#if you read all that you deserve a medal

[lady-raziel]

Cna i... Can I ask what the beef is with M Night Shyamalan?

fair warning, this is a self-indulgently long post. but if you endure the page break, you may find the story entertaining.

a long time ago...in a small indie comic book shop in downtown Philadelphia...

picture this. it's circa 2016. my hyperfixation at the time is DC Comics-- the Flash specifically. I like the Flash, but I really like his nemesis, the Reverse Flash. This guy's gimmick is that he has the same powers as the Flash, but he's also evil because he used to be a Flash stan and his idol didn't validate their parasocial relationship when they actually met in person, and now he just wants to kill the Flash instead. It's a long story. Reverse Flash has died many times. He's also from the future, but that's not the important bit right now.

Anyway, despite being one of the Flash's main enemies, there are not that many comic book issues that feature the Reverse Flash for some reason. My main hobby at the time of this whole ordeal is to go to the local comic book shops and search through the bins of back issues to find anything with the Reverse Flash in it (bonus points if he's on the cover, but at a certain point you can't be picky). I'd been fairly successful at this, and had even been able to avoid buying too much off Ebay as I really didn't care too much about the condition or grade of the comics. The comic book shop in downtown Philly I was in on the day of the Incident was one I'd been to before, but not in a while as I went to school out in the suburbs and didn't leave that general area too much.

So. I enter this shop, and it's not too busy. That's a good thing as it's not a large space and if there were too many people it would have been very difficult to navigate around the displays of Funko Pops and tables of back issues. However, as I was soon about to find out, it doesn't matter if there's only one other person shopping at the same time as you if that person is the wrong person.

I make my way to the back where all the big boxes of old comics are, and scan the rows alphabetically to find the 'Fs.' I see 'Firestorm,' and 'Fantastic Four,' and all the others...but there, right there, where the Flash comics should be...there's a guy. Standing there. In the way.

Now, that's alright. He just seemed to be perusing randomly and wasn't actually looking at the Flash comics specifically (my Flash comics), and I can just go look at the action figures or something until he moves to another section of the shop. No problem. I mean, it's one box of comics, Harold. How long does it take to look through it? 5 minutes? No, all I have to do is wait a little bit and then I can examine those 1980s Flash comics with my own grubby little paws.

So I do a loop of the store. I examine the Funko Pops (they all look the same), the t-shirts (only Hot Topic quality), the new comics (Superman #1? How many times are they going to reboot this thing?), and even the super expensive vintage comics up on the wall (no Reverse Flash here, and it would still be beyond my price point anyway). But when I finally make my way back to the back issues, the guy...is still there. He hasn't moved. And now he's not even pretending to look at the comics anymore.

Now, to my horror, he seems to be having a full-on conversation with one of the store employees right on top of my box of comics, and neither of them seem like they plan to end this discussion anytime soon. You may be asking at this point, "well Raz, if you wanted to look at the comics where they were standing, why didn't you just ask them to move out of the way?" You're right. I could have done that.

But problem. I have social anxiety. And sometimes it gets very bad about very small things. So while it would have been entirely reasonable to ask these two men to move their conversation elsewhere, the crippling social anxiety made it so that asking for that very small and reasonable thing would have been akin to asking these guys if they would set me on fire right here right now, please and thank you. It wasn't gonna happen. My only option was to hover uncomfortably 6 feet away, pretending to go through the back issues systematically and hope they picked up on what I was doing and moved out of the way when I got back to the 'Fs,' or give up and suffer an hour and a half on the SEPTA train back home with nothing to show for it.

now, i've never had a conversation with famous filmmaker and director M Night Shyamalan. I didn't even know what he looked like at the time, so when all this happened I thought he was just Some Guy who in his unawareness was keeping me from completing my mission. Maybe he's a really engaging conversationalist and talking with him causes you to not notice anything going on around you. That may even be the case-- as neither the Twistmaster himself or the besotted store employee seemed to notice I was there. But I WAS there. And my frantic silent social cues were being "returned to sender," unread.

Meanwhile I was enduring a level of internal turmoil on the level of a character in a Greek tragedy. This was my crucible. Surrender, or do something I was honor-bound not to do. Was this the meaning of an impossible choice?

It was only after almost 15 long, agonizing minutes and two more laps of the store on my part that finally, finally there was a breakthrough. Unaware Man (for this would be Shyamalan's superhero code name) and Employee-Bro had moved to the cash register, as the former had found something he wanted to buy. With speed rivaling the Flash himself, I descended on the fated box of comics like a plague. It seemed that the day had not been lost after all.

However, like any film from the man himself, there was to be a final twist to this tale. One last turn of the knife. You might be thinking-- "And it turned out that there weren't any comics in the box you wanted to buy after all, rendering this whole ordeal meaningless, right? Like any tragic hero you endured the terrible trials only to discover that the treasure you sought was a hollow fantasy of your own creation, and this all could have been avoided if you had not fallen prey to the follies of man?"

No. The problem was-- I did find several comics in that box that I wanted to buy. I even found one with the Reverse Flash on the cover. But now that I had found my prize, I faced a new, even greater challenge, which was somewhat an extension of the old challenge, but to the extreme.

I now had to get Employee-Bro to ring me up so I could leave this cursed place, but here's the kicker: I had to do this while he was still utterly engaged in discussion with Unaware Man and thus blind to the outside world. I had come out of the frying pan and into the fire, because now it wasn't like I could just go home and take only a feeling of defeat with me. My precious comic book finds were on the line, and what was I going to do? Just put them back in the box and leave?

Unfortunately, I was committed. I would have to stand reasonably out of the way of Unaware Man's personal space yet close enough to indicate that I was, yes, in line to check out my purchases. And goddamnit, I was going to do this until all of us died of old age or the world ended.

I kind of lost all sense of time at that point. It could have been only a few minutes. It could have been five hours. All I know is that it was long enough that I wished for the sweet release of death, because then at least I'd be able to lie down. How it eventually went down was that Employee-Bro rung up Unaware Man (because really, processing a credit card transaction and signing the receipt only can take so long), and the two continued to talk as Employee-Bro gradually gained awareness that I Was There Too, and multitasked to check out my items while remaining totally focused on his other conversation and not speaking a word to me.

And that was it. I was free, from the physical prison of the comic book store at least. But again, like a Shyamalan film, this was in reality only the end of the second act. Because as I walked through the streets of Center City Philadelphia and rested my head against the smudged window of the SEPTA train on the way home, I started to descend into the mental turmoil of the question, "wait, who was that guy? Was he like...famous, or something?"

If you've ever been to a comic con or spent enough time in a hobby shop, you know that sometimes Nerd Bros can get really deep into conversation about these sorts of things. Many of them even have lots of opinions on films, and will be happy to share them in detail unprompted. So it wasn't entirely unreasonable for me not to realize in the moment that what was happening wasn't just "Nerd Bros Being Dudes."

But the more I thought about it, the one-sided adoring dynamic between Employee Bro and Unaware Man did seem unusual. And in the bits of their conversation that I had been forced to endure, hadn't one of them mentioned something about...filming locations? What was that about? Nobody in their right mind films stuff in Philly unless they're making the 86th Rocky film or the like.

It was a Google search of "movies filming in Philadelphia" that returned several results of articles talking about how location scouting was going on in the area as part of the production of a long-awaited sequel to the 2000 film Unbreakable, a undercover superhero sleeper hit. Unbreakable, a film set in Philadelphia, written and directed by famous filmmaker M Night Shyamalan.

Shyamalan. SHYAMALAN. the man responsible for 2010's The Last Airbender. it was HIM. he was not only the man who originated the (still unbroken!) curse on the Avatar franchise, but also the man who had ruined my day. Thoughtlessly. Carelessly. Not by massacring a beloved children's television franchise, but by being unaware. Inconceivable.

This was horrific. It wasn't even like I was the Reverse Flash or any other famous superhero nemesis, who had a compelling backstory causing their undying hatred of the hero. Instead, I now had a narrative foil who barely even fit that description, because chances are he hadn't even taken notice of my existence the whole time! This was my supervillain origin story, and it was his normal day!

It was at this moment I swore an oath. I would not forget this terrible day of inconvenience that was partially caused by my own social failings. I would dedicate my life from this point forward to slightly narrowing my eyes and shaking my head disapprovingly when I saw mentions of Shyamalan or his works online. I would color any opinions I had of his films with the thought, "but remember that one time he was kind of a dick to you without even meaning it? what was up with that?"

and that is the tale of my tragic encounter with M Night Shyamalan. To this day, my only solace is that my epic origin story turned out more narratively coherent and with deeper substance than any other film made in the Unbreakable saga, including the one he was location scouting for at the time this happened. Shyamalan can write twists all he wants, but no one is better at that game than karma itself.

-END-

#not included in this narrative retelling: me raising a fist into the air and shouting 'SHYAMALAN!!!' like i'm in star trek wrath of khan #if you read all that you deserve a medal #if there's ever a cinematic adaptation of this event it can only be made by shyamalan himself

[life-with-my-three]

Lucy ended up in hospital a week ago. I’m still trying to process it. It seems these days I spend a lot of time trying to work out whether my feelings given a situation are “normal” and I have reason to feel how I do, or whether they’re a reaction to past trauma and I shouldn’t bring frustrations up to others.

The kids had all had a bit of a cold. Lucy had seemed to be on the tail-end. We left home at 7am for a 9:30 gastro appointment of Hattie’s in Melbourne. Lucy came with us. 2.5 hours of driving and we were still late. In the waiting room we gave Lucy a feed. It seemed to really exaggerate her effort to breathe, and make it a heap noisier. It was so noisy that Hattie’s gastro consultant told us to not go home straight away and to hang around the hospital for an hour or so and if it didn’t improve to go to emergency.

We hung around. Once the feed digested a little and wasn’t pushing so much on her lungs she improved a bit so we drove home. We had to drive straight to pick up Fletcher as he had a primary school transition afternoon. We took him to that, then went home. Hattie lost her special reward toy that she got for letting the doctor poke at her stomach (positive rewards for past medical trauma), somewhere between the kinder and home. We couldn’t find it anywhere. So I dropped all the kids at home with Aaron (he was home by this point). Went searching all the shops in the hope I could find another, miraculously did. Got home and Lucy had just had another feed and her breathing was bad again.

At this point I decided I’d take her to the local urgent care clinic in the hopes of avoiding emergency. Got to urgent care. They took her straight in. Stripped her down and looked at her breathing and decided she was really sick and needed the hospital. With how her breathing was they weren’t confident in me driving with her the 2 blocks so they called an ambulance. Her sats were lower 80s. Her feet were purple/mottled. As we were waiting for the ambulance (not long at all) there was a shift change. The new doctor agreed she needed the hospital asap and it to be an ambulance situation. The words “very sick” were used multiple times. They started putting numbing cream and stuff on her so that emergency could work on her asap.

We got to emergency. She was stick sucking her ribs and trachea right in. She had improved to her sats in the 90s though she was having to work hard for that. The paeds doctor came in and declared she was fine. Went to send us straight home. I mentioned about her sats being low at urgent care, to which they said oh I guess we should admit you for the night then. I was just going to send you home for the night. She’s giving everyone smiles, she’s just a happy puffer.

The night before Hattie came home from NICU, I brought up with the same paeds department that when feeding her she was stopping breathing and going blue. I was treated like I was just overly anxious, so accepted I’d seen her stop breathing so many times I probably was just anxious. Over the next 6 weeks she did it multiple times with feeds. I’d take her to emergency and we’d be told she was just a “happy puffer”. It didn’t matter how many times I tried to get her help, I was always given that same line. My kids struggle to breathe but still smile apparently! It wasn’t until I cracked it and drove to Melbourne demanding help did the Melbourne paeds look at her. We found out her milk was going into her lungs and we went to the feeding tube! It was only 6 months ago now that her Melb respiratory consultant told me in an appointment that she will never forget that first time she saw Hatt and how much she was struggling to breathe. The exact same breathing that local paeds just shrug off:

Anyway, Lucy seemed a lot better by the next morning, so I didn’t go all mumma bear on them like I was planning. I mean the doctors didn’t even see her. The nurse just came in and said if you’re happy the doctors are happy for Lucy to be discharged.

I’ve spent the week going over it in my head though. Am I so frustrated and annoyed at the doctors’ at local paeds because it’s bringing back up the trauma of Hattie’s experience? Or do I have every right to be so completely annoyed at them? Melb we’re concerned enough to tell us to go to emergency to a baby they didn’t even look at, was in the pram across the room, and not their patient. Two separate shifts of doctors/nurses at urgent care were extremely worried about her.

I don’t know. Lucy’s completely fine now. Back to her normal self. But far out, our local paeds department has requested two consecutive years to use Hattie’s story for the junior paediatric doctor exams to improve management of respiratory issues, then this shit happens!

#tell me I’m not exaggerating #or maybe I’m just overreacting #if you read all that you deserve a medal

[callmethehunter]

Oh dear Anon, you have made my day! These are great questions about my favorite subject in the world: Robert Plant.:D And as far as that goes, I could (and will) go on and on about this forever, I’ve got so much to say!!

I’ve been obsessed with Robert’s music as well as with his personal life for years. I find him to be a multifaceted, highly talented and intelligent person who embodies traits that one would think were mutually exclusive, yet are somehow at home in him. He is without a doubt, totally outrageous and extroverted, he wants to be the center of attention, yet he is also reclusive, a deep thinker who is keenly aware of the world around him while also being introspective and self-aware. In his own words he has said

“It's part of me to get off on those moments where... well, what people would call attention. Obviously, that isn't the be-all and end-all of life, but at the states of creativity that I've reached, well, it helps the lyrics along a little bit.”

“ I’m pleased with how ridiculous I am. I like me. Though I’m not a huge fan. I know when to switch me off.”

I do think he has a very warm heart. He is genuinely interested in other people, in experiencing the most out of any given situation.

In my opinion, he loves the idea and the feeling of falling in love. He gets off more on that than on the longevity. It’s like he’s got ADHD in the aspect of love lol!! I say this because of the number of serious relationships (and not so serious relationships) that he has had in his life. I’m sure he was saddened when they ended, but then he’s moved on to the next great infatuation and adventure. He’s quite capable of starting again, as he has shown multiple times both in his personal and professional life. But I also think it’s a testimony to his heart that he’s been able to continue to be friends with his past loves. “There have been people I've warmed to over the years but, as the situation I'm in is so fleeting and transient, I've always known it's going to be over kind of real quick.”

I mean think about this: after having children with two sisters, Maureen (his exwife) and Shirley, they have been able to raise their children in what looks like a loving extended family. His sons, Logan (with Maureen) and Jesse (with Shirley), are half-brothers as well as first cousins. Just think on that for a moment. In a recent picture, there’s the entire family on vacation: Maureen, Shirley and their children with Robert, as well as Robert and a previous girlfriend, Jessica something or other (don’t remember her name). He’s not confined to societal conventions. He could give a flying fuck. I love that free spirit and he himself has said (and I paraphrase) that he may come across as being a good mate, but in reality he’s out to do whatever the fuck he wants. (And it shows!! )

He says, “...if you do what you think is right for the benefit of everybody and everything and you make decisions, then to go back and regret them afterwards - it's a futile experience and it's not worth thinking about. Because life just unfolds. Provided you do your best and you think you're on the right track, you can only be right or wrong. But to regret it - I don't think there are any huge errors or misdemeanors.”

In the area of friendship, however, he is fiercely loyal. He and Bonzo were like brothers till the end, and even still, Robert honors his dear friend. He’s also been able to maintain friendships with so many people from his hometown- people he knew before he was famous. He puts away the trappings of fame and fortune to be the good old Black Country boy, riding horses and playing with goats, walking around in the forests and enjoying nature.

“I think I could sing and shear a few sheep at the same time.” He is the picture of the word “earthiness”. Able to be the rock god on stage as well as the humble farmer on the farm or at the local pub. He’s loyal to his soccer team and to the sport itself which has been a lifelong passion. And I love that in him.

Is he a hedonist? Absolutely, he has tasted every pleasure there is to taste. His every material wish could be a reality in an instant...He has done drugs, had hundreds of one night stands. He is a highly sensual man. IMO the sexiest man that’s ever walked the planet. His sizeable bulge perpetually stands* as a symbol (no pun intended*) of his virility and lust (and I like it!!) He exudes charisma and raw sexual energy. He’s done it all to the highest level, partied and cavorted around the globe. What a life he’s lived!!

But in his lyrics there is also a deep spiritual side of him: I think he is a modern day troubadour and philosopher. His lyrics touch on that, “it is the springtime of my loving” ….“In the light you will find the road” “when all is one and one is all” “Then as it was, then again it will be, though the course may change sometimes, rivers always reach the sea” and I could go on and on with other examples. These are just what popped in my head. “I am a reflection of what I sing. Sometimes I have to get serious because the things Ive been through are serious” He’s had moments where he is the “golden god” as well as tragic moments such as the loss of his 5 year old son and the loss of his dear friend Bonzo. These are definitely reflected in his music.

All in all, in his own words:

“I'm like one of those firecrackers that goes off in your pocket occasionally. I'm not really struggling with it as much as the people around me. But at least I'm not doing too much damage to anybody or to myself. It's just the condition I'm aware of.

And he’s still got a twinkle in his eye.

Thank you for letting me go and on about this man, he holds such a special place in my heart. He is a beautiful and joyous old hippie full of wisdom and talent.. He has created a lasting legacy and I hold the deepest admiration for him, despite his human frailties or shortcomings.

#robert plant #led zeppelin #thanks for indulging me on my favorite subject #you deserve a medal if you read all the way through! #i just love him💕

[jmgangel]

Ricky Montgomery Lyrics with Shuake Vibes

Honestly all of his songs sound like he just finished playing P5R but like here are some ones that really get me.

Semi long post ahead that is just me taking lyrics from the songs and looking at them with my Shuake Brain.

Mr. Loverman

A very Shuake song in the sense that it’s about someone missing their lover. Missing and yearning are the basis of many a Shuake fic. The lyrics “I’m Mr. Loverman/And I miss my lover, man” definitely can apply to post 3rd Semester Joker about Akechi.

However I also feel like the bridge, “I've shattered now, I'm spilling out/Upon this linoleum ground/I'm reeling in my brain again/Before it can get back to you/Oh, what am I supposed to do without you?” is also equally reminiscent of their relationship.

It reminds me of when Joker, post 3rd semester thought about Akechi, almost involuntarily and decided he wanted to keep their promise. Also the “What I am supposed to do without you?” could apply to Akechi too. Akechi has lost Joker too, both in the interrogation room and after 3rd semester. We can assume Joker is the first genuine (mostly genuine anyway) relationship Akechi has had in years, maybe since the death of of his mother. What is he supposed to do without Joker?

This December

Listen to this song it’s so good and gives Shuake energy all around. The chorus, especially the line “Lonely in this home, it's always colder on your own,” reminds me of how Akechi has had to be alone for so long.

The lyric that always gets me though is, “Only in my darkest moments/I wanna see you with your head wide open.” This could Joker’s desire to understand Akechi. It could also be Akechi’s desire to understand Joker’s thinking, since it’s so different from his own (cue montage of all the times Akechi has made a comment about how amazing the way Joker thinks is).

Line Without a Hook

Great song everyone should listen to it. Anyways these lyrics: “Darling, when I'm fast asleep/I've seen this person watching me/Saying, ‘Is it worth it? Is it worth it? Tell me, is it worth it?’” make me think of Akechi grappling with the idea of killing Joker or wondering if it’s worth trying to be with him.

Otherwise, man this song,,,I could go on and on. For the sake of brevity I’ll just paste the chorus because that is Joker singing through Ricky Montgomery:

“Oh, baby, I am a wreck when I'm without you

I need you here to stay

I broke all my bones that day I found you

Crying at the lake

Was it something I said to make you feel like you're a burden?

Oh, and if I could take it all back

I swear that I would pull you from the tide”

I mean,,,what else can I say?

My Heart is Buried in Venice

Now this,,,this is *the* Shuake song to me. Also my favorite off of the album but that’s neither here nor there.

Every lyric of the song screams Joker and Akechi to me (“Even when you try to hide it/A smile creeps out from your teeth” etc.) but the bridge is what really gets me.

“Say, say what you mean/Tell me the truth or tell me you're through, Oh-oh-oh”

Akechi lied to Joker a lot. He always danced around what he really meant, never saying the truth.

“Don't leave me to breathe/Don't leave me to bleed/For someone who chose to leave me be”

Obviously the situation in 3rd Semester isn’t as simple as Akechi choosing to leave Joker. There’s a lot more to it than that and a lot of the blame falls on Maruki for putting them in a frankly sort of terrifying situation. That being said, Joker did fight for Akechi, someone who chose to leave him and Maruki’s reality.

Okay I’m done. All this is to say Ricky Montgomery=Shuake thank you.

#I don’t rlly know what this is my brain just started working in overdrive #I just love shuake ig #they make me so silly #you deserve a medal if you read all this #shuake #akechi goro #goro akechi #joker x akechi #persona 5 #persona 5 royal #akeshu #justmythoughts

[sunflowersand-bees]

yall know how mike starts crying in s2 when he and el reunite?

yall know what happened literally ten minutes before this reunion?

the shed scene. tears streamed down mike’s cheeks as he testified of how much he loved will.

and then it was back into the fray. back into action. because they can’t ever have a moment of peace.

i wonder if mike would’ve cried at all when he reunited with el if he wasn’t already in a fragile emotional state.

yall are aware of how it doesn’t take much to start crying after you’ve finished one good cry? the ball’s already rolling. mike has a whole mental breakdown. and it’s because of the emotional turmoil he went through that day.

more than just the shed scene even. he had to deal with his friend being creepy and possessed--“he’s lying!”--(and he’s not getting much sleep because he’s sleeping in a hospital chair and, yk, anxiety) and then he had to try to warn the doctors about the trap that will had set, since he was the only one who figured out what that meant. he was physically restrained by a bunch of grown men while he tried to save everyone’s lives and he even failed to do that because almost everyone in the building was massacred (think about what kind of effect that had on mike) and then he had to basically carry will’s comatose body out of the building while bob gets eaten by a demodog (and he watches). then he has to go through the shed scene, reliving his first meeting with his best friend and having to deal with the dichotomy between his past situation and his present situation, of which they’re not even on the same plane of existence, and knowing that he can’t lose his friend to his monster that’s taken over his friend’s body, and he sees will’s eyes and they’re so dark and unfamiliar and hostile, but when mike bares his soul, something changes and will starts to come back to them. but, of course, before anything can come of that, they’re put in danger again, moments from death, monsters surrounding them. and then he sees his friend who, as he testified to max a few minutes earlier, he thought was dead as a doornail, randomly reappear and save them all from the same monsters he’d watched kill dozens of people including his best friend’s mom’s boyfriend (lmao) that he thought was about to kill him and his friends. then he learned that hopper, an adult that he’d trusted, had lied to him for a year and lied to everyone, telling them that el was dead and letting mike live with that guilt that he’d most certainly held since season 1 bc there’s no way mike doesn’t take on the burdens of everyone around him and then punish himself if he fails. so of course he has a breakdown, sobbing and crying to hopper. but we cant stop there of course! after all of this he has to send off his best friend and the girl who he thought was dead until two minutes ago to go and potentially die (both of them!!!) and he cant do anything to save them. until he gets an idea to save them but steve wont let him and mike just feels so fucking useless if he cant do anything to save them but then billy shows up and mike has to watch his best friend (lucas) get shoved up against a wall, as well as watch billy nearly kill steve, and then he watches max nearly kill billy and then he has to help his friends patch up steve (they dont know first aid). then they get in the car and drive to some creepy ass tunnels in the upside down that are filled with bones and they fight some more demodogs and also set a root system (?) on fire. (oh and his sisters ex boyfriend thought he was his sister.)

so yeah. mike wheeler needs hugs. of course he started crying when he saw el, but that doesn’t make it romantic. and if it does make it romantic, then shouldn’t the shed scene be romantic too?

all of the above happened in like less than 24 hours or something. it was all in the same day. 

#mike wheeler #byler #elmike #el hopper #joyce byers #lucas sinclair #dustin henderson #billy hargrove #fuck billy #nancy wheeler #jim hopper #bob newby #stranger things #stranger things season 2 #st season 2 #st s2 #stranger things s2 #max mayfield #if you read all of this and comprehended it you deserve a medal #its 2 am #my post #will byers #the upside down

[believerindaydreams]

today in Harry Sullivan thoughts:

not sure I'm convinced by the Harold name. does this man look like a Harold. no he doesn't.

#harry sullivan #fourth doctor #i wonder how long it will take for me to mock every extended universe apperance of Harry ever #look he's a tricky character and i am Protective #also i like inflicting factoids about late Victorian science #but it's like. Uncle Terry was raised on boy's own adventures and made a career out of writing the closest analogue he could #and i have voluntarily read too many Billy Bunter stories not to vibe with this #i wouldn't have come up with the 1911 headcanon if i wasn't sympathetic to the way he's been stripped of cultural context! #you deserve a medal if you read all that

[la-cocotte-de-paris]

Sending you lots of love. And I feel you on the leg hair thing. My own hair is thick and grows rather long everywhere. When I shave my legs in the evening the next morning they already feel like my grandfather's cheek. It's hopeless. But babes don't feel ashamed of going to the salon. Body i hair is perfectly natural and not gross and all the people working there see lots of body hair every single day. Nobody will think anything weird, I promise. What music are currently listening to? I'm fully back in my Enya era these days (the music that accompanied my early childhood). I hope the rest of this Friday is kinder to you and that you'll have a beautiful weekend💝💝

This anon made me tear up when I first read it and every time I've re-read it, I've had the same result. Thank you so much 🥹 I always feel weird talking about hair removal with friends because almost everyone who removes hair either 1) has no issue with any methods they use or 2) has blonde hair so it doesn't need to be done as regularly. Meanwhile I'm over here feeling like I'm fighting for my life just trying to remove unwanted hair without irritating or damaging my skin, ESPECIALLY in my inner thigh area lol (which is why I so seldom bother unless I expect to be sexually active bc I'm like "BRO that took me like over an hour to do last time, now I gotta do it all over again?!?! Fuck off"... which also sometimes influences how often I'm willing to be sexually active lol. It's a vicious cycle lmao and i fucking hate it ♡).

I'm gonna go back to razors for the moment and maybe go to a salon sometime. And I'm absolutely getting that hair lasered off once I'm settled in a particular place, sale or no sale.

I think one reason I'm so upset about it atm is because I *KNOW* it's such a stupid and ridiculous thing to be upset about (there are fucking wars happening and I'm upset over some long leg hair on my own body that I know naturally grows there? Gtfo) but I also feel so stupid about it affecting my confidence so much. I'm the type who prefers wearing dark tights anyway, hair or no hair, but that isn't always viable when it's warm. Or maybe i just feel like a change! And I have no problem with body hair on others at all, yet for some reason I've a problem if I show mine lol. Anyway WHATEVER, I have something internalised but I've no idea what and I've tried managing it in the past but I think tonight really just proved I need to fix my shit.

In terms of music, I'm REALLY vibing with the Succession Season 1 soundtrack atm. It makes a girl dream ;P AND motivates me to get my shit done, hahaha. Oooh Enya is so beautiful and ethereal 💖🩷🤍✨️ Also the fact she lives as a recluse in a castle and seems to live comfortably is just...ICONIC!!

Anyway, thank you again for your kind words. I know it's silly to say but it really meant a lot (I keep tearing up as I answer you 😅). I'm starting a new chapter in my life this weekend (if all goes according to plan) and it's going to be scary but also necessary. I've wanted this new start for a long time and I can't believe it is slowly beginning, bit by bit. I sincerely hope you have a wonderful weekend, too. 💖🩷💛✨️

#i think part of it is linked to my fear that I may never find a romantic partner or even a lover ever again lol #and at least if i can have smooth silky hairless legs then i might feel more comfortable meeting new people and trying new things #bc i WANT to!! but i feel hindered by the leg hair lmfaoooo #it's so stupid. anyway. #if anyone read all that you deserve a medal oml #also I'm at the end of my period so maybe I'm still a little bit more emotional than normal anyway atm #anon ask #anon #asked and answered

[dearheartwitcher]

about me tag game <33

tagged by @raccoonspooky !! 🥰💖 thank u for tagging me! tagging @rikki-tiki-tavi, @tijuanabiblestudies and anyone who sees this and wants to do it lmaoo ✨

Nickname: no one calls me a nickname anymore but in high school i got a lot of “coo”, “kiku”, “mom/dad/dadmom” and one friend called me “kaidouken” which is where i got my username for basically every other site lol

Age: 23 but i turn 24 in literally 10 days loll

Height: 5′2″ 😔

Sign: pisces <3

Last google search: “gildan sweatshirt size chart” (bf asked what size i would be and i needed measurements)

Song stuck in head: im sorry to report that the last song stuck in my head was Rockstar by Nickleback and the google search before the sweatshirt one was “rockstar nickleback lyrics”. its because i could hear him singing “latest dictionary” in my head but i was like. why the fuck would that be part of the song. it is though!

Sleep: i slept okay last night actually i think i got around 6 hours? i fell asleep around 3 and woke up before 10. had a dream about lunchables??

Dream job: in my fantasies im a beloved employee in a small bookstore owned by a very old man who has no children and when he passes away he leaves me the store and the apartment above it

Wearing: fuzzy pj pants, this shirt, and my favorite sweatshirt

Fav songs: fuuuck. Cheekface’s entire discography for starters. my #1 favorite song the past few years has been Judy Garland by Frog. i could make this answer last 100 miles im going to make myself move on

Random: my fursona is a fruit bat named lemon pepper :) (pictured here with @trashpits‘ fursona lol i drew this for art fight last year) im not even a furry i just think sonas are fun 🥰🍋💖

Fav instrument: i play trumpet but i think my favorite sounding instruments are all strings <3 i love the sounds of cello, electric bass, and acoustic guitar

Aesthetic: i dont have a solid aesthetic lmaoo. been really into 70s the last few years, but i also love kidcore kinda stuff with lots of bright chunky pieces. i dont really dress like either of those KJHSDF tho i did finally get my hands on a pair of brown corduroy pants <33

Fav authors: i’ll b honest most of my reading is either fanfic or stuff my friends write akjsdfh but my favorite Actual Books were written by Erin Morgenstern and TJ Klune 💕

Fav color: i actually think about this a lot because i dont know if i actually have one anymore skjdhfs. im leaning toward orange

Fav animal sound: i actually cant believe this but same as @raccoonspooky​ before me, this video of a porcupine eating pumpkins was the first thing i thought of (also when rats snuffle your ear but idk if that really counts)

Last song: uh it was either Hair Of The Dog by Nazareth or Gone Sugaring by Mirah

#obv no pressure to those i did tag its just 4 funsies <3 #if you read all of that shit you deserve a medal or smth idk #knock knock its knuckles #its ya boi

[dutyworn]

name: Havu

pronouns: they/them (I'd prefer ey/em but I don't have the energy to start fighting people about using neopronouns when it's hard enough to get them to use they/them and that... works)

preference of communication: Discord. The tumblr IM box is very difficult for me to focus on, and while I will use it with people who prefer it, I am unlikely to venture into very long messages there.

your most active muse: Shepard, right now, honestly

experience/how long (months, years?): Over 15 years in different platforms, since spring 2013 on tumblr. I started roleplaying on tumblr with a Doctor Who OC (whom I still write on my multi - she has a Mass Effect verse in the making, wink wonk), and mainly wrote the Eleventh Doctor (under legsyes and later snogboxed) for about five years and some other canons and OCs, took a bad mental health year lurking, came back on Castiel (waywardfeathered) mid 2018, dappled into more OCs and canon muses, made a multi (smokedanced), retired Eleven and started writing Thirteen (dochaes)... I run four blogs now (Cas/Thirteen/Wren/multi)

platforms used: Only tumblr; I occassionally write on Discord with Orion and Lexi, because they're both very close to me and get special privileges, but I am not open to writing on Discord with people in general. It doesn't work with my executive dysfunction. Creativity is difficult, and tumblr works for me as well as it does because I can spend a lot of time formatting and making icons, doing the mechanical, easy part of the framework to spark the executives to function with the hard, creative part as well. I simply don't have the tools to consistently write with everyone on Discord.

best experience: No single best one, but every time I develop fully fleshed out dynamics/storylines between someone's muses and mine. It's the best roleplay feeling when your muses just... have a dynamic that just kind of takes life of its own?

rp pet peeves/dealbreakers: I have my dealbreakers listed on my rules. Fandom anti rhetoric being the most important (policing what kind of fiction other people should be allowed to enjoy/write, as in, setting your own boundaries is totally fair, but acting as if someone writing something you don't want to see were "wrong" or "gross" or whatever; callouts over fictional content no matter if I personally engage in that kind of content or not, judging people's morals based on their fictional preferences; equating depictions of bad things to acts of bad things - for example, writing a muse as a racist caricature is an ACT of racism, and I don't condone that at all, but writing an abusive relationship is a DEPICTION of abuse, not an act, and I do condone this fully, it is fiction - trying to coax/guilt-trip another mun into writing something with you when they've said no is an act of crossing boundaries and just bad behaviour and I don't condone that, but writing anything at all between consenting muns is imho fine and I don't tolerate demonising people for this), individual urls on DNIs (I consider this harrassment), making/sharing callouts outside of very specific, extreme cases (I am likely to let it slip if I see mutuals share a callout every now and then unless it's in the vein of "this person writes problematic fictional content", but I regard this on a case by case basis). Like... I'm not trying to police anyone, either. You're allowed to engage in any of these behavours. I won't try to make people take out their DNIs or callouts, at all. You're allowed to do that. I am, also, allowed to choose not to want you in my life due to that.

Pet peeves? I don't know, I have plenty, but it'd feel mean of me to start listing these. They're just annoyances and stuff I fully support people doing despite them annoying me.

fluff, angst, smut: All three, in the order of angst, smut, fluff.

plots or memes? Very very flexible. Total winging it works, intricate plotting works. My preference is some vague plotting, and exchanging ideas in however detailed they come to us while writing, but, I will totally wing it, and I will plot in detail, as well. I struggle more with... no ooc communication whatsoever or detailed plotting before any writing, but I will try and do it anyway for people who prefer those.

long or short replies? Again, flexible. I think it should be normalised that reply length within the same thread can be dynamic. Novella suits setting scene, timeskips, etc. while just a paragraph might suit action or heavy dialogue, to give a chance for the other muse to respond. I generally prefer around 2-4 paragraphs as a baseline.

best time to write?: Whenever I manage to push myself to do it. Context: I have to push myself to do everything, even the things I wanna do, because executive dysfunction. No specific time of the day.

are you like your muse? Almost not in the slightest. Wren is very heart first, I am very head first (this does not mean she's not logical nor that I don't feel emotions but you get what- hopefully you get what I mean). Wren is very engaged emotionally in the world around her as that is just her natural way of being, where I am very detached and feel more like an observer of the world than an active participant. She is good at making decisions, taking action, getting shit done. I am absolute shit at all of the above. She would rather do, I would rather think. (She is a good strategist and very smart, but I mean in the sense of, she would rather think in terms of what has practical use, while I, althought I don't see myself as exceptionally smart, would rather think in terms of I just enjoy it for its own sake and have no interest in the practical application of the things I like to think about.) She's very, very empathetic, and has an easy time picking up on people's emotions, reading between the lines, etc. I almost completely lack emotional empathy (I don't, nearly ever, feel other people's feelings or feel distress at other people's distress; doesn't mean, again, that I'm uncaring, my empathy is just cerebral and simply thought more than emotion, like I can still wish to show compassion even if I don't feel anything about the matter) and can't read between the lines, don't understand hints, etc. Or if I do, it happens with logical analysis rather than intuition. Wren's really brave, I'm super cowardly. Wren's self-sacrificing, I'm self-preserving; she puts others first, I put myself first. She's extroverted and has an easy time being around people, I'm incredibly introverted and could not even live in the same household with other people. She goes into states of just needing to get something done, where logical analysis overrides emotionality but for her that's under extreme stress and almost dissociative, while for me the logical analysis mode is just my natural state and not unhealthy. If we have something in common, I think, perhaps it's that we both hate with a passion to let other people see us vulnerable. We might feel vulnerable under different circumstances, but for both of us it's very unnatural to lean onto other people and let them help in emotional distress. I think, the reasons for this are similar for us? Wren grew up literally an orphan, homeless on the streets since age 10, she's never had a reliable adult figure in her life as a kid. I was tossed into the foster care system and institutionalised around age 13, and did not have safe and/or reliable/emotionally supportive adults around me since that age, either. We both learned from a young age that no one would take care of our emotional needs unless we took care of our own emotional needs. Accepting practical help is relatively fine for us both. Accepting emotional help is... alien. I don't think she recognises the cause of this for herself, fully. She has a habit of explaining it away with "these people are under my command, and a leader should not show weakness because if they can't rely on me how can I ask them to follow me", seeing as her closest friends tend to be also her crew. We both also utilise humour a lot? Even if in different ways.

tagged by: @wcsea, thanks!

tagging: @lovepurposed, @immortaljackal, @detectiveconnor, @diewithaname, @threecardtrick, @drdumaurier, or just commit thievery

#WELL THIS GOT AWAY FROM ME LOL #if anyone read thru all of this you deserve a... a medal #; mun #; outofarmour #i just cannot get over how different wren and i are yet her being a primary muse... #discourse cw #for the pet peeves etc part in case

[eigwayne]

I know I’m not popular enough nor write or draw often enough for it to be a concern, but you know, full disclosure, for the record, etc.

This is my promise:

I do not and will not use AI to write, draw, or paint. This applies to both fanworks and original works.

I will never knowingly use AI-created assets in a game or resource.

I will not just change the names or otherwise file the serial numbers off my fanfic in order to publish it for money like it was original.

And yeah, I know the last item is not a big deal to many people and a lot of authors are getting rich publishing their fics under new names. But that feels squicky to me. Like cheating, like you’re plagiarizing yourself, like you’re making money off someone’s IP and then lying about it.

You can do what you like; I’m not the fun police. And yeah, that third promise is probably pretty rich coming from a Daomu Biji fan, I know, I know about the Candle in the Tomb fic rumor, I have come to terms with it, maybe. But me, personally? I won’t Ctrl+H my fanfics and pretend they’re new stories to publish. If I ever do finish and publish something, it’ll be new and all my own fault. Promise.

#what led to this? #the current writing fic by AI thing #and #i've been watching videos about booktok favorites #which are all like #published reylo fics #people rewriting acotar and trying to pretend they're not #and cassandra clare who i've never read and never will #let that be for the record too #elise's daily life arc #also do you have any idea how hard it was #as a silmarillion fan #to not mention oaths? #i deserve a medal for that self restraint

[arminsumi]

🔞 bed breaking ft. gojo

warnings : minors do not read/interact : smut, creampies, "princess", daddy kink, dirty talk, no plot just pure horny from my melted 1 am brain!!

mmm gojo is fucking crazee 😖

so duh... sex with gojo is crazy too. erratic. sweaty. he has u in all imaginable positions all over the bed in the span of an hour. oh... two hours. oh ok... three hours. jesus... four hours? does he run out of stamina? uhhh... yeah if your pussy milks him too good, then he collapses to ur side. refuses to lay in the wet patch. spoiled prince. but he spoils your princess pussy with lots and lots and lots of creampies. and my fucking god he is CRAZED for creampies. loves stuffing u full!! loves seeing your pussy quiver when his cockhead pops out and ur hole spits cum out. he watches it dribble down your slit like its a wildlife documentary. makes stupid jokes during sex so u break down giggling in the middle, he slows and stills inside and laughs with you, feeling his dick throb, apologetically kissing u and thennnnnn he snaps u out of those giggles by shoving his cock up into ur guts n pounding away... grunting and gripping ur hips which are really truly his most favorite thing in the world. he goes harder bc he sees ur body jiggling under his imposing frame. such a big boy with a stupidly big dick to match. yk!! big cock for a cocky boy!! and he knows how to use it, which makes him so lethal in bed; he can make those legs shake then go numb and laugh abt it... "oh ur so fuckin' weak baby, yeah? too fuckin' weak to take this dick? aw my pretty little princess... she can't even take daddy's dick..." n he just fucks u deeper into the mattress while u weep n sob into the pillow, too full of pleasure to think. too full of his dick to think :( he has genuinely broken ur bed... MULTIPLE. TIMES. and he doesn't apologize for it because he doesn't think he's at fault. no it's not his animalistic thrusts when he's reaching balls deep inside u that's the problem... it's just a cheap bed that can't support him!! blame the bed!! "oh... lol i think u need a new bed... 🤭" he thinks its sooo funny that ur bed cant take his pounding and yet ur pussy happily takes the abuse. "wow... i broke ur pussy and ur bed in one night!! :) i deserve a medal."

#🔞 #🥡.takeout #gojo smut #gojo x reader smut #gojo satoru smut #jjk smut #gojo #gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen smut #smut #mdni #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk imagines #gojo x reader #jjk gojo #satoru gojo

[r3ynah]

I just like the idea of Red hood having a medic, that always finds him whenever and wherever.

Like my boy danny, can and will go to different measures, so he can just find the boss of the crime alley alive and well.

Getting hurt? No you aren't, patched him up and forcefully tucked him into bed with a kiss, Getting depressed? No you aren't, Wrapped him in a blanket and just let him read his novels all day and feeding him, Getting kidnap? No you aren't, Cue the corrupted video of Danny breaking in the kidnapper's lair and just freeing Red hood, No blood was shed that night, well not from Red hood that is.

Danny was something else Red hood will tell you if you ever bring up his Medic into a conversation, he would stare at the man with heart eyes as he accompanied him to do random check ups on people under Red hood's care in his civilian persona. Danny may seem weak and brittle but he can give a punch if he really wanted to, He was mysterious but at the same time so open.

Danny was prideful as he wore the medal of being the only one that knows Red hood's real apartment, and the only one that could break in and enter without getting his presence known, just to make sure the crime lord was sleeping and eating properly.

Red hood practically made a joke out of this and would always tell everyone that his medic will be mad, if he isn't in bed by curfew, and he needed to be back at his house by 10:00 sharp or he'll get dragged and thrown, who knew the all so scary crime lord had a bedtime, criminals and civilians often leave him be when the clock strikes 9:50 pm afraid of enraging the meta medic.

__

"I am telling you B, I can't do that right now, its almost my curfew." Red hood sighed in frustration, he was currently standing in the middle of the bat cave, ready to run if batman tried to talk again.

"This is an important, case Hood, and it requires your participation" Batman stood still, face devoid of any emotions " Afterall it has something to do, with crime alley, there has been a meta spotted, and its creating havoc all around the place."

Jason, blinked, blinked twice, then thrice

"Is that it?"

"Jason, can't you see that this person's dangerous, they had already committed several crimes of arson, assault, and destruction of property, this person is abusing it's powers."

"No im not." An offended voice, called out from the side. all head turned towards the source of the voice, only to be greeted by 6'1 tall boy, who had black hair and blue eyes, and looked just round in his younger adult years. "In my defense they deserved it, won't give me a discount when i literally had a coupon." he rolled his eyes in annoyance.

"Who are you?" Batman asked, his guard up "And how did you get in here?"

"Red hood's medic and the meta you've labeling as dangerous, nice to meet you, and it wasn't that hard to spot this lair if you have x-ray vision" Danny greeted happily offering a handshake, which the dark knight didn't take, Danny retreated his hand in awkward silence.

"That was so sad" Jason cackled, as he pointed at Danny who gave him the middle finger.

"Shut, Its 10:30 pm, your bedtime was like 15 minutes ago, you don't get to talk until you're taller than me." Danny pointed at him.

"Fucking funny, im laughing" Sarcasm was laced in Jason's tone as he glared at Danny, before giving a sigh. "10:30 already shit, time does fly fast, when you're fighting a man in a furry costume" Red hood stated, as he walked towards Danny who only rolled his eyes.

"Bye B, i hope to not see you anytime this week or the next week." He nonchalantly waved bye to the older male, while walking towards his medic.

he turned his head to meet Danny's gaze, then smacked his arm making the man stumble. "Come on, now boss man do your thing"

Danny gave him, a glare before shoving him playfully, he then turned to look at empty air and practically ripped out a dimensional portal out of it, and pushed Jason in it who tripped.

"Bye Mr.Batman, it was nice meeting you" Danny bid farewell as he closed the portal on the Man who looked like he can use a break.

#dc x dp #dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #dpxdc #dc x dp crossover #dp x dc fanfic #dp x dc prompt #dpdc #dead on main #dead on main prompt

[celtic-crossbow]

Skin You With My Tongue

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Setting: Alexandria

Warnings: Poorly written smut, p in v, fingering, oral (fem rec), brief hand job

Summary: What has gotten into Daryl? It doesn’t matter because you like it!

A/N: I haven’t been feeling great but I wanted to finish this before taking a break. Then I’ll work on my last request. Once again, I don’t think it’s great but ah well. I’m trying to just be thankful to be writing again. I hope some enjoyment comes from it!

You had no idea how you’d ended up in your current predicament: flat on your back, naked, with an equally naked Daryl Dixon devouring you like a man starved. You weren’t complaining by any stretch of the imagination. Though he had claimed to have little experience, the man deserved medals for the sounds he was wringing out of you with his tongue.

Anyway, back to the question of how did you end up here?

The day had started like any other. Your group was still new to Alexandria. While most had been given jobs, you and Daryl had not yet been set to work by Deanna. So, Rick had easily agreed to letting you both go hunt. Daryl had refused to give up his crossbow when you had first arrived in the community, but you had to sign out a weapon.

“Bullshit.” Daryl growled from where he leaned against the doorframe of the armory. You couldn’t say that you didn’t agree with him.

Regardless, you played by the rules, got your gun, strapped the weapons to the back, and climbed onto Daryl’s bike. He had decided the two of you could go further out today, not having much luck the past couple of days in the direct vicinity.

Daryl was your closest friend in your tight knit group and had been since you all had been forced to wander around in the cold before the prison. He was difficult to read and his emotional walls were high and thick. Somehow, you had been able to scale those walls, if not shatter them completely. You accepted him without question but you didn’t take any shit from him either. You weren’t afraid to call him out. In fact, the first time he had willingly come to sit next to you by the fire was just after you had asked him if he was “violating the Georgia sodomy law by having his head that far up his own ass.” You’d been close ever since.

You wrapped your arms tightly around his stomach and rested your chin on his shoulder, making kissy noises at him when he glanced back at you.

“Stop.” He grumbled before starting up the motorcycle. You simply gave his midsection a squeeze and could practically feel him roll his eyes as you headed through the gate.

The first part of the day was uneventful. Daryl stashed the bike before you walked and walked, finding nothing to track. About midday, the two of you came across a gorgeous lake. The water was clear and having only crossed two walkers on your trek there, you decided that a swim was an excellent idea after lunch. You didn’t ask Daryl, truly figuring he wouldn’t mind and that, hell, maybe he’d even join you.

You didn’t look at him as you stripped down to your bra and panties, mismatched as they were. If you had, you would have seen him comically fumble and drop the piece of dried meat in his hand.

“The blue hell ya doin’, girl?” He snapped after righting himself.

“Cooling off.” You gave him a smile over your shoulder before mimicking his frown with added exaggeration. “Maybe you should do the same, you old grump.”

He scoffed, keeping his eyes averted. “You’re bein’ careless. Careless gets ya dead.”

“I’m not going in unprotected!” You spun toward him, drawing his gaze toward you before pointing to the small knife tucked securely between your breasts. You couldn’t help but laugh when his face reddened and he looked away so quickly that you could swear you heard his neck crack. “I won’t be long.”

And you weren’t. Barely twenty minutes later, you were sitting down next to him, fully clothed albeit damp, but feeling much better.

“Ready to head out?” You asked cheerfully.

He did not share your enthusiasm, scowling as he stood and secured his crossbow to his back. “Been ready.”

“Well, aren’t you just a bucket of sunshine?” He had already stalked off by the time you gathered up everything. You had to sprint to catch up.

After a couple of hours, Daryl finally caught the trail of a deer and began tracking it. You followed quietly, watching his methods and learning everything you could. You knew how to hunt, thanks to him, but you were always eager to sharpen your skills. When the animal was finally within sight, the archer kneeled after signaling for you to stand still just beside him. He was lining up the shot when something caught his eye to the right of where you stood.

“Get down!” He whispered sharply, grabbing your arm and pulling. The sudden jerk caught you off guard and you were thrown off balance, crashing into him. He fell flat on his back with you on top, your palms on either side of his head with your chest almost directly in his face. With half a dozen walkers shuffling into the area, you couldn’t move lest you be detected.

The deer sensed the danger and ran, the group of undead following mindlessly. As they passed where you and Daryl hid, you instinctively lowered, feeling his breath against your shirt. It took several minutes for the threat to move far enough away that you felt comfortable to lift yourself up and sit back, effectively placing your ass on his stomach.

“Well, that sucks. That was a big doe.” You complained. When he didn’t comment, you looked at him. He was propped up on his elbows, looking anywhere but at you. His face and neck were flushed all the way to the tips of his ears. “You okay?” You queried with general concern.

“M’fine. Can ya get offa me?”

“Oh. Right.” You stood quickly, as did he. His back was quickly turned to you.

“We’re done. Let’s go.”

Your head tilted, brow creased in confusion. “We’ve got hours of daylight left. Shouldn’t we—”

“Said we’re done.” He was already walking away, leaving you staring at his back and wondering what you’d done wrong.

The ride back was tense and silent. You even chose to just lightly place your hands below his ribs and keep some space between your bodies instead of how you would usually have a tight hold on him.

When you entered Alexandria, Daryl parked the bike and got off, leaving you there, confused and more than a little upset. He passed Rick by without a word, the former sheriff turning to look at you with an eyebrow cocked. You gave him a shrug.

“I have no idea.” Shaking your head, you grabbed the gun from where it was secured to the back and went to sign it in before returning to the home you shared with Daryl and Carol. He was nowhere to be found on the first floor, leaving you to assume he had retreated to his room in the basement. With a heavy sigh, you went upstairs to shower.

Evening was upon you before you knew it, the sun having only set a few minutes before Carol invited you to walk to the other house for dinner with the group. You weren’t feeling all that hungry so you told her you’d be there in a few minutes. It was a lie. You had no intention of leaving your room.

Turning over onto your side, you closed your eyes. You had just drifted off when there came another knock. “Ugh.” You groaned and threw back the blankets, remaining in just your tank top and underwear since you didn’t plan on leaving with her. “Carol, I really don’t—” Once the door opened, you screeched to a halt, meeting the impossibly blue eyes of your favorite bowman. “Daryl.” You blinked at him blankly.

“Hi.” He nearly whispered. “Can I, uh—?” He gave a vague motion toward the inside of your room.

“Right. Uh, yeah, right, sure.” You stammered while stepping aside. He stepped in and you turned to push the door closed, a gasp leaving your mouth when you felt him press himself against your back. “D-Daryl?”

“First, the lake. Then your tits in my face when the walkers came. An’ now—this?” His finger was tracing the outline of your panties over your hip.

“What? I didn’t—”

He growled, a low sound in his throat, as he spun you around and pressed you back against the door with his body. He grabbed your chin to force your gaze on him.

“Didn’t what? G’on. Tell me.”

“Daryl, I didn’t mean anything by any of that.” You gulped, though you weren’t afraid. Exactly the opposite. Heat and wetness was pooling at your core, your skin feeling electrified where he was touching you. Nevertheless, you couldn’t lie to him. “I really wasn’t trying to fuck with you, I swear.”

There was an instant change in his eyes and it broke your heart. He released you with a muttered “shit,” his hand rubbing at the back of his neck. The dim light of your bedside lamp was enough for you to see his face reddening and the slight tremble to his frame.

“Y/N, I—fuck—m’sorry.” He quickly attempted to sidestep you and reached for the doorknob, but you were faster and blocked his path. His head shot up, eyes wide and panicked. He had absolutely misread the day’s happenings but he wasn’t wrong on one thing.

“I wasn’t intentionally fucking with you.” You repeated, your tongue snaking out to wet your lips before you continued. “But I would have if I had known it’d end with you here like this.” His arm dropped away from the knob and you entered into his space, pressing your chest against him to hover your lips over his. “I’ve wanted you for so long, Daryl Dixon.”

And now you were here.

“Fuuuuck!” You moaned, pressing the back of your head into the pillow before raising it to look down at the man between your thighs. Your fingers twisted and tugged his hair as your hips rolled, grinding your cunt against his tongue. Daryl growled against your clit, the sound vibrating against the swollen nub. His large hands pressed down on your inner thighs, holding you open while also effectively rendering you immobile.

A whine slipped past your lips when his tongue once again pressed tightly against you, sweeping up and down before he closed his lips around the bundle of nerves and sucked. You tried to lift your hips but he pressed down harder, his nails biting into your skin. He removed his mouth from you, dark eyes glaring from just above your mound.

“Be still.”

His gravelly voice was even lower, darkened with lust and demand. You found you couldn’t help but obey. Breathing through your nose, you nodded eagerly. He kept his gaze locked on your face while his right hand lifted from your thigh, fingertips whispering over your flesh to dance down to your core. He ran a single digit through your slick once…twice, never breaking eye contact.

Your hands left his hair and fisted into the sheets of your bed, but otherwise, you remained frozen in place, panting through the pleasure of stretching around his middle finger breaching your opening. He slid in to the first knuckle, then the second, pausing only briefly before pushing in all the way. The sound that left your throat was positively sinful. You dropped your head back to the pillow and focused on not moving.

“Good girl.” He praised you, rewarding you by drawing his digit almost all the way out before sinking back inside, thus beginning a steady rhythm of which he continued. When you remained unmoving, he lowered his head once again to lavish attention onto your clit.

Who was this man? This was a completely new Daryl. In control, demanding, vocal, and positively panty-dropping. A new part of him for you to accept and adore. A part of him that, to your knowledge, only you had seen. One that you definitely hoped you would see again and again!

“Daryl, fuck!” You cried out when his index finger joined the first. You shivered almost violently when you felt him smile against your pussy.

“In a minute.” He purred, pumping into you faster.

Your hands moved from the sheets to the headboard, palms flat to keep the thrusts of his hand from pushing you upward. The moans and cries were constant, his mouth and fingers igniting a fire low in your belly. The knot was twisting tighter and tighter, and you grit your teeth when you felt the sparks of it begin to shoot down to your toes and up into your chest.

“Nngh, Daryl! I’m—” You panted, eyes screwed shut and legs trembling. He curled his fingers, driving them against that soft spot inside you mercilessly while his tongue and teeth tortured your clit. Just when you thought you might die from the pleasure of it all, that knot in your belly pulled taunt and snapped. Wave after wave of euphoria traveled through you, broken moans of his name tumbling from your lips like a mantra. You had grabbed his hair again at some point, holding him against your center with your thighs attempting to trap him there. He didn’t seem to mind, too busy eagerly lapping at the nectar you spilled while riding your high.

When you went limp against the mattress, he pulled his fingers from within you, leaving you to whine at the emptiness they left behind. You were still pulsing with the aftershocks of your orgasm when he pressed one last kiss against your sensitive clit before sitting up on his knees. You blinked away the haze in your vision to watch him suck on those two fingers that had just fucked you senseless, your juices still glistening on his face.

You weren’t sure what came over you but you dove forward almost clumsily while he wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. He caught you easily with the other arm and pulled you against his chest, your arms encircling his neck to pull his lips to yours. The kiss was desperate, all tongues and teeth. The absolute need to be close to him in that moment was something you couldn’t explain. When you pulled back to look at him, your pupils blown wide and lips swollen, it was as if he understood before your sex-addled brain could form any words.

“I gotcha, girl.” Daryl said softly, a contradiction to how he had commanded you only moments prior. You nodded and let him kiss you again. It was tender this time, slow and deliberate. The archer began to lay you back. He caught himself with one arm while the other stayed behind your head to control your descent until you were once again on the pillows.

His mouth left yours and began to roam across your jaw. He nuzzled his cheek against yours in a way that you found absolutely adorable but then he was pressing open-mouthed kisses below your ear. Large hands traveled to your chest to cup both of your breasts, calloused fingers exploring the supple mounds before settling to roll your pebbled nipples between them. He kissed his way down, that sinful mouth eager to take over worshiping that part of you.

“Daryl,” you gasped, arching up into him when his mouth closed around your right nipple, “mmmm, Daryl, please!” You could feel his erection against your thigh, hot and hard and yet completely ignored. “Please—” you tried again, the plea coming out more like a pathetic whine.

“I know whatcha want.” He murmured against the skin between your breasts. He latched onto your left nipple with his teeth while his left hand took over stimulating the right. “Whatcha need.” You did the only thing you could and twisted your fingers into his hair, drawing your bottom lip in between your teeth with a quiet whimper. His touch left you suddenly and you opened your eyes to find him directly above you and lowering down until his lips were just barely touching yours. “But I wantcha to say it anyway.” You felt every syllable against your mouth, the simple action enough to make your cunt clench around nothing. Goddamn, this man knew how to play your body like an instrument.

His fingers were ghosting down your left side only for his hand to maneuver between your bodies. Grasping his cock, he slid it through your folds, gathering your juices in agonizingly slow strokes. Each time the tip of him grazed your clit, your back arched from the mattress with a cry on your lips.

“Say it.”

“I want you, Daryl.” You whined, anchoring your legs around his hips. You dug your heels into the skin just below his ass in a desperate attempt to pull him into you. Too bad he was much stronger than you.

He hummed in response but only began to stroke himself, spreading your slick along his shaft. “Tell me whatcha want me to do, girl.”

You couldn’t take it anymore. You were going to literally combust if he wasn’t inside you at that moment. You weaved your arms underneath his and pulled at him. “Fuck me, Daryl. Please, please, fuck me!”

He chuckled. The asshole actually chuckled but you didn’t care because he then immediately entered you in one fluid motion, burying himself to the hilt. His arms nearly gave out as your wet heat welcomed him, stretching and molding to his cock as if your body was made just for him. He groaned, dropping his head to your shoulder but you were too far gone to notice. The pleasurable burn of accommodating him brought you to new heights. You almost came right on the spot.

“Fuck.” He breathed against your neck, fighting to keep himself in check.

After you both had a moment, Daryl pushed himself up onto his forearms, drawing back his hips slowly before snapping forward and earning a broken moan from you. The feeling of him moving inside you was overwhelming, the push and pull driving every thought from your mind to leave only the ability to feel. And you wanted more.

You clawed at his back, each thrust forward tearing a cry from your throat. You barely registered that his mouth was on yours, but responded immediately, craving the taste of him. The smoke and pine mingled with the taste of your cunt on his tongue and you couldn’t get enough. You swallowed his delectable moan when your hips came up to meet this thrusts, the sound of wet skin slapping echoing off the walls of your room. Bringing a hand to his hair, you pulled his head back, pussy clenching when the action made him hiss between his teeth.

Teeth met his skin, biting down just above his collar bone. The salty taste brought a moan into your throat. You marked him there, sucking hard until you brought blood to the surface and then you released him. “You—feel so good.” You panted before your mouth was back on his. He pulled back suddenly and you whined at the loss of his weight but then he was sitting back on his knees, grabbing your hips and fucking into you so hard that you saw stars. It was just on the good side of painful, your cunt spasming around his cock as the familiar heat began to build in your belly.

Daryl didn’t stay that way way long. He released your hips and leaned forward to use the headboard as leverage, pounding you with such force that you again had to brace yourself with your palms. Your cries mixed with his moans and grunts and you prayed that Carol was still away. The angle was intense, each thrust had his tip pressing roughly against your sweet spot, building your pleasure at a pace you wished would slow.

“Daryl, I’m—I’m gonna—” you couldn’t get the words out between breaths and moans, but he knew from the way you tightened around him that you were nearing the precipice. And he was determined to throw you over the edge first.

He released the headboard and grabbed your arms, yanking you up while he sat back on his heels. You grabbed for his shoulders and then encircled his neck, resting one hand on the back of his head and the other on his shoulder blade. He moved his hands to your hips, helping you to bounce on him, spearing yourself on his cock and driving it deeper. Your moans became pleas and then a chant of his name, mouth hanging agape between words and breaths and eyes screwed shut.

“Cum for me.” He grunted against your jaw and that was all it took. You were almost certain you screamed but you couldn’t hear it, vision blacking out as euphoria swallowed you. You came back to yourself as the waves began to ebb, Daryl continuing to fuck you through. Your body felt heavy and uncoordinated and you pulled back a bit to clumsily seek out his mouth, greedily drinking down each sound he offered as he chased his own release. His grip on your hips would leave bruises, but you couldn’t find it in you to care.

His movements grew sloppy and you could feel him beginning to twitch and pulse inside you. You pulled your mouth from his and watched him until he pulled you from his lap. You moved quickly, aware of his actions, and wrapped your hand around him, pumping him fast and hard. He pressed his forehead against yours, his hands gripping your thighs while he fought to breathe through the sensation. His teeth were clenched and his eyes tightly closed, sweat shining on his skin and you were sure it was the sexiest thing you had ever seen.

Half a dozen more strokes before you twisted your hand and he cried out, muscles freezing and face contorting into a grimace of pure ecstasy. He breathed out your name, hips jerking and ropes of cum painting your hand and both of your thighs. No, that was the sexiest thing you had ever seen.

You pulled his mouth to yours before he could come all the way down, relishing each twitch of his muscles. When you pulled away, he finally opened his eyes and swayed on the spot. He seemed dazed but when his gaze met yours, he leaned forward to kiss you. It was gentle, almost hesitant. As if he didn’t know whether or not you’d welcome it.

“That was amazing.” You whispered, finally catching your breath.

“Yeah.” He replied quietly.

You brought a hand to the side of his face, watching all the courage melt away. His already flushed face was growing impossibly redder. You couldn’t help but smile. He had been dominant and commanding only to morph right back into the Daryl you had fallen in love with.

Your eyes widened.

Shit.

You were in love with him.

You were actually in love with Daryl.

You didn’t move when he got up to grab a towel, slipping on his boxers while he was at it. You still didn’t move as he cleaned you up, his mouth moving once he was done but no sound registering. He snapped his fingers in front of your face and you flinched.

“What’d you say?”

“Ya okay?” His brow was drawn inward in concern. He looked so, so nervous and you just wanted to pull him onto the bed and hold him.

“Yeah, I’m great.” You beamed.

He nodded and worried his bottom lip between his teeth, glancing over at his clothes. “Guess I should go.”

Your face fell as he reached for his pants. “Why?” Daryl froze and looked at you, head tilted. “You could stay. Here. With me.” You offered, your own face reddening. He stayed in the awkward position of halfway reaching toward his shirt but was obviously considering your words.

“Ya want me to stay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I really do.” You smiled sincerely. He nodded and straightened, coming back around to the other side of the bed. He sat stiffly against the headboard, chewing his lip again. You started to lean against him when there came a soft knock at the door. You both looked up and then at one another.

Busted.

You both scrambled to get dressed and it would have been comical had you not been thinking of who could be on the other side of the door. Carol. Rick. Michonne. Oh god, Carl! You looked back at him just as he pulled his shirt over his head, an apologetic expression on your face. Turning the knob and pulling the door open, you smiled innocently at—

No one.

“What the—” You leaned out and looked down each hall to find them empty. However, at your feet were two wrapped plates of food. One with a note addressed to Daryl and the other to you. In Carol’s handwriting.

You looked around for the woman once more while picking up the plates and stepped back into the room, kicking the door shut. Eyebrows raised, you crossed the space to hand Daryl his and then placed yours on the bed, removing the note and unfolding it.

“Good for you. Now tell him that you love him.”

You almost laughed but held it, simply folding your note and putting it in your bedside drawer. Daryl was looking at his own with a raised brow before he folded it and put it in his pocket.

“M’starvin’.” He announced, plopping onto your bed while unwrapping his food. He watched you smile and follow suit, gaze lingering just a moment longer than necessary.

His note?

“Don’t be stupid, Pookie. She loves you too.”

#murda writes #daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x y/n #the walking dead #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon smut #daryl dixon x female reader #Spotify

[wineauntie]

do you have a blurb of evie meeting quinn's parents? I don't see it on your masterlist but don't want to have missed it if you've written it. Thanks!

I won’t lie, I planned a fic about it, and then completely abandoned it…so here’s that!

this is a continuation of “meet the brothers” but can be read as a standalone!

word count: 1.3k

universe masterlist

"They're going to love you, y'know,"

You jolted in surprise from where you were shuffling around the kitchen nervously, your eyes landing on Luke, who scratched his head awkwardly. You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, as you settled against the counter.

"I mean, Quinn loves you and Evie, he won't stop talking about you guys," Luke continued, "Mom is already obsessed with Evie since Quinn showed her photos of him teaching her to play hockey."

"I love him too," you softly supplied, your fingers fidgeting with the cuffs of your sleeves. "I just...I want them to like us. It sounds pathetic, but I really really love Quinn and Evie does too, if your parents don't like us...I don't know what would happen."

Luke nodded understandingly, a sympathetic smile gracing his lips. "I get it. But trust me, Mom and Dad are easy to get along with." He added, "They're just excited to meet the people Quinn cares about so much."

His reassurance eased some of the tension coiling in your stomach, but the nerves still lingered. You couldn't help but worry about making a good impression. After all, meeting your partner's parents was a big step in any relationship…especially if you’d already had a child before entering the relationship.

"Luke's right," Jack chimed in from the doorway. "Besides, anyone who can put up with Quinn deserves a medal in my mind."

A soft chuckle escaped your lips at Jack's comment, grateful for the lighthearted distraction and as the minutes ticked by, the anticipation of Quinn's return with his parents grew stronger and almost unbearable.

Finally, the sound of the front door opening broke the silence, and you straightened up, your heart pounding in your chest. Quinn stepped inside, his face beaming as he ushered his parents into the apartment.

You tentatively stepped towards the hallway to watch as Quinn helped his parents with their bags. Your shaking hands were hidden by your sleeves, a small smile plastered across your face.

"Mom, Dad, this is y/n," Quinn introduced you, his hand finding its way to the small of your back. "y/n/n, this is my mom and dad."

"Hi," you waved but before you could say anything more, Ellen rushed forward and engulfed you in a hug.

"We've heard so much about you!" Ellen smiled, pulling away, "You're even prettier in person" Heat rose to your cheeks as you ducked your head bashfully. "Quinn has talked so much about you!"

"Way to bait me out, Mom," Quinn rolled his eyes, his hand interlocking with yours, giving it a reassuring squeeze. You let your trembling hand clutch his as he ran his thumb over your knuckles.

You went to speak again but you were cut off by the sound of the rapid patter of bare feet against the wooden flooring of the apartment. Evie came hurtling around the corner, and straight into your arms which had outstretched to catch her.

“Mama! Winnie!” Evie giggled, hopping into your arms, her eyes focused solely on you as her hands clutched the teddy bear Luke and Jack had gifted her. “Giant and Jack go park morrow?”

You chuckled at your girl, understanding her broken words, a sense of pride filling you at her growing vocabulary.

“I’m sure Luke and Jack would love to go to the park with you tomorrow, but Evie, darling, you’re meant to be in bed,” you spoke slowly, your eyes filled with love for your daughter as her eyebrows scrunched.

“Winnie, leave and come home!” Evie batted her lashes innocently, her hands stretched out to Quinn. The man in question, stood with his body swivelled towards you and Evie, his eyes sparkling with care as he reached for Evie.

You carefully handed Evie over to Quinn, watching as the girl instinctively curled into him. You heard sighs of awe coming from Quinn’s parents, and you seemed to not be the only one to notice them. Evie’s head tilted towards the two unfamiliar people standing by the door, her eyes wide and cautious as she looked at you before looking up at Quinn.

“Win…who that?” Evie tried to whisper, her voice carrying over to Ellen and Jim, but before Quinn could explain, his mom stepped forward.

“I’m Quinn’s mom,” Ellen smiled gently, her blue eyes scanning the little girl. She pointed behind her to her husband before she spoke again. “And that’s his dad.”

“Winnie mom and dad?” Evie scrunched up her nose as she looked between Ellen, Jim and Quinn.

“Yeah, Bug,” Quinn hummed, holding her closer to his chest. “This is my mom and dad, and they’re here just to meet you and your mom.”

Evie made an ‘o’ shape with her mouth, her head bobbing up and down in an understanding nod. She straightened in Quinn’s hold, her small arm stretched toward Ellen, her hand flexing.

Ellen chuckled heartily, taking Evie’s hand in her own and shaking it, before squeezing it gently. Evie giggled at the grasp, her eyes lighting up in glee. Ellen seemed enraptured by her small smile, her eyes flickering the Quinn and you with adoration laced across her face.

You watched the scene unfold before you with a mix of relief and warmth. Evie, who was usually reserved around strangers, seemed to be taking to Quinn's parents surprisingly well. The tension that had gripped you earlier slowly began to melt away, replaced by an odd sense of belonging.

Quinn's dad, Jim, stepped forward, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he watched the interaction between his wife and Evie, who were giggling back and forth. "You've got quite the charmer there, Quinn," he remarked with a grin, his voice deeper than you thought, his gruffness more gentle.

Quinn nodded, his gaze flickering between his daughter and his parents, a proud smile tugging at his lips. "Yeah, she's something else, isn't she?" he spoke softly as Evie nestled further into his chest, a yawn wracking through her little body. "I think this little one needs to go to bed," 

"Of course," Ellen practically gushed.

"See Winnie Mom and Dad morrow?" Evie's eyes were wide and questioning as she and Quinn looked at you. 

You exchanged a glance with Quinn, a silent understanding passing between you. Despite the late hour, Evie's excitement at meeting Quinn's parents had been noticeable, and you didn't want to disappoint her. With a gentle smile, you nodded in agreement.

"Of course, Bug," you said softly, reaching out to ruffle her hair affectionately. "We'll see them tomorrow."

Evie's face lit up with joy, her tiredness momentarily forgotten as she snuggled closer to Quinn. "Yay! Winnie see Mom and Dad morrow!" she exclaimed tiredly, her words muffled against his chest.

Ellen and Jim exchanged amused glances, their fondness for their granddaughter evident in their eyes. "We'll look forward to it, sweetheart," Ellen said warmly, her hand reaching out to stroke Evie's cheek gently.

Nodding at Quinn, you and his parents watched, as he carried her towards her bedroom, the excitement of the evening finally catching up to her as she yawned sleepily. After tucking her into bed and sharing a few whispered words of love, you and Quinn quietly made your way back to the living room, where his parents were waiting.

As you settled onto the couch with Quinn by your side, a comfortable silence enveloped the room. Ellen and Jim seemed at ease in your presence, their initial nervousness replaced by genuine warmth and acceptance. It was a reassuring feeling, knowing that your relationship with Quinn's parents was off to a good start.

"Thank you for coming," you began sincerely, breaking the silence as your hands wrung together. "It means a lot."

Ellen smiled, reaching out to squeeze your hand affectionately. "It was our pleasure, dear," she replied kindly. "We've been looking forward to meeting you and Evie for quite some time."

Jim nodded in agreement, his expression serious yet kind. "Quinn talks about you both all the time," he admitted gruffly. "And it's clear to see why."

You felt a surge of warmth at his words, a sense of validation washing over you. Despite your initial fears and insecurities, it seemed that Quinn's parents genuinely cared about you and Evie. It was a comforting thought, knowing that you had their support and acceptance.

#wineauntie #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes imagine #nhl x reader #quinn hughes fanfic #quinn hughes fic #quinn hughes fanfiction #quinn hughes fluff #quinn hughes blurb #quinn hughes #family is family universe #quinn hughes x single mom!reader

[randombush3]

cherry wine

jenni hermoso x reader

part one

i hate this but i'm posting it anyway LOL

also sorry if it doesn't make sense but just like don't read into it 🙂

thanks @codiemarin for part two's idea xx

i also feel like every character deserves an apology in this

p.s. not proofread soz

Jenni decides that she doesn’t mind too much. 

She is happy in Mexico, and, just like in Paris, her escape becomes a person, not a place. 

You have moved, and now you speak Spanish. She still doesn’t know where you are from. 

Your husband, however, is a lot more forthcoming. He works in oil. He owns a quarter of the club; he bought the shares without a second thought. You have no daughter but your husband wants women’s football to have a future. He isn’t a bad man, which Jenni hates. 

He is kind – filthy rich, but kind – and it makes it hard to hurt such a good person. 

Fortunately, ‘hard’ and ‘impossible’ are not synonymous. 

Motherhood brings about no thaw, but your iciness is what has always made you so enticing to Jenni. 

She memorises your address, and she is now the one who appears. The security guards open the gates for her when the time is right, and if it isn’t, they hustle her to a nearby bar and instruct her to wait. She waits obediently. She waits because you always call her back at some point. 

When you are with Jenni, cold fingertips warmed, eyes burning with desire, the tightrope she walks widens. She plants her feet with certainty, however false it may be. She looks down at the wire to avoid the world that blazes around her, and she never dares to look ahead because she knows that it is never going to be the right time to ask. 

It looks ugly, but it’s clean. 

Jenni is happy to be with you; happy here in Monterrey, just as she was happy there in Paris. 

Happy to hide and drag herself out of your bed past midnight. 

His bed. (She tries not to think about it.)

The complicating factor is the two little boys running around the mansion, chased by tired nannies who aren’t sure how to explain why their mother needs to be left alone with their favourite footballer. That’s what Jenni becomes, unluckily, because your husband is so forward-thinking that he takes the boys to see the girls. 

Although your piercing eyes can make Jenni shiver, the boys are unaffected. They run rings around everyone, but Jenni can sometimes bark out a command and get them to sit. 

Often enough, they sit an appropriate distance from your bedroom, patiently waiting for your private meeting to be over before hounding Jenni the minute she emerges. They take no notice of her tousled hair or wild eyes, and their attention flings Jenni’s tears back inside of her whenever you get a bit too harsh with her, so it’s all good. 

When her mother calls and asks why Jenni has learnt French now instead of when she played there, she tells her not to fuss. 

Jenni is removed from those who care about her, but the haze of comfort you provide blinds her to her mistakes. 

You are hers and she is yours. 

She lies in the palm of your hand and likes when your fist closes around her. She feels safe that way. 

She likes when there is blood because the blood tastes as sweet as cherry wine. Blood is proof that you are real. Your blood runs hot like tar, and she is glad to be rooted to the spot. 

Weeks go by, and Jenni’s latest medal begins to strangle her. 

You are starting to fall in love. 

It’s never happened before. 

It’s not dutiful and it’s not because you are too weak to overcome a woman’s nature; incapable of recoding the innate forces of motherhood. It’s not as taxing or exhausting, and it is certainly not the chore you thought love would be. 

Love is radiation, in a sense, and you cannot conceal it. 

Jenni is unaware that she should dress herself in lead, but suddenly everything is contaminated and, apparently, it is all her fault. 

He’s away. 

Jenni knows he is away because he said goodbye to her when he visited the team during their training session. He wished her luck for the match, he professed his faith in her to bring his club success. He is slowly losing the French accent when he speaks, he is slowly catching up to her. 

He’s away but this time she can’t shake the feeling of him in your bed. 

It’s never happened before. 

She still wants it, but her crime is flashing bright red in her mind. 

You, guilty too, flee from the lawless land you have built.

“We’re going to the Maldives for our anniversary,” you inform her, even though there is no reason for her to know. She is not this ‘we’. 

She’s actually never been included in a ‘we’. 

“And the boys?” Jenni asks with interest. She’d prefer them to tag along. It being less romantic would make her feel better. 

“The boys are staying here.” You turn around and face the window as she rises from the crumpled sheets. The blinds part enough for you to catch glimpses of laughing figures chasing each other around the poolside, shouts sounding frantically from their nanny about watching their step. “You’ll visit them while I’m away, right? They really like you.” 

“I really like them.” You smile. It reaches your eyes and Jenni sees the reflection of it in the glass. Wishing her hands could frame you, she feels encouraged to continue. “I like anything of yours. I adore you.”

Your response is as closed as a fist, but your ribs flare open and your heart is on display, thumping and thumping, and Jenni knows that she is holding the key to a rusted lock. It’s neither shiny nor new, but it is the right one this time. 

Jenni guards the key in your absence but she is going to hand it back to you. 

She does visit the boys, driving over daily, rolling her eyes when the guards remind her that you are not yet done with your holiday and punctuating her sentences curtly. They ask her about Spain. Jenni finds herself explaining lesbianism too. 

She can’t help but associate Spain with people she’d rather not think about, but the boys strike her as perfect blends of you and your husband and she is very quickly forcing those thoughts into her mind. 

She books a flight and she goes home, ensuring there is an overlap with your holiday so that you are the one who has to do the welcoming when she returns. 

“You’re not really here for work, are you?” Alexia sees right through her, amused by Jenni’s foolishness. “I have a girlfriend, Jenni.” 

“I need to forget mine,” Jenni replies quietly. 

Her attempt is futile and her desperation wanes the moment her plane lands. 

She tried. 

She can’t escape from it though; from you. 

You are still falling in love with Jenni. Distance didn’t stop it like you thought it would. 

You tried. 

Your husband grows busier and leaves more often. 

There is more time to fall in love with Jenni, and it suffocates you like some brainwashing, poisonous gas. 

You search for a cure for your illness, but there is no cure for the absence of infirmity. 

Your plan to drive her away is to echo how traumatising Paris must have been, but sleeping with Jenni furiously is infuriating. It doesn’t work! 

It doesn’t last, and, like some tired soldier, your fire is blown out and only softer, sweeter, more merciful embers remain.

There is no fight left, but you are in denial. 

The battle is lost and won, yet the victor is unclear. Is it Jenni, who is clutched closer and asked to sleep over? Is it you, with a delicious ache in your muscles and steaming blood coursing through your veins? 

“Do you love me?” 

You pale at how obvious you must have become and you don’t know how to answer. 

Jenni decides that she doesn’t mind too much. 

#woso x reader #woso #woso fanfics #barca femeni #woso imagines #jenni hermoso x reader #jenni hermoso #randombush3

[cartierre]

LOVE ON ICE | ms47

SOCIAL MEDIA mick schumacher x fem!ice figure skater!reader

side note: the title for this is the most basic bitch i've ever created but i couldn't come up with anything better so we all have to live with it now. sue me! (please don't) side note pt2: also i have no idea how the winter olympics work, all of this is probably so inaccurate but it is what it is.

♡ liked by mickschumacher, beijing2022, olympics and 45,932 others

tagged: beijing2022

yourusername see you in a year beijing2022 ! until then, lots of training and minimal distractions!

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beijing2022 congrats!! looking forward to see you here with us ⤷ yourusername absolutely blasted

mickschumacher that means not seeing you at any of my races? :( ⤷ yourusername talk to my trainer ⤷ yourtrainer no

user1 omg congratulations! we love to see you succeeding!

user2 she's literally so much more talented than mick ⤷ user3 i don't think you can compare racing in formula one to being a figure skater. two completely different things, makes no sense ⤷ user4 at least she isn't a nepo baby

♡ liked by 19,203 people

tagged: yourusername, mickschumacher

f1wagupdates Mick Schumacher and girlfriend Y/N Y/L/N arriving together at the Bahrain International Circuit for the first grand prix this season! This marks the official F1 debut of the son of 7 times world champion Michael Schumacher.

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user5 omg i love that she came even if she's training for the olympics right now! ⤷ user6 kind of selfish of him to have her there even though she's literally training to become a champion herself ⤷ user7 i don't think mick forced her to come...

user8 she's rocking the paddock fashion game as she did back in f2 already! ⤷ user9 effortlessly beautiful, i'm envious :(

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yourusername you really think i'd say no to mick in fireproofs? and for free? also, congratulations baby for fulfilling part of your dream! mick wdc when?

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user10 y/n going against her trainer and supporting mick for his f1 debut makes me giggle and wiggle my feet ⤷ user11 when is it my time to have an athlete boyfriend who i can support unconditionally?

mickschumacher i bet your trainer hates me now ⤷ yourusername she loves you ⤷ yourtrainer do i? ⤷ yourusername she's just joking ⤷ yourtrainer am i?

user12 why is y/n's trainer so funny for no reason ⤷ user13 the way she's just completely violating mick has me rolling on the floor

user14 can we please talk for a second how cute of a couple they are? ⤷ user15 lily and alex are having some serious competition right now

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yourusername winter break with my favourite person (myself) and mick is there as well, i guess

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mickschumacher you're a terrible ice skating teacher ⤷ yourusername just because you're a loser on ice ⤷ mickschumacher i'm offended to my core ⤷ yourusername ice skating is offened by you

user16 sometimes i come to y/n's profile just to read through the little banters her and mick have in the comments ⤷ user17 free therapy

user18 i hope next season will be better for mick since y/n is then able to join him again after the olympics

user19 you're so cute you disgust me with your couple stuff

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yourusername breathtaking experience and an absolute honour to have been able to perform for my country at the winter olympics 2022. the silver medal will definitely look good on my shelf. lots of love to everyone who supported me along my way!

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user20 so sad to not have you seen with a gold medal around your neck, but you were absolutely beautiful on ice!

user21 well deserved girl, very proud of you!

mickschumacher my little vice champion ⛸️🥈 comment liked by yourusername

user22 you were so robbed from first place.... ⤷ user23 she's just warming up, her career has a lot to offer for the future

user24 my whole tiktok is full of your performance, i love it

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mickschumacher couldn't have a more talented girlfriend than you ❤️🖤

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user25 we love an equally supportive boyfriend ⤷ user26 mick keeps on continuing raising the bar over here ⤷ user27 i'll never find a boyfriend because no one else is mick schumacher

yourusername still baffled you were able to clear your schedule to see me perform ⤷ mickschumacher i'd never miss a chance of seeing you gracefully capture various emotions on ice

user28 i'm down for this man so bad ⤷ user29 fr y/n i want a lil piece of mick as well

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