#I tried to be as exhaustive as I can but of course I missed TONS of other instances which could have been used as examples

[zeroducks-2]

This is quite random sorry but has Dick ever acknowledge (or as close to it) that a lot of things that Bruce did to him are abusive? (this is for a fic I’m trying to write)

Yes and no!

Dick knows Bruce is an assholes and WILL yell at him to stop being an asshole, or at least he used to. Dick would call him out on his BS and wouldn't let him get away with a lot of things, but this was once upon a time, before they rebooted everything and erased decades of character development. The closest he gets to that post reboot is after Forever Evil - everyone thinks Dick is dead, and Bruce wants people to keep thinking that, hence he forces Dick to join Spiral and become Agent 37.

Dick is, as you can imagine, not thrilled. He yells and fights and Bruce beats the everloving shit out of him in a very upsetting sequence, where Dick is half naked and Bruce is wearing most of his gear while he keeps hitting him to the point of leaving him bleeding on the floor of the Batcave.

Dick begs and tries to appeal to everything he can including the "things can never be the same between us after this", to which Bruce essentially replies that it's a sacrifice he's willing to make. Ha. I say that this is especially upsetting because Dick went through a horribly traumatic experience during the events of Forever Evil, in which among other things he was tortured by Thomas Wayne Jr AKA Owlman, who wanted to turn Dick into his own sidekick after losing his Talon. The way Bruce beats and humiliates Dick is drawn in a way which creates a clear parallel between Thomas and Bruce's actions towards Dick, in a way that suggests they're "not that different after all", but this narratively goes nowhere and I don't get why they fuck they even came up with that. But anyway.

All of this gets forgotten soon enough. Despite his own warnings Dick forgives Bruce after a very short time, pines for home and tries to communicate with Bruce in any way he can because he "misses his dad", which to be honest made my guts churn and my bile rise after Bruce nearly beat him comatose. Essentially the story forgets Bruce did all of that and so does Dick, but for the brief time Dick was allowed to be aware of it and angry about it, he was indeed aware that he was being abused even if he never used the word abuse.

This is the case for lots of stories in which similar instances happen, as I mentioned before especially pre-reboot. Dick does call Bruce out on his bullshit - especially if Bruce is being an abusive asshole to someone else, since Dick is way more prone to defend other people than he is to defend himself, like here

or here

But despite being obviously aware that there are issues in the way Bruce does things, to put it mildly, he never uses the word "abuse" (which is sort of a prohibited word for DC standards, kind of like "rape". They're way more likely to say non consensual than rape because it's a less upsetting word apparently).

There is an instance of this post reboot, and it's during a conversation Dick has with Tim. I believe it happens in the Pride comics of 2022, but I don't have the panels on hand at the moment. Basically Tim asks for advice on how to please Bruce, being the man demanding and prone to bad moods, and Dick flat out replies "I spent a very big part of my life trying to please him, and I left when I realized it was impossible" which to me is so interesting since it's the textbook reaction of a former Golden Child who fell from grace and became a Scapegoat (please note that tumblr's definition of Golden Child is completely arbitrary; golden child doesn't mean "good kid", it means a child who the parent holds to the highest standards, on which there are the biggest expectations and the strongest pressure regarding everything the child does. Sometimes a parent lives vicariously through them and perceives them as an extension of themselves, but not necessarily. If you watched Encanto, Isabella is the Golden Child of the family).

Something similar happens during Nightwing's run from the 90s.

Dick lives in Bludhaven and at this point he's gone essentially no-contact with Bruce. Tim, being the new Golden Child, is trying to reel Dick back into the toxic dynamic because he genuinely thinks it's going to be good for both Dick and Bruce.

I'm pointing this out not to fault Tim in any way, he's just a kid what does he know, but to show you that indeed yes, Dick is aware that he's been abused otherwise he wouldn't have left, he wouldn't be on a no talking basis with his parental figure, and he wouldn't reply to Tim that he spent so much time of his life deluding himself into thinking that Batman actually needed him. Of course this also goes nowhere and their relationship isn't allowed to grow or heal (things are just conveniently forgotten after a while), but as I mentioned, Dick knows what's up.

That being said, I believe it's also worth noting that many many times Bruce abuses the fuck out of Dick and Dick doesn't really acknowledge it, just takes it. Sometimes he doesn't have the spoons to fight back, sometimes he thinks he deserves it, sometimes he just doesn't know how to react because Bruce strikes like an unprovoked viper (this happens especially when Dick was still a kid but already a Titan). A very good example of this is what happens after Jason's death.

Bruce doesn't tell Dick that Jason died. When Alfred offers to let him know, Bruce says "I will handle it", and he doesn't. Then there's Jason's funeral and Bruce doesn't tell Dick about it, again Alfred offers to inform him, Bruce says he will handle it. He doesn't.

Eventually Dick finds out for collateral reasons and has an emotional breakdown in front of the other Titans, which are powerless to help him. For reference, this is how he reacts when he has definitive proof that the boy is undoubtedly gone, if there was any doubt that Dick did care about Jason.

So Dick goes to the grave with Kory but then decided to confront Bruce alone, and Bruce, in the abusive feat of the century, blames Dick for not having showed up to Jason's funeral, despite having refused to 1: tell him about Jason's death AT ALL, and 2: refused TWICE when Alfred very gently suggested to inform Dick.

Dick of course argues that he didn't know anything, and so Bruce reacts by gaslighting him, telling him they he never cared about Jason and in fact he was angry that Bruce adopted Jason and not him. Which is not true, Dick just wanted to know WHY Bruce adopted Jason and hot him. Oh and also punches him in the face when Dick tries to argue that Jason was an untrained kid. Please note that when all of this happens, Dick is hurt and can barely stand on his feet, having one of his legs in a cast.

Cherry on top, Bruce explicitly saying that he never should have had a partner and never will again, essentially "our partnership up to this point meant nothing".

In this instance Dick is too neck-deep in his own self guilt to see that he's been through a sequence of extremely abusive behavior, and never really faults Bruce for that, using the easy-coming rationalization that Bruce was in pain, suffering for Jason's death, couldn't see reason etc etc (quick PSA: someone suffering isn't entitled to abuse and gaslight anyone. And even if we really want to enable Bruce cut Bruce some slack because he was grieving, it doesn't make his behavior any less abusive. Regardless of the reasons why, the way he acts here is very damaging towards Dick who in turn did nothing to deserve it, and is grieving Jason too).

See, the problem with Dick and Bruce is the sysyphean nature of comicbooks. Dick is doomed to be the original Golden Child who falls from grace, becomes the Scapegoat, but ultimately can never be completely free of the clutches of the relationship he has and had with Bruce, for better or worse. And since he can't ever truly get out and can't ever completely be independent, the abuse end up getting downplayed. If Dick never truly gets away from Bruce it's because it's not that bad, isn't it? Nay, it's because Dick cant. He is quite literally not allowed to, same as Bruce is not allowed to truly grow from his mistakes and learn to treat his former partner, sort-of-child and dear friend with the respect and love he actually feels for him, because despite all of this and because this is fiction, Bruce does love Dick more than it can be put into words and would set the world on fire for him. But, alas, he also is doomed to keep treating Dick like shit and never really learn from his mistakes.

So again, the answer to your question is yes and no. Dick is aware of how much of a difficult person Bruce is. He's aware of the domineering aspects of his personality. But he will ultimately brush it off in the name of the good that there is and there was between them, and he will keep answering Batman's call every time, because he's not allowed to ever truly grow apart from him. It doesn't matter how much he gets angry and how much Bruce hurts him, they're indissolubly tied in this dynamic and unless there is a huge shift in the way DC execs handle things, I don't see how this dynamic can change in the foreseeable future. Sadly enough, because I'd really like to see something new.

#long post #I tried to be as exhaustive as I can but of course I missed TONS of other instances which could have been used as examples #I hope you can make use of my analysis anyway #good luck with your fic btw! #feel free to leave me a link for it once you're done - no pressure tho! #and thanks for asking ♥ #my asks #my meta #Bruce Wayne #Dick Grayson #cw abuse in fiction

[alpaca-clouds]

The Punk-Factor of Punkpunk Genre

So, when I posted my history of Solarpunk, someone (probably not in good faith) asked: “So, what about the punk in all the other punk genres?!” towards my request to put the punk back into Solarpunk. And given that my autistic brain obviously cannot just let that stand… You know what? Let me talk about the other punk genre and in how far they are “punk”. I tried to be as exhaustive as possible, though there is a good chance, that I might have missed some of the punkpunk genre. So feel free to add.

Trying to judge the punkiness I do not assume punk as simple counter culture, but a specific ideology. Quote from Wikipedia:

[Punk ideology] is primarily concerned with concepts such as mutual aid, against selling out, hierarchy, white supremacy, authoritarianism, anti-consumerism, anti-corporatism, anti-war, imperialism, conservatism, anti-globalization, gentrification, anti-racism, anti-sexism, class and classism, gender equality, racial equality, eugenics, animal rights, free-thought and non-conformity

Most of the artwork here has been taken from concept art of either of the examples listed.

Sorted from most futuristic to pre(historic). Yes, the list is long.

Cyberpunk

We start with the OG punk genre, the one after which all other punk genre were named. Yes, you could argue that in fact the two genre following are more futuristic – but Cyberpunk kinda just had to start the list.

As a genre: Given that Cyberpunk had its start completely in literature it is the best defined in this regard. Taking place in a late stage capitalist dystopian world in which most is owned by megacorps who don’t follow anyone’s laws but their own, the protagonists usually are social outcasts fighting against their own oppression, trying to keep themselves alive in a world hostile to them. With cybernetics always being a core of the genre, it also tends to deal with the question of humanity in a “ship of Theseus” sort of way. How much can the human body be altered, before the human vanishes?

As an aesthetic: Cyberpunk is the most punk in terms of aesthetics, really. There is a lot of punk and grunge going on in terms of character design. Neon hair colors, fishnets and thorn up jeans jackets can be found here. As well as of course cybernetics on the characters. The world usually is a megacity with a stark divide between rich and poor, tons of neon signs, a slight Japanese influence, flying cars and somehow a constant downpour of rain.

Punk-Factor: Cyberpunk is the one punk genre, where the “punk” was chosen very knowingly as a name. Usually the protagonists are “punks” fighting for their place in the world against a suppressive capitalist system. (Also, they usually fit the punk aesthetic, if they don’t wear leather dusters.) It should be noted however, that especially in newer western Cyberpunk often the punkiness vanishes more and more – for the same reason we have so little Solarpunk: media that outright confronts the problems of capitalism is just less supported.

Examples: Neuromancer (1984), Mirrorshades: The Cyberpunk Anthology (1986), Snow Crash (1992), The Matrix (1999), Dredd (2012)

Biopunk

As a genre: As a genre biopunk is still fairly ill defined, as it mostly shows up as a subsection of Cyberpunk. Rather than the characters having cybernetic implants (or additionally to it) they are augmented on a genetic level. This can be all sorts of augmentations, changing anything from appearance to giving characters higher strength and agility, giving them claws or night vision, or in some cases even “magic” powers. Usually the genre tends to be set in worlds similar to Cyberpunk. In fact it might well be set in a cyberpunk world, only that characters with bioaugmentations exist parallel to those with cybernetics. Additionally, though, there is a subsection of this genre, that concerns reproductive rights.

As an aesthetic: Ironically biopunk is even less defined as an aesthetic. There is not a lot of biopunk art out there and most that exists can go in different directions. As such it often mixes elements from other punk aesthetics – like Cyberpunk, Steampunk or Dieselpunk – with an assortment of bodyhorror elements.

Punk-Factor: It is hard to define the “punkiness” of a genre, that barely exists for the most part. Usually, when it is set against a Cyberpunk backdrop, it might be very punky, but in other settings those punk elements vanish.

Examples: Ribofunk (1995), Altered Carbon (2002), Bioshock (2007), The Windup Girl (2009)

Nanopunk

As a genre: Like Biopunk Nanopunk mostly exists as a subsubgenre to Cyberpunk, often being set in a mostly Cyberpunk world, only that instead of or additionally to Cybernetics, the technology used to alter the human body is nanites. These serve the same function as the genetic manipulation in Biopunk, giving the human in question more strength and agility and at times more or less magical abilities. There is one common plot that comes up again and again, with an AI or megacorp turning the nanites against the people they inhabit or trying to control them.

As an aesthetic: Aesthetically Nanopunk does not have much in terms of its own identity. Most artworks relating to Nanopunk feature a similar aesthetic to Cyberpunk, with megacities and lots of neon.

Punk-Factor: This genre is so small, that it is kinda hard to judge the exact punkiness.

Examples: The Diamond Age (1995), Prey (2002)

Solarpunk

As a genre: Being another genre, that started as such, Solarpunk is a bit better defined. Solarpunk usually takes place in a world post-strive. It is post-capitalist and decolonial in its settings, usually featuring a world that has either formed against the backdrop of preventing climate collapse or in the aftermath of it. A lot of it features people rebuilding – or alternatively building communities. It always features elements about living in harmony with nature or trying to do so. So far, the genre is mostly defined by short stories, partly because there is still disagreements within the movement, how far a conflict can be taken to still qualify as Solarpunk.

As an aesthetic: Solarpunk has a very strong aesthetic definition, mostly featuring all sorts of cities and urban areas, that incorporate natural elements into the urbanity, with greenery growing on roofs and concrete car-centric streets being replaced with more natural, walkable areas. The character design aesthetic is not quite as clearly defined, but usually features natural materials and patterns usually seen within indigenous art.

Punk-Factor: Contrary to what many say, Solarpunk is fairly punk, as it very much embraces the entire anti-hierarchical, anti-capitalist mentality. With the big difference, that the punk mentality is no longer counter culture, but the mainstream culture.

Examples: The Dispossessed (1974), Nausicaä (1984), Laputa – Castle in the Sky (1986), Princess Mononoke (1997), The Summer Prince (2013)

Lunarpunk

As a genre: Lunarpunk is pretty much a subsubgenre of Solarpunk, just as Nanopunk and Biopunk are sprung off from Cyberpunk. It is so far ill-defined as a genre, but the general consensus is, that it is set in solarpunk-esque worlds, but with a heavier focus on mysticism or spiritualism, at times outright including magic. It also tends to feature a lot darker places, being set in underwater or underground settings – or alternatively at night.

As an aesthetic: Lunarpunk is far more of an aesthetic than a genre so far. It features dark places, often with bioluminescent elements in it. Often featuring a mixture of black and dark blue with lighter blue, violet or light green elements shining in the middle of it. Mushrooms – especially glowing mushrooms – feature repeatedly in artwork.

Punk-Factor: Given that Lunarpunk is barely defined as a genre it is hard to estimate the punkiness in it. If it gets more stories, will those still feature the anti-capitalist and anti-hierarchical messaging we see in Solarpunk? This should be the defining factor. Some of the artworks use little aesthetics from the punk scene, but nothing much more.

Examples: Bioluminescent: A Lunarpunk Anthology (2023)

Hopepunk

Honestly, I had no idea where to put this one, given that it might technically be set at any time and place.

As a genre: Hopepunk is very much a genre, not an aesthetic. It has been defined as the opposite of grimdark by its “inventor/name-giver” Alexandra Rowland. The basic idea is to create fiction that instead of taking a dystopian, defeatist and violent approach, takes one defined by hope and to some degree pacifism. As such the genre can be set in any setting, real or fantastic. It mostly is defined by the protagonists taking opposition to cruelty and violence, fighting for a better world and, crucially, also partly archiving it. Other than in usual Cyberpunk, where the best possible ending, tends to be, that the protagonists get to live a somewhat better life themselves, Hopepunk aims to better the life at least for groups of people.

As an aesthetic: Being fully a genre, Hopepunk has no aesthetic associated with it.

Punk-Factor: Hopepunk is punk less in the sense of the protagonists or things happening within the story, which might or might not be punk, but was named such rather because it is considered counter cultural towards the gross of media at the moment, that often strives for a “realistic, gritty, grimdark” outlook on the world. Basically it is saying: “Hope is punk.” I will not make any judgement on whether or not this is true.

Examples: The Long Way to a Small, Angry Planet (2014), Mad Max: Fury Road (2015), The Good Place (2016)

Mythpunk

As a genre: Another one, that does not really fit into a temporal sorting system, because once again it can be set anywhere between the stone age and the far future. The basic idea is, that the story interweaves postmodern storytelling with elements from mythology or folklore. This can mean mythological, genre-traversing retellings, but it can also mean, that mythology seeps into any given story bit by bit. As such the genre with probably the most media in the subgenre is Urban Fantasy, which often borrows from mythology and incorporates these elements.

As an aesthetic: Mythpunk as an aesthetic is a bit strange. There is definitely a mythpunk aesthetic that exists, often mixing familiar elements with elements from mythology and folklore (at times also including quasi-folkloric works of literature, such as Alice in Wonderland and the Wizard of Oz). Often just a bit dark and twisted.

Punk-Factor: To be perfectly frank, for the most part, there is not a lot of punk to be found in this genre. While there have been definitely punky stories told within the genre, this is more a story decision than something inherent to the genre.

Examples: Pan’s Labyrinth (2006), Over the Garden Wall (2014), Inscryption (2016)

Dustpunk / Rustpunk / Desertpunk

As a genre: Kinda grouping those above all together, because people argue about what they might entail and in some interpretations they kinda are similar: Post-apocalyptic stories set in a world of sand and rust. Often featuring a loner character, having to go up against everyone to ensure his own survival – and at times being forced to learn, that the lonerness might not win him (and most often it is a him) anything.

As an aesthetic: Aesthetically this tends to be very much post-apocalyptic, maybe in some cases with some more classical punk elements added to characters and surroundings.

Punk-Factor: Given that there is neither a system to rage against – nor a new, less hierarchical system – usually there is not that much punk outside of some aesthetic choices. Neither tend those stories go into constructing worlds of mutual aid or working against oppression.

Examples: Anything Mad Max should count for this.

Atompunk

As a genre: Atompunk usually deals with themes connected to the cold war – in some cases directly, in some indirectly. Often it overplays the American ideals that were pushed for during the cold war era and portrays scenarios in which American Exceptionalism slowly reveals itself as the dystopia most punks already know it to be. Outside of this vague idea for the setting, the genre is less described, as there is less of a clear script an Atompunk story might follow. So, little description of who might be the protagonist and what their role is.

As an aesthetic: The aesthetic of Atompunk borrows heavily from the Raygun Gothic aesthetic. So, futurism, as it was imagined in the 1950s and 1960s, with heavy influences from late pulp age science fiction art.

Punk-Factor: The aesthetic in this is definitely not punk. The stories often have some vague punk ideas of recognizing how fucked up the world has become, but given the genre is fairly wide in terms of stories, it is hard to give a definite answer to how “punk” it is. One can definitely tell punk stories within this genre, though.

Examples: Hitchhiker's Guide To The Galaxy (1978), Fallout (1997), Futurama (1999)

Dieselpunk

As a genre: Dieselpunk is once again an example of “strong aesthetic, but no clear genre identity”. Generally, Dieselpunk is concerned with the interwar period, but might cover either of the world wars. In some cases the genre features alternate timelines, in which one war happened and not the other, or in which another faction won, with the technological development being influenced by this as well. But as a genre it is not much defined. A lot of stories building on Lovecraft’s legacy feature Dieselpunk in some regards. And there is definitely a subsection of Dieselpunk stories centered around “what if Nazis won” or “what if Nazis somehow went underground and did their own technological development after the war”. Also, there are a lot of stories about pilots of war planes in this genre.

As an aesthetic: As an aesthetic Dieselpunk is more clearly defined. A lot of bare metal and the sorts of technology you would expect from this era, often with retro-futurist and art noveau elements in between. A lot of the fashion within the genre is defined by pilot and military clothing of the times, but at times also dipping into “roaring 20s” fashion styles.

Punk-Factor: In this genre I would generally say: “If the story involves punching Nazis, you might get a couple punk points – but otherwise this is not really punk.”

Examples: The Iron Dream (1972), Brazil (1985), Dark City (1998), Iron Sky (2012), Bitter Seeds (2010)

Teslapunk

As a genre: Yet another one of these, that exists mostly as a vague idea, with no clear definition. The basic idea is a world, that works on Tesla’s inventions. And as those of you, who watched Doctor Who, might know, Tesla sorta, kinda already invented the internet or had an idea of what it could be and how it could work. So a Teslapunk world is based in an alternate timeline, but might in fact go into light futurism. There is not much in this genre though with a unique thematic identity, as stories that use Teslapunk as a backdrop rarely have coherent themes.

As an aesthetic: The aesthetic of Teslapunk is basically “Steampunk, but with Tesla-coils and electricity”. Which is not a big surprise given that Tesla came from the same era that would also be the inspiration for Steampunk. So, we have a lot of Victorian fashion, maybe some light augmentation, airships, and – again – all the tesla coils you can muster.

Punk-Factor: As, again, I think punk is more about themes than aesthetic, this is once more not really possible to judge, because there do not seem coherent themes within the genre so far.

Examples: The Prestige (2006), Sherlock Holmes: A Game of Shadows (2011), Bioshock Infinite (2013)

Arcanepunk

Another one of those that do not neatly fit into the timeline…

As a genre: Arcanepunk takes place in a world, where both magic and technology have developed. In some cases both developed side by side, in others, we might have a technological world, that suddenly discovers magic by some happenstance. The fact is, though, that both exist parallel to each other or might at times be intertwined, with technology being powered by magic. This can exist at different technological stages, usually featuring settings inspired by the late 19th or early 20th century. But usually futuristic stuff that includes magic might be considered Arcanepunk, just as might stories that mix 18th century technology with magic. While also a vague genre, there is a repeating theme of magic being hoarded by those in powers and the poor and downtrodden finding ways to still use it in their own advantage.

As an aesthetic: Given that Arcanepunk’s setting is defined by the co-existence of magic and technology, rather than a specific technology, Arcanepunk has less of a defined aesthetic. Never the less, we have a part of punk aesthetics that often come up, as a surprising amount of Arcanepunk features characters with neon colored hair.

Punk-Factor: Another genre that is rather thin, yet, there is a surprising amount of stories featuring some punk ideas of fighting against an oppressive system and being counter culture to a main culture build around suppression.

Examples: Too Many Magicians (1966), Shadowrun (1989), Bartimaeus (2003), Arcane (2021) duh

Steampunk

Steampunk was the second genre to pick up the “punk” suffix and hence is as much responsible for the punk-punk as Cyberpunk as the originator.

As a genre: Being named as early as it has been, Steampunk kinda suffers the same issue as Cyberpunk itself. There is a lot of ideas there, but some are only vaguely defined. In general, though Steampunk always takes place in a world where the steam engine became the defining technology and was never replaced with the combustion engine. As such cultural aspects from the steam era, especially Victorian England and the Belle Epoche, still carry over for longer, than they did. So often we will see noble households based around similar values as the puritan Victorian English families, while the very poor are made to work in workhouses. At times we might also see themes of colonialism here. In some cases magic might exist in these worlds, as might electricity for some aspects. There is often a heavy inspiration from Jules Verne and H.G. Wells. Though it is still hard to define the “stereotypical steampunk story”, given that Steampunk offers a wide variety of stories, from adventure stories and romances, over to stories where people rise up against the Victorian-esque society.

As an aesthetic: Steampunk as an aesthetic is very much influenced by Victorian aesthetics and the time period of the late 19th century, mostly in the USA, Great Britain and France. But as all other punk genres it knows very well: “If it is worth doing, it is worth overdoing,” so steam-related elements are added to everything. Could

Punk-Factor: In the original idea for Steampunk was a lot of punk. “What if we took Cyberpunks ‘rage against the unjust system’ and made it 19th century” they asked. But given that the genre branched out so much, it is not necessarily there in all the stories. There is a ton of stories where people rage against that steam powered Victorian machine – but also a ton in which the Victorian world gets idealized and romanticized.

Examples: Thief (1998), The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen (1999), Wild Wild West (1999), Clockwork Century (2008) – also half of all Sherlock Holmes adaption made after 2000 in any medium usually use Steampunk elements

Silkpunk

As a genre: Silkpunk is hard to define, despite there being a clear definition. The reason for this is, that the person who coined the term – Ken Liu – had a very specific idea in mind. He explains that the idea is of a world that has technology as language. In which form is as important as function, is made to speak a language all of its own. Inspired by ideas from W. Brian Arthur and Chinese philosophy. However, what the wider Science Fiction and Fantasy community made from it was “Steampunk but East Asian!” But given he coined the term (and also the alternative feels vaguely racist) I am going to go with Ken Liu for this. While Silkpunk will usually be set in an East Asian inspired world, the central idea is about the duality of technology, which will also be addressed within the stories.

As an aesthetic: As said above, the idea Liu had for it was a world that features some technology, but technology that is as much about form and communication through it, as it is about function. So the technology here has strong visual ideas. At least that was, how Liu intended it. Once again, the wider community made “Steampunk, but East Asian” out of it.

Punk-Factor: There is not a lot of stuff in this genre for now – however so far I do not manage to see a lot of punk ideas in it, even though some of Liu’s stories definitely feature the concept of challenging a higher power.

Examples: Dandelion Dynasty (2015), The Black Tides of Heaven (2018), The Tea Master and the Detective (2019)

Clockpunk

As a genre: Once again storytelling in this genre is not really defined, but the worlds diverge a bit before the wide adaption of steam, instead featuring mechanical devices powered by coils and springs and somehow kept alive, often at least implied through some form of arcane magic that gives “live” to these mechanical inventions. Most examples of Clockpunk, however, tend to show up as settings for parts of fantasy stories. Any fantasy world might have this “Clockpunk” area, where protagonists might travel. Especially games tend to feature this. While there is definitely a trope of the “mad inventor” often going along with this, few other tropes stand out.

As an aesthetic: The aesthetic of Clockpunk tends to take some inspiration from the early 19th century, but tends to add a lot of gears to everything, with even city wide gear constructions keeping things working. We often will find mechatronic characters, such as wind up soldiers or wind up dancers.

Punk-Factor: Once more, there are so few stories told, that it is kinda hard to speak about how punk this is. Most stories told so far, however, do not feature punk elements.

Examples: The Great Mouse Detective (1986), Hugo (2011), Clockwork Planet (2017)

Whalepunk

Please note: This is one of those genre, I would love to see more in, though so far it is barely explored.

As a genre: And you might ask: “Why do you even name those genre, that exist mostly in theory?”, to which I might answer: “Because I am a nerd.” As all these retrofuturists genre, Whalepunk imagines mostly an alternate historical timeline, where the technology that became defining was based around whale oil. This means that in Whalepunk often whalers or harbors play a big role, though as the genre is again very thinly spread, it is hard to say what “THE whalepunk” formular is. It seems there is a tendency, to mix some mysticism or magic into the genre, though, as the idea of hunting sea monsters often plays into it as well. Good chance that it could at some point merge with Cthulupunk (which I did not name separately, because most of it is either covered in Whalepunk or Dieselpunk).

As an aesthetic: The aesthetic of Whalepunk is basically “Steampunk, but with more sailors, ships and sea monsters”. There is definitely a bit of Oceanpunk mixed into it as well, with some aesthetics being somewhere between Steampunk and Dieselpunk. (Which is kinda ironic, because whale oil was mostly used in the early 19th century.)

Punk-Factor: And again. There so far is not a lot of connective thematic tissue within that genre, so exploring themes is kinda hard.

Examples: Dishonored (2012), Dredge (2023)

Oceanpunk / Piratepunk

As a genre: It really is hard to divide the Piratepunk out of the Oceanpunk, though some might call it different. The idea here is that this genre features stories mostly set on the ocean and often more heavily leaning into fantasy, than science fiction. While the worlds might feature technological elements, they will almost certainly feature magical elements of some sort. The characters will usually be seafaring one way or another and stories might involve any sort of adventure. There might be a storyline, though, about one company or nation trying to control the seas – often times through magical means – with the characters often unwillingly being made to oppose them. This genre might also take place in a post-apocalyptic setting with a flooded planet.

As an aesthetic: While the aesthetic is not clearly defined, there is a good chance that it borrows heavily from the late 17th and early 18th century and the golden age of piracy, when it comes to both ships and fashion sensibilities.

Punk-Factor: Pirates, at least as far as modern media imagines them, tend to be very punk, as they tend to inherently oppose any sort of government and what not. While the punk is not there in all of the stories, a lot of the most popular stories from the genre will feature at least lightly punky elements.

Examples: One Piece (1997), Pirates of the Caribbean (2003), Assassin's Creed IV: Black Flag (2013)

Dungeonpunk

As a genre: So, the idea of the genre is basically “What if Cyberpunk, but Dungeons & Dragons?” Usually set in a vaguely medieval world, this world still shows the same corporate corruption as your usual Cyberpunk world. Adventurers are just another resource to be exploited by the system, their day job involving going on yet another dungeon crawl. For this there might be some technology entirely powered by magic, with those magic items taking over the same functions technology might have in a Cyberpunk world. And yes, indeed some brave dwarf, elf or halfling might rise up and challenge the corporate dungeon syndicate. (As you might sense: Yes, this genre tends to be at least partly a bit of a parody of the punkpunk idea. Though it also can be played straight as “Cyberpunk conflicts, just that all technology is somehow magic.”)

As an aesthetic: This is once again one of the examples, where there is a clear idea behind it – but absolutely no clear aesthetic, as this genre might cover anything from medieval settings to a lot more modern stuff.

Punk-Factor: The base idea, being heavily inspired by the base idea of Cyberpunk, just from a very different perspective. But too many people read the genre as “Magic Technology, yay”, in which case, no, it is not punk.

Examples: Dungeons & Dragons can be played this way, also Final Fantasy VI – XIII definitely counts.

Sandalpunk

As a genre: I mostly include this for the sake of it, because this genre tends to boil down to “fantasy set in ancient Greece or Rome, but with vaguely anachronistic elements”. It might also include alternate history stories (even going so far as Science Fiction) based on the idea “What if Ancient Rome/Ancient Greece never fell?” There is no real overarching themes, even though I could imagine some interesting way one could build those up. So far, though, it is mostly a vague gesture towards: “SciFi Fantasy, but with more ancient civilizations.”

As an aesthetic: The aesthetic is usually just Ancient Rome or Ancient Greece, but with more magic or anachronistic elements.

Punk-Factor: Given the super vague nature of the genre and the fact that it seems more like a genre of hindsight (with most media being declared this having been released even before 2000)… Nobody wrote those stories to be punk. The one punk thing I can see about several of these stories is people challenging Gods, but… That’s about it.Examples: Hercules: Legendary Journeys (1995), Xena: Warrior Princess (1995), God of War (2005)

Stonepunk

As a genre: The basic idea of Stonepunk is, that it is set in a stone age world, but with the technology being pressed towards a very anachronistic end, which is often played for laughs. Basically it gives stone age people a modern seeming world, though not really. Often enough this is used to make a point about the modern world and parody it in some regard. An argument can be made for stories, that feature stone age technology people being somehow subjected to modern technology (for example through time travel or space travel) also possibly falling into this genre.

As an aesthetic: Usually the aesthetic of Stonepunk is one of an overplayed stone age setting. The clothing characters might wear are not what we know is historically more accurate but really just “everyone wears a pelt around their shoulders”. Meanwhile stone age tools get spun to be used as all sorts of modern technologies.

Punk-Factor: The genre does usually not feature punk themes. However, the nature of parodying and challenging the modern world tends to be punk in its own merit, I assume?

Examples: The Flintstones (1960), The Croods (2013), Horizon: Zero Dawn (2017)

That's it. That's the list.

Feel free to add to it.

#long ass post #punkpunk #punk genre #definition #cyberpunk #steampunk #biopunk #nanopunk #solarpunk #lunarpunk #hopepunk #mythpunk #dustpunk #desert punk #atompunk #dieselpunk #teslapunk #arcanepunk #silkpunk #clockpunk #whalepunk #oceanpunk #dungeonpunk #sandalpunk #stonepunk

[monseulamourrr]

→ “can’t help but love you.” || ahn yujin x reader fic.

— you planned a study date with your favourite girl after a long time of being separated due to your busy lives, and you noticed a tiny change on her that made you itch to do something new for the night…

word count: 1.7k.

tags: tooth-rotting fluff. that's it. tee hee.

requested? : nope.

a/n: hiya 🤓 welcome to ena’s fluff era 😭😭 i’m still gonna be very active on pupyuj and ofc i’ll still do tons of work there but this account is where all of my works that aren’t smut will go!! i hope you guys enjoy the work i will do here as much as you enjoyed the ones on pupyuj 🥺 p.s. ik the title is a bit far-off from the synopsis but let’s ignore it—

2:07 a.m., it said on the digital clock sitting on your desk.

surprisingly enough, you were not tired. maybe it was the caffeine coursing through your veins, or the fact that you were actually enjoying studying for once. you weren’t a masochist; you could only be enjoying studying for one reason and it was because of one ahn yujin—your girlfriend who you were fortunate enough to accompany you this night.

“where are you going, (y/n)?” you heard yujin whine as soon as you started shuffling away from her side. she looked cute! with her oversized sweater that had her volleyball team’s mascot (in chibi form!) stitched on it (yujin was a middle blocker), her big glasses, and the scrunchie on her wrist that was so obviously yours.

between the hours and hours of staring at a screen, scribbling down notes, and reading material, yujin was fucking exhausted and it showed on her (very handsome—) face. she had a pout on her pretty lips—neither of you have spoken to each other too much in the name of trying to focus on your studies but yujin loved just having you there with her.

“i’m just going to get another cup of coffee. i’ll be back,” you said, squeezing her hand. but as soon as you tried to pull away, yujin yanks you back to her side, wrapping an arm around your waist tightly and pressing up against you. “baby! it takes like three minutes.” you giggle.

“no, you’ve already had too much… we’ll go to sleep soon,” her words were a bit muffled since she had her face buried on the crook of your neck. she raises her head slightly, looking up at you with her big puppy eyes that never ever failed to soften you up. “and i don’t like it when you’re away.” she mumbles.

oh, how she melts your heart.

“alright, cutie. i’ll stay.” you said, bumping your nose gently against hers.

if the way she almost immediately agreed to having a joint study session when you texted her about it days ago wasn’t enough to tell you how much she missed you, perhaps how she kissed you right now would. so soft you could barely feel it, and so sweet that warmth bloomed in your chest. you broke the kiss slightly just to take yujin’s glasses off her face, making her giggle softly before kissing you again.

a bit stronger this time—her hand rested on your waist, gently squeezing every now and then as she whimpered while you put your hand on the back of her neck, playing with her hair. her lips tasted like chocolates, most likely from the little treats she consumed every now and then because it helped her ‘focus’. you knew yujin just had a sweet tooth.

you could taste the chocolate on her lips, and after a single swipe of your tongue on her lips, you could taste it in her mouth. this was a much needed break, so you didn’t complain when yujin pulled you to her lap. both of you laughed at the way you nearly knocked yujin’s laptop off the bed, willing you to put your hands on her cheeks and control the kiss as you pleased.

‘finally,’ you thought. you felt your girlfriend tug at your shirt, making you laugh once again. she can be so needy. ‘we’ve both been waiting for too long.’

just as the kiss started to lead the two of you in that direction, something tickled the tip of your nose. you leaned back slightly, wondering just what gave you that weird sensation. yujin’s eyes slowly fluttered open, her lips forming another pout since she was so desperate (and determined!) to kiss you all night. then, you notice it—her cute bangs that have grown way too long.

they were nearly poking at her eyes! at first glance, yujin looked so cute but then you remembered the way she would shake her head softly every now and then to get her bangs away from her eyes, or how she would brush them away every second… and just then, you had a brilliant idea.

“baby, no… come back.” yujin whined when you slid off her lap. you grabbed a spare folding chair from the depths of your closet (you don’t remember why you have that, actually…) and disappeared into your bathroom. you were thankful to conveniently have a roommate who took cosmetology classes because any extra equipment she had, she stuffed it under your bathroom sink.

and so, you pulled out a cape and a pouch that contained various combs and scissors before swinging the bathroom door back open. yujin was standing right there, all cute and sleepy and very much confused.

“i need you to change into one of my shitty shirts.” you said, earning a head tilt from the taller girl.

“i love all your shirts, though.”

“come on…” you sighed deeply and went through your drawer on your own. inside you found a grey t-shirt with its design all faded out and chipped. yujin puts the shirt on as you so kindly requested and immediately, you dragged her inside the bathroom and sat her down in front of the mirror on the chair.

“look,” you gave her a kiss on her crown and softly patted her bangs. “i’m going to give them a little trim!” you exclaimed with a big smile.

yujin should be scared. not once has she ever seen you cut hair nor has she seen you hold a pair of scissors so clumsily like you did with the one you had on your hand now but instead, she grinned as widely as you did. “really?! i didn’t know you knew how to cut hair, baby!” she says excitedly. she turns her head to you—with her ‘brightness of a thousand suns’ grin and eye-smile, you couldn’t help but melt.

“j-just a little… but you don’t mind?” you asked.

“of course not! i believe in you,” yujin assures you. “plus, this is way cheaper than going to the salon and paying hundreds just for a little cut.”

you chuckled, “you’re lucky you’re my girlfriend then. otherwise i would’ve charged you like fifty dollars.”

yujin laughs along, “yeah. i’m really lucky.” she replied with warmth and sincerity in her voice. you couldn’t hold yourself back; you leaned down and gave her a sweet kiss on the lips. chocolates, still.

not long after you decided to get to work—yujin sat there quietly, trying her very hardest not to bop her head to the music you’ve put on (it was one of your shared playlists, particularly yujin’s favourite of the bunch) to fill the silence. yujin stared at your face through the mirror, her heart increasing its size every time she catches you do your little habits: biting the corners of your lips, blowing your own hair away when it gets in the way of your eyes, and the way your eyebrows furrowed so deeply from how focused you were.

“does that look okay?” you asked after a few minutes, stepping aside. her bangs were still a bit long, but you didn’t want to overdo it just in case yujin actually liked having them long.

“hm… they’re still a bit…” yujin replied, moving her head softly. obviously she wanted it shorter, so once again you gave her a kiss on the cheek before continuing your work.

it was obvious that yujin was struggling to sit still. she was a very active person! heck, while you were studying for hours, yujin would take small paces around your room and poke around every forty minutes just to keep herself entertained. of course, yujin wouldn’t dare ruin her hair so instead, she decided to keep her hands busy by playing with the hem of your shirt. she’d poke on your stomach, making you laugh and jokingly kick her shin but she’d do it again and you wouldn’t say anything. her cold hands felt right against your warm skin.

a few more laughs, short kisses, and ‘snips’ later, you once again stepped aside to let yujin have a look of herself.

“whoa!” your girlfriend exclaimed. she touches her bangs, moves her head around, and beams up at you. “you’re amazing, baby!” she was saying as you cleaned up the scissors and the cape. as soon as you took it off of her, yujin leaps up from her chair and hugs you tightly.

she peppers your face with kisses amidst your giggles and half-hearted attempts of kissing her back. “you’re the best, (y/n). thanks a lot.” yujin whispers in your ear as she embraced you a bit more gently. your caressed her hair, giving her a chaste kiss on her shoulder, before melting into her.

the two of you stayed that way for a while, until you leaned back to take a look at your girlfriend’s face. she was beautiful, except that her bangs were a bit shorter and, in yujin’s most honest opinion, a lot cuter. you pulled her down to give her a kiss in the forehead, her favourite, before she captures your lips in a kiss. having been this amazing girl’s lover for years now, you’ve come to know where these unexpected make-out sessions lead up to… and you definitely did not want the two of you to go there when the bathroom floor was littered with tiny strands of yujin’s hair.

“clean up first, babe,” you whispered against yujin’s lips. that got you another whine. “please?”

well, that quickly got yujin moving around. you laughed as she cleaned up the entire bathroom in record time and before you knew it, it looked as good as new. the least you could do was put the equipment away, so you folded up the cape and put the scissors in the pouch before tossing it all under the sink once again.

as soon as you stood back up, yujin hugs you from behind. you smile at her through the mirror, she smiles back. even brighter. you intertwined your hands and of course… yujin’s lips were on your skin again.

you giggled, feeling her soft kisses from your neck to your cheek, “do you ever get tired, baby?” you asked, turning your head and catching one of her many, many kisses.

yujin shakes her head, smiling at you like she wants you to fall in love with her all over again, “can’t help it.”

#ive oneshots #ive imagines #ive reactions #ive thoughts #ive x reader #ive x fem reader #ahn yujin oneshots #ahn yujin imagines #ahn yujin reactions #ahn yujin thoughts #ahn yujin x reader #ahn yujin x fem reader #yujin oneshots #yujin imagines #yujin reactions #yujin thoughts #yujin x reader #yujin x fem reader #girl group oneshots #girl group imagines #girl gorup reactions #girl group thoughts #girl group x reader #girl group x fem reader #wlw fics #ahn yujin fluff #ive fluff #girl group fluff

[dare-to-dm]

I’ve been seeing more posts along the lines of “dear god, please play a ttrpg other than d&d” lately, and I can get behind that, in the general sense that I’m anti-monopoly.  I’ve  also seen plenty of posts lamenting groups who extensively homebrew D&D or use house rules to get the experience they want rather than using another system that’s more specifically designed to deliver that experience.  And again, that’s logical and not something I would argue with.

But in the midst of all this criticism for D&D, I just want to remind folks that there are a lot of things it does very well as a game, and if you’re consistently having a great time, there’s no reason to feel like you have to try new systems.  Like, I’ve been playing some version of D&D/Pathfinder since 2000, and honestly I don’t really feel like I’ve been missing out.  I’ve tried other TTRPGs occasionally, but so far Pathfinder has genuinely been my favorite and I always go back to it.  And some of my most memorable campaigns have involved extensive homebrewing, but I feel like the core of what makes the game fun for me always shone through.  Here are some things D&D is really good at that I personally don’t get tired of:

High action storytelling

Zero to hero adventuring where power advancement is itself a goal

Fun character building/customization that’s generally balanced

Empowering hero fantasy

High stakes drama

The dice significantly alter the outcome of events and no character is immune to failure

Having an extensive monster manual with a wide variety of fantastical opponents with their own lore

Having the rules as a referee for a large variety of situations

Long campaigns that bring you and your friends together for the same narrative over the course of months or even years

Tactical combat with a large variety of options and a robust enough rule-set to feel fair and skill based

A number of classes that cater to players with various preferences for flavor and complexity

Mechanics that encourage teamwork/cooperation

Mechanics that are largely separate from setting/lore, so you can use the premade settings if you want to, but you never need to

Having a large community to interact with outside of just your table

Probably a ton of other things that I’m forgetting

Like, there are a lot things D&D is genuinely bad at, and you should probably play a different game if that’s what you’re going for.  But the things that it’s good at are really fun and awesome and I feel like I could play this game for the rest of my life and never exhaust the possibilities. 

#basically I just really love D&D #Pathfinder is my favorite but I've had more fun with every version of D&D that I've played than with any other system #it delivers the experience that I want #D&D #Dnd #Pathfinder #Dare Original

[agaypanic]

Reader with a shit ton of piercings dating Benny and he thinks they’re the coolest things ever!! he gets her straws after getting her lip pierced, playing with her belly button piercing and will randomly say “did ya know my girlfriend has her nose pierced” or wtv ect,,, hes just obsessed with reader and her piercings🤭

Benny Weir With an Girlfriend With Piercings

Masterlist

Request Something!

***

BRO IS SO OBSESSED WITH YOU

The minute he sees you, shiny with metal, he’s a goner

Benny always asks which ones hurt the most/least, how long you’ve had them, etc

The septum piercing is probably one of his favorites

After school, you and Benny had a bit of a routine. You’d walk to his house, either picking some food up on the way or making something, and then go to his room to unwind. This usually meant watching TV, playing video games, or napping.

Today, Benny chose to play some games while you wanted to nap. Not wanting to be too far from you, Benny dragged you into his lap while booting up his computer. You molded yourself against him, almost immediately dozing off.

You woke up an hour later, and Benny was still playing his game. You watched with tired eyes, occasionally moving your septum piercing around with your lips out of boredom. He paused the game, and when you looked up to ask him why, he was already looking at you.

“What? Want a kiss?” He asked, catching you off guard. 

“Huh?” 

“You keep making kissy faces at me.” He laughed like you were playing a game with him.

“No, I’m not!” It was your turn to laugh, first out of confusion and then in realization. “I was just moving my piercing around.” You puckered your lips slightly to move the jewelry back and forth to show Benny. He rolled his eyes.

“Those are kissy faces, Y/n.”

“Well, I’m sorry for giving you the wrong impression.” You giggled, and Benny shook his head, adjusting you in his hold before going back to his game. You didn’t miss the slight pout on his lips. Grinning, you took Benny’s face in your hands, and he paused the game again.

“Do you want a kiss, Benny Baby?” You asked, enjoying the way his eyes lit up at the nickname. Instead of saying yes, he puckered his lips. You let out a small chuckle before kissing him.

Benny always tries to be helpful when it comes to your piercings, especially new ones

keeps supplies at his house for you to clean your piercings

accompanies you when you get new ones, always holding your hand and fighting you about who’s paying for it

“Okay, breathe in.” Your piercer instructed. You did as you were told, closing your eyes and squeezing Benny’s hand. As you breathed out, the needle went through. “Good job.” They cleaned everything up and let you see your new snake bites in the mirror.

“You took that like a champ, babe.” Benny praised you, kissing your cheek. You smiled softly at him through the mirror; anything bigger would make your mouth sore.

Your piercer took you to the front counter to pay. While you were grabbing your wallet, Benny gave them the money.

“Benny, I can pay for my own piercing.” You lightly scolded, but he didn’t take it to heart.

“You can take care of the tip.” He suggested it as a compromise, but this was routine. Every time you went out, he was quick enough to pay the bill before you, so you would give the tip. So because it was routine, you did it, and soon, the two of you were walking out of the shop.

“I can pay for my own things, you know.” You said again. Benny swung an arm over your shoulder, shrugging.

“Yeah, but look at it this way. You get the piercing you want, and I get to admire you even more than I thought I possibly could.”

“You’re such a dork.”

Sometimes he plays with your piercings

When they’re fully healed, of course

Half the time, Benny’s doing it absentmindedly, and the other half, he’s doing it for some kind of stimulation

Whenever he was exhausted, Benny, more often than not, would be using you as a pillow while you did something. Hands always found their way up your shirt while he rested on you. Luckily, he was always warm.

Occasionally, you’d feel a light tug on your belly button. Not enough to hurt, but enough to notice. And if you listened closely, there would be a tiny rattle of metal against metal.

Looking down at your stomach, you watched Benny play with your belly button piercing. He’d go from lightly flicking the jewelry to tapping, to twisting, and then back to flicking. He wasn’t even paying attention to his actions, eyes glued to the TV screen.

You smiled down at him, taking a hand to drag through his hair. He relaxed even more against you, sighing in relief. Benny kept playing with the jewelry, but more softly as your actions pulled him to sleep.

Whenever he sees a piece of jewelry that he thinks you’ll like, he gets it for you

Because of him, you have a big ass collection

Don’t even get me started on nipple piercings bro

#benny weir x reader #benny weir #benny weir headcanons #my babysitter's a vampire x reader #my babysitter's a vampire #agaypanic

[lou-struck]

When You're With Me

Tooru Oikawa x Reader

~Tooru has just gotten back from a long trip abroad and is ready to get home. 

WC:1.6k

This is my Submission for @mrskenmakozume Home Collab which can be found HERE

Tagging: @enchantedforest-network

Rain pummels your windshield as you creep through your lane at a snail’s pace as yet another driver cuts you off clearly, not paying attention to where they are going. 

You glance at your dashboard clock and see the blinking green numbers glaring back at you. 

03:24 am and let loose a dramatic sigh as the car that cut in front of you merges poorly again, this time nearly hitting a group of businessmen who were making their way across the crosswalk.

It’s far too early to deal with this bullshit. 

But people always do crazy things when they are in love

Even if it’s something like picking their boyfriend up from the airport at three in the morning

Tooru Oikawa has been away for two months traveling the globe with his professional volleyball team. Of course, he has had tons of away trips before; none have ever lasted this long.

It’s strange, but without him, the new house the two of you moved into doesn’t feel like home. 

The rapidly changing time zones and your schedules have made communicating nearly impossible. Whenever you have a free moment, he is out with his teammates or is in a dead zone, and whenever he’s free, it’s at some ungodly hour when you are trying to sleep.

You have missed him terribly. 

Watching your boyfriend’s volleyball matches on the television did little to lighten the load you have placed on your heart.

“To keep up with this heavy volume of traffic, please use the front two lanes solely for unloading passengers and luggage. Violators will be towed at the owner’s expense.” The automated speaker repeats for the third time since you have been waiting in the arrivals drop-off lane at the airport.

If it weren’t so early, you would feel a bit guilty picking up your boyfriend in your pajamas and fuzzy slippers, but you don’t have the energy to care, not when you are only a few meters away from finally getting to see him up close.

And that you do. 

Clad in his team’s warm-up sweats and jacket, Tooru stands on the edge of the sidewalk looking out at the passing cars trying to spot yours. When he sees you approaching, his features light up boyishly, and he starts to walk toward you. He makes it halfway until he looks behind him, where his luggage sits untouched by everything except for the rain.

He doesn’t have the time to look embarrassed as he grabs them and weaves through the crowd of travelers. When he gets to the car, he impatiently tosses both bags into the back seat with a tired grunt. 

He slams the door shut a bit louder than he intended to do, but it doesn’t slow him down at all. In a flash, the passenger door swings open, and he lunges over the center console with a squeal. “Baby, you’re here. I have missed you so much. Did you miss me?” 

His long, lean arms wrap around you, and he holds you as close to his body as he can.

His normally pristine-looking hair is drenched with rainwater, and the droplets soak through the sleep shirt you have on. But it doesn’t bother you. “Of course I have.” 

Despite the annoyed honking of the cars around you itching for your spot, you continue to hold him. The heavy weight of loneliness that has been resting over your heart disappears as you listen to the familiar rhythm of his heartbeat.

“I’ve missed you so much,” he repeats, mumbling into your shoulder. “I’m sorry it took so long.”

“You sure took your time.” you sniffle, “We should’ve done this hours ago.”

He snorts amusedly and gives you a playful squeeze, “Next time, I’ll just fly the plane myself through the damn thunderstorm; I’m sure I could.”

“I don’t think it’s that easy,” you giggle, pulling back to get a good look at his face. As much as he tries to hide with playful winks and looks of adoration, he looks utterly exhausted; his skin has an unnatural paleness to it that accentuates the dark bags that rest under his bright brown eyes. You know he can’t sleep on airplanes, so he must be running on fumes by now.

“Can we go home?” he mumbles, tiredly gripping your hand. “I want nothing more than to just fall asleep in our bed, in our room with you.”

“Absolutely,” you respond, intertwining your fingers with his, “I think we both deserve a good night’s sleep.” Driving with one hand is considerably difficult, but you don’t want to let go of Tooru’s hand for even a moment. 

He is abnormally quiet for the majority of the car ride home as he stares down at your hand, occasionally running his thumb over the back of your hand. 

“Did you watch me?” he murmurs softly, breaking the comfortable silence. “In my games?”

“Every game, but you know that already.” you tease, a pleasant smile on your lips from his question. You know what’s coming next.

He smirks and raises your hand to his lips in a teasing kiss. “But did you really watch me? That one serve I did was incredible, wasn’t it?”

“Tooru, you broke the poor guy’s nose.” you giggle. “I don’t know if I’d call that incredible.”

“Nope, I did him a favor~” he yawns, looking just a bit sinister; you don’t know all the details, but the player he nailed with that wicked serve of his was known to be quite the instigator in the Volleyball League. “He didn’t know how to shut up, so I gave him a distraction.”

“Just as petty as ever,” you giggle as you turn down your street. Tiredness makes the trip go by much faster.

“I think you meant to say pretty.” he grins as you pull into your driveway. The neighborhood is quiet as your car comes to a stop. It’s not even four in the morning, so the two of you have plenty of time to catch up on some rest. Especially since you both have the day off.

“Should we get your bags out of the back?” you ask, sliding out of the driver’s seat.

“Leave them; I have more important things to bring in with me.” he coos, stepping out the door and scooping you up. You cover your mouth to muffle your squeal and look around. Your neighbors may be suckers for Tooru’s charm, but you don’t think you have the same effect on them.

After spending the day traveling, you wonder how he still has the strength to carry you; the stamina of professional athletes never ceases to amaze you. 

“Ahh, home sweet home.” he sighs dreamily, unlocking the door and carrying you through the threshold as if you are newlyweds. He locks the door behind him with a click and reluctantly sets you down carefully with the last of his energy; whatever else he was going to say was cut up by a deep yawn. 

“Woah, big yawn. I think we should get some rest,” you grin, thinking about how wonderful it will feel to finally get to rest in your boyfriend’s arms. You’ve missed his sleep-talking and long limbs more than you would ever tell him; he can be such a tease about these kinds of things. 

His shoulders slump as he smiles goofily, “Sleep is good.” 

You flick off your slippers and watch as they hit the wall with a little thud.

“Hey, that’s not nice.” he sighs, wrapping his arms around you and resting the majority of his weight on your shoulders. “This is our home; we should love it, not hit it with bunny slippers.”

“Sorry, wall,” you apologize with mock sincerity and try to drag both you and Tooru to the bedroom. Your side of the bed is a mess of sheets and pillows while Tooru’s is still partially made; you haven’t had the heart to move anything since he left, replacing his form with body pillows and heated blankets that don’t do him justice.

You both flop down onto the firm mattress, too tired to do anything else. Sleep is on the menu tonight, and you are starved. 

Burrowing into the sheets, you enjoy the cold sensation of silk against your skin. “Feel’s good,” he murmurs into the pillow holding out his arms for you to join him.

“You’ve missed it that much?” you ask. “We have only lived here for a few months; does it already feel like home?”

“Not it’s you.” his breath is hot against your neck. “When you are with me, anywhere can feel like home. You know, it’s funny, but I haven’t had a good night’s sleep since I left.”

“Me too,” you admit, enjoying the sensation of being used as his personal body pillow. “It’s not the same without you.” You twist around to start getting into your favorite sleeping position. 

Now facing him, you see his eyelids beginning to droop; keeping them open must be so difficult for him. “Promise me that if I have to go away for that long, you’ll come with me.”

“I promise,” you mumble, ignoring your pillow entirely and resting your head on his chest. 

“I love you so much,” he breathes, reaching up to kiss the top of your head, “Thank you for being my home.”

#tooru oikawa x reader #oikawa tooru #tooru oikawa #oikawa x reader #hq x reader #oikawa fluff #haikyuu x reader #oikawa tooru x reader #hq fluff #haikyuu!! #Haikyuu x reader #🏠.if walls could talk

[regenderate-fic]

Let Me Spin and Excite You

Fandom: Doctor Who Ships: Fifteenth Doctor/Rose Tyler Characters: Fifteenth Doctor, Rose Tyler Rating: General Word Count: 1,932 Other Tags: Reunions, Immortal Rose, Bad Wolf as Disability

Read on AO3

Summary: After years of looking for the Doctor, Rose meets a strange-but-familiar man at the club.

NOTES: i happened to finish this on esther's birthday so it's for him now. everyone say happy birthday @nounpolycule

anyway i have a ton of long wips that are going super slowly because of how grad school owns my entire soul now so this is my attempt to remind myself that i can write things that are short sometimes.

title from may i have this dance by francis and the lights. which has some of my favorite lyrics of any song and i'm forever mad at spotify for not telling me the version of it i first discovered is a cover (by meadowlark)

Rose leaned against the bar, drink in hand. 

The glass was full. Half an hour, and she hadn't even taken a sip. She'd meant to try and relax a bit, let loose, but it just wasn't happening. Her head hurt, her bones ached, and she felt the ever-present exhaustion hovering over her, threatening to take her out at the knees. 

Not to mention—ten years.

She'd been back in this universe for ten years. And she still hadn’t found the Doctor. 

She'd tried, of course. She'd looked for unusual happenings, bumps in the timeline, anything that might indicate the presence of a haphazardly landed time ship and its ridiculous occupant. She'd chased a million leads, ironed out as many of time’s odd little wrinkles as she could manage, followed timelines across millennia—running into the Doctor should've been inevitable, after all that. And yet she still hadn’t seen them. 

And now here she was, slumped against the wall, trying to convince herself that this was still the sort of thing she enjoyed. 

She sighed. Maybe it was time to go. She tipped what was left of her drink into her mouth and turned to leave. 

But just as she started for the door, a flurry of motion caught her eye. 

She disregarded it at first. It was coming from the dance floor, for goodness sake. Surely there was enough movement there to turn anyone’s head. But—no, this was an unexpected movement. Something out of time. 

Rose turned to look. 

Immediately, she was transfixed. 

The densely-packed crowd of dancers all but faded away around the dancer who'd caught her eye. 

Beautiful was the only word for him. He practically gleamed in the club lights—the sheen of sweat on his skin somehow made him more entrancing. He moved with a fluid ease, even as the moves themselves were unlike anything anyone else was doing. And there was something about him… Rose couldn't tear her eyes away. He just looked so joyful. 

Tears startled her at the corners of her eyes, and she wiped them away with the back of her hand. She missed that sort of joy—that carefree movement, lost in a sea of people. 

To hell with it. One dance wouldn't kill her. Rose took a step towards the dance floor. 

Never mind. Maybe it would kill her, figuratively speaking. The bright lights and loud noises were doing nothing for her headache. Why had she come here again? She'd enjoyed nightclubs, once, but since then every cell in her body had surely changed, fallen away only to be wholly replaced. She could hardly expect to be the same person she was.

Still. It was nice to indulge the fantasy. 

The dancing man had his hands above his head, skirt fanning out as he twirled. As Rose watched, he came to a stop, and then—

Was he looking at her? 

Rose fiddled with the hem of her jacket. She probably looked out of place, in long pants and a full-on leather jacket, with barely any makeup. She hadn't minded, but now she'd been caught out, staring unabashedly at this man, and her usual armor wasn't quite right for the scenario.

The man stepped off the dance floor. He walked like he was still dancing, with graceful, deliberate steps. Rose forced her eyes to stay trained on the dance floor as he walked past her, presumably to the bar. 

She'd been standing for too long. If she wasn't going to leave the club, she needed to find a place to sit. She looked around. Most of the tables were completely full—but then she noticed a group of people getting up, and Rose hurried over to take their table before anyone else could claim it. She kept an idle eye on the dance floor. She wasn’t up for it now—but a hundred years ago, she would've been there, carefree and having the time of her life. 

There was movement in her periphery. She looked towards it only to see the man from earlier, now lowering himself into the chair next to her. He was holding two glasses. 

“This your drink?” he asked, offering one to her. 

Rose eyed him. “How’d you know?”

“Lucky guess.” He settled into the chair. “D’you come here a lot, then?”

Rose burst out laughing. “You're really opening with the oldest line in the book?”

“I didn't mean it like that.” He flashed a smile. “I'm not from around here. Don't know the scene.”

Rose hesitated. “It's not my usual haunt, no.” She raised her eyebrows at him. “Where are you from, then?”

He waved a hand. “Here and there.”

“How specific.” Rose felt herself start to smile. “And, I have to ask. Why are you here?”

“What?”

Rose nodded at the dance floor. “You've got a whole club to talk to. What are you doing here?”

He pointed at her. “You were looking at me.”

“Can't imagine I'm the only one,” Rose said, and then she blushed. She hadn't meant to be flirting—but, well, why shouldn't she? It would be ludicrous to pretend she wasn't attracted. “Why me?”

“Why not you?” He raised his eyebrows. “Got a big old skeleton in your closet, have you?”

“I've barely got a closet,” Rose said, truthfully. She kept a small flat, but it wasn't really home to her. No need for closet space, not when she hadn't bought new clothes in four years. “No room for skeletons.”

“That's a shame.” The man grinned. “There's always under the bed, I suppose.”

The space under Rose’s bed was full of random bits of alien tech she hadn't gotten around to investigating. “Not my bed,” she said. “No room, what with all the doodads I've got.”

“That's a technical term, is it?” He was smiling. 

Rose smiled back. “Oh, yeah, definitely. I'm great with doodads.”

“How about thingamajigs?”

“Absolutely. One hundred percent. I'm there.” 

He and Rose grinned at each other, and suddenly Rose was sitting in a chippy just off the Powell Estate, her feet knocking against the Doctor’s as they laughed. 

She blinked. 

That feeling—the fizzy joy of an easy back-and-forth—it had been at least ten years since she’d felt that way. It was nearly alien to her now.

But… it was nice. And there was no harm in it, was there? If this frankly gorgeous man wanted to buy her a drink and have a bit of flirty banter—well, she wasn't exactly going to say no. 

The man gestured towards the dance floor with a flourish. “Would you like to dance?” 

Rose weighed her options. There was a reason she’d held back, before. But… this was different. Unwise as dancing may be, this man was very quickly beginning to seem worth the sacrifice.

“Yeah, all right,” she said. She smiled. “Show me your moves.”

The man’s face lit up. He held out a hand to Rose, and she took it, allowing him to lead her to the dance floor. Before, when she was watching him, she’d felt like he reflected light outward, shining on the whole club, and now she shared in his glow, moving without care, lost in the light and sound, anchored entirely by this strange man’s hands at her waist. 

It was the most she’d been touched in years. She felt a bit intoxicated—or maybe that was the alcohol—a bit light-headed—or maybe she’d just been upright too long—a bit exhilarated—and there was no way to explain that away. 

The dance felt like it lasted forever, but both common sense and time sense told Rose it could've only been a few minutes before she started to feel out of breath. 

“You all right?” He had to yell in her ear to be heard. 

“Yeah, fine!” Rose hesitated. “D’you want to get out of here?”

“Thought you’d never ask.” His hand fit wonderfully around hers, and they stepped out onto the street together. The cool evening air was a welcome respite from the warm fervor of the club. Rose laughed to feel it on her face. 

“Where are we going?” she asked. 

The man gestured. “My place is just around the corner, if that's all right with you.”

Rose glanced at him. He was still grinning, still gorgeous, his face illuminated by the bright neon of the club’s sign. This night had been strange in the best way—she hardly objected to continuing it. “Lead the way, then.”

His grin grew, as if that was even possible, as if he had infinite capacity for joy. Together, they walked to the street corner—turned—

Rose felt it before she saw it. A rushing familiarity, a glorious sense of home, a giant weight lifted from her bones. She blinked. There it was: a wooden blue police box, innocently positioned in the center of a streetlight’s beam. 

The TARDIS. 

Her brain was short-circuiting. She'd stopped walking. She was staring. The TARDIS was here. The TARDIS was here, which meant the Doctor was here. The Doctor was—

She looked back at the man she was walking with. He was still grinning, his gaze fixed entirely, expectantly, on Rose. 

Rose gasped. Her body felt like it was on fire. She looked from him to the TARDIS—back to him—her lips parted—she breathed out—and on her breath there was a name. 

“Doctor?” 

The look in his eyes was so achingly tender she wanted to cry. When he said her name, it sounded the same as it always had—low, soft, with an echo of reverence. “Rose Tyler.”

She fell into him. Immediately, instinctively, his arms wrapped around her waist, and she closed her eyes. 

“Why didn’t you tell me it was you?”

She felt the vibrations in his chest when he laughed. 

“Thought it would be more fun if you figured it out for yourself. And I was right, if you were wondering.” 

He pulled back. His eyes met hers, and she stared, trying her hardest to take in the collection of features that made up this Doctor’s face. 

“Oh, I missed you,” he breathed. 

The words sank into Rose, settled into her bones.

“Not even going to ask how you got here,” he added. “Or how long it's been.”

“Dimension cannon,” Rose said. “And—hundred years?” 

“Oh! Because—”

“Bad wolf, yeah.” Rose grimaced. “Turns out looking into all of time has some side effects.”

“Oh, Rose, I'm so sorry. I should've known.”

Rose shook her head. “Water under the bridge. Don’t apologize for that.” She raised her eyebrows. “Apologize for being so bloody hard to find. Been looking for years, I have, and best I can manage is a chance encounter?”

“Ah, the TARDIS knew what she was doing, landing here.” 

“Typical. Blaming the TARDIS.” Rose scoffed. “Still haven’t forgotten about twelve months.”

“That was one time!” 

“Scotland? Queen Victoria? Where were we trying to go then?”

“Oi, I made it to Sheffield eventually—”

“Not with me you didn’t!”

Their eyes met, and suddenly they were both laughing, falling into each other, and the Doctor’s arm curled around Rose’s waist as he asked, “What do you say, then? Fancy a trip?”

Rose let her head fall against his side. “Fancy a good night’s sleep first.”

“Hey, I've got beds.”

Rose smiled. “I've missed that time machine of yours.”

“Just between you and me? I think she's missed you too.” The Doctor dropped his arm from Rose’s waist in favor of taking her hand, and as he entwined his fingers with hers, they stepped together in the direction of the TARDIS. 

#doctor who #fanfiction #my fic #fifteenrose #fifteen x rose #fifteenth doctor #rose tyler #short #doctorrose #doctor x rose

[xxcatzladyxx]

Demon Slayer Advent Calendar | Day Twelve | Kyojuro x Reader | The gingerbread house

Written by me!

~~~

It was late in the afternoon. Your husband Kyojuro and his brother Senjuro had been training outside in the garden in the snow in sub-zero temperatures and entered the warm interior of the property completely exhausted. Meanwhile, you were standing in the kitchen. You wanted to build your family a house out of gingerbread. It used to be a tradition in your family to make a gingerbread house in December. You didn't want to break with tradition and set to work. After a good few hours, the individual parts such as walls, roofs and doors lay before you. You even managed to add a chimney. Now you just had to put everything together and decorate the little house.

You mix powdered sugar with some lemon juice to make an edible glue that will hold everything together in the end. At that moment, your husband joins you in the kitchen. He put his arms around you from behind and looked over your shoulder. "What are you doing, sweetheart?" he asked you, pressing a kiss to your temples. You started to smile slightly. "I'm building us a gingerbread house," was your simple reply. You were so busy trying to find the right consistency for the icing. You didn't even notice that Kyojuro was working on the edible decorations for the house.

"Umai!" That snapped you out of your work and your eyes darted to the blonde. Then to the tiny cookies, Christmas trees and colorful chocolate balls that have taken off rapite. "Is it tasty, darling?" you ask him. He nodded at you with his mouth full. You actually wanted to be mad at him for practically eating your decorations. But the emphasis was on actually. You simply couldn't be angry with this man. No matter how hard you tried. He didn't do it with malicious intent. He was just a glutton.

"How about helping me instead of stuffing all that sweet stuff down your throat?" you ask lovingly, even batting your eyelashes. With a heavy heart, Kyojuro puts the rest of the sweets back on the worktop. He can't say no to that look. "Of course, my love! How can I help you?" You press the piping bag full of icing to his chest and point with your head at the house-like pieces of gingerbread. Slightly overwhelmed by the situation, he looked at you with puppy eyes. You sighed.

"I'll hold the individual pieces together and you put the icing on the edges so that I can press them together to make a house at the end," you explained to him, holding the pieces in your hands. To your surprise, he did a great job and in no time at all, you both had a little gingerbread house that was a sight to behold. Now all that was missing was the decoration! Your eyes fall on the sweetness again. There really wasn't much left. Kyojuro had done a great job and eaten almost everything. Sometimes you wondered whether you had married a man or a black hole. This guy could eat tons of food and still not feel full. Smiling, you shook your head. Kyojuro felt guilty when he noticed the look on your face.

"Sorry, darling!" the blonde spoke softly. "It's all right, darling!" You patted him on the head. You had anticipated this incident and taken precautions. You went to one of the cupboards and took out the packets, which contained the same things as on the kitchen counter. You held the bags up so that Kyojuro could see them. He smiled at you with relief. You returned the smile.

Half of the decoration ended up in the house and the other half in Kyojuro's stomach. He was a hopeless case when it came to food. Despite this, together you managed to make a pretty gingerbread house. The others will be green with envy. Especially Tengen. Not even his could look so shiny and glamorous if he made one. He was of the opinion that cookies in the shape of penises were the better choice. You had hidden his packet of cookies in the far corner of the cupboards. So that neither Senjuro could see them nor Shinjuro could get his hands on them. You could well do without his reaction. After all, you wanted to have a peaceful Christmas.

~*~

Kyojuro looked at your work with a happy expression and then at you. Your gaze warmed his heart. He liked seeing you as happy as he was now. "Praise to you, chef," you praised the pillar of flame. He wanted a kiss on the lips from you as praise. As revenge for earlier, you shoved one of the colorful chocolate balls into his mouth. "Maybe later, my dear," you hiss at him and turn on your heel. "I need a bath now," you throw into the room and give Kyojuro a quick glance. He understood and ran after you like a dog. Now he would get his kiss and maybe more.

#reader #demon slayer #x reader #kimetsu no yaiba #kny x reader #kny #advent calendar #kyojuro #kyojuro rengoku x reader #kyojuro rengoku #rengoku kyojuro #kny rengoku #rengoku x reader #demon slayer rengoku #rengoku kyōjurō #kny kyojuro

[kitsune-oji]

Let's Write Again!: #3

"You're a mess." "Thank you for the lovely compliment."

-> Lucifer

Both prompt and character were randomly selected.

Gn! Mc (you /yours)

Readers height is mentioned once (hip at the height of a desk). The relationship between Mc and Lucifer isn't specified as romantic or platonic

It was nothing new for Lucifer to vanish into his study and not come out for days at a time. Oftentimes, he even forgot to eat and as cute as it was to watch Mammon take care of his big brother by worrying over his wellbeing and bringing him food, you wished Lucifer would break that habit of his.

It was fun to spend time with his brothers - sometimes you even forgot Lucifer wasn't there - but you couldn't help but be unhappy. Maybe a part of you was disappointed. Mostly though, you missed him.

Plotting how to get him to take a break was always a challenge. Force wouldn't work and he was too hardheaded to listen to reason. You'd have more luck waiting for him to just collapse from exhaustion but that could take days (and nights) and it wouldn't be good for him either.

On your way to his study, armed with a shadow hog sandwich and a sliced poison apple, you tried to think of what to say this time. Your own worry was good, as well as mentioning his brothers, but it never quite got him to cave. Of course, you could also ask Diavolo to order Lucifer to get some rest but that didn't always work out too well either. You didn't want to strain their relationship even more.

After a gentle knock, you opened the entrance to Lucifer's study. As you guessed, he was sitting by his desk, looking as if he could use some sleep. Some 72 hours might be good.

"You're a mess."

Lucifer looked up from his papers to glare at you. His hair was sort of messy from how often he carded his fingers through it. Deep blue circles had formed under his eyes that he struggled to keep focused, let alone open.

You had no doubt that the only thing keeping him up was tons of caffeine and pure will, fueled by his pride.

"Thank you for the lovely compliment", Lucifer hissed at you through his teeth and snarled.

It would have looked more intimidating if he wasn't so lifeless, slumped in his seat as he was.

"Yes yes, Mr Pride. It's only the truth." - You put down the plate next to the paper he was in the process of reading - "If you'd take proper breaks and actually eat something for once, you wouldn't be a mess. Not to mention..."

With a glance towards the stack he still had to do and another at what he had already finished, you sighed. For someone so intelligent, Lucifer could be so dumb sometimes.

You continued, "Not to mention that you'd get your work done much more efficiently if your brain wasn't all tired and exhausted. I don't understand why you're torturing yourself so much."

He groaned, head dropped into his hands, elbows on his desk as he rubbed his eyes with his palms. You were just tall enough to comfortable half-sit on the edge of his desk, leaning against it and watching him. After giving him a moment and then another, you figured he just didn't have an answer to your question either.

Instead of asking again - you didn't really expect a response anyway - you nudged the plate just a tiny bit into his direction to get his attention.

"At least eat something, please. You can even eat and work at the same time, since you can eat it with one hand. Hm?"

It took a bit, but Lucifer dropped his hands onto the desk again, looked towards the food and then mumbled something before taking an apple slice and biting off a piece of it. As soon as the taste registered in his mind, his stomach growled angrily. Part of you wanted to see if he'd be able to rival Beel with the speed at which he ate it all. Though, it was a lot less messy than when his brother gorged himself on food.

You couldn't help the smile that graced your lips. Especially when you noticed just how much more Lucifer struggled to keep himself awake now.

Food made you tired, since a lot of energy went to digesting it. There was no way he could win now.

You 6 : Lucifer 0

#mine #obey me shall we date #Obey me Lucifer #Drabble #Omeshot #Fanfic #Fanfiction #Ff #Ficlet #Writing #om! swd #gender neutral reader #gn mc #second person perspective #race neutral mc #Lucifer x mc

[hollywoodxwhore]

Ours | Chapter Twelve

Colson x Presley (Original Female Character)

Synopsis: Presley and Colson fell in love accidentally, but they were meant to be. Now that all the obstacles have been removed, they're moving in together in LA. Now, they have all the time in the world for Colson to teach Presley all of the things he knows. This fic is the sequel to Mine, which can be found in my masterlist!

Warnings/Content: ANGST (it's going to get worse after this chapter so please check content warnings), swearing, depression, col over reacting, col & presley arguing, mentions of domestic abuse, MF being a dumb asshole

Colson

I’ve been walking around like a zombie for the past three weeks.

I feel terrible about it. I should be celebrating our album, celebrating the fact that I’m married, celebrating my birthday that passed by weeks ago, but I can’t. April turned into May and as the weather warms and the days get longer, I just can’t pull myself out of this hole. 

I barely talk to anyone, even Presley. She’s understanding and kind and patient but I know how much it hurts her. We fall asleep together most nights but we haven’t had sex since before Megan’s post came out. I miss her, of course I do. 

I find her in the kitchen, finishing up dinner, and before she notices me, I take a second to watch her. She looks like she’s lost some weight from her already thin frame. Her hair is in a messy claw clip and she wears sweats and a giant t-shirt. Come to think of it, she’s been acting depressed, too. Probably because her husband has turned into a depressed lump whom half the world hates. Maybe half the world is dramatic, but it feels like it.

I haven’t been on social media and I’ve only been replying to those closest to me. Even then, my replies are few and far between. I can only imagine what’s being said about me. My lawyer told me Megan was forced to delete her post, but it’s not like it matters. Everyone already saw it. Everyone already drew their own conclusions. 

As Presley turns around to place our bowls on the island, she spots me. She straightens up a little and her face, a mask of misery and exhaustion, transforms into a weak smile. She’s trying so hard for me but I can tell she’s also feeling broken. I imagine I’d feel the same way if she was going through something painful. I sigh and walk over to her. She turns to look up at me and I slide my arms around her waist, pulling her in.

“Col,” she murmurs, nuzzling her face against my neck. I say nothing. I stand there and hold my wife, trying my best to draw strength from her. But nothing is better and everything is fucked up and I’m so scared. I just need Presley. I need to be close to her, to forget the rest of the world. 

I bend to scoop her up and her legs go easily around my waist. I settle her on the island and press my forehead to hers, my hands sliding over her thighs. “Pres,” I say roughly. Her hand delicately rests on my cheek. “I’m sorry I haven’t been myself.”

“Colson,” Presley tries, shaking her head, but I continue.

“It’s not fair for me to shut you out. I just don’t have anything productive to say,” I mutter.

“Talking about your feelings isn’t unproductive, Col,” Presley gently points out. “I just want you to tell me what you’re feeling. What you’re thinking.”

“I’m…I’m fucking scared,” I say haltingly, like the words don’t want to come out. “I don’t know what this is going to mean for my career. It could kill me, Pres.”

Presley chews her lip. “Quite honestly, there are a ton of abusive men in Hollywood and they’re pretty much all forgiven.”

My brow furrows. “But I’m not an abuser,” I say tightly.

“No, Col, I know that,” Presley says, shaking her head. “I didn’t mean–”

I push away from her, shaking my head. “Don’t even compare me to those assholes,” I say, anger and fear rising in my chest. 

Presley’s eyes widen as she hops down from the counter. “Colson, I’m not–”

“You fucking believe her, don’t you?” I scoff, frowning deeply at my wife. 

“Colson, you’re–”

“Nah, that’s fucking cute, Presley,” I say shortly, tearing a hand through my hair. “Thought you of all people had my back.”

“Colson, stop!” Presley pleads, crossing her arms protectively across her chest.

“Let me guess, you’re going to ask for a divorce soon,” I scoff. I know I’m being unreasonable, but I don’t want to be blindsided again. If she’s going to leave, I need to be prepared for it.

“Stop. You just want to hurt your own feelings,” Presley shoots back, her eyes narrowing. “You know I don’t feel that way.”

“Maybe you fucking do, though,” I mutter, and Presley explodes.

“Oh, fuck off!” she snaps, her eyes wide and fierce with anger. “I’ve been nothing but supportive and patient and sweet to you. I don’t force you to talk. I don’t tell you what to do. And now you want to put shit on me?”

“Presley,” I say, heart sinking. 

She shakes her head, holding a hand up. “You can wallow in your own fucking misery by yourself tonight,” she says. “I’m going to Cash’s.” With that, she abandons the kitchen and takes the stairs two at a time up to our room. 

Panic rises within me and I want to follow her but I feel frozen in place. She comes downstairs a few minutes later. I open my mouth to speak but nothing comes out. Presley slips into a pair of slides, shoulders her bag, and slams out of the house. 

And now, I’m completely alone. 

Presley

I wake up at Cash’s place the next morning with my eyes so swollen I can barely open them.

I don’t let Colson see how much this all impacts me because he’s the one really dealing with it. I’m just the wife. But I’m also the one who sees what’s being said on social media. I’m the one that interacts most with Jason, Colson’s lawyer. I’m the one who responds to texts from friends and emails about interviews. I don’t think Colson has any idea how much I’ve been doing since this all happened.

I’m completely exhausted. I miss my husband. I miss how things were just a month ago, before Megan ruined everything. She can’t stand seeing Colson happy with someone else. I see it for exactly what it is, but too many people still see Megan as this sexy, perfect woman and how dare MGK even breathe the same air as her! 

I hate her, and I don’t hate people. Usually, I’m pretty indifferent to anyone I don’t know. I’m protective of those I love, but I’m pretty good at just brushing people off. But I actually hate Megan. The fact that she’s making allegations like this for attention, for revenge on Colson for not taking her back when she was the one who hurt him in the first place. Colson is right – he’ll probably never come back from allegations like this. 

Jason is at a standstill with things; Megan’s lawyer isn’t very communicative, but I wake up with a strong feeling that I have to do something about this and very fucking soon. I stare at the ceiling for a long time, fingers twitching. “Fuck it,” I mutter, snatching my phone off the nightstand. Do not disturb is still on, so I ignore any notifications and scroll down, finding her original text to me. I type up the message and stare at it for three minutes before I finally hit send. 

There. Can’t take it back now.

It’s raining as I navigate LA traffic, hoodie pulled over my head. I must look wild right now, no makeup, messy hair, sweats and a hoodie. Slides on my feet. But I don’t give a fuck. This ends today. 

I send a text to announce my arrival and the gate slowly creeps open. It gives me some satisfaction that her house is smaller than ours and nowhere near as nice or unique. I park in front of the garage and walk up to the front door. I should be nervous but I’m not. I’m angry. I’m motivated. She doesn’t get to do this.

Before I even walk up the steps, the door is open. Megan stands there, one hand curled around the door, her long nails like talons. It’s funny – I used to have such a crush on Megan Fox. She was that girl-next-door kind of sexy, a little daring in the things she’d say but still coy enough. But up close, it’s clear just how much surgery she’s gotten done, and it doesn’t suit her. She can do whatever she wants; anyone can. But that doesn’t mean it looks good.

We nod at each other and I step inside as she moves out of my way. “Shoes off, please,” she says, and I leave my slides by the door. I follow her into a stark white dining room area. It’s the exact opposite of comfortable here. How does anyone live like this? 

“Have a seat,” Megan says, gesturing to one of the stiff chairs. I need to play this the right way, so I do as I’m told. She goes to the other side of the table and has a seat, slowly pushing her long hair off her shoulder. Her eyes find mine and she regards me for a second. Then, she smirks. “Colson has a type.”

“I don’t think he does,” I say, unable to help myself. “Where you’re a cold, vindictive bitch, I’m actually nice and I care about him.”

Megan snickers, quirking a brow. “Good to know you have some bite to you, Presley,” she says. “Why did you want to come here?”

“I thought we could have tea and girl talk,” I say, cocking my head to the side. “Why do you think I’m here, Megan?” I’m trying to keep it together, but now that I’m across the table from her, my anger is an entity in the room with us. 

She smirks but then it fades. She’s an actress but not a very good one. She’s trying so hard to look broken and sad but I see right fucking through it. “Has he hit you yet?” she asks.

“Cut the bullshit,” I say, tone clipped. “You and I both know Colson never laid a hand on you.”

“Oh, he laid hands on me several times, if you catch what I’m saying,” she says, that smirk reappearing. “Does he tell you you’re the most stunning woman he’s ever seen while he fucks you?” She leans forward, pressing her huge, fake breasts up. “He once told me I have the nicest body of any woman he’s been with. Has he said that to you?”

She’s trying to hurt me. She’s trying to get me to snap. This is what she does. I absolutely refuse to give into her games.

“So you’re saying any time he touched you, it was consensual,” I say.

Megan rolls her eyes. “Of course. You guys are all idiots,” she says. “Colson can posture all he wants but you know he’d never hurt a fly. But it’s so easy to get people to believe it. He has a reputation, after all. Aren’t you quite a bit younger than he is?”

“And aren’t you ten-plus years older than me and trying to scare me?” I shoot back. There it is – a tiny crack in the persona. A flicker of insecurity. It empowers me. “Why can’t you just let us be happy? You didn’t even want him. You left him, remember?”

Megan leans back, crossing her arms. “And now I want him back,” she says, eyes burning into mine.

“Do you think this is the way to get him back?” I ask, incredulous. “Holy shit. That’s so sad.”

“Don’t do that,” she says, a sour look taking over her features. “Don’t try to make me feel pathetic. It won’t work.”

“You need to admit that Colson never hurt you. Or his lawyer is going to sue you for everything you fucking have,” I say coldly.

“So what?” Megan snorts. “He can go right ahead. What’s done is done. No one will ever forget that I put that post out there.” She shrugs.

“But he never hit you. He never physically assaulted you,” I say.

“Of course he didn’t,” Megan scoffs. “Like I said, he was a pussy.”

My nostrils flare in anger but I’m almost done. “I want you to admit it,” I mutter. “To me.”

“Really?” Megan says, a grin broadening on her face. “You want me to admit that Colson never hurt me? He didn’t. In fact, I hit him. Several times. He deserved it.” Another crack in the exterior. A cold, desolate anger that I’ve never seen in anyone else before. This woman is fucking scary. 

“You’re sick,” I say, getting to my feet. “Leave us the fuck alone.”

“We’ll see about that,” Megan says from where she sits. I slip into my shoes and leave. 

As soon as I get in the car, I stop the audio recording, a smile growing slowly on my face. I toggle to the end of the recording, stopping it right before her confession. I got it. I fucking got it.

This ends now.

Taglist: @triplexdoublex @jaxbreaker @mgklove99xx @jinx-on-mars-19xx @iamnotanearthlingmotherfucker @anonymousme86 @whiteleoqueen @feroniakutenpuu @hxllywoodwhxree

#mgk #mgk fanfic #mgk fan fiction #mgk angst #colson baker #colson baker fanfic #colson baker fan fiction #colson baker angst #machine gun kelly #machine gun kelly fanfic #machine gun kelly fanfiction #machine gun kelly angst

[hockeyboysimagines]

number 17 with Matthew and Hallie? (I'm mildly obsessed with them) something like one of them insecure/jealous of the other because someone is hitting on them?

Love this. I’m highly obsessed with them so it’s okay, and I’ve gotten three requests for them just today so apparently others are too! I will never stop writing about them. Thanks for the request Nonny!!

Hallie was having a bad day.

One of her worst in recent memory if she was being honest.

If you’ve ever been pregnant you know that there’s a plethora of things that come along with it. Happiness, excitement, joy. But it also comes with sickness, exhaustion and a ton of insecurities. Your rewarded with a cute baby at the end for withstanding all of those things, but it can be brutal in the interim.

What made it worse was that Matthew attracted a fair bit of attention from girls pretty much everywhere they went. It was annoying under normal circumstances, but when she was pregnant it made he want to scream.

She was tired, hormonal and feeling insecure about her pregnancy body, all while having to watch girls throw themselves at her fiancé.

It just wasn’t fair.

“Don’t be silly.” Chantal had said, patting her knee “Matthew would never. He’s so in love with you.”

“I think she knows that.” Emma said from across the table “I think she just doesn’t appreciate girls obviously flirting with her man while she’s standing right there and clearly pregnant at this point.” She said gesturing towards Hallie’s baby bump.

“ I do not miss those days.” Chantal mumbled “I know it’s hard, but try to remember that those girls don’t mean anything to him.”

Hallie knew that of course.

He’d been devoted to her since day 1, even when she tried to push him away he never really left. And now that she was on her second pregnancy it was no different. He went above and beyond for her. But it did make her wanna die a little each time she saw some half naked skinny girl smile at him and ask for a picture.

As the months wore on, and she got to the tail end of her pregnancy with baby girl Tkachuk, she couldn’t take it anymore. The strength she’d maintained for the last 8 months had run out.

She’d been home, and happened to catch a photo of Matthew, posing for a photo with three bikini clad girls in front of what looked like a sporting goods store, and she lost it.

Thomas was at school thankfully and wasn’t home to see it, because once she started crying she just couldn’t stop. She cried and cried until she started heaving and felt like she couldn’t breathe.

She was crying so loud she didn’t hear Matthew come in the house.

“Hallie-“ she heard his keys hit the floor and he hurried over to her “Hallie what’s wrong? Are you hurt are you-“ he glanced around and noticed her phone laying face up, picture across the screen and sighed.

“Hallie. What’s going on?” He asked gently, wiping the tears off her cheeks “Do you need to talk about something?”

“I just feel so gross.” She choked out “And I see how these girls look at you and it makes me feel so ugly.”

“Hallie. You are not ugly. You’ve never been ugly.”

“I’m so insecure Matty. I feel like I’m huge and hideous. My body is weird right now.”

“Your pregnant. There’s a whole other person in there, of course your body is weird right now. It’s supposed to be. But when did this start? I don’t remember you being this way with Thomas?”

Hallie shrugged “It was during Covid. There was no picture taking with your “fans”.” She quoted.

He pursed his lips and she sighed “I know I’m being dumb.”

“You aren’t dumb. But if you felt this was why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t wanna bother you with it. I just- I’m afraid maybe you see these hot, skinny girls and wish you had them instead of your whale of a fiancé at home.”

“Come here.” He said, pulling her to sit closer to him. He pulled her on to his lap and let one hand fall on her knee.

“I will never ever think that. Do you wanna know why?” He asked gently. She nodded and he continued “Since the day I met you, my whole life changed, and for the better. And now not only are you the mother of my first child, but we’re about to have a second one. Your the love of my life Hallie.”

“Do you still think I’m pretty? Like this?”

“I think your gorgeous no matter what you look like, but especially this way.”

“And you don’t want someone else? Someone thinner or hotter?” She had tears in her eyes still and he shook his head, gripping her hand in his.

“It’s always been you, and it will always be you. Please never forget that.”

She took a deep breath and nodded “Okay. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. Just promise me next time you’ll come and talk to me before we get to this point okay? Now why don’t you go get yourself cleaned up, and we’ll pick up Thomas from school and go out for dinner. Sound good?”

He kissed her on the cheek and helped her up, and she took a deep breath and smiled.

She really was so lucky to have him. He was a gift she hadn’t seen coming, and it made her happy to know that even at her lowest, he would always be there to lift her back up.

#matthew tkachuk #my asks #hockey fanfiction #lets chat #lovely anons #nhl fanfiction #hockey tumblr #nhl fic #hockey fic #hockeyblr #hockey imagine #hockey blurb #hockey tag #hockey writing #hockey fandom #hockey x reader #hockey blurbs #nhl writing #nhl fluff #nhl imagine #nhl blurbs #nhl blurb

[xieyaohuan]

For years, I have hoarded my meds to prepare for the apocalypse. For years, I've felt ridiculous about it. Kind of irresponsible, too, because in order to hoard, I need to actually not take some of my meds, which is probably not terribly responsible towards myself. But what can I do, gotta prepare for societal collapse when all meds become unavailable, right? So, anyway, at the beginning of the year, I had a nice little stash that could last me a couple of months - longer if I skimp. Definitely enough time to figure out an alternative or at least come off my meds gently before I run out.

Of course, this year was the year I was too stressed to go see my doctor regularly and decided to burn through my stash instead. Besides, prepping for the apocalypse felt a little dumb, and rotating through my stash to make sure I take the meds with the shortest expiration date and replace them with new ones was beginning to get exhausting. I mean, hey, have a little trust that things won't be that bad, right?

Imagine my fucking displeasure when I go see my doctor today because I'm reasonably close to actually running out, and he informs me that my meds are no longer available due to supply chain issues, and nobody knows when they will be available again, if ever. He tells me we can try a different medication, but I need to taper off my other meds first and then slowly start with the new one, and there will be hick-ups. This is correct: I've tried switching meds before, and the hick-ups were unmanageable enough that I gave up half way through and returned to my old meds.

I've just entered one of the most stressful two months at work. It's basically a period of non-stop, round-the-clock crisis management, and dealing with a bunch of divas, and finding solutions for the most impossible bullshit. It means having a new problem thrown at you every 5 minutes. It's an all-around bad time without simultaneously undergoing medical experiments with uncertain outcomes.

So, anyway, I'm staring at my doctor and have all those apocalypse thoughts running through my head, and how I stupidly let myself be lulled into complacency by the lack of zombies on the street, forgetting that we're still very much going through a slow apocalypse. I'm feeling doubly stupid because it's not like I'm unaware of these supply chain issues, but I guess getting through last winter okay made me complacent.

The good thing is that thanks to crisis month at work, I'm already in problem-solving mode, so I tell my doctor to forget about switching me to new meds and to write down a prescription for my old meds and tell him I will go hunt for them, no matter what. My doctor is not optimistic but writes me the prescription.

Long story short, after three hours and a ton of calls and visits to pharmacies (and a missed conference), I manage to snatch up one of the last few packets of my meds that are available in this city. It doesn't really solve the issue, but I bought myself another three months of time which I can use to figure out my own supply chain or find some other solution.

I hate living through history.

#I have finally become a supply chain victim #I hate it #crisis narrowly averted #for now

[azumasoroshi]

shizaya fights are cool

forever thinking about how fun shizuo and izaya's chase scenes are because they're always based on the environment <333 like fighting in a giant empty arena has always been meh to me i LOVE when fights incorporate the setting like the train/construction zone fights in shang-chi and any of gray's fights from weak hero and stuff like that

and the nature of shizaya's fights is literally them using every object in ikebukuro to try to kill each other with (including trucks) so of course there's a TON of environment interaction and even if it's not practical at all (shizuo probably could have killed izaya a million times over if he just punched him instead of...pressing his forehead against his???? or throwing the truck at him instead of backwards????) it's SO fun to watch

if i ever learn to animate properly id really wanna make another one of their chase scenes because explosions and fire laser beams are cool but vaulting off of sign posts stuck in the sides of buildings is even cooler

OR write about it in fanfiction, tbh shizaya fics skip over the fights too much or just have them running and cut to them being exhausted like MAN show your work give me the good shit or ill write it myself (that sounds like SO much more fun compared to writing 'he slashed the other's clothes with his sword, missing by a hare's breadth and scowling as the other rushed forward to compensate for his wavering balance" or something. maybe i tried too hard on that one but IDK I DONT LIKE WRITING FIGHT SCENES

they're generally really hard to not get repetitive for me but there'd be so much less repetition in a shizaya fight becase you're always moving and you can always throw new stuff into the equation so it's not just the same old movements over and over. and you can change locations too like what if they're fighting in an aquarium?? fucking uh oh dude

or like. them "trading weapons" would be fun, where shizuo starts throwing the knives he's acquired from izaya over the years/the ones he catches in his teeth and izaya like. im not sure what he would do but maybe shizuo launches a bunch of things at some ceiling panelling and they get stuck in it and izaya cuts them down and all the stuff falls on shizuo like stalectites and he has to run to get out from under it. that kind of stuff

i cant focus on anything else rn because i just watched this for like the seventh time this week and just hhHHHHH (it's mirrored but apparently it's from an ova so you can probably watch the whole unmirrored episode somewhere)

i love how ovas are usually for fanservice stuff and durarara fans' fanservice is full shizaya fight. they knew what we wanted and by god they delivered

#shizaya #shizuo heiwajima #izaya orihara #durarara #im not hyperfixating i swear #also bless the very few tags i have to use for them #thank god they only have one set of names i have to use #no localized differences or anything #or hero names #COUGH bnha and dgs AHEM #Youtube

[keshetchai]

Sorry I need to just scream and find a new place to live lol

I recently told my roommate and best friend of like, 9 years that I'm planning to move out because living with her girlfriend is not sustainable for our very different needs (I have adhd. I am convinced she is OCD but not ADHD, because we conflict in terms of brain management in like 50 million ways) and gf's expectations and like, I even recently told gf the same thing - that I intend to move out when I'm able to afford to - so of course she threatens to move out and leave my friend over??? my continued existence in the meantime. I'm too old for this shit.

I am a grown ass adult and am tired.

This latest fight came about because I was trying to start washing literally every piece of clothing I own Sunday night (so that I could donate or sell things I don't like or wear, in preparation for an eventual move. Which i didn't announce). I even announce at one point I'm pausing from running more loads in the wash for the night because I want to take a shower, but won't leave out the clean laundry and will put stuff into bags so it's not a huge mess.

Then Monday morning I called out sick for a half day from work, not feeling well, and I get a text demanding I remove all my things from the common living room space downstairs and also all my remaining to be washed laundry (which is in Ikea bags, not like, strewn about) so that she can clean everything and do laundry on her day off from work tomorrow.

I point out I didn't know this was her plan, and I would've like, planned better had I realized, but would try to do so. Her day off was not on the physical calendar, and I don't conceive of time well, and also I don't pay attention to everything her and roommate talk about when they talk to each other (sometimes I have in headphones and am listening to something!!) so I didn't know this was her plan.

Somewhere in all the arguing back and forth she claims she's frustrated she can never say anything about my mess bc it upsets me, and points out that my being annoyed about the laundry is proving her point and I'm like...

No??? 1) I didn't ask you not to say things to me because it upsets me, you decided that. What I asked was for you to detail chores and how you want them completed to your needs for comfort on physical to-do lists so that we could split them up as a household and so I could just do like, task list A if you ask me to as needed, but always do task list B on Wednesdays or whatever, but you never did this.... and

2) I was annoyed she didn't say something when I spent like 4-5 trips going up and down stairs to bring down my dirty laundry and bring up clean laundry or when I announced I was taking a break. I literally just "hey you could've said 'actually I also need to do a ton of laundry on Tuesday so can you make sure you're done by then?" Is something that could be said! Or "don't forget I have Tuesday off and planned to do XYZ chores so I need the washing machine and dryer," on Sunday night.

Like I am a messy person. I have ADHD and clutter/time blindness. I do work hard to correct my mess and my problems and to clean whatever people point out. I am never going to be perfect but I ask myself all the time "what am I missing," and "what should I do?" And try to do those things.

But also like... "Left her oil painting to dry on a table easel she put on her own coffee table for several days, with the reference image placed beside it," is not an invitation to stack the reference image papers on top of my still wet painting because you thought it looked cluttered!!!

Every compromise or improvement I've tried to make hasn't been good enough, I've never had any actual accomodations that I asked for, and I have already given up and begin planning an exit strategy and then she had to go do all of this. I'm tired. This is exhausting.

I'm sick of having my stuff touched and moved and when I said demanding something of me last minute puts me in the position of scrambling to not be a household obstacle she was like yeah you are an obstacle. Like. Thanks. Great. Love that.

She also tried to argue she pays attention to mine and roommate's plans when we discuss them in front of her (because I said I don't pay attention to everything they plan or discuss in front of me) and I just.... Lol??? What??? Plans????

I've literally had multiple convos with roomie that we have stopped hanging out altogether. The last two things we did the two of us alone were 1) something the gf opted not to join us when we'd all talked about going, and 2) something I only got to do bc gf declined one of the two available tickets and *then* I was invited.

I was just....baffled. what is she listening to? What plans does she pay attention to? Before thing #1 happened (which did get gram'd) the last time I featured on roommate's Instagram was FORTY ONE WEEKS AGO so we truly haven't had any big plans.....in nearly a year. Before gf even moved in.

Literally just have a constant neverending headache and I'm going to need a new place and a license/car or a new job and I'll need to replace sooo much of my shit, and I just...hate everything I really do.

My aunt warned me this could go badly and I should've listened more.

WAIT AND ANOTHER THING LMAO the other day she sent a text asking if I was free on a specific date late September for a belated birthday party for roommate whose bday is in august and I just.....

1) why wouldn't you ask me to help you plan and coordinate it

2) why wouldn't you ask me in person when we live together

3) "uh, I might be free but I have to check that's not falling on a high holy day because it's late September....." ....by the grace of G-d it's the day BEFORE Yom kippur starts, and not Yom kippur itself because of course she wouldn't have looked this up.

#im sorry im still living here but i am actively trying to leave with my sanity intact

[endorstoiii]

My wright #3 - I'm back

I know I've been very far from tumblr for a long time, but I had no idea my last appearance here was on Feb 20th. Long four months that, honestly, felt like just a few weeks.

I don't remember the exact reason why I got offline, but I suppose it was a huge amount of tasks (home + course), and add it tons and tons of exhaustion (mental, emotional and physical).

It's no surprise that my life only gets worse, and I'm not exaggerating or being dramatic or playing the victim. I really mean it. Also, I'm not being negative and pessimist. Nothing works for me. I am unemployed and I'm looking for a job for three years. Ok, we had a fucking pandemic in the middle of the process, but things are back to normal already and everyone I know had success after all of that. Except for me. Do you know how fucked up is it to be unemployed? It more than sucks. I only get older (and more tired) and it hinders to find a job. Not only "I am too old" to get a beginners job, but also I feel so uncapable, psicologically I am destroyed because no matter how hard I try to get my shit together, nothing works. I even get some job interviews, but I never step forward. I can't get a job as a designer. I can't get a job as anything else — I tried to get a job on many different areas, except for seller cause the pressure is way too much for me to handle (I am way too bad already, I can't get any worse or God knows what may happen) — I can't get any little ray of success at anything at all. Why? Is it me?

Honestly, I don't think I am the problem. Not anymore. I used to think I was terrible as a student, as a designer and then I would be a terrible professional as well. Plus, I am too shy and dumb, I wouldn't know what to do in much pressure, and job recruiters know that and would never approve me. But no. I know I am good in what I do. Obviously I'm not the best (and I think I don't even want to be, so that's ok), but I'm good and I deserve more. I am so attentious, cautios and passionate (finally! this would be a good topic to write about: my passion for design). And being shy and dumb? Like... Everyone is hah I know people who are even shyer and dumber, and they have a job, they do a great work. So, no. I am not the problem. So, the only answer I can think of is: external influence. I am the least spiritual person I know (another good topic to write about), but oh man, it's the only thing that makes any sense to me. I believe the horrendous, deep and negative energy of the enviroment I live in, unfortunately influences my paths. And not only to get a job, but to anything to me. For example, I can't have a date. I can't. My life is too bad, my psychologic is too bad, my emotional too bad. This is all because of this fucking shitty energy of the enviroment I live in.

Well, no surprises here. But yeah my life was a mess and got even worse. It gets worse with time. And as if everything isn't all fucked up already, my grandma (who is kinda still recovering from her knee fracture) fell of the stairs and broke her two wrists. Now, again, me and my mom have to take care of her — but this time we must keep our eyes on her all. the. time. Do you know how exhausting and demanding taking care of an old person can be??? I had no clue until last year when she broke her knee, now it's her knee and two arms. My God.

Just when I thought I was getting a bit better, I got totally worse again. But now I feel like I'm a little bit less shitty than I was a couple of months ago. Seriously, about two months ago I was so bad as I've never been my whole life :( I tried looking for psychological help but, uh oh, how will I afford it if I'm unemployed? I can't get better psychologically, I can't get better emotionally, I can't get better financially, I can't get better in any layer of life... However, these past weeks I felt a little motivation to just keep on going one day at a time, I miss tumblr and I miss my friends & mutuals, I miss doing those tagging post stuff. These are some of the things that bring me some joy :) despite feeling the worst ever, I want to be here and I want to keep on doing, cause if I don't, I will probbaly disassociate for real and I don't even know what's next.

This is probably the longest text post I've written here, but well deserved cause four months away from my safe place... It's a lot. I don't know how long this motivation phase will take, I hope it's like before. But while I'm here, I want to be here.

#no comment #personal #my wright

[the-hinky-panda]

Day 12: Blood-Curdling

10/12: Blood-Curdling

Universe // Characters: La Chaparrita, Horacio Carrillo 

He tries to make it home for lunch as often as possible but his job, hunting one Pablo Escobar, doesn’t always allow for a leisurely meal in the middle of day. But Horacio manages to make it home today but as he nears his home, he wonders if maybe he should have chosen to chase sicarios through the alleyways instead. He opens the back gate that leads to a small high-walled garden and patio when a blood-curdling scream bounces off the walls. 

You’re pacing the small space, holding the loud, wailing bundle of your four month old baby. Your eyes land on him and immediately tears come to your eyes. You look at him like he’s the calvary, coming to rescue you in the most dire of situations. And based on the loud, high pitched cries coming from the cheery, yellow blanket, he understands the situation immediately. And he’s happy to oblige. 

“Horacio, I don’t know what’s wrong with her. I don’t know what to do.” 

He’s not sure why you think he does know what to do, given his experience with babies is less than yours. But he does know how to analyze problems and craft a solution. The first step is gathering information. There are rings under your teary eyes showing your exhaustion. There’s a reddish hue to your cheeks and phlegmy rattle to your breathing. You’re sick. When he takes the crying baby from you, he sees the same feverish coloration and hears a similar rattle from her breathing. 

Congestion and infection. That is the problem. Now, for the solution. He holds the baby against his shoulder and grabs your hand with his free one, tugging you back into the house. 

“Go upstairs,” he tells you, “turn the shower on hot, all the way to hot, and close the door. I’ll be up there soon.” 

You take his instruction like a young cadet, willing and hopeful. While you go do that, he picks up the house phone and calls Javier on the satellite phone. 

“Peña.” 

“It’s -” 

The baby screams into the phone, a long, desperate wail, followed by a wet sounding cough. 

“God have mercy,” Javier mutters. “That kid has some lungs on her. Great for shouting orders.” 

Horacio chuckles at the thought. “Yeah, well, her lungs need some attention. As do her mother’s.” 

“Both of ‘em are down, huh?” 

“Looks that way. Can you cover for the rest of the day?” 

“Sure can. We’ve got tons of leads to hash out, see which ones are worth hitting the street for so you’re not missing anything here. Take today. Tomorrow too if you need it.” 

“Alright. If anything-” 

“Comes up, we’ll call you.” There’s a short beat of silence. “Take care of your girls. We got this.” 

“Thank you.” 

“Course.” 

Horacio hangs up the phone and goes upstairs to the bathroom. He opens the closed bathroom door and finds you, sitting on the counter, head resting on the wall and eyes closed. They don’t stay closed because the baby is still crying and you immediately sit up, reaching for her. 

“I got her,” he tells you, as he gently pats her back. The room is already mostly filled with steam. 

You lean back against the wall. “You came home for lunch.” 

“I did.” 

You laugh tiredly. “And you walked into this.” 

“Right where I needed to be.” 

The baby starts to quiet, her loud wails diminishing to little sniffs and hiccups. Her breathing still sounds wet, but she’s able to take deeper lungfuls of air. It doesn’t take long for her raspy breathing to even out as sleep finally takes over. When blessed silence washes over the room, you smile tiredly. 

“You’re a magician.” 

“Hardly,” he responds, changing from patting the child’s back to rubbing it. 

“How did you know that steam would help?” 

He doesn’t want to answer. He knows his words won’t bring any kind of comfort to you, quite the opposite. But he also knows that you won’t let him off the hook until he gives you an answer. So he does. “My mother used to do this for me when I had a chest cold.” 

Tears reappear in your eyes. He knows you would like nothing more than to call your mother and ask her these questions, glean from her the wisdom of having multiple children and how to soothe their discomfort. But since you chose to stay in Colombia, chose to marry him, your family has been less than supportive and open. He steps over to you, holds the side of your face in the palm of his hand. 

“We’re okay,” he tells you. “We’re going to be okay.” 

You smile at him. “Yes, Coronel.” 

He kisses your cheek. “That’s cariño, to you.” 

“Yes, Coronel Cariño.” 

He huffs indignantly but you lean against him and soon your breathing evens out as well. He realizes after a few minutes that both you and the baby are sound asleep, one on each of his shoulders, as the hot water continues to run. He’s going to be in for a cold shower later on but he isn’t about to disturb either one of his girls.

#Hinky's October Fic Fest #colonel horacio carrillo #horacio carrillo #la chaparrita series