#a year ago me was insane but also said the brave thing | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dameronology · 2 years

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I’ve been dying for a pov where fem!reader is the one that dives in the lake and gets attacked but the demo bats and Eddie being the protective boyfriend he would be would immediately jump in and save you then panic when he sees what they did to you 🫶

oh my goshhh yes the angst (also apologies for how long this took me to write work has been kicking my butt)

once again i went off on an absolute tangent w this lmao i kinda delved into the stuff a little before batgate too hope u don't mind i just LIVE for protective eddie ngl

warnings: language, mentions of injury

eddie munson, as he has proclaimed several times, tends to run from things. he ran from most of his homework in 1984 hence why he's now a super senior; he ran from jason carver in the eighth grade when he stole his animal crackers and he ran, rather ironically, from the gym teacher last week when she chased him from underneath the bleachers with a half-smoked blunt in his hand

he even tried to run from his feelings for you at first. it was mostly fear because you're golden as fuck and the best thing that ever happened to him and honestly he was just scared of hurting you

but this is eddie munson we're talking about, who regularly trips over his own fuckin shoe laces. even in a metaphorical sense, because whilst sprinting from said feelings he skidded and fell on his ass for you and realised that actually, letting himself fall in love with you wasn't the worst thing in the world

that was two years ago & now you're eddie's entire fucking heart. he might feel a bit lost about the future sometimes but he knows it's gonna be ok when you're by his side

getting tangled up in all the upside down shit was beyond what either of you could have ever imagined; honestly his reaction at first was to run, but he knew as you & the others came after him, he didn't have to anymore

you stayed with him at reefer rick's from the second you found him; half because he was a wreck and needed you there, but also because people are dying left, right and center, and he is hellbent on keeping an eye on you

eddie is glued to your hip the entire time. he's clingy at the best of times but now, he won't sleep without both his arms wrapped tightly around you and he wakes up periodically in the night to check on you

and despite the fact he's arguably more traumatised by this entire thing, eddie is constantly asking if you're ok; asking about how you're doing with recent revelations and putting on a brave face to hide his own worries

everything becomes a lot more real when you have to go out with steve, robin & nancy to find the gate. you're both kind of involved now, right? and you're deadset on proving ed's innocence so you're gonna find this fucking monster

eddie doesn't like the idea of you coming with them and getting hurt. he likes the idea of leaving you on shore even less. sometimes you gotta pick the lesser of two evils

it's like you were gonna listen to him anyways. eddie has never been able to tell you what to do

so you get in the boat with them; eddie takes the seat beside you, large hand protectively spread out on your thigh and dark eyes scouring the water ahead of you for any danger

when the compass starts going wonky with a capital "aah!" you're kinda over the whole thing and before anyone can stop you, you've lost your shoes and jacket and you're jumping in the lake

you're too quick for anyone to stop you

eddie is less then pleased when you resurface a few minutes later, announcing that you've found the gate

"why would you do that?! are you fucking insane?! why?!"

before you can argue, you're being dragged back under

even though eddie had said before that he was only brave when it came to d&d, he's diving in right after you. shoes on, jacket on, he doesn't give a shit

an unambiguous sign of true love indeed

he goes down and down after you, not really caring if the other three follow you (they do btw once they all have a moment of "what a chaotic couple")

eddie is basically kicking his way through the gate, blindly beating the shit out of every demobat he's seeing

because like HELL are they gonna get away with hurting you

he's blinded by pure, white rage really. also a little bit of fear, but that just manifests itself in said rage

eventually, when you're finally free of the bats' grip on you, eddie is on his knees by your side, one large hand holding your head and the other checking your pulse

"please tell me you're alive. jesus christ, please say you're alive because if you're not i'm going to-"

"- i'm alive!" you manage to cough out, "just about"

he's taking you in his arms in seconds, pulling you gently into his chest and holding you there, calling you a dumbass and a fucking idiot but one that he loves so fucking much it hurts me right now

robin & steve take a step back for a moment, but nancy - being nancy - is proactive, tearing up her jumper and wrapping it around the wound on your side

eddie sheds his leather jacket, wrapping it tightly around your shoulders

the entire time that you're walking through the upside down, he's got an arm around your waist and one hand holding where your cut is in order to keep pressure on it

and he lets you ride the back of his bike !! no way in hell is he making you cycle in your condition

whilst the other three are communicating with dustin & erica, eddie is ransacking the upside edition™️ of his trailer for any medical supplies

of course there are none but it's sweet that he tries

he insists on going through the gate first so that you don't have to just land straight on the mattress

even though he falls flat on his ass, he manages to catch you

eddie munson will always be there to catch you

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blackjackkent · 4 months

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Hector made a quick stop with a sad family on the docks who didn't have enough money to get all four of them on a boat out of the city; paid off the father's passage as well so the whole family can go safely. Yay! (And Jaheira and Minsc both approved.)

And now back to camp to see what crucial intel Volo has dug up.

"It is splendid to see you again, my friend! If you hadn't saved me from that mob, I'd be penning a Guide to the Afterlife, based on first-hand experience. Perhaps you would hazard a guess as to why the mob turned on me?"

Several options for guesses here - he could have easily pissed off Orin, Gortash, or the Absolutists. Hector, though, suspects Volo is going to tell him anyway, in great detail, so he allows himself a flash of humor instead. "I just assumed decades of spreading lies and misinformation had caught up with you," he says dryly.

"Nonsense," says Volo stoutly. "It is my dedication to *truth* that endangers my wellbeing, and I have uncovered the most startling truth imaginable!" He spreads his arms wide and declaims in a dramatic shout, "The Lord of Murder has returned! As he did a hundred years ago, Bhaal has set his accursed sights on Baldur's Gate, and his temple runs red with the blood of the innocent."

Hector looks at him expectantly. Yes, and...? They've known about Bhaal's involvement in the Absolutist plot for quite some time. This is troubling, but it's not news.

"Orin is his Chosen," Volo goes on earnestly. "And like Sarevok before her, she is able to take on the savage form of the Slayer! If the Slayer is not stopped, it will slaughter every living thing in this city. As one of those things, I'm particularly eager to stop it!"

Hector's skeptical eyebrow lowers slightly. This is news - and also troubling. He has read in some of his history tomes about Sarevok's near-reign of terror, about the Slayer form he could take as an offspring of Bhaal - and about Caden, who was also able to take that form although he rarely did. It's said to be a powerful transformation, a manifestation of the darkest of divine magic... and if Orin has control of it, that is bad news indeed.

Volo perks up, seeing that his message is starting to get through. "And there is a way. I have a study of the beast, penned by the wizard Irenicus himself. It contains all of the knowledge needed to slay the Slayer."

Hm. Concerning.

Irenicus was the big bad of BG2, responsible for (among other things) torturing Caden and Imoen mercilessly and ripping out their souls in pursuit of the Bhaalspawn power in them, as well as killing Jaheira's husband and Minsc's Wychlaran and just generally being an insane megalomaniac. Hector (presumably) knows at least some of this, certainly enough to recognize the name, and is more than a little skeptical about anything that might have come from the mad mage of Amn.

On the other hand... they need to fight Orin no matter what. And any scrap of information is potentially useful.

"Now," Volo goes on pointedly, "I just need a brave adventurer willing to face Bhaal's Chosen and to put the knowledge into practice."

Hector lets out a heavy breath. Well, then, I'm your man, I suppose, he thinks wryly. "I'll do it."

"Wonderful! I can scarcely think of anyone more suitable. It will serve you well - 'A Study of the Slayer' penned by Jon Irenicus. It's a one-of-a-kind, so do try to keep it away from the inevitable bloodbath."

-----

Eeeeeenteresting. Hector has a few follow-up questions he can ask, although they're mostly just exposition for people who didn't play BG1/BG2. Oblique reference to Caden which is always nice to hear.

"This is a daunting task," Hector says quietly. He knew all of this lay ahead of him already, more or less, and yet somehow talking to Volo about it makes him feel rather more exhausted than he already was. "I should begin my preparations now."

Volo looks at him with a sudden, uncharacteristic air of calm intensity. "I am a living witness to Bhaal's defeat, those hundred years ago," he says, "so I know your battle against him his not futile. He can be stopped."

Hector tilts his head, and then smiles very slightly. It's a heartening, encouraging thing to hear - something he badly needed. But, unfortunately, Volo is still talking, and the finish to his little speech makes Hector's blood run cold.

"But not all of those who stood against him survived - and those who did were never the same again. I wish you luck, my friend. And I hope that when I see you again, you'll be in one piece. Two or three, at most."

#bjk plays baldur's gate 3 #hector carlisle #iiiiiiiiiiiinteresting

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landwriter · 1 year

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💝 & 🍭 for the fic asks! :)

Thanks, Nate! :)

💝What is a fic that got a different response than you were expecting? For sure it’s gotta be Black Shore! It’s the strangest thing I’ve written, and I felt in my heart it was really neat but did not expect much engagement at all from a story that opens by addressing the reader, has poems, is broken into arbitrary sections, and is from the POV of an ocean that is technically also Dream. This was the third fic I'd ever posted. Not only did it get read, but @missmisnomer made insane and gorgeous art for it, and @btwimkindagay wrote an ESSAY that made me weep. To me, writing is just loving things loudly into the void and it’s such a fuckin’ incredible and life-affirming experience when people love a thing back. Especially when it’s a bit weird.

🍭Why did you start writing? I sure didn’t plan to! At all! I’ve spent my life telling stories and writing creatively in every way that did not force me to actually own up to Writing, because perish the thought that I might do something I love dearly and be witnessed Trying, and potentially Failing. Better to just love it from a distance! When struck by bouts of awful desire to Be A Writer, better to just say Someday Soon! Better to bear it and go on.

Then two things happened last September: I watched The Sandman and liked it a lot; and I remembered that I had once started writing a fanfic over a decade ago, and I suddenly remembered the title. I looked it up expecting the cringe and laugh, and instead found lots of nice comments, including this one written nine years after the last update:

What am I doing, I said. I used to be brave enough to write when I was 12. And it had meant something to someone, even then. I left lots of insane messages in my best friend’s DMs. And when I was done crying and unpacking all my grief for the kid who wrote and frustration with the grown-up who wouldn’t, I went to bed. I was too wired and raw to sleep. So I got up and started writing a Sandman story. Then I kept writing all weekend. And the rest is history.

(let’s get real! fic writer asks)

#asks #let's get real writer asks #second question is something i alternate between making fun of myself abt and sometimes still wanting to just sob heavily for so #enjoy!!#gwntan12 i don't know where you are but i would like to send you a gift basket one day #you made me cry #bisexuality and writing: two core aspects of my identity i was fully aware of when i was 12 and cheerfully repressed for the next decade+#about me

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princesscolumbia · 3 months

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Smokin' Hot

Was having an absolutely miserable night last night, so even though I was not planning on posting this one until Monday, I felt like I needed a win so I finished it up early and shot it off into the universe. I'll be posting the next chapter of Double Isekai tomorrow, so stay tuned.

Oh, and if you haven't read the two previous stories in this series (don't worry, they're one-shots), here's the links:

The Joketsuzokunichuaan Saga

Description:

What if there was a "Spring of Drowned Warrior Woman?" And what if the Amazon tribeswomen were obligate impression procreators instead of just having a silly law about marrying outsider men who managed to defeat them?

Notes:

And, most importantly, what if you could write such a series without it being squicky 'bad end' fetish porn?

Like a Cat in Heat

Dragon's Lair

Summary:

Kasumi doesn't want to remember

Notes:

This one is...different from the other two entries in this series. If you know me at all, except for certain themes (Celestia is always Sunset's mom somehow, Ranma is always at least NB, if not transfemme, context is king, etc.) I don't like repeating things. Considering I already "repeated" Ranma's curse with Herb for "Dragon's Lair," I didn't want to give someone in the Phoenix tribe a Joketsuzokuniichuan curse and call it a day. A good part of this fic's story and structure can be laid at the feet of Tamsyn Muir and the way she told an absolutely batshit insane, totally off the wall, MAGNIFICENTLY managed Harrow the Ninth. If you haven't read The Locked Tomb yet, you won't have any idea what I'm talking about. If you have, you'll see exactly what I mean fairly quickly.

Preview below the cut:

"This," said Ku Lon to the gathered Saotome-Tendo families, "Is Plum. Yes, like the fruit. Her family have been serving as guides for Jusenkyo for as long as records of the springs have been kept. She took over from her father a couple of years ago and has been doing a far sight better a job than he did...and she's also exceptionally brave."

"Plum not know who to trust. Just know Ku Lon and Xian Pu good to Plum when mother die. So Plum come here when Jusenkyo start to dry up."

Kasumi fidgeted as surreptitiously as she could under the restaurant table. She knew she didn't really have a place at these discussions. She wasn't a martial artist, she wasn't bonded to or wed to one of the Joketsuzoku, and she didn't have any dragon blood in her family line. She was here because she was the 'matriarch,' for whatever that title was worth, of the Tendo family and so honor demanded she attend. She at least had the reassuring company of Hiroshi and Daisuke seated with her at the same table, today wearing some rather silly maid costumes in their female forms. The three of them had bonded over the fact that they had the least ability to do anything for anyone in this rarified atmosphere of condensed power and martial skill.

"Wait, the springs're drying up?" Ranma gaped, "Aint they been around for, like, thousands of years?"

Plum nodded, "Springs guarded by Joketsuzoku, kept clean by Musk, and fed by spring in Mount Phoenix. Three tribes, three legs of stool, is balancing act."

Ku Lon spoke up when confused looks spread through the non-natives to the Juusendo region, "While we don't have records of the origin of Jusenkyo, the legends of our peoples tell of the Amazons, the Musk, and the Phoenix working together in a sort of...mutually assured destruction peace treaty. The Musk would master the springs themselves, the Phoenix keeping the source of the springs safe, and the Joketsuzoku keeping the outside world from discovering the secrets of the springs. And in the middle of it all," she pointed with her cane to Plum, "The guides, only there to observe and to keep wandering visitors safe and direct them to the Joketsuzoku."

"Four months ago we got word of some serious troop movements among the Musk," Nabiki almost unconsciously put her hand on Jian's knee with a gentle squeeze, "They were positioning units in concerning ways, but once it was clear that the Joketsuzoku weren't the target, Ku Lon and I decided to take a 'wait and see' approach. We expected that if this was unprovoked Musk aggression, then the Phoenix Tribe would send someone to the Joketsuzoku to ask for help, part of the balance of power in the region. But instead...?"

"We got silence," interjected Ku Lon. "We, that is, the village sent emissaries, but they were turned away before they even got to the foot of the mountain. We then sent peace envoys to the Musk to see if they were acting on some sort of aggression from the Phoenix people, but our warriors were attacked without provocation. Fortunately, no loss of life, or else this would be a drastically different kind of meeting."

The Elder Emeritus sighed and sipped at her tea, "At least we have an idea why the Musk reacted now, if the Phoenix are interfering with the flow of the water from Juusendo, then the Musk, who use the springs regularly for their...barbaric purposes, would have noticed first. Why they didn't come to us..."

"Because my father is a fool," snapped Jianren. "He believes that men, and specifically the Beast Warriors of the Musk, are all that anyone needs for true power. He will see this as a personal attack against him, specifically, and everyone else is complicit in the crimes he imagines are being committed against him."

"Idiotic old lizard," grumbled Ku Lon, "What is more distressing is the news that the Kaisufuu has been found." At the expected blank looks, she explained, "There are two artifacts that were created to work in tandem with the Springs of Jusenkyo. The Chiisuiton, or Locking Ladle, and the Kaisufuu, or Pot of Liberation. When a silly young prince," Ku Lon nudged Jianren gently with the head of her staff, "So foolishly thought the best way to acclimate himself to the sight of a naked woman was to use his people's traditions to make a mistress of a monkey," Jian had turned beet red and was clasping her free hand over her eyes, her other hand held by an impishly smiling Nabiki, "He, now she, fell victim to the Locking Ladle, which was then lost when Ha Bu fled rather than deal with the ongoing shame of being a princess in a land where women were considered to be barely above animals."

"Legend said that the two artifacts will point the way to each other," Jian interjected, "I thought to take the ladle and pail with me to find the kettle, but then I was ambushed by some highwaymen in the deep backwoods of China. I overpowered them, but the pail and ladle were lost in the battle. That...that was the moment I swore off my birth name and became Jianren."

Kasumi watched as Nabiki leaned into her wife and the two cuddled for a bit. To her left, Hiroshi and Daisuke looked on as well, satisfied smiles like book-ends on their faces.

"Given the kettle was lost centuries ago," continued Ku Lon when it became clear that Jian wasn't going to say anything further, "It is only reasonable to conclude that the pail and ladle were recovered somehow and then used to track down the Kaisufuu. If only one artifact was the possession of either the Phoenix or the Musk, it would be bad. But given the Musk have been behaving defensively and the Phoenix have halted the flow of the springs, we have to assume that the Phoenix tribe has both artifacts and are preparing to use them for some reason we cannot know without more information."

The more experienced warriors, politicians, and martial artists began speculating, though it was clear they were going to be talking in circles. Kasumi looked over to the other two girls at the table and reached out, clasping Hiroshi's hand, "You don't have to do it, you know."

They both turned to her with confusion etched on their faces. In a bit of the puckish karmic humor Jusenkyo was known for among those who studied the magics of the springs, where Daisuke had the more common dark black hair of most Japanese men and Hiroshi had lighter, shaggier brown, almost blond hair as a man, as women their hair colors were nearly exactly reversed, though Daisuke's girl-form hair was closer to dirty blond than light brown. They had similar builds to each other, which had led to some interesting clothing swaps on occasion. Of course, they both had a masculine sense of feminine modesty, which is to say nearly non-existent, a fact for which Nabiki and Jianren had taken shameless advantage of over the years.

"What're you talking about, Kas-chan?" asked Daisuke innocently.

Kasumi just swept Hiroshi's hand into a two-handed grip and bore into the part-time woman's eyes with her own, "You know Jian is capable of taking care of herself, even against her father. Please, you know how much it will hurt Jianren, and Daisuke and Nabiki will be heartbroken."

The two boys-turned-girls looked at each other with sad, defeated expressions. "C'mon, Kas-chan," drolled Hiroshi as she turned to the older woman, "You know that's not how this conversation went."

(Read the whole thing on AO3)

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handsswritten · 2 years

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mericcup month | week 2: music

find this on spanish here! ¡toca acá para leerlo en español!

(A/N) english is not my first language and this is actually the second time i'm posting my writing translated, so keep that in mind.

just rebel mericcup let's say. with, of course, a lil inspiration from the music industry herself. (no nsfw)

word count: 954

“…You come around and the armor falls Pierce the room like a cannonball Now all we know Is don't let go

We are alone, just you and me Up in your room and our slates are clean…”

-State Of Grace (Taylor’s Version), Taylor Swift.

I ran my hands through my hair being careful not to ruin the hairdo, which was tighter than necessary and brought back bittersweet memories. I approached the mirror and inspected my figure in that tight dress that made it difficult for me to breathe, and I couldn't help but feel déjà vu.

The difference in the two situations is that now I am not being forced into marriage, and that this time I was able to avoid wearing the part of the dress that squeezes the life out of my head.

But as I looked at a fixed point on the floor I also realized that I was alone, there was no presence of my mother to disturb me. I smiled ungracefully, remembering how hard she used to comb my hair and how my only wish was not to have to go through that again.

I could still hear her voice telling me to stop complaining. Fix your posture, Merida.

I laughed soundlessly; I was really alone now.

I took a breath, still seeing my reflection, smoothed out my already perfectly straightened dress and gathered my will to go downstairs. To see my father, my brothers, and everyone. After the mysterious kidnapping of the queen King Fergus has become a merciless being, they say. That we must invade Berk immediately, that the Vikings have her locked up.

Vikings. They can be so handsome.

With those green eyes, that lopsided grin and unkempt hair, so engaging, so...

“Hiccup?!” After seeing his reflection behind mine I turned around so fast I almost lost my balance, and he seemed to notice it too because he came over with his hands ready to grab me.

“Are you insane?”

I could almost hear his teasing reply before he said it. ”Only for you, milady.“

”No, insane because if they see you they'll kill you. You fool.” He let out a chuckle at the last, but soon after his amusement faded and he stood up straight in front of me, taking my hands in his.

“Merida, I think we both know that a senseless war is about to break out,” He arranged that big curl, simply brushed it away from my face to take my chin gently “That's not what I want for Berk or what you want for DunBroch.”

His green eyes had the most beautiful forest inside them and could see through me easily, every secret, every imperfection.

“I hear you, dragon boy.”

“You're the one who always said that our fate lives within us. Years ago you forged yours because you knew it was what you had to do, and I think this time we have to do the same.” he swallowed, his Adam’s apple twitching nervously “Together.”

Before I could ask, he cradled my face. “Let's run away.” What? “Let's forge a better future, let's let our parents work things out the right way and come together to find us. It won't work if I do it alone and I think it's the only solution.”

My lost eyes moved between his, shifting from one to another trying to make sense of what he was saying.

“My father won't listen, and I know that after what happened to your mother, neither will yours. There will be more deaths than we can count if we don't do something.” He looked down at my mouth and pressed the sides of my lips with his thumbs, “I ask this of you as future chief, and as Hiccup. Your majesty, future queen, Merida. Let’s shun. Let’s seek peace and find it together, let’s be brave enough to see our fate.”

I stared at him for a couple more seconds and broke away; quickly looking around the room. Throwing things behind me and shuffling everything.

Paper, paper, paper.

I could feel his spirits dropping from where he had frozen.

“Ah, you beauty!” I quickly dipped the quill in ink, picked up the sheet and rested it on Hiccup's back just for the hell of it. I resolutely grabbed the quill I had found next to the sheet and concentrated on leaving a clear message.

I marked the final point hard and he turned around. “Where did you hide Toothless?”

He smiled, one of the most genuine smiles I had ever seen on him, and told me he was waiting for us on the terrace.

I didn't hesitate to ask him to help me get out of this monstrous dress and I wanted to roll my eyes when he was careful not to tear it. I put on the green one I love so much, took my cloak, bow and arrows and left the note where they would easily see it.

I was already heading for the door when Hiccup turned me around, giving me a chaste kiss before taking my hand to leave my room together.

You didn't believe me when I told you mom was a bear, but believe me now. The Vikings don't have her, and we disappeared together by choice. If you start the war, you will never see us again.

Love, Merida. The first born descendant of the DunBroch clan, don't forget.

PS: Show this to Stoic, his son wants a better future for Berk than this.

“…So you were never a saint And I've loved in shades of wrong We learn to live with the pain Mosaic broken hearts But this love is brave and wild…“

-State Of Grace (Taylor’s Version), Taylor Swift.

#mericcupmonth #mericcupmonth22 #mericcup #disneyworks #brave #httyd #httyd2 #merida dunbroch #hiccup haddock #hiccup horrendous haddock iii #hiccup x merida #disney princess #disney #dreamworks #pixar #crossover

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limelocked · 11 months

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Look dude im just.. i like these two so much, no one will understand why i love my little guys so much, theyre gay for each other and this doesnt cover that at all, first chapter teaser chapter ass vibes for a story that will never on earth be told other than in the dms of my most beloved friends

---

“Good morning your highness”

There were no plans to meet with the duke of Argo this morning and yet here he was, as if the gods themselves had decided so.

“So it is Lord Daviel”

Duke Daviel Teyvan of Argo was a man who had, until recently, not concerned himself for a moment with politics outside Argo and its border territories. A tall and broad shouldered man, one would assume he was blessed with a bear’s soul. It was, however, clear from his gracefully graying hair, gained before the start of his third decade of life, that the stress of managing his estate and businesses were better suited to his temperament than a battlefield.

“How come you’ve decided to visit me, duke? I was shocked to hear that you’d traveled to the capital so you must imagine my surprise now that you’re here in my sitting room”

“I had heard your highness was ill”

He said this with a smile that you would expect not to be genuine, yet it extended into a curious gleam in the duke's eye.

“News travel slowly to the south it would seem”

They did not, and I now knew why the duke of Argo was here.

Lord Teyvan has a claim to the throne, small as it is. The late duke was the great grandchild of a royal who didn’t ascend the throne and who died before the first to-be duke of Teyvan was born.

The nobility were planning treason and either Lord Teyvan was here to warn me, threaten me, or test me.

“As you must have heard through the butler; it’s a great day of lucidity for the insane. You should count yourself lucky with your visit my lord”

“So I will, your highness.” he took a prolonged sip of his tea as if intentionally annoying me “I wished to see if our future ruler were as crazed as the rumors say, so I shall also have to leave today somewhat disappointed”

So it was a test and a warning.

“You are a brave man, Lord Teyvan, for speaking so bluntly of such things to my face when that is my reputation. I happen to know that you aren’t one for swords, unlike myself”

Of course I had no reason to hurt this man, it would actually be a huge loss for me if I did. The duke had however challenged my honor, and boundaries were to be set accordingly. He should not tread over such an obvious line when implying treason to the royal he’s testing.

“My apologies, your highness. It was my impression that you may find more use in a bold man than one who whispers sweet nothings and vapid compliments in your ear. That is to say I thought you a man who would enjoy a harsher truth over a hidden lie”

In the holy text this man was a stoic and silent type, the rock for the primary romantic lead to lean on. What happened to that guy?

“Is that why you’re hiding your true intentions from me even now?”

He flinched. Only slightly and not enough for a human to notice.

He was quiet for a moment before sighing in resignation.

“You’re very observant your highness”

“Yes, and I’ve been very patient with you as well. Unless you have something to add then I suggest you leave”

Duke Teyvan was objectively beautiful and could objectively be a good tool if I favored him. All the same qualities that made him dangerous to me. He has shared rumors of treason with me and he is a person with good support and a claim to the throne.

I have to hate him, I have to fight this man.

“Then I will take my leave. I hope we can meet further in the future your highness”

And then he left. The maids cleaned up the reception room and I returned to my library.

In the coming weeks the duke entered capital politics, and once more managed to join my tea time.

—

[9 years ago]

“Will you run away again, Solen?”

He stood there, at the end of the hall, brandishing a sword as if he knew how to use it.

He sneered, filled with unearned confidence.

As of late, my half brother had grown emboldened, forgetting the healthy fear one should have in the face of regicide. With our father, the emperor, on his sickbed with little hope of recovery it was now no secret that the empress consort coveted his power.

“We don’t have to do this Malisian”

It wasn’t a warning but a plea for him to accept mercy. We both knew who the better swordsman was amongst us children, and I had never wanted human blood on my hands.

Malisian, the only other known survivor other than myself, smiled.

I wanted then to beg him not to make me do this. But he was raised cocky, he would run me down and gloat if I fled again.

He lunged and with a swift motion of my blade I parried.

I had to note that for a teen four years younger than me he was pretty strong. He lacked in most other areas of martial arts, but for a 13 year old to have a chance of overpowering a 17 year old was admittedly impressive.

I moved my wrist, the metal blades scraping against each other and into the marble floor, making a horrible sound I hoped no servant would ever have to hear.

“You know, brother” Malisian spoke, “If your mother hadn’t been that bitch then I would’ve spared your life. I would’ve put you in the dungeon for me to laugh at if you had been my real brother”

It was a lie. I knew for a fact he had afforded the other children of the empress consort no such opportunities. Me and my siblings, as children of the empress, had and would never receive special treatment.

He lunged again, probably aggravated by my silent response.

We exchanged blows for many long seconds, and he was losing ground.

I pitied him.

If I could, then I would have liked to offer him mercy, exile him or lock him up instead of death. It would be bad for me later on but–

CLANG!

I could see how the reckless attack had made the grip on his sword unstable and so I twisted my sword to knock his sword out of his hand.

Disarmed, my half-brother stood slightly hunched, dumbfounded.

“Malisian, you know you can’t win this. I’m holding back even after everything you’ve done”

It was quiet like that for a moment.

He didn’t move.

“You’re right. You were holding back. All this time as well.”

I turned my back on him. While I hadn’t killed any of my siblings with my own hands, I had avoided this fight and ran away, so could you really argue that my hands were clean?

The knights would be coming soon unless he’d paid them off, I needed to round them up and tell them to arrest him without lethal force.

It was something I could do myself, but I would rather have the safety of numbers that could hold him down and receive more but shallower wounds. This is what I thought of as I was walking away.

Sigh…

Why would he do all this when it was clear that the empress consort just wanted to use him as a puppet? Malisian had never been a smart boy but he’d displayed considerable cunning in his murder game so you would think he’d be able to figure this out himself.

Rustle…

Ah.

I see.

He had picked up his sword again, without making as much as a sound against the stonework.

I suspected this would happen but decided to be the bigger person anyways, and for no good reason.

The sound I had heard came from his clothes as he took a final shot at my unguarded back.

I instinctively turned around to defend myself.

He did not attack where I had anticipated.

My side felt hot and wet but no pain had registered yet.

What had was the fact that my last brother had overstepped, and gone full speed into the blade I had held up to guard against a swipe rather than a stab.

He had sliced his own neck in a way I figured would be irreparable.

More blood on the imperial floors.

It was covering me, a man who had only defended against a fool.

“Haha…”

How did he even manage to kill everyone else?

“Hahaha!”

I could hear footsteps in the distance and I felt something break inside of me as the laughter kept bubbling out.

“HAHAHAHAH!!”

Then I felt something else.

‘Sis did you read the new chapter?’

‘Of what?’

‘< I'll un-ruin this kingdom myself if I have to >’

#writing #oc #ive been reading and editing a lot of webnovels but at least this is better than my host homestuck era of writing

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cosmichorrorsarestillnicerthanme · 10 months

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My first original post in a while and its nothing anyone will want to read

This is a vent post disguised as how I came up with my name on tumblr.

When I was little I got my hands on a copy of H.P. Lovecrafts "At The Mountains Of Madness" and because of that I've always had a deep love of horror, and because I could relate to the Shoggoths and their stories, though I am nowhere near as brave as them.

Honestly I've always found it easier to relate to the "Monsters" in the media than the heroes. It's probably because I never really feel at home with who I am, a bit too tall with proportions that are a bit odd for my height.

It made me feel alien, like one of the Shoggoths had decided to try and mimic the human form but screwed the proportions up, not to mention that I never really got human interaction, always leaving me on the outs of most things when it came to talking with actual people until I got good at faking it.

But it probably also didn’t help, that my mother and I have a rather… horrendous relationship.

In fact one of the things I remember her saying to me the clearest was that I “Had no heart”.

All of this leads to the me most everyone in the real world knows, a tall guy who wears nothing but gray and black and yet despite how alien he acts, is always referred to as “Charismatic”.

Sounds exactly like a certain being in H.P Lovecraft's works, a cosmic horror, who is still probably nicer to speak to than me.

At least he will have a more expressive face than me.

For as an infamous man once said with a bit of tweaking on my part.

What I show to everyone, including the people who are “Closest” to me in the real world is merely an idea of a who I am, some kind of abstraction, but there is no real me, only an entity, something illusory, and though I can hide my cold gaze and you can shake my hand and feel flesh gripping yours and maybe you can even sense our lifestyles are probably comparable: I simply am not there. It is hard for me to make sense on any given level. Myself is fabricated, an aberration. I am a noncontingent human being. My personality is malleable and unformed, my heartlessness goes deep and is persistent. My conscience, my pity, my hopes disappeared a long time ago, probably when I was seven or eight years old if they ever did exist. There are no more barriers to cross. All I have in common with the uncontrollable and the insane, the vicious and the evil, all the mayhem I see in the world and my utter indifference toward it, I have now surpassed. I still, though, hold on to one single bleak truth: no one is safe, nothing is redeemed and that each model of human behavior must be assumed to have some validity. Is evil something you are? Or is it something you do? My pain is constant and sharp and I do not hope for a better world for anyone. In fact, I believe that the only thing all humans can feel equally is pain. But even after admitting this—and I have countless times, in just about every second of my “Life” I’ve committed—and coming face-to-face with these truths, there is no catharsis. I gain no deeper knowledge about myself, no new understanding can be extracted from my telling. There has been no reason for me to tell you any of this. This confession has meant nothing, and will mean nothing for all of time.

These are just the rantings of someone who is screaming against silence and screaming against the fact that not a single living being who I truly know understands nor will ever understand who the “Real” me is.

#/vent #vent #trauma #cosmic does a thing

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moodr1ng · 2 years

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vent post but only for poc white people you dont get it so dont read

ok so maybe nobody can relate to this and you guys are gonna be like 'thats insane get better standards' lol but like. sometimes. when im friends with white people it kinda feels like im in a sort of.. social contract with them of which im the only aware party. and im only friends w white people who are hard leftists and would generally consider themselves antiracist allies, and who agree that people of color know more than them about racism and will listen to me about it, right. like, thats the baseline, less than that we just are not gonna be friends.

but also.. i dont live in a fantasy world and ik theyre gonna mess up, right? like, ik theyre gonna do some fuckshit sometimes, and on a few occasions its gonna be bad enough that im gonna have to call it out and be like "hey man thats racist, you cant say/do/support that". but the social contract is, on my end, that for most of the little occasions, the small, "unimportant" things, im gonna let it slide. specifically im gonna let it slide for a friend where i wouldnt with a stranger. doesnt mean i wont remember it. doesnt mean it wont bother me. but part of the contract, for me, is im not gonna make a fuss, im not gonna call them a racist, in part because im not willing to be The Guy Who Makes Everything About Race or The Guy Who Always Has To Ruin The Fun.

and that means shit like.. sometimes im gonna let it go that you put a picrew of your visibly non-white oc as a pfp even though i do think that thats misleading and makes people who dont know you think youre a person of color when youre not. im gonna let it go that you said that one little "colonization was so long ago!" thing because i dont want to have to give you a speech about how colonization impacted me and my family. im gonna let it go that you decided to put a character on your kin page or whatever that i dont think you should. im gonna let it go that youre still a fan of x or y artist that has said some racist shit so long as its not THAT bad or its not IN the art or whatever. im gonna let it go that you patted yourself on the back lengthily to me about how you totally told off a racist and how brave that is of you. etc.

and in return im expecting their part of the social contract: that when i DO put down a boundary, when i DONT let it go, when i DO call it out, its gonna get listened to. that when i DO say "hey man thats racist, you cant do/say/support that", theyre gonna stop doing that. and especially that when other white people are pulling some fuckshit and im involved or involving myself, that theyre gonna have my back on this and defend me and take on part of the weight so im not the one who always has to do it.

so really its quite simple. if were friends, im gonna have a lower bar to clear for white people on mundane/not very serious stuff, not necessarily because i want to but because i dont really think its viable for me to do otherwise. not necessarily because i think entire friendships would break down if i pointed it out every time a white person says some dubious shit (its not like its constantly happening) but primarily because its taxing and awkward and uncomfortable and in the end i dont think its worth it. ill do it with a stranger cause i didnt invest in that stranger. but ill lower the bar for white friends.

but the thing is im gonna expect the other end of the bargain to be held up, and im gonna expect that when i said THIS SHIT ISNT OK the shit is gonna stop happening. and im gonna be honest. i dont like this myself. but there are white friends who ive invested a LOT in, like, years and years of friendship, very personal stuff, very intimate stuff, friend groups in common, people who have been in my home and welcomed me in theirs, close friends, who at some point fail to uphold their end of the bargain. where i say THIS SHIT ISNT OK and they basically say "ah man im sorry thats hurtful, im gonna keep doing it though". usually its some shit about media theyre into ngl. and honestly? most of the time im not gonna do shit about it! because ive invested so much into that person and that friendship that backing out now feels too painful and too high a cost, because i dont want to have to get into a fight, and, frankly, because i dont want to pull up the curtain and see how ugly it can get under there. i want to believe that the surface shit is as deep as it goes. and if i start really pulling im afraid im gonna discover that ive invested so much time effort intimacy and love into someone who has something fundamentally rotten in there and doesnt even realize it.

its not like theres really something for me to end on. i dont have like. idk this isnt a Take i dont have a finishing line. it just is like that sometimes. and it bothers me. and idk what to do about it - and i mean i know the obvious answer is "stop being friends with them" but its not like thats that easy is it. i just wanna be able to vent about it but theres not really a place for it bc any place i usually vent in (social media) is also a place at least some of my white friends are checking on or following. so really i just put a white people dont read this shit disclaimer and hope thatll work (and if it doesnt and youre one of my white friends and youre reading this, this is a breach of my trust and of the aforementioned contract, and if you wanna fix it you have to message me, tell me you did this, and let me decide what i think. jsyk.). so thats it i guess.

#97

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bloos-bloo · 3 months

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So a little different from what I normally post on here. But I’ve been keeping up with Shelby coming out about the abuse Wilbur did to her. And the way that the internet is handling this like it’s some drama? Like no? The fuck it isn’t?? It’s literally a crime-

A human bite is so fucking dangerous and the fact that she had MULTIPLE BITES? Insane?? What the fuck?

I will admit, I avoided watching her stream since I’m also an abuse survivor. I constantly undermine my experiences- I hate calling myself a victim because I don’t believe the severity of it was as bad as it could have been. But, listening to Shelby talk about her trauma made me realize that abuse is abuse.

I’m gonna go on a small rant here- just because this whole thing has been kinda sending me in a spiral-

I listened to the stream and I sympathized with her and understood her. When you’re in an abusive situation, it’s really hard to find it in yourself to get out. Finding reasons why the bruises aren’t bad and that it could be worse. Trying to get people to understand that it’s not your abusers fault, that you did something to piss them off. I get that- I went through that.

I was a kid. My abuser was a kid. He would either use his or my own body to get me to listen to him. We were in middle school for fuck sake- Did he hit me? Yes. Did he verbally assault me? Yes. Were we both minors? Yes. Does this make my situation seem less than any other? I don’t know- Again, I can’t bring myself to fully accept the fact that I am a victim despite the fact it happened a few years ago at this point.

Now, the half-assed apology Wilbur posted deadass reminded me of mine. When someone is caught, they do everything to pin the reason for their actions on anybody else but themselves. And that’s what he did. He apologized for her feelings getting hurt, not the fact that he caused it. I went through that, but I was forced to accept the apology through my school officials- I had to so we can ‘maintain the peace’. I love the fact that Shelby publicly said that she didn’t accept it. She was so strong for so long- she didn’t deserve that, nobody does.

And the fact that people online are trying to force responses out of EVERYBODY? They shouldn’t do that- and again, I understand taking time to recollect. You know how long I spent staying around my abuser just because I had friends who still talked to him? So long. But at the same time, I couldn’t drop him either for a while- He was my best friend- and despite the fact he hurt me so badly. I couldn’t drop him.

Give people time to say something. It’s a LOT harder than it seems- it’s different for fans since we don’t know CCs beyond the internet, but for CCs who talking irl and have been for years? It’s so damn hard-

To other abuse survivors: Remember that you are loved, you are strong, and you are so fucking brave.

Please give all your support to Shelby, and fuck Wilbur.

#bloo’s talks #Please support victims #tw abuse #I don’t know what to tag for these kinds of posts tbh #also this is as open as I will get about my experiences-#it’s still hard for me to talk about since I only remember bits and pieces #I used to have screenshots #but those were on an old phone that I can’t find #But yeah- dealing with something that serious at such a young age fucked me up #I still struggle with relapses #like bad ones-#it hurts to get in relationships sometimes because of it #which is weird since it was a friendship? but I was nearly manipulated into a relationship #love yourself #remember that #also I said something similar to this on my Twitter #but writing out something like this kinda helps yk?#support shelby #seemed like a better tag tbf

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deeisace · 11 months

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Written at about 2am and then not posted, kept cs it's sleep-deprived stream-of-consciousness weirdness

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Aw man I should not have stayed up to watch Deadloch

It is fuckin insane tho

And I'm having Thoughts that need to be Solved by Ao3

And also I have to leave for work in. 4 hours.

And also I really need the loo again but I'm scared of waking up the guy downstairs

The uh the plan is. To leave a bit earlier for work. And then go at the train station. Is the plan. :/

It's a bad plan and I acknowledge that. But it's where we're at today huh

(6am edit: you'll be pleased to know "the plan" did not go ahead, I have been brave enough to use my own goddamn lavatory. Fuckin insane behaviour)

I'm gonna need so many energy drinks to get through tomorrow. But at least I can go the loo at work I guess.

I'm fully aware I've constructed a bonkers situation for myself. Or like. Built my own on the guy downstairs' bonkersness. At least I'm aware of it?

Anyway I'm gonna uhhhhh go to Ao3 now. And suffer for a few more hours. Y'know. And not move an inch cs my bed is really creaky cs it's fuckin broken cs the one fella came to fix my window before I had a chair to stand on so he stood on my bed instead? Cs the windows are really fuckin high in this house

I miss sash windows. Like sometimes the rope inside will snap cs no-one's replaced it since at latest 1926, but at least you can still like reach to open the fuckers anyway, and all you need is a proppy uppy thing. I can't reach to open these windows without climbing on my bed/desk/toilet and there's no fuckin breeze comes through even you do get them open cs they're too high, and they're what's the word for cold drafty draugy fuckin english they don't work in winter either and they have wobbly handles but that's a good thing cs it's the only way I can reach enough to close them again

Anyway that should be okay soon cs they're getting replaced next month or when, but also that doesn't solve the problems I'm currently experiencing which is I'm not asleep and I really fuckin badly need a piss

I hope the fella downstairs only has a six-month contract an he fucks off after, cs even tho the windows are shitty and I live in one room I really fuckin love this house I don't want to move to another house

I've never lived in more than one room my own what do people do with space? Fill it with sofas, or something? Fuckin kitchen islands idk

I don't have the spends anyway like I could deffo go into my savings but I'd still have to work more and I don't want to do that I'm fuckin tired

I mean currently that is cs I've been awake for 21 hours apart from the standing up nod off on the train home, but that is not the point

Fuckin pay me more so I can be like alive and have a nice time and and and fuckin And at work they said if we got a certain amount of reviews this quarter then all the store staff would get a bonus each?

A few years ago it was just the management would, and then they changed it to say all staff, but the targets were still bullshit nonsense so no-one's ever got one, even our store manager who's got a funny little glass award on his desk for working at this company longer than I've been alive right, But! then they changed it to be an achievable thing, 100 reviews in 3 months and keep the average stars thing good, which we can do cs we've done it before it was a bonus thing but now it is, right

And then like two weeks ago, right when we were nearly got it like celebrating whooo ten left to get, the fuckers turned and said actually every single store in the area has to get the same thing for anyone to qualify for the bonus, which includes isle of mann which gets like one review every month or smth cs obviously reviews don't matter when you know the whole town and are just catching up with Joanie who's buying a new tarp or whatever, why would you ask Joanie to give you a review, it doesn't make sense, there's no point in it obviously, and it shouldn't effect anybody else on a whole different fuckin landmass. Explain to me the fuckin logic there. Fuckin head office fuckers

Give me the money you fuckin owe me for smiling at cunts as call me "darling" and misgender me to high fuckin heaven and back or I will find a new job

I mean. I won't, cs nowhere that's not fuckin dire as shit is hiring and also I don't know how to do business things myself and fuck going back to uni either

What's that post of I just want to have 17 hobbies or whatever like that

Or like. Make more shit and learn how to sell whatever fuckin weird shit I make

Also I miss the woods, cities are shit

Like phone reception is nice and you can buy more stuff I guess but everything is grey and shitty and I miss sitting in trees

I'll be better once I've slept at all I imagine, it's just when I'm tired I'm a grumpy fuck and I hate like all the stuff cs all the stuff is bullshit fuckin not really rat race or whatever you say cs my job is the lowest pressure you can get except when four different people want seven different pairs of shoes and there's a parcel needs getting and some fucker stops you on the stairs to ask inane questions about tent pegs and now you've forgotten a shoe you were sposed to get and actually now you're back with the non-waterproof kids shoes I asked for can I borrow some socks and what sandals would you recommend for Everest and one of the people who asked for leather boots has fully disappeared in a puff of smoke and will wander back from fuck-knows-where in five minutes while you're serving a family of ten at the till to demand why you didn't tell them you'd got the leather boots for them and actually I can feel my toes reaching the end of the boot I'm gonna need you to get me three sizes down from this and then I'll blame you for why I got blisters just from standing up somehow and there's an incredibly old man here to ask you to get some trousers down from the high shelf but the ASM's hidden the footstool again in a brand new place cs it's untidy to leave it where you can find it ever apparently and oh oh lovely some guy got bored waiting for the fitting room and is now trying tshirts on just stood around and someone's helpfully wrecked a display or two and half the sunglasses have been spirited out the door while you blinked and someone came to ask if a camping store sells pajamas and another twenty people have stormed out cs of the membership thing and and and

Tho tbf it's usually only like that at Xmas really, the rest of the time it's mostly dead

Well I'm gonna see if I can get 3 hours steep

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fallen-from-venus · 2 years

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Midwest winter aesthetic

okay, okay, OKAY.

Do not come for me. Let me explain first.

Yes, I said midwest. Yes, I know that that is a wide area to pinpoint. And yes, I know that that is regular fucking Christmas for a huge chunk of people. Well guess what buddy, not for me. So to me it is an aesthetic. If you got a problem with it send in a complaint. Disclaimer over.

Now time to get into what the midwest winter aesthetic is. Truthfully, I have never been to the midwest. Well, that’s a lie I went to Ohio for half a week ten years ago, but you get the point. So that means we are going solely off of movies, tv and whatever else I have concluded from a pinterest search. Midwest winter is all about connection to me, It’s very friends and family centric. Also, a key factor is that it’s very much winter there and so you actually have to dress for the weather. Or don’t and go skiing in shorts. I think of winter activities like ice skating, sledding, skiing, ice caving, hell even dog sledding. I think of getting a cabin with friends and turning up or putting up insane Christmas lights with the family. It’s very much an embracing of winter and all the good things that come with it. As for the style that I associate with it, It’s a mix of classic winter gear and americana coziness with just a hint of tackiness. But really is tacky all that bad if it gives you all something to laugh about, I think not. I think by listing it out it may give a better idea of what I’m going for.

Trapper hats. Wool socks. Knit sweaters. Chunky sweaters, cable knit sweaters, Scandinavian patterned sweaters. Ski suits. Duck boots. Boots with the fur, and pom pom ended ties. Turtlenecks of all sizes and weights. Fur trimmed coats. Beanies. Knit mittens. Puffer coats. Obscenely big scarves. Blue, red, and brown. Leggings and shorts, if you’re brave. Vests. Ugly Christmas sweaters. Ralph Lauren Christmas teddy sweaters. Henlys. Fuzzy socks. Baggy jeans. Leg warmers. Uggs. Ear Warmers. Neutrals. Tights. Long Coats. Layers, baby. Buffalo check.

Do you get the idea? I just really love this aesthetic because it doesn’t take itself too seriously. It’s practical and fashionable, but most of all it’s just the backdrop for all the winter fun and shenanigans you get up to. I don’t usually allow any notes, but this is the only exception. If there is any two cents to be given, I will allow it. Anyways, enjoy.

Ciao

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hpsaffics · 2 years

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✨ WLW Wednesday: Pansmione Pandemonium ✨

A biweekly HP femslash rec list made by the lovely members of the HP SAFFICS (18+) discord server. See all previous rec lists in the WLW Library.

This week's focus: Hermione Granger/Pansy Parkinson Last week's focus: Linny is Love (see list)

💫 - highly recc'd | 🌹 - sweet | 🌶 - spicy |🩸- sharp (mind the tags)

—

LONG & LUSCIOUS (>10k)

💫 sometimes you amaze me by burstofpeony [T, 54.3k]

Hermione’s on track to become the youngest Minister of Magic in history. There’s just one issue-- the polls hate her. Well, the polls hate her gayness, specifically. When a solution is presented that could fix everything, who’s she to decline?

💫 Brave Open Heart by @maraudersaffair, agentmoppet, @secretartlair [E, 28.1k] WITH ART! 🌶

Nine months ago, Hermione and Millicent had a passionate affair, but now, Hermione is in love with Pansy, a power couple fighting for creature equality in the Ministry. Everything comes crashing down when Hermione discovers she is pregnant and Millicent is the other mother. Hermione had no idea two witches could create life, but now she must answer some big questions about parenthood, intimacy, and love.

Pansy, Rows, and Mutual Wanking by @violetclarity, @kysprite [E, 27.1k] 🌶

Eighth year. Hermione's ready. She's going to study, have fun with her friends, and ignore her new roommate's obnoxious wanking habits. And alright, maybe she wouldn't be so annoyed with it if she'd had any good sex in the past. But that doesn't mean she wants Pansy Parkinson to teach her how to wank....does it?

💫💫 Dawn by @wynnefic [T, 15.4k]

At this very moment, Hermione Granger is a tiny muggleborn child who's tried half a dozen spells. No one is scared of her. No one knows to expect her. "We're really doing this," Pansy eventually says, breaking the silence. "We must be insane." (time-traveling Pansmione)

Sharp kisses, soft bites by vendettadays [E, 10.7k] 🩸

Hermione thought her life had quietened now that the world was calmer. She had a good, stable job at the Ministry. She had her pub nights with Harry and Ron. All in all, things were going well for her. That was until she died and was turned into a vampire.

(More below the cut!)

MEDIUM & MESMERIZING (3k-10k)

Working Late by becauseISaidSo [E, 8.7k]

Last week, Hermione finally went to her first lesbian bar. This week, she’s being invited to the office of a very high powered CEO who’s legs never seem to end and who’s taste in whiskey is rivaled only by her own. (Pansmione Wall Street AU)

Fiddlesticks by peskywhistpaw [T, 8.6]

Getting lost in a good book is easy. It’s getting out that’s a bit more of a challenge.

'cause we look so good together by iam0kaywiththis [E, 7.4k] 🌶

It started out as a favor for a friend. Show up, model some lingerie, and leave. Easy, right? Too bad the other model was also her ex. An ex she hadn’t seen in eight years. The same ex that had broken her heart.

💫 Make Me Feel, Make Me Hurt, Make Me Whole by @unmistakablyoatmeal [E, 6.3k]

Hermione and Pansy fall in love.

We should be lovers instead by @bicalamity [E, 4.8k]

Pansy's pining works strongly in her favor

Women Do It Better by @queenkatelynthearistocrat [E, 4.1k] 🌹 🌶

Ron can't bring Hermione to orgasm. Pansy decides that Hermione deserves better. And that she would be more than happy to do something about it herself.

burning into the night by slowrush [E, 3.5k] 🌶

"Hey," Pansy says, forehead creased in concern. "Still with me?" "Yes," Hermione replies, snapping back into the moment. She shifts her hips, pushes them up in a slow grind that has Pansy cursing under her breath. "Yes, always."

SHORT & SATISFYING (<3k)

Slytherin Altruism by @owlswithfins [T, 4.3k] 🌹

“Sorry I’m late, babe. You know how it is down at the Prophet.” Hermione’s mouth fell open as she stared dumbly at one Pansy Parkinson. Pansy sent her a look that said, “just go with it” and took Gryffindor’s hand in her own. Hermione shut her mouth.

💫 Thirty-eight by The Last Good Name [E, 2.9k] 🌶

Hermione and Pansy have sex together. Hermione counts.

💫 Risk & Reward by @mrsren [E, 2.3k] 🌶

The first time should have been a fluke. Nothing more than an accident after too much elf wine. Then there was a second time on her desk in her office after hours. The third time is the riskiest of them all but Hermione had realized that she has to stop drinking if this witch is going to be anywhere near her.

💫💫 Breaking wild roses (stings like love's pain) by @teacup-tai [E, 1.4k] 🌶

I feel like a scream is stuck inside my chest, creeping up in the deep dark hollow of my throat. It’s a mix of pain and agony. So to keep it down, I open my mouth and fill it with your soft, tender flesh. The bronze skin of your shoulder right against my tongue.

Dare to love you by pan_and_ready_to_stan [T, 1.2k]

'Hermione, it's your turn.' Harry bumped his shoulder into her, 'Truth or Dare?' 'Dare.' She was a gryffindor after all. 'I dare you to flirt with Pansy for the rest of the night.'

—

Where can I read more Pansmione fics?

🌙 - Pansmione: Tag on Tumblr | Tag on AO3 🌙 - WLW Library: Tumblr | Tag | AO3

#hp femslash #hp saffics #wlw wednesday #wlw library #pansmione #hermione x pansy

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electric--blanket · 3 years

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a place where the heart rests

so, because @thekaiserroll drew fanart of my fanfiction i decided to return the favour by writing a long Wintersberg one-shot based off of her short comic! i hope you enjoy touch-starved Heisenberg.

warnings for death (not for main characters) and some angst.

read on ao3

Mama… I want mama. It hurts.

Where’s mama?

Karl Heisenberg always suffered from nightmares. Even before he was taken in by Mother Miranda — as a child, Heisenberg often experienced night terrors that had him screaming in his bed. There were distant memories in the back of his mind, where he’d wake from a terrible dream that had him screaming for his mother — and she’d always come to his side. In that terribly large, cold estate that Heisenberg once called home, it always felt so lonely. But, his mother always eased his fears; with her silk nightgown and the distinct smell of expensive soap. Her soft fingers would comb through Heisenberg’s locks of ashen brown hair, hushing him in a soft tone of voice — a voice he could no longer remember.

During the experiments, it was the only thing Heisenberg begged for when he felt the cadou infesting his body. It felt like a worm wriggling around in the wet soil during a storm, curling and writhing through his organs. He screamed for his mother, wishing she would save him from the pain and take him home again. A seventeen-year-old boy screaming for his mother to come and save him looked utterly pathetic from Mother Miranda’s perspective, and the feeling of fear only intensified when she stroked Heisenberg’s hair whilst he screamed. A soft whisper that uttered, “I’m your mother now, child.” It made Heisenberg nearly vomit.

That was the last time someone had ever touched him so tenderly. He’d not felt a loving touch since then and ducked away from Miranda’s so-called ‘motherly’ touches.

At first, Heisenberg coped with the intense trauma of his bodily changes by taking it in stride and calling his newfound power of magnetism a ‘gift’. He knew deep down it was the opposite: it stopped him from ageing, rendered him infertile and stripped away his dignity by becoming a slave to Miranda. It took a long time for Heisenberg to fully process what had happened to him. His father had left him in the clutches of a madwoman, and his life only got worse from there.

In a fit of rage — perhaps at the age of twenty-nine — he revisited his parent's estate to confront the man he could no longer call ‘father’. He had aged since Heisenberg last saw him, but those steel eyes he’d inherited were still as hard as ever. His mother lingered in a doorway just down the hall, but she didn’t dare come to greet her son as he snapped with a short, interrupted breath. Heisenberg had grabbed his father by the neck and pinned him to the nearest wall, knocking down a beautiful oil painting his mother adored. His fingers didn’t seem to stop, squeezing on the skin and bone until he felt a sickening crack vibrate beneath his fingers.

Heisenberg hadn’t meant it, not really. It was as if a demon had taken control of his body and sought revenge that barely mattered anymore. He didn’t realise what he’d done until he heard the sound of his mother screaming; distraught and fearful of her own son that she’d once coddled so long ago.

That was the last time Heisenberg saw his mother and father. The estate was quickly abandoned not long after, and from what he knew, his mother took her belongings and moved to Austria with some distant relatives. That large house teased Heisenberg every fucking day, with how it towered near the factory grounds and reminded him of what he’d done. Arson wasn’t exactly on his bucket list, but Heisenberg couldn’t resist taking a match to the place and watching it burn. Whatever childhood remained in that house was left in a pile of ashes, and he never looked upon it ever again. All of the silly dreams and hopes he’d had for his life were gone.

That was until Ethan Winters showed up. Nearly a hundred years later, Heisenberg felt something he’d sought after for so long — hope.

“Karl? Karl—!”

Mama. I want mama. Everything hurts.

Heisenberg forced his eyes open. It felt like his life was replaying in front of him whilst he was passed out; like watching an old film reel repeating itself and becoming more distorted each time. Up until that very night, Heisenberg’s life had been a series of traumatic events and unforgivable actions.

That night, he’d turned it all around just by laying his eyes on Ethan Winters. A man so incredible, resilient and insane… He’d do anything to get his little girl back. It was the man Heisenberg had oh-so wanted his father to be, and he admired that about Ethan. He’d never been so good at expressing his emotions honestly, or even laying out his ideas in a proper fashion to others… Oh, but Ethan was special. He’d shown Heisenberg patience that he’d not been offered before and decided to join him at his side to kill Miranda. Together.

“Karl… Fuck— Don’t die on me, asshole.”

Ethan… Ethan…

Above the metal remnants of what his mutated body had used as a shell, he could hear Ethan pushing the scrap aside to try and find Heisenberg buried beneath it. He could also hear the distinct cries of a distressed baby, something that brought him back to Earth. Heisenberg reached up through the metal until his bare, calloused fingers brushed up against Ethan’s soft knuckles. There was a moment of silence when their skin touched, but Ethan didn’t waste any time in grabbing Heisenberg’s hand and pulling him out.

The moment the pressure around his body ceased, Heisenberg felt the telltale feeling of sickening warmth seeping from many wounds across his body. The cadou inside him didn’t react too well to it, trying to cope with the trauma done by squirming and pulsating inside of him. Heisenberg drank in the expression of Ethan’s relieved face for just a moment, only until it warped into one of worry and horror. Heisenberg was weak, and his knees buckled beneath the weight of his torso before he fell back onto the ground.

The baby cupped carefully in one of Ethan’s arms began to cry again as Ethan jostled her accidentally in an attempt to help Heisenberg. A baby crying wasn’t really helping Heisenberg’s already distressed state, but it made him realise just how fucked he was. There was no way they would get away in time together, and Heisenberg was too injured to walk. The cadou might have helped to some degree, but it didn’t ease the burning pain in his body, and the loss of blood that was making him dizzy.

Ethan’s horrified expression was pinned on an appendage from the Megamycete, which rose up from the cave systems like a flower bud in spring, ready to bloom. The small, red flashing light alerted him to the fact that Chris Redfield had succeeded in planting the bomb. They had to leave.

“Go.”

A silence hung in the air for just a moment, and Heisenberg didn’t realise what he’d just said. For the first time in his miserable existence, he was being selfless and urging Ethan to leave him behind. It was the last thing Heisenberg wanted.

Don’t leave me here. I’m fucking scared. I don’t want to die yet.

“Fuck you,” Ethan’s voice trembled with venom, “I’m not leaving you here now. Not after everything we’ve been through.”

Heisenberg let out a bitter chuckle, tasting the blood seeping from his gums as he grinned, “I don’t think we have any time to be arguing about this, buttercup.”

“No. I— Mia’s dead, Karl. I need you.”

That’s right. Heisenberg briefly recalled Miranda’s kidnapping of the not-so-innocent woman and the experimentation that followed. Unfortunately, her body gave in due to her state after giving birth and she died on Miranda’s operating table. Ethan’s wife was dead, and Rose was now left without a mother’s loving touch.

“I said go. Rose needs her papa intact, not blown to pieces.” Heisenberg insisted, slumping back against the pile of scrap metal.

“Damn it—” Ethan looked hesitant to leave Heisenberg. It was a truly sweet sentiment: to see someone care about him after all this time. After all of the terrible things he’d done, and the love he’d been deprived of… Someone cared about him. Maybe that was enough. Maybe it wasn’t so bad to die like this.

“Fuck.” Ethan stammered again, licking his dry lips and swallowing, “Karl… I… Thank you.”

“... Yeah. I know, Ethan.”

That was all he needed. A trembling, watery smile shot his way before Ethan held Rose close with both arms and turned to run.

He’s going to be a great father.

Heisenberg looked up at the plant-like form the Megamycete had taken, looming down upon the ceremony courtyard with writhing mold creeping closer to Heisenberg. It was then that he decided that giving in like this wasn’t who he was: he was a fighter to his last breath.

In a last attempt to preserve his life, Heisenberg parted the pile of scrap metal and shuffled beneath it all. He rolled his wrist, the cocoon of metal surrounding him and tightening. The metal creaked, drowning out the sounds of the mold writhing around the metal to try and get inside. Heisenberg closed his eyes tightly, gritting his teeth. I won’t die. Not yet.

The explosion that followed shortly after was deafening, causing the entire ground to shake beneath him and the metal to shudder against his body. It felt painful, rippling off his injured skin like that… But, fortunately for Heisenberg, the explosion wasn’t nuclear — the blast was enough to do the job and wipe out the mold and the Megamycete.

A silence followed the explosion, brick and ash collapsing against Heisenberg’s metal cocoon. Each noise made him flinch, and his fingers twitched instinctively as some final line of defence. He didn’t know how long it was before he felt brave enough to let his guard down and release his telekinetic grip on the metal. The scraps suddenly slumped, collapsing around him as Heisenberg pushed the metal off of his body and emerged like a phoenix rising from the ashes of its former self.

The smoke and dust still remained, causing Heisenberg to cough heavily as he took a sharp inhale of the air. He squinted through the dust and remains of what was left of his home town and realised how much he’d lost. It hit him all at once; his childhood, his parents and his fucked up little family. Even though he hated Miranda and his makeshift siblings deeply, they were all he truly had left to call ‘family’. It was over in the blink of an eye, and Heisenberg suddenly felt like a child all over again. Like a child waking from a nightmare, scared and alone.

Heisenberg’s fingers twitched into tight fists, clamping his mouth shut as tears threatened to spill down his face. Even after all this, he tried to will himself not to cry, to never let down the walls he had so carefully built. But, at that moment there was nothing left to keep the foundations upright. Heisenberg’s fists loosened, and he brought his hands up to cover his face instinctively. A knot seemingly untied itself in his chest and throat, and a guttural sob left him. Maybe — just maybe — it was okay.

Navigating the woods was even worse during a snowstorm at night. It was bad enough that Heisenberg’s body was weak from his healing injuries, but it felt haggard from his intense emotional breakdown. In a strange sense, he felt relief from it but at the same time, it felt awfully inconvenient. Heisenberg was sure he looked like a terrible mess; his clothes were torn and his hair was damp with clumps of ash hanging from his silver locks. Not to mention the blood staining his clothes, and his valuable dog tags that hung low on his chest.

In his many idle chats with Ethan before they fought Miranda, he could recall the other man mentioning he didn’t live too far from the village. It was a fair distance away, but not too far that it would be impossible to reach if your car broke down on the road between them. Still, it wasn’t a pleasant or short walk.

By the time Heisenberg even managed to reach a place that looked like a livable home, he was close to collapsing in the snow… But, he held out. The lights were turned off inside, but a motion sensor light on the property turned on once Heisenberg got close enough. The bulb blinded him briefly, and he held a hand up to shield his eyes as he walked up the porch to the door. Heisenberg sluggishly lifted his hand, knocking on the door as hard as he could and leaning against the frame. It took a few moments before he could see a light turn on inside from the windows, and the sound of someone walking down a wooden staircase slowly.

The person on the other side of the door stopped before they reached for the doorknob, and they spoke out.

“Who is it?”

Ethan Winters. That voice Heisenberg had missed so dearly; in all of its glory and full of caution. It almost made him laugh.

“Let me in, Ethan. I’m freezing.”

“Karl?”

“As smart as ever, Ethan. Can you hurry up?”

Ethan was quick to unlock the door and remove the security chain, twisting the doorknob and pulling it open. There, Ethan was standing in a pristine white shirt and some boxers that hung low on his hips… Along with a pair of comical slippers that seemed to resemble a cartoon dog. Heisenberg’s lips twitched into a tired grin.

“Oh my, too much skin, Ethan. Back in my day—”

“Shut up and get in here!”

Ethan grabbed Heisenberg’s arm, tugging him inside to shield him from the snowstorm outside. He slammed the door shut and quickly locked it back up, and the two men finally stood face-to-face. There was a silence that hung in the air, with so many unanswered questions on the tip of Ethan’s tongue, but none came. Without any further hesitation, Ethan threw his arms around Heisenberg’s neck and tugged him close for an embrace.

It was the first time Ethan had touched him in such a way. So full of affection and genuinity, it made Heisenberg’s fingers tremble with uncertainty. He didn’t know what to do with his hands: so overcome with the touches that smothered him. His brows creased into an expression of relief, and Heisenberg’s steel eyes fluttered shut as he succumbed to the hug. He wrapped his arms around Ethan’s waist, squeezing him carefully and burying his face into Ethan’s shoulder. The smell of talcum powder and formula milk permeated his shirt, giving Heisenberg the comfort he craved. He never wanted Ethan to stop touching him, and he was content to stay like this for as long as he could — to make up for all the time he’d lost aching after affection.

“I thought…” Ethan mumbled slowly, “I thought you were dead.”

“Mm.” Heisenberg hummed lowly in response, curling his fingers into Ethan’s shirt. “So did I. Turns out I’m hard to kill.”

Ethan snorted softly.

As it turned out, Heisenberg wasn’t too bad with kids.

It was a tough adjustment for the two men at first; Ethan had to keep Heisenberg a well-guarded secret as he was moved to a new location with Rose (courtesy of the BSAA). Heisenberg followed their steps at a safe distance, but he was never too far from them. Understandably, Ethan was moved into a smaller home: a humble bungalow in a quiet German village. Once the BSAA had left Ethan in peace with Rose, it didn’t take long before Heisenberg settled into the bungalow with them.

Ethan had insisted that if Heisenberg was going to stay there with him and Rose, then he’d need to learn to help take care of the baby. At first, he was extremely hesitant to do something akin to a parental figure… But, Rose was a surprisingly sweet baby. She didn’t fuss too much and rarely threw a tantrum over the little things. Rose was the right amount of responsibility for Heisenberg, and that made him a patient parent.

He’d been taught how to properly hold her (after many lectures), how to prepare her formula and change her. Rose was understandably unhappy with Heisenberg’s presence at first, perhaps longing for her mother that was no longer around… But, after a few months, she took to Heisenberg very well.

Because of Karl’s lack of mortality and infertility, he never thought he’d take the figure of a father like this… But, it wasn’t exactly an unwelcome opportunity. He’d even upgraded from sleeping on the couch to Ethan’s bed.

The first night Ethan invited him to bed, Heisenberg could tell from the flustered look on Ethan’s face that it took a lot of courage to ask him to bed. A sexual joke lingered on the tip of Heisenberg’s tongue, but he bit it back in favour of keeping the proposal on the table. Instead, Heisenberg had nodded with a cheeky grin and followed Ethan to bed.

There had been some nights where the loss of Mia hit Ethan harder than he’d liked it to — even after Mia’s work with The Connections was revealed, he had still loved her to a degree. Those nights were the hardest. All Heisenberg could do was hold Ethan in his arms and comfort him with nothing more than his presence.

This invitation into Ethan’s bed was far more intimate than a comforting hug. At first, they stayed a polite distance apart on either side of the bed, with Ethan turned on his side whilst Heisenberg stared up at the dark ceiling. In the darkness, his eyes created shapes that danced across the ceiling and warped before him. Much like the mold that infested him, it was as if it continued to taunt him with its presence. After a moment, Heisenberg finally turned onto his side and glanced at the lump that was Ethan with his back to him. That urge to touch returned to the forefront of Heisenberg’s mind. It was that deep ache in his chest, like a lump of flour stuck in a smooth dough that needed to be coaxed inward.

He reached out but stopped himself before he could touch, trying to plan the best way to move forward with what he wanted. Heisenberg pursed his lips, shuffling his body closer to Ethan’s back until he finally slid his arm over Ethan’s waist. He could feel Ethan’s body freeze and tense up a little, which made Heisenberg’s heart feel like stopping altogether. Had he gone too far?

But after a moment, Ethan relaxed, pressing his chest back into Karl slowly. It was all the permission he needed to slot himself fully against Ethan and quietly seek out his hand. Once Heisenberg found it, he carefully laced their fingers together as he held Ethan like that, tugging him close with his elbow.

No words were spoken in the darkness, but a silent understanding of what they both wanted. Heisenberg finally felt complete like this, closing his eyes and exhaling tiredly. His body suddenly felt tired, releasing all the tension it had been holding trying to psyche himself up to do it.

A feeling of affection swelled in Heisenberg’s chest as he held Ethan, finally giving in to the darkness and drifting away with their bond now stronger than ever.

“Are you fucking insane, Ethan?!”

Chris Redfield. A thorn in Heisenberg’s side, but not as bad as Miranda. His voice filling their home put Heisenberg on edge, but it didn’t really matter too much to him. It was around ten in the morning, and the couple had just had breakfast. The television was on, playing some cartoons in the background as Rose was sitting on the soft carpet of the living area with her toys, and Heisenberg sat close to her.

When Chris made an unexpected visit, and he spotted Heisenberg in the living room, the yelling began. Ethan had kept Chris just outside of the room so that Rose didn’t see her father getting angry, and Heisenberg made sure to keep her attention on her toys. Heisenberg was wearing a pair of tartan boxers, along with a button-up pyjama shirt with a white tank top beneath it. It wasn’t exactly the pinnacle of bedtime fashion, but it made him comfortable enough at night.

When the yelling only got worse and Rose seemed irritated by the noise, Heisenberg carefully brought Rose into his lap and crossed his legs.

“Hmm,” He hummed in feigned thoughtfulness, “Does ol’ Karl need to perform for little Rose again?” Heisenberg sighed dramatically, “Oh, the things I do for you.”

He turned his body subtly to the kitchen area, holding his hand out and focusing on one of the drawers. It slid open, a few tablespoons floating out from a cutlery tray. Heisenberg pulled his hand back, the spoons floating across to the living area and bringing them to a stop in front of him and Rose. With a simple, slow roll of his wrist, the spoons began to twirl and move in a circular motion above Rose.

Her eyes widened with fascination, the corners of her mouth opening into a gleeful smile. Absently, she reached up with her soft, pink hands and tried to reach for the spoons half-heartedly as they continued their motions. A soft laugh bubbled from her, causing Karl to smile softly.

“He’s a dangerous bioweapon, Ethan. He could hurt Rose!”

Heisenberg managed to hone in on those words; a sharp pain digging into his chest when he realised the implications Chris was trying to make. That Heisenberg was a monster. A bioweapon without feeling. A creature that would kill a child.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Ethan pointing wordlessly at the soft scene of Heisenberg with Rose in his lap, entertaining her with spoons. That was all he needed to say, really — without even saying it. Even Chris was at a loss for words, and he quietly relented. Ethan was surely in for an afternoon of lectures.

It made Heisenberg smile a little more, turning his head subtly towards Ethan and catching his gaze. It was his quiet way of saying thank you. It went beyond thanking Ethan for trusting him with Rose but thanking Ethan for listening to Heisenberg, taking him into his home and loving him. Even though they’d never spoken those three little words out loud, maybe they didn’t need to. Their actions, affections and closeness spoke those words loud enough.

Truly, after all this time, Heisenberg didn’t think he was capable of ever being loved or trusted. Now that he’d left that horrible life behind, he was now a father, a friend and possibly a lover. The trauma would always remain, yes, like the cadou and the mutations. That didn’t mean he couldn’t be happy like this, in this simple little life he’d started to build with Ethan.

Maybe it would be okay.

#ethan winters x karl heisenberg #karl heisenberg x ethan winters #heisenberg x ethan #heisenwinters #wintersberg #winterberg #karl heisenberg #ethan winters #resident evil village #resident evil 8 #resident evil fic #fanfiction #oneshot

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youwerenevermeanttofeelalone · 3 years

Text

A Heartbeat Away | Damian Wayne

✦ pairing — older!Damian Wayne x gender neutral!Plus Size Reader

✦ word count — 2.7k

✦ based off the song I Should’ve Kissed You by One Direction

✦ summary — Damian is haunted by the fact that he only said good night when he should have kissed you.

✦ warnings — light angst, mentions of pregnancy (a minor character is pregnant), mentions of food and beverages, fluff.

✦ author's note i — randomly remembered my obsession with this song and couldn’t get it out of my head.

✦ author's note ii — the parts in italics are flashbacks.

════════════════════════

Ever since he started living with Jason, Damian found himself straying away from the things that held him back.

His life would never be normal, but in hindsight, he could admit things weren’t as bad.

The fallout with his father came crashing down in the worst moment possible — Dick was dead and his relationship with Tim wasn’t the best.

As little as he knew Jason, he was sure he could trust him so he asked for his help instead of somebody else’s.

And Jason didn’t say no. Whether he had the heart to do it or not was irrelevant because he still took Damian in and helped him find a job.

He hated said job.

‘It’s a job,’ you had told him, ‘you’re not supposed to like it.’

You.

Damian rarely stopped thinking about you. Calling it infatuation felt like an understatement, and yet he couldn’t find a better word to describe the whirlwind of emotions you gave him.

He still remembered the day he met you for the first time.

Jason paced in the living room, perking up every time he heard a noise outside the apartment.

You’re driving me insane,” Damian said from the small dining table.

”Roy’s late.”

”Why are you surprised?”

Jason glared at him.

Both of them heard somebody stand on the other side of the door. Their steps didn’t sound like Roy’s.

Pulling the door open, Jason was ready to snap at whoever had knocked.

“You ordered something and gave my apartment number instead of yours. Again.”

Damian didn’t recognize the voice so he slanted his body to the side to see who it was. He couldn’t stop staring.

”I’ll make it up to you.”

”Jay,” you sighed. “I’ve told you before, you just need to tell me beforehand if you don’t want things to arrive to your apartment. My roommate could have opened it.”

Damian chuckled, a single elbow resting on the table.

Jason craned his neck. “You think this is funny?”

”I think you’re a moron.”

”Shut up and come meet our neighbor.”

Damian didn’t have to be told twice. He stood up with an eagerness he hadn’t felt since Jason texted him to let him know he had found the materials so he could build a suit and go back to patrol.

”This is my brother Damian.” Jason turned around to place the package under the table next to the door.

He knew you’d either seen him before or heard about him the moment his eyes landed on you. People always had a visceral reaction when they met him, some found him attractive, others attempted to ask for favors, and some recoiled in fear.

But you didn’t. You held his gaze and stood in the same spot you had been since you knocked on the door.

And whether it had been in a newspaper or a gossip forum, he was glad you knew something about him. There was something about the way you stared at him that screamed for him to trust you. Wishful thinking, perhaps.

“Nice to meet you,” you politely said, smiling at him.

Stunned by the fact that you hadn’t mocked him, and now assuming it wasn’t wishful thinking after all, he tilted his head. Most people did mock now that he wasn’t under his father’s wing.

Still, he said, “Likewise.”

Your smile became warmer. “I live three doors down the hallway in case you need anything.”

He felt a pang in his chest at the gesture. “I’ll keep it in mind.”

Weird sensations in his chest were normal when he was around you. Befriending you was easier than he’d ever admit and talking to you became the highlight of his day.

The pangs in his chest turned into a fluttering sensation in a heartbeat. You’d make him feel breathless when you did the smallest things — when you smiled at him, when you complained about other neighbors with him, when you asked about his day.

He felt special. For once in his life for being the closest he had ever been to resemble a normal person.

And he also remembered, quite painfully, that night he let you walk away without mustering the courage to tell you —or show you— the way you made him feel.

The deserted hallway was yet another proof of how easy it was to lose track of time around you.

Damian hadn’t expected to get back home past midnight or to skip patrol, but 1:00 AM turned into 2:00 and he couldn’t part from you no matter how many times he tried to remind himself to do it.

He hadn’t even expected to enjoy the state fair as an adult, yet he couldn’t remember a time he had more fun than that evening.

You gazed up at him, waiting for him to either do or say something. Anything other than stare at you in the middle of the hallway.

You had already thanked him for making you company, there was no way you’d say anything. And he froze.

“Good night,” he sputtered.

Your brow twitched. “Night.”

He watched you unlock your door and get inside your apartment with a heavy heart.

You moved out a couple months ago and he hadn’t seen you since then. The texts the two of you exchanged were sporadic and they bordered in formal.

He should have kissed you, he was aware of that. And to make matters worse, Jason chewed him out when he found out.

He still looked for you every morning he left the apartment as though you’d remember you had forgotten something. That you had forgotten him.

Jon said it was for the best, that somebody as sweet as you didn’t deserve to carry with his baggage.

Damian knew his best friend to be right, but how could he let go of you that easily when you made him see he was more than his mistakes and regrets?

He didn’t need anybody to carry him, he could drag himself anywhere if needed.

He simply hated the hole in the pit of his stomach every time he entertained the possibility of having to see you one day with somebody else because he wasn’t brave enough to say what he needed to let out.

The idea of being out of time was killing him slowly, so naturally, he’d sought a quick death.

════════════════════════

You gasped upon opening the door. You weren’t expecting anybody to be outside — much less Damian Wayne.

“Oh!”

“Hi,” he softly greeted.

You blinked rapidly. “Did you need anything?”

“I wanted to... Are you on your way out?”

“I’m just dropping this off for my mom.” You momentarily lifted the bags you were carrying in one hand. “She lives nearby.”

He spared a look to the reusable bags in your grasp. “Is she sick?”

“Pregnant,” you explained, playing with your keys. “It’s high risk due to her age so we take as much care of her as we can.”

Damian walked backward, allowing you to come out of the apartment and lock the door.

As you pushed the door to make sure it was locked, he asked, “Would you care for some company?”

Turning around, you gave him a small smile. “That would be lovely.”

He reached over. “Let me help.”

“They’re not heavy.”

“I insist.”

”Okay.” You handed him the bags and took the initiative to lead the way.

He reached your side immediately.

Not knowing what else to do, aware you’d let something slip if you didn’t find something, you made small talk. “How’s Jason?”

“As annoying as always.”

You still remembered when he meant those words, when he complained about Jason and how often they butted heads. His tone was different now, lighter, almost playful.

“Good to know some things never change.”

You walked the streets with an ease you hadn’t been able to in years. Growing up in that neighborhood meant which streets to avoid, and sadly, most of them were unsafe.

There were many things you could have asked or said, perhaps apologize for being cold while texting.

You were in your right to be cold and you could have just not answered, but you wanted to keep contact even though you were hurt.

Damian was great company. It was a shame you misread the entire situation and couldn’t go back to chat with him like before.

It took you a few attempts to get them to talk comfortably, but once he was able to, he didn’t look back. He even gossiped with you.

Stopping in front of the house, you looked around to make sure your mom had the windows open. Once sure, you walked up the front steps.

You withdrew a single key from your back pocket and extended your other hand so Damian would give you the bags.

The floors were recently mopped which meant your aunt had visited that day.

“It’s me,” you yelled so your mom wouldn’t get up. It was her time to be watching TV in the living room.

Carrying the bags towards the kitchen, you caught the jingle from a commercial.

You filled a glass with water and added a couple of ice cubes.

Your mom was comfortably sat on a recliner, feet up and remote control on her thigh. “Hurry back before it gets dark.”

“Don’t worry, a friend of mine walked me here.” You handed her the glass. “Do you need anything else?”

She ignored your question as she took the glass. “Who is it?”

“You don’t know him.”

“Him?” She lifted an eyebrow.

You hadn’t mentioned a guy to her in almost two years now, her surprise was understandable. “Not now.”

“Oh, so it is like that?”

Maybe it was and maybe that was the issue. She wouldn’t blame you if she knew him like you did, if she heard him laugh or saw him change his demeanor to accommodate to somebody else’s sensibilities.

You didn’t think you’d witness anything remotely close to that when you met him for the first time, but you learned really quickly that Damian was full of surprises.

“I’ll call in the morning in case you need something. I’m working ’til 3:00 PM tomorrow.”

“It’s okay.” She took a sip of water. “Did you bring anything sweet?”

“Homemade muffins and a few chocolate bars. Do you want one now?”

She shook her head. “I’ll wait after dinner.”

You kissed her cheek. “Call me, please.”

“Go, go.” She ushered you to go with a gesture of her hand. “Don’t make your friend wait.”

It was your time to ignore her comment.

Damian was sat on the front steps when you came out, looking up at the darkening sky.

“Is everything alright?” you asked in a whisper as to not scare him.

“No.” He shook his head and stood up. “I mean, yes. How’s your mother?”

“She’s good. Having fun watching reality TV.”

Damian squinted. “Is reality TV really that entertaining?”

“It’s mindless stuff, but it’s fun sometimes. You get to judge other people’s lives without feeling remorse because it’s most likely fake.”

The walk back was way shorter and you didn’t want to part. It was time to swallow your pride and your feelings for him.

He didn’t part ways with you at the building entrance. He walked beside you until you reached the elevator — Damian extended his arm to keep the doors open and allowed you to get in first. He followed suit.

You turned the lights on with Damian on your tail. He did wait for you to invite him in, but you were sure both of you knew there was no way you wouldn’t.

“I made muffins. Do you want one?”

Damian nodded.

You guided him to the dining table where a trippy vase in pastel colors rested with flowers.

He looked around the apartment as he walked towards the table. As he sat down, he fixed his eyes on the vase.

“Green or black?”

“Mmh?”

“Your tea.”

You could swear you saw him smile to himself.

“Black.” He placed his cellphone on the table. “You still have that thing,” he said, referring to the trippy vase.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

He huffed a laugh. “Jason said it was ugly.”

“Jason doesn’t have the best taste in the world,” you lightheartedly retorted.

The vase was precious to you, a gift from Damian who spooked you in the middle of a rainy night and made you knock your favorite vase.

You set a plate in front of him and placed the muffin there. “Your tea’s almost ready.”

“No roommate this time?”

“Nope. I miss Lou, but I don’t miss having a roommate that much.”

“I thought the move was temporary just so you could be close to your mother...”

“It is, but there’s still a long way to go. The baby should be here next month and she’ll need help around the house.” You disappeared for a moment as you looked for a mug.

Having found one, you dropped the teabag and poured the boiling water in.

“Sugar.” You put the sugar bowl down just in front of the mug. Feeling his eyes on the side of your face, you gazed at him. “It’s brown, don’t worry.”

He relaxed and uncovered the sugar bowl. “Is the father of your mother’s child around?”

“Yeah.” You sat down on the chair closest to his. “She remarried last year and her husband tries to help, but you know, work gets in the way.”

“Tell me if I can help with anything.”

“Don’t worry, you have enough things to juggle with already.”

“What’s one more? At least let me make you company or walk you home. These streets are dangerous.”

You softly nodded. From the day you met him you knew you would never be able to tell him no — and having his company after a long day sounded nice.

“So...”

“So,” you encouraged him to go on.

“Are you seeing anybody?”

“No. I thought I was a little while ago, but...” You hoped he’d understand what you were getting at. “I guess something got lost in translation.”

“Did it? Or was he too much of a coward to show the way he felt?”

“Don’t.” You hated hearing him talk like that about himself.

“You don’t know how much I regret not kissing you that night. I—“ He sighed, twisting his mouth as he frowned. “I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“At least now I know you did think about doing it.”

“I did. Many times throughout the night.” He turned to the side to fully look at you. “I wanted to find the perfect moment and became overwhelmed. Sounds like a bad excuse, but I swear it’s the truth.”

“I believe you.”

Damian scooted closer and reached over to place his hand on your face. Softly, he caressed your cheek. “I’ve missed you.”

You leaned onto his touch, tilting your head. “Me too. Sorry for being such an ass.”

“It’s fine. I would have reacted similarly.”

“Similarly or worse?”

“Worse.”

You laughed, making him smile.

“May I?”

“Thought you’d never ask.”

Damian leaned in, placing his free hand on the back of your chair as his nose brushed yours.

His lips softly connected with yours, but the slow pace didn’t last. The two of you had wasted too much time, thrown away too many opportunities to be this close —or closer— and patience wasn’t a virtue Damian possessed.

The chair was now balancing itself in two legs, making you interrupt the kiss with a squeal.

Damian then made you stand up and wrapped his arms around your waist. His lips were immediately back on yours.

Your hands went up to rest on his biceps as he kissed you again. His arms tightened around you as he deepened the kiss and you melted.

You melted into the kiss, onto his warmth, due to the fact that he wanted this as much as you did.

Kissing him had become a mere fantasy for you, and there he was, not only making it a reality but exceeding your expectations.

Grabbing him by the neck, you broke the kiss in search of air. His breath was barely ragged and you remembered he told you he could hold it in for a long time.

You needed him to teach you just to be able to kiss him for longer.

“That was nice,” you said, still breathless.

“Yeah, really nice. We should do it more often.”

“Are you asking me out?”

“I’m telling you I want you to be mine.”

All in or nothing, of course. Jason had warned you that Damian didn’t take things lightly.

But you were okay with that.

#damian wayne x reader #damian wayne x plus size reader #damian wayne

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