle. Your hips drag your cunt up and down the length of his thigh in a pattern so sporadic neither of you can sense a rhythm to it.
You weren't sure how long you'd spent rutting against him. Your thighs burned and your knees were sore but the throbbing need in your cunt was too strong to stop now.
The heat and wetness that pooled between your legs ached, beyond desperate for any other type of friction. But John couldn't seem to care less; couldn't bother to interrupt the show you were putting on for him. His lips wrap around the end of his cigar as his eyes rake over every detail of your body for the hundredth time tonight. Seeing the way his eyes devoured you only made you wish that much more that he'd actually do it. One thing was certain—he reveled in this.
He was kind enough to remove his clothes, although you suspect it was more for his sake—he couldn't have you staining a pair of his trousers, after all. It still wasn't enough to see the outline of his thick cock throbbing against his briefs, but every attempt you made to remove them was met with a scold and a small thwack of his palm meeting your ass.
He'd turn his head before billowing a small cloud of grey smoke from his lips. "Not yet, darling." His voice was such a soft rumble that it was almost easy to forget how aggravating his denial was.
You know he can feel how worked up you are. It'd be impossible not to when your slick painted his thigh, matting fine hair to his skin. But John got a kick out of this. He liked to watch you beg and whine and show him how much you needed him.
"Please just fuck me." All of your mounting impatience bubbled to the surface as you begged—pleaded—with him. "Please, John, I jus' wanna cum. Need you to fuck me."
His free hand would snake up your thigh, grabbing the pillowy flesh on your hip. "I know you do, baby." A reassuring squeeze followed his faux-compassion. "But you can cum for me like this, yeah?"
Of course you could, and he knew it. When he spoke to you like that—encouragement and expectation all wrapped into one—it was almost impossible not to. Even if you wanted more than just pathetic ruts against his thigh, the heat that gnawed at your core was growing increasingly harder to fight back against. You offer him a small nod and hum a quiet "mm-hmm" in reply, almost reluctant to admit to your desperation and give in to his game. Not that he couldn't tell.
A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. "Yeah, that's my girl."
He flexes his thigh, the muscles underneath going taut and firm as he shifts his leg just enough to press against your cunt. You can't stifle the moan that escapes your lips. The newfound pressure feels amazing; such a small difference yet so monumental when you were this sensitive.
He kneads the skin on your hip, fingers leaving small red imprints as they dig into you. "There you go. You like that?" The smoke curling around his lips as he takes another puff of his cigar makes him look as devilish as he sounds.
A roll of your hips takes your breath away, the air catching in your throat in a choked moan. Your eyes flutter as you meet his darkened gaze. "Mm-hmm," the affirmative sound rumbles in your throat.
Thwack. His palm meets the swell of your ass in a much sharper spank than before. The sudden sting makes you whine and buck against his thigh, hips jerking at the feel of the sudden stimulation. Your cunt throbs as heat blooms over your skin.
As comforting as he is domineering, he runs his hand gently over your flushed skin. "Use your words, darling." Your mind already felt like mush—too tired and desperate to cum—that the warm baritone of his voice was almost too much to bear.
"Yes, I like it." You finally manage to sputter. Nails rake over the hair dusting his chest when your hands search him out for support. "Feels so good."
He groans at that. "Yeah? Y'gonna cum for me?"
"Yeah," you mewl, burying your face in his neck. The combination of his musk and cigars hits you even harder, the scent filling your nostrils and making your head spin further into delirium. "I need it, John, I need it so fucking bad."
The pressure on your body only increases after that. His hand slides to your lower back for support to guide your rolling hips up and down his thigh. He keeps your pace steady, taking some of the work for himself as he watches you squirm.
"I know you do baby." He takes another drag from his cigar, planting a kiss on your shoulder after blowing the smoke away. "Christ, you're makin' a mess, leakin' all over me."
You whine into his stubbled skin, feeling his beard brush against your cheek as you nuzzle closer. You didn't have to feel his cock throbbing against your leg to know he was enjoying seeing you like this (and he probably couldn't stand to just watch for much longer).
"Cum for me like this and I promise I'll make it up to you." His hand gently tangles in the hair at the back of your head. Fingers interlace with the strands as he tugs just enough to pull your head back and meet your heavy-lidded gaze. "Give me a nice li'l show and I'll fuck you proper, fill you up good. But you need t' cum for me first, love."
A strained curse leaves your mouth as your hips buck wildly against his thigh. The friction of firm muscle and soft skin makes your cunt throb against him. Your lips find his in a messy fit of kisses. The taste of old tobacco coats your tongue and adds to the haze of sensations.
His grip loosens in your hair before his hand slides down the bare expanse of your back, resting at your waist as fingers curl to hold you firmly. His teeth tease and pull at your bottom lip, drawing a whine out from you between your heavy breaths.
You can feel his lips curl into a smile against your mouth. "That's it," he groans, leaving your panting mouth behind. "There you go, love, cum all over me. Show me how good it feels."
His encouragement is what sends you over the edge. The heat that had been building in your core spills over, making your body tense as waves of pleasure flow through you. His hand digs into your waist as you pant and moan against him, the sensation grounding you amidst the overwhelming feeling of relief.
A strong tobacco scent hits your nose. Fluttering your eyes open, your sweaty body goes lax against him. Lifting your hips, you can feel your slick string between his thigh and your cunt. You smile down at him, cupping his jaw in one of your hands.
Your fingers thread through his beard. Leaning in, your nose brushes over his before you plant a gentle kiss on his lips. "Gonna keep your promise?"
"Always do."
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tarjapearce · 2 days
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Like Me Pt. 2
Tarzan! Miguel O'Hara x Scientist ! Reader
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Art by Rendraws21 on X
WARNINGS: Mildly suggestive, power dynamics, emotional distress, endangering situations, Kraven being an asshole.
Summary: Your savior proves himself to be very much real.
A|N: Hope you like! I know you're waiting smut. Just bare with it! ;w; Reblogs and feedback are always welcome ❤️
Previous Miguelverse Main Masterlist
Kraven didn't dally and ordered the camp to be settled. The spot was rather good. A prime source of water and food next to you all, soil sturdy and perfect for withstanding the hard hammering of the tools that nailed the bases for the tents.
And after hours of bickering, russian cursing, more work and the crew doctor patching your arm up, the camp was settled and food served.
Each bite not only felt heavenly, but was scarfed down. You couldn't care less if Peter looked your way, mildly disgusted and surprised of your manners, or rather the lack of them while eating.
It was the least you deserved after surviving a ship sinking, getting lost in the jungle, being chased by a giant Jaguar and a man that left more questions than answers.
Who was he? More important, How had he survived all these years on his own?
After a second plate and extra slices of bread, one of the men approached and announced the readiness of your tent. One of the things you asked in your contract. To have your own, cause as much as you trusted Peter, there was nothing better than to have your own space and privacy in the midst of an unhealthy amount of testosterone surrounding you.
"We've eaten, replenished, and blah blah. What happened?" Peter mumbled while picking his and your plate together.
You shook your head softly as another crew member passed by. You didn't trust them, and Kraven had proved to be unpredictable.
One minute he cared for his crew and the other he was leaving you to fend for yourselves. But as long as you did your job, you wouldn't be part of the russian's guessing dangerous games.
"Kraven said we'd have to make do with the little tools we have. He spent a good time of the day trying to get some signal for the radio."
"Any luck?"
"None so far." Peter mumbled as he took your things inside your tent.
A hammock was the bed, a few boxes and other storage things were placed in a corner. A chalkboard and your investigation books in another corner and against all odds, a little broken mirror that acted as a poor attempt of a vanity ontop of another wooden box. Your hairbrush rested next to it. Whoever arranged it, at least had the consideration to make it as comfortable looking as possible.
In total, you had a couple of shirts and skirts left to use. The rest remained on the sea, floating and drifting away with unknown course.
Peter excused to go change himself and you seized the chance to do the same. Catching a cold in the jungle wasn't in your priorities list. Not with reduced medicine and victuals.
You put on a dry set and combed your hair out as much as you could. Peter joined you a couple of minutes later.
The fire cracked and sparked alive as the crew surrounded it. The day had been chaotic at best and everyone tried to soothe the nerves in their own way. Some drank, others sang, others talked and soon Kraven joined.
Others simply went to sleep. Too tired to keep up after a well deserved meal.
"So..." Peter started while sitting before you, a rag and some tubs on his hands. He was cleaning the remaining pieces of your equipment.
"Promise me you won't talk to anyone about this. And I mean it, Parker."
"I'm a geologist, not a snitch."
"I'm... kinda scared of what might happen if Kraven finds out"
"Now you're scaring me.  What happened back there?"
"I know... who killed the beast Kraven is skinning." A gulp rolled down your throat upon remembering the lurid scene displaying before your eyes
"Wait... you said, who?"
A nod from you and Peter paled.
"We're not alone, that's for sure."
Peter rubbed his hands against his face, an exasperated groan escaped him.
"He's taller than Kraven."
"Bullshit." Peter mumbled almost immediate, surprised at your words.
"I'm not bullshittin' you Parker!" You had to hush your voice and soon grabbed a sketch notebook and begun tracing and drawing.
"He's freaking tall, long hair and he's naked. Well, not naked but a loincloth is everything but clothes if you think about it."
Peter frowned suspiciously as his hand pressed on your skin, to see if your body temperature had increased. Jungle fever was one of the worst things a human could suffer when away from their homeland. Cause he refused to believe anything of the nonsense that came out of your mouth was true.
A man taller than Sergei? Impossible. He was tall, but Sergei had been one of the tallest and well built men he had ever came across with.
"What are you doing?" You pushed his hands away and frowned.
"I'm sorry, I do want to believe you but.."
"I'm telling you the truth, Pete! He had... This... red hue on his eyes and fangs!"
"Fangs?" The incredulity in Peter couldn't be hidden the more he listened to your apparent rave.
"He's fucking strong, Pete. He was holding that beast by his tail! and then fought body to body against it! and He's so damn touchy. No respect for personal space!."
"And what? He smashed the jaguar to death and then kissed you?"
"Yes!" You nodded but quickly frowned when Peter tittered on his seat, unable to keep the mirth away.
"Why are you laughing?!"
"I'm sorry. You know we've been friends since college, but you seriously can't expect me to believe that, Dally."
A short for Dalhberg. The surname that put your name out in the researcher's map in London, upon discovering and naming another type of daisy and named it after you. The Dalhberg Daisy.
"You believe in the freaking Queen but refuse to believe in this?"
"I believe in the Queen's acquisitive power, nothing else. Cause I've seen it!" He explained, skeptical.
You showed him the sketch and shoved it to his hands.
"Look at that! That's exactly how he looks like!"
Peter sighed and raked over his eyes on the semi-crumpled paper sheet. Sharp features, a strong jaw and deep eyes.
"Yeah, a haircut would make him look better though." he chuckled, "Look, I know it's been a long day for us... let's rest, ok? We've got another tomorrow."
With a frown you removed the sketchbook away and tossed it on the makeshift vanity.
"He's real." you pointed at the sketchbook
"Okay, okay. He's real. We can discuss it all tomorrow when we're less tired, alright?"  He held your shoulders, trying to ease your rising anger.
But you quickly removed his hands from you, hurt that your best friend didn't believe you. "Whatever. Goodnight."
Peter left with a defeated sigh and soon you cuddled in your hammock.
"I know he's real." With a huff, you pushed the pillow closer to your face, letting the day's weight to finally crash on you.
-----
The loud bangs of a gunshot echoed through the bright blue skies, frightening any local fauna that rested comfortably, like you, that nearly fell out the hammock from the initial jumpscare.
With a heavy exhale, and rub of your eyes you geared up for the day.
This time Kraven was thoughtful enough to give you a weapon. A small knife with enough sharp to slice and dice through anything weak enough to perish under the blade.
And soon everyone gathered to the morning structions. Kraven split up the crew in three parts. The first group of men would go to the beach to recover as much equipment as they could. The second group would be in charge to set up traps and hunt down for food. And the third one, meaning Peter, you, two more men and himself would go explore and study the jungle in order to gain any sort of information of new potential species.
You carried a small backpack, filled with your sketchbook, pencils, some essay and sample tubes and some snacks in case Kraven decided to return until dinner time.
And after a quick breakfast of oatmeal and fruits, everyone left.
Peter walked behind Sergei, guiding the group whenever the mercenary asked him to. You were in the middle as the other two men trailed with their guns behind.
Morning slowly poured into hours. Tortuous, running at the speed of a snail. Each breathing felt like adding more to the waiting, bringing your nerves to a much annoyed stance.
But it quickly melted away upon finding your first discovery.
The grass laid pressed in a circular pattern on the ground. The leaves were placed strategically, as if used as cushions in great amounts. A couple of fruit carcasses laid next to them. Discarded and forgotten.
"Look at that" The excitement in your voice beyond evident. You crouched to see if there was any other clues to your growing suspicion.
Kraven and Peter stopped upon you crouching to the floor.
"What is it?" Kraven pulled his gun from it's holster and walked over you.
"These are nests!"
"Nests?" His brow quirked and you nodded vigorously, to then count the spots. Around six in total.
"You know what that means? They live in packs! Gorillas live in packs!"
"About damn time we found something." Kraven nodded, pleased as he helped you up to then mark a spot in his map.
"Good job, Dalhberg."
Praised the mercenary before moving.
--
When the sun got high enough and Peter discovered some other findings like rare minerals, the group decided to take a break nearby a lake.
The five of you sat down and ate whatever thing you got left from breakfast.
Once you were done, you took your backpack, pencil and sketchbook with you.
"Where are you going?" Kraven grumbled after gulping down the water from his canteen.
"Saw some specimens of plants Id like to register. Won't take long."
"You better return as soon as possible, understood?"
The mercenary warned and you nodded while walking away from the tree. Excited to partake in the things you were brought and paid to do.
Your first specimen was a moss plant, then a new type of orchid. A fish, some birds and more plants. Even though you studied everything alive, the plants were your speciality.
You put the little backpack in a a nearby trunk as you sat down to draw yet another orchid. The place seemed flooding with them.
Engrossed beyond wits to notice you had drifted off a bit too far from the group and a little too late a baboon sniffing and ransacking your backpack.
"H-Hey! Hey! -The baboon took the backpack away, excited and driven by the tinkling within "Get back here!"
The animal hopped on the trees before you could catch it, with graceful and effortless agility, to finally stop to a sturdy looking and serpent-like shaped trunk above the middle of a swamp.
As much as you wanted to let the monkey get away with it all, you didn't want to face Kraven's anger for losing the last bit of equipment and delay the investigation. You didn't know when the next ship would arrive. None did actually.
It's hoots and chirping only increased the more things he pulled out of your backpack. The tubs shattered as they fell off.
"Stop it!" you shrieked while hopping onto the trunk with wobbly and uneven steps.
The monkey hooted louder until it started shrieking, as if mocking you whenever your balance failed and you were forced to crawl over the top.
"God, I swear... if I catch you, I'm so making an article on how annoying you are!"
The baboon just screeched at your silly threat once more before leaving your backpack pending from a twig as he jumped way through the stretched branches that favored him like open arms, with your bag of seeds.
Your breath hitched when the trunk creaked and some cracking around the base perked up your ears.
Shit.
You couldn't stop and return crawling from where you came from, not when the backpack was oh so close to be reached and your nightmare to be over.
With a deep breath, you crawled closer and closer. Paused breaths turned controlled, but quickly grunted when the hem of your skirt stuck in a jagged branch.
"No, no" You whined and pulled away, the trunk creaked harder and you immediately hugged the trunk.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck-" with a firm yet calculated yank, you ripped the fabric away, freeing yourself although losing a good chunk of front coverage.
A thunderous crack made your breath hitch and you moved forward as the trunk stuttered midair. It was then your eyes actually considered the generous and dangerous distance from your position to the murky water. But the backpack dangling before you, edged you to take a risky decision.
Or you took the backpack and threw it on land, hoping to take the least damage as possible or jumping to that other branch to avoid falling to the water.
None of them happened as the tree dipped forward, and with a dying groan, the cracks widened, tearing the feeble base of the trunk, unable to support your weight any longer.
As in slow motion, you saw the murky water closer and closer and closer, until nothing but darkness swallowed you whole. Cold and muddy water hit you, suffocating your body with enraged water that fought hard to drown you.
Your hands were the only thing that made it out as they failed. The sub aquatic flora begun their tangling in your boots and legs, pulling you down.
Your lungs burned as some water seeped through, the backpack sunk deeper and deeper. Like a sacrifice in exchange of your life. Because a strong pair of tanned hands pulled you with a powerful yank by the forearm, out of the water before death and crocodiles owned it.
Your head too dizzy to actually understand what was happening. Your eyes could only see the landscape sliding smoothy underneath your feet, like if you were flying.
Am I dead? Dead people don't fly, do they?
You shrieked as soon as your eyes looked upwards. Powerful and solid thighs held tightly on the growing vines, that spurted from underneath the gigantic trees, as one of his hand took your arm gently to suddenly pull you up in the air and catch you in his arms.
Your instincts told you to hold onto him as the other survival mode blared with danger alarms. The massive wall of solid muscles he had for a body was warm, full of scars and plush hair that did nothing but welcome your dizzy head on his chest.
The man quirked a brow at your sudden state. He frowned and quickly got over the foliage of a tree, before the pouring rain trapped you both.
You were put with ease against the solid and definitely not rotting trunk, and your body lurched to the side to expell away the swallowed water, clearing your airways.
A firm slap from his hand made your lungs to finally get some air as you gasped and coughed, all the while he watched you curiously.
You were drenched, against a tree, clothes sticking way too intimately against your shivering body, breathing like you were a first born, raged and fast. Lungs burned less.
Eyes finally widened when recognizing the man before you. Some fresh scars littered his Greek-god type physique.
"T-Thank you." You mumbled through clattering teeth and forced yourself to take a deep inhale to control the rising anxiety.
He grunted and approached. One of his hands slid gently under your chin to take a hold of your cheek. Your head instinctively melted into his heavenly body heat, and your eyes dared to shut for a minute. Relishing in the irradiating warmth his calloused hands provided.
He's so warm.
As if sensing the good deed, the man rubbed his hands on your cold arms, mindful of the patches around your arm, a couple of times before going back up to your cheeks and neck.
You gasped as soon as his hands were placed on your chest. His hands gently palming your breast but quickly let them go upon feeling your hardened nipples. You quickly covered your chest
He watched his hands, as if inspecting them for any damage when he felt the hardened nub, to then return to your arms, prying them away from your chest.
"Wait!"
You shrieked and he took both of your wrists with one hand and hovered them above your head, squishing them against the tree, softly. His eyes raked and took in every feature of you, before stopping at your chest again.
Your breath hitched as he slid the other hand inside your shirt. Cheeks turned impossibly warmer when he took one of your breasts and pulled it out of their confinements.
He examinated the perky mound with puppy wonder-like curiosity and then looked down his own chest. He frowned. His didn't swell like yours did.
"Wh-What are you doi-" you bit your lip as he poked your nipple, sniffed it and licked it. Earning a short mewl from you.
The sound startled him and he let you go.
"T- That's not a polite thing to do!" 
You quickly put the breast back and swung your hand to slap him. You had to admit his reflexes were something else cause it caught it before it collided against his face.
"How dare you?!" You struggled to let your hand go, but stopped your outburst when his eyes watched your hands and brought them before his ever curious face.
His own hand reached up, and placed itself before yours, comparing the stretched and long digits against your smaller ones. They weren't the same size, that was much true, but the texture and lines he had were the same on yours.
His eyes shone brighter than any  bewilderment. His mind had finally clicked together at the sudden epiphany that flooded his brain.
You were like him.
He pursed his lips before letting out an excited grunt. He backed away to create enough space for his arms to move freely.
He pointed to himself and spoke with the deepest yet excited voice he could manage.
"Miguel."
Your eyes went wide and you approached. He tried again while pointing at his chest.
"Mi guel."
"Miguel." His nose flared proudly and his throat grunted happily.
"Oh! I see!"
His ears perked up upon hearing your name.
"OhIsee!" He repeated.
But you quickly corrected him, with your name as you pointed to yourself and then called his name as you pointed at him.
A buttery crawl rolled down your spine as he mumbled your name.
"Exactly." you smiled.
He cupped your face again and mumbled your name once more. However, the sound of a gunshot tearing through the skies disrupted his attention from you and stood at the edge of the branch.
"Kraven" You gasped. Completely forgetting about him and the group.
Oh no...
Trouble was a tiny word of the deep neck shit you were into. Another shot rippled through, frightening the birds in the ratio.
"Kraven!" He repeated, excited.
Extraordinary. There wasn't any word to describe him better. He took you back, trapping you in between his muscular thighs and swinging through vines.
The more you approached the camp, the clearer you saw this massive black and brown spots moving away from the settlement.
Your hearth thumped with violence upon finally standing before a small group of gorillas, sniffing and hooting softly upon seeing Miguel.
Your savior wasted no time in pulling you closer to them. You shook your head, rightfully frightened.
"No, no, no wait!"
The gorillas huffed to then sniff your head, your clothes. Some even pulled at your hair softly, others examinated the clothes you were in.
Another gunshot echoed closely this time and it was loud enough to spook out the beasts out that pulled Miguel with them. You could only watch him, wide eyed, expectant. But he left.
"Miguel..."
----
Kraven wasn't one for losing his temper with women. But you, had the annoying ability to make his patiece turn to dust in the least opportunes of moments.
"I asked you, where the fuck have you been?!"
He dragged you to the center of the crew and threw you on the floor.
"I told you, I almost drowned! Why do you think I'm like this?!"
Kraven spat a few words in his native language under his breath and grunted
"You lost your equipment, didn't you?"
"I... I tried to get it back but I almost drown in the swamp, Sergei!" you explained with nothing but the truth
"You can't swim, don't you bullshit me.!"
"I'm telling you the truth!"
"Then how you survived!?"
Peter frowned as he looked at you.
"I was saved. Ok? A man saved me!"
"A man?"
"He's... Not like us. He's taller than you and he saved me!" you kept pressing, hoping the angered mercenary understood that you didn't do anything in purpose to upset him.
"He knows how to swing through the vines! And dropped me here! His name is Miguel. "
Everyone stared with derision at you and Peter seemed concerned you stuck with your story so bad to the point of risking your own neck and reputation.
Kraven' brows furrowed into a scowl and soon he pulled his revolver out and pointed at you.
Your face turned to panic, as your hands rose shakily.
"A savage named Miguel helped you?"
"He did! Otherwise you'd still be looking for me."
Kraven snorted without removing the gun's aim from your body.
"Funny you think I'd waste my resources to look up for a stupid woman like you."
"Please, you have to believe me! I saw gorillas around the camp!"
Kraven removed the safety pin from the revolver, as if peeved you'd waste his time and resources into being an idiot and not doing your work as he required.
Time was ticking and he still had no news, and for you to be fantasizing about savages and doing stupid things such as endangering yourself had proved you weren't reliable.
"You're not reliable, anymore, Dahlberg."
"No! Sergei listen to me-"
He pointed the gun once more to you "I can't keep unreliable people within my crew."
"I'm not lying!" You pleaded with all your might and tears in your eyes, "Miguel is-"
Before Sergei could push the tip of his revolver on your head and shoot, the earth underneath rumbled, as Miguel fell in between you.
Real.
Kraven stepped back as the imaginary savage was now fully standing before him. His head had to crane up to meet his burning ember eyes.
Miguel's lips snarled at him, showing his fangs and beating his chest. A clear challenge for him to fight him.
A collective round of gasps echoed through the men, but when Miguel bared his teeth, they all pulled their guns and pointed at him
"Stop!" You yelled and quickly scrambled to your feet to take Miguel's hand and shake your head with determination.
"Don't hurt him!"
Peter immediately got himself before you and rose his arms, showing he was no armed.
"I'm sure we can reach an agreement here without filling eachother with bullets, gentlemen"
"Shut up, Parker!" Sergei seethed and with a deep flare of his nose, pointed the gun at Miguel again, but Peter grabbed the weapon and the shot tore through the air again.
"Kraven" Miguel grumbled at the gun shot sound.
Said mercenary could only watch him, nonplussed for a moment. While you, again, stood your ground before the behemoth of a man. Attempting your best at protecting him.
"Have... we met before?" Kravinoff spoke confused.
"I told you he could speak! And he is real!"
Miguel remained glued at your side. Everyone slowly put their weapons down as Kraven approached to take a proper look at Miguel, fascinated by his sheer size and build.
Peter had to admit, that it was the last time he'd ever doubt your words.
"You said you had seen gorillas?"
Again, you nodded and Miguel repeated the word.
"Miguel knows them. He could help us."
"Help us? The man barely understand us, but... It's better than nothing I suppose."
Sergei scrunched his face in confusion as Miguel took strands of your hair and sniffed them, his senses awakening in pure adrenaline. Throat grunted approvingly.
"Yeah... kind of understand the personal space thing now." Peter cleared his throat behind you. The rest kept looking to see but quickly were dismissed by their leader.
"Oh, shut up." You grumbled nervously as Miguel pulled your head to his chest once more, to listen to his powerful heartbeats.
"Yeah, it's very very nice." You chuckled nervously with a soft flush creeping your cheek.
"Nice." He repeated.
Kraven could only watch but if he was the link towards the gorillas, he'd seize the chance in every way he could.
"He's way smarter than you think."
"We're running against time, how would he understand us, Dhalberg?"
Miguel moved to inspect Kraven, mimicking his gestures effortlessly. Earning a giggle from you.
"Leave that to me."
-------
Taglist:
@yhrlocalcyprus @nommingonfood @literatiastray @call-me-nyxx @gennirose @loonalockley @danubliat @marit332 @beabfleab @l3lazeit @lililapuce @prollyanvycchi @huehuehuehuehehe @nanamiscunt @ncj2837ndjcj @leviswifey-act62 @migueloharacumslut @migshusben @freehentai @animequeen4
@del-ightfulling @angel-of-the-moons
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monstersflashlight · 2 days
Text
"Honey, I'm home!"
minotaur x fem!reader || breeding, knotting
You heard the door closing and his hooves stumping as he looked for you. He knew where you were. In the same place as every night when he got home. Dinners were on you as long as he made breakfast. Early days of marriage were all about compromise. Or that’s what everyone told you when you married. Listening intently, hyper-aware of his presence someplace behind you.
“Smells good.” He called out as you heard the bag hitting the ground someplace in the hallway.
“Stir fry.”
You let out a startled cry as he appeared seemingly out of nowhere. “Not the food.” He whispered against your ear, grabbing your waist and pressing his whole body against you, sniffing your neck.
“What are you doing?” You asked, cutting vegetables, his body pressed against your back. Before you could even blink, he was pressing you against the counter, his erection poking at your back. “I need to make dinner.” You tried to break free of his hold, but he just pressed you harder.
“I missed you, that’s all.” He whispered next to your ear, his soft lips grazing your skin in the softest caress, making your whole body shiver.
“Missed me? You saw me this morning.” You giggled at his antics, trying to push him away. You knew full well that there was no way you could out-power him.
His solid frame against you was too heavy, too big, too imposing… He could do whatever he wanted to you and you couldn’t do anything to stop him. You should be scared, but you weren’t. Nope. You couldn’t be scared. That’s the first thing that drew you to him, his fucking size. How big he was, how his body towered over you, how his biceps were bigger than your head. Maybe you liked that. Maybe you enjoyed feeling so tiny against him. Maybe you enjoyed the feel of him picking you up and using you as he pleased. Maybe...
Lost in your horny thoughts you didn’t realize his hand was inside your panties until his fingers were playing with your clit. “I missed this pussy. My pussy.” His big fingers felt rough against your soft skin.
“Wha-?” Your voice broke with a groan when he pinches a bit too harsh, a bit too forceful. You know he did it on purpose, he could be gentle, he usually was. But him being rough to you meant one thing: your fertile days arrived, you just signed yourself for a fuck-athon. Oh dang. So you did what you could: you whimpered.
He laughed at your whine, a spark of cruelness shining through. “Don’t play coy now, pet. I can feel you dripping down my fingers.” Said fingers were probing your entrance, hovering over it until you moaned his name And then hell broke loose. He didn’t give you a heads up, he didn’t play games like that. One second you were standing pressing against the counter and the next one your clothes were ripped off you and his dick was pushing into you. Too fast, too harsh, not letting you adapt to his size. He was in for one thing and one thing only: breed you.
His dick was so deep and so hard that you could feel every ridge, every vein. It felt like the most amazing torture, the sweetest death. In seconds, you were not a person anymore, just a toy for him to play as he wished. He grabbed your hips, bouncing you on his cock as you grabbed the counter for dear life.
“Are you gonna cum on my cock like a good girl?” You whined. The combination of his shaft inside you and his fingers playing with your clit made your climax hit you like a tide wave, gasping for air as you trembled on his dick.
But that didn’t stop him, you were his to play and his to fuck.
“That’s it. Good girl. Again.” His fingers were still playing with your oversensitive clit, in the good side of too painful. Your pleasure felt raw, your throat spent, not a single sound coming out of you. “One more, pet. Give me one more.” You complied. But that wasn’t enough.
Your bull of a husband kept fucking you, not stopping for a second. His labored breaths making you hotter. His moans making you wetter (if that was even possible). His pace was brutal, and you didn’t know what was up and what was down. Your body was completely spent as he used you as his own personal fleshlight. You kept coming, and coming, and coming… It was too much, too good.
Your brain was foggy, your body felt like jelly as he moved you up and down, your legs gave out long before he stopped. And then you felt it, the telltale sign that he was close, the bulbous knot at the base of his dick twitching against your entrance at every thrust. With a long groan, he pushed it inside of you as you screamed. Your vision went black, you went limp as he pumped you full of cum, your lower tummy bulging. His big body was pressing you down onto the counter like the biggest weighted blanket, his dick still pulsing inside of you.
“Bed.” He mumbled as he lifted you off the counter, still impaled on his dick, his knot preventing any cum from escaping.
“But dinner...” You whispered in a choked breath.
“Later.”
It was gonna be a long night.
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Text
(Translation) Gilbert's Beast Manual Case 3: The Correct Way to Love Gilbert
Part 3 of Gilbert's current party event, wherein Emma learns something new about Gilbert.
Spoilers. Yeah this one's just a straight-up translation. Also I read using a translator so expect le errors. Case 1 | Case 2 | His POV
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Gilbert was a fiendishly jealous man—something both he and others attested to.
Not only the men I spoke to, but women and animals as well; they all become the target of his jealousy. The same jealousy across the board.
But lately that hasn't been all.
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Gilbert: This tie keeping your hair up, it gets to be with you 24/7, doesn't it?
Gilbert: ...You're so mean for setting me aside. Actually, wouldn't it be better to just wear your hair down?
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Gilbert: Your chair here, doesn't it basically get to feel your warmth the entire time you're on it?
Gilbert: I'm going to hold you on my lap because it's kind of pissing me off. Sharing your body heat with a chair is more than it deserves.
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Gilbert: This hallway you tread on every day—
Emma: Okay, can you please not be jealous of the literal hallway!?
The more time we spent together, the more the potential targets for his jealousy went up.
I didn't get how he could be so jealous of every little thing.
Because even though I loved Gilbert, jealousy was something I didn't really feel much of.
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(Oh...)
Gilbert: —I see. So they've already completed their draft. Excellent, excellent.
Roderic: It seems experiencing your wrath this morning made them respond accordingly.
(...Roderic's here)
Having just finished my bath, I quickly hid myself in the shadows.
If I stepped out in the open wearing only my bathrobe over the black negligee Gilbert had made for me, not only would Roderic's life be in danger but mine as well.
(Still... I've never really had a chance to see Gilbert when he speaks to Roderich when I'm not around)
(...I wonder what that vibe is like)
As my curiosity got the better of me and I covertly took a peek...
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Gilbert: I'd like for them to submit the draft before it ever gets to that point next time.
Roderic: It's only because nobody can come up with out-of-the-box ideas like you.
Gilbert: They're all conclusions one can arrive at rationally. It's not like I'm making unreasonable demands of anyone.
Gilbert sat at his desk, a serious expression on his face as he moved his quill.
He definitely wasn't smiling like he usually did, but at the same time he didn't seem angry either.
It was an expression I didn't recognize.
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Gilbert: ...Also, the draft was poorly-constructed. With this there's too gaps for us to drive that old man into a corner.
Roderic: Then I'll have it returned to you in such a way that we can.
Gilbert: I only appreciate haste. You help them too, Roderic. I'd like to have the contents finalized before our next regular meeting.
Gilbert: If we leave that old man unchecked, he may soon start a losing battle against neighboring countries.
Roderic: ...Understood, sir.
Gilbert: What's the next document?
Roderic: It's here, sir.
Gilbert: ...I know I keep asking, but is there more still?
Roderic: There's a mountain of things I'd like you to look over.
Gilbert: I thought I'd delegated my authority out.
Roderic: This just means that Obsidian needs you.
Gilbert: That's certainly a problem.
Roderic: No, sir, it's not.
Gilbert: ...*sigh* Unless we can get everyone past the idea that failure is some sort of capital crime, won't it be difficult for you and I to manage all this work on our own?
Gilbert: Seems like my presence is a hindrance after all.
Roderic: Please don't say that!
Gilbert: Fine, fine. If you don't like it, then go give out this PSA.
Gilbert: "As long as there's no fraud or corruption at work, I won't kill you over a simple failure. So please rely on your own judgement more."
Roderic: ...Very well, sir.
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(So that's the kind of vibe Gilbert has doing official duties when I'm absent)
The atmosphere about him was so serious and earnest that it naturally made me want to stand at attention, and I found myself captivated.
(If he's not smiling, then maybe that's his real expression)
(Gilbert's known Roderic for a long time, so he's able to drop his guard around him)
(...Okay, what's this gloomy feeling I'm having...)
Roderic: ...Sir, let's deal with the rest of this tomorrow.
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Gilbert: Hey. You definitely didn't see anything, right?
Roderic: I saw nothing and I noticed nothing.
Gilbert: Is that so? That's fine, then. Thank you for your hard work.
Roderic quickly gathered up his documents and took his leave.
An air of nervousness seemed to cling to him as he made a beeline for the exit, not once looking astray.
The door closed behind him and Gilbert stretched out his arms as if trying to relax.
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Gilbert: Now, then, little rabbit.
Emma: ...So you'd noticed me after all.
Gilbert: Well that's a given.
(I'm sorry about the position I put you in, Roderic)
Once he'd beckoned me closer, he prompted me to climb onto his lap.
Emma: Pardon me.
Knowing that my only two choices were to either sit on his lap or be made to sit, I obediently sat down of my own accord.
And Gilbert wrapped his arms around my waist to support me.
Gilbert: You were throwing Roderic such a passionate look.
Emma: I was looking at you!?
Gilbert: He was positioned in the same line of sight.
Gilbert: As you know, you have a very troublesome man on your hands. So you're aware of what you should do at a time like this, right...?
Emma: ......
I placed my hands against Gilbert's cheeks and started kissing him.
I kissed him so much that I began to feel a faint warmth from his cold lips. But when I tried to pull away, Gilbert bit my lip, leaving behind a faint stinging.
(You're still jealous, aren't you?)
Emma: ...Did I interfere with your official duties?
Gilbert: *pouts* Roderic's the one who interfered. Showing up at this hour with documents for review.
Emma: That's probably because you were busy during the day.
Gilbert: *grins* Hehe... I showed you a lot of things I don't like about Obsidian today.
Emma: ...And I want to know about even more of them from now on.
Emma: Because I also want to be able to assist you.
Gilbert: Ahaha, that's reassuring.
(...There are still so many things I don't know about Gilbert and Obsidian...)
(I'm sure some of those things are intentionally being kept hidden from me)
(Things you can talk to Roderic about, but not to me...)
Once again I felt something in my heart falter.
But before I could convince myself that I was just imagining things, Gilbert's cold fingers caressed my cheek.
Gilbert: You're pulling such a long face even though your words are so reassuring,
Emma: ...I wasn't lying.
Gilbert: I know that. So what's eating at you?
(...What's eating at me?)
Emma: ...I can't really put it to words.
Emma: It's just... I'm envious of Roderic.
Emma: He's able to assist you more than me, and knows everything...
(......)
(Oh, this is...)
The moment I realized the true nature of my anxiety, Gilbert broke into a broad smile.
Gilbert: Wow... I'll have to give Roderic a bonus.
Emma: ...I see now. So this what you've been feeling all this time.
(Well no, compared to Gilbert, my 'jealousy' is to a much lesser degree...)
Emma: Hehe... What should I do? I'm really jealous here.
(We match now.)
I wrapped my arms around Gilbert's neck and brought our foreheads together.
Even though it should have been a negative feeling, I felt laughter build up inside me, perhaps because I was one step closer in understanding Gilbert.
Gilbert: Serious jealousy is nothing like that though, you know?
Emma: Are you saying there's more to come?
Gilbert: Yeah. Your jealousy's in the early chapters.
Gilbert: The more and more you come to love me, the less you'll be able to contain that kind of adorable jealousy.
Gilbert seemed truly pleased with my jealousy.
And it was precisely because I could sense that feeling that the anxiety in my heart turned into something endearing.
Emma: I'll work diligently then.
(Because I think being jealous is the most correct way to love Gilbert)
Gilbert: Hehe... I can't believe you've cheered up this much just from turning into a jealousy fiend.
Gilbert: Taming the conquering beast is difficult, isn't it? But it might be easy for you.
Gilbert: Because I'm so madly in love with you.
------ a/n: I'm sorry for any errors! I mostly just clean up whatever the online translators spit out. Sometimes I get really lazy. Also, I haven't really done a full translation post like this in a while, so I just wanted to mention that I took the formatting and translation style from @/hotaru987 sensei!
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tiredcowboyy · 3 days
Text
the return of the two kings
It takes 1500 years for it to finally happen and its not in the way merlin thought it would. He thought Arthur would return, but when a man that looks exactly like arthur sits beside merlin in his political science class, well merlin realises that reincarnation wasn’t completely off the table.
Merlin introduces himself on the 3rd class, the first two spent of him subtly studying arthur, his face, his mannerisms, trying to figure out if it was really him, though when he heard the voice and name any doubt was swept away.
From that point on they quickly grew as friends. Merlin wasnt really sure what to do, he was told arthur would return when the world needed him, but nothing about if he was reborn again with no memories of his past reign whatsoever.
It stresses merlin out for a while, he constantly was on edge for any world changing dangers, however after a while he just accepted that maybe there was no reason. Arthur was just born again and he should appreciate that.
They quickly grew close, becoming the best of friends and eventually roommates and merlin couldnt have been happier, content with have the blonde back in his life.
Until one day he gets this urge to walk near the lake of avalon again, something hes not felt like doing since he found arthur again. But he does, distantly thinking it was around this time of year he had lost his king all those years ago. So he goes, the sun still rising as he begins his usual route around the lake. He takes it in, smiling at how much life has changed since he last took this walk.
He was distracted so you cant blame him for how much he was caught off guard, really that wasnt his fault.
“Merlin?”
Despite what anyone who saw would say Merlin did not let out a scream.
He spins around and comes face to face with his best friend, his roommate, his destiny walking out of the lake soaking wet.
“Arthur? What are you doing here? And why are you in the lake? I-“
He pauses, the air ripped out of his lungs as he realises what hes actually looking at. Something was different. Something was wrong. Because this arthur wasnt wearing his usual jeans and jumper, his hair wasn’t slightly too long because hes been too busy with work to get it cut, he wasnt making some joke about merlins poor coffee making skills.
He was wearing chainmail and armour, a sword in his hand one that merlin hadnt seen since that day.
This wasnt the same arthur he left at home this morning, the same arthur who was too busy watching last nights football on catchup to make fun of merlin burning his toast, the same arthur who he has lived with for 6 years and thought was his arthur.
No, this was the same arthur that he held in his arms as he thanked him and took his final breath.
Merlin doesnt know what kind of sick game the world is playing on him but that doesnt matter,
Because now theres two Arthur Pendragons gracing this earth and merlin doesn’t think hes quite as cut out for this destiny thing as he thought he was.
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lyv-writes · 11 hours
Note
OKAYY WE NEED DAD!SPENCER REID‼️
okay so Reader is going out for the day for like a little girls day with her best friends and says bye to Spencer and the cute little toddler! Buttt then the toddler starts missing reader and Spencer isn’t sure how to handle it at first, but then he gets the hang of it! <33
AAAA this is so cute omg thank u for this!!! i hope i was able to do it justice <33
spencer reid x mom!reader
words: 1,395
warnings: none really! just spencer being a good step-dad to your daughter, fluff, baby crying, that’s it!! :]
୭ 🧷 ✧ ˚. ᵎᵎ 🎀
“Thanks again, Spence,” you say, pressing another sweet kiss to his lips before tugging your coat off the hook and making for the front door. “Remember, Lila is allergic to kiwi. And her bedtime is 8, no exceptions. She has to go to daycare tomorrow morning.”
You had spent the morning holding Lila, playing with her and soaking up her laughter as much as you could. Spencer knew you had never really been apart from her—going to work was one thing, but there was a guilt that came with taking the day for yourself. He watches with a fond smile as you ramble through the list that you had already repeated to him twice and does his best to reassure you, nodding along despite having already memorized it.
Pre-made food in the fridge.
Medical information on the fridge in case of emergencies.
Call if she gets too fussy.
“Oh!” You say, halfway out the door before turning back to Spencer, a smile gracing your face. “And don’t let her convince you to give her sweets after dinner. She’ll ask you for fruit snacks, all cute, then she won’t sleep and it will be hell in the morning.”
“No fruit snacks after dinner, got it,” Spencer said, following your line of sight to Lila sitting on her plush rug in the living room, toys surrounding her as she played. Your face softened, affection swimming in your eyes and he could practically hear the thoughts going through your head. Tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, he gently guides your face back to meet his eyes.
“We’ll be fine,” he says, tone soft as your shoulders sag at the understanding behind his words. “You deserve to have a day with your friends. I think Lila can handle playing dolls with me for a few hours.”
His phrasing made you giggle, picturing Lila’s pouting face, wagging her little finger at Spencer when he takes something too literally, or doesn’t do it the way she wants. For some reason, Lila is never happy with the voices Spencer does, and after a year-and-a-half she still gets that same little pinched brow whenever Spencer holds a doll in his hand, high-pitched voice mimicking a princess’s until she yanks the toy out of his hand with a firm, yet cute, “No, ‘Penth.”
Without fail, hearing his name in her little voice makes his heart soar, pride filling his chest even if she’s scolding him, wagging her little finger as she says it. He’d always been hesitant at the idea of being a father, whenever he pictured his future that was always a blurry part, but now he couldn’t imagine not having you and Lila in his life.
Searching his face, you finally come to the conclusion that he’s being sincere and a bright smile covers your face. Spencer had come to terms a long time ago, far before the two of you were even dating, that he would do anything to make you smile. A sense of pride wells in his chest knowing that the smiles you give him are just for him, a special glint in your eyes every time.
Between work, and Lila, there was hardly any downtime to just relax. Your evenings were often spent wrangling Lila into bed, usually with Spencer if he’s not away for work. Spencer made it a point to be home in time to have dinner with both of you as much as he could, slowly getting involved in her night time routine. She was 6-months-old when you and Spencer began dating, and while it took some getting used to at first, Lila began reaching for Spencer with a giggle and a giddy squeeze soon enough.
When your friends suggested a girl’s spa-day, Spencer was quick to encourage you to go. Having a toddler made it hard to have a social life, especially when your friends weren’t moms themselves. Lila had warmed up quickly to Spencer, which was the biggest relief, and it was hard to find a reason to say no when Spencer offered to babysit.
“She’s gonna be my daughter,” Spencer said, a fond smile on his face as the two of you spoke conspiratorially in the kitchen. “I already think of her as mine, I’d be happy to watch her for the day.”
Your heart swelled hearing his words, and you couldn’t help but say yes when he put it like that. Spencer, you, and Lila being your own happy little family was all you could ever ask for, and it meant more than Spencer could ever know that he had been so welcoming and understanding. He was a dream.
With a final glance at Lila and a sigh, you’re pressing another unhurried kiss to Spencer’s lips, that same lil dazed smile on his face that he got after every kiss, even after nearly 2 years. “Thank you, Spence. I love you.”
“I love you too,” he replies, pressing another sweet kiss to your lips, then your cheek, then your forehead—you were gonna be gone all day, he had to get his fill while he could. “Now go before you miss your appointment.”
With a final kiss, Spencer watches as you walk down the front steps, drive away, waiting until he can't see your car anymore before he’s turning around and closing the door behind him. When he looks up, Lila is already looking at him, eyes glancing between the door and him before her small voice is heard over the cartoon playing on the tv.
“Mama?”
“Mama went to the store,” Spencer cooed, lowering himself down to sit on the floor in front of her and her array of toys. “She’s coming back, don’t worry.”
“Mama s’ore?” she whispered in her small voice, her wide eyes blinking slowly at him before her lip began to tremble. It broke his heart to see her eyes, which looked so much like yours, gloss over with tears.
“Oh, honey, it’s okay,” Spencer said, scooping her up in his arms. “She’s coming back for you. She’ll be here soon!”
With a sharp wail for her mom, the tears that had been welling up began falling in big drops, hands gripping tightly to the fabric of his shirt as she cried. Hurriedly, he began to bounce her in his arms, mimicking the way he had seen you do it countless times. He’s shushing her in a soft voice, whispering soothing words in the hopes that they’ll at least calm your crying.
Spencer wracks his brain, trying to sift through the information he had gleaned from the parenting books he had been reading for the past two years—he had started as soon as he came to the conclusion he would ask you out. Would showing her pictures of you work? He didn’t want to make things worse by making her miss you more, but maybe seeing your face would soothe her.
Transferring Lila to one hip, he fishes his phone from his pocket and opens the album of your photos, showing her various selfies, focusing on pictures he has of the two of you. After a couple of minutes her sobs quieted to sniffles and soon enough she was swiping through the pictures herself and giggling every time she saw your face.
With her swiping, it landed on a video, one he had taken of you reading a story to her before bed. At the time he had thought the voices you were using for the characters were so funny, hiding his own laughter behind his hand so that he could capture the sound of Lila’s giggles.
Spencer watches as she giggles along with herself, laughing at the way she reacts when you tickle her tummy. Spencer cant help the fond laugh the slips from his lips at the sight, bright grin tugging at his cheeks at your rosy smile.
When you arrive home that evening, only the kitchen light is on downstairs, the faint light from your bedroom guiding you as you softly push open the door. A warm smile paints your face as you slip your phone from your pocket, taking quite a few pictures of Lila, fast asleep atop Spencer’s chest, her favorite book lying next to his relaxed hand. His soft breaths rustle the hair at Lila’s scalp, her hand loosely gripping the edge of his sleeve as she sleeps.
Tip-toeing around the room, you shed your clothes from the day, slip on some pajamas before placing Spencer’s book on the nightstand. Slipping softly under the covers, you curl yourself around Spencer’s side, hand resting on Lila’s back as you fall asleep, comfortable with the people you love the most.
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avonne-writes · 19 hours
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Hey! I've been loving all of your MOTA posts lately, especially your insights into Gale and his unhappy childhood. Do you think there are any specific ways that the trauma from that bleeds into his domestic life with Bucky? Any nerves that sometimes get struck on without Bucky realising that's what they are?
Thank you so much! Yes, my headcanon is that this happens sometimes. I came up with a few examples, but there could be more.
In a post-war canon AU:
Gale is shit at expressing his emotions because he learned to suppress them. Post-war, this causes a lot of problems. The silent treatment is not a constructive way of solving disagreements.
If he wants to talk to Bucky / it's dinner time or similar situation and Bucky doesn’t pay attention to him because there's a sports event on the radio, Gale flips out. Unreasonably so.
Interestingly, he doesn’t have a problem with drunk Bucky initiating sex with him but only if he does it in the bedroom or bathroom. Drunken advances in the kitchen, the hall or the living room make his stomach roil. It’s very specific, and given Gale’s communication issues, Bucky is thoroughly confused why he’s so roughly turned down sometimes while Gale is on board on other nights.
This isn’t a negative thing, but Gale is obsessed with soft beds and blankets. He isn’t very picky about furnishing their place but the bed has to be perfect. After so many nights spent on hard surfaces both as a child and as an adult, he craves this comfort. He’s all smiley and cuddly when he’s in that bed.
In my HS AU, when they move in together during college:
Gale jumps at every loud crashing sound, especially glass shattering. He’s withdrawn for hours if someone accidentally breaks a glass or a plate.
Once, Bucky comes home drunk from a party in the middle of the night, and it scares him. He’s instantly on high alert and won't sleep much after. Actually, he moves to the couch that night. When Bucky realizes what happened, he’s very apologetic, but it's not the last time he goes to a party without Gale. But from then on, he stays out all night, sleeping at friends' places. It really upsets Gale but he only tells Bucky this months later, when everything comes to a head. After that, Bucky doesn’t do this anymore.
Gale is triggered by the sight of empty booze bottles. Full ones he doesn’t mind, but empty ones make him anxious.
Gale doesn’t know how to decorate and make a space welcoming so he doesn’t understand why Bucky grouches about their apartment being too sparsely decorated in the first few months. Then, when he finally starts to get more into homemaking, he’s nervous to share any ideas, even small ones - e.g. he spends long minutes staring at souvenir magnets because he doesn’t know which one works best or he agonizes over choosing a frame for a photo.
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sitp-recs · 2 days
Note
Thank you so much for your recs—they are fantastic! I wondered if you had any for Draco and Harry becoming friends at (and eventual lovers) at Hogwarts (doesn’t have to start with 1st year, but can!). Thank you!!
Hi there! Happy you’re enjoying the recs 😊 I got a couple recs, the majority is 8th year since I don’t really read canon rewrite AUs. I hope you enjoy these!
Thermodynamic Equilibrium by DorthyAnn (T, 5k)
Harry's far too hot. Draco's always cold. And somehow against all odds, together they create a perfect equilibrium.
Good Company by Greenflares (T, 8k)
With Hermione and Ron always together, Harry's return to Hogwarts to complete his education isn't exactly fun. Somehow, it's his unlikely friendship with Malfoy that keeps him sane.
Stand Back: I'm About to Perform Archaeology by Blowfish_Diaries (E, 10k)
A new Muggle Studies professor takes the Eighth Year students to work on an archaeological excavation. In which Draco is lazy, Harry is sweaty, Hermione is drunk, and Ron turns red.
Nice Things by aideomai (M, 22k)
The first thing that happened was Theodore Nott came back from France.
Makes Me Stronger by Lomonaaeren (E, 29k)
Rita Skeeter’s Harry James Potter: An Unnatural History is a best-seller, mostly due to the fact that Skeeter’s collaborated with a photographer who’s infused the pictures in the book with Harry’s actual memories. As Harry struggles to survive the storm consuming his eighth year at Hogwarts, Draco Malfoy becomes an unexpected ally.
On Our Way by evils (E, 30k)
Draco is trying to spend the summer keeping his head down, but a repair project and a certain snowy owl have other plans for him.
Eager for the Sky by @oknowkiss (E, 35k)
It was announced, just as the Triwizard Tournament had been, at the start of term feast. A year-long, international Quidditch varsity match — the inaugural Wizarding Academy Cup. In which Harry is Hogwarts' star Seeker, Draco is on the bench, and they both have a thing or two to learn about playing for the same team.
Like Lightning at Your Fingertips by potterwatch (T, 43k)
The problem with living with another insomniac is, eventually, they find out you’re one, too. When Harry and Draco return for their eighth year, they think they’ll see very little of each other. Then McGonagall assigns them to room together. And the castle starts breaking. And there’s that thing with Potter’s magic.
The July Tree by @oknowkiss (E, 51k)
Neither rain, nor snow, nor sleet, nor hail… nor well-meaning friends, nor questionable communication skills, nor seven years of hating each other’s guts can keep Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy from falling in love.
The Promise of Summer by Omi_Ohmy (M, 67k)
How was Harry supposed to know that coming back for eighth year would be so confusing? Everything is the same, and yet not the same. And nowhere is this more obvious than with Draco Malfoy. Harry finds himself once more watching and following Malfoy, trying to work him out. When they are drawn together to heal the castle, Harry doesn’t just find Malfoy - he also finds himself.
Azoth by @lol-zeitgeistic (E, 88k)
Now that Harry is back at Hogwarts with Hermione for eighth year, he realises that something’s missing from his life, and it either has to do with Ron, his boggart, Snape, or Malfoy. Furthermore, what, exactly, does it mean when one’s life is defined by the desire to simultaneously impress and annoy a portrait? Harry has no idea; he’s too busy trying not to be in love with Malfoy to care.
Helix by Saras_Girl (E, 93k)
Seven months after the end of the war, Harry is feeling lost. Fortunately, he is about to be offered an unexpected and sparkling chance to find himself again.
Changing Tides by carpemermaid (E, 109k)
Draco has spent half of his life spouting the things his father has taught him without much thought about how he feels about what he says. When he unexpectedly comes face to face with the Dark Lord, he grapples with the harsh realities of the world and struggles with his changing views on life.
Written on the Heart by who_la_hoop (E, 114k)
Unnerved by the attention he’s attracting from everyone – the Slytherins are the least of it, to be fair – and struggling with a raft of changes to Hogwarts itself, Harry wishes he could be happy that one constant remains: Draco Malfoy really fucking hates him.
Twist of Fate by Oakstone730 (T, 300k)
Draco asks Harry to help him beat the Imperius curse during 4th year. The lessons turn into more than either expected. A story of redemption and forgiveness.
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lemongizumo · 2 days
Text
I didn’t want to make any public posts about what’s been happening in the past days in our fandom because of my health issues. Some of you know, mostly people I consider my friends now, others because I was offering emergency commissions to solve hospital and treatment costs, but my health isn’t that good lately and the level of drama, intensity and everything around this topic was affecting me. Still is a bit. However, after everything that has come out, so many similar experiences, so many people being manipulated, hurt and damaged because of this one individual who I considered my friend, I can’t remain silent anymore. I just can’t. I’m still shocked and feeling so many emotions, from sadness to concern, from disappointment to anger. Even guilty for not realizing how disgusting this person was. It’s unbelievable.
I won’t go into any details, those involved know everything that needs to be known. I will not share screenshots either but there are plenty to prove what this person tried to do until the end and how many people she damaged.
I became her friend months ago, around August/September of last year. I considered her a real friend, a good one even, she was nice to me all the time and talked to me every day for all these months. She bought my friendship with love bombing, gifts, with praise about my art and me, a fucking naïve idiot, thought she was sincere. I never noticed the red flags until it was too late, how she was collecting artists along the way and discarding the ones that weren’t useful. She was after popular people, writers and artists, anyone that could give her status. She wanted her name seen everywhere and she invaded every space she could. She also promoted her server to anybody who had big numbers or was known in the HG fandom.
I didn’t know anybody in the fandom, only some names I followed because I admired their art or writing. I always spent my days in any fandom as a spectator, doing fanart and having casual conversations but not getting close to anybody. She was the first person I let get close to me.
I trusted her and that was a mistake I’ll regret for a long time.
She took advantage of me not knowing anybody, she used me as a dumpster bin to trash talk about others, she played victim over and over again, she claimed some people hated her, and she made me believe so many things that I later discovered weren’t real. She twisted reality to her convenience; she created a false narrative where she was the poor victim who was attacked constantly and that she only wanted the best for everybody. She just wanted to be ‘nice.’
Knowing English isn’t my first language and sometimes it’s hard for me to understand certain expressions, she used that to be able to act as a bigot without me noticing until it was too late.
And I believed her. I believe every single fucking word she said about others, because why would she lie? She was just trusting me with things, right? She was just warning me about people, she cared about me, she was just looking out for me.
I’m a good friend, I know I am. Friendship has always been important to me, and I’m faithful to whoever I care about. I thought I was being a good friend to her by defending her and giving her my thoughts and opinions about all these ‘awful’ people who didn’t like her and were against her.
She just wanted an ally.
Her love bombing and praise only lasted until I didn’t act the way she wanted.
I confronted one of her ‘friends’ in her server after that person was exposing an innocent writer just to humiliate them. I was mistreated and attacked. She, the owner, didn’t do anything to stop it while I was telling her in dms what was happening. She didn’t do anything at all because she didn’t care.
She didn’t care either when I showed her proof that her friend was a terf. I was worried, I was so naïve I thought maybe this person didn’t know about her friend being transphobic. But she knew. She didn’t act surprised, she just did her best to clarify she wasn’t a terf ‘by association’ in between jokes and tried to justify her friend over and over again. She dismissed my worries and acted like it wasn’t such a big deal.
I trusted her to the point I felt safe enough to tell her I am autistic and how hard it was growing up not knowing that, how everyone treated me as if I was dumb when I was a kid and a teenager. Her attitude towards me changed after she knew my diagnosis. From treating me like I was a child to a condescending way to talk to me whenever I did ‘wrong.’
I supported her when she decided to create a BB just to be called silly and treated as stupid because I wouldn’t join if the terf was there. She simply didn’t care I was affected because I’m non-binary and trans. She just wanted artists for her shitty event because she needed to make a name among other events. She kept insisting that I join, even after she knew the terf was going to be a part of the event. She wanted me to be a pinch hitter artist.
I finally opened my eyes after my medical emergency in February. I decided to open emergency commissions to help with the costs and that led me to talk to people I never talked to before. People this individual didn’t want me to talk to.
I don’t know why things happen but everything seems to happen for a reason. Some people that reached out to me to help me were people this individual talked shit about over and over again for months. And to my surprise, they were nothing like I was made to believe. On the contrary, these people were sweet, nice, and were actually sincere.
Her reaction to me talking to them was passive-aggressive comments, jokily threats and playing the victim. She also started giving me the silent treatment in order to manipulate me again. Which, luckily, didn’t work.
This disgusting individual lied so much I have spent the last few days wondering how much of what she said was true and how much was bullshit. She tried to mess with friendships, she tried to ruin a relationship, she made racist and transphobic comments, she lied about so many people that didn’t deserve it, she thought her lies wouldn’t catch up to her and kept acting like a ‘mean girl’ who wanted to be number one in popularity. She thought having popular friends, who she bragged about, would keep her away from anything.
She thought she was safe and that I was stupid enough to keep believing her.
I’m not stupid. I never was.
And I will not remain silent while she still plays victim, while she decided to blame ME for all of her fucking mess.
When this whole thing exploded, she desperately tried to convince someone she wasn’t bad, that it was all a misunderstanding and that she was just venting to me. A good pity party because she was being called out and she didn’t expect it. She tried to convince them that I was to blame. She didn’t hesitate to throw me under the bus, to make anyone believe I was the villain, exposing me with screenshots, for all we know, were probably manipulated by her. It is now known that she edits, changes and deletes messages.
I’m not a villain for exposing the truth to people I now care about. To people who have been nothing but nice to me even tho they are aware I said awful things about them based on what this individual told me. She tried to brainwash me with her lies and almost succeeded.
The past few weeks have been hard. But it’s harder to see how many others she hurt.
She’s not a good person no matter how much she tried to act like one. Her disgusting behavior led to so much damage and she got me involved in it, using me until the end.
This behavior is not ‘fandom drama,’ it is dangerous behavior, one that should not be tolerated or accepted. Fandom is not a place to escalate in popularity, to surround yourself with popular artists just to get something from them. Fandom should be a safe place for us to enjoy, to escape from reality, from the real world that is hard enough for so many of us.
I will not let her step on me anymore. I will not be her scapegoat. And she will not get my sympathy anymore.
Please be safe out there, do not let these people harm us anymore. This individual and her fucking terf friend can go fuck themselves.
I am so tired.
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Text
| Upcoming: Dear John Sneak Peak
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Paris, April 1945 💌
Julie watched Marge as she watched Gale at his bath and she wondered if this is what it was like in fairytales when the gates of the kingdom are thrown open, everything wanted and wished for is there. The protagonists never know what to do with a dream come true: do you eat it? Fondle, crush, preserve it in a glass case? Such a cruel kindness, dreams come true; Marge’s twitching fingers and gasping lips suggested a torture going on inside her, heavy lidded love and belly hot want.
Julie swore to herself then, she’d feel it too. Soon, she’d be watching the man who owned the jacket as he showed her himself, just as he’d written his heart out for her eyes alone, one day soon he’d be naked and hers and she could watch him and do what people do with dreams.
Perhaps feeling vindictive for being ignored, or perhaps merely thirsty, Spangles suddenly made a series of determined little hops across the suite floor, threaded the blockade of the girls’ feet with ease and, perhaps seeing his chance, nudged open the crack of the bathroom door only to bounce along the marble floor in a cacophonous clatter of little paws that even Gale could hear over the faucet’s roar. Like a slippery fish, he skidded to his side along the bottom of the wide tub, a pink bath warmed hand clutching at the edge and hauling his sopping golden head above the lip to observe his long eared visitor -and the guilty little audience of girls in their night clothes at the threshold.
The look he leveled Marge made Julie’s toes tingle and second guess how chaste these two’s reportedly tame trysts pre-war had really been. “We merely wanted to make sure you didn’t-“ Marge clasped and unclasped her hands, “-drown.” it was a deflated little excuse by the time she got it out.
Spangles had begun to sneeze, ever sensitive to steam and Yardley’s lavender soap, his poor little legs skidding apart further and further on the damp floor. Gale bit his lip from laughing at the cute little creature’s plight.
“Oh laa!” Julie gave up all pretense and entered to save him -the bunny, that is- causing Gale to flail a little harder as if there was a deeper level to the bottom of his tub where he could take refuge. “Add in the bubbles, Major,” Julie always had a remedy, “it’ll hide everything nicely. Don’t ruin poor Marge’s first evening with you by being a prude, she misses you. It’s been years, you know.”
They spent much of that evening in the following way, Gale in his topped off frothy tub, Marge with a mostly useless cloth beside him on the ledge, and Julie primly sat with Spangles in her lap on the closed toilet seat.
“Bucky’s confirmed as best man.” He told Marge, sheepish grin breaking out until both girls laughed at the thought of the boys indulging in their own wedding planning.
He tells them about the radio he built, about the first time they heard her broadcasts, of the photo she’d sent which Bucky and him divided in half each keeping their girl in their pocket, about Brady and the liturgy of devotion he made up for Egan to recite to Julie’s printed picture on the combine wall. The particulars were left out, Gale being a gentleman to the last, but Julie glowed and wept under the obtuse assurance anyway.
“I trust you kept him warm.” Julie demands, “Seeing as how it’s your fault he didn’t take his jacket.”
Gale tells her of Egan’s presumptuous bunk sharing, how strange things were happening every day and that grew to be commonplace. At her inquiring look he only blushes and stares down at the water, the bruise on his throat blooming under the flush, and for once Julie thinks she knows Gale Cleven better than his Marge.
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bullet-prooflove · 3 days
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Trying!Series Part Four: Two Months - Will Trent x Reader
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Tagging: @yezzyyae @words-and-seeds @trublu2u @cassiopeiablog @kmc1989
Trying!Series:
Part One: Notions - Seeing you with a baby opens Will up to a future he never contemplated.
Part Two: Trying - You and Will struggle to give each other what you really want, causing friction in the relationship.
Part Three: Thirty Days - Your plans to start a family with Will are put on hold when he goes undercover as Bill Black.
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It’s two more months before Will comes home. That’s how long it takes for him to unravel CK’s real identity and disband her operation. He doesn’t see you throughout that time, it’s too dangerous. He’d learned the morning after you’d slipped out that CK had gotten word he’d taken a working girl to bed. It’s then he realises how closely he was being watched. There’s no phone calls or visits after that.
The night you spent together; it sustains him. He lies in bed reliving it over and over again until it’s etched into his memory.
He's exhausted when he steps over the threshold, both physically and emotionally. This whole case has taken a toll on him, but the last couple of days have been the most harrowing. He’d barely escaped the apartment complex with his life, he’s lucky that he’d made some strong connections in his time undercover, or he might not have made it back at all.
You’re sitting on the couch reading, Betty curled up in your lap when he closes the door behind him. He looks at the two of you and something in his heart just settles because finally he’s back where he’s supposed to be.
He’s still a little quiet, a little withdrawn. It’s hard for him making the adjustment from Bill Black to Will Trent. He’s spent the past two months guarded, closed off.
You undress him in the bathroom, your hands light and gentle as you undo the buttons of his shirt. When he steps underneath the spray, he feels the tension beginning to unfurl from his muscles as your careful hands smooth shower foam over his tired form. His forehead comes to rest against yours, his eyes closing as the water flows over his body.
“I missed you so much.” He whispers. “I didn’t mean to be away for so long.”
“I know.” You tell him, your thumb chasing over the line of his jaw. “It’s ok.”
He doesn’t realise how much he needs to hear that until the words leave your lips. Before he left the two of you were trying for a baby, undergoing fertility testing, discussing options if you couldn’t start a family the traditional way. This case had derailed all of that, you’d been forced to put your life on hold, your dreams.
He stays in the shower for a long time after you leave to cook dinner, letting the water rinse away all traces of Bill Black. There were things he had to do undercover that he isn’t proud of, it takes him a while to erase the feel of Rosa from his skin. It went no further than kissing and a little light petting on her behalf but still it weighs on him. He knows it means nothing, that you’ll give him that look and remind him of the time you’d had to do something similar but still he hates it.
It's when he’s throwing away the empty toothpaste tube that he spots the pregnancy test sticking out of the bin. He picks it up, his eyebrows furrowing as he studies the device intently. He may struggle with reading but by now he knows what that little blue cross means. He’d spent months praying for it before he went undercover.
When he steps into the kitchen your focus is on the pasta dish you’re preparing. He notices you’re using wholemeal instead of the regular stuff, that you’ve added more veggies to the recipe. His arms wrap around you as he buries his face into the curve of your neck, his lips brushing over the hinge of your jaw. His palms come to rest on your abdomen.
“When were you going to tell me, sugar?” He murmurs into your ear.
The left side of your mouth quirks up into a smile as you lean back against his chest.
“Tomorrow.” You tell him, your fingers threading with his. “I thought I’d give you tonight to decompress.”
“Oh darlin. Something like this, I wanna know about it straight away.” He murmurs into your ear as his thumb chases over space where his baby resides. “You’ve made the happiest man alive you know that?”
“I think you had a little something to do with it.” You tease, your palm smoothing over your stomach, and he chuckles into the hollow of your throat because the sense of elation he feels right now, he’s never felt anything like it.
“I can’t believe we made a baby, sugar.” He whispers as he cradles you close. “The two of us we made a baby.”
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