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mncxbe · 7 months

Note

I believe Ur requests are open rn, so can I request bad men (pls include jouno I'm so down bad for him rn 😭) taking Ur V card? How would they act, etc yk?

Anyhow, Ur writing is beautiful and I wish you a good day/night 🤍

tysm anon^^ you're really sweet and yes ofc I can write for that. hope you like it♡♡

also the way I resisted including my fav dilfs I cannot. internal battle fr

°☆○

First time♡

𝑫𝒂𝒛𝒂𝒊, 𝑪𝒉𝒖𝒚𝒂, 𝑱𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒐, 𝑻𝒂𝒄𝒉𝒊𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒂 𝒙 𝒇𝒆𝒎!𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

𝑮𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆: smut♡/ itty bitty fluff

𝑫𝒂𝒛𝒂𝒊

bro does not go easy on you just because it's your first time

he will be gentle at first until you get used to his size and all but after that he'll edge and overstimulate you until you're a babbling mess under him♡

wants to be on top so he can see your pretty face

doesn't really care about the whole making the first time special. every time should be equally special^^ so don't expect anything too fancy

for aftercare you cuddle

"Shit baby. Look at you taking me so well" he praised, leaning in to place a chaste kiss on your tear stained cheeks.

It's only been half an hour since the two of you got in bed but your boyfriend had you cumming countless times already. Legs wrapped loosely around his waist, your glossy eyes rolled back in your skull as you pleaded him to stop.

But how could he stop when you were chanting his name like a prayer with each of his thrusts?

A heartfelt chuckle rolled past his lips as his thumb pressed on your aching clit, rubbing gentle circles on it.

"What was that bella? Want me to stop? Can't have that until you cum one more time. You can do it f'me yea?" he cooed, smiling down at you.

You only nodded in response, too fucked out to form a coherent thought. And so your sweet boyfriend kept rolling his hips against yours, reaching your sweetest spots until your high washed over you again; leaving you panting softly.

When he eventually pulled out, Dazai rolled to the side and slid his arms around you, pulling you flush against his frame. The sheets were damped by your sweat, cold against your skin.

"Was it good bella? Did you enjoy yourself?" he asked, nuzzling his head in the crook of your neck.

You sighed deeply, feeling your breath slowly return to its normal rhythm.

"If I liked it? God damn you Osamu it was amazing" you smiled, kissing his damp forehead. "I love you"

"I love you too baby" he whispered softly, smiling contently. Not long after you both fell asleep, relishing each other's embrace.

𝑪𝒉𝒖𝒚𝒂

he's so gentle and caring

puts his whole chuyussy into it; there will be scented candles, silky sheets and he probably buys you a fancy lingerie set

takes his time with you with foreplay and when you actually do it he's so tender. holds your hand. constantly asks if you're ok

he does not stop until you cum at least twice

"Good girl. You're taking me so well baby"

for aftercare you either take a warm bath together or share a glass of wine while you debrief the sex; what you like and dislike and what he should do different next time

overall an amazing experience

The sweet, syrupy scent of the candles placed on the nightstand lulled you into a blissed out state. Your gaze was hazy as you took in the imagine of your boyfriend underneath you, ruby coloured locks standing out against the pearly white sheets.

Chuya's thumb gently caressed yours as he gave your hand a reassuring squeeze.

"You feeling good princess?" he hummed, watercolour gaze carefully observing your expressions.

You rolled your hips against his at a steady pace, meeting his thrusts; and nodded, a sultry smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

At first your boyfriend wasn't too keen on letting you be on top. After all, it was your special night. Why would you have to work for it? But after coaxing two orgasms out of you he finally agreed and helped you straddle him before burying his cock deep inside you again.

As for now you were chasing your high again, manicured nails softly grazing the skin of his chest as you let your head fall back and mewled so sweetly for him.

"Chuu..." you began, struggling to keep your pace but failing miserably. Chuya's free hand came to rest on your hip, guiding your movements.

"That's it baby you can do it. Just a bit more ok?" he groaned and squeezed your hip.

After you both came and you stumbled off him, laying on the damp sheets beneath, Chuya let out a mellow laughter.

"You did so good baby. Did you enjoy yourself?"

"Yea, I did. And you?"

"Obviously" His fingers brushed a few stray strands of hair from your face; he couldn't help but smile when he saw the content expression on your face, a mask of pure bliss.

"How about we take a bath sweetheart? Sounds good?"

You only nodded in response, eyes shutting tight as you shifted closer to him. Your boyfriend rested his hand on your head, gently caressing your hair.

"Okay then. I'll go get the tub ready"

𝑱𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒐

just like Dazai he likes to overtsimulate you but he's a bit more gentle

the fact that he picks up on your reactions- hitched breaths and heartbeat- helps him adjust his pace

the perfect mix of praise and degradation sjsjjs

loves to hear you moan

any position is good for him. as long as you feel comfortable

for aftercare you just cuddle♡

Jouno could feel your heartbeat spike as he pushed himself deeper inside you. You were so sweet and warm; he was utterly entranced.

"Ah fuck Sai" you mewled, causing your boyfriend to shudder lightly, his strong arms threatening to give out. You made him so weak.

You've both been at it for a good while but Jouno showed no sign of stopping. And how could he when your walls were wrapping around him like a vise, milking him of all he's worth? The pretty pleas and mewls that rolled past your lips were like music for his ears, a sweet symphony just for him, that only added to the cocktail of pleasure.

But of course he couldn't let you see the effect you had on him, so he picked up the pace, causing your eyelids to flutter shut.

"What a pretty doll I have. I could swear this ain't your first time judging by how well you take this dick" he chuckled, relishing the feeling of your velvety walls fluttering around him. "Shit baby. You gonna cum again? You like it when I talk to you like that don't ya?"

"Y-yea" you babbled out, fingers sliding to the nape of his neck as you pulled him in for a sloppy kiss.

A small groan left Jouno's throat as you both reached your high, the tight knot in your abdomen snapping into a delicious pool of heat.

Your boyfriend gently rested his forehead against yours, mumbling sweet praises until you both regained your breaths.

After a few seconds he tried to roll to the side but you quickly wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him back on top of you.

"Just stay like this for a bit. It feels nice" you hummed sleepily against his shoulder, earning a soft sigh from your partner.

"As you wish baby" he smiled, his lithe fingers finding your, loosely interlocking with them.

𝑻𝒂𝒄𝒉𝒊𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒂

another gentle boy; when I tell you he's more nervous than you

Tachi really wants to make your first time special so he asks you 1000 times if you're sure you wanna do it

takes his time with foreplay and when you get to do it he takes it slow. maybe a bit too slow. he just doesn't wanna hurt you

but as soon as you tell him you're good he'll pick up the pace

please for the love of God praise him

he whimpers (sources: trust me bro)

for aftercare he brews you a cup of tea and you talk about how you felt

"But you sure you felt good right? Right??"

"You sure you're ready sweet thing?" asked your boyfriend with a concerned expression.

"Yea. I am, don't worry about it. I just need you so badly" you whispered in response and he nodded, slowly pushing himself inside you.

And oh you felt divine. Tachihara couldn't contain the loud groan that fell from his lips when he bottomed out and slowly started moving, rocking his hips against yours in a steady rhythm.

"You ok there pretty?" he asked, taking in your features; you looked so beautiful sprawled beneath him like this, silky hair a tangled mess from all the foreplay.

You bit your lip and nodded in response as you urged him to pick up the pace; and naturally he did.

Soon after you were both panting, His eyes were shut tight, mouth slightly agape as he whispered sweet nothings against the shell of your ear.

"You're so good f'me sweetie. You feel like heaven." he said in a sultry voice between sweet moans and whimpers and you swore you could've came just by the sight of his blissed out expression. Your boyfriend's hands worshipped every inch of your heated skin, fingertips slowly tracing down your body to rub little circles on your puffy clit.

"Baby wait wait I'm-" you attempted to protest but were cut off by his gentle touch.

"Shh sweet thing it's ok. Need ya to cum f'me like a good girl"

The moment he spoke those words a wave of pleasure washed over you, causing your thighs to squeeze his narrow waist.

Nails digging into the plush skin of your hips Tachihara let out a groan, thrusting a few more times before releasing his cum deep inside you.

"God that was..." he sighed, eyelids fluttering shut for a moment as he took a deep breath in. When he opened them again and saw the mess the two of you made, his cum dripping down your thighs as you desperately squeezed them together he got out of the bed and rushed to the bathroom to bring you a towel.

"Here you go babe. Lemme clean you up" he smiled gently, brushing the puffy material against your sensitive skin. "Was it good?"

"Of course it was babe" you replied, returning his smile "But I could use some sleep now"

"As you wish"

He slid back underneath the covers, arms wrapped tightly around your waist as he nuzzled his head against the nape of your neck.

"You were amazing darling. I'm so happy I got to be your first" he hummed, sending warm tingles down your spine.

What did you ever do to deserve someone as sweet as him?

#bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd x reader #bsd fluff #bsd smut #bsd dazai #dazai osamu #dazai bsd #bsd headcanons #dazai smut #dazai x fem reader #dazai x reader #chuya smut #chuya x reader #bsd chuya #jouno smut #bsd jouno #jouno x reader #jouno saigiku

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kiiwiigii · 7 months

Text

Morning Showers

Emmett x Fem!Reader

Summary: Emmett joins you for a morning shower, and as if the shower wasn’t already hot enough, it gets even hotter

Warnings:

NSFW 18+

Smut

Word Count: 700+

Requested?: For Kinktober!

Okay I'm back again 👀 but I just saw shower sex!?! So how about sleepy and lazy shower sex with emmet (also I'm loving everyone's ideas and I'm gonna have a blast reading them alll)>

A/N: Not sure I'm super happy with this one, but I hope you guys enjoy it, nonetheless.

I sighed happily, letting the hot water run over my skin.

There was nothing quite like a hot shower to wake you up in the morning. At least that's what I've been told. Right now, I could happily fall asleep, my muscles relaxing even more.

I jumped a little as I felt cold arms wrap around me from behind. I automatically put my hands over his in surprise, my brain trying to form coherent thoughts in its foggy state.

"Emmett?" I murmured sleepily, turning my head to rest against his as he buried his head into my neck.

"The one and only." His voice was muffled for a moment before he nosed his way up to my ear, placing a soft kiss at the base. "Good morning, beautiful."

"Good morning yourself, handsome."

I reached my hand up to cup the back of his neck as he kissed and nipped along my neck. I leaned my head to the side in silent submission, letting him rake his teeth along my neck before sucking softly on my pulse point.

I moaned, digging my nails into his hard skin.

Emmett chuckled. "Easy there, tiger."

I couldn’t help but giggle, but that quickly turned into a soft moan as his hands traced their way over my curves, leaving a cool trail of goosebumps behind. I shivered a little, the coldness of his skin contrasting with the heat of the water. I gasped as his hands found my breasts, his long fingers pinching and flicking my nipples teasingly.

"Emmett." I moaned softly.

"I love it when you say my name, doll." He nibbled on my ear.

I turned around to face him, lacing my hands through his thick hair and reaching up on the very tips of my toes to meet him halfway as he ducked down to kiss me.

"I want you," I murmured.

"Your wish is my command."

I let out a surprised gasp as he lifted me, hands under my thighs, and pressed me into the shower wall, the water running in between us. My hand slipped downwards, taking his length in my hand and guiding him to my entrance. My head fell forward onto his shoulder with a groan as he entered me with little to no effort.

He growled, pushing deeper into me and my heart skipped a beat. If there was one thing I loved about Emmett, it was his possessiveness. He gave me freedom to do whatever I wanted, but at the end of the day I was his, and he was mine. And there was nothing that turned me on more.

I could feel every inch of him as he slid into me, and I moaned as he bottomed out, filling me completely. I wrapped my legs around his waist, clinging to him as he began to move, his hips thrusting in a slow, smooth rhythm. It wasn't long before I could feel my orgasm boiling up inside of me, and I rolled my hips forward, desperate for release.

Emmett buried his face in my neck, his hands clutching my thighs.

"That's it, doll. Come for me." He murmured.

I groaned, feeling the warmth in my lower half building and building.

"Emmett," I whimpered. "I'm going to…"

"Come for me, Y/N." He murmured; his voice tight. "I want to feel you come all over me. I want that pussy strangling my cock until I can barely move inside you."

He picked up the pace, thrusting into me as I felt the waves of pleasure build up inside me. Just when I was about to let go, he shifted his hips, hitting that one spot that had me seeing stars and finally sent me over the edge. I mewled, arching my back as my whole body shook.

"Emmett." I panted, no, I pleaded, tears forming in my eyes from the intensity of the pleasure rippling through me.

"I'm not stopping until you come again, doll."

I moaned, pussy and thighs clenching around him at his words.

He continued to move, his hips moving in a fast, desperate rhythm. I could feel myself tightening around him again.

"Please. Please. Please." I whimpered. "I'm going to come again."

He obliged, his cock hitting that one spot over and over again and I cried out, shattered by the waves of pleasure washing over me. He growled, pounding into me harder and harder. Just when I thought I wouldn't be able to take anymore, he slammed into me one final time and froze, coming deep inside of me. I cried out, my orgasm continuing unabated as he filled me with his seed.

We slumped against the wall, both of us panting and spent.

"Mine." He muttered into my neck.

"Yours." I agreed.

{Kinktober} // {Masterlist}

Taglist: @alecvolturi @alecvolturiswifeforever @belladonna-xox @bunbunbl0gs @hyperuseless @jana-jaeynneee @itsmytimetoodream @lack-lust-3r @lucansmina @pawspurpaw @pooka167 @rosedpetal @targaryenmoony @twilightlover2007

Wanna be notified when I post a new fic? Ask to join my taglist!

#emmett cullen x reader #emmett cullen smut #twilight #the twilight saga #kinktober #kinktober 2023

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sadtonight · 2 years

Text

"...pizza time"

Summary: you craved pizza at ludicrous hour so you dialed nearest 24/7 pizza house. Alas when you took the first bite, the lights lit up in the kitchen. You were caught red-handed by someone...!

Characters: first year students;

Warnings: unhealthy food practices (guilty....), reader is gender neutral, reader is from the same dorm as the boys, could be viewed platonic or romantic;

Side notes: it's freaking 3 am, gosh...but I finished it quicker than I expected, ha! I love tasty food if you couldn't tell. Shout-out to my hometown pizza house chain, you are always staying in my heart 💙

Ace

— just as your eyes adjusted to sudden brightness, you immediately identified the person standing at the doorway near the light switch but it didn't really elevate your panic. No, in fact the feeling turned into chagrin upon casting a look at the witness's face: it was Ace;

— you would not feel so down if he came at any hour except for this one, precisely because you were in a predicament which red eyed male undoubtedly would use to his advantage;

— you froze at place whereas Ace approached the kitchen counter where flat cardboard box was laying, took a slice of a still hot pizza and bitten off half of the piece all the while making complains about you not informing him about ordering pizza but not ever once asking why doing so in the dead of night;

— he ate another two pieces murmuring word "yummy" and clasped his hands together to get rid of crumbs. Ideally, your dormmate going back to sleep was something you hoped to happen but despite your mental prayers to the Seven, Ace gave you a smile and expectant look;

— "Well, this was delicious but next time I'm choosing pizza, okay? Your treat of course, if you don't want to sleep hungry with a collar around your neck~" Ace cooed cheekily and left you alone with leftovers. Unsure if the defeat effected the food more than your mood, as it went cold by that time, you let out a sigh;

— now your head was stuffed with thoughts on how to get back at Ace instead of pizza in front of you, because extortion won't be only on his part. In the meantime you are deciding on which restaurant or café ginger was going to take you for the next few days when you cook up and execute revenge plan.

Deuce

— when the door opened, you accidentally crammed the whole pizza slice into your mouth while completely forgetting about about it being pipping hot, making you choke and tear up in seconds. Because of this, you couldn't let out any coherent sounds so instead it was half asleep Deuce who let a frightened yelp;

— poor boy have started loudly apologizing for interrupting without even realising what was he interrupting in the first place but you promptly gestured him to be quite by feverishly pressing your index finger to your lips and shaking your head to the sides;

— eventually, Deuce closed the kitchen doors so the two of you would not cause any more disturbance to the whole Heartslabyul dorm and, most importantly, its dorm leader;

— he apologized yet again but for another reason and quietly this time. He felt incredible guilt watching you look so miserable: sour expression and lowered shoulders, your tongue hurting from the burn and little to no desire to continue your night feast;

— blue haired boy promised to take you somewhere in order to make up for him startling you (there goes his allowance). It's just Deuce had unfortunately took up Ace's habit of eating at night so he wanted to grab a cookie and go back to sleep right away;

— that being said, he was still hungry, thus you let him eat a few slices because you wouldn't be able to taste the pizza or any food for a while anyways...

Jack

— today wasn't Jack's day at all: headache after headache. First he watered his potted cacti by mistake. Then some jerk yanked on his tail in the busy crowd and beastman tried chasing down the culprit only to be late for Crewel classes and getting extra work that held Jack back from his track club activities;

— and to add more annoyance first year forgot to take his water bottle since he was rushing to sport's field to do at least something. All of the incidents leading to Jack waking up in the middle of the night to get another glass of cool water from the kitchen;

— unlike other boys, wolf boy already knew by the scent alone that not only there was someone in the kitchen but they were also making or eating delicious smelling food which made it impossible to distinguish who was occupying the room;

— what Jack did not expect was to see you holding a slice of pizza tilted to the side and topping sliding off onto the floor while you locked eyes with his. You appeared to look like a deer caught in the headlights rather than his fellow dormmate;

— you gradually regained your composure and offered him some pizza to which weird out Jack refused. The scene that unfolded played before his eyes when he went back to bed, unanswered questions keeping him awake for some time;

— next morning beastman saw Ruggie poking around the kitchen in search of pizza leftovers for the reason that he stumbled upon pizza topping on the floor earlier, but Jack decided not to rat you out this time.

Epel

— ... this guy didn't even notice you initially. When you are lurking past beauty sleep hours you are bound to be quiet as a mouse and fully alert in case Pomefiore heads show up. If you are caught red-handed you have to either prepare an apology with explanation or make a run for it;

— in your case, you stopped on your tracks when you heard barely audible footsteps becoming increasingly louder. Panic shot straight into your limbs as you closed the box and run up to corner next to the door and held your breath. You weren't wolfing down a veggie salad after all!

— thankfully a mop of lavender hair came into view, it stopping before the fridge and getting some milk. Epel took a swing right from the bottle making you let out a snort that you tried to cover with your free hand;

— boy in question choked a little and instantly tore his face from the bottle with "what in tarnation?!", whirling his head in the dark towards your direction;

— you explained through your chuckles that you grew hungry and decided to get some fast food in spite of it being way past midnight;

— Epel grew curious as he has never tried real pizza before and only saw it in the commercials. You beaconed the boy to come closer and take a few slices when all of the sudden the lights switched on and all too familiar disapproving tsk tsk could be heard right beside both of you...

Sebek

— the loudest of them all! The whole dorm could hear half fae rushing in to investigate foreign sounds in the kitchen, sword and magic wand ready to strike the potential threat;

— Sebek felt relief and irritation wash over him simultaneously upon spotting you peacefully eating pizza. On the off chance he inquired if it was you going out through the main doors to get the delivery to which you replied positively;

— you see, it wasn't the first time something like that had happened, but it was instead with Lilia who often ordered food in the dead of night. This fact didn't convince knight in training to be more lax or loosen his guard but at least he stopped insisting on Malleus getting to safety each time Sebek suspecting danger;

— first year found your impromptu night snacking to be childish and got somewhat offended when you innocently suggested taking a slice;

— he can't be eating this unhealthy human food! He has to be in proper shape to serve his masters!! Although the smell and look of the dish was devilishly appealing, Sebek couldn't yield to mere fast food;

— ...the urge, however, was way stronger than half fae anticipated, making male retreat back to his room while munching the remains of tasty delicacy with the regret of not taking another piece lingering in the back of his mind.

#twisted wonderland headcanons #twst headcanons #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #ace trapolla x reader #deuce spade x reader #jack howl x reader #epel felmier x reader #sebek zigvolt x reader

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hueningsloverr · 5 months

Text

౨ৎ oceans away !

chapter nine : OCEANS AWAY

pairing : hueningkai x non idol! reader summary : kai was never the type to go out of his way to befriend his little sisters friends, yet somehow he was convinced. and instead of simply befriending her, he fell for her. word count : 1.0k

prev / masterlist

you jolted awake in your bed, the sound of your alarm blaring yet so far in the distance. groggily, you reached over in an attempt to turn it off, your eyes catching sight of the time.

7:49

you had class in ten minutes.

why hadn't someone woken you up?

between having three roommates, all of whom you happen to share your monday eight am lecture with, you thought someone would've seen you weren't awake and come to check on you.

"(y/n)!" you heard one of them call, as if clockwork. "we have class in ten!"

you shouted something back, still half asleep and not coherent enough to fully think it through.

something about yuna, and being there soon.

that's when you heard that very same roommate knocking on your door, "you awake?" she asked, peering her head slightly into your room.

you nodded, rubbing your eyes. "yeah, yeah i'm up."

she smiled, "what was that about yuna you were saying?" she questioned, tilting her head slightly to the side as her eyebrows furrowed. "since when do you know a yuna?" she added, laughing softly.

you shook your head, blinking as you attempted to digest her words. "you do know yuna, right?" you tested, equally as confused. "what do you mean?"

she laughed again, "(y/n) i think you're still half asleep. what did you even dream about to create a whole new person."

you shrugged it off, practically pushing yourself out of bed. it felt as if your body had atrophied overnight somehow, as if it had been months since you had moved.

everything felt off.

maybe it was just your jet-lagged body, so used to korean time that being back in the states was off-putting.

it was most likely the lack of your friends - well your other friends, the famous ones.

so used to hearing kai's laugh, seeing yunjins smile, watching yuna scheme, and listening to bahiyyih grovel on and on about her brother.

however when thinking of it, the familiarity it used to bring you was no longer there. it felt as if it was a million years ago.

the memories themselves were so clear yet so foggy.

was it taehyun or beomgyu that yunjin had been crushing on for what felt like forever? was bahiyyih 'spring' or 'summer'? was it hikaru or wonyoung that chuu had taken under her belt to 'mentor'?

why was it you couldn't remember any pieces of your own life?

it was as if someone had disturbed the surface of the water. you could still look through, but everything was distorted.

why?

why was the memory of your conversation with kai so fuzzy in your mind? he and wonyoung - the dating scandal, what was it he wanted to say so badly?

you could remember crying, so clearly. tears streaming down your face as the two of you argued on and on.

he was being cruel, that much was clear.

you had brought up the way he stared at wonyoung, and he had laughed.

he laughed in your face, as if you were a child making some stupid discovery.

it felt like a nightmare, how it ended.

you had run, back into the dorm and into yuna’s arm.

kai had called after you, but it was to no avail.

the you left korea, school was starting again soon.

you didn’t speak to kai again.

why was it such a nightmare?

it felt like a dream, in the beginning.

every girls dream - meeting the boy of your dreams, the friend group you always wished for.

living the life everyone hopes to live.

dreams.

you had read something about dreams, months back for a psychology class your roommate had begged you to take. something about how reality influences dreams as well as how dreams influence reality.

you had dreamed of seeing yuna for weeks before flying to korea, and of meeting her friends.

of course you had.

you shrugged it off, figuring it was better to just head to class and let your body wake up on its own.

when you finally emerged from your room, there stood your roommate, hussey as you enjoyed calling her, smiling softly.

“hey,” you yawned, navigating around her to grab your backpack and shoes so you could make it to your class at least somewhat on time. “rough morning, hm?” you added, laughing as you shook your head.

she nodded, rolling her eyes. “what kind of dream were you having?” she mused, that same teasing tone she’s always had still lingering in her voice.

you sighed, cocking your head to the side. “is this just a segway to me asking you what you dreamt of?”

she grinned wider, like yuna would.

yuna.

but hussey wasn't yuna.

"of course!" she giggled, like a thirteen year-old girl in love. "i dreamt about the dreamiest boy ever - the one who works at the cafe! you remember, kai."

kai.

"yeah," you hummed, motioning to the door in a last-ditch attempt to get her to realise it was time to go. "he's the blonde one right? he works the same shifts as ben and sky."

beomgyu and seungmin.

"mhm! god, he's so dreamy." she beaned, a slight bounce in her step as she unlocked the door and made it out into the hallway of the dormitory. "so, what'd you dream about?"

you paused slightly, hesitant steps falling far behind hers. "hussey," you began, already able to hear her rolling her eyes at the nickname, "i'm - i'm not sure? i don't remember dreaming, i just remember being in korea."

she laughed again.

she always seemed to be laughing.

"korea? babes, when have you ever been to korea?" she questioned, an eyebrow raised as she turned to face you. "i mean, if you want to go i'd talk to jennifer but seriously - did you hit your head while you slept?"

yunjin.

you forced a smile, shaking your head in another attempt to wake yourself up. "right, yeah, must've been a dream."

it took more than just some convincing to get it through your head.

it made sense, you were just a nobody.

you always had been.

there was nothing special about you that would make anyone long to be your friend, especially not someone famous like shin yuna.

and there was no reason for huening kai to be in love with you, if he ever even was in your startiling realistic dream.

huening kai wasn't in reach, he never was. he never would be.

he was oceans away.

authors note : last chapter !! if you can't tell , yes it was all just a dream :3 because i'm delusional and i dream too often about this stuff. haha. i don't know how to write happy endings. also i included a lot of the idols i already mentioned english names just cuz ^^ hussey is yuna's english name, kai is ofc kai's english name, ben is beomgyu, jennifer is yunjin, and sky is seungmin!

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r-18g · 5 days

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everyone is like "ohh you should tag fetishes so the vanilla crew can blacklist them" NO. As a vanilla ice cream people need to start tagging their vanilla art. My only choice right now is the general nsfw tag and brother this shit is not vanilla by default. Vanilla gang rise up we need to acknowledge that being boring is a fetish so we can actually find one another.

honestly yeah i do think that vanilla nsfw content should have its own tag! i've reblogged a joking sort of post about it before, but in reality my feelings are more like... while it's not what gets me off, sometimes i just want to read something vanilla and cute about characters that i like, who also like each other, because it's delightful. but on things like h-doujin sites, there's never really a specific tag for works that are vanilla.

but thinking about it, one of the issues might be the semantics involved in deciding what can and can't go in the tag? because someone's idea of vanilla might be restricted to things depicting cisgender m/f missionary piv fucking, vs. someone else who considers vanilla to be consensual sex between any variety of people, as long as it doesn't involve anything that's like. purposefully fetishistic? if that makes sense.

BUT ANYWAY, i'm half asleep and rambling. i hope this is coherent. wishing you luck in finding good vanilla art, anon... ૮₍ ˶• ༝ •˶ ₎ა

#ask #anonymous #v speaks!

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mamaangiwine · 10 months

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Hi, it's me again, i have another dream i thought you'd find cool! If you don't want to interpret it because you've done one for me before it's totally fine! Its just so wild i wanted to share.

I was God, or a God, and i came down to Earth. When i looked at Earth and it's people i didn't see a blue planet, i saw a giant room shaped like a cube filled with randomly placed, basically shaped, columns and platforms which people stood on. People looked like people, but they also looked like simplified shapes. It felt like i was looking at code when i looked at the world and people. I placed myself in an upper middle platform in the bottom left of the cube with some people, and when i did i became more human. I held onto a piller and looked over the edge and said something like "wow thats a scary drop" to which someone behind me responded "yup, I'd hate to be pushed of that ledge" i turned towards him and said "now that you said something im worried!" And we laughed, like a big laugh, and i physically felt my real body giggling and smiling in my sleep. Thats when i realized i was in some weird half asleep half awake stage. I could move and feel my real body but i was dreaming. At somepoint i ate some food that tasted SO good i swore it was real. Then i realized i had powers. Powers like whatever i wanted to happen, happened. Snaping away something in the blink of an eye, moving something with my mind, ect. So i decided to help everyone i could. With my powers i protected and saved people from evil forces. One guy had some evil thing in him and tried running right at me but i froze him in time and exercised the thing inside him. With every interaction i make, i made a joke and made myself laugh in the dream and irl. I was GENUINELY funny but don't remember what i said. Eventually these Spanish speaking people spoke to me and i actually understood them! They said something like "death is coming" i said "don't worry, buenos noches". Then a much bigger evil force started taking over Cube Earth, so i did my best to evacuate people. Thats all i remember of that phase. Next i was looking at tapestries, but they represented human souls, and changed everytime i looked at them even though it was the same soul. Looking at the tapestries gave me such understanding and clairty of that person, i knew them like i knew themselves. I think i was guiding them to the afterlife and said things like "i understand, i know you did your best, its okay" and i woke up all the way.

It may be fair to mention, right before falling asleep i was contemplating the afterlife, and my insomnia meds didn't work for a while so I've been up all night and waking up early so im pretty sleep deprived which might be the cause of the vivid dreams I've had lately. The night before was also a strange dream. One thing they both had in common was they were very vivid and actually very coherent and not just a bunch of random stuff.

Anyways, do whatever you want with this info, hope you have a great day!

Heya,

So, yes. This is very, very cool. The theme of "change" is very present here.

I get this too sometimes, especially if I'm having fitful sleep, lol. Anywho- oof. There are definitely some symbols that I think I would not be able to fit into the space of a single tumblr post.

Like, you know, the whole "God" thing. Too much, dude. Too much, lol.

Anywho, I think it's interesting that you said Earth didn't look like 'Earth' but rather a cube/room. Cubes have four corners. Four, in western occultism, is considered a perfect number because it is the number two repeated. It is a solid number of solid foundation. It also represents knowledge and so it makes sense to me that you would have this sensation of looking at things as though they were data. Four is also the number of the elements, and I find it interesting that you found yourself in the lower left corner because, at least in my rituals, that is the corner in which the element of 'earth' resides.

This makes me wonder if you currently feel as though you are growing more knowledgeable in terms of spirituality, or perhaps you're getting better at navigating your own life- the mechanations of your own "world". That right now you have a good foundation, or if you're on the cusp of that kind of experience.

With that in mind, I feel like the "I'd hate to be pushed off that ledge" then acts as a congratulations, and a gentle warning. This, paired with the element of "earth", makes me feel as though you are/have been approaching this knowledge, and stage of your life, in a very grounded manner. Aware of the "fall" if you are to get ahead of yourself, and careful not to stretch yourself too thin (as seen when we compare the exorcism of one man, in comparison to saving the world from destruction- in the first you are capable of the whole of the task at hand, while in the second you focus on doing what you can).

Regardless, however. There will be a change ("death is coming") and this moment will have to pass into the next, as seen in the ultimate destruction of the world itself. As symbolized by the evacuation, you must take what you can in this "world" and go forward into the next "world". To the next moment. Remain grounded. Remember that, no matter how careful you are, eventually you must fall, and that all things end.

Moving onto the soul aspect of all of this- a tapestry is cloth woven to tell a complex story, but yeah, even that can't capture the complexities of the human soul. It's too stagnant. It would have to change. I particularly like that you are so affirming to these souls that you are directing into the afterlife. For me, it feels like you are capable of taking on that change with an air of understanding and humor, as seen initially with you laughing about falling in the beginning. Knowing that things can't stay the same, that energies must be redirected without negating the beauty of what has already transpired. That the tapestry must shift.

Thanks for sharing this, friend. I know it's been a minute and I really appreciate that you thought of sharing this with me.

#magic #folk magic #spirituality #dream symbolism #dream interpretation #free dream interpretation #free divination #divination #dreams

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jimilter · 2 years

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Hey Ash!!!!

It's sad bitch Hour, that is its 3 am and I wanted to say 🥺🥺🥺 I adore you so much 🥺 You are very welcoming and accepting Idk why I feel very comfortable on your blog.

I don't typically share my ideas or what I like reading since I think it puts pressure on people, and might seem like you are demanding favours, done to you subtly. But with you I just wanna say them all, no matter if you ever encorporate them or not. I feel like you listen and get as excited for them as I am, even when they are not anything exceptional. The pressure I feel generally, of making the other person comfortable while being on the edge of discomfort is lifted, you know what I mean???

Also, went through your personal tag and bitch cried at 3 am yesterday cause same??? You're so relatable for me. Like everything is so on point I can't😭😭

Lastly the work you put in, in literally everything, I feel like I don't appreciate you as much as other people I interact with here. Cause I am always tired after reading your monster fic. And other times Idk why I don't. But Wanted to say despite being a verrryyyy busy human I appreciate soooo much the hard work and all the sentiments you put in this blog.

The fics are publishable quality always. And don't even argue me on this because fiction irl is soooo shitty and your finesse in writing don't compare. I will literally bitch slap (another thing, I won't be comfortable saying this to some of my friends here either, Idk why you feel like same aged friend who I can just lovepat for saying something stupid about themselves. I am lovingly violent and its hard for it to come out but you make me comfortable, DO YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN???) you if you don't agree with me here.

Idk maybe it's the idealised verison of you in my head but comfortable atmosphere can't be hallucinated.

You write so well and are so talented. Smut I think is a very tricky thing to write. All smut is good smut as is every food you eat. But only certain foods jam into that spot to make you food pregnant. And your smut is exactly that. It's droolicious.

And the story line DON'T EVEN GET ME STARTED OMG, the 1st jungkook fic with the ab riding I read, I have it in my mind at all times. The PLOT?? THE PLOT HAVE ME IN IT'S CHOKEHOLD.

Don't get me started on the asks answer and review answers everything is so genuine and organised that I swoon everytime. I notice your cheeky side as well which is very adorable too. I think you're a very lovable and adorable person in general.

Anyway just wanted to say you're super nice and super talented and I adore you a loot.

Pls. Ignore my new words formation I am acutlaly half asleep by now I hope I was coherent enough. Take care 😘😘😘😘

IVY?????????????????????????????????

😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

I---

omg babe??? 😭😭😭 you feel comfortable on my blog??? BABE, THAT IS THE BIGGEST COMPLIMENT EVER!!! please, i'm close to tears what in the world!!! my heart has jumped out and is now running laps around my body ughhhh this is the most MOST wonderful message i have EVER received, ivy 🥺

omg babe, yes i do love listening to and discussing ideas a lot!!! we're all celebrating stories here, fiction >>>> reality so HELL YES to requests/ideas/inspirations from everyone, you feel me? 🥺

AAAH my personal tag is a mess adfhasfdash like me :( but i swear it feels so so endearing and comforting to know you relate to it??? like, you mean i'm not a whole ass weirdo having this complicated thoughts, you understand some of that??? thank you for saying that, baby, you made my whole week 😭😭😭

hey, don't say you're not appreciative enough bec from my pov, every single piece of feedback from you sends me over the moon, okay? 🥺 WHAT MORE DO U WANT??? FOR ME TO SOB 24X7 BEC I CANT HANDLE YOUR SWEET WORDS??? 😭 okay, but this:

Cause I am always tired after reading your monster fic.

^ i'm - 💀💀💀 you didn't have to CALL ME OUT like that!!! 😭 no but in all honesty, thank you so much for all the appreciation you always give me 🥺🥺🥺

omggg "publishable quality"??? i wanna scream but now that i've been threatened by a bitch slap *gulp* (which i love btw PLS speak your heart out, we love unfiltered emotions in this space 😭), i am forced to keep my mouth sealed and thank you 😩 but like:

PLEASE! STOP!!!

i'm wheezing but also crying HELP???

All smut is good smut as is every food you eat. But only certain foods jam into that spot to make you food pregnant. And your smut is exactly that. It's droolicious.

NEVER heard of such an analogy before but i'm into it 😩✋ and i LOVE the word droolicious, petition to add it to all dictionaries, pronto!!! thank you so so much, my lovely baby 🥺 smut is definitely hard to write. i didn’t feel confident enough to even try my hand at it until like 2018. (i turned 18 in 2015 and was definitely reading smut after that for over 3 years before i ever wrote it) but hearing compliments such as this makes it a little easier to manage, you know? 😭❤

ahhhhhhhh the abs riding istg it was SO last minute!!! i was writing that second smut scene which wasn’t even that huge, just meant to be there in the background (to sort of portray the dynamics between those two) while they talked abt the next step in the escape plan. but then i started to envision the scene and realized that - if i were oc, there’s no chance in HELL i wouldn’t have ridden those abs 😐 and so it happened 😭 THANK YOU SO MUCH, BABY!!! ❤❤❤

omg i always try to be completely honest when i respond to people so it’s amazing to know you find my responses genuine 🥺 take this, for example. i am literally writing a letter to you comprising whatever comes to my mind abt the things you’ve talked abt 😭

Anyway just wanted to say you're super nice and super talented and I adore you a loot.

^ same to you, back to you, i adore you MORE 😤🥺❤

okay??? good. 😌❤

you cannot comprehend how MUCH this ask means to me!!! especially currently when i’m going through multiple existential crises in the span of a day 😭 thank you for being the absolute sweetheart, ivy baby, and writing me this. i am always going to think about your words, they will get me through sad hours, you know? 🥺

i love you so so so SO much, babe. you’re so precious oh GOD 😭❤

#c: ask #ivy 🥰#the feeling is mutual 💝#nobody's business if i'm still sobbing gtfo

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wc100playlist · 21 days

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3. Queensrÿche - Silent Lucidity

I'm not sure it's my first memory of her, but my most coherent memory of my mother comes from a night I couldn't breathe. It's a kind of asthma, I think: at least, it's a respiratory issue that nowadays only crops up when prompted by heavy allergens. I have no professional confirmation of this medical theory, only personal experience, mind. I don't visit doctors as often as I should.

She wore a bathrobe that night--a teal or light blue, if memory does not betray me. I woke her in the small hours. My parents slept in the same bed in those days, but I do not recall my father responding to or even acknowledging my knock. Mom did, though, and she took me to the master bathroom where she ran the shower as hot as the knob allowed. She closed the door, sat on the toilet, sat me on her knee, and told me to breath in the steam. I did. It helped. For all I know, I fell asleep then and there, my lungs opened to air again, cast against the stable rock that is my mother.

A canyon runs between mom and me. The river that scoured the Earth to dig it runs through my mother and her mother and her mother before her. It runs in me; it has an iron taste. Most days, I'm sure, I can leap the canyon and back without effort. On other days, the gap--so narrow in my mind--grows wide enough to swallow my heart and then the rest of me. Even on the narrow days, I don't leap over as often as I should.

Soon after the turning of this year, I woke from a dream. I'd been on the phone with someone--some hospital employee--who'd informed me of my mother's death. She'd been killed in a car accident in our old hometown: she passed before she could even speak. I saw it, too--that is the cruelty of dreams. It broke my sleep in a jagged edge. In a half-wakened panic, I scrambled for my phone to assure myself of reality. The text from my mother's number in the family group chat informed us that my aunt, her little sister, had passed away.

What shook me most deeply between that day and the funeral two weeks later--really, what's shaken me since--is the steel comb that rakes my nerves when I think of that mortal caesura. My aunt strove against glioblastomas for nearly a year; she saw one of her daughters married and the other engaged; she spent Christmas with her siblings all together after many years apart. I didn't know her well.

Her passing shook me, and--shamefully--not wholly for my aunt's sake. Certainly, the fact of total future absence from a familial face stung my mind, despite our unfamiliarity. Yet that same unfamiliarity which cushioned the loss for me will not serve me, should I outlive my mother. I know her, see: that carved canyon is too fragile a thing to widen far enough that, should the moment happen, all fact and pretense of its width would collapse. If, when my mother dies, I feel I will be far closer to her than I ever have been, and all too late.

And yet, when that murky recollection bubbles in my mind and writhes against my skull more terribly than I can bear, up creeps that nascent remembrance--my mother sitting in a steaming bathroom, pretending Exhaustion to be a kind neighbor--to clutch at my leg and say, "Do you remember not? In I are you two near one." And some days, I shake the childhood recollection off, or kick it away, or walk or run to another corner of my mind. But it never leaves. Even be it bruised, it lingers always where I can see it, or if not see it, hear it by the distant rainfall of an empty running shower.

Once, I asked a friend--whose particular feelings towards me I did not return--if there were a song of which I reminded her. When bid to answer first, I told her ABBA, "Knowing Me, Knowing You." This is the cruelty of fool boys like I am, one I hope will remain distant in my memory. Having taken in my lackluster answer, my friend responded with her own. "Silent Lucidity," she ascribed to me. The further I grow past that boyhood--the further I enter into this world where adults shuffle off the stage as often in my heart and my head as in reality--I realize how her understanding of me ran as deep as my total understanding ran shallow. What's more, I receive again and again all the endless kindnesses she offered to a fool boy through one single song.

It's late. I have, perhaps, lost the point which I set out to express. Thus, let me come to this simple point, which blooms behind these bagged eyes. It's this: that I am constantly astounded by the depths and the affect of the people who love me, despite how often poorly I love them in return.

#queensrÿche #music #creative nonfiction

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your-sweet-cookies · 1 year

Note

🎲

The kiss roulette

And your lucky number is... 35!

A kiss against the wall

It was unusual for Kukki to have an outburst of anger like the one she had just now, but even she had a patience limit that if crossed, she wouldn't have been able to hold back her emotions any longer. This must've been the hundredth or thousandth time Niragi came back badly injured from one of the games, acting as if nothing was wrong or bad in the world, worrying her sick in the process, and Kukki kind of reached her limits with his soo uncaring demeanor.

When was he going to finally understand that his carelessness towards his own safety and life was hurting her? Couldn't he see how much he meant to her and how worried she was every time he'd be running late from one of the games or when she saw him coming back covered up in blood?! Even if she was still shy about it and she didn't really know how to express her feelings that well, Niragi meant the world to her and Kukki felt that if she were to lose him, her life would lose all its meaning too! So it broke her heart seeing him like that or knowing how little he cared if he'd die or not.

But this time... This time he had went too far! When the last car of the night returned and Niragi was still nowhere to be seen, Kukki's anxiety and desperation reached such a high level that she felt as if her world was going to start crumbling down before her eyes. All she could do was fall to her knees, staring blankly at the now empty car, while hearing the other militants, who'd just returned, talking in passing that tonight's games were incredibly brutal: an 8 of Spades, 9 of Clubs and a game of hearts she couldn't remember what difficulty they mumbled about. What if... What if Niragi had lost his life in one of these games?

The question still lingered in her mind as Kukki stood there, frozen in place, for what must've been hours. She couldn't scream, she couldn't cry, she just felt extremely... empty. And in the end, when the fatigue caused by all that anxiety finally reached her, the silver-haired woman fell asleep, still propped against the giant metal gates of the resort.

And thus, the first rays of the morning sun found Kukki still in the same place, but at least the dawn of the new day brought with it the good news she was starting to lose hope of ever hearing. "Morning princess! What's up, decided to camp outside for the night?" The familiar sound of the deep, raspy and husky tone of the voice she knew oh so well startled Kukki awake, as she blinked confused and stared baffled at its owner.

Staying now in front of her, leaning on his rifle as a makeshift cane for support, was none other than Niragi. A pretty roughed up and beaten up Niragi, but an alive one nonetheless. "S-Suguru?" Kukki's voice trembled when she finally recognized her lover and realized he was indeed real and not an illusion created by her heartbroken psyche, her eyes now filling up with tears of happiness and relief.

"Yours truly." Niragi snorted and tried teasing her, as Kukki didn't wait any additional second and jumped up, throwing herself at him for a very tight hug. "I-I am soo glad you're finally back! I-I was so worried! When that car came without you... I... I..." She could barely form coherent sentences in her erratic speech as she sobbed, squeezing the man even tighter as if she was afraid he'd disappear from her grasp if she didn't hold him strong enough.

Hearing her say that and feeling her trembling little body pressed like that against him brought a slight smile to Niragi's tired features. "It's okay princess... Now I'm back here, so you don't have to worry anymore." His roughed up hand pat her gently on the head, while the other rested on her back in a half hug. "I'm sorry I made you sad... Last night's game was truly one hell of a bitch! Got a broken leg after falling in a fucking ditch and the idiots I was with didn't even bother to check if I was still alive! They just upped and left. But fortunately, I don't have any intentions to meet the Devil yet, so I made my way back on foot, limping, but still in one piece." The man explained and let out a slight chuckle, anger laced in his words remembering about his useless teammates.

"For fuck's sake Suguru! You should've used that goddamn walkie talkie to call for help!" Kukki snapped back at him, rendering Niragi confused. "Walkie talkie?" It took him a slight moment to remember that indeed, Hatter required of them to have one of those on hand in case something were to ever happen and they'd need assistance, but he never gave a fuck about what that crazy bastard had to say. No one told Niragi what to do! So he never bothered getting one for himself. "Ah, that... I don't give a shit about Hatter's stupid toys, so I never got one."

A loud thud could be heard as Niragi's tall body got slammed with rather surprising force into the wall opposing them, as his answer seemed to have really rubbed his girlfriend the wrong way. "ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?! DO YOU THINK THIS IS A JOKE?! HOW CARELESS CAN YOU BE?! YOU COULD'VE DIED! AND FOR WHAT?! BECAUSE YOU DON'T WANT TO FOLLOW HATTER'S RULES?!" Kukki screamed at him in a way he'd never thought her capable of. Not that Niragi would have ever thought her capable of pinning him to a wall either, but looks like Kukki really kept true to her promise of always being unpredictable.

"Oh wow... I never thought you had this much force in those delicate arms of yours..." Niragi laughed nervously, still a bit in shock from her reaction. "What if you wouldn't have been able to make it back?! Or worse, what if your wound would've been much worse and the lack of medical assistance could've costed you your life?! Don't you care if you were to die?! DON'T YOU CARE ABOUT ME?!" Kukki continued on, her eyes filling up with a new stream of hot, bitter tears.

"Why can't you understand that your life means much more than you think?! And that your death would break those who care about you, especially me?! Can't you see your actions are hurting me deeply?! When will you understand how much I love you?" With those final words and the tears rolling down her cheeks, Kukki grabbed his collar and pulled him into a deep, messy and sloppy angry kiss, but one in which she tried her best to encapsulate all her feelings and strong emotions she harbored for him. The young woman then didn't let go of him until they both ran out of air. "I don't want to fucking lose you! If you'd die, I'd lose the only thing that keeps me going and the only person I've ever loved and loved me back... If you leave me, there would be nothing else worth fighting for anymore! What would be the point? I love you more than anything!" Kukki then continued crying and buried her face in his chest.

#kiss roulette #alice in borderland roleplay #alice in borderland rp #aib roleplay #aib rp #aib oc #aib oc rp #kukki x niragi interactions #triggerhappymilitant #rp with kukki

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boop-le-snoot · 3 years

Text

PARTY FAVOURS I CHAPTER 27

First time reader click here

TWs/Summary: If you read carefully, you knew this; if you didn't: reader was drugged at the party. Hangover from Hell ft. boys being cute, Loki being best friend material and reader fully integrating him into the Gen-Z community via Monster energy drinks and depressive music whilst being sad. I live for Loki/reader friendship tbh.

So folks, this is the last big plot thing before the endgame. I reckon it's about 10-15 chapters left until out happy ending and the next bit is going to focus on developing reader's and Stephen's relationship. There will be smutty parts too - either chapters or interludes, idk, depending on how well they'll integrate into the story.

I love y'all.

Ow, was my first thought upon waking up. My head throbbed something fierce, the pressure behind my eyelids was unbearable and my mouth tasted like a bog on a sunny summer's day. I was warm, from both sides, and one of the bodies felt foreign in everything besides the smell - sandalwood leaked through the lead curtain of alcohol and sex.

Needless to say, I had trouble piecing together the fine details of last night but had enough coherence to remember our... Activities. I was sore and Strange's long arm was still possessively draped over both me and Tony. The luck was on my side as I carefully wiggled out of his grasp, padding to the bedroom on quiet feet. The sorcerer barely moved, only grumbling briefly at the loss of my warmth and immediately quieting, shamelessly snuggling into Tony.

I would have not exaggerated if I said it was the worst hangover of my life. It was baffling, really, because I'd gone way wilder and didn't suffer half as much after effects; my first attempt to brush my teeth ended with my face resting against the toilet bowl, my empty stomach rejecting what little liquid in it was left as the room spun on its axis. That was incredibly embarrassing and I hoped my boys wouldn't wake up to witness my best impression of a bum - and they didn't, both men still sound asleep and interwined like snakes when I put on the shirt closest to me and departed in search of coffee.

My mood only worsened. Steve and Bucky were already up, shoveling an impressive amount of eggs and bacon, as Bucky quietly teased Steve about his own hangover. The blonde man was slightly greenish, disheveled - we traded equally glum looks and nodded to each other in silence. The smell of food made my stomach churn and I retreated, one black coffee in hand, towards Bruce's lab, having been informed by Friday that neither Tony not Stephen planned on waking up.

"Morning, Princess," Bruce smiled kindly, pushing his glasses out of the way to hold me close and give me a sweet kiss. "Had fun? The boys still asleep?"

I giggled at Bruce calling Tony and Stephen boys. "Yeah. I wouldn't be wearing Stephen's shirt if he was up and about, I think." I pointed out the obvious.

Bruce chuckled, holding my face to give me a long, thoughtful look. I stared back, hoping convey my respect and adoration without having to say a word; like Tony, I wasn't particularly apt when it came to talking feelings. Whatever Bruce was looking for, he found it, and sealed it with another kiss, twice as long and twice as sweet. We stood like that, my head on his shoulder and my arms firmly holding him to myself, until the elevator dinged behind the glass wall, revealing a shirtless Stephen and Tony in his pajama pants, both men bickering animatedly.

"Aw shit, here we go again," I rolled my eyes, unhappy about the possibility of the magic being broken. I rather preferred all three men to be like yesterday: friendly, kind and relaxed.

"I will kick them out if I have to," Bruce shrugged, turning me around to face them.

Tony smiled, seeing me, stopping mid-conversation. "Princess, I am disappointed in your lack of manners. You left me with Merlin and he is mean." The engineer unceremoniously snatched me from Bruce and smooched me, hangover breath and all.

"Gross, Tony," I rolled my eyes, giving the man a light shove in the chest. "Morning, Steph," I addressed the third man who had gone back to his usual stoic expression. Just to see his resolve crack, because I loved pushing his buttons, I gave him a good morning kiss too, and was unexpectedly blown away by the eager response from his side. As I pulled back, I noticed his cheeks dusting a light pink.

"I came to get my shirt but I think you'd rather keep it," The sorcerer's fingers caressed my skin beneath the collar of his shirt, voice still low and scratchy from sleep and those magnetic eyes fixated on the exposed flesh of my chest, no trace of previous awkwardness.

"You sure 'bout that?" I pushed one of the sides off, exposing my shoulder, seeing Tony gulp the remainder of my coffee, one hand already messing with the screen that Bruce was focused on. "I think I look better without it," I would never miss an opportunity to tease the uptight man.

"Quite," He grinned, "It's a shame I didn't get to see much last night..." Two could play this game, okay.

"Oh, but you will," Tony piped up suddenly, a hint of smugness in his voice barely covered by Bruce's fond chuckle. I really didn't know what to say, suddenly overwhelmed with the attention, my emotions amplified by the hangover - party drugs tended to exaggerate my anxiety on the comedown.

And what a comedown it was. My social energy ran out very quickly so I complained about a nasty headache and retreated into my room, Bruce's gentle hands pressing a bottle of Ibuprofen into my own. Despite my attempts to tame my rioting body, it got worse before it got better and shortly before lunch, I had thrown up twice more. Pissed off, I ran a bath with cold water and sat in it until I felt somewhat human to prepare myself for a journey to Wanda's apartment - as a last resort, I was going to chug on of Pietro's Monster energy drinks that I knew he kept hidden there.

The retrieval was a success. Cans securely hidden in the kangaroo pocket of Tony's oversized hoodie I had thrown on, I had to make a haste detour to throw up once again - the closest bathroom was in Loki's apartment and I only managed to knock twice before throwing open the door and making a mad dash for the porcelain throne, a very confused Asgardian following my movements with raised eyebrows.

"Hangover from Hell," I croaked once the first wave subsided. Loki nodded in understanding, waved a hand to summon me a water bottle and shut the door behind himself.

As I sat there, desperately trying to understand why was I feeling like utter shit... It clicked. Bile rose to my throat once again, and I just dry heaving, mulling my revelation over and over again.

I didn't take any drugs. I had been drugged. My memories became hazy and dream-like shortly after someone had given me the drink... Someone, who? It was a split-second moment; Sam, even in his drunk state, didn't keep his eyes off me for too long. Maybe it had been someone the team knew? Possibilities began playing out in my head. Cursed was my overactive brain - the anxiety from the leftover drugs was making me panic.

"Fuck, FUCK," My hands shook - I only noticed it because I had spilled water on myself, adding cold and wet to the unpleasant sensations I was already experiencing. "Why am I such a fucking fuck-up." Taking a drink from a stranger seemed downright idiotic now. Middle school bullshit.

"Are you alright?" Loki's worried voice interrupted my inner monologue.

"Yes," I replied, voice cracking. "No. I don't fucking know."

The door all but flew open, the Asgardian taking several long strides to take a good long look at me. The frown on his face tells me all I needed to know about my physical and mental state.

A slender hand tucked a stray lock of hair behind my ear. "What happened?"

I laughed tersely, feeling tears to begin welling in the corners of my eyes. "I'm an idiot," Seeing his face get annoyed briefly, I conceded: "I got drugged yesterday. My drink."

The hand that he had slid between my shoulder blades froze. I felt his whole body go rigid and his nostrils flare, the smell of ozone and something foreign - magic - filling the small space. The air around us became charged with the power of his anger. "Pardon?" His voice was dangerously quiet.

I physically fought with the need to flinch away from him, settling for lowering my eyes and staring at the dark stain on my hoodie. "I got carried away dancing. Someone handed me a drink and my stupid ass just shotgunned it," I confessed, picking at the wet spot. "And I can't tell anybody because I had a threesome with Stephen and Tony," I suddenly realised, my voice raising in pitch. "They're gonna think I didn't want it and feel bad. You know how Tony blames himself for everything under the sun..." Another wave of dizziness and nausea hit me as I leaned against the wall closest to me.

"Alright," Loki conceded after a brief pause. "We absolutely are telling the others. I'll make sure they understand," The Asgardian stated firmly in a tone that bore no argument. Seeing me lift my head to protest, he interrupted me before I could say anything: "Did you... Did you want it?" He asked me, hooking a single finger under my chin to look me in the eye.

I nodded, feeling my face heat up.

"You're not lying. The team knows of my ability to detect lies. Nobody will blame anyone..." Loki trailed off, obviously already plotting something. I wished it were a prank both of us were conspiring on instead of... Trying to make sense of this cluster fuck of a shit show. The circus called, they seemed to have left their clowns behind. "Although I will have a word with Sam." The Asgardian muttered darkly.

"No, it's not his fault. I just got too relaxed, I need to pucker up and be responsible for myself," I protested, damn well knowing it wasn't the Bird's fault. Everyone was drunk and I should've known better.

"It's not yours either," Loki sneered, seeing right through my self-loathing. It took a deep, slow sigh for him to calm down. His expression softened and the hand that was on my back resumed the gentle stroking as he scooted closer to me to press my side against his chest. "Vile people of this kind aren't exclusive to Midgard. It could have happened to anyone."

I nodded, my logical part briefly taking over as the waves of nausea and dizziness waned. I stifled a giggle, coming to another sudden revelation. "You holding up my hair as I barf out my hangover? That makes you qualified for the position of my Best Friend," I stated with a snort.

Loki chuckled, relaxing bit by bit. "I accept the position," His voice was unusually soft and a little bit shaky; I chose to tactfully ignore it. "Shall I call for assembly in the war room?"

I sighed, the dread and anxiety creeping it's way back in. "Can we just... Wait a bit? I have something- hold on-" I rummaged around my pocket, taking out two cans of Monster. Loki eyed them curiously and I extended one to him. "It probably won't do much for you but for me it's a last-resort hangover cure." I popped open the metal cap, seeing him do the same. "Be warned though, it tastes kinda funky if you're not used to it," I announced the disclaimer but it simply egged Loki on.

The scrunched up face he made was pretty funny. "It's sour but sickeningly sweet at the same time? I can't tell," He briefly eyed the written ingredients on the can.

"There are a bunch of flavors. Pietro likes the plain one, I like the purple one better, it's not so tongue-burning." I paused to inhale loudly. "If this is what college life looks like, I don't want to go," Mustering up my courage and gathering my balls in a knot, with one broad motion I closed my nose and poured the carbonated acid down my throat until my eyes watered. "Gimme a minute," I hiccuped, trying to keep it down.

Wide-eyed, Loki took a chaste sip of his own drink, eyeing me warily. He looked part impressed part disgusted with the little stunt. "I am pretty certain that is counter-productive."

"Caffeine make brain and body go skrrt," I argued back. "Friday, play my "grant me the sweet release of death" playlist. I'm upset," I announced and the AI obliged silently, the first notes of Placebo's 'Exit Wounds' beginning to play. If I was going to mop in a stranger's bathroom, I was going to do it with style. Even if said style was just simply stealing in my own misery with emo background music.

Loki stared at me, I stared back, both of us lost in our respective minds. At one point, he began swaying to the music slightly, resting the cool tin of the can against his cheek; I followed suit, mouthing along to some of the lyrics. It took us about a dozen songs to finally finish the liquid acid that was Monster energy drink and my ass felt like the bathroom tile itself: flat and hard.

"Do you ever feel like the universe just hates you for no fucking reason?" I groused, taking Loki's outstretched hand and slowly feeling the blood rush back to my legs.

"You wouldn't believe," He rolled his eyes in solidarity, vanishing away the empty containers. "Norns, give me a Hel-damned break."

I laced his arm through mine as we exited his apartment, feeling considerably less upset than I was before. I couldn't protect myself, but one look at Loki's sullen, irritated expression was bound to scare off anyone who dared to interrupt our mission.

THE TAG LIST IS NOW OPEN! @another-stark-sub @mostly-marvel-musings @vozit @littlegasps @pilloclock @shereadsinquiet @downeyreads @hermione-grangers-wife @individualistfem @sleep-i-ness @capbrie @lillsxd @agustdowney @dee-vn @justanotherblonde23 @fanngirl19 @persephonehemingway @softie-socks @schemefrenzy @letsby @cutenessloading @romeo-the-cactus @jelly-fishy-babie @mikariell95

#party favours #bun writes #tony stark x y/n #bruce banner x reader #stephen strange x y/n #tony stark x you #tony stark x reader #bruce banner x you #bruce banner x y/n #stephen strange x you #stephen strange x reader

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bnha-hcs · 5 years

Note

*breathes* I've been haunted by the "wait for me" trope; may I ask for a scenario where Todoroki's crush accidentally slips that she loves him, but he doesn't catch it and she leaves it hoping he doesn't think too much about it. But he does. And he realizes. So he brings her to talk and feelings are exchanged; he admits he loves her back but he's got a lot going on but he doesn't want to lose her, so if she's willing, would she wait for him? I'm really sorry if that's a lot to ask!

Decided to do some requests bc I’m still waiting on my doctors to figure shit out and its,,, taking forever so I’m running out of things to do that don’t have me doing too much alsjdalkd. I know it’s late on a lot of these but better late than never yeah?

Also I finally caught up with the manga oh my gods it’s been 5000 years

- Tiki

You stand there in complete silence- thoroughly mortified about what you had just let slip in such casual conversation. There’s no telling what could happen at this point and you weren’t sure if you should try to apologize or just own up to the fact that you had just accidentally confessed your feelings to Todoroki. For a second you weren’t even sure if he even heard you, until you looked over and saw his blue and brown eyes searching your face for any semblance- any indication that you had been lying, or joking, or something.

Todoroki didn’t look like he was going to say anything anytime soon, leaving you to hurry up and pick a course of action. He looks… uncomfortable, and actually a little flustered. Specifically, he even looks like he’s lost a bit of his cool/aloof nature and you’re very afraid you’ve actually ruined any sort of friendship the two of you even had. Is he mad?? Is he upset with you?? You scramble to think of what to say, and before you can stop yourself, words are pouring out of your mouth in a mad dash to keep whatever dignity and friendship you had left.

“Um!! I mean don’t think anything of what I just said… In fact, just forget I said anything alright??” You manage out, stumbling over a few words here and there.

NO response.

Crap, you’ve definitely fucked up. Surely this is where everything goes out the window and now it’s time to make a hasty retreat. So you scramble to get your things and get going, making your move to leave. As soon as you bid your quick goodbye in the form of a quiet squeak you feel the hold of his hand on your wrist, and look to see a look of utter confusion on his face matched with pleading eyes. You’ve never seen such a look on Todoroki’s face before and you’re unsure of what to even make of it. Out of habit you freeze and wait for whatever he looks like he’s about to say.

“I’m sorry, what did you mean? I’m a little confused…” He says, his face scrunching up a little bit as he looks lost in thought. You physically deflate at his words.

Oh GOOD he doesn’t actually know what you said thank g o d s. You let out a large sigh and force a sheepish smile onto your face, freeing your wrist from his grasp and waving your hand a bit.

“It’s okay Shouto! Don’t worry about it.” You say quickly, taking a step away. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

This time you don’t give him any room you stop you, and successfully make your retreat this time. You almost run back to the dorms, eager to find solace in the safety of your room and to wallow in your embarrassment by yourself, and rightfully so. You were still mortified with yourself, and are sure you wouldn’t be able to look Todoroki in the eyes the next few days. Gods... maybe if you were lucky he’d just forget about the whole thing altogether. But you’d never be that lucky. Todoroki was aloof but you were dead sure he wasn’t that aloof.

As soon as you were back to your dorm room you threw yourself on the bed and contemplated on whether you needed to fake your own death or not. Your over dramatic ass tried to list off friends who could possibly help you disappear, but figured you’d have a better chance just accepting what happened than trying to suddenly drop from the grid and become a hermit. Groaning into your pillow you roll over and set your alarms for tomorrow, deciding to sleep off your days events.

------

The alarms went off and you had to, unfortunately, get up and get ready to face the day. As soon as you brought your phone to your face and shut off the alarms to stop the assault on your poor eardrums, you found a text from Todoroki waiting for you, having been sent only a few minutes before you got up. As soon as you saw it waiting in your messages you could feel your soul leaving your body and the emergency systems in your brain start to malfunction. At some point you were sure someone could hear you screaming in your mind as you tapped on the message to read its contents.

‘Sorry it’s early, but could we talk before class?’

Quickly, you texted out a reply, making about 500 typos and then having to spend more time fixing them than actually typing it up. It didn’t help that you were hardly coherent from waking up about 2 minutes prior. Finally you had hit send and waited for a reply, biting your lip a little too hard.

‘Sure!! Same place as yesterday?’

…

‘That’s fine’

You practically shoot yourself out of bed to get dressed and make yourself look like you didn’t just sleep for about 15 hours because holy hell you were sure you looked like a disaster right now. I mean… you ARE a disaster, but you couldn’t let anyone actually k n o w, let alone Todoroki of all people good gods. So you shove on your uniform and haphazardly brush through your hair so you could quickly jump over to the bathroom and brush your teeth, put on deodorant, etc.

As you’re finishing up your flurry of things you realize you hadn’t asked when the hell you were supposed to be there, having just assumed that he meant as soon as possible. Well… if you went now you wouldn’t have to run the risk of running into anyone. So instead of confirming a time to be there, you decided to stick to your plan of getting there as soon as possible, not exactly caring if it was a little too early. Maybe you could find a vending machine somewhere and get a drink in case you had to wait…

You sighed and threw your bag over your shoulder, checking your phone as you exit your room and make your way down, and out of the dorms. Just as you had thought, not many people were up and you were lucky enough to slip past them and out the door without having to say a thing. Maybe they were also half asleep and just hadn’t the energy to talk yet. Either way you were grateful. With a quick pace you headed back to where you were yesterday- a small courtyard around the school grounds that you’d often study at if the weather permitted. After a while of being friends with Todoroki, the two of you had made it a habit to meet there and study together or just hang out between other things in your busy lives.

Rounding the corner you choked on your spit seeing Todoroki was already there, and you had to make peace with dying from choking as you avoided hacking up a lung and looking like a huge idiot. Just great… Your face was already red and your voice was going to sound stressed. And he must’ve heard your muffled choking noises because he turned around, his soft face catching the morning sun as he squinted to see you. So you hurried your way over for his sake, seeing as it would do neither of you any good if you just loafed around like a piece of wet lettuce.

“Um, hey!” You squeaked out, stopped just a bit in front of him. “So what did you want to talk about?”

There’s a pause, and you watch him shift his hands, like he isn’t sure what or where to put them. He settles for awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck, a blush dusting his cheeks as he struggles to look at you. You watch with much anxiety and anticipation, not used to… well… any of this.

“I realized what exactly you meant yesterday…” He starts, choosing his words carefully. “And I’m sorry I didn’t understand at first but…”

But??? But what?? Oh gods you knew it, you knew he was going to reject you- you knew you never stood a chance of ever being with someone like him. You knew… you’d start to cry sooner or later but as soon as you had the flood of thoughts scrambling for purchase through your head you could feel the tears pricking your eyes and the heaviness of rejection settling in your head.

“I’m not really good at… these kind of things.” He says simply, and part of you is relieved but you aren’t exactly sure that can stop steeling yourself for whatever he has to say. He looks up at you, eyes locking with yours, his gaze as heavy as your head felt and you find your breath catching in your throat. He sighs, looking away again before he begins to inch closer.

Todoroki reaches out and you resist the urge to shy away, knowing that if you did, you’d never be able to witness such tenderness from him again. So you move a bit closer on your own and meet him halfway. His right hand moves to cup the side of you face, thumb swiping over your cheek with a feeling that has you at a loss of words. You’re not even sure if you should speak right now, and wait for him to make his next move. Todoroki has a look of pure adoration of you in his eyes and you feel his hand waver a bit and a slight look of sadness flickers in his eyes for a quick second.

“I realized what you said and then I realized I…” He pauses his other hand going to cup the other side of your face, “I love you, too.”

The feeling is suffocating- his hands, his words, his face as it’s so close and so far from yours, and then the feeling in the pit of your stomach that has you thinking that it’s too good to be true. The warm blush that’s spread across your face has you feeling dizzy, like you can’t quite focus on anything but his touch, and the sound of his voice. You sigh prematurely and you watch him look away for a second.

“Shouto…” You breathe out.

“I love you so much, (Y/N), but I- we can’t be together right now.”

“Wh.. What?” You ask incredulously. “What do you mean?”

You can feel the tears pricking in your eyes again, and the sinking of your stomach as a pang grabs at the deepest depths of your chest. You could hardly keep your voice from wavering as you spoke. He can tell you’re upset, and surely this was just as hard for him to explain as it was for you to listen and accept it.

“Just, as I am now, I wouldn’t be able to be there for you. And we’re both still changing and growing so it wouldn’t be good for either of us.” He sighs, looking around like he’s anxious until he resumes, keeping his tender gaze with you and his hands still gently holding your face. “But I don’t want to lose you.”

It’s hard to keep the feelings buried in you so you let a sniffle out, and few tears roll down your face, which are quickly wiped away by the boy in front of you. You want so hard to hide your face- to bury it in your hands and hide the tears you’ve been trying so hard to keep back, but all you can do is reach up and grasp one the the hands Todoroki has cupping your face. You lean into his touch, nodding to his words as they slowly process in your mind.

“(Y/n),” He beckons your name so you’ll look up at him, giving you a small smile. “I know I’m asking a lot but, will you wait for me?”

It takes you a second to actually process any single word that he just said and you half blame the inebriated state that you’ve been in this whole time and the whirlwind of emotions that you’ve been through had you second guessing your comprehensive skills. And before he knew it, you had broken his hold on you and leapt into his arms, burying your face in whatever place you could put it. His arms circle around you and for a few moments the two of your stand there, completely content in each other’s presence. His face buries itself in your hair and he places a small kiss on the top of your head.

“Of course I’ll wait for you!” You gasp, pulling your head from his chest and making him lift his head. “I’ll wait as long as it takes.”

For a second he looks surprised as he looks down at you, like he didn’t expect you to say yes. And then a smile makes its way into his face, slowly, and he can’t help showing his delight. Without much warning he leans down and quickly presses his lips against yours. It’s quick, and in a way it’s very bitter sweet as you quickly go to reciprocate the affection, knowing full well it’ll be the last you’ll ever get in a while. You try to embed into your mind the feeling of his lips on yours, and you know very well that he is probably doing just the same. The tickling shiver that flutters up your spine is foreign, but definitely not unwelcome and part of you wonders when you’ll be able to indulge in something like this everyday. And just as you thought, the moment the two of you part, you feel a loss at the lack of contact.

You feel Todoroki’s breath fan across your face and resist the urge to lean back in for another kiss. And so the two of you part further, going back to standing together, and somehow acting like that didn’t just happen. You share a look with him and with a nod the two of you head off to class, Todoroki looking like he’s puffed up a little, probably due to the fact that he didn’t think you’d say yes. You found it endearing, to say the least.

There’s nothing much to say as you walk, a comfortable silence, and you find yourself still a little confused in your feelings. Sure you’re still muddled in sadness at the fact that were both rejected and not rejected at the same time. You weren’t quite sure where to place anything in your heart just yet. The only thing you knew is that you’d have to wait for him, for however long it takes. And you were just fine with that.

#bnha imagines #bnha #bnha scenarios #todoroki shouto #mha imagines #this took me too damn long to write #I literally had no time to finish it until just now #Anonymous

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transgenderteensurvivalguide · 6 years

Note

I'm ftm (pre everything) and am in choir but I also want to sing and maybe pursue it later but if I go on hormones then I'm afraid I won’t be able to. Advice?

Lee says:

I like singing, how will T affect my voice?

We can’t tell you what will happen to your voice- people tend to be able to sing well (once their voice is done changing!) if they could sing well before, but there are instances of people losing their singing voices.

We’ve anecdotally heard of some people on T being able to keep their high notes, but it’s much more likely that you lose your high notes as your vocal cords thicken.

T will most likely deepen your voice so your range will change, but as long as you continue to practice and don’t overwork your voice into notes you cannot reach anymore your singing voice probably will be okay- different, but okay.

But we can’t guarantee this, and it’s your decision whether testosterone and passing/being comfortable in your body are worth the risks of losing your singing voice for you.

This post has a bit more on singing

The Changing Female-To-Male (FTM) Voice

The Changing Female-To-Male (FTM) Voice Pedagogical Notes

Testosterone And The Trans Male Singing Voice

Training the Transgender Singer: Finding the Voice Inside

Followers, any examples of trans singers on T for us to add? Or any personal experiences to add on?Followers, any personal experiences to add?

Followers say:

aeolianchemistry said: have a lot to say about this! i may not be the most coherent bc im half asleep lol, but anyone feel free to message me about this anytime and ask for more details!,

this was my biggest Thing when i was deciding to pursue hrt. ive been in various choirs for years, and its a very Important part of my life. but also my voice was my #1 source of dysphoria, and the #1 thing i needed to change. i searched for weeks to find anything about what to expect from hrt as a singer, esp bc ive heard stories of trans ppl losing their siging voice entirely. i was terrified, and couldnt find resources to shed any significant light on the topic.

and so, in no particular order bc im half asleep, here are some things to expect and things that i’ve experienced so far (almost six months on hrt):

- practice while your voice is dropping! feel it out every step of the way. get to know your voice while it’s changing, and try to maintain those high notes. i didnt do a v good job of this and my high range kinda just shriveled up. i cant be sure that it wouldve been hugely different if id practiced more, but ive heard it does help

- yoir voice will feel different. unfamiliar at times. you wont be using it the same way youre used to. technique will change, placement will change

- my speaking voice shifted downward after just a month or two (i had mild hyperandrogynism before, so this wont be as quick for everyone), before my singing voice did. i didn’t start getting new low range until later, but within my pre-t vocal range, my voice just sat a bit lower than it used to. my low alto filled out more. than i started getting new notes, slowly

- there will be periods of time where it cracks or breaks or is unreliable. dont push it, but dont despair either. keep practicing as well as you can

- my voice is somewhat fragile. if i yell (which i can only somewhat do currently) or push it or force it thru cracks/breaks/weak spots, it will get tired easily and take quite a while to recover. be nice to your voice. dont push high notes if they cause strain. dont push the low notes either, even tho im sure youre excited about them

- your voice will be weak while it’s shifting. this can cause frustration and anxiety. i’m two months into my choir season singing w two and a half choirs, and i’m dealing w lots of Complicated Feelings bc my voice just cant do all the things i want it to. i cant project much, and i certainly dont have the strength (yet) to audition for any of the solos i’d like to. Patience

- the Weird Spots and the Weak Spots will continue to shift around. i have this one area in the middle of my range (currently its about Ab3-B3, but a few weeks ago it was B3-C4) where its weird and weak and its kind of like a break in register but also a bit like a black hole, bc i Cannot Project there and theres no good placement for singing those notes, and notes in the vicinity of those are also Weird but Less So. it’s slowly sliding downwards, and i am learning to navigate it better. i’m hoping it will settle and go away soon, but we’ll see

- breath support is v important. as mentioned, your voice may be quite fragile, and putting strain on it could cause it to glitch out on you for a while. supporting your voice w lots of breath will put less demand on your vocal chords

- NEVER SING IN A BINDER or compressive garment. you need those lungs!

- you’re going to miss out on some of the nostalgic singalongs of old choir songs, bc you no longer have the range to sing your old parts. this is possibly the #1 consequence of transitioning that im the most sad about lol

- i have a very weird quality to my high range rn. it seems to be caught midway between the head voice it used to be and future falsetto or whatever it’s moving toward. for now its just Strange to listen to

the current state of my voice is this:

low range is down to almost the bottom of the bass clef. i can sing down to Bb2, A2 on a good day.

from there up to F3ish is quite comfy and possibly the strongest part of my singing voice, but i do find that if i spend too much time down there it can strain the rest of my range (i used to have this problem before too: if i sang in my low alto range too much or too enthusiastically, my sop range would get tired).

from G3-C4, it’s Awkward. the Awkwardness shifts around, and some parts of it can be more comfy than others sometimes, but it’s all v inconsistent. i cant project much here, and placement is veryvery Weird.

D4-F4ish is typically comfy but has a bit of that Strange quality to it. these notes are a bit floaty, but not bad.

G4-B4 are unreliable. somedays i can get up there. some days it’ll blink out or crack or break or just Not Be There. i am predicting that once my high range settles into a proper falsetto, i’ll be able to work on this range more and it’ll have less of that Strange quality to it, but only time will tell

again, apologies for being Scattered, it’s 1am and ive had a long day. any of yall are welcome to message me for more details ☺

there is a lot of weirdness and weakness and Awkward in the transition period. but while i’m frustrated at times, i’m not worried. everything i’m dealing w is temporary. now i can’t be 100% sure how my voice will settle or when, but i’m not afraid i’ve lost it forever. as far as i’ve heard, the stories of trans ppl who lose their singing voice on t are very rare cases. youre going to go through weeks or months where singing is Weird in constantly shifting ways, but itll keep on moving and developing, and personally i’m so excited to see where it goes.

i’m currently singing tenor2 in my choirs, and occasionally i get to take a trip down and sing baritone. im not even 6months in! that has transformed my choir experience to be even better than before, even w all the awkwardness. it was so weird and beginning to get verg uncomfy to be in a place like choir, which is so important to me, which i love dearly, which has had a significant impact on my life, but which revolved around the use of my one most dysphoric feature. but now i don’t have to worry about that. now i can sing the parts i’ve been wanting to sing for years.

i do occasionally miss some of my old voice. i miss soaring soprano lines, i miss all the old alto parts in songs i used to know. i miss the confidence and strength of a familiar, complete voice. and im allowed to miss those, i dont feel bad about having that longing or sadness, bc i have zero regrets. i also occasionally miss playing with and styling my super long hair, but in five years i have not once regretted cutting it all off. i own those memories and that nostalgia, but i keep moving forward to new and better things

pinesboi said: If you keep working at your voice and take lessons to make sure you never let it get out of practice, everything should be okay. I’m on T now about 3-4 months, and I’m still singing high tenor musical theatre

#Lee says #testosterone #ftm #caps briefly #Anonymous #transgenderteensurvivalguide #trans #transgender #nonbinary #lgbtq #lgbt #transgender teen survival guide #TTSG

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septic-dr-schneep · 6 years

Note

Hey there....I've had kindof a bad day so do you have any headcannons about how the Egos cry? Sorry if its not okay I'm asking....

Oh, I’m sorry to hear that! I don’t know if these headcanons will helpyou feel any better, unless it makes you feel like you’re not alone. If that’sthe case, here you go; I hope it helps :(

Septic Boys

Anti: He scream-cries,doubled over, clutching at his throat and his shirt and his eyes as if they’reon fire, but it’s really just to stop the tears from coming. He screams andscreams until his voice starts to give out and it’s only when it breaks,mid-scream, that he stops. From there, he just hisses through his teeth, ashard as he can. As he calms down, his whole body fritzes and spits static as hesinks onto the floor, breathing raggedly, staring down at his hands.

Jackieboy:He never wants to be seen when he cries. He sits or lies down in his room inthe dark, staring meekly at the floor while his vision blurs but sniffling andscrubbing furiously whenever the tears spill over. He berates himself in hismind for being weak and childish but eventually there are more tears than hecan wipe away and he just pulls his mask down around his neck because there’sno use for it now. He pulls his hood further over his face and lets himself sobit all out.

Marvin: Herefuses to accept he’s even crying. He pulls off his mask right away because hedoesn’t want to get it wet and paces back and forth, muttering to himself.“Stop it, stop, you’re just being ridiculous. This is stupid…Why are you evendoing this right now? This isn’t even something to cry about, so just suck itup and…” He goes on until he thinks he’s composed and then as soon as he trailsoff, he just picks up the closest edge of his cape, buries his face in it anddissolves into a weepy mess.

Schneep: Hestays quiet as the tears first well up, but once he’s actually crying, he hideshis face as best he can against his hands or his sleeves. He whimpers andwhines brokenly, sometimes in English and sometimes in German, but he slursthem together so much that no one can understand. That turns into shudderycough-sobs that he just can’t stop, no matter how hard he tries. He usuallycries longer than the others do because he starts to hyperventilate, whichupsets him even more.

Chase: Hebursts into wrenching, hopeless sobs, right from the gut. All he wants whenhe’s crying is to have someone hug him but if no one is there, he’ll wrap hisown arms around himself as tightly as he can. He doesn’t know what to do withhimself; he’s rooted to the spot, wherever he may be, and whenever he tries tomove, tries to do anything, he just sobs harder, until it sounds like he’sabout to throw up. When he comes down from it, he’s completely exhausted andwill usually just fall asleep right there.

Robbie: Hewails with the same force as Anti, but he can’t keep it up nearly as long. Oncehe’s done howling, he always seems like he’s graduated from sad to angry. LikeChase, he has no clue what to do with everything he’s feeling, so he grits histeeth and swings his limbs around wildly at whatever’s closest. If he happensto knock something over, he stops up short, realizes what he just did, and startskeening like he’s in agony. That goes on until he runs out of breath.

Jameson: Hekeeps it as unobvious and composed as he can, blinking a lot and ducking hishead as he fiddles with his hat and his pocket watch, anything to make it seemlike he’s completely fine, but eventually his face just crumples and he triesto make himself as small as possible, snuffling and wiping his nose against hissleeve. He doesn’t bother with his handkerchief because most of the time, he doesn’treach the point where he needs it and if he does, he’s too choked up toremember to use it.

Markimoos

Dark: He’sthe quietest of the group. He’ll fold his hands and press his forehead againstthem, hunching his shoulders a little, and the most indication he’ll give thathe’s crying is that his breath gets harsher and shakier. Sometimes he’ll make ahalf-stifled noise low in his throat, something that could have been a sob butwas never fully formed. This never lasts long either, so most people never realizethat he was crying in the first place. He clears his throat a lot afterward.

Wilford: Helegitimately doesn’t realize he’s crying until the sobs start; he sounds almostlike he’s hiccupping and he tries, he tries sohard to smile because of how funny it sounds…Almost immediately they changeinto long, harsh cries as if he’s in physical pain. If he’s really hurting, theforce of them knocks him over. He’ll crouch or go down onto hands and knees,caterwauling all the while, as if someone’s slowly killing him.

The Host: Hestiffens, shudders, and rakes his hands through his hair, letting loose anunearthly howl that makes anyone in earshot freeze. That turns into uglysobbing. His blood-tears are such a dark red that they’re almost brown and theysoak through his bandages in a matter of minutes. By the time he stops, thebandages are dripping from the edges and he’s an absolute mess: blood in his nose and his mouth and his hair, on his face,hands, shirt…He looks like he’s been bled within an inch of his life.

Dr.Iplier: Like Dark, it isn’t very obvious that he’s crying. He breathesvery shallowly, swallows a lot, and slumps very low in his chair, pulling hishead mirror off and rubbing his hands up and down his arms to keep himself calm.Sometimes he’ll snuffle and gulp over and over because it’s the only way ofholding himself together. If he starts to lose containment, he’ll press hishands over his mouth and muffle the sobs as best he can.

Google: Hepanics because he hates showingweakness. His systems will start getting overtaxed: his fans start to buzz andhis G emblem will start flickering wildly between all sorts of colors. He’ll stutter for words, try to explain itall away, and end up glitching himself to the point where he freezes. He stayscompletely still, his eyes glazing over and then welling up with coolant, andhe doesn’t make any sound except tiny, desperate little wheezes that no one canhear unless they get really close.

Bing: He takesoff his sunglasses and rubs at his eyes with a thumb and forefinger,half-laughing because he thinks he’s being ridiculous, that androids shouldn’tcry, that all of it will pass. He tries to make jokes to distract himself, butit never works. Then he tries to remind himself that he can’t be any moreridiculous than Google and finds the nearest chair, curling into it andpressing his forehead against his knees. He trembles, rattles, and whimpers, anddoes his best to be discreet about it, but it’s fairly obvious what’shappening.

Yandere: Hegets absolutely hysterical, beyond any chance of calming down. He acts like acombination of a toddler and a teenager, part of him wants comfort and anotherpart of him wants to run and slam his door. He does a lot with his hands whenhe’s crying, rubbing at his eyes, clutching at his uniform and his skirt andhis hair, reaching out for something to hold onto for balance or just wavingthem around uselessly. If he doesn’t sit in time, he’ll stumble blindly aroundlike he’s drunk and usually ends up falling.

Bim: Heswears a lot when he’s trying to hold it together, but the harsh front neverlasts long. He starts breathing a lot deeper and faster and blinks hard,fiddling almost frantically with his suit—jerking his jacket straight, pulling onhis tie, scuffing his shoes against the floor. Sooner or later his deepbreathing exercises turn into helpless, distressed kitten-mewls. He’ll leanagainst the nearest flat surface and hide his face against his forearm, cryingas softly as he can.

SilverShepherd: He bawls, abruptly and childishly, and hates himself for it, but hecan’t help it. As seen in his video, he’ll curl up in the nearest empty corner,sobbing brokenly and holding his hands over his aching chest. He cries with theforce of his entire body and it takes a lot out of him, but it doesn’t takelong for him to run out of tears. He stays where he is, shuddering andwhimpering occasionally until he can muster the strength to get back up.

Edgar: Allof his energy and enthusiasm gets sapped out. He sniffles and shifts his weightback and forth, fiddling with his suspenders, clearing his throat, and “coughing”a lot. He’ll mutter excuses for his sudden change in behavior and then leavethe room as quickly as he can. Once he finds some privacy, he’ll gasp and groanand hiss through his teeth as the tears spill, feeling like he’s humiliatinghimself. He usually forgets to take off his glasses beforehand, so they alwaysneed a thorough cleaning afterward.

King of theSquirrels: He chokes up incredibly quickly; he can’t speak coherently, so hejust whines instead, pulling his furs and cloak as tightly around himself aspossible. He completely withdraws, sinking into them for comfort and rubbinghis face against them, not even caring if he gets peanut butter on them, and assoon as he’s sure no one can see his face, he sobs as hard as he can. Thoughts keepplaying in his head that he’s a failure as a king, but he’s usually able totalk himself down. “The tears will make my subjects’ meal a bit saltier today.”

Jim andJim: The brothers cry very differently. Cameraman Jim is almost completelysilent; the only sounds are muffled sniffs or low, strangled whines because he getstoo choked up to even communicate what he’s feeling. Reporter Jim, on the otherhand, gets hysterical—long, wheezing gasps that lead to panicky, disjointed babblingwhich eventually just dissolve into broken, blubbery moans. Reporter Jim takesa lot longer to calm down than Cameraman Jim does, but once one starts, theother follows and it takes a whilebefore either of them can feel like themselves again.

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the-revisionist · 7 years

Note

Hi! Just to say, I LOVE your fics! Could you possibly write Things you said on New Year's Eve for Caroline and Gillian? If that's not a good one, then literally any of them will do I'm sure you'll write it perfectly! Thank you

Anon, hope you’re still reading…thank you for kind words and the prompt! Sorry this took longer than anticipated!

This is a companion piece to “Completely Undressed and Mostly Sober in the South of France.” @farminglesbian had suggested a continuation of that in some way and since she controls the Lesbian Empire on the European Continent in an Unspecified Rural Location Where They Are Inclined to Wear Lederhosen I must obey or I may never be allowed in Europe ever again.

This story is a bit of an exercise in style. For dialogue I did not use traditional quote marks. So, you know, it might work, it might not, it’s OK and you can say so, I’m a big girl and I have a lot of wine at the ready, but please don’t be a twat about it.

This one is post-series 4.

faithful misrepresentations

i. it’s time to get the brioches

At 5 a.m. on New Year’s Eve, she apologizes for not shaving her legs.

The morning, blue and black with jagged frost etched across a darkened windowpane, rests at the edge of Caroline’s mind. It’s so terrifyingly early that she doesn’t really want to know the time but cracks open a reluctant eye anyway; the bedroom’s digital clock coolly burns a 5:05 on the inside of her eyelids, the blunt serifs morph into an SOS and she thinks, good God, I am awake at 5 in the morning, this is what I get for sleeping with a farmer. Because Gillian stirs warm and restless against her, driven by the undeniable rhythm of blood that always has her racing against the sunrise and who, because she is apparently the master of not only the unwanted spontaneous confession but also the truly baffling nonsequitur, opts not to say good morning but rather randomly and needlessly apologizes for not shaving her legs before this, their trip to France.

Blind as a kitten, Caroline reaches for her and, half-asleep through a tangle of warm limbs, hones in on her calf; the soft hair tickles, the solid muscle undulates, the raspy glory of skin warms Caroline’s palm. There is a scar on this calf, invisible in the dark but vivid in her mind as a distinct but delicate comet tracing a pale horizon. It was, Gillian told her, caused by a jutting, broken spoke on a wheelbarrow.

That’s when I learned not to do farm work while wearing shorts, she had said.

Caroline replies to the apology by mumbling don’t mind into a pillow; sleepiness translates it into dun mime. She’s cresting the wave back into sleep when she realizes that Gillian is not moving, not rising out of bed with a stretch and a groan and a curse word. Which is odd, because Gillian likes routine. Every morning they’ve been here she’s up before the sun, making herself tea, reading for a bit, and then walking a mile to the village to fetch brioches from a baker amusedly tolerant of an Englishwoman who flirts with her grown son and insists on conversing in rusty French. By the time she returns the brioches are stone cold but she revives them in the oven, makes coffee, and wakes up Caroline by cannonballing onto the bed like a kid on holiday. Winter clings to her skin and clothes but her morning kiss is persistent and sweet and like waking into a warm, summery daydream and not a chilly old French farmhouse lacking proper heat.

She forces herself into a higher level of coherence, clears her throat, firms up a question: You’re not getting up?

Not yet, comes the reply.

In the dark she aims badly for Gillian’s forehead and gently smashes her palm against a nose.

Are you sick?

No. It’s just—we don’t have much time left. Here, I mean. Want to enjoy it.

They return home the day after tomorrow.

By staying in bed as long as possible, Gillian adds as needless clarification.

Under two blankets and a comforter movement is heavy and surreal, a sluggishly sensual underwater ballet. The blankets move as Gillian slides on top of her, exposing Caroline’s shoulder to a rousing chill, which is briefly warmed by Gillian’s mouth before moving along the inlet of the collarbone toward her breast. She spreads her legs, Gillian settles in between them and presses into her, and even though it’s all so new between them—so wonderfully new, she thinks, as Gillian traces the inside of her thigh—she identifies the variance in tempos and moods better now and knows this time will be slow and sweet and hopefully she won’t bang her skull against the quasi-antique headboard again.

You’re giving up brioches for me?

Nah. I’ll get ’em later. Just delaying gratification, as it were.

So—how delayed is gratification when all you’re doing is merely sublimating it with another pleasure?

Even though they can barely see one another in the porous dark, a bluish outline of morning light traces the contours of Gillian’s face and hair and Caroline can see a hitch of expression, a shift of lines as she smiles.

Shut up, you, she says.

ii. continental beauty

For one horrible aching moment—while wiping down a quartz countertop aged to such an extent that it looks as if it’s survived a hundred years of everyday bacchanals, and this is why housework is dangerous and housewives go mad, she thinks, it sets the mind loose to dwell on so much of life’s chaotic cruelty—Caroline realizes that she never had this opportunity with Kate, that is, a long romantic getaway and not just a mucky weekend at a nearby hotel. Even on that modest level she fucked it up nearly beyond repair. Even on vacation with her husband of eighteen years always she felt—she knew—she was a fraud, nothing but a character in one of his novels. Maybe it’s a sign; maybe it means something. Here in this farmhouse in the Rhone Valley hundreds of miles away from home, she waits for the shoe to fall into a dreaded Grand Canyon of unspecified anxiety.

They spent months not talking about what they needed to talk about. It was easy enough to blame a host of things for this: demanding work schedules involving obstreperous students and sheep, parenting thickheaded boys, coparenting a toddler with a knobhead whose taste in women was obviously on the decline, a bountiful supply of excellent wine from a beautiful young woman who simply would not go away, and complete, sheer cowardice. Acceptance of the status quo has always come easily to Caroline, particularly in this instance because she was getting good wine and properly laid on a regular basis—thus her mother’s interrogations and condemnations, her secretary’s prurient questions (“You have it off with Brokeback Shepherd yet?”), and generally everyone’s bewilderment and clumsy emotional tap-dancing around the subject were all easily ignored.

Then last month, during one of those boisterous family dinners where, as was not uncommon, Gillian looked at her in an indescribably aching way—followed by a self-chastising frown, slight shake of the head, and a protective hunch of her shoulders that seemingly closed off any possibility of rapprochement—Gary announced to all present that renovations to his vacation home in France were finally complete. During this interminable period he had gone from referring to the house as a chateau to deeming it a money pit. It was actually an eighteenth-century stone farmhouse, its interior now as rustically authentic as one envisioned by a nouveau riche entrepreneur from Yorkshire, and Caroline twitchingly recalled Gillian’s proposal earlier in the spring—that they would go there for a few days during the summer and work shit out. But summer ripened and withered away and the promise, representing everything that was seemingly lost between them, lingered bitterly.

After dinner Caroline stood in the doorway of Gillian’s kitchen observing their motley, contented family—Raff playing Legos with Calamity and Flora, Lawrence attempting to show his grandfather and Gary how to play Halo Wars 2 on an Xbox, and Celia, post-two glasses of wine, going on about the life of the theater to the clearly bored yet admirably patient Ellie. She felt Gillian’s presence at her side—churning and restless as a spoon stirring a pot, staring at her feet, then a lamp, then her son, and finally fixing that burning gaze of hers on the woman next to her while the back of her hand glided over Caroline’s knuckles, thus causing the latter to force out a surprising hybrid of a squeak and a gasp.

Let’s—let’s do it, she said. Come with me to France.

Five minutes later they were purchasing plane tickets on the mobile.

Five days into this trip she has learned many things about Gillian: she slavishly embraces routine whenever possible, she likes brioches, she’s reading Middlemarch for the third time now but Caroline cannot imagine why because she herself has never made it past page 50, she’s capable of lingering over a cup of tea and not gulping it down because she’s not running late or has a hundred things to do in a day, she thinks MI6 was involved in Princess Diana’s death, she’s takes no firm side in the great over vs. under toilet roll debate—don’t people have anything better to do than argue about toilet paper? she had said—

—and she is an admirer of great beauty because now she barrels through the door after tromping around the countryside for an hour and breathlessly announces, I’m in love.

Caroline imagines herself unseeded by either the baker’s handsome son or the buxom young woman who works the vineyard nearby, the latter spotted the other day during a wine-tasting tour and whose sumptuous cleavage was the focus of surreptitious glances from Gillian. After half a lifetime of stealthily admiring the physical beauty of women, Caroline knows these covert maneuvers when she sees them. Alas, all she has to counter these continental beauties are certain oral skills and her talent for making a certain orange-ginger biscuit that Gillian loves and who knows, perhaps that will save the day, perhaps even as sun perpetually sets on the English empire all that truly matters is cunnilingus, tea, and biscuits.

I’m confident of your ability to attract, she wants to tell Gillian. But not my ability to hold you.

But while hanging up her coat Gillian starts rambling about a ram, a sheep with a fancy French name. She saw him posing on a hillside, broodingly apart from the herd, a Heathcliff among sheep. His markings and coloring exquisite, his horns symmetrical, his poise exceptional—

Before Gillian can declare herself high priestess of this mythic creature’s cult, Caroline—dimly aware of the unseemliness of jealousy over a sheep—interrupts rudely: What’s it called again? A rum-ball merino?

Gillian rolls her eyes. Rambouillet, she says. She grabs a cup for tea. A Rambouillet merino.

Ripe for plucking, the word hangs in the air and Caroline ravenously seeks its source in a kiss. She holds Gillian’s lower lip gently between her teeth, tongue running the plush length of it, tasting salt and mystery because, frankly, women have always been unfathomable to her. Sweetly, wonderfully unfathomable. She starts to unbutton Gillian’s thick, lined plaid shirt—only to discover, underneath, a second plaid shirt thin and soft with age. At which she breaks off the kiss and bursts into laughter.

Jesus Christ, you’re like a flannel onion. Layers and layers.

It’s cold, in case you haven’t noticed, Gillian says—also laughing—as she sits the empty cup on the counter.

I’m trying to warm you up, Caroline replies as she sets in on the second flannel layer. In case you haven’t noticed.

Tossing her arms around Caroline’s neck and pulling her into another kiss, another embrace, Gillian says, I’ve noticed.

She doesn’t feel too distressed about fucking Gary’s sister on Gary’s distressed leather couch—burnished leather, she thinks he called it and the color was Churchill cigar—because there is an old blanket on it and as they fall onto it she doesn’t care about much at the moment except the wonderments and sensations of skin and taste, wondering if Gillian has ever called anyone else baby, Caroline can’t quite imagine that she has and would like to reserve that titular honor as her very own, wondering when the last time someone went down on her properly because her reaction and sheer enjoyment of it make Caroline feel like Aphrodite incarnate coming down from on high and she has to cling to Gillian as if she’s riding a rollercoaster by the skin of her teeth.

Afterward she’s sprawled on the couch wrapped in the comforter Gillian dragged out the bedroom, staring at the crisscross of the ceiling’s dark wood roof beams and with her head pillowed on Gillian’s bare thigh. With one flannel shirt back on, Gillian sits cross-legged while drinking one of Gary’s very pricey local Syrahs and pretending to read Middlemarch, pretending because she’s humming, which she usually does while absorbed in the comforting repetition of a task like washing dishes or mending a shirt or soothing a baby and in this instance the task at hand seems to be slowly, rhythmically running her fingers through Caroline’s hair. I like your—your hair, she had said the other day, shy and stammering and nervous after they made love, as if the gentle offering of a compliment would somehow be virulently rejected, and while Caroline loved the sweet awkwardness of it she hated the man who made Gillian terrified of revealing the slightest vulnerability.

She stares at the shadowed, foreboding ceiling beams, thinks that Gary should have picked a wood of a lighter color because the dark beams make her think of crucifixions.

Say it again, she says to Gillian.

What?

The name of the sheep.

Rambouillet.

Oh, she sighs, that’s lovely.

Unexpectedly Gillian drags her finger, damp and dribbling Syrah, across Caroline’s lips, as if soothing an infant with a taste of milk. You’re really weird, she says.

I’m not the one in love with a sheep, Caroline replies.

iii. the search for intelligent ovine life in the Rhone Valley

The afternoon winter sun, useless and pale, emanates as much heat as the moon. They are out in search of the great Rambouillet merino. Gillian insists she needs to get a better photo of the sheep so she can submit it to something called “Google sheep view” and Caroline, who is perfectly fine with not knowing what the hell that is, is nonetheless curious to know what the fuss is about and accompanies her. Leading the mission, Gillian stalks the dirt backroad that runs behind Gary’s farmhouse with her usual dogged, determined pace. She’s been in a bit of a mood since lunchtime and Caroline knows enough to let her be until she’s ready to talk; it’s likely, though, that she dreads the thought of returning home to the questions, the judgments, the expectations that will be laid at their feet.

She trails behind. Outside of the Yorkshire countryside she has navigated most of her life, her sense of direction is rubbish and she hasn’t a clue where they really are. She sighs and burrows deeper into her scarf. It’s the coldest day of the trip thus far. The stiff, expensive boots she purchased for the trip are pinching her toes and the too-high arches dig into her soles. In the distance she sees the vineyard that they visited days ago, the spherical red caps of the buildings distinct against the pale sky, and has a wince-inducing guilty thought about Olga.

Shortly after committing to this journey, she officially ended it with Olga. It was not so much a breakup as an act of disengagement; some days she actually convinces herself of this. Regardless it required some semblance of fortitude to finally override the guilt-ridden, passive-aggressive lust that propelled the relationship on her part. Olga took it well. She also took a case of an amazing Chenin Blanc from the Loire Valley that she had initially gifted to Caroline and now presumably would bestow upon another boozy, middle-aged lesbian—or, more likely, her ex—both nonetheless worthy of her considerable charm and refined palate, while leaving Caroline to the tender mercies of a sheep farmer overfond of cheap Lambrusco.

She stops for a moment to look at red roofs jutting into milk-white clouds and dwell in the newness of everything—place and memory, time and love—while accepting the sense of loss that perpetually nips at her heels. Snow flurries waltz to the ground.

Then she notices that up ahead on the road Gillian has stopped and turned around. Head tilted, she critically eyes Caroline as she would a lagging, miscreant ewe—as if to say, come along now.

Grimacing, Caroline takes long strides to catch up. She apologizes on arrival, insincerity muffled through the cashmere scarf.

Gillian carries a long, sturdy branch found earlier on the road. Alternately she’s been using it as a walking stick and brandishing it as a weapon, whacking at husked, brittle weeds lining the road, sadistically poking at stones. Idly she whips it around her body while frowning at Caroline.

What were ya doing back there? she asks.

Contemplating life’s mysteries. Appreciating the sublimity of nature. Oh, and staring at your ass. Not necessarily in that order.

Bashful at the compliment, Gillian lowers her head and grins. Then, wryly: So you weren’t stopping ’cause those boots are hurting you?

Not a bit, Caroline lies.

You’re limping, she says, and then nods in the direction of the winery. D’ya think they send out Saint Bernards with little wine flasks to rescue snotty English bitches who don’t wear proper footwear whilst they wander about the countryside?

That would be marvelous.

Gillian points up ahead at a copse of trees. The gesture is so startling and beautiful and confident that Caroline wants to seize her hand—ungloved, snowflake caught and melting on her thumbnail—and kiss it.

Right up there, she says, past those trees, is a shortcut through the wood to the vineyard. If you can make it, we could walk there. Couple glasses might revive you for the walk home.

And if it doesn’t?

Reckon I’ll have to drag you back somehow.

Cavewoman.

Nah. I’m not that strong, Gillian says with a roll of her shoulders, but I’ll give it a go.

Au contraire.

That’s the first bit of French out of your mouth since we got here.

You’ve been doing well enough for both of us, Caroline says, so why bother? She leans into Gillian, quietly pleased at the arm that automatically wraps around her waist. Then she presses her face into the crown of Gillian’s hair, kisses it, and says, I’ve always believed—she begins shakily, pauses clumsily—always known—you’re stronger than you give yourself credit for.

Gillian pulls back and stares at her, unsure if what she’s saying is an obvious revelation or a faithful misrepresentation of the brutal facts that comprise her life. She thinks that Gillian usually skews toward the latter as a default viewpoint, and realizes it may take a lifetime for her to sort it, to undo it. If ever. What surprises Caroline is not this but the belief, settling into her bones and countering her own misguided self-assessments, that she is finally brave enough to be fully present in Gillian’s life.

On the walk home, both of them tipsy and tired, they see the Rambouillet merino ambling across an open field into the setting sun. And he is beautiful.

#are we cool vincent #last tango in sheep infatuation #Caroline x Gillian #ltih

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pikapegasus · 7 years

Note

Ooooh, can i pick number 16 please?? I'm really enjoying all the starmora stuff you're reblogging!! It's an awesome ship!! I am totally on board. :) and baby groot is too adorable! Especially with parents Starmora and big brothers drax and rocket. Its one big happy family :) most the time...

16. “It’s okay. I couldn’t sleep anyway.”

holy shit, I completely lost control over this one,,, I hope you enjoy!!

Send me a ship + a number for a way to say “I love you”!!!

Gamora curses under her breath as she trips over one ofRocket’s guns. Though Peter is one of the messiest people she’s ever known,Rocket has managed to top him several times, leaving random parts and half-completedweapons strewn about the ship. She’s tried talking to him about it before, ashas Peter, but Rocket claims he suffers from “selective hearing.”

Though she narrowly avoids falling, it’s still made a noiseloud enough to wake the others up. And, sure enough, Peter comes clamberinginto the room just moments later.

“Gamora? Are you okay?” he asks, surprisingly coherent forsomeone who should have just been asleep. “What happened?”

“I tripped,” she says simply, gesturing to Rocket’s stuff.“Rocket left his guns out. Again.”

Peter sighs, placing his hands on his hips in thatare-you-kidding-me-I-told-you-to-clean-up-your-shit way. “Of course he did.”

“I’m sorry I woke you,” she says, carefully sliding Rocket’sweapons closer to the wall with her foot.

“Why are you out here, anyway?”

“Just wanted to getout of my room for a bit and clear my head, that’s all.”

“In the middle of the night?”

She shrugs.

He doesn’t push the issue. “It’s okay. I couldn’t sleep,anyway.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

They fall into silence at that. Out of all the Guardians,Gamora feels closest to Peter, but something about discussing nightmares justfeels a little too intimate to her.

(She has a feeling she’s not the only one struggling withthat.)

“I think we’re all a bit shaken up after what, uh, happenedwith Ronan,” he says, offering her an out.

She takes it. “It’ll heal with time.”

Peter nods, walking by Gamora to take a seat at the table.“Well, since it looks like neither of us will be getting any sleep tonight,might as well hang out.”

He looks at her hopefully. Part of her wants to run, becauseshe fears what will happen if she allows herself to continue down this path,letting Peter a little more into her heart with each step. It’s been a longtime since she’s really had any kindof relationship with anyone.

But, screw it, it’s the middle of the night, and like Petersaid, she won’t be able to get any more sleep tonight, anyway.

So she sits down in the seat beside him. “What do you suggest we do to pass the time?”

“Hmm…Oh, I know!” He looks at her, clearly excited. “We canplay a game!”

She looks at him curiously. “What kind of game?”

“It’s this game people played on Terra,” he says. “It’scalled ‘Never Have I Ever.’”

Sounds interesting enough. “How do you play?”

He holds up his hands. “So we each start out with tenpoints. You use your fingers to keep track of how many points you have left.”

She mimics him. “How do you lose points?”

“We take turns saying things that we’ve never done,” heexplains. “And if you’ve done the thing the other person says they’ve neverdone, you have to put one of your fingers down. So, for example, if you said,‘Never have I ever been to Knowhere!’ I’d have to put one of my fingers down,since I’ve been there. Then I only have nine points left.”

“And whoever loses all their points first loses, I assume?”

“Yeah! You’ve got it.” Peter smiles and, for a moment,Gamora’s heart does a weird…flutteringthing. She decides to ignore it, returning his smile. He puts all of hisfingers back up. “Okay, I’ll start. Never have I ever broken my leg.”

She puts a finger down. “Never have I ever owned a ship.”

“Damn. You got me,” he says, shaking his head as he puts histhumb down. “Okay, well. Never have I ever finished school.”

“How does Terran school work?”

“You usually go from when you’re five years old until you’reeighteen,” he says. “Which, basically means, from when you’re a little kiduntil you’re considered an adult, though most people do even more school afterthey turn eighteen. I was only in school for, like, four years.”

“I was educated until I was a young adult,” she states,putting one of her fingers down. “Never have I ever shaved my face.”

“Never have I ever shaved my legs.”

She doesn’t put a finger down.

“Seriously?”

“I’ve never needed to.” She shrugs. “Cyberneticenhancements, and all.”

“Right.”

Unfortunately, Gamora realizes she’s running out of ideas.Her background differs from Peter’s in a lot of cultural ways, it’s hard to thinkof opportunities or activities they would have both had.

Well, of course, unless she takes it in a more personal direction…

“Never have I ever been to Terra.”

She watches him process her words, gauging his reaction.Terra is, understandably, a sensitive topic for him.

But he doesn’t appear to take it personally. “That wasdirty,” he comments simply, putting a finger down. He mirrors her cautiousexpression. “Time to fight fire with fire. Never have I ever been to…” hepauses. “Where are you from, anyway?”

Her heart practically skips a beat at his words. It’s been along time since she’s thought of her home planet, before Thanos entered herlife and took everything she knew away. Faded images briefly cross her mind, ofparents who loved her, of friends who played with her, of a life full of fun.

And in this moment of pause, Peter retreats. “Uh, actually,never mind. I’ll come up with another—“

“Zen-Whoberi,” Gamora answers softly. She carefully puts oneof her fingers down.

“Zen-Whoberi,” he repeats, seemingly testing the name.

They fall into a bit of an awkward silence at that, eachaverting their eyes. Though part of her is instinctively defensive at themention of her home planet, the rest of her is surprisingly content with Peter nowknowing that detail about her.

“Never have I ever been on a team before,” she suddenlysays, resuming their game. “I’ve worked with others on missions before, but not…likethis.”

“The Ravagers don’t really count as a team, in my opinion,”he insists, keeping his remaining fingers up. “So I’ve never done that either.Never have I ever…had a father.”

She puts a finger down. “I’m not counting Thanos.”

“Didn’t think so.” He presses his lips togetherthoughtfully. “What, um…was your real dad like?”

Pain claws at her for a moment, but she finds herselfsmiling at the happy memories she’s fought to preserve. “He was both compassionateand brave. He’d call me a fighter, and tell me that I should always use myskills for good.”

“He sounds awesome,” Peter says. “I’m sorry about whathappened to him.”

“Though it is a wound that can never fully heal, it’s in thepast,” Gamora reassures him. “I’m sure you understand, with your mother.”

“Yeah. She was perfect.” His hands fall into his lap,seemingly broadcasting the end of the game. “Y’know, even with all the differencesbetween our upbringings, I’m starting to find a lot of it’s the same.”

She also lowers her hands.

“We started out with having people who loved us from theget-go, then had to watch them die, then were kidnapped by strangers fromdifferent planets, then were raised by said strangers to do bad shit, then gotout to go make money for ourselves by stealing an orb,” he lists, almost amused. “This is freaky.”

Now that Peter was pointing it out…she’s surprised she hadn’tnoticed it before. Before, she’d only ever considered Nebula to have some understandingof what her life was like, and even though Peter’s circumstances were stillvery different from hers, there were a lot of feelings they both knew.

Like the pain of witnessing the death of a parent, or theliberating experience of taking control of their own lives. Of course, Yondu ismuch, much different than Thanos inthat Gamora can sense the hidden, but strong, affectionate bond between Yonduand Peter, but it doesn’t change the feelings of grief and estrangement thataccompanied both of their experiences.

Peter laughs to himself a bit. “And here I thought I’d neverfind someone who I could relate to.”

Gamora lays a hand over one of his. “You’re not aloneanymore.”

“Neither are you,” he returns warmly. “We should hang outtogether like this in the middle of the night more often.”

“We may be able to defeat powerful beings like Ronan, butthat doesn’t mean we don’t need sleep, Star-Lord.”

The name always gets him. She’s noticed his little reactionsto it, whenever she says it teasingly. Even now, he does a little smile thatalways makes her smile.

“Let’s just play a new game to stay awake! Ever heard of ‘TwoTruths and a Lie’?”

He’s looking at her expectantly, and—oh, shit, fucking—

She’s identified what exactly that weird heart-fluttering-thing in her chest is.

Send me a ship + a number for a way to say “I love you”!!!!

#starmora #gamora #peter quill #star lord #guardians of the galaxy #mcu #fanfiction #tumblr exclusive #this was supposed to be finished and posted earlier but I went out to see vol. 2 again with my friends #LMAO #4th time's the charm????#rose-demica

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