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#I needed to write something nice
girlboyburger · 5 months
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wandixx · 3 months
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one-shot snippet
Duke was running out of fumes to run on. The last few days would be exhausting if it was just vigilante or just civilian stuff but no, he had to have it both. Because of Arkham break out, he had been called in three nights in a row, not for a whole patrol but he couldn't exactly sleep it off during the day like others did, especially not in a week when every teacher decided they needed to have test or quiz or what not. Naps meant he wasn't as sleep-deprived as he could be but he needed far more. But he couldn't because crime in Gotham never sleeps so he had normal patrol to finish and there were about two hours left.
Would something bad happen if he just stopped for a moment and laid on a roof? Ten up to fifteen minutes. It was a slow day too…
Yeah, no, he deserved a moment to rest and if something disastrous was to happen in the meantime he would shame other Bats for not giving him enough time to sleep.
It certainly said something that he found gravel covering this roof to be quite comfortable. He set a timer for ten minutes and let himself close his eyes.
When the loud screech of the timer jolted him awake, he was suddenly fully aware that he wasn't alone anymore. He sat up a little too quickly.
"Oh, you're awake" white white-haired girl around Damian's age chimed, sitting cross-legged just a few feet away from him. She wore something that could only be described as a lab safety hazmat suit, white and black with popping green accents. When had Gotham gotten a new vigilante/villain/whoever the girl was? "Good, I just returned from a snack hunt," she added, gesturing at a big textile bag lying next to her. Duke didn't have enough brainpower to do anything more than ask.
"What?"
The girl shrugged, take-out from BatBurger in her hand.
"You look like you have a bad day if not a few days, so I've got you my cousin's bad day combo or at least the closest thing I could. BatBurger burger isn't as good as NastyBurger but you certainly have better fries" As she spoke, a second take-out bag, 1 liter bottle of energy drink, juice bottle of the same size, and pack of convenience store brownies joined greasy paper bag sealed with a sticker.
"Is your cousin a speedster?" Excuse Duke, it was a totally valid question, he saw with his bare eyes both Wally West and Bart Allen when they visited Manor. No one else would be able to stomach the amount of food they inhaled during their stays.
"Nah, we're not that fast or that hungry. Though I think I may get closer to the speed of sound." So, clearly, a meta if white hair and weir aura that let his eyes rest weren't enough indication "My cousin when he has a bad few days often forgets to eat so this combo has to help with there too. But I'll steal your fries of course."
Duke was not going to look a gift horse in the teeth, so he grabbed one bag and tore it open. There was a classic combo with bigger fries and NightWings inside.
"Thank you…" he trailed off, hoping that the girl would take a clue and introduce herself but she didn't. She just drowned her fries in ketchup and started munching. She had her own juice.
"My cousin always said that each part of this combo has a different purpose." she explained instead, slightly muffled because of the fries in her mouth "This" she gestured towards the fast food meal "is to soothe your stomach. This "she tapped energy drink "is to soothe your brain and kick it back online. This "she raised a bottle of juice "is to soothe your taste buds because energy drinks are war crime against them and this "she nudged brownies "is to soothe your heart because Ancients damn it, this day is awful and you deserve it. At least that's what he told me when I had day bad enough to deserve that" she shrugged, licking ketchup of her finger. Suddenly she froze "You aren't allergic, are you?
"No, I'm not" he confessed bewildered.
"Good"
For a long moment, they sat in silence, devouring food the little girl brought. Duke distantly wondered if this was how the night shift spent their snack breaks. It felt nice.
He was finishing his part of the brownies when the girl spoke up again.
"Do you feel better now?"
"Yeah," he was a little surprised to realize that t it was true. He'll have to note down what she put in this 'bad day combo'. "Thank you"
"Don't mention it." she shrugged with a general gesture of dismissal "You're one of my cousin's favorite heroes because you're vaguely his age and handle Gotham alone during the day and I quote "She did honest or God air quotes at that" 'As only hero in Amity-' which is a lie by the way, Val is doing great and even if he suddenly got problem with how she feels about his alter ego, he still has Sam and Tuck even if they're usually more of moral support. And I helped when I visited, so no, he isn't the only one. Anyway as he said 'As the only hero in Amity, my heart goes out for anyone who deals with this type of bullshit so Dani if you absolutely have to prank heroes, leave them out of it, especially Signal, he can't be older than Jazz, he doesn't need any more mess to handle.' All aliens and lanterns are also off-limits because he is a space nerd. But you aren't space-related so I'm like 80% percent sure he has a celebrity crush on you" She slurped more juice, unbothered.
Duke was thankful he wasn't swallowing anything because for sure she would choke. He took a split second to consider addressing… this whole situation and choose against it. He was not ready to be anyone's celebrity crush.
"Your name is Danny?" he asked instead.
"Dani" she corrected" with an I"
"Ok. It's nice to meet you Dani-with-an-I" She giggled, nodding her head slightly.
"It's nice to meet you too Signal"
Duke stood up, stretching a little. Dani joined him after hastily putting all the trash in her bag. She was a little higher than expected.
"I have to get back to my patrol"
"Cool," she drifted back a bit, making him realize that she was floating a few inches above the ground. She fixed her bag on her arm.
"Hey, can I hang out a little bit more? My cousin will go green out of jealousy when I tell him" she added with a mischievous smirk but Duke could tell there was more to it. He took a moment to consider it, which apparently made the girl nervous "I can be invisible the whole time, like before." she offered, disappearing in the meantime. He could still tell where she was, because of her heat signature, and aura but for regular people, she would be no different than the surrounding air.
"Yeah, you can hang around and you don't have to be invisible. Just don't get in my way when I have to actually do some fighting."
She popped back to the visible spectrum and pouted like Damian whenever he got benched.
" I can fight, y'know? I stopped mugging on a snack run."
It was ten goddamn minutes, how could she get so much food and stop a mugging in such a short time?!
Oh, right, superspeed. Still, impressive.
"I haven't seen it" he started, channeling all Dick-trying-to-wrangle-Damian-into-socially-acceptable-activity' energy he could muster "So I don't know how you fight or even what powers you have. If we tried to fight together we would trip over each other" It was a bare-faced lie, Bat Training made sure of that but he knew for a fact that if he said anything else, the girl would be mad and probably did her own thing.
Was that what Bruce thought about all of them?
Oh no.
Dani still looked displeased but after a moment of consideration, she nodded with a defeated sigh.
Suddenly she straightened like she got struck by lightning and whipped around.
"Wha-"
She just shushed raising her finger to her mouth. Duke did indeed quieten.
"I have enhanced hearing" she whispered "There is a mugging somewhere this way."
"Let's go then" he shot his grapple, waving his other hand at Dani to come with him before he jumped off the roof. He heard the girl giggle as she flew right after him.
" After this, you'll show me the coolest gargoyles, okay? Sam asked for photos"
"Okay"
It seemed that the end of this patrol wouldn't be as bad as the start was. Hopefully.
And afterward, he was going to lock himself in his room until the sky fell or he was well rested.
Yeah, that was a good plan.
*******
how do you like it?
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crybaby-bkg · 4 months
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Bakugou asks you to join him during one of his photoshoots for a pro hero campaign. he doesn’t understand the point of it, nor why he has to only be in his underwear, but he doesn’t mind it much when he gets to look over to your shy little face.
you’re propped up in a corner on an old couch, laptop perched in your lap, its glare bright despite the way you never really look at it. you’re supposed to be catching up on some work, but you’ve been distracted by the glorious sight that is the love of your life.
when he looks at you, do you duck down, eyes suddenly focused on your screen again. it only makes him smile a little, step away from the assistant of the photographer who comes up to him, calls out your name.
“Huh?” your head whips up with a quickness neither of you expect, goes to show just how invested you really were with your work. but Bakugou only grins at you now, jerking his chin over to you as he grabs the bottle of oil the assistant was trying to pour over him.
“C’mere and gimme a hand, won’t ya?” he asks you, boyish smile gracing his face as he tilts his head at you. immediately, your face warms as you put together the request that’s suddenly dropped in your lap. everyone in the studio looks at you, with both envious and excited gazes, and it only makes you shrink in on yourself.
“I hate you.” you mutter under your breath when you finally rise up from your place on the couch, which he somehow hears. but Bakugou only laughs at you, grabs you by the waist when you’re close enough to kiss you breathless in front of everybody, before he’s handing off the oil to you.
“Such an attention whore,” you whisper when you’re close, the air between the two of you thick. everyone tries to look away, give you guys a bit of privacy, but it’s hard when such a soft and amused look passes over the usually rough and hardened hero’s face.
“Only for your attention.” he grunts back to you, holding his arms out for you to start dripping the oil down his skin. it’s a sensual gesture, the softness between you two sliding into something more, something that you only ever reserve for the bedroom.
you tip the bottle over his shoulders until it drips down his chest, massaging it all in with your hands in crude, circular motions. you can see the way he bites his lip, ignore the way he looks at you down the bridge of his nose lest you two create a scene not meant for the public eye. you gather more oil, warm it between your palms, kneeling in front of him to help massage it into the defined muscles of his stomach.
you ignore the twitch in front of you, swallowing thickly, glancing up to Bakugou who hasn’t taken his eyes off of you yet. you mouth at him to behave, but he only grins, something feral.
“We only need it above the waistband.” the photographer suddenly calls out, snapping you back to attention. you stand on shaky knees, nodding with your eyes casted low, ashamed, that your freak of a man had you doing something so…so—
“Go wait in my dressing room, yeah?” Bakugou asks you, pulling you in close to peck at the corner of your mouth. “Gonna wrap this shit up.” he promises you, and you can only nod silently, mind going a mile a minute. but before you go, you remember to grab the oil. just in case.
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cuubism · 7 months
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it's been a while since i've written something that could be described as "literally just hurt/comfort" but well. here it is. i guess XD
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It amused Hob endlessly that Dream never seemed to sit on his throne. Perhaps he did when welcoming official delegations of visitors, or conducting official business, but Hob had never witnessed it. Every time he had been to Dream’s throne room, Dream had been sprawled on the stairs instead, long limbs all askew, coat flared out dramatically below him, like some kind of panther reclining on its tree branch. Moody, petulant, dramatic thing. Hob loved him so.
He pet up and down Dream’s side as he sat beside him, and Dream, panther-like indeed, purred, pressing his nose into Hob’s throat. He had been about to show Hob something, take him to some new corner of the Dreaming he had created, but as usual they had gotten distracted, necking on the steps like insatiable teenagers. And now they were just talking quietly, one of Hob’s legs slung over Dream’s, Dream’s arm around his waist as Hob kept stroking up and down his rib cage under his cloak.
“I did intend to show you the new gardens,” Dream murmured, but made no move to leave Hob’s side. “You will enjoy them.”
“I’m sure I will,” Hob said, pressing another kiss to his hair. “Enjoying this too, though.”
“Would you like to enjoy more?” Dream asked, suggestion in it now, and Hob laughed.
“If you’re feeling committed enough to get up and lead us to your quarters. I don’t think Lucienne deserves to get an eyeful.”
“I could close off the throne room and have you upon these here steps,” rumbled Dream, grip tightening on Hob’s hip.
“And I could have you over your throne, if we’re doing that,” Hob countered, and a shudder ran up Dream’s spine.
He managed to disentangle himself from Hob and stood, offering a hand. “Come. We will retreat— this time.”
Hob chuckled, letting Dream pull him up. “Not in an exhibitionist mood today?”
“I’d like you to myself.” So saying, he strode down the steps, already summoning a swirl of sand to take them away— back to the waking world, maybe—
when something struck him.
Only there was nothing there. But Dream lurched backward the way the soldiers of Hob’s youth would fall back when lanced through with an arrow on the battlefield—he stumbled on suddenly weak legs, clutching at his chest, and with a cry of pain just—
—dropped
just fell in the middle of his throne room, the very seat of his power. Landed on shaking arms that were already giving out, shoulders curved and head hanging.
It was fucking terrifying.
Hob rushed over to him, fell to his knees by his side. Hands hovering for a moment as he tried to decide if it was safe to touch him. Safe for Dream, that was. Hob hardly cared about what might happen to him. “Dream,” he said, but Dream didn’t respond. He seemed barely able to hold himself up. As Hob watched, blood trickled from his nose and dripped onto the marble floor.
Hob abandoned caution and took him into his arms. Dream wiped at the blood streaming faster from his nose with a limp hand, but only succeeded in smearing it everywhere. “Dream,” Hob said. “What’s happening, love?”
Dream just closed his eyes. “Something…” he murmured, the word slurred and nearly unintelligible, “terrible. Silence. And. Death.”
A tremor rushing through him like an electric shock, and the Dreaming… separated.
Hob felt the schism go through it, felt his own body separating from itself like an earthquake right through the center of existence, the very air trembling. He looked at his hands and saw them in double, looked at the throne room and saw its colors refracting outward in layered planes, and then Dream, in the center of it all, dense as a neutron star.
Then it all slammed back together.
The force of the impact flung Hob across the room, away from Dream. He hit the floor hard, struggling to catch his breath as he scrambled upright, dizzy. Everything seemed to have congealed back into one layer again, but the hall was shaking, and on the other side of the room Dream was trying to push himself up, and failing as his limbs kept giving out on him, blood puddling on the floor from his nose and mouth.
What could possibly make Dream bleed? In his own realm?
Hob raced back over to him, skidding to a stop and crouching by his side so fast he almost fell over. Dream was on his knees, eyes screwed shut, hands pressed to his temples. Hob laid his hands over Dream’s. “Hey. Can you hear me? Can you look at me?”
Dream just let out a pained whine. And then Hob was very glad he was holding onto him because the whole room spun.
Suddenly they were upside down, gravity reversed so down was up, up was down, and Hob was on the ceiling looking down at the endless void of space. They didn’t fall, though, and he wrenched his gaze back to Dream before the vertigo made him puke. And then the room swung upright again, but this time it took gravity with it— Hob grabbed a hold of Dream’s hand and just barely stayed in place but heard things crashing against the palace windows, trees and houses and god knew what else that had been uprooted in the spinning equilibrium.
“Dream,” he said, holding Dream’s face between his hands. “Can you focus? Come back to me, love.”
Dream finally looked at him. His eyes had lost their human veneer and gone starry, but one was utterly black edge-to-edge, like it was dilating wrong in its view of the universe. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but what came out instead was another gush of blood.
“Shit.” Hob hauled him upright, kept him in his arms as he choked and spasmed, blood coming up with each cough, streaming from his nose. The sky had shifted to a glaring red, the stars angry eyes against it, and screaming rose higher and higher from the distant woods outside the palace, a thousand animal voices rising in chorus. “Shit. Alright, it’s okay.” He pet Dream’s hair, kept his voice pitched low and soothing, though his heart was hammering under Dream’s ear pressed against his chest. It most definitely was not alright, but Hob didn’t know what else he could do, other than try to bring Dream back from wherever he was. There was no injury, there was nothing he could fix. “It’s alright, my darling. Come on.”
Dream whimpered in pain and jerked as a lightning bolt of energy raced through him, zapping each of his limbs. Blood had started streaming out of his ears now, too, and past the sleeves of his robe Hob could see bruising around his wrists and trailing up his arms. He yanked up the hem of Dream’s shirt, and found more on his torso, patternless marks of bleeding, and his stomach lurched.
“Alright, alright, let’s get you down,” he said, keeping his voice gentle despite the panic racing through his nervous system. He laid Dream down on the floor, taking off his own jacket and folding it as a makeshift pillow to put under his head. Dream immediately turned and curled up on his side, hands over his ears.
Hob leaned down to try to meet his gaze. “Dream. Hey.” He caressed Dream’s cheek. “Dream. Please. Anything you can tell me that will help. Come on, darling. Talk to me.”
After several long, painful seconds, Dream managed, each word a dragging, pained whisper, “It will pass. I prom—” this was cut off by a horrible scream, animalistic but all wrong, off-pitch, like he was being eviscerated by an electroshock probe.
Matthew careened into the throne room and landed at Hob’s side. “Holy shit, there you are. I thought he was dying in a ditch somewhere, the Dreaming’s going fucking haywire.” He prodded at Dream’s hair with his beak, hopping in distress. “Boss. Boss!”
Dream seemed totally lost to them now, clutching at his head and making an awful whining sound. Hob finally gave up on trying to get him to talk and just pulled him close, laying Dream’s head in his lap.
Matthew perched delicately on Dream’s hip. “Do you know what happened?”
Hob brushed Dream’s hair from his sweaty, feverish forehead. “Not a clue. He said it would pass?”
Matthew tittered nervously. “A whole wing of the library is burning.”
“What?”
“Yeah. Loosh can’t get the fire under control. And a whole mountain range fell into the sea. Is this the apocalypse?”
Hob let out a shaky breath. “I don’t know. I don’t think so. But it this doesn’t get better soon I’m calling his sister for help myself.”
Dream sucked in a huge breath as if summoned back to life by Hob’s words and said, each word a heavy scrape, “She will be far too busy for that.”
Around them, the Dreaming seemed to stabilize, shivering back into place. Everything went quiet again. Hob’s exhale of relief shook his whole body. “Hey. Hey.” He took Dream’s face between his hands and tilted his head up to look at him. “Hey, love. Are you back with us?”
Dream nodded. He looked utterly exhausted, glassy-eyed and with tremors running up and down his frame, but no longer like he was being actively tortured. “That was. The worst of it.”
“The worst of what? Did somebody hurt you?”
“No.” He looked to Hob for help, and Hob didn’t like it but he hauled him upright and helped him sit, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and letting Dream lean against him. “I am,” his voice was hoarse, each word a struggle, “the sum. Of all living minds in this universe. And when so many of those lives are ended at once. I. Feel it. That part of myself. Dying.”
Hob looked around before remembering that he couldn’t exactly see anything from here. “Something happened back home?”
“Your planet is not the only one with life,” Dream said. Hob shook himself before his brain could latch onto that—it was too much to be confronted with in the middle of a crisis. “I do not know exactly what transpired. I will have to ask Death. Only, it was significant.”
“What, like thousands of people? Er, beings?” Matthew said.
Dream’s gaze slanted over to him. He looked horribly sad, underneath the exhaustion. “Trillions. Not only intelligent species dream. Smaller creatures. Insects. Some plants. All eradicated.”
“That’s why that happened to the library,” Hob realized. All the books of all those lives.
Dream’s eyes snapped to him. “What happened to the library?”
“Apparently it was on fire—”
Dream tore himself from Hob’s grasp and staggered to his feet, rushed through a door that hadn’t been there a moment before. He was listing violently to one side, stumbling off balance, but didn’t stop, and Hob and Matthew chased after him.
They tumbled through the door into an inferno, the towering library stacks crackling and popping in the incredible heat. A surprisingly modern sounding alarm was blaring overhead, lights flashing. Lucienne had found a fire extinguisher and was valiantly attempting to put out the blaze, but she could do nothing against the sheer scale of it.
Dream careened into a table, caught himself just before falling, then thrust out his hands. The room plummeted to freezing in an instant, and Hob’s breath caught as all of the oxygen—to whatever extent that even existed in the Dreaming—whooshed out of the room. His chest went tight, and he was pretty sure it was only the nature of the Dreaming that kept them all from suffocating.
Dream held them in stasis like that until all of the fires had sputtered out, starved of air. Then his arms fell heavily to his sides and he dropped sideways into a chair, panting. Air swung back into the room, and Hob sucked in a deep breath.
“Lucienne,” said Dream, breathing heavily, “what— what is— the damage?”
Lucienne sat down beside him. She looked rather more concerned about the state of Dream himself than the books—his skin was still absolutely covered in blood, his face gaunt and hollow, limbs shaking—but she said, “We’ve lost most of this wing, my lord. What happened?”
Dream squeezed his eyes shut in dismay. “Too many lives felled at once.”
Lucienne laid her hand over his, gave it a squeeze. Hob knelt beside him, laying a hand on his knee.
“My fault,” Dream murmured. “I should have conceived of some protection against this. Or recovered myself. Quicker.”
“No,” said Lucienne, even before Hob could. “I don’t think you could have stopped this, my lord.”
"You can't prevent people from dying," said Hob.
"I can certainly prevent their books from being wiped from the library," insisted Dream, and then slumped, leaning his face on his hand, brow pinched in pain. "Too much strain on the Dreaming at once," he murmured, mostly to himself. "This should not have happened."
Hob squeezed Dream’s knee. “I’m sorry, love. I’m really sorry.”
Dream’s frown didn’t soften, if anything, his shoulders slumped further.
“I’ll see what I can salvage,” Lucienne said, standing upright again. “You should rest.”
Dream didn’t seem to have the strength to oppose this. “Matthew, will you find out if any residents were injured in the destruction?”
“Yup, on it, boss.” He landed on Dream’s shoulder for a moment, preened his hair, then winged away again, out of the library.
Then it was just Dream and Hob.
“Hey,” Hob said quietly. Now that they were alone, Dream had gone nearly as limp as a doll. Hob took both of his hands. “Let’s go rest, yeah? You must be knackered.”
That barely scratched the surface, but bringing up Dream’s moments of weakness—as he would see it—was rarely helpful.
“I am not tired so much as…” he plucked each specific word individually from the ether— “Stripped. To the bone. Like carrion.”
Hob’s heart hurt, doubly so for Dream having actually admitted it. “Let’s go rest then, yeah?”
Dream shook his head. “I do not wish to simply return to my quarters. I do not wish to simply return to my quarters. That is not what the Dreaming deserves after this failure.”
“Somewhere else? You can’t just go and try to fix it all now, Dream. Please.”
“Somewhere else,” Dream agreed, at length. "For a time." He interlocked his fingers with Hob’s. Then the library was swirling out of view, and they reemerged in a familiar grassy dell, sitting in the long, soft grass. Fiddler’s Green, Hob thought. Of course.
Gilbert—for since learning that Fiddler’s Green was a he, Hob couldn’t help but call him the more human name he’d chosen—seemed unharmed by the damage that had plowed through the Dreaming. Dream sat cross-legged on the soft ground and brushed his fingertips through the grass, a self-soothing motion. A warm breeze tumbled through his hair, as if Gilbert was trying to comfort him.
Hob gathered Dream into his arms, and as he did a tree sprung up from the ground behind him, growing from a sapling to a massive oak in moments. Hob leaned back against it, holding Dream close. “You’re a gem, Gilbert.”
The leaves rustled in response.
“Has something like this happened before?” Hob asked quietly, lips brushing Dream’s hair, and Dream nodded.
“Yes. Hence why I should have been more prepared.”
“Not what I meant. I wanted to know how to help.”
“There is… little to be done,” Dream said. “In time, the Dreaming will integrate the loss. Any acute damage, I will fix. It simply requires some… patience.”
“And what about you?” Hob said.
This time, Dream didn’t say something about how the Dreaming was him. He just didn’t respond at all.
Hob held out a hand. “Do you want to help me out here, then, Dreaming?”
A soft, wet towel appeared in his hand. “Cheers.”
“Hob,” said Dream uncertainly, as Hob budged him up.
“Let me see your face.” He took Dream’s chin in one hand, and began scrubbing away the blood with the other, wiping clean his lips, and the corners of his eyes, his chin, his throat.
Dream watched him silently. Hob was still wiping clean the sharp hinge of his jaw when the first tear slipped from his eye. “So many dreamers,” he murmured.
Hob pulled him close and pressed Dream’s head to his shoulder. He still didn’t know exactly what had happened, in some far off corner of the universe. But Dream’s pain was plain enough. “I know, love. I’m sorry.”
“I am used,” Dream said, “to the normal cycle of life and death. I have never considered it a tragedy; it is the way of Time. Death herself is kind, but not all ends are, it is the way of things. But such sudden, and widespread destruction. This feels. Like a tragedy. Not only lives were lost. But whole species. Cultures. A history, too. And its remembrance.”
“And normally you’re the one that remembers it,” said Hob, and Dream nodded.
“Now… I can only remember fragments about those civilizations. Whatever survived in the library, or on the fringes of my realm. I can feel the loss in the fabric of dreaming—but I cannot see what was once there.”
Hob kissed the top of his head. “You care so much,” he said, as Dream’s tears wet his shoulder. “Oh, darling. I’m sorry.”
There was really nothing more to say; he couldn’t make it any better. He could only hold Dream while he processed and regained his strength. And so he did just that, leaning back against the tree in the warm, calming breeze of Fiddler’s Green, and kept Dream close to him. And when it came time for Dream to fix the damage done to the Dreaming, Hob would stick by him then, too.
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cerise-on-top · 1 month
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How would arm wrestling go with TF141+Alejandro and rudy?? just a random thought i had and you're a great writer keep at it hun :))
Hello! I only write for four characters at a time, so I chose the first four you mentioned! I hope that's alright! But feel free to send the same request in again with Alejandro and Rodolfo, I don't mind :-) And thank you, I appreciate it! I'll keep going for a while! Probably for at least another half year or so ^^
Arm Wrestling with the TF141
Price: He doesn’t have time for something as childish as this, so he’ll likely dismiss you when you ask him to. It’s not that he’s afraid to lose, quite the opposite he’s proud when his soldiers are stronger than him, whether that be physically or mentally. But he’s too busy for something like this, he either has to be in a meeting sometime soon or has an ungodly amount of work to do. You’d need to either rope Soap and or Gaz into this as well for him to actually consider arm wrestling you. Plus the two or three of you need to be very annoying about this as well. If you promise to shut up about it, he’ll allow it and fight you, but not for long. Truth be told: You’d need to be very strong in order to win against him. Out of the TF141, he’s the second strongest and doesn’t relent easily either. He does have some pride as well. Try as you might, without some good amount of muscles you likely won’t win. If you do win he’ll sigh and ask you if you’re finally happy, if you’ll finally leave him alone after this. Do that, you have enough to brag about like this as it is. However, if you lose he’ll give you a look that screams “I told you so”. Despite him knowing that that will only spur you on to do better, to finally beat him, he will give you some advice on how you have a better chance at beating him. After all, he needs his soldiers to be at their best, physically and mentally. He won’t train with you, but if you’re really determined to beat him then you can train with either Soap or Gaz. They’re not as strong as him but it’s better than nothing.
Gaz: Oh, he’s down for any challenge. However, unlike Price, he’ll be a little shit about it if you lose, giving you some sarcastic comments about how strong he is. He doesn’t mean it in a bad way, but he does like the accomplished feeling of beating someone at something many people are better at than you. Gaz isn’t among the physically strongest soldiers out there, but he can use his noggin better than most of them, so it’s not uncommon for him to lose against Soap in an arm wrestling match. It gathers quite a crowd from time to time as well since the two of them can be at it for more than ten minutes at a time. Gaz usually loses, which hurts his pride a bit, but he doesn’t sulk too long about it. So you losing to him feels good to him, but if he goes overboard with his comments he’ll apologize and make it up to you somehow. However, if you do win, then please don’t make too much fun of him, he hates it enough as it is. He’s not mad at you if you do win, he’s far too mature for that sort of thing, but you don’t need to rub salt into the wound. But you can be certain that as soon as you’ve asked him twice for a match that he’ll come to you from time to time and demand a rematch as well. He’s just that eager to finally score another win against one of the soldiers on base. He’ll be annoying, but it’s kind of endearing just how ambitious he is, you gotta give him that. Once he finally does win against you he’ll give you a big smile and shake your hand. If you’ve had many matches before then you can be certain he’ll feel something bittersweet, like a rivalry that just ended. But don’t worry, he’ll continue to challenge you.
Ghost: Doesn’t want to arm wrestle with you, doesn’t care about it either, you can annoy him all you want. Unless you rope Soap into this again, he won’t even consider it. You both need to be very annoying about it, with both of you calling him a chicken for refusing you. Cluck at him as well and he’ll give in eventually. He’s quiet the entire time, the only thing showing he finally accepted your match would be him waiting at the nearest table for you. The two of you would gather quite the crowd, with lots and lots of people coming to watch you. After all, who wouldn’t want to see that? The Ghost potentially getting his ass kicked at an arm wrestling match. Again, you’d need to be exceptionally strong to beat Ghost, he’s the strongest out of the four. If it’s obvious to him that you’re struggling to keep him at bay, he’ll toy a bit with you. Nothing like some harmless fun. He might seemingly give in for a moment, only to take it away from you and then beat you properly. In fact, you could try to get his hand down with both of your hands and you would likely struggle, if you win in the first place. Ghost is a force to be reckoned with. Besides, he likely won’t accept another challenge, so you better make this one count. If you win he’ll be pleasantly surprised, he was confident you wouldn’t. There won’t be anything fancy going on, aside from the cheers from everyone on base and their congratulations. Ghost will congratulate you as well. If you lose then he’ll tell you that he told you so, but won’t take it further than that. Might give you a pat on the shoulder if you did well against him, but that’s about all there is to it.
Soap: I wouldn’t be surprised if he was the one to challenge you first, actually. This guy is as competitive as it gets, so there’s a chance he’s challenged everyone on base to at least one arm wrestling match. It’s a friendly and harmless way for him to show others what he’s made of, that they better not push him around, regardless of who they might be. However, he never turns down a request like that, everyone’s beloved sergeant needs to be there for his subordinates. Plus he’s a fun guy as well, who loves a good challenge. He’ll wish you good luck against him with a confident grin. It’s not that easy to beat him either since he is very muscular, but he’s no Ghost when it comes to physical strength, so it likely won’t be impossible to score a win. Harder to beat than Gaz, but easier to beat than Price. But I reckon you should do your best to beat him since he can be quite annoying when he does win. He references the two of you having a match, which he oh so graciously won. He’s a bastard like that, who will make fun of you for a bit. He’s not above rubbing salt into your wound when you’re making yourself out to be more important than you actually are. However, he’s just as annoying when he does lose, always wanting to fight you again and again until you’ve finally lost. He has his pride and he will make a fuss about it as well when he does win. Not above cheating to get what he wants either, so he might invite you for a strong drink afterwards, intoxicate you and then have another match. But he’ll do that exactly once since winning like this doesn’t feel nearly as good to him.
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merakiui · 1 month
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Reading your tags on the courtroom post, and we have live reader reaction:
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LOL there's Deuce who prepares for the debate with notes and talking points/arguments, and then there's Ace who is confident enough to think he can just succeed through improv. I like to imagine that, if it's for you, they will do anything and everything they can to save you. They were so determined to come to the player's aid during Scarabia book, so perhaps they prove to be worthy saviors. <3
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jtl-fics · 4 months
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Fluent Freshman - Part 44
PREV
The flight up to New York is a pleasant one.
The time in the airport itself had been less pleasant. Matt, as it turns out, is a firm believer in arriving with just enough time to check a bag, get through security, and get to the gate. He had claimed up, down, left, and right that he had it down to a science.
No matter how many times Smith had wondered about the scientific rigor of this 'science' he still kept it to himself. There was no need for Smith to voice his uncertainty with this plan because Kevin well and truly had it covered.
"You're giving us only an hour to check bags, get through security, and get to our gate?!" Kevin demands.
"Kevin, if you wanted to be there earlier then you could have asked Andrew to give yo a ride." Matt says. "We'll be fine."
"You know what Neil and Andrew get like when they have a long roadtrip ahead of them." Kevin argues.
"All lovey-dovey?" Nicky asks as Aaron makes a gagging sound.
"No, well yes, but no they always stop and buy all of the worst food too." Kevin reminds. "I'm just concerned about us missing our flight! We have barely enough time!" Kevin huffs crossing his arms.
"You're wrong anyways." Aaron says idly as he continues to text with Katelyn.
"How am I wrong?!" Kevin demands.
"We also have to park within that hour that Matt has left us with." Aaron says looking up from his phone.
"Matt!" Kevin squawks.
"It'll be fine." Matt reassures for the 2nd time.
"We all have checked bags!" Kevin exclaims, "What if we miss our flight?!" he wails.
"It'll be fine!" Matt repeats.
"No it won't!" Kevin exclaims.
---
It was fine.
The only real delays they met were at security.
Smith prided himself on being efficient in the security line. He has his watch off, his phone and ID secured in a zipped jacket pocket, his backpack and electronics in separate trays, and his shoes ready to be slipped off.
So he was shamed to have been the cause of the first delay when the TSA agent wouldn't wave Smith through the metal detector since she didn't realize he was there. That had been a whole anxiety attack and a half as the line had formed up behind him all wondering what the hold-up was.
Finally she seemed to startle as she realized that Smith had been standing there waiting and waved him through.
The other delay was that Kevin got patted down after he had forgotten to empty his 'emergency' water bottle.
It was probably for the best that they didn't have to be in the airport for that long. Every announcement that it was very important to not leave your bag unattended made him worry that with every blink somehow someone had slipped a bomb into his backpack.
While it was on his back.
As he was running with the rest of his friends to their gate.
"It just had to be the gate on the other end of the terminal." Aaron huffs.
"It would have been 100% perfect if someone hadn't left their water bottle in their bag despite the, let me check, 3,820 signs that said remove all liquids from your carry-ons!" Matt says as they continues to run.
"I said I forgot!" Kevin yells back from his spot at the front of the pack. Smith was under the distinct impression that Kevin was keeping pace with them since he had seen the Striker move much faster on the court and during warm-ups.
"We could have forgiven that!" Nicky pants, "Why did you have to slam the whole thing to prove that it was 'just water'?" he asks.
"Because I wanted to prove I wasn't a national security threat!" Kevin says. "I'll be going to the Olympics in a couple years and I can't have that on my record." he continues as he rounds a corner.
"What record?!" Smith asks suddenly worried that there was a record.
"Smithy, there's no record Kevin's just an idiot. An idiot who got patted down, tested for explosives, and had his carry-on searched." Nicky huffs.
"You don't know that there's not a record! The record everything nowadays!" Kevin huffs and their gate is in sight.
"Kevin, just shut up!" Aaron exclaims as they reach the line for their flight.
"Wait why aren't any of you getting shitty with Smiths?!" Kevin asks.
"His delay was like a minute and more importantly NOT HIS FAULT!" Nicky defends.
"He should have just walked through!" Kevin argues.
"Oh it's fine if he gets a record but not you?!" Aaron asks.
"So there is a record?!" Smith asks again.
They reach the line and the largely empty area around their gate is more than enough evidence that this was the final boarding. Smith breathed a sigh of relief as he took his place in line behind Nicky.
"The lines pretty slow, I'm going to go get a water." Kevin says and before any of them can say anything he is off towards a busy looking Newsweek store.
"I cannot believe him." Aaron huffs.
"All that water he just drank and is about to drink? He has lost window seat privileges." Matt pants wiping sweat from his brow.
"Agreed." Nicky says.
Smith laughed between panting breaths. His stomach hurt a bit from the stress of running but it was fine.
They get on the plane without Kevin and head to their seats. Most of the overhead storage is taken up at this point but Smith slides his bag under the middle seat in front of him after Matt
In the end, Kevin barely made it onto the plane in time since he got caught up in deciding on water. "You're in my seat." Kevin says as the only man not yet seated.
"I am not about to spend this flight getting up every 2 minutes because you have to pee." Matt says, "Abby didn't used to need to take all those pitstops when we're on the bus." Matt adds.
"I hate the aisle, the cart could hit my legs." Kevin argues.
"Then you can sit in the middle if Smith's willing to move." Matt says.
"You can have the middle Kevin." Smith offers actually preferring the aisle seat since then he doesn't have to ask anyone to move for him.
"I hate the middle seat, there is no room." Kevin crosses his arms.
"Smith is like only 3 inches shorter than you and he's not complaining." Matt continues.
"It's an important 3 inches."
"I bet it is."
"Nicky, are you serious?"
"What?!"
"There is an uninvolved member of the public, right there."
"He's wearing headphones it's fine!"
---
It's fine.
Eventually Kevin takes the middle seat if for no other reason than Matt stubbornly pretends to go to sleep but absolutely does not want the aisle seat either.
Smith gives it up and ends up with his own preferred seat while Kevin pointedly takes both of the arm rests, as is his right. The plane ride progresses smoothly from there. Smith has always liked flying. There is always a sense that the second that he gets onto the plane and the door closes he has absolutely zero control over what happens afterwards.
That is a nice comfort.
He pays attention to the safety briefing, finds his nearest exit, and that he should secure the bag over his own face before securing it on Kevin's.
He puts his headphones on and tries not to think about the anxiety of meeting the 'girls'.
He has heard much about the 'girls'.
Allison Reynolds. Allison was someone who's legacy existed even outside of the team. Smith didn't know much about fashion but a Reynolds bet remained a solid practice within Palmetto. She was, undeniably, absolutely gorgeous and if Kevin was to be believed 'kind of a bitch'. Nicky had swatted his arm but had said that it was not entirely inaccurate but like 'in the best way'.
Dan Wilds. He met Dan. Dan was nice. Also, if Matt was to be believed, the best human to ever walk the planet earth. The reason the sun rose in the east and set in the west. The gravitational pull that held the universe together. If Andrew is to be believed, she's fine.
Renee Walker. Renee was the one who taught Andrew how to use knives. His friend has talked warmly of her, in the way that Andrew talks warmly about anyone which is mentioning them at all. She was the one that Smith was the most anxious about meeting.
Kevin turns his nose up at the ginger ale that Smith gets but he's allowed these now per his actual doctors orders.
1 hour left until arriving at JFK.
He hopes this ginger ale is enough to calm his stomach since he's still not allowed Pepto.
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MASTERPOST FOR ALL PARTS OF FLUENT FRESHMAN AU
NEXT
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gooperts-gunk · 22 days
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im so crazy over the tragedy of everything q!bbh does being under a demon pretense even though he's a fallen angel.
do u think he just accepts the demon label because it's easier. do u think he believes it too, and catches himself in his thoughts with "oh, right. im not exactly that". and maybe he believes that he did this to himself? do u think what he did was to protect himself or someone? no matter the fall, he still has so much kindness to give and his brain just isn't wired the way a natural-born demon would be, he can't hold back instincts when time demands it, maybe that's why he fell in the first place.
and when he's finally bad, not good, it's treated like the end of the world, without empathy on why he would act out. do you think this keeps happening? the same scenario, multiple times, every timeline? he has to be used to it. so he has to take it in stride. he's good until he lashes out under extreme pressure, and suddenly he's called demon. and once again he's what heaven made him out to be. what he made himself to be, his brain would ruthlessly provide...
i don't think he wants to be that, though he hides secrets behind secrets of which neither identity is a home... but i don't think he wants to have to change, either. and i don't think that's wrong of him.
...you collapse atlantis ONE TIME and all of a sudden YOU'RE the bad guy and SURE it was FUN but REALLY now,--
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the-kipsabian · 3 months
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wrestling fic writers!!
i have decided to be the change i wanna see, so lets do a nice little thing for each other, as a community full of incredible and talented writers. yes this is writer specific only, but thats cause thats where the main problem of people not interacting with creative works lies in this fandom as far as i can tell and have seen people talking about it especially in the last couple of months
if you read this, please add links to your written works. it can be just a single fic youre really proud of, your writing blog, your writing tag, your ao3 account, anything where your works can be found
and if you leave your link here, PLEASE check out someone else that has left their works, and interact with them. leave them a comment, even just a kudos, REBLOG their fic, etc. interacting is the keyword i want to emphasize here, along with building a sort of a masterpost of where to find people writing in this fandom
and if you are not a writer, youre still highly encouraged to interact with this post and share it and show love to the writers in this fandom, obviously!! i think that should go without saying, but adding it in anyways
a bit more about my vision and resources and such under the read more, but thats the gist of it. happy linking and please be kind and supportive to each other!! 💜
nobody is too big or too small to add their things on this list. if you write and post anything in this fandom whatsoever, be it fics or drabbles or headcanons, any companies or any kind of ships or reader inserts or any content whatsoever no matter how 'dead dove dont eat' or hell even if its just meta, we welcome all here and nobody can say that one thing is less valid than another. just please tag your content accordingly, especially if theres content warnings, and feel free to mention what you write, who you write, any info you wish to leave that would help people before they click on your links. but even so, that should not and hopefully will not deter people from interacting, no matter what it is. someones trash is another ones treasure, i promise you
and unless the amount gets really overwhelming, im personally going to be checking out everyone that leaves something here. unless it squeaks me out, but even then, i'll spread the word. and i just wish as many people as possible will do the same, and not just use this as a potential board to only get eyes on their stuff. ofc thats also the point, but you should give as much, if not more, than you get. we need to be kind and supportive of one another (besides, from personal experience, if you show love to someone else, they are more likely to do it back than without you taking the first step, so... pay it forward)
as for resources, heres a few links that should be helpful in leaving comments and feedback. of course everyone does their own thing and no comment is too big or too small to leave, but for those who need them. if you have anything you'd like added to this list, dont hesitate to get in touch or drop it in the post yourself!!
101 comment starters
ao3 floating comment box
kudos html
dont know how to comment? easy solutions
a quick hot guide to commenting (by yours truly)
an overall guide to appreciating fanfic writers
and just in general.. leave people comments. leave them asks about their projects. just go over and gush about their work. i know it sounds embarrassing but writers love nothing more than to hear that someone likes what they are doing. if you find a fic that hasnt been updated in forever, comment on it. it might just be the spark the author needs to continue. while kudos and likes are nice, and just as valuable to some, its definitely in the words the people leave for them that matter the most. im not saying this to put pressure on anyone, its just how it is, and i feel like unless people are writers themselves, and even then sometimes, thats just hard to grasp, especially if the writer is a smaller and less popular one who doesnt get a lot of traffic in the first place
i think thats all. just be nice and considered to everyone, reblog peoples works, this post with others add ons and so forth. and if i find anyone talking shit here or at other writers for something they share, you'll be blocked and im probably taking your kneecaps. be fucking nice. we are all struggling here and we need to stick together
happy sharing and commenting 💜💜
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becca-e-barnes · 8 months
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Thinking a whole lot about how good it feels to see someone after the anticipation has been building for a while. There's not much I love as much as a good sexual tension.
Maybe it's been a while since you last saw your dad's best friend but now he's here in front of you, you're counting down the minutes until you can get him alone.
It's hard in a room full of people though. He's just walked into your parents' kitchen, a beer in his hand and as soon as you realise he's looking at you, you look away. You know yourself well enough. Maintaining eye contact with him would leave you fizzling and it's much too early for that.
He doesn't look away. No one would have noticed he's staring but you can't help wondering what he's thinking about. Is he imagining the last time he saw you and how pretty your face looked painted with thick stripes of his cum? Or is he imagining how it feels to slide into you, burying himself to the hilt in your warm, wet, fluttering cunt? Maybe he's imagining the way you beg him not to pull out; the way you clamp your thighs around him and make sure there's no chance of him cumming anywhere except inside you.
If he wasn't thinking about any of that before, you're convinced he must be now. He's leaning against the kitchen counter, ignoring a conversation going on around him with a smirk on his lips and you have to wonder if he can read your mind.
'I'm going upstairs, follow me in 10.' You send the text and leave the kitchen without even looking at him. You have yourself convinced that if you look at him, people will know. They'll know everything. They'll know you think of him every time you touch yourself and they'll know that doesn't even come close to actually being with him.
You've been settled in your room for 14 whole minutes before the door opens.
"Couldn't even hold it together a couple of hours?" Bucky sounds smug and he has every right to.
"I could but I didn't want to. Why should I?" You're on him in seconds, tugging at the collar of his shirt, using it to press his lips against yours.
It's a frantic kiss, all tongue and teeth and breathy moans, hushed as much as possible.
"I want to go back downstairs with your cum dripping out of me." You don't have time to waste so you might as well get right to the point.
"Sweetheart, we both know that's not what you need." Bucky's fingers trail up the inside of your thighs, under your skirt. "You don't need me to cum. You need me to take the edge off."
The soaked fabric of your panties only proves his point. He watches you while he trails his fingers in concentrated strokes against your clit, enjoying every tiny gasp he earns from you.
"I can treat you properly later like we planned. Just let me help you out." His eyes are trained on yours while he slips your panties down your bare legs. With your cunt exposed, he presses you back onto the bed, kissing from your knees, up the inside of your thighs.
One finger sinks inside you, followed by another before his lips seal around your clit, his tongue flicking beautifully.
You've gone from no stimulation to so much at once and it's making your head spin. God, he's good at that. He needs this just as much as you do and it's lovely to be with a man who gets off on eating you out the way he does.
The way his fingers curl inside you is truly breathtaking. "You're going to have to be quiet, angel. At this rate, the whole house will know I'm up here making you cum against my mouth."
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cryptiduni · 9 months
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“white mourning.”
#‘‘A white mourning. A modern death. Divorce or something similar. All you can do is put more distance between you & him. make him smaller.’’#jean is a very easy character to hate if you know nothing about him. & you know what they say. easy target doesn’t make for a good practice#judit literally compares harry to intellectually disabled man yet you don’t see ppl hating her because she is outwardly nice.#she’s polite yes but she doesn’t care as much as jean cares for harry#he is not perfect. he is mean. but loyal. if he truly didn't care he wouldn't hab come back to martinaise & coulda just reported harry’s as#he put up with du bois’ bullshit for years and built a toxic (totally straight) relationship with him yet always comes back.#he says he will leave you in the village to die but please understand harry isn't exactly a great person. especially pre-bender hdb.#planned a make up joke & put on a wig for hdb even tho he wasn’t the who started the whole fiasco#you can hate him all you want for leaving harry before & during tribunal but how could he have foreseen all this bullshit would have happen#his second leaving is kinda bullshit writing but#jv is dealing with his own demons too. clinical depression. partner almost died. job is shit. case spiraling out control#i do not blame the DE staff either. sometimes shit just happens. not everything needs a grand explanation.#but it definitely coulda been handled better. but i understand. resources were sparse.#i relate to ​jv. as someone with temper issues & attention problems i have to remove myself from the scene or i'll say shit i'd regret late#my man is having the worst week of his life. leave him alone.#kim is great but have u heard of a man who thinks he's old when he is only 30 & luvs horses & his commie boyfriend that he's divorcin' soon#disco elysium#de fanart#jean vicquemare#disco elysium fanart#jean heron vicquemare#jean posting#illustration#de#artists on tumblr#my art#I WANTED TO DRAW THIS FOR MONTHSSS YOU COULDN'T IMAGINE. HE LITERALLY HAUNTED ME IN MY SLEEP!!!#i love him normal amount. very healthy. much feelings#my little maiu maiu
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shirozora-draws · 1 year
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Listen.
I can explain. I saw a Tumblr post about shoulder kisses a month ago if the time stamp on my Discord messages are anything to go by. Then I saw a very evocative quote tweet about eroticism. And I, uh, I was feeling really spiteful. If you know, you know.
Anyway, I lost two days of writing and a lot of sleep to this. Rip my fucking sanity.
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carnivalcarrion · 4 months
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honestly. half the fun of fantasy aus for me is the Food Descriptions
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crossbackpoke-check · 18 days
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it’s all the rest of what i want with you
connor dewar/brandon duhaime :: 8k
Summary:
“Brandon,” Connor says with a sigh. “There’s no baby in there.”
“Not yet,” Brandon says. Connor feels his stomach twist, almost like what he would imagine a baby kicking to feel like.
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in these trying times of dewvorce, may i offer you 8k of pwp inspired by @stillfertile’s wonderful art which i had. several breakdowns about 🫶 anyway please enjoy!!!
#OFFICIAL FIC ANNOUNCEMENT 🗣️🗣️🗣️‼️‼️‼️ i wish i had pretty fic graphics but alas i have No Skill and also. so much work i should be doing bu#HI SHE’S HERE i would love to say this is a complete surprise drop except i have Anxiety & i needed to ask you guys about it beforehand#in my defense i started writing this in like. january far before any tragedy occurred#because square asked about my tags on their dewey2 art and she spawned like. a million more thoughts about it#including the part where i got absolutely kicked in the face with the lightning vision of those two lines.#like those two lines are the first actual lines of the fic i wrote ajdhkwdiowdjiw ANYWAY please be nice to me i know i am always like#‘this is not the first real fic i ever thought i’d post’ and if i had a nickel i’d have three but this is the first pwp i’ve ever posted#and it’s 8k and it’s not a fic for an exchange (although technically i did very much write this for the dewey^2 hivemind so.)#i have SO many things to say i have so many comments on this doc also i couldn’t pick a title for the LONGEST time and i finally decided on#this one but the full quote was too long:#all the rest of what i want with you that scares me shitless#so. i was angling SO hard to make a yung gravy lyric as a title bc i saw the video of him at a wild game but i couldn’t find a good one#and instead y’all got a very sentimental title l m a o.#liv in the replies#shout out to the extended universe this lives in and also my unhinged comments in the docs.#if you liked fun fuck a baby in him friday i’ll be here all week i promise i am the exact same in the comments as i am in the tags 🫡#the NUMBER of times i wrote something in this by pulling it out of my ass and then actually went back and did the research & was RIGHT is.#far too high. also the amount of coincidental things that dropped while i was writing this (yung gravy song about pregnancy AFTER i wheeze#laughed myself into a yung gravy title the athletic player poll confirming my restaurant & bar choices from googling ‘st. paul good bars’…)#also if anybody got advice on formatting for these little announcements. help. this is different from my miro/luka one &i’m still not happy
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the-unkindled-queen · 6 months
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Me: *Headcanons that Radahn respected Malenia's battle prowess and fought her simply because he could and Malenia harbored no hate for him, and maybe in some way, felt the same about his own fighting, though most likely just saw him as an obstacle in her way and nothing more or less.*
Some asshole materializing out of nowhere:
"ACHsHUaLLY. THaT IS NoT CoRrEcT."
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cerise-on-top · 3 months
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HELOOOOOOO IM BACKKK
can we get some Valeria Garza headcanons? :p
LOVE UR WORK AS ALWAYS DRINK WATER BYEBYEEE
-☁️
Hello! Welcome back :> I wasn't sure if you wanted general HCs or romantic ones, so I did both! I hope they're enjoyable! In regards to these HCs, there's one mention of drugs, but the HCs are about Valeria, so that's to be expected!
Also, to anyone reading this: Merry Christmas and/or happy holidays! I'm saying this today because in my country we celebrate Christmas today and not on the 25th! I'm wishing you all a few lovely days ahead :-)
General:
Playing games of any kind with her is actually infuriating and almost unfair. You’d think games like Monopoly would be fair since it’s based on luck for the most part, but no. I can assure you Valeria could set a world record on beating someone at Monopoly. But it’s not just that game either. You wanna poker with her? Tycoon? Sixty-Six? Granted, they require some skill as well, but she uses her nogging on a daily basis, so it’s not like she doesn’t know what she’s doing. And even if you only explained the rules to her once, she’ll beat you soon enough. Might also be prone to cheating, but you’ll only ever accuse her of doing so whenever she actually wasn’t. It’s not illegal or forbidden if no one ever finds out. The stakes can be pretty high, she’s not afraid to play for money either. But I advise you to maybe play over gummy bears or lollipops or something. She won’t be happy, she will complain, but it beats losing all your money to a businesswoman of her caliber.
When she was a kid she actually didn’t mind Christmas all that much, she quite liked it. It was colorful, it was bright, it was nice. Her parents may not have been the richest people, but she usually got what she wanted for Christmas as well, so it wasn’t a particularly sad time for her back then. Even now her cartel is doing well during that time since people like to fill the gaping holes within their hearts with drugs so they won’t have to think about being alone and freezing during such a festive time. She doesn’t get jolly like she used to, she won’t even wear a Christmas hat, but she can appreciate Christmas, if just for her earning a bit more money than she normally would. You can even give her gifts during this time. Depending on who they’re from and what it is, she might just throw them away, but if it’s something nice from someone she’s close with then she might just keep it for a little while longer. Although Valeria would never admit it, she does like cookies quite a lot. She can’t bake particularly well, not that she has the time for that either, but that won’t stop her from eating a few whenever she receives some from a trustworthy source. There is an elderly lady in Las Almas who she likes to buy them from occasionally. That lady is a real sweetheart, so Valeria is sure the cookies aren’t poisoned.
No one ever gets to enjoy it anymore these days, but Valeria can cook pretty well. She learned how to very early on so she could relieve her mother a bit from her burdens, but it stuck with her. She has a real knack for how much spice you put in which dish. Yes, she’s a bit rusty since she hasn’t cooked for herself in quite a while, but if you’re her s/o and you’re sick, you might just receive some birria or carne guisada. It’ll be unlike anything you’ve ever tasted. Her food is a bit spicy, so if you’re not used to spicy food it can and will leave you teary eyed, but it’s really good. Naturally, her specialties include, for the most part, Mexican dishes only. But, in theory, you could give her any recipe and it would turn out just fine. Except for anything sweet. Sweets she cannot do at all, they’ll always turn out terrible. It used to get to her when she was young, but these days she couldn’t care less. She isn’t anyone’s housewife, so why should she care? Back in the day when she still had time for dating someone properly, a telltale sign she was mad at you would be her cooking for you, but making it unbearably spicy. Valeria could always eat it, she can eat any spicy pepper as a snack just like that and not be bothered at all.
Romantic:
It doesn’t matter who you are, Valeria will always be the dominant person among the two of you. Her personality alone won’t allow for much else, but there are also other circumstances as well. Besides, she’s been in the military and she can tell you from experience that the people there don’t think too highly of women. Ergo she wants to prove herself to be above those morons, especially Alejandro. While she might not be affectionate at all in public, it’s the small things in private that really show you who’s in control. Beckoning you closer with her finger, telling you how much of a good thing you are for her, moving you a bit so she can get to something she needs. Granted, it’s nothing big, she won’t put a collar on you, but she will do what she can to make you feel smaller than you actually are. It doesn’t matter if you’re 1,50m or 2m tall, whether you’re looking up at her or down on her, you will treat her with utmost respect. While she might seem degrading or mocking very often, she does take your feelings into account as well. If her being mean to you genuinely hurts you then she will do what she can to tone it down a bit. She won’t stop entirely, but she’ll better herself. You’re welcome to sass her back a bit, though. If it’s just some light joking around she won’t mind. Sass her back too hard and you will be put into place, though.
Going off of one of the previous points I made: Once Valeria loves you, she is completely and entirely committed to you. It doesn’t matter what you want, you’ll get it within days. You want someone’s head? Absolutely, no questions asked. Even something smaller, such as some clothing, jewelry, a video game console, a plushie. You name it, you’ll get it. You’re her everything in this rotten world, of course she’ll do what she can to keep you happy. And if one of those goons from the army ever tries to hurt you, then even the ninth layer of hell will seem like the greatest mercy the heavens and hell could muster. She’s fiercely protective over you. While she won’t kidnap you, she wants to keep you happy, after all, she will try to convince you to live with her. Somewhere in a place no one knows about, where it’s only you and her without a worry for those two pests, Alejandro and Rodolfo. If you ever were to meet those two then I can assure you, you’ll never see Valeria this angry again. She loathes those two men with her entire being. Not that she has a very high opinion of men to begin with. If one ever decides to lay his grubby, disgusting hands on you, regardless of whether it’s some guy from the streets or the president of the United States, he can say goodbye to his head.
As I said before, she’s a really good cook. In fact, she’s good at just about anything you can think of. Well, almost. Either way, she’d love it if you could cook well. In fact, having someone who’s willing to be a housespouse is a dream come true. She won’t always be able to come home to you immediately, but if she finds you having cooked her a delicious, hearty meal, she’ll be on cloud nine. But even if your food isn’t anything noteworthy she’ll still eat it because it’s from you. She may be a cruel woman at times, but Valeria does care about you and tries not to hurt your feelings too much. At best, not at all. If she comes home to your shared home being well taken care of by you, with you having cleaned all the rooms as well as all the clothes that needed washing, you’ll have earned something nice from her. If you aren’t able to do so, no worries, she can always just hire some personnel to take care of it. But if it was you, then just name what you want from her. You want some cuddles or a kiss? Naturally. Some tres leches or churros? She won’t make them herself, but you can bet she’ll get you some regardless. If she’s especially tired some sweet words might be exchanged as well, but don’t expect her to be like that every time. Sometimes she does want to be a bit sweeter than usual, tell you how grateful she is to have you, but she’s afraid you might think of her a bit less than before, even if it wouldn’t happen. So, while she may not be someone who enjoys giving words of affirmation unless she needs to, you can count on her showing you affection through gift giving and quality time.
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