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yeehaw4yoongi · 2 years

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Iced Americano | JJK

Pairing: jk x barista female reader

Rating: 18+ | minors dni | nsfw

Word Count: 5.9k

Warnings: drinking alcohol, kissing, some swearing, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, fingering, mentions of cum, titty play, mentions of food/eating, mentions of milk (but literally just milk nothing nasty is being done with the milk), shower sex, dom-ish jk

Genre: fluff, smut, non-idol au, strangers to lovers, some angst

Summary: You wake up thinking today would be like any other day but you were wrong.

A/N: Hi tumblr! This is my first stab at writing any kind of fanfic. I'm new to all the warnings, categories, and abbreviations so please bear with me. Thinking about doing a part 2 since I feel like there is so much build up in this half, so if you enjoyed it, please comment, reblog, and like!

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Today started like most of your days do. The alarm yanks you out of your slumber at 4:30AM and you drag yourself to the shower. You have about half an hour to get to the bus so you can make it to work at 6:00AM. You sprint to your stop and make it just as the bus pulls up. You won’t be late today.

As you ride down the dark city streets you make a list of everything that needs to be done to open the cafe by 7:00AM. You take inventory of everyone out and about already hard at work. Street sweepers and stall keepers mill around setting the scene for the world that has yet to wake. Despite the start time, you love the opening shift. It’s where humans on different paths cross as night transitions into the morning. Party people with pupils the size of the moon and 9 to 5’ers alike find themselves convening in the queue for coffee. The day goes by as usual. Taking orders, making light conversation, steaming milk, and cleaning up empty cups make the morning go by quickly, and before you know it’s nearly time for the shift change. By now the freshness of the morning ceases to exist. You’re covered in coffee grounds and sweat has taken its toll on your makeup. You switch out the till drawer and head to the office to count the morning’s takings. Once you finish, you collect your bag and head back into the bustling cafe. It’s a small space so you weave your way through the crowded shop. You stop by the counter on your way out to bid your workmate adieu and that’s when you notice him.

His tall slender frame leans against the counter as he orders an iced americano. He reaches for his wallet and you notice the tattoos on his hands. You don’t allow yourself to keep looking. Instead, you push passed him and the other people queuing and head for the door. One of your workmates shouts behind you “see you tomorrow!” and as you turn around to wave you meet eyes with Iced Americano. For a split second, your heart plummets into your stomach. He looks down at his phone and you’re released from his grip. He seems unfazed but the depth of his glance has shaken you. Walking down the street toward the bus you brush off the interaction. This city is full of attractive people. You serve them every day. What made him different?

“Never mind,” you tell yourself as you climb the steps to the top deck of the bus. You have errands to run and a friend’s birthday dinner to go to tonight. As the afternoon wanes you forget about Iced Americano and go about getting ready for the evening’s festivities. You make your best effort. The restaurant you’re going to for the party is one of the nicest Italian places in town and you want to look the part.

The city sparkles as you make your way through town in the cold. You see the restaurant down the road. The warmth practically flows out of the windows. As you enter, you’re met with a scene of beauty. Peach-colored light is defused through sheer fabric dressed around each of the fixtures that hang from the ceiling. They reflect off of the polished brass glass rack hanging above the marble-top bar and bathe the marble walls in a rose gold hue. Vintage mirrors hang above a row of pale blue booth seats that run parallel to the bar and give way to the dining room. You stand at the door and take it all in. Scanning the dining room you realize you’re the first of your group to arrive. The maitre d’ pulls out one of the plush mint green bar stools and motions for you to take a seat. You order yourself a glass of wine and pass the time looking through your phone. As you wait, the bar fills up around you. Your phone buzzes and it’s your friend saying they’re nearly there. You motion to the bartender to close out your tab. He places the bill on the bar. When you look down you see something familiar out of the corner of your eye- a tattoo and more importantly the hand it belongs to. How long had Iced Americano been there? Your eyes never leave the tray the receipt is on as you slide it towards you. That’s when you hear his voice. “What wine are you drinking?” You mess up your signature but decide there’s no way he was talking to you and so you push the tray back toward the bartender and place your card back in your wallet. It’s when you get up to tell the maitre d’ your group has almost arrived that you meet Iced Americano’s gaze. Turns out he was talking to you. He looks at you with an inquisitive brow as he awaits your response.

“I, I uh, it’s the Cabernet” you manage to blurt out through your shock. The bartender nods at Iced Americano and he orders the Cabernet. “Thank you,” he says with a wide smile. You stand there looking up at him for what was probably only 2 seconds but feels like much longer. Just then your friends swan in and swallow you up in their hugs and kisses of greeting. You look back at Iced Americano and smile and give him a small wave as you head to your table.

Your seat at the table faces one of the mirrors hung on the walls. You and your friends order two bottles of wine and some small plates to start. You’re wrapped up in the comfort of their company. Everyone is sharing the highlights of their day and listening as the birthday girl lists off all of the presents she’s gotten. As the server brings the wine and serves a sample to your friend you look up into the mirror. Sitting at the table directly behind you is Iced Americano with two others. His seat at the table gives you a clear view of his face in the mirror’s reflection. You try your best to stay engaged in the conversation happening at your table but the image in the mirror pulls your gaze back to it. His face is kind and his eyes are soft and doe-like. The curve of his jaw is sharp. Even through the vintage mirror, you can tell his bone structure resembles that of a statue. You’ve lost yourself in his image and he must have felt you staring because his eyes look up to meet yours. You’re rendered breathless but you don’t divert your eyes. The server pours your glass of wine and you refocus on the table.

Several food courses and drinks go by before the bill inevitably arrives. Your party wraps up and as you collect your things to leave you steal another glance at Iced Americano in the mirror hoping it won’t be the last. You make your way out with your group and wait with them as each of their cabs arrive. Standing alone on the sidewalk outside of the restaurant you watch your Uber get closer and closer to picking you up but you’re not ready to go home yet. You look behind you through the restaurant window and see Iced Americano sitting at the bar. You decide to throw caution to the wind and cancel the Uber.

The liquid courage running through your veins makes it easy, a little too easy, to take the seat directly next to the man that has captured your attention. You don’t say anything to him as the weight of your decision begins to hit you. It’s too late now, and when the bartender asks what you would like you say, “He and I will have an espresso martini,” and motion to Iced Americano sitting next to you. He looks at you with a surprised look and you grin. “Did you order that for me?” he asks with a chuckle. You nod. “What’s your name?” you ask. He responds, “My name is Jungkook. It’s nice to meet you.”

You sit at the bar nursing your drinks and talking. He’s in town working for a couple of days. You mention being a barista but don’t mention where. You talk about traveling and the places you’ve been, comparing notes on cities you’ve both visited. He is incredibly well-traveled and regales you with stories about his time spent on the road. As you chat the restaurant starts closing down. Eventually, the bartender makes the last call and Jungkook asks if you’d like to take a bottle of wine to go. The idea sends a tingle up your spine. You initially thought the espresso martini would be the nightcap but your shift doesn’t start until the afternoon the next day, and why wouldn’t you get a bottle of wine to go? You answer him, “I’d love to. I know a place we can go with it.”

When you step outside the cold air hits your lungs and the warm blur from inside the restaurant sharpens. You are greeted by the sounds of cabs passing by and people chatting and laughing as they make their way to the train station. The city lights shine and wrap you up. You feel safe under them. The libations from dinner and the impromptu nightcap make your mind feel light and optimistic like anything could happen. As though somehow this moment is the beginning of your life.

You start walking down the road and turn to see if Jungkook is following you. He’s still standing at the door holding the wine and thanking the staff for a wonderful meal and exquisite service. Waiting for him a few paces along the sidewalk you take the opportunity to admire his whole form. He’s tall with broad strong shoulders. His turtleneck hugs his arms and chest and his slacks are perfectly tailored - a statue. As he walks toward you he asks, “Where do we go next?”

The two of you make your way through town passing the theatre district down to the river. You find a bench along the bank and take a seat to watch boats pass while lights on the other side twinkle in the background. He had the forethought to ask the bartender to uncork the wine but you both forgot cups. He playfully pulls the cork and takes a swig straight from the bottle and then hands it to you. It’s cold out but you don’t feel it. Maybe it’s the wine? Maybe it’s him? Either way, you never feel uncomfortable. You talk with him about what brought you to the city and how you love being there. He listens intently and seems to hang on to your every word. Time flies as you take turns drinking the wine and before you know it, the bottle is empty. You sit there with him in the dark a bit longer looking out over the water. The silence between you is pleasant. You can feel his arm up against yours and you fight the urge to take his hand at that moment.

He looks at his phone and breaks the silence, “Let’s walk back to where I’m staying and I can get you a cab back home.” By now, you know that even if you didn’t desperately want to walk him home, you’ve had so much wine that there’s no way you can get into a vehicle without walking it off a bit. As you stroll up to the beautiful historic hotel, you see there’s a town car parked in the front. “This is for you,” Jungkook says with a smile and motions to the car. Going home is the last thing you want to do but you don’t want to force anything. You thank him for the ride and tell him you hope he has a great remainder of his stay in town. As you turn toward the car, Jungkook takes your hand in his and pulls you toward him into a hug. You breathe him in and he smells like clean fresh laundry. “Thank you for showing me around,” he says releasing you, “I had a great time.” You go to respond but don’t get the chance. He leans in and gives you a gentle kiss on the lips. “I’ll see you around,” he whispers in your ear with a sly smile and you stand there stunned. He notices that you’ve been caught off guard and walks to the side of the car and opens the door. That’s your cue. You get into the backseat and he closes the door behind you, giving a small wave as the car pulls away from the hotel.

Your whole body buzzes as you ride through the city. When you get home you realize you never exchanged numbers. As you sink into bed you replay the events of the evening in your mind. Every look, every word, every brush of his arm against yours. The kiss cycles over and over. Even if it was just tonight, it was worth it.

The next day you have a slow morning. By some miracle, you aren’t hungover but the booze has made you feel sluggish. You think about Jungkook as you get ready for work that afternoon and while heading to the bus stop. You think about him as you ride through town and as you walk to the cafe. You can’t shake him and you don’t want to. Deep down you tell yourself not to get your hopes up. What are the chances of you seeing him again? Despite you trying to manage your expectations, you watch the cafe door your entire shift hoping he’ll appear there. Patron after patron comes in. No Jungkook. Finally, you give up hope that he’ll come in but that doesn’t stop you from thinking about the night before. You spend the rest of the shift on autopilot, stuck in your endless daydream. You close up the shop and head back home. You have to open up the next day and can’t afford another late night. Riding the bus, your mind drifts to last night. It remembers the feeling of his arms wrapped around you. It remembers the feeling of his lips pushed against yours and the feeling of his breath on your ear.

Once again, your alarm startles you awake at 4:30AM. Another day, another shift. You’ve accepted the idea that your evening with Jungkook was only a brief encounter and one of the many perks of living in the city. You never know who you’ll meet and what will happen. The memory will live fondly in the back of your mind for a while until time inevitably reduces it to a blip on the timeline of your life. The shift goes by as normal and you greet and serve the first arrivals into the shop. The morning is peppered with the regular corporate types and rave stragglers. You spend your time chatting, catching up with them, and listening to what they have planned for the rest of their day. As the lunch rush starts to pick up, the queue for service extends to just outside of the door. You’re nearing the end of your shift but there’s still a lot to do, so you move from the till to behind the coffee machine to help your workmate with the influx of coffee orders flooding in.

As you steam the milk at the end of the counter, you grow tired and the awareness of what’s happening around you disappears. It’s just you and the milk pitcher. You watch the milk swirl around in the jug making sure not to burn it. With your focus on the upcoming orders you never see Jungkook enter the cafe, but now he is standing at the end of the counter and says, “Hi” breaking your focus. When you look up and see who the greeting comes from, you almost don’t believe your eyes. The chances of you meeting again seemed slim and yet here he is. You realize that you’re fully staring at him, mouth agape. You try to respond like someone who has spoken before but your “Hey! How are you?” comes out as more of an abrupt shout. He doesn't skip a beat and tells you that he was meant to leave town the day before but that he still had some things to wrap up and extended his trip a few days. You’re delighted by this news but you do your best to stay cool and nonchalant. His drink is a few places behind others in line but none of the other patrons matter anymore. You make each drink and just slide them to the end of the counter as you and Jungkook chat. He didn’t know you worked here and mentioned how he was in the cafe a few days ago. You pretend not to remember. Finally, his drink is up. Unlike the coffees before his, you take extra care and gently slide the drink directly toward him. He asks you for a lid and as you go to put it on, there is a brief fumble. He doesn’t anticipate you putting the lid on for him and reaches to secure it as you place it on top of his cup. His slender fingers and soft palm land directly on the top of your hand. You both look up at each other and giggle. He takes a sip of his drink and thanks you for making it just right. You swoon and he notices. He says that he’s been given tickets to a show later that night and asks if you’d like to go with him. You exchange a glance with your workmate standing to your left. She has completely stopped making espresso shots and is waiting for you to respond to him while nodding her head as though to say, “Say yes, fool!”. You quickly turn back to face Jungkook and tell him, “sounds great”. Noticing that the number of people waiting for their coffee has caused a crowd to form, he takes a pen from his bag and writes his number on a napkin, and hands it to you. “Send me your address. I’ll pick you up at 7.”

As soon as you finish work you text him your address. [See you soon.] he replies. You race home and start the process of getting ready. No task is spared as you prep for a night on the town with quite possibly the most beautiful man on the planet. You try on all of your clothes and then all of your roommate’s clothes before finally deciding on what you’ll wear. You put on the designer perfume your grandmother gave you for your birthday. Promptly at 7:00PM your phone buzzes. You give yourself a last look and take a deep breath. When you open the front door, there is Jungkook sitting on the street in an Aston Martin. He gets out of the car and goes around the other side to open the passenger door. He’s wearing black combat boots, fitted black trousers, and a knit charcoal grey crew neck sweater over a white collared shirt. You walk toward him and he takes your hand to help you into the car. He gets into the driver’s seat but before he puts the car back into gear, he looks over at you and says, “You look amazing.” You thank him and reciprocate the compliment even though “amazing” doesn’t even begin to describe how gorgeous he looks. He is fucking hot with his black hair combed in a way that exposes a bit of his forehead. You fight the urge to lick your lips as you watch him wrap his tattooed fingers around the steering wheel.

You arrive at an elite member’s only Burlesque club in Soho. The hostess shows you to a cozy private booth with soft cushioned upholstery and oversized pillows that line the back. As the two of you settle in, the manager stops by the table to drop off a complimentary bottle of champagne. Jungkook smiles when he sees her and stands up to greet her with a hug and cheek kiss, as though they’ve met before. He introduces you and she winks as she greets you. She says, “Any friend of JK is a friend of mine. If you need anything at all, just ask for me.” A server comes by and takes your drink and food order just as the lights in the club dim and the spotlight flicks onto the stage. Jungkook makes sure your glass never runs dry as one beautiful woman after another takes the stage. Each one of their performances is glamorous and sensual. As the show goes on, the two of you inch closer and closer to each other until he takes his arm and puts it over your shoulder. You allow yourself to let your guard down and lean your head to the side to rest it in the nook where his chest meets his shoulder. You stay there until the show is over.

The club isn’t far from his hotel and as you stroll down the street it dawns on you that that’s the direction you’re heading in. You brace yourself for another town car. When the hotel is just within eyeshot, Jungkook makes a random but smooth turn onto a narrow alley and points out some street art on the wall. As you follow behind him trying to see what he’s talking about he turns around and slowly walks back toward you until you’ve backed yourself onto the wall opposite of the one he was looking at. He walks right up to the point where you’re nearly touching and then stops. You turn your gaze upward to look him in the eyes and he says, “I’m just kidding. I wanted a private place to kiss you.” He leans in and lays a small kiss on your lips. And then another. You kiss him back as you slowly wrap your arms around his waist and draw him in closer. For a few moments, the two of you stand there entwined seemingly suspended in time. It feels like you’re levitating. He opens his mouth and slides his tongue into yours, triggering all the butterflies in your stomach to a frenzy. Pulling back, he lays a few more small kisses on your lips before bringing your arms up around his neck and wrapping his arms around your back to pull you into him again. You stand there in silence breathing in unison. As you stroke the hair that grazes the nape of his neck he leans into yours and kisses it softly. Kissing your neck he says, “Do you,” another kiss, “want,” another kiss, “to come up,” another kiss, “with me?” You reply into the night sky as your head rolls back, and his kisses drift further down your neck, “Absolutely”.

Your heart pounds as you walk through the hotel doors but you aren’t nervous. Facing the front of the mirrored elevator doors, Jungkook stands behind you. He admires your reflections for a moment and you watch him as he drapes his left arm over the front of you while using his right hand to caress the left side of your face and turn it up to the right to meet his for a kiss. The doors ding open and you walk into the elevator. He pushes a button near the top floor and the doors close.

You are standing on opposite sides of the elevator and with each floor that passes the tension between you grows. It takes everything you have not to throw yourself on him but you test the waters and ask, “Why are you all the way over there?”. His demeanor shifts and when his gaze meets yours, you see a fire burning in his eyes. He takes the two steps across the elevator, looks over at the buttons, and smashes the Emergency stop. The elevator halts. Facing you, Jungkook raises his hand and places his thumb on your lip, applying some pressure while moving it carefully and with purpose until your mouth is slightly open. He starts to lean in, slowly sliding his thumb and index finger down to the tip of your chin, and lifts your face until your mouths meet in a deep and passionate French kiss. Your face rests gently in the palms of his hands. The way he kisses you feels like he needs you to breathe. “Can I touch you?”, he asks, his voice nearly a whisper but not quite. As he waits for your response, once again you find yourself answering into the sky but this time you’re met with your reflection in the mirrored ceiling of the elevator. You look yourself in the eyes as they roll back into your head and you whisper, “Please”.

When the elevator doors open Jungkook slides his fingers out from your now-damp underwear and leads you into an immaculately decorated suite. He flicks on a lamp and then another and you stop at the end of the entryway to take in the space.

As you admire your surroundings, Jungkook asks if you’d like a glass of wine while he pulls back a heavy curtain to reveal a private terrace with a breathtaking view of the city. You walk over to where he’s standing by the window and look out. The city lights twinkle in a panorama. He asks you again if you’d like some wine but you are too distracted by flashbacks of the elevator ride up when he slid his middle and ring fingers inside of you as he rubbed your clit with the bottom of his palm to notice Jungkook waiting for your response whilst you look out over the city. He clears his throat and you are suddenly very aware of him waiting and see him looking at you out of the corner of your eye.

You turn toward him and say, “I think I want something stronger,” as you move your hand over the front of his trousers to find what you actually want. You land on the task at hand and you feel him twitch slightly under your palm, as he begins to harden at your touch. Looking up at his face, his eyes are closed and he lets out a soft moan as he exhales. You keep your hand where it is for a bit longer before moving it up toward his waist until your fingers are touching the bottom of his sweater giving it a light tug to signal that it’s time for him to take it off. He crosses his arms over his torso, reaching to where your hands are resting near his waist, and pulls the sweater up and over his head. While his arms are still mid-air, you reach up and start unbuttoning the white collared shirt. You lay a kiss on the skin that is exposed with each undone button. He is breathing heavier now. You only get halfway through unbuttoning his shirt before he takes you by the waist and turns you toward the window. He puts his hand on your back and presses you into it just enough to indicate that he’s the one in control. His hand moves down your back to your hips and guides them into place. His other hand is busy lifting your skirt and resting the fabric on your lower back to expose your ass. “If you want something stronger, that’s what you’ll get”. You hear his zipper coming down and his belt clink as he unbuckles. The glass is cold against your palms and arms. The city continues to glow in front of you as you feel him slide your panties down.

The anticipation begins to bubble over and every part of your body throbs and screams out for him. You let out a whine when he starts teasing you with his tip, before slowly and gently sliding every inch of him inside of you. You both moan softly and relish the first moment your bodies fully meet each other. Jungkook pulls out nearly leaving you but slides himself deep inside you again. He repeats this a few times and then proceeds to slowly and steadily fuck you from behind. Each thrust is deliberate and forces you to feel all of him as he strokes your g-spot. You can feel the pressure inside of you starting to build and he can too. He gradually quickens his pace remaining consistent with the depth and cadence of his strokes. Your head gets cloudy as your orgasm continues to mount. “Fuck!” you exclaim as Jungkook starts to hammer into you with a rhythm where you cease to see straight anymore. You try to regain your composure but all you can do is plead with him not to stop- never stop. “I won’t,” he barks through gritted teeth. You come so hard that your legs nearly give out and he’s quick to catch you with one arm around your torso to keep you from buckling. He never misses a beat and the waves of your orgasm keep crashing over you.

When he feels you reach the other side of pleasure, he pulls himself out of your warmth and gently rubs the head of his cock across your ass cheeks as he releases onto them. You feel the warm trickles of his cum roll down as he steps back to admire his work. Still bent over and facing the window you look back at him over your right shoulder and see him standing there with a naughty smile stretched across his face while he pulls up his trousers. “Let’s get you cleaned up,” he says. In an effort not to make a mess of your skirt, you unzip it and bring it up over your body and head. You drape it over one of the armchairs and hear the shower turn on in the other room. As you walk toward the sound you remove your top and drop it onto the floor.

Entering the bathroom you are met with a fully naked Jungkook. The form that you’ve admired through turtlenecks and fitted trousers is now on full display. He has a striking physique and you can tell that he takes time to maintain it. He is lean but still muscular. He’s strong but has made an effort not to overdo it so that it looks almost effortless. You can see all of his tattoos now and you’re surprised by how many there are.

Steam spills over the top of the walk-in shower and he opens the door and beckons for you to get in. He takes the sponge hanging on the wall and squeezes some soap onto it. The scent of gardenia wafts through the steam as he creates a lather and drags the sponge along the different parts of your body, paying particular attention to your ass making sure to remove whatever is still left of him. He wrings out the sponge and hangs it back on the wall. As the warm water continues to cascade down, you turn to face him and wrap your arms around his waist to pull his body close to yours. You rest your head on his chest and feel him breathe. Still captured in your embrace, Jungkook turns the two of you as a unit so that you are facing him as he slowly sits down on the banquette that is built into the shower. You continue to stand. You place your hands under his chin and tilt his head so that he’s looking straight up into your eyes. You lean down to kiss him. He kisses you back gently and when you move your head to change angles you catch a peek of his face through your partially closed eyes. His brow is furrowed as though he is savoring every second of this kiss. His expression is soft and sincere. It makes you feel like at that moment, you belong to each other. Like you want to take care of him. To protect his heart. To make sure he always feels cherished. You start to lose yourself in your head as you continue to caress him. The emotions rising into your throat border on heartbreaking. You know this is a fleeting moment. Nothing is promised after tonight.

You pull back from the kiss and start to straighten your stance, while he glides his mouth down your neck and chest until he has one of your breasts in his mouth. You feel his tongue circling your nipple as his hand takes your other breast into it. He rubs his thumb over your other nipple while using his free arm to keep you close to him. Gently, you comb your fingers through the wet hair on the back of his head and hold it as he transfers his mouth to your other breast. You reach down between his legs as he continues to suck on your tits and find that he is hard.

Jungkook adjusts so that he is sitting on the very edge of the banquette to make it easier for you to straddle him. As you lower yourself down onto him, he pulls you in so close that it’s hard to tell where he starts and you stop. Your arms are wrapped around his neck and your face is pressed against the side of his. Once you feel that he is completely inside of you, you start rocking your hips back and forth slowly. He moans when he feels your core grip around his cock. Breathing in unison, every slight movement becomes more gratifying than the last, transporting you to an alternate realm. Nothing else exists as you allow yourself to surrender to the intimacy of this moment. No one can see you. No one will ever know the energy exchanged here tonight. It belongs solely to the two of you. “Give it all to me, baby,” Jungkook coos in your ear, as though he’s cheering you to the finish. Your ears pop when you come and for a moment you are totally paralyzed as you let out a silent scream and throw your head back while palpable bliss courses between you. As you slowly grind on him you bring your face to his eye level and kiss him while he comes inside of you. Even after he’s finished you stay connected on the banquette while the water continues to run so you can stay in this moment as long as possible.

Dawn starts to shine over the city skyline as you climb into the big hotel bed. Jungkook pulls the heavy curtain across the window and the room descends into nearly pitch darkness. He crawls into bed next to you. You’re both still naked and your skin is warm and clean. The two of you lay in the darkness talking for a while. You talk about how beautiful the burlesque dancers were at the show and about how delicious the food was. Your conversation wanders aimlessly as you curl up into the nook of his neck and he reaches down to pull your leg over him. He holds on to the bottom of your thigh to keep it draped over him. His breathing starts to deepen and you are lulled to sleep by every inhale and exhale. You smell gardenias as you doze off.

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corpsekittin · 1 year

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Finding Patriotism

Thank you to @rozza22365 for helping write this story.

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Preston entered Starbucks. He looked around and saw the place was crawling about with military men and cops. Recently this Starbucks had opened in his town, with special deals and drinks for military personnel. Since its opening only two weeks ago, there had been a surge in uniformed military men in the town, to such an extent that they had begun construction of a small base nearby. Preston found this all problematic for him. Since starting college he had been awakened to the crimes and problematic nature of the military. And now he watched as his town was somehow being slowly transformed into a military town. Each table was either full of military guys or was at least half occupied by them, on top of that the two in front of him and even the fucking barista was a part of the military.

The more Preston looked at the guys, even catching some faces he thought he knew, infuriated Preston. He wanted to, no he needed to get his local political clubs and classes prepped and ready to start protesting and wrecking this place, so that he could educate all these toxic douche-bros on their wrongness. It wouldn’t be the first time either, since he was quite well known throughout many liberal and leftist circles as being one of the best protest and counter protest organizers. He texted his group chat, telling them to get ready for a protest later. He needed this place gone asap.

‘Yuck’ he thought as his eyes wandered around and found a group of guys pretending to kiss each others bi’s as they flexed. They were obviously queer baiting, another problematic issue with these toxic bro’s. Although, as much as he hated it, Preston was now sporting a chubby boner in his trousers, which he tried to very quickly hide. It was his turn in the queue next and that didn’t help his situation. The guy was an old friend, who he had thought had been a part of his old protest circle. It seemed he too had given in to the military, falling to such depths. Although he also had an effect on Preston’s boner, as he was flexing his big bi’s as he served.

“Hey, traitor. Can’t believe you joined the group of dumbfuck bros we would protest against. Hurry up and make me my coffee, you make me sick”

“I want a venti mocha latte with extra whip cream and a shot of espresso." he said

“Sure thing, bro,” he informed, rolling his eyes and sounding slightly annoyed by Preston’s tone. He watched as the toxic muscle stud prepared both his drinks. Although during the process he saw him add something different to the drinks.

“Here ya go, and that's free for you” The barista offered. Preston was taken by surprise at the lack of a charge, but anything free was an instant grab. As he left the shop with his drink, he gave a look of disapproval at the military guys, but as walked past each one, he missed as sharp and sly grins popped onto each of their faces.

As Preston left he turned a corner and found his usual lunch spot. He sat down, and looked about, the area was empty as he liked it. He took out his drink and gave it a sip. It tasted amazing. He took out his phone to check his group chat, but before he switched it on, he took another, longer drink. As he felt the drink go down his gullet, he felt a strange sensation across his body. He watched in awe as muscle began to break out across his body. He felt a 6 pack bubbled fourth, only to be overshadowed by two hulking pecs which expanded the size of his body. He couldn’t resist but to take another drink, this time he left very little in the cup. His arms then began to pulse with growth, as his bi’s began to strain his shirt apart. His knuckles cracked and hardened as they grew brutish and hard from lots of hard work in the gym, and the field. The pulsating then fell down his body, right down to his feet. His thighs and calves stretched out, sending him up in height, while muscle bloated across them. He felt his head twist and reshape itself. His facial hair receded into his skin, and his hair shortened down into a typical military cut, with shaved sides.

Preston grabbed his head as a searing headache shot right through it. Years of drills, pt and military education forced their way right into the front and center of his head, squashing any other education besides high school stuff, which was severely reduced from straight A’s to C’s. His name was forgotten, instead he went by the name Trevor. He was no longer a political activist. Instead, Trevor was a typical high school jock, raised on local conservative values. He was a patriotic guy with simple interests, so when the marines came by one day at town and started shooting off guns, he saw no other option than to join. He loved all of it, even if some of the leadership were anal about stuff, his bro’s were the best and they did a load of cool shit together. Being in uniform and a total muscle stud, while following his conservative beliefs, even if it strayed a few times from them, he couldn’t help but feel like the peak of masculinity and being a real man, unlike those pansy libtards who dressed all gay. All he needed now was a good house-wife to fill up with his seed.

He looked down to see himself smartly dressed in his uniform, his sleeves rolled up and tightly clinging for dear life to his muscles. He returned back to the parking lot, walking past the starbucks. As he did he caught the glimpse of some chick just finishing a jog. Seeing her, he touched up his hair and uniform to make himself extra smart, no chick could resist a guy in uniform. She fell under the spell of the man in uniform quickly and he got her number. The pair parted until their next meeting, but first Trevor needed to get to the base he was assigned at for the week. He found his way to his F-150 truck and started the engine. He drove to where he was assigned for the day, happily living his new, better life.

#gay to straight #dumber #liberal to conservative #military

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kyouka-supremacy · 6 months

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hi! I've been going through your blog and I love all your analyses, we may not agree on everything but it's definitely fun to read and eye-opening and I'm grateful to see someone looking into bsd with such depth and whipping out whole essays <3

On that note. There was a fan theory I read when dead apple came out (for the life of me I cannot remember the source, if anyone knows please tell me) that Atsushi's healing ability applies only to the injuries caused by other abilities, and he can't heal from non-ability things like guns etc. The op cited the scene in ch18 where Atsushi is caught in a shooting, and healed by Yosano in the next chapter.

This theory came about because 1) in dead apple, Shibusawa says that the tiger is "the antithesis to all abilities" and "the ability everyone desires." Then we never get the reason why Shibusawa was so obsessed with Atsushi. And 2) in ch7 after sskk's first encounter where Atsushi's leg is severed, Yosano takes a look and thinks "there's no scar, it's more of a restoration than a regeneration."

The gist of this is that I like the idea of Atsushi not being 100% invulnerable. And, if his is indeed the antithesis to all abilities then I'm excited to see what that entails; it implies that in the face of a time travel ability, he would be able to turn back time (if he knew how to use it ofc, cough Fukuchi fight cough). If the book is tied to an ability, Atsushi may be able to undo changes done by the book? he may also nullify Dazai's nullification? idk this opens many doors. Anyway! this is my fave bsd theory. I think, with how Akutagwa's ability sort of completes Atsushi's, and with the whole Rashomon being able to eat space, maybe with this development it will also "eat" a portion of the timeline, as in, undoing the events that occurred? is this making any sense? sorry for the rant I'd love to hear what u think, thanks <3

Hi!! Thank you for your kind words, they mean a lot!!! Could this be the post you were looking for? Funny enough, it was at the very top of my reblogs queue. Indeed, it's an extremely insightful theory!!!

So, there's a lot to unpack here. Ever since I've read that theory, I've found Yosano's thoughts regarding Atsushi's healing from chapter 7 extremely interesting. It's curious, because the nuance gets completely lost in the official English translation:

(Raws → fantranslation → official Yen Press English translation). As you can see, the meaning gets totally lost in the last one. It almost makes me wonder if it was an intentional change due to the fact that the plot point won't be brought up in the manga in ten years (much like opting out of adapting the Steinbeck Guild uprising in the anime, since that plot point has been apparently discarded), but I hope it's not the case.

All taken into account, I don't think it's a stretch to say Atsushi's ability, due to his quality of denying other abilities, can only quickly regenerate as far as other abilities wounds go. When I was reading the manga I thought it was only plot conveniency and suspension of disbelief, but taking a closer look perhaps the pattern of wounds not caused by abilities taking longer to heal isn't concidential: it already happened with the wounds he suffered from in the orphanage, which ended up leaving scars (chapter 28), with the Guild's attack, which was of unknown nature but required Yosano's help to heal (chapter 18-19), with Twain's sniper attacks, which as the theory's Op point don't seem to have healed immediately (chapter 29). But in my opinion it's still too little instances to be able to affirm with certainty that it's not just coincidences dictated by plot convenience.

I do have a feeling there must be Something to Atsushi's ability. it can't just be tiger transformation and wounds regeneration. He's the protagonist, and leaving it at that, that's about the lamest ability of them all (sorry!! I love him still!!). I like the idea of Atsushi's ability being truly special, carrying qualities that have yet to be unfolded that make it different and somehow above the other abilities. I really think it'd be the most satisfying progression narrative wise, because so far Atsushi has gotten really little to claim for his protagonist role, being constantly overshadowed by Dazai; but he's the main character still, and it's like the story itself is waiting to reveal what makes him special. And there being something special to his ability has been, though subtly, consistently underlined: the extraordinary bounty on his head that nothing about what we know seems to explain, the fact that the Guild wanted to capture him specifically, the no further elaborated on fact that he's the key to finding the Book, Shibusawa's concern with him and, most importantly, the ability's quality of tearing through other abilities. Like, that feels very relevant; it's different from Dazai's nullification ability in the way it doesn't just temporarily nullify the other ability, but straight up denies it. I feel like in a manga that is so littered with meta commentery on literature, it'd be fitting to have an ability that denies other abilities' very existence, like moving a rubber through the page. It's certainly interesting to think about. And I like the concept of Atsushi's ability as an alternative to Dazai's nullification ability. Dazai has been feeling invulnerable so long, it would be gratifying to contemplate the existence of something that's outside of his sphere of influence, and potentially even more powerful and destructive than he is.

Again, there's already so many elements that make it impossible to ignore the uniqueness of Atsushi's ability; but even then, they're still so sparse and obscure it's really hard to take a guess on what it could really be about, or what is the reason why it's special. There's so much space for soeculations - a connection with the book, a singularity, a God-like ability just to name a few -, but in my opinion none of them have any concrete enough canon basis to leave space for theories. I think I'd rather limit myself to say it would make a lot of sense for it to be an ability superior to other abilities, since it's something that has the power to tear through abilities themselves, and I believe that such quality is also coherent with its link to the Book as another ability-originated, extremely powerful object. The ability's power to rewrite reality, if only to a smaller extent compared to the Book, may further hint to its connection to the Book / being originated from the Book / sharing origins with the Book. When the ability immediately helps Atsushi regenerate from ability induced wounds he is lowkey rewriting the story to portray a reality where Atsushi wasn't hurt, and when he tears abilities apart it is lowkey rewriting a story where the ability didn't exist. In that, I believe it wouldn't be too far-fetched to draw similarities with the way the Book works. This also made me realize that where it's confirmed that the Book's altered reality to the point of changing the ada's memories so they remembered committing the terrorism crimes, I'm pretty sure that we never got the confirmation the same happened to Atsushi. Then, what if the book can't have effect on Atsushi due to his ability, but only on the reality surrounding him.

So yeah. I'm curious to see how this will unwrap, although I have my doubts I'll still be around when it does (man, the manga is going to take another six months just to catch up with the last anime episode, so you know). I really really like the concept of Atsushi's ability developing in a way that will make it more functional in a rematch against Fukuchi. I've been advocating for a sskk vs. Fukuchi rematch for years at this point, and it seems like we will indeed be getting it; and sskk BETTER win it this time, it wouldn't make any narrative sense to be otherwise. But to do that they'll have to overcome their biggest disadvantage that is Shintou Amenogozen's time manipulation, so you know!! Looking forward to see a sskk that is now mature and experienced unveil new skills to their abilities.

#Sorry I know this was sent ages ago it's just. Between the con / exams / falling sick for a week I barely got time to do anything else ;;;;#But thank you for the ask!!#Love talking about Atsushi I really hope once the manga is caught up with what we already know he'll have more screentime to shine #atsushi nakajima #bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd analysis #bsd theory #people asks me stuff

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inmyfxith · 1 year

Text

How they would react if... you accidentally pull on their queue

Including -> Neteyam, Neytiri, Tsireya, Aonung, Tonowari & Tsu'tey (might make the others later)

-> Requested

Non-romantic relationship -> If you accidentally pull on Neteyam’s queue, he would be upset about it because he would see it as a violation of his personal boundaries and disrespect his feelings. However, Neteyam wouldn’t be violent or aggressive, he would try to resolve the situation peacefully by expressing how he feels and seeking an apology. He may also withdraw and avoid further interaction.

Romantic relationship -> If you accidentally pull on Neteyam’s queue, he would prioritize preserving the emotional bond with you over the physical discomfort of having his queue pulled. He would express his disappointment or hurt feelings to you in a gentle, understanding, manner, hoping to find a solution that works for both of you. Neteyam would also try to understand why the pulling happened in the first place.

Neteyam stood still as the delicate threads of his being were disturbed. You, unaware of the fragility of the bonds that held him, pulled at his queue. A wave of sensations flooded through him - the sharp pain, the disappointment, the hurt.

He drew upon the depths of his composure and turned to face you, the one who had caused the disturbance. You looked at him with a mixture of guilt and confusion, your eyes not comprehending the weight of your actions. Neteyam could feel the warmth rise in his cheeks, but he kept his voice gentle and understanding.

"Hey, are you okay?" he asked, his voice soft and concerned. "I know you didn't mean to pull my queue, but it still hurts. Can we talk about it?”

You were taken aback by his kind words, tears welling up in your eyes. "I am sorry, Neteyam. I did not know it would hurt you so," you said, your voice quivering.

Neteyam reached out and took your hand, pulling you close and wrapping you in a warm embrace. "It's okay," he whispered, placing a kiss on your forehead. "I am not angry, just seeking understanding. Let us explore this together and find a solution that suits us both."

And so, you sat and spoke from the depths of your hearts, delving into your emotions and finding common ground.

Non-romantic relationship → If you accidentally pull on Neytiri’s queue, she would be angry at you for not understanding how important the queue is for her people and her culture. As she views humans as threats she would take offense at any actions that show disrespect. Neytiri would give you a stern look, trying to keep her emotions in check in order to avoid a confrontation.

Romantic relationship → If you accidentally pull on Neytiri’s queue, she would react with annoyance, but she would be tempered by her affection for you. She may express her feelings to you about the situation, and take the opportunity to have an open and honest conversation with her partner about boundaries.

Perched atop her abode in the boughs, Neytiri gazed upon the verdant woods. But her peaceful reverie was abruptly disturbed, as a sudden yank on her queue incurred. With a fierce scowl, she spun to face the perpetrator, ready to defend her sacred honor.

Yet what she saw was not a foe, but the countenance of her beloved. You, her human lover, stood before her with a mixture of remorse and fear. Realizing your mistake, you hung your head in guilt, awaiting her verdict.

But Neytiri's wrath was soon assuaged, as she beheld the apology in your eyes. With a sigh, she approached and took your hand, her gaze softening as she spoke.

"To touch a Na'vi's queue is a sacred bond," she chided, her voice firm yet gentle. "Only those closest to our hearts may hold it in their hands."

"Forgive me, Neytiri," you replied, contrite. "I never meant to cause offense, only to bring joy to your day."

Neytiri smiled, her hand lifting your chin to meet her gaze. "I know your heart is true, and so I will forgive you," she said, her eyes shining with love. "But in the future, let us be more mindful of our actions, for the sake of our bond."

With a smile, you embraced her, your arms encircling her waist. Resting your head upon her belly, you whispered, "I love you, more than words can express." And Neytiri held you tight, her love for you confessing.

Non-romantic relationship -> If you accidentally pull on Tsireya’s queue, she would react with patience, asking you to be more careful or even why you pulled on her queue. She may try to explain to you the cultural significance of her queue and how it represents a deep connection to the natural world and her ancestral spirit.

Romantic relationship -> If you accidentally pull on Tsireya’s queue, I feel that she would respond with understanding and maybe even forgiveness. But that doesn’t mean she wouldn’t feel hurt or bothered. Tsireya would communicate her feelings to you in a gentle and non-confrontational way. She may even express the importance of respecting her queue, and how it is tied to her spiritual identity.

You were strolling the sandy shores when you suddenly spotted a beautiful blue-skinned woman. Her hair flowed like a river, a brilliant shade of indigo.

Unthinking, your hand reached out to touch the braid that wound its way down her back. But as your fingers brushed against it, your grip tightened and you pulled, causing her to wince.

She turned to face you, her eyes reflecting surprise and sorrow. "Why did you tug on my queue?" she asked, her voice a soothing melody.

Embarrassment flooded through you as you realized your mistake. "I apologize, I didn't mean to," you said, flustered. "I was simply curious."

Tsireya took a deep breath, her body calming. "My queue is a symbol of my bond to the natural world and my ancestral spirit. It's a sacred part of me and tugging on it disrupts not only the balance within me but also the harmony of the world around us."

She gazed into your eyes, her voice filled with grace. "Though I know your actions were not intentional, I ask that you be mindful and respectful moving forward. If you have questions, I would be happy to answer them."

Her words were gentle, and you felt a wave of remorse wash over you as you absorbed the weight of your mistake. Her words were gentle, and you felt a wave of remorse wash over you as you absorbed the weight of your mistake.

Non-romantic relationship -> If you accidentally pull on Aonung’s queue, he would react with surprise, annoyance, and maybe even hostility. He would see your action as a disrespectful invasion of his personal space. This would trigger an emotional response, which could range from surprise to anger. At first, he may step away from you to express his discomfort toward the situation. This physical distance would help him regain control of his emotions, he may then verbally express his anger, or even use physical force to make his point, such as pushing or hitting you.

Romantic relationship -> If you accidentally pull on Aonung’s queue, he would feel angry at first but he would probably forgive you. He would likely react with a harsh reprimand and a cold demeanor, showing you that he takes his queue very seriously. However, after a moment of reflection, Aonung would likely soften his demeanor, as he realizes that the act was accidental. Aonung might show you a small act of affection as a way of saying that your relationship is still intact despite the mistake.

Amidst the lush and verdant forest of Pandora, Aonung and you strolled hand in hand, basking in its beauty. But a playful tug on his queue brought your blissful stroll to an abrupt halt.

Aonung spun, his eyes afire with anger, his expression stern. He pulled away, his voice a low growl as he spoke, "What do you think you're doing? My queue is not something to be toyed with."

Your expression changed from playful to worried as you realized that you had upset him. "I'm sorry, my love," you said, your voice trembling. "I didn't mean to hurt you, I was just trying to get your attention."

Taking a deep breath, Aonung's scowl faded as he looked into her eyes, filled with regret and fear. He spoke, his voice firm, "My queue is a part of who I am. You must understand the significance of it. I cannot simply forgive your actions without a proper apology."

You nodded, understanding the weight of her actions. "I am deeply sorry, Aonung. Please forgive me."

In that moment, Aonung's demeanor changed, his anger dissipating. He stepped closer, placing a gentle hand upon her shoulder. "I forgive you," he said, his voice warm and loving. "But please, be more mindful in the future.”

He leaned in and gave you a soft kiss on the cheek, showing you that your relationship was still intact despite the mistake.

Non-romantic relationship → If you accidentally pull on Tonowari’s queue, he would react with both surprise and gentleness. He would be quick to undestand that your action was accidental and not intended to cause harm or discomfort. He would gently ask you not to touch his queue as it is a significant part of his culture and holds spiritual significance. Just as his daughter, he may also try to educate you on the cultural importance of the queue and why it is disrespectful to touch it without permission. Tonowari might also try to make sure that you not feel embarrassed or ashamed about the situation.

Romantic relationship → If you accidentally pull on Tonowari’s queue, he would be patient and would not take offense to your action. He may want to make sure you are comfortable and happy, so if you’re feeling guilty or apologetic about pulling on his queue, Tonowari would reassure you and try to make you feel better.

Admiring the intricate tattoos that adorned Tonowari's skin, you couldn't resist the temptation to play with his flowing queue, like silken strands blowing in the wind. Your playful touch turned to a gentle tug, a mistake that caused Tonowari to flinch.

But his eyes softened as he gazed upon you, noticing the guilt and fear that etched upon your face. With a warm smile, he placed a comforting hand on your shoulder and whispered, "Do not fret, my love. Such a small thing cannot diminish my love for you."

And so, he pulled you into his embrace, wrapping you in a cocoon of comfort and security. He whispered sweet nothings into your ear, reminding you of the love that bound you together.

"You are the light that illuminates my soul, the beat that stirs my heart," he whispered. "Never should you feel guilty or ashamed, for I love you just as you are, always and forever."

All your worries dissipated, replaced by a serene calm that only comes from being loved and cherished. You melted into Tonowari's embrace, feeling safe and protected. All your worries dissipated, replaced by a serene calm that only comes from being loved and cherished. You melted into Tonowari's embrace, feeling safe and protected.

Non-romantic relationship → If you accidentally pull on Tsu’tey’s queue, he would react with anger and frustration, seeing it as a personal affront, as a sign of disrespect not just to him but to his entire culture. Tsu’tey would instantly confront you, demanding an explanation for your action. Depending on the situation, he may also try to challenge you to defend his honor.

Romantic relationship → If you accidentally pull on Tsu’tey’s queue, he would be surprised first and maybe react with discomfort. Just like the others, he would see it as a violation of his personal space but would also understand that it was an accident. So he may end up forgiving you, and try to move past the incident after helping you understand and respect his beliefs and customs.

Tsu'tey sat in quiet contemplation, beside the flickering fire pit, when a sudden tug disturbed his peace. He spun around, a scowl of anger painting his face, to see you standing before him, with apologetic eyes.

"What act of disrespect is this?" he boomed, his voice echoing with fury.

"Forgive me, my love," you stammered, taken aback by his wrath. "I meant no harm."

"No harm?" he spat, disbelief tainting his tone. "Do you comprehend what this symbolizes to me? My queue is a testament to my heritage, my culture, my very identity. To tug it is to spit in the face of all I hold dear."

Your heart ached, seeing the pain in his eyes, as the magnitude of your mistake dawned on you. You begged for his forgiveness, but he would not be swayed.

"I demand an explanation," he growled, his voice a low rumble of menace.

You gathered your courage, and shared your intent, explaining that it was a playful pull, devoid of any offense. But he would have none of it. He felt that his people, his very soul, had been insulted, and he would not rest until justice was served.

The night passed with a tempestuous exchange, as he sought to educate you on the severity of your actions, and you sought to appease him with remorseful pleas.

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ryehouses · 1 year

Note

Boba PoV request (now they have thier own special fic and all) anything to do with his pool / bath / oasis please 😍

OHO ASK AND RECEIVE, MY GOOD FRIEND, YEAH I'VE GOT SOME STUFF FROM BOBA'S FANCY TATOOINE JACUZZI.

i also have been really good about revision this week, so i do have a different pov set up to post in the queue once a day for the next week or so, thank you all for your patience, i love you, et cetera et cetera.

this snippet is set during chapter 19, "pirun," and features some flirting, some introspection and some ~~boba angst. enjoy!

in which a conversation has more edges than usual.

Din took to the bath like a karking colo claw fish took to a pond full of minnows. He teased Boba a little about the extravagance of building a bath like this first, of course – apparently, Din’s people didn’t believe in indulgences, but Boba’d learned a bit about Din’s people these last few weeks, and he’d decided that he didn’t particularly care what they thought anyway.

Life in the desert is hard, Boba thought, surrounded on all sides by warm water. This bath – a pool, really, a little oasis that Boba had carved carefully out of the depths of the palace, once he’d managed to get rid of the scum and sludge that Jabba had left behind – was fed by the palace’s aquifer, the water clear and clean. It was naturally cold, like most of the oases that dotted the Great Dune Sea, but Jabba’d been a creature of expensive tastes and he hadn’t thought twice about installing temperature controls beneath the pool to warm the water to his liking.

Boba hadn’t liked Jabba much, but as he swam deeper into the pool, warm water lapping at his sides, he couldn’t help but agree with the old worm, just a little.

Life in the desert is hard, Boba thought. There’s no reason to make it any harder by denying myself a little bit of pleasure. A little bit of comfort.

Cleaning the artificial oasis up had taken some time. Jabba’d done his best to make it a perfect replica of a weekoona, a Nal Hutta wallow. The smell, after said weekoona had been locked up and left alone in the five or six years between Jabba’s death and Bib Fortuna’s, had nearly knocked Boba back on his shebs, the first time he’d opened the door.

Now, though, the pool was closer to what Boba could remember of a wahat, a Tusken oasis. Dappled light softened the edges of the room and Ushib had gifted Boba with long mashoo reeds and a few hardy tamur trees, hardy thorntooths and even a long, trailing safi tree. Now the room smelled of clean water and growing plants, damp and earth and safe.

Boba swam out into the middle of the pool, confident that Din would follow him. When he reached the center, Boba stopped swimming and stood, the water lapping against his chest. The bottom of the pool was textured, so Boba didn’t have to fight to stand. The warmth eased some of his old aches and pains, took pressure off of his sore knee; Din had tackled Boba pretty hard last night, and while it hadn’t hurt at the time, adrenaline and the fierce joy of a good night blocking out something as insignificant as a bruised knee, Boba was too old now to wake up the morning after a spar spry and free of pain.

Din kept swimming, circling Boba easily. He didn’t struggle in the water, which was a pleasant surprise – Boba hadn’t been sure if Din knew how to swim. Mandalorians in general didn’t have much use for it. Mandalore’s waters had been poisoned for a long time, and swimming in beskar was difficult at best.

But Din, always a surprise, could swim well enough to circle Boba, his shoulders working smoothly in the water. Boba was content to stay where he was and just watch Din. Watching Din had become something of a hobby.

Another indulgence, Boba thought wryly.

Despite the flogging he’d taken last night, Din moved easily. Out of his armor, Din was pale. He’d started to get a bit more color on his face and his neck, now that he went around the palace without his helmet sometimes, but the rest of him was usually hidden from the suns. He never left the tower that housed Boba’s rooms without his beskar’gam.

Like Boba, Din was mostly made up of scar tissue. None of Din’s scars were as extensive as Boba’s – Din, at least, had not ever had the bad karking luck to end up in a sarlacc’s mouth – but he still had more than a few. Some of them, like the shiny, pink weal of a blaster burn scored across one of Din’s biceps or the white, straight slash of a knife against Din’s ribs, were easy to identify. Others, like a tangled knot of scar tissue underneath Din’s right shoulder or the uneven web of raised skin on the outside of one of Din’s thighs, were harder to guess at.

For a man who’s always covered in armor, he’s got a lot of ink, Boba thought. Din had all manner of faded tattoos, most of them softened to a bluish color with time. Boba liked tracing them almost as much as he liked tracing Din’s scars. Din didn’t tolerate the contact well outside of a flogging, but after a flogging he leaned into every touch, and seemed to like the repetitive motion of Boba following each branch of the wroshyr tree tattooed around Din’s bicep or the bui’tsad symbols on his back.

“Where’d you learn how to swim?” Din asked, still cutting gracefully through the water. Ripples lapped at Boba’s belly, his chest, as warm as a hand. “Not here, probably.”

Boba smiled. Tuskens didn’t swim, even though most of them had at least on oasis on their tuskbal. Even tribes that had rivers moving beneath their sands stayed out of the water.

“No,” Boba said, weighing his answer in his head. He hadn’t brought Din down here with the intention of talking much.

It’s Din, though, he thought. Getting Din to talk about anything was a bit like trying to get a krayt dragon to give up its pearl. If he wanted to talk now, Boba could probably put up with a little discomfort. Maybe talking a little would put Din at ease, make him easier to persuade later. Boba’d come down here with a few ideas for how he’d like to spend the rest of the morning, but all of them were indulgent and Mandalorians like Din, as a general rule, treated indulgence like most other beings treated a live concussion grenade.

No, talking to Din here wasn’t going to hurt anything. It might even help deepen the trust between Din and Boba both.

Despite that, Boba hesitated. He’d learned to swim the same way he had learned most things – from his father. Boba never talked about his father, not if he could help it. Jango Fett occupied a peculiar place in Boba’s memory. Boba’d call it a scar, like the ones decorating Din’s back and sides, the scars on Boba’s hands, the back of his neck, except scars were wounds that had healed, and what had happened to Jango never had.

It’s not like Djar’ika means any harm, though, thought Boba. Din was looking at him expectantly now, his face open and honest and utterly without malice. He didn’t know what he was doing, prodding at old, raw wounds. Din had trusted Boba with a lot, these last few days. He had followed Boba into the water. Boba could trust him with this. It’d only hurt a little. The wound was old enough.

“No,” Boba repeated, tucking his thoughts away in favor of watching the long lines of Din’s body. “Not here. I – the planet I grew up on was an ocean world. Kamino. Ever hear of it?”

Predictably, Din shook his head. He hadn’t slipped all the way under the water yet and Boba kind of wanted to reach out and dunk him, just to see what kind of face Din would make when he surfaced. He held off, for now.

I can always dunk him if this conversation gets too serious, Boba thought. I brought him down here to have some fun, after all.

“The entire planet was water,” Boba said, reaching back through his memory for Kamino. His home world – in so much as he had one – was always there for him, easy to reach and touch and recall. Salt air, driving rain, the stark hallways of Tipoca City. A rumble at night that could have been Jango’s voice or a peal of far-off thunder.

“It – I didn’t learn how to swim in the ocean,” Boba continued. The water had always been too rough. Boba could count the number of calm, clear, sunny days he’d seen on Kamino on one hand.

Din didn’t interrupt. As always, his rapt attention – the way that Din looked at Boba, wholly focused, like Boba was a star that Din orbited – made it easier to talk to him than it should have been.

“There were too many storms,” Boba said. If he closed his eyes, he could still see them. Thick, heavy clouds and gashes of lightning. Rain drumming down on the walls like soldiers marching. “But my dad thought that I should learn, so I did. There were – training facilities there. Kamino trained soldiers. They could conjure up just about any environment that you could imagine. Dad taught me how to swim in a pool like this one.”

Boba gestured at the room around them. The mashoo reeds rustled, stirred by a current of air moving from one room to another. He could remember one of his father’s big hands pressed against Boba’s chest, then small and thin and unscarred. Jango’s voice as he held Boba’s head out of the water.

“He’d turn the bubbler on when I got bigger, so I could practice swimming against resistance.”

Swimming lessons in beskar’gam probably would’ve followed, if Jango had lived. He’d wanted to prepare Boba for anything. Being able to swim when most other beings had expected Boba to sink like a karking stone had been pretty useful, over the years. Jango’d been oddly prescient like that. He had known that the galaxy was not kind and had tried to anticipate anything and everything that Boba might have come up against.

Except for the sarlacc, Boba thought, pulling away from the wound in his heart that was his father. Nobody could prepare for the sarlacc.

“Oh,” Din said, floating now instead of actively swimming, bobbing just out of reach. The bruises from the flogger curled around his shoulders, his hips. Boba wanted to touch them. “I think I learned how to swim on my home planet too. I remember… hands. My father’s hands, I think.”

A pang went through Boba’s ribs at that. Din’s voice was soft. He spent too much time underneath his helmet to hide what he was thinking or feeling, and Boba could track his memories as they flashed across his face.

His home world? Boba wondered, curious. He’d never asked Din where he’d come from. Boba had assumed that it had been Mandalore, or one of Mandalore’s outpost worlds. Concordia, maybe, or Kalevala, since Din had known Bo-Katan Kryze.

An odd sense of kinship, of likeness, itched underneath Boba’s skin. He wasn’t sure he cared much for the feeling. Boba was used to being – singular. Genetically he was one of millions, but no one was like Boba. Fennec was like enough that she and Boba understood each other without words, but Din –

He’s Mandalorian, Boba reminded himself, sternly. I’m not. We’re not – we might share some things in our pasts, but we’re not the same. Boba needed to remember that. He needed to remember that Din was his own man, that what he wanted and needed wasn’t the same thing that Boba wanted and needed.

We can help each other, but I need to remember that this – the closeness deepening between Boba and Din with every passing week, the affection that grew and grew in Boba’s chest, the way he’d felt looking at Din last night, after Din’d slammed his forehead into Boba’s chin, their blood mingling together – is an arrangement, for Din. He’s here to get what he needs. He’s not here to – to –

“Our village would flood during the rainy season,” Din continued, still swimming. Boba wrenched his thoughts away. Thinking about what Boba couldn’t have was likely to open another wound in his chest, and Boba had enough of those already. “When the rains passed, we’d swim out to the fields and look for anything that the rains had left behind.”

So he’s not from Concordia, then, Boba thought. That moon had been almost as barren as Mandalore. “Where are you from?” he asked, curiously.

Din shrugged. “I don’t remember,” he said, and Boba could see the honesty in his face. Din had just about as much guile as a baby tooka, which was to say that he had no guile in him at all. It was – refreshing. Charming, though Boba was still doing his best to avoid thinking about Din that way. Din wasn’t trying to be charming. He was just trying to be himself.

Don’t take more than you’re being offered, shabuir, Boba reminded himself. He had a responsibility to Din. Din was trusting him to uphold it. Had trusted Boba, with his vulnerability. With his pain.

“Somewhere in the Outer Rim, I think,” Din said. He shook his head a little and gestured at the water. “The older warriors kept teaching us kids how to swim whenever we lived somewhere that had enough water.”

Boba could understand that. Not every aliit had been welcome on Mandalore in its waning days, in the days of Satine Kryze, and fewer still had been welcome after Gar Saxon had sold the planet out to the Empire. Many clans had been forced into hiding.

Twenty years ago, when Boba’d been younger – angrier – he’d been almost pleased, about that. He’d never had anywhere safe to lay low for longer than a month or two, not after he’d left Kamino for good, not after Geonosis.

Why should any of the cowards who abandoned my dad get to be safe? he’d thought at the time.

Now, though, Boba looked at Din – at a Mandalorian – and wished that Din hadn’t been forced to leave his homeworld, wherever it had been. No kid deserved to grow up the way Boba and Din had grown up, always on the run.

Kark, Boba thought. Maybe I did go soft, in the sarlacc’s belly. Maybe the acid had eaten away more than Boba’s hair, than the skin across his shoulders, the backs of his hands.

“You live in a lot of places?” Boba asked, curious despite his better judgment to learn just how similar a childhood he and Din had had. Din had a lot of the skills that young drifters tended to pick up. He spoke several languages. He flew ships with ease. He ate quickly and always cleaned his plate. He was skittish, sometimes, and when Boba flogged Din out of his own head Din was skin-hungry and shy, uncertain, like he half-expected to be shoved away instead of pulled close.

“Yeah,” Din said, easily enough. He wasn’t shy or uncertain now, was comfortable in Boba’s presence, and Boba counted that as a victory. “Did you?”

He’d swum farther away than Boba wanted him to be. Boba pushed off of his feet and followed, parting the water easily. Din, sometimes just as playful as he was shy, didn’t move away.

“Yes,” Boba said honestly, after thinking about it for a moment. He’d lived across half of the karking galaxy, really; after Geonosis, the longest Boba had stayed in any one place had been the year or so he’d spent in prison.

“And no,” he added. “Mostly I lived on the ship, once I got it back.”

Hyperspace had been safer for Boba than Tatooine or Nar Shaddaa or Corellia. When he hadn’t been able to pass days in a hyperlane, sailing from one side of the galaxy to the other, Boba’d spent weeks anchored in asteroid belts, leaving only to earn enough credits for the next meal, for the next canister of hyperfuel.

Din bobbed a little closer, his expression thoughtful. He looked better, these days. When he’d first come back to Tatooine, Din – Djarin, then, an ally but nothing more – had been worn and haunted, his face thin and pale and creased with pain.

A few months of Ushib’s cooking had filled Din back out, and he was at least sleeping some. He’d slept in Boba’s bed last night, his body warm and familiar. Boba himself was a light sleeper, but he hadn’t felt Din so much as twitch last night.

Din had even cut his hair at some point, the ends of it now damp and clinging to his neck. These days he looked less like a stray akk dog and more like a treasured massif, sleek and powerful and always ready for a hunt.

Looking at Din made affection bloom behind Boba’s ribcage. Affection was dangerous. Was too close to what Boba had felt for Din last night, looking at him across the makeshift sparring ring, too close to something that Boba didn’t have a name for, didn’t know what to do with, didn’t know how to use.

But Boba couldn’t quite manage to make himself crush that feeling of affection. Pulling away now, he thought, would hurt Din. Boba didn’t want to hurt him.

Din, catching Boba looking at him, blushed a little, color creeping down his neck, across his cheeks and the tips of his ears. Boba had traced that blush with his tongue last night. He wanted to chase it again.

“What?” Din asked, dipping his chin deeper into the water.

Boba smiled. “Nothing,” he said. As much fun as it would be be to reel Din in, to call him Djar’ika, to kiss him, Boba had come down here with an idea of how he wanted to spend his morning, and it was probably safer than letting himself entertain ideas of – of intimacy, maybe, with Din Djarin.

Affection was one thing. So was fondness. But anything deeper than that –

Anything more, Boba thought, is outside of what we agreed.

So Boba said, “Nothing,” and flicked a bit of water at Din to reassure him. The urge to dunk Din all the way in the water rose again. “I’m just thinking,” he said. The tips of Din’s ears, still above water, stayed stubbornly red.

Din had been willing to try just about everything that Boba had suggested, so far. Boba’d brought a few things down from his rooms. He’d had an idea last night, after the flogging, as he’d been soothing Din, carding his fingers through Din’s hair. As Din’s beard had scraped roughly against Boba’s face.

He’s been willing to try everything, even a flogger, Boba reasoned. He’d probably be willing to indulge me in this, too.

“I’ve got something I’d like to try, if you’re interested,” Boba said. He kept his tone light, trying not to spook Din while the other man was naked and slippery. This pool was a big one – if Din decided to be hard to catch, Boba would be after him for a while.

Din didn’t bolt, but he did narrow his eyes. “What is it?” he asked.

Boba grinned. He’d never guess. “Trust me,” he said. “You’ll enjoy it, I think.” So far Din had only enjoyed a bit of pampering – a bit of care – after Boba had literally beaten him into submission, but Boba held out hope that Din’s indulgence would extend even this far.

“You just need to wait here for a minute,” Boba added. He’d brought a shaving kit down with him, just in case. It wasn’t that Boba thought that Din needed a shave. That Boba had minded the rough texture of Din’s beard.

It is, Boba thought to himself, honestly, that I think he’d get off on being underneath a knife, if I was the one holding it, and I want to see if he trusts me that far. If he’ll surrender that far.

Din had been vulnerable to Boba before. He’d let Boba wrap a hand around his throat. He’d let Boba bring a flogger down across his back. Had let Boba kiss him, and touch him, and fuck him, and sleep beside him. But letting Boba hold a razor to his throat –

Boba’s heart sped up just thinking about it. He couldn’t help it. He wanted to know what Din looked like. He wanted to know what Din would let him do.

Din’s expression was wary, but Boba knew him well enough now to catch the glint of desire – of curiosity, which was just as dangerous as desire – in his eyes. Din lifted his chin out of the water, throat flexing, and said, “What is it?”

“Just trust me,” Boba said, still smiling. He didn’t want to spoil the surprise, and honestly he did like it when Din got a bit nervous beforehand. Those nerves made Din’s surrender, when it came, even sweeter. “You’ll enjoy it,” Boba said again, because Din would. So far Din had loved letting Boba have his way; he’d melted into it every time. “You just need to wait here for a minute.”

Din scowled a little, annoyed that Boba hadn’t answered his question, but even here he was willing to trust Boba. A thrill of pleasure, heady and dark and as smooth as papuur’gal, licked against the bottom of Boba’s ribs.

“Fine,” Din said, his curiosity winning against his caution. “I’ll just… float here, then.”

Positive reinforcement had so far been the trick with Din, disarming him just as effectively as a blaster bolt to the wrist, so Boba said, “Ori’jate,” and told Din to stay put in the middle of the pool while Boba himself swam back to the edge of it.

The water was still warm. In quieter times, Boba’d like to come down here and just float for a while, his eyes fixed on the pricks of light high above the pool. Maybe after they dealt with the Hutts he could come down here and float. It would be nice to relax.

He didn’t want to leave Din alone for too long. Boba rarely was apart from Din these days, just like he was rarely apart from Fennec, and if he was being honest with himself, Boba didn’t mind. It was good to have people that he could trust – that trusted him – close at hand.

He stepped out of the water when he reached the edge of the pool and quickly prepared what he would need. Boba – like Jango – was traditional. He didn’t use Kashyyyki clippers or depil cream to cut his hair or trim his beard and never had. He’d used a straight razor since he’d become a man and still used one, even though now, after his stay in a sarlacc’s belly, Boba didn’t have any hair on his head and could only grow his beard in patches.

Getting ready took only a minute, maybe too, and then Boba was back in the water. Anticipation made it easy to set some of Boba’s thoughts, some of his doubts, his wariness about letting Din get too close, about getting to close to him in return, aside.

Boba swam back to Din, who was now floating on his back in the warm water, moving just enough to stay afloat. His belly and chest didn’t have as many bruises as his back did. Near his hips he still carried faint, crescent nail-marks, where Boba had taken him by the hips. A bruise spanned part of Din’s side where Boba’d crashed into him while they had wrestled. But that was it.

Boba wanted to leave Din with a few more bruises. Wanted to run his tongue over a silvery scar at the bottom of Din’s ribcage, to press a kiss to the pulse Boba could see jumping in Din’s throat, wanted more.

I’ll start small, he thought, almost near enough again to touch Din.

Din, sensing that Boba was near again, righted himself, turning to face Boba. His expression was open and relaxed, trusting; some of the stress Din had carried with him over the last few weeks – kark, last night, when he’d returned from Mos Entha without finding his kin – had been worn away.

Desire cooled in Boba’s belly. There was no reason to rush anything. Din didn’t need to be devoured right here, right now; Boba could take his time.

“Enjoying yourself?” Boba asked, crowding into Din’s space. Din righted himself, standing up again, water sloshing between their bodies, but didn’t pull away.

“It is nice,” Din admitted. He blinked at Boba, his expression still open. If they’d been up in Boba’s rooms, Boba might have called him cyar’yc. Sweet. At their closeness Din’s expression faltered, some of that shyness or that wariness kicking in, but Boba didn’t want Din to pull away and reached out to stop him. He took Din by the chin, loose enough that Din could pull away, if he wanted to, but tight enough that Boba could feel Din’s pulse leap against his thumb.

He kept that thumb against the corner of Din’s jaw, his palm against Din’s chin, and tucked his fingers against Din’s throat. Din’s beard tickled Boba’s skin. Like Boba, Din had bare patches here and there, skin smooth where no hair had grown, but unlike Boba, Din’s face was mostly free of scars. The only one he had was that line between his eyes, only really visible up close.

Din had split his face open against another Mandalorian’s helmet, he’d said. A mirshmure’cya. A brain-kiss.

Warmth lit up Boba’s belly. He told himself that it was just the water.

“What are you doing?” Din asked, though he didn’t fight Boba’s hand.

Boba smiled at him. “I’m thinking,” he said. He tilted Din’s face to the side, still gentle enough, and Din let him. Din’s wet curls clung to his cheeks, to the nape of his neck, to his forehead, and his skin was warm and damp.

“About?” Din asked. Boba felt his pulse pick up, hammering harder against Boba’s thumb.

Din and Boba had promised each other honesty, when they were together like this. Boba knew that they’d blurred some of the lines between them, had started to spend perhaps too much time in each other’s company, had started to fail to keep their arrangement separate from their feelings, from their lives, from their business together, but here in this warm pool, fed by fresh water, decorated with rare plants, a testament to Jabba’s indulgences and to Boba’s too, since he’d restored the karking thing, Boba couldn’t bring himself to care much about how bad of an idea this all could turn out to be. How close he’d let Din get. The knife that Boba had put in Din’s hands and aimed at Boba’s belly.

Life, he thought, in the desert is hard. There’s no reason to make it any harder by denying myself a little bit of pleasure.

Boba told Din the truth. “I think,” he said, looking Din in the eye, “that I want to kiss you.”

#ast asks #ast 'verse pov tag #boba: i'm normal i'm normal i'm normal all of this is normal

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maccreadysbaby · 6 months

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A Hundred Days to Become a Wayne

batfamily + oc insert

tw: none :)

wanna start from chapter one or read more? here’s the table of contents!

bentley+dick+damian things for my sanity

part fifteen

❝ PONYBOY CURTIS ❞

MONDAY — 2:23PM — DAY 24

DAMIAN WAS DIFFERENT WHILE TITUS WAS GONE. Though he still went on about Tim’s incompetence and ranted about wild animals, everything he said was more venomous, crafted more like a kill-shot than a simple jab. He’d gotten in a screaming match with Tim the day after Titus left that ended with death threats and two slammed doors. (One bedroom door and the front door.) He threatened to filet Jason with one of Alfred’s carving knives for sitting in the seat next to him at the table, and told Duke that if he so much as spoke to him at school he’d find a vat of molten metal to drop him in.

Needless to say, Bentley opted for staying out of Damian’s way while Titus was gone.

Thankfully, Dick had been summoned from the depths of Bludhaven to return to the Manor in Titus’ absence to keep the peace. Tim hadn’t been back since Damian lashed out at him, (it had been ten-ish days and if Tim wasn’t Red Robin, Bentley would have wondered if he was still alive.) and Bentley felt like the entire household was one problem away from the miniature assassin murdering everyone inside. And he was determined not to be that problem.

The Manor was peaceful for now, because Damian’s raging assassin self was at school.

Bentley was in the den with Dick again. Instead of teaching him classic games, it had migrated to classic movies, and they’d been on the couch staring at the television for hours now. From movies like Cars to Star Wars, if it was considered classic, (to Dick.) they'd be watching it. There was a massive queue of movies listed on the TV (at least twenty) that he’d picked out, and they’d only chewed through three. Bentley had already accepted his fate of becoming one with the couch. He didn’t mind — the Wayne’s couch was comfy.

Currently, they were watching an old movie called The Outsiders, which he discovered he really liked. Out of the three they’d watched, he enjoyed the older films more, his second favorite being one called Stand by Me. He didn’t know why. Mayeb it was because they were interesting. Or maybe it was because they told stories of a kid who found a family in people they weren’t related to.

“I have to ask; who names their kids Ponyboy and Sodapop? Everyone else has normal names like Steve, and Johnny, and Dallas. But not the main ones. Ponyboy and Sodapop,” Dick commented with a shrug.

Another thing Bentley discovered was that Dick could not watch ten minutes of a movie without talking. It had been toned down during the documentaries because all of his brothers were whining about it, but now, he was bringing it on full force like a commentator at a football game. Bentley didn’t care. He liked that Dick talked so much, it was a stark contrast to his father and that was the absolute last person he wanted to think about right then. Plus, Dick had a way of taking tension and awkwardness and throwing them out the window, and that’s exactly what he needed all of the time.

Bentley decided it was time to test some of the communication techniques the Wayne’s used.

“Your name is Dick,” He tried, glancing over at his counterpart, who looked positively taken aback by his sarcastic rebuttal. (Bentley would literally rather die than try banter like that with anyone else in the family, though. Dick was the only one he knew probably wouldn’t kill him.)

And he was right, because Dick’s face broke into an ear splitting grin, his blue eyes shimmering like one of Bruce’s million-dollar chandeliers.

“My name is Richard,” He shot back, playfully. “You’re named after a car.”

Bentley’s wheels turned for a second (no pun intended.) “A luxury car. You’re named after a body part.”

“My name is Richard!” He nearly squeaked. Bentley chuckled, and it only seemed to make Dick’s eyes get brighter.

They glanced back at the screen just in time to watch little Johnny Cade climb into a burning building.

“Boys,”

Bentley’s flinch coincided with the crash of burning rubble in the movie, so he pretended that’s what it was. Bruce was standing in the doorway with a fond look on his face.

“What’s up, B?” Dick questioned, grabbing the remote from beside him and pausing the movie.

“The vet says Titus can come home, but I have a meeting in ten minutes that I can’t get out of. Do you think you’d want to go get him?”

Titus was coming home? Which meant Damian wouldn’t want to kill everybody so much anymore?

Bentley glanced over at Dick, who nodded. “I can. Do you want to come with?”

It took him a second to realize the question was aimed at him.

“Oh. Yeah,” He replied.

“Great. Sorry to interrupt your movie. The ending is terrible, though, you’re welcome for sparing you from that,” Bruce murmured as he retreated from the doorway.

“Don’t spoil it!” Dick shouted, throwing a throw pillow in that general direction.

“Alfred will call the vet and let him know you’re picking Titus up!” Was Bruce’s reply to the muted thud the pillow made.

Dick sighed and clicked the TV off, “Looks like I have to change out of my pajamas,” He stated, rising from the couch in his Wonder Woman pants. “Nice jacket, by the way.”

Bentley glanced down at the blue jacket he was wearing, realizing that it probably once belonged to Dick. (He loved having hand-me-downs instead of the stiff fancy stuff his father got him.)

“I’ll meet you by the front door in a few minutes!” Dick stated, disappearing from the room only a few seconds later.

Bentley went upstairs and put his shoes on. The Manor was eerily quiet. He supposed Tim, Cass, and Jason were doing their own things, as none of them had been to the Manor in a few days. (The only one that Bentley actually knew had a job was Tim, only because his father had drilled it into his head that many parts of Wayne Enterprises would fail without him. He’s the one you want to go after, his father had told him.) If only Bentley wasn’t so intimidated by the teenager’s giant brain, he might actually do that.

He padded back downstairs toward the front door. The entryway was bathed with bright sunlight that warmed the air, and Bentley enjoyed it. (Bruce kept the Manor cold.) Dick came down the stairs not two minutes later in a t-shirt, jeans, and a black jacket.

“All set to go, bud?” He questioned. Bentley nodded, and Dick opened the front door. “We’re leaving!” He shouted to no one in particular.

They made their way through the door, and the cold breeze bit at Bentley’s skin. The sunlight did little to warm him outside. Dick’s car was sitting in one of the already-open garages.

“You can ride wherever you want,” Dick stated. “Well, the trunk has some stuff in it, but I think I’d be able to make enough room if you want to pretend to be a suitcase. Or a carryon. You’re not very big.”

Bentley snickered, and Dick smiled his million dollar smile as he popped open the driver’s side door. Bentley settled on the passenger’s side — at least until they had Titus.

The drive seemed shorter than the ride with Bruce. Probably because there wasn’t a dog seizing in the back seat. Dick had also taken it upon himself to teach Bentley about music, and instead of the new-age pop stuff the boy had expected, Dick’s entire playlist was made up of old music. Like, really old music. Like from the fifties and sixties music.

Bentley liked it.

They arrived at the vet’s office just shy of three o’clock (according to Dick’s dash) and the receptionist smiled brightly at them as soon as they walked in. It was a different receptionist than last time. It was an older woman before — now it looked like a girl around Jason’s age, maybe older, and she was staring at Dick the same way some of the business women stared at Bentley’s father. Which made him feel weird.

Bentley glanced around the waiting room while Dick spoke to her, eyes sticking on a sandy colored kitten a woman in the corner was holding. It had on a collar that was too big for its little body and he thought it was adorable.

A few moments later, however, the vet came out of the back room with Titus on a leash, whose tongue was flopping out the side of his mouth and silver eyes were bright. He spotted Dick and Bentley and ran the leash right out of the vet’s hand, hopping across the room with high-pitched, excited noises.

“Hey, boy!” Bentley greeted just in time for Titus to hop up and knock him straight over. He landed on his butt, but he didn’t much care — it didn’t hurt and he was just happy the dog was okay. Titus started licking all over his face and he heard Dick chuckle.

After a few minutes spent in the floor, Dick put the leash back on Titus. “I think we’re just on time to pick Dami up from school. I’m sure Titus would be a welcomed surprise.”

Bentley stood up and brushed off his pants without replying. They took Titus out to the car, and Bentley sat in the back with him, petting the over-excited dog as Dick drove off and called Duke, notifying him that he wouldn’t need to drive Damian home today.

They pulled into the pickup line at Gotham Academy not twenty minutes later. It was a huge stone school building whose architecture was old and almost victorian looking. It looked just like the picture of Damian Bentley had seen before. There were already students streaming out the doors in matching uniforms, getting in cars and piling on buses. There were a lot of kids.

Bentley didn’t have a hard time spotting Damian when he came out — he was one of the only kids not in a group or clique. He scanned the row of cars before he spotted Dick’s, and with an annoyed expression, came walking forward.

As soon as he opened the back door, Titus leaped out and started squeaking again, jumping up on Damian like he hadn’t seen him in years.

“Titus!” Damian exclaimed, all annoyance stripped from his face and voice as he scratched the dog’s head. He was smiling — probably as wide as Bentley had seen him smile the whole time he’d been there. “I didn’t know you were coming home!”

The dog was licking him all over the face like he had Bentley. Although, being Robin, he didn’t get knocked down when Titus jumped.

Damian climbed in the car next to Bentley, and Titus jumped in afterward.

“He has some meds, but other than that he’s all clear,” Dick explained as Damian closed the car door. “And very excited to see you.”

Damian didn’t respond, but kept petting the dog, who was practically vibrating in between them from excitement. Throughout the drive home, he kept stomping his front legs and spinning in circles to lick both boy’s on the face, and it made Bentley really happy.

When they’d almost made it back to the Manor, Damian spoke up, albeit quietly: “I’d like to… apologize to you for my behavior during Titus’s absence,” He spoke softly, maybe trying to be quiet enough that Dick couldn’t hear him? Bentley glanced over at Damian, and he was looking right back at him. “I noticed you began to avoid me, and I do not blame you. I did not think about how my behavior would affect you. I’m sorry.”

Bentley smiled lightly, and a weird little feeling sprouted in his chest. Weird, but a good weird, weird like he was shocked he cared enough about how he felt to apologize. Weird like Damian (an eleven year old assassin superhero that he’d only known for twenty-four days) cared more about how he felt than his actual father did.

“It’s okay, Damian.”

He nodded, and went back to petting Titus.

The rest of the daylight was spent by Bentley and Damian playing with Ace and Titus in the backyard. He would’ve stayed out past dark but it got really cold then — so they went in for dinner (which Jason and Tim had suddenly shown up for.) and it was a lot more peaceful than it had been.

Then Dick whisked Bentley away to restart The Outsiders from the beginning as their nightly show. They returned to their previous spots on the couch (Dick had found his way back into his Wonder Woman pants.) and turned it back on before anybody could argue about what was on.

About ten minutes into the movie, Bruce came in and made for a chair, muttering something about not watching his favorite movie without him, and five minutes after that, Damian and Titus took up the spot on the opposite side of Bentley.

About halfway through the movie, Tim slinked inside and quietly took a seat in a chair near the door. And then Jason appeared, muttering about how the book was so much better, but he sat down on the other side of Dick anyways.

And as Bentley watched Ponyboy and his found family of friends deal with life on the screen, he glanced around at the horde of black-haired-blue-eyed acquaintances he’d acquired.

Was it childish to wish it could stay like that forever? He bet Ponyboy wished the same thing when he and the Greasers were together.

But Ponyboy’s perfect found family came to an abrupt end. And Bentley knew his would, too.

He flinched when a hand landed on the back of his head, in his hair, realizing that he hadn’t actually been watching the movie at all. His eyes had been closed.

“It’s okay, kiddo. You can go to sleep,”

However, his found family wasn’t coming to an end that night. So he didn’t find it hard to obey Dick’s suggestion, letting his head find its way onto the oldest Wayne boy’s shoulder, settling into the couch as Dick’s fingers repetitively carded through his red hair. (It felt heavenly — he’d never understand why Tim wanted him to stop so badly before.)

He was sure Dick wouldn’t mind to watch the movie again tomorrow, anyways, so Bentley could catch the ending.

With that settled, he let himself drift into darkness, surrounded by people he wished he could stay with forever.

—

dedicated to @sassenashsworld 💛

—

tag list (ask me and i’ll add your @!)

@fleur-alise @cademygod

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edienotsedgwick · 2 months

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Hello everyone!

I haven’t posted many music updates here recently because I have just been forgetting to use tumblr as one of my platforms (even though tumblr is probably the one I’ve had the most growth on out of any of them cause of how long I’ve been here). However, although it’s two years too late I wanted to have a talk in depth about my latest E.P because one thing I love about this place is how I can talk in depth about what I’ve made more than I can anywhere else. I did it for the last E.P, now it’s time to talk about this one.

Last week, I got word from one of my friends that my music was no longer on Spotify so they could listen to it and it made me realise I’d forgotten to pay my Distrokid bill. So when I sorted it out and fixed all issues with accessibility I decided to take a trip down memory lane and have a listen for the first time in a while.

Unlike Made With Blingee which was one impulsive idea I came up with in 2018 that I rushed to finish within that year, leaving it a perfect time capsule of my scene days - Thing Is Me is not a snapshot of one year, but a snapshot of evolution from 2019-2022. While I was making it I changed a lot as a person, but also with the help of my collaborators the songs changed too until they settled to where they are now.

The oldest song on this E.P was Lola Bunny, the first inklings of it were born in late 2018 but it came to life in the way you know it in 2019. Lola Bunny was supposed to be just my voice and an acoustic guitar when I first began brainstorming it. It was fresh in my mind after I found out a boy in school who I thought I liked was taken. (It was one year before I learned I was a lesbian). In hindsight I wasn’t really in love with him, I just liked the idea that he could’ve been my only shot at love. My dating pool at school was small, the few people I pursued had found someone else, were straight, or were repulsed by me. I couldn’t go on dating apps or look for people outside of school at clubs or concerts. It was either school or the fandom circles on the internet, and I was sick of E-Dating people from completely different countries. When I found out that boy was taken, it’s a miracle that I didn’t lose hope that I’d ever be loved at all. Instead I thought I’d just never have a high school romance like the movies promised. (spoiler alert: I was wrong). In 2019 when I revisited Lola Bunny I got into shoegaze and realised the song would sound even better as a crushing wall of sound akin to Cocteau Twins, Ride or MBV. Me and my cousin recorded it together in 2020, the rest is history.

The second oldest song is The Hotel Song. In late 2018 I went to a friend’s birthday party and another traumatic incident involving two of my bullies happened. They taunted me and in a fit of pent up rage I confronted them about everything they did to me. They denied it all, called me delusional, and laughed in my face as I broke down on the side of the road outside my friend’s house. I was already traumatised but that sent me to a low point I believed I’d never recover from. The only place I remotely felt safe in afterwards was my bedroom and I coped with the intense depression and anxiety by drawing, eating two minute noodles for every meal of the day, and listening to the same queue of songs on repeat. One night I fell into a deep sleep and had a dream about going to a hotel with my friends and meeting one of the bullies from the incident there by accident. My friends invited her to go to the spa pool with us. Despite my initial hesitation, the time we all had together was pleasant, almost innocent, and I didn’t get hurt again. Later as we dried off, I got an apology from her for everything she did to me. Just as I forgave her I woke up thinking about how everyone has the capability to change for the better at the drop of a hat. As the next year rolled around the dream was still something I thought about a lot, so I decided to make it a song. I was getting into The Moldy Peaches, Neutral Milk Hotel and other weird folky stuff. I felt like the more oddball lyrics due to them coming from a dream suited that sound so I had that in mind as I put it together. I arranged to make it with a wonderful family friend. It was the only song he fully contributed to before I switched to working with my cousin, but he was really important and taught me a lot of great things. I’m very proud of what came out.

The third oldest song is from way into 2019. I was getting better. I had a great network of friends now who gave me the safety net I needed to recover, I’d gone on a long road-trip that made me see beauty in the world, I was getting into new music and other new interests and those new things kept me calm. I still had outbursts of anxiety from time to time though. One of the bullies from the party still scared me to death. I was growing stronger in all other areas of my life, but the looming fear that he could hurt me again was the only thing holding me back from completely recovering. At that time all I wanted was a resolution, ideally an apology but I was just coming to terms with accepting that he wouldn’t ever do that based on how he acted the last time I saw him. I wrote Post Mental about finding that acceptance. Learning to recover in spite of him. In this song I go through all the history we shared, then at the end I let him go. Like The Hotel Song, Post Mental has a lot of the same influences I discussed earlier but with an added flavour of Sufjan Stevens in there. My favourite part of recording this with my cousin was towards the end when we decided to become a two person choir. We did all kinds of things with our voices to make that part special and it was incredibly cathartic for me.

Post Mental Reprise came a few years later in mid 2021. A lot had changed since then, the most shocking thing of them all though was that the bully in question I wrote part 1 about finally did apologise to me! He’d grown up a lot since the incident, realised the friends who made him act the way he did weren’t good people, found better friends, and then apologised to everyone. Including me! We’re not friends now but we are civil. My cousin suggested the E.P should get rounded out with a part 2 to Post Mental, so that’s what we did! I acknowledged the positive change in the lyrics, and we decided to give this ending a 60s pop inspired sound with a Lo-fi twist.

Finally, the E.P’s youngest song is A New Sunshine. This is a breakup song, but probably the sweetest breakup song you’ll ever hear. I’d been in a relationship that was not perfect, but definitely meaningful for about a year and a half. In early 2021 I realised things were coming to an end as the two of us started University. The flaws in our relationship that we could handle in high school were more difficult to deal with as new young adults, so we calmly broke it off and remained friends. They are one of my best friends to this day and they even came to the listening party for this E.P while cracking a few jokes when this song came on about how they knew it was about them. I wrote this song the exact day we broke up. It definitely got a few tweaks as I started making it come to life though. In this song I talk about my excitement in moving on, not just from that relationship, but in my life in general now that I was fresh out of school. Kissing off the last of my teenage blues this E.P was tying up the loose ends of. For this songs influences I blended the shoegaze/dream pop influences from Lola Bunny and the alt-folk of the other songs and came up with something akin to Angel Olsen’s first album or Linger by The Cranberries. This song along with the first part of Post Mental took probably the longest to perfect, but it was a true labour of love that I’m glad finally came together eventually. Especially thanks to me and my cousin’s good friend Carson who gave us the twangy guitar solo towards the song’s end that I had envisioned in my mind but definitely couldn’t play.

I hope you enjoy the deeper insights into each Thing Is Me song and you enjoy the music if you haven’t already listened yet. Keep giving it love, and lemme know what you think :3 thank you ily

#edie TxT #my music #indie music #indie artist #indie musician #nz music #indie pop #indie rock #alternative rock #indie folk #jangle pop #dream pop #shoegaze #folk rock #independent music #independent artist #Spotify

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dreaminlittlenightmares · 2 years

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It's anon from prompt. It's Six coming to the Lady for help with a problem.

Ah, I see! Thank you!! Now, I can redeem myself~ Also, rare double post! This one jumps the line so it wouldn’t be too far forgotten in the queue

EDIT! Believe or not, this is the third or fourth time I’ve tried to post this. I don’t know why it keeps getting cut. Hopefully, it’ll be up in its entirely now!

Title: Fangs and Fears Word Count: 927 Characters: Six, the Lady

Six looked up at the elevator handle. She wasn't nervous or scared. If anything, she was filled with contempt. Six jumped up and yanked down the handle, and the doors to the Lady's personal elevator opened. She entered inside and headed up to the Residency, growing bitterer with her decision.

The elevator doors dinged open and Six marched onwards. Normally, a trip to the Lady's Quarters required the upmost skill in stealth; but, Six wasn't trying to sneak in. The faster she was caught her, the better, in her opinion. And, it didn't take long for the Lady to swoop in from the shadows to catch her.

"You!" The Lady snatched up Six with her dark magic, dangling her merciless in the air. "How dare you come up here."

Six puffed out her cheeks and crossed her arms in defiance. "I need help."

"Hmph, you certainly do if you thought coming up here by yourself was a wise decision," the Lady growled.

"I need your help." Six frowned, more at her own disappointment than the Lady's retort.

"You need my help?" the Lady snickered, "And why should I help you?"

"Because you're the only person I can think of how can help me. And…" Six looked down at the wooden floor. She was so high up, she kicked her legs to feel the weightlessness in the air. "I'll behavior or whatever. Eat vegetables…or something."

The Lady studied Six with interest. If there was one thing they had it common, it was pride; or rather, the reluctance to ask others for help. She smiled quickly behind her face. "You have some nerve seeking me out for assistance. Speak, girl, before I transfigure you into a Nome."

Six hesitated to answer. "I…I need a favour."

"You dare ask me for a favour?"

"Yes."

The Lady frowned, "You dared to traverse to my quarters to request a favor from me?"

"Can you do it, or not?"

"Ridiculous," the Lady sneered, "What is it that you want…Six?" She personally hated calling the children by their names. There was an informality to it that she didn't want.

Again, Six hesitated to answer. "I...can you kill someone for me?"

The Lady was taken aback by the request. "That is a bit extreme, girl." She gently lowered Six back to the floor. "To whom has earned such a thing?"

Six shook her head. "One of the stupid kids back down in the hold. He keeps making fun of my-" The spiteful girl clasped her hands over her mouth.

"Your?"

"...my fangs..."

The Lady blinked. She can now see why everyone thought they were related. Six was indeed a vindictive child. The Lady knelt down and instructed Six to open her mouth. It took a moment, but the girl showed the witch her teeth. Six was missing her two front teeth. A child her age would be conscious about the gap, and with Six's uneasiness around others, her request seemed in line for her.

"Your fangs will grow back," the Lady said, standing back up.

"But-"

"Yes, I know," the Lady cut her off, "You bite people. The loss of your two front teeth must be devastating to you." Six puffed out her cheeks, but that wasn't what made the Lady pity her. The young girl look so defeated. "Tell me, do you want this kid to die or to suffer?"

Six was puzzled by the question. "Um...what's the difference?"

"That neither is the correct answer to use against a bully," the Lady answered, "If you want the teasing to stop, you need to go lower."

"Lower?" Six asked, "Like, the Depths lower?"

"No, child," the Lady chuckled. She knelt again to get to Six's level. "Would you like to know how I get the rude Guests to behavior on this ship?"

"You kill them?" Six answered bluntly.

"No, girl," the Lady huffed, "Well...no. Still no. I take the time to study them and pick out their weaknesses, so I can use against them. Know your enemy like you know yourself. It's a very wise piece of wisdom and it can be applied to on and off the battlefield. Do you understand?"

Six stared at the Lady blankly. "No..."

The Lady sighed. "What I'm trying to say is that you should look into the child's weaknesses and use it against him. Your current weakness is your teeth, so the boy is teasing you about it. Find the thing he doesn't want the others to know, and tease him back; but make it stick."

"So...blackmail?"

"In a way," the Lady nodded, "And I shall help you with it."

Six's eyes lit up. "YOU WILL!?"

"Of course," the Lady said, "Am I not the Mistress of the Maw? Surely a problem in the orphanage is still a problem on the Maw, and it's my duty to address all incidents, concerns, and complaints on my ship."

"Yes!" Six didn't hear any of the formalities. All she cared about was getting the Lady on her side to teach the others a lesson. "When do we start?" she asked excitedly.

"Now," the Lady hummed, "The quicker, the better. Don't you agree, Six?"

Six flashed the Lady a smile, windowless gap and all. "Yes! Let's go!" She hurried off first, thrilled by the turn of events. The Lady followed calmly and with a spring in her step. There was something in Six's excitement that affected her, too. It wasn't often that they teamed up, and this should be interesting.

The poor other children...They probably didn't think the Lady would grace them with her presence so soon.

#little nightmares #Six #the Lady #dream granted #short dapples

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uneasedregrets · 1 year

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Quick little PSA

( don't worry I'm not ditching the blog I'm just trying to let you guys know where I went )

So things have been rough where I'm living, and possibly going to only get rougher, so this blog has unfortunately been placed on the back burner for now. I am also in the middle of being onboarded to a new job ( work from home with the ability to set my own schedule ), as well as glancing at other work from home jobs, so I have less time than I would like to interact with you folks. I will come back to this blog ( I mean I am still here; I am constantly lurking ) just not for a hot minute. Once things settle where I am, whatever form that may be, I'll probably come back to the blog. Under the read more is more of a vent about the whole thing just so I can get it off my chest.

Things are Not Good™ where I am currently living. Not 'I need to get out now' bad, but 'I will need to get out sooner rather than later' bad. Thankfully my partner and I have planned how we can get out of here, and we have it more or less set up to be executed whenever it needs to. The problem is, I don't know when it will need to be executed. Best case scenario is we stay until the lease is up (July-ish?) and then leave, giving the other two members of the household ( one of whom is a major problem and why we need to leave ) time to prepare and figure out what they are going to do. That way everything is amicable and there's no bad blood. The problem is, that problem individual is highly volatile and fucked up the rent so now we're behind. We probably can bounce back from it, but living here is a problem because everyone is essentially living paycheck to paycheck ( except me and this problem individual, but I've been trying and she hasn't ) to begin with so scraping together another $1,600 when they can just make that and pay bills is damn near impossible. It might come to it that we have to execute the plan faster than we'd like. Which is bad because then there is bad blood and this problem individual is not one to just let things go. She's... just a very terrible human being, to be honest. I've only lived with her for a year and man do I actively not like her. I almost never feel this way about people ( one or two other examples notwithstanding ), but she's just pushed and pushed and taken and taken without a single thought for other people. Ugh it's very upsetting.

I don't mean for this to be anything but a vent. The situation will be resolved sooner or later; I'm hoping sooner but my partner wants things to be amicable. I'm also not trying to bleed my personal life online; hence why the details are vague. If personals want, they can dm me on Discord and I'll get more in-depth but honestly? Just venting this out felt great. I'll let you guys know when this blog goes back into full swing again. I might keep throwing things in queue as I can but I don't know how much of that will be writing.

#negative tw #[ Personal vent ]#[voice of the goddess || mun & ooc]#[ Sorry to everyone I owe shit for ]#[ It'll get done just either slowly or not for a bit ]#[ Which is annoying because I want to get it out ]#[ I'm also having to put off writing my fic to make sure I can line up these jobs and ]#[ ugh it's so annoying ]

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thiswaycomessomethingwicked · 2 years

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📓 about gríma if possible--you write him with so much depth and affection!

aww thank you so much, that's very much something I needed to hear today so thank you!

I believe I might have mentioned this one before, but it's very much a fic/plotline I think about a lot.

Title: Guilty Remnant

Plot: An AU where Sauron is semi-successful. He breaks Denethor/Gondor's defenses and swoops up from the south while his forces that were moving north succeed in defeating the Dale and Lonely Mountain defenses after which they swoop south clinching the defeat of Rohan who is essentially sandwiched.

However! All is not lost, Frodo and Sam haven't been taken captive and Sauron remains without the ring. There is hope for our heroes as Sauron's victory so far is just militarily - not a full and complete deal.

Leaders of the free peoples go into hiding (Aragorn, Gandalf, Boromir [alive always], Legolas, Gimli, Faramir etc. etc.) in order to re-coop and figure out next steps.

During the taking of Rohan, Theoden and Eowyn manage to flee to join the others. Eomer (and Eothain and Erkenbrand) gets stuck behind enemy lines because of where they were positioned militarily during the war and its many battles. In addition, Eomer was super reluctant about leaving his people and so waited too late to get out of dodge (not unlike his father, but without the death part).

Now, keep in mind that Sauron knows that Saruman sought to steal the ring from him and so he isn't too keen on keeping him around. At the moment, the Witchking is doing micro-managing of Saruman to ensure Good Behaviour but the wizard is on thin fucking ice.

Queue Grima.

Who has slid his little snakey self onto the throne. Now that he is king, he's suddenly feeling a good deal less attached to doing whatever Saruman (et al) tell him to do. There's a sense of independence and the realization that he finally gets to run things how he wants to - or has the potential to if only Sauron and Saruman were less oppressive.

Eomer, who was captured, Grima manages to secure his freedom in return for good behaviour and being a sort of symbolic representation of a vague sense of quasi-approval/legitimacy for his reign. Eomer has agreed to this because he and Eothain and Erkenbrand figure that whatever information they can glean from Grima and his cronies can be secretly siphon off to Theoden, Eowyn and everyone else in hiding to help them with their plans.

There's a lot of politicking between Edoras, Isengard and Barad-Dur on who runs what parts of Rohan and who holds which titles. Saruman wants his personal henchman in top tier positions of the marshalate, Grima wants his own people and Sauron wants his cronies in. It gets messy. Also there’s a lot of tension and possible reprisals to different parties because of the aforementioned Sauron knowing about Saruman’s attempts to undermine him.

The thing is, Eomer was a good Third Marshal and knew how to run things effectively and efficiently and Grima loves efficiencies. So Grima has Eomer doing sort-of quasi-acting role as Third Marshal in the background while publicly, of course, it's supposed to be one of Sauron's henchmen in that position.

This means that they end up forming a sort-of functioning work relationship. Grima trusts no one, but there are fundamental truths about Eomer he knows he can rely on and that ends up helping the foundations of their ability to work together form. It's the same in reverse, only Grima's reliable qualities aren't always good ones. Eomer just knows he can trust Grima to react/respond to situations in a certain way, depending on the inputs.

Anyway, they somehow make it work. More from necessity than anything else. A sort of "enemy of my enemy" deal with the devil at the crossroads.

Meanwhile, Theoden, Eowyn, Aragorn etc. etc. have managed to re-coop themselves and begin a successful slow retaking of Gondor with the intention of moving upward into Rohan. Which means Grima is forced to make some Hard Decisions and to maybe develop a single moral. Possibly even two.

It ends happily enough for all involved as I am a sucker for happy(ish) endings (for a given value of happy). There are several possible outcomes for how things wind up in the end and I alternate between them in my head. One where Grima manages to stick it out as king, the other is there's a bit of switcharoo with Eomer, and there's another where Theoden comes back in.

It is essentially a long exploration of leadership, what it means to hold power, the idea of Necessary v. Good, the fact that there are no "ends and means" only means because ends don't truly exist, and what are the necessary elements that need to be present to effect true change in a person.

Apologies for the very long write up! This is just a fully plotted monstrosity of a fic that I am always tinkering with in my head and would love to one day write but likely never will (though tbf, never say never).

Thank you again for the very very lovely ask and the warm compliment! I always hope I write all my characters with depth and affection, it is what is their due (and the reader's due) after all. So it was a lovely thing to hear. Thank you!

#thank you!!#ask #reply #writing ask #ask meme #Grima Wormtongue #lotr au #lotr fic #Eomer #I mean you all know where that work relationship leads lol but it's not a necessary component of the story

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dalanmendonca · 1 year

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Fresh off the plane — My Yelp review of the USA

Spoiler alert — it’s a solid 3.8

My context

In August 2021, I moved to the USA in an attempt to put paid to my long-distance relationship, which like many things that began in 2019 had gone on too long). Things worked out — a new job and 2 visa changes later — I was reunited with my lover and became an official resident of San Francisco.

Changing countries is a monumental shift in lifestyle. Some even proclaim that “Geography is destiny”. From small things like how much to smile in photos to serious things like access to healthcare, the cards in the deck are different everywhere.

In India, I’ve spent 30 years growing up in Mumbai (née Bombay) and working across Hyderabad and Bangalore. While in the US, I’ve lived for about a year exclusively in San Francisco. Most importantly, I’m also a tall, handsome, well-educated, near perfect man (or so sayeth me my mom and wife). So, my experiences might not resonate with everyone. I write this for the pedantic joy of chronicling my new life and contrasting it with the past.

Now, on to the promised Yelp review.

The Good

Public services are amazing — I got my SSN (the de facto ID in the USA) and learners license in a breeze. Visiting the DMV was mildly chaotic but my work got done decently fast given the queue. No bribes or middlemen were needed. Relatedly, I was stunned when I saw the San Francisco Public Library — you can barely get access to such a well-resourced library even if you paid in India. 4.5/5

Systems — The idea of systems permeates life much more in the US. One example is traffic. We have traffic rules in India too, but nobody follows them. So, drivers and pedestrians (and cows and elephants) are in constant negotiation making things slower for everyone. In the US, because everyone obeys the traffic lights, cars can go faster and drivers don’t suffer random interruptions. Pedestrians can safely cross as long they do it at the correct time. There is order here, while India breathes chaos. This also means my commute is ~100% predictable in the USA whereas 5 kms can suddenly take 1.5 hours in India. People generally seem more law-abiding too. 5/5

Consumerism Olympic gold — If consumerism was a sport, USA would triumph harder than Michael Phelps. From Walmart to CostCo to BevMo, the USA is littered with stadium sized retail experiences and American consumers are blessed with choice. The depth and breadth of items available is staggering. The average Safeway here has more varieties of booze than most cities in India. From cheap Chinese stuff to boutique shit to luxury brands, it’s all here. You can try the same searches on Amazon.com and Amazon.in to experience the difference. 4/5

Weather, national parks and natural beauty — This was a real surprise to me. The USA has immense ecological diversity and does an amazing job in to protecting it through national parks. The national parks are well-maintained, have rangers patrolling for public safety, offer a good escape from urban life and a chance to see stunning natural beauty. I had my breadth taken away when saw a sky full of stars on a clear night in the Colorado sand-dunes. Almost started believing in God again. Coming from smoggy Bombay, I can literally see and smell the cleaner air here in California. 5/5

Insane economic prospects — Both the breadth & and depth of economic opportunities in the USA is staggering. Hollywood, Silicon Valley, Wall Street, and Area51 👽, they’re all here. For 99% of fields, India lacks depth. Even in my domain of software where India has made some head way, most Indian companies are operating at the application layer, while the deeper domains like operating systems, etc. don’t have as many players or people. 5/5

The Meh

Food — American food is … pizza, burgers and coke? American companies have been a wee bit too successful at exporting it, so there’s no novelty eating what I can eat in India too. Obviously, the depth and quality of said foods is much better here. I deeply appreciate my access to many choices and varieties of steak. I also appreciate the beef isn’t banned here (unlike my home state of Maharashtra). That said, American food doesn’t hold a candle to the depth and breadth of Indian food. If the “7 wonders of the world” was a list about food, all 7 would easily come from India. Indian food is one of the things I miss the most. A big chunk of Indian food culture revolves around much small shops and street food vendors. They are the lifeblood of urban India. Whether you want a filter coffee and dosa to start your day, or a cup of ginger tea for an afternoon slump, or a quick vada pav as you commute back home; the streets of India have your covered. I’ve hardly seen anything of that sort in the USA. 2/5

Car driven landscape — India’s biggest retail unit is the kirana — a neighbourhood shop that sells everyday goods. There are millions of them, they’re everywhere and within walking distance of most residences. Heck my last house had a full store inside our complex (quite common in India). I was shocked when I found out that many USA complexes have nothing of that sort. There is nothing at walking distance and you have to pull out your car and drive for buying that packet of milk you might’ve forgotten. Living in American urban landscape feels like watching humans scavenge in the remains of an ancient city where cars used to live. 1/5

Urban aesthetics — The whole country looks like a dilapidated grey coloured blob. The road infra is old. I feel as if there was a construction boom some decades ago which suddenly stopped, and everything was put in maintenance mode. I did praise Walmart and CostCo for choice, but visually they’re literal grey soulless boxes. Mumbai has the gaping contrast of high-rise residential building and the world’s most expensive residence towering over middle-class homes, shanties, and slums. San Francisco neither has the towers nor the slums, it does have a smattering of homeless people though. The building heights in San Francisco are so low, squinting a little I almost feel I am in 1822 instead of 2022. 2/5

Personal space — This is a mixed bag and cuts both ways. In the US, while people are very sociable and polite, they maintain their distance, keeping work & life separate. Conversations are often superficial. In India, it won’t take 5 mins for someone to ask if you’re single, how much you earn, and try to set you up with their cousin for marriage; and then 5 mins later do that with person next to you. I like the personal space in the US. However, one downside of that is making new social connections becomes harder. 3.5/5

The Bad

Ridiculous financially optimized healthcare system — India has the classic health care problems. Not enough doctors, shitty facilities, poor people who can’t afford treatments, etc. I belong to a fortunate class of urbanities in India that can access & afford private health care, facing much fewer of these issues. You can book appointments online or just walk-in to the nearest doctor. The USA healthcare process is convoluted to put mildly. No one asks what your problem is, they want to know what your insurance is first. I had a moderately painful toothache and after calling 10 doctors and failing (either no reply or rejected because of insurance issues), I finally got an appointment for a week later. Jeez. God forbid if I had a more serious issue. Procedures are wildly overpriced. I think I paid $100 for a dental X-ray which would’ve cost $2 in India (at most). I find it appalling and absurd that this is the status quo in the same country that excels in medical R&D. That said, the USA has amazing emergency services that are super-fast and effective. In India, you’re on your own. -1/5

Drugs — There are entire blocks of San Francisco full of spaced-out junkies, swimming in trash, with needles and shit around them. This was scary and surreal to me. I work on Market St, an arterial road in San Francisco which after 10 pm transforms into a literal Gotham city with drug dealers and junkies in hoodies and masks going about shady shit openly with nary a word from the cops. Eek! 💉/5

Guns — America’s reputation with guns is well known. In my first few months in the US, every time I heard a loud noise I was like “OMG! WE HAVE A SHOOTER SITUATION! UNDER THE TABLES EVERYONE”. Fortunately, it was everyday things like tyre bursts and never an actual shooter. The never-ending stories of Walmart shootings, school shootings, and muggings have a decreasing but ever-present place in my head. I now interpret it as India’s rape problem. It’s bad, it is far from what it should be, but the reality is a far cray from what the media portrays it to be. 🔫☠️/5

Wrapping up

My experiences aren’t too different from an Italian immigrant who sailed to New York, a hundred years before me.

"I came to America because I heard the streets were paved with gold. When I got here, I found out three things: First, the streets weren't paved with gold; second, they weren't paved at all; and third, I was expected to pave them."

Or to quote a TikTok “Now that I’m really looking at em .. this bitch kinda ugly”

I would still consider it an upgrade for me. Overall, I would rate USA a strong 3.8. Stop taking it easy in fundamental areas like healthcare, and it’s an easy 4.

As Winston Churchill famously (didn’t) say “You can always count on the Americans to do the right thing, after they have exhausted all the other possibilities.”. That moment might soon be here. I am an optimist and remain hopeful.

Bonus rant

A learning for me has is the moving between these countries involves a lot of trade-offs, but those trade-offs have gotten narrower. India might’ve slam-dunked USA until the 1700s, and USA might’ve slam-dunked India until 1991. But things have changed, and the comparison can’t be so abstract and pointed anymore. People slap monikers like “developed” and “developing” on entire countries. The expression encodes a colonial view of the world — here stand we, the wise & “developed”, there stand they the P̶o̶o̶r̶,̶ ̶T̶h̶i̶r̶d̶-̶w̶o̶r̶l̶d̶, “developing” savages.

Are western countries done? Nope! Progress is eternal. This vocabulary also ignores things taking a total back-slide. Should the once bustling but now abandoned city of Detroit still be called developed? As I mentioned above, many aspects are anything but developed. We need to cure ourselves of the mind virus of Anglocentrism.

Bonus pet peeves

USA needs jets, in the toilet [Graphic details about inferiority of toilet paper omitted but available upon request]

Tipping is bullshit. Raise the price and pay your staff.

Stop leaving my mail/deliveries on the porch or building entrance, give it to me in hand.

Why don’t houses have lights?! Why do I have to buy them separately?

Why do people have to earn leave? In India, you’re just granted leaves

Why are salary payments fortnightly? Make rent fortnightly too then?!

What’s with the feed the family and then some portion sizes?

#immigration #life #usa #India #Expat

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