#but don't think i have the energy for them

[mr-ribbit]

something fascinating to me about egg discourse is how often tme people Also joke about or question their friends potential to be trans, and it's literally never talked about like this.

my cis and tme nb friends routinely joke about celebrities or characters that have big "nonbinary energy" or who otherwise exhibit behavior we would associate with ourselves. i have tme friends and acquaintances who have approached me or my wife and straightforwardly said "something seems trans about you, have I asked for your pronouns recently?"

similar friends have even talked about other still-cis friends in our circle this way, or joked about "when are you going to transition like the rest of us?" or "yeah cis people are a minority in this group, just give it time" or "no wonder you have queer friends with how comfortable with being gnc you are" or etc etc examples like that

even the actual examples of people in my life that I can think of as being the most "invasive" or presumptive about gender have been tme people:

it was my cishet friends who outed me and my wife as trans to everyone at their wedding, including their boomer parents and hundreds of strangers, and called it "the most queer wedding party ever"

it was my tme nb friend who kept saying they could "always tell" her transfem cousin was trans before she came out, and then proceeded to randomly give us extremely personal details about her bottom surgery

it was my transmasc friend who refused to call me and my wife anything other than "little enby beans" after we met and introduced us with our full genders+sexuality labels to every single person one by one at a party

it was my transmasc nb friend who kept insisting my wife could "still be nonbinary" when she was first considering identifying as a trans woman instead, and it was THAT idea that actually slowed her down from making changes to her life that she wanted

it was my cis friends who approached me arm and arm and cornered my outside of a bathroom at a party right after I took a piss to suddenly ask me what my pronouns were because they "heard something" at the party

like, transfems deserve robust support against this trash so a lot of our defensive discourse has ofc been about how it IS okay for transfems to talk about eggs and be jokey about it and non-invasively approach others about being trans

but i swear to god none of these weird people have even stopped to make their discourse ABOUT anyone BUT transfems. it's so clearly targeted!!

no one has EVER approached *me* as a tme nb person and suggested i was pressuring gnc people with my egg jokes. never. nothing even remotely similar. i joke about other people being trans all the time and no one has ever treated me the way you all are treating transfems over this issue.

important note: my examples are all things I recall as being invasive and awkward, and I'm sharing them to make a point about how often rude behavior comes from the same tme people pointing fingers over this. but I still don't think any of them are worth the crucifixion people are treating transfem egg discourse with.

even when my friends were weird to me in the above examples, my reaction was either to confront them about it as friends who I trust to be able to communicate with, or to cut those individuals off after they proved not worth a relationship in the long run. at no time did I desire to make a call-out post or spread rumors about them or publicly declare all of their gender as a screeching menace to society.

my point here is that even when I do think about moments where others crossed a line, acting like this is a "issue trans women have" is blatantly transmisogynistic garbage that only exists to serve the woman-hating machine at the heart of our society. fucking cut it out

#to be clear: i have tons of transfem friends too #and im not friends with all of these people anymore #but thats not the point of this post at all #also obligatory im tme tag #but i think thats also clear in the post

[drdemonprince]

just like going through the members of my family and my friend groups one by one, i can't think a single damn person i know who does not have a disability. ARFID. Autism. Metal rod in the spine. Arthritis. Cancer in remission. Long-term effects of repeated concussions. Bad back. Exhaustion. Crohn's. EDS. More Autism and ADHD. Migraines. Periods that lay them out for a week. Chronic depression. Alcoholism. Bipolar. Cataracts.

I do not know a single person who is not disabled, typically in multiple ways, and we all face increased disability as a natural consequence of aging. Literally every person on the planet becomes disabled on a long enough timeline. Yet we still talk about disability and organize around it as if it isn't social, economic, and contextual. people treat disability as an innate quality that some people have and some people do not have, and as if there is some large class of intrinsically abled people who are benefiting under capitalism and are withholding the fruits of their abilities from us or something.

i saw this post on twitter months ago that was like "I need people to understand that if you are in a relationship with a disabled person you are going to have to do more than them. you're not disabled and so you're going to have to do more of the work (around the house, logisticially, etc). that is what you owe them as an abled person."

and it just baffled me. because i have only ever seen disabled people in relationships with other disabled people, caring for one another in a stitched-together, messy web of interdependence and missed deadlines and dirty dishes and acceptance and love, not because disabled people are ontologically more generous than non-disabled people but because non-disabled people don't even actually exist.

the mythological abled person who can work a full time job, keep a clean home, do all the dishes, buy all the groceries, cook all the meals, run all the errands, stay on top of all the bills, carry everything, dash up the stairs, stand on their feet for hours, and have boundless energy without any mental consequences to that does not exist. it's an ideal created to oppress us all. it is an impossible standard the reification of which disables us all.

there is no one on this planet who is not disabled under capitalism and colonialism. there are only people who lack the class consciousness to recognize that they're disabled.

it's gonna have to be us taking care of one another. it's going to be the disabled caring for the disabled. it always will be that. that is the human condition.

[elia-the-bibliophile]

The Fast Lane to Fashion (Max Verstappen x Female Reader)

Genre: Fluff Word count: 3,1k

The one where Max’s manager hired a personal stylist for him.

Max squatted on the floor, his two cats, Jimmy and Sassy, lounging nearby with the kind of indifference only felines can muster. Max, however, was determined. “Come on, Jimmy, you can do it,” he encouraged, holding out a treat like it was the Holy Grail. Jimmy blinked, his eyes half-closed, clearly contemplating more important things—like napping. Sassy, on the other hand, stretched luxuriously and let out a yawn that seemed to mock Max's efforts.

He had spent the last two hours trying to get them to high-five him, but his attempts were as futile. “This is hopeless,” Max muttered under his breath.

Just as he was about to admit defeat, his phone rang, shattering the atmosphere. He glanced at the caller ID—Raymond, his manager. With a sigh, he accepted the call and put it on speaker, still waving the treat in front of Jimmy's nose.

“Hey, Raymond, what's up?” Max greeted, his attention split between the phone and his uncooperative pets.

Raymond's voice crackled through the speaker, sounding unusually jittery. “Max, buddy, don't be mad, okay? Just hear me out first,” he began, words tumbling out like they were in a race of their own.

Max raised an eyebrow, casting a bemused glance at Jimmy, who had finally acknowledged his presence with a slow blink. “Yea, sure. What's going on?” he replied, curiosity piqued.

“I, uh, well, I've hired someone for you,” Raymond confessed, his tone hesitant.

Max blinked, momentarily forgetting about his feline training. “Hired someone? For what?” he asked, his mind racing through all the possibilities.

Raymond took a deep breath before blurting out, “A stylist, Max. I've hired a stylist for you.”

Max's eyes widened, and he nearly dropped the phone. “A stylist? You've got to be kidding me, Raymond,” he exclaimed, his voice dripping with disbelief. “Why on earth would I need a stylist?”

Raymond let out a nervous laugh. “Well, you know, Max, there have been some… memes about your fashion choices. People are starting to wonder if that Red Bull polo is surgically attached to you!”

Max scoffed loudly. “Seriously? People think I have zero fashion sense just because I like to keep things simple?” he replied, rolling his eyes.

Raymond cleared his throat, relieved that Max wasn't outright furious. “Well, yeah. Something like that,” he admitted.

“What does it matter what I wear when I'm winning races left and right?” Max protested, his incredulity evident. “I mean, come on, mate. This is ridiculous.”

Raymond tried to soothe him. “I get it, Max, I really do. But image matters, surely it wouldn't hurt to switch things up a bit, you know?”

Max sighed, running a hand through his tousled hair. “Fine, fine,” he relented begrudgingly. “But I'm not promising anything. And if this stylist suggests I wear anything other than comfortable clothes, I'm out.”

Raymond chuckled, sensing Max's reluctance but appreciating his willingness. “Fair enough, Max. Just give it a chance, okay? Who knows, maybe you'll discover a whole new side to your wardrobe.”

Max rolled his eyes, unconvinced. “Yeah, sure, Raymond. A whole new side of my wardrobe that consists of more Red Bull polos,” he quipped sarcastically.

Max sighed, turning back to his unimpressed feline companions. “Can you believe this, Jimmy? Sassy?” he addressed them as if they were humans. “A stylist. For me. It's like Raymond has lost his mind.”

Jimmy blinked lazily, utterly unconcerned, while Sassy stretched out and emitted a soft purr.

A wistful smile tugged at the corners of Max's lips. “Sometimes, you know, I wish I was just a cat like you two,” he mused aloud, watching as they continued to bask in their simple, carefree existence.

════════════════════════════════════

Y/N sat in the waiting room at the Energy Station, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her blouse, smoothing out imaginary wrinkles. She glanced around, taking in the impressive display of trophies adorning the walls—each gleaming trophy a reminder of Red Bull's dominance on the tracks. The sheer number of them made her feel like she was sitting in a shrine.

This was her first meeting with Max, and the anticipation was practically electrifying. She stole a quick glance at her reflection in a nearby mirror, adjusting her hair and smoothing down her outfit once more. It wasn't every day that she was called in to style a world-class athlete, and the pressure to make a good impression was almost suffocating.

She was acutely aware of the challenge ahead. Raymond had drilled her on the importance of not scaring Max away with any extravagant fashion suggestions. After all, Max was rarely seen in anything other than his team's merchandise, and the last thing Y/N wanted was to make him uncomfortable and lose her job on the very first day.

Y/N's heart skipped a beat as a woman in a Red Bull shirt approached her. “Ms. Y/N L/N?” the woman inquired, her voice friendly. “Mr. Verstappen is ready to see you now.”

Y/N nodded, her nerves tingling with anticipation as she quickly rose from her seat. “Thank you,” she replied, trying to keep her voice steady.

The woman offered her a reassuring smile before gesturing towards a door at the end of the hallway. “Right this way,” she said, leading Y/N with practiced ease.

As they approached the door, Y/N took a deep breath, steeling herself for the encounter that awaited her on the other side. With a final reassuring nod from the woman, Y/N squared her shoulders and stepped through the doorway.

She sent a quick prayer that Max wouldn’t be too hard on her.

════════════════════════════════════

Max drummed his fingers impatiently on the table, boredom creeping in as he contemplated making a swift exit for the seventh time in the last ten minutes. Despite his mercurial nature, he prided himself on his manners, so he resisted the urge, albeit begrudgingly.

As the door creaked open, Max glanced up with a practiced poker face, giving nothing away. His gaze met the hopeful expression of the woman entering the room, her smile wide and optimistic.

“So, Y/N L/N, who exactly hired you?” was the first thing Max inquired, his tone laced with skepticism as he leaned back in his chair.

“Well, let's just say I went through quite a long interview process," she replied, her voice tinged with amusement. “Raymond, then Horner after that, and lastly, believe it or not, even Geri had a say in it.”

Max raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. “All that just to hire a stylist for me?” he echoed, unable to hide his surprise.

Y/N nodded, chuckling softly. “They were very thorough. I guess they wanted to make sure you wouldn't bolt at the first sight of a new wardrobe.”

Max couldn't help but laugh at that. “Well, they got that right. I'm not exactly known for my adventurous fashion choices.”

“Don’t worry,” Y/N said, her tone light and reassuring. “I promise not to suggest anything outrageous. No sequins or feather boas, I swear.”

Max snorted. “Good. Because the day I wear a feather boa is the day I retire from racing.”

Y/N laughed, the tension easing a little. “Deal. Let’s start with something simple. Maybe a t-shirt that’s not branded with Red Bull? Or a straight jeans?”

Max pretended to think it over, stroking his chin. “I suppose I could handle that,” he said. “As long as it’s comfortable.”

“Comfort is key,” Y/N agreed, feeling more at ease. “We’ll keep it simple. I’m here to help, not to turn you into a fashion icon overnight.”

Max relaxed a bit, appreciating her straightforward approach. “Alright, let’s see what you’ve got. But remember, if I don’t like it, it’s back to polos and hoodies.”

“Fair enough,” Y/N said, her smile brightening. “I’ll take my chances.”

Max then stood up and walked over to her, extending his hand with a cocky grin. “Max Verstappen,” he said, his tone playful but confident. “If you manage to impress me, then maybe, just maybe, I'll consider keeping you on the team.”

Y/N shook his hand, matching his grin. “Challenge accepted. But I should warn you, I don’t do half-measures.”

Max raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Oh, really? Well, let’s see if you can handle the challenge. I’m not exactly easy to impress.”

Y/N chuckled. “I’ve heard. But I’m not exactly easy to scare off, either.”

Max laughed, a genuine, hearty sound that filled the room.

Y/N playfully raised an eyebrow. “Honestly, I think this will be my easiest gig yet, considering the bar is practically on the floor,” she said, her tone teasing.

Max's eyes widened in surprise before he hunched forward, laughter bursting out of him. “Oh, you’ve got no filter, do you?” he said between laughs. “I fucking like that.”

She shrugged. “Just calling it like I see it.”

Max straightened up, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye. “You know what? If this fails, screw it, I’ll just sign you on as my personal entertainer or something. Keep the team’s spirits up.”

Y/N chuckled. “Careful, Max. I might just take you up on that.”

He crossed his arms, his grin not fading. “Hey, a good laugh is priceless in this sport. But don’t think I’m letting you off the hook that easily. Because I’ve got high standards, you know. World champion standards.”

Y/N laughed. “I’d expect nothing less. But don’t worry, I’ve styled worse. Much worse.”

Max's eyes sparkled. “Worse than me? Now that’s something I’ve got to hear.”

════════════════════════════════════

Y/N balanced a stack of freshly laundered clothes in her arms as she approached Max's apartment. She took a deep breath, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves. Knocking on the door, she prepared herself. The door swung open to reveal Max, looking casual in yet another Red Bull polo.

“Hey, Y/N. Come on in,” he greeted with a nod while holding the door for her.

“Thanks, Max,” she replied, stepping inside and carefully setting the clothes down on a nearby table.

Before she could even turn around, she felt a light brush against her leg. Glancing down, she saw Jimmy rubbing against her with a purr, while Sassy sat nearby, her wide eyes fixed on Y/N with an unusual interest.

Max’s jaw dropped. “What the hell? They usually hate strangers. They’re acting like you’re made of catnip or something.”

Y/N laughed, bending down to scratch Jimmy behind the ears. “I have a way with cats. Maybe they can sense I’m here to help you.”

Max shook his head, still looking baffled. “Unbelievable. They’ve never been this friendly with anyone. Alright, come on, let me show you the infamous closet.”

Y/N followed Max down a hallway, Jimmy and Sassy trotting behind them like loyal sidekicks. They reached a door, and Max swung it open, revealing a walk-in closet that could easily rival a small boutique. Shelves lined the walls, each one meticulously stacked with Red Bull merchandise in every form imaginable—polos, t-shirts, hoodies, jackets, caps, even socks.

Y/N’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Wow,” she said, turning to look at Max like he was a lunatic. “This is… impressive. And slightly concerning. I didn’t know you could own this much team gear.”

Max rubbed the back of his neck, looking sheepish. “Yeah, well, I like to keep things simple. Plus, they’re comfortable.”

Y/N chuckled, shaking her head. “Simple is one thing, Max. This is an obsession. But don’t worry, I’m here to bring a little variety into your life.”

Max crossed his arms, grinning. “Alright, let’s see what you’ve got then. But I’m warning you, if it’s not comfortable, it’s going straight back in the bag.”

“Challenge accepted,” Y/N said, her eyes gleaming with determination. She turned back to the stack of clothes she had brought and started laying them out, presenting each piece. “Okay, first up, a simple white t-shirt. No logos, just pure comfort. Try it on.”

Max took the shirt, giving it a skeptical look before slipping it on. He stretched his arms, testing the fit. “Okay, I admit, it’s comfortable. What else?”

Y/N’s smile widened. “Next, a pair of dark jeans. Classic, versatile, and they miraculously manage to make even a Red Bull polo look halfway decent.”

She glanced at Max, who was eyeing the jeans with a hint of skepticism. “And don’t worry, Max, I made sure they’re not the skinny jeans you seem to love so much. I couldn’t bear to put you—or anyone else—through that kind of fashion torture.”

Max grabbed the jeans and ducked into the bathroom to change. When he came back out, Y/N couldn’t help but beam. He looked good—casual but put together, like someone who actually cared about his appearance.

Max glanced at himself in the mirror and nodded approvingly. “Not bad. Not bad at all. What’s next?”

Y/N pulled out a light gray hoodie. “For when you need an extra layer but want to avoid looking like a walking billboard.”

Max slipped it on, zipping it up halfway. “Okay, I’m impressed. You’ve managed to find things that are comfortable and look good. Maybe you do have some magic up your sleeve.”

Y/N laughed. “Told you. Now, let’s talk about adding some color to your wardrobe?”

Max shrugged. “As long as it’s not neon, I’m open to it.”

Y/N grinned. “Perfect. I’ve got just the thing.” She pulled out a maroon half-zip, soft and stylish. “Try this on.”

Max took it, and as he changed, Y/N felt a sense of satisfaction. This was just the beginning, but she could already see the transformation. And judging by the approving look on Max’s face, he could see it too.

“Well, Y/N, I have to say, you’ve done the impossible. You’ve actually managed to impress me,” Max admitted, his tone light but genuine.

Y/N gave a mock bow. “Thank you, thank you. But we’re just getting started. By the time I’m done with you, you’ll be turning heads both on and off the track.”

Max rolled his eyes, but there was a hint of excitement in his expression that even he cannot hide.

════════════════════════════════════

Max had just stepped out of the shower, a towel wrapped around his waist as he reached for his phone. The bathroom was filled with steam, giving the air a hazy quality as he scrolled through Instagram.

As he scrolled, his eyes widened in disbelief. There it was, a photo of him in that plain white shirt and the jeans that didn’t look like they were about to tear at the wrong move. The caption read, "Is this real life? Max Verstappen spotted in a non-Red Bull polo, and it’s not even race day! Miracles do happen, folks."

Comments flooded in faster than he could read them all. Some were filled with disbelief, while others were downright ecstatic. "I thought I’d never see the day!" one user exclaimed. "This is like witnessing the rebirth of a man," another commented.

Max couldn’t help but chuckle at the reactions. But there were also theories floating around. "Is Max hiding a new girlfriend from us?" one person speculated. "This has got to be the girlfriend effect," another chimed in. "Or maybe Red Bull has finally hired someone to ransack his closet," someone else joked.

Maybe this whole wardrobe makeover wasn’t such a bad idea after all. And if it meant keeping people guessing, well, that was just an added bonus.

He then scrolled through the messages, which has been buzzing incessantly with notifications.

A text from Charles popped up:

“Hey Max, just saw the photos. Are you alright, mate? Should we send help?”

Max couldn't help but chuckle at the concern in Charles’ message. Then another text came in, this time from Lando:

“Mate, what's going on with the sudden style upgrade?🤔😧 Is Horner holding you hostage or something?”

He typed out a quick reply to both Charles and Lando, assuring them that he was perfectly fine and that there was no need to send a rescue team. As for Horner's involvement, he simply responded with a string of laughing emojis, leaving the mystery of his wardrobe transformation to fuel their imaginations.

════════════════════════════════════

The next week, Max arrived at the Energy Station, still amused by the ongoing chatter about his newfound fashion sense. As he stepped through the door, he was immediately greeted by Horner and Geri, who wore matching expressions of excitement.

“There he is! Congratulations!” Horner exclaimed, clapping him on the back. "The reactions to your new look are absolutely fantastic. People can't stop talking about it!"

Geri's eyes practically sparkled with delight as she enveloped Max in a warm hug. “Oh, Max, I can't tell you how thrilled I am!” she gushed. “You look absolutely fabulous today, dear. That half zip and linen pants combo? Simply divine! Y/N has worked wonders on you.”

Max couldn't help but grin sheepishly at Geri's praise. He glanced down at his outfit, feeling a little self-conscious under the spotlight. “Thanks, Geri,” he replied. “I'm glad you think so.”

Horner nodded enthusiastically. “The fans are loving it, the media is eating it up—this is exactly the kind of attention we need.”

Just then, a group of Red Bull mechanics walked by, their eyes widening in surprise as they took in Max's outfit. “Whoa, that Max?” one of them whispered to his colleague. “Shit, I didn't even recognize him at first without the Red Bull gear.”

It seemed his fashion makeover was causing quite the stir, even among his own team.

Geri beamed at Max. “I've been thinking,” she began. “Maybe we should really consider keeping Y/N around. What do you say?”

He glanced at Horner, who was also watching him expectantly.

After a moment of consideration, Max let out a hearty laugh. “Well, I have to admit Y/N does have a talent for making me look presentable,” he quipped, earning a laugh from Horner. “I wouldn't mind having her stick around.”

Geri clapped her hands together in delight. “I'll talk to Raymond about making it official.”

════════════════════════════════════

That night Max lounged on his couch, his legs stretched out in front of him as he stared at his phone. The excitement of the day hadn't worn off yet, and he was eager to see if Y/N had any news about her contract.

His thumbs danced over the screen as he typed out a message.

“Hey Y/N, have you heard back from Raymond about your contract?”

He barely had time to set his phone down before it buzzed with a reply.

“Not yet, but I'm hopeful! What made you change your mind about keeping me around?”

What made him change his mind indeed?

He hadn't really thought about it, but now that he did, it was clear as day. With a grin, he tapped out his response.

“I guess I just realized that I need someone like you around.”

He replied, his fingers flying across the screen then he hit send.

#max verstappen #max verstappen x y/n #max verstappen x you #max verstappen one shot #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen fluff #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 x you #formula 1 #f1 #f1 blurb #f1 fandom #formula 1 x female reader

[rafeandonlyrafe]

reckless

words: 2.3k

warnings: 18+ only, smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex, male receiving oral, aged up!rafe (28), age gap (reader is 20), reader kinda dumb and stupid tbh, breaking and entering but actually technically she didnt break anything so just entering, urban exploring

“stay away from that house.” your friend warns, following your eyesight to get light shining from only one window, the rest of the house covered in shadow.

“why?” you question, curiosity growing.

“some asshole lives there. i guess he got real rich when he was young and now he spends all his time inside hiding. the whole island hates him but nothing he did was bad enough to land him in prison…” your friend gives you a serious look. “or at least nothing they can prove.”

you're new to the outer banks, but she already knows your personality. you're defiant and confident, afraid of nothing.

it's why despite her warnings the next night you're scaling up the fence and hopping over to the other side. you note the well taken care of yard, whoever this guy is must still employ a lawn crew.

you keep your footsteps light but unhurried as you walk around the exterior of the enormous house, still just the one window with a light on, like no one else has been in any other part of the home for a long time.

you figure a house like this might have security, but you live only a block away and would certainly get to your house before any cops would show up.

you peer in a few windows, but it's too dark inside to really make out anything. you make your way into the backyard, looking down the long dock to see a yacht. you consider exploring that first before shaking your head and focusing back in on the house.

in your old city, you had a habit of breaking into places. not to steal or damage anything, just for the thrill of getting in and looking around, knowing you're not supposed to be there.

you peer in through the glass doors. it's not that late, only 11pm, but you figure the old man who lives here must already be upstairs and hopefully asleep as you grip the handle.

you wait to hear an alarm from just your touch, but when the house remains silent, you attempt to turn the handle, surprised and happy that it's completely unlocked as you slide it open.

you step into the living room, looking around at the intricate and clearly expensive decorations. your friend was definitely right about this guy being rich, but of course he is if he lives in a neighborhood like this.

“damn.” you mutter to yourself, stepping closer to a fancy vase sat on a table. you purposely leave the glass door open in case you need to make a quick escape out.

your eyes take in every piece of art hung on the wall and gold detailed lamps as you head further into the house, peeking into rooms as you quickly map out the layout. you note the stairs in the center hallway leading up, able to tell there's one light on and deciding quickly to avoid it.

you make like the rush of breaking into places, but you certainly don't like getting caught as you tiptoe into the kitchen next. out of pure curiosity, you open a couple cabinets to find them well stocked.

you focus in on the fridge next. you don't intend to steal but maybe this guy has a couple bottles of beer that won't be missed.

you frown when you realize it's mostly healthy food and energy drinks as you close the fridge, practically jumping out of your skin when you realize there's a tall man with his arms crossed, leaning against the cabinet.

“what are you doing here?” you yell, backing up and putting the island between you and him.

“bold of you to ask me that considering you're the one breaking into my house.” the man's voice is easy going and gentle despite the circumstances.

“your house?” you look the guy up and down. “i thought the guy who lived here was old.”

he moves to the island, placing himself directly in the middle so you can't bolt away, a movement you're very aware of.

“and what made you think that?” he questions. it's hard to tell in the low light, only the faint glow of buttons on the fridge and a bit of moonlight creeping in, but he looks young. your guess is late 20s or early 30s, not like the senior citizen you were picturing.

“my friend told me some asshole-” you cringe at the bad choice of words but continue on. “lives here who got rich when he was young.”

“hm, yeah that does sound like me.” the guy hums. “so what, you were gonna steal from me?”

“no.” you quickly shake your head. “i don't steal, i have no need. i just… like urban exploring.” you decide on saying.

“mmm, isn't that usually exploring abandoned places?” he questions, somehow still carrying on the conversation so naturally, like you're an invited guest rather than a trespasser.

“i thought this place was basically abandoned. like i said, thought you were old.” you shrug.

“well, im only 28, so if you consider that old.” he crosses his arms, muscles bulging.

“im 20.” you say, swallowing thickly. 

you can see the gleam in the man's teeth as he smiles. “interesting… come with me.”

his command is so effortless, you find your feet moving before your mind catches up, following him deeper into the house and up the stairs.

“what are you going to do with me?” you ask, worrying he's going to call the cops. your parents would be pissed if only a week after they move you out of the big city you get arrested again.

“did your friend happen to tell you why i stay in this house?” he hums, opening a door and beckoning you in. you quickly realize this is the bedroom with the lights always on.

“um, just that you did something and no one likes you.”

“that's exactly right, even though i did nothing wrong. i only ever wanted to protect my family.” you see anger briefly take over his features as he relieves whatever memory that made him so hated. “but still, it's hard being lonely.”

he takes a couple steps forward, swinging the door shut behind him to keep the two of you in there, alone. “it's why id like your company…”

“y/n.” you mumble your name. you don't bother to give a fake name.

“y/n.” the name rolls seamlessly off his tongue, like a purr. “im rafe.”

“what do you mean by company, rafe?” now that you're in the light and can get a good look at him, you're hoping it's what you're thinking.

“isn't it obvious?” he quirks his head to the side. “i want you to sleep with me.”

“okay.” you whisper. you're certainly not inexperienced or against sleeping with random guys, even if your friend did warn you about him. you've already gone two whole weeks without getting anything, and you're starting to feel a little high strung.

“perfect.” rafe crosses past you, placing himself on the edge of the. neatly made bed. “undress.”

his command is once again so simple and effective that your hands begin moving instantly, pulling off your tank top to reveal your bright pink bra before sliding your shorts down next to show off the matching underwear.

you turn your back towards rafe and look over your shoulder as you slide your panties down, revealing your bare ass and pussy before kicking off your sandals. 

you walk over to rafe slowly, a smile on your face as you undo the last piece of clothing covering you and let your bra drop to the floor.

“fuck, you're sexy.” rafe leans forward and grabs you, hands gripping your ass, squeezing the plump flesh there. he doesn't bother to wait for you to recover as he sits you onto his lap, cunt being pressed into his thigh as his mouth devours yours.

you can feel his need in the kiss, how starved he is from touch as you begin to kiss back, hands rubbing all over his front.

you only briefly stop the kiss to yank his shirt off. you're not surprised by his muscles, you could tell how perfectly built he was even in the dark kitchen.

rafe begins to slide your pussy against his pants, wetting his thigh as your clit drags against the material.

“fuck, you're already so wet.” rafe moans into your mouth. you don't pause to tell him that you always get a little bit wet in excitement when breaking into a new place.

“let me blow you.” you slide off, already missing the feeling on your pussy as you pull at rafes pants. he lifts his hips to help you and you waste no time, pulling his underwear down as well.

rafes cock pops up, hard and ready for attention. you push his thighs open with your hands so you can nestle between his legs, smiling as you watch a bead of precum from before licking it clean.

“god.” rafe groans, a hand fisting in your hair, tangling his fingers into the strands. “it's been so long since someone else has touched me.”

you feel bad for rafe in that moment, but it's quickly forgotten in favor of wrapping your lips around the head of his cock and giving it an intense suck, wanting to show him a truly good time.

you begin to bob your head, slowly taking more and more of his length into your mouth. he's not the biggest you've ever gotten with, but his girth certainly makes up for it as you get used to him pushing at the walls of your throat.

you'll certainly need more attention to your pussy to be able to take him as you reach down and rub your fingers against your clit, wanting to jump on his cock the second you're done blowing him.

“how are you only 20?” rafe asks, talking mostly to himself considering your mouth is occupied. “you suck dick so well.”

you don't want to comment that you've had lots of experience, but you have a feeling he won't judge you for it. so many guys sleep around yet want every girl to be a virgin, and that's certainly something you don't subscribe to.

with a final push, you're able to take rafe all the way down as you nuzzle your nose into his skin, gagging slightly but able to hold for a decently long time before you need to pull off to take a deep breath.

“come up here, baby.” rafe says, tugging your hand that isn't still playing with your pussy. “want to fuck you.”

you wipe your mouth before standing up, glad you weren't on your knees for long as you move onto the bed.

“fuck me good, daddy.” you purr out, staying on your hands and knees and swaying your ass to entice rafe as he moves behind you.

“oh, i will baby.” rafe rubs his cock through your folds, not bothering to offer to put on a condom when you so clearly don't care.

rafe teases you, pressing slightly against your entrance before going back to rubbing against you until you're frustrated and aching. you're about to open your mouth to complain, to tell him to hurry it up, when his cock plunges inside of you in one quick motion that has you screaming out.

“oh, fuck!” you squeal as rafe instantly begins pounding into you.

rafe smiles as he looks towards the window, slightly cracked. he hopes the neighbors hear your screams and moans of pleasure and learn that he's not just willing to stay inside for the rest of his life. no, rafe is crafting his revenge against the town and when the time comes, they will all regret the way they treated him.

rafe looks down at you as he thrusts into you, your head hung forward and curls bouncing with every movement as he punishes your cunt.

“shit.” rafe groans, pulling out to quickly flip you onto your back.

his mouth meets yours just as his cock reenters you, kissing you wildly while he thrusts without abandon, letting himself loose on you.

rafe can feel himself swelling inside of you and tries his best to hold back from cumming, fingers reaching to your clit to focus on your pleasure before his own, wanting to extend this as long as possible.

“god, you feel so good.” you moan out, jaw slackened even as rafe continue to kiss around your mouth, eyes glossed over in pure pleasure.

“yeah?” rafe smiles. “you gonna cum for me?”

“mhm. keep- keep rubbing.” you tilt your head back as he swipes over your clit, back and forth, building you up while his cock fills out your insides.

“come on, baby.” rafe moans out, kissing you again, unable to stop even though he wants to hear your moans. his hips move faster and faster until he can't hold back anymore, pulling out and releasing all over your stomach in long ropes.

you squeal out as he pinches your clit, triggering your own orgasm as your entire body shakes, back arching off the bed.

“fuck!” you shout. “rafe!”

you both flop against the mattress, breathing heavily as you recover, pussy dripping wet onto his blankets.

“thanks for the company.” rafe smiles, causing you to laugh.

“yeah, always happy to stick around.” you giggle, leaning into his side. there's certainly no shame cuddling up to him after what you just did.

“would you… would you come back tomorrow?” rafe asks, pushing a strand of hair off where it was sticking to your face.

“first week in a new town and i already found myself a fuck buddy? hell yeah ill come back tomorrow.” you kiss rafe quickly before standing up off his bed, putting your tanktop and shorts back on but leaving your wet panties and bright bra on the floor.

“but have pizza, im a classy girl after all, i only let you fuck me once before buying me dinner.” you walk out of the bedroom to rafes deep chuckle.

#rafe smut #rafe cameron smut #obx smut #outer banks smut #rafe fic #rafe fanfic #rafe fanfiction #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe x you #rafe x y/n #rafe x oc #rafe x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x oc #rafe cameron x reader #rafe blurb #rafe drabble #rafe one shot #rafe imagine #rafe cameron blurb #rafe cameron drabble #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron one shot

[ccsainzleclerc5516]

She’s Not So Little Anymore

Pairing: Lewis Hamilton x reader

Warnings: none, dad Lewis yes pls

“You’re not leaving the house until you change your clothes!”

“But dad-“ Harper stammered in a broken voice and teary eyes.

“There’s no but, I said what I said. You can go out with your friends after you put some clothes on. End of discussion.” Lewis told his daughter sternly before turning and heading towards the living room.

“I hate you!!” Harper growled bursting into tears and slamming the door of her room.

“Don’t slam the door at me!” He said in a raised tone. Sitting on the couch he sighed and rubbed his face feeling awful because of the argument between him and his fifteen-year-old daughter.

It was not natural for Lewis to yell and get into heated arguments with his daughter. The two have always had a special relationship - she was daddy's little girl for whom he would remove the stars from the sky just to make her happy. Harper loved and was just as close to you as she was to Lewis, but still, her daddy has always been her number one.

But since Harper entered her teenage phase, it has become very difficult for Lewis to accept that she is actually growing up, that she is changing, that she is interested in some other things that are actually normal for her age.

He really was having a hard time facing the fact that his little girl is not so little anymore. That’s why often broke out arguments between the two of them when Harper would stay out too late with her friends, when she would come home late or mention that she had a crush on a boy or for example like today when she would wear something that Lewis thought was too revealing.

Lewis did all this because he loves her too much and wants to protect her, but, of course, the teenager thinks that her father is working against her and that he is "purposely ruining her life".

Fortunately, not long after the argument, you came back from grocery shopping and found Lewis sitting on the couch looking at the switched off TV.

“Hi, baby” You greeted him happily, but you felt a strange energy in the air.

“Hey” He muttered not turning to look at you.

“Is everything okay?” You ask suspiciously, leaving the heavy bags on the hallway floor.

“Everything is fine except our daughter just told me she hates me”

You immediately knew what it was about. You were aware of how much it affected Lewis. You weren't always happy with some of your daughter's behaviors either, but you understood that it was just a phase and that it would pass, but you also understood that it was difficult for Lewis to face it.

You sighed walking up closer to the couch to Lewis from behind and bent down to wrap your arms around him.

“And that is why?” You asked pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“Because she thinks it’s normal to leave the house wearing a short ass dress that doesn’t even have any straps God forbid some sleeves” He says visibly upset and you can’t help but chuckle at him. “That’s not funny, y/n?”

“That’s not, but you are” You say making yourself comfortable in his lap. “You’re being too overprotective of her-“

“Of course I’m overprotective of her, she’s my little girl!” He cuts you off trying to justify his actions.

“Would you let me finish, please?”

“I’m sorry..”

“She’s no longer a little girl, Lew. You have to make your peace with that. Sometimes I don't like her clothing choices or her behavior either, but that's why we're here to guide her. But you forbid her too many things and she sees it as you trying to control her.”

“I just..” He sighs leaning his head against your chest. “I just want to protect her.. I miss the time when she was with me non-stop. We used to do so many things together now she only wants to hang out with her friends.”

“Baby, that’s normal. If it were any different, we would have been worried.” You assure him putting your hands on his cheeks. “You’re still her number one, you’ll always be.”

“Youe ability to calm me down amazes me.” He smiles at your soothing and comforting words. “I don’t know what I’d do without you. I love you more than you know.”

“I love you too, baby” You place a soft kiss on his lips. “Now go and talk to her”

Lewis immediately got up and headed towards Harper's room while you decided to sort the groceries you had brought into the house a little while ago.

“My princess?” Lewis said gently knocking on the door. “Can I come in?”

Almost the same second, the door opened revealing crying Harper who was still sobbing. What Lewis didn't expect was for Harper to give him a tight hug and start crying in his arms.

“Baby, what’s wrong? Why are you crying?” Lewis asked a little worried.

“Because you made me say that I hate you. And I don’t hate you, daddy, I’m sorry I didn’t mean it.” She cried. It stung her as much as it stung Lewis because Harper is aware of how special her relationship with her father is.

“Baby, it’s okay. I know you didn’t mean it. I’m sorry too.” He comforted her rubbing her back. “I don’t like when we can’t talk things out and I hate when we argue. We don’t do that, that’s not us.”

“I know we don’t do that. I don’t like it either” She said quietly.

“It’s hard for me to accept that you’re growing up and that you are no longer my little girl.” He lifts up her head to look at her. “I promise to try to be more understanding of your wishes.”

“Daddy, I’m always gonna be your little girl.” Her words warmed Lewis's heart. She knew what she meant by that. The love Harper has for her dad will always be strong and special and nothing can ever replace it. Lewis was grinning like a child thinking how he is the luckiest man in the world to have the two best girls in his life, Harper and you.

#f1 fanfic #f1 #f1 fic #sir lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton x you #lewis hamilton fluff #lewis hamilton smut #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton fanfic #lewis hamilton #f1 x reader #f1 scenario #f1 smut #f1 fluff #f1 one shot #f1 imagine

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

34 / 3.2k / part 2 of shark mermen Gaz and Soap for mermay >:)

...

You wake up to the morning sunlight glimmering off Gaz's salt-glazed skin. He's leaning over you, watching you intently with those fathomless all-black eyes.

You gasp and immediately drag yourself away--or try to, given the way his tail is wound under your legs like a snake's. In your haste, you bump up against Soap, who lurks behind you, somehow again taking you by total surprise.

Your heels scrape against sharp gravel as you fight to get out of reach. Gaz's tail coils inward as if to drag you back in, and you almost collapse over it in your scramble. But you finally manage to get out of reach. You stare down at them, your heart pounding in confusion and panic.

Soap smirks like this is the most fun he's had in weeks. His tail swishes in the shallows behind him. "G'morning."

This is a nightmare. A hallucination.

"Don't look so shocked," Soap says. "You've still got all your pieces. You really should try being more thankful. We saved your life."

"Saved my--" You cough and sputter. Salt and sand coat your throat. "You tried to kill me!"

"You would've died anyway," Gaz says. His matter-of-fact tone of voice is somehow more terrifying than Soap's high-energy arrogance.

"We were havin' a little look at you," Soap says. "That's all."

"You bit me!"

"Just a nip," Gaz admits. "I was curious."

"I wasn't," Soap says with a flash of his sharp teeth. He looks down at the second set of teeth marks--his teeth marks--on your calf. "That's a love bite."

⬇ nsfw, monster mermen, overt predator/prey dynamics, blood kink ⬇

You pull your legs in, withdrawing further up the rocky beach as you get to your feet. You don't have much space to get away from them. Worse, this tiny cove will be all but swallowed by high tide. The only way out is either back into the water or up the rocky face of the cliffs on all sides. You can only imagine the rock cutting into your bare hands and feet--or worse, climbing halfway up, slipping, and landing on the carpet of glass-sharp gravel.

There’s nowhere to go.

Soap stretches toward you again as you back away. He does it in this motion like a shrug, like he's luring you into a false sense of security by making you think he just happens to be putting his hands near your ankle. He can’t hide how the muscles in his shoulders bunch, wanting to pounce. "You'd have a better chance jumping back into the sea and holding your breath than climbing those rocks, human. Maybe you outswim us this time, even. Want to try?"

"I'll take my chances," you snap. His claw brushes your foot, and you quickly backpedal, climbing up onto the biggest boulder you can manage. It's only about as waist-high, though, and unsteady. Not quite tall enough to boost you toward any solid footholds up the forty-or-so-foot cliffside. Still, you have to try.

Gaz watches with annoyance as you reach for a shallow indent in the rock. "You'll kill yourself. Be reasonable," he scolds.

Your fingers find uncertain purchase in the shallow ridge overhead, and you force your toes to get with the program and grip what might be a rocky shelf to your side.

The two mer watch you haul yourself up a few feet. Soap pushes himself up the beach to get a better view, tail curling. Gaz studies the muscles in your legs. Then he watches your hands grip the rocks. You look even more defenseless in the sunlight, skin battered from exposure and clothes torn from the waves. His eyes follow the curve of your calf to the blood that's dried on your ankle. It looks bad.

He doesn't see you making it high enough for the inevitable fall to kill you, but it irritates him that you're choosing to act like this. You're fragile. Obviously, if he and Soap wanted to kill you, you'd be dead. They did their best to not kill you. He did, anyway.

"You think we'd let you drown when the tide comes in after keeping your fragile human body alive and intact this long?" Gaz calls up.

You ignore this in favor of boosting yourself up another foot. Your fingers slip on the next hold. Gravel clatters down the rock and showers both mer.

Soap smirks. "Gonnae fall, aye?”

Gaz's voice is flat. "Let her."

You make it up another two footholds before you slip.

Soap's smirk morphs into a wild laugh as you topple backward. You land on the rocks, hard, air knocked out of you with a surprised gasp. Both mer prowl toward you.

You dig the heels of your hands into the wet sand to scramble to your feet again. A sudden, sharp pain makes you hiss. You rip your hands out of the gravel to see a shard of curved glass sticking out of your palm of your dominant hand. Blood stains the base and wells up, trailing down your wrist.

Soap clocks the smell of blood. "What d'you want to try next, hmm?" he muses, tail swishing behind him. "Hurry up before the tide comes in or that cut'll attract somethin' unfriendly."

You glare at him. You want to scream. Or cry. You need help, but what are the chances the rescue boats will come back this way?

"So?" you snap, hiding your hand against your chest as he leans closer. "What does it matter to me if you eat me or something else does?"

"We don't care to eat you," Gaz says. "And if we did, we wouldn't share."

"Don't know about that, Gaz," Soap purrs. "You think she looks delicious, don't ya?"

You look from one to the other, still clutching your bleeding hand. "Why would you bring me here if you didn't want to eat me?"

"Curiosity." Gaz's eyes dart back to your face. “I told you.”

Frustration burns in your chest. "You bit me. You dragged me around the water. What else is fucking left to be curious about?"

Gaz hesitates. To him, you are a sight. Tattered clothes clinging to your damp body, he can see more of you than when he first spied you on that little boat, sitting so carelessly with your legs dangling in the water.

He stares at the bite wound on your arm. It's not just a “nip” like Soap’s--it's deep. A bite that left a deep, dark, ugly mark surrounded by a ring of dark blue-purple bruising. It will scar. The memory of his teeth will always be in your skin. He can still taste you: fresh adrenaline, copper blood, and seawater.

"What you feel like." His voidlike eyes are half-lidded, his voice soft. "Up close."

You glance back at him, your heart pounding. You're defenseless right now--you have been since they threw you onto this beach. So there has to be some truth to what they're saying, right? You remember reading somewhere that sharks are curious. That they sometimes investigate with their teeth, biting without any real intent to injure. So... maybe...

Soap leans in behind you and skims his clawed fingertip up your arm, his voice just past the shell of your ear. "We can take you back to shore, easy. We just need to clean those wounds. How about it," he purrs into your ear. "Gonnae help us help you?"

You shy away from his touch, feeling goosebumps break out all over. "Okay. Okay, fine." You glance down at your hand, then at Soap. "But not... not you."

You look at Gaz, hesitant, but your meaning is clear.

Soap's smirk twists into a frown. "Why not me?"

Gaz snatches your wrist. "Come here, then."

You find yourself pulled into the arms of a shark again as Gaz shuffles you into the crook of his arm. You're awed at how much bigger than humans these shark mer are. He coils his tail under you both. He grips your bloodied wrist in one hand and plants the other firmly on your hip to slide you even more flush against him. Any protest you had dies in your throat as he repositions your injured hand in his and plucks the glass out in a single, rough motion. A gasp punches out of you. The noise has Gaz pulling you closer, his arm wrapped tight around you.

You tense up, watching the claws on his hands very carefully, but he seems to maneuver you in such a careful, conscientious way to keep from hurting you with them that, once he has you positioned on his tail, you relax somewhat. They really are being careful with you, you realize. Some of the tension leaves your shoulders. You breathe out through your teeth. You can let this happen. Some people would love to be in your position, even. There's something tender but not quite gentle in how he grips you and how his thumb presses into your thigh.

He tucks your head under his chin. A low hum vibrates in his chest. Something about the sound is soothing. Or at least distracting enough that you don't notice him moving your hand to his mouth until his hot tongue laves over your wound.

Your blood--in his mouth--and roaring in your ears. How did you let yourself be tricked into letting a shark lap up your blood while he’s holding you close enough that you can see the beads of sea water clinging to the scarred ridges of his chest?

Even Gaz is somewhat surprised at the way his tongue instinctively scrapes over your wound to stem the blood flow. It's not an entirely animal compulsion to lick the wound clean--it's a practical enough way to clear away the blood. Tasting you is a bonus. That's what he tells himself as he trails his tongue down your arm to catch what's dripping down in rivulets to your elbow.

You squirm at the sting. Gaz tightens his grip.

"Is that all you were curious about, then?" Soap asks, sliding closer. He's talking to Gaz but looks down at you with glimmering solid blue eyes.

"Steady," he breathes, his voice still rough. He can smell your nervousness. He can feel your heart pounding. "She's got cuts all over. Let me..."

You feel his hands begin to peel away your tattered clothes and slide under them. You bite down on a squeal, grabbing his wrist. "Hey--!"

Before you can voice your protests fully, Soap's fingers brush the small bite mark on your ankle. You jolt, pulling your legs away and hugging them to yourself. Distracted by this, Gaz lets his free hand glide over the outside of your leg. His calloused fingers follow the curve of your hip, your thigh, your calf. He tugs your leg free so he can study the underside, too. He runs the pads of his fingers all the way back up to the bend of your knee, along the flesh of your hamstring, across the inside of your thigh. You shiver.

At the same time, Soap tugs at the bottom of your tattered shirt with interest. "Why d'you humans wear cloth? Is it because your skin is too thin?" Before you can reconsolidate yourself enough to answer, he scoffs. "All the good it does you. Shreds easier than seaweed."

“Mm,” Gaz agrees absently. He shifts you so your back is back braced up against his chest, your legs bunched up atop his tail. This way, he can keep you here and keep his hands free. He’ll have as much access to you as he needs.

At this angle, you feel rather than see the smooth dark planes of Gaz's chest and stomach. It should be wrong to notice the scars that run over his arms as they pass over you. Or the way his muscles ripple under your back. His body is a dichotomy: warm to the touch and smooth as fine silk, but rough and coarse with scars. Plus there’s the shark half.

Soap snatches up one of your ankles. He prods at your foot. "You get around on these?"

You huff. "When I can, clearly."

He runs the edge of one of his claws over the top of your foot, follows the arched bone underneath, and presses into your instep. He pokes and prods and presses hard on the ball of your foot with a curious look. "Must be slow."

"Doesn't have to be fast," you mutter.

"Then how d'you catch food?"

"I don't have to catch my food."

"You're a predator, though. You've got eyes facing forward."

"I can hunt what I need to hunt.” Salads and instant noodles, but you don’t bother saying that.

"That's good." Soap's hands slide to your toes. He finds it weird how your feet sort of resemble his hands. Little fingers and claws and everything. "As long as you've got prey slower and smaller and softer than you are."

"If that's even possible," Gaz says.

You scowl. Rude.

Gaz seems to enjoy your sour reaction a little too much. "I suppose your prey must be stupid, too."

"Watch it."

A smirk plays at his lips as his gaze flicks down to the rest of you, curled up on his lap in his arms. "Do you think you can make me? What'll you do--scratch me with your claws?" He laces your fingers with his. Your soft, blunt human fingers and his thicker, sharper, callused ones. "Bite me with your razor-sharp teeth?"

"Maybe."

"How vicious." He nudges your bottom lip with the pad of his thumb. "Go on, then."

You consider it. Then you realize it would just prove his point, so you turn your face away with a huff. You wish you'd paid more attention to all those National Geographic specials about mer. You don't specifically remember any real-life cases of shark mer eating humans, but there are definitely made-for-TV movies about it.

Soap's hands creep up to your calf. His thumbs prod your shin and then your kneecap. "I can feel her bones," he says in surprise.

"We both have bones.”

"Well, yours are like rock. Ye got thin skin, hard bones. 'Cept your claws." Soap's fingers wander up your bare legs past your kneecaps. When they make it to your thigh, he grips it with his whole hand and squeezes lightly.

He's fascinated--amazed, even--by your body. It's almost enough to make you feel self-conscious, but everything you'd cover up is a fascination for them. Bumps, stretch marks, pock marks, folds, fat, stubble--you feel yourself tense up when hands wander to those parts of yourself you've learned to be ashamed of, but they don't react. Of course they don't, but still. It feels strange.

Gaz notices your discomfort. He keeps his grip light and loose on you, but his eyes linger on the flesh of your thigh in Soap's hands, the way your skin dimples under the pressure. "It's like a seal,” Gaz says.

"My thigh is like a seal?"

"Soft and blubbery,” Soap adds. "And seals are delicious." He leans down and pinches a bit of skin in his teeth.

You squirm a bit at the harmless little nip, but moreso at the way his hand slides a little too far up your thigh. You put your uninjured hand over his to stop it from going any higher.

Unfortunately, that just seems to draw his attention to what might be up there. His eyes flick up to your shorts. "What is it?"

"Nothing."

"Doesn't seem like nothing." He grabs the hem of your shorts to slide them higher.

You grab his hands. "Hey!"

He grins. "You're a bit twitchy.”

"That's not allowed," you tell him, face burning.

"Isn't it?" Gaz says. He loops his long fingers under your thigh and lifts it up as if to give Soap more room. "Whose rule is that?"

You quickly snap your thighs shut anyway, curling your legs into yourself as best you can. "My rule. Don't touch."

A low noise of frustration rumbles in Soap's chest. "Why do humans cover up so much?" His hands slide up your outer thighs, and he bends until his face is almost level with your stomach. His frown deepens as if this were the thing he was really curious about. "Just let me look for a second."

"Absolutely not."

"Waste of nice soft human skin," he mutters. "Hiding it all away."

“Let us in,” Gaz says.

“No.”

"Not even me?" he asks.

"No."

They both frown.

"Why not?” Gaz asks. “What are you keeping there?"

You huff. "It's my-- my reproductive things. Happy?"

"Your... reproductive things." Soap furrows his brow and turns his head to Gaz. "Reproductive like a fish?"

Gaz's fingers continue to squeeze your inner thighs in slow, deliberate motions. "No," he says after a beat. "Like a mammal."

"Ah. So?" Soap gives you a blank look. "Those are all up inside you then, aye? Nothin' to see."

He takes hold of your knee again. You immediately pull out of his grasp and turn to the side, sitting up on your knees this time as Gaz shifts his tail to accommodate you. "Nothing to see as far as you're concerned," you respond, curt.

Soap continues to leer at you, but his prodding is less insistent at your clear refusal. "Just tell us then. Where is it exactly? In the front? Or the back?"

You cross your arms. "None of your business."

"Don't humans mate for fun?" Soap asks.

“I didn't say that.”

"They doooo," Soap singsongs. He smiles and bares his teeth, the sharp points on his canines glinting in the light.

All the heat that had gone out of your cheeks comes rushing back in. " Do you?"

Soap grins again in that annoying way. "We do. Very fun. So what's the big deal?”

"We're not mating is what," you snap. You push yourself off of Gaz’s lap and stumble a bit, catching yourself with a splash into the deepening tide. "When are you taking me back home?"

Soap looks disappointed at the possibility of being deprived so suddenly of his new toy.

Gaz frowns too. "Now you're talking like you didn't enjoy yourself." He pushes himself up and follows you into the water, his fins cutting through it smoothly. "But a deal is a deal. We’ll take you back to shore. Once night falls, of course."

"But it's morning!"

"So it is." Gaz circles your legs, forming a crescent around you as he comes to a rest on his side in the shallow water. He smirks at you like he finds your confusion endearing in a tedious way. "Night will come again. We've got time until then."

"But the tide will come in," you remind them, casting a look back at the tiny little cove.

"It will,” Gaz agrees.

You don't like the way his smirk grows. Soap grins, too.

A slow realization that you're being toyed with comes over you. "What am I supposed to do, then?"

Gaz's smirk turns to a lazy little grin to match Soap’s. "Keep letting us entertain you.”

You hem and haw, but ultimately, when they pull you back into the shallow water with them, you don’t fight it. You’d rather conserve your energy.

Soap's hands join Gaz's, running up your strange human legs again. "We're going to keep her. Right, Gaz?"

"Of course," Gaz murmurs. The sea doesn't like to release its gifts. "Why would we bother leaving a catch intact without keeping it?"

...

part 1 / [part 2]

more Gaz / more Soap / masterlist tag

#mine #story #mermay #mermay 2024 #monster lover #monster fucker #merman #kyle gaz garrick #johnny soap mactavish #john soap mactavish #fem reader #x reader #cod x reader #call of duty x reader #tf 141 x reader #teratophillia #terato #monster romance #monster x reader #soap x gaz x reader

[pinkflower2003]

I Remember It All Too Well

Fernando Alonso x ex!Reader

All Too Well Series Masterlist

Words: 1.8k

Send your submissions, requests, thoughts🍓

a/n: i think i’m gonna be making this into a series! where its then Fernando finding happiness in having family and everyone finding out and things like that! I think i’ll make a masterlist and do some SMAU’s for it!

The soft hum of the city outside filtered through the large windows of Y/N's penthouse apartment. She sat at the kitchen island, sipping her morning coffee and skimming through her emails. Her twins, Georgia and AJ, had just come back from their morning jog, their banter and sarcastic arguments filling the space with lively energy.

"Mum, have you thought about the invite from Red Bull?" Georgia asked, flopping down onto a barstool. Her auburn hair fell in waves over her shoulder. "They're offering VIP passes for the upcoming F1 race."

Y/N glanced at the email in question. As a well-known actress and philanthropist, she received countless invites to high-profile events. She had been avoiding the F1 scene for years, ever since her past relationship with Fernando Alonso had ended so abruptly. She still remembered the day he had walked out, leaving her with no way to tell him she was pregnant. Since then, her focus had been on raising her children and her career, steering clear of anything that might bring her face-to-face with him.

"I don't know, G," Y/N replied, trying to hide her reluctance. "We've got a lot going on with your brothers games and your school. Maybe it's not the best time."

"Come on, Mum," AJ interjected, his enthusiasm infectious. He was the spitting image of his father, down to the mischievous glint in his eyes. "It's F1! And it's not just any race, it's Monaco. How can we miss that?"

Georgia nudged her brother playfully. "Plus, you know how much AJ loves racing. It'll be fun, it's a once in a lifetime opportunity!"

Y/N sighed, knowing she was outnumbered. Her children had inherited her stubbornness. "Alright, alright. We'll go. But remember, it's just for the weekend."

The twins cheered, and Y/N couldn't help but smile at their excitement. She just hoped the past wouldn't come crashing into the present.

The Monaco Grand Prix was a dazzling affair. The glitz and glamour of the event were almost overwhelming, with celebrities, royalty, and the world's elite milling about. Y/N arrived with Georgia and AJ, the latter practically vibrating with excitement. Red Bull had spared no expense, ensuring their VIP guests had the best seats and access to exclusive areas.

As they walked through the paddock, Y/N kept her sunglasses on, hoping to avoid recognition. The twins were too engrossed in their surroundings to notice her unease. They marveled at the sleek cars, the bustling teams, and the electric atmosphere.

"Mum, look!" AJ pointed towards the Aston Martin garage. "It's the Aston Martin car!"

Y/N's heart skipped a beat at the mention of her ex's team. She forced a smile. "Yes, that's right."

"Can we go closer?" Georgia asked, her curiosity piqued, trying to sneakily get closer to the expensive car.

Before Y/N could respond, a familiar voice cut through the crowd. "Y/N? Is that you?"

She turned to see Christian Horner, Red Bull's team principal, approaching with a welcoming smile. "Christian, hi," she greeted him, hoping to keep the conversation brief.

"It's great to see you here," he said, shaking her hand. "And who are these two?"

"These are my kids, Georgia and AJ," Y/N introduced them. "They're big F1 fans."

"Nice to meet you both," Christian said, shaking their hands. "Enjoying the race?"

"Absolutely!" AJ said, his eyes wide with excitement.

Christian smiled. "Fantastic. Make sure you get the full experience. If you need anything, just let me know."

As Christian walked away, Y/N took a deep breath. They had managed to avoid Fernando for now, but the paddock was only so big.

The race was exhilarating. AJ and Georgia were on the edge of their seats, cheering for their favorite drivers, wearing their F1 merch. Y/N couldn't help but get caught up in the excitement, despite her initial reservations. It was a world she had once been a part of, and the thrill of it all came rushing back.

After the race, the paddock was buzzing with activity. Georgia and AJ wanted to explore more, and Y/N, not wanting to dampen their spirits, agreed to let them wander while she stayed back, hoping to avoid any further encounters.

As she stood by the Red Bull hospitality area, sipping on a glass of water, she heard a voice she hadn't heard in years.

"Y/N."

She turned slowly, her heart pounding in her chest. There he was. Fernando Alonso. He looked almost the same, maybe a bit more mature, but still with that same intense gaze that had once captivated her.

"Fernando," she said, keeping her voice steady. "It's been a long time."

"It has," he replied, his eyes searching her face. "You look well."

"Thank you. So do you," she responded politely.

There was an awkward silence before Fernando spoke again. "I didn't know you'd be here. Are you still involved in the sport?"

"No, just here with my kids. They wanted to see a race," she said, hoping to end the conversation quickly.

"Kids?" Fernando seemed genuinely surprised. "I didn't know you had children. Are you married now?"

Y/N forced a smile. "No, not married, and yes, twins. Georgia and AJ."

Fernando looked like he was about to say something else when Georgia and AJ came bounding over, their excitement palpable.

"Mum, you have to see—" AJ's words trailed off as he noticed Fernando. "Oh shit. You're Fernando Alonso." Y/N slapped her son on the back of the head, scolding him for swearing.

Fernando smiled at the boy. "Yes, I am. And you must be AJ."

"How did you know?" AJ asked, wide-eyed.

Fernando glanced at Y/N, who avoided his gaze. "Your mother told me."

Georgia, ever perceptive, looked between her mother and Fernando, a knowing look in her eyes. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Alonso."

"The pleasure is mine," Fernando said, his eyes lingering on Y/N. "I should get going. It was nice seeing you, Y/N."

"You too, Fernando," she replied, relieved as he walked away.

As soon as he was out of earshot, Georgia turned to her mother. "Mom, was that really Fernando Alonso? How do you know him?"

Y/N sighed, knowing this conversation was inevitable. "It's a long story."

-

As Fernando walked away from Y/N and her children, he couldn't shake the feeling of unease that had settled in his chest. The encounter had stirred memories and emotions he thought he had long buried. The vibrant eyes of the twins, so familiar yet so new, lingered in his mind. He made his way through the bustling paddock, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts.

Once he reached the relative quiet of the Aston Martin hospitality suite, Fernando sat down and pulled out his phone. He hesitated for a moment, then opened Instagram. He hadn't checked Y/N's profile in years, trying to keep the past firmly behind him. But now, curiosity and a sense of something more urgent pushed him to search for her name.

Y/N's profile appeared, filled with a mix of glamorous shots from her career and candid moments of her personal life. He scrolled through the images, his heart aching with each picture. There she was, smiling and happy, living a life that he had once imagined sharing with her.

Then he saw them. Georgia and AJ. From their earliest baby pictures to recent photos of them as teenagers. He clicked on a photo of the twins from a few years ago, their faces smeared with birthday cake, their smiles wide and joyful. Another photo showed them at a rugby match, AJ proudly holding a trophy while Georgia cheered beside him.

As he continued to scroll, he did the math in his head. The twins were seventeen. He counted back the years, realizing with a shock that they must have been born shortly after he and Y/N had ended their relationship. His mind raced, piecing together the timeline. It couldn't be a coincidence.

Fernando's breath caught as he clicked on a recent post. It was a picture of the twins, now almost adults, with a caption that read, "My heart and soul, Georgia and AJ, my greatest blessings."

He stared at the screen, the implications sinking in. Georgia's auburn hair, AJ's mischievous grin—traits he recognized all too well. A surge of emotions welled up within him: disbelief, confusion, and a growing sense of anger and betrayal. How had Y/N kept this from him? How had he not known?

Determined to get answers, Fernando stood up abruptly, nearly knocking over his chair. He had to speak to Y/N again. He had to know the truth. He made his way back through the paddock, his heart pounding with every step, hoping she was still there.

Spotting Y/N and the twins near the Red Bull hospitality area, he approached them, his expression a mix of hurt and determination.

"Y/N," he called out, his voice firmer than before.

She turned, surprised to see him again. "Fernando?"

He took a deep breath, glancing at Georgia and AJ before focusing on Y/N. "Can we talk?"

Y/N's eyes widened, understanding the seriousness of his tone. She nodded slowly, looking at her children. "Georgia, AJ, can you give us a moment?"

The twins exchanged a worried glance with AJ becoming slightly protective over his mum but nodded, stepping away to give them some privacy and going outside.

Fernando waited until they were out of earshot before speaking. "Are they mine?" His voice was a mix of hope and fear.

Y/N looked down, her expression pained. "Fernando, it's complicated."

"It's a simple question, Y/N," he insisted, his frustration evident. "Are they my children?"

She met his gaze, her eyes filled with sorrow. "I can't tell you that, Fernando. I have to protect them. Their lives have been good and stable. I don't want to disrupt that."

Fernando's anger faltered at the sight of her tears. He took a step closer, lowering his voice. "I understand your need to protect them, but I need to know. I want to be part of their lives. They don't need to know I'm their father, not yet. Just let me get to know them."

Y/N bit her lip, contemplating his request. "Fernando, I... I don't know if that's a good idea."

"Please, Y/N," he pleaded, his voice softening. "Just give me a chance. I want to get to know them, to be there for them in any way I can. I missed out on 17 years."

Y/N took a deep breath, her eyes searching his. She saw the sincerity and the pain in his gaze, and she knew he deserved a chance. "Okay," she said finally. "We can start slow. They don't need to know everything right now. But you can get to know them."

As they called Georgia and AJ back, Fernando felt a mix of apprehension and hope. This was only the beginning, but he was determined to make the most of it. He would get to know his children, one step at a time.

#formula one imagine #f1 imagine #formula 1 #formula one x reader #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #fernando alonso #fernando alonso x reader #imagine #fanfic

[brujamala-aka-gigi]

Mid Week Energy Check

a pac reading made to provide insight into whats going on energetically around you or with you because sometimes it's not only about what you are responsible for, but also about the things that you cannot control yet influence your life.

pile 1. pile 2. pile 3.

images are from pinterest and dividers from @saradika-graphics

•☽────✧˖°˖Number 1 ˖°˖✧────☾•

Okay I see some drama, a lot of self indulgence and plenty of questionable economic decisions as a consequence. It seems like new beginnings are becoming more and more exciting, everything is new and shiny, there's no complaints so far, but I see some signs of a comedown from this high. Positivity might feel almost too forced and toxic, almost as if it's only there to hide and deceit you from more serious matters. There's nothing wrong with some excess on time to time I think, but don't get hooked on these feelings of intense and rapid happiness as in the long run, it won't serve your real purpose. Idealism at this moment seems to be more important than doing the actual work to pursue these ideals. Remain careful, as plenty of people who surround you are being lead to indulge in reckless behavior, not saying you shouldn't, just saying you should do it while being conscious of it. There will be a lot of talking, a lot of promises and many ideations of new ways to do the same, but don't get caught on that if you already see yourself deviating from your path. Expect some confrontational situations too, specially if you decide to call out anyone. This is a moment where your ability to find balance will be tested.

•☽────✧˖°˖Number 2 ˖°˖✧────☾•

You might feel like you have been left alone and betrayed, maybe by others or maybe by yourself. But more important than that, is the fact that your own personal power won't be affected for the long run. Don't allow the effects of someone's lack of morality and self esteem stain your own values and the way you perceive others. No need to get paranoid and look for who is going to backstab you either, they will show themselves pretty quickly by leaving your side if you tap in with a calmer approach to any insecurity you have. Don't focus on concealing your perceived weaknesses, focus on nurturing your strengths and showcasing them gracefully only when you know they are celebrated genuinely. Conflict could be inescapable some times, don't take it as something that should be solved by the conventionally aggressive ways, but more so as an opportunity to take assertive and strategic approaches when possible. If you are forced to be in situations where it seems impossible to keep it together and remain calm, don't be afraid to walk away and handle it whenever your mind is clear, as it's likely people might be waiting for you to loose your cool or testing your patience.

•☽────✧˖°˖Number 3 ˖°˖✧────☾•

As depressing as things might seem right now, the chance to move forward into safety will be granted as long as you are open to the idea of asking for the help of others, and letting them help you. Loneliness sometimes could be more of a feeling than a fact, you might not be able to see who is there to actually help you and guide you towards building stronger foundations to be at peace with yourself. It is also quite normal and understandable to feel isolated during periods of change. There's plenty for you to do in order to find fulfilment, but you will have to get in touch with a more creative side of you in order to find people who will accompany new journeys of emotional and spiritual development. You are not the type of person who has an easy time asking for others to be compassionate, but this moment might be nice to begin having compassion for yourself, understanding that it's impossible to keep a streak of overachievement forever, and you are not disappointing anyone by being tired or ill. Let those who celebrate your success, take care of you when that same success has made you tired.

•☽────✧˖°˖ THE END ˖°˖✧────☾•

Hiii, its me, Gigi (the tarot reader).

I hope this PAC reading was useful. I'm still figuring out how to make the Post itself pretty but so far this looks kinda okay i guess.

I'm thinking about making a themed ask game sometime on this blog, most likely during the weekend because i do feel like reading tarots for other people again eventually. Last time i read tarots online it was on reddit but i was kinda doing that as a part time job.

ANYWAYS: I hope everyone is doing amazing this week or at least not doing too bad and working on getting better. I'm so thankful for all the notes on my other PAC readings <3 i genuinely was expecting to just end up rambling about tarot into the void of tumblr i guess, but this was a nice surprise <3

Much love, Gigi <3

(btw if you feel like following me I'm trying to post tarot related blogs and PACS as often as possible, for those who asked and I couldn't reply yet: I still don't know if I'm putting up a tarot services menu thing, but I'm sure I'll end up doing a tarot ask thing this weekend)

#daily tarot #pick a card reading #pick a picture #pick a card #tarotblr #free tarot #tarot blog #tarot #tarotonline #tarotscope #tarot reading #energy reading #auras #witchblr #tarot witch #witchcraft #witches #witchcore #witch community #magick #witchy vibes #witch aesthetic #tarotcommunity #tarotoftheday #tarot reader #tarot deck #tarot cards #pac reading #pick a pile #free tarot reading

[ancientgoddessofegypt]

All About The Trines. Pt. 2 The Moon's Delight

So heres pt.2 , all about the moon and the placements it forms a trine with. Enjoy !

Moon trine Saturn

Expressive authority traits. Can be open and transparent if they like you. But not so good with closed off people. The thing is, a moon/saturn placement can usually be the closed off person, but the trine makes them open up easily. This is because they're able to open up with themselves more often than others. The trine makes this individual easy going on the eyes, but they can be a bit more distant close by. It's a protective thing. There really good at letting you know how they're feeling without saying too much. Their witty if you pay close attention.

Another thing about this moon placement is that, there really good with people and taking on leadership roles. There especially good with children, and helping the emotional maturity thrive. They are excellent teachers and watchers of the environment. And there good at telling you about yourself especially if you're up to know good. The mother archetype is associated with moon/saturn peeps.

Moon trine Mars

Raw personas. They have a sexual nature to them that doesn't go unnoticed. Its like eros (asteroid) trine mars so to speak. They don't mean it all the time, it's just the way their vibe is. There vibe is very powerful as far as how they move. They can start an uproar just by their presence alone. It is there emotional upbringing that makes them form a confident aura. Most people with this placement had to prove their worth a lot, so as time went on they became confident in who they are and could boast about it a little. Not to much tho. Very organic when it comes to who they are and what they want. If they desire it, they'll find a way to get it.

Could be closed off to people they first meet, they'll open up if they can sense you're one of them. If not, they'll keep you close by but at a far enough distance so you don't know who they really are. Very interesting placement.

Moon trine Jupiter

Strong appetite with getting along with the unfamiliar. Loves knowledge and can potential seek out new information when the time is right. They have alot of information stored in them and they love to share it willingly and unwillingly. This trine is a natural force when it comes to the expression of their emotions. They use it to belt out what needs to be and this potential energy can push itself forward onto others giving people the healing that they need to get through the day. A very special aura connected to this placement holder.

Moon trine Mercury

Smooth talkers. An ability to belt out information and absorb others think pieces and milking it in a way that can become their own true thoughts. They're silly, sweet, and full of loving energy. Very child like when it comes to their inner nature, and very fun to have around too.Special personas with a knack for comedic thinking. There very food at easing the mind with their words, and can make you think of something you didn't have in mind at all. Could be very good at writing stories especially children's novels.

What they should do with this power is to make a difference with their words and be more comfortable with their speech. They should be more open with the people they meet because their sweet words can be a blessing. <3

Moon trine Venus

Wow. This placement is amazing to have and I call it a lucky placement. It has its ways with others that typically a sun/venus person couldn't do simply because the moon has a mystery in its aura that added with venus makes it move without missing a beat. The moon trine venus person has a gift in charisma that is connected to a part of their soul that can't be mimicked. Why do people like them so much? It's simply within them. Theres nothing they have to do to get people to like them, they just have to will their magic and boom, people are drown to them. Theres a magnetism with this placement that's unmatched with other venusians.

Moon trine Pluto

So this placement has a lot of potential at changing the way people feel. For better or worse, their gifted in the crafting of alchemy that their minds can shift into whatever it is they partake in. There emotional state is transfixed in whatever environment they are in, and how they move through those worlds they take something, or someone right along with them. Transformative auras, as they move through life, something changes them. And with each experiences, they can thrive to be better than the next. Opening doors for the next big thing, so they can heal themselves.. and others as well.

Moon trine Neptune

Beautiful spirits, they have a natural gift at letting go. The empathic qualities shows up here like no other. They are gifted in the arts so authentically that people think they just got it over night. Sweet babies that are filled with joy, the right people makes their souls spark. Giving them a chance to be more, to be higher than ever before. They are sensitive to noise, their ears are capable of receiving codes and information from the stars, guidance from the spiritual realm etc. It's a gift and a 'curse' if you will. But they got it going with the spiritual gifts, they know just what to do with them even if they don't.

Moon trine Uranus

Captivating in a way that shocks people and makes them feel deeper. They intrigue people with the way their emotions brings others to their knees. Most don't see a moon/uranus person coming and until they do, its like watching an alien. While everyone is stuck in the 2000s, their in 3008. They picked up on the cosmos long before they got here. They're just ready to make it back on home. Anywho, the person who has this trine placement is usually unique, has a gift in electrifying the world around them, and just knows things out of 'thin air' per-say. Just knowing one, you can feel the vibration they carry is totally newer than the average human. I'm joking. Their truly unique and something about you just stands out in a way that people can't figure out, but its truly internal and comes from the inner world.

Moon trine Rahu (North node)

Power meets dungeon. Dungeon meets power. The dragon wants its way out, but will you let it? With rahu, the emotions have a tempting fire, ready to burst through the cages and run as free is it can. You have a knack in vibrating high on a cloud and bringing us to the sanctuary we see for our own divinity. Mystical in nature, you're talents are embedded in the soul and must be tamed to prime perfection.

Moon trine Ketu (South node)

Gifted ability in the community and working with others. Has a knack for playfulness and a childlike aura already adapted in them. They naturally are equipped at making people wonder. Moon trine the south node shows a need for spirituality and can probably be a detached person already. They don't need much to feel good, they're already here.

(If you're looking for sun trine moon, thats on part 1, decided not to add this one on here).

Enjoy!

#ketu trine moon #rahu trine moon #moon trine saturn #astrology theories #astrology thoughts #astrology #astrology observations #tropical astrology #sidereal astrology #astro observations #moon trine jupiter #moon trine mars #moon trine venus #moon trine mercury #all about the trine

[natsukishinomiyaswife]

⋆ 𝓕𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓕𝓸𝓻 𝓐𝓯𝓯𝓮𝓬𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷: 𝓟𝓪𝓻𝓽 𝓞𝓷𝓮 ⋆

Featuring: Cater Diamond, Ruggie Bucchi, Kalim Al-Asim

This is a series featuring the Twisted Wonderland cast and their tsums, with the tsums taking the Reader's affection from them (and their reactions to that) ♡ Enjoy! ♡

𝓒𝓪𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝓓𝓲𝓪𝓶𝓸𝓷𝓭

⋆ You were having fun spending time with Cater's tsum, going to different places for photo shoots. The tsum seemed to know the best spots, the backgrounds of your photos looking stunning as the two of you posed. The lighting was always perfect, with some filters added to really make it pop. The tsum would immediately post it to Magicam, along with a bunch of heart emojis.

⋆ Cater was alright with the attention his tsum was getting...at first. But with every new picture added to Magicam, he couldn't help how his jealousy grew, clutching his phone in his hand. When he sees your latest photo, a picture of you pressing a kiss to his tsum's cheek near a popular date spot, he decides to meet up with you, trying to be subtle as he attempts to separate you.

"Hey hey, Name! I need Cay-tsum back for a bit. Hope you don't mind~!"

⋆ He gives his tsum a look as he reaches for him, the tsum giving him a look right back as he slaps his hand away. It took Cater by surprise, his eyes widening as he watches his tsum snuggle into your arms. After a moment, his eyes narrowed, refusing to back down.

⋆ He moves until he's behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you into a hug. Your back is against his chest as he rests his head on your shoulder, giving his tsum a look as if to say, 'They may be holding you, but I'm the only one who gets to hold them' He takes his phone out, capturing a selfie that conveniently has his tsum out of the shot ♡

𝓡𝓾𝓰𝓰𝓲𝓮 𝓑𝓾𝓬𝓬𝓱𝓲

⋆ There was a game Ruggie's tsum enjoys playing with you, one that took you a while to realize. His tsum had a love of Thaumarks and Madol, a hard worker looking for any job he could get, just like his counterpart. When it comes to you though, he was a cute little thief, taking anything of yours and waiting for you to chase after him. Once you caught him, he would refuse to give it back until you gave him a kiss, moving on to take something else.

⋆ Since Ruggie was busy with his odd jobs, he hadn't noticed how close you and his tsum had gotten, his eyes widening in surprise when he sees you chase him in the courtyard. His tsum held your phone as you grabbed him, looking at him with affection as you shook your head fondly. You pressed a kiss to the tsum's forehead, his tiny tail wagging as he happily gives you your phone back.

⋆ Ruggie's eyes narrowed, watching as his tsum took something else from you, continuing your game. So, his tsum thinks he can try to take his money, and now his kisses too? Oh no, he can't let that happen, rushing to finish his work.

⋆ You were about to grab Ruggie's tsum before someone intervened, looking up to find the tsum squirming in Ruggie's hold. He laughs to himself, watching his tsum struggle as he takes back what was stolen from you. A smirk comes to his face as he acts coy, turning your item over in his hand.

"Oh, is this yours? Well, if you want it back, you'll have to pay my finder's fee"

⋆ He moves closer to you, leaning in to press his lips against yours. A smile comes to your face once you part, waiting for him to hand you your item. One of his eyebrows raise as he leans back in, laughing as your lips meet once more.

"I'm not as generous as my tsum, ya know. It'll cost you more than just one kiss if you want your stuff back, shishishi!" ♡

𝓚𝓪𝓵𝓲𝓶 𝓐𝓵-𝓐𝓼𝓲𝓶

⋆ Kalim's tsum was such a joy to be around, a little ball of energy just like his counterpart. You couldn't help but think how cute he was as he bounced for your attention, ecstatic to see you. You played with him in Scarabia, doing your best to stay out of Jamil's way as he worked.

⋆ Some of the dorm members were listening to music in the main room, the tsum practically dragging you there as you laughed. He seemed interested in dancing, his little body moving to the beat. You watched him in amusement, the tsum pausing after a moment and holding his tiny arm out, silently asking you to join him. You did your best to hold your laughter, trying to imagine how you could even dance together considering your size difference. You shook your head as you declined his offer, thanking him and letting him know you were alright with just watching.

⋆ The tsum looked disappointed for a moment before perking back up, resuming where he left off in his dance. Soon, Kalim walked through the doorway, smiling brightly as he noticed you were there.

"Ah, Name! Here you are! I was looking all over for you, ahaha!"

⋆ He makes his way over to you, wrapping his arms around you in a warm embrace. You hold him back for a moment before he leans away, moving to give you a kiss. You blink in surprise as his tsum gets between you two, pressing his face against your lips. Kalim laughs, thinking it was cute that his tsum wanted a kiss from you too. He tries again, only for his tsum to block him once more, taking the kiss for himself.

⋆ Kalim pouts before trying again, only to be met with the same fate. Your body shakes as you laugh to yourself, Kalim continuing to pout as he looks towards his tsum.

"Hey, no fair! I want a kiss too!"

⋆ His tsum jumps up at his words, pressing his face against his cheek as if to kiss him. Kalim's pout changes to a small smile as he laughs, shaking his head.

"Not from you, from Name!"

⋆ The tsum looks at him in understanding, moving to sit on your shoulder. You look down at him before focusing back on Kalim, cupping one of his cheeks in your hand. He smiles before leaning in, his lips finally meeting yours. You don't mention how the tsum gave you a kiss as well, pressing his face against your cheek ♡

𝓣𝓱𝓪𝓷𝓴 𝔂𝓸𝓾! ♡

#♡.sheep writes #♡.twst #♡.cater diamond #♡.ruggie bucchi #♡.kalim al asim #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #cater diamond #ruggie bucchi #kalim al asim #cater diamond x reader #ruggie bucchi x reader #ruggie bucci x reader #kalim al asim x reader #cater x reader #ruggie x reader #kalim x reader

[taddymason]

I like the idea of all the ninjas co-parenting the kids, and none of them having a specific role/name. Most of them (excepto maybe Jay) didn't even have a normal childhood when they grew up so they cannot refer to themselves with a single title like father or uncle because in the end they are a huge found family in which everyone plays more than one role while taking care of the kiddos.

#I'm not saying I don't like fics where kids refer to Lloyd as dad I LOVE THEM! #I'm just also a fan of found families where there are no titles because everyone is playing more than one role #and I think DR does that very well #like Kai having dad/big brother/cool uncle energy with the kids #how meaningful it is that everyone belongs to each other and doesn't need to define what they are to each other #ninjago #ninjago dragons rising #ninjago analysis #Ninjago Headcanon #Ninjago dr

[brynnmclean]

saw a post questioning shipping Senua and Thórgestr and started to reblog it with a tag novel-- felt weird about doing that since this is lengthy and potentially derailing, so making my own post instead. Spitballing under the cut:

First off, any time someone is like, "the real reason people ship this is because they find the dude attractive," this is SO funny to me as someone who doesn't find men attractive IRL and has fiercely loved Senua since I played the first game, like-- actually I find the dynamic between those two characters to be compelling and interesting precisely because of all the baggage between them re: their backgrounds, the rough (put mildly!) beginning of their relationship, all the things they don't talk about, and them finding a common enemy/common ground to work with. The explicit parallels between them stated in-game scratched an itch in my brain. The minute they pointed out the dark rot on his arm, it was like, "oh! hello there! NOW I'm interested in whatever your whole deal is" for me. Also, idk man, I too would follow Senua around after she knocked me into the dirt and then showed me a way to fight the giants that I very much wanted to fight instead of appease.

The idea that Thórgestr was part of the Orkney Raid that killed and mutilated Dillion is VERY interesting food for thought, even if I don't personally have that headcanon (surely there are more viking raiding groups than just the Bjorg). I think the Furies or the Shadow said something similar about Fargrimr (his kin murdered yours, you shouldn't save him, etc.) so I completely get that line of thought, but I think the game left it ambiguous enough that it's up for interpretation. Would I read fic with that premise? Yeah, I'd check that out. Could Senua forgive Thorgestr if his people were involved? Sounds fun to explore.

If (ha, when?) I write fic, I'd have to think more about it especially wrt timelines, like when did the Bjorg start specifically raiding for slaves for giant food sacrifices vs. killing people for resources and wealth? How far off are we from the old gods "dying" and the volcano erupting? Was it indeed a different group of raiders who made a deal with Zynbel, attacked Senua's home, and made the sacrifice at that time to Hela?

At the very least, I think there's a time jump between the end of Hellblade I and the beginning of Hellblade II since Senua wasn't alone on that slave ship and at least one of the (brief) survivors knew her by name. I wouldn't mind exploring that gap of time, too.

In any case I do agree that it would take a VERY long time for Senua to consciously catch feelings for anyone let alone Thorgestr with all their collective baggage. The idea of them having a relationship beyond friendship in the far off future of an AU where he survives is the only one that can make sense in my brain, personally. It would take time! Time they didn't get in the game! But I think there are a lot of different roads that could take, and some of them might be healthier than others. Shipping them certainly isn't forgetting or excusing what happened to Dillion-- or even mutually exclusive from still shipping Senua and Dillion. Or, frankly, also shipping Senua and Astridr, because I can see that ship too.

One of the nice things about all the details Ninja Theory didn't expand upon and that they left that ending so open is that the sky's the limit. I'm VERY interested in seeing fandom tackle this game as we get farther from the initial release.

#kate plays hellblade #senua x thorgestr #a friend did laugh at me recently and say there's always a weird guy i latch onto and i laughed back and said i'm a boy in my brain #i think i've felt that way forever and it's still true. i DO gravitate toward male characters #especially ones who are a bit starry-eyed over their female counterparts #anyway that's not what this post is about #it's more of me throwing thoughts out into the ether because i don't have the energy or time to write fic yet #but i am Thinking About It #what happens after the story left off? what if we changed ONE THING and gave them more time #i stopped using accent marks midway through this sorry i'm typing on a computer. my phone would catch them but alas. #i can't remember my video games tag #senua #thorgestr #hellblade #senua's saga #i'm really just excited to talk fannish things about this one #the first game was so neat and tied up that i felt no fannish inclinations beyond loving the game #but there's SO MUCH ROOM HERE with this second one #delightful #i'll read all the AUs even the sad ones #when it comes to thorgestr and senua i think thorgestr fell first and pretty hard but he doesn't talk about it until senua starts opening u #i really think those two are made for a glacially slow burn #maybe not if she becomes the tyrant seer. loved and feared. #could be quick and very unhealthy. ALSO compelling to me! #senua's saga spoilers #to be safe #these tags are about as long as the post. i'd better quit while i'm ahead. #hertan writing tag

[imoanurparentsnames]

"Affirmation" & Malgendering

"Fine, I'll 'respect' your gender, but I'll make it absolutely miserable for you. What? You don't like the way I'm 'affirming' your gender? Guess you'll have to stop being a (trans) man then."

I want to put something out there about what I call "malgendering". I see trans men talk about the phenomenon and acknowledge it as a part of antitransmasculinity but not the concept of "malgendering" itself and what it's purpose is, and as trans men and transmasculine people are especially caught in the lose-lose situation between misgendering and malgendering I think it is an important concept to establish. The erasure of transmasculinity, particularly as a unique gender and gendered experience, also serves to keep the transmasculine trapped within this double-bind, positioned between the gender binary of cis patriarchal ideas of womanhood and manhood, where for us there is only misgendering (being abused with the Woman gender) or malgendering (being abused with the Man gender).

I define malgendering as the practice of "validating" someone's gender identity only when it can be used against them and to hurt them, and malgendering almost always involves the enforcement of only the most negative sexist stereotypes available onto the victim with none of the "positives". If misgendering is forcefully pushing you back into your 'proper place' such as by calling you a "girl" or a "her" and showing you that you're really a woman through sexual assault -malgendering is scaring and traumatizing you into it by using your own gender against you. Malgendering is the realization that you don't need to misgender someone to hurt them or to punish them for the way they identity and push them towards the gender they're 'supposed' to be - you can do all that through 'validation'. It's psychological warfare on the sense of self.

This violence and abuse under the guise of "respect" and "identity affirmation" creates plausible deniability of intent and places the blame on the victim for "identifying that way", so much so that even other trans people will defend it and believe it's not maligned (especially because "but being seen as and treated as your gender is what trans rights is all about!" and "errm but its transphobic to not treat u this way?/ur misgendering urself by wanting to not be treated this way :/" with the hidden message being "don't like it? stop being trans"), even when faced with evidence of the (very much intended) effects it has on stalling and outright eliminating transmasculinity (ie. repression, detransition, suicide).

Some examples I can pull off the top of my head:

A transphobe is talking about a pregnant trans man. The whole energy of the Facebook video is 'comedic', and while calling birth the most “feminine” thing someone can do and alluding to how the trans man is really a woman, they still use he/him and call him a “guy” (in air-quotes). Not out of any respect but because the idea of a man being pregnant, calling a pregnant person a "he", and the very existence of the trans man in question, is the whole joke. In doing so, the transphobe has turned the act of using the proper pronouns and gendering him into a source of humiliation and made the experience of being properly gendered a demeaning one.

The Ukraine military situation where all males aged between 18 and 60 were banned from leaving the country and obliged to serve in the military. Trans women were denied passage out of the country "because they were men", and trans men were similarly denied passage out of the country "because they were men". With the discrepancy between invalidating the gender of trans women and "validating" the gender of trans men, you'd think the motivation behind this would be obvious - that trans people are expendable meat and it's better they die than cis people. It shouldn't of needed to be said that "I'm only affirming your gender because it allows me to put you in a position where you will likely suffer and die and put the blame for it on you" is not 'respect' or 'affirming' at all but somehow this was taken as evidence for the idea of that trans men are more 'respected' and seen as their genders than others (and are thus 'privileged').

A common one almost every trans guy deals with at some point is cis people threatening to beat trans men up (and often following through), because "If you're a man and not a woman (anymore) that means I can punch you," using the proximity to masculinity that transmasculine people claim as a justification for violence. Every other week there's a new story in online transmasculine spaces about someone having their ribs broken with "Since/if you want to be a man so bad-" preceding the attack.

The above is in a similar vein to when accounts of violence done to transmasculine people by cisgender men are brushed off and they're told something along the lines of "welcome to being a man", "that's just what men do to each other", "that's just the way things are with men", etc. along with the insistence that their attack had nothing to do with antitransmasculinity, making it an immutable problem with (cis)men as a whole - creating a sense hopelessness and that this is all they have to look forward to.

Transmasculine individuals being refused treatment, tests, or insurance for gynecological issues, especially cancer, despite the knowledge that they are transmasculine, because "men don't deal with these problems" and they don't want "men in women's spaces", and if you don't want to be 'treated like a man' and get the care you need (and not die), you're going to have to go ahead and detransition, change that M marker back to an F.

All of this functions to create contention, and eventually a rift, between the individual and their sense of gender identity. Creating an association between being gendered 'correctly' and 'respected' as your gender (and ultimately existing as a transmasculine person) with abuse, violence, helplessness, trauma, fear, isolation... and by making transmasculinity and transmanhood uninhabitable and driving a wedge between the individual and their sense of gender identity you can more easily drag them back to their 'proper' place. Plant seeds of doubt by making being transmasculine an exceedingly unhappy experience. Make them think that everything that's happened is their own fault for choosing to be transmasculine or trying to be a man. That maybe since they're so unhappy this isn't for them. That living as a transmasculine person is just too difficult and they're not cut out for it, that if they "gave up" and were to be women again things would be easier and they would be safer and happier.

This also all serves to maintain cis patriarchal ideas of gender and the gender binary and police the boundaries of manhood, in a way I can't articulate right now.

Through all this, despite being called "men" during malgendering, we are not actually perceived as such. We are always an "other". Acknowledging us as "men" is just another weapon, and why some transmascs flinch at the phrase "trans men are men". Our own genders are used to beat us.

Using a scrap from my .txt journals:

"[...] on the subject of having a core aspect of yourself taken from you and turned into a weapon to beat you with, with the result being that aspect of yourself now becoming a source of trauma and pain so you abandon it and lock it away like an awful secret, that’s exactly what happened with my gender.

Being genderless and a(nti)binary is what I’m most comfortable as, a(nti)gender is my ~real gender~, but I have to admit a lot of this is because I have been traumatized out of any gender with binary associations and have consequently come to know gender itself, and the act of gendering, as violence. Gender is but a designation for what exploitation, abuse, and violence can be enacted upon you and the justification there of. When someone asks whether you are "masc" or "femme", behind their back as they face you is a hammer in one hand, and a knife in the other, and what they are actually asking is if they can pummel you or lacerate you. When it comes to the “direction” I’m transitioning in though, it is obviously “masculine” (as much as a negation of "femininity" is always taken as stepping towards "masculinity") and you wouldn’t be entirely wrong to call me “transmasculine”, though I have been scared to death of being acknowledged as such."

My first encounter with malgendering was when I was 13 and had just started to realize I was "ftm" and looking for community online. My first exposure to any affirmation of transmasculinity was someone I came to respect reblogging a post about how Kill All Men includes trans men. This would set the precedent of the next decade of my life of existing while transmasculine. A decade of only hearing the words "trans men" and "transmasc" used negatively and as the butt of jokes that served to reinforce patriarchal ideas of gender. The consistent and relentless denial of transmasculinity as a unique gender and gendered experience, the denial of transmasculine reality especially in regards to misogyny, and continuous abuse and threats of violence, all under the guise of affirming trans men's genders as men (and affirming the gender binary in the process). A decade of having antitransmasculine sentiment fed to me in every way possible.

For me, the experiences of antitransmasculinity and malgendering from non-transmascs has effectively "chased" me out of my transmasculinity and any acknowledgement of it. For years I have hidden my transmasculinity and presumed "AGAB" out of fear, even in queer and supposedly trans-friendly spaces. I have not been able to associate with any “masculine” language in reference to myself without feeling that I am in imminent danger, have made a grave mistake, and suffocating in anticipation of punishment. I have always been scared of posting any of my art that eludes to my transmasculinity. I have always been terrified of being referred to or perceived as “transmasc”, a “trans man”, of being called a "guy" or “dude” or “bro”, of using "he/him" anywhere. All of it. Deep down on some level I do desire it, but it’s been forbidden and only aggravates existing wounds.

And this, in turn, pushed me out of associating with other transmasculine folks out of fear and internalized antitransmasculinity towards other transmasculine people, isolating me from any community or connection with anyone similar to me, exacerbating my loneliness and alienation as a youth to the point where now as an adult my ‘normal’ human social needs – connection, community, relationships, empathy – are completely broken. I don’t feel loneliness anymore, or the desire to connect to anyone, despite in ways being even more alone now than I was then. In a way I believe antitransmasculinity shaped the path of my schizoidism. Isolating and divorcing me from my transmasculinity and the world at large is what I understand to be yet another point of this type of antitransmasculine rhetoric - because when you've destabilized and isolated someone from their whole sense of self and community, they are much easier to control.

#imoanurparentsnames #op turned off rbs so this post is mine now #transmisandry #anti transmasculinity #anti trans #transblr #trans #transgender #trans men #trans masc #trans man #trans mascs #transmascs #transmasc #nonbinary #non binary #transandrophobia #trans boy #trans boys #genderqueer #gender queer #penisbagelbite

[drdemonprince]

all the recent talk about not voting has me a bit worried, for lack of a better word.

on one hand, yes so much yes, stop throwing all your time and energy in the insatiable maw of electoral politics, 5/5, no notes.

but on the other hand, where does that time and energy go then? despite lots of talk about mutual aid it doesn't seem to progress much beyond the abstract (at least in the various leftist groups/communities/etc. in my neck of the woods). it's held up as an ideal and great big important thing, but when there's shit that needs doing, it's *crickets*.

maybe it's because so much mutual aid is care work and thus, and i very much disagree with even though i care not for the label, not real activism i guess? like, a while ago a disabled comrade had ran into housing issues because of their illness, so we rustled up some folks to help clean and unfuck their home. which, yet again, were the same (also disabled) people that always show for those things.

coming of four years and counting of pandemic, that's been a consistent pattern. at a time where mutual aid was so needed, such a vacuum left by a state that didn't and/or wanted to do shit, it still fell on the shoulders of disabled people to do all the actual work while the rest just talked about abstract shit. or, to name another thing, diy hrt initiative where it's just a bunch of poor ass trans people scrounging up money to pay for supplies for trans people who have fuck all access, while the rest debates in the abstract about a more better system or whether it's even something they need to concern themselves about.

and like, yes, not pissing away your energy pleading with assholes who don't give a fuck about you is good, but it should only be the start. it sometimes feels like the big plan is: 1) not vote, 2) ???, 3) glorious anarchism/communism/mutual-aidism. i'm not arguing that they need to have it all worked out, but with so much shit that needs doing in the here and now i get a little worried. because that's going to take real work, not talk, and they're not putting in any of it.

I mean, most people won't do (what gets viewed as) "real activism" either. They don't go to protests, smash windows, call jails to check on the status of incarcerated people, cut supply lines, or anything else. And they don't vote either.

We live in a highly individualistic, atomized society filled with people who have been conditioned into an abiding self-interested apathy, and everyone is overworked and broke as shit and juggling a bunch of disabilities while not having any experience with building genuine community and lacking most of the infrastructural and social tools to do so. The number of people who are avowed leftists is vanishingly small, and among them the people who actually walk the talk or have the education and community ties to even be able to is even smaller. Not disagreeing with your read of the situations you're dealing with here, just putting them within the broader context of many very similar problems that I see touch every single aspect of organizing today. even like the most tepid liberal get out the vote kind of organizing is plagued by this, and of course that is by design.

What gives me hope in the present moment is just how many people are completely fucking done with the prevailing system, and how many are refusing to play along with its rules. A lot of the people who aren't voting are not leftists. At least not yet. Just like many of the people who are quiet quitting and half-assing it at work or just vibing on unemployment for as long as they can are not communists. But they do know that the system is bunk and is failing them, and they are refusing to be compliant within it any longer. I believe that a lot of people's better natures do get inspired during a moment of collapse. I also think there is a profound rot at the heart of settler-colonial states that fills them with people who do not recognize themselves as having any responsibility to others. That's all the more reason for such an empire to fall.

I think you're right to worry for the future, though I don't think the reason to be worried is as simple as people not people caring about disabled folks, or any other group. I always wonder who the mythical abled people are who are abnegating their duty in such an understanding of the world. I sure haven't met any of them. I only meet people who are also disabled and don't realize it.

[dduane]

I was rereading the NME of the Young Wizards series and I found myself asking the question of how wizardry works when a wizard is pissed off at the world. I understand that wizards aren’t supposed to waste energy and have to handle many mundane problems on their own, but Nita was initially wanting to use wizardry for revenge against Joanne and her group. What would have happened if she did use her wizardry to cause damage to Joanne or to flaunt her wizardry in such a way as to make them terrified of her outside of the body shield she created. In essence, my question is about the use of wizardry to give a minor annoyance or to scare someone into changing their ways for the protection of the wizard and those who might be harmed by a bully, for example?

If Nita (or anybody else in a similar situation) misused her wizardry repeatedly, she would eventually lose it.

All wizards make mistakes, and (without fail, because that's how the under-the-hood economy of wizardry works) whether they purposely set out to make redress or not, they pay for them. This is a thoroughly understood aspect of human wizardry. If a wizard has an urge to do someone a harm and acts on it, that's going to be noted. (And they may think that it's a minor one... but this is by no means always going to be an accurate assessment.)

If a wizard has screwed up in this way, they're expected be self-examining enough to realize what they've done and why it's wrong, and to try to put the failing right. If they don't do so, the universe extracts the misused energy from them in other ways.

Nita, fortunately, found another road than one that involved scaring or revenging herself on Joanne. But not all probationary wizards find similar, more satisfactory roads.

The phrase "Magic does not live in the unwilling heart" isn't just an advice, but a description of what happens to some people in whom wizardry is invested. Someone who's taken the Wizard's Oath, and then (to satisfy their own less positive internal needs) begins to routinely flout its principles in daily practice, soon finds that they have less wizardly ability to work with. And if they keep acting this way, eventually they find that they have even less to work with... and sooner or later, none. The enacture principle is withdrawn from them (or withdraws itself: as we've seen, wizardry itself is at least borderline-sentient) until they show signs that they've begun to better understand how it should be used. If they show no such signs, they don't get it back.

The entire purpose of wizardry is to slow down the otherwise inevitable local effects of entropy. If a user starts repeatedly and purposely speeding them up... they're on the road to losing what they've been given. The Powers that Be do not permit the limited amount of energy they husband for the Universe's benefit to be habitually used for toxic purposes. They get enough of that behavior from the Lone Power as it is.

So it's a good thing Nita didn't go that way. :)

HTH!

#Young Wizards meta #wizardry #negative impulse management

[brucewaynehater101]

I severely need Tim to get hit by The Clench a second time. I need him to cough blood and bleed from all orifices. I need him to get back on that medical bed and wrapped with a whole bunch of bandages. I want Tim to be on the verge of hopelessness because he doesn't believe he would make it. I want Bruce to be so firm in his denial, everyone believes his words as truth, making Tim super bitter on the inside but feeling touched that he actually cares. I want Tim to be on the verge of death, and Jason and Damian doing their utmost best to find a cure for Tim, but there's not enough time and their best doesn't feel like it's enough and. I need Dick to be his original, unhinged, rageful self on the warpath for whoever had the wonderful idea to give his baby brother The Clench a second time. I need Cass breaking bones and putting people on the verge of death because she's scared and angry and no one can stop her, not until her little brother is safe. And why Tim? Why not any other character? *grabs you by the face and squishes your cheeks* Because that boi is my blorbo and things need to happen to him

Tim barely survived the Clench with a fully functioning immune system. I doubt he'd survive a second dose... but that could be part of the angst.

Maybe he survives because Bruce already has the cure on hand, or maybe Ra's al Ghul releases a different deadly disease to take out Tim.

For Tim, I don't think slowly withering away in bed is something he can handle. He's meant to be up and helping others. He'd be so frustrated with his failing health, his constant sleeping (which loses a ton of time), and how his family hovers around him. He feels miserable (pain, fever, shaking limbs, vomiting, etc). He just wants to feel okay again. He wants his family to stop looking at him like that. He doesn't have enough energy to reassure or help them.

Tim is clenching the bed sheets as another family member sits by his bedside and confesses their regrets in case this is it. He hears the distinct pitches, tones, and defense mechanisms as they apologize for past transgression. With the way Tim's voice keeps sputtering into coughs, he can't interrupt or absolve them. He wishes they wouldn't do this.

He had forgiven them long ago.

Damian, a kid who's seen so much death, shouldn't be so shaken at Drake's frail figure. The sight of the person he's just starting to accept as his brother shouldn't cause the younger one's hands to shake. Tim has always been fallible (Damian has seen it when he pushed Tim off that dinosaur), but he's never been so defenseless and weak. The youngest Wayne can hardly leave his post at Tim's door or bedside.

#dc comics #tim drake #dc universe #thank you for the ask!!!! #dick grayson #cass wayne #damian wayne #dc au