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some-kindofgnome · 3 years

Text

tastes so bitter (tastes so sweet)

You’re driving back from an out-of-town mission with Hawks when your car breaks down on a very sparsely-populated highway. While you await relief, things get... personal.

characters: takami keigo (hawks) x f!reader

word count: 7.1k

warnings: smut (18+ please!), car sex, pro hero!reader, angst, emotionally unavailable hawks

notes: ta-dah!!! the car sex fic! this turned out way longer and way more feelsy than I ever intended it to be. but I’m grateful for the chance to show you how I play with plot and emotion as well as some good porn. porn with feelings, y’know?

EDIT: The supremely talented @la-saffron has created an absolutely spectacular piece of artwork for this fic! Please go and look at it right here, it’s really quite splendid

Masterlist

The shadowy trees on either side of the highway cast a chill across the pavement as the sky went dark.

It was far from sunset, but the woods were so tall and thick that the light had disappeared from the road a long time ago. The overpriced navigation system laid into the dashboard of Hawks’ luxurious car was no help at all; not when you were taking the only road for miles around.

The highway narrowly passed for two lanes, winding precariously down from the mountains. Dotted with reflective yellow signs- deer crossing, bear crossing, creatures-of-unimaginable-horror crossing. Bigfoot himself could have wandered into your headlights and you barely would’ve flinched.

But that was to be expected, given where you’d come from.

That day’s mission brought you both far, far away from the city. There was a national forest about three hours away- one of the biggest in the country- and you and Hawks had been called in at the crack of fucking dawn to drive all the way out to the woods and investigate some ‘strange reports,’ as the rangers cared to call them.

Most park rangers knew what they were seeing when guests came in from the woods reporting abnormal happenings. Nobody was truly immune to fear, though, when faced with the impossible.

Whether there were paranormal creatures lurking in those woods or not, you couldn’t have been sure. But after spending the day exhausting both your quirks combing every spare inch of those woods, you were relieved of your overnight duties by a group of other, more nature-savvy heroes.

Hawks had been miffed, but too exhausted to argue. He didn’t like to think he’d been overshadowed. You were just thankful to be going home to your own bed.

“Okay,” you sighed, nursing the last of a lukewarm soda from a burger joint at the edge of the only one-horse town you’d passed through. It was a pretty unassuming stop for dinner, but you and Hawks both agreed that the burgers were way too good to be sold to so few patrons.

Keigo was driving, with one palm splayed lazily across the bottom edge of the wheel. His scarlet wings stretched into the backseat, draping over the shoulders of his black leather backrest like some bizarre kind of seat cover.

The fact that his car was so luxurious was not lost on you- although you were more surprised to find out that he had one at all. Hawks seemed like the last person in the world to need a car, after living in a fantastic downtown penthouse. And owning a pair of wings, come to think of it.

He owned it because he could. And because he knew how good he looked in the driver’s seat.

“What?” He turned a curious eye toward you, though he never quite pulled his gaze from the road.

“I know we started this conversation on the way here,” you began, “but… we never exactly finished it.” You swirled what was left of the ice chips in the bottom of your cup, considering the best way to voice your thoughts.

“Alright.” He sounded vaguely amused, slouching a little further down and drawing an idle palm over his feathered hair. “Shoot.”

“Well…” You trailed off. “You’re kind of… a city guy.” You were already starting to talk with your hands. The racket coming from your half-drunk soda was proof enough.

“What makes you say that?”

“You are,” you defended. You let a playful edge creep into your tone. “And the agency’s kind of a city thing.”

“Am I really as one-note as you’re making me out to be?” He was chuckling. Your cheeks were going hot. You weren’t sure how this became a personal conversation, but you were determined to steer it in the proper direction. You course corrected.

“I just mean, we don’t take a lot of jobs outside the city. Like… ever. So, what’s with this one? Why this call?”

He didn’t answer right away. When you glanced across the car, he was licking his lips and appearing to be, very genuinely, thinking.

“Well,” he began. There was an immensely appealing depth that wore around the edges of his voice when he was deep in thought. You hung on tightly, trying your best to hide how intently you listened.

“I was just… bored, I guess.” He gave a lazy little shrug. His eyes were still trained on the windshield, but you could feel the weight of his urges. He wanted to look over. You turned your head, willing him to.

“Probably sounded like bullshit, now that I think about it,” he confessed, “but if there really was somethin’ freaky in those woods… I dunno. I wanted to see it.”

You resisted the urge to snort.

“Maybe you should start a ghost hunting branch at the agency.”

“Aw, c’mon,” he protested. This time, he really did drag his eyes away from the road for a second. They glinted playfully in the dark. You got a flash of pearly canine from the barest hint of a grin, but it was enough to put a stupid smile right across your face.

A sickening thud from beneath the hood zapped any false confidence you’d been building. There was a dull pop, then the engine died.

“What the- shit.” Hawks scrambled to put both hands on the wheel, navigating the car with what momentum remained over to the narrow shoulder. The tires hit gravel and soft mud, rolling pathetically to a stop and settling in damp silence.

“What the hell was that?” You leaned over the dashboard as your pulse came down from near-terminal velocity. There were half a dozen lights blinking away on the dashboard- symbols you couldn’t understand.

“Not sure.” Keigo was doing his best not to sound too perturbed. As a result, he was just perturbed enough.

You knew what those lights implied, though. Service due. Oil change due. Battery maintenance due.

“Jesus Christ,” you hissed, “when was the last time you took this car in for service? It’s a miracle you even made it out of the goddamn garage.”

Hawks was in the process of mashing the engine start button like an arcade game. When you spoke up, he pushed it down and held. The engine gave a dull, sad sort of sputter, but nothing roared to life.

“Look, look,” he dismissed, waving a hand in your direction as he unbuckled his seatbelt. “I don’t drive this thing that often, okay? I’m gonna go check under the hood.”

He climbed out of the driver’s side and slammed the door before giving you the chance to remind him to pop the hood. For a minute, you let him wallow in his mistake, watching gleefully as he pried at the seam of it. Finally, you unbuckled yourself and leaned over, flicking the release for him.

He gave an unamused glance toward the windshield and lifted the hood, obscuring all but the very tips of his drooping wings from view.

After about fifteen seconds, he ducked back into the car with a rush of cold air behind him. He rubbed his palms together as you watched, arms folded over your chest.

“So?” You prompted. He gave a sideways glance in your direction, blowing into his chilled hands.

“So what?”

“Oh my g- what’s wrong with the car?” You tried your best not to let panic set in.

“I don’t know. It’s just a bunch of pipes and wires under there. They didn’t exactly give me a map of the thing when I bought it.”

You’d seen Hawks pull people out of burning buildings before. You’d see him think on his feet, devise a plan and act on it in the blink of an eye. Usually, he was impulsive. Confident. Clever.

Tonight, on the other hand, he was demonstrating a very clear affinity for money over brains.

You flopped into your seat, scrubbing your hands over your face. You were not going to freak out. You refused to. It didn’t matter that Keigo had suddenly become useless in the face of disaster. You were heroes, even if you had to save your damned selves.

“Oh,” he quipped from beside you. “Still got bars. See?” As you peeked over at him through one cracked eyeball, he waved his illuminated phone screen at you. “It could be worse, kid. If this were a horror movie, this thing’d be dead.”

He tapped away on the screen, seeming very pleased with himself. Even his wings gave a little ruffle, draping themselves smoothly over the back of his seat again.

“I’ll call us a tow. We’ll be outta here in no time.”

A few minutes later, you had a map pulled up on your phone while Hawks’ brow creased deeper and deeper.

“Uh-huh.” His voice had taken on that irresistible deepness to it again, but this time it was sending pangs of dread through your gut.

“Right.” He brought a palm up to smooth over his jaw, fingertips bending and pressing idly against the patches of scruff that dusted it. “Y-yep, yeah, I understand. Fifty miles is a long way. I know it’s gonna be a lot to send a truck that far. But-“

As he was abruptly cut off by the other end of the line, those idle fingers slipped up to his temple, pressing inward and rubbing in stiff little circles.

“Okay. Alright. Yeah, I guess we’ll wait, ‘cause there’s not much else we can… I understand. Yes, thank you. Thank you. Okay, we’ll be here. Or within a ten-foot radius. Thanks. B-“

He blinked rapidly at the screen as he pulled it away from his ear. “Have an excellent night, sir,” he muttered under his breath. He let out a deep sigh, lifting a hip to tuck his phone away again.

“They said they would send someone,” he said, “but the depot is, like, fifty miles from here. Could be a couple of hours.”

“A couple hours?” That cold dread was settling into your chest again. So much for sleeping in your own bed.

“Yeah. C’mon, get out.”

“What?” You glanced past him at the frosted driver’s side window. “It looks freezing out there.”

“Well then, you’d better bundle up. C’mon. I’m gonna fly us back to the city.”

“No way. Hawks- Keigo.” You grabbed his arm and squeezed tightly as he made to get out of the car.

“What?” Exasperation was creeping into the edges of his voice. The sides of his gaze, too, as he landed against the seat back with a thud and turned his cheek to look at you.

“You’ve been flying all day. Your wings are shot. You’re not flying anywhere.”

“What? They’re fine.” He gave the appendages in question a defiant flutter and a cloud of expiring feathers floated into the backseat.

You folded your arms across your chest. Hawks gave a frustrated growl.

“What do you suggest, then?” He retorted in fierce opposition to your silence. “Just sit around and fucking… die of old age before the tow truck comes?”

“Oh my god, you’re the number two hero,” you snapped back. “When did you become such a drama queen? Yes, we’re going to wait. Like a normal person would have to.”

“I’m not being dramatic; I’m presenting you with a legitimate solution and you’re ignoring it!”

“If you try to fly us both out of here, you’re gonna hit the ground before we’re halfway home. And then we’ll be really stranded, with no water and no shelter. So, if you’d like to fly back all by yourself, I can’t stop you. But I’m not going to let you kill both of us.”

“Fine!” Hawks’ cheeks were flushed with temper as he kicked the door open and clambered out of the car. He kicked it shut again so hard the whole body rocked, and for a moment you were left, trapped in shocked silence.

He was really going to leave you out here. Alone.

Half a dozen heartbeats passed before his boots crunched on the shoulder and he wrenched the door open again, flopping back into the car with an immense sigh of irritated defeat.

“Fuckin’ freezing out there,” he muttered as quietly as possible.

You wanted to punch him.

“You ready to wait?”

His wings stiffened behind him, then drooped so lowly they seemed to disappear into the backseat. He looked at you from the corner of one tawny eye.

“Yeah.”

For the first hour, you honestly enjoyed yourself. As soon as Keigo accepted his fate, he got much closer to his usual mellow self. You finished off cold fries from dinner, listened to true crime podcasts on your phone, (you listened- he talked over the whole thing) and played a few ruthless games of hangman on a couple of napkins you found in the glove compartment.

You’d spent a lot of time with Hawks in a professional capacity. As partners, you took most of your missions together. You were well-versed in the way that he liked to think, the way he approached a job, a conversation. You worked well with each other and you were drawn to his quick wit and laid-back humour. Even if he was a piece of work at times, you made a strong team. But you didn’t do a whole lot of hanging out.

“Okay, that’s it,” he chided as you added an extravagant top hat to the completed, dressed hangman scrawled onto the inside fold of your last napkin. The word he’d failed to guess was ‘patience,’ and the irony of his struggling was not lost on you.

“Aw, c’mon,” you protested. “You’ve still got gloves and a bow tie left.”

“No, no, no.” He held up a palm, shaking his head. There was a good-natured grin curling his lip as he bowed toward the door. “I’m callin’ it. I gotta take a leak.”

You snatched your soda cup from the drink holder, clutching it protectively against your chest.

“You’re not going in here.”

Next, it was Hawks’ turn to shoot you a deadpan stare.

“How about in the woods? Is that allowed?”

Your cheeks went hot. “It’s pretty dark out there.”

“Aw.” Hawks shoved the door open. There was an unfamiliar glint to his eye as he tossed a mischievous look over his shoulder. “Guess you won’t be able to sneak a peek, then.”

You slammed your fist into his back. “Shut up and go take a piss.”

As the car door clicked shut, you turned the other way out of sheer habit. All you could see in the opposite window was the reflection of your own face. Maybe it was just the dim light, but you looked exhausted. Keigo had seen you caked in blood, streaked by mud and soot before. But you’d both been awake since four o’clock that morning and there was a special kind of ugly feeling that came with overtiredness.

You were dreaming about the first thing you’d do when you got home again when Hawks climbed back into the car. He looked considerably brighter as he ducked inside, and he brought a flush of rich, earthy forest-smell along with him.

“Don’t tell me you couldn’t find it in the cold out there,” you quipped. Payback.

But Keigo just chuckled, shaking his head.

“Close the door,” you whined as the frigid air from outside finally reached your bare arms. “It’s already cold enough in here.”

“Aw,” he crooned, tugging the door shut behind him. “You scared of a little cold now, kid? It’s not so bad out there. Feel.”

He lunged at you, ducking rapidly to rub his frigid cheek against your shoulder. You let out a terse yelp and squirmed, trying to shove him back amid a sea of chilled giggles. He got a few passes of his icy skin on yours before you both realized how close you’d gotten.

Hawks cleared his throat and scooted away from you. In the bare light from the shitty overhead lamp, you were starting to see the outline of a flush creeping into his cheeks.

The light abruptly went out, leaving you in darkness again.

“Tell me something,” he mused, grabbing for the abandoned takeout bag and digging a hand into it. He produced a tiny wrapped square and tore it open with his teeth, removing the folded alcohol wipe from inside and gliding it with impossible grace over his fingertips. He eyed you sideways.

“How come we don’t hang out more?”

Your chest went cold. You’d been dreading that question all night. Longer than that, even.

“What d’you mean?” It was a gut response, but you instantly kicked yourself for even attempting to play dumb.

“You know,” he chided, dumping the wipe back into the paper bag once he was finished with it. “We work. We do interviews together. We do those bullshit PR functions together. I’ve known you- what, two years? And we’ve never even been for a drink. What gives, kid? Don’t tell me I grate on you.”

“I get plenty of you on company time,” you retorted. You were starting to panic. You weren’t ready for this conversation, but it didn’t seem like you were going to be rescued by the timely arrival of the tow truck.

“Okay, okay, I’d take that,” he laughed, “if you hadn’t agreed to take this mission with me. C’mon, this wasn’t exactly a nine-to-five gig.”

He paused. “Come out with me this weekend.” He nudged your shoulder with a bony elbow. You tried your best not to snap.

“Stop,” you pressed quietly. “You know why we don’t.”

The smirk slipped from Keigo’s face.

“What? Why?”

“Don’t make me say it.”

“Wait a second, there’s an actual reason? What the hell is it?”

The confusion was genuine on his face. Hawks could be a smarmy little shit when he wanted to be. But you could tell he wasn’t fucking with you.

“Oh my god.” The words slipped out like a deep breath. Your hand drifted to your mouth as cold shock ran over your skin. “You really don’t remember.”

“No.” His confusion was bordered with fear. He sat back a little, letting his eyes drift over your expression. “No, I really don’t.”

You swallowed hard. You should have known that you’d have to talk about this eventually. But he didn’t even remember the night that had been changing the way you acted around him for nearly a year.

“Last Christmas,” you began. Your breath was so short that it put a desperate hush to your voice that you absolutely hated. You revelled in your ability to act casual around him, but the more probing he got, the harder that composure was slipping.

“At the agency gala. You remember the party, right?”

Hawks rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, and I got trashed.” He paused. Realization dawned on his face, and he shot you the deepest, most sincere look of concern you’d ever seen. Even more sincere than the look that crossed his face when you got shot off the roof of a house and broke a rib.

He leaned forward.

“Did I do something?” He swept a palm over his mouth, fingertips dallying at his chin. You knew exactly how he felt in that moment. You’d been there before, too, realizing that you’d lost control. Blacked out. Understanding that you might have done something you were going to regret.

“You really don’t remember a thing?” It was your turn to be horrified. How could something that consumed your every thought stay so damned far from his?

His fingers were still curved around the point of his chin. He’d gone white, and he shook his head as his eyes cast down to his lap.

“You fucking kissed me, okay?” You snarled with a whip of frustration. “There was mistletoe and you kissed me under it and-and Christ, I can’t believe you.”

“What? What?” He demanded as his voice grew defensively sharp.

“I had no idea what you were gonna do. What you were gonna say, what was gonna change between us. I showed up to the agency the next morning and your hungover ass acted like nothing had ever happened.”

“Of course I did,” he defended, “I didn’t think anything did happen. Oh my God, did I really kiss you?” His wings were coming to life all of a sudden, bristling on either side of his seat. There was a dull whisp as one edge of them brushed against the window. They seemed to expand, along with his horror, to fill the entire car.

He pushed further. “Well, did you… did you want me to?”

You could see where his thoughts were taking him. The answer was an impossible dilemma. To lead him further down that path would not only be cruel, it would be untrue. But to tell him the truth- that you had wanted it- would be to shatter the fragile illusion of casual, platonic intimacy that you’d been building over the last two years.

You chewed your lower lip. Hard enough to hurt.

“Oh god, you didn’t,” he gasped. That was enough for you to lift your chin and shoot him a sudden, sad, pathetic little look.

“Jesus,” he gasped again, deeper this time. “You did.”

“Look,” you snapped. “I was never gonna say anything to you. I was never gonna push it. You didn’t feel that way and I knew that and I just wanted to work.”

He told you enough about his personal life as it was. Every date he swung in from on Monday morning, every Friday night he spent preening in the last hours of the workday hurt enough already. If you’d grown close, fallen harder, it would’ve become too much to bear.

“What do you mean, I didn’t feel that way? What way don’t I feel? How could you even know that?” He was beginning to raise his voice back at you and the adrenaline was pushing you way too far to listen.

“Because you never said a fucking word to me about that kiss! You pretended like it never even happened, Kei! What was I supposed to think!”

“If you’d asked me, you woulda known that I didn’t speak up ‘cause I didn’t remember a goddamn thing!” Keigo jammed a finger into his temple. His golden eyes flashed. He was so fucking hot when he was angry, but this was not a fight you ever wanted to have.

Luckily for you, he was having it without you.

“What do you want me to say to that?” He snarled. “Huh? What- you want me to tell you that I’m sorry for not having psychic powers? That I’m sorry I didn’t hire a mind-reader to tell me what the fuck was going on with you?”

He scrubbed his hands over his face. You were on the verge of tears.

“I-I never-“ you began, but Keigo beat you to the punch,

“You know, maybe I noticed that you were actin’ funny around me. And maybe I should’ve asked. But maybe if you ask yourself, and if you really, honestly give yourself the truest answer, you’d be able to admit that you knew how I felt about you. That you always knew.”

“Of course I knew!”

Your response echoed raw and deafening in the silence of the car. You’d lost your temper and shouted it at him with every decibel left in your breathless chest. Your fists were clenched atop your frigid thighs as you bent over in your seat, shivering. To your immense embarrassment, warm tears trickled down the sides of your nose.

He was right, after all. Every sideways smile he’d given you was just a little too broad to be friendly. Every time he caught you by the hand, he held it just a little too long. Every time he offered you the crook of his elbow at a stuffy charity gala and every time he poured you into a cab at the end of the night, he promised to take good care of you. Every time he looked at you at all it was with a depth that you had recognized, but never understood.

“But look at us, Kei. Look at what we do to each other.”

You sniffled, scrubbing tears off your cheeks with the heels of your hands. He reached for you, seeking to comfort, but his hands twitched midair and he drew back instead.

“Yeah,” he croaked. You tossed a glance in his direction. He looked more dejected than you’d seen him in a long time. He rested both hands on top of the wheel, the rest of his body sagging against the seat back.

“Except now I’ve told you,” you continued. “And now we both know, so everything’s fucked no matter what.”

You were met with silence. The truth was dawning on you. You hated to even consider it, but it felt like what needed to be done.

“When we get back to the city,” you started. Hawks interrupted you with a low rasp of your name.

“No, when we get back, I’m giving you my resignation.”

“Fuck, stop.”

Keigo lunged, grabbing you by the back of the neck and pulling you toward him. He rested his forehead against yours and closed his eyes. The warmth of his closeness weighed on you like a heavy quilt. You couldn’t even pretend not to be immensely comforted by affection from him.

“I’m not gonna let you do that, kid.”

You were both drawing deep breaths- slow, rolling gulps of air that matched over gradual time. You licked your lips, bracing your chilled palms on his shoulders. Your fingertips brushed the very edges of his feathered hair, dull and soft in the dark.

You’d talked each other down from bigger, badder edges before. But this one had sharp, jagged rocks waiting at the bottom. This one, you were going to have to jump from together.

“I can’t do this,” you pleaded. “I can’t keep myself away from you like this.”

“Don’t.” His voice was hushed and so achingly tender, like he couldn’t take the command himself.

“I can’t-“

“Then, don’t.”

He was firmer this time, and the pad of his thumb brushed the bottom of your lip. He pulled back just a hair, grazing the tip of his nose across yours. The heat of his breath puffed over your lips and his blonde eyelashes threatened to tickle your cheek.

He drew in a slow, calculated breath.

“Lemme kiss you. Lemme try again. I’m not gonna forget it this time, I swear.”

“Keigo, please.”

“Just lemme try. Just once. I’ll never ask you again, if you don’t want me to.” He pulled back the rest of the way and your body keened at the loss, but he looked deeply into your eyes. Deeply like he’d never been allowed to look before.

You licked your lips. Considered it for half a heartbeat. Then you gave a slow little nod.

“Okay.”

To your surprise, he didn’t lunge again. He took his time with you. He cupped your cheeks tenderly between his bare palms, memorizing the curve of your face. He stared, taking you in like this. At his mercy.

Finally, he leaned in and captured your mouth in a soft kiss, heartbreakingly loving. You responded eagerly, blossoming beneath his touch and bracing your hands on the broad plane of his chest. Your fingers curled in the fleece that lined his coat.

You kissed back with near-desperate urgency, shamelessly showing him how touch-starved you’d become. Dating was pointless when Keigo stole your whole heart every time you showed up to work.

The quiet press of his tongue had your jaw going slack in his hands. Your kiss went needy all at once, and he licked into your mouth with a hunger behind his movements that you never anticipated sensing from him.

You broke from him first, turning your cheek to him as your lungs burned. Your mouth was swollen, and you gasped greedily for whatever stale air lingered between you. He grabbed your chin and forced your eyes back to his.

His gaze was fearsome. Ravenous. You were powerless beneath it.

You combed your fingers through his hair like you’d always wanted to, settling your palm at the nape of his neck. Your own voice was nearly unrecognizable, nothing more than a feral growl.

“Get in the back.”

Hawks took one look at the narrow gap between his seat and yours and sat up, nudging the driver’s side door open. He climbed eagerly into the road and then back into the back seat, settling in the center with his legs and wings splayed wide.

Meanwhile, you took the opportunity to wiggle out of your boots and pants and slam dunk everything into the foothold of the passenger’s seat. You climbed over the center console in your underwear and settled into his lap.

Even though you had to bow your head against the cushioned ceiling, it was a holy sensation. Your thighs settled perfectly into the crooks of Keigo’s legs, and his hands slid so naturally over the curves of your hips. It was as if you’d done this before.

You kissed him again, using the weight of your newly boosted height to descend hard and loving against his lips. He grabbed you hard by the ass, drawing you smooth and tight against his hips.

“God,” he groaned eagerly into your mouth.

“You’re so. Fucking. Perfect,” you hissed back into his, and he squeezed you harder, breaking his lips from yours to trail a hungry path of kisses along the edge of your jaw. His scruff scratched at your chin just like you imagined it would. You loved him like this- trimmed, unshaven. The rougher, the better.

“Don’t say that,” he purred dangerously close to your ear. “You’ve seen me at my worst.”

You tried not to grin, remembering Keigo barfing over the balcony of the Plaza after one too many charity-benefit martinis. Keigo caked in ooze after cutting open that sludge villain from the inside. Keigo on the verge of tears, just a few minutes ago.

“I still think so,” you pressed, and he smiled against your cheek. His wings, tired and bruised but majestic as ever, stiffened proudly. They were capped firmly by the cramped space that surrounded you, but the feathers that spread across the back seat were sleek and graceful.

You dug your fingertips between his jacket and his t-shirt, feeling the warmth of his torso all over. He did his best to shrug it open, but the material was caught up on his wings- no getting it off now.

He wound his hands into the hem of his shirt and tugged it up for you. The skin you could feel by slipping your fingers underneath was all you were going to get.

Not that it mattered to you. It was far more than you’d let yourself so much as picture before. While you felt your way across his heated abdomen, he dipped his head to your pulse point. He scraped the points of his teeth across your tender flesh, making you sigh and shiver. He pressed a hand to the small of your back to keep you close and nibbled all the way down to your neckline, leaving a trail of tiny welts in his wake.

They would fade by morning. Tonight, the feeling was enough.

He glided smooth, tender fingers up your sides. You straightened, letting him wedge your long-sleeved t-shirt up around your shoulders. You had to bend even further and press your forehead awkwardly against his shoulder to wrench it off. Once he peeled the fabric over your head, you tossed it haphazardly toward the front seat. Keigo was already going to work on his fly.

The tender press of his erection had grown apparent by that point, stiff and needing down one thigh of his thick pants. You reached between your legs and palmed it indulgently. There was an answering throb of arousal in the pit of your belly as you felt the shape and thickness of it trapped against his body, and an even stronger one when his hips pressed into your touch and he gave a low rumble of approval.

“Don’t act so surprised,” he crooned. With his pants unfastened, and the bulk of his cock shifted to the stretchy pouch of his undershorts, he slid a fingertip down the plane of your belly and curled two graceful digits between your thighs.

“Are you wet for me yet?” He shot you a deep, lustful stare. You rocked your hips against his fingers, hopeless in resisting the pleasure he offered. Keigo nudged the crotch of your thong easily aside, dipping his middle finger against your slit.

He sucked a sharp breath through clenched teeth as you gave a simultaneous yelp of stimulation. When he looked up at you again, he bore a sly little grin. You’d seen it a thousand times before, but never with such desire. And never all for you.

“You’re drippin’, kid.” He arched his palm, slipping that finger slowly upward and easing it inside you. There was no stretch, but the sensation of intimacy- of being felt in such a way by those hands that you’d never dared to fantasize about- was intoxicating in its own right.

Keigo was, apparently, feeling it, too. His eyes were deeply lidded, glazed completely by his own desire. The tip of his cock had found its way over the waistband of his undershorts, weeping shiny precum against his stomach and the bottom of his shirt.

He curled a blunt fingertip inside you, massaging your tender front wall. The feeling rappelled up the column of your spine and brought deep trembles forward. It brought fresh handfuls of wet slick from your depths, gliding down his palm and between his fingers. He took the hints your body offered and rubbed faster, watching the way your expression morphed from desire to pleasure.

“Stop,” you hushed, leaning forward and pushing your lips to his. He drew his hand back from you immediately, settling it on your thigh. The wet little print it left against your skin wasn’t lost on you.

“Something wrong?”

“No,” you replied. “Just ready for you.”

He gave a low, loving little chuckle and shifted beneath you. “Can’t hold out any longer?”

You smiled into his hair. “Don’t want to.”

“Fair enough.” His smile was even, but the tug in his voice betrayed his fraying nerves. It thrilled you to know that you weren’t the only one putting way too much emotional stock in this. It was immensely validating to discover that he’d been anticipating it, too.

He wiggled and squirmed against the backseat, shucking his pants and underwear down over his thighs and letting his cock pop out. It bobbed against his stomach- thicker than you’d imagined- framed by a trimmed scruff of tawny hair that disappeared under his shirt.

“Fuck,” you sighed in spite of yourself.

“I know, right?” He rasped. He reached for you, cupping your jaw. He brought your forehead down to his, giving a weak laugh. “What the hell have we been waitin’ for?”

“We just needed the bottle episode to shove us together,” you giggled. “C’mon, we’re a walking trope right about now.”

“We’re about to become a different trope if you don’t let me fuck you.” It was his turn to play the desperate card. But the ache between your thighs had not dulled, even a little.

He wrapped his fingers around the base of his shaft and you lifted your hips. He gave the heated tip a playful little swipe along your slick slit, but his game backfired when both of you let out tight cries of sensation.

You rocked your hips forward, taking his tip eagerly inside. The sensation was toe-curling, made even better by the way he held you tightly against him, nosing at your ear and kissing any patch of skin he could reach.

He brought his free palm to your ass as soon as you were situated, helping you slide the rest of the way onto his cock. With your knees braced on either side of his lap and your feet pressed tightly against the front seat, you let him bottom out. And for a moment, you just sat there.

“Jesus,” Keigo sighed, lolling his head against the seat behind him. You still had your head deeply bowed, trapped in the space that seemed just an inch too tight.

“I…” Your thighs shuffled. Your hips gave a little squirm. It felt good, but it wasn’t enough. Keigo cracked an eye and lifted his chin, sensing a problem.

“What’s the matter?”

“I just…” Your cheeks went hot. You licked your lips. “I can’t move.”

His gaze cast downward, to the place where you were joined. He took in the press of your thighs, the curve of your neck. He snorted.

“No, you can’t. C’mere, kid, I gotcha.” He planted that palm on your ass again, drawing your hips forward and up, as far as you could take them. Your head and neck bowed with the rest of your back as he draped your upper body over his chest and held you tightly against him.

Then he planted his feet and gave one good, deep thrust. Your innards gave a jerk. Oh, fuck.

“That’s it,” you panted into his ear. He nodded tensely.

“Yeah?” He prompted. “That’s workin’ for ya? Alright, alright. We’ve got this, kid, c’mon. Lemme show you somethin’ good, okay?”

One thrust sent you spiralling. But the rhythm that he dove into- steady, tough, fluid- sent every nerve through your body into meltdown. You were entirely incapable of dealing with such pleasure, combined with the emotions that swirled through your lovestruck brain.

It felt as though you had been holding out needlessly for all this time. Like all the hurt and frustration and heartbreak you shed over him would be evaporated, now that you understood that he wanted you like this, too.

Like that was all there was. You, Hawks, and the free love you could now share.

“I’m n-not-“ Keigo stuttered, piping up after a series of breathless pants and airy groans, “n-not gonna last much longer, kid, you’re… really gonna make me feel it.”

“Yeah,” you breathed back. You looped your arms tightly around his neck, tilting your hips forward. You could feel the barest hint of stimulation when your clit brushed his belly, so you leaned into it- aching for your own release.

His rhythm doubled as the intensity of your pleasure spiked dangerously high, and when you gripped him hard and rocked your hips in time with his, there was a low, warning pull that echoed all the way up to your throat. You were close. Very close.

Your head dropped backward and Keigo leaned forward, drawing his mouth up the vulnerable column of your throat. He panted hard and heavy against your pulse point.

“That’s it, kid, that’s fuckin’ it, baby, oh, God, I’m g-gonna f-fucking… I- shit, I- can’t… fffuck!”

Keigo let a vicious roar tear from his throat as he reached his vibrant peak. His erratic thrusts brought you to a tight little climax, too, and you clung to him and whined and rode through the pleasure as he fucked madly up inside you, spurting messy shots of cum into your depths.

Gravity took hold of his pleasure, dripping it onto his shaft and pooling it in a sloppy mess between you. And when it was all finally over, you collapsed against his body and you both stayed, airless and spent, wrapped tightly around one another.

It was the bright flash of headlights on the back of his neck that brought you to the surface, moments later.

The inside of the car was warm and stuffy and damp. Had you just come in from outside, you might have realized that it reeked of sex. Sweat and breath and fluid and feeling. The windows were near-opaque, fogged by the dampness of your lovemaking.

It was a moment you might have loved to capture, if you weren’t about to be so rudely interrupted.

The light in your rear windshield was bright white and flashing orange. Unmistakable.

“The tow truck,” you wheezed, scrambling off of Keigo’s lap. “Oh, fuck.”

“Get dressed,” he muttered weakly, already scrambling to get himself cleaned up and decent. He was far more dressed than you were, so you did your best to climb back into the passenger’s seat and slide back into your own clothes. You banged your shin hard on the center console, and your head on the ceiling as your body flailed in retaliation. You crumpled into the front seat and nearly kneed yourself in the mouth trying to scramble back into your pants.

By the time you climbed out of the car, fully dressed, with a few additional bruises, Hawks was already standing on the shoulder, talking to the driver. The driver was wagering a few guesses on what might be wrong with the car. Hawks’ eyes had already glazed over.

“Hey,” he greeted, as he spotted you emerging over his shoulder. He introduced you quietly to the driver before the ballcap-wearing, bearded man spoke again.

“Yeah,” he gruffed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’ll give you a lift to garage nearby. It’s kinda late, but he keeps weird hours. I bet he’ll take a look for you, it’s prob’ly an easy fix.”

“That sounds great,” you gushed, clasping your palms together. There was a lot of stiffness settling in around your hips and thighs. You couldn’t be sure if it was a result of the compromising position you’d nearly been discovered in or the whole lot of not moving you’d done for hours before that.

Either way, it felt good to stretch your legs.

“You c’n go ahead and hop in the back,” the driver directed, waving the key that Keigo had apparently already given him in indication. “I’ll get you hooked up, no problem.”

Keigo opened the truck door for you, and you climbed over the passenger’s seat into the back. He followed closely behind you, tugging the door shut and slouching into the opposite side.

You sat in silence; hands clasped between your knees. A confusing air settled between you.

You felt vulnerable and raw and moony. You wanted to hold his hand and curl up to him in the back seat. Kiss his cheeks and tell him how good it was, tell him how much you felt.

For you, though, it could never be that simple. There was no free love for heroes like you.

Pay later, always.

Keigo felt the weight of your gaze. He turned to meet your eyes and shot you a thin smile. You’d seen the look that he’d turned to hide from you, though.

The truck driver climbed into the front seat before words could pass between you. But you didn’t need to hear them to know what they were going to be.

You didn’t need a warning to understand what Monday morning at the agency was going to look like.

#hawks x reader #hawks #takami keigo x reader #takami keigo #hawks x you #takami keigo x you #boku no hero academia #mha fanfic #my hero academia #bnha fanfic

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nerdzzone · 3 years

Text

Only For A Moment: November [part two]

Summary: A series of shorter one shots from Chris and Whitney’s life together throughout the pandemic. Some happy times, some harder times, some fluff and some things a little more sexy - they work through it all as they try to get settled in their new and blossoming relationship.

Chris Evans x OFC

18+

Part of the Once Bitten/More Hearts series

Only For A Moment: October + November [part one]

Note: Life is very hectic at the moment so this was edited quite quickly. I think I caught all the mistakes, but I’m sorry if there’s any accidentally left in.

______

The photo shoot the next day went amazingly well. After being out of work for almost ten months, it took me a little while to get back into the swing of it, but I hit my stride quickly once I'd settled in. It helped that I was working with people who made my job almost effortless. Sebastian and Anthony had such good chemistry and were so good at what they do that we got through the day with no hiccups and I had more than enough photos to give Marvel what they'd asked for ten times over.

When I got back to the hotel room, I was in a great mood and it was made even better by the surprise for Chris that I had with me.

"Chris?" I called out as I walked into our large suite. "I'm back!"

He lifted an arm to wave from where he was sitting on the couch, his attention still fixed on the football game that was on the TV.

"How was the shoot?" He asked. "How are Mackie and Seb?"

I smiled, knowing he was about to be very excited as I answered him.

"Why don't you ask them yourself?"

That question got his attention and his head shot around to see what I was talking about. As his eyes landed on the two men standing behind me, a grin burst onto his face.

"No way!" He laughed as he leapt up to join us. "Hey, guys!"

All of us - Chris included - had been tested several times over the last few days to make sure that we were all virus free. There was obviously a small chance that one of us could have picked it up some time after one of the many negative results, but I was fairly confident that was pretty unlikely as we'd all been as careful as possible so I'd invited them over for a few drinks. Our hotel room was big enough for us to all keep our distance anyway and I knew that Chris would appreciate the chance to catch up with his friends.

They both greeted Chris before Anthony looked around the room.

"This place is nice!" He observed. "Marvel must love you, you could fit my room in here at least three times!"

"It's not Marvel who loves me," I smirked. "It's Chris - he upgraded our room."

There was a goofy grin on Chris' face as our two guests 'aww'd' in tandem.

"That was too cheesy," Anthony teased. "But man, don't you love me too? Where's my upgrade?"

"I'll get you next time," Chris laughed. "But to be honest, I thought you'd be staying with Sebastian now that you two are a power couple."

Sebastian snorted out a laugh, but Anthony nodded his head.

"I know, man! That's what I said, but Sebastian still won't tell me where he lives!"

"Because you're so obsessed with my couch that I'm worried you'll steal it!"

"Shouldn't buy yourself a five thousand dollar couch if you don't want people to talk about it," Anthony joked, making Sebastian roll his eyes.

"It didn't cost anywhere near that much money. You've never even seen it, I don't know where you got all these ideas from."

"When are you two getting married?" I interrupted with a smirk on my face as they both turned to look at me, their confusion clear. "Sorry, you've just been bickering like an old married couple all day. I was wondering when you were going to make it official."

"That's what we should be asking you two!" Anthony turned it around. "When did this happen anyway?"

"April," Chris answered, sliding his arm around my waist to pull me close. "After a month trapped in a house with me with no other options, she was finally desperate enough to give me a chance."

"That is not what happened," I laughed. "It was more just the fact that being trapped in a house together made us finally have some tough conversations that we'd never had the guts to have before."

"Well, I'm happy for you," Anthony grinned. "And some people owe me some money because I knew you'd get together eventually."

"Wait, you were betting on us?" Chris asked. "With who?"

"Not me," Sebastian was quick to interject, but Anthony just shrugged.

"There was a bunch of us in on it," he admitted. "Downey, Pratt, Renner, Hemsworth, Paul Rudd, Lizzie Olsen, and I think even the Russos. Someone was keeping track of it, I'll have to make some phone calls."

"I don't even want to hear about this," I laughed, shaking my head. I wasn't at all surprised, they were a tight crew and there was plenty of downtime on set for them to get up to all kinds of antics, but I had no desire to hear who was betting on our situation. "So, shall we have some drinks? What does everyone want? I figured we could just order from room service."

After a brief discussion on the matter, we ordered several beers for the men and a bottle of wine for me. It arrived with impressive speed - no doubt a perk of being with a group of celebrities in a penthouse suite - and we all settled around the living room, trying our best to keep some distance between us.

We chatted and caught up, discussing what we'd done to keep ourselves busy through lockdown and when things might start to be more normal - the usual pandemic conversations. The boys were just delving into some sports discussions that were totally lost on me when I received a message from Lisa saying that Grayson was having a bit of a moment and asked if I was able to call. It broke my heart to think of him missing us so I excused myself and did as she asked.

He was crying when she passed him the phone and I felt awful, immediately filled with guilt that we’d selfishly decided to stay in New York for the whole weekend. We would have arrived home quite late if we left right after the shoot, but as I couldn't remember the last time that he’d stayed overnight with someone other than Chris or I, it suddenly seemed cruel to have left him for so long.

He was in bed already, but unable to fall asleep so I chatted with him for a bit before singing him the lullaby that I'd been singing to him since he was born. It worked like a charm and once he was out, Lisa took the phone back.

"Is he doing okay?" I asked, fighting back tears of my own. "Has he been like this all day?"

"No, no, of course not!" She assured me. "He's been totally fine, we've had a great time. He just got a bit weepy as I was tucking him in."

"I'm glad he's been having fun," I sniffled. "I hate to think of him being upset."

"He's just fine, sweetheart," she insisted. "This will be good for all of you. It's good for him to get used to being away from you two and it must be nice for you two to have a break."

"It is," I admitted. "It just feels selfish when he's upset like that."

"Well, sometimes even us moms need to be a little selfish," Lisa laughed. "And selfishly on my part, it's been wonderful having him here."

I smiled, knowing she had been quite excited about their little sleepover.

"We really appreciate you taking him."

"It's absolutely my pleasure. Now, I'll let you get back to whatever you were doing and I will see you tomorrow."

"Thanks, Lisa. I'll message you when we're heading out so you know when to expect us."

She assured me that they'd be home whenever we arrived and we said our goodbyes before I headed back out to the living room.

"Everything okay?" Chris asked as soon as I sat down.

"Yeah, for the most part," I sighed. "Grayson just got a bit upset at bedtime, I guess. He was crying and wanted to talk to me, but he's fine now."

Sensing I was feeling a bit emotional about it, Chris reached out and squeezed my hand as Anthony spoke.

"I was hoping you'd bring the little man with you. How's he doing?"

I smiled as a grin burst onto Chris' face. He went into a long, somewhat boastful explanation of just how good Grayson was doing, informing them of his extensive dinosaur knowledge and his impressive skills on his bike. It was heartwarming to hear the pride in his voice as he spoke and it was even nicer to see Sebastian and Anthony's genuine interest in hearing about him.

"They grow so damn fast, don't they?" Anthony commented. "One day they can hardly move and then suddenly they're practically BMX champions."

"Oh, no," I shook my head. "It took a good five months for me to allow him to take his training wheels off. He won't be BMX-ing any time soon."

"Well, I hear things are always scarier with the first one," Sebastian pointed out. "Maybe your next one can be the extreme sports star."

"Yeah, that's a good point," Anthony agreed. "When are you having another?"

I tossed back my last sip of wine before letting out a laugh at that question and side-eyeing Chris as I poured myself another glass.

"Did Chris pay you to ask me that?"

"No!" Anthony laughed. "But it's been, what? Four years? Seems like it's about time for another."

Chris snickered as he took a swig from the bottle of beer he was drinking, clearly feeling validated by Anthony's comments, but I just shook my head.

"We've been together for less than a year," I reminded them. "That's hardly long enough to start thinking about another baby."

"Sure, it is," Anthony shrugged. "Maybe not if the relationship is brand new, but you already have one kid, what's the harm in throwing another in the mix?"

"And we already know that we can work together as parents through complicated situations."

I shot Chris a look after his interjection because I really didn't think his friends needed to be involved in a discussion like this, but Sebastian chimed in as the voice of reason.

"It's more complicated than that though, isn't it?" He asked. "Babies are stressful and can ruin a relationship if you're not ready for it."

"Exactly! Thank you, Seb."

"What does he know?" Anthony teased. "He's never had a baby."

I rolled my eyes as I sipped my drink, trying to ignore Chris' smug face.

"If you're such a big fan of the idea, Anthony, why don't you have more kids?"

"More? I already have four!" He laughed. "That's more than enough. Hell, after being in lockdown with them, you could have one of mine if you're not ready to have another of your own."

"I think we're good with one right now," I insisted with a smile. "At least until we see where this whole pandemic thing ends."

"Alright, alright, that's fair," Anthony relented. "But just remember when the time comes, Anthony is a solid name. Or even Antonia for a girl."

"Actually," I smirked. "I do quite like the name Sebastian."

Sebastian barked out a laugh over Anthony's protests as Chris came up with a compromise.

"Sebastian Anthony Evans?" He suggested.

"Can you imagine?" I giggled. "Your fans would lose their minds. You'd have to raise him together, you could make a reality show out of it."

"That's a money making opportunity right there," Anthony grinned. "You just let me know when you need me to show up."

"As entertaining as that sounds, it won't be any time soon," I insisted before changing the subject. "What about you, Sebastian? How's your love life going? Any babies on the horizon?"

His cheeks instantly tinged pink at the attention being flipped onto him as he answered the question and Anthony’s teasing shifted to him.

About an hour later, after our guests left, I found myself stretched out on the couch with my head in Chris' lap as he ran his fingers through my hair. It felt so good that I was resisting the urge to purr like a happy cat when Chris distracted me with a question.

"How was the shoot?" He asked. "I just realized that I never got an answer."

"It was great," I smiled up at him. "It felt weird at first after being away for so long, but Sebastian and Anthony are such goofs. It helped me relax and get back into it."

I felt his body shake as he chuckled, no doubt knowing his friends well enough to imagine the antics they got up to.

"I'm glad it went well. Maybe now there's more projects starting up, you'll start getting more job offers again and you won't have to go so long without doing it."

"Oh, I've had plenty of job offers," I admitted. "But most of them I'd have to travel for or they just seem too risky."

Chris was clearly surprised by that confession as I hadn't mentioned any of the proposals I'd received to him, but it didn't seem important when I'd never even considered taking any of the jobs.

"Why didn't you tell me about it?" He asked. "We could have worked something out and made it happen."

"Because I didn't want to accept any of the offers," I assured him. "I don't feel super comfortable flying around the country right now and most of them had pretty half-assed safety protocols in place. This was the first one that was close by and had a clear and thorough safety plan. Marvel wanted me for Wandavision too, but I would’ve had to go to L.A. and I didn't feel great about that."

Chris frowned, his fingers pausing momentarily in my hair as he mulled over my answer.

"I get it, that's solid reasoning," he nodded. "But I'm sorry you've had to make decisions like that. I know you love what you do."

"So do you," I shrugged. "So do a lot of people who are currently out of work. I've got it pretty good, I try to focus on that."

"Sure, but that doesn't mean you aren't allowed to miss things too," Chris insisted before letting out a sigh. "Do you ever worry that things won't ever get back to normal?"

As I looked up at him and saw the melancholy look on his face, I felt a wave of vulnerability wash over me.

"Not really," I admitted. "I worry more about what will happen when they do..."

"Oh?" Chris raised an eyebrow. "How come?"

"Well, don't get me wrong, I don't want anyone to get sick anymore and I don't want any more people to die. I want to see my family again and meet my nephew and I want Grayson to be able to go to school and make friends," I prefaced my statement. "But for us, it's been really nice. We've been able to figure each other out and build our relationship without anything else interfering and I just worry that when things go back to normal, it won't work."

The hurt that flashed across Chris' face made my chest tighten. I hadn't meant to upset him, but it was foolish of me to think that my doubts wouldn't be hard to hear.

"You don't think we'll stay together when the lockdowns are all done?"

"No, that's not what I meant!"

"Well, that's what you said..."

"I said it was something I worry about," I clarified. "And I do. It'll be a lot harder when we're both working again."

"It's one thing to think it'll be harder," Chris scowled. "It's another to think we can't make it work. Are you planning on running at the first sign of trouble?"

Feeling the panic bubbling inside me, I pulled my head out of Chris' lap and sat up so I was facing him. I did want to run away in that moment - his harsh tone hurting my feelings and making my defences bubble to the surface - but I reminded myself of how avoiding our problems had worked for us in the past and tried to stay calm and explain myself.

"I'm not going to run away, Chris," I assured him. "And I don't really appreciate the way you're speaking to me right now. You asked a question and I explained my feelings, but instead of wanting to talk through that, you're immediately getting upset. I'm allowed to have concerns and all you're doing right now is making them worse."

Despite my frustrations, I kept my voice calm as I spoke and it seemed to have the desired effect as the tension in Chris' body eased slightly.

"Sorry, you're right," he sighed. "I just thought we've been doing so well, I'm surprised that you still have doubts."

"We're just living in such a bubble right now," I pointed out. "When everything goes back to normal and we're both back at work more, we'll be so busy. Balancing that with making sure Grayson gets enough of our attention, it might not leave much time for us and that would strain any relationship."

"It'll be more of a challenge than it is now," Chris agreed, his words spoken cautiously as if they were carefully chosen. "But most parents struggle with balancing their relationship with time spent with their kids. We'll just have to make the effort."

"But we have more to cope with than most parents."

He looked skeptical of that claim.

"How so?"

"Well, you'll be away a lot once you start filming things again," I reminded him, knowing that his next project had plans to film in L.A. and Europe. "And you'll be surrounded by beautiful, smart, talented women who I pale in comparison to."

"That’s not true, but regardless, I won't even look at them twice." His voice was firm and for a moment I worried that he was annoyed again, but as he took my hand in his and lifted his eyes to meet mine, he just seemed sincere. "I love you, Whitney. I only want to be with you."

"I know, I do, I know that. I love you too and I trust you, but I guess it just still feels like you being in love with me is too good to be true."

"I don't think that you do know," Chris insisted. "I'm completely committed to you. I know it's only been a few months, but it's been some of the best months of my life. What we've been doing - you, me and Grayson just hangin’ out and being a family - it's what I've been dreaming of since he was born, it's what I've always wanted. I can't imagine a future without you in it, I don't even want to think about it. I love you and I love the life we're building together."

I felt my eyes grow glassy as he spoke, my heart melting at his words.

"Wow," I murmured quietly. It was a lame response to such heartfelt words, but I was trying to process everything he’d said and, after a moment of staring into his beautiful eyes, I choked out a laugh. "That almost sounded like a proposal."

Chris chuckled and nodded his head.

"I know. Even I wondered where I was going with that for a minute there," he admitted. "It wasn't, but it's all true. I'm in this for as long as you'll have me."

He lifted my hand up to place a kiss on my knuckles and I suddenly felt ridiculous for having any doubts.

"I feel the same," I assured him. "I really do. I don't want you to think that I'm not as invested in this as you are. I just like how things are now and thinking about it changing scares me."

"It'll be different, but we can make it work."

I smiled and crawled into his laps, letting my knees rest on either side of his thighs.

"I guess I've just been spoiled these last few months," I mused, pressing a soft kiss on his lips. "I don't want to share you with the world, I want you all to myself."

Chris chuckled as our foreheads rested against each other.

"You really are clingy," he teased. "I always thought I'd be the needy one in this relationship."

"Shut up," I giggled, pressing our lips briefly together again. "And for the record, all those sweet, wonderful things you just said aren't getting you any closer to convincing me we should have another baby yet."

Chris' head fell backwards as a laugh burst from his chest.

"Alright, alright, well, it was worth a shot," he smirked. "But seriously, that's how confident I am in us. It wouldn’t even scare me if we did because I know we can handle it."

I smiled even though I probably didn't share quite that much confidence in our future. I wouldn't bet against us, but I wasn't ready to bring a baby into a situation that might not be such smooth sailing in a few months.

"We have to think about Grayson too though," I pointed out. "He's had a lot to deal with the last few months, a lot of big changes. Throwing a sibling at him on top of everything else might be a little bit cruel."

"That's true," Chris relented, looking a bit defeated for a moment until a smile slid onto his face. "He'll be such a good big brother though. He'll be so excited to teach him everything he knows."

"Him?" I questioned, raising an eyebrow. "We're going to have another boy, are we?"

"Him or her," Chris shrugged. "I'd be happy either way."

I couldn't help, but smile at his enthusiasm. It was a nice thought even if it was clearly a more distant fantasy for me than it was for Chris.

"One day," I assured him. "I love you, Chris."

"I love you too."

With a strength that never ceased to amaze me, he then stood from the couch, lifting me up with him. I wrapped my legs around his waist, giggling at the impressive feat as he carried me to our bedroom where we spent the rest of the night showing some physical appreciation and love for each other.

December

Tags: @maggotzombie @moonlacebeam @mizzzpink @zaylaugh @flowery-mess @flowerjewels @njrronaldo7 @hockeychick10 @partypoison00 @theladybiers @sidepieces @firoozehmoon @patzammit @sparkledfirecracker @mytbel0st @chvntelle-99 @mjey12

#chris evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans fan fiction #chris evans fanfic #chris evans fic #chris evans fluff #once bitten/more hearts #only for a moment

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writingdayandnight · 3 years

Text

Line Without a Hook - Rafael Barba Imagine

Pairing: Rafael Barba x Reader (Fem. Pronouns)

Word Count: 2650

A/N: Inspiration struck, perhaps a little OOC. Will probably go back later and edit. Just a little treat for everyone who misses Barba like I do.

10:56 PM.

There was not a doubt in Rafael’s mind that he would not be home until after midnight. This case had been excruciating--brutal, really. Everyone had been pushed to their breaking point. Blood, sweat, and tears were poured into this case.

And here Rafael was with a pen cap fastened between his teeth, struggling to write an opening argument. It all seemed trivial. That words had the power to make or break a month’s worth of hard work. And that all he could think about was going home to his partner.

He wouldn’t allow himself the privilege of a break until he finished his opening and prepped the summations, which was always his least favorite part. Tying everything together with a neat bow seemed to minimize the effort put into seeking justice. But it was his strong suit. There wasn’t a jury he couldn’t convince if given enough leeway during summations.

His mind wandered yet again, back to the person that was waiting for him. He knew she would still be waiting for him when he got home, undoubtedly doing work of her own. She found solace in the quiet of the night. She would sit at the dining table with papers scattered across the surface, highlighters uncapped, lukewarm tea cooling unforgotten.

Then there were her expressions. A furrowed brow while drafting a proposal. A lip bite accompanied by pensive tapping on the table. Her head slowly moving to the beat of the music that was playing from the speaker in the corner of the room. An exasperated sigh escaping as she typed another after-hours email. All of these things were the tiny details that Rafael loved noticing, learning, anticipating.

Finally, Rafael caved and placed a long-awaited phone call.

“Raf,” she answered, voice as tender as kiss goodbye.

“Cariño,” he replied, feeling a million times better just knowing she was on the opposite end of the line.

“When will you be home?” He could hear her trying to hide a yawn behind the scenes.

“Not any time soon.”

“Rafael, please take care of yourself,” she pleaded, yet it was to no avail. She knew this.

“I have to finish this prep, Cariño.” He could hear her eyes roll from across the line, “I bet you’re still doing work, too.”

“That’s none of your business,” she retorted, with a guilty shift in energy.

“Take care of yourself,” he repeated, “I’ll be home soon. Don’t wait up.”

“I love you.”

His heart grew full, “I love you more.”

Rafael ended the call, reclining in his leather chair. He had been overcome by love, both for his partner and for the way his life had been going lately. Despite the monstrosities he witnessed at work, everything had been going well. Even then, he enjoyed working with his coworkers; they acted as a support system, making the job a little more bearable.

Then there was his love life. For once, everything was going right. He felt loved, supported, and capable of doing the same for his partner. It had been too long since he had that privilege. He knew too well the outcomes of a loveless life and he was trying desperately to escape them. Deep down, he understood that he didn’t deserve that.

But there were times where he thought he didn’t deserve the love he had stumbled into. Never in a million years would he have thought that he would have fallen in love with the girl from the bar.

The rain had finally let up outside, encouraging a few stragglers to clear the bar. Rafael remained, nursing a scotch on the rocks, muttering to himself about the news on the television overhead. It was a bunch of nonsense about the news anchor he and the SVU squad had just charged. He couldn’t listen much longer.

A gust of wind hit as the door to Forlini’s opened; it sent shivers down Rafael’s back. Inquisitively, Rafael turned to see the person who just waltzed into the bar. Much to his surprise, it was a beautiful woman. He smirked and returned to his drink, secretly hoping that she would find her way to the bar.

She did just that, taking a seat two stools down from Rafael. He continued to watch the television, discreetly listening to her conversation with the bartender. Small talk. Nothing more, nothing less. Aside from her order--a vodka cranberry.

“Will you get a load of this idiot?” She chirped, scoffing at the story of the news anchor. Her head was tilted in Rafael’s direction.

He took a moment to answer, pausing to make sure she was directing her remarks towards him.

“He’s surely a handful,” Rafael replied.

Just then, his face appeared on the television screen. They had played his interview on the courthouse steps. He had been ambushed by the press, and even though he delivered better than most, it was not his best work. He silently thanked the Lord that the sound was off.

“Is that you?” She asked, spinning in her seat to face Rafael.

“Yes, it is.”

“It’s a shame, you look better in person,” she tisked, taking another sip of her drink.

Rafael couldn’t respond out of awe. No, that wasn’t the right word. He couldn’t respond because he was flustered. That was a first.

“Sorry, it’s the vodka talking,” she retracted, making a face that suggested she was embarrassed.

“No, I’m flattered. It’s not everyday the pretty girl at the bar tells me how attractive I look while sulking alone.”

“This is your version of sulking? Sitting at a bar surrounded by a bunch of people?”

“Perhaps,” he smirked, “Rafael,” he offered his hand.

“Y/N.”

“Beautiful name for a beautiful woman.”

“I was named after a comic book character, please don’t give my parents that kind of credit,” she laughed. It was contagious, infecting Rafael with an affliction that could not be easily cured. Not without an exchange of numbers and a couple of dates.

The memories of their first meeting flooded Rafael’s mind. It further distracted him from the task at hand. But how could he not think of the most impactful night of his life? Screw graduating from law school or getting promoted; nothing could top falling in love with Y/N.

Nothing could top her love. From the little notes she dropped in Rafael’s briefcase to the silent support she offered when Rafael was not strong enough to ask for it. That’s when his mind wandered even farther, thinking back to the night he decided he was in love with Y/N.

Rafael sat on the couch in a near-catatonic state. He couldn’t muster enough energy to move. His mind kept circling back to the horrors he had witnessed over the past 24 hours. In his ten years, never once had a case hit him this hard. It just cemented the callousness of man, something he had been trying to deny for so long. There was no such thing as a good person.

There was a knock at the door, a sound that should have startled him. Instead he was too lost in thought to react. He simply got up from the couch and headed to the door, only to be greeted by Y/N on the other side.

“Rafael,” she mused, before noticing the hurt behind his eyes, “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

She invited herself in, dropping her overnight bag by the door. Concern washed over her.

Rafael tried to speak but no words came out. He couldn’t find the right thing to say. His choices were to expose Y/N to the horrors of his job or simply keep it bottled up. His choice was the latter; he couldn’t bear the thought of unloading this grief on her.

“Raf, please talk to me,” she quietly pleaded.

He did not respond. Instead, he made his way to the couch, taking a seat in the same spot he had been sulking in for the past three hours.

Y/N followed without command. She rested her head on his shoulder, wrapping her hands gently around his arm. She placed a kiss on his cheek. It made Rafael’s heart jump, yet he still remained silent.

But that didn’t deter Y/N. She remained glued to his side, occasionally laying a gentle kiss on him or drawing circles on his bicep. She didn’t push; she knew better than that. Still, just her presence brought Rafael to his knees.

After an hour or so, Rafael could feel her heartbeat slow. He could see her eyes fluttering shut from the corners of his.

“I love you,” he whispered, hoping that she wouldn’t hear. Rafael felt guilty saying those words for the first time in such a terrible state.

“I love you more,” she replied, drifting into a slumber in his arms.

Rafael knew this could never be true.

The hands on the clock seemed to turn at an unprecedented pace, yet Rafael had gotten little done. It all seemed pointless. There had to be more to life than this. Hours spent in some poorly-lit office drinking dirt flavored coffee, waiting for his mind to stop running a marathon so he could focus. Watching people suffer everyday for some little bit of justice. Doubting the existence of good in the world with every passing moment.

But the thing he couldn’t stand was being away from the love of his life. For such a pointless endeavor. It was pointless, but it wasn’t what he wanted. Not anymore. Not with the prospect of love sitting right in front of him. In that moment, he decided to be the most spontaneous he had ever been.

He whipped open the bottom left drawer of his desk, pulled out a copy of his resignation letter, signed it, and placed it in the mailbox of his boss. He grabbed his jacket, briefcase, and cellphone before practically running to the lobby of Hogan Place. By a stroke of sheer luck, a taxi had been idling outside. Rafael got into the taxi without hesitation--or permission--and called out the address to the apartment he had shared with Y/N. Getting to their front door was his only objective.

As he settled into the taxi, he reached inside of his briefcase and felt a small item lodged at the bottom. Rafael quizzically pulled it out, determining that it was cube-shaped. As it was illuminated by the passing streetlights, he recognized it instantly. And that’s where he decided to make the best decision of his life.

“Mami, are you going to be okay if I’m gone for two weeks on vacation?” Rafael asked, changing a lightbulb in his mother’s apartment.

It was a Saturday which meant it was his day to do chores around his mother’s apartment, with much reluctance on behalf of Lucia, while Y/N went through her laminated chore checklist back at their apartment. Rafael had come straight from his office, totally forgetting his to-dos. Until Y/N reminded him--a pretty common occurrence.

“I promise, Mijo,” she said, taking his hand and guiding him down the step stool, “I’m just happy you’re taking time off.”

“Me too,” he sighed, a wave of bliss flooding his mind as he thought of going to Greece with Y/N. He’s dreamt of her sunburnt cheeks and wine-stained lips since the moment he bought the tickets.

“It seems like an awfully romantic vacation. Have you thought about asking yet?” Lucia hinted, pointing to her ring finger.

Rafael didn’t want to say ‘yes.’ He didn’t want to let her know that he had been planning it since their six-month anniversary. He couldn’t wait to spend the rest of his life with the woman he loved.

“I’ve considered it,” he teased, “but Greece is too cliche. She wouldn’t appreciate it.”

“You underestimate her, Rafi. She loves you.”

“And I love her. More than anything.”

Lucia scoffed, furrowing her brow in disgust.

“Besides you, Mami,” he sang, pulling her in for a hug,

While in Rafael’s arms, Lucia slyly removed a small box from her pocket and slipped it into Rafael’s briefcase. It was his grandmother’s ring, the one she always talked about leaving for him. The one she made sure to mention everyday she was sick. Lucia would never forget something that important.

Rafael grabbed his belongings with haste, basically throwing $50 at the cab driver, telling him to keep the tip. He slammed the door behind him, jogging to the apartment elevators. He was too lost in thought to greet the doorman or the security guard at the front desk. He was focused on one thing and one thing only.

The elevator couldn’t come fast enough--Rafael tapped his foot anxiously, cursing the damned thing. As soon as it opened, he pushed the 8th floor button at least ten times. He felt a rush of nausea, excitement, fear run over him. The elevator dinged and Rafael ran, rummaging through his pockets for his keys.

He opened the door as fast as he could, revealing Y/N calmly making a cup of tea in the kitchen. Lamplight illuminated the living room. Her laptop was opened to a document, purple and yellow sticky notes scattered on the table. 2000s Pop Hits playing in the background. He had captured her in her natural element; he was witnessing the essence of Y/N.

“Baby, it’s midnight,” he spoke, calmer than he had been all day.

“I know, but I was in the zone. I thought you wouldn’t be home tonight,” she answered, walking over to place a kiss on his lips, before strolling back to the kitchen to stop the whistling kettle.

Rafael’s heart was beating out of his chest. His hands were shaking, mind racing. This was it. This felt right.

“Y/N?”

“What’s up, babe?” She gently blew on her tea to cool it down.

“I quit my job today.”

Y/N almost did a spit, “I’m sorry, what?” She exclaimed.

“I couldn’t do it anymore. It broke me, Y/N.” He sighed, walking to her side, “There are better things in life than case briefs and court.”

Y/N was shocked but supportive, “Well, I’m glad you’re finally free. Why don’t you get ready for bed and sleep for the first time in a decade?” She laughed, placing her hand on his shoulder.

“There’s one more thing,” Rafael said, reaching into his pocket and for the emerald box that housed his grandmother’s ring,

Rafael expected the words to escape him; he hadn’t prepared anything in the taxi. These weren’t summations, he needed guidance.

But that didn’t stop him.

“Y/N, you made me realize that I don’t want to live my life circling the drain and going through the motions. You have brought color to my black and white life. The joy you bring me everyday is immeasurable. Every second I spend away from you makes me feel like the world is ending. I can’t live without you, Y/N. That’s why I’m asking you-” Rafael began to bend his knee before Y/N cut him off.

“Yes! You don’t even have to ask. Yes, yes, yes!” She exclaimed, a tear already sliding down her cheek.

Rafael pulled out his grandmother’s golden ring from the box and slipped it on Y/N’s finger with extra care, as if she was made of glass. Tears had formed in his eyes as well, seeing the ring that reminded him so much of the other most important lady in his life. The most romantic person he had ever met.

“I love you, Y/N. I wish I could have given you a better proposal, but I couldn’t wait,” he chuckled, once again admiring how well the ring hugged her fingers.

“If you waited any longer, I was going to ask you,” she laughed, kissing him again and again. “Let’s go to bed,” she whispered, placing a kiss on Rafael’s neck.

#rafael barba imagine #rafael barba #rafael barba x reader #barba #loml #imagine #law and order svu #law and order special victims unit #law and order svu imagine #law and order special victims unit imagine

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allthingslinguistic · 3 years

Text

Closing remarks for #LingComm21

I’m delighted to have co-organized LingComm21 last week, the first International Conference on Linguistics Communication. Here is the (lightly edited) text of the opening remarks I gave after the final panel.

Hello lingcommers! It's only been three days, and I haven't left my apartment, and yet I feel like I've been somewhere. You know, I was tempted to make this feel like the real conference experience by getting some coffee and muffins and leaving them out overnight to get stale before I eat them. Or maybe letting my phone run out of battery and sitting on the floor next to an outlet in the wall so I could charge it Okay, I didn't do that. But in the end, I still feel like I had a real conference experience. I got to wander around from poster to poster and find out about so many cool projects, I got to introduce people to each other and send other people to find each other because they had similar interests. I got to scroll through the livetweet and the instagram hashtag afterwards when I was thoroughly exhausted and like a whole bunch of posts. I got to hang out in the cafe before talks and the bar after them and chat with people. I mean, the cafe now has cats in it, and this has never happened to me at a physical conference BUT NOW I THINK IT SHOULD. And like any real conference, I have some people to thank: Captioners - Maggie and Tess from White Coat Captioning Sponsors - the Linguistics Association of Great Britain, Wordnik, and our 12 personal sponsors who helped us keep the registration fees low while being able to afford captioning. And especially to the patrons of Lingthusiasm, who enabled us to underwrite the setup costs of this conference, such as the deposit on captioning, before we had any idea whether anyone would be interested in attending. Volunteers - our 10 excellent volunteers from many different countries, who greeted you at the door on the first day and were available for questions throughout the conference Panelists, poster presenters, moderators, and people who organized meetups, who made the body of the conference happen by giving you things to show up for! Organizing committee - Laura Bailey, Jessi Grieser, and especially my co-chair Lauren Gawne, who figured out the structure and programming for this conference Conference manager - Liz McCullough, who not only sent you tons of emails and created this fantastic gather space, but also took care of innumerable tiny and last minute details that made this whole event run smoothly Speaking of event running, I want to call your attention particularly to the meetup in the first slot tomorrow about the future of this lingcomm conference - is this a thing that you'd like to see happen again? It does take work to run but it's also been incredibly rewarding, so if that's something you'd be interested in being involved in, please come to that meetup or send us an email and we can begin that conversation. We've been taking a lot of notes on what we've learned from this year and we'd be very happy to pass those along to a new team. For this year, I hope that you've had the relief of being understood, of being around other people who also care about linguistics communication, that people have gone from avatars you maybe recognized from social media into avatars you literally "bumped" into, and from strangers into maybe the seeds of friends. The panelists said in the closing panel a few minutes ago that this is a community - I promise I didn’t even tell them to say that - and I hope that this feeling of community is something you can bring with you. The formal programming ends today, but hopefully for lingcomm this is the beginning of a new era, an era of deepening the collaborations and the relationships with each other, of occasionally looking inward to this community so that we can look outward again to all of the lingcomm we're doing with our existing communities with renewed vigour. So I'll say not goodbye but I'll see you again, whether around in Gather later this evening, at the meetup day, or in the coming weeks and months on social media.

Previous speeches about lingcomm: opening remarks for LingComm21, on receiving the LSA’s Linguistics, Language, and the Public Award.

#linguistics #lingcomm #lingcomm21 #speech #speeches #conferences #linguistics outreach

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sadselfhelp · 3 years

Text

Who I Am, And Why I Created This Blog.

TRIGGER WARNINGS - Mental Illness, Self-Harm, Child Abuse, Domestic Abuse, Violence, Drug Overdose, Suicide, Psychotic Breaks.

Take a walk with me, let me show you around the mind of The Sad Hatter.

There's a lot going on in my head right now, and I feel like I'm on the precipice of something. I'm standing on a cliff's edge and I'm either going to plummet or I'm going to fly. It's been building inside me for a long time, and I can't contain it anymore. So here it is, here's me laid bare, because I need to say this, I need to put it into words. I need to purge it all. To try and make sense of all of this shit in my brain, I think it's time I organize it. I don't know where to begin, but I guess I start at the beginning and make use of the ability to edit.

Before you read this, please be aware of the trigger warnings. And please understand that this is the most honest and open I have been, I really am stripped bare in this piece of writing. It’s not at all pretty, and am I not guiltless in parts. This may well alter whatever opinion you have of me.

I guess the beginning is birth, right? But I don't want to rehash all that trauma, so let me speed through it. Twenty-Eight years ago I was born, violently. I'm serious, I ripped my way out of the womb, and tore that thing apart. I guess I can sort of understand why my mother couldn't love me after that was my first act, collapsing her womb. So let me speedrun this part of the story. Mum didn't want me, gave me to my dad who raised me as a single parent with the help of his parents, until he met my stepmother. Shockingly, she didn't want me either, but because she couldn't get rid of me she decided to physical and psychological torture was the next best thing.

When I was eleven years old I snapped and didn't want to put up with it anymore, so I wrote a goodbye note and then snuck into the medicine cabinet and took a bunch of pills. Spoiler alert, I didn't die. I did however end up in a children's home, cue more abuse, little bit of bullying and sexual assault etc.... I snapped again, but instead of turning my anger inwards, I became an absolute bastard. Ok, I still turned it inwards a bit, I had a lot of anger, and now I have a few hundred scars to prove it. But, it turns out that violence can beget violence, and I acted out in every possible way. Racked up a horrifying rap sheet, assault, vandalism, arson, and finally... GBH. I was supposed to get put in a secure unit (child prison – Scottish Edition) but I was always able to talk myself out of trouble.

See, I was this tiny little white girl with big sad eyes and a hell of a sob story, even at the bottom of the food chain I still had privilege. So instead of getting locked up, I just got sent to a different home. And here's the really messed up part, this home was better. The staff were nicer, and nobody hurt me. My behavior literally changed overnight. I went from being charged by the police on a weekly basis, to never getting so much as a pocket money sanction. I will never excuse my actions, nor condone them, but after years of guilt I finally realized that the bad things I did were in retaliation to a bad situation, and though I wasn’t acting like a good person, I’m not a bad person, just a messed up one.

I still refused to go to school though, because though I didn't yet know it at the time, I had severe social anxiety. I was smart, a little too smart to be honest, and I found myself thriving with a private tutor. When the time came to sit my exams, someone fucked up, and despite having record breaking test scores on the pre-exams, I never actually got to sit my standard grades (think SAT's – Scottish Edition). I'm still bitter about that. So by this point in the story, I'm 16, and legally an adult, too old for a children's home. I got turfed to a hostel, and the next few parts of the story are pretty fuzzy to me.

This is where my mental health really started to deteriorate. I bounced between homeless hostels and B&B's for a year or so, until I got a my first flat/apartment. By that point, I was utterly fucked in the head. I was blacking out frequently, for anywhere between a couple of minutes to three days. I would come back to myself in sometimes compromising positions, and once there was blood. A lot of blood, splashed all over the walls. Then there was the time I suddenly found myself standing in the kitchen, about to plunge a knife into my own chest.

Nobody ever did tell me what the hell that was about. Or maybe they did and I just... forgot? But because I was extremely suicidal, a doctor finally decided to do something, and the police and the paramedics came to my door to take me to the psychiatric hospital. I spent ten months there while I cycled through various anti-psychotics and anti-depressants, and was 'rehabilitated into society'. The second I was out, I made the worst decision I have ever made in my life. If I can give you one piece of advice, one lesson to take from my shitshow of a life, it's this: Don't move hundreds of miles away to be with the guy you met online while you were having a psychotic break.

I've never really thought of myself as a victim, but I guess I'm the only one who saw it that way. Ben, that was his name, Ben was a monster, and I didn't know it until it was too late. He never hit me, never lifted a hand to me, he never had to. He could put a knife in my hand and make me hurt myself for his entertainment. I had told him everything, so he knew exactly how to break me down, how to make me want to bleed. He locked me in a house and used me up. And when I had enough, and tried to break free of him, he would just tell the police I was mentally ill and they would smile sympathetically and give me back to him.

But then my dad had a breakdown. My dad, who when he found out what my stepmother was doing to me, buried his head in the sand and packed my little suitcase for me. I hadn't spoken to him in a while until he reached out from the same psychiatric ward I had not long vacated. He had cracked under the realization that I had never lied about her, and the guilt broke him apart. I could have hated him, if it had happened a few years earlier then I would have. But I had experienced enough of the world to learn a few things, like how easily it is to fuck up, and that no matter how strong you are, you aren't immune to monsters. The truth was he was as much a victim of her evil as I was. She had manipulated him, played with his head, used his insecurities against him. So I helped him through his issues, the way I wished someone had helped me. That doesn't really make me a good person, it just makes me human.

But my dad got better, and found his footing. And when he did, he realized something wasn't right with me, and I told him the truth about Ben. My dad had left me to suffer at the hands of an abuser once before, and he wasn't going to allow it to happen again. He came and got me, and he took me home. He moved me in with him, gave me his bed and slept on the couch. After a couple of months, he helped me get my own place.

And that's the happy ending, right? All the trauma was over, I was safe, that's where the story should end. Right? I bet you're not naive enough to believe that, but I sure as hell was. I thought I would recover and that everything would be ok. I thought that with safety, there would come the chance to heal. I thought my wounds would scab over, and I would have my scars but at least I would be able to move without bleeding out. But that's not how trauma works. I had two decades worth of trauma, abuse, and hell.

I just... faded. I didn't crack, I didn't crumble, I didn't break, I just stopped. For five years I sat in one room of my home, drowning inside myself. Last year I got handed a lifeline, and now I live somewhere better. I'm not really allowed to live independently so I actually live in kind of retirement village of all places. I have my own house, but it's got intercoms and emergency cords everywhere, I get checked on daily by on on-site worker. And I'm trying to get better, I really am. It's just not that easy.

There's more to the whole story that I maybe should have put in, like the fact that my mother was a drug addict when she was pregnant with me, and that may have been the reason some of my organs didn't properly form and/or formed wrong. My lung split in half when I was a baby, and parts of my stomach are missing. Or that my mother is full on batshit insane. I could have had a perfect childhood and I still would have been mentally ill. Hell, I was seeing psychologists at five years old. Take my sketchy genetics, add twenty years of severe traumas, and well... I'm a little fucked up. Because a lot of medical conditions use acronyms, my full list of diagnosis looks like I'm collecting the fucking alphabet.

I have Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD), Generalized Anxiety Disorder (GAD), Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD), and Agoraphobia. I also have a Pulmonary Sequestration, Congenital Diaphragmatic Hernia, the stomach and lung issues. Immune Hemolytic Anemia, I'm basically allergic to my own blood. Plus, ya know, my liver recently decided to just fucking nope out, the pissy lil bitch is failing. I also may or may not have cancer, I don't know because I pussied out of the tests. At this point I am a walking, decaying corpse that is held together by glitter glue and bitterness.

So... why exactly am I writing this? And why am I even considering posting this? I mean, my problems aren't as bad as some other people's. We've all got shit to deal with, especially in 2020. The whole world is falling apart, so what right do I have to sit here pouting and pouring my problems out? Well, for a start, I guess this is my blog, I can post whatever, and it's up to everyone else if they read it.

So here it is, you have the backstory, so here's what it's all been leading up to.

I'm struggling. Like, really struggling. I'm stuck on this cliff, and I want off, any way I can. Whether I fall or fly, I just want free. I can't live like this anymore, because I can't breathe.

The fucking agonizing duality of being socially anxious and too easily overstimulated, and yet feeling fucking empty inside if you're not surrounded by action and noise. The world is too noisy for my brain, but my brain is too noisy for the world. I get antsy if I'm not doing at least a thousand different tasks, but I get overwhelmed if I try to do anything at all. It leads to short bursts of mania, followed by weeks of depression. But underneath all of that, under all the dramatic showboating, and the dark humor, under all the bravado... I'm really just sad.

Years ago, when I first came up with the moniker "The Sad Hatter", I said it was because I may be mad, but my madness was born of sadness. I'm just sad. I carry it with me where my heart should be. So I named myself Sad, and I put on the hat, and I wore my sadness like armor, turned it into an act, and made a spectacle of it. "I'm The Sad Hatter, and I'm mentally ill but that's alright, I'm going to be just fine!" I told you all I had my issues, and I'll come close to opening up about how bad those issues are, I'll give little chunks of information at intermittent intervals, and then two hours later I'll act like it never happened. I'll admit I was close to killing myself, and then two days later I'll post dog photo's and act like I'm all better.

I'm writing this because I'm sad. And tomorrow, I'll act like I'm not. But when I waver again, I'll come back here and I'll open up again. And along the way, maybe you're reading this and realizing you aren't alone in feeling overwhelmed. Maybe you're realizing you're not the only one who isn't healing neatly and in a timely manner. Maybe you're reading this and gaining some insight into the struggles someone you care about is facing. Maybe my opening up is can help somebody else, I really hope so, but I know it's helping one person. It's helping me.

This blog, it's about living with myself. It's about living with The Sad Hatter.

#trigger warnings #mental health #anxiety #borderline personality disorder #adhd #domestic abuse #child abuse #self harm #violence #just all the trigger warnings

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askomori · 3 years

Note

Since mod is offering hot takes I’d like to know what in your opinion is most likely to be the actual ending. Not by what you’ve read on the internet but judging from your own thoughts and your own experiences with these kinds of feelings. Do you genuinely believe Sunny would head out to talk to his friends? Do you think it all would be enough to get him to confront his past? Or do you think he’s more so destined to stay locked up in his bedroom and his dreamworld?

LONG POST............... KEK

>Do you genuinely believe Sunny would head out to talk to his friends?

honestly, not until sunny starts healing from everything that happened. he didn’t leave the house for 4 years even though kel never stopped trying to check in on him. even if all his friends received the truth well and didn’t hold it against him, that severe habitual isolation doesn’t go away overnight. maladapted coping mechanisms that arise from ptsd, especially ones that overtake your personality, take a tremendous amount of willpower to overcome. he would need years of working through the trauma in therapy.

he wasn’t ever a sociable kid, he was sort of awkward and uncomfortable around other people. mari was the one who helped him make friends, and you can see throughout the photo albums that he got more comfortable around them. its terrible that she had to die in that way because not only is mari not there to support him anymore, but the guilt is driving him into total isolation.

because i understand him well, i can identify that a lot of this is explained by schizoid personality disorder. (one thing this criteria list i attached below doesn’t explain well is the description “desires” nor “enjoys”. the misconception comes from, by nature of the disorder, being unresponsive to therapists, and often they may outright say they don’t want relationships because they’ve given up. it definitely presents that way though, and sunny definitely presents that way, with dropping out of school and not responding to kel’s attempts to help him.

i needed to clear this up because otherwise id get a bunch of people who don’t understand the disorder going “but he had friends when he was younger!”)

^the criteria for reference. (more on szpd if you’re interested: https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/books/NBK559234/).

(authors note: i love the flat affect representation because i never see that in media) (another side note: i love the juxtaposition of sunny’s flat affect and omori’s extreme emotions. its very accurate to someone who is terrified of showing emotions due to a trauma that involved them)

>Do you think it all would be enough to get him to confront his past?

luckily, moving out of the house that mari died in will be really good for him. and moving towns will also help him learn how to go outside again, because he no longer has the extra hurdle of worrying about seeing his old friends like he did for years before he told them the truth. he has space to sort through his feelings at his own pace without the unintentional pressure sunny felt because of his friends (ahem, kel) who were just trying to help and wanted him to be happy.

after finally getting the weight off his chest about the truth, he has a good start on confronting the past. there will be ups and downs, but i believe in him.

>Or do you think he’s more so destined to stay locked up in his bedroom and his dreamworld?

in the bad ending, yes. but in the true ending he accepted and embraced omori, the part of himself he thought was irredeemable, the part of him he was in his own psychological civil war with. (jfc this visual made me cry.)

youtube

i know this isn’t a fluffy feels good answer and it made people mad when i answered this in a fandom server haha... but its realistic. to gloss over the painful truth of this game is to flat out disrespect the themes it portrays. this game is a tragedy, its not pleasant, but that’s what its like when you go through trauma and debilitating mental illness. its not realistic to just have one conversation in the hospital and all of a sudden everyone lives happily ever after. his friends will need time to process the truth as well.

but! i believe in everyone to resolve everything that they went through. they can bond through their shared pain and understanding each others perspectives, and i know they’ll come out the other side stronger.

—

EDIT: I JUST REALIZED you asked if the real world events of the game were realistic. yeah fr when he left his house and stayed out all day and then did it again thrice i was like ok he built different... i could never

but if kel was knocking on sunny’s door every day since he learned sunny was moving, then it is a possibility sunny would give it a chance and would have built up the courage after a while because “im moving in 3 days so why not”.

remember: waiting for something to happen?

—

EDIT 2: so i’m playing the hikikomori route and i like af that the player gets that choice. so far, this route is accurate too. i highly recommended playing both routes.

—

please do not be ableist in my askbox in response to this! i will literally crazy murder you!!!

#i need to lie down #omori #askomori #sunny #my humble little opinion #serious

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dizzymoods · 3 years

Note

I need you to go into more detail on your take on this vertical monopolization of the theater industry. From my layperson's perspective it looks like it's going to screw a bunch of potential up and coming, soon to be rich and famous people and I couldn't care less. But I want to know how this is going to affect say a career gaffer or something like that. How will this affect people for whom making movies is a much needed job job.

my major point for that post was that a telecomms company like ATT (which owns HBOMAX & WB) has a vested interest in driving consumers to use their telecomms technonlogy and to discourage them from going to other avenues (theaters). And how the biggest media conglomerate in the world, Disney, just announced that much of their future slate will be available on their streaming service day and date. They tested the waters with charging $30 for Mulan earlier this year (even though i think it’s free for D+ users now?). So, I’m not necessarily talking about vertical integration of theaters so much as how this very sudden pivot to streaming/tech, understandably exacerbated by the effects of the pandemic, is shortsighted and a guise for these media conglomerates to abuse workers. I was framing my post from the perspective of an independent director to kind of vent my frustrations as I seek funding for my next movie. and how this news is going to affect the financing of independent american films. And which kind of films get greenlight, accepted to festivals, and picked up for distribution etc. A friend of mine was in talks with an indie producer to make their film this year (obviously didn’t happen) and now that productions are happening again the producer gave notes last week for them to restructure scenes/runtime that might make it more appealing to amazon/netflix. This is an indication of the flattening of artistic expression in american cinema. The kind of sameness of a lot of recent movies from these streaming giants and the boutique companies like Annapurna or a24. This trickles into representation as only certain forms of blackness or femininity or queerness or disability are useful to the algorithms (ex. Black Death). Which is why I said this is a blow to the quality of all american cinema.

I’m also thinking of an increase in situations like w Garret Bradley’s Time which is a phenomenal look into how america’s prison system affects families but is distributed by Amazon Studios, whose parent company is invested in the carceral technologies that lead to the very same fracturing of families the film highlights. But also we are talking about film/media conglomerates so we should also not just be thinking of on set workers like gaffers but also interns, office PAs, assistants, secretaries, etc. My friend was just laid off from Disney. She was a middle manager’s assistant. Pre-pandemic the company was doing bs like not honoring OT, coercing her to do stuff that isn’t her responsibility and reprimanding her if she failed such tasks. With the first wave of layoffs her workload got much more demanding and with the pandemic it became more difficult too as she worked from home with restricted access to their programs (for cybersecurity reasons). These kind of restructuring layoffs put more stress on the people who remain at the company as they are coerced to take on the workload of those who were terminated.

I have another friend who edits video content for ViacomCBS. The merger and subsequent re-launch (re-introduction?) of CBS All Access increased their workload in preparation for that (and now even more as they rebrand it to Paramount+) in addition to the increased demand from the company to push out more online content bc of the pandemic despite laying off over half the team during last years’ merger.

This article from THR details how bad the Disney layoffs have been recently as they restructure to be more stream heavy. Additionally, a lot of these older media congolmerates are taking note from netflix, which has notoriously bad working conditions.

Where I work, our gaffers are being reduced to grips (less pay) and many are working multiple sets (which overworks them and provides less opportunities for other workers) as we invest in digital lighting technologies and post work. There’s talk that next year that we’ll merge our digitechs & retouchers into one job and downsize the numbers in both depts. My parent company has also invested into AR which will eventually make my team (ecomm) obsolete.

Our freelance stylists talk all the time about being replaced by digitechs in fashion who can just digitally add a watch or shoe or dress to a model.

Unreal Engine’s Project Spotlight can mean a future with less G&E, set builders, people in props department, etc. This isn’t necessarily going to happen overnight but look at how quickly and how many film developers and projectionists etc lost their jobs due to digital filmmaking.

There’s a lot going on in media production right now and the pivot to streaming animates anxieties in all these ways (and more). This is to say nothing about the many, many people who will lose their jobs as these tech companies try to make theaters obsolete (ticket checkers, concessions, projectionists, custodial staff, etc)

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notveryglittery · 4 years

Text

far (1.2)

summary: everything’s just right. until it isn’t. wc: 2k / ships: romantic royality, platonic anxceit warnings: injuries, fighting, zombies, typical minecraft danger author‘s note: i really can’t be stopped, huh? thank you so much to @blinksinbewilderment for beta’ing this for me! this ends the first part of the au but i have so many more ideas :) enjoy!

mice on venus (1.1) | far (1.2) (you are here) title inspo: (spotify link) (youtube link) ao3 line (to edit later)

— — —

Roman wakes up late and is devastated to find out that Janus and Virgil left just before sunrise. No one will tell him why they left or what they were going out looking for and it just makes his mood even worse. It doesn’t help that he’s put on official bed rest; Logan is actually posted outside of his door to make sure he doesn’t go anywhere. Roman picks slowly at the breakfast Patton had brought up to him: it’s eggs, bacon, hash browns, and apple juice which are a lot of his favorite foods but they just don’t taste right. The whole day feels off and he’s not even halfway into it.

Eventually, the scrape of a chair breaks through the monotony of his morning and he looks up, curious. Patton bursts through the door, barely carrying a jukebox.

“Dearest, you’re going to hurt yourself!” Roman exclaims, trying to get up and help.

“Nuh uh,” Patton tuts, “stay put.”

Roman begrudgingly settles back into bed as Patton manages to set the jukebox down on Roman’s desk by the window. Roman would recognize that disc anywhere and his face lights up as the first notes of Far begin to play. Patton beams back at him before hurrying out of the room again. Roman closes his eyes and leans back, letting the whimsical sounds wash over him.

When Patton returns, it’s again by carrying something heavy up the stairs by himself, and Roman’s worry spikes. This time, Patton drops the load unceremoniously on the floor and it clangs noisily. The sunlight glints off of it and Roman realizes it’s his shield, in obvious need of redecorating.

“Who fixed it?” He asks, wondering how in the world it got done so quickly.

“Janus found a bunch of iron ore in that ravine and Virgil made sure to put it in the blast furnace to smelt overnight!” Patton explains, dripping a tiny bit of what looks like Slow Falling onto it. It is just as heavy to lift but once he has, he gives it a careful toss towards Roman, who catches it as it floats gently down to him. “I asked the armorer how long it would take to repair. He said no time at all as long as I brought back some berry shortbread when I came to pick it up!”

“Patton,” Roman says very seriously. “Did you make berry shortbread?”

Patton giggles. “Yes, honey, and don’t worry, I made enough for dessert tonight.”

“Come here!” Roman shouts which just makes Patton laugh harder.

As soon as Patton is in arm’s reach, Roman pulls him in and down for a kiss. It’s sweet and brief because Patton can’t stop smiling.

“I love you,” he mumbles, brushing his lips across Roman’s cheek as he stands back up.

“I love you!” Roman declares. “It’s been so long since I repainted this!” He tilts the shield in his lap so he can get a better look at it. “I’m making sure there’s a spot dedicated to you this time!”

Patton blushes and busies himself with retrieving Roman’s art supplies from his storage. “You don’t have to do that…”

“Don’t have to,” Roman agrees, “I want to!”

Patton sighs fondly as he helps to get Roman set up with a sturdy place to work. He’s meant to keep his leg elevated which makes this all very awkward but they do eventually sort it out. As soon as he’s comfortable, Roman is mixing colors to get just the right shade. He starts with broad strokes to get a base down; at least, that’s what Patton assumes. Far still plays happily from the jukebox and everything is just right.

— — —

Everything is not just right and Virgil is pretty fucking sure they are going to die.

“What did you do!” He screeches over the sound of what must be at least twenty zombies bearing down on them.

“Might’ve lingered too long ‘round a spawner,” Janus grunts as he swings his axe into a zombie’s chest.

Virgil answers with a wordless, frustrated scream, plunging his daggers into a zombie’s face probably more times than is necessary. He loses track of how many mobs they kill (because of course a handful of skeletons and creepers join the fray). Eventually though, they do get enough distance between them and the monsters that they can block the path and take some time to breathe.

“Was there even any good loot?” Virgil asks.

Janus tosses his pack onto the ground between them. Virgil goes through it and finds cocoa beans (which is the main reason they’re exploring, so that’s nice), two golden apples (holy shit), and a name tag (as if they don’t have enough of those already). He runs a hand through his hair which is a huge mistake, actually, because they are still grimy with blood. He takes a few moments to clean himself off as best he can. In the time it takes him to do so, Janus has leant against the wall and fallen half-asleep.

“Let’s stay awhile,” Virgil suggests, because if he makes it sound like he’s the one that wants to rest, Janus is less likely to take offense. “That fight took a lot out of me.”

Janus blinks at him, slowly. “Whenever you’re ready, then.”

He dozes off so quickly, Virgil would dare to think that Janus actually trusts him with his safety. They’ve come a long way, he supposes; from Janus nearly stranding them in the Nether to Virgil being the one he usually invites along for scouting.

Virgil has long since accepted that they’re cut from the same cloth: homes in dangerous places and suspicious of new faces; the type to stab first, ask questions second; someone who will defend the things and people they love until their dying breath. Virgil remembers how terrified he had been when he and Roman leapt into the portal after Janus. He remembers watching it shatter behind them, remembers praying for Logan and Patton’s safety, remembers begging Roman to be careful, please, I can’t lose you again—

Virgil shakes his head. He wipes stubbornly at the tears gathering in his eyes and curses his brain for reminding him of these stupid memories in such sharp detail. He focuses instead on his breathing and keeping watch while Janus naps. They’re at least a day’s journey from home now; they’d gone caving at sunset to avoid the monsters above ground. The plan is to try and find new land but with only three days to do so, Virgil doubts they’ll be so lucky. He doesn’t want to go too far and risk missing Roman’s first day back on his feet. He’s absolutely going to go too hard and Virgil really wants to be there to see it. He stifles a laugh at the image but the muffled noise still wakes Janus up. He stretches, groaning as a few bones click in the process.

“Feeling better?”

Virgil just barely resists rolling his eyes. It’s strangely endearing that Janus thinks Virgil doesn’t see right through him. “Yeah, I’m good to go. Should be sunrise by the time we get back to the surface.”

They follow their torch path out and sure enough, sunlight shines through the cave entrance as they approach. They pick up where they left off, Janus marking his map along the way. The day is hot, regardless of their travel through a birch forest and taking advantage of all the shade. For Janus, it’s nothing compared to the heat of the Nether, but Virgil has to shed his layers which leaves him feeling vulnerable.

The only interesting thing to happen during this part of their trek is finding a new village. They gain favor with the inhabitants when they patch up the cracking iron golem. They make some trades, replenishing their food supply in exchange for ore and coal; it helps lighten their loads which should keep their energy from waning too quickly later on. The villagers have extra beds so Janus and Virgil stay there for the night.

Day three begins bright and early with Virgil insisting they start heading home. Janus agrees more readily than he expects but maybe he, too, doesn’t expect them to find much in what little time they have left. It’s easy going on the way back, since they’re familiar now with the land. Virgil wishes he could explain why they make the dangerous choice to continue traveling through the night. He wishes he could figure out how they both make such a stupid decision.

Janus is hot on his heels, breaths coming in ragged gasps. Virgil is barely pushing through the pain in his calves. They had been holding their own, quickly taking care of any mobs that came too close. It had been fine until, of course, Virgil accidentally looked at an enderman. The screeching had filled the night air, scaring Virgil right out of his skin.

“Sorry!” He had shouted, as if apologizing to the creature would do any good.

Janus grabbed his wrist, pulling him deeper into the woods. “Too many monsters,” he had explained.

They’d been running ever since. Virgil’s lost track of how long but he can’t hear the enderman anymore so he can only hope they’re in the clear. Thankfully, they’re officially close enough to home that he begins to recognize various landmarks: one tree with blue ribbon tied around the trunk, a pitfall trap just outside their torch grid, and finally —

Virgil slows enough that Janus darts around him and nearly breaks the gate from how quickly he slams into it.

“I hate nighttime,” he snarls, “at least I could trust the Nether to always be dangerous!”

Virgil wants to laugh but he can barely breathe. He follows, closing the gate behind him.

“Hey,” he says, trailing Janus to the house. “Hey, we kind of got what we were looking for.”

“I’m so glad we almost died for some cocoa beans.”

“We would’ve been fine!”

Janus levels him with a glare that would shut anyone else up. Virgil, because he is insufferable, keeps going. “Besides, you’re gonna see Patton smile and it’ll all be worth it.”

Janus almost trips, over absolutely nothing. “Shut up!” He hisses, turning away so that Virgil can’t see his face. His absolutely-no-doubt-about-it blushing face.

Virgil does so this time but only because they’re at the front door now. They enter quietly, well aware that it’s the middle of the night, and not wanting to wake their companions. Someone comes thundering down the stairs anyway. Virgil moves away from Janus because he knows exactly who would make that much noise and—

Sure enough, Patton appears and throws himself at Janus. The latter’s face goes bright red and Virgil smirks at him.

“You’re home!” Patton exclaims, pulling back and hugging Virgil next. Janus busies himself with his pack. “We were so worried!”

“Aren’t you always?” Virgil asks.

“‘S night,” grumbles Logan from the stairs. Virgil’s heart skips when he looks to find his partner rubbing at his eyes, hair messy from sleep. “Why’re you travelin’ at night?”

Virgil drops his stuff and scoops Logan into his arms. “Didn’t wanna be away from you anymore.”

“Shhhh,” Logan pats Virgil’s cheeks, “shh, too tired for that.”

“To bed, then,” Virgil proposes. He waves at Patton and Janus before helping Logan back upstairs and to their room.

Patton hovers a bit as Janus puts away everything he and Virgil had not only taken with them but the things they had found too.

“Did everything go okay?” Patton asks eventually.

“As okay as usual.”

“Find anything neat?”

Janus hesitates before he turns and presents the pouch of cocoa beans. Virgil’s voice rings I told you so in his head but he can’t even be mad because, without a doubt, Patton’s smile has in fact made every trouble well worth it.

#sanders sides fan fiction #royality #anxceit #ts deceit #minecraft au #dani writes

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ziracona · 4 years

Note

Dwight/Jake wedding headcanons maybe? They deserve it.

For sure!

It’s a couple years down the road. They’ve been living in the Indiana house with Adam, while the others orbit in and out from Springwood and Lockport and Haddonfield and Indianapolis and Bloomington and New Jersey and Missouri and New York and such every few days. It’s peaceful and fun there for them. Woods, big house, familiar smells and people and memorobelia and Ron’s grave and markers added nearby for Vigo and Alex and Lisa and Sujan and the person from the lab with no name and the survivors who came before them and never got to be buried. It’s home. They’re just chilling, Dwight and Jake talking with intent but also very relaxed about something while Adam edits a sequel in his easy chair, deep in edit mode, when Jake calls over, “Hey Adam, do you want to be a best man, or do you want to marry us?”

Which Adam hears the wrong homophone for for a second and almost takes him out before he realizes they meant the other version of ‘marry’ and remembers how to breathe again.

He stutters out a, “Well, I, uh—I mean, I can do whichever you’d prefer, but I’m not ordained. In. Anything. I know I did Min and Nea’s, but—”

“—Yeah, we know, but we just need it to be legal,” Jake shrugs, “and we don’t want a stranger at the wedding period, so someone’s getting ordained.”

“I think you can get ordained online in like an hour,” adds Dwight helpfully, “and we’re not religious either, but—and now that I’m saying this it was Meg so that means I should make sure becuase sometimes her memory for numbers is uhhh bad, but she told me like a week ago you only need ten people to officially get your new religion recognized. And we could be ‘the survivors’ or something. I don’t know I believe in much, but I believe in that.”

Jake nods. “Whatever is true, this group of people can rip a hole in the fabric of the universe for each other. I’d ascribe to that.”

“I kind of like that,” says Adam, “I would too. But if we have a spiritual ‘leader’, wouldn’t Ace be a better choice than me? Or Jane?”

This is considered a good point and they debate between Adam, Jeff, Tapp, Jane, and Ace for a bit, [Philip is also briefly considered, but they realize just as fast he’d be overwhelmed and stressed by having to do it & mercifully swap him to another role], then decide on Ace, who’s always been the kind of...not exactly dad, not exactly uncle, but not not those things, and certainly some kind of an early spiritual or morale core for them, parentish figure, and a comfort and hope leader for them all. Also, they know he’ll get a fkn kick out of being ordained for this.

Dwight takes Quentin as his Best Man, Claudette his Maid of Honor, and Jake takes Nea as Matron of Honor, Andrew as Best Man, and Meg as Maid of Honor. They decide fuck it, and it’s kinda Parks & Rec (an argument used by and against Jake many times the next few weeks) anyway, and also both take Adam and Philip as Best Men because fuck it, it’s too hard and also wedding rules are arbitrary and made to be broken, and so then Jake adds Kate as a bridesmaid, Dwight adds Laurie, they realize the number of survivors is dwindling dangerously and decide fuck it, our wedding is for us might as well be fkn weird and cool, and add David, Min, Tapp, Jane, Jeff, and Laurie as groomsmen and bridesmaids too. This still leaves Michael, Anna, Sally, Benedict, Susie, Jeff’s three Legion kids, and everyone’s families which is like fkn a lot of people, to be audience party (sans Nancy, who is pleaded with to be wedding party and run the music pre-reception because the number of people that they want involved /and/ who won’t give in to or be tricked by Meg into some kind of terrible flash mob stunt is very small, and in fact, basically is just Nancy. She is happy to do it and thinks their desperate reasoning is hilarious).

They break the news to Meg and Claudette and Ace first (after Adam), ask Ace to marry them, and tell Meg she can run post-weddding/reception music however she wants, except the songs for a couples dance & parent dances. She is /thrilled/. Claudette is very happy and cries. They call up Quentin & Nea to add to the conversation and Jake says Nea and Meg and Susie are in charge of setting up the wedding because he knows they’re gonna fight him for the role anyway, but they have to throw whatever they can together with only the stuff they own already and $50, they want only family & the other survivors/their families at the wedding, the service short and sweet, and to have it at the cabin, by the river. Meg loses her mind with indignance and joy together, and goes buckwild. They hit thrift shops for fairy lights and streamers and more.

Everyone is thrilled to be asked, Jane says “about time,” and Philip can’t think of anything to say and gets overwhelmed emotionally and taken off guard to be asked to be a groomsman. It’s sweet. Everyone with fashion sense takes everyone else shopping or through their wardrobes for fun wedding clothes and to at least have accent pieces that match a color theme. (Complimentary blues, yellow/gold, and pinks to the grooms’. More on that). It’s super fun & they make a fashion show of it. There’s no matching in form, just color, which is just the best version anyway there’s really no goddamn reason to spend thousands of bucks on a wedding when you could just have a funky cute good time with the people who love you & no stress.

Jake picks a deep blue hanbok (bc the hottest Jake I’ve ever seen is the one @eggchef did for lunar new year & the note in the tags about an actual hanbok has been banging around in my head ever since), and when they’re going through stuff for Dwight, he comments a pink one is surprisingly nice because it’s not the color he’d expected to think about, and Jake remarks offhand that if they do deep blue and pink they’ll be stealing their girls’ looks, and the second he says that, they both know there’s no other choice now. Dwight gets a light pink suit and a tie that matches Jake’s blue. They’re adorable and both look exceedingly handsome.

The wedding is short and perfect. Ace does a great job, it’s a nice day, and Meg works wonders with her $50 budget and (notably obscenely large) preexisting store of party supplies, + help from her mom who is passing down the legacy of being the best tiny budget party planner on earth. It’s very open, but with near arches and dangling glass and prisims that cast rainbows everywhere, lots of meaningfully chosen for their blessings and symbolism flowers and flower chains from Claudette. It’s a little reminiscent of the birthday decorations Min and Nea did plus the prisims, and that accidentally makes all the survivors super emotional like 1 minute in.

Only the moms get to speak in the wedding (besides Ace and the grooms), and Andrew and Meg and Nea and Quentin and such all gotta save their roasts for the reception. It’s sweet. Ace knows them super well and it shows in the best way. The grooms write their own vows, and both echo their statements in the hatch tunnel without knowing the other was going to do so too. Jake starts with an “I am deeply, unendingly, ridiculously in love with you,” and Dwight brings in a, “I wouldn’t be who I am without you.” They end it with Dwight saying, “Will you still stay with me, now that it’s all over? Through whatever we’re thrown to next?” And Jake replying, “Wherever you go, I’ll always follow.”

I cry.

The reception is a party by the house. It’s just a huge prepared buffet made by the family who can cook, so no one has to sit and wait. Meg starts the music with Cascada’s Evacuate the Dance Floor because she doesn’t “want to see people dragging their feet like a bunch of fuckin weenies, I want asses on that dance floor!” There’s a lot of 90s and early 2000s pop, but also many many classic dance songs. Lots of ABBA. Lots of it. Everyone has great fun. Min, Nea, Susie, and Meg made the playlist, except for a few of the specific dances. Muriel Fairfield’s mother-son dance with Dwight is to Song For Ten by Neil Hannon because he knows she’s a sweet big emotional nerd and it’s the song she wants, and he’s willing to do it, and she sobs and is a mess but also the happiest she’s been since the day she got the call he was alive.

They have literally zero idea where they’re going when they drive off for a honeymoon. They’re like “Uhh so I’ve been looking at our complete and utter lack of wedding structure and planning as a good thing? But we might have overstepped that a little here....”

Dwight drives while Jake searches the web for LGBT safe honeymoon locations because there’s nothing that would ruin a trip more than that not working out, and reads off a list and Dwight is like, “Wait wait holy fuck, I though you meant what US cities or maybe Canada. Switzerland? Do we even have cash for the plane fare somewhere like that?” And Jake just looks at the page silently for a few seconds, shuts the laptop, and without expression says, “...I really hate this, but I’m gonna let myself be a rich boy, just once.”

They take Andrew’s jet to New Zealand (Jake calls him and listens for 2 minutes then just monotone goes “Okay but you owe me for being a dipshit for fifteen years,” and they get the ride). Jake picks a relaxed pace and some scuba diving, some hikes, but no overnight camping. Lots of just seeing the world and holding hands and grinning at how absolutely breathless and shocked Dwight is at every chunk of nature like nothing he’s seen before. They are disgustingly, blissfully happy.

#ask #anonymous #dead by daylight #in living memory (fic)#in living memory #ILM spoilers #long post #parkfield #dwake #Jake park #Dwight Fairfield

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yinas-ramen-bowl · 3 years

Text

Sina Weibo account signup, October 2021 edition! No Chinese phone number required

UPDATE: If you go to https://security.weibo.com/account/security?topnav=1&wvr=6 while signed in and go to ‘手机号码’ (’Phone Number’), you might be able to link your phone number. I had Weibo open overnight and I went to this page, and it actually sent the verification code to my US (Google Voice) phone number! I wasn’t sure if I just got lucky though, so I made a password by using the option above it (‘修改密码’, meaning ‘Change password’).

So I just made an account on Sina Weibo (新浪微博), a really popular Chinese social media site that’s similar to Twitter. Most Chinese people you’d want to follow have accounts there, since Twitter and other websites are blocked in China.

The only thing is, creating a Weibo account is practically impossible to do if you’re not Chinese. Despite it giving you options to use US (and other international) phone numbers for verification, these options don’t work, and I don’t think they’re supposed to. Let’s just say that this is after 2 straight weeks of trying to sign up.

But, worry not! There is a way... if you have an iPhone. (This is a requirement, unfortunately.)

Step 1: Create an Apple ID (if you don’t already have one you want to use)

This is quite simple, really. Go to appleid.apple.com and scroll down until you see the option to ‘Create your Apple ID’.

Then, sign up for one as normal, using whatever region you need to. I used Macao for the heck of it, and it worked fine (note: I did this through the website, but on my phone). You’ll need a valid email and phone number, but I just created a new Gmail account and used a Google Voice number just fine.

Step 1.5: Change your Apple ID region

(First, I just want to mention that I don’t know if this has any effect on whether you can sign up for an account. I didn’t do this, and I could still make a Weibo account with my old US Apple ID.)

After verifying your account, go to your account settings through the App Store app (the profile picture button by the top-middle) and edit your region to be ‘China mainland’. (Click your email/ID, and then click ‘Country/Region’ to select this option.)

It’ll then ask you to put in information, but I just put in 12345s for all the required fields. You don’t need to verify any of this info.

Step 2: Download the Weibo app

Now that that’s all done, find the Weibo app in the store. (You don’t need to search in Chinese, it’ll show up if you just search ‘weibo’.) Then, download it as usual.

Step 3: Sign up using your Apple ID

After opening the Weibo app and agreeing to the terms and conditions, click on the ‘Me’ option at the bottom of your screen. (It’s the one all the way on the right in the bottom taskbar.)

Now, you’ll be asked to log in or register. Check the agreement box at the bottom of your screen (‘I agree to the terms and conditions’, etc.) and then click on the Apple icon. You’ll be prompted to sign in with your Apple ID.

After agreeing to do so, you’ll be shown a bunch of categories to choose from. These are your ‘interests’, which you can select and deselect as you wish. (Hint hint: ‘国外ACG’ is for anime/comics/games!)

Then, you’ll be given accounts to follow that are recommended to you based on your interests. Just pick the ones you like, and pick enough to proceed.

Step 4: Desktop Login

If you’ve made it this far, congrats! You now have a Weibo account! You can finally follow all of the Chinese creators you want to.

Now, there is a caveat to signing up like this, being that you can only ever sign back in using this method. You can’t use a phone number and password to sign in on your desktop, but you can still use Weibo on your desktop. It’s just that you need to use your phone for that.

Open weibo.com on your computer, and then click on the safe login option (‘安全登录’) in the login box. It’ll show you a QR code that you’ll need to scan in the Weibo app on your phone. Make sure that you’re signed in on your phone first.

Then, open your phone and push the QR code scan button. It looks like this:

Upon doing so, Weibo will ask to use your camera. Agree to the permission and scan the QR code using your phone. Then, you’ll get a little green ‘success’ icon on your phone and on the webpage.

From here, Weibo will sign in on your desktop, and you can use its web version.

Step 5: Personalization

Now we’re on the desktop site. If you want to change your info, click on the settings wheel on the top taskbar, and then click the first option in the drop-down menu. It should say ‘��号设置’ (meaning ‘Account Settings’).

In the section ‘我的信息’ (‘My information’), you can add or change a whole bunch of stuff. See the image for details:

I hope this helped!

P.S. this might not work in the future, like a bunch of other current tutorials. If so, I wish you the best of luck in making an account!

#weibo #weibo signup #apple id #chinese social media #complicated #douyin #chinese tiktok #why are you still reading these

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konglindorm · 3 years

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Prince Lindworm: Version Comparison

Over the years, I have managed to find three different versions of King Lindorm—the one that appears in Svend Grundtvig’s Gamle Dansk Minder i Folkemunde, the one that appears in Andrew Lang’s Pink Fairy Book, and the one that appears in the Folio Society’s East of the Sun and West of the Moon. (There is no indication of where this story came from originally or who translated it, so we’re just going to call it the Folio version here.)

I’ve talked a lot before about the origins of this story; the earliest version, Grundtvig’s, is from Denmark. The Folio Society attributes theirs to Asbjørnsen and Moe, in Norway, which we know is incorrect as it doesn’t appear in any other edition of their work. Lang attributes his version to Sweden.

So today, we’re just going to work our way through the three versions and compare/contrast.

They all start the same way. Queen wants baby, queen can’t have baby, old woman tells her how to make it happen. Lang’s version deviates most from the others in the beginning. In the other two versions, the queen encounters the old woman while out on a walk; in Lang’s, the old woman comes to the palace and seeks out the queen specifically to impart her wisdom.

In both Gruntvig’s version and the Folio version, the queen is to eat only one of two differently-colored roses that will grow up overnight under a two-handled cup left in the garden. Very specific, perfectly identical. The lindworm comes because the queen eats both roses.

In Lang’s version, the queen is to take a bath in her room. Two red onions will appear under the bathtub afterwards, and she is to peel and eat both. Her mistake is that she eats the onions without peeling them. (Note that in this version the queen is not given the option to choose the gender of her child.)

Another little deviation in Lang’s version is that the queen apparently doesn’t know she’s given birth to a lindworm? Her waiting woman tosses the lindworm out of the window as soon as it’s born, and the queen doesn’t notice it at all.

Lang and Folio both feature a normal, human prince born after the lindworm. In Gruntvig’s version the lindworm is an only child. Since Gruntvig’s version has no siblings, he approaches the king directly to ask for a bride. In the other two, he waits until the prince goes out to find a bride, and then goes up to him and says, “Hey, I’m your secret brother, and since I’m older, I get to get married first.”

Here, again, Lang’s version deviates significantly. The other lindworms both marry (and eat) two foreign princesses, then a local shepherd’s daughter selected by the king. Lang’s lindworm marries and then eats an unspecified number of slave women before a wicked stepmother offers up her stepdaughter as a bride. Specifically, she tells the king that her stepdaughter would like to marry the lindworm, and the king apparently doesn’t question this? He for some reason finds it believable that a young woman would volunteer to marry a monster who’s already eaten multiple previous wives, without asking for any kind of compensation for her family or anything?

And, okay, Lang is going full German-Cinderella here. After the stepmom screws her over, girl goes to her mom’s grave, where she’s given three nuts. This is what happens in the place of her meeting an old woman and getting instructions in the other two versions.

Lang’s main girl goes through similar basic wedding prep steps to the others, with no indication of where she got the idea from; while the other girls have a tub of lye, tub of milk, whips, and ten gowns/shifts, Lang’s girl has the tube of lye, only seven shifts, and three scrubbing brushes. After they go through the whole take-off-your-shift-take-off-your-skin situation, Lang’s girl just, like, scrubs all the lindworm-iness out of him? She just scrubs until he turns into a dude.

The other two versions, of course, have the much more complex and disgusting transformation sequence of dip whips in lye, whip lindworm, dunk lindworm in milk, take lindworm to the bed, embrace.

The Folio version ends immediately after this, with the girl and the transformed prince living happily ever after. The other two stories continue.

In the second half of Lang’s version, the old king dies, the lindworm becomes king, the lindworm goes to fight in a war, and the girl’s stepmother steals a bunch of letters and tells a bunch of lies that result in the girl and her two young sons fleeing the palace until the lindworm comes to find them. During this time, the girl uses her magic nuts to save a man named Peter.

In the second half of Gruntvig’s version, the old king and the lindworm both go off to war, it’s a character called the Red Knight who switches the letters, and while she and the babies are away, our girl somehow uses her breast milk to help two other men who’ve been transformed into animals? IDK, I don’t have a full English translation yet, but what we do have to work with is seriously weird.

Lang’s version definitely deviates significantly from the others; it has no points in common with Grundtvig’s aside from the most basic plot—barren queen, ignoring food instructions=lindworm, brides eaten, transformation involving shedding/undressing and lye, heroine flees into the woods with children due to mail-tampering, saves someone else before reunion with lindworm.

The Folio version deviates from Grundtvig’s only in that it ends halfway through and includes a second prince.

Today is the first time I’ve read through Lang’s version in several years, at least, and somehow, despite its differences from the others, it feels the least unique? I was definitely first drawn to “Prince Lindworm,” as a child, because despite falling into my much-beloved Enchanted Bridegroom category, it felt very different from any other story I’d read. The beast as a snake-like creature, the brides being eaten, the unsettling transformation sequence—it was all just great. This was the Folio version, that I was reading as a child. But when I first encountered the second half of the story in Grundtvig’s version, it was also delightfully unique and bizarre, even if I can’t fully understand it. The lindworm’s mother—the girl’s mother-in-law, often a villainous figure—is 100% on her side, and the main person to try to help her through what happens next. And the milk situation is just—well, it’s something.

Lang’s version, despite being the same basic story, just feels bland and unoriginal. There’s an evil stepmother, which is just, sort of cliché, you know? The transformation sequence has been cut down and seriously sanitized. And then the situation where he marries an unspecified number of slave women in the place of two princesses—well, I have a number of issues with that.

Firstly, the number three is so often symbolic in fairy tales, and to replace the three total marriages with an unspecified number is lame, but that’s a dumb, nitpicky issue. The marriages to slave women indicate that this is a country that holds slaves, which I don’t love. But my big issue with this is that a significant part of the charm of the other versions is just the absolute, idiotic absurdity of marrying your monster son to a second princess after he eats the first. Like, you know what’s going to happen now—the same thing that happened last time. He’s gonna eat the princess and another powerful king is going to be rightfully angry with you. Marrying him instead to someone who won’t be missed lowers the stakes and raises the rationality in a way that bores me, and also implies that some potential brides are worth less? Like, with the first couple brides as princesses, we know they matter even though we never properly meet them, because their deaths put the threat of war over our heads—which is probably why the king and the lindworm go off to war shortly after the spell is broken in Grundtvig’s version. “A whole bunch of random slave girls died with no consequences and then we met our main character” just seems sort of…cheap.

So! While I did enjoy reading Lang’s version, I don’t think I would have fallen in love with this story if it was the first I encountered. I think the other versions are both more absurd and more meaningful.

Preorder my book based on this story here!

#lindworm #prince lindworm #king lindworm #king lindorm #folklore #fairy tales #fairy tale analysis #svend grundtvig #Andrew Lang

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bomberqueen17 · 4 years

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we took the wyverns on a tour of the coast by boat

I’m finally caught up-- we didn’t play last night, DF was on the phone with his dad and it was the kind of call where he paced around the entire exterior of the house being really heavily-accented into his phone headset, which alarmed me quite a bit when he walked past the window of the room I was in because I hadn’t expected anyone to be outside.

So we went to bed early while he was still on the phone but then I didn’t go to sleep, like a fool, but I also wrote a bunch of the next Ancient Sea chapter so that was great. Mixed success. And, he’s on call tonight, so he’ll probably be at work overnight and we won’t play tonight either, so we’ll see.

BUT. The night before last, we had a good long Witchering session with some fucking around AND some plot, and we drank the cocktail I had invented, the Yennefer. Here’s the recipe, and behind the cut I’ll explain the Saga of Trollololo and also the exciting Adventure of the Magical Towels.

edited to add ok all this was delayed one MORE day, but also DF’s shift went so late we assumed he was working an overnight until at 11:30 the household was awakened by someone opening every cabinet in the kitchen and then he stumbled up to bed, and then had to go in this morning at his usual 7am start time because doctors’ hours fucking suck, so actually I’ve had two extra days to write this and have not. I have no excuses, but you’ll see what else I’ve been working on eventually, I promise. ANYHOW back to the post, with a recipe.

The Yennefer, a cocktail:

1) Cut the blooms off of a lilac bush until you’ve got enough. Pick the little purple bits very carefully off the tiny green stems. (I got about four cups. It took forever.) Rinse them in cold water if you think they might be dusty. I didn’t, I’m a slob. Make lilac syrup by putting two parts of lilac petals to one part sugar and one part water, bringing it to a simmer, turning it off, letting it cool, and letting it sit for 12-24 hours. Then strain it. TheSpruceEats promised me it wouldn’t be bitter if I sat there like a... well, you gotta channel the hyperfocus here, for good or ill... and picked out every tiny green stem, but they lied; the resulting syrup was sweet and flowery and had a pronounced bitter note to it. HOWEVER, this is Yennefer, so that is perfectly copacetic. 2) I bought a container of sweet candied gooseberries at the Asia Mart a while back (when the grocery stores were wiped out and the asian supermarkets were untouched because of racism), these in fact, so I poured boiling water over a bunch of those and the extra sugar that was loose at the bottom of the package, and wound up with a sweet-tart fruity sort of syrup. (Lacking those, I might have used some cranberry juice.) 3) Combine those two syrups until the taste pleases you somewhat and is slightly too sweet. (I added a little unflavored simple syrup.) Then, add a correct amount of either gin, or white rum if you don’t like gin. (My test batch was fantastic with gin, but MM hates gin, so I used rum for this version.) 4) put in a bit of lemon and/or lime juice to make it more tart, as needed. 5) optional: add other herbal/flowery liqueurs to taste. I had this botanical spirit named Hum that’s red, and I had some blue Cointreau that I put a couple of drops in for color, and I had a little bit of creme de violette.

My Drink Mixing Method is largely that I figure out how many servings I’m making, put in one to two ounces of the hard liquor per serving, and then put in about one part of the combined mixers per one part of the hard liquor, and then I adjust the flavors until it’s the strength I want (I often wind up with much more mixer, up to two parts per one part of hard liquor, but that varies). Most of my drinks are designed to be served over ice to bring them down to the correct dilution.

tw below for assisted suicide, in-game, expressly nothing to do with any real-life things.

We started strong. I poured the drinks, and DF dithered about having any-- he has awful heartburn problems and tries to have only water after 5pm unless he’s prepared to Accept The Consequences, but he decided he’d try a cocktail. He asked if MM would put it over ice for him, so she got out the bag of ice in the freezer and discovered it had sort of bricked. He suggested banging it on the floor to break it up, and she had a reply to that which would be much funnier if I had not explained all this, but I have, so:

“I’m not planning on banging right now,” she said, swanning into the room in her particularly magnificent way of walking, with a drink in each hand.

(I know I’ve set the setting-scene before but it’s worth mentioning that MathMom is a stunningly beautiful and of course deeply eccentric woman, tallish and solid-built with classic-length (that’s upper mid-thigh) thick wavy pale-brown hair with natural golden highlights which she often wears in a magnificent crown braid across the top of her head held in place with an array of jeweled and tortoise-shell clips, and she has a predilection for lace-bedecked long skirts, lots of embroidery and hand-embellished trims, lily-white bare arms of astonishingly muscular slenderness, and often a headband with lace cat ears when she’s feeling particularly emotionally-drained. Oh and jewelry, she has a lot of jewelry, some of which is expensive shit inherited from a wealthy aunt who died suddenly 20 years ago, and some of which she makes herself out of an exquisite collection of beads, mostly rainbows of opals. So, there’s an image, for you. She’s decided she enjoys the fashions of Novigrad, so there may be some upcoming augmentations of her wardrobe.)

ANYHOW. Down to Witchering.

Properly lubricated with alcohol, we embarked upon a little tour of the monster nests of Velen, “through the Lands of Difficulty,” as DF termed it-- all the shit he uncovered whilst too low-level to make it worthwhile. Since we were down there, we figured we’d clear all that out, get whatever loot and XP the place had to offer at the current level, and then move on with the Plot Shit.

We had not really missed Velen’s fight music. See, when Geralt’s involved in a fight, the music changes, and in different places it plays different music, and in Velen it’s this music we call The Hollering, because it has a lot of lyric-less vocal stuff including some stuff that’s kind of hoarse? (Ah, it’s called Silver for Monsters but this is the extended track, the one they actually play really starts at like, the 2 minute mark of the linked video. and like, fine, it’s cool or whatever but after hours of playing you’re kind of like Ah Fuck It’s The Hollering.)

We found a bandit camp based in a half-ruined building that was leaning crazily over. We killed the guys on the ground and then DF got excited to try killing bandits by Aarding them off the top floor, so he ran up there. (There’s an achievement you can get, for killing a number of enemies by aarding them off things. We haven’t got one yet, but there’s time.)

Unfortunately, it wasn’t high enough to kill a level 9 bandit, so Geralt just Aarded him off the building and he was like “ARGH FUCK” and then started shooting arrows up at us. The other one, we just sworded until he mostly fell off but then he died weirdly half-clipped through the edge of the floor and just hung there by his wrist. DF went down to the ground and tried to crossbow him down but that was it, he was just forever going to hang there. It was super weird.

Another scene-setting thing: throughout all of this, DF is treating us to a very professional analysis of the different methods of Coronavirus testing being offered and what they do and do not mean and what they are and are not useful for; his conclusion basically boiled down to that they are useless for an individual and one can make absolutely zero decisions based on one’s own results, BUT they are essential at a population level for analysis and are essential to get-- just, don’t actually, like, rely on them for yourself, they’re not going to do you much if any good.

Anyway. After the bandits we swung through a cluster of four Nekker nests, just... clearing them out. We needed a single Nekker heart for some potion or decoction or whatever. We wound up with another bushel basket of assorted bits.

In the middle of this we stumbled across an isolated man who was moaning that the monsters wouldn’t kill him. He was familiar, but hideously deformed by gross pox boil-lookin things. He identified himself: he was the carter we’d encountered aeons ago, carting plague corpses, and Geralt had urgently told him to burn all his clothes and his cart. He’d been unconcerned, but clearly now had caught the plague. He begged Geralt to kill him; he was horribly sick and couldn’t die and had spread plague to everyone he loved. Geralt contemplated it for a moment, and DF said, “you know, this has nothing to do with my medical practice, okay” and agreed to kill him. The man, grateful, gave him a purse of coins, which he’d been saving for his children but now didn’t need. Aww! 😢 Geralt, of course, made it quick, and off-screen mercifully, and then used Igni on the remains.

As we left, there was-- well, it looked like a person, in a hayfield, and MM cheerfully started singing the chorus of The Gallant Forty Twa [link is to the clancy bros rendition, on youtube]. “Strollin’ through the green fields, on a summer’s day, watchin’ all the country girls workin’ a’ the hay, I really was delighted--” and then the figure in the field straightened up and leapt at us and she was like “AH SHIT THAT’S NOT A COUNTRY GIRL” because, of course, it was yet another nekker, as the countryside was absolutely rotten with them.

We headed for another question mark which we expected to be probably a fifth nekker nest, and suddenly were confronted with-- what the fuck is-- oh it’s a wyvern we’ve OH NO THAT’S A LEVEL 28 WYVERN RUN AWAY

OH FUCK IT HAS A GIRLFRIEND WHO IS ALSO LEVEL 28

we scrambled down the hill, to an unknown marker, a cave, let’s go in here DF said, and ran into the cave and the wyvern followed us and I was like THAT’S ITS FUCKING DEN and he was like AH FUCK and turned and ran back out dodging like crazy and the thing was following us ARGH

We ran a distance, and the fucking things were following, and we ran some more and they were still following and DF was like “Fuckit I’m a get into the sea” and ran and dove into the water and swam underwater for a while and the red dot was STILL FOLLOWING and in fact we could occasionally see one of the wyverns as it fucking circled overhead. “What the fuck,” DF said, coming up for air and then going back down.

We swam the entire strait underwater, and the wyverns were still following. We got out on the other side. “Maybe these bandits will fight the wyverns,” DF said, harassed, navigating Geralt into the Unknown Settlement. No bandits appeared, but a number of level 11 ghouls came out to play. DF tried to get into the door of a structure but the ghouls clustered around and the fucking door was locked, and the wyvern swooped. “What the fuck!”

He turned and ran back down to the water, where there were some drowners but they were slightly out of range. The wyvern dove angrily but missed. “Well,” he said, “let’s try the boat,” and got into a boat. At first the controller would not let him do anything but swish his sword around, but eventually he managed to figure out how to pilot the boat.

With the wyvern stooping angrily around us, we set off in the boat for a little tour of the coast, and promptly hit a rock, but fortunately didn’t sink.

It took another minute for the wyvern to back off. “We’re taking the wyverns on a tour of the coast by boat,” DF said. Sure enough, we could tell now that it was definitely both wyverns chasing. Miraculously, we had taken no damage, by sheer virtue of not holding still long enough.

Finally, finally, the fight music turned off, and the wyverns disappeared, presumably back to their nest that we’d blundered straight into. “The fight music,” I said, “instead of The Hollering, probably should have been Yakety Sax.”

“That would’ve been a bit more fitting,” DF said, steering the boat back toward shore. “Uhhh... Okay,” DF said, “so, uh, where are we now and where are the things we were planning to do??”

Well, we’d intended to do The Volunteer. So we pulled that quest back up, it’s near the bridge to Oxenfurt and we weren’t far from that.

I’m going to cut this post off and finally make it, though, and I’ll do the rest in a later post since this one’s so delayed anyway. ALSO Tumblr just tried its level best to eat this fucking post and i’m super over the way the wifi in this house likes to attempt to murder me.

#wee precious flower prince geralt #the witcher #witcher 3 #playthrough

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colbybrocksmolder · 5 years

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A Video To My Future Wife - Colby Brock x Reader

Colby set the camera up, taking a minute to gather his thoughts.

“Hey guys, as you can tell by the title, this isn’t a normal video. Remember a few years ago when Sam and I made videos for each other to look back on when we’re older? Well this is another one of those. Kind of. But today, I’m going to make this for you. And for Y/n. The love of my life. The most beautiful human I’ve ever met, both inside and out.”

Colby ducked his head, smiling at how giddy he was to finally share you with the world. “A lot of you are very confused right now, I know. And I’m sorry. I’ve kept this part of my life off of YouTube for well over a year now and honestly? I don’t regret it one bit. It’s been the happiest year of my life so far. I know in my heart she’ll continue to make me my happiest self until literally one of us ceases to exist on this earth. I hope I die first because I don’t want to think about a life without her.”

Colby sighed, looking past the camera for a moment before cracking a smile. “If Y/n were home right now, she’d scold me for being so morbid. She doesn’t like when I talk about dying. She’d pull me into her arms, start listing reasons why it’s a waste of life to think about death. On my more stubborn emo days, she clings to me like a koala. Not a word of a lie. She’ll wrap her arms and legs around me and just talk. She once made it to like reason #56 that she thought I was adorable before I finally agreed to shower and leave the apartment. There’s no escaping the infectious joy she has inside her. I have yet to meet a single person who isn’t happier around her. I know a lot of you guys freak out whenever you hear dating rumors about me or see me with a female friend, but guys...you’re going to fucking love Y/n. So much. A handful of you guys already know her and I want to specifically thank you for keeping our secret. I’m just waiting for the photos you guys took with us to spread like wildfire now that it’s out in the open.”

Colby smiled, pulling out his phone to look at a picture the two of you had taken with a group of fans. “I’ll put this picture up on the screen so you can actually see it, but do you see this goober right here in the skeleton onesie? That’s y/n. You’re probably wondering why we’re all in our pajamas with a bunch of fans…Well that’s just a tiny glimpse into how kindhearted, selfless, and loving this girl is. We met a family one day while we were out. The two daughters and their friends happened to be fans of Sam and I. While I sat and talked to the girls for a minute, Y/n was sitting talking to their mom. Turns out these two girls had been through quite a rough year. The mom said that YouTube was what really kept them going. Y/n exchanged numbers with the mom and over the next few months kept in touch with the two girls. When the older sister’s birthday rolled around, Y/n had an idea. She talked with the mom and set up a little surprise movie night so that we could celebrate with the girls and their friends we had met with them. Her and Kat went out and got these goofy onesies for everyone, loads of snacks, games... Sam, Kat, Y/n, and I showed up and surprised them. It was awesome. Better than any Trap House party we’ve ever thrown.” Colby laughed.

Colby stared at the picture for a few seconds before locking his phone and putting it back in his pocket. “At this point, I already thought that I loved her. I was already convinced I had found my forever…but seeing her take time out of her insane schedule to go above and beyond to love on two random fans…When I tell you I was in awe of her, I mean it. I was a blushing, sweaty palmed, nervous boy. All night. The girl’s dad even pulled me to the side to whisper a ‘you’ve got it bad, kid’ to me.” Colby’s cheeks blushed with a hint of pink.

“And honestly? I have no fucking clue why she puts up with me.” Colby laughed. “I’m indecisive and clingy and moody. I can’t keep a schedule to save my life. I always need to be in control or I’m anxious or bail. And I never ever ever put my shoes away. I can’t tell you how many times Y/n has tripped trying to leave our kitchen because even though she’s asked me 200 times not to, I still leave my shoes right in the middle of the walkway. Yet every single day I find a new little note that she’s left me. Sometimes two or three on bad days. Actually, you know what? Be right back…”

Colby moved across the room to grab a photo-box full of papers. “Look at these.” He said, tipping the box to show you how full it was. He started reading some of them off. “Seeing you smile is my favorite way to start my day” “Your friends love you” “Your laughter is contagious” “You bring people joy” “Your ass looked great in those jeans last night” He laughed at that one, reading out one last note. “Strip away all of your fame and money and looks and what do you have left? The most accepting, honest, encouraging, and loving heart I’ve ever had the privilege of holding.” He stared at the piece of paper for a second before shrugging his shoulders and staring off into the other room. “Like I said, I have no clue what I did to deserve her.”

He moved to put the box back where he got it from and sat back down on the bed. “I know that a lot of you don’t like change. I know she’s going to get hate comments about loads of shit that either isn’t true or doesn’t matter. But do you want to know the truth? Neither of us care.” He smiled and shrugged his shoulders. “We aren’t worried. We’re happy. And God does it feel good to say that because throughout my YouTube career, the amount of times I’ve been able to say that with a straight face are far and few between. Something to know before you start writing that shitty hateful comment…Y/n is never ever going to reply to you with hate. It doesn’t matter how mean you are to her. It’s just not in her. She’s too loving. She’ll probably apologize that you feel the way you feel and then treat you with perfect kindness. She goes out of her way to build people up. So, remember that before you’re too quick to try and tear her down.”

Colby heard the apartment door open and made a wide eyed ‘oh shit’ face at the camera. “Hey, baby! Are you home?”

“In here!” Colby called.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” She apologized, seeing that she had interrupted him filming.

“Don’t worry.” Colby smiled up at her, reaching his arms out to invite her to sit on his lap for a moment. “I’ll just edit it out. What’s up?”

“This girl just moved in right above us and I want to go help her get settled. Her friend bailed on her and we have that bottle of red wine we’re never going to drink. Do you mind if I grab some snacks and the wine and go help her?” She asked, pressing a kiss to Colby’s cheek.

“Of course, I don’t mind, babe.” He slipped his arms tighter around her and kissed her lips. “I’ll text you when I’m done to see if you guys need help with anything heavy.”

“You’re too good to me.” She said, sliding off of his lap.

“I love you!” Colby called out after her, hearing her pack a bag full of snacks and grab the wine.

“I love you more!” he heard her call back. The apartment door closing behind her.

“I’m definitely not editing any of that out.” Colby laughed, looking back at the camera. “But do you see what I mean? That was a perfect example. One of like a thousand I could share. She so effortlessly walks into people’s lives and does whatever she can to help them.”

“I just realized you guys have no clue how we met.” Colby shook his head, laughing to himself. “So, you know those overnight videos we do with TFIL? Well we were once again being complete idiots and trying to sneak into this massive indoor sports arcade type place. Everyone had hidden except for me and I was about to get caught. I had climbed over this massive basketball free-throw cage thing and I was going to drop down behind it when the manager of the arcade started walking towards his office…right next to where I was hanging. This girl and I made eye contact and she recognized who I was. She obviously knew what I was up to. She started to laugh but quickly realized I was about to get caught. When the Manager went to step by her, she ‘stumbled’ into him and pretended to faint. Throwing in an ‘I don’t feel good’ right before hitting the ground for good measure. Her distraction gave me enough time to drop down behind the machine. When I peeked through the bars, I saw her ‘wake up’ and ask the manager if he could show here where the ski ball was like nothing had happened.” Colby snorted rolling his eyes. “She wasn’t the best actress on the planet, but she sure as hell had my attention. I spent the whole night annoying the rest of the guys trying to figure out how to find her and thank her. Talk to her. Turns out, it was easier than I thought. When we finally left at like 5 am, there was a little torn piece of paper tucked under my windshield wiper that said ‘you’re welcome’ and her phone number. Needless to say, I didn’t go to bed. I ended up meeting her at a diner where we talked so long, we ate both breakfast and lunch before parting ways. I’m usually a listener, you know? I know people see me in videos and think I’m crazy and loud 24/7, but I’m honestly usually the shy quiet kid sitting in the corner, people watching, and hoping no one notices me. But when I sat in that diner…I couldn’t shut up. It’s like she was pulling words out of me. I felt very…comfortable.”

Colby looked to be thinking about something for a moment, a soft smile on his face. “This video is partially for her and partially for you guys. I wanted to be able to introduce her before she just randomly started showing up in pictures or in videos. I didn’t want rumors about me ‘maybe’ dating her. I kind of wanted to spill my guts and talk about her to you guys because she’s the most important person in my life. And she doesn’t let me dote on her much, so I figured this was a good way to get it all out” he couldn’t help but smile. “I know you guys are going to love her. I know it. And I know she already loves all of you. It’s going to take her some time to get used to all of the attention, but I can’t tell you how happy it makes me to share her with you.”

“Y/n.” He faced the camera, speaking directly to her. “It would be impossible to list all of the things you’ve changed in my life. I know it sounds sappy as shit, but when poets say weird stuff like ‘the trees just looked different after meeting her’ I get it, now. It makes total sense to me. It’s like you reached down deep to the worst parts of me, shined a light on them, and loved me anyways…and I will never be able to actually explain how much I love you…But I will spend the rest of my life trying.”

#colby brock #colby brock imagine #colby brock x reader #colby brock fluff #colby brock oneshot

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