#but like in a coworker-mother-child kind of way

[astrogre]

People Represented in each House

Including niche examples

1H

Yourself, your persona. You as an individual. Your role models (projection of your ideal self)

2H

Business partners, business collaborators, acting/modelling/any agency you are under. Podcasters you listen to, literal social media influencers, salesman, your self esteem mentors,your real estate agent, your savings coach, your bank, your stockbroker

2H includes people who influence how you earn money. 2H represents people who can influence your personal values and your self esteem E.g a Ben Shapiro to a politically curious individual, the kardashians to a teenage girl. 2nd house can also represent people involved in the maintenance, acquisition and management of your possessions and finances

3H

Your siblings, your neighbours, your relatives like extended family, peers and acquaintances like the people in your class you know of but don’t talk to enough to say they’re your friend, peers, acquaintances, colleagues/coworkers, professors, educational teachers, speaking coach, language teacher

3H is related to intellectual pursuits, learning, just all forms of intellectual development, mercury sits well here. It’s about the people who you interact with daily as they influence your way of communication The individuals here would influence your communication style, interests and knowledge

4H

Your mother (mother figure if you don’t have a mother), your parents but particularly your mother figure, the collective of your whole family, ancestors, caregivers, people that live in your house like your flatmates, your housemates, housekeepers, butlers

4H represents the physical home, the mother, familial connections, nurturers etc. so the people here would be the ones living in it and those who have influence in your domestic life

5H

Your children, your inner child, you as a parent, your nieces, your nephews, romantic partners (short term), artistic partners E.g co-writers, collaborators, people involved in your projects, your students, your mentees, your investors, your hook up partners, people who you gamble or just play games with.

5H represents children, creativity, your mentoring to others, gambling, fun, joyful light love affairs, it’s also ruled by Leo. So we have these people involved with these themes

6H

Coworkers, colleagues, employees, staff (individuals who work under you or provide a service to you), your doctor, your contractors, your nurses, your teammates, your healthcare providers, your therapist, your career coach, your internship mentor, your assistants, your service providers, your pets, your gym colleagues, your fitness instructor, your nutritionist, your organiser, your HR department, your vet

6H represents work environment, daily routines, service, health and well-being, these are the people that you find under that setting

7H

Romantic partners, your spouse, life partner, your closest friends, confidants, allies, your supporters, your business partners, anyone you form a pact with, your clients, your customers (the kind you engage with in professional settings), your lawyers, your legal team, your competitors, your opponents, your matchmaker, your wedding planner, your relationship therapist

7H ruled by Libra represents all relationships that also includes bad ones btw, business relationships, marriage, 7H represents companions, partnerships, professional relationships, legal matters, professional representation so the people that fall under this house would be those that build relationships with you

8H

Financial partners/advisors, therapists, inheritors, beneficiaries (who you inherit from), occult teachers, your intimate long term sexual partners, your accountant, your councillors, your psychologist, your insurance agents, your estate planners, your morticians

8H is associated with death, sex, psychology, transformation, joint resources etc. and so these are the kind of people that 8H would represent

9H

Your professors, your teachers, your spiritual leaders, your priest, your pastor, your favourite scholars, your favourite philosophers, your lawyers, your judges, your legal advisors, your authors, your educational materials, your foreign friends, your foreign connections.

alike to 3H in education but 9H rules higher education so it’s an octave higher than 3H in terms of the teachers associated with it. 9H also represents justice and law so it would include people that work in this field that you encounter

10H

Your father, your boss, your mentor, your manager, people of authority, your parents (father in particular), influential figures you look up to, e.g your fave celebrities, government, politicians, your PR team, your publishers, you as a role model, your admirers like the people who look up to you, influencers, your business, icons

10H association with self-image and reputation and classic Saturn authority would include those who are involved in those themes

11H

Friends, peers. Social activists, humanitarians, philanthropists, inventors, forecasters, visionaries, leaders, community organisers, trendsetters

different from 3H in the sense that with 11H friends, you actually share the same goals and interests in mind whereas with 3H it’s mostly an exchange of communication about these parts of yourself and they are less as significant in your social life compared to 11H type of friends

12H

Spiritual beings, your religion, spiritual forces, your subconscious mind, artists, creative people, writers, hospital patients, prisoners, monks, religious people, volunteers, dreamers, charities.

12H represents those that can derive what is within their inner secluded world and bring it into reality. It’s associated with empathy, mental/spiritual state, seclusion and the bed. The people here would be those that would retreat, help others and tap into realms beyond the physical)

#astro placements #astro notes #astro posts #astrology #astrology observations #1st house #2nd house #3rd house #4th house #5th house #6th house #7th house #8th house #9th house #10th house #11th house #12th house #learning astrology #astro community #astro observations #people in the houses #what each house represents #houses in astrology

[gardenofnoah]

there are reasons why a body stays in motion

summary: you work too hard—kita knows it the second he meets you. he’s not expecting you to take him up on his offer. you don’t either, until you end up on his farm.

tags: shinsuke kita x reader, strangers to lovers, fluff, smut (oral, reader receiving), afab reader (no pronouns used, terms for body parts used("clit")), reader is a first responder, kita is a mother hen wc: 4.7k

the farmer’s market is quiet. mostly because it hasn’t opened yet.

you walk between stalls as the owners of them set up, smiling softly at those who greet you. it’s still a little dark out—the grass under your feet still a little dewy without a sun to warm it. if you were anyone else, you might still be in bed.

but you never made it to bed. in fact, you’ve been up for more hours than you care to count. that much is obvious by the way you sway slightly on your feet in front of Hanaka’s tomatoes.

“hey, you,” she murmurs, affectionate and maternal—reaching beneath the wood top to grab the coffee she’s brought you, as is your weekly tradition. “long night?”

“mm,” you hum around the plastic lid, tipping your head back. the coffee is a little bitter and a little grainy, but it doesn’t matter. truthfully, you’ve been up for so long that things are starting to lose their taste. in this case, that might be for the best. “on call. the phone just kept ringing.”

she nods, sympathy apparent on her face, and you know she understands. Hanaka is retired now—blissfully so, she says—but when you met, she was your coworker. she’d adopted you as some sort of pseudo-child, teaching you and looking out for you. it was a loss when she left, but you were happy she finally was getting to rest. when you found out she’d reserved a stall at the market, you made the effort to be there. even if it meant losing out on your rest.

“silly of you to come straight here,” she admonishes you sweetly, in the way that only she can. it makes you smile.

“and let the coffee get cold? never.”

she rolls her eyes, turning to busy herself with stacking deep green cucumbers into weaved baskets. you let your eyes roam the spread in front of you, reaching to brush a fingertip over the waxy skin of a tomato. your stomach growls—abrupt, and loud.

Hanaka snorts, shaking her head as she calibrates the scale. “head down the row,” she says, pointing in front of her without looking, “there’s a stand that does rice.”

you feel a bit like a zombie as you move among the crowd—still mostly vendors, until you can smell someone cooking. your feet bring you to a halt in front of a grey-haired man, shaping neat triangles of rice around what appears to be pickled cabbage and bean curd. your mouth waters.

"we're not quite open yet—oh." he pauses when he looks up at you, concern immediate and all over his face, "you need to sit down, darlin'?"

it makes you laugh. "is it that bad?"

he smiles at you, directing the man to his left to bring you a folding chair. you thank him, plopping unceremoniously into the seat. when you look up, there's an expertly assembled onigiri in your face.

"ah." it's warm in your fingers and you fight the urge to unhinge your jaw and shove the entire thing in your mouth. "thank you...?"

"Kita," he says, and his smile is kind in a way that feels a little disarming this early in the morning, "don't mention it. can't have you passin' out in front of my stall—s'bad for business."

you chuckle around a mouth full of rice—and holy shit, is it good. you try to tell him that, but to stop eating does not feel like an option. it makes him laugh.

"glad to hear it. can't take credit for the recipe—but the rice is from me."

"you're a farmer?"

"mm. have been for more than a few years now. just started comin' to the market though."

you nod, shoving the last of the onigiri in your mouth and greatly suppressing the urge to lick the stray bits of grain off your fingers.

he goes back to work, packing and shaping in a way that feels casual, but you have a hunch that the motions are some that he's practiced greatly. your lack of sleep emboldens you to let your eyes wander—his hands are calloused and careful, and it's obvious what he does just by the look of them. corded muscle flexes under sun tanned forearms as he shapes each onigiri with great focus, and you find yourself fascinated by the repetition.

"y'think you're closer to livin' now?"

you look up and find his eyes already on you, mirth all over his face. you grin, caught, warmth spreading up your neck.

"think so. what do i owe you?"

"nothin'," he waves you off, brown eyes crinkling. "just go take a nap."

you smile—warmed by his generosity. you get up and leave of rough estimate of coins on top of his register anyway. "see you later then, Kita."

.

..

later comes quicker than you thought. the very next week, as it turns out. you're a little more rested when you see him again, and it's the first thing he notices.

"y'look like you slept." he says by way of a greeting, handing you another perfectly formed onigiri—this time with pickled plum and what you suspect is salmon. it falls apart decadently in your mouth, the flavors complimentary and not overpowering against the rice. it's good.

"i did," you tell him around a mouth full, "wasn't on call last night."

he smiles, gentle around his eyes, as he watches you. "work?"

you nod. "social work—kids, mostly."

he crosses his arms over his chest, leaning against the counter. he considers you for a moment before he speaks again.

"so not sleepin' is normal for ya."

you shrug, avoiding his gaze. it's a little too early in the day to feel chastised by a man you only just met last week, even if he is admittedly a little handsome and insists on feeding you. he sighs, reaching for a stray piece of register paper.

"you like ducks?"

"like, the bird?" you look up at him, eyebrows arched in confusion. "yeah, i suppose i do."

he smiles down at the paper, scribbling a few lines down on it and handing it to you. "have a few babies that just hatched in the paddies. come by and see 'em if you ever feel like y'need a rest."

he waves you off, turning back to his work, and leaves you a little shellshocked as you look down at the paper. it has an address on it—for what you assume is his farm. you fold it neatly and push it down into the pocket of your jeans with the mental reminder of taking it out before you wash them. you shake your head, smiling to yourself as you turn and head back down the lane, dodging a few folks that are entering the market. you have a few hours before work—just enough time to knock out on the couch.

.

..

a few weeks later, you find yourself bouncing down a rocky lane, rice paddies on either side of the thin road. you figure you have to be in the right place, but feel a little nervous until you arrive to a little cabin at the end of the gravel, the numbers on your paper painted neatly on the side of the mailbox.

it's late—probably too late to be stopping by unannounced—but Kita didn't give you a phone number, and the day had been long. the thought of baby ducks and looking at anything that wasn't the blue light of your laptop felt like a lifeline.

he's leaning against the doorframe as you shut the car door behind you. you smile when you see him—maybe sneaking a little peak at the way his white t-shirt stretches around the biceps he has crossed over his chest. he doesn't say anything until you clear the porch steps.

"y'alright?" he asks quietly. it's a little startling—you're always careful not to let the effects of the day show. you feel exposed in front of him, and it has you shifting on your feet.

"i believe i was promised baby ducks."

the corners of his eyes crinkle and you find yourself genuinely charmed. he doesn't acknowledge your lack of an answer, and you're grateful for it.

"sit," he says, gesturing to a wooden rocker on the porch, "i'll grab 'em."

you do as he says, leaning back and taking in the view. the sun simmers a deep red on the horizon, bathing everything in it's hue. the paddies stretch on for what feels like miles. the house itself feels like an island—the one lane road it's only connection to life beyond it.

the rocker creaks as you push your toe against the porch, swaying gently back and forth. it's quiet, save for the chirp of the cicadas and the occasional bloat of a bullfrog. you jump when you feel something furry rub against your shin.

you look down and are greeted by an orange cat with the most round cheeks you've ever seen. old and a little ratty, it chirps at you, headbutting your leg.

"hello there," you smile, bending forward to scratch behind it's ears. "where'd you come from?"

"that's Barn Cat," Kita says, trudging up the wooden steps. "he hangs out in the fields."

you chuckle, looking up at him. "his name is Barn Cat?

"yup," his grin is contagious. you let your eyes roam around him, looking for the ducks he was supposed to get. they stop on the pouch he's created out of his shirt—widening as you hear several little quacks come from inside of it.

"hold out yer hands," he says, standing in front of you now. you do as your told, and a few seconds later, there's a teeny tiny baby in your palms.

"oh my god," you breathe, not quite able to wrap your brain around how something can be so small, "oh my god."

Kita chuckles, smiling when you look up at him. something about it brings you back to this moment—you're suddenly very aware that you've interrupted this man's evening and ordered him around at his own house.

"i'm sorry for showing up like this," you say quietly, running a fingertip over the downy-soft little body that's now nestled in your lap.

"no need. i'm glad yer here."

you can feel that the smile you give him doesn't quite reach your eyes, and you know that he notices.

"long day?"

you hum, watching the tiny duck tail twitch in its sleep. suddenly feeling a little envious of the rest it's able to get, and how simple its life will be. wake up, swim around, eat bugs, go to sleep. it won't ever think about anyone else. its little conscious will always be clear.

"yeah," you murmur. "it was."

he moves to sit down in the rocker next to you, smiling at the little duck that has taken up all of your attention. when you look up, his eyes are gentle and unwavering from yours. you're certain he's looking too deeply, but you know there's nothing you can do.

"i should get going," you say, mostly to convince yourself that it is true. Kita's mouth turns downward for only a moment, and then that soft smile is back again.

"give me yer phone," he murmurs, extending a hand toward you. you shrug, pulling it out and handing it to him. he types something quick and hands it back to you, Shinsuke Kita and a phone number on the screen.

"meant it when i said you can come by anytime," he tells you, hand lingering still in your space. "call me if ya need anything."

.

..

you get to texting, after that. it's funny—he's a man of few typed words, so you learn about his days through pictures. a criminally early shot of the rice paddies. the baby ducks that look bigger each day. Barn Cat sprawled out in the sun on the porch. dinner there, too—filleted tuna and rice under a waning sun. sometimes he calls, when your schedule allows it. the low timbre of his voice through the speaker frequently (and embarrassingly) lulls you to sleep. you have a hunch that he does it on purpose.

you've showed up at the farm enough times now that you're unable to use the excuse of the ducks anymore, especially now that they're bigger and far less cuddly, but neither of you acknowledge it. he starts showing you around. walks across narrow paths in the fields become excuses to bring you inside—into his home. the cabin is quaint and cozy, and decorated in a way that surprises you. pictures cover the walls—some of Kita as an adult, but mostly of Kita as a child, which makes him bashful and you smile. you stop at one of him as a chubby toddler, sitting in the lap of a woman he's clearly the spitting image of.

"that's gram," he says quietly, behind you. "this is her place. i moved out here when she got sick, and then i just..."

"stayed," you whisper, tracing the edge of the frame with your fingertip. he hums, closer to you now.

"didn't feel right t'leave."

you think it's admirable, but you don't want to embarrass him, so you keep it you yourself. he leads you down the hall, pointing out rooms as he goes—bathroom (you can't hide your surprise at the massive clawfoot tub in the center of it. he just shrugs, continuing down the hall—flushed up to his neck. it makes you smile.), guest room ("mostly unoccupied," he says, and you wonder if it was intentional). his bedroom is slightly larger than the guest room and considerably less decorated, but still tastefully so—the bed is large and looks temptingly soft, and the dresser adjacent to it is an antique, heavy and well-loved. you both linger in the doorway, coated in warm lamp light and shoulders brushing, not talking much and still saying a lot between you.

"you hungry?" he asks, voice a little gruff. you shrug, following him into the kitchen. you take a seat at the bar stool on the other side of the counter, watching him work.

he doesn't ask what you want and truthfully, you know he doesn't need to. there hasn't been a time yet that you haven't liked something Kita's made you. he moves with the same fluidity and grace he does at the market—he prepares your food with the same care, too. you watch him blatantly, this time. his brow furrows a little as he plates it. it's cute—it makes you ache.

you're expecting it to be good, but this is really good—unagi over rice, soft and chewy when it hits your tongue. you groan audibly, savoring each bite. Kita grins at you across the counter.

"good?" he asks, even though he doesn't need to.

you nod emphatically, not bothering to pause long enough to answer him.

"good." he looks awfully proud of himself. that ache twists in your chest again. "don't make it too often. glad ya like it."

it's quiet between you as you eat—you try to leave a few extra for him because he was nice enough to make you something so luxurious, but it's hard to stop yourself.

you linger in the cabin for the next hour or so, finding every reason to stay until you can't anymore.

"y'know," Kita mutters, looking a little shy, "yer welcome to stay in that guest bedroom. s'not like anyone else uses it."

he goes red immediately and it makes you smile. you fight yourself hard to keep from teasing him.

"i have to work early tomorrow," for the first time, that fact feels disappointing. "but i'd be happy to next time."

the smile he gives you leaves you a little breathless. "be careful gettin' home."

.

..

next time comes sooner than you thought it would.

the weekend comes and you shoot him a text, asking him what he's doing tonight. his reply comes immediately—whatever you're doing. come over—i'll cook.

you sit outside to watch the sunset after dinner. it goes down past the hills, extinguishing the light like the flame of a candle. you kick your feet out over the rail in front of you. the cicadas sing from their perches in the trees and the paddies look like an undulating, dark sea from where you sit. the only light is the dim bulb above your head, and the stars don’t pay it any mind. bright and shining, you can’t remember a time that you’ve seen so many.

“do you ever get lonely?”

he’s watching you—you can feel your skin warm where his gaze lingers, but you keep yours in front of you. Kita’s been the picture of hospitality, sweet in the way he’s shown care to you—but he’s seldom talked about himself. you feel vulnerable, toeing the line. he’s silent for a moment, and then it stretches on long enough that you start to regret asking.

“s’hard to, out here with all of this noise.” he says it lightheartedly, but you wonder if he’s deflecting. you have your answer a moment later when he says, quieter, “at night, mostly. y’notice when yer the only person for miles.”

you hum, picking at a splinter in the wooden arm of your chair. you feel the same, somehow. though you have trouble understanding how you can feel lonely being around as many people as you are. you tell him as much.

“they don’t really see you though, right?” he asks, but it’s rhetorical. “you help ‘em but it’s one sided. they remember what y'did but they don’t know who you are.”

it never fails to rattle you, his ability to see right through you. your face heats. “that’s the way it should be.”

“sure,” he says, smiling softly. “but it weighs on ya.”

you tuck your knees under your chin and close your eyes—frustrated, knowing that he's right and still wanting to fight him on it. you jump when his knuckles brush against your own.

"i didn't mean to upset ya, darlin'."

"you didn't," you murmur, shaking your head and willing your limbs to relax, "you're right. i just wish you weren't."

he smiles and keeps the back of his hand pressed to yours. it's a sonic interruption to the silence—you're so aware of the warmth of his skin that you feel it in your eardrums. you wonder if he can, too.

it's a while before you speak again—to bid him goodnight, even if you don't want to.

"goodnight, darlin'." his voice is low and soft, nearly a whisper over the cry of cicadas. you still hear it like he screamed it. "extra quilts're in the closet."

it makes you smile, how he can't help but make sure you're comfortable. it would be easy to mistake it for something else—something more.

"goodnight, Kita."

.

..

you get in the car and drive on muscle memory alone. eyes burning, you dial the number you now know by heart.

"hey darlin'," Kita's voice comes through the speaker like a warm blanket. it helps to settle you.

"hi," you croak, immediately wishing you'd taken a minute to get it together before you called him.

there's a pause. "you been cryin'?"

"only a little." you don't see a point in lying to him. "you around?"

"yeah, i'm here—where are you? i'll come get ya, don't want ya drivin' out here upset—"

you let out a wet laugh, shaking your head. "i'm alright, Kita. i'm already halfway there. i just wanted to let you know i'd be over."

there's another pause, and you can hear the way he's fighting with himself on the other end of the line.

"alright," he says finally, "be careful."

he's waiting on the porch steps when you pull up to the cabin. you're barely out of the car before he's pulling you into his chest. new tears threaten to spill over into the fabric of his shirt. you can feel the way he softens himself to hold you—like you'll shatter in his arms if he's not careful.

"c'mon," he whispers into your hair, "let's go in."

he takes your coat (and your shoes, and your bag) before he's pulling you closer again—keeping you tucked under his arm like something will swoop down and snatch you up if he's not careful. you'd laugh if you weren't soaking in every second of his affection like a sponge.

"can i run a bath for ya?" he asks, reaching to tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear. the callouses on his fingers brush the curve of it and it makes you shiver. you nod.

he only leaves you for a few moments before he's back, corralling you down the hall and into the bathroom. there's a pile of comfy sweats folded and set on the toilet, and a fluffy towel hanging on the hook.

"holler if ya need anything."

you smile at him, a little more genuine this time, and he leaves you to it. you strip the clothes from your body slowly, hoping that if you do it right, the day will come off with it. you sink down into the warmth of the water and sigh. your eyes start to burn again as you lean your head back on the rim of the tub, this time just at Kita's kindness. you feel guilty for relying on it.

you feel guilty knowing you've been keeping what's in your heart hidden from him.

you use his soap, knowing you'll smell like him—knowing it won't be enough to satiate the longing you feel, but doing it anyway. you're not sure when it started—if it hadn't been there all along—but it's been tearing up your insides for months. he makes it worse with the way he cares for you. it's almost cruel.

you drag yourself out of the tub eventually, drying off in record time just to be swallowed by his clothes , soft and warm and smelling of him. you brush your hair out in the mirror and tie it up on top of your head. you feel a little more like a person now.

Kita's up and hovering at the end of the hallway as soon as you open the bathroom door. you manage a little laugh this time—mostly content and only a little guilty, letting him mother hen over you. you close the distance between you, looping your arms around his middle. you feel him relax, just a little bit.

"you need to talk about it?" he asks, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and pulling you closer. you shake your head. "alright. come lay down."

he penguin walks you down the hall, grinning when you laugh. he moves right past the guest bedroom and into his.

he arranges you on the bed to his liking—cocooned in blankets and reclined against his pillows. he lays down next to you, on top of the comforter. respectful of your space, even if you wish he wasn't.

"thanks for taking care of me," you whisper, turning your head to look at him. "sorry for turning up like this."

his eyebrows knit together like he's never heard a more wrong thing in his life. "i'll have ya any way you turn up."

you blink at him, feeling like you've short circuited. you huff out a laugh, closing your eyes. "how unfair."

"mm?"

you open your eyes and feel stuck, pinned to the bed underneath his stare. there aren't many other options than to spill your guts onto his sheets.

"you make it hard not to love you, Kita."

he freezes, eyes locked on yours. your stomach ties and unties itself, but you can't look away.

it's another agonizing moment before either of you even breathes, and then you blink, and he's hovering over top of you, hands planted on either side of your head.

"say it again."

"i love you." it feels like the easiest thing you've ever said.

"tell me i've got it wrong," he rasps, leaning in to nose along your cheek.

"you don't."

your hand fists around the material of his shirt and you yank him down to your waiting mouth. it feels exactly the way you knew it would—warm and soft, not unlike the feeling you get every time you walk through his door. it’s gentle and unhurried, and you know he knows no other way. you let him break you apart slowly. 

he pulls away from your lips, only to press soft kisses to your cheeks, your chin, your brow bone. his mouth brushes against your temple and to your horror, you let out the world’s most pitiful little moan. 

his eyes go wide as he looks down at you, flushed and breathing hard beneath him. your fingers still tangled in his shirt, he closes his own around them and brings them to his lips. he keeps his eyes on you when presses them to the sensitive skin of the inside of your wrist. 

you feel no control of your reaction—your eyes flutter closed as the rest of you shudders underneath him. it’s so little and it’s almost too much. you know he’s figured you out when you’re able to meet his gaze again—deep brown filled with as much adoration as they are hunger. 

“tell me what you need, darlin’.”

"your mouth," you whimper, feeling hot.

"where?" his smile turns a little wicked, still pressed to your skin.

"everywhere."

if you were overwhelmed before, it would pale in comparison to this—his kisses turn hard and heavy, soft lips sucking harsh bruises into your skin. you keen and whine underneath him, writhing both toward and away from his searching mouth. he doesn't take his sweatshirt off of you—he just pushes it up to kiss every inch of skin it exposes. he only pauses to check in with you, only stopping for a second to ask half of a question you'd already started answering before he'd asked it.

he cradles your waist in strong, wide hands and bends down to lap at your navel, nipping sensitive flesh, tongue slipping inside the dip of your belly button.

your hips buck violently, whimpering into the crook of your elbow while you reach down to card your fingers through silver strands. you feel yourself making a mess of his sweatpants.

"please, Kita," you hiccup, nearly slurred in his onslaught. he hums against your skin and you feel it in your belly.

"s'alright sweetheart," he murmurs, pressing gentler kisses between your hipbones, taking the elastic of the sweatpants down with them. "i got ya."

he reduces you to something less than human with the hot slide of his mouth against the inside of your thighs, licking and sucking his way up to where you need him the most and then back down, too far away. it takes a wholly unreasonable amount of begging to get him there, and to get him to stay.

"please, please i just need—oh," your spine bows off the bed and then pulls taut at the feeling of his tongue sliding slowly through your wet heat. he lets out a groan at the taste of you, and you watch through hooded eyes as he grinds his hips into the mattress.

one hand keeps a steeled grip in his hair, and the other one sneaks under his sweatshirt to pull at your nipples. it's sensory overload—the feeling of the pebbled flesh under your fingers and the way Kita suckles gently on your clit has you squealing. he opens his mouth, panting and tongue lolled out, encouraging you to ride it. you don't need to be asked twice.

every snap of your hips against his face pulls a weak moan from him, and a louder one from you. everything is wet and hot and your thighs shake around his head with every drag of your achy clit across his tongue.

"Kita," you whimper, feeling the warmth start to spread, "gonna cum—i'm—"

it damn near melts you into the mattress. every muscle in your body contracts and then releases, leaving you immobile under his tongue. he holds your thighs apart, sucking on your clit while you shake and cry under him. it doesn't stop—every brush of his tongue pulls another dizzying contraction from deep inside you. he only relents when he's licked up every last drop of you.

he kisses his way back up your body and you feel like you're on fire. when he presses his lips to yours again, finally, it douses it. you only smolder underneath him now.

forehead pressed to his, you can't help but let out a little giggle. he grins, his pretty mouth pulled up in the corners, and presses another round of kisses to your jaw.

"i love you," you sigh, pulling him closer. he hums.

"i love you," he nips at the point of your chin, "and you're callin' out sick tomorrow."

there's nothing in your heart that wants to argue with him.

#something possessed me and wrote this today #sad? fuck a rice farmer #shinsuke kita x reader #shinsuke kita x you #shinsuke kita smut #haikyuu x reader #hq smut #hq fic #bea writes ♡

[rntoshi]

͏ ͏🔊 gepard landau (n): i caught feelings for a stripper.

/ • geppie makes his mother proud & spends his birthday at a gentleman’s club for the first time. he’s awkwardly charming.

similar: f reader, exotic dancer!reader, nudity, pining, 1.5k.

This wasn’t Gepard’s scene, anyone could tell simply by taking a look at his body language: tense shoulders, a firm hand on the glass that currently adorned a whiskey on the rocks, and an everlasting flush on his cheeks. Not from the alcohol but from the same he felt being in such a lewd place like this. His saccharine orbs seem so… bright and innocent compared to others. There’s almost a child-like wonder about him, something about him that feels incredibly naive— and yet it carries one of the biggest responsibilities in Belobog as the Silvermane Captain. It’s quite the paradox. The beloved Captain can lead thousands of men into war with monsters who have strength greater than any man, and yet here he is with sweat on the arch of his brow because he cannot look at the half nude women sashaying around him in the eye. Clumsy and awkward he is, like a golden retriever puppy.

But despite the shy protests that left his strawberry dusted, plump lips as his peers practically dragged him into the gentleman’s club— she had caught his eye.

The way he looks at her— it's taboo to say really but it's comparable to how a believer would look at an angel for the first time. Gepard doesn’t know what’s come over him but he cannot stop staring at the graceful beauty that was her body, angelic and dainty features that made up the composition of her face. God, it isn’t polite to stare— his mother and sister taught him well enough to know how to treat and respect women but here he was, ogling at the sweet faced angel on stage. With mouth slightly agape as he does so, he can’t help but to wonder about her. Who she was, where she came from..

It was amazing really; how she lured him in with only a mere glance and even then, who could have known that she had actually held eye contact with him and not someone else. Gepard found himself wanting to believe she looked at him. It would… make him feel special if she did. Ah, how silly was this predicament? Already finding himself getting wound up and thinking silly thoughts over a woman who he didn’t know, especially in a setting like this. Little did he know, his dear friends very well noticed how much of a liking he took to her— quickly finding her once she’d been done with her stage to ask if she’d been willing to grace their Captain with some one on one time. Of course, handing her a generous amount of cash before directing her to where Gepard had been blundering off.

“He’s cute..” She thinks to herself, watching him mindlessly fiddle with a slot machine in one of the more quiet corners of the venue.

Gepard would have never thought in a million years he’d ever find himself in a position such as this. Now looking directly down into her eyes as she looked up at him, painfully aware of her dainty hand reaching for his own.

“I hear you’re the birthday boy tonight.” She smiles as she takes his hand into her own— taking note of how long he stares at their now interlocked hands before he looks back at her. The blush on his cheeks was endearing to say the least.

“Yes,” He says. It’s simple and to the point, he has no clue what to say or do. It’s no real secret that he doesn’t have much experience talking to women with the exception of his family and coworkers— never in a remotely intimate setting. 

“Come on,” (Name) says softly as she gently guides him towards where the private rooms were. “Follow me, sweet face.”

“Do you.. do this often?” Gepard’s eyes very leave her own despite how she slowly slides off the straps of her bra— her hips moving in a hypnotic pattern to the sensual beat of the music as she does so. She’s beautiful but it's the kind of beauty that strikes someone in awe, a divine feminity that lures men, women and children alike.

“Do what?” There’s a small grin playing on her lips as she challenges him, she’s clearly amused and quite curious about how he’ll word his next choice of words. (Name) is fully aware of what he’s trying to get at, but she’s having too much fun seeing him squirm.

“…” Gepard looks embarrassed, almost like he doesn’t want to say the wrong thing or something offensive. It’s cute, really. She’ll save him the trouble though and stop giving him a little grief.

“Yes, I do.” (Name) answers. “Most nights.”

“I see..” Geprard trails off, averting his eyes from hers for a moment. He just can’t seem to bring himself to say it. “You’re beautiful.” It’s at the tip of his tongue threatening to spill like the most intense case of word vomit— it's simple enough so why can’t he tell her? It feels like some form of stage fright with the way he just freezes. There’s so much going through his mind and nothing at all, all at the same time.

(Name) finds herself sitting in his lap with her back facing him as she skillfully grinds her hips into his while she unclasped her frilly bra from behind. She’s quick to discard the garment with a little toss in front of her, smiling as she noticed how tightly he was grabbing the sides of the velvet couch from her peripherals.

“You can touch me, you know.” A soft smile graces her glossy lips as she gently grabs a hold of his wrists, placing his hands on the skin of her hips. “Are you comfortable with that?” Her voice is akin to a chirp— a short and high pitch cadence that’s sweet to the ears.

“Yes,” His replies are dry and he’s aware of that but more importantly, she doesn’t seem to mind much to his relief. It’s not that he’s trying to be curt— he’s just nervous. He’d be relieved to know that his replies being dry are the last thing of her worries. In fact, she thinks that he’s quite polite which is a rare commodity working in this industry. Not to mention, he’s very attractive— which is another luxury within itself. 

“Are.. are you okay with this?” He asks, his brows raising slightly. Despite her initiative, he didn’t want her to feel like she was obligated to do anything she didn’t want to do or felt like she had to do. Gepard had a heart of gold and it showed itself through not only his actions but his way of thinking.

“Of course.” God, she’s sweet— he felt his heart jumping out of his chest. Is this what the guys called “whipped?” No, no, that’s far more outdated. He believes they’re saying “simping” now. How odd.

“I apologize… my palms are quite sweaty.” Gepard says.

“Nervous?” (Name) looks over her shoulder at him for a moment.

“Mm.” He nods his head a single time to confirm before she speaks again,

“We can always have a conversation, if that’ll help ease your mind.” She suggests, now turning around to straddle his waist, pressing her bare chest against him. They meet eyes and there’s a small moment of silence as they look at each other— he seems as though he’s trying to figure out what to say all while in some sort of dream gaze while she has that little smile on her lips. Her head is tilted slightly as her hands rest on the broadness of his shoulders.

“What’s your name?” He asks. The question is sudden enough to elicit an interesting reaction from her— his brows furrowed in a confused little furrow as he hears her delightful giggle. She seems surprised at his question but he’s not sure why or what’s so funny about the question. It’s definitely forward, she’d give him that.

“It’s (Stage Name).” She answers— it’s not a lie but it's almost like she’s certain that it’s not the answer he wanted to hear. 

“No..” He says, a soft discontentment behind his tone. “Your real name..” Gepard’s eyes look as if they’re pleading, eager to know the name of the woman responsible for the heart pounding against his ribcage.

Poor thing, he’s not quite aware that stage name’s are in place for a reason but she holds no ill reaction when he presses. Maybe she feels intrigued herself, not fully opposed to the handsome stranger knowing her real name. There’s something about him that she’s attracted to— perhaps it's his awkwardness. It’s oddly charming.

Gepard always found himself predicting that he’d marry a nice girl from Overworld when the time permitted— maybe he’d meet her at the flower shop or a cafe and they would hit it off. One date leads to two and two leads to three— a beautiful relationship blossoming like tulips during the first sign of Spring. Interesting how things seem to play out, especially now as he’s developing a very real crush on a stripper from the Underworld. Jesus, what would mother think?

“Looks like our time’s up, blondie.” (Name) whispers against the lobe of his ear. “Visit me often, okay?”

© rntoshi 2023. do not modify or repost.

#┊ ➶ ｡˚ ° bria writes! #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #honkai x reader #hsr x reader #gepard landau #gepard x reader #gepard landau x reader #hoyoverse #honkai smut #honkai star rail smut #hsr smut #gepard smut #gepard landau smut #honkai #gepard

[fantastic-nonsense]

THANK YOU that co-parenting post was driving me crazy

Listen I let sooooooo many obviously fanon-based takes go at this point because not only is it way too much effort trying to respond to all of them, but I'm not that much of an asshole. But then there's just some things that transcend any possible scope of fanon/cultural osmosis-acquired "knowledge" and veer into "you have absolutely no clue what you're talking about and even just reading fandom takes couldn't get you here." And that post was definitely one of them.

Like, if it had just been a crack about the Bruce-Dick-Clark relationship I absolutely would have let it go, because despite it not being canon and Clark textually acting as Dick's pseudo-uncle there's a lot of basis for you to make jokes about Bruce and Clark co-parenting Dick in a lot of older Golden and Silver Age issues, particularly in World's Finest!

And I'm literally writing a fic that, in part, explores how Jason and Talia's canon relationship walks the boundary between "grudging allies and confidants" and "teacher/student" and "my dad's ex/my ex's kid' and "parent/child," so while it's not correct to say that Bruce is "co-parenting" Jason with Talia (he's most definitely not doing so) it's not exactly an objectively wrong conclusion to come to either.

But the rest of them? Just. The most baffling takes on the face of the planet. I don't understand where they got them and I don't understand why they felt so confident stating them the way they did. Leaving out Babs acting as Cass's surrogate mother, saying Bruce was co-parenting Tim with Shiva of all people over Jack Drake and Dana Winters, saying that Bruce was a parent or even a parental figure to Babs and Steph in any way, shape or form, adding in a random Bat-affiliated person as Duke's parent who not only is less than 5 years older than him and hasn't interacted with the core Batfam in nearly 5 years (because John Ridley is holding him hostage over in Jace's books) but has quite literally never canonically shared panel-time with Duke...just wild. Please just acknowledge that Bruce can be someone's coworker and/or mentor without being their parent and that the vast majority of the Batfam do in fact have other parents and parental figures that are not Bruce!

Kind of wonder what it's like in their brain, because I can't imagine the levels of active rejection of the source material required to get to the takes they got to.

#asks #dc fanwank #batman #batfam #dick grayson #bruce wayne #clark kent #duke thomas

[aspectabund007x]

"𝙑𝙊𝙄𝘿"- Platonic Yandere! Patrick Bateman x Son! reader

SYNOPSIS:

In which the American Psycho welcomes his offspring...

WARNINGS: Gore, murder, isolation, reader is seven, infidelity, insanity, this also makes no sense

Growing up, you were pampered by your parents, who loved you very much; you were their pride and joy.

Your Father would come home from work with your favorite kinds of toys, as your Mother would be in the kitchen preparing dinner. You’d run up to him in awe as she would watch the scene unfold in endearment.

Perfect family, right? Anyone would say that, but the three of you were genuinely happy. No facade unlike everyone else.

Alas, it would all change…

Christmas eve had arrived, and the wife of your Father’s coworker was holding a party. Every man came with their wife, children perhaps, some were just alone... 

Everyone there knew that you were the apple of Paul’s eye, and they could see why. You were an adorable child; curious, eager, kind…

You were playing with the other fellow children when you sensed someone’s gaze burning into your back. In instinct, you looked behind to see a man staring at you, no emotion evident. He seemed like one full of hollow, yet gorgeous at the same time. When he noticed you staring back, he smiled, one that never reached his eyes. It was your way of knowing if a person was truly happy or not. 

Your little trance was interrupted once you felt your Mother frantically lift you, muttering apologies as she hurried you into the car. Your Father kept arguing that it was ridiculous to leave an event so early, how disrespectful it was. But your Mother could not care any less, for she did not say a single word. Which was ironic, seeing as though she was one to fight back. 

Bedtime had arrived. Paul pecked you on the cheek as he tucked you in, not leaving before apologizing about his arguing with your Mother. You didn’t blame him, you too were confused. Your time of bonding with the other children was ruined. And she was always the one to tell you to make friends, so this greatly upset you.

Your mind suddenly shifted towards the strange man you encountered back at the party, wondering what he could have possibly wanted. The way he gazed at you with so much intensity, yet no emotion, caused your bones to endure an unpleasant feeling.

You woke up to your parents arguing. To understand what was going on, you decided to eavesdrop, despite your Father telling you once that it was impolite. You could hear your Mother repeating an ultimatum of not attending any of his coworker’s events again, whilst Paul talked over her in bewilderment. 

While your parents loved one another, they often had petty arguments, which would lead to them giving the cold shoulder for days.

This time, however, you blamed your Mother. Had it not been for her odd behavior this would have never occurred in the first place. You didn’t outright ignore her, but you were distant. And she knew.

It was just you and your nanny one night, for your Father was still at work, whereas your Mother was elsewhere. Your Father eventually returned, but your Mother never did. Her number was dialed multiple times, and fellow friends were questioned. But all attempts were to no avail, she was never found.

Your Father was never the same again because deep down he knew she was never going to return. Paranoia would consume him concerning your well-being, making him breathe down your neck constantly. Whenever you’d voice your frustration to your friends, they’d say that you had it lucky, as their parents didn’t do the parenting, but rather the servants. The only one who understood you was your nanny. Paul lost his wife, while you lost your Mother. Instead of providing moral support, he continuously leaned on your shoulder, only recognizing his pleas, not yours. 

It eventually led to alcoholism and him partying often with his friends, yet he still maintained decent money, surprisingly. While he never laid his hands on you, he did tend to be aggressive. Your nanny stressed about reporting him to child protective services, but you convinced her not to. You were an endearing little boy, something you inherited from your Mother. The thought of Paul being behind bars hurt your heart.

On a particular afternoon, your Father came home with company. He called for you to greet the guest.

You ran downstairs, not wanting to agitate him. Dread filled your mind, for the strange man from the Christmas party stood. You felt his gaze, except this time the look on his face seemed genuine. However, you could still sense something odd. Wanting to keep the peace, you were granted permission to leave and retreated to your bedroom. In two hours, you could hear faint chattering and laughter as your head was pressed against your Pillow, which lulled you to sleep. As your eyelids shut close, you could feel someone’s presence near.

To you and Paul, he was Marcus Halberstram. But behind closed doors, he was Patrick Bateman. 

Patrick Bateman was a man, one who was almost unreal. Physically? He existed. Emotionally? Absent. He was shallow and would feel little to nothing. The only emotions that consumed him were those that were vile. 

In a world like this, you cannot tell whether one is feigning grace or is genuine. You can surely predict. Patrick, however, realized something. Children are pure and full of innocence; they will speak what's in their heads. Which is why he was fascinated yet disgusted by them. He never thought that one of his hookups would result in his very own offspring. 

What infuriated him was that his worst rival was raising you, whilst you grew up for the past seven years thinking that this man is your Father.

From head to toe, he was perfect, even his pretense smile would captivate others. He was beautiful on the outside, but a beast on the inside. His fellow mates weren’t indifferent, they were just like him. Selfish, materialistic, pretentious, cruel… psychopaths. Except they didn’t kill. 

Deep down, he had a desire. A desire to maintain a meaningful relationship, to stand out the most. His life was a rather dreadful simulation: sleep, eat, work, compete, murder… He yearned to feel something… 

So when he came to know about your existence, he felt something he had never felt in a long time, he could not tell what it was. What he did know was that it brought him joy.

Perhaps the fact that he took part in creating a literal human being praised his ego. 

He yearned for some familial warmth, and you were most likely to grant it to him.

Patrick didn't even know that he came to admire you so much, to him you were an extension of himself.

“ I cannot comprehend the fact that I took part in creating an actual human being, it’s fascinating…”

He saw you as an accomplishment, a possession. 

Something to be shown off.

All his...

From head to toe…

Your heart beats because of him…

That being said, the thought of Paul getting to raise his pure son in glee while he'd internally suffer enraged him. Oh, but it would not be like that for too long...

~

The feeling of your Father's hand placed on your cheek so affectionately was now a faint memory, as well as your Mother's warm smile.

Tears poured down your swollen cheeks as you silently pleaded for things to be as it once was. Promising yourself that you'd no longer blame your Mother for the fight.

You recalled the sympathetic gaze on detective Kimball's face as he informed you about your parents' whereabouts. Paul's body was found in a quite expensive overnight bag, with his head chopped. While your Mother was found buried alive. 

A social worker, while finding you a place to stay, found out that Patrick Bateman was your Biological Father. And when he was offered custody, he gladly accepted. Almost as if he was prepared for it…

That day had been so odd. His face shone from the beads of sweat glistened by the sunshine. His eyes held a glimpse of panic as he gave short answers, followed by fast breathing.

She’d decided to cut the meeting short due to discomfort. As long as she was paid good money, it was not her problem.

The man who had been calling you his own wasn’t even your Father. Instead, it was the one who’d scare you away. 

You remembered one thing, people hardly had an identity of their own. Their mannerisms, hair, and style, were all very alike. Paul’s acquaintances, including himself, could almost twin one another; the arrogance in their voices, the expensive clothing, and accessories they’d cockily flaunt, competitive auras. 

You had realized. This was exactly why Paul and the others confused Patrick for Marcus because every single man is horrifyingly similar and one can almost not tell the difference. 

Nonetheless, he was delighted to have you in his care. He’d done so much just so you could be with him.

The moment he held you in his arms, his heart bruised and spiraled out of control. 

His Fiance, Evelyn Richards, bitched about having to deal with a child who was not hers, especially one out of wedlock. 

But what importance did she hold? The man was happy to have a living part of him around. So he ended things with her, after a fuss, that is. 

Just by looking at you, his madness began. You were his precious baby boy… and you rightfully belonged to him. 

No matter how many tears you shed, you had a new life now. Accepting it would make it easier, rather than missing what you thought was yours. 

People would question your existence, but Patrick would always shrug it off.

He was the kind of Father that would give his child the world with his money.

You enquired him about going to school. But he fought against it, he knew of the monsters that laid underneath one’s charming charisma. 

You were quite intelligent for your own age, which he never failed to show off… 

His pride and joy… 

~

“I KILLED PAUL ALLEN WITH AN AX IN THE FACE- HIS BODY IS DISSOLVING IN A BATHTUB IN HELL’S KITCHEN. I STABBED BELINDA ALLEN AND THEN I- FUCK! I BURIED HER SIX FEET UNDER AHAHA! BECAUSE THEY BOTH TOOK MY SON FROM ME- MY- SON! … When-when I first found out about him, he was- I don’t know- two or three years old… Belinda was married to Paul and slept with me, IT WAS A MOMENT OF NAKED BODIES AS WELL AS NAKED MINDS! I FELT SOMETHING WITH HER HOWARD- I DON’T KNOW WHAT- SHE WOULDN’T LET ME HAVE CUSTODY OF MY OWN SON- NOT EVEN TELL HIM WHO I WAS- FUCK! HE’S MINE HOWARD- TELL THE FUCKING JUDGE HE’S MINE!”

#platonic yandere #Yandere #patrick bateman x reader #American Pyscho

[milesfingers]

Outlast antagonists headcanons

I'm only considering the ones from the first game, because for the other ones I haven't much to say. I consider Father Martin a morally grey character so he isn't here.

Chris Walker

The little pig plush it's always been his confort toy since he was a child. When he came back from the war Chris used it to mourn himself to cope

If he wasn't killed in the underground laborator and managed to kill everyone there he eventually would stay in the asylum and kill anyone who came near the facility, becoming a sort of urban legend

He really wanted to kill Trager but he was too concentrated on Miles. He barelly know him but he's still very angry with every Murkoff employees to think straight

Chris surely knows everyone in the asylum, judging Father Martin's purpose as ridiculus.

Richard Trager

I actively decided to ignore canon so before the mutation he had grey hair tied in a ponytail and glasses

His dedication to self-learning medicine is at the point that he sewed a ton of cuts himself. Also he told peolpe that he was an actual doctor and convinced them to be analyzed by him

When was a regular employee Trager used to call "kiddo" any coworker younger than him

(I once saw a fanart of this on pinterest) I think Trager is the type of mindfucker that tells kids things like "Don't smoke kids, its dangerous” but then snorts cocaine

The Twins

Not much to say about those guys exept they were sigly abused by their negletful parents who leave scars on their bodies. Later the social services took them and entrusted them to another family, but the damage was already done

They always lived symbiosis, isolatimg themself from the rest of the world, Their adoptive parents tryed to help them, but slowly they gave up. Later the two brothers killed them

They decided to follow Father Martin for basically no reason. They think that being under his protection would have make them untouchable, somehow.

Eddie Gluskin

I am a horrible person and I hc his birthday as February 14th

While he was basically a serial killer, I like to think that he worked in a wedding dress shop. At some point of his life he dropped school and the owner of that shop thaught him how to sew and pack clothes. Eddie could have stabilized himself, but he was already too deranged

Eddie hates women that much because his mother always knew what his father and uncle done to him and when they get to prison she blames him for taking her husband away from her

I actually think he would be a decent father. Of course he's a borderline psychopath and would rise his child in a sick environment full of torture and murder, but I don't think he would ever hurt them (intentionally, at least)

Frank Manera

I do think he murdered his family and cooked them after years of instabiliy

When he went to the Mount Massive he was put in the hands of a pretty sadistic guard who basically starved him in order to "punish him in the proper way"

His hair turned gray due to the stress of captivity

Actually he managed to not being catch by the SWAT but later he died for some kind of diase because of eating raw human meat

Jeremy Blaire

This man screams daddy issues. Like, have y'all present the song "Are you satisfied?" by Marina? Yeah, that's Jer.

While he was friend with Trager he used to be very embarassed of him and his chaoticity. They went on golf club like any bored rich but Jer constantly avoied Trager at parties

Actually treats like shit EVERY employee that's not his superior, but he really targeted Waylon more than anyone. Like one time he challenged him to arm wrestling and kept him busy for an hour and a half to make him understand how a real man behaves

Example of a cisgender straight white male, bye

#outlast #outlast game #outlast whistleblower #waylon park #outlast headcanons #miles upshur #red barrels #eddie gluskin #richard trager #frank manera #jeremy blaire #the twins outlast #chris walker #headcanons outlast #outlast meme #blake langermann #outlast 2 #mount massive #father martin #outlast antagonists

[scintillyyy]

okay i am going to say something potentially controversial about sb94 now that i'm partway through and say that i think a lot of the big problems with it are exacerbated by the fact that karl kesel and ron marz had two different narratives they wanted to explore/tell regarding kon.

kesel very much wanted to explore the exploitation of the child star--and everyone around kon is exploiting him. rex is exploiting him for money and tana is exploiting him for her job. and i agree, kesel didn't go near hard enough in condemning the tana & kon relationship, but there are definitely nuggets there that the people around them knew it was shady and that the writers knew tana was wrong for pursuing it (you get her coworkers gossiping about her at the water cooler, her boss removing her from superboy stories because of conflict of interest, she's got a nasty look on her face while beefing with 16 year old girls, there's a decent amount of references to kon being underage the weekend before they get together she spends the whole weekend nagging and complaining about him before finally deciding to aggressively go for it when he's at his absolute lowest....i'm just saying that none of that comes across as particularly aspirational to most 16 year old boys lmao.). there's an expectation that as a working star, kon is expected to be an adult and have adult maturity despite being a child still. and nobody is protecting him because they probably don't see him as a human, let alone a child by the nature of his fame. who would be there to intervene and help anyway? everyone is exploiting him, they have something to gain from keeping him under their thumb, they're not there to protect him. some names you should consider while reading this part of the run are drew barrymore and brooke shields. in more recent memory, jennette mccurdy is another excellent one to consider. so when you ask why nobody is interventing and condemning characters like tana and knockout, it's the same reason nobody batted an eye at drew's mother giving her cocaine at 9. or brooke shields being in pretty baby. even today people get outraged at some 30 year old actor dating a 17 year old, but nobody ever actually intervenes in those situations to protect the child in question and the 30 year old is almost never punished socially or professionally for their skeezy behavior.

and immediately after the knockout storyline, you pivot over to ron marz. and marz very much preferred to explore the peter pan, never going to grow up, what is the humanity of a clone angle versus the child star angle. marz is the one who froze kon at 16 because he wanted to explore the peter pan angle of the boy who is not human and can't grow up and talk about the ramifications of cloning and humanness, makes the love triangle with tana and roxy really stupid and forefront to the narrative without ever touching on the exploitation angle of any of it, gets rid of rex and his exploitation of kon, and increases kon's immaturity as just a perverted teenage boy who is now the aggressor in the relationship vs the exploitee, and so you get almost this incongruence and inability to resolve the exploitation in any satisfactory way because the story has changed. kesel wanted to tell the story of a child star who was forced to grow up and mature too fast and marz the story of a boy who can't grow up at all. idk. and those narratives don't have to be diametrically opposed and, in fact, could work together interestingly for kon, but the way they're written really only serve to exacerbate the overall flaws and problems of the other.

add that to the fact that the themes they were going for weren't necessarily written well and were very, very 90s in their nature and you end up kind of being able to see how exactly that book ended up so problematic in so many ways.

#now i am only partially through my read i reserve the right to change my mind #but this is just my 2 cents so far

[manicpixiefelix]

Felix volunteering as a Christmas elf in a mall or Christmas village and omg, him in his costume is so adorable and he's having so much fun in the way only a filthy rich trust fund kid can. There's a huge line of girls who just want to talk to him

okay but this is fantastic as someone who's worked as a santa's elf myself, i can picture this so well

because Felix makes it absolutely magical for the kids, always fully committed to the bit, treating them like absolute royalty and matching their excited energy to meet Santa. there's a line of girls for felix, yes, but there's also countless mothers who see this wonderful young man interacting with their kids and they suddenly feel like a teenager with a crush for the five minutes they get to interact with him.

there's a few different people who play santa throughout the week and Felix get to know them all. they're fond of his enthusiasm and he comes to love how many of them do this despite the low pay because it's worth it to make the children happy.

felix spending down time on a slow day sitting down like a little kid on the christmas set, listening to the santas tell stories about their favourite moments from the past few years since they'd started dressing as santa. he's so caught up in the magic of it all.

that being said, there's a few other elves that he works with and while they're all kind, not all of them can or want to match his energy. he also gets the nickname Buddy from the 2003 movie Elf, where Will Ferrell plays a human 'elf' who is much taller than all the actual elves. you get the idea. he also gets called this (at first jokingly) by quite a few of the people who come to meet Santa for the exact same reason. he's a very tall elf. i love him.

the other elves will always push felix towards the nervous or bratty children, as he's kind of magic at getting them settled.

while the other elves he works with quickly become immune to his nonsense and most of his charms, the one that sometimes catches people off guard is whenever he offers to hold babies of often frantic mothers, who usually have quite a few children to try and get settled in with Santa.

please im begging you, picture felix in an elf outfit, gently cradling and rocking a crying child, smiling so warmly down at the little baby in his arms, softly cooing 'it's alright, you're going to be such a perfect little angel for santa, aren't you?" and being so pleased when the baby stops crying and babbling at him. the mother is both surprised and relieved, and felix just shrugs like it's the easiest thing in the world, telling her it's no trouble at all.

however the minute someone mentions that he's going to be a good dad, he gets this panicked look that alarms his coworkers. they never bring that idea up again. (he's like 18 of course he panics lol)

felix being both flattered and horrified by his groupies, since most of them are teenage girls who try and flirt with him using christmas-themed pick up lines and he's never had to deal with being hit on at work before but It's Not Fun. yes the other elves find his predicament endlessly funny, but they do also cover for him without question when he gets too uncomfortable and needs to hide around the back of the set. they can, will, and have called security on his behalf and they will do it again.

it's for this reason that their team especially grows to be very close and quite good friends over the season. a lot of the older elves, or even just those who have been doing it a few years and may have some similar experiences (though usually not as frequent or as intense as felix's) become very protective over him. they get drinks together, and exchange little christmas gifts at the end of the season. felix is very excited to get all of his coworkers gifts, he picks them out all special and personalised on his day off. when he puts effort in, i genuinely believe felix could be a fantastic gift giver.... however i also believe he doesn't get invested often enough in the idea of given presents for that to be much of a known fact about him. in fact, i think his family believes he's terrible at giving gifts. anyways.

just...... christmas elf!felix being so enamoured by the magic of it all, even in the middle of a busy shopping mall. he so would be.

#felix catton x reader #felix catton imagine #saltburn x reader #saltburn imagine #felix cattons adventures in employment #it shouts back

[outletcrash]

My poison ivy! I'm extremely proud of this. backstory under the cut :)

its been in the back of my head that ivy is indian since forever. i literally have no clue why its just There. she's tamil specifically, because i have favoritism regarding the script its written with.. it tickles my brain...

anyways heres my Poison Ivy: Origins comic i made last night in like 3 hours.

(theres a section here on her early life and the backstory of her parents that im still workshopping. basically she was a bastard child that only her mom supported and they left for gotham)

Bhavani got a job as an accountant for a law firm on recommendation from an uncle who had a company that worked in Gotham (he was kinder to the pair). She was always gifted in math. Bhavani raised her daughter the best way she knew how, even without the support of her family. 

Pamela (now nicknamed Ivy due to multiple kids misreading her last name as Ivy. And she was very nature-focused even as a kid, digging in the dirt and identifying different kinds of trees using books she got at the Gotham Library with her mother) excelled in school, surpassing most of her peers. The pursuit of knowledge was the one thing she enjoyed. Her classmates were sticky and loud and irritating, and when she wasn’t ignoring them she was tying their shoelaces together as revenge for talking too loud during quiet time. She managed to make just enough casual friends to not worry her mother too deeply, but this was the start of a downward spiral.

She lost friends, and not many could take on the effort of befriending her. She lost herself in biology, the study of life. Especially plants and conservation. Plants were just so… simple, compared to human society. But their structures and functions and genetics were fascinating. She skipped grades to take higher-level classes on genetics. Her grades were phenomenal but her social skills were extremely underdeveloped. Not like Ivy cared. Humans were a plague on this earth, pumping the atmosphere with CO2 and poisoning rivers and cutting down forests. In her mind, they did nothing but harm the serenity of nature she so cherished. 

After graduating with a PHD and doctorate, she got a job as a genetic engineer. She studied alternative ways to help regrow ecosystems after deforestation. Her Gotham University coworkers were wary around Ivy. She was a woman none of them knew anything about, who would say ecoterrorist-aligned comments offhandedly the few times she ever spoke. 

Ivy was working on a genetically engineered plant on the day of the accident. It was designed to nurture plant species by sending chemical signals, and it took in energy through waste products left by deforestation and manufacturing. At least, in theory. 

Ivy was working all alone in the lab at 2am. She hadn’t slept for hours, she was so close to her breakthrough. She was so close to making those billionaire bastards pay for what they did to the earth. She wasn’t wearing proper safety equipment nor using proper containment procedures during the incident. And as such, she was infected. The plant didn’t just take in waste material, it took in living flesh. Ivy’s cells were transformed in a gruesome fashion, her entire genetic code was re-written as it spread through her body. Her skin was green and her lab coat was bloody. Her newly-red hair flowed behind her as she escaped the lab, running through university grounds. Each footstep brought grass and dandelions cracking through the concrete in full bloom. Trees and grass grew to get closer to her, reaching for her. 

Ivys powers were completely out of control. She was crying and hyperventilating as her mind was warped. It had given her a need for flesh. When she made it to Robinson park, she couldn’t overcome the primal instinct. Plants still crawling at her ankles, and she killed a squirrel with her bare hands and ate it raw. This only fueled her fractured mind to want more. Ivy's first ever murder was a pedestrian, who just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. He tried to flee when he saw a bloody green woman with a squirrel carcass in her mouth, but it was to no avail. He was strangled to death with poison ivy vines, and eaten. 

Finally, the primal instinct was satiated. Ivy escaped to a warehouse in the industrial district of Old Gotham. She tended to her injuries as best she could, soon discovering she had healing abilities. The injuries from her being torn apart had already mostly healed. She slept on an old couch, dreaming about what she could use these powers for. 

When the news broke on the mysterious and grisly death of a random pedestrian, the media was all over it. Since he was killed by poison ivy, and from security footage the culprit was seemingly a woman, the media dubbed her Poison Ivy. Many believed it wasn’t possible, and that the footage was faked, but the GCPD was stumped. 

Batman looked through the footage and, by process of elimination (matching the appearances of the scientists who had access to the laboratory, keycard scanners throughout that day and evening, as well as their known affiliations and potential criminal history. Two of them did deal weed but it was nonviolent and they didn’t match the woman in the tapes.) 

Dr. Pamela Iyer was the clear suspect. She matched the woman's appearance (besides the green skin and hair, she was a tall woman with long straight hair and a flat nose.) Batman interviewed her coworkers and found she had a history of being antisocial with eco terrorist beliefs. None of them knew where she lived, however. And when the bat interviewed her mother (the only person her coworkers had ever heard her speak to in a positive light) she was very concerned. Suspicious of Batman, clearly, but worried for her precious daughter's well being. She said that Pamela had always loved being near nature, and that she didn’t care for the quality of structure she had to stay in. But other than that, her mother couldn't help. She does bring out the intimidating motherly stare at Batman, making him promise to bring her daughter home safely. 

From here, Batman goes on a search. He prowls rooftops and streets and uses the grappling hook for fast travel. All while monitoring city-wide security cameras (thanks Alfred!) and paying attention to police radio. He stops muggings and thefts and helps get a cat out of a tree as he scans Old Gotham. 

He came to the conclusion Poison Ivy must be in Old Gotham due to damage on the Robinson Park Bridge, connecting Somerset with the southern island. The damage matched with what had been seen on the sidewalks and streets near the University and the scene of the crime. Dandelions and crabgrass taking the shape of human footprints, cracking through concrete. Batman notices some trees down a certain alleyway in the east streets are warped inwards. Very similar to the trees in the park and university. He follows the unusual growth pattern of the trees, like they were hands outstretching to reach a light source. 

There, he finds an old warehouse. He scales the building with a grappling hook, not wanting to be ambushed on the lower levels if he enters on the boarded up front door.  Entering through an old broken skylight, he finds what must've been a long abandoned drug dealer hideout covered in fresh blood. Very, very carefully, he examines the scene. But there's nobody there. She just got away, her blood on the rotting old sofa is still warm. He also notes three strands of long red hair, which he places in crime scene baggies for DNA analysis. 

His current theory is that the doctor was mutated by her own research. He read her notes and the plant she was experimenting with was extremely dangerous. And the security footage (before it cut out during what he believes was the time of the accident) showed her using improper safety equipment. 

He’s on patrol for hours, but can’t find any sign of her. 

That night, Bruce synthesizes a pesticide-like chemical that could prevent Ivy's powers. However, he talks to Alfred about how the plant would adapt to it almost like a bacteria, and that it might not be effective more than once. 

The next morning Bruce Wayne is scheduled for a charity event. Many rich people are there tied to a business venture Wayne was not aware of. The event was for funding for healthcare systems in Gotham. Little does he know, this is the exact place Ivy plans to attack. She’s hated the rich for years and many politicians and businessmen that support an amazon rainforest deforestation project are there. 

She interrupts their little charity event at a historical building in the financial district of old gotham with a surprise. Ivy broke into one of her old greenhouses at the university, taking small samples of extremely poisonous amazon rainforest plants with her. This happened quickly and silently while Bruce was still at the function. 

Ivy crashed through the large art-nouveau stained glass windows, supported by giant vines. She is lifted down the staircase like she was floating, more vines and deadly plants crawling in from the giant hole in the glass, moonlight from the full moon peeking through the clouds and illuminating her entrance. London Planetrees from around the building grow in front of doors, sealing all the possible exits. 

All of the rich and fancy people in dresses and suits meandering around the building are screaming and trying to run, which is when a mad-with-power Ivy releases her plants. 

They grow to gargantuan sizes in moments, releasing toxic spores and fumes and burning people's skin. Ivy finds the most heinous offenders of the rainforest bill and feeds them deadly plants by hand, graphic symptoms ensue. 

In the pandemonium, Bruce pulls out some tree facts about the flammability of a certain species, managing to throw a fire source directly at it as a diversion before escaping through a vent in the opposite wing of the hall. Alfred is already outside with the Batsuit, he brought it as soon as he learned of the attack. 

Bruce suits up and re-enters. It's a grueling and difficult battle, the most difficult he has fought so far. He manages to spray Ivy with the chemical, and she goes down, all the plants in the hall going still. The excessive toxic fumes suddenly go back to normal levels. Bruce uses an extremely strong tranquilizer on her, she’s still fighting to get up. Finally, Ivy is defeated.

Almost the whole charity gathering was injured in the attack with seven people dead and immense damage done to the structure of the historical hall. 

Ivy’s powers are sedated and she’s taken into police custody, where she is deemed insane. Half of the insanity conviction was her actual insanity and the other half was that Arkham is the only facility capable of holding her, especially since it’s located on an island. Batman agrees with Jim Gordon on this comment. 

Ivy didn’t say anything during her trial, silently glaring with little remorse. The physician diagnosed her with ASPD (which wasn’t right but it's on her legal documents.)

The comic ends with Ivy in Arkham, talking about the rich swine tearing apart the world, and how she finally has the power to stop them. How she can feel the mutation inside of her slowly winning against the sedative drugs, adapting and consuming the chemical to turn it into energy as it was designed to do. How she will return the world to ecologic harmony, with her own hands. It ends with her in the Arkham cafeteria, staring at a mysterious blonde prisoner a few tables across…

the writing isn't like, a fanfiction. its a guideline for a comic in a series of origins comics im planning. do not get your hopes up these'll be done in like, 10-20 years at my current speed. i have a scarecrow and riddler outline in the works, and plans for a batman, joker, harley quinn and probably a penguin comic eventually. and more villians. once i'm done with all the origins comics i'll be doing like, a regular batman series. just for fun yknow.

#poison ivy #pamela isley #the blonde woman was harley this is 100% a harlivy endgame universe #dc fanart #gotham rouges #harlivy #dc #poison ivy fanart #this plant creature and this gay girl wanna FUCK #ivys the type of fucked up fool to get gender euphoria from being called a critter. an organism even #just like me fr.... #harley steals blood donor bags from local hospitals on ivys birthday its like cannibal wine tasting #ivys a cannibal she has to eat raw meat but she doesnt have to eat human meat #its like 2 birds with one stone to her yknow

[piosplayhouse]

This didn’t quite fit into my response to the mpreg survey, but I’ve been thinking about it and wanted to mention it to you somewhere— I’ve noticed that a lot of mpreg content has a passive or even overtly pro-life stance. The most dramatic outliers are what stick with me ofc (I once read a fic where Shen Jiu said he wouldn’t get an abortion because “he’s not a child murderer”. The irony.) but for they most part it’s just a subtle slant. Do you think this is caused by the fact that, by the plot’s necessity, they gotta force their blorbo to have that baby (inserting moral objections to abortion like a horror movie inserts reasons for cell phones not to work)? Do you think that people with that belief set are more likely to have a pregnancy kink? Do you have other ideas for causes I’m not considering?

Ok I can only speak to things I've read and other responses I've seen (that fic sounds so ?????) so I do have to say the majority of things I've read (esp in scum villain) are mostly pro choice leaning where if a character gets pregnant they're given the chance to abort and usually don't take it (insert sy voice binghe I would never abort you) (however I do remember reading a wangxian fic where lwj drives his coworker wwx to a clinic to get an abortion (pre wangxian relationship) because lwj wanted to support wwx in his decision bc lwj was horrified that his mother was never given a choice on whether or not she wanted to be a mother and suffered a lot because of that, which was a really interesting subversion on the topic I think)

There is a trend I've seen in the responses to the poll where some people appreciate mpreg as a genre that takes bodily autonomy to a sort of emphasized issue, particularly outside of omegaverse/transfic (responses on whether or not people see trans pregnancies as mpreg were actually pretty even from all demographic groups) where there's this heightened sense of unexpectedness and urgency to the idea of pregnancy. As far as I know, there are a nonzero amount of people who use this framework to work through their own issues with a sense of detachment-- for example, many people mentioned having pro-life family members in real life who are pressuring them to get pregnant, and they like mpreg that either subverts that idea (what if a character was given the space to get pregnant on their own terms with full family support) or portrays it to an extreme (what if a character was being forced to not abort) but from the safe distance of fiction where they can just pull away whenever things get too real. It gives them a sense of agency and control over a situation that in real life they don't have control over, similar to how a lot of trauma kinks work.

Of course, there are equal numbers of people who are vehemently uncomfortable with that as well, so that should be considered too. On a broader demographic level, since much of fandom skews (unfortunately) American, there's also of course the probability that a lot of people have just grown up with heavy evangelical pro-life beliefs/influences, and this either consciously or subconsciously affects the way they view pregnancy as a topic. In terms of the actual heavy pro-life evangelicals, I think the majority of them would be opposed to mpreg on the basis of lgbt topics (lol) but it has been long speculated that quiverfull movement and adjacent adherent people do have some form of pregnancy kink that unfortunately they work out in real life on real children rather than in fiction, based on how they treat their coming baby/themselves while pregnant versus how they actually treat their children when they come out (unfortunately very poorly in most cases)

Anywayy that's all kind of speculation, but I hope that helps a little bit. There are always people with a billion different reasons for everything, and it would be impossible to capture those all in the span of a Tumblr ask response, but I hope this gives you something to chew on! If anyone else would like to add things to this feel free to reply or reblog or send another ask with your thoughts, it would be much appreciated :)

#tw mpreg #mpreg #tw abortion #abortion #long post #long posts

[sunflowersandsapphires]

Waiting for the Storm

Prologue

Series Masterlist Chapter 1

pairing: Michael Kinsella x fem!Reader 

summary: "If you spend your whole life waiting for the storm, you'll never enjoy the sunshine." -Morris West

When Michael's release day finally arrives, he isn't too optimistic about his future. The most he's hoping for is a relationship with his daughter and a new path forward. The world, however, has bigger plans for him after he meets a timid, yet lovely, children's book illustrator who has more in common with him than it seems.

warnings: swearing, emotional and physical abuse (very brief descriptions here but these will be recurring themes in this story), descriptions of prison, descriptions of family loss

a/n: Ahhhh! My first Mikey story because I FINALLY had inspiration. I am way too excited about this WIP so I really hope this lil tidbit gets y'all intrigued! The general vibes will be fluff and hurt/comfort because Mikey deserves to be comforted. I hope you all enjoy!

w/c: ~900

There was something comforting about the rain. Peaceful and cleansing. Water vapor rising unburdened by the impurities of the ground to the heavens and falling back again like a gift, washing away the sins below with every splattering drop. 

When she was a child, the other girls bemoaned their hometown’s climate and constant precipitation. “Rain brings noise, and floods, and mud, and worms!” They’d lament to her after every storm. She never knew how to tell them that none of those consequences bothered her. 

Floods were rare, and more a symptom of poor drainage systems than the rain itself. Mud was mostly avoidable, and easy to wash away. Worms were necessary for composting and agriculture, not to mention completely harmless. 

The noise, well, this she understood. When she was a toddler the loud smashes of thunder and cracks of lightning terrified her too—scaring her under the covers night after night, hands clamped over her ears. But then her life became less quiet, and the storms were less loud by comparison. 

See when your home is full of screaming, and crying,  and the echoing slap of skin hitting skin, thunder is a lot more appealing. It’s easy to focus on. If you try hard enough, you can let it drown out the sounds of your father putting another hole in the drywall, of your mother’s car pulling out of the driveway for the last time—the tires screeching as she leaves you behind.  

The spattering of rain against the windows became her anchor whenever the universe was kind enough to offer it to her. When her father rages around the house, destroying every trace of his estranged wife, she would lay in bed—eyes glued to the droplets splashing against the glass. 

On the especially bad nights, she pictured a safe haven: a set of cliffs, composed of worn shale threaded with lush green grass. She could feel the cracked sandstone through the fabric of her pajamas as she sat along the edge. Fat raindrops drenched her scalp, trailing down her face, over her heavy eyelids and exposed collar bone. The ground beneath her grew increasingly damp, each swirl of water wafting the scent of petrichor towards her nose. Somewhere in the distance, waves crested over rocks—the sound getting lost in the patter of the rain. 

As she aged, she continued to dream of this place. Throughout her tumultuous teenage years and every disagreement with her father. Each and every time she felt lonely after moving to another, sunnier, state for her bachelor’s degree. 

The image was especially helpful as her relationship with Xavier turned sour. Every insult, threat, and smack fading into the drum of raindrops on rock. She’d lay awake at night, bruises blooming on her limbs, imagining the rain. 

And it was the steady pounding of droplets on the roof that gave her the courage to pack her things and leave. Trekking across town, over multiple bus routes, until she stood her friendly coworker’s doorstep—soaked to the bone, and more unhurried than she’d been in years, all thanks to the rain. 

Michael had never minded the rain. A symptom of living in Dublin his whole life, he supposed. When every other day brought a shield of clouds over the sun, you adjusted or you fled to brighter pastures. 

He sure as hell didn’t mind it when he was in his cell, listening to the jeers and yelling of the other prisoners night after fucking night. The thrum of raindrops against cinderblock were a welcomed static noise. 

At first, he was grateful for the solitude of his protected status. It gave him time to grieve the loss of his wife, to repent for his hand in her death. His stint in prison meant he was temporarily relieved of the burden placed on his shoulders by the family and it gave him time to grow and reflect. 

But it also meant losing Anna, grieving and spiraling on his own for eight excruciating years, and being closer to his father than he’d ever wanted to be again. It meant that he’d lost everything that mattered, because he’d been too careless to protect it. 

He missed freedom. He missed his family, his daughter more than anything. He missed fresh air, and hot water, and home cooked meals. He wanted to feel the wind against his chest, the rain on his face, anything but the stale breath of hundreds of other prisoners and the bite of the cool cement against his back as he drifted off. 

His release day approached slowly, at first. But after the first few years, the days began to blend together. Seasons rolling by like a strip of film in a projector, bursts of green coming and going as the plants in the sparse outdoor yard sprouted and died. The tunnel was quickly ending, but he wasn’t yet sure if there was light at the end of it. 

Regardless of what lay waiting for him outside of those gates, he’d regain his autonomy, he’d try to see Anna, he’d try to move forward. 

This is what the rain sounded like, when it pounded against the foundation of the prison. It sounded like liberty, like family, like achievable peace. 

If he could feel the rain again, he could keep going. And he would.

#michael kinsella #michael kinsella x reader #michael kinsella x you #mikey kinsella #kin rte #kin amc #kin bbc #charlie cox #mk #my writing #WFTS

[haitaniapologist]

A CHRISTMAS MIRACLE. ( zhongli x reader )

╰┈➤ you always believed in christmas miracles, but he took this concept to another level for you.

pairings — zhongli x fem!reader.

warnings — reader and zhongli are single parents before meeting each other, t*xic relationship (not with zhongli), mentions of domestic v*olence and ch*ating, a bit of misogyny and overall prejudice of the society with single mothers, fluff with children and between the parents, sugestiveness at the end.

word count — 5k

notes — this is a repost from the beggining of the year bc i had some problems back then, but this fic was supposed to be a christmas one and for zhongli's birthday. either way, it's now here! reblogs and feedbacks are appreacited <3

you’ve always loved christmas. 

it was a time when everything was magical, especially when you were a child, but such a magic didn’t die when you were growing up — it actually only grew, especially after you had your daughter. her father, your ex-husband, wasn’t the biggest fan of christmas. zandik was a doctor, and a logical one, and he almost spilled to your daughter that santa wasn’t real in the last christmas you three spent as a family, though you couldn’t tell if he was being mean or the idea of santa claus was so illogical that he didn’t comprehend why your daughter should believe it. 

either way, nahida still believed in santa, and you were sure your boyfriend and his children would do anything to keep such magic in your daughter’s life — and you couldn’t be more grateful. 

ganyu and xiao were two sweet hearts, accepting to go shopping with you to buy presents for your daughter and their father. it was a tradition that was passed down from your father to you, always bringing you along when he went to buy presents for your mother and siblings — you loved nothing more than to choose what they would be given, and seeing their eyes lighten up with the perfect gifts you had chosen. you used to take nahida with you, too, when you and zandik were still together, and you knew she loved to see the small smile on her father’s face when he opened his gift and saw the shirt or the new white coat his daughter had chosen for him. 

but that was in the past now, and your ex-husband didn’t want anything to do with nahida now. 

it was a shame, though. despite the bad way your relationship ended — with him cheating on you with one of his coworkers while you stayed at home taking care of your little treasure and doing everything to please him — nahida was still his daughter, a child that he had spent hours and hours talking when she was still in your belly, a child that he had treasured and did lots and lots of plans with you while she laid on his bare chest in a warm night of summer. but ever since your divorce, he hadn’t made any effort to be present in his daughter’s life again, but it didn’t seem like nahida was missing him. 

your boyfriend was a better father figure to her, anyway. 

after your divorce, you didn’t have anywhere to be — your ex husband made you quit your job after you got pregnant, so you could put all your energy into taking care of your baby and raising her the bestest you could. your best friends, cyno and tighnari, offered you a place to stay until you had a job and a good income to be able to live on your own with nahida, and you couldn’t be more grateful to them. if it wasn’t for them, you wouldn’t have been hired in your boyfriend’s company as his secretary and become the neighbor of his younger brother, who played matchmaker for the both of you. 

zhongli was a kind boss, always understanding when you needed to call a sick day whenever nahida needed you, to the point that rumors about your involvement began even before you two were actually together.

apparently, he had always looked at you with a lovestruck expression that everybody saw except you — because, in your head, how could a man as successful as him, as handsome and kind as him, would look at you with love in his eyes instead of pity? with a failed marriage and a little girl to take care of, you had already made up your mind that you would never find love again. but zhongli was stubborn and would do anything to show you that he was different than your ex-husband, his plan coming to fruition when you found a job in your actual line of field, with venti’s and ei’s help. 

you were, at first, a bit hesitant in opening your heart again for another man. but you came to know that you and zhongli had passed by the same situation, a cheating wife that left him for her new affair, leaving two small children for him to take care of. if it wasn’t for venti and ei, in the words of the said younger brother of your ex boss, zhongli wouldn’t be able to raise his children to be such good kids. another thing that made you more prone to open yourself to him was the way he treated nahida, in such a care that you never saw your husband treating her — zhongli always coaxed giggles and giggles from her, and you knew you were in love with him watching him play with your daughter as if she was his own. 

now, after one year of being together and two months of living as a family, it was the first christmas you five would spend together. 

“aunt y/n, do you think daddy will like a new shirt? we can buy it blue to match with my hair!” ganyu’s excited voice took you from your thoughts, and you smiled at the young girl, nodding at her words, like xiao glared at his older sister.  

ganyu and xiao were nine and seven, and the kindest children you ever met. they had accept you and nahida in their lives as if you both had always been a part of it, and the three of them had a very special bond — none of your friends had children on nahida’s age, and it was good to see the sibling bond she was forming with zhongli’s children. she and ganyu became sisters in less than a day, and while xiao was shyer than his sister, nahida was already calling him big brother by the end of the first week you all were living together. you and zhongli couldn’t be happier, being able to be together and watching your children getting closer — he’d always whisper how good of a mother you were while kissing your forehead, making you hide your face on his chest due to embarrassment. 

“i think he will love one.” you agreed, hand messing ganyu's blue curls. “but maybe for his birthday? we need to remember that we need to buy two gifts for daddy.” sometimes it was bothersome the fact that your boyfriend's birthday was in the new year's eve, a date when people were already celebrating, but you tried to make it more special for him — zhongli's birthday celebration started as soon as he wake up, and it went through the whole day. he would turn thirty-four this year, and you wanted to make it as special as you wanted christmas to be. 

“why didn't daddy choose a better day to be born? like us, or nahida!” xiao's complaint was cute, his hand clutching your skirt and his brows furrowed in an unhappy face. 

you smiled at the younger boy, watching as ganyu looked at the dress shirts in the store. “we don't choose the day we're born, little man.” it was cute how he still flushed at your pet names for them, and you wondered if someday he'd grow too tired of them and ask you to stop. you hoped not, because both of them, ganyu and xiao, already had their special places on your heart — right at nahida's, but you feared it was too soon to call them like that.

“hmpf.” he pouted and you giggled, fighting the urge to pinch his cheeks and call him cute. 

“aunt y/n!” ganyu called you, a beautiful blue dress shirt in her small hands. “i'm sure daddy will like this one! it's like my hair!” she proudly exclaimed, a smile full of white teeth adorning her chubby cheeks. but before you could answer, you heard an irritated sound coming from xiao’s mouth, who was still clutching your skirt, narrowed eyes looking at the shirt his sister chose. 

“what about my hair then?” he asked and you sighed, knowing it would take a while to make those two agree on something. 

— 

zhongli smiled seeing the christmas’ lights shining on nahida’s green eyes. 

he had always worried about his relationship with your child, even before you two were a thing — it was embarrassing how much he had daydreaming about being in a relationship with you, a thirty two three old man fantasizing about his twenty-seven secretary, but he couldn’t help himself. not when you smiled so sweetly at him, always making sure that he had a cup of water and coffee with him and that he wasn’t overworking himself. you were zhongli’s dream woman, and he knew he needed to court you properly. 

you first told him about your daughter in a rainy day, after you had received a call from your friends, eyes glossy with tears — you explain that she had a fever through the whole night and you left her with your best friends so you could work, but it seemed like her condition was worse since you left. zhongli didn’t think twice about offering you a ride to your friends’ house then to the hospital, his heart contracting itself seeing your distressed face. you reluctantly accept, and the rest was story. 

that day was the confirmation that you needed that you should accept his moves on you, already searching for a new job so you could fully welcome zhongli in your life. the way he made nahida feel safe, despite the doctors' scaring and the needles in her little body, made the tears you were holding back to fall from your eyes — your ex-husband’s last words ringing in your head, of how much of a bad mother you would be without him and his help.

now, zhongli was walking hand in hand with your six-year-old daughter through the jewelry store, trying to look for the perfect ring to propose to you. 

“what gem do you think mommy would like, nahida?” he asked, his amber gaze eyeing some diamond’s rings on display, hands unconsciously reaching to take nahida between his arms so she could help him choose. she nuzzled between them, sighing contently before casting her green orbs on the rings and gasping softly. zhongli suppressed a chuckle — he missed when his children were small and innocent like her.

she pointed to a gold one with some green details, the diamond shaped in a heart with some emeralds around it. he wasn’t surprised though, as her favorite color was green — even the tips of her hair were dyed green, a courtesy of the day she, ganyu and xiao spent with venti. “that one, uncle ‘li!” she exclaimed, her face lightening up at the thought of your finger adorned with it. “but why are you gifting mommy it, uncle zhongli? my papa used to give her clothes or books.” nahida was the most intelligent and curious kid zhongli ever met, and he knew she’d ask why he wanted to give you a ring — though the mention of her father brought a sour taste to his mouth, he could never be angry at her for bringing him up. 

she was too small to understand how much her father made her mother suffer. 

“well,” he started, smiling at the vendor and pointing to the ring nahida liked. “i want to marry your mommy, and i’m going to ask her with the ring i’ll buy today. do you think she’ll accept it?” 

he didn’t want to admit it, but his heart was hammering inside his chest like he was a teenager once more — nobody knew about his plans of proposing, and zhongli wanted to keep things a surprise to everyone, but he knew he needed to ask nahida’s permission first. she was your entire world, just like his children were his, but he wanted to make a space for himself there, like you and your little girl had on his. and nahida’s acceptance was what he needed to feel confident enough to ask you those three little words. he knew you wouldn’t do anything that would hurt or put her in danger, and he couldn’t blame you. you were a single mother in a world that looked down at you with disdain in its eyes. 

though, nahida’s words caught him by surprise. “you promise you won’t make mommy cry like my papa did?” he looked puzzled at her, though he understood what she meant. “mommy thinks she hides things from me, but i’m not dumb. i remember when papa left us, she cried so much! and i don’t want to see her crying again.” she hid her face on his neck and zhongli sighed, stroking her back. 

“i promise, my sweetness. i will never make mommy cry sad tears, alright?” he almost didn’t notice her small nod, but he felt her small hands gripping the back of his dress shirt tighter. “does that mean i can marry mommy?” 

his heart felt more at ease when he heard her giggles. “of course!” nahida exclaimed while coming out from her hiding spot, a big smile on her face. “does that mean you’ll be my daddy, too?” as much as her voice had excitement on it, zhongli could recognize a bit of shyness, alongside the soft pink dusting her cheeks — but he felt his heart warm, and even though nahida didn’t know that, he already considered her his child, his youngest daughter. and to know that she wanted him to be her father figure was better than any other scenario he could think of. 

“yes, i’ll be your daddy too, my sweetness.” 

—

you looked down fondly at ganyu and xiao, both of them looking at their ice creams as if they were the richest treasure in the world.

at the end, they decided to buy a blue shirt as zhongli’s christmas’ present, and a gold wristwatch, with his black ornaments, as his birthday present. it was adorable to see how dedicated they were to find the perfect gift for their father, debating and arguing to try to find what he would like the most — in the end, you knew zhongli would use his gifts to work, showing his employees how cute and thoughtful his little angels were. 

“this ice cream is so good, mommy.” you smiled, at first, hearing xiao’s words, napkin ready to clean his lips off the almond cream around it — but you stopped dead in your tracks when you noticed how he called you. 

you never wanted to take their biological mother’s place in their lives, though zhongli always said that she never loved them like a mother should — she saw them as a way for him to continue married to her, so she could maintain her lifestyle as a ceo’s wife intact, partying and cheating on him behind his back and leaving his children to be taken care by nannies. once, he admitted to you that his biggest regret was choosing such a woman to be the mother of his children, whispering soon after that what happened to him and her led him to you, and zhongli couldn’t be more grateful. hearing him calling you that, although, filled your heart with warmth and your smile grew wider. 

xiao was more introverted and reserved than ganyu, perhaps because of the so little time he spent with his mother before she and zhongli divorced. you thought he would be the last one to call you that, and you would be alright if he never did — the love you felt for them and the love they felt for you couldn’t be described in just a simple title. 

“you’re getting your mouth all dirty, dummy.” as a good older sister, ganyu scolded him gently, though her mouth was dirty with some of the chocolate toppings of her ice cream. “it isn’t mommy’s job to clean you.” 

you didn’t know if it was influence of her brother or just the mood that made her call you like that too, but you swallowed the lump in your throat. “it is mommy’s job to clean him, baby. it’s mommy’s job to look after the both of you, and nahida, and daddy too.” you tried to explain, napkins ready to clean them both. they giggled and, to any onlooker, you looked like a happy and small family — as you were, though two components of it were missing. 

however, your giggles died down when you spotted familiar curls of light blue hair and a pair of red eyes looking straight at you. 

you could recognize zandik’s eyes anywhere you went — they were sharp and calculating, the emotion shining on them always indecipherable. you used to find them beautiful, especially in the early days of your relationship with him, when they used to shine and sheer adoration, but now they only brought a sour taste to your mouth. but as soon as you noticed his presence there, you returned your eyes to your children, continuing to smile at them. 

“mommy!” before you could say something, you heard your sweet girl’s voice, her small hands waving at you while she was perched comfortably between zhongli’s arms.

“daddy and ‘hida are back, xiao!” ganyu exclaimed, feet already taking her to where her father was standing. you offered your hand to xiao, who took it with more enthusiasm than normal, you two followed his big sister to finally find the two other members of your family. 

though you could still feel your ex-husband’s gaze on your back. 

you sighed relieved when zhongli’s arms embraced your body, burying your face on his neck — his sandalwood scent managed to ease your heart a bit, though you were still waiting for disaster to happen with zandik around. you heard the girls’ giggles and xiao’s little ‘tsk’ at your display of affection, and you could feel your boyfriend’s smile while he kissed your lips. 

“i hope these little rascals didn’t give you any trouble, my dearest.” he spoke, voice deep and soothing, as if he could sense your distress at the moment. you smiled, shaking your head, while ganyu and xiao snuggled themselves in your sides. 

surprisingly, xiao was the first one to speak. “we would never give mommy any trouble, daddy.” you watched as surprise and pure love passed through zhongli’s features, his eyes the warmest you ever saw — it was as if he had dreamed about the day his children would finally acknowledge you as their true mother, despite the blood running through his veins. ganyu nodded and joined her brother’s chorus, nodding. 

“you’re the only one who we give trouble to, daddy!” 

you ruffled their heads. “i hope my little rascal didn’t give you any trouble, my love. i know how curious she can be.” you returned his question to him, hands still caressing xiao’s and ganyu’s hair, winking at your little girl who giggled between zhongli’s arms, that being your favorite sound in the world. she looked so at ease and at her place being nursed and loved by him, as if he was the one supposed to be her father from the very beginning. 

“my fault. she inherited it from her father, i suppose.” 

you didn’t remember his voice being so cold, as if it was the chill of the first snow of the year — it wasn’t fitting no, as your husband hailed from the west, from a place that never snowed. maybe it was the influence of some of his coworkers from the north, but you still remembered when that voice used to be your source of peace and comfort. “zandik.” you greeted him, not bothering to turn around to look at him, more concerned in protecting your children from his venom. they seemed to understand how dangerous he was, clinging to you even more. 

though, the worst part was watching nahida’s expression seeing her father after so long. her eyes were wide, but her lips were trembling and her small hands were clutching zhongli’s shirt with a strength you never saw before. you wanted nothing more than to just take her away from here, but zhongli’s expression told you he was willing to protect her like you would. it hurt you to know that your daughter was aware of the monster her father was, and you felt as if you had failed your mission to protect her childhood innocence. 

he chose to ignore your presence, focusing his attention on zhongli and nahida, as if his ego was hurt by the fact his daughter didn't run straight to his arms. “why a strange man is holding my daughter, y/n?” you turned to face him, instinctively putting ganyu and xiao behind you, hoping to protect them.

“he's my boy—” 

“he's my daddy!” nahida's voice cut you off, leaving everyone speechless. “he's going to marry mommy and not make her cry like you did, papa.” she explained, voice quiet like a feather reaching the ground after failing — though, to you, her words resonated inside your head, for two reasons: she was too young to be worried about someone making you cry. 

and zhongli wanted to marry you. 

zandik answered with a dry chuckle, his eyes shining with the same anger it did back then. “what poison about me did you feed to my daughter, you bitch?” you watched as his hand started to move towards your figure, and you closed your eyes, memories of the day when you confronted him about his cheating played in your head — the screams and the tears, the harsh words and his hands bruising your face. 

though, the impact of his fist in your jaw didn't happen again. 

you opened your arms to see zhongli in front of you, nahida being supported only by one of his arms but looking worried at your shaking form, his other hand holding zandik's arm, fingers squeezing your ex-husband’s wrist — even ganyu and xiao got away from their hiding place, now in front of you, as if they were ready to protect you. 

“do not ever dare to touch my wife like that again, scum, or i will make sure you regret messing with my family again.” zhongli said, voice firm and demanding. “get out of my sight or else nobody in this world will make me stop hunting you for hurting y/n.” 

— 

it pained him to see you like this. 

zhongli could see how strong you tried to look for the children, especially nahida. after the encounter with her father — and his boyfriend now, the same man who zandik had cheated on you with, who was lurking in the shadows until zhongli stepped up — she was visibly shaken up, not leaving your arms until your little family arrived home. in the walls of her safe place, nahida regained her light, and xiao and ganyu seemed relieved, ready to play with his little sister. 

nor you or zhongli touched the subject in front of them, and he was waiting for night time, the only time when he was alone with you in the confines of your shared room, to extract your real feelings. he could see how your smiles didn’t reach your eyes, or how your laugh seemed forced — it seemed like the kids did too, all three of them snuggled in your arms during the movie you were watching, while you were snuggled at his side. he couldn’t ask for anything better than to have the love of his life and his children safe in his arms, though his mind was running miles trying to find a way to make your husband pay for what he made you and nahida go through.

another thing that he wanted to discuss was the little secret nahida spilled. 

he didn’t blame her, of course. zhongli understood it was her way of protecting him and her mother from her father’s words, and he couldn’t be more grateful for her actions — it was a testimony of how well you were raising her, and also a testimony that you both were better without the shadow of zandik looming over you. nahida now had space to grow her opinions and be whatever she wanted, and zhongli was happy that he was able to provide such an environment for her, alongside you. 

the sound of the door opening made him tear his eyes from his book, gentle gaze now focused on your form. you were wearing some pajamas pants and an old t-shirt of his, and he swore you looked the most beautiful you ever did looking like that — perhaps, you in a white dress walking down the aisle to meet him could beat such a sight. he opened his arms and you took no time to just jump between them, face nuzzled on his neck, his warm hands drawing circles on your lower back. you sighed contentedly. “how is she?” he knew you were putting nahida to sleep, being the one who aided you in putting the children in their respective rooms, staying a bit more in her room to make sure she was alright. 

“she’s still a bit shaken up.” you answered, voice muffled by his shirt. zhongli tightened his arms around you, kissing your hair. “i explained to her that zandik will never take her away from us, but she made me promise it at least three times.” your chuckle was a sad one, and he feared you bursting into tears for someone who didn’t deserve it — though, he couldn’t help and feel warm inside by the fact you included him and his children in your family. 

he kept his silence, only humming, knowing you had to say more. “why is he like that? why i couldn’t see how horrible he was from day one?” you seemed defeated, and his blood boiled at the sensation of your tears soaking his shirt. 

zhongli knew very well how you felt. “love normally clouds our senses, dearest.” you took your face from its hiding spot, meeting his amber eyes — gentle and shining with endless love for you, making your heartbeat race just like in the first time you saw them. “but he will never try to approach you or nahida again, do you hear me?” he held your face between his large hands, thumb caressing your cheeks in a loving way. you nodded, giving him a smile that resembled your normal ones. 

“i wish you were nahida’s father from the start, ‘li.” you admitted, a pout on your lips. he pecked them briefly, almost giving you no time to melt into the kiss, kissing your forehead soon after. 

he helped you to get up from his embrace, legs straddling his thighs, while taking a small black velvet box from under your pillow. “if you say yes, i can.” 

you looked between him and the velvet box as if you didn't understand what was happening, but in reality, you couldn't believe it. why zhongli, a man so fine like the most delicious wine, wanted to marry you? a poor excuse of a woman and mother, who still got shaken up with the presence of her ex-husband? you knew he deserved someone so much better than yourself, but you wanted to be that person — but the tears were already glossing your vision and your head came to rest on his chest, his hands holding you close to his body.

you cried like a child, the velvet box between your hands and zhongli's long fingers between your hair. his warmth was almost soothing you, almost whispering that you were made and born to be in that position, between his arms and feeling his love for all eternity. 

your sobs calmed in the same intensity zhongli's love professions became more and more passionately, his words making you see that even if you didn't feel like you were deserving of his love, he felt like you were. and that was enough, you came to realize — zhongli's love was his to give to anyone he deemed worthy of, and he deemed you and your daughter worthy of his endless affections. 

“yes.” you whispered against the pale skin of his neck, now a bit red from the small love bites you gave him after you calmed down. the velvet box was still resting in your hands, and after giving his neck another kiss, you positioned yourself to face him and his amber gaze, eyes already tearing up by the love shining on them. 

zhongli's hands were ready to open it, showing you the most beautiful ring you ever saw in your life — a gold band with a heart shaped diamond in the middle, some emeralds, as the same color as your sweet girl's eyes, around it, making the ring perfect for you. you nodded again, heart racing when he took your hand in his and put the ring on your finger. as soon as you felt the cold band in your warm skin, you cupped his face, bringing his face to meet yours in a passionate kiss.  

“thank you.” zhongli whispered against your lips after he broke the kiss, and you smiled, though not ready for his next words. “thank you for loving me, for choosing this scarred and brute man to be your husband.” you just stroked his face, letting him talk his heart out. “thank you for being the best mother for nahida and now to ganyu and xiao.” his lips soon found your face once again, now caressing your cheek. “i love you.” he whispered with his nose on your cheek, his plump lips pressing a big and sloppy kiss there, his hands now roaming through your body — you knew what he wanted, already grinding your hips against his. 

“you'll make me cry again.” you managed to say between the shaky breaths leaving your mouth due to his wandering hands. “i— ah— love you.”

both of you couldn't wait to be intertwined as one for eternity, expressed by the sounds and movements of your bodies — and the proposal would always be remembered by you as one of your christmas's miracle.

#zhongli x reader #zhongli fluff #zhongli #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin fluff

[bluegarners]

Do you think Dick Grayson actually has Eldest Daughter Syndrome? He's not really around his siblings in terms of when they first became Robin and were being raised as such. Like, he certainly played older sibling with Tim, and the lines were more or less blurred with Damian seeing as Dick took on the role of Batman/parental figure for his first time as Robin, but I'm not sure if Eldest Daughter fits Dick. Bruce didn't really pass on the duty of raising any of the Robins to Dick and it was more out of obligation/his inherent kindness that made Dick play any kind of role with his successors.

heyy anon!

i do not actually! i know my most recent fic would say that i do believe he has eldest daughter syndrome, and i only briefly explained my thoughts on it in the first chapter note, but i really don't think dick has EDS. he has traits and shares some similarities, but 1) he is not a daughter (which is integral to what eldest daughter syndrome represents- the loss of a daughter role mixed in with the role of parent/mother to siblings and the actual parents) and 2) dick isn't quite in a place to care that much. <- that sounds a bit harsh but i think it is mostly true. yes, like you said anon, dick has looked after his siblings and bruce out of his inherent goodness of heart/kindness and the obligation that comes with being under the bat symbol (you look after your own), and under a certain lens that can be skewed as EDS in the way that dick is the oldest/first and the bat unit resembles a family unit. however, dick has been shown time and time again being comfortable with leaving when things get too... oppressive isn't the right word, but i think dick is somewhere on that scale of "if it sucks, hit the bricks." when being robin became more of a minion of batman and not an individual, dick left to be with the titans. when being the leader of the titans as robin became too much, he became nightwing and stationed himself in bludhaven. when he does go back to gotham, it's not usually to see anyone in particular, it's almost always surrounding a case or a crime he wants to investigate/was invited to investigate personally. there's the bonus of hanging around whoever happens to be in gotham at the time, and we've gotten some great, cute scenes of dick being a good older brother to tim and damian, but otherwise, dick isn't one to stick around

now, all of that to say, i think dick has a version of EDS that can just be shortened to eldest syndrome. like i said earlier, a lot of dick's issues stem from being the first child/son/robin of batman/bruce. and the dichotomy between how he interacts with bruce versus batman as dick grayson or robin is... something, to say the least. dick wasn't initially brought into the fold as an adopted son. for the papers and outside world that was how it was seen, but both dick and bruce started their relationship as a partnership in justice. over time they became more to each other than just coworkers living in the same house, but at the start, that's what they were. to add to that, the complexity of what batman and robin mean to each other is another layer, which tim's robin aptly puts as batman needing robin as a moral compass/a light to keep him out of the dark. from as young as 9 years old (depending on the iteration) dick was in charge of keeping bruce in line, keeping him from leaning too far into the dark abyss of violence and easy injustice. that's a lot to place on a child, keeping the city's protector on the straight and narrow, but along with that, dick was also still under the guardianship of an adult-- actually, two adults. the adults are the ones who are supposed to tell the child right from wrong, this from that, but dick used what his parents taught him and applied that to the new adults in his life, adults who saw vigilantism as the norm. bruce had no experience with children/how to raise them, and alfred isn't exactly a model caretaker seeing as he allowed bruce to fall into such a dark place as to resort to becoming a man like batman. they did their best and never meant any harm towards dick, but i don't think anyone is giving them a trophy for world's best parents

EXCEPT

dick totally would. and that's where i think that eldest syndrome comes into play because dick doesn't see another path for him outside of the life he was raised in. i can't remember the issue, but dick made the observation that bruce would trade his current life for one in which his parents were alive. dick, however, observes that he would not trade his current life for his old one. there is no going back for dick grayson- he loves bruce, he loves batman, and he loves being a vigilante. and because his belief in this lifestyle is so strong, he's going to defend the way he was raised with all his might. he's going to defend bruce with all his might. bruce and alfred are on such high pedestals for dick, unattainable, in a place where dick believes he's never going to reach. they are it to him, the best of the best, and dick's entire life has been dedicated to living up to their expectations that, honestly, are not there. to bruce and alfred, dick is the best of the best, better than them, but to dick, he believes that he still has so much to live up to and that he's never going to amount to enough to take on batman's legacy (a legacy he does not want at all but fears that he'll fail- which his fears come to life when he does become batman but that's another discussion). however, even though bruce and alfred believe dick is what their lifestyle as vigilantes should represent, they don't ever really tell dick and actually do quite a lot to contradict their beliefs. dick and bruce's falling out is legendary, i've made a few web weaves on it before, but they keep coming back to each other because it's all they know. they love each other and that love is too great at times and leads them to reveal the very worst parts of themselves because so much of what they are is reflected back onto the other

@/dustorange said it best once: "the thing with dick is that dick is about FREEDOM and DISCIPLINE which can coexist but then there’s bruce and what dick has for bruce is DEVOTION which means the sacrifice of freedom which is dick’s defining desire and"

to me, dick's love for bruce and his family is what keeps him coming back to them again and again despite his misgivings that he refuses to acknowledge. dick wants to live independently and without the restriction of knowing that should bruce call he would come running. however, he can't. he is and always will be tied to the obligations that come with being bruce's son and batman's first robin. that sense of needing to be there for a grown man since childhood never quite goes away for dick. he tires over and over again to separate himself from gotham and robin, but there is no use in doing so because he loves those things even if they have hurt him- even if the people attached to those things continue to hurt him. in current canon, things are better between dick and bruce and everyone else, but the decades of the "will they won't they" reformation of whether dick can coexist with his ideals and grounded obligations can't be erased from his character

so, to sum, no i don't believe that dick has eldest daughter syndrome, but i do believe that so much of his character is inherently intertwined with his roles as robin and as a son of bruce wayne. a separation of the two cannot exist peacefully, so his identity as a singular person cannot be defined in a way that matters, both to him and as observers of his character

#anon #ask #dick grayson #bruce wayne #eldest daughter syndrome #robin #nightwing #batman

[tf2-oneshots]

heavymedic awkward confession please? with a side of first kiss and lots of fluff pretty please 🥺

Oooh i love them!

Warning: none

Rating: General

Breakfast at the base, especially during ceasefires, were as chaotic as can be. Nine men trying to squeeze around each other to grab milk cartons, toast, and fight over who gets to use the good pan first. It’s no help that the stove only holds eight burners, and today, everyone wants to cook at the exact same time.

“Stop shoving me! I gotta make my food right.” Scout huffs when Medic bumped into him for the third time. His eyes are locked on the three pancakes sitting in the pan. Never the best at knowing when to flip them, he’s making it his mission to get them perfect.

“I wouldn’t if I could. Pyro, you’re going to set off the fire alarm again.” He looks down at the too hot pan of scrambled eggs, popping from air bubbles every few seconds. Pyro muffles an annoyed complaint, stirring their food as smoke rises.

“Doktor, give Heavy bowl.” At the center of the conglomeration is the Russian attempting to finish his porridge. Although the strongest, the man was being hit in every direction by his coworkers. The continuous bumps nearly spilled Heavy’s raisins into Engineer’s sausage gravy.

Medic leans over to Sniper to reach, but right as he does so, the Aussie jumps back with a shout. His strips of bacon sizzled out of control, burning him with hot grease. The motion knocks Medic against Demo, who had just taken a pot of beans off the stove.

“Watch it!” The Scotsman swerves his scalding food away from the open flame only to crash into Spy. She screams, both in pain and disgust as hot beans spill onto her suit. The pot clatters to the floor, sending Spy backwards into Engineer.

He drops a jar of honey for her crepe right into the Texan’s biscuits and gravy, splashing said gravy onto several of the men. Medic tries to dodge only to slip on the bean covered floor. The doctor reaches out, grasping at whatever he can to not fall face first into multiple pans of food and fire.

“Ah!!” Two steps forward, and his face crashes into Heavy’s. Their lips press flat together, leaving the men stunned as the smoke alarm sounds. As Medic straightens himself, he realizes he never grabbed Heavy that bowl he needed.

“Uh…aheh, sorry…” Behind them, Scout drops several dishes as he hits the floor. He groans, sneakers coated in beans as Engineer fights the fire starting on the stovetop. Pyro merely cheers, completely unscathed as she enjoys her meal.

“Is okay…we should sit in living room.” The two leave the chaotic kitchen for the quieter space adjacent to it. They sit on the same couch with just enough room between them to not be awkward. Of course, they weren’t sitting too close for the same reason. Medic clears his throat.

“Was it weird to be kissed by me?” A hesitant question. The German smooths his pants to occupy his hands. Why do they feel clammy? The room is much cooler than the kitchen, and its just them. Right, just them….

“No, Heavy feels…happy with Doktor. Would not be upset by kiss.” The Russian tries to word himself just right. In his mother tongue, he could speak for days on how he feels about Medic. Even the best of poems and novels would pale in comparison.

“I wouldn’t be upset by it either. Heavy, for sometime I have felt…close to you. Aheh, very close. More than anyone else.” Medic moves an inch to test the waters. His hand lays in between them, silently offering itself to the other. A second passes before Medic feels a larger palm lay atop his own

“Heavy feels the same. I…love you, Doktor.” Love. That’s the right word. Heavy knew each version by heart in Russian. The passionate, the hesitant, the carnal, and many other ways to say the one word in English. If he’s certain of anything, its that this love is the romantic kind. The one he’s desired for years.

“Misha, I love you too. Oh, I feel like a schoolboy.” Medic covers his face to giggle. It’s as if he’s a child with his first crush confessing to him! The doctor squeezes Heavy’s hand softly and leans in.

“May we kiss again?” Eyes closed and lips puckered, Medic sat in wait. The couch creaks slightly, dipping beneath the shift atop it. Heavy brings Medic in close, kissing him on the lips. The world drowns out as they bring each other in close. Yeah, this is what romantic love feels like.

Hope you enjoyed this!! I love these two -H

#team fortress 2 #tf2 #tf2 requests #tf2 medic #tf2 heavy #heavymedic #red oktoberfest

[mysterious-ocarina]

As The Dust Settles

Dazai Osamu x reader

please give me recommendations for books to use as abilities or just abilities in general for bsd content

Main Masterlist BSD Masterlist Requests AO3

(2.9k words)

You were being followed, you could feel it. Each time you turned around, there was no suspicious person trailing you, but when you faced forward you could feel the chill of eyes assessing you.

You wiped the tears from your eyes to focus where you were walking, making sure to not make a careless mistake again. You were cruelly reminded yet again, by touching your face, that you were not wearing your gloves. The reminder brought fresh tears to replace the ones you wiped away. You had a feeling that whoever was following you witnessed what happened a few minutes ago and was watching as you silently cried.

You were simply walking along the roads of Yokohama, a book in hand not paying attention where you were walking. A lone man walked in front of you and bumped into you, forcing you to drop your book on the ground.

“Shit, I’m so sorry. I should’ve been watching where I was going,” you hastily apologized.

“It’s okay, it was an accident,” the man replied.

You both bent down to pick up your book but unfortunately for the man his hand had grazed yours. You watched as he immediately shriveled away into dust that flew away with the wind.

As the tears in your eyes started to form, you hastily looked around to see if anyone had seen what just happened but everyone seemed to be too consumed in their busy lives to notice.

Completely forgetting about the book on the ground, you walked away as fast as you could, just wanting to be alone in bed. You tried not to think about the man, like you always did when this kind of thing happened. Was he married? Is there a girlfriend at home waiting for him? Or a mother that he’s taking care of? A sister who worries about him? A child that depended on him?

Still making your way home, the guilt consumed you until you almost forgot about the person trailing you.

Eventually you were near the cafe that you sometimes frequented. It was quiet, most of the time, and was a good place for you to get out of the house without seeing too many people.

Forcefully, you were pulled by your long sleeve shirt into a nearby alleyway.

“Don’t touch me,” you screamed, backing as far away from your assailant as possible.

“Now now, Belladonna. I’m not going to hurt you,” a soothing voice said. You finally looked up to see who dragged you into the alley. It was a handsome man in a big trench coat with bandages covering all his skin except his face and hands. Speaking of hands, you noticed the book in one of them and you visibly stiffened.

“You dropped something, and I wanted to give it back to you,” he smoothly offered. It was obvious to you that he had ulterior motives.

“It’s not mine. I’ve got to go,” you hastily told him. You tried your best to get away from him but he simply grabbed your arm preventing your escape.

“Don’t lie to me, belladonna. That was certainly an interesting sight to see,” he said, confirming that he had seen what you did.

Fresh, guilty tears started to form in your eyes as you looked up at the man. For some reason, his heart broke at the sight of your puffy, tear-stained face.

“Well, now what? I didn’t do it on purpose, you know,” you replied, voice cracking. You thought the day finally came where you were justifiably punished for your ability. You would be wrong.

“I know,” he responded, studying your face. “I have a proposition for you.”

–

That’s how you found yourself working for the Armed Detective Agency. For awhile, you didn’t have it in you to go on missions and use your ability on purpose so you were a desk clerk alongside Naomi Tanizaki. Eventually, with a lot of encouragement from Dazai and your other coworkers, you ended up helping out on a lot of cases. You eventually warmed up to everyone.

Your relationship with Dazai was a weird one. Despite the jokes and unprofessionalism he displays, he was the main person in the agency that you felt most comfortable with. You weren’t sure if it was because you knew your ability wouldn’t work on him, not that you’ve ever tried to test that, or if it was because he was the one who found you. 

Anytime the guilt of your victims weighed on your shoulders, Dazai was always there to comfort you and assure you that you weren’t a psychopath. He’s seen firsthand the care, love, and joy that you provide to the world, it’s what he admires about you. The fact that despite having such a destructive ability, you wake up everyday with a full heart.

Sometimes when you walk into the office and offer everyone one of your angelic smiles, Dazai doesn’t feel like he deserves to be graced by your presence, the blood on his hands keeping him from going too far with his feelings with you. That doesn’t stop him from pestering you even more than he pesters Kunikida.

“Belladonna, it would mean the world to me to be touched by your lips and fade out of existence,” Dazai begged. He was sitting across from you desk and as usual wasn’t getting any kind of work done.

You tensed but rolled your eyes, used to his antics, “Like I’ve said, each time you say this, my ability probably won't work on you and I would never want to kill you.”

He simply pouted at you, “Well then, why don’t you give me a kiss to test it out. It’s a win for me either way.”

“How is it a win for you either way?” Atsushi chimed from his desk, next to yours.

“Well young apprentice,” the title makes Atsushi roll his eyes, “First, I get a kiss from the most beautiful woman in the world. That’s enough by itself but if it kills me, it would be the perfect suicide, to die by a powerful kiss from a wonderful woman.”

You and Atsushi shared an exasperated look. This wasn’t the first time either of you have dealt with his suicidal antics, except this time you were starting to feel sick.

“Excuse me,” you choked out, pushing back from your desk to leave. You made a hasty retreat to the bathroom to empty your stomach.

“Is she okay?” Atshushi asked, worriedly. “She looked a little pale.”

Dazai sighed, “I’ll go check on them.”

After you were done in the bathroom, you made your way downstairs to the cafe. Upon entering, you were greeted by Dazai who was now standing in front of you with two drinks in hand and a soft smile.

“I got your favorite,” he offered one of the cups to you. You were not surprised to find out that he actually did know your favorite cafe order. You softly grabbed the cup and sat in a booth towards the back of the cafe, Dazai following close behind.

“Thank you,” you whispered, gazing out the window.

“Would you like to tell me what happened upstairs? I couldn’t find you, but I knew you would come down here eventually,” he asked. He was speaking softly to you, understanding that something was indeed wrong. There was no need to lie to Dazai, he knew you too well.

“I just got stuck in my head, it’s fine,” you responded.

“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?” he laid his hand on the table, inches away from yours.

Upon noticing how close he was to you, you pulled your arm further from him. To this day, you were still too scared to touch Dazai. What if you got too comfortable touching him one day and had to watch as we withered away?

“I had a bad dream last night and I was reminded of it,” you eventually responded. Dazai sat in silence, waiting for you to continue but not pressuring you. “In my dream, I was at the office and as everyone faded into dust you came up in front of me. I went to cry in your arms but then you faded away too.”

Your face was wet but you didn’t bother wiping the tears away. Dazai knew that your biggest fear was killing everyone you loved. He could feel your anxiety from across the table and he knew he would do anything to quell your nerves.

“Do you trust me?” he asked, looking right at you. His gaze was so intense you couldn’t look away. You couldn’t respond so you nodded your head, shortly. You trusted Dazai with your life, the both of you knew this.

Dazai inched his hand close to you, softly grabbing your gloved hand. You wanted to pull away but the soft smile he was giving you froze you in your spot.

With one hand on your clothed wrist, he pulled your glove off and whispered, “You could never hurt me, Belladonna. You don’t have to worry about anything.”

With your glove off and hands exposed, you both just sat there. He still didn’t touch you, letting you calm your racing heart. His grip on your wrist was also light so you could back out if you truly felt too uncomfortable. Frozen in place, you couldn’t pull away.

Eventually, Dazai let his fingers trail from the sleeve of your shirt. Your fingers twitched at the attention. When he reached the skin of your wrist, he confidently and without pause kept his fingers trailing down. His fingers tingled in your palm but felt warm to the touch. He brought your hand up and let his hand rest against yours, like a high five but without the motion.

You almost cried at the feeling of skin on yours. Dazai just sat with you, fiddling with your fingers.

“Your hands are bigger than mine. I never noticed,” you sniffled with a small laugh. You let your fingers wrap around his, enjoying the feeling of skin to skin contact. Dazai chuckled at your comment and stared at you and your joined hands in utter adoration.

From that day forward, the relationship you had with Dazai would be very different. No one in the agency seemed to notice or care about this change, but Dazai could and he was not going to complain one bit.

You would often find yourself touching Dazai. Mostly, you would be holding onto his arm as you walked beside him. Sometimes after a long case, you would even lay your head on his shoulder. You would only hold his hand directly if you two were alone, nervous of the comments you might get from your coworkers.

Dazai had always been a comfort for you, but now it’s only increased tenfold, making your feelings for the maniac also grow.

You were lazing around your desks with your coworkers (minus Ranpo and Dazai, thank god), taking a break from the long work day. Though, you regret joining them, for they were currently teasing you about your obvious feelings for the bandaged bastard you guys work with.

“Come on, you should totally tell him how you feel. What’s the worst that can happen?” Dr. Yosono asked with a shrug.

“Well the worst that can happen is that he declines, doesn’t feel the same way, and then kicks me out of the Agency for my unprofessionalism,” you listed, raising a finger for each point.

Naomi gave you a big smile, “None of that would happen. He’s clearly in love with you too and he would get bored here, if you were kicked out.”

You could only roll your eyes. You tried to not let the jealousy in your voice show, when you asked, “Well if he truly wants me, then why does he flirt with every woman he encounters?”

Atsushi piped up from his spot, “I’ve seen the way he acts around other women that arent you and it’s different.”

“How?” you questioned, dubiously. Why was everyone so intent on this subject?

Kunikida, of all people, pushed his glasses up and spoke up, “Atsushi’s right. The way he flirts with other women is mindless and meaningless. Just a way to entertain himself because he’s bored. But with you, he interacts with you with intent. I can tell by the stupid look on his face when he talks to you, that he cares about what you have to say.”

You could only stare at everyone, crimson dotting your cheeks. You didn’t know what to say. There’s no way that Dazai’s partner could be wrong about the way he feels towards you.

“You know he’s right,” Naomi chimed, with a little wink in your direction.

Speaking of the devil, Dazai walked into the office. He made his way to your desk, “What are up to, Belladonna?”

You blushed, recalling the conversation that took place barely minutes ago. You raised your eyebrows, teasing, “My job.”

Dazai laughed at the look you gave him, “Want to join me on a case? I actually have work to do.”

You gave him a confused look, “You can solve a case on your own, what do you need me for?”

In the corner of your eyes, you watched as some of your coworkers facepalm or release a disappointed sigh.

“Well, it will be a lot more fun if you came with me. I’ll even get you food after,” he gave you a charming pout.

“How can I say no to that?” you replied before getting up. You grabbed his arm and made your way out of the office with him, pointedly ignoring the looks that everyone was giving you.

Walking down the streets of Yokohama arm in arm with Dazai was perfect. You both slipped into comfortable conversation and chatter.

Eventually you brought up, “Where are we going, anyways? Are you going to tell me about your case?”

Dazai looked confused for a moment, like he didn’t know what you were talking about, and then laughed.

You pouted, “What’s so funny, Dazai?”

“There is no case,” he finally got out once his giggles had subsided.

“Then why did you say that?” you asked, genuinely confused with the way this man’s brain worked.

“I only said that so I could get you out of the office, to hang out with me, without Kunikida getting mad at us,” he giggled again. “I also knew you wouldn’t leave to hang out unless I made it sound like we would be getting work done.”

You slapped his arm, laughing along with him, “He will kill us, if he ever finds out.”

“OOh, I like the sound of that,” Dazai said, face covered with a smug smile.

You simply giggled before replying, “I don’t know if I should kiss you or push you into oncoming traffic.”

Oh god, where did your filter go? You really did not mean to let that slip.

Without a second thought, Dazai replied, “I suggest both,” followed by a flirty, “please.”

You just stared at Dazai in shock, unsure what to say.

“Don’t play with me, Osamu,” you whispered, suddenly feeling very vulnerable.

Dazai grabbed your hands, pulling your gloves off. “I’m being serious. I’ve wanted to kiss you for a long time, Belladonna.”

He was holding onto your hands like you were about to run away from him.

“I think I’ve been in love with you since the first time we touched. Hell, maybe even before that,” you claimed. You looked up at Dazai and flushed at the adoring look that he was giving you.

“I care about you so much that I may or may not have gone behind your back about something. Don’t be mad that I didn’t tell you,” Dazai sighed.

“I won’t be mad at you. You can tell me anything,” you said, worriedly. 

“For a while, I’ve been doing a bit of research on the side, with the help of the President. I’ve been trying to figure out if there was a way to control your powers. So that they only worked when you wanted them to and not all the time,” Dazai explained.

With tears in your eyes, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

He looked at you, eyes filled with love, “I didn’t want to tell you and give you false hope if I didn’t find anything useful.”

“Then, why are you telling me now?” you asked.

“The President and I found a lead. It’s very likely that we found a way for you to control your powers,” Dazai replied, a wide smile covering his face.

You had no response to what he said so you did the only thing that came to your mind. You kissed Dazai Osamu. You kissed him like he was the oxygen you needed to breathe and he kissed you back with equal if not more passion.

You kissed under a lone streetlight, feeling as if you were floating on top of the clouds. Dazai never failed to remind you that you deserved to be loved and that you deserved to be held.

Under the gleaming moonlight, under the warm streetlight, in the arms of Dazai Osamu, you have never felt more happy.

“I love you, Osamu,” you whispered for only Dazai and the stars to hear.

“And you, my Belladonna,” he whispered back.

#bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs #dazai osamu x reader #fluff #dazai osamu x you #dazai osamu x y/n #dazai osamu #dazai fluff #osamu dazai #osamu dazai x reader #osamu dazai bsd #osamu dazai x you #fanfiction

[eosincuffs]

Welcome sweets, darlings, honeys, I’m Cuffs! I am an 18 year old novice writer here to write the things I can’t find online. I am currently frothing over the COD fandom and mainly enjoy the darker aspects of romance. But I DO NOT ENDORSE OR CONDONE the behaviour I write about irl, this is purely my fictional sandbox.

Also don’t you dare plagiarise and claim my work as yours. I absolutely do NOT consent to posting my work without credit!

I love you all but first and foremost I created this blog mainly for my own enjoyment and to share dopamine with likeminded moots. I write for me and only for me, and will very rarely take customised reader asks/scenarios that aren’t dark. You are welcome to feast on my thoughts as long as you remember this.

Please be aware that I repost, create and interact with works that in some shape or form include DARK CONTENT. Usually it involves !TW noncon, !TW dubcon, TW! kidnapping, !TW stalking and just general gross behaviour both sexual and non. Which is why MINORS DNI, ageless blogs will be blocked and if I find out you are a minor you will be blocked as well. Idc how mature you think you are this is about basic respect.

If that is not your cup of tea, scroll or block me <3.

If I get a message chastising me on the contents of my blog I will assume that you are an illiterate single celled organism and kindly advise you to shove your moral righteousness where the sun doesn’t shine. I will post your message and call it out. SCROLL AND/OR BLOCK.

- I will NOT be answering every ask.

- If you ask me to write any kind of fluff it will probs involve Stockholm Syndrome. But hey I might, cuz even my heart needs some softness

- I do not fulfill personal asks e.g. how would this character react to reader with {…..} condition/body type/skin type/race e.c.t. (unless it tickles my brain in a good way) You are all beautiful and valid but it’s literally in MAIN RULE.

- Zoophilia/Beastiality

- Stepdad stuff (others are fine, but this one just makes me feel a lil off, but maybe someday)

- Pedophilia

- Ageplay/Infantilisation (but like age gaps with 20s and like 40s+ is ok, i just dont like it when they are forced to act like children)

- Male reader (at least not yet)

- Hard Scat (so anything involving faeces)

Sure hope you read all of the above before scrolling here ЮwЮ

Maul the Hand that Feeds - Multipart

- Dark! 141 x Wealthy Reader

Dishonourably discharged, the lives of the 141 quartet are arguably ruined. Until Soap meets you.

Pipping Gone Wrong - Multipart/One-shot drabble idk yet

- Dark! 141 x Recruit! Reader

Joining the army out of desperation, you look awfully different from your fierce and independent colleagues. Soap takes notice.

Puppy Presents - Multipart

- Ghoap x Ragdoll Hybrid! Reader x PriceGaz

Ghost saved your wealthy owner’s son and his reward is the perfect, pampered, pliable you! But uh oh, Soap hates your guts.

New Year Troubles - One-shot

- Nasty! Soap x Colleague! Reader

What’s he doing?

Inspired by ceilidho’s Coworker Soap series!

Will be added:

Brazen Bull - Multipart

- Bastard! König x Royal! Reader

König’s an illegitimate child, an unwanted existence sent as war fodder turned hero; fighting valiantly for his mother’s honour. You’re the sole princess of the Empire. Spoiled and perfect, with your eyes on that galant, diamond throne.

??? - Multipart

- Hybrid!CoD x Hybrid!Reader

Your unwelcome visitor is quite lovely, actually. But you need to get him out! Quick! There’s something else lumbering towards your den.

#pinned post #masterlist #dark!codxreader