#they fucking have the same number of syllables
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GRETA GILL 🤝 CHLOE BEALE
tall redheads choosing their short brunette gfs
#alotoedit#wlwsource#royalarmyofoz#filmedit#greta gill#chloe beale#pitch perfect#a league of their own#a league of their own 2022#ppedit#this is my humble offering to the tall redhead gf fandom#could nottttt stop thinking about this ever since i finished the aloto episode#they fucking have the same number of syllables#coincidence i think NOT#parallels#soy#all#gifs
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ᴀʀʀᴀɴɢᴇᴍᴇɴᴛ | t. stark & s. strange x f!reader
Step one: Work at one of the most successful research laboratories in the country. Step two: Don't fuck it up. Step two and a half: Do not fuck it up.
content/warnings: mildly dubious consent (sooo uncharacteristic of me), degradation, power dynamics, voyeurism, shy reader, org*sm denial, v*ginal fingering
word count: 2.6k
a/n: im having a small fixation on our favorite witchy doctor dont worry abt it
Shitshitshit!
You chastised yourself mentally over and over again, watching the bright blue numbers tick downwards. It might make sense to get up, scramble across the lab, fling your hand around the incubator and pull the plug. That’s what an amateur would do, but you’re an expert and know that will do fuck all for you now. Then again, an expert would have set the goddamned temperature correctly.
You’d fallen asleep at your desk–a natural consequence of several late nights collecting data (or drowning in term papers and reports). In your half-awake state, right before your head hits the table, you set the temperature twenty degrees lower than it should be. Dreamland gave no clues to the impending doom awaiting you. Instead, you dreamt of a tropical paradise. Your sunny fantasia was inevitably interrupted by the persistent beep that echoed the labs walls.
The digits keep trickling down, and you rest your head in your heads. All you can do is wait for it to hit zero. Thousands of synthetic cultures–gone. That was two months of work down the drain, and your bosses expected a very long report, printed and neatly stapled by the end of this week.
You were so fucking fired.
The numbers finally stop, the computer beeping tauntingly as if you needed verbal confirmation on how screwed you were. You could not even begin to imagine how you would explain this. You worked at one of the best laboratories in the world, there wasn’t room for rookies errors here. Especially not when they come from supposed wannabe professionals like you (and cost millions of dollars). Your first week some larger-than-life MIT grad used the wrong inventory system and was gone by noon. You weren’t any better, just some Ph.D candidate trying to boost her resume.
The computer stops, and in its absence you pick up on the slight tick of the clock on the desk. The red analog reads 9:57 PM. Late, but not too late for your bosses to still be around. You’re nauseous with guilt, but you can’t imagine carrying it through the night, working with nothing through the rest of week just to get canned on Friday.
No, you’d accept your fate now.
If you were lucky, you’d only have to talk to one of them.
You don’t have a preference for either. Stark had no issue showing dissatisfaction through his words, often sternly and without grace. The good part was that he was the same way with praise, although you rarely managed to earn that. Strange on the other hand was, well, strange. You barely interacted with him, but when you did you always left the conversation not sure if he despised you or merely tolerated your presence. It changed your working attitude from focusing on the science to scrambling for perfection to gain even the faintest ounce of approval.
Obviously, not well enough if you were making Alaska-sized mistakes like this. Both were equally arrogant (unfortunately, well deserved) and you knew neither of them well enough to plead for your job.
You make your way down the dim hallway, passing the empty offices and labs. More than one mental pep talk passes through your mind. The end of the hallway held your demise, a cracked open door holding an illuminating light and a pair of voices.
All you could do was hope they weren’t too harsh.
Beyond the wooden door, you listen to two voices argue indiscriminately.
“I suppose you think we should just give it away.” one says exasperatedly, and you figure this is Stark by the sarcasm laced in each syllable.
“No,” the other sighs, “but our shareholders will never agree to this price point.”
“The shareholders will agree to whatever we tell them to.”
“You’re right, to a point. Still, we need to be realistic in our expectation of returns.”
“We haven’t done all this work for realism. We did it for profit and you want to sell our hard work to the lowest bidder.”
You tapped your knuckles against the oak door, heart beating in your chest. You went through a couple of opening lines–promises about how this would never happen again and pleas for understanding. Logically, you knew neither were likely to be granted. The voices on the other side grant you entrance that you take nervously. Inside, Stark sits at the large desk in the middle of the room. Strange stands beside him, peering over papers that you presume sparked their conversation.
At the sight of you, both men seem to soften their hardened expressions. Whatever nonsense flared their words a moment ago is gone, replaced by confusion by their junior researcher at their door this late. Strange glances at the timepiece on his wrist before you can say anything, scoffing and shaking his head.
“Yes, [y/n]?”
The annoyance drips, clearly not amused by your poorly timed visit. You wring your fingers in front of your body.
“Firstly, sirs, I want to apologize, there was a mistake with the incubator, and the cultures were destroyed.”
You wish you sounded more confident, but instead your eyes dart between the men and the floor. Your omission tumbles out in a whiny tone, waiting on every syllable for their faces to turn and tell you how stupid you were and how much you cost them in time and resources. That’s not how it goes, however.
Stark leans back in the leather desk chair, metal creaking as his arms are crossed in front of his body. He makes an annoyed face, sure, but not the angry scowl you were dreading.
Strange’s reaction is even more peculiar, chuckling slightly and glancing back at Tony.
“Did the incubator make a mistake, or did you?” he says lightheartedly, a grin stretching on his face, yet the words create a swell in your throat.
Tony seems to find it amusing as well, watching Strange stalk towards you. He stops in the middle of the office. You’re less than two yards away, trying not to tremble under his gaze.
“I did, sir, I’m sorry. I’ll gather my things and leave.” you whispered, hanging your head in shame.
Your feet are on autopilot, turning for the door until Strange speaks again.
“Oh, there’s no need for that.” he chuckles. “Right, Tony?”
You turn back to see him looking towards Stark, who hums in approval. Even more confused, you watch as Strange beckons you closer, and you obey on instinct.
“I don’t think it’s a good look for a Ph.d candidate to have a termination from such a large company on her record.” Tony coos from his chair.
“No, not at all. That might just tarnish her future.” Strange adds.
Their eyes rake over you. Stephen beckons you forward again, and you comply once more. Clearly, they were mocking you before giving you the boot. The condescending drip in their voices leaves your skin hot with embarrassment.
“We wouldn’t want that for you, sweetheart.” Tony sits up as Strange guides you towards the desk, a large hand resting on your back.
“I-I don’t understand.” you stammer.
They both share another laugh at your confusion. Stephen stands behind you once you reach the desk. He nudges you forward until your hips are flush against the edge. There’s still separation, but not enough that you can’t sense his body right behind yours.
“I’m sure a smart girl like you knows how valuable you are to us,” Tony locks eyes with you as Strange twirls your hair in his fingers. The touch shocks you to turn back to him, only for Strange to push you back to face Tony.
“Everyone makes mistakes, after all.”
Your eyes widen when Stephen presses his body into yours, easily towering over you. Heavy hands trail down your jean-covered hips, hot enough to burn your skin through the denim.
“We’re very understanding, I’m sure we can work something out.” Stephen’s voice purrs in your ear, warm breath tickling your throat.
The glittering look in Stark’s eye is all too familiar, watching Stephen’s hands get acquainted with every inch of your form. You shudder under his touch. The blood in your veins runs cold as you catch a wink between the two men–and suddenly, you understand.
“Wouldn’t want your career to end before it even starts now would we?” Tony taunts.
Fingers tease along your side. Soon, they work their way under your shirt, grazing the skin of your midriff.
Any lingering uncertainty is snuffed when Stephen presses further into you. The desk digs into your hips, trapping you between it and the tall doctor.
“I can’t–we can’t–this isn’t–”
Each attempt at a full sentence fails under Tony's lustful gaze. It’s quite enjoyable watching you fail against Stephen. Recruitment always seemed to be just the prettiest research assistants. Who could blame them for finally getting an opportunity for a taste?
Not to mention you did just cost them a small fortune with your little mistake. Contrary to your beliefs, though, they liked your work ethic (and you, for that matter). Letting go of such a helpful piece of eye candy simply wouldn’t do. That doesn’t mean that kindness is a guarantee.
“No?” Tony hums. “Well, we could always let you go. We can give a shining recommendation, of course having to mention your little incompetencies.”
Being blacklisted would kill you. All you wanted was to work in this field. Years of late nights and term papers down the drain was a far greater loss than a few synthetic cultures.
“Please, you don’t have to do that.” you plead. Behind you, Strange’s beard scratches your throat. His hands travel further north, dancing on the hem of your bra. Goosebumps spread across your skin.
“Like I said, I’m sure we can all come to some sort of compromise.” Stephen’s voice drops low and heavy, enveloping on your covered breasts in his right hand. He squeezes gently, tweaking your nipple through the padded fabric.
“W-what if someone finds out–please, just–”
“Oh, don’t you worry, honey. We know how to be discreet.” Tony smirks.
Your eyes can never seem to leave Tony’s, watching his smile grow as your arousal does. It’s against your doing. Stephen completely surrounds you, touching any part of you he could reach. You gasp when the doctor’s idle hand finds your other nipple, rocking himself into you as you squirm.
“I think she wants to keep her job, don’t you, honey?” Stephen chimes in.
You nod nervously. If this would save your career, so be it. People have slept with their bosses for less, right? And you certainly weren’t blind, both men were attractive in their own rights, able to pander through a catalog of women much smarter and much more their style. It begs the question why they were doing this all–crossing such a boundary with a goddamned graduate student.
“Oh no, honey, we’ll need to hear you say it.”
You barely blink, nor breath, all brain power zeroing in on Strange’s heat pressed into you. Tony raises an impatient eyebrow and you manage to answer out of the need to appease him and keep your job.
“Yes, I’ll do whatever you want.”
The second the words leave you, Stephen’s hand disappears from your shirt to push you over the desk. You would’ve face planted straight into it had his palms not wrapped tightly around each of your wrists, yanking your arms. You try to sit up, uncomfortably pressed between Stephen Itchy wool suit pants and the wooden desk. Tony gleams down at you as the doctor keeps a firm hand splayed across your back, his right hand reaching around for the zipper of your jeans.
In the next moment, you feel cool air bend around your bare legs. Before you can have anything even remotely resembling second thoughts, your lace panties are quickly pulled to your ankles as well. Warmth flushes across your cheeks, feeling Stephen’s hungry eyes and fingers on your exposed cunt–all while Tony’s eyes stay locked onto you, smile growing wider as your shame does.
That became harder the second rough hands grab the supple flesh of your ass before a teasing finger slid across wet folds. You squirmed against Stephen’s hold on your wrists, trying desperately to look anywhere but at your boss as you bit back a soft gasp.
“I think our pretty little assistant is feeling a bit shy, Stephen.” Tony declares, reaching out to caress the side of your face not pressed into the surface. It sends butterflies up your spine at how gently he draws tight circles on the skin of your cheek, humming in satisfaction from how roughly Stephen roams over your body.
“Tsk, I hardly believe that, as wet as she is right now.” he murmurs, distracted by the mess you wish you weren’t making.
You kept your lips pierced tightly between your teeth, lids squeezing shut when a long digit pushes into your aching walls. A deep groan from Strange echoes behind you. You hardly had time to eat, let alone maintain a social life. This meant it had been almost months since you’d slept with anyone–leaving needy and aching from the simplest touch. Even if it was your boss.
You instinctively try to pull forward when a second finger is roughly added, and this time you can’t stop the whimper as you stretch around him.
“There it is–feels good doesn’t it? Don’t be shy, honey.” Tony’s voice sounds like smolding ice, freezing your nerves and setting your skin on fire.
You almost hate yourself for how good this feels, Stephen pistoning in and out of your cunt until the sounds of your arousal against his fingers flood the office walls. All while Tony strokes your face like you're made of fine china. It’s far more than your body can handle, stomach already tightening with each pulse of the doctor’s fingers.
“Go ahead, hon’, tell us how much you like it.”
Your face warms. From his touch or embarrassment, you’re not sure. You stammer under the heat, trying to look anywhere but Tony’s piercing eyes.
Stephen’s hand comes down strong on your exposed ass, earning a loud cry from you as you strain against his hold. It shouldn’t make your head spin as much as it does.
“That wasn’t a request, answer him.” the doctor commands, gripping your wrists even tighter. When you take a second too long to muster a response, another strike falls on your opposite cheek. Your nerves are nearly disintegrated, still relishing good his finger feel stretching your cunt.
“It–it’s good, it feels–” you cry out once more when he spanks you again, taunting you for being too quiet.
“It feels really good, sir.” you say louder, nearly shouting into the wood as your legs shake.
Tony laughs above you, only worsening your shame. It’s an easily forgotten feeling–Stephen’s fingers curl inside you, testing each angle until he finds the one that makes you squirm. Soon enough, you forget where you are entirely, barely able to tell where your skin and theirs begin. Your high is far too close to care about the way Tony watches you, or how bruised your wrists will be after Stephen’s done with you.
Just as your mind starts to split into two, it’s quickly interrupted. Stephen withdraws from your soaking cunt, leaning over you to press you impossibly further into the desk, unbuckling the leather belt at his waist. You jerk your head up at the ache between your legs, meeting Tony’s devilish smirk. Warm lips grace your ear, chuckling at your needy panting.
“Aw, poor thing. Don’t think we’d let you off that easy–you’ll need to earn it.” Stephen whispers.
As he sinks into you, you get the feeling this mistake will take quite some time to pay back.
#tony stark x reader#mcu fanfiction#seikkoiwrites#tony stark fanfiction#tony stark smut#marvel fanfiction#stephen strange x reader#stephen strange fanfiction#stephen strange smut#tw dubious consent
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We'll create these lines.
TASM!Peter x Suicidal reader
Warnings: Suicidal thoughts, suicidal ideation.
A/N: Currently feeling some strong emotions. Needed to chuck some comfort into the world.
Please, if you're in the same boat, reach out to someone. Somebody always cares.
Easier said than done, I know, but don't do what I'm doing and send yourself hurtling down a hole of believing no one gives a fuck. I'm hoping that this provides some catharsis to anyone feeling similar.
-
“I just don’t want to be alive right now.”
You’re numb enough to not feel the words bleeding over your lips. Truthfully, you haven’t wanted to be alive for a great many years. Hell, you wonder if you’ve ever cared for the whole arduous fucking ordeal. And by the look on Peter’s face, you imagine that he knows that. Or you know he knows that. Like he knows everything. The same way he knows the map of every line of those bloody lips. The lips that now fan breath across his face.
The puffs of grief-filled air hit the broken strands framing his forehead. They blow back, the same way this feeling has knocked you back, into this bed, under this blanket, where you wish the creases and woolly waves would carry you out to sea, and deposit you into the silent depths.
But Peter is with you there. He’s a rope, or a buoy, or whatever other shitty metaphors there are. He’s not letting you drown. It’s terribly hot under this blanket.
His face is three inches from yours. You counted them. Measured them according to the length of Peter’s fingers. That feeling of them massaging your scalp is one of few sensations keeping you grounded to the shore. Absently you count the number of moles on his cheeks, then a second time, to verify the result. You love his moles. You love the lines around his eyes, too. Lines telling the sun that this soul has been kissed by joy. You want to be the one to kiss them. You want to kiss the lines into his face.
You don’t realise it, but he’s inched closer. He presses a kiss over your murky eye, then the other. “I want you to.” So small. Closed the gap between your lips that he just chased for contact. “I want you here.”
You want him to be kissed by age. Joyous age. No pain, ever. You wish death upon yourself. To never have to witness his pain. But you must witness his bliss. You live for his life. You have to.
“Why…” The lone syllable is lead in your throat.
And he’s speechless. Losing the sand in between his toes. Watching it erode away. He might lose the grip on the rope. How could he tell you what that means? What you mean, to him?
“My world would go with you.”
You may live to create his lines.
#peter parker x reader#tasm!peter x reader#tasm!peter#the amazing spider-man#peter parker#marvel#Spider-Man#self insert#my writing
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˗ˏˋꜰɪᴄ´ˎ˗
ּ Drunken ּ ch1
ּ TAGS ּ explicit ּ angsty af ּ strap-ons ּ nasty sex ּ realism
ּ WC ּ 1,378
ּ SYNOPSIS ּ Sevika comes home late from work all drunk & just fucks you in your sleep unraveling some sober thoughts..
ּ an ּ Wrote this about a month ago and it has been on the back burner since; lost interest. READ IT SLOWLY!!
So hot. Not in a way to upend your temperament, but rather a pleasantly warm body enclosing on the borders of your shoulders. It may have stirred you awake, but you’re happy to hold onto it the rest of the while to sleep. 'It' fails to be still, dislodging from your chest climbing upward. The moment it prodded your chin you snuffed revealing a myriad of familiar aromas─ cologne, cigars, costly, a hint of lavender.
It’s her.
The snappy realization jogs your memory. Something she said about staying out late for a… celebration? It was a better word she used before leaving that evening, for sure. If you’d pondered on it for ages you’d still be lost in indefinite, all that gangster mumbo jumbo sounds vivid as a fever dream through your wan ears. It’s when you see her by the end of each day- albeit through rose-colored glasses- fine and well which gladdens you. Even if it’s..
4 AM??
You wish it were a wonky digital clock for the truth, blinking rapidly to confirm the numbers. It is four-
A vicious cough takes over, it burns, eyes and throat feel alight. It- she reeks of alcohol, it pricks her aura and swirls with the vortex of fragrances, prevailing her natural scent. Must be the result of a post-bender, not a nifty or a short one. The air is poisoned, a hand to seal your mouth is all you’re able to do if you could just- pull it.. from under.. her. You are unable to move.
Your five senses plagued with surreality, aside from the pungent stench you are forced to inhale, it would do you well to lose them. Pitch black overflows your visual perception, and you thought your vision before was bad. Keeping watchful is useless, yet you hold your breath for any movement from her.
Or at least you hope it’s her.
The dark is planting irrational fear into your head. It’s absurd, but you are scared. A wave of anxiety starts and you chance it before hastily swimming to undisclosed places, “Vika?”
There’s a slight shift, a bundle of hair brushes over your chest's center. It tingles, it… your chest is naked. Oh it’s her alright. It’s her and her name which invokes fear around the house, three syllables build a barbed fence so hazardous one wouldn’t dare cross over.
“When did yo─“ she lunges, beastly, eating the rest of your query.
Never matter if you grunted against it, she’ll dig a hole through that pillow using you. Buried alive, it feels like, praying for the crisp edges of your lips to hold on. No. They’ll definitely tear. The stretch is painful, you already loathe the taste of blood incoming. Murdered thoughts cross your mind for a second, the broad line you learned to draw before putting your hands on her seemed almost narrow enough to cross. Almost.
She backs off. Your arms drop, just. “Wha.. thev?” Tongue is numb, dead.
Her breathing is animalistic, it’s heavy, blows with vigor and leaves a trail where she goes. From your neck, all the way down the waist, just prowling. Mumbling, murmuring incoherent things. But what are you able to make of what you can understand?
“Never..” doesn’t bite like you had anticipated, but sucks your skin till the color comes off. “Gone.”
Glides down your thigh, “won’t let you..” repeats the same odd sequence.
Befuddled by her blunt ignorance, you start to wonder if she even knows you’re awake. She woke you, on work night no less, glommed the very few hours you have left before inevitably going back to the grind then proceeds to pass you up?
It might be the earlier migraine’s doing, but denying that you’re somewhat hassled would plant another headache. Your fuse is being tested.
Maybe it’s more than just a nasty late night heat, “hey, is everything okay?” Something more she’s in dire need of, something less tangible than usual. You press harder on her shoulders, she’s warm, manoeuvring their broadness to uplift your upper body. Only to fall back flat, wrists trapped in her grip banged against the headboard. It strains, gradually weakens then sets free— she’s telling you to stay still.
A measly reminder to ‘keep off’, and she will do it again should you make another attempt at her venery. Nevertheless, her aggressive implicitness is unappreciated, you wish she spoke instead. Has she even looked at you once? A shine beaming on her hair all over where her eyes should be suggests otherwise. She’s careless, unbothered by the mess coating her sight.
Just how much did she have to drink?
Time passes and you let it, her lips have been tailing an invisible string extended over each part of you for about an hour now. A haze, you dozed off every second of it to immediately be jerked awake to another bruise. Grey circles with uneven outlines, more felt than seen; the sun couldn’t rise any slower and help this gloomy room out, or you. The most she made on you, the least you’ve ever acknowledged them. As for her, the darkness makes for a better conversationalist than those incessant garbled mutters.
Her body heat ascends, at last, another chance to get something out of her. The cold rushes to encircle you again, cramming the new path between your raw bodies. It’s been missed, the city’s natural temperature on your skin, but for how long? Is she done now?
Slightly damp hands douse your love handles and you sigh, “baby.” You called her with gall, but it doesn’t alarm you. Nor her, seemingly, she goes on to take your hips dangerously close into her lap and thrusts-
Your grunt cracks, the irk remains stuck in your throat— she won’t let you express the full extent of it anyway fu- she’s deep. It’s all over your legs, the tension outspreading from the toys size, her darn fondness for the big. The stretch of your cunt is wide but it was its looseness that stunned you, how long has she been fucking into you? Moreover, how on earth did you sleep through it?
Her gentle dexterity, the culprit, paved the way for her to go all out with utter smoothness. Wetness in her lap is loud, slippy and only multiplies by the rough pound. She quickly hits her usual pace and you go for the sheets before she sends your puny form into oblivion, no further chance will be given once she’s fixed on her wayward speed.
And so she does.
The sight in front of you. Her swiftness is trance-like, you clench harder the bed to not lose your face in it. She’s still sloppy, a mass of hair oscillates back and forth vigorously hiding any part of her face leaving you curiously starved. This aroused inebriated cavewoman confuses you, it already feels so fucking good but should you go through with it? Whatever this is.
Not sure, can’t be- can’t think. “Vika..want to..see..” her face, but nothing happens.
You were wrong. It is a nasty, nasty fucking heat.
She is clearly blinded by lust, an alien melancholy pulls you under. It feels lonely, this emotional engagement is one-sided with a side so barren. If not entirely missing. She is missing. Answers you with reticency, quashes your movements instantly. This can’t be the result of an abberant drinking, not alone.
A drizzle of sweat slides down her neck stimulating an unbearable tickle, but Sevika doesn’t flinch. She is focused and you’re so close, the thrill overcomes your suspenseful thoughts. Regardless of what this could be, it’s maddening and you need it.
But she wouldn’t give it to you yet.
The toy pauses in the deepest part of you, its girth cramps and twists your insides into its ghastly shape. Soon it’s warm again, she dives to your neck going over the same ordeal. The talking, mooning over random parts of your body.
“You’re not like them,” the dark itself twists before your eyes, your head takes time to stop buzzing from the instant break. “No.” Not gibberish, but full words she’s forming. ‘Them’?
“You’re-“ her torso jumps, a sudden spasm— a hiccup. You never knew she could. “You’re my girl,” of course, but-
“Won’t leave me.”
…Leave?
,,,
ּ Wow, you made it this far? Gay ass. But hey, have a splendid day and don't be too insecure bout your learning self (っ˘з(˘⌣˘ )
#yeah I like to put reader in chaos#sevika#arcane sevika#sevika arcane#sevika imagine#sevika x you#soft!sevika#sevika x reader#sevika smut#lesbian#wlw#wlw smut#saphhic#MeatysFics
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JO Paris, 22.03.24
Gig report! Compiled this morning in the car to Antwerp with help form @zadig-fate and @yoda-bor 💛 I recorded everything except Katrina (bc my camera app crashed in the middle), so I'll upload this once I'm at a place with stable wifi again :D
all my buses were delayed so I power walked to the train station. Then that train was delayed so I almost missed my Eurostar. Then my Eurostar was also delayed. "That's what I call a Deutsche Bahn special, actually." – Kris ("when your first train is late but then it's okay because the second train is also delayed")
so many people I knew in the queue. From Helsinki. From London last year. From Utrecht. 😊💛
when I grabbed my number, Jan and Nace returned to the venue (and they were so pretty in daylight and in person)
Nace said hi as they walked past 😊
their postures??? Nace has definitely worked on his posture, meanwhile Jan appears so slim and small. It's wild.
Jan and Jure returned to the venue together, looking… Pissed is too harsh a word, but frowning? So we first kinda thought they were actually pissed off. But then Nace showed up a minute later, his usual sunny self, and was immediately accosted by fans. So. I assume it was less "pissed off" and more "do not approach" (and it worked)
soundcheck was Gola and Vem da greš, which we could hear every time they opened the doors (this was my last general access gig. It's EA from here on out, baby!)
Kris and I had decided to go on the balcony and got spots right next to the sound booth, where we were joined by @thisismyobsessionnow 🫶
it was warm but the sound was really good (duh)
also we had nice cushy seats like the old people we are 😂
first opener was a duo of brothers made up of discount Jure and Käärijä if he was French. Discount!Jure had a nice chest (Jure at home)
their music was eh, the lyrics cringe
Kris says they spoke french but I spent most of their set on tumblr/discord so I wasn't listening, but it was a Choice since pretty much none from the EA crowd spoke French
speaking of EA, there were allegedly 60 EA tickets though I saw numbers up to 62 (500 people venue)
JC Stewart was fun
he was told he looked French prime minister. He got confused by president vs prime minister but he also got kinda flustered. He was shown a pic and was "oh yeah, I see it"
we got Katrina opener
Nace. Jfc.
the venue was super hot so I tried to appreciate the fit while he had it on in full – white buttoned shirt with a sweater vest over it and a proper tie and glasses, going for the full teacher look except hot???
I still spent a good chunk of the gig looking at Jure though. The elevated balcony spot gave ussuch a nice view of him
Bojan was smiley and sounded way less congested than in Utrecht (maybe he's on the mend?)
Kris on the other hand was sipping tea on stage. In particular very sassily during Demoni
Kris had guitar problems at the beginning of Šta bih ja and went to Kiki to get it fixed but Bojan didn't see and so was actually worried for a moment that Kris had gotten sick off-stage. Kris was adorable in reassuring him that he was fine
they were all so mobile again
og demoni scream. In the middle. Might have been Bojan letting out his anxiety over Kris having disappeared from stage
"Kris, honey" and then that moment. What in the BoKris was that. I just turned to Kris and said that out loud bc what the fuck
There was a sizeable crowd of Slovenians in the audience and Bojan was delighted
fairly even split in the crowd for French vs foreigners, though the French were louder in yelling
the most hilarious to me moment: Bojan did his spiel about "who here experiences panic attacks?" And the crowd cheered, and he was like "yay! Panic attacks! It's me!" And Kris next to me went "I'm the problem, it's me," and literally on the last syllable, Bojan started saying the exact same thing. One brain cell. Or maybe he has the stream on his in-ears
Barve oceana 🫶🫶💛💛
according to Astrid, I looked ridiculously happy (I was ridiculously happy)
best galaxy of me version tonight. I still don't like it though 😂 it's gonna be my metulji 😂
Bojan went into the crowd for Umazane misli
it's so fun to watch from above
Vita was his trusty shadow and also a beacon of light to spot Bojan with
this time I don't think they forgot her in the crowd
Bojan made the balcony sing while he was still in the crowd. But it was mostly just Kris, Madeleine, and me, at least on the bleachers/seated part. We still gave our best 😂
Carpe Diem was not part of their "encore" but came before
no Tokio :( might be the first show without it?
fucking Novi val
the way Jure jumped up and sprinted to trade a drumstick for a baguette, it was so hilarious
he was so happy, and he first made fun of Nace for being unable to eat it
he shared it with Jan
Jan got chocolate and they put it into the baguette and then shared it.
Jure let everyone else also take a bite, including Bojan who was ostensibly singing
Nace bottle feeding Kris. What the fuck. Can someone make sure they still don't know about AO3?
no Umazane shenanigans even though Jan and Nace had talked right before it so I'd been hopeful
so many um versions in other langauges. It wasn't the longest rendition, but we also
when Bojan said we'd get the original Slovene version, I thought it would be the one he made up on the spot when they went on stage to play it all the way back? When they were babies. So it was a small disappointment when it was just the regular Slovene version 😂
Bojan asked the Slovenians if they were able to tell that they weren't playing at home and they said no and Bojan was so so delighted
he's also given the mic to people in the audience outside of Umazane misli (ne bi smel and plastika, I want to say)
he sang galaxy of me with a guy from the front row (Josh?)
not a lot of Jance, possibly because they were looking after Kris?
still a lot of eye contact
or maybe it was the fact that they apparently were out in Paris together in the afternoon 😏
my phone was so hot by the end (and I have 4gb left of memory)
after the gig I couldn't find my hat so I was worried I'd left it, so I went back in. Which was how I got JC and Vita to sign my gig memory book
I had forgotten about wanting to grab Vita's signature so if Astrid hadn't reminded me, I would have missed out
the boys got JC Stewart sick, he said his voice was going
It was raining so the boys ran out of the venue towards a van while we cheered. Bojan took a group selfie
Jan and Jure left first with the crew in that van so we assume that the others took a second car
#joker out#jan peteh#nace jordan#kris gustin#bojan cvjeticanin#jure macek#jure maček#kris guštin#bojan cvjetićanin#nace ja jan#bojan ja kris#gig report#my gig footage
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Hello! Could I request number 5 "Shut up and kiss me already" with Morticia?
If you need a scenario maybe the reader stumbling through telling Morticia her feelings and Morticia interrupts her.
I understand if you pass on this.
But if you do, thank you!
Hey hey hey anon! Thanks for the request and I couldn’t ever pass on an opportunity to write for Morticia Addams 🤭 Hope you Enjoy!
All But Done with You ~teacher!Morticia Addams xFem teacher!Reader
Morticia works at Nevermore as teacher like the reader. Reader has developed feelings for Morticia which she is finally pushed to confess. Smut ensues. A lot of smut.
Mommy…Master List
Requests & Prompt-List
#5. “Shut up and kiss me already”
Warnings: NSFW, 18+!!!, smut, kissing, biting, strap fucking, doggy style, implied d!ck riding, more implied smut, hickeys and markings, biting kink, Daddy kink, praise kink, degrading kink, breeding kink, implied exhibitionist kink, magic strap, implied punishment kink…, etc.
Enjoy (;
“You should tell her!” Marilyn, your closest friend and colleague, exclaimed.
“I don’t know, Mar… I can barely get a single syllable put around Morticia… What if she doesn’t reciprocate??” you insecurely said.
At this, Marilyn clasped your hands in an embrace, “Babe, listen to me, Just go tell her. And if she brushes you off, then it’s simply her loss. Promise me. Promise me, Y/N, that you’ll try.”
“Ok Fine, I’ll try…” you whispered.
~~~
Your breathing was erratic and your were hands were shaky as you made your way to Morticia’s office after hours. All classes had finished for the day and you thought now was a better time than any. You reached her office door and took a deep breath before knocking.
“Come in…” the sultry voice of Morticia called.
You entered the room and once you actually set your eyes on the woman of your admiration, your nerves went through the roof.
“Oh Darling, It you!” Morticia’s face lit up at the sight of you, as she put away what she was working on, “What can I help you with?”
You blushed at the nickname.
“Well… I was hoping to… I wanted to tell you… something…” you stuttered.
“Of course, Darling…” Morticia purred, standing up and coming over to lean against her desk near you, “Please continue.”
“Ummm… I… well… I’ve wanted to tell you… for a long time really…” you stuttered bashfully through your confession, “I understand if you… you don’t feel the same… the same way… and I understand if it’s innapropriate… but—”
“Shut up and kiss me already…” Morticia interrupted in a sultry whisper, having moved within mere centimeters from your lips.
Your eyes widened and your breath fled, and you immediately crashed your lips onto her pale lips. But you became quickly hesitant once more. Luckily, Morticia was quick to step in, she picked you up and had you wrap your lags around her waist as she snogged you to high heaven. You both kissed until you were literally suffocating and had to pull away for air.
“Let’s move this to the bedroom, hmmm Mon Amour?” Morticia panted into your ear.
“Yes please…” you whimpered into her addictive lips.
With that, Morticia carried you to her private quarters. You thanked whatever high power of any sorts that no student nor staff was in the corridors at this time. She continued to explore your cavern and dominate your mouth, making you whimper and mewl. Once you reached her room, Morticia threw you on her bed and she locked the door. She then joined you on the bed, immediately latching her mouth to your neck and leaving trails of bite marks behind.
“Are you sure about this, darling?” Morticia paused her markings, looking up to meet your eyes.
“Yes I am so sure please Morticia…” you whimpered, already bucking your hips in need.
“Alright, well if you need to stop at any point say ‘red’, hmmm Mon Amour?” She cupped your cheek.
“I understand.” you whispered back, before connecting your lips back to hers in desperation for some sort of friction.
Morticia chuckled and pulled away, earning a whine from you, “Whining won’t get you anywhere, now be a good girl for daddy and strip…” she purred with a dark twinkle in her eye and a dark change in her tone.
Your eyes widened and you gulped, “yes daddy…”
“good girl…” she purred, standing up slowly and teasingly removing her own dress.
You moaned at the sight of her glorious body being revealed. You quickly stripped all of your clothing until you were completely naked on the bed, still gawking at Morticia who was in a stunning black garter undergarment set. She then crawled towards you on the bed to the point where she had you trapped between her body and the head board.
“Daddy wants to fuck you all night and in so many ways…” Morticia purred in your ear, “Would you like that, my sweet girl?”
Your breath hitched, “Yes please want you to fuck me daddy want you to use me god please…!” You whimpered.
Morticia’s eyes widened and she smirked at your pleading, “Oh my… You’re daddy’s little slut aren’t you…?”
You bucked your hips up to try and meet Morticia, but failed, “Yes daddy please I’m your slut please daddy…!!” You pled.
Morticia then got off the bed completely, making you whine from the loss of contact.
“You whine one more time slut and daddy will bend you over her lap and smack your pretty little ass till you say anything but ‘daddy’ and ‘please’…” Morticia growled.
You gulped, “I’m sorry daddy… won’t happen again sorry…” you whispered, looking down to the ground.
“Look at me, slut…” Morticia purred.
When you looked up, you couldn’t contain yourself anymore… Morticia was wearing a delicious, black strap-on… A massive one at that…
“Daddy…” you whimpered.
Morticia crawled onto the bed and scooched you onto the center of the bed. You yelped at her cold hands on your thighs.
“Tell me what you want, slut…” Morticia purred, her lustful eyes boring into your soul.
“Want you to fuck me… please daddy fuck me…” you whimpered.
Morticia smirked, obviously satisfied with your answer as she lined herself up with your aching cunt. She slid into your heat with a groan, bottoming you out in one swoop. You immediately grabbed onto Morticia and cried out in overwhelming pleasure.
“Fuck… Daddy… So big…” you whimpered.
“I know, sweet slut, taking Daddy so well, Fuck… Daddy’s using her special dick where she can feel everything… Can feel your pretty tight walls fluttering around my dick, sweet thing…” Morticia groaned.
“Can you… fuck can you move daddy please…?” You pled breathlessly.
Morticia nodded and began thrusting in and out of your throbbing core, eliciting strings of cries and mewls from both you and Morticia. She started really pounding into you, making you cry out in pleasure even more. At one point, Morticia’s hand grazed your neck and you moaned out instinctually, bucking your hips into Morticia’s ruttings even more.
“What’s that sweet slut…? Does someone like Daddy’s hand around their throat..?” Morticia panted out tauntingly.
“Yes GOD YES please Daddy want your hand please daddy!!” You cried out.
Once Morticia placed her hand on your neck and applied some pressure, you were done for. And God, Morticia thought she would die at the feeling of your walls clenching around her magic dick. Your screams were music to her ears.
“Fuck, sweet girl, I’m about to cum.. Wanna fill you up with my cum… Would you like that, sweet slut?” Morticia groaned.
“Yes please daddy fill me up with your cum want you to cum use me please daddy…!!” You pled with a strangled voice from Morticia’s hand on your throat.
Morticia came with a strangled cry, spurting her white cum all over your fluttering walls, “Fuck! Such a good girl letting me fill you up… my sweet little cum dumpster…!!”
You moaned out in tandem to Morticia’s cries. You both were left panting messes, sticky with each others cum.
“Fuck, I’d bet my sweet slut would love to be bitch fucked by daddy, hmm??” Morticia breathlessly purred.
Your hodded eyes lit up and you bit your lip in anticipation, “Please daddy wanna be your whore…” you moaned out.
At that, Morticia swiveled your body around and guided you to spread your legs and arch your back for her. And she quickly slid back into your soaking cunt. You both groaned out in relief.
“Such a whore for daddy…” Morticia panted, snaking her hand around to your throat and wrapping her lengthy, cold fingers around it, “Tell me what you want me to do to you, sweet slut… What does that naughty mind of yours think about when your alone and touching yourself to the sinful thoughts of Daddy…”
You whimpered out in response as Morticia’s began pounding into from behind while still expecting an answer from you, “Want you to mark me Daddy… show everyone I’m yours… breed me Fuck Daddy!!” You cried out as Morticia hit that sweet spot inside you.
Morticia bit her lip and groaned at your words, “I’d love nothing more, Mon Amour…!”
“Fuck Daddy ‘Mmmm gonna cum!!” You cried out, your orgasm suddenly hitting you out of nowhere. Your hands clenched the bedsheets tightly as your toes curled in delight, as you came for the second time that night.
“Such a greedy slut…” Morticia growled, “Can’t even wait to ask to cum can you…?”
She didn’t stop pounding into you even through your orgasm.
“Fuck daddy I’m sorry daddy!!” You whimpered.
“Shhh baby, take Daddy’s dick like a good girl…” Morticia purred.
“Shit! Yes daddy…!” You cried out, feeling your core to start to tighten a third time, and it was tightening rapidly so.
Morticia chuckled, “Fuck baby I can feel your pretty walls fluttering again, you wanna cum again for daddy? Fuck, keep squeezing me like this and we’ll cum together… I’ll fucking breed you like the bitch you are…!” She groaned.
Tears were running down your face now from the overstimulation, “YES Daddy please breed me fill me want to cum around your spurting dick please daddy!!” You begged.
You both came together, screaming in tandem as you clenched around Morticia’s dick and she thrusted deeper than you ever though someone could reach into you. She pulled out of your sensitive cunt, and you both collapsed on the bed, panting heavily.
“Thank you, Daddy…” you mumbled, nuzzling into her neck.
At that, Morticia pulled you on top of her, and began biting and marking your neck and breasts. Once she’d seemed to be satisfied with her work, she looked up at you.
“Oh Baby…” Morticia purred, grinding her dick up against your sensitive pussy, “Daddy’s all but done with you…”
#morticia addams smut#morticia addams x reader#morticia frump fanfiction#morticia addams#morticia addams fanfiction#mortica addams#morticia frump smut#morticia icons#morticia frump#morticia x reader#morticia frump x reader#wednesday netflix smut#wednesday netflix headcanon#wednesday smut#wednesday netflix fanfiction#wednesday netflix#wednesday addams netflix#wednsday addams#wednesday#catherine zeta jones#catherine zeta jones x reader#catherine zeta jones character#daddy k!nk#daddy issues#lesbian#lesbian fic#daddy's good girl#daddy’s babygirl#wednesday fanfic#wednesday fandom
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A not-complete list of wonderful changes, translation and localization I noticed when I went to see Book of Mormon in Madrid!
Hey! So I went to see The Book of Mormon last month in Madrid, and since I had watched (bootlegged) and listened to the original production, I was able to enjoy some changes they made so it could be enjoyed by spanish audiences!
First off, I should say that it wasn’t a replica production (and I think I much prefer this one!). The choreography was amazing, and definitely more elaborate than on broadway ! Here, have a look: https://youtu.be/NZ5UxjN2MPs?si=UErYQUODo5Qs-EMC
Some of the first changes I wondered how they were going to make was the opening number: both Hello and Hola have the same syllables but hola cannot be used, since the accent falls on the first syllable in hola and the second in hello….. so spanish mormons just end up saying how are you (¿qué tal?) 😂
Second change comes during the second number, two by two: one of the jokes is weirdly untranslatable, which is the addendum at the end of the phrase “we are the soldiers of the church of jesus christ (of latter day saints)”. Since in spanish “of la-tter day saints” (5 syllables) would be “de los úl-ti-mos dí-as” (7 syllables), they changed it to “yo-soy-mor-món” (i am a mormon) which fits! There is a joke lost, but mormonism isn’t as widespread as it is on the US, so it’s hardly noticeable.
This one is mostly to update the content, but during two by two when the trip to japan gets announced, the mormons are excited about soy sauce and godzilla (instead of mothra)
Next comes a change i also wondered about: how do you make a joke out of Elder Price’s wish to go to Orlando, of all things? In the English version, Elder Price would like to go to orlando because of Sea World, Disney and putt-putt golfing: spaniards have no cultural knowledge of what Orlando is, so the translated line is “Orlando! Disney me espera, soy fan de Frozen” (Orlando! Disney is waiting for me, I’m a Frozen fan) which really drives home the ridiculousness of choosing that place as your mission trip. Also, if you watch the video i linked, the joke is super amplified through choreography, which is part of why i love this production so much.
Hasa diga eebowai gets one change Very right: instead of saying fuck you god, they say “me cago en dios” (i shit on god) which is a very common way of cursing about things in spain: you can shit on the milk (me cago en la leche), on your mother (me cago en tu madre) and indeed, you can shit on god!
One fun localization comes in at the end of All-American prophet, a song that’s basically a sales pitch or infomercial : the fun little gag at the end where Elder Cunningham says “if you order now, we’ll also throw a seat of steak knives” gets changed to “if you order now, we’ll throw in a thermomix for free” For people who don’t know, a thermomix is The Product everyone gets from infomercials/ through independent sellers: it’s a chopper/blender/cooker/scale/kitchen robot, very convenient! My mother has one :) one of the ugandan ladies asks Cunningham about the thermomix inmediatly after finishing the number and he excitedly begins explaining the whole shtick every middle aged spanish lady has heard before, that got a big laugh :)
In the sequence before spooky mormon hell dream, when Elder Price’s so happy that he finally reaches Orlando, he throws in another elsa joke, saying that he’s blonde like her, so thats why she likes her😂
During Spooky mormon hell dream, one change that got Such a big laugh was seeing the four people that are in hell according to Elder Price: Genghis Khan, Hitler, Jeffrey Dahmer and, instead of Jonnie Cochran (idk even who he is) we got Silvio Berlusconi, politician and founder of communications company Mediaset, which runs a thrash tv channel called Telecinco (and that’s what he’s in hell for, according to the song)
The thing elder cunningham always says “tomorrow’s a latter day” gets changed to a saying a lot of catholic old people say, “mañana dios dirá” which both fits in the metric and localizes it, since mormonism isn’t that well known.
And that’s it! It was such a wonderful performance, and a testament to the beauty of translation: even if i know I understand English fairly well, seeing the jokes on my native language made everything 100x times funnier! Strongly recommend!
#the book of mormon#tbom musical#tbom#translating#musicals#musical theatre#musical theater#localization#translation#broadway#spanish#spain#madrid#spanish culture
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21. dystophian au + 69. flirting under fire + (platonic) rosestarkiller because i'm practicing writing them meeting for the first time
this is the continuation/same universe as in the rosekiller prompt @casstration gave me<3 [1k words]
Regulus presses himself against the wall, dagger held tightly in his fist right in front of his chest and he strains his ears to listen.
All he hears for a moment is his own shallow breathing and then it’s there again, a faint breeze of a whisper, growing louder each time and Regulus swallows roughly.
He squeezes his eyes together, tries to get his breathing under control and tries thinking of what Sirius would do in this situation, what he would tell Regulus. It’s no use though, Regulus is much too scared to string together a proper thought let alone think about the comfort of his brother in the absence of him. He just had to go and get himself severed from Regulus, all thanks to that bloody James. If Regulus lives the day to see him again he will slit his throat personally.
First, he has to make it out of this grocery store alive though and for that it is adamant he know if there are cranks in here and if so how many.
Another hiss, much closer and Regulus grates his teeth with the effort not to make a sound. That is until he realises the resemblance of a proper word, coherently strung together syllables of a name.
“Pandora.”
Cranks can’t speak can they? At least not this clearly, right? Do they even have the mind to disguise themselves with something like whispering?
“Pandora, are you here? It’s Evan.”
Regulus’ heart is rabbiting away from him inside his ribcage, pounding wildly against the inside of his sternum. How many days has it been since Regulus had encountered another living person? How many days have gone by since he’d lost his brother?
It’s risky, naive Sirius would say, to lean around the corner of the wall and take a peek at the newest arrival, but curiosity wins out. Or maybe the desperate yearning for another human. An ally. Safety in numbers.
Regulus licks his lips, clasp around the handle of the blade so tight his fingers start to ache and then he peers around the edge.
There’s a boy around Regulus’ age it seems, tall but lean, thin it seems, with bleached twists and a hoodie that looks fully intact and clean. “Damnit, where the hell is she?” he whispers. Another full, lucid sentence. There’s a holster strapped to his back, all of which Regulus sees for now, thankfully, no chance of being caught.
That’s of course until he turns abruptly.
Regulus rips himself back around the corner, pressing himself against the wallpaper and trying everything in his power to keep undetected, pulse thrumming wildly in his arteries.
His breathing stutters out in a breathy exhale and he feels his lower lip start to wobble. Fuck– fuck.
What if he was wrong. What if the boy is another infected, what if—
“Hello?”
“The fuck you think you’re doing, Rosier?” A new voice.
“There’s someone.”
“You– since when are we adamant to going around and making friends with just anyone? What did you even see, for all you could know it’s a crank, you—”
“No, Barty, someone,” Evan insists. “Trust me?”
The conversation makes Regulus untense gradually, the more certain these guys aren’t a danger to him with every more piece of dialogue he witnesses. There seems to be a pause of silent arguing before, eventually, someone sighs.
“I feel like we always end up here. Why is that?” voice deadpan.
“You know exactly why, Crouch,” Evan responds, grin evident in his voice and then there’s a sound like…a kiss?
It makes Regulus blink a few times, frown furrowing his brows before he quickly dismisses it, taking a deep breath and stepping around the corner of the wall.
The second boy that Regulus hadn’t seen before wipes a sleeve along his cheek, the one to be Evan is still grinning crookedly before his eyes snap back to Regulus.
“Hello,” Regulus says lamely, white knuckling his dagger.
Evan opens his mouth but the other boy, Barty, beats him to it.
“Who’s the current president of the United States?” he inquires, eyes narrowed.
Regulus squints his eyes back at him, crossing his arms. “There is currently none, according to our current situation,” Regulus answers, pointedly letting his eyes wander around the visibly ransacked store, “If you’re asking for the latest though, that would be Joe Biden.”
What’s with the weird question? Maybe they’re not as in their right mind as Regulus thought.
Evan whacks Barty against the chest, making him huff out a breathy laugh before he zeros right back in on Regulus, teeth pointy with his lopsided smirk. “I like him, we can keep him.”
“Oh, how very gracious of you, Bartemius, too bad no one asked for your opinion.”
“You wound me, goldilocks. All I’m ever doing is look out for you and this is the way you pay me, with scornful disrespect and—”
“I’m Regulus,” he interrupts, eyes darting around, still on guard. Maybe his senses are playing tricks but Regulus could have sworn he’d heard something. How these two have made it all these months without getting harmed when bickering like this at such a volume seemingly continuously is a mystery to Regulus. But alas, maybe they’re simply lucky. And Regulus could definitely use some of that. Maybe it’s not such a bad idea to join them.
There’s a rustle in the second of silence in which none of them are speaking and they all freeze. Regulus watches as the two boys instinctively meet eyes, a pang in his chest that makes him think of his brother, before Evan swivels to Regulus to soundlessly wave him over.
It feels easy to go. Regulus swears he’s featherlight as he closes the distance between him and Evan and Barty step for step until he’s crouched in the aisle with them, waiting for further movement.
They smell neutral to clean, a soft whiff of shea butter wafting off Evan’s hair and Regulus hopes to god the tiny rest of toothpaste he’s used this morning is still doing its job.
When there’s no sound for a while Evan twists back to him, voice serious, expression calculating, “Have you been bitten? Scratched?”
“No,” Regulus answers truthfully, “and I intend to keep it that way.”
“Oh, but how can we trust the word of a simple stranger?” Barty butts in, grin widening, “Shouldn’t we undress him and search for the truth of his statement ourselves?”
Evan growls displeased and Regulus’ shoulders draw up defensively, “Thank you, but it seems you two got the undressing each other part covered.”
Barty’s jaw drops open around an amused grin, eyes blitzing, while Evan makes a choked noise, whipping around at Regulus with wide eyes.
It was a shot in the dark really, a vague guess off of the earlier interaction Regulus had all but overheard, not even witnessed, but it seems he’s hit bullseye and the corners of his mouth twitch with it. Seems their luck is already subbing off on him.
“Okay, correction, I really like him. We are going to keep him.”
Evan elbows Barty so forcefully in the ribs the pale boy wheezes.
#rosekiller#rosestarkiller#slytherin skittles#regulus black#evan rosier#barty crouch jr#regulus black character study#or at least i tried skjfs#lune’s tiny fic#lune writes
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You just want to continue to work without being disturbed. Is that too much to ask for?
Apparently, as Kakashi didn't get the memo.
~ X ~
Hey!
Sorry for the longer wait for this chapter. Took me a bit as work really fucked me over. But now the fic can go on, and I try to be more punctual with the future updates ^^
~ X ~
Honestly, you didn’t expect too much to change. Even with all the new knowledge revealed, what really would stop Kakashi from continuing his bullying, just a bit more low-key? Especially as he never apologized. But when you arrived the next Monday at work, you couldn’t help but pause as you spotted Kakashi standing in the entrance at the lowest level. He looked just as comfortably lazy as always, black joggers with a dark gray shirt and a wide, loose cardigan reaching nearly to his knees in a soft, marine-blue cotton. He was looking at his phone, mindlessly scrolling, but in his other hand was a drink carrier made out of a carton with two drinks.
When you stepped inside, Kakashi looked up at the sound of the door opening. In an instant, his body straightened, and he pushed his phone into the back pocket of his jeans.
You paused for a second, only to readjust the strap of your bag over your shoulder and stepped closer. “Good morning.”
“Morning.” As you brushed past him, Kakashi turned and fell into the same speed as you, effectively making it look like you two arrived at the same time. Honestly, you didn’t want to speak with him first thing in the morning, when an entire day of having to argue with the man still ahead of you.
At the end of the entrance area, past the desk with the flirtatious secretary, who looked way too sad when Kakashi passed by her without batting an eyelash, you pressed the button to call the elevator. You refused to look at him, even though you were overly aware of his presence and the fact that he was looking at you. Right, maybe not “looking” per se, but he threw glances at you from time to time, which was enough to unnerve you already.
Still, you didn’t react, just stared at the display calling the floor numbers. As soon as the elevator arrived and the doors sprung open, you stepped past the man inside the small cabin. Kakashi followed, at a much more relaxed and lax pace than yours.
Before you could react, he pressed the button to your floor, as well as the “Close Door” button. The doors slid close just a few seconds later, which left you alone with Kakashi. You merely stared at the display of numbers, breathing out a little sigh of relief when the lights sprung from floor to floor, signaling the end of your uncomfortable stay inside a small space with him.
Suddenly, you looked at the two containers of hot beverages, both imprinted with the logo of a nearby coffee house.
“Coffee?” Kakashi asked, matter-of-factly.
You considered for a moment. Was this an honest effort on his part, or just another subtle attempt to fuck with you? But no, even against your better judgement, you reached over and accepted the coffee cup with a little nod and a weak “Thank you”.
The man shrugged. “No problem. I hope I got it right.”
Cautiously, you took a little sip. And nearly groaned in relief. “No. I mean, yes, you got it right. This is perfect.”
“Good to know. So,” he stretched the single syllable into eternity, just right before the second the elevator dinged to indicate the two of you reached your floor, “can I bring you coffee from now on? From time to time?”
You considered again. Honestly, getting coffee at the start of the day was already a great offer. But was it worth it being so close to Kakashi then, taking something from him? Being indebted to the man in some kind of way? Hesitantly, you stepped out of the elevator, acutely aware of Kakashi still on your heels.
“How much was the coffee? I pay you back.” You were already scrambling for your purse, but Kakashi stepped closer, his hand going up and stopping your every movement.
“No need. Take it as another part of my peace offering.”
One of your eyebrows rose ever so slightly. “And the other times in the possible future?”
“That,” Kakashi shrugged, “you have to take up with future-me. You remember our meeting around 1?”
“Yes. I have all the data ready to go.”
“Good. See you then. And…” Kakashi paused for a second, his head tilting ever so slightly to the side. “Enjoy your coffee.”
With that, he brushed past you, leaving you with the cup of coffee, a whiff of his aftershave and lots of uncertainty inside your heart. What was he planning? Carefully, you took another sip from the cup, hummed under your breath, then turned towards your desk with a bit more vigor in your step. It didn’t matter, it was definitely time to get to work, now with an even bigger cloud hanging above your head.
But before you sat down, you spotted one of the now well-known notes, this time neatly glued to the edge of your keyboard, so you wouldn’t miss it.
A little smile flashed over your face, but you didn’t immediately open the note. Instead, you let it rest there while dropping your bag, tentatively placing the cup of coffee on the table, then peeling yourself out of your jacket. At the same time, you greeted your colleagues around with short nods and small smiles, your eyes still flittering towards the note from time to time. Only when you properly sat at your desk, sure no one was looking or busy with their own work, you reached for the note.
I hope you have a good morning. Whenever I see you come in, it sure as hell is a good morning for me.
Short, precise, sweet. You could feel your face warming due to the words, though. Some would consider it creepy to be watched this closely, but somehow, as nothing else had happened - yet - you couldn’t help but be endeared by the mysterious note-writer.
Somehow, this felt like an incredibly cheesy romance novel, the ones you kept hidden inside your nightstand and only read when you had time on the weekends. Gently, you folded the note back and placed it inside the drawer where you kept all the notes, for safe-keeping.
One day, you maybe had the time and energy to actually find out whoever the note-writer was, but now, with the Akatsuki-campaign on your plate, there was not much energy left to care. For now, you could just enjoy the kindness from the enigma of a writer and take it as a little pick-me-up for the day.
~ X ~
The days passed by like this. Exactly like this, to be honest. You would arrive at work, where Kakashi waited in the lobby, always with a coffee at hand. While the two of you rode the elevator, there would be a little chit-chat or a quick talk about work, and when the doors opened, he would casually stroll towards his own desk in his little corner, meanwhile you would walk to your own desk and find a little note there. Always a little compliment, always a little observation which would make you smile, always something positive which could make your day a little bit brighter. You did your work, tried to stay afloat, then shut down your PC at the end of the day and went home.
The rhythm was so strongly established that, when someone actually dared to interrupt that rhythm, it disrupted your entire day. But not negatively. Quite the opposite.
You were in the middle of scribbling a few notes into your weekly planner, trying to determine what task needed to be taken care of first thing tomorrow and which ones could wait a little bit longer, when a hand came down on your desk and rapped its knuckles on the surface.
Kakashi stood beside your desk. With an unusual white, crisp and clean shirt and a pair of dark jeans, as well as a leather bag slung over his shoulder, he still looked like he was ready to start the work day, not to end it, like you were. For a second, your eyes got caught at the hems of his rolled up sleeves, sitting in the crease of his elbows, before sliding up to his face and eyes.
“Yes? What’s up?”
“The ceiling”, he immediately answered, making you chuckle weakly. Though, the laughter was short-lived as his attitude switched to a more serious tone. “Listen, we’re coming along fine with the project, but I want to make sure everything is perfect. Akatsuki is one of our most prestigious clients and the follow-up campaign has to be spotless. Would you mind meeting up for lunch tomorrow to go over the details?”
Inwardly, you groaned at the prospect of having to work through your lunch break, but you kind of understood. You also understood that Kakashi wanted to make sure everything was going well, especially with the data you provided as it was a vital key for the work he had already done. So, you nodded weakly, all the while moving out of your chair and slinging your bag over your shoulder. “Sure. Any café or restaurant in mind?”
“Your choice. I don’t have any specific likes or dislikes.” Abruptly, Kakashi turned away, but paused. “Just… I don’t like sweet things.”
“So, a specific dislike.”
“...Yes.”
“Right after you tell me that you have no particular dislikes.”
“Sorry. I kind of forgot?”
“That you have dislikes?”
“That I have to actually tell people about my dislikes and not act like everyone can read thoughts.”
That sentence sounded so clearly repetitive and studied, you just had to chuckle. Kakashi even overplayed his part: the slouched shoulders, a little pout, the tired eyes dropping even lower than before. Like he wanted to make himself as small as possible, all the while his entire posture portrayed how little he cared. Really, the image of a petulant schoolboy came to mind when one looked at him, and nothing else would fit him better.
A week ago, you wouldn’t have laughed like this. No, you would have been frustrated at his careless attitude, annoyed even that he would joke around like this. Now, you were at least 50% sure it was a joke.
“Alright,” you said, “I get it. No sweets factory and no cake-exclusive café. Anything else?”
“No. That was literally it.”
“Then see you tomorrow.”
Kakashi waved lazily over his shoulder. “Good work today. See you.”
Good work today. Coming from Kakashi, could you take it as a compliment? For a few seconds, you struggled, before your mouth spit out the first thing coming to your mind.
“Good work by you today, too!”
As he was already quite the distance away, your mouth apparently saw it necessary to speak louder than usual. Several heads turned to you, which made your face grow warm, but you tried to not let it affect you. With a small wave, you apologized to the still working members of your firm, who after a few seconds of silent bewilderment went back to their work. And Kakashi? He had turned around as well, a little smile on his face, one hand again up to lazily wave at you, the other still holding onto his bag.
Good. Even though you humiliated yourself a bit, you managed to be nice to Kakashi. No big deal, moving on, and you should really try to find a nearby restaurant or café which would serve food for the both of you, all the while having big enough tables to potentially spread out some documents and one to two laptops.
~ X ~
Honestly, you were surprised that such a place like this working café existed. Each table was wide enough for at least four people, more than enough for Kakashi and yourself, plus your working equipment. There were electrical outlets at the surrounding walls, and separated cubicles for some privacy from other people working there. The young woman at the counter who took your order seemed friendly, promising to deliver your ordered items to your table in a few minutes. The atmosphere was quite cozy, friendly and bright, with big windows which let in the sunlight but also the looks of other people. Though, no one on the sidewalk cared much, as Kakashi and you selected a table a bit further in the back. As you slid into the booth, dropping the bag with your laptop, phone and purse onto the table, you caught a glimpse of the man.
He seemed to pause for a moment, your eyes meeting his for just a split second. His eyebrows rose a bit, but before you could notice more, you let your eyes fall back onto the table and slid completely into the booth. Kakashi followed after another brief pause, just on the side opposite to you. Like this, you could watch his hands carefully unclasping the thin fabric case of his tablet, a keyboard attached to it. He unfolded the tablet, securing it with the dark gray case to make it stand on the table like a normal laptop would, only for his eyes to meet yours again over the upper rim.
“So.”
“So,” you echoed back. While opening your laptop and typing in the password, you glanced at him. “What do you want to know, specifically?”
“Just the general state of you. How you’re doing, adjusting to the increasing workload, such stuff.”
“I’m… I’m alright.” Confused, you paused, hands twitching on the keyboard of your laptop. “Is this some weird check-up on me?”
“Pardon?”
“A weird check-up. Because of… I don’t know, you’re being way nicer to me than before, and you want to see how I’m doing all of a sudden? Is this meeting just a farce to see if I still have a grudge?”
“What? No, it isn’t.”
“Then why are you asking me those strange questions when you invite me to a work lunch?”
“Because that concerns work.” Kakashi looked at you like you suddenly went crazy. “You’re a new hire and Minato asked me to do an evaluation with you. He’s off to acquire a new customer, so he asked if I could jump in.”
“Oh.” Shit. That was bad news. Instantly, you felt your spine straighten out of instinct. Everything to make a better impression on someone who was impossible to impress, as far as you were aware of. But at least it wasn’t impossible to try, right?
One of Kakashi’s eyebrows rose. “Should I be concerned?”
“About what?”
“The sudden rod you shoved right up your a… your spine.”
“You wanted to say something else there.”
“I did, but then I thought that my original comment could catch a sexual harassment case.” He smiled innocently, eyes curled and lips barely raised. But fuck, even though you were all of a sudden nervous and flustered, mildly annoyed by his words and tone, you could feel a single, lone yet terribly fluttery butterfly rise in your stomach. Fuck him and his good looks.
“Anyway,” he shook his head slightly, still smiling as he did so, “no need to worry. I told him that even though we cleared the air between us, doing an evaluation on you would still be highly inappropriate. He wants to see you on Friday, 2pm sharp, in his office.”
“Oh my god. You’re… insufferable.” Breathlessly, you slumped again into your seat. “I think I have a heart attack.”
“If you die in your booth, I will say that it was an accident.”
“Of course, you will.”
“Do I hear some slight animosity? Yes, I’m pretty sure.”
“You’re-!”
Steps closed in, only to be quickly followed by a cheery voice, announcing: “Alright guys, I have your freshly brewed coffees, right here.” The cashier placed both cups swiftly on the table, with small spoons jingling slightly against the porcelain. “And I also have your hearty BLT-sandwich,” the plate with the sandwich was put into the middle of the table, only to be gently pushed into your direction, “as well as the egg-salad-sandwich.”
Kakashi’s order was placed in front of him. One look at the waitress, and you had to hide a little annoyed snort under your breath. If those weren’t the biggest doe eyes you had ever seen, then you didn’t know what else was happening there.
But Kakashi just smiled one of his usual lazy grins at her, not showing one bit if he noticed the admiration of the waitress or not. His eyes quickly returned to your face, with small creases around them telling you more than enough.
“Do you even notice the stares,” you whispered when the waitress left, “and the lovey-dovey eyes anymore?”
He shrugged weakly as he reached for his coffee cup. “Sometimes.”
“And?”
“And what?”
“Do you ever… react to it? In some kind of way?”
Kakashi laughed weakly. “No matter how flattering that might be, I’m not interested.”
“Mhm.” You wanted to press further, now that he finally opened up a little bit and seemed just honest enough, but you also shouldn’t press your luck here. Besides, why did it matter anyway? Kakashi was still an asshole — and you weren’t interested in him anyway.
Your secret notewriter, however…
Thankfully, it isn’t Kakashi.
With a low sigh, you pulled your sandwich closer. Even though the topic of the conversation wasn’t that appetizing, at least your food looked great. The BLT-sandwich was cut into neat triangles, slivers of the tomato, juicy yet slightly crispy bacon peeking through the green of the lettuce, just held into place by a pair of wooden skewers. Taking one bite, you sighed again, this time in deep satisfaction. Holy, this sandwich was just as delicious as it looked.
Before you knew it, one half of the sandwich you had wolfed down, and you were ready to devour the other half too, before you realized who was sitting right in front of you.
“What?” you asked, defiance tainting the words. “It’s good.”
“I don’t doubt it.”
“Then why are you looking…”
“Because that was probably the first time you let your guard down around me… for a sandwich.”
“Urgh, shut up.”
“If you insist…” And really, Kakashi closed his mouth, reached over to his plate with the egg sandwich and inspected it. Then, after a moment of quiet consideration, he took it into his hands and took a single bite.
To stare like this was a bit indecent. The tiniest bit. So, you turned your attention towards the laptop in front of you, pulling up some graphs and reports you had collected over the last few weeks. “Alright, I looked at the previous campaign you did for Akatsuki, what I think you wanted to achieve and who you were targeting. Also, I took a look at their goals, their customers then and their customers now.”
“Akatsuki turned from fresh newcomers to a big brand in a relatively short time.” Kakashi paused between bites, thinking for himself. “Their style in clothes changed quite a bit over the years since I worked with them.”
“Exactly. They went from creating smart clothing for any body shape to… catering a more well-paying crowd.”
“You don’t like their change.”
“True,” you admitted freely, “their Pain-series for home clothing was brilliant. The sweatpants changed my life.” That you could definitely not afford their newest line of clothing even though it looked visually appealing and comfortable at the same time, you didn’t have to add.
“Right? Those are my first choice for home office days.” Kakashi chuckled to himself. “Also the paper crane-shirts.”
You sighed weakly. “Oh god, that is so true. Just really nice looking basics with special accommodations, so everyone can fit into them and, of course, pay for them.”
Kakashi nodded. “Designing a campaign for that line was a pleasure. Designing for this campaign though…”
No way. One of your eyebrows rose. Kakashi, admitting to having difficulties? Kakashi, just opening up to anything? Kakashi, actually willing to talk with you?
He noticed, of course. Another bite, a closed-eyed smile, then he continued. “Their new line is… pretentious. They want a down-to-earth campaign, like I did for their breakthrough. But it was easy material to work with. Those clothes just don’t give me anything back.” He took another bite, chewed, then placed the sandwich on the plate. “I just don’t know how to tell them that they changed too much to be down-to-earth anymore.”
“Maybe I can help a bit there.” Your mouth was definitely faster than your brain, and definitely too fast for your own good. But the words dropped already from your lips like morning dew, and Kakashi’s entire attention focused on them.
“What do you have in mind?”
“Maybe… And that is a big “maybe” here,” you paused, breathed in and out, then continued, “if I can show them where the current market lies and that it would be stupid to insist on their previous image, we could turn it around.”
A hard task. Customer-related tasks were always hard, as some customers could be stupidly stubborn. You had seen it all: the most detailed, beautifully created marketing campaigns, pissed into the wind just because some rich dude believed to know better. But you had also seen the total opposite, people accepting marketing campaigns which ran totally against their imagination, but embracing them until they became a huge success. Everything was possible, and it was your job to make sure that it would become a success.
Kakashi nodded. “Alright. I can try to help as much as you want.”
“That would actually be really great.” And you meant it. As Kakashi managed the first campaign and had first-hand experience with the client, he could provide you with really sensitive intel. If he was really willing to work with you instead of against you, it would make things so much easier. Quickly, your fingers flew over the keyboard of your laptop, jotting down notes, so you could remember what needed to be done in the next few days. “Alright, do you still have contact with Akatsuki? If we have a direct in, they might be more willing to listen to us.”
“I know someone,” Kakashi said, “but we need a strong proposal to make this work. He’s… a bit uptight, but really smart and will be neutral, even work with us if he sees our point.”
“Great. If you can, contact him already. If we want this to work out, we need all the help we can get. Meanwhile, I will start to put together some questionnaires in order to gauge the market.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
As you continued to make plans with Kakashi’s input, you forgot about your previous inhibitions. The man proved you wrong so far, acted like he never held anything against you at all, even threw in helpful advice and comments. But that could just be to save his own skin: the Akatsuki campaign would be one of the biggest in his career, considering that his first campaign for them made them big in the first place. He showed everyone that he could make a brand big, but could he deliver once more? The infamous overhyping of a sequel, so true for movies, books and video games, and even more true for repeat performances. There must be a lot on the line for him, so of course, Kakashi had to make sure everyone was performing to the best of their abilities. Whatever he would deliver to his clients would reflect on himself and on Minato and Kushina, on his own creativity and their leadership skills.
Measured at his usual work ethic, when it wasn’t compromised with some kind of childish dislike to his co-workers, he wanted to deliver. Kakashi wanted to show that he still had “it”, and was eager to prove himself. If not to his client, then probably to his parents.
And if he leaves me alone, then maybe…
Maybe you could still somehow work with him and prove yourself, too.
A small smile tugged at the corner of your mouth as you typed away, made plans and notes to yourself. A small sliver of hope, nothing else, but it was more than enough to keep you going — to keep you working with Kakashi as long as he didn’t return to his old ways.
Though, you definitely wouldn’t try to befriend him. Not after the shit he pulled, and not after forgetting to apologize for it.
#kakashi x reader#kakashi x you#kakashi hatake x reader#kakashi hatake x#kakashi hatake x reader insert#kakashi hatake x self insert#hatake kakashi x reader#hatake kakashi x reader insert#hatake kakashi x self insert#hatake kakashi#kakashi hatake#kakashi#reader#reader insert#self insert#office au#modern au#also on ao3#historicfailure#freakypseudwriter#kakashi headc#kakashi scenario#naruto fanfiction#naruto fandom#naruto shippuuden
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extra one shots for the farmer’s market au, you say?? i know requests are closed and the fic isn’t even done yet, but if you felt inclined to write steve and r apple picking and then pie baking… i would be indebted to you
-b
you asked for this before the fic was even done but i knew i had to do it. so, here you go! hope you enjoy :)
bee girl and steve bake apple pie before thanksgiving, post-au | [1k]
a no good at waiting one-shot, au masterlist
__
"I just don't see how you have never baked a pie before...ever." Steve shrugs and continues to wash the apples you scavenged from the almost-bare orchard. It's the very end of the season and you've just spent a few hours in the cold collecting as much as you can carry.
"El usually does it," he tells you. "But this year she practically begged me to invite you over instead. She said she had faith that we could work it out." The soft smile on his face is so endearing you just have to kiss him. So you do -- a soft, quick peck on his cheek. He doesn't stop washing but his cheeks darken. The air has been cleared after Halloween and every day you wake up with butterflies knowing that Steve is your boyfriend. That this town is your new home.
"You're not going to make me do all the work, right?" Steve's kitchen is too small for the number of pies you're going to make -- four, apparently -- so you've taken over the kitchen of the main house. It's huge and airy, the sink boxy and deep and the cabinets painted a light green. It's a little too stylish for Hopper, you think, but El seems to make good use of it.
"Oh, because you're the pie expert?" He flicks water at you from his fingertips and you yelp. "I don't think so, honey. I am out here to prove myself." Apples washed, he properly dries his hands and steps around you to get the cookbook. The kitchen is big enough for you to have your own space but Steve sticks close, hands on your hips lightly as he moves, as if he's happy to float in your orbit. Which, you suppose, he is. He loves you.
"Okay," he says, dragging out the second syllable. "Wanna do a big batch of dough, then cut apples, then we can fill and decorate the tops?" You hum, coming to stand behind him to hook your chin over his shoulder and read the recipe for yourself. He leans back into you for just a second, sighing with what you've come to recognize as contentment.
You work together well, turning on the oven and pulling out ingredients in sync even though you don't know where anything is in the kitchen.
"Why the fuck are tablespoon and teaspoon abbreviated almost the same," he mutters. "Oh, El said she made crust for us and it's in the fridge."
You open it and find four neatly rapped balls of dough. "She did the hard stuff for us!" you cry. "Next year we have to make it ourselves." You don't realize what you've said until Steve doesn't reply. Next year. Like you're planning that far ahead.
"Okay," he says softly. When you turn to look at him he's smiling, eyes find and hands already reaching for you. "We'll do it next year." He pulls you in by your belt loops for a quick kiss, on the lips this time. It still leaves you a little dizzy.
"Don't think Hopper would want us making out in his kitchen, Steve," you mumble, eyes closed. He groans but release you, heading for the cutting board.
"Fine," he says. "But once the pies are in? All bets are off." He winks at you before he tosses a clean apple in the air and catches it. "Now, you wanna roll out the dough while I cut these?"
You make four large circles and save some to top the pies with, thin strips that you intend to weave into lattices. Steve carefully chops the apples before you both make the filling to toss them in.
It's a quiet process, but you're good at that. Much of your talking as a couple occurs in bed when you're holding each other close, or on the phone in the middle of the day, or when you're driving. When you're together you settle into the peace of enjoying each other's breathing. Sometimes it's enough to just be in the same room as someone you love.
Before you know it, you have four filled pies and all that's left is to lattice the tops. "This looks complicated," Steve says. "You sure you want me to help? I might just mess it up."
"Don't be silly, Steve," you scold gently. "Just watch me and do it at the same time. You're coordinated." He rolls his eyes at you but copies your movements as you weave, carefully lifting and placing the strands of dough. "Just like that, yeah, see? You've got it!" you tell him and he preens, mouth curled at the corner as he looks over at you through his fringe. He insists on doing the second one himself, and it's almost perfect.
"How much time do we have?" you ask. He checks the cookbook as you slide the dishes into the oven.
"50 minutes, I think. We'll keep an eye on them. It would be a bummer to burn down my own job, huh?" He starts to put the dishes you used in the sink and turns on the hot water. You move to help him, drying as he finishes scrubbing.
For just a second, you imagine doing this with Steve in a kitchen that you share. A home of your own, life together in a whole new way. Maybe for your own dinner party or just for yourselves, baking something delicious and eating it on your couch in your living room and going to your bed after. It's a nice thought.
"What're you smiling about?" he asks you, bumping your hip with his.
"Oh, nothing," you say, and he crinkles his nose at you. He won't push but you're trying to be more candid with him and though you're a little embarrassed, you tell him a version of the truth. "I just love you, is all." He blinks like he wasn't expecting it, though you've said it many times by now. Then he turns off the water and gently takes the towel you're holding to dry his own hands before he turns to face you fully.
"Well," he says, a little shy. "Maybe taste the pie first and see if that's still true." You laugh and lean into him, breathing in the smell of the apples mixed with the warmth that's all Steve.
"Love you, too," he whispers against your temple.
#steve harrington fluff#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington imagine#steve harrington x y/n#steve harrington x fem!reader#steve harrington x you#no good at waiting
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Whats your perspective on names?
Do you have any specific thoughts about them? how did you find yours? did it take long to? how many have you had? also your characters! obligatory "I Love Your Work!" (and i enjoy riffling though new and also rereading old), So from amaethon to cecil to danny to the King family and the Laithes family, their names are one aspect that have always stuck out to me because they all integrate into their stories while still feeling unique in contrast to each other! i dont miss that a lot of it is influenced by your interest in fae lore and your welsh heritage either. where does the name come in during your writing process, is it the first or last thing you think of? do you have a mish-mash of where you find them? any pettier more low stakes opinions on names?
(all this started bc i'm struggling to find a name, and want the perspective of another trans person :) !)
I changed my name when I was about 15 - it comes from a similar biblical root as my deadname, so basically I shortened my deadname and then looked for other names that it could be a nickname for.
For me, it really wasn't a long or involved process - it happened quite smoothly and easily, and I've never felt like I needed to try other things or find something that fit me better.
Johannes is a Dutch and German name - it's an older form of John and is like Ioannes / Yiannis in Greek, and it comes from Hebrew for God is gracious. It can be shortened to Johann, but generally my actual loved ones either call me John or Johnny, or they call me Hannes.
"Johannes" in German is kind of a stereotypical old man's name? A German friend was laughing a lot about it because she said that to me and I was like "Yeah?" and she was like, oh, yeah, that fits, lmao.
I do play around a lot with names, and I'd say that I take them from a lot of different sources and get creative with them. Multiple times I've called a character "Henry Sutton" without realising I've done it multiple times, which is why I've got a few Henry Suttons knocking about.
For more established characters with deeper backstories, I play around a lot with the naming process - I normally have a particular mouthfeel or aural impact I'm going for, such as a certain number of syllables or a particular "flavour", like a name that has a feel of a particular class or country or profession.
With that said, I think most of my names I pick quite quickly and feel out early on in the process - it's rare that a character of mine is more fleshed out and lacks a name, because I find a name is such a useful part of someone's identity and informs a lot of how they move in the world and are perceived and treated. Something like their appearance is far less important, funnily enough.
I like to employ some literal stuff - Valorous King, for example, is very aptly named in a way that can sometimes feel like a curse to him; Amaethon is actually one of the children of Dôn, but people don't really know old Welsh gods and goddesses very well, so it just feels like a random elf name; Ganymede Cavendish is named for a beautiful young lover of Zeus, and he is just as beautiful and victimised in the same way as his namesake.
Other times, I go with more irony or play with juxtapositions - name a character for joy or ease when they're generally miserable or tortured; name them something small when they're very big or vice versa; name them for darkness when they're very light, etc.
I'll often take forenames or surnames from things I'm watching or playing or listening to - when I want to pluck a name out of the air at random and am worried I'm using too many of the same names, but want like, "real" names that real people use and live with, it's fucking great to pick names out of the credit sequences of TV or movies and mash them up.
Sometimes I scroll through census records and stuff, but the problem with the number of characters I have is that I can't always do that - as much as it's realistic for many characters to be called Jones or Evans or Williams, I'd need to make a thing of it in fiction. Census records are great for older characters, especially from the 1700s-1900s.
The ones that are actually hardest for me is Latin names - Greek ones I'm a lot more comfortable handling, but my Latin grammar is fucking dogshit, and I often worry about mishandling a name or reusing one that's too commonly written already. Medieval Latin is alright to play with, but when I'm writing old Roman characters I just feel like I'm kicking my own ass the entire time.
I will say that some shit in that regard is just fucking lazy. I abhor the lazy tendency in fiction to introduce a Black character and call him Mr White or Mr Chalk or something similar, especially when it's contrasted with an evil white character and/or that character's best friend who's named Black or Ebony. It's not in itself that awful, it's just the fact that it's so overdone and clichéed, and comes from a really basic humour and sense of irony that doesn't really build on or create anything, just lazily says "haha, this guy's Black and this other guy's white, isn't that a thing?"
I don't actually have a problem with reusing some names a lot - John, Henry, Daniel, etc - and I will often just search "common names [country]" and play with similar names that jump between and change from different languages or change throughout history. It can be worth looking up legends or stories from a certain region or like, old wives' tales and stuff, because like...
Sometimes, the benefit of a common or uncommon name is in its cultural impact - a name like mine, a name like John, is ubiquitous, but that means you can draw loads of parallels to it; on the other hand, if you grab a word that's very much not a name, but is a place, an object, a common noun, an animal, a turn of phrase, etc, you create a tension around that character with the other characters around them, even if people aren't commenting on it directly and even if you don't tell the reader immediately that their name is unusual or noteworthy.
When you're playing with a name that has a lot of cultural impact within a culture you're writing, as a name or otherwise, it can be fun to have a name that will have a lot of resonance for the characters you're writing, but doesn't inherently have that same impact on the reader (or only has that impact if the reader is already familiar with them culturally, or is familiar with the niche historical/religious subject you're working with).
An obvious one in mine is Esben's pets, for example, are called Kottr the dog and Hundr the cat - Kottr in Old Norse means cat, and Hundr, dog. A lot of English speakers will notice the cognates there if they think about it, but I've had people who speak Nordic languages comment on it a lot because it's just a fun little thing.
Gellert Osgodby has named himself after Gelert the dog - but in Welsh, we don't use two Ls to make an "l" sound. In Welsh, his name would be pronounced more like Geshert (the ll sound isn't easy to transcribe in English). He's fucked that up, and that's part of how you can tell he isn't Welsh himself, and isn't a Welsh speaker.
I definitely am influenced most by Welsh and Irish mythologies and stories, and I do tend to play with some Jewish cultural elements a lot as well, if not directly with Jewish mythologies.
Part of that, I regularly say, is because of the way that Welsh and Irish stuff tends to be treated by US American creators who identify as Welsh/Irish/Scottish/ "Celtic" or whatever and just go for random butchery of everything in sight - it's not their fault they don't have any sense of cultural respect, because that's not the culture they were raised in, but it does irritate me, and like...
Because I get so snippy about Welsh stuff, I try to be a lot more careful handling other cultures, particularly in various ways oppressed or minoritised ones, especially who are often misrepresented in media in similarly clumsy, lazy, or just entitled ways.
For names in cultures I'm less familiar with and coherent with, what I actually do is regularly search the full name I'm using, but also like, search Wikipedia entries for famous celebrities that use that language, come from that country or culture, and are of the same caste, religion, or ethnicity as the character(s) I'm working on and basically just read a bunch and contrast and compare.
Sometimes I very explicitly go against a lot of cultural stuff depending on which cultures I'm drawing from - Velma Kuroda, for example, has picked a name very much at odds with the more traditionally Japanese name her brother has picked, and that has to do with family beef that I'll get into later in Little Devils.
In Derek Landy's Skulduggery Pleasant, people have three names - their regular name, their magical name, and then their true name written on their soul, by which they can be commanded and coerced; in T.S. Eliot's The Naming of Cats, cats have three different names - the name by which their human family call them, the name by which they're known to other cats, and then their secret, most innate name, known only to themselves.
Many of us have multiple names and go by different names in different circles - many Jewish people have a Hebrew name, and gerim might pick one when they convert; in Ireland, a lot of people have their names as Béarla different to their names as Gaeilge.
Some people go by their middle names or are called a completely different name to the one they were named at birth - Hell, some people don't even realise until they're adults that the name everyone's always called them isn't their official documents name.
And that's not even considering queer people and how many names we might cycle through, feeling out the ones that fit or don't, using different names in different circles or for different personas, using different names online or offline.
There's a lot of power in a name and in a naming, but there's also a lot of leeway and flexibility, and one name isn't the same to all the people who might use it - I try to reflect that living quality in lots of the characters I write and play with.
With a name, I would say it's important to think about how it feels in your mouth and in your hands - how it feels to say your name, how it feels to write it, how it might feel to write your signature, what spelling you choose or what characters it's made up of, what your initials might be, etc. What nicknames you might or mightn't like.
How does or would the name strike people, depending on who they are or where they're from or how old they are? Are you named for someone - someone people would or wouldn't recognise? A figure from myth, from TV, from books, a historical figure, a religious or cultural figure, someone you love, a relative, an ancestor? Is your name usually a name at all?
I know so many people with so many beautiful names, many of them unexpected, either because their parents or family chose them, or because they chose them themselves, and I know there's a lot of choice out there, but good luck with the hunt! I hope you find something that fits, and feels like it sings to you!
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青玉案 · 元夕 - 辛弃疾 english translation (and notes!)
ok well. all this chinese poetry posting has put me on a bit of a translation high so i wanted to share my most recent translation project, which i actually just finished recording and uploading yesterday after two whole months of waffling. the poem itself is SO fucking cute but SO hard to translate and i'm honestly very proud that i stuck with it to the end. it instantly became one of my top favourites the very first time i heard it so i hope other people can also find some joy from it!
here is the original:
青玉案 · 元夕
【宋】 辛弃疾
东风夜放花千树，更吹落、星如雨。宝马雕车香满路。凤箫声动，玉壶光转，一夜鱼龙舞。
蛾儿雪柳黄金缕，笑语盈盈暗香去。众里寻他千百度，蓦然回首，那人却在 灯火阑珊处。
and here is my translation:
Qing Yu An: Lantern Festival at Dusk
by Xin Qiji
Fireworks blossom beneath the touch of evening's eastern breeze; flurrying as they fall, sparks shower like stars. Prancing steeds pull chiseled carriages, sweeping fragrance across the path. The xiao’s decadent notes adrift, the jadelike light’s prismatic shift; the dragon-fish dance as the night-hours pass.
Combs shining in their hair, golden, silver, silken sway; sweet perfume and tinkling mirth linger in their wake. My searching gaze is futile as I scan the thronging crowds; at last I turn, and you are there, in the quiet dark of evening wane.
translation notes beneath the cut! there is a LOT, be warned!
translation notes:
so to start from the very top, let's first introduce the title 青玉案 · 元夕.
青玉案 (pinyin: Qing Yu An, lit. the matter of the verdant jade) is actually the name of a 宋词排名 (song cipaiming, song dynasty poetic/musical form). just as shakespeare wrote sonnets and basho wrote haiku, so the poets of the song dynasty wrote, among hundreds of other forms with fun names like this, Qing Yu An poems.
each 词排名 had a set number of characters per line, set rules for its tone patterns, and even came with its own tune. maybe a better western parallel would be twinkle twinkle little star, which uses the same tune as the alphabet song and baa baa black sheep.
the end result is that there are many titles under the heading of Qing Yu An, and even, according to chatgpt, another 青玉案 · 元夕.
anyway, this one by Xin Qiji, the most famous one, is titled 元夕 (yuanxi); 元 refers to 元宵节 (yuanxiaojie), the lantern festival held on the fifteenth day of the lunar new year which marks the end of the spring festival/chinese new year, and 夕 is dusk. hence a very naturally poetic name, lantern festival at dusk.
before i get into the text of the poem, i want to note that i often sacrifice rhythm/rhyme for precision of meaning. i ✨artistically✨ speed up/slow down some syllables while recording to preserve some sense of metre lol, but it does read quite awkwardly on paper. i'm a very inexpert student and have a lot to improve on!
ok so! line by line!
东风夜放花千树
--is a literally genius pun. it transliterates as: the east wind in the evening blows open the flowers of a thousand trees. very spring, right? haha spring festival get it.
however! its a chinese celebration, so what will there definitely be? fireworks 😎 and it just so happens that one word for "setting off fireworks" in chinese is 放烟花 (fang yanhua). yep, that's the same 花, which means flowers, but when combined with 烟 (smoke), it becomes a "fire-flower" 🎆!!
it's also the same 放, which in the context of actual flowers means the opening of petals, but in the phrase 放烟花 means to set off (the fireworks).
together, this line evokes both the blooming of the spring flowers under the eastern breeze* and the blooming of a thousand fireworks in the evening sky.
*spring comes from the east ofc; this is folklore and not science i think but lends to the spring-ness of the line
更吹落，星如雨
this one is pretty straightforward. lit. blown through the air by aforementioned wind, falling like a rain shower of stars.
宝马雕车香满路
oh boy. when i tell you my mom (who is my chinese teacher) and i got in several petty arguments over baomadiaoche...
so 宝马 (baoma) are just well-bred horses, prize steeds with a pedigree. a 雕车 (diaoche) (lit. carved chariot) is a very expensive carriage carved with lots of intricate decorations. in other words, these ppl are RICH.
however, it was difficult to convey the sheer decadence of 宝马雕车 without either using a miles worth of syllables or entirely losing the original cultural context. carved was too direct and ugly to hear besides, etched was not elite enough, sculpted conveyed entirely the wrong image... also, for some reason, "proud" to describe steeds was vetoed for being inaccurate???? hence the arguments.
in this scenario, the final word choice really is a matter of the least bad option.
at the same time, the second half of this line 香满路 (lit. fragrance fills the path) implies movement: the carriage is passing by, leaving the fragrance of rich people perfume in its wake. for the sake of syllables, i shifted that movement to the fragrance part of this line. i also like that this evokes a high-headed noble sweeping elegantly through the crowds.
overall, this line adds to the picture of a decadent, bustling market street during the most joyous celebration of the year.
凤箫声动，玉壶光转，一夜鱼龙舞
lit. the notes of the phoenix xiao (chinese recorder) move, jade gourd light shimmers, the fish dragons dance all night.
chinese ppl, ok, use two motifs to describe the beauty and virtue of every artistic thing ever: phoenix and jade. phoenix xiao means NOTHING. it's like virtuous xiao. jade gourd is a little harder; some say it's the moon, some say it's the lanterns. jade and light put together kinda implies moon anyway, so i just sidestepped the problem entirely.
as for 鱼龙 (lit. fish dragons), theyre a type of dragon lantern which supposedly has some characteristic of a fish. they are puppet-danced on sticks - dragon dancing, the classic. my mom and i both had a vivid image of this dragon-lantern-dancing, but we couldn't find it ANYWHERE. if anyone knows the right search query to pull this up, please lmk how to tame 谷大哥*. anyway, i left the lanterns implied because idk how the fuck to explain this whole thing in four syllables.
*lit. big bro google. its funnier in chinese
蛾儿雪柳黄金缕
this is the line that, when i finally bothered to properly research it, made everything about this translation click into place. these are all hair decorations. 蛾儿 (lit. li'l moth) are silk moths, 雪柳 (lit. snow willow) are silver tassels, and 黄金缕 (lit. yellow-golden cords) are gold cords lmao. hence golden silver silken sway, which was SO satisfying to come up with.
笑语盈盈暗香去
lit. laughing speech tinkles and faint fragrance goes by. this one is also fairly straightforward. 去 means to go, so we specifically want the image of a group of giggly teenage girls fading into the crowd.
众里寻他千百度。蓦然回首，那人却在 灯火阑珊处。
and finally we reach the most famous line, the 千古名句 (qiangumingju) - iconic line of a thousand histories!
lit. within the crowd, searching for him* in a thousand hundred directions; suddenly the head turns, it turns out that person is standing in the darkness where the lights have gone out.
*"him" is highly debated. 他, used in modern chinese like the pronoun "he", was historically a catchall pronoun for people of any gender. iirc, 她 for "she", and the gendered distinction, was only introduced when china started integrating to the west. in this line, 他 could be the teen girl that just passed by, or her beau. whichever way, one is the searcher, the other is the searched. i chose here to sidestep this by using i and you bc fuck gender.
anyway, when the searcher's head turns - even this bit had to be suitably poetic, a nightmare - they find their lover in the 灯火阑珊处.
灯火阑珊处 this phrase refers to a very specific image. imagine, in the early hours of the morning, a dwindling market street; the stands are closing one by one, lights winking out, leaving a gentle blanket of dark and calm behind. it is the quiet after the rain, the breath after the shout; it is the sigh of closing your front door at the end of the night. it's not the absence or complete lack of light, but rather the exit of it. a place of that just-left-behind dark is a 灯火阑珊处.
this sentence gave me so much grief and i am so proud to have done it even just a little bit of justice.
so after all that, the scene described by this poem is something like this: a lively late-night market street. people from many walks of life fill the path, celebrating the lantern festival, the turn of a new year and coming of spring, a riotous party of light and noise and joy. as the night slips into the sixteenth, the market begins winding down, stalls closing and lights winking out. amongst the teeming crowds ambling their way home, a young person searches for the their lover from whom they were separated; on some sudden instinct, they turn, to find their lover already looking back from the darkness of the fading festival, gaze caught in the divide between light and dark, wake and sleep: a quiet young love on the edge of spring, something fresh and new.
if anyone made it to this point, thank you and i hope this was an interesting read! please feel free to add comments questions and observations!! i would love to discuss at any level with someone other than my mom and chinese poetry truly is one of my passions even when it makes me want to kill, so i'm always down to talk. :] <3
#mine#fuck yeah chinese poetry#count how many times i used a thousand in this post#why do we love our thousands... ancestors... have a little imagination...#chinese poem#chinese history#mom if you see this im sorry & i love you very much & im very very thankful you cultivated this passion in me mwah mwah
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perhaps my most insane collection of brvn thots yet
do we think lulu is from the moon. i think this for three reasons. one: when she told superbia she was going to ride him the moon was quite large and prominent in the shot. symbolism. two: when she got her fancy hairdo, she had two little buns that looked like moons. three: “lulu” could come from “luna” the same way it could come from the first syllable of smith’s name. why would she become spanish? don’t worry abt it. also if she’s from there then maybe the “final battle” which obari allegedly said would take place in an unexpected location will indeed be on the moon (pls dont ask for a source on this bc i don’t think i could find it again but it was one of the like. EARLY early interviews iirc. or it was just a rumor. this part of the post is a joke anyways LMAO). however this IS a super robot show so i feel like the moon in general is actually a more expected location for me than like. idk. cleveland
everyone pointing out the animation differences maybe indicating different timelines is so funny to me cause like. if it’s NOT intentional, the fans are putting together a list of fixes to make for the bluray on a silver platter LMAO. also god i hope we get a western bluray release, i honestly am considering getting the jp one if it somehow winds up w eng subs though just cause i know it’s such a long shot for CRUNCHYROLL of all motherfuckers to put one together 🥲 discotek ur our only hope………………
i keep thinking abt the like. pacing of the previous fight scenes being reused in ep9 in such a smart way…………like with smith/lulu v superbia - isami/bravern v cupiridas AND with smith/lulu v knuth - isami/bravern v pessimism/vanitas they kept doing the quick jumps between each of the two fights in a way that made it clear that isami and smith were in conversation even if they were doing completely different shit, and then bringing that completely to the forefront this ep while isami is asking smith why he died and at the same time smith is refusing to die bc of his promise with isami. BLEW MY FUCKIN MIND to see the pattern reused like that, i swear to GOD everyone talks about how fun and hype this show is but it’s so damn GOOD too 😭😭 and then after that the fuckin. symmetrical docking ass cut and then later the gattai which has been held off for SO long bc they are no longer separate conversations. JESUS
called my shots too early tho w smith not melting ppl’s minds in a kaworu manner where they convolute the story x1000 to try to make him seem straight 😭 congrats white boy, your days are numbered until ppl start saying you love isami like he’s your pet dog……….also in a related fashion the giant naked smith fanarts are taking me out LMAO
you can tell idk shit abt fuck when it comes to time travel fuckery cause i rly am just here like ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ atp LMAO, the serious theorizing is GONE. i trust the show to finish out in a satisfying manner and also in a way that my pea brain can understand and i’m rly looking forward to savouring these last 3 episodes :] and then rewatching the whole thing from the beginning once the remaining twists have been revealed and i Know :3 like not to get way too sentimental w 3 whole episodes left but we are so lucky to be following this story in real time you guys 😭 like i’m just gonna put the same post i made back after episode ONE here cause it’s true but times a million with what we’ve seen so far, truly this is such a special experience to have and i’m so glad this show waited until i got into mecha to get made so that i could like. Understand it yknow. anyways good for january 14 2024 version of me, you are so excited andyet still have NO idea the kind of treat you are in for 😭
“lewis” jumpscare tho omg. i forgot it took me like a week to figure out what the hell was goin on with all the characters first and last names LMAO. anyways everybody go look at sumiisa sekiha love love tenkyouken right now i am no longer asking
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Number 6 for Tangybug? (Holiday prompts)
“You made hot chocolate for me?”
“Don’t be fucking ridiculous, I made this hot chocolate for my goddamn self.” Tangerine held the cup close to his chest, warming his skin through the thick holiday sweater Ladybug had wrangled on him. He hoped Ladybug would take his red face as a result of warming up and not being embarrassingly flustered.
“Oh?” Ladybug pried the cup from his hands and took a sip.
“And that's why it's made the way I like it, huh?” Ladybug said smugly. Tangerine stuttered before growling a reply and snatching back the cup.
“I have no goddamn clue what you’re talking about.” He angrily took a sip and cringed immediately at the overwhelming sugar.
As much as Tangerine didn’t want to admit he was, Ladybug was right. It seemed anytime Tangerine would have a drink, Ladybug would insist on a taste. And everytime he insisted, he was hit with the same disappointment every time because he and Tangerine had wildly different tastes. Tangerine had gotten tired of seeing the other man pout and decided to just bite the bullet and make the drink how Ladybug liked, so when he inevitably stole some, Tangerine wouldn’t have to see him upset.
“Aww that’s nice. Even though you’ve said multiple times the way I make it is undrinkable?”
“It is! It's all sugar and tastes like something a goddamn child would make.”
“So why make it like that? You’re not gonna drink it.”
“Of course I’m not gonna drink it. It’s-“ Tangerine tensed as he realized he’d nearly said his whole plan. Ladybug grinned widely.
“It’s for me?”
“No I-“
“You made it for me.” Ladybug repeated. A goofy smile spread across his face. The one that crinkled the corners of his eyes and made it look like he was about to start wagging his tail. Tangerine adamantly ignored it.
“Fine. If that makes you happy, keep telling yourself that mate.”
“Thank you hun!” Ladybug dragged out the last syllable, snuggling annoyingly close to Tangerine with the intent to squish him into the couch they were seated on. Tangerine yelped as Ladybug succeeded in tilting him nearly sideways.
“Yeah yeah, whatever! Now stop fucking pushing my ass or you’re gonna be the one cleaning the mess this hot chocolate’ll make.”
#pushing my sugar addict ladybug agenda wksdkskjkdd#tangybug#tangbug#tangerine bullet train#ladybug bullet train#bullet train#my writing#answered
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The World Should be Cats
Ch. 1: The Mouse Caught Between Teeth
18+ CONTENT AHEAD MINORS DNI
✦pairing: Yandere!Tiger x afab!reader (no pronouns)
✦word count: 4.7k
✦summary: “It’s been a week since your friend reappeared after going missing, but whatever's returned, disguised in the suit of skin that was once her’s, is too woozy, too sweet—too overly-enthralled in daydreaming, to be the mellow woman you used to know.”
✦warnings: noncon, drugging, kidnapping, cults, orgasm control/denial, bondage, exhibitionism/voyeurism, humiliation, master/servant, aphrodisiacs, begging, fucking machines, fingering, mild pet play, lots of cat comparisons, AU where Kota lives with his grandparents instead (I forgot he existed while writing this)
✦a/n: Might write more parts, but eh it depends. What do you think?
Read Ch. 2 here!
It’s been a week since your friend reappeared after going missing, but whatever's returned, disguised in the suit of skin that was once her’s, is too woozy, too sweet—too overly-enthralled in daydreaming, to be the mellow woman you used to know.
Contact with her went cold over a month ago, leaving you to take on double the shifts at your shared jobs at a local convenience store. And while the extra workload may have taken your mind off her temporarily, when the hours ended and you were left alone in the stifling silence of your solo apartment complex, you soothed yourself to sleep with tears.
It was on day 46, she showed up for work as if nothing happened, brushing aside any concerns and instead fawning over her newfound obsession.
“Sorry, it’s Ryuko”, she’d shriek whenever she got a text, her hand cupping her phone as if a dying flame, her only source of warmth and vitality resting in her palms. It's as if nothing outside of it mattered to her, not even you.
When you gathered enough courage to ask about her whereabouts during that same month, she’d coo “Oh don't worry, Ryuko took care of me.” or “You’ll meet her soon. You’ll love her.”
Your first suspicion was that she was weaved into the sinister webs of some cult or pyramid scheme, but she’s yet to preach about her sudden change in faith, or give you a sales pitch on the benefits of using skincare products with essential oils. A month’s time away from friends and family is definitely enough to make one vulnerable, so who knows?
Either way, you meet the “Ryuko” in question later today. You’re annoyed, and not just because remnants of your year-long crush on your bestie still stir to life within you from time to time, but because Ryuko is giving you major red flags.
Beaming lights cut through the passenger window of your best friend’s sedan, casting a cool white glow over the newspaper you pocketed from a Juzo News vending machine. The number of disappearing people in this area has been on the rise recently. By a stroke of luck, your friend's disappearance only resulted in brief, mild disorientation and withdrawal, but it could've easily been more tragic.
Your head snaps to the front counter of the gas mart you’re parked outside of, observing your friend as her head bobs in agreement with the cashier. You glance over the face of the stranger she speaks with and look over any other customers beside her to imprint them in your memory. She finally leaves and your stare follows after her until she reaches you.
“Sorry about the wait”, she says upon entering, amusement evident in her frantic mannerisms. “The lady at the counter was asking about my mascara”, she turns to give you a few bags then straps herself to the driver's seat. “Now, off to Ryuko’s—”
“You won’t let her get between us, will you?” you ask abruptly.
She meets your eyes, searching along the weariness of your expression before she beams. “Oh, I’ve missed you, Kitty”, she swipes her fingers across your cheek in endearment, cold from the condensation of the drinks she brought. “Even when you get all jealous.”
Kitty. Even repeating it in a murmur makes you want to claw at your mouth until the leftover syllables dissolve from your tongue. She wasn't like this before, and she certainly didn't ooze enough sappiness to be palpable when she was around weeks ago. You can't say the change is terrible, but that won't get you to stop devising sinister theories about what could've caused it.
“Quit calling me that, it’s weird.” You turn toward the window, twitching with embarrassment.
“Why not? You’re cute like one”, you hear a smile creeping in her voice despite occupying your vision with the morphing landscape around you. “All you need is a pair of cute ears, and you’ve already got the territorial personality to match.
“Whatever. I’ll be sure to hiss at Ryuko when we meet her.” She laughs at the thought but you don't join her.
“You’re not upset, are you?” She shifts her gaze from the road for a moment, her warm eyes flickering over your unwavering profile.
“No, I’m glad you're back. You’re just…different”, the words scoop into the palm you use to rest your chin, muffling them into pointless vibrations.
She hears you anyway. “In a good way, right?”
“Sure, it just takes some getting used to.”
“Great. Now, drink some of that water I got you. I haven’t seen you touch a bottle all day.”
You look into the bag to find it. The bottle cap has been loosened and a few ounces of liquid are missing, but you shrug it off, suspecting your friend has already helped herself to some of it. Each sip moistens your palate and quells the jittering of your nerves.
“With the way you gush about Ryuko, she must be a supermodel”, you say between gulps. “What about her caught your eye? You're usually not one for romance, unless it's a hookup or something.”
“She sure looks like one, but it’s not about that. Her beauty is only a small part of her many qualities. She's lively. She’s confident, She’s…”, her voice trails into something wispy and desperate. “She’s powerful.”
“Look at you, you're a mess just thinking about her.”
“Everything about her is…”, she shifts in her seat as if suppressing a nagging ache. “Amazing, I mean everything.”
“Even the sex?”, you prod with impishness.
She takes a hand off the wheel to slap you playfully. “I knew you’d ask me that.”
“Well?”
“It’s great of course, but like I said it’s not as important as the other things.”
“Mhmm. Well, lucky you”, you do your best to hide the bitterness of your tone, secretly lamenting the idea that she could've been trying to hide this from you. Everyone always leaves you, romantic relations or otherwise. For a moment, it seemed that your friend was like the rest but you can't say that her return has put aside any doubts. The last month proves she can still leave at any second, so what makes you think she'll stay?
“But seriously, I’m glad you're back, and you're happy”, you say with a hint of distrust.
“You know I’d never really leave you, right”, your friend replies.
“I'm just saying, a heads up would've been nice.”
“I know, but things didn’t work out the way I wanted them to. I never expected to meet someone while trying to find myself.”
“If you felt lost you could’ve come to me about it. You never tell me anything these days.”
“It’s best to do soul searching alone.” She drops a hand into her lap, bracing herself with the fabric of her babydoll dress. “There've been many times in my life, before I met you, where I’ve gone off the grid to push myself away from distractions. I’m getting older, and it’s time for me to finally decide what I’m going to do for the rest of my life. Going on retreats never worked those other times, but working in general hasn't ever been for me, especially at that store. I want out, Kitty, and I’ll take any chance to get away from it.”
You'll never mean as much to her as she does to you.
“I always thought working there wasn’t so bad as long as I was with you”, you hold back a sigh. “It feels like I’ve known you far longer than a year.”
“I get that”, she briefly pulls her eyes from the road, a cheeky smile making its way onto her lips. “It was the same way with my Ryuko too.”
“Okay, now you’ve ruined it.”
Bubbles of laughter find their way out her chest. “You’ll understand when you find love, I promise.”
I've already found love, you wish to refute, but you can't gather the strength to argue as fatigue takes hold of you in a vice grip. You shut your eyes to welcome sleep.
Darkness, then bright, then bleary. Upon awakening, your throbbing eyelids flicker at the change in scenery, but something rough and tight pulls against your wrists as you move to rub them clear. Your hands are roped behind your back while your feet are strapped to the legs of a hospital bed at the center of what looks to be a repurposed doctor's office.
The room's scent of rubber and sterile substances intrudes your nostrils. The linoleum floor below your feet is patterned to look like authentic wood, but you can't walk along it. What was once a chilling, dense atmosphere, is penetrated by heat from intense gazes whisking you to turn about awkwardly to meet them.
Three women and a man, eccentrically dressed in cutesy, feline themed attire surround you a few feet away, sitting on stools and scanning your body as if you're about to go under the knife. Pink accents adorn their cheeks in faux whiskers, patterned in lines of three to give a questionable imitation of a cat that unnerves you.
Since when were you so tired? You couldn't have fainted and been brought to a hospital, because although the environment reeks of professionalism, there's a jarring display you catch notice of that says otherwise.
The one with a blonde updo and blue eyes has her skirt lifted and legs splayed open in the far left corner of the room, her exposed skin dimpled in red blotches as a nude, leashed woman nests her face between her legs, servicing her.
A sliver of her face can be seen between some of her movements but it’s difficult to make out as a blurry sheen coats your eyes, caked in what you assume is sleepiness.
As if sensing your intense concentration, the exhibitionist’s eyes snap up to you. “Did you enjoy your nap, kitten?”she smiles, her aura feasting hungrily upon you.
“Ya sure you don't need another one?” The one beside her shrieks. “You’ve got drool all over your lap!” She yelps with laughter and waves of emerald green strands whip freely when she tosses her head back from the force of it.
“W-Whaat’s going onn?” you slur as the vertiginous effects of fatigue continue to lay heavy on your tongue. Everything's too foggy. “Who are youuu?”
“I'm Ragdoll”, the giddy woman chirps. “This is Pixie-Bob”, she points to the blonde one. “Tiger”, the man to the right. “And that’s Mandalay”, the last one opposite of her. “These are technically our hero names, but It’s not like you’ll be needing them for much.”
“You still haven’t told me why I’ve been brought here.”
“You've been brought here because you're special”, says Mandalay. Her voice is a soft lull, urging you to return to your comatose slumber.
“You’ve been scouted, kit-kat!” Ragdoll agrees loudly, almost with a purpose to snap you out of your fading daze.
“What?”
“It means someone you know very well thinks you're worthy to be rescued from your unfulfilling past. It's an endorsement of sorts. You’ll spend the rest of your life serving us instead”, Pixie-Bob adds, but it does little to aid your confusion.
They can't think you'd agree to this, right?
“What?” you question again as if your mind has been wiped of any other vocabulary.
“Cat got your tongue?” Ragdoll screeches another grating giggle that sets your nerves alight. “You’ve been leashed now, kit, so you best put those claws away and submit to your new owner.”
“I've got no owner, freak”, you spill like a cup boiling over. “You must've taken too much catnip.”
Mandalay jerks in her seat. “What makes you think—”
Tiger places a hand across Mandalay as if to bring her back down. His domineering presence washes over the room in a volatile wave. “Stubbornness is nothing new to me”, he finally speaks and his stern tone unwillingly commands your body to full attention. “We’ve already had our fair share of spouting brats who don’t know a modicum of what's best for them, and the result is the same each time. They fold. They inevitably realize where they fall in the dichotomy of cat and owner, and they learn to accept the joys of submitting.”
“These aren't the actions of a hero”, you snap, meeting his dour stare with one of your own.
“A hero saves, and that's what we're attempting to do when we take in a helpless stray like you. We're only trying to create a family. The relationship between cat and owner is mutually beneficial. Your friend here is the perfect example.” He gestures to the far left end, at the woman curled up at Pixie-Bob’s feet and you gasp.
How have you not seen it this entire time?
Even with the striped cat ears and butt plug tail, you recognize that form and the scars and birthmarks along it. Your heart lurches beneath your ribs as your breathing escalates to ravenous panting.
Amidst the eerie silence, Tiger strikes a bizarre pose; his balled fists raised on both sides to rest at the top of his head as his wrists are bent slightly forward to make faux cat ears much like the pair already on his head.
“The World Should be Cats”, Tiger chants proudly. Your mind reels at the sudden nature of it.
As if the start of a domino chain, everyone else in the room follows suit. Pixie-Bob, then Ragdoll, then Mandalay, and finally your friend.
“The World Should be Cats”, they all repeat in unison.
Ragdoll laughs and laughs and laughs.Your friend smiles, a deep crescent moon—eyes blank and docile yet fulfilled.
What the fuck? Your hairs poke from your flesh like needles.
Their hands drop as if the ritual never occurred but your friend remains blissed as if high from the words emitted from her own lips.
“Kitty”, Pixie-Bob tugs at the chain leash in her palm.
“Yes, Mistress”, your friend looks toward the end of her collar with puppy-like adoration.
“Show your dear bestie what I own”, Pixie-Bob orders.
“Right away, Mistress”, your friend turns your direction and you gawk as she stands to pose, knees slightly bent and legs spread in all her humiliating glory. The lower half of her face still glistens with Pixie-Bob's juices while her cunt is stuffed and slicked with arousal.
Your head shakes on its own. “No, you're forcing her.” That isn’t her, it can’t be! “You’re full of shit! She’d never agree to something like this!”
An epiphany, piercing and unshakable, breaches the depths of your psyche, even in its disordered state; That water bottle from earlier must’ve had drugs in it—it’s the only sensible way I could’ve been brought here.
As if your thoughts were transcribed before her, Pixie-Bob smiles at your realization, and if it can grow any wider, she’d split her face in half. “Really?” she runs her hand over the inside of your friend’s thigh and her features scrunch together in bliss as her body chases Pixie-Bob’s touch. “I’m sure she’s told you all about her new girlfriend.”
A chill rolls over you. “You’re Ryuko?”
Pixie-Bob nods. “And I’m pleased to meet the darling mouse in the flesh”, her tongue pokes out to dampen her lips, ready to pounce at the sight of you before her focus goes back to your friend, shifting the dildo poking from her drooling hole. “That feels real good, doesn't it, slut? You must be so pent up from keeping it in all day, and not coming unless I ask you to.”
“Yes, Mistress”, your friend moans, thighs snapping around Ryuko’s wrist.
It's like nothing else matters to her.
Ragdoll begins to join in on the teasing, inspecting the damp trail between your friend’s legs. “Wow, Koko”, she taps her clit like a small, wet drum. “I think she deserves a reward for that.”
“Hmm, she did bring in some awfully interesting goods today”, Ryuko looks to her ‘kitten’ for the answer. “What do you think, kitten? Do you deserve to cum?”
“I deserve whatever you think I deserve”, she squeals softly while tensing her fists.
You were never that important.
Ryuko mulls it over for a second, tapping her lip with her unoccupied hand before shaking her head. “Sweet, but lazy answer. Finish up down there and maybe I'll think about letting you cum this time.”
Your friend's head droops in defeat yet she falls obediently to her knees, still shuddering as she complies with what must be an agonizing request.
“What happened to you?” you can only whisper to yourself as you’re certain your friend is too far gone to hear it. What she's wrapped up in is worse than any cult you could've possibly imagined.
“She was just like you, y'know.” Ryuko says, snarkily. “I have a special touch. I made this one all by myself.”
The bolts keeping your peace of mind at bay are slowly lubed loose with Ryuko's words looping on repeat, slipping the final welds out of place until there's nothing left.
“I'll kill you!” Your limbs flail at your sides, powered by the strength of your vitriol until the ropes around you hiss from the friction. “What did you do to her!”
The two giddy women appear to be unaffected by your outburst as they continue to give condescending grins, and although the Mandalay was riled up earlier, she doesn't seem to take any offense to it either.
“You'll find out soon enough”, Mandalay watches you, her pupils blown as deep as wells with intrigue. She’s stone-faced as she views you with detached cruelty, like a photographer watching a lion maul a zebra through the lense of their camera.
“The yelling is totally ruining this for me. What a bore.” Ryuko fake yawns and you wish the ropes would loosen just a little so that at least the ghost of your fist can meet her face. “Tell her this is your place now so we can get going.”
“I love Ryuko and I love being here, so please don't be worried”, the ‘kitten’ says meekly and it's difficult not to be swayed by those eyes brimming with a contentment you can't understand. "The World Should be Cats, it is what people like you and I are made to do. You'll see this soon enough."
Cats? You abhor the thought. How can we be something we're not?
“You heard her, she's happy here”, Ryuko pulls the leash upward to bring your friend to her feet. “I'll see you later, have fun training your new toy”, she says to Tiger, making her way to the door as the others follow behind her.
“See ya, Tiger!” Ragdoll chimes on the way out. “Good luck with that.”
Mandalay only casts you a glare.
“I'll get you out of here!” you shout to the husk of your friend, hoping there’s a part of her still alive enough to acknowledge it.
“You should be more worried about yourself.” Tiger towers over you, a glower scrunching his face. “You don't even know what's in store for you.”
“I don't care, none of it will break me as long as she's here”, you spit. As silence instills, your prior contempt evolves into deep sorrow for your friend's circumstances, a growing hopelessness that maybe she actually wants this.
“Your determination is admirable, but if you were truly a good friend you'd realize she's never been more in her element. Soon you too will know the joys of such simplicity.”
“You think you're some kind of savior for capturing innocent people? You do it for your own pleasure.”
“Of course I do enjoy the process, but I also love to give. When I devote someone to me, I too am devoted to them. I free them from the cruel realities of hero society and allow them to occupy their mind with only love and servitude.” He grins at the sight of your body unconsciously cowering away. “You desire security, don't you? You want someone you know will never leave nor betray you. Am I correct?”
“How would you—”
“It's written all over your face. You're a wounded cat, trying to play lion. You bare your claws whenever someone tries to enter your heart because you're scared they're only using you.”
“As if I'd ever welcome someone like you.”
“We’ll see, pet.” He paces outside your vision. “Hina”, he makes a call to whatever or whoever's behind you.
A woman in a lab coat appears at his side, but before you could wonder how long she’s been there, you recoil at the sight of a syringe filled with a mysterious beige liquid.
“No-No!” you thrash, ignoring the burning of the ropes against your skin. “Get the fuck away from me!” you holler some more, although your squirming is useless as the pin prick of the needle strickens you with fear instantly. Once emptied, the woman leaves just as quickly as she appears.
Sharp pressure runs through the circuits of your right arm, a much warmer sensation soon takes it place—much like the unhinged flames of arousal.
At the strange feeling, you instinctually move your thighs only to realize Tiger has freed them while your attention was drawn to the needle.
This is your chance. You repeatedly shove your feet into his abdomen, sinking your heels deep into his gut, but he's an unwavering mass of muscle, enduring the brunt of each kick with not even a grimace contorting the zealous gleam of eyes.
“C’mon, is that all you've got!” Tiger yells with eerie encouragement. “You'll never make it out of here with those love taps”, he guffaws before putting an end to your struggle by grabbing your waist to lift you onto his lap as he moves into the reclining seat you were once laying on.
Despite his unrelenting grip on your thighs, you attempt to shift away from him, but what couples your movements is a whip of throttling pleasure as grinding against him stimulates you in a way you never want to feel before him.
“Save your energy for what comes next, pet”, he runs a thumb along your cheek and smirks when you pull away. “Or don't, I love pushing unruly kittens beyond their limits.”
“Fuck y—” you sink your teeth into your bottom lip before you can finish as a moan nearly escapes you. “W-What did you give me?”
“You won't be fighting for long.” He laughs airily against your neck, close enough for each breath to kiss every cell along it. “You'll be begging.” His lips part to take your throbbing skin between them, you hiss as his teeth poke and scrape across you bruisingly yet deliciously.
He suckles the expanse of your collarbones, his mouth singing unspoken praises into your flesh, each a persuasive croon dictating the sways of your body even though no words are formed between his teeth.
You hate him. You hate how your pliant form joins his hymns in a sickening, yet pleasurable duet you can’t imagine stopping. Your thoughts shun the symphony enchanting your every move but your body refuses an encore.
“Nothing to say?” He asks and you hear the faint traces of cockiness spoiling his tone. “Don’t hold back your fight, I can take it.”
“Oh, screw you”, your head tumbles to his neck to try to sink your jaws into him but he stops you. “Y-Youre the most pathetic fuuuck I've had in a while.”
“Is that so?” The rough pads of his fingers tickle your senses as they move to caress your breasts, only to tear the fabric off of them once he realizes he can’t feel them in their entirety.
“Mhmmm, I've gotten better lays from a…c-cucumber.”
“Your body says otherwise, even though I’ve yet to really take you.” He takes a nipple into his mouth and you choke on air. Your eyes weld shut as your limbs surrender to the warmth molding around them, reaching deep into your bones and settling over them in fiery passion.
Every sensation is enhanced, a string of hair could stroke your heightened flesh and it’d feel like a million ants traveled along the plane of your skin, stamping their feet with each step.
It’s smothering. Paralyzing. Maddening. You can't help but feel the war is over before it’s even begun.
He retreats from you and you can only stare, glassy-eyed and shivering with your mouth making small o’s of disbelief, too resistant to the idea of pleading for his hands again.
“Is there something you want?” He asks, exposing your sex to the cool air.
“N-No”, you whimper, falling into him to try to hide each wail that’s sucked out of you in his chest, but he pulls you back. Wafts of spicy wood cologne mix with his musk to form a dizzying concoction, spurring on the clamping of your thighs.
“Look”, he guides your chin so that you can view the sticky, dripping mess between your legs. “Watch how your cunt purrs for me even from the slightest brush of my fingers.” He rubs lightly along your folds, caressing them in tantalizing lines, and like clockwork, your hole flexes and flutters, begging for his entry in puckering morse code. He presses a thumb to your peeking nub, ripe to be picked and prodded. “Should I touch you here too?”
You shake your head, too weak to utter any more cracking syllables and shaky words. But—oh—that stimulation is exactly what you need to feel complete.
How much longer can you withstand being suspended at the pinnacle of orgasm, tethering between wanting him to stop and wanting more?
“I can give you what you desire.”, he coos directly into your ear, his index breaching your walls, and running over the ridges with a humbling familiarity as if a map of your body exists in his very DNA. “Ask nicely, pet. This is your last chance.”
“Don’t want anything.” You refuse, and you’ll continue to do so even if you forget what it is you’re refusing. It’s becoming torturous. The continued denial of your cravings makes you lose sight of what’s beyond the strumming and winding of your sex, you fear you won’t remember what it is you're fighting for.
It's not enough, but who cares, you shouldn't crave anything more because it would mean becoming another success of his wicked practices and abandoning your friend.
She doesn't love you anyways, no one does. You thrash your head in refusal of the thought. Save her. It's the only way.
Whatever toxin that’s invading your system nearly forces you to go against your better judgment as it makes each thrust so wonderfully sweet and intense, until the growing haze of pleasure can't be ignored.
The flexing muscles of his wrist are hypnotic, twirling about inside you, you’re enamored by the veins that run along them, up, up his forearm to meet his sculpted biceps. In any other scenario, you’d have jumped at the chance to worship them, but his pride sickens you.
It’s better to look there, at his hands, than at his eyes, you think as something primitive inside you warns that making contact with them would dwindle the lackluster resolve you have left.
A gasp leaves you slack-jawed as his thumb toys with your clit, despite your wishes. Nothing coherent can be made out between your cacophony of sobs and pants, your teeth carve cuts into your lips to hinder them.
The slow rocking of your hips to meet the rhythm of his strokes marks the beginning of defeat in hard fought but pointless battle. You were his the moment a mere kiss was enough to torment your flesh with tingles.
Tears pierce your eyes, cooling the unhinged flame roiling beneath your skin as they trail down your cheek. You're going to cum—and you're going to cum now at this rate.
“Such beautiful sounds”, he says, noting the squelching pop of your fluids rolling around his hands. You're close, so searingly close. “But…”, he removes his hand from your cunt. “You’ve had your fill.” He swiftly takes your limp form into his arms, strapping you back to the chair with little resistance.
You begin to sigh with relief that it's over yet disappointment that you're unfulfilled, but then he moves away to fetch something that makes you wish you'd have begged like you should.
A sex machine gun is applied to the base of your bed. He adjusts the angle of it, positioning the dildo inside your cunt as you tremble wildly on your back. With a flick of a switch, the machine begins to piston inside you deep, but languid.
“No, wait!”, you howl as he makes his way toward the exit, leaving you to the whims of the thrusting device. “P-Please, I need you!”, you bemoan to deaf ears as the shaft knicks your sweet spots without providing the relief you need. “Please-Please, I’ll be good, sir. I need you, I’m sorry.”
“It’s too late for that, my dear pet”, Tiger smiles madly, hand already reaching for the knob. “Besides, I don’t think you understand the implications of your actions just yet.” The sight of his back and the eventual slam of the door shutting behind has you screeching in an attempt to sway your captor’s return.
But no else can hear your hoarse cries except you, and it's evident things will remain this way for a while.
#Yawara Chatora x reader#tiger x reader#wwp x reader#wild wild pussycats#wild wild pussycats x reader#tiger mha#Chatora Yawara x reader#mha smut#bnha smut#mha tiger#bnha tiger#kinktober 2023
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Space, Time, and the Psyche (3)
(A/N: hey, I figured since it’s Christmas I should post another chapter. Enjoy and happy holidays!)
Series Rating: Explicit
Chapter Rating: Mature
Chapter Warmings: Violence and Gore, Panic Attacks, Strong Language, Non Graphic Sexual Themes, MDNI
-Chaos Cruise-
The adrenaline started to wear off as a twinge of fear took its place. The rattling, banging, shaking, quaking of the ship scared me. Were there maintenance policies on space ships, because if not, there really should be.
“Is it supposed to be this rackety?” I yelled over the loud sound of chaos.
“It?!”
“Yeah! The ship!”
“She is a TARDIS! Not just a ship!” He sounded offended and that perplexed me.
“What is a-!” The ship - sorry - TARDIS - came to a stop, “-Tardis?” I finished my statement calmly since the noise halted with the ship.
“She stands for ‘Time And Relative Dimension In Space’ also known as: T-A-R-D-I-S, TARDIS!” He explained a little exacerbated, but still with this frill of excitement he always seemed to have.
“Alright, alright! So, where are we then?”
“Step out and see for yourself.” He gestured to the doors.
Hesitantly I obliged. The doors cracked open to a spotless ornate carpet of a deep ruby red. The doors lining the hallway had a sense of class, as if only people from old money could afford to stay here. Each door had a golden plated number.
“A hotel?” I spoke. Unsure if we even left Earth. If this was all some sort of trick.
“No, but close, what’s your second guess?” He said, bending by his waist to come down to my eye level.
“Not a Hotel?” I deadpanned.
“Oi! You’re no fun!” He pouted like a disappointed child. “Okay, okay. Follow me.”
“Aw, did I crush your spirits, Doc?” I spoke tauntingly, a faux pout on my own face.
“Oh shush!” And thus he grabbed my wrist, leading me through the matching double doors at the very end of the hall.
The doors opened to an elegant scene. It looked as if it came straight out of the Titanic itself. The wide open event space, with its gargantuan chandelier, added warm golden light that casted the room in a feel of luxurious richness. The carpet continued down the spacious grand staircase, into an even more spacious room where the wealthy, and, albeit, gorgeous, occupants mingled and conversed in relaxed delight. Though, the best part of it was the walls. The walls were a half-dome of glass showcasing the vastness of space. Highlighting the shimmering watercolor of a nebulus. Flowing and dancing itself as if peacocking its breathtaking beauty.
A hand weighed heavy on my shoulder. I yelped at the startle and only then did I realize I’d been gawking.
“You still with us, Eddie, my pal?” His tone was filled with playful humor rather than any hint of sincere concern.
“Fuck.”
“Hm? What’s wrong?”
“You weren’t lying..?”
“Well of course I wasn’t-“
“You. Weren’t. Lying?”
He paused in concern.
“You weren’t lying!?” I dragged the last syllable in childlike glory as I zoomed down the stairs.
“Wait-!” He yelled after me.
I only stopped when my face squished against the glass window. “Wow..” I murmured. I leaned back as I saw the Doctor's reflection closing in behind me.
“‘Wow’ is correct.” He turned me around by my shoulders and smiled down at me. ���Well, should we take a look around?”
“Yes! Absolutely yes!”
-
We approached a table of food and refreshments. The delicacies were foreign and, frankly, looked quite unappetizing, but at least all wine is made universally the same way - or so the doctor explained, whether it’s true or not is still yet to be learned.
I sipped at my glass of wine when suddenly I felt this impending foreboding danger. Like it has always been here, but it’s coming closer. Considering this odd sensation, I noticed it felt different than my typical anxiety or paranoia. This was a fact. I felt that this was a fact. It’s not like I can explain it, I just know it somehow.
The Doctor, having noticed my pause, waved his hand in front of my face.
“Somethings wrong.” My speech was urgent but it came out emotionless. I didn’t feel nervous. I felt no uncertainty.
“What do you..?”
“They’re coming.” I wasn’t the one formulating my words anymore. They were automatic. An extension of my unconscious self.
Like I foretold; they came.
“Get down!” I felt something push me to the ground. No- it was someone! And just in time at that! These giant albino mosquitoes flew down from the ceiling’s air ducts.
“What are those things?!” I looked up at the raggedy man as he perched on top of me, shielding me from the bug-like creatures.
“They’re Culecs. A parasitic alien species known for feeding on humanoid tissue.” He gripped my arm to help me up. “Ugly little things.” He gave a ‘blegh’ to accentuate his disgust. He started into a sprint, dragging me behind him.
“Where are we going?!” He let go of my wrist, letting me run for myself.
“The main deck! The crew must’ve known these buggers were here!” After running up one flight of stairs already I (understandably) started lagging behind. After another flight I was by myself catching my breath.
I took a second to sit against the wall on the third floor platform. I took a few moments - a long few moments - to calm down and recollect myself before I fully realized the position my out-of-shape, soft body had left me in.
I got up, gripping the wall, and after one more deep breath, I ran straight for the event room once again, back to the center of it. If the Doctor was going to handle the crisis from the control center, I’ll handle the damage control.
Going through another hallway of guest rooms, I
burst through an identical set of double doors as earlier. Emerging onto the third floor balcony, two floors above the original grand staircase, I saw the grisly scene of half consumed bodies. Humans and various humanoids of other species lay rotting, as the dozen or so survivors huddled behind a pile of tipped over tables. No more of the parasites to be seen. Probably thought there weren’t any more bodies to consume.
“Hey!” I whisper shouted down to the others, yet they didn’t hear me. Looking around frantically, in a moment of panic, I flung myself onto the tall curtain at the end of the railing. Climbing down half way, until my grip slipped and I started to slide down all the way.
I landed a few meters away from the company, startling a little girl into screaming.
“Hey, hey!” I put my hands out both palms up. “It’s just me. I’m trying to help you.”
“Who are you?” The girl’s mother demanded.
“Yea! And why should we listen to you anyway!?” An elderly, blue-tinted, man spoke up.
“We-well…” I took a moment to think.
“Spit it out, lady!” A young boy yelled.
“Well, I’m the captain! Captain Eddie at your service!”
“You’re the captain? Really?” The boy spoke again.
“Can you help us?” The little girl asked. Cute puppy eyes shining in hope.
“I sure can, sweetie.” I ruffled her hair.
“What other choice do we have?” Her mother spoke up, and thankfully her small statement seemed to stir up a resounding agreement.
“Okay, Captain! Show us the way to safety!” The elderly man spoke again.
-
I led them to the top deck, staircase after staircase, they seemed to lag behind. The mother, already long before, decided to carry her daughter to help speed up their haste. The elderly man seemed to struggle the hardest. I stopped, the crowd stopped with me, and walked through to meet the blue mustached alien.
“What’s your name, sir?” I asked with as much faux confidence and authority as I could muster.
“Zoro Zorglo.” He responded weakly, out of breath.
“Well, Mr. Zorglo, shall we?” I went to his side and gripped his elbow and hand, helping up the last two flights of stairs as the rest followed.
Just as we turned the last corner of the stairwell, we saw a hoard of Culecs flew towards us.
“Go! Go! Now!” I yelled at the group as I followed behind. “Into the supply closet! Everyone!”
I ushered everyone in and closed the door behind us, my back keeping the door firm. After a nerve wracking few moments, the loud fluttering of wings, seemed to have stopped.
“Is it safe now?” The little girl whispered.
“I think so, let me check.” I murmured back. As I slowly opened the door, stepping out to look, it seemed safe.
Then the clink of metal hitting metal sounded in the back of the closet. Yet, nothing seemed to have moved. The coast was still clear.
“Alright everyon-“ I was interrupted by the sudden thundering of parasitic wings. The teenage boy grabbed the door and shut it before I could get inside.
My heart sank to my stomach as my body was lifted to the air. Carried like a rag doll by this beastly, and disgusting buggish-parasite. We flew through the hall at a sharp speed. Only getting relieved as I was flung onto the hard ground. Rolling until I hit a mass. Not any mass, though; it was the ship’s control table. I was finally at the main deck.
“Oh! Hello, Eddie! Fancy seeing you here! Was wondering where you’d gone.” He bounced on the balls of his feet as if it were any other normal day.
I groaned and rolled my eyes before getting to my feet and dusting myself off. “All the survivors are hiding in a storage closet down the hall as we speak. There’s only 4 of them that I could find in time. I’m sorry I couldn’t do more.”
the buzzing sound of flapping wings could be heard once again.
“Sorry to break off this oh-so touching reunion, but I do believe we were discussing something, Doctor.” She spoke almost seductively, taunting. She approached him, finally coming into view from the shadows with a group of the parasites tagging behind her, following her lead.
She was grotesque, her crew uniform ripped to shreds, exposing an almost pearlescent carapace that coated her stomach and chest - her vital organs. Her eyes were a sickly bloodshot red, but her skin was the worst of all, random coarse hairs stuck off of the insectile appendages that sprouted from her back. The flesh around where they sprouted was scabbed over. The gaunt look of her face was like a pale corpse. The only explanation was that she was somehow the aliens’ queen.
“Here I’ll do us all a favor and take care of this meddlesome brat that so rudely interrupted us.” She shrugged as if she were only slightly annoyed by my mere existence.
“Wai-wait! Hold up!” The parasitic ex-human quirked her thinly trimmed eyebrow in bored anticipation. “I’m-I’m the captain! So, I, as captain, command you to- uh- to get off my ship!”
Her giggle started soft, yet turned into cackles so hard she doubled over from the effort her lungs were making. “Captain? Captain?!” She took a deep breath to compose herself. “You must be kidding me!” She stepped up to me slowly, grabbing my collar and lifting me to my tip toes. Nose to morbid nose. “I’m the captain.”
She threw me down before gesturing to her parasitic minions.
“Take her to the hive!”
—
In a flash, the Crulecs grabbed me and flew out of the room. The winding hallways and lightning speed made me nauseous. I barely held the bile in.
They threw me down a poorly lit, metal cavern. I anticipated a sharp fall, yet instead landed on a sticky, string-like substance, cushioning me.
When my dizziness finally subsided, I started to glance at my surroundings. The engine room was reduced to a stuck, sticky and slimy web. No longer functioning, we were stranded.
I tried to pry my arms off the, once helpful, webbing. Yet my limbs were stuck. My choppy, short dark hair tugged on my scalp as I tried to assess my surroundings.
As I submitted to the stringy mess I’d literally fallen in, trying to come up with a plan, my mind wandered to my new companion. The doctor. Worried, hoping he was fairing well with that witch upstairs.
A ringing erupted in my ears, painful and sharp, but as it subsided I could hear the familiar voice of the man who brought me here.
“Doctor?!” I shouted out loud, but only echo responded back. The cavern was dark, so it wasn’t surprising I couldn’t see him. “Doctor are you here?!” Yet the answer sounded right in my ears.
No. Not in my ears. Between my ears. It was like the familiar sound of my own thoughts, except it wasn’t me causing it.
After a pause, another voice sounded. The queen.
“We were negotiating were we not?” Her voice hissed. Irritation evident. Patience running thin.
“Ah, yes. I was asking you to leave the ship. Give it back to the survivors.” He spoke nonchalantly.
“And what will I gain from that, exactly?” She huffed. “I mean seriously, without little ol’ you and your little ol’ pets, my babies will have nothing to eat. They’d be absolutely patched. Now you wouldn’t want that, would you?”
“With all due respect, these are people. Sentient beings with lives of their own. And lives that are not for sale or consumption, may I add.” The Doctor’s obvious frustration started to crack his calm demeanor.
Another pause. A tense standoff.
“How about this?” He sighed, “give Eddie back, and if they are unharmed, I will think about giving you the rest.”
He couldn’t actually be considering that? Is the man who saved my measly life, really willing to give up so many others so easily?
“Alright, fine. Follow me.”
He’s gotta have a plan right? He can’t let this happen, at least not without a proper fight.
—
What felt exponentially long, yet was probably only ten minutes, passed before I heard a banging on the floor above me. Two people appeared on a catwalk above the engine - above me.
“Eddie!” The familiar man ran to the stairs at the end of the catwalk. “Are you Alright?!” He avoided the webs with ease that I couldn’t imagine.
“I’m fine, Doctor, just a little stuck is all.” I grunted while trying to get up, demonstrating my sticky situation.
He gripped at my collar and tugged, then my leg, then my arm, trying to help me with brute force alone. The queen looked down at our struggle in sadistic glee.
“Back pocket.” I whispered.
“What?” He blurted.
“Shhhhhh! She doesn’t expect me to get loose. Look at her face. She is expecting defeat. Failure. She wants to devour us, then take the survivors anyway. Your deal wouldn’t work even if you were going to actually go through with it.”
“How-“
“Later.” You sighed. “Now, back left pocket, you should be able to reach my pocket knife without touching the webbing, but be careful.”
He nodded, before carefully reaching below me. I could feel the pocket knife leave my pants. And with a small flourish, he held up the prize between his pointer finger and thumb.
“Now cut me loose!” I whisper-yelled, and he got to work.
After a beat too long of silence, the villainess spoke up. “See, she’s unharmed. Now, about the food you offered me?” Her grin was wicked, her elongated tongue slid over her teeth, yet she still hasn’t noticed I’ve gotten loose. The Doctor’s tall frame had shadowed where I was, the necessity of my visibility was all but forgotten by the parasite Queen. I climbed up the metal stairs as The Doctor distracted her.
“Yea, well about that?” He spoke, a faux hesitance to his voice. Teasing almost. “You see those people - not food, may I add - are going to stay right where they are.”
“What?!” She screeched, yet was cut off, by a little shove to her mutated back.
“Oopsie?” I innocently spoke.
The queen fell to the webbing, getting tangled on the way down.
The doctor ran up to meet me. “Alright let’s hurry and get everyone to an escape pod before she gets untangled.”
We rushed back to the supply closet I left the group in, thankfully not a long distance.
“It’s me! Eddie!” I knocked on the door.
“Eddie? You’re okay!” The little girl ran out the door hugging my legs tight.
“Hey, girlie! Good to see you again!”
“We are here to take you to the escape pods, so everyone, follow us!” The rest of the group followed close behind, until we reached the pods. The doctor runs in first and sets the coordinates to the nearest space port.
“Alright everyone, in, in, in!” And thus we closed the shuttle door, said our farewells, and they were off. Finally safe and sound.
We hurry up to the Tardis to finally take off.
—
As soon as he gets us orbiting some strange place in the universe, out of harm's way, I crash.
I slip onto the ground against the railing of the control room. I couldn’t talk, I couldn’t move, I couldn’t think. I couldn’t. Breathe. I couldn’t breathe! I scratched at my throat, willing the air to reach my lungs. Tears stung my reddened face.
I felt hands on me. They’re back! They’re on the tardis! They’re trying to get me!
“Get off!” I sobbed out, the wheeze echoed in my esophagus.
“Hey hey, shhh. Shshsh. It’s just me, Eddie. It’s just me. You’re okay.” His soothing voice reached my ears and my lungs broke free from their chains allowing the air to burst into my body with a force so hard, I coughed. I coughed. And I coughed.
“Do-Doctor!” A painful gasp racked my shivering body, and I started to claw at my arms. “I-I. I couldn’t-! I-!” He grabbed my arms and turned me, letting me lean against his chest as he rested his back against the railing.
“I know. I know. Shhh. You’re okay now. You did your best.” He brushed one hand through my hair, repetitively, soothingly.
“B-but I-!” And the sobs turned into quiet tears. Body still quivering.
“I’m proud of you, Eddie. You did so well. You’re doing so well for me.”
I looked up at him with tired, tear stained eyes. My breathing was finally under control. Body just limp, from over exertion.
“Let’s get you to bed, hm?” He got up and reached a hand to me, yet instead of taking it, I reached both my arms out to him. “Oh alright.” He rolled his eyes at me and tried to withhold his grin, before picking me up, arms around his neck, and legs around his torso.
He carried me through the tardis halls, to a room I’ve never seen before, and laid me out on the bed. “Alright little Lemur, get some rest.” He took off my shoes, tucked me in, then ruffled my hair before leaving.
—
Moments later, he stood in the control room. A scan of Eddie on the screen.
“What have I gotten myself into?” He whispered to no one, but the tardis.
—
Masterlist
#fanfic#fanfiction#oc#x reader#doctor who#author#10th doctor#david tennant#tenth doctor#doctor who x female oc#doctor who x foc#titanic vibes#chaos cruise#chapter 3#part 3#part three#fanfic series
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