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raineandsky · 13 days

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hey i just recently discovered your acc and I'm honestly in love with your work! I don't know if you do requests but just in case you do,could you maybe do a snippet of supervillain capturing hero and torturing for months until they suddenly got bored of them and ordered villain to get rid of them for good. Basically villain doesn't know that it was hero they were ordered to kill by supervillain and when they entered the cell where hero was to kill them,they suddenly recognize hero and become extremely suprised by what they saw. Villain for some reason can't bring themselves to kill hero and just stands there for who knows how long whilst trying to decide what they should do as hero just layed there slightly unconcious full of bruises,wounds,cuts, burns and dried up blood all over their body. Sorry if this was long hehe,feel free to continue it (if you want to of course) :)

welcome to the gang, glad to have you here!! thank you for the request, i hope you like it :D

A curse tumbles from the villain’s mouth before they can stop it.

Of all the people the supervillain has caught, has been bragging about catching, why was it hero? The hero should know better. The villain knows they know better.

The villain’s never seen them so… defeated. They’ve thrown their fair share of punches, of course, but they’ve never quite managed to have them half-conscious on the floor like this. Crimson paints their skin in crazed patches, black circles smudged underneath them, rope digging violently into their already reddened wrists. The hero lets out some half-hearted noise as the villain nudges their clothes back to survey the damage better.

Bad. Very bad. It’s a miracle the hero’s still alive, but that’s what they do, isn’t it? Survive despite the odds. The villain gets back to their feet with a scowl. Where the hell did the supervillain find them? Why would the hero let this happen? Probably to protect some random civilian, the villain knows that, but still.

The hero’s eyes open, kind of, unfocused and glazed over. They get a front seat view of the villain’s shoes and, for whatever mindless reason, weakly reach their bound hands out towards them.

The villain takes a half step back, more on instinct than anything, and despite the lack of… well, anything in the hero’s expression, they can somehow still see the slight distressed crumple of their face.

Fuck. Their heart stings, even though it knows better.

No, they think sourly. You’re here to get rid of them. Don’t show weakness. Show [Supervillain] what you are.

The villain’s dagger is inside their coat. It’d be so easy. Nothing more than a shallow, red line across the hero’s throat. Easy. Kind. Merciful.

They step forwards again, ever-so-slightly, and bend back down to the hero’s level. Their hands are where they left them, abandoned in their desperate attempt at connection, and the villain nudges their foot between their fingers in potentially the biggest show of compassion they've ever have.

It’s a kindness, right? The hero would appreciate it. It would be the nicest thing the villain’s ever done for them.

But it wouldn’t, even the villain knows that. The hero doesn’t want to die any more than they do.

Every passing second is throwing more doubts over what they’re doing here. They need to make a choice before the supervillain decides they’ve been down here too long. They need to act before they can change their mind.

The villain pulls their blade from inside their coat,

and cuts the rope at the hero’s wrists.

#creative writing #writblr #writers on tumblr #writing #writing community #heroes and villains #hero x villain #requests #im glad you like my stuff thank you for the compliment!!!!!#honestly imposter syndrome is a b i t c h and sometimes yall come in with the simplest lil comments and it literally makes my day #thank you anon #you got me goin. i edited that bitchass scene in my novel ridin this high. ily

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lazyneonrabbitt · 8 months

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RE: @thebearer's Carmy and breastmilk post

Carmy always loved your chest. Great to lay on during cuddles where he'd drop himself on top of you, or mindlessly squeeze in his hands when you're the one laying down on him. When you got pregnant you'd quickly complain about being too sore, swatting his hands away much to his annoyance. He'd stop as soon as you asked, but not without pouting and finding other soft spots to place his hands, usually settling on your ass or thighs.

When you got too big for you both to lay comfortably on the couch he suggested to move the tv into the bedroom so you could still cuddle. He loves to touch you so massages and general comforting rubs weren't unusual.

You sat up against the mountain of pillows Carmy had gotten for you, groaning and whining and in general just having a bad day. Everything hurt, your swollen belly got in the way of everthing, nothing was comfortable and your breasts hurt way too much to ignore today. Carmy was next to you, making sure you got your painkillers and some food in your system before softly rubbing your stomach and kissing from your neck down to the swell of your chest. His hand moved on autopilot, not realizing until you let out a pained whimper that he had squeezed your overly sensitive, now leaking tit.

"Oh shit. Baby I'm sorry.." He looked down at his hand, taking it off your skin and moving it to his lips, licking off the white liquid. You looked down at him doing all of this, wondering if he really registered what exactly he was doing. Not that you minded at all, the initial squeeze had hurt, but maybe this was just what you needed? You blamed the hormones for making you think it looked pretty hot how he licked the milk, your milk, off his hand.

With his lips still on the back of his hand he looked at you and found you staring with that look he knew all too well. His bright blue eyes flicked down to your chest and back up as to ask permission and you only nodded in response before he carefully put his hand back, propping himself up on his elbow and lick a broad stripe over your nipple causing gou to let out a content sigh. "Fuck, Carmy.." You tangled your fingers in his hair, both as a way of showing him its okay, but also to yank at when he got too rough. "Don't tease, just get it over with." You didn't mean to sound impatient or rude, but today had drained all your energy. He smiled against your skin before softly licking once more and latching on. His fingers dug into the soft underside of your swollen breast as he sucked oh so carefully. The sound you made was almost pornographic and in sync with Carmy's groan at the taste of you. Your fingers clawed at his scalp as he sucked harder fhe second time. "Fuck, so good." His praise made all of today's struggle turn into nothing but hormonal bullshit.

He didn't even think about asking before switching breasts. One hand under the still untouched one while the other srroked lovingly over your large, round stomach. You bet you tasted as addicting as Carmy sounded right now. His moans going straight through you untill you decided he'd had enough.

..for now.

#yo I may or may not enjoy elaborating on other peoples' posts #sometimes i write #can't help it my brain just starts talking when I read stuff #and this one is just U G H so hot.#carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x reader #the bear

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slightlyunconventional · 2 months

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long overdue second dbhwks fic (2.8k)

SLAVED AWAY at this for days (i didnt. i could have done it in one but i procrastinated so much it’s unbelievable. but heres some food) quite happy w how it came out too if i do say so myself,, hope u enjoy!! 🫶

“Sorry I’m late.” Dabi. He’s picked the damn lock again.

“Oh my god, do you seriously not know how to knock?” Hawks calls back, practically skipping into the living room.

“Don’t wanna stand around outside your door like a creep, thanks,” deadpans the villain. Hawks rolls his eyes.

“You look like more of a creep picking the lock, but sure. Come here.”

He takes Dabi by the hand and leads him toward the couch. His fingers are warm, like usual. God, has Hawks missed that. Between hero work, villainy, and conflicting schedules they’d barely had time to see each other and, man, was it miserable. It takes everything in him not to bowl Dabi over with an absolutely suffocating embrace - it’d probably kill the man.

Dabi raises his eyebrows. “You cleaned?”

Hawks had expected Dabi to notice, but not point it out, so he’s a little caught off guard by the halfway-question. “Oh, yeah,” he says, a fraction sheepishly, “Is it too much?”

“Mm, no, looks good,” Dabi smirks, “Makes a nice change from all the crap you’ve usually got lying around.” Hawks hits him playfully and he laughs, clear and smooth, not at all like the peals brimming with malice he’d usually hear from Dabi.

“Uuugh, I hate you, leave me alone,” he complains. When Dabi’s eyebrows raise again, Hawks pulls a face and adds, “I’m a busy man! I don’t have time to clean!”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. I’m flattered.”

He sits Dabi down on the couch, maybe a little too eagerly, and comes down to straddle the taller man’s lap.

“You’re so pretty,” he whispers, before pressing his lips to Dabi’s with an urgency that only comes from being deprived of seeing one’s lover for far too long. Dabi loosens underneath Hawks and they quickly fall into a long practised pattern, all pretences dropped for this moment of touch-starved tenderness. Nothing exists outside of this room, everything is so warm, and Hawks melts even more when he feels Dabi smile against his lips.

“Seems like someone missed me,” murmurs the villain, voice sleek and low. The response is simply a hand laced through the dyed-black hair at the back of Dabi’s head, taking hold of him and pulling him closer with nothing short of absolute need. In turn, Dabi’s hands find the small of Hawks’ back, and heat begins to pool in his stomach as they slowly threaten to sneak closer to the bases of his wings. And his lips are warm, so warm, and he always seems to know exactly what to do with them to make Hawks collapse like putty in his hands. For a crazed villain who incinerates shit for fun, Dabi’s a fucking good kisser.

…And a tease, apparently! Hawks knows that Dabi knows how badly he wants this, and how long he’s been waiting - yet he still seems to be taking his sweet time. He can feel the villain absently tracing circles into his back, with the same pace as his mouth is working against Hawks’. The little shit. He knows exactly what he’s doing; well, two can play at that game. Hawks takes it as a challenge, takes Dabi’s scarred face between his hands, and takes control. He presses closer, kissing the man with some previously unseen vigour, practically forcing him to match the increased pace. A little wave of triumph passes through Hawks as he hears Dabi’s breath catch in the back of his throat, nearly silent, but they’re close enough that nothing can really go unheard. Feeling like he’s succeeded, Hawks goes to indulge further, perhaps elicit some more reactions like that, when he feels Dabi’s hand leave his back. Before he can register it properly, the hand is upon his chest, pushing with some insistence. Hawks pulls away, panicked.

“Oh, shit, fuck, sorry, was that too much?”

The arm Dabi has outstretched towards Hawks’ chest slackens slightly, as do his facial features. He doesn’t reply, but rather his lips part and his eyes glaze over, forming an expression so laced with vulnerability that Hawks is almost taken aback - though, he can’t dwell on the display for long, as he’s quickly instead watching Dabi bring his other hand, curled tightly into a fist, up to his own face and press it most firmly to the underside of his nose. His chest rises once with an inhale not unlike before, only this time a little louder and deeper, and he ducks forward slightly with two slightly-awkwardly stifled sneezes.

“hhahh-! ..hh’nGXT! kxNTsh! Ugh, fuck.”

“Oh!” Hawks says, a little surprised, “Bless you.” A part of him wants to chide the villain for holding it in like that, but he refrains, knowing full well he himself would stifle exactly the same.

Dabi hums in lieu of a thanks, and Hawks returns his hand to his boyfriend’s face and leans back in.

“Can I go back to kissing you now?” he murmurs.

Dabi rolls his eyes but drapes his arms lazily over Hawks’ shoulders, an invitation, yes, you can go back to kissing me now. Their lips interlock once again, picking up where they left off, with Hawks feeling absolutely on top of the world from the fact that he’s doing the work here, he’s the one kissing Dabi, not the other way around. He’s never been opposed to Dabi taking control, in fact he loves being ravaged by the man, but sue him, sometimes it feels good to be the one doing the ravaging. However, his elation at this seems to be poorly concealed, or perhaps Dabi just wants to knock him down a peg, because Hawks feels teeth closing on his bottom lip. Not so hard that it hurts, but just enough to tease an audible gasp from him as he tenses up on Dabi’s lap. He’s fairly certain he’s never needed someone all over him so badly until this point. Clearly it shows, too, since Dabi insists on being such a menace and playing the long game with him. Well, Hawks decides that’s not going to fly; he presses in closer, almost entirely closing the gap between them and slides his other hand behind Dabi’s head, not-so-subtly tugging him closer and kissing him harder, once more regaining the upper hand. He takes to gently thumbing back and forth against the base of Dabi’s neck, to which the man lets out, involuntarily, a little noise of satisfaction, finally accepting submission. Hawks is almost tempted to bite Dabi back, but maybe that’d be pushing his luck. Besides, this side of Dabi - soft, pliant, accepting - is one he rarely sees, and he’s kind of into it. It’s a good look on the villain.

Before long, however, their rhythm is broken once again. One of the arms laying around Hawks’ neck begins to move, and the hand meets his shoulder. Hawks has a sneaking feeling he knows what’s coming (for the second time), as Dabi’s hand pushes against his shoulder - slowly, though, as if he’s really trying to prolong the inevitable. It really doesn’t seem like he wants to pull away, so Hawks does it for him, gently separates their faces, strangely endeared by Dabi’s reluctance - and it seems he did so at exactly the right moment. Being so close to him, Hawks can easily see the way his face immediately crumples, eyes flickering shut and lips parting with an inhale that sounded as though it had been waiting to be drawn for… a while. In a split second, he’s tugging the sleeve of his hoodie over his hand with some urgency, and Hawks catches the flare of his nostrils right before he pinches his nose, clamping the thick black fabric over the bottom half of his face. There’s hardly six inches between the two of them, so Dabi twists awkwardly to the side with a set of cruelly stifled sneezes.

“hh’GKTtch! ‘KXXSHh! Ugh, god– h-hahH’KGXt’sh!”

They sound harsher this time around, harder to stifle, probably.

“Bless,” says Hawks, “You okay?”

“Mm… yeah, just something really… stings,” Dabi replies. He’s knuckling the side of his nose with some force.

“You’re, uh, not getting sick are you?” Hawks asks, unable to conceal the tinge of nervousness that seeps into his tone. As much as he loves the man, he’s got some long days on patrol coming up soon, and a cold from Dabi would severely compromise him.

Dabi raises an eyebrow. “I’m not that much of an asshole, Kei.”

“Right-! Yeah, no, of course not. Sorry, I didn’t really think there.” Hawks grimaces internally at himself, and Dabi shakes his head.

“Ugh, Jesus, hold on–” He turns away again, breath wavering, “hehh’nGXKt!” A shaky exhale escapes from him as he releases his nose.

“So, what’s got you all worked up, then?” asks Hawks, teasing.

Dabi half-sighs, half-groans, and replies, “Don’t know, but I wish it would fucking stop.” As if for emphasis, the sentence is punctuated with an irritated-sounding sniffle.

“Well, it probably would if you stopped stifling like that,” Hawks says pointedly. That earns him a hazy blue-eyed glare… that doesn’t last long, since Dabi’s squinting again, and his mouth curls up into the beginnings of something akin to a snarl. Hawks smirks as he ducks into the crook of his sweater-clad elbow to muffle yet another sneeze.

“hehH’DSHHh’uh! What the fuck?”

At least he didn’t stifle it.

Hawks hums. “Bless you.” He sends a feather to retrieve a box of tissues, then decides the villain probably also needs some space, so he manoeuvres himself gracelessly off Dabi’s lap to sit beside him on the couch.

“Very elegant,” Dabi remarks.

“Ugh, shut up,” he replies, elbowing Dabi in the ribs. The laugh this elicits almost straight away rises into a staggered gasp, that itself turns into a pair of hastily covered sneezes.

“hhahH’KXXTshuh! hh’huuhh’DZSHHhue!”

“Jeez, bless you.”

Dabi sniffles thickly. “Yeah.”

Hawks’ feather zips back into the room and drops a box of tissues into Dabi’s lap - the thicker, softer ones that the hero always insists on buying despite them being double the price of regular ones.

“Sounds like they’re getting stronger,” Hawks observes, a note of concern in his tone, but then adds, more teasingly, “Not allergic to me, are you?”

Dabi scoffs and tugs a couple of tissues from the box. “I wish,” he says, scrubbing at his nose. “Then I’d actually have an excuse to avoid your annoying ass.”

“Wow, okay, that was so uncalled for. Just say you hate me at that point.”

It’s Dabi’s turn to elbow Hawks back. He probably deserves it.

“Ow, bitch,” he says in mock offence.

“You’re the bitch,” comes the reply, from behind a handful of tissues (which are then promptly screwed up and tossed, flying in a neat arc, straight into the trash on the other side of the room).

“Whatever, bitch. Are you done sneezing yet? This couch isn’t as comfy as your thighs-”

“Ugh, shut up, you are so weird,” Dabi interjects in fond disgust.

“Oh my god, what if you’re allergic to my apartment being clean? Then I never have to clean ever again, hah!”

Dabi gives him a look. “You say that as a joke, but honestly, you migh-might be right…hh.. hehH’KXNTtsh’uh!”

Dabi’s expression falls midway through his sentence, brows drawing together and eyes narrowing as he gives into another sneeze, hastily half-stifled against the back of his hand.

“Seriously,” Hawks deadpans, eyebrows raised. That’s new, he thinks.

“Well, unless you’ve suddenly acquired a pet cat - which I doubt - then yeah, seriously,” says the villain flatly, though with a note of congestion starting to creep into his voice. “Last I checked, your place didn’t reek of fuckin’ –all of spring and then some.”

Hawks suddenly remembers the air freshener he’d used–the only one he had, some floral one found right at the back of a cupboard, unused for entirely too long. He hadn’t had a clue what clean apartments were supposed to smell of, so he’d sort of just… went ham with it. Definitely a mistake.

“Don’t slander my choice in scents,” he teases, “Are you sure it’s… that?”

“Nothing else changed ‘round here, has it?” Dabi pauses to give his nose a brief rub. “I’m here practically every week and I’ve been fine, so, you tell me.”

Hawks will never not poke the bear when he’s got the opportunity, so he says, “So this does mean I never have to clean the place ever again, right?”

Dabi’s mouth falls open as he feigns offence. He says, dramatically, “Wow. That’s all you have to say? When I could literally die right now in front of you? I’m.. hah- I’m-”

Hawks snickers. “Bless you,” he sing-songs prematurely, utterly pleased with himself. It’s almost cute, the attempted glare Dabi gives him through his glazed over expression. Nobody can look menacing in the slightest when they’re trying not to sneeze (and that’s a fact!).

“Sh-shut uhhhp..” replies Dabi, his voice quavering. He lifts a hand slowly, bringing it to hover weakly before his face. His breathing is unsteady and his eyes half-lidded, and the crease between his dark brows deepens.

“Okay, point proven, idiot,” Hawks says with a laugh, “Just sneeze, this is torture even for me.”

The hazy glare returns, and Hawks clocks it.

“Oh!” he laughs, giving Dabi a slightly bewildered smile. “Oh my god, I jinxed it. You deserve that ‘cause you’re mean to me.”

“I hahh-hate you-” Dabi responds breathily. He rubs at the side of his nose with two knuckles, pressing decently harder than is probably necessary. The bridge crinkles in irritation when the rubbing clearly has no effect. “Jesus, it won’t go away.”

“Mm, what a shame.”

There goes a third bleary glare from the villain. “I’d like to remind you wh-whose fault thhihhs.. was in the first place,” he says. Any malice intended to be behind his utterance is immediately negated by his breath catching and wavering through the words. Though, at a point, Hawks begins to feel a little… voyeuristic just watching Dabi struggle. Sure, he’s his boyfriend and all, and yeah, he’s definitely seen worse, but it’s easy to tell Dabi’s getting a little self-conscious about this… spectacle. He’s never been a fan of having things out of his control, especially not displays of vulnerability like this, and Hawks knows this, so why prolong it?

“Well, I guess there’s only one thing for it,” he says, taking matters into his own hands.

“Fuck off- what–” Dabi gets out, as Hawks takes his face between his hands and begins to press kisses softly down the bridge of his nose. Hawks doesn’t let him twist away from it, trying not to laugh to himself about how dumb this probably looks. At least one of them is having fun. He considers pulling away with a “Gonna sneeze yet?”, but refrains - he’d probably end up on fire. He does, however, pause for a moment when he reaches Dabi’s trio of silver nose studs, hovering. There’ve been feathery, wavering breaths coming from his boyfriend consistently but, nothing has come to fruition, so Hawks decides–those piercings have always been sensitive, a fact he’d discovered about Dabi rather early on (and maybe, possibly sometimes used to be a menace). He plants a final, delicate kiss right upon where the three studs lie, and finally lets Dabi pull away.

“Oh, oh, fuck– s-screw you–hh’ehH’IIDTSSHh’uh! ‘kXXTS’SHhue! …Christ, you’re such an ass.” The pair of sneezes that result are harsh to say the very least. And even after all that, he still tries stifling the second– unsurprising, but at that point is it even worth it?

“Sorry! I had to!” Hawks says, really trying to look like he isn’t laughing. It doesn’t work.

“You absolutely did not have to,” corrects Dabi.

“Okaaay, okay, sorry. It was funny though.”

“Yeah, for you, maybe,” Dabi mutters, shaking his head, “Oh, fuck’s sake, hold on–”

“I’ll wait till you’re done to say bless you, this time,” says Hawks with a fond snicker.

“Good plah-an–! hhuh’hHDSHH’SHuh! …Ugh, fuck.”

“Bless,” Hawks replies. He averts his eyes, a little sheepishly. Dabi pulls a face.

He asks, “What the fuck’s with the guilty face?” to which Hawks throws his head back with a groan and slides his hands across his face.

“I just wanted to do something nice,” he says, “You know, clean the place up a bit. Since it’s always kind of a massive mess.”

“Jesus, Kei, I don’t care about that,” says Dabi, breathing a laugh. “It’s you I’m here for, not your fuckin’ apartment. I can kiss you whether or not there’s crap on every surface.”

Hawks isn’t used to Dabi outright saying nice things, so his cheeks flush slightly hearing this. He’s unsure what to say. Thankfully, Dabi speaks again.

“Okay. Where didn’t you spray that shit?”

Hawks scoffs. “I sort of went crazy with it, uh… my bedroom? If that works?”

“Very forward,” Dabi replies, raising his eyebrows. “Almost like you wanted me in there.”

Hawks jabs him in the ribs but still smirks. “Yeah, maybe I did.”

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13eyond13 · 3 months

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the only gay rep I truly care about is

1. countless lives are destroyed because two proud people can't fully admit their gay crushes on each other

and

2. someone hides being a murderer as a metaphor for also hiding being gay

#miss me with that perfect wholesome gay rep stuff #in theory like yeah its good to have that too but does it resonate with me no #like is it probably homophobic to always make the obsessive weird villains creepy and gay yeah #but is that also by far the most fun yeah usually it is #theres this lesbian couple with basically opposite taste to me in my book club #and we read something with a shitty queer coded villain and im like yay #and they're like thats homophobic #and im like youre not wrong but id rather die than give 5 stars to the h/ouse in the c/erulean sea #i feel the 'bad rep' feels different when its a gay person writing it too... like clearly it is complicated #p

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knowlesian · 1 year

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modern media criticism and the strange inability to say ‘this piece of media accomplished what it set out to do, but i did not want or like that so it wasn’t for me’ instead of ‘it was bad’ is gonna drive me off the proverbial cliff one day

#is this post a direct subtweet about the dumb motherfucker writing about yellowjackets over at forbes #why yes it is #but it’s not NOT a general issue with media analysis at large #professional and otherwise s i g h #sometimes stuff IS bad but sometimes it’s just Not For Us #and i’m so tired of seeing critique like “i could see where the scene would end what sloppy writing”#my DUDE they wanted you to see where it was going! that was their goal and they reached it!#you might not like the scene but it’s literally and empirically not sloppy #s2g people have got to learn to like and dislike things without making it a moral or quality be-all end-all thing

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stevebabey · 1 year

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RUBY!!! Hii!! Congratulations on the follower milestone!! I am going to say this again AND AGAIN AND AGAIN but you're one of the most amazing and talented people I have ever come across on this hellsite and I think you deserve this AND SO MUCH MORE!!

Now I have heard great things about Family Video and a certain himbo employee so can I pretty please request no. 9 from list 3 ❤️‍🔥

Sending you so so so much love!!!!

- @etherealforever234 <33

HI!!!! firstly, u like seriously flatter me 🥹🥹 i am feelin GOOEY u actually make writing things like this so easy!!! cos i want 2 write for u and its all luv!!! i'm sorry it's mayhaps a little later than you expected but alas, i think u will still enjoy MWAH LOVE U @etherealforever234 1.4k nd whoops r kinda gives loser vibes in this (loser gf anyone? luveline has like coined that phrase hehe)

You’re expecting him to be gone by eight. Nine at the latest.

The clock on the wall ticks closer to to 10pm and you unwillingly keep tabs on it, driven by your restless anxiety. You should be watching the show on the grainy television screen ahead of you, really. Especially after you jokingly bickered with Steve over the film choice for so long and he finally gave in and fed your pick into the VCR.

But you’re not focused on that either. If your eyes aren’t darting to check the clock, all your focus is zeroed in on the feeling of Steve’s thigh pressed against your own.

It might as well be searing a scorch mark into your skin; you’re sure the feeling might be imprinted in your memory forever. His warmth seeps into you. Somehow, it feels like he’s both defrosting hidden worries within you and setting you aflame. Hopes rise and yet, with them come a dozen other new worries.

Despite his closeness, still, you really were expecting him to be gone by eight. Why is he still here? It’s a little uncomfortable to admit it to yourself but you know the confusion stems from the fact people don’t tend to stick around with you.

Steve seems to be an exception.

You check the clock again and try not to think too hard about how nice his closeness is. How you’re already missing it when he hasn’t even left yet. The hand on the clock shudders with every second it ticks around the clock-face. Steve sees your motion, his eyes silently checking in on you, and a frown crinkles his brow at your distracted state.

“Everything alright?” He asks, voice a bit raspy from under use.

You startle just a bit, head whipping towards him beside him. He’s watching you close, amber eyes sincere and expression open. Surprise sprouts within your chest; he must have noticed your fidgeting attention.

“What? Yeah, yes, everything’s fine.” You assure him with a nod, maybe a bit too eager. “Everything alright with you?” You ask nervously, just to check.

Steve laughs a bit at that. He presses his knee against yours purposefully, a gentle knock. Pairs it with a sweet smile.

“Yep,” He smiles, pink lips not at all distracting you in the least. Your gaze darts to the moles on his neck and back to his face as he continues. “You just keep checking the clock. Want to make sure I‘m not... y'know, overstaying my welcome.”

His words dip at the end, clipped by a tone of worry as he turns back to face the screen ahead a bit, pretending to re-tune in. Steve’s been working on toning it down, trying not to be too intense too quickly. Both in the interest of protecting his heart and trying not to scare you off.

But shit, you’re lovely. Steve’s not entirely sure he’s got a choice in this; his heart feels like it might crawl its way out of his chest just to be nearer to you. It’s particularly insatiable when you’re this close. Thigh to thigh. He can smell your perfume and he’s fairly certain it’s put him in some lovesick state of delirium.

Still, he can read people. Your insistence on checking the clock implies you want him to leave and yet, he can hear the tiny hitch of your breath when he leans closer. Confusion muddles together in his brain.

From the way surprise flickers across your features, you don’t actually want him to go. Some part of him sighs in relief before you even open your mouth to reassure him.

“What? No! No, no way.” The words come out a bit squeakier than you want. You curse yourself for somehow letting him believe you want him gone when it’s quite the opposite you want.

Steve nods, his face earnest enough to tell you he believes you. He shifts on the couch, turning back to face you and inadvertently leans in closer. Swirls of his cologne rush your senses. You hate how your brain tries to commit it to memory in an instant. Fuck, he’s pretty.

“So,” Steve starts, licking his lips in a nervous motion. He gestures with his hand, “The clock?”

Shit. You’ve accidentally cornered yourself. You can either let Steve stew, not quite believing that he isn’t just imposing on you and your time, or tell the truth. It somehow feels even more pathetic now than ever.

“I just,” You start, tearing your eyes off his face. Your throat grows a bit thicker and your fingers find a thread on your pants to toy with. “I’m... surprised you’re still here. That you want to be here. And, y’know, spend time with me. Still.”

It doesn’t feel any greater to say aloud. Eyes fixed in your lap, teeth worrying your bottom lip, you miss the way Steve’s eyes widen. Some wave of hurt curdles up inside him, sour and sore, because fuck, you’re waiting for him to leave? Not because you want him to but you’re expecting it?

Screw trying to tone himself down. Steve knows his heart is on his sleeve and he’ll be damned if the one time he tries to shelter it, it backfires. The words come out easy, without a lick of a lie in them.

“I want to spend all my time with you.” He says sincerely, another press of his leg against yours to drive the message home. He means it completely.

That has your head tugging up. Steve’s heart gives a painful little twist at the utter surprise on your face.

“You do?” You ask.

He pushes on, ignoring the urge to ask who made you feel like such a burden and whether he could throttle them. “I like you. I mean, yeah, of course, I wanna spend time with you.”

He says it so flippantly, casualness dousing every word, like it was a thought he’d thought a thousand times. Heat flames in your chest, brilliantly warm, and curls up to your face. You let out a breath, a little shuddering quiet laugh of disbelief.

“Oh.” You say. The smile curling at the edges of your mouth is impossible to fight. It’s a full blown grin by the time you meet his eyes again and shuffling closer feels like an instinct you can’t ignore.

“Me too.” You admit, nerves still piling in your chest but damn, if the elation of hearing those words doesn’t beat them by a mile. “I mean, I like you too. As well.”

Steve rumbles out another chuckle but you can see how delight dances across his face. His shoulders sit a little lower, grin a little more confident all of a sudden. His knee nudges yours again, for what must be the umpteenth time this night. Forget scorching, he’s burning into your side — the touch unbearable in the best way now you know he wants you. Wants you like you want him.

“Sounds like we’re in the same boat, you and I.” He says simply, wiggling his arm out from where it’s sandwiched between the two of you. He pulls it up to his face with a clenched fist, covering a yawn, and it takes about another second for it to click — when he stretches the arm up, above your heads, and lets it settle down around your shoulder.

God, that’s a move. You’re nearly ashamed of how well it works on you, considering your stomach twists up gleefully. He’s flirting with you.

“Sounds like it.” You breathe out, voice escaping you a bit at how much closer the two of you are now his arm is around you. Steve’s breath fans across your face, his eyes locked onto your face. They roam your face, drinking in the details, paying particular attention to your mouth.

You lick your lips without meaning to and decide you can’t wait til another evening together, hours away, to know what his lips feel like. Steve will not be the only brave one tonight.

Leaning in, you give a moment's pause, to let him give you a sign to back off. To see if the universe will pull the rug out from underneath you, for this to be some cruel joke.

Steve nods, the tiniest motion. This close, you can see the smallest quiver of his lips. You do your best to kiss it away, trying your hardest to contain your smile with your lips against his. From the way Steve smiles into the kiss, you’re sure he doesn’t mind.

#this has a wee diff structure i think ? to my normal stuff?#idc it still reads nice and i like it :D #and EVERYONE SAY HELL YEAH #I GOTS ANOTHER ONE DONE #IN ONE NIGHT WA H O #that's actually not that impressive its like 1.4k lmao #ruby writes steve #ruby's very own tour of hawkins #steve harrington #steve x reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve x you #steve harrington blurb #stevie blurb!#LOVE U HONEY THANK U FOR THE REQUEST !!!

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ruelpsen · 1 year

Text

Oh, what's this? Looks like someone had fun stuffing their face tonight. God, you're so big. I've never seen your belly so tight before... look how high your shirt is riding! Just how much did you manage to pack in there? Yet despite your groaning, you're continuing to eat, trying to finish that last bag of chips. Oh, and look how aroused you are. So turned on by your own gluttony. What's that? You want me to rub your belly? Anything for you, my darling. My, you're getting fat. There's no denying it any- ...oh, that sounded lovely. But listen, it sounded like there's more air trapped in there. Tell me if it hurts. Here? ...Oh, fuck yes! That must have felt good. To hear such a belch erupt past your lips... and another! Fuck, you're sexy. And look at you now, grinding against the couch like the big horny glutton you are. You feel a big one coming? Let me rub that one out for you too. Cum for me, my belchy darling. Cum for- ...oh yes.

Look at you, so turned on by your bottomless appetite, your big stuffed belly, that you hardly even had to rut to cum, pushed over the edge by your own voluptuous belch. You're so gross... and I wouldn't have it any other way.

#drops this and runs to go [redacted]#h*rny thoughts at night are something else #i've been dealing with writer's block with k/ink stuff for a while and then this came out of nowhere #anyway enjoy y'all ;)#ruelpsen writes #not sfw #burp #burping #eructo #stuffing

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writergeekrhw · 10 months

Note

How much of an influence on DS9 was MASH? Because there are definitely times when DS9 feels like MASH in space, and I mean that in the best of ways.

I don't remember ever discussing M*A*S*H in the room, so I wouldn't say it served as an overt inspiration.

However, I watched every episode of M*A*S*H growing up (my mother was a big fan) and I'm sure the other writers were very familiar with it, too. It was still a hugely influential show in the early 90s, one that every TV writer knew well, so I suspect it had some unconscious effect.

The only episodes I can think of that might have been directly inspired by M*A*S*H are the ones we did about wartime/frontier "horse-traiding" chain deals like "Progress," "In the Cards," and "Treachery, Faith, and the Great River" which harken back to several similar "horse-trading" stories from M*A*S*H, like "Hey, Doc" and "For Want of a Boot."

But there's a long tradition of those types of stories in war and frontier fiction, with Milo Minderbinder's wheeling and dealing in "Catch-22" being a prime example. Not to mention, "chain deal" stories go all the way back to fairy tales.

For reference:

Chain of Deals - TV Tropes

Also, that's a very flattering comparison. So thanks!

#ask me anything #tv writing #ask me stuff #ds9 #star trek ds9 #deep space nine #star trek #star trek deep space nine #deep space 9 #star trek deep space 9 #MASH #m*a*s*h

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supertrainstationh · 2 years

Photo

I’m not at all surprised by my disappointment in this clumsily executed product reveal, which to my knowledge, doesn’t even include a video of any kind.

I am however, unexpectedly amused that they would go this far in riding the coat tails of the long-dead Alphasmart product lineage to conceive a new machine for a captive, special interest audience they have already proved they are vividly aware of, and yet, for all that effort, not only continue to alienate that audience, but deny themselves and their business most that the benefits that even attempting an “Alphasmart successor” device could potentially bring them.

Astrohaus accomplishes this, of course, by continuing their enforced fetishization of 20th Century typewriters, as though typewriters were used in the previous century because writers in that age harbored an ideological hostility toward the concept of editing, rather than simply wanting the most efficient mechanical means of writing that the technology of the era would allow for.

If Astrohaus is happy selling ten thousand machines to the Judy Funnies of the world who want a high-end statement piece to signal their affinity with 20th Century writers, rather than selling hundreds of thousands of machines to disabled students desperate to function normally in classrooms and express themselves, and to writers who care more about utility and freedom than having their creative processes dictated to them by a boutique manufacturer of luxury goods, then perhaps they’ll get the returns they are hoping for.

I’m further amused that one of the aspects of the Alphasmart devices Astrohaus decided was important to copy was the lack of a backlit screen.

Back when Astrohaus was attempting to dunk on the continued use of aging Alphasmart devices, and woo Alphasmart users over to the Freewrite by saying something in their copy to the general effect of, “Let’s upgrade you to a proper writing tool.”, at least Astrohaus could boast that their device had a lit screen while the Alphasmart Neo 2 didn’t.

I’d love to know where between the $350 MSRP of the Alpha and the $650 asking price of the standard issue Freewrite does a writer deserve to have a lit screen, but it certainly isn’t at the $500 price point of the Freewrite Traveler.

Nintendo’s Game Boy Advance SP, a children’s toy from twenty years ago, had a backlit screen. It launched at $100 USD ($161 at 2022 currency rates), was considered low end tech even for the time, and was generally used to keep preteen brats quiet in the back seat during trips to the supermarket.

Meanwhile, not only do Astrohaus’s Alpha, at $350, but also the Freewrite Traveler at $500, lack backlit screens, but both of these machines are positioned as high-end, sophisticated creative tools for language artists willing to pay above and beyond to have a Grade A experience for word processing functionality – functionality that is bundled as default with even the most primitive modern device that any writer in the developed world would have needed access to in order to browse and make purchases from the Astrohaus website to begin with.

Writers aren’t outbidding each other to get increasingly old, increasingly expensive, and increasingly coveted decades-old Alphasmart devices, and then doing extensive refurbishment and modification projects on them, in order to remove the arrow keys so they can write while being “freed” from the odious distraction of an easily movable cursor.

Writers are refurbishing and modifying their Alphasmarts in order to add screen lights to them.

For Astrohaus to design a product as a successor to the Alphasmart, and decide to carry forward the old Alphasmart’s lack of a backlight, but remove the Alphasmart’s inclusion of arrow keys, which have been standard on nearly every modern keyboard produced in the last thirty-five years, (other than those designed by Astrohaus) is not merely throwing out the baby and keeping the old bathwater – it’s keeping the old bathwater, bottling it for sale as a luxury item, and then burning down the perfectly intact house the bathwater originated from, with the baby still inside.

Of course, it could be the case that the Alpha by Astrohaus does have a lit screen after all, which would call into question their copy writing ability, and as an extension, their authority to not only produce writing devices, but to dictate to writers what their writing process is supposed to be, in which editing is either explicitly disallowed, or made deliberately as cumbersome as possible in order to discourage it.

I’m fascinated if the rumors that members of the company behind the original Alphasmart devices were consulted, contacted, or hired by Astrohaus in relation to the development of the Alpha are true, and that if they are true, to what extent they were actually listened to – as I’m quite certain if the design philosophy behind the original Alphasmart product line resembled that of Astrohaus, those devices would not have had the success that they did enjoy for a while before they sadly fizzled out.

Many months ago I listened to some bigwig from Astrohaus who’s name I don’t recall being interviewed on a podcast. At one point he said something to the immediate effect of wanting the Freewrite to become a declaration piece that writers would use to signal to peers and clients that they are serious about their craft.

On the other hand, on the online writing community which seems more dedicated than any other that I’m aware of to discussing and displaying purpose-made electronic writing and word processing equipment - which in many cases happens to be rare and expensive - Astrohaus and the Freewrite device family has been the butt of jokes for years, and it seems to be more of a mark of distinction to see how far someone is willing to go to use any possible solution other than a Freewrite, even if it’s literally hacked together with crudely assembled spare parts in someone’s garage.

It’s sad for Astrohaus that the King Jim Pomera DM 100, an out-of-production device more than a decade old, that was created in Japan, and designed chiefly to perform word processing in a language that I can not speak or read, seems set to continue to serve me better as an English-literate written word artist for years to come, than a newly announced machine designed in my own home town of New York City, that hasn’t even hit the market yet.

There’s no way I could be this emotionally involved with this unfolding story without being sure that my paid 1$ pre-order for the Alpha was secured without delay or hesitation.

For me, the $250 pre-shipping is worth the utility of being able to say that I put my own money on the line to give a device in the Freewrite family a fair and extensive trial, and can speak from hundreds of hours of experience in using it. I say this because as much as I vocally criticize and challenge Astrohaus, I have been conscious of the fact I’ve spent years tearing this firm apart without having laid hands on one of their products.

Perhaps writing is believing – my dollar is on the table, with 249 more to follow it, but if the product rollout is as smoothly executed as the botched hype for the reveal of the Alpha’s product page, this may be a long and rocky waiting period.

Though to Astrohaus’s credit, they have actually consistently delivered on past electronics hardware projects geared to niche hobbyist markets, even if delayed; which in a world of Coleco Chameleons, Polymegas, and Intellivision Amicos, is more of a unique and distinctive statement than plopping one of Astrohaus’s deliberately crippled contraptions on the table of a coffee house ever could ever be.

The best part of today’s announcement to me is the fact that Astrohaus either had the restraint not to use the legacy Alphasmart branding for this device (only for the teaser site URL for whatever reason), or felt it as beneath them to actually do so, in spite of the obvious intent to mimic Alphasmart in as many ways as possible, all while maintaining that unique Astrohaus pretentious gimmick charm.

(FYI, I wrote every word this on a NEO 2, LOL.)

Writing by me.

Product photo by Astrohaus.

Art by KeetahSpacecat.

[Twitch] [VOD Channel] [Writing FA] [Ko-fi]

#astrohaus #alphasmart #freewrite #astrohaus freewrite #freewrite alpha #word processor #writing tools #pomera #pomera dm100 #dm100 #dm 100 #pomera dm 100 #writing #h writes stuff #a.griffin writes #writeblr

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tobbotobbs · 1 year

Text

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Male Reader

Warnings: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Mentions of Selfharm, use of You & Y/n

Summary: Reader has a hard time with his depression. Spencer is there for him.

Requested: Yes!

I hope you all enjoy this and that it helps with a bad day or week <3

You were standing in the middle of your and Spencer's shared apartment. Everywhere were books. Shelves filled with old ones, new ones, special edition ones and on the floor there were also little towers of books collected. For some it might have looked kind of trashy and not clean. Like chaos. But for you, it meant home. Or at least that's the way what it should feel like. But right now, nothing on this planet felt quite like home. You felt uncomfortable in this apartment but also everywhere else you went. But mostly, you felt uncomfortable in your own skin. The nagging feeling of not being enough for your friends and your family, the people around you started building up again since you came home from work.

You walked around the apartment, trying to make yourself feel better with cleaning the rooms a little bit even though they weren't really dirty. You took all the things that belonged to you and tried to put them away, hide them from anyone who could come by and take a look at their home, because it felt like you were the only thing that made this place look like trash right now. It wasn't Spencer's hundreds of books laying around that made this place look weird. It wasn't his stuff. It wasn't the stuff that made it look trashy. It was you, you realized after another 20 minutes of trying to hide 2 pictures of you that were standing on the shelf in the living room. You didn't look good on the pictures. Your face was all weird looking and you didn't fit there on the top of that shelf. Maybe somewhere less visible. Yeah that should do.

You went to your and Spencer's bedroom and looked if there was any space for the pictures. But after seeing no place for them you decided to just hide them in the closet far in the back, nobody cared or really needed them anyway. But mostly, Spencer didn't need them. He probably just put them up there so you felt more welcome in his home. Maybe he just tried to make it look like you belonged here as well. But truly, do you even belonged anywhere? At work the people always seemed to be complaining about how fast you worked or if you even really cared to put hard work into your assignments. They always seemed to be judging the way you did things. They probably all thought you should finally leave work or your boss should put an end to this and fire you.

Spencer probably thought the same. He isn't home often now. And when he's home he doesn't really talk a lot to you since the last few months. What if he finally saw what you really are? The failure you've been your whole life and only tried to hide from the outside world, with obvious failure as well. The thought that the only person who really made you enjoy life just a little in the last months could actually have become not interested in you anymore because of how stupid you were, made your stomach turn. Your eyes started filling with salty water and as you tried to look up to the ceiling to not let them fall while walking back to the living room, you ran right into one of the book towers building up next to the hallway. A gasp left your body as the books all scattered to the floor, a few going farther than others. One of the books flew open while getting kicked to the floor and landed on its pages which now had bad looking creases and you were sure that on page was even a little torn by the force.

The books. Spencer's books. Spencer loved his books. He cared for them. He loved his books. Spencer loved these books and you had hurt one of them. You had made the perfectly clean slim pages look now dirty and torn, with creases in it and on the floor with others together all over the place. The tears you tried to stop were now falling. Flowing all over your cheeks and onto the floor. The hiccups and whimpers you let out made you feel even worse because you sounded so pathetic to yourself. ,,I-I didn't....I didn't mean to..!", you sobbed and stuttered into the silent apartment. Noone was there and still you tried to apologize. To who exactly? You didn't know, but you knew when Spencer would come back that was it. He would hate you. Like everyone else did. And he would tell you and show you that you actually weren't special or smart or anything you desperately tried to tell yourself the last few weeks.

With trembling hands you stumbled away from the books. Your thoughts going a mile in a minute. You were bad, you were no good, a failure. Couldn't even walk without destroying something. Your thoughts told you mean things, it weren't yours right now but that didn't matter because you still believed them.

Your eyes were so glassy you couldn't really see, but even that didn't matter right now. Your body seemed to know the way by heart. And you couldn't, no you didn't want to stop it. And just like that after just mere minutes of crying and desperate prayers that Spencer wouldn't be mad, your mind suddenly felt foggy. Not in a bad way it was...calming. It felt good and soothed you. Your thoughts suddenly your own again or at least not disturbing you, because really, you couldn't think straight right now. Just the foggy calm feeling of flowing, an ecstatic feeling of euphoria. A little bubble of happiness forming in something that's not meant to feel like a good thing, something that shouldn't comfort you as much as it did in this moment.

A clicking sound, the creaking of a door, your apartments door, and the thudding of steps coming into your home made you look up from where you had sat and locked your eyes on in the bathroom. Your eyes suddenly met in the mirror in front of you. You looked like shit. Tears still streaming down your face but not as much of them as before, they were also puffy and red because of the crying. You had a little broken smile on your lips and it was then that you noticed Spencer coming your way. ,,Love I'm home! You haven't been at the door so I thought you were already asle-", he stopped in his tracks right away when he saw the tears in your face and then looked down at your thighs. You had strapped off your work pants sometime in your procedure and were only standing there in your grey boxershorts now. They were stained with blood though and that's what made Spencer act right away.

He saw the still kind of dissociated look in your face as you tried to greet him but failed to form words. Slowly he walked closer to you and took the blade out of your hand. He put it aside to later get rid of it but for now he was going to give you all his attention. ,,Love can...is it okay if I touch you? Can I do that?", unsure he tried to look into your eyes and see some kind of resction but you seemed so out of it. Your head nodded yes in a nearly not noticeable manner. Breathing in, the brunette tucked you carefully into his arms, not caring that the things he had on got soaked with your tears, which were flooding your face again, or the other reddish body fluid on your thighs. He hold you while you cried, rocking from side to side with you in his embrace to calm down your agonising sounds of despair.

,,I've got you my love. Let it all out...I'm here for you", soothing you with his calm and comforting voice and his thumbs that are drawing little circles on your back, Spencer tried to get a clue of what had happened. If it had anything to do with your work or him not being home often lately or if something else had happened in the time between where he and you went to work this morning and him coming home now. Your crying subsided down a little and you tried to say something. ,,Shhh, shhh. Calm down first dove and then we can try to talk alright? Can I tend to your wounds while you sit and try to breath love? We need to bandage that yeah?", softly he took your face into his hands and caressed of your cheek with his finger. You nodded again, this time more noticeable though. Careful he sat you down ontonthe toilet and went to the cabinets in the bathroom to get some sanitizer and bandages to help with your wounds. Turning back around, he saw that you had already pushed your shorts a little up so he could do what he had to do. A loving smile formed on his face and he started his work. You wanted it to hurt a little but sadly his sanitizer didn't hurt that much, now with bandages around your legs he took your hands and together you walked into the living room where the books were still all over the floor.

,,I'm sorry....I ruined them..."

,,What? What do you mean my love? You didn't ruin anything- hey, hey look at me love", Spencer saw how you looked at the books all over the floor. Especially one that was laying open on its pages next to the coffee table. ,,My love is that...is that the reason you're feeling so bad? You accidentally walked into one of my book towers? Baby that's okay they are just b-", ,,You love your books", you interrupted him with a desperate tone in your voice. Your hands clawed at his sweater and you nearly broke down again. ,,My love no. Look at me. I like my books. I really do like all the copies I have. But I love you, not my books. It's okay I should stop building towers anyway. They are not really safe and make this place look a little too chaotic- hey where...where are the pictures of you? The two I out on the shelf there?" ,,I'm sorry....I...I thought....well....I hid them in the closet....", it started to make Spencer realize what was going on with you.

,,I haven't been feeling....well in the last few months, I guess. I don't know why but...I feel like I'm failing everyone and- and it feels like I can't do anything right, Spence I- I'm so sorry I didn't know what to do", you cried out and hugged him again. Spencer pulled you in again and kissed lovingly your head. ,,It's alright dove, I'm here now. I'm sorry I didn't noticed how you've been feeling and that I wasn't home often to help you feel better about yourself. But now I'm here and I promise I'll help you. I love you y/n. You are my everything and I love showing you off. And thise two pictures are my favorite of you yeah? We can put them up on the shelf later together but now I just wanna hold my beloved one, okay?", he softly kissed your forehead and you nodded, letting him lead you onto the old comfortable couch and turn on the tv. He put on your favorite movie, turned down the audio so it's just nice quiet background noises while he started telling you things about yourself that he loved. He praised you for telling him what was going on and how you felt and that you let him help. He was caressing you cheek and kissing your nose, your other cheek, you head and your lips. Just holding you and making sure you felt secure and safe. At home.

,,I love you, my little dove. I love you so so much. I'm so happy that you let me into your heart and let me love and care for you. I'm so thankful to call you mine and to be able to say that I am yours. Just look at how handsome and smart you are love. Ypu deserve the world, you deserve me and way better things. You deserve everything my love."

Hey I hope you liked it! I tried my best I hope it's good and that it makes you feel better! Just know that your feelings are valuable and that you deserve to be cared for and to be loved. It took me a little bit to write this so, sorry for that!

Much love and till next time <3

#male reader #spencer reid x male reader #tw selfhate #self h@rm #tw depressing stuff #spencer reid #gay #gay love #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #tobbotobbs is writing

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lostmf · 7 months

Text

Nobody teaches you what to do the day after

Day after you survive the storm

After you run away from home

I survived my parents, I survived the threats, I didn’t deserve what they did to me and I didn’t kill myself.

But the morning comes and you sit on the floor

A child without its parents

Cause he was too vile for them to love

What do you do with that ..

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rising-volteccers · 14 days

Note

*agressivley slurps up the frozen wip through a silly straw* GOOD SHIT

You know what anon? Seeing this honestly sparked motivation that I ended up finishing the idea I have for [Frozen] so...

Series: Pokemon Horizons

Characters: Friede, Murdock, Liko, Roy

Part of my Status Effect series. I'll see if I have the motivation to do the caretaking part of this piece. Here's [Poison] if anyone wants to read that haha.

No one ever asked why Friede hated winter.

To be fair, even if someone did ask, he wasn't entirely sure what he’d say. Friede didn't exactly hate the season after all. How could he when it brought out a festive mood to the Brave Olivine? Where his crew brought out their scarves and jackets, sipping on Murdock’s special hot chocolate? Even the Pokemon that traveled with them for years understood the changing seasons meant special treats made to warm them up were given after dinnertime.

Friede didn't really hate winter. Not at all. It was the cold.

He hated the cold. Friede couldn't stand the way the cold air seeps down into his lungs, freezing him from the inside out. The chill always curled into the space around his heart, causing it to tighten with every breath he took.

He hated how keeping warm was an ongoing battle. It felt like he just couldn't stay warm during the winter months no matter what he tried. Layering jackets and scarves, cocooning himself into multiple blankets in bed–regardless of his efforts, the cold would still somehow find its way through into his bones.

By this point in their travels, his crew rarely bat an eyelash when he started complaining about the cold. They knew he disliked it, not that he hated it. Sometimes they do get annoyed when he whines a little too much, and when that happens he'd sequester himself within his room, wrapped in multiple blankets until he felt a little more like himself again.

Friede complained a lot because the alternative was to let the chill settle in, leaving him miserable with chattering teeth and hands shoved deep into his pockets. He didn't want to bring a dampened mood to the table, and he somewhat preferred annoyance to concern.

He knew it was by his own fault for not having the cleanest track record when it came to things that inconvenienced him. Friede kicked up a fuss for something minor like a cold but kept to himself when he sustained more serious injuries. It was just second nature for him to hide when vulnerable, as well as not worrying the people around him.

So Friede complained and whined so they don't see just how much he hated the cold. That it reminded him of long days within a dark, cold lab feeling numb. They just chalked it up to him being over dramatic, which suited him just fine.

When Liko and eventually Roy joined the crew, Friede slowly came to realize that these two looked up to him. It wasn't difficult to notice the way Roy hung on to his every word, or how Liko often turned to him for advice. With that realization came this want to be a good role model.

So Friede helped with their training, imparting knowledge and doing all that he could to help these two grow. This also meant conducting himself in a certain way, seeing that he didn't want them to pick up on any of his ‘bad’ habits.

When they eventually landed in a region deep into its winter months, he didn't complain about the cold. Friede simply found himself unable to in the first place, not when Roy expressed such wonder upon seeing light snow falling from the heavens. He didn't want to ruin it with his usual spiel, nor did he wish to break this strong, dependable image the kids had of him.

When it came time to explore the nearby town for supplies, Friede found himself trudging through ankle high snow alongside Liko, Roy and Murdock. He'd rather be back on the ship than out here but Murdock requested as many hands as possible to help carry the groceries he planned on buying. Orla had repairs she needed to do while Mollie went to check up on the Pokemon, leaving him and the kids as the only ones capable of assisting.

Sporting multiple layers to combat the cold, Friede stamped down on his mild jealousy of seeing Murdock and the kids dressing warmly with only an additional layer to their long sleeved clothes. He felt a bit stifled when moving about but the extra clothes kept him somewhat warm.

Friede remained at the back of their little group throughout their walk. Quietly, he observed Roy’s open awe, Liko's quiet wonder and Murdock's musings. He listened to idle conversations shared between the trio, about how Roy’s island didn't even really get snow while Liko only experienced light dusting of it when winter arrived. Their excitement was palpable enough to make him smile.

At some point, the group walked along an elevated path next to a frozen pond. From their position, they spotted various Ice-types by the pond’s edge, looking like they were moving towards the nearby forest.

Friede squinted his eyes to make out the exact Pokemon in the distance, leaving him half distracted. He didn't notice Fuecoco walking closer to the edge, prompting Roy to drift away from the group while Liko and Murdock were caught in a conversation.

The sudden yelp immediately drew his attention. Friede whirled around just in time to experience a mild heart attack when he saw Roy disappear over the edge. Everyone scrambled to where Roy fell, peering down to find that he and Fuecoco had slid down the (thankfully) short slope onto the frozen pond.

“Roy! Are you and Fuecoco alright?” Friede called out, eyes already seeking for a path that would bring them closer.

“Ow… yeah, we're fine!” Roy responded. He held tightly on Fuecoco when his gaze swept his surroundings.

“Alright we're heading down! Make your way over there!” Friede pointed to the closest edge where Roy could get back on solid land.

After Roy shakily got to his feet, all three of them quickly headed to the edge. Roy slowly shuffled his way over through slow, hesitant steps. He was about halfway across when he suddenly stopped, eyes widening.

“U-Uh. I think–I think I see cracks?”

“Keep moving Roy! Slow but steady!” Murdock’s voice encouraged the boy to continue but it was obvious how scared he was.

Without much thought, Friede stepped onto the frozen surface. Ignoring Murdock and Liko's surprised cries, his focus lay on getting to where Roy was. Seeing his approach granted the boy some much needed courage to keep moving.

When he got closer, that was when Friede spotted the cracks Roy mentioned. He didn't say anything, simply encouraging Roy until Friede managed to grab hold of his hand.

“C’mon, just a little bit more. Slow and steady.”

Roy gave a tiny nod. Together, the duo shuffled their way closer to the edge. By then Murdock had stepped onto the pond while Liko remained on solid ground. He had his arm outstretched, ready to grab hold and pull them towards safety.

Just when it seemed that they were in the homestretch, Friede's ears picked up on a terrifying noise. He couldn't help but look over his shoulder.

A large crack had formed, rapidly moving to their position.

His body simply moved on its own. Friede pulled Roy and Fuecoco close before shoving them towards Murdock’s outstretched arms. Another sharp crack sounded, followed by a litany of others. Friede looked up just in time to see the horror on everyone’s faces before the ice gave way, plunging him into dark waters.

The shock he experienced differed from Cap’s electrical ones; painful as can be but cold cold cold. Friede instinctively gasped, causing freezing water to fill his throat. Before panic truly seized him, he desperately kicked his legs, slowly propelling himself towards the hole he fell through.

Friede didn’t know who’s cry was louder; his or the kids when his head breached the water’s surface. He barely got a lungful of air before his head went back under again. With his eyes squeezed shut, it was pure instinct that pushed him to swim for the surface.

He managed to get his head out of the water again, fighting to keep the panic at bay. Each breath was wet and painful, like millions of needles prickling his lungs. The extra layers he wore to keep warm now acted as anchors that weighed his body down. The frantic yell of his name prompted Friede to seek for its source.

That was when he spotted Murdock, stripped of his outer jacket whilst on his hands and knees. It looked like he was slowly crawling to where he was at. His friend looked fearful but determined.

“Grab it!” Murdock shouted, holding onto one of his coat’s sleeves before flinging the rest towards his general direction. Understanding his intent, Friede shakily grabbed onto the other sleeve, holding on for dear life.

Murdock started to worm backwards, flat on his belly with one hand tightly gripping the sleeve. He was doing a valiant attempt of dragging him out of the water but every time Friede got his elbow up on the edge of the ice to pull himself out, the ice couldn’t support him and broke.

Each time he fell back into the water, it squeezed out the air in his lungs. His heart pounded faster than he thought possible but adrenaline was one hell of a drug. Still, the icy waters rapidly drained his energy. Friede knew that the moment he let up in his desperate attempts of getting out, that was it.

Murdock ended up crawling closer again. Friede wished he had the breath to tell him not to reach out himself; falling in along with him would defeat the purpose of trying to rescue him.

“Roll,” Murdock gasped instead. “I know you can do it Friede. Roll.”

Even as his senses were getting dull, Friede had enough mental clarity to understand what Murdock meant by that. He got a shaking arm out of the water, still holding tightly onto the coat with his other hand. Through harsh, irregular breaths, he gingerly placed his elbow on the jagged edge of the hole. He twisted his body inwards, getting his knee onto the edge as well. With one last burst of energy, he pulled himself out before rolling away from the hole. He rolled and rolled until he couldn’t move anymore.

As he laid there simply breathing, drenched and freezing cold, Murdock had wormed after him on his belly. Friede didn’t have anything left in him by the time Murdock hooked his hands underneath his armpits, pulling him away until they were presumably out of danger.

Murdock eventually fell back, gasping for breath himself from the exertion of saving his life. Liko and Roy frantically approached them moments later.

“Friede, are you alright?” Liko asked first. He didn't have to look at her to know that she was scared.

“F-Friede I'm so sorry because of m-me…” Roy sounded like he was moments away from bursting into tears.

“H-Hey it's fi–” Whatever assurance he wanted to give evaporated the moment he tried to turn onto his side, coughing out the water he inhaled during his struggle. Odd how he’d be freezing but feel like his lungs were burning.

Hands quickly settled on his back for support, and it was those same hands that helped him sit up. Friede ended up slumping against Murdock's side, too drained to be of much help.

“S-S-Sorry ‘bout g-getting you w-wet,” he spoke through chattering teeth. Feeling the way his hair plastered over his face, it wouldn't surprise him if a layer of frost had formed already. Friede certainly felt more ice than human by this point.

“That's the least of your worries. C’mon, we gotta get you back to the ship.” Thankfully, Murdock took charge of the situation. Friede didn't have the capacity to assure Liko and Roy right now.

Before Murdock lifted him to his feet, Friede shakily put on the damp jacket Murdock used to pull him out. He couldn't protest when Liko wrapped her and Roy’s scarves around his neck. They couldn't remove his soaked clothes right now so the best they could do was put more layers on him.

“You have Charizard's Pokeball on you?” Murdock asked.

Right, he did have it. Charizard would be able to provide some much needed warmth. Friede tried to reach for the Pokeball clipped to his belt but his fingers refused to cooperate.

Liko noticed his struggles so she leaned in to carefully grab the Pokeball, uttering a soft apology for encroaching on his personal space like this. She swiftly released Charizard from its Pokeball.

His partner immediately zeroed in on him. It growled softly, quickly going to his side, eyes shifting between Friede and Murdock.

“We need to get him back to the ship. Can you stick close to his side for some warmth?”

Charizard grunted once. It opened up one wing to partially cover Murdock and Friede, somewhat shielding them from the light breeze blowing past. Flying directly on Charizard would be the faster option but Friede barely had any strength for even walking, let alone holding onto Charizard through the flight. This was the best option they had at the moment.

“Liko, Roy can you head back to the ship first and let Mollie know what happened? Contact her on the way back and help her with anything she needs.”

“Okay!” The kids quickly set off to do just that.

“I think it's better if I carry you on my back. Do you think you can hold on?”

Friede's teeth chattered too much for a verbal reply so instead, he gave the tiniest of nods. With Charizard's help, he got on Murdock's back, arms loosely wrapped around his friend's neck. Murdock kept him secured by holding onto his legs.

By the time Murdock began the journey back to the ship, Friede's eyes slid shut. Vaguely, he recalled Mollie’s words on how dangerous it was to fall asleep when freezing cold. He did his best to stay awake but he had no energy left in the tank.

Friede drifted off in the cold he hated, unaware of Murdock's increasingly frantic calls and Charizard's growls.

#Pokemon #Pokemon Horizons #Professor Friede #Murdock (Pokemon)#Liko (Pokemon)#Roy (Pokemon)#Hana writes stuff #First completed piece of the year and it only took 4 months kajhdka #I warred between realism and just maximizing h/c so if it feels awkward it's cause I gave up at some point

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save-the-villainous-cat · 2 years

Note

May I request Villain rescuing Hero from Supervillain, who’s been drugging, harming, and using Hero for their (and their friends’) personal enjoyment please (you can include a “the previous night” scene if you’re into writing the spice)? Villain taking them home, giving them large clothes and blankets to cover all their skin and to hide away in, reteaching them boundaries and reassuring them they won’t ever let anyone hurt them that way again—bonus points if they have to undress Hero to clean their wounds and Hero is terrified :D All the fluff and angst you’d like, feel free to make it as long as you want, I’m not afraid to read >:) No pressure ofc!

tw: mention of sa

“Do you want more soup?” the villain asked. They knew they had to be patient with the hero. It hadn’t even been 24 hours and the hero was still shaking.

They hadn’t spoken much.

Communication only worked with nodding or shaking their head which also answered the villain’s question in this moment.

“No soup, okay. Got it,” the villain said. Though their homemade chicken soup wasn’t the best, it was a great improvement regarding their poor cooking skills. Which was why they’d thought the hero would like it. “I think it’s time to clean your wounds though.”

Usually, the villain used pet names. A lot. But ever since they’d saved the hero yesterday, they’d bitten their tongue when it came to that.

The hero stared at the ground, not really registering what the conversation was about. They looked helpless, hurt, devastated. The once happy and kind hero was an empty shell. All the villain wanted was to restore their sunshine hero. Hell, even if it took decades, they’d do it.

“I think a bath is best for you, what do you think?”

“I thought I had them,” the hero said quietly and the villain couldn’t stop their head from snapping up. They looked at their tired hero. They’d heard rumours about what happened at the supervillain’s lair. Those rumours had led them to the hero in the first place. What exactly had happened was still something they wanted to figure out.

But that could wait. The hero’s health was more important right now.

“I thought I had power, I thought I was controlling the situation. I was undercover but they…” The hero was silent again, blinking tears out of their eyes.

“Hey, easy,” the villain tried. “You don’t have to talk about it.”

“They touched me. I laughed it off at first because it could’ve been a mistake. They were touching my thigh and they didn’t stop and I was so scared, I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want to blow my cover but then—”

“You’re spiralling. We don’t have to talk about it.” The villain wanted to touch their cheek reassuringly. But they couldn’t. The hero must’ve been traumatised. So the villain didn’t want to trigger anything.

“They used me. They used me like a toy you can throw away,” the hero whispered. By now, tears were streaming down their face. This was enough. The villain couldn’t take this any longer.

“This is hurting you. Let’s focus on something else for a while, alright?”

“I thought it couldn’t get any worse when they touched me. But then, others joined in and they were praising me and encouraging me but I didn’t want this. I didn’t want to be touched. I didn’t want to do it.” The hero’s bottom lip trembled. Their voice was breaking. “They drugged me. Made me be compliant and nice. I remember the feeling of waking up and hating myself for it.”

The villain took in a deep breath.

“It’s not your fault,” they said.

“But if I had—”

“No,” the villain answered calmly. “It’s not your fault.”

They glanced over the hero’s body, making sure they were as comfortable as one could be in such conditions.

“I thought breaking the supervillain’s kneecaps was enough of a punishment. But it’s not. I’ll take care of that matter,” the villain said after assessing the situation. “For now, I need to clean your wounds. Can you help me with that? Can you lift your shirt?”

“Yeah,” the hero answered. They were breathing heavily, clearly not comfortable.

“I won’t hurt you. We’re enemies but no one does this to my hero. No one. You’re safe, okay?” The villain was furious. So fucking furious they could’ve screamed. Using someone in such a way…they’d never thought this could happen to the hero.

The hero whispered another “okay” and lifted their shirt.

And the villain got to work.

#I usually don’t use tws but this is some heavy stuff #writing snippet #heroxvillain prompt #heroxvillain snippet #heroes and villains #hero #villain #hero x villain #heroxvillain #an answer for an ask #request #angst #h/c #whump #tw:sexual assault

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