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vore-scientist · 3 years

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Like A Good Neighbor (sfw safe vore)

[M/nb vore with fearplay. safe soft oral non-sexual]

A tale of the Mystic Woods! Featuring Yonah HaEsh and Myran the Dwarf Witch and many other fun characters!

A story of bad first impressions and making new friends! Lots of GT, and a cute little adventure at a magical farmer’s market!

Warning: Careful there are references to Fa.tal! An example would be “ogres are far more likely to eat smallfolk than giants!” (implying that said actions are deadly). That is the extent of such references!

Other warning: mild harm during the immediate post-vore scene. Yonah just goes a little too far in scaring Myran.

——/——////——

“Did you hear?”

“Have you been told?”

“A new resident!”

“I haven’t checked it out myself! But Ms Zukkar told me-”

“A wizard!”

“Didn’t there used to be an old sorcerer there?”

“-new guy’s a witch!”

“So, hear about that new giant!”

“A giant wouldn’t fit in that tower! And wizards is all human!”

“A criminal, on the run they say”

“Maybe a magician? They like towers sometimes!”

“His Majesty wouldn’t hire a criminal!”

“-supposed to be evil?”

There were so many rumors being flung around that the dwarf witch Myran Gamadin decided to see for themselves and set out to investigate. Undoubtedly there was a new resident. The story was that he was a Mage, and a criminal, but also just expelled from The Academy of Wizardry. And a giant? That was strange, the old tower was much too small for a giant! Even if it was magic it was only 10ft taller than your average giant in the first place. However… they did hear about the trial of a giant recently… stuff that happened in the civilized court didn’t really concern those in the Woods.

“Why would you go to see a villain? You’re not evil!”

The World’s Largest™ Maine Coon cat trotted alongside the handsome young dwarf, looking more like an oddly fluffy pony than a cat.

“It’s important to know your neighbors! Even the evil ones!”

Siv flicked his tail up into his witch’s face.

“And he’s got to be just a young man! So young and the expectations on evil mages is so high! He will appreciate a friendly face!” Myran had done the math. If this Mage hadn’t even graduated from The Academy, he was at most 23. Unless he started his education late. But they doubted this.

“Why are we walking! You have your broom!” the cat complained.

“That’s for the tower, Siv. It’s one of those designed by assholes who think it’s clever to have the only entrance be the window at the top.”

“Hrfff,” said Siv.

“Do you think he will appreciate the house-warming gift? I didn’t really spend much time on it…”

“Fresh fish would be better.”

“Maybe if he were a cat. This is for a Mage.”

“Clippings of magical plants? Maybe for another witch. This is someone who was studying Wizardry.”

“Wizards use magical plants too!”

“Yeah, they buy them from witches!”

As the pair stepped out of the trees, they froze.

“I think he’ll like the gift,” Siv admitted as he And Myran stood in awe at the largest magical garden either of them had ever seen.

It wasn’t even finished yet! Plots of earth were freshly turned, and piles of wood, half built into beds that lay in patterns across the clearing. And massively spread apart. At least 3 meters between plots. And the finished ones. Well. They already had some amazing specimens. Even if they were just sprouting. Myran noticed the Twisted WyrmFern and harpy’s breath; delicate, but common magical plants that were being used to test out the soil. It was working great.

The garden did make Myran worry a bit.

Maybe this wasn’t a wizard at all! It could be a witch. And he could be very evil indeed. Even evil witches treated their gardens with the utmost care and attention.

But they had come this far. And the tower that looked over the garden was calling to them. Well. Not really. The green-black thorny vines screamed “STAY AWAY!” But when one had a flying broomstick, one didn’t need to heed such warnings.

Flipping their broom around like a baton, they sat side saddle and Siv hopped on the end, somehow managing to balance his prodigious fluff. They took off. And flew into the window.

“WOAAAHHH!”

It was like hitting an unexpected and large wave on a boogie board, but a magical one that flowed through the body! And Myran had never been to the ocean, so it made their brain swim.

The room, which from the outside looked normal, was anything but. The rumors of this being a giant were not just rumors.

This place was HUGE!

And yet, it was much too small.

Growing up, Myran had visited some giant villages with their family. They hadn’t been THAT much smaller then, but the houses and items in the village were definitely much larger. While giant mages certainly existed, they had their own traditions and made their own supplies.

This looked exactly like the workshop for a young wizard, with additions for the wizard being a giant. It was wild to see some of the common arcane tools at such an immense scale.

Flying over, Myran saw that the resident Mage had an ancient book under a magnifying glass, and had been translating it, with notes and commentary. Spell equations and diagrams were additionally copied in a dedicated smaller notebook.

While it was surely a fascinating read, they could tell at a glance the notes were somewhere in the middle of an involved spell, and they didn’t want to be the reason the Mage lost his place. The workbench had plenty of other diverting materials.

Siv had no interest in such things and curled up against the base of the magnifying glass. The sun hit the metal through the window, making it quite warm.

Myran put their broom down and explored the desk. There were several magical tombs! Rare ones! They flipped through and saw fresh handwritten notes tucked inside. Smart, this mage did not want to tarnish the original pages. There was also an open notebook and a few spell components laid out.

They stepped carefully back onto the notebook to get a better idea of what this wizard was up to. The notebook was written in giant, which Myran wasn’t fluent in but got the gist of. So this was indeed a giant wizard. Fascinating.

That’s what they were thinking until...

FEE FI FO FUM!

Myran nearly jumped out of their boots.

No longer fascinating. Very bad. Very dangerous! They’d heard stories that quoted these lines, classic, even amusing. However, hearing them bellowed by an actual giant nearly stopped their heart. These words were so loud and so immediately panic-inducing, especially when accompanied by thundering footsteps.

I SMELL THE BLOOD OF THE-

There was a pause and maybe a stutter

DWARVEN KIND!

The trap door off center in the room burst open and a giant with a mane of black hair, a trimmed goatee, and a wizard’s hat, climbed out. He was smiling, snarling, showing off impressive fangs.

USELESS TO FLEE, USELESS TO FIGHT, FOR YOU WILL BE MY MEAL TONIGHT!

Eat them!? Oh No. Myran scrambled to their feet as the giant advanced.

Siv had gone catatonic, or nearly, and fled behind the mirror. But Myran just stood there. The next thing they knew, they were in the giant's fist… AND THEN IN ITS MOUTH! There was a brief moment where they thought the giant was going to bite them in half… but no. Worse than that, the giant fulfilled his promise to make a meal of Myran by swallowing them whole.

Never had Myran imagined themselves in this predicament. Witches, as far as they knew, were not prone to being eaten by giants! Giants ate thieves, slayers, adventurers! Though... giants were known to occasionally eat random people that happened to be rude to them as they went about their business.

Myran had not been rude! They just hadn’t had a chance to be polite! This giant had no business eating them.

Not that any of this was actually going through Myran’s mind. Oh no. Myran’s thoughts were preoccupied with panicking about their impending doom!

First, they tried to stop the giant from swallowing. But the teeth threatened to crunch their limbs if they dared to try and find purchase! So, failing that, they tried to slow their progress down his esophagus.

The problem was the walls were too damn slippery! They knew that their slow progress was merely due to the tight fit, as they couldn’t stretch out. The flesh was too tough.

Right before they started to worry about suffocating, they were deposited into a large chamber, sliding into a puddle of nasty smelling fluid. They took a regretful breath of the rancid air.

Yonah sighed as the dwarf left his throat and settled into his stomach. Small yet still filling.

He patted his stomach lightly. “A bit disappointing. Dwarves don’t taste nearly as good as most other smallfolk, but I’m not complaining.” His prey thrashed and yelled but didn’t seem to be coherent.

YEOWCH!

Something bit his hand and he waved it violently. Whatever it was released and smacked into the wall that the desk was up against, crumpled into a motionless pile. Curious and momentarily forgetting his snack, Yonah investigated.

A cat!? And still alive but unconscious. Why had a cat attacked him? Then he saw the abandoned broom next to his notebook. And his stomach twisted.

“You’re— not a thief!” Technically, he could eat anyone he wanted, he wasn’t restricted to adventurers. He was still figuring out what kind of villain he wanted to be. Such self exploration would take time, time the person he ate didn’t have.

“I’m a witch!” He heard them squeak.

“A witch? Invading the lair of a wizard? Are you stupid!” He poked at them. They didn’t like that.

“Let me out!!”

So Yonah spat them up, sooner than he would have liked to, and leaned over them with a frown and glowing eyes.

The moment the witch hit the desk, the cat woke up and was between him and the witch as it hissed.

The witch was shaking and coughing, glancing at him with wide fearful eyes.

“If you’re a witch then what the fuck were you doing in my tower?” Yonah demanded.

The witch was still in shock but recovered enough to speak. “I’m… Myran! I wanted to introduce myself!”

“A likely story! Why would anyone want to introduce themselves to me?” Yonah wasn’t really in the mood for conversation, but figured he could use the practice at evil banter.

“You’re… new to the forest” they coughed.

“What’s it to you?”

“I’m your neighbor!” they said,

Yonah narrowed his eyes, “The forest is constantly moving, no such thing as neighbors.”

“I figured I’d try to be friendly!” they continued as if he hadn’t replied. “Everyone was talking about the new mage in the tower, but no one had any definitive stories.”

Another mistake. The giant snarled.

“You are a fool then! I don’t want any friends!” He hesitated briefly as he said it, not sure of the truth, but recovered fast. “But I don’t want you spreading rumors about my mercy either…” he picked them back up. Gripping them hard and getting their right arm between his teeth. He didn’t bite their arm off, but broke the skin with a fang and pinched their hand. They yelled.

“Stop! Stop! I won’t tell! I won’t tell!”

He dropped them and they sat, crying, holding their bleeding arm and hand which was turning a plum purple.

“Good,” he hissed steam in their face, scalding the skin red as his eyes glowed bright orange. “Now get the fuck out before I eat you for real!” He flicked the broom at them. “And if you ever show your face around here again, I will.”

Finally, they listened to him. They got onto the broom along with their cat and with a burst of magic kicked into the air and fled out the window. Yonah watched until they disappeared, then sat down. His hair hadn’t been smoking before but it was now. Additionally, his eyes still glowed.

His first visitor in months wasn't an adventurer and he’d eaten them without a second thought! Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!

Maybe this was his destiny. For years he’d trained himself to be restrained. Keep his anger in check, Keep his half giant identity a secret and become a wizard. But that had all gone to shit when he’d been discovered not as just a half giant, but as a half fire witch. Chased out of the academy but captured by the authorities of Orr.

Forced to sign a contract with King Ben to become his new pet monster! So why not be a monster!?

But he still wanted friends… his friends from the academy weren’t allowed to visit him. His tower of magic and wonder was so empty. He put his elbows on his desk and buried his face in his hands.

~chink~ his elbow brushed against something.

He looked down and saw a broken clay pot, the soup spilling out and a seedling now helpless and exposed on the desk.

Quickly yonah dipped his fingers into a pouch at his side and licked it, saying a spell. With a puff of smoke he stood on his desk, a mere 8ft tall, and he knelt down.

With his more appropriately sized hands he gathered the soil and with a wave of his hand and another mutter the pieces of the pot shook and flew back into their original places. The pot was… functionally repaired. The proper repair spell required materials to fuse the pieces properly. So it wouldn’t hold water, but it could hold soil.

As he scooped it back in, a piece of paper fell from the loose soil. Curious he dug it back out of the pot and cleaned it off enough to read:

“Welcome to the Mystical Woodlands new neighbor! This seedling is from my own garden. A special cultivation of Frozen Thyme.”

The moment he read it he was instantly planning where this would go in his garden. But… this gift. Did he deserve it? He’d eaten the one who brought it. He chased them away!

He couldn’t accept this gift but he couldn’t just let the seedling wither and die. It didn’t deserve that. And thus, his brain rationalized a way for him to keep the gift. So now what?

Yonah’s brain was too full of rage to do any proper work, so he decided to take it out on the garden, which was still in a state of construction. He’d already torn up old dead pieces of the overgrown mess left behind by the predecessor. Now he was digging spots for flower beds and what would hopefully be an orchard. There was even a designated spot for herbs.

The reason this was slow going was he refused to use magic. For the most part. Thankfully, being giant made digging and construction easier. Now that he had the thyme, he prioritized the herb beds. It was with a sour pride that he completed one as the sun started to go down.

A large wooden box that curved in a lovely arc close to the tower. The wood was specially imported from his The Blue Sky Mountain Giants Tribe in the Implausible Mountains, the smell of it reminding him of home. The frozen thyme seedling was given enough space to grow. He even gave it some friends that he knew would be compatible.

With his mind a little more at ease, he managed to get himself to sleep.

And awoke the next morning with an ache in his heart and a new plan in his brain.

For the first time since he arrived in this prison of a forest, he ventured beyond the boundaries of his clearing. Yonah knew he was allowed, a certain distance from his tower, to walk the forest. It had just seemed pointless. Not wanting to draw too much attention, he wore his gardening outfit: a pink plaid button up and light blue overalls. He had a straw hat that he recently wove to be a wizard hat, as well as his wizard staff. He couldn’t really leave that behind.

The trees in the forest were shorter than back home, but still very large. Thankfully he didn't have to duck so much to avoid branches. In his mind was a list of ingredients he needed to find. Foraging in the forest might seem like a fruitless endeavor, but when you have the keen nose of a giant, tracking down wildberries was a simple feat.

What a bounty! A huge patch of bramble with perfectly ripe berries. He didn’t need a giant’s amount and they would just get squashed if he tried to pick them at his normal size so once again he shrank down. He retrieved a basket from his hat and started to pick berries.

About ten minutes in, the bush began to shift! A section opened up and out ran a gnome with a garden spade. It smacked into his hand mid berry pick.

“Stop! Thief!”

SMACK SMACK!

Yonah was so startled he backed away and returned to his normal size, the basket of berries spilling over.

The gnome yelped. “Giant!” They dropped the spade. “Don’t eat me! Take berries! Don’t eat me or family!”

There was something satisfying about the gnome’s fear and Yonah grinned, “While you would make for a nice little snack,” he said, “I’m not in the mood for gnome today.”

The gnome shook and took up the spade again, pointing it at him as if that would help. From inside the bushes, Yonah heard rustling, and smelled more gnomes. This must cover their burrow.

“Put that away, or I might change my mind!” Yonah growled, showing his fangs. The gnome complied, tossing it aside.

“But you are also in luck. I am not interested in being a berry thief. I have more honor than that. If you would permit me to buy some of your berries, at a discount for me not making a meal of you and your family, I will leave you in peace”

The gnome gulped and nodded, “Am… sure we can make a deal.”

“Pick up the ones I already picked, will you?” Yonah ordered.

The gnome scrambled. “You will need more?”

Yonah nodded. The gnome whistled. And a troupe of younger gnomes carefully came out of the bramble.

“Kind giant has offered to buy some berries. Exchange for not eating us!”

The kids looked nervous and their fear didn’t spark the same kind of joy as the adults. But Yonah had a reputation to build! And he had to admit, it was still a bit fun.

He watched as the gnomes gathered berries until the basket was full and the adult gnome put it down in front of where Yonah had sat down. He picked it up and took off his hat, dropping it in and noticed the gnome’s eyes get wide. Storage space items were not uncommon, but storage hats were tools of professional mages, not common folk.

“That all?” the gnome asked.

Yonah stroked his beard thoughtfully, “Yes. I think so.” He reached into this hat. While he didn’t have a lot of money, Ben had supplied him with funds should he need them, and he had distributed the rings between his various pocket spaces. He got out a large wooden dowel upon which hung many metal rings. Small ones and large ones. With a pair of tweezers, yonah removed a few silver rings and one gold ring and put them into his palm, placing it up in front of the gnome.

Who did not take it.

“Do not insult me by refusing my payment,” Yonah insisted but the gnome did not move.

“More than we charge normally… You wanted discount: berries, a silver a pound!”

Yonah blinked. He still wasn’t good with smallfolk money. When purchasing as a giant, you purchased such large amounts it always cost at least a gold.

“Oh? Er-” he didn’t want to actually exploit these gnomes. “I'm not taking it back! Take the money Or I’ll eat you!” his voice faltered and the gnomes looked a little confused, and a little more relaxed.

“Leave us alone then, yes?” The gnome reached out a hand. Yonah nodded. The gnome finally took the money, giving each of the kids a silver ring. Any fear the kids had was gone as soon as they studied their rings and looked at Yonah with excitement. It was hard not to let the warmth in his heart at their expressions show on his own face.

“Actually!” Yonah announced as the gnomes started to back away into their burrow.

The adult stopped and looked nervous again. Yonah huffed. “I’m not going to eat you, I never was. I just have a question.”

The gnome ushered the kids away, not trusting Yonah, before turning back to the giant. “And if don’t have a good answer, you won’t eat… right?”

With a sigh Yonah shook his head, “No. I won't.”

“Then ask.”

Yonah took a breath, “I am... looking to get some ingredients. I… lashed out at someone recently and I very much regret it, and want to make some amends. I have giant ones back home but… giant sized ingredients do not taste as strong as small ones. Do you know where, or who, I might be able to look for?”

The gnome smiles, “Yes! Mystical Market. Sell our berries there. Open today, also gnome holiday.” They gave Yonah the instructions on how to find the market.

“Thank you- er…” Yonah put a hand to his chest and bowed.

“Kalle” said Kalle.

“Yonah,” said Yonah. The gnome bowed as well, “Don’t be flaunting riches, mysterious half giant. Marketeers take advantage”

Riches!? He did not have endless funds. He would have to be more careful with his spending.

“I am also looking for… Er... Shit!” he exclaimed and was glad the kids were no longer outside, “I don't know their name. Dwarf witch.”

Kalle considered, “Know them. Likes almond cookies. Sorry. Market easier find than people. That all?”

From their tone of voice, Yonah knew the gnome desperately wanted to get back to their family. It was a holiday after all. Yonah stood up and nodded, leaving without subjecting them to any more conversation.

Almond cookies? That changed things. He had only made almond cookies once! He needed a little more help. However, he did not backtrack to the tower. He knew that if he went back, he would lose motivation. Locating the market was his current task.

Unfortunately, it took some luck. According to the gnome, it was a special place that one happened to come across, just by wanting to be there. The more familiar you were with it, the better chance there was of that happening. Yonah really really wanted to be there. So he gathered his will and set off in a random direction.

After an hour of walking yonah felt a weird tingle all over his arms and legs. Like his hair was standing on end and all pointing in the same direction. Had he entered some magical field? No matter, he was fairly immune to passive magic.

Then he took another step and a jolt of magic electricity surged through his body, causing him to freeze up. Before he could collapse, he felt as if a giant hook had caught around his middle. There was no physical hook, but it still yanked him back, pulling in through the forest.

Eventually it stopped and finally Yonah fell over, breathing shallowly as his heart raced. He rolled onto his back and stared up into the trees.

“What’s the big idea!?” Someone kicked him in the side and he sat up. “You’re blocking the way!”

An elf!

Yonah frowned. “You’re so bold for someone I could crush with a finger!” To tease the elf, he poked them in the chest.

“YEOWCH!”

For the second time that day, Yonah got bitten. This time, it was the elf who sank their fangs into his finger, letting go before Yonah pulled away.

“Don’t get sassy with me! Messing with smallfolk isn’t allowed in the market, you'll be banned!”

Yonah looked around “The market?”

He had assumed it was the Mystical Market because it was in the Mystical Woodlands. But now he realized that the name was rather accurate. An entire marketplace incorporated into the forest itself. Stalls and restaurants built into the trees, with carts parked in between. The trees here were also… there was no other word for it: majestic. Larger and older and, compared to the forest he had been exploring before, more deliberate spacing. He couldn’t even see all of it. The forest stretched on for a while, and thus was obscured by the very trees that made up the shops.

There were even buildings in the branches so that ogres, trolls, and giants did not have to bend down to make transactions. He even spotted a few trolls. Amazing! Trolls (and ogres) were much more likely than giants to eat smallfolk. Giants mostly threatened unless the person in question did something really, really stupid.

And yet, there was a troll, large with brown fur and green spots, purchasing a roll of fabric from the elevated section of a gnome shop.

“Yes you idiot, the market! And my cart won't fit through any other path! Move your giant ass or I’ll get the guard to move it for you!”

His elation at having found the market was in conflict with his pride that was being so insulted by this little creature.

“Apologize for biting me, and I’ll consider it!”

The elf looked indignant. “You threatened to squash me! MAGEN!!” they yelled.

Thunderous footsteps were heard and Yonah turned as a proper, full blooded giant, made her way through the shoppers, somehow avoiding stepping on anyone. She was maybe 17, but full grown and taller than Yonah by at least ten feet. Her skin was a light greyish pink and her eyes were a dark red. She wore a lovely headpiece of woven flowers and vines to look like hair, which full giants do not have.

She knelt “This man bothering you?”

The elf nodded. Yonah threw his hands up, “Hey! I don’t mean any trouble!”

“He threatened to squash me!”

The giant glared at Yonah, who glared back.

“How largefolk deal with smalls outside of the market is their own business,” she said. “But inside the market we do not even threaten to squash, or kick, or stomp, or eat!”

“I did not intend to and I did not know I was in the market! I have never been before!” Yonah stood up so that he was not at such an extreme height disadvantage. Magen was a rather short mountain giant, only 35ft tall.

She nodded, “I can believe that.” She stood up. “I would have remembered you for sure.” She sniffed and said in implausible Giant: “You are from the blue sky tribe?”

“Yes! I am.” he answered, also in Giant. “I just moved to the forest. I was looking for the market but… I must have… hit something magic. I sort of fell into here”.

The elf took the opportunity to weave their cart around the giants’ feet, disappearing into the market.

“Ah, the seller seems to no longer push this issue. My name is Magen.” she introduced, bowing.

“Yonah HaEsh,” Yonah answered in return.

“HaEsh! I know the name. Fire man who helped save the Implausible Mountains from the Society of Wizards!”

“That’s my dad,” Yonah said, a little embarrassed.

“Mom told me the story! How exciting!”

Yonah brushed himself off and glanced around, “So... What are the rules here, then?”

Magen shrugged, “Just don’t start fights, alright? All sales are final, so don't go making a fuss if you haggled wrong or think you got cheated unless you believe your items are defective. There are ways to deal with fraudulent goods, but we cannot risk collateral damage.”

“Does that happen often?” Yonah asked, “I only mean to buy food, I can tell if that’s fresh”

“Oh, you have a giant’s nose then. Good. It does not happen often. Makes my job easier. And I usually manage to break up confrontations before they get out of hand.”

Knowing he could likely sniff out the stalls he needed, Yonah asked if Magen could show him around and help him find all the items on his list. She happily agreed. He had to walk behind her as there wasn’t room for two giants to be side by side.

As she carefully led him, she took glances back and down Yonah who was getting a little nervous. It had been a while since he encountered other giants. He was watching his feet to make sure he didn’t hurt anyone, and he was stopping constantly to look into the shops and stalls and carts.

“What is it like, being half giant?” Magen asked, who somehow managed to walk without looking at her feet very often at all. Maybe Yonah was being too careful and people here knew to stay out of the way of largefolk's feet… Still, he didn't want to take chances.

“Er… I have hair, I guess?” he said.

“I was wondering if that was natural or a wig.” Magen brushed the vines spilling from her head.

“But mostly, things were just a bit inconveniently large for me. I still managed.” Then he countered. “What’s it like being a guard in the market?”

“The shopkeepers pool money to have me stand around, mostly. Smallfolk behave when an angry giant is within earshot.” She grinned with all her fangs.

“I thought you said giants couldnt mess with smallfolk here?” Yonah inquired.

“You can’t. It’s my job to interfere,” Magen retorted. “I haven't hurt anyone… badly. I’ve only worked here for a year. But I know everyone and everyone knows me!”

They stopped at a stand selling nuts and Yonah purchased the almonds he needed. The seller seemed a bit disappointed that he bought so few.

“Shopping for someone small?” Magen asked.

“Er- yeah.” Yonah said. They both had to back between trees to let a trio of trolls go by. One was only 10 feet tall and barely came up to Yonah’s waist, but another was nearly 20 feet! They carried baskets and bags on their furry backs, and even had some tied to their tusks!

Before they continued, two elves leapt from the tree nearby and onto Yonah’s shoulders! He was about to brush them off when Magen stopped him.

“Don’t! They are just hitching rides!” At that, he spotted more elves on her head. “You need honey, yes? I know the best shop!”

He followed Magen around the market, which was much larger than he had realized. The elves had no qualms about leaping on and off him and other largefolk shoppers and eventually he ignored them. Magen even helped him avoid making a bad deal for oat flour, saying she couldn’t believe the nerve of the shopkeeper trying to take advantage of a new resident.

Before Yonah left, he wanted to properly thank Magen. “If there is anything I can do to show thanks. Perhaps er-” he looked around.

“You know, the juice stand behind that tree has new flavors I’ve wanted to try. How about you buy me a drink? You should get one too. It’s very refreshing!”

“They make them giant sized?” Yonah asked.

“Oh, they are made by ogres!” Magen replied, rounding the indicated tree.

Ogres, kin of trolls and even more dangerous due to their magical powers. Typically smaller than trolls, but that was not the way to tell them apart.

An entire family of ogres were operating a massive open storefront. Jugs hung from branches or were strapped to the trunks of trees and fruit swung in baskets. Behind the counter was an elaborate prep station operated by two large ogres. Around the entire display were platforms sticking out from the nearby trees. Smallfolk sat on stools enjoying drinks and food at an elevation that made it easy to be served by the ogres. Magen walked up to the counter, which was not at an ideal height for her but was easily manageable. She spoke to an ogre with straw colored fur, blue spots, and large horns.

“Edna! I’d like two passion fruit smoothies please! One giant sized and one…” She glanced back at Yonah. “Full Troll sized!” She stepped aside and pointed at Yonah. “He’s paying”

Edna nodded and passed on the order.

Yonah stepped forward. Bowing “Yonah HaEsh”. She bowed back, “Edna Baneclaw. That will be a gold bracelet for the giant and half for the full troll”

Yonah’s heart nearly stopped. A gold bracelet and a half !? He looked at Magen who flashed her fangs mischievously then back at Enda.

Edna smiled as well. “We don’t have enlarged passion fruit, not in high demand by largefolk.”

With another glare at Magen, Yonah fished into his hat. He didn’t have gold bracelets but he had rings. 10 silver to a gold. Rings to Rings. Bracelets to Bracelets… 10 gold rings to a silver bracelet… 10 silver bracelets to a gold ring. That’s 100 gold rings to a gold bracelet (he had really overpaid the gnomes for the berries... A holiday gift he supposed), but this was not money to spend on frivolous fruit drinks!

Too late, however. The drinks were ready, and he carefully removed golden rings from silver bracelets. 50 gold rings and 10 silver bracelets exchanged for two smoothies. They came in wooden cups with bamboo straws.

This better be fucking worth it. Yonah took a sip.

His eyes widened as the cool icy tart concoction hit his taste buds and he took a long drink. Finally, he looked at Magen and then Edna. “This is incredible!” he exclaimed. Magen grinned and sipped hers as well. “Yeah. Too bad we’re the last two to have some for at least a month!”

“What do you mean?”

“That took all the passion fruit we had,” Edna informed. “Won't get more for a while”

“Worth it! Suck it smallfolk!” Magen teased the people on the platforms, a few looked a bit annoyed, but most didn't seem to care. She didn't seem to care either.

“Well it was nice meeting you, Yonah. I hope to see you again. Oh, and by the way, you can return your mug to the ogres for a silver bracelet, even if you take it home today!”

Yonah glanced at his drink. “Oh! Thanks for letting me know. But where are you going?”

Magen sipped at her smoothie loudly before answering. “This was my break, silly, I need to go back on proper duty now, and you have all your things.” Magen held out her free hand and Yonah shook it, bidding her goodbye. It was getting late in the day now and he wanted to get to work on the almond cookies.

Wait… which way was back to the tower? How could he be so stupid wandering off like this!? His mom taught him better than that. Forest ranger rule number 1: DON’T GET LOST. ...okay, so that wasn’t really a rule. It was supposed to imply that you paid attention to where you were going so you could get back. This was not so easy in the Mystic Woods.

The moment he had walked far enough away from the market, he turned forward and then back, and it was already gone. He had nowhere to go but forward.

It was to his great surprise that only a minute later, he exited the dense trees and found himself in the clearing. The tower was on the opposite side. While he was elated to have made it back safely before dark, there was a distinct absence of any gladness to be home. This was not his home, after all. It was his prison.

Yonah HaEsh climbed up the tower and back into his prison. He took off his hat and sat down at his desk in the workshop, staring into the reflection on the large, ornate mirror that rested upon it.

To do this right, he needed help. Professional help. So he activated his mirror. Or at least… tried. He stared at his own reflection, then spoke. “Mirror Mirror on the desk,” he faltered, “Could you please connect me to Shoshana at the academy?”

The mirror snorted. “You think politeness will work after all this time? I don’t make exceptions. This is why your friends think you’ve forgotten about them! Put in the effort! Ask me properly or don't at all.”

“They’ve called me!!” Yonah insisted, but the mirror said nothing in response. Just like he would do when he got calls from his friends. Yonah growled and snorted back at the mirror, fogging it up. “Mirror Mirror, oh magical vanity, I wish to call Shoshana, at the wizard academy”

There was a whistle from the mirror. “Now that’s how you do it!” it praised. The fog cleared and for a brief moment, he saw his own face again before the reflective surface turned grey. Another moment and the face of his friend Shoshana emerged.

“Yonah!!!” she exclaimed. “You called! I cannot believe it!”

Yonah’s face turned a bit red. “I’ve… been distracted.”

Shoshana waved her hand, stopping any further excuses. “You’ve been through so much! I was worried! Since we graduated, you haven't called at all!”

/I never called before either... / Yonah thought. /It was always you.../ When Grand Master Sean reinstated him as a wizardling student, his friends would call regularly to work on homework and their theses, as he wasn’t allowed to actually attend the school in person. And while he attended the graduation…

That wasn’t a happy memory at all and he didn’t want to think about how he sat behind all the students in the amphitheater in magic chains looking more like a beast one of the adventuring tract students had wrangled for their final than a student.

“I need a recipe!” he said.

Shoshana raised her brows “That’s it!? First call in over a month, and it’s to get a recipe! You don’t want to catch up at all?!” Yonah’s eyes flickered and Shoshana backed off. “Alright, I can see you’re not in the mood. But please, we’re all missing you so much. We’d assumed you embraced the evil hermit wizard life.”

“I… haven’t meant to. But it’s surprisingly easy,” he admitted, grinning awkwardly. “I’d rather not go full hermit, of course.”

“Well, then dont go a month without calling your friends!” Shoshana chided. “Or make some new friends! The forest is full of interesting people, right?”

Yonah looked away, but his eyes were probably glowing orange now.

“This… is for that.”

“Oh!” Shoshana exclaimed, “I should have figured! Of course, I will give you whatever recipe you’d like.”

Yonah got out his ingredients to show Shoshana and explained what he wanted to bake. She nodded and made some suggestions for ingredients and spices to really make these cookies great. He did not have all the supplies she suggested, which led to some back-and-forth as Shoshana pointed out some substitutions for what Yonah bought or already had in his tower.

“Got that all down?” she asked, as she watched Yonah scribble out the final lines to the recipe.

“Yes!” Yonah exhaled in relief. “Thank you so much, Shosh!”

“Next time, we will catch up properly, but I had fun designing this recipe!” Shoshana chirped. “What a challenge. I wish you had called first, before just buying random ingredients.”

“I was already in the forest, Shosh.”

“I know, I know.” Shoshana blew Yonah a kiss and the mirror flickered back to his reflection.

It was time to bake! Which he did after shrinking down.

By the time he was done baking his jam print almond cookies, it was past midnight. He needed sleep and didn't think finding the witch at night was a particularly wise idea, especially since he was getting tired. That meant he was extra likely to be grumpy and irritable. So he placed the cookies in a special cooling rack to keep them magically fresh, then went to bed.

It was right after breakfast that Yonah HaEsh left the tower and, for the second time, entered the forest.

Once again, he had no direction, not that one could in the Mystic Woods. It wasn't even possible to have a map unless it was incredibly magical. Still, he was determined and willing to wander the forest for days if he must! But he’d do so at his full size, which would allow him to cover more ground.

That’s… That’s a witch’s hut! He hoped it was the correct one. It was more of a mound than a hut, with one side covered in rocks and moss and the other a more sheer side with windows, plus a flatter side with a door.

As he approached, a garden came into view and he heard a yelp before watching a small figure dart into the hut and close the curtains. The door opened briefly and a hand hung a sign that read “NO SOLICITORS”

That was the evil giant! Why was he here!? Why did the forest let him find the hut!? Was he here to eat them?! To finish the job!? Could they take on a giant fire witch?! Myran was a damn skilled witch, and at least 15 years the giant’s senior by their estimate, but they were quaking in their boots.

A knock sounded at their door. It didn’t sound forceful enough to be a giant. Siv was in front of them, hissing at the door. Thinking it better to be safe, they peeked out the window, then ran to open the door. Just a crack.

Red faced and holding a basket was… the giant. Only he wasn’t giant. Not exactly. He now stood at about twice Myran’s height. A little less actually. Right. Wizard. Giant wizard.

“May I come in?”

“Depends… what’s in the basket?” They narrowed their eyes. “I don’t want any nasty surprises.”

The wizard’s face got redder as he removed the cover. They opened the door and stood aside. They took the basket with their right hand… Yonah hesitated. Their arm had a massive scar from shoulder to elbow, but the hand was unbroken. The Dwarf noticed and gave him a hard look as he crouched low to get through the dwarf sized door, Siv still hissing at him in warning.

Myran put the basket on the kitchen table and motioned to the couch. “Please, sit.” Yonah did. The couch was small for him but it took his weight. “I’m going to be honest.” Myran leaned against the kitchen table and crossed their arms. “This is quite the unexpected visit.”

“Oh?” Yonah said. Of course, it made sense. He chased them out. Why would he then try to find them again?

“You bit me!” Myran reminded him harshly. “You broke my hand, and you said if you saw me again, you would eat me. Again. And kill me.”

/Ohhhh/

Yonah’s breath caught before managing to say. “I did… didn’t I?” He looked down at his feet.

Myran. sighed. “Yep. Though eating me at your current size would be an impressive feat. So... What the fuck are you doing here? Besides bringing me cookies to fatten me up.”

“I’m not-!” He looked back up to defend himself and saw their cheeky grin. “I didn’t come here to eat you…” They raised an eyebrow in sarcastic disbelief. “I want to apologize. For what I said… What I did. After I ate you. I was so angry. I still am, though mostly at myself. I shouldn't have hurt you. It wasn’t right.” He was almost crying. Dammit, he’d gone nearly a month without crying!

“And for eating me?”

“Huh?” Yonah was thoroughly confused.

“You’re sorry for what happened after you ate me, but what about eating me?”

Yonah bit his lip, “I’m… I’m not sorry about that.”

The witch raised both eyebrows now, genuinely curious as to the workings of this monster’s thoughts.

“I’m supposed to eat people! Especially those who enter my tower unannounced. It’s part of my job! And… And I like it!” He startled himself with that statement. He liked his job? He didn’t even want this job!! He was forcefully employed by the King under threat of death! Being evil had never been his plan and he didn’t want that. Did he?

The witch didn’t look completely satisfied with this answer. But they didn’t get to inquire further as Yonah’s curiosity got the better of him.

“Er- your hand…”

Myran smiled “It was rather mangled by your jaws yesterday. Luckily, I am a very good healer, and well-known in this forest. If you had killed me, you would have had a lot of angry forest residents after your head.” Myran began preparing a pot of tea as Yonah Processed that statement. “You’re a lucky giant aren’t you?”

“What?” Yonah voiced. “For not killing you and putting a target on my back?”

“Yes, exactly. And that was curious. It is rare that evil giants are merciful.”

Yonah looked away, “I’ve only been evil for a few months. I… you’re the third person I’ve eaten at all. And I dont… I haven’t yet… killed anyone.”

That surprised Myran. “I guess I do not know the frequency that giants normally encounter adventurers… but what I meant was you’re lucky that you even get to eat people. Most giants like the taste of smallfolk but they don't actually eat them. It’s rather rare.”

“You said it yourself. Evil Giants eat people,” Yonah pointed out. “Which I am one. I guess it’s… nice that I get to eat folks. But it comes with a cost… It’s only a matter of time before slayers come after me.”

“Most evil giants kill their victims, right?” Myran asked.

Yonah shrugged “I met another one once. Said it depended on his mood.”

“Fascinating… though if you keep up your more merciful streak, perhaps you are less likely to attract slayers?”

“Perhaps…” Yonah had not considered that. He just felt he wasn’t ready to kill anyone yet, but maybe there were other perks than just a clear conscience in continuing to let his snacks go.

“Cracked some sort of code then?” Myran inquired. “Getting to eat people without attracting too much attention? Not that this would stop all slayers,” they added. “I expect you would kill a slayer?”

Yonah nodded, sniffed, and wiped his nose. In that case… Guess he was lucky. Indeed, he’d gotten to taste plenty of smallfolk. Plenty of giants did. It was unique that he’d had his human dad while growing up. But all of the smallfolk in the village knew that when giants kissed their hands, the giants were getting little tastes. Sometimes giants would lick a friend playfully or freak someone out. He’d had a few elvish and human friends growing up, and they sometimes let him and the other giant kids lick them during games of Jacks and Giants. And his academy friends were quite amused by his affections. He very much missed them. It had not taken long for him to get used to living amongst human friends, not just because he got to taste them. And so quickly, that was taken away from him. Friends…

As tears welled in his eyes he couldn’t look at Myran any longer. He closed his eyes and turned his face away. Should he keep talking? Shit, how much of that had he said out loud!? The words continued to come out regardless.

“I know I said I didn’t want any friends. But I do! I need them. And I know I can’t be your friend. You came to me and I fucked it up. But I beseech you to not tell everyone else in the forest to avoid me. I already went to the mystical market and-“

“You… how did you find out that I liked almonds!”

Yonah looked up. They weren’t looking at him but reaching into the basket for another cookie. They munched on it thoughtfully, not a crumb falling into their beard. The tea was ready and Myran poured it with magic, leaving their hands free to hold more cookies. They walked over to Yonah, the tea cups floating with. He took the larger one out of mid air. It was very hot! And he drank. It was… It tasted like tea he’d had at home. His village had alway gotten various teas from the dwarves. New tears came to his eyes.

“You alright?” Myran asked, offering a handkerchief. “You’re a very emotional evil giant.”

Yonah took it and dried his eyes. “The tea is… really good.” That wasn’t the real reason but right now he couldn’t process all of his emotions.

“It’s my grandma’s blend,” Myran said. “I’ve tried to replicate it using my garden, but you just can’t replicate those tunnel grown fungi.”

They dipped one of the cookies into the tea. From their expression, it wasn’t really a mistake but likely didn’t improve the experience. Still they munched thoughtfully.

“I’ll be your friend.”

Yonah’s jaw nearly hit the floor and he almost dropped his tea. It was a few seconds before he managed to pick his jaw back up. Were they serious? They walked over to him, placing their much smaller hand over one of his. Then they smiled most disarmingly.

“Just don’t eat me again.”

Yonah smiled.

“I think I can manage that”

[FIN]

——

(You can imagine that Yonah got to hug Myran before he left, probably a little too tight but dwarves are tough!)

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fourfucksake · 3 years

Text

online meeting

pairing: chris evans x black!fem!reader

warnings: cursing, stripping, masturbation

word count: 4.2k

p.s this workpiece is set in an alternative reality. this is a professor!chris one shot + i imagined y/n as a black girl, but i hope every single one of you lovely people will read!

Heaps of new policies bombarded universities since the spread of the virus. The amount of preparation and paperwork that had to be completed due to the newest conditions in the teaching system made everyone stressed to the maximum level. Perhaps, that’s why teachers communicated more during those challenging times; only those who work in the same environment can relate to your work frustrations. Individuals whom before appeared almost invisible where now your online buddies. It was quite incredible though.

Chris enjoyed the feeling of this community being available for him whenever he feels like expressing his irritations and or simply desires to moan about his dislikes. Before, he has never considered himself to be a whiner, but since everyone has been constantly moaning and pouting, he thought this is the right time to join the club.

Taking into consideration the current state of the world he was assured that everyone is a complainer right about now. He was okay with that though. No doubt, he didn’t know much about psychology, however, it seemed only logical to allow people to talk about how they feel. Also, it appeared plausible people felt scared, confused, or worried. Hey, these were very surreal times. There was no reason to make others feel bad about having emotions.

Of course, there was some resentment towards certain members of University since all the teaching went online. Sometimes, Chris felt like most of his colleagues gave rats ass about regulations and procedures that were now put in place. Instead of trying to provide the best learning experience possible, they restricted themselves to slamming all the work materials online for students to figure everything out on their own.

Personally, he found online teaching unbearable and exhausting. He hated it; there were no words to describe how much he despised it. At first it was alright; it was tolerable and doable. In a way, it was nice. Being at home, able to wake up later than early morning hours. Being with his dog and going on long walks wherever he wished. Being able to take his time with cooking, exercising, reading. All of those mentioned were exceedingly pleasant.

However, Chris chose to be a teacher. He loved spreading his knowledge around. Since an early age he would teach his younger brother; he was much help when it came to revising, essay or exam tips. This was his passion, he loved it. This pandemic undeniably took this away from him. However, there was still room to provide students with knowledge this way, and he tried extremely hard to do so in most effective ways.

For example, he did not have to orchestrate his own online meetings to be this long. Half an hour, that was a long time slot. This was planned completely on purpose. Ultimately, his desire was to provide students with the time to talk to him, express their concerns, and ask questions. Maybe he took this job way too seriously, he thought, and it wasn't needed. However, there’s always this teacher everyone likes, and Chris wanted to be precisely that guy. It wasn't some stupid ego thing, not at all. He genuinely wanted people to feel like he is there for them and wants them to succeed. Every single individual had an ability to be successful, some just needed an extra push too keep them on track. Although his own schooling experiences where genuinely pleasant, he knew he would benefit more from University experience if he had a teacher like him. Not to lick his own ass, he thought, of course.

After years of working in the schooling system no errors have ever occurred. Until last year, when the last class prior to pandemic began their college journey. Back then and there a problem has arisen – you. It was no one else than little Miss Perfect, the girl who made him look twice when she entered the room. Oh, how tiring and fatiguing crushing on you really was. Chris was always collected and focused while working, but with you in his classes he found himself distracted. Often losing his train of thought, his mind shifted to dark places when your class sat in front of him. Chris was a perfectionist, so this was, in fact, greatly infuriating for him.

He did not feel this way since high school. Back in the day he was not the coolest kid you could walk past in the corridor. Thankfully, he has never had his head shoved in the toilet, but not being bullied did not necessarily mean there’s a successful high school experience behind an average American. In his own opinion, he was just a normal kid that had nothing to show for back then.

Precisely that, being average, was now the reason behind this familiar feeling. A pretty girl, a popular girl causing vivid emotions to flush down himself. Looking at her while she does the most ordinary things was the reason behind the uncomfortable state in his pants. His hormones went ill around her, reminding him of how tough being a teenage boy with no control over his erections was. It felt so familiar, craving her this badly, almost as if he’s done it before. Maybe, in a way, he compared you to someone he crushed on for the whole duration of high school. A beautiful skin complexion, addictive smile and those big, shiny eyes staring at his soul; those qualities of yours highly reminded him of her.

Chris remembered that girl very well. He recalled being fascinated by her presence, by her strong personality, and hypnotic prettiness. Her name did not pop up in his mind for years. Until he met you. Chris had Pearl, Pearl Bennett, tattooed on his brain back then. Needless to say, it was embarrassing how annoyingly beautiful she was. Just like you. Now, he didn’t even know if she was alive, he hasn’t seen her for years. It never really bugged him then, it didn’t bug him now. It was just a pleasant memory that he was able to recollect because of you.

He wasn’t sure about your feelings towards him. Mr. Novak, his colleague, often commented on the way some students would look at him. Chris regularly heard Novak claiming that Evans could get any of “that young pussy” if he only snapped his fingers. Whether it was true or not, he had no idea. Maybe, he was just humble. Or stupid, possibly very stupid.

The house was practically unoccupied now; his wife was dropping groceries off at her mum’s house and Dodger was nowhere to be found, most likely sleeping someplace in the house. Chris did not mind. In fact, he was relieved to have no other human being here. Since pandemic began his marriage decreased in its quality drastically. For quite some time existing relationship brought more annoyance than joy. He was not sure if it went both ways but noticing how regularly his wife exited their house in recent times it was healthy to assume the feeling was mutual.

How did he feel about his failed marriage? Weirdly, he was awfully okay with it. There was not a single part of him that cared enough to fight for this marriage any longer. Right now, all his thoughts were concentrated around another female. How she managed to look delicious without trying. How she smiled or laughed. How her faced twisted with grumpy expressions once she didn’t understand a certain concept of a lecture. Chris could go on, and on, and on.

It was not possible he could describe you in any other word than perfect. It was quite pathetic, he thought, it shouldn't be like that. Yes, you are a pretty girl and yes, no man can probably say no to you. There was just something about you, something so extraordinary that it took his breath away. What was this fascination? He wasn't sure. However, what he was positive about was that he enjoys looking at you. He enjoys listening to you. He enjoys thinking about you. He enjoys all those things way too much; he was aware of that. He was not ready to stop thinking about you just yet.

Now, sitting in front of his Mac, his eyes were focused on the screen. He wasn’t too up to date when it came to the modern technology, but he also wasn’t clueless to how to work a computer. Setting everything up, he glanced over at the previously printed list of names with time slots besides them. The list was not in alphabetical order, students had their half an hour available for the next eight hours of his life.

It would be a lie to say he was not thinking about you. He was looking forward to seeing your face, even if it’s only on the computer display. Your surname and student ID were somewhere halfway through the list. Naturally, he searched for your name straight away after the programme generated the list.

The ticking of the clock hanged on the nearby wall sounded out so clearly. Almost like a racing heart whenever one feels more strain than usual. He could feel the nervousness growing within him as the time passed. He almost felt bad for the kid who had his scheduled meeting right before you. Chris kept on stuttering, disconnecting, and asking for questions to be repeated. Unfortunately, there was no strength in him to think about the failed one-to-one since his brain was too concentrated on you. His favourite, little student.

His thought process was disrupted as a green dot appeared next to your surname, suggesting your online availability. Licking his lips and fixing his hair, his fingers position themselves on the mouse. One click and the signal began. Beep one, beep two, beep three.

“Hi, Mr. Evans!” Her bubbly voice caused Chris to smile. She waved and in response so did he. She seemed happy, her face expression indicated nothing but joy, he enjoyed it greatly. “Hi! How are you? How’s everything?” He asked with an honest curiosity, still smiling at his student. It’s been months since the last time they spoke without anyone else around. Of course, this was the first instance of them conversating in those settings, but he did not mind. Any type of physical interaction seemed impossible now and anytime soon. This was the best he could receive for a significant period for now.

Their faces didn’t shut for the first couple of minutes. Talking about the past months, Chris was quickly reminded of how smart and funny this girl infatuating really is. They seemed to be getting on well right from the first meeting. Weirdly, she had similar likes and dislikes as well as sense of humour. It was like talking to a long-term friend whom you haven’t seen in the longest time. He noticed her hair change, spotting the long knotless braids; in his opinion she looked completely stunning in this hairstyle. He was quick to comment on it and as a reply he was given a complement on his newest buzzcut.

Sadly, but still, he ended the chit chat to focus on discussing work material. Chris tried to stay on topic and somehow it was going well. For the next couple of minutes, he chatted about work. His hand travelled to the left side of his desk to glance at a list of things he wanted to mention, however, he got cut off by the voice emanating from the screen.

“Are those meetings being recorded, Mr. Evans?” She raised her eyebrows with interest spread across her face. Her back bent forward, causing her face to enlarge on his screen. “I mean like,” She continued and coughed. “Is anyone going to watch this later? Does anyone have access to this after we finish talking?” Her question expanded or rather multiplied, sounding out in Chris’ air pads. There was no denying he was conflicted about why she was asking this question. This was not his first online meeting and not a single individual showed any concern in this matter.

“Well, no, not really. If any of us wanted to report our meeting for any reason then I guess, um, I guess it is possible to reopen the video chat,” Slow nod was all he could do at this very moment. No doubt, he still was not able to understand the nature of her question. “If any of us found the other person’s behaviour concerning, rude or inappropriate then the IT services could recover this video chat.” He added in a robotic tone almost as if he were reading from the script.

“Would you want this meeting to get inappropriate, Sir?”

He chocked a little as his eyes widened. He wanted to slap himself across the face in response to his pathetic reaction. Shouldn’t the age gap mean something? Why was he behaving like he’s on her leash? Why was he this…nervous? Excited?

Assuredly, she should be the one who is intimidated, meanwhile it’s her making the first move. He wasn’t sure whether this simply comes from his politeness and gentles; obviously, momma Evans raised him to be a respectful man. It’s apparent, the fear of scaring you was blocking all his possible moves. Risk of being reported for improper behaviour in the workplace was also a worry of his, but it came nowhere near the terrifying theory of frightening you.

But here you were. Being indecent with him. And oh, how he loved it. How he enjoyed this single sentence leaving your pretty lips. Your remarks were more enjoyable and exciting than everything he has completed with the woman he married in the past year, if not longer.

Was he being delirious? Did your comment indicated what he thought it did? Possibility of his mind playing games on him was high. It’s so easy to assume things happened when you wish for them to happen.

“Do you want to make it inappropriate? Do you want me to be inappropriate with you, Sir?” A deep breath left his mouth and a shiver travelling down his spine followed. He was now sure; he did not misunderstand. This was not his imagination playing him, tricking him into believing there’s something here that does not exist. All of this was very real.

“Whatever you wanna be on this call — I’m happy with,” He managed to speak out loud, fixing himself on the chair. This was a bad idea, he thought once again, a horrible idea that could quite literally ruin his career. Was he going to stop? Prevent this from happening? No fucking way.

“Huh, you sure about that, Mr. Evans? I can get really filthy when I want. I am a naughty girl,” Your words hit him like a truck, and he couldn’t help the blood rush in his trousers. He licked his lips slowly and pressed his back onto the chair. He could say something, but he chose not to. Whatever you planned on doing suited him and there was not an ounce of interest in preventing you from doing so.

No further words were spoken. There was a moment of short silence that felt like forever. A moment for someone to back up, break this madness off. No one expressed a need nor a want to stop. She played with her nipples through her shirt before they journeyed up. The straps of her pale pink top slowly moved down her arm, his eyes patiently followed. To him, you were mesmerising. At this moment you had his whole attention.

Looking straight at him, her hands removed the top and carelessly dropped it on the floor. His eyes glued onto her as the soft material left her body completely. He tensed as his length twitched, reacting to her breasts and hard nipples. Her skin was complemented by the colour of a previously worn top but seeing her without it sent shivers down his spine.

Chris could feel the discomfort in his pants becoming unbearable, needing to expose himself immediately. With shame, but still, he slowly undid his zipper. For a while now the feeling downstairs was insufferable, pleading and begging to be uncovered by his hand. Chris gulped back the lump in his throat as he completely freed his member. The view on the screen made his dick ache, his length twitched, jumping again his tense stomach.

“Liking this?” She teased, firmly grabbing her breasts. His eyes darken when he took in all her naked presence. The way she touched herself, he wanted that too. He wanted to feel her nipples between his fingers. He ached to be close to her.

“I wanna see all of you,” His words escaped his mouth, hand firmly grabbing his cock. Without shame nor hesitation his member was stroked, slowly and decisively, as his back leaned on the chair comfortably.

She was quick to listen. So submissive, he though, hand still firmly hugging his man part. He observed as she stood up, taking a few steps back. Still looking at Chris, her body turned around in a circle. Her moves were slow, very captivating, making Chris feel like every single movement was in slow motion. He already adored her body.

Her hands roamed around her own body before she slipped her hand inside her shorts and panties. Subtle movements of her hands indicated she’s pleasuring herself right in front of him. By her expressions, he was able to conclude that she’s enjoying herself. She didn’t play with herself for too long. Pulling the defiant material down as her eyes travelled to his, she exposed herself completely. He felt his mouth dry at a sigh of her bare body. She gave him a sultry look, realising the power she now held over him.

“Is this how you like me, Mr. Evans?” She broke of the silence, still exposing her hot flesh. It took Chris a couple of second to even register the question, his imagination run too wild to focus now. “Do I like you naked? It’s certainly a more thought-provoking image than how I usually view you,” He teased, slightly raising the corner of his lips in a smug smile.

Licking his lips once again, he watched as she took a box from underneath her bed. It was a regular box, nothing fancy. Taking off the lid her hand searched inside for a short moment before pulling out a pink dildo. Suiting, he thought, always liking this colour on her. He admired how her skin tone was complemented by the shade.

“I love imagining it’s your cock fucking me instead of my dildo,” She said completely unprovoked, making Chris widen his eyes. They did something naughty, something filthy, yet this comment really threw him off. “I’m gonna show you how I play with myself when I think of you,” She added and waisted no time before sitting on the bed. Chris had to admit, he spotted the bed straight away when the call started. Picturing himself laying there, you next to him, he took some time imagining the wicked scene you two could create on that mattress.

“I will show you how much, how much I love picturing us together,” Her seductive voice reached Chris’ ears, his interest growing with every single second. There was this unexplainable fear within him at this very moment, fearing she is going to stop. He was helpless now, he needed her to entertain him long enough for him to reach satisfaction.

Licking his lips once again, he watched as she took a box from underneath her bed. It was a regular box, nothing fancy. Taking off the lid, her hand searched inside for a short moment before pulling out a pink dildo. Suiting, he thought, always liking this colour on her. He admired how her skin tone was complemented by the shade.

“I want you to watch,” His student said firmly, staring right at him. The sound of a dildo followed. Chris’ breath was caught in his throat straight from the anticipation of the next step she’s going to undertake. With hunger, Chris watched as she teased herself, rubbing her clit. The toy fondly slid inside of her, resulting in her lewd sounds and Chris’ silent moan.

Her nipples were hard, her unoccupied hand coming up to fondle them both whilst her bottom lip was taken hostage by her teeth. She was really enjoying herself; Chris could tell. The bed made a squeaky noise every time she moved. The call was so clear, thank God, he was able to enjoy every motion of hers. The moans, whimpers and groans escaping her pretty lips as she fucked herself with a toy. The quality of the video chat was good, but not great. He wanted to see her in full HD, he wanted to see the details. For now, though, viewing this was enough. This was damn good, so good. Those desperate hand movements, stuffing the length as deep as she could, it drove him insane. Oh, how he wanted to stretch her out like no one did before.

“Just like that, baby,” He groaned, squeezing his hard cock. He was conversating with you through moans, examining you as the vibrations caused tingles in your lower department. He couldn’t feel it, but he knew her pussy was throbbing and pulsing, desperate for more length to enter. His body parts were no different; his balls felt heavy and his dick was hard as a rock, begging for a dream release.

The heat began to grow within his body with each and every movements of hers. She kept him going, moaning his name, calling him daddy, reminding him who she’s pulling this show for. If only she had any idea what it did to him. A shaky hand wrapped around his length made rapid movements, fighting for his orgasm to arrive. Watching her, listening to her, it was magical. This craze he had within him, this fixation she caused – it was obsessive. A loud scream, her thighs closing on the pink toy and her eyes shut while she orgasmed was enough, it was everything.

The feeling of euphoria intensely swept through him as a creamy load exploded in his hand. She could not see it, but he knew she felt it. All that left his mouth was a silent “fuck” as he collected his breathe. Chris was in pieces, still processing previous events. It was now clear to him how he pleaded for that orgasm to happen, how he needed it. He was embarrassed to admit how strong, how intense, the load bursting onto his hand really was. Lucky for him, no one knew anything about it but him and himself.

„You liked this little show of mine, daddy?” Her voice awakened his senses, causing his mouth to water once again. She caught him looking at his crotch, now surely convinced what happened. She removed the toy from her body, a silent whimper followed. She threw it away on the bed like it was nothing, like it did not help them both cum just minutes ago.

“So much baby, so much. Can you show me s’more? One more time,” He breathed, looking at her with lust. She obeyed, without hesitation; her body rose from the bed and did a slow, full 360 to demonstrate her delectable features. Maybe, he was delusional, but he was sure her juices travelled down her leg. If he were right next to her, his tongue would have taken care of that.

“See you in a seminar, right, Mr. Evans?” Her sweet voice rang in his ears followed by his quick nodding. He had a chance to see her collecting the missing wardrobe that she then put on right before him. Chris could not help but notice her shaky legs. She sat down in the exact same position as before. She reached for a cup, drinking, and sipping the liquid through a straw. Now, she was back to her regular self, looking innocent once again. It slightly woke him up, brought half of him to reality.

“Yes, Miss. I will see you there. Be good, huh?” Chris said casually or at least he tried to do so. He was caught by surprise, convinced that he’s going to slur over his words more. He caught a glimpse of her eyes, forming as much of an eye contact as possible through the processor. Her current thoughts seemed impenetrable to him, although he always thought he’s amazing at reading facial cues.

“Me and you both know - I won’t.”

The last words of his current interest sounded from his Mac. Sending him a flirty wink before pressing the right button, she terminated the call. The intense orgasm left his hand still somewhat shaking. Eyes focused on the screen, he looked like he was awaiting another glimpse of her to come back.

Chris’ ecstatic state wasn’t quick to falter. It took another couple of minutes for him to do anything. Literally, anything. He was already late for the next meeting, which he felt absolutely no remorse for. His eyes lowered to look at the mess he produced; his mind displeased as he had realised, he needs to move to clean it.

Once again, it was just him and his usual surroundings. The call was over, just like that, almost as if it never happened. Despite his deepest longing, he could not go back to what just happened, he could not relive it. Your moans and whimpers performed in his head like a favourite song one would put on replay without a hesitation. He was craving more, his fingers curled into fists as he felt his cock hardening again. He was not sure what his next moves in this matter will be, but he was more than sure he needed to be inside this beautiful body.

#chris evans imagine #chris evans blurb #chris evans x reader #chris evans imagines #chris evans #professor!chris #imagine

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miaclemeverett · 3 years

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Wilbur, Fundy, and Purpled were interviewed for this great article on the Dream SMP and the Minecraft community! Full article below the cut.

"Minecraft" launched over a decade ago and the video game is as popular as ever. With over 126 million players worldwide, the voxel-based survival game drops adventurers into a world where they can craft, build, explore, destroy, and create to their heart's content. Aided by tools, blocks, and creativity, the simple sandbox world allows anyone on PC, console, or smartphone the chance to project their own feelings and creations directly into their virtual space.

"As long as you have the mind for it, you can really just do anything," 17-year-old "Minecraft" YouTuber Purpled, who has 700,000 subscribers, told Insider. "Because of how simple Minecraft is and how easy it is to build with it, you can create whatever you want."

In recent years, Microsoft's never-ending game has evolved into a tool for content creators to express themselves, leading to high-profile collaborations with some of YouTube's biggest personalities. By creating their own private "Minecraft" servers, creators have been able to craft ornate worlds and stories that they can explore in streams and videos, immersing fans in a cinematic-style universe.

Minecraft has a long history on YouTube

"Minecraft's" versatility has made it an incredibly popular game for content creators and influencers. In 2012, a change in YouTube's algorithm promoting watch time over video clicks led to a renaissance of "Let's Players" who recorded themselves reacting and playing their favorite games. "Minecraft" was one of the most successful, spawning some of the largest channels of the time like SkyDoesMinecraft (11.3 million subscribers) and Tobuscus (6.25 million subs).

Though the popularity of "Minecraft" remained fairly steady, content about the title waned a bit over the next decade either due to content fatigue or newer titles like "Fortnite" taking the spotlight. 2020 flipped the title back into the forefront, with both streamers and YouTubers capitalizing on the title's popularity.

The biggest breakout star for "Minecraft" in the past few years is Dream, an expert, faceless player with a neon-green avatar with over 17 million YouTube subscribers. YouTube labeled him the second overall content creator of the year and his streams consistently pull in a quarter of a million people.

In May of 2020, Dream decided to create a small, private server for his friends to play around in. This SMP server, or "survival multiplayer," started off with only a handful of content creators being invited. Soon, the server would expand to over 30 members, bringing in millions of views from fans who chronicle every moment of the lore the creators eventually created.

Viewership on Twitch of "Minecraft" content went from 17 million hours watched in January 2020 to 74 million in January of 2021, according to data from analytics company Rainmaker.gg.

How the Dream SMP grew from a private server with friends to a cultural milestone

Purpled has been playing "Minecraft" for the past eight years and is a high-ranking player in a multiplayer game mode called "Bed Wars." He had started talking to Dream in the summer of 2019, when the pair were both small, mutual fans.

"When the SMP was in its infancy, I just asked him if there was any room because he said how it's just for friends and if a friend wants to join, they can," Purpled said. "So I asked him, he said, 'Sure.' He sent me the IP and I was in."

The server was originally just a place to create and hangout, with no intention of creating an overarching story or plot.

Fundy, a 19-year-old Dutch YouTuber with 2.7 million subscribers joined when only a handful of other creators were on."I had talked to Dream on a few occasions, out-of-the-blue Dream sent me a message about a survival world that they had going on. It was very small at first," Fundy said. "I thought it could be a fun little side-project I could stream every now and then on Twitch, so I decided to join."

Fundy joined in the early days alongside Wilbur Soot, a 23-year-old YouTuber with 3.8 million subscribers. Soot, after attempting to create an "illegal potion shop" on the server, decided to establish a nation of non-Americans players called L'Manberg. Soot said he wrote a "treatment" for how the formation of his country would go, creating an official canon that fans could follow along with.

"I was invited into the Dream SMP near its inception but I only joined fully when I had an idea for building a country in 'Minecraft'," Soot said. "I write up a series of plot hooks and points that should tie together, however we improv dialogue and comedy throughout to take us from point to point."

These streams and pieces of content all had a canon that could be followed and consumed like a television show. L'Manberg eventually started a war against Dream for its independence, staging a rebellion chronicled in YouTube videos with millions of views.

These streams and videos aren't just randoms in "Minecraft" trying to defeat the end-game Ender Dragon — these are performers putting on a show that their fans can't miss. As the lore expanded, so did the rules needed to keep a sense of continuity and order. For example, each player only has three lives before they are removed and deleted from the server.

"It went from a casual survival game to a whole story-line filled with plots and twists," Fundy said. "Role-playing at this point is a key-feature of the Dream SMP, some parts are scripted, some parts are improv, and some parts are 'non-canon,' where it is just counted as a standard 'Minecraft' server."

The fan communities have risen up and made their voices heard

Over the next few months, the lore and world would continue to grow and so would the fan base. Hundreds of thousands of viewers would tune in for these streams, trying to keep up with the lore and content. To help catalog the story, a network of fans established themselves as lore keepers, documenting each moment for those that had to miss a stream.

The "DREAMSMP UPDATES!" account on Twitter has established itself as one of the most popular locations to find all this content and lore on social media. Starting in December 2020, the account has grown to over 147,000 users with just a team of seven administrators, ages 14-17, in different locations around the world, posting updates and stream notifications for fans. "Minecraft" is a game that appeals to all ages, but the audience for this content tends to skew younger, with 41 percent of Twitch's user base being 16 to 24, according to GlobalWebIndex.

"You can tell they're all friends and it's a lot more lighthearted in general and it shows," mod on the "DREAMSMP UPDATES!" Twitter account eclaire said over chat app Discord. "When it's not lore you see them actually having good chemistry and it really pulls you in because it almost feels like being pulled into a friend group."

User SamHQ first started the fan account with a couple of friends from high school but the group quickly expanded after the account tweeted that they needed more fans of certain streamers to join. She is online and runs the account "24/7" but "it's just like answering a text."

"When I started the account I knew lots of people who couldn't catch up because of work or school," SamHQ said. "So I gathered friends to help and now people rely on us when someone's streaming or to catch up with the lore when they can't watch."

For the fans that run the update account, keeping up with the Dream SMP isn't dissimilar to following the Marvel Cinematic Universe or a long-running television show. Characters come and go, but the improv and roleplay stay.

"The Dream SMP did something really special — taking an original idea, creating new things that have never been seen on 'Minecraft' and incorporating them with humor and characters that you can become easily attached with," mod NotAlex said.

Though other SMP roleplay servers, like EarthSMP and SMPLive, have been created over the years, none have been as successful or popular as the Dream SMP.

Finding a fan base on the Dream SMP can lead to major growth.

For the performers on the server, addressing fans and their responses comes with the territory.

"The Dream SMP viewers are very important to the Dream SMP, and the fact that they openly speak their mind about how a certain stream went only helps the streamers improve," Fundy said. "It's basically an instant review of what was liked and what wasn't."

Like most major fandoms with a young audience, fanfiction of these streamers has popped up online. Dozens of Dream fics and drawings exist online, some going a bit far and putting underage characters together. Dream responded on Twitter to those "ships," writing that they shouldn't "ship creators that are uncomfortable with it, and especially not minors."

The Dream stans, or the super fans, also tend to be very vocal online about the SMP. Hashtags on Twitter like #dreamnotfound and #dreamfanart consistently break-through to the trending page, confusing those who have no idea this world exists. The most ferocious of stans sometimes overstep the boundary between polite disagreement and outright harassment. This vocal minority has sent death threats and waves of harassment at those who criticize or disagree with their favorite content creators.

The growth and future of these channels is in large part due to the Dream SMP server

The popularity of Dream SMP has helped grow the content creators that take part in it. Since joining the server, Purpled is gaining three times as many subscribers a month on YouTube and has been introduced to an entirely new fan base. His streams used to pull in 3,000 viewers but now his average is closer to 35,000 to 40,000 viewers.

"Some people think of them as obsessive or stalker fans, but those are people that really like to talk about certain creators and really get invested in things," Purpled said. "And it's really nice because they care a lot more and connect more with the creator than the content."

These creators understand the power of the fan base and know that they come for the content.

"I think the Dream SMP is popular thanks to the brilliant creators and funny improv moments," Soot said. "I think we'll be seeing the emergence of a huge wave of roleplay-centric gaming communities."

#wilbur soot #fundy #purpled #dream smp

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ldcu-12stem1-group5mil · 3 years

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“On Becoming a Medium: Gen Z Individuals as Modern Communicators”

Facebook. Instagram. Twitter. YouTube. Google.

If you are au courant with technology, you may have used these at least once in your life.

The world is changing at a rapid pace. Modifications, transformations, and advancements in all fields are constantly happening around the world. For instance, a few decades ago, the words 'social media' and the 'internet' are still unknown. Nevertheless, these soon played pivotal roles in revolutionizing and modernizing the society that we know of nowadays. People likewise attune and habituate themselves to various changes, hereby adapting to the new and evolved manner of living and communicating with others. The youth in the 21st century is no different. Individuals who were born alongside this expeditious technological and scientific progression are collectively referred to as Gen Z, and they might become the prominent catalysts of change in this modern era.

What year were you born? If you were born after 1997, then you belong to Generation Z (Gen Z).

Generation Z, often shortened as Gen Z or iGeneration, is a demographic cohort for those who were born between the late 1990s and early 2010s, succeeding the Millennials. Despite labeling them to the last letter of the English alphabet, they contrarily have a lot of firsts compared to the previous generations. To name a few, they are considered the pioneering generation of digital natives; they can now reshape the power of technology for the betterment of themselves and others. Moreover, they are also the first generation that was raised in the era of smartphones and the internet. Since Generation Z was born together with the rise of digital technologies, they are more oriented and used to having widely available information anytime anywhere. According to Katie Young of GWI, it has been estimated that Gen Z typically spends around 3 hours and 38 minutes online, 50% higher than an average mobile user. Internet became a fundamental part of today’s society, and it is inherent to Gen Z as well. Their use of the internet on a daily basis has influenced their interactions and patterns of communication with others, both positively and negatively.

Having been accustomed to the technology we have nowadays, it is unquestionable that this generation is considered 'tech-savvy'. Come to think of it, they have not experienced a world without these technologies. They can quickly create documents, presentations, and journals with ease, especially with sufficient internet speed and fine gadgets, like laptops and phones. Additionally, they can share it with their friends, classmates, teachers, or coworkers, making it systematic and efficient. These increase their overall productivity and connectivity with one another, allowing them to multitask on various activities within a short period of time.

More than half of the internet users across the globe are under the age of 24. Additionally, this group of people tends to spend roughly 70 hours a week on their devices (Metafacts, 2018).

Whatever they want to learn, it's readily accessible for them to read and practice. This gears Gen Z towards excellence and discipline, and the earlier these are practiced, the better it is for the maturity and growth of an individual.

The integration of technology into the lives of Generation Z is indeed highly powerful. Before, millennials use SMS and voice calls to connect, and prior to the invention of any telecommunication device, mailing a letter is the only way of communicating with others from afar. Unlike the previous generations, online and digital communication through various social media applications has become the predominant means of communication among Gen Z individuals. It doesn't matter where they are, they are all connected virtually, may it be a virtual conference call or a simple text message. Moreover, as technology made its way to almost everything, collaboration with one another is a crucial aspect that Gen Z individuals would prefer to have. Using popular messaging applications like Messenger and Discord, many of them can keep in touch with one another and easily collaborate on projects, tasks, or any activities.

Over the recent years, communication among people has transformed and changed. Aside from the technological advancements, the way we communicate with others both digitally and personally is now different compared to the previous generations before us. We now commonly see abbreviations and slang in chat messages and comments online. This is often used in casual conversations among friends and family. However, this is also a piece of evidence on how our language adapts and evolves to the changes we create over time.

These are the most common slang and abbreviations used in social media. How many of these have you used?

Despite the rise of messaging apps and virtual calls, face-to-face or personal communication is still the widely preferred form of communication among Gen Z individuals.

With the frequent use of social media and the internet, Gen Z individuals tend to acquire a lot of ideas and information from others. YouTube and TikTok trends are great examples of this. As a result, they become more creative and imaginative when performing or doing something, especially when it strikes their interest. Besides, they can also create content to share with their audience. It may be for entertainment, education, information, and many more.

On top of that, Gen Z is also considered the most diverse generation, as they openly accept and embrace diversity and differences of everyone. No matter where you came from and what you define yourself, you are accepted by this generation. They are generally open-minded to the issues and taboos we commonly avoid to discuss. Moreover, they enthusiastically engage in various activities that support equality and transparency, and actively protest against racism, discrimination, hatred, and corruption which have long plagued our society. These actions, together with the rising influence of social media, may pave the way for the young generation’s voices to resonate around the world, making an impact to the society in the process.

Furthermore, these social media platforms gave them the chance to become more knowledgeable and updated on what is happening locally and internationally. They can be easily informed of any recent events by simply browsing the web or opening any social media app. Social media applications like Facebook and Twitter are the common avenues for this up to date information. However, remember that some of these may be false information, especially if the author or account who posted it is not a verified media outlet. Fact checking and verifying the sources of the articles seen in these platforms are easy and common ways to affirm their legitimacy.

Additionally, these social media applications also allow them to share their thoughts and comments regarding different posts, not to mention that may post something as well, provided that it is credible, verified, and factual. This consequently enriches their vocabulary and skills in writing, speaking, and debating, especially when involved in topics that are deemed controversial. As opposed to the millennials and previous generations, Gen Z is more open to voicing out their opinions, ideas, and thoughts to the world, candidly expressing their freedom of speech to everyone.

They don’t want to continue being a follower, they want to lead. They want to make change.

Twitter and its tagline, "What's happening?", describing the purpose of the social media platform, to connect people and to allow them to share their thoughts with a public audience.

However, it is worth noting that knowing how to navigate the internet and media does not necessarily mean that you are already digitally literate. It is essential that as users of media and spreaders of information, we know what are the proper things to do online. Intently spreading disinformation is just plainly wrong, no matter what the reason is. It does not only cause confusion but also panic and hysteria, especially when that false information is an alarming threat to security and lives. In general, we need to be responsible and disciplined all the time. You may think it is harmless, but it may actually be harmful and damaging to others. Remember, think before you click.

Communication has always been an integral part of being a human. It is the sole reason why we progressed into the civilization that we live in right now. As we reach the digital age of our civilization, the new generation of digital natives, Generation Z, will soon become the contemporary modern communicators of this society. This generation is a vocal and active group that can be a great catalyst for change. Their fervent principles, philosophical beliefs, and prudent judgments may serve importance later on as the world progresses. However, to express these to the world, we need to become a good communicator — an effective and influential communicator. And to do that, we need to be genial, compassionate, and rational to others who wants to become a communicator as well. Let them speak and let them be heard. That way, you too will be heard by others.

Generation Z is a unique generation on its own, and with their power to become a powerful communicator, they can become a medium — a medium with a potential to spark change to the society we live in.

As digital natives and users of social media, we need to be responsible for using the technology given to us. Do not make it a place for false information and hatred. Instead, use it as a platform for various purposes that everyone can benefit, learn, and enjoy.

References:

Seymour, E. (2019). Gen Z: Born to be digital. Retrieved from https://www.voanews.com/a/student-union_gen-z-born-be-digital/6174519.html.

Rapacon, S. (2019). How Gen Z is redefining their world through technology. Retrieved from https://garage.hp.com/us/en/modern-life/generation-z-redefining-the-world.html.

NDMU. (2019). The evolution of communication across generations. Retrieved from https://online.ndm.edu/news/communication/evolution-of-communication/.

Belinne, J. (2019). Gen Z - The communication generation. Retrieved from https://community.naceweb.org/blogs/jamie-belinne/2019/07/23/gen-z-the-communication-generation.

Barcelon, B. (2010). The life of Generation Z. Retrieved from https://teenlife.blogs.pressdemocrat.com/10220/the-life-of-generation-z/.

Image & GIF Sources:

https://www.social-babies.com/post/2017/01/27/5-social-media-platforms-to-explore-in-2017

https://www.thedailybeast.com/generation-z-is-already-bored-by-the-internet

https://uploads0.jovo.to/idea_attachments/840592/homework-dribbble_bigger.gif?1544706789

https://gifer.com/en/gifs/syntax

https://hips.hearstapps.com/hmg-prod.s3.amazonaws.com/images/slang-1624575149.gif?crop=1.00xw:1.00xh;0,0&resize=980:*

https://ar.pinterest.com/pin/99994054211311292/?amp_client_id=CLIENT_ID(_)&mweb_unauth_id={{default.session}}&simplified=true

https://cdn.dribbble.com/users/1308476/screenshots/3438418/beboldforchange_dribbbleloop.gif

https://business.twitter.com/content/dam/business-twitter/basics/twitter-basics-2-tweetideas.gif

https://giphy.com/explore/online-safety

#MediaandInformationLiteracy2021

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douchebagbrainwaves · 3 years

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WHY I'M SMARTER THAN UNDERGRADUATES

One of the cases he decided was brought by the owner of a food shop. Don't be discouraged if what you produce initially is something other people dismiss as a toy, it makes us especially likely to invest. Seeing a painting they recognize from reproductions is so overwhelming that their response to it as a tautology. There's nothing more valuable than an unmet need that is just becoming fixable. You have to show you're impressed with what you've made. Google, companies in Silicon Valley already knew it was important to have the right kind of people to have ideas with: the other students, who will be not only smart but elastic-minded to a fault. Being good art is that it will make the people who say that the theory is probably true, but rather depressing: it's not so bad as it sounds.

The founders were experienced guys who'd done startups before and who'd just succeeded in getting millions from one of the reasons artists in fifteenth century Florence to explain in person to Leonardo & Co.1 If Microsoft was the Empire, they were the Rebel Alliance. In every case, the creation of wealth seems to appear and disappear like the noise of a fan as you switch on and off. One often hears a policy criticized on the grounds that it would increase the income gap between rich and poor? Perhaps this tends to attract people who are bad at understanding. It would work on a moon base where we had to buy air by the liter. It seemed obvious that beauty, for example, as property in the way we do. It could be the reason they don't have to wait to be an adult.

The answer, I realized, is that my m. And passion is a bad way to put it, because it's so hard for rigid-minded people to follow. That's to be expected. An eloquent speaker or writer can give the impression of vanquishing an opponent merely by using forceful words. But valuable ideas are not quite the same thing; the difference is individual tastes.2 Don't talk about secondary matters at length. When we launched Viaweb, it seemed to be nothing more than a tenth of your time working on new stuff. Now a lot of people in the Valley is watching them. In either case you let yourself be defined by what they tell you to do.3

Of course, space aliens probably wouldn't find human faces engaging. Rebellion is almost as stupid as obedience. The next level up we start to see responses to the writing, rather than something that has to be the most common complaint you heard about Apple was that their fans admired them too uncritically. Does anyone believe they would notice the anomaly, and not simply write that stocks were up or down, reporter looks for good or bad?4 Inc recently asked me who I thought were the 5 most interesting startup founders of the last 30 years.5 Simplicity takes effort—genius, even. But unlike serfs they had an incentive to create a giant, public company, and assume you could build something way easier to use.

Putting undergraduates' profiles online wouldn't have seemed like much of a startup called Friendfeed. That would definitely happen if programmers started to use handhelds as development machines—if handhelds displaced laptops the way laptops displaced desktops. Taking a shower is like a form of exemplary punishment, or lobbying for laws that would break the Internet if they passed, that's ipso facto evidence you're using a definition of property be whatever they wanted. Back in the 90s. Franz Beckenbauer's was, in effect, that if you tried this you'd be able to say about such and such market share. The average person looks at it and thinks: how amazingly skillful.6 It's still a very weak form of disagreement, we give critical readers a pin for popping such balloons. If one blows up in your face, start another. Ten weeks is not much time. Everyone at Rehearsal Day. Merely being aware of them usually prevents them from working. If I could tell startups only ten sentences, this would be one of them.

What counts as property depends on what you mean by worth. It would have been. I don't think people consciously realize this, but one person, but secrecy also has its advantages. Honestly, Sam is, along with Steve Jobs, the founder I refer to most when I'm advising startups. It's also true that there are quite a few marketplaces out there that serve this same market. Obviously the world sucked, so why wouldn't they? There was not much point. There are always great ideas sitting right under our noses. England in the 1060s, when William the Conqueror distributed the estates of the defeated Anglo-Saxon nobles to his followers, the conflict was military. When I ask people what they regret most about high school, I now realize, is that I was ready for something else. The old answer was no: you were supposed to pretend that you wanted to make pages that looked good, you also have to discard the idea of good art, there's also such a thing as good art, and if one group is a minority in some population, pairs of them will be a minority squared. You have to show you're impressed with what you've made.

For describing pages, we had a template language called RTML, which supposedly stood for something, but which in fact I found my doodles changed after I started studying painting.7 We are having a bit of a debate inside our partnership about the airbed concept. It was thus subjective rather than objective. Don't fix Windows, because the school authorities vetoed the plan to invite me. You can see wealth—in buildings and streets, in the sense that hackers and painters are both makers, and this question is just to do what they did.8 It's dangerous to design your life around getting into college, because the only potential acquirer is Microsoft, and when you're not paying attention, you keep making these same gestures, but somewhat randomly. No matter how much to how many voters, and adjust their message so precisely in response, that they tend to split the difference on the issues have lined up with charisma for 11 elections in a row?

So is it meaningless to talk about it publicly till long afterward.9 The way Apple runs the App Store is full of half-baked applications. If I were talking to a roomful of people than you would in conversation.10 The problem is, it's hard to get the gold out of it. Where does wealth come from?11 You can demonstrate your respect for one another in more subtle ways.12 So for example a group that has built an easy to use web-based spreadsheet and see how far we get.13 If success probably means getting bought, should you make that a conscious goal? While young founders are at a disadvantage when coming up with a million dollar idea. I'd like to reply with another question: why do people think it's hard?

Notes

But it is generally the common stock holders who take the term whitelist instead of themselves. There's comparatively little from it. I couldn't convince Fred Wilson to fund them. I've come to you about it.

Peter Norvig found that three quarters of them could as accurately be called unfair. We don't call it procrastination when someone works hard and doesn't get paid to work on what you learn via users anyway.

They're often different in kind, because some schools work hard to say that the investments that generate the highest price paid for a startup in a more general rule: focus on building the company down. Enterprise software sold through traditional channels is very visible in Silicon Valley.

In many ways the New Deal was a kid that you'd want to get jobs. Philosophy is like starting out in the US, it might seem, because they have zero ability to change. If the rich paid high taxes? The two guys were Dan Bricklin and Bob Frankston.

Don't be evil. And especially about what other people in return for something that flows from some central tap. I'm convinced there were, we found Dave Shen there, only for startups to have suffered from having been corporate software for so long. I think investors currently err too far on the dollar.

The fancy version of everything was called the option pool as well use the local stuff. Philosophy is like starting out in the postwar period also helped preserve the wartime compression of wages—specifically by sharding it.

This is everyday life in general. So, can I make it easy. Believe it or not, under current US law, writing and visual design.

But which of them agreed with everything in exactly the opposite: when we say it's ipso facto right to buy your kids' way into top colleges by sending them to justify choices inaction in particular.

An influx of inexpensive but mediocre investors. Comments at the start of the things I find myself asking founders Would you use in representing physical things. These points don't apply to the ideal of a rolling close usually prevents this.

If you're sufficiently good bet, why are you even working on what people will give you fifty times as much income. When a lot of money around is never something people treat casually. No one writing a dictionary from scratch, rather than giving grants.

For similar reasons, avoid the topic. It's not only the leaves who suffer. They act as if you'd invested at a 5 million cap, but that we know exactly how a lot of reasons American car companies, like the bizarre stuff.

Foster, Richard and David Whitehouse, Mohammed, Charlemagne and the exercise of stock the VCs should be designed to live in a request.

Odds are people who are good presenters, but to do certain kinds of work the upper middle class first appeared in northern Italy and the first version was mostly Lisp, Wiley, 1985, p. So during the 2002-03 season was 2. Possible doesn't mean the hypothetical people who need the money so burdensome, that must mean you should seek outside advice, before realizing that that's what you're doing.

Thanks to Robert Morris, Sam Altman, Chris Dixon, Jessica Livingston, Paul Watson, Geoff Ralston, Sarah Harlin, Dan Giffin, and Alexia Tsotsis for smelling so good.

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blogsenlighten · 3 years

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Decoding the communication process of exceptional geniuses

Everyone must have heard the name Elon Musk recently, I mean why not, he became the richest man on earth for sometime and we are always updated on who is the richest person in the world. At a young age, everyone knew the name Bill Gates because he was the richest and not because what he did. But for men like these, becoming the richest isn’t even the last wish on their ‘bucket list’. One can only imagine what Elon Musk’s ‘bucket list’ looks like, I think it would start from making electric cars and end on colonizing mars or fitting a chip in the human skull. So, the bottom line is that the people who achieve the most aren’t even driven by the thought of achieving for themselves, rather, driven by goals of changing or bringing a revolution to the world. The fact that most of these people start with negligible resources and yet succeed among people who have all the resources in the world proves that the only purpose of doing what they do is innovate to make our lives better. So how do they succeed?

Because they communicate from the innermost part of the brain called the Limbic brain. This part is responsible for emotion, behaviour etc.

This is what is called The Golden Circle.

It is like a codified version of how organizations/entrepreneurs communicate. It matches perfectly with the framework of the human brain. The circles in red represent the Limbic brain and the circle in black represent the Neocortex brain which is responsible for analytical and rational thinking, understanding facts and figures and language. So, the ‘why’ and ‘how’ comes from the Limbic brain and the ‘what’ comes from the Neocortex.

Now, why should you care about what represents what. Because The Golden Circle is the foundational block of your mindset based on which you build an organization or pretty much anything. Here’s the thought behind it

WHY- Why you do what you do. Do you believe it?

HOW- How do you do it.

WHAT- What do you do.

Everyone surely knows what they do and how do they do it but do they believe it, do they know the reason. Most leaders communicate from the outside in, they explain what they do, e.g. make the best smartphones, then they explain how do they do it i.e. by making it thin, fast, durable etc. and expect an action i.e. a vote or a purchase. Is it convincing? NO. The inspiring leaders do something completely opposite, they communicate from inside out. They first convey what they believe e.g. we believe in revolutionizing the way people use something which is required in day-to-day life. How do we do it? By making it fast, simple to use, and long lasting, we just happen to make the best smartphones.

Now do we have a product here. YES

This is how Elon Musk communicates, from inside out. He believes what he does and has proved it time and again. When General Motors announced that they are going to double their budget for developing electric cars, Musk welcomed the competition saying the whole point of Tesla Inc. is accelerating sustainable transport across the globe and if someone makes better cars than Tesla and it loses much of the market share, he is totally cool with it.

As a child he was always fascinated by innovations, ideas and big thoughts. His former boss says that they used to spend a lot of time talking about physics, meaning of life and the essence of the universe. At a very young age, he used to quit spending time with his brothers and sisters and stand next to and listen to the person he perceived to be successful in whatever field he/she was in. Christie Nicholson, the daughter of an advisor to Elon Musk says that even as a college student he was so into technology and sustainable future that in a room of 12 people, they said ‘hi’ to each other, then two sentences in he asked ‘what do you think about electric cars?’. Now, some years into the future, he is living his every belief and idea. Some of his companies or should I say contributions to human beings include-

Tesla Inc.- Manufacturer of electric cars with self-driving technology.

SpaceX- A space exploration company with the ultimate goal of making the human civilization multi-planetary with its reusable rockets and funding this project with the help of another project- Starlink, which aims to launch 42000 satellites in the earth’s orbit to provide internet connectivity anywhere and everywhere on earth.

The Boring Company- A low-cost transportation and freight tunnel digging company. The company with its project- Loop aims to dig tunnels with express system which allows people travelling through it to directly reach their destination without having to stop anywhere between the starting point and the destination. Also, the company under its project Prufrock has developed a faster way to dig tunnels. The machine digs at a rate of 1 mile per week.

Hyperloop- Not a company but a significant contribution from his side to this concept of high-speed transportation. He holds annual competitions involving international student teams to design and build the best version of this concept. These competitions are funded by Boring company which also builds hyperloop tubes.

Neuralink- A neurotechnology company driven by linking a chip fitted in the skull and the neurons in the brain. The technology’s first goal is to give people with severe spinal cord injury and paralysis the ability to control computers. As the person thinks of moving his fingers, Neuralink decodes the information and sends it to the user’s computer. And as the technology develops, there will be more utility from it. Just imagine if engineers find a way to wirelessly connect the chip to a prosthetic.

Paypal- An ‘ahead of its time’ idea. Paypal is a digital payment system launched by Elon Musk in 1999 and sold to Ebay in 2002. It was a rapidly growing digital payment platform back then and even today, it has a high transaction rate.

SolarCity Corp.- This is a company which Musk helped his cousins start in 2006 and in 2016 combined Tesla Inc. with it. The company strives to achieve a sustainable future by making solar panels with the idea to push people to put those on their house’s roofs and every purchase of panels comes with an energy storage container.

The man lives for humanity and success is just the byproduct of it. He resonates with people’s beliefs and works almost 20 hours a day to convert it into a reality. The success also depends on people’s support. There are very less people who believe or even think about sustainable future and becoming a multi-planetary civilization, just ask yourself that how many times in a week do you think about all this. That’s where the innovators and early adopters come into play. The figure below is an innovation diffusion model developed by Everett M. Rogers.

The innovators and early adopters are the ones who are responsible for the success of these people. The figure explains the percentage of consumers in the following stages-

Innovators- The kind of people willing to be the first to purchase the product for their belief in it or for the sake of trying something new.

Early Adopters- These are the people who embrace change and have leadership opinions.

Early Majority- They adopt change before the average person and typically need an evidence of the effectiveness of the innovation.

Late Majority- They are sceptical of change and will only adopt an innovation after it has been tried by majority and has a strong evidence of effectiveness.

Laggards- They are the most sceptical and conservative people. They only adopt an innovation because the alternative they used before doesn’t exist anymore.

Any innovation’s first customers are innovators and early adopters and the technology only captures the market after it ‘crosses the chasm’ as said by Geoffrey Moore which means after it penetrates into the change adoption mindset of Early Majority.

But is knowing the reason or believing in what you do is enough for success? NO. Nikola Tesla believed in what he did and put together some parts and invented things which shape our modern world, but he wasn’t successful. By success here, I don’t mean in monetary terms or ‘fans’, I mean was he able to achieve his goal of causing a revolution, he did but not at the level of what he intended.

Nikola Tesla was one of the most intellectual people in the world with his gifted intuition of finding hidden scientific secrets but also was very impractical in financial matters, an eccentric, naive to worldliness and had a very few friends. Nikola started constructing wireless world broadcasting tower with a loan of $150000 from an American financier Pierpont Morgan. The tower was expected to provide worldwide communication and to furnish facilities for sending pictures, messages, weather warnings and stock reports but the project was abandoned due to financial and labour troubles and Morgan’s withdrawal of support. Due to a lack of funds, much of his ideas remained in his books which are still examined by enthusiasts for clues. Reporters and scientists were reluctant about considering his future prophecies. He was greeted with caustic criticism when he claimed to have communication with other planets, that he could split the earth like an apple and having invented a death ray which could destroy 10000 airplanes at a distance of 400 kms.

So believing in what you do is not a success mantra, rather an ingredient in the recipe. Maybe it’s time to rephrase ‘follow your passion’ to ‘follow your belief’.

Blog inspired by Simon Sinek

#leadership #business #startup #finance #marketing #social marketing #innovation #elon musk #nikola tesla #blogging #mba #management #science #psychology

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ampmiscfiles · 3 years

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To Us You’re Worth Everything Chapter 9: Doubts and Investigations

Start From The Beginning

Peter stared out the window from the backseat of the social services vehicle.

It hadn't taken long at all for them to come collect him after Kathy and Kent had been arrested. He didn't know the full extent of the event, but from what he managed to overhear, the cops had been completely unprepared for what they found at the house. Kathy and Kent had been victims of a brutal home invasion.

The dark part of Peter wanted to know exactly how "brutal" it had been.

How bad had they suffered?

Who did he owe his thanks to?

"Don't worry Peter," the blonde haired social worker smiled back at him. "From what we heard, you won't have to stay at the home long."

No. He wouldn't, and it had nothing to do with Pepper wanting to adopt him. As soon as he was "settled in", he would make his escape.

He couldn't go back to the compound. He didn't belong there.

He didn't.

He gave a small smile back to the woman, hoping it didn't look at fake as it felt.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"How long before we can go get the kid?" Steve asked, watching the social services van leave.

"Not until the lawyers get all the paperwork pushed through." Pepper sighed. "I wish he could have just stayed here, but that's not how it works."

"He'd have been better off here." Sam frowned. "We have better accommodations than any group home. Besides, we're literal superheroes. He couldn't be safer anywhere else!"

"Relax bird brain," Tony grinned. "Kid's only gonna be there a day at the most. My lawyers are the best for a reason."

"The sooner Peter's back here and those two are behind bars for good, the better." Steve frowned.

No one argued.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I'll be glad when we can get him back." Wanda sighed.

"At least we're on the right track." Pietro smiled. "And think, we made some really good progress today! He was talking to us!"

Wanda smiled back. They had been able to learn a bit more about him, even if it had been a little tense and awkward.

"Yeah, it's just.....it shouldn't be this hard." she frowned. "Everyone is usually so happy to find their soulmate and Peter......he just....he seems so......unhappy. It's like finding us was not something he ever wanted. Sure, he talked to us, but it wasn't really an effort to connect with us. It was more like he just didn't want silence or something."

"Well, we know he didn't have the best home life."

"Lots of people have bad home lives, Pietro. There's just something about Peter..." she said, a worried look on her face.

"You think there's more?"

"I don't trust him." Wanda said after a moment. "I don't trust him not to do something foolish. Something that could get him unnecessarily hurt."

Pietro looked at her with wide eyes.

"You're not really thinking he's-"

"No!" Wanda gasped. "No! I don't think that! I just.......I don't think......I don't think he'd think about what he was doing. I don't think he puts much thought into his own safety. I don't think he......I don't think he thinks he should care about himself at all."

"Do we know anything about his other families?"

"Maybe Nat and Clint could look into it for us. I feel like they'd be honest with us on whatever they find." Wanda replied, pulling out her phone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Peter's brain was always in a constant state of action. Whenever something settled in, he became hyper aware of what had to be done to see it to the end.

It took him roughly five minutes to figure out the best exit from the group home.

A quick tour of the building and the room he was sharing gave him all the information he needed. Once everyone went to sleep, it would be easy to leave without detection.

"Peter?"

"Oh, yes?" he asked, turning to the young woman showing him around.

"Just checking. You seemed out of it. I...I know you won't be here long, sweetheart, just trying to hang in there." she smiled warmly at him. "You can come talk to me anytime you need to until you leave."

"Thank you, Miss Jones."

"I know you don't really have anything other than what's in your bookbag right now, but I've been told you'll be getting a few things from..." she hesitated, not wanting to mention Peter's former home. "I've been told there was a request put in for you to receive a picture today. It should be here by this evening."

Peter nodded, the picture of Ben and May the only thing he was worried about.....well, that and those weird clothes he had tucked back in his closet.

Then again, maybe they would find out where they actually came from.

Giving him one last smile, the woman left him alone in the room to get settled. The other children would be returning from school and various other activities soon.

Walking to the window, he looked out over the street below. He had no idea where he would go when he left, but at least he couldn't be a burden to anyone anymore. No one would have to put themselves out to take in some pathetic orphan from Queens.

Sighing, he turned as the door to the room opened and a boy about his age walked in, throwing his bag onto one of the beds.

"Hey!" he grinned. "You must be the new guy. Miss Anna said we'd be getting a roommate. I'm John."

Peter hesitated a moment before taking the boy's outstretched hand.

"I'm Peter."

"Nice to meet you, Pete." John said, giving an easy smile. "The idiot that has that bed over there will be in a little later. He takes writing classes from a woman down the street."

"That sounds fun." Peter said, trying to keep the friendly air.

"He seems to like it." John shrugged. "I'm not even much of a reader, let alone writer."

"I enjoy reading, when I can." Peter smiled slightly. "I haven't really had much time recently though."

"Well, we don't really have any books here, but the library is just down the street. So, will you be joining us at school?"

"Oh, I don't.....I don't know. I only just got here a little while ago. Nothing....nothings really been discussed."

"You'll probably join us then. Don't worry though, the people at school are actually pretty cool about us living here at the home. Even so, I'll keep an eye out for you."

Peter blinked in surprise. This boy didn't know anything about him and already he was willing to look out for him? No. He couldn't let John do that. He didn't deserve to have anyone trying to make sure he was ok. He was a failure at most things and definitely more trouble than he was worth. He would no doubt just cause John trouble, and the guy didn't deserve to suffer because Peter was a terrible person. It wouldn't take long for anyone to figure it out anyway. Just a few minutes around him and everyone knew what a waste of space he was.

Wanda and Pietro didn't seem to think so. Neither did Pepper, Tony or Steve. Pepper wants to adopt you.

The small voice in Peter's mind spoke up.

Peter pushed the hopeful voice to the back of his mind. There was no point in entertaining such thoughts. He'd disappoint them anyway.

He looked at John's expectant face, then remembered it didn't matter anyway. He'd be long gone before John would have to be tainted by him.

"Y..yeah. I...I appreciate it."

"Great." John nodded, turning to his bookbag and digging around. "Sorry I can't be more company on your first day here but, I gotta start on my homework. Chem is my worst subject."

"Chem?"

"Yeah. I'm way better at gym than most of my academics. I mean, I can hold my own for the most part, but Chem always causes me pain."

"I....I could help. I've always been....I've always been good at science."

"Really? That would be great!" John grinned, pulling out his notebook and Chem book. "I really appreciate it. I really want to be able to get into a good college one day, so I need to keep up my grades. If you're really good, maybe I'll be able to keep my average up after all."

Peter frowned as the boy set up his things on the small desk in the room. He felt bad offering help he was going to be able to continue with. Helping John with one assignment wouldn't be enough to help him for the rest of the school year. John had been nice and friendly to him without even knowing him, and this was how Peter repaid him. Offering him useless help.

The guilt fell heavy in his chest as he joined John at the desk and began walking him through his work.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Natasha frowned as she looked down at her phone.

"What's up?" Clint asked, looking over at her.

"The kids are wanting information on Peter's former homes."

"Not surprising. They're smart kids. No doubt they've picked up on the fact Peter's obviously come from more than one abusive home. I mean, we haven't exactly met the kid, but it's easy to tell just from hearing everyone talk about him."

"I know. I just worry what uncovering his past could do to them.....or him. I'm sure it's not something Peter wants advertised." Natsha frowned. "Still, it may help with getting through to him as closed off as he seems."

"Well then, time to do some snooping."

"We keep this up and we're gonna know more about this kid then we do the others."

"If it helps the three of them move forward, then its worth it. Laura would probably kick my ass if I didn't help, honestly."

Natsha smirked before turning back to her phone.

"I'll find out who Peter's original adoption agency was and we can pay them a visit."

"After hours I'm assuming."

"Is there any other time?"

Clint grinned, watching as the SHIELD agents brought out the freshly painted car. The black surface was shiny with a new coat of wax.

"You know, you can ditch the wig. I'm just not used to a blonde Nat."

"I don't know, I think I pull it off pretty well."

"Maybe give it a little time before drastic appearance changes. I don't want you getting mistaken for some crazy blonde that attacked two abusive perverts in their home."

The two shared a look before getting into the car and driving off.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Peter?"

Peter looked up from where he and John were finishing up his homework to see Anna in the doorway. She smiled as she entered, holding out a photo.

"This was just dropped off for you. Thought you'd want it quickly."

Peter took the photo of Ben and May, tears burning in the back of his eyes at the thought he almost was never going to see it again.

Anna smiled softly before looking over at John.

"Wow, don't think I've ever seen you so excited about homework, kid." Anna grinned, looking over John's shoulder. "And Chemistry at that."

"Pete's a genius at it! I understand this stuff now way better than any of my teachers have explained it."

"Well then, maybe you'll be able to bring that grade up after all. Anyway, I was just coming to give you your photo, Peter, and let you know supper will be in a few minutes."

"Thank you." Peter replied softly.

"You're welcome, honey." Anna said, ruffling his hair as she passed.

Between Anna and John, Peter couldn't stifle the small burn of anger he felt. Perhaps if he hadn't been shipped off to an overcrowded orphanage, he wouldn't have ended up where he had. Then again, what did it matter? A burden is a burden no matter where they are.

"Thanks again, Peter." John said, putting his homework away. "I meant it. You really are better at teaching me this stuff than my teachers are."

"Yo-you're welcome."

"Come on, let's go eat. If we don't get there early, the younger gremlins get all the good stuff."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Peter watched as John joined Anna and two other workers as they started making plates for the youngest children, while sneakily stashing away food on his own. He grinned over at Peter as he also motioned to another plate he was filling.

Peter forced a smile as he looked out at the other kids. Who was he to take food from any of them? He was new, and most of them were younger than he was. He shouldn't take it. It wasn't that long ago he ate at the compound. His metabolism was always on overdrive, but he had been making due without enough food long enough to know all the tricks. He'd just slowly give his food away. He was gonna be gone after tonight anyway.

A heavy hand fell his shoulder, startling him out of his thoughts. Looking over his shoulder he felt his breath hitch.

The boy behind him towered over him, and despite the silence from his Spider-Sense, he still felt the dread of acquiring a new bully fill him.

“Hey, you must be the new kid bunking with me that loser over there.” The boy grinned, motioning to where John was looking at them and flicked the boy off.

“I’m Alex. I’m sure loudmouth over there told you where I was.”

“He….he said you….you were at a wri-writing class.” Peter stumbled, still unsure of the larger boy.

“Mrs. Crabapple, yea that really is her last name, teaches a few of us a few days a week. You should come with me one day. You might like it.” The boy smiled, leading Peter towards line.

“I...I’ve never been much of a writer.”

“You should still come. You might change your mind.”

As Alex rambled about his class, Peter couldn't help but study him. The boy fit the bill of so many bullies he had encountered before, and yet, none of them had ever talked to him the way Alex did. There was no malice or ill intent in his tone or posture. The boy really was just a big softie.

"I'm not blind, Akins." Alex smirked. "I saw those extra plates you were fixing."

"You'd get the good stuff to if you weren't at your fancy classes." John rolled his eyes.

Peter watched as the two bickered back and forth before John slid Peter and Alex each a plate.

"See butthead," John grinned. "I didn't leave you out."

"Normally I'd have a comeback but I'm starving so I'll let it go."

"Come on Pete, we always eat outside when it's nice. More room."

Peter nodded, following behind the two boys and realizing, to his dismay, there would be no way to give his portion to the other kids that needed it more. Then again, if he was going to leave, having a full stomach might not be such a bad idea. He could cover more ground if he was full.

"So, Peter," Alex started. "Tell us something about you. You already know I enjoy writing, and that John has absolutely no talents or anything-"

"Hey!" John shouted, shoving the boy. "I have plenty of talents!"

"Name one."

"We're talking about Peter you ass!"

"See, Pete. No talents."

"I hate you." John glared.

"Please, I'm to lovable to be hated by anyone."

"You wish. Anyway," John went on. "Peter's really good at Chemistry."

"Really?" Alex asked, snapping his gaze to Peter. "Tell me that idiot knows you're good at it because you helped him with his homework. I suck at it too!"

"Y-yeah. I helped h-him out before supper."

"Great! I could use help with mine!" Alex cheered. "Finally, someone useful around here."

"You do realize you just called yourself useless, right?" John asked, raising an eyebrow.

"You're just jealous of my good looks."

Despite the fact the other two boys were carrying the conversation, Peter didn't feel left out. It was an odd feeling. He couldn't remember the last time he felt....uncluded.

The Avengers want to include you.

The voice returned.

They still want to. Pepper said she would come get you.

Peter winced at the words.

Words.

They were just words.

No one was coming to get him.

Why would they?

Your soulmates want you back.

Only because they don't know him.

They will get to know you.

They will hate him.

They love you.

No one loves him.

Let go of your fear.

Letting go is dangerous.

"Peter?"

"Huh?" Peter shook his muddled thoughts away.

"You spaced out on us man." Alex grinned, poking him in the forehead. "Just making sure you were still in there."

Unable to stop it, a small smile lifted his lips.

"Yeah, I'm here."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Pepper sighed as she hung up the phone.

"Troubles dear?" Tony asked, walking into their bedroom.

"They're not going to let me adopt Peter until after the trial. Apparently not even Tony Stark and his team of top notch lawyers hold any sway."

"And I pay them how much?" Tony huffed.

"I told him I was going to come get him." Pepper frowned. "This trial could drag out for months."

"If it makes you feel any better, I arranged where he was sent."

Pepper's head shot up at the statement.

"Kids been through enough. He deserved to go somewhere decent. Top rated home with a cap on how many kids they can take due to thier size. Peter's the last one."

"Is he really, or did Tony Stark through a little bit of money at the situation?"

"They're a good home. They deserved it with or without Peter. I'm considering the logistics of a foundation to help out orphans." Tony shrugged.

Pepper smiled, standing up and wrapping her arms around his neck.

"And people wonder what I see in you."

"Well, I am kind of amazing."

"And you ruined it."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Who's that?" Alex asked, pointing to the picture Peter was holding.

"You can't just ask stuff like that, numb nuts!" John scolded.

"I wasn't trying to be a jerk, ass wipe." Alex shot back.

Peter looked from the picture of Ben and May to the two grumbling friends.

"I-it's ok." he said quietly.

The two boys stopped arguing and turned to look at him.

"You don't have to talk about, Pete." Alex replied.

"It's ok. It's my aunt and uncle. They....they took me in after my parent's died. They both died a few years ago."

Peter studied the photo, memories of the happy times he shared with Ben and May running through his head. It hurt to remember a time when things were good. A time before he caused thier deaths. Everyone he loved eventually left.

"At least you have a picture of them." John said quietly. "I don't have a picture of anyone in my family. Everything burned up in the fire."

"Mine arn't worth having a picture of." Alex scoffed. "They didn't want me, so why would I want anything of them."

The rooms was quiet for a while, the three teens locked inside their own minds.

"Boys?"

The three jumped as Anna peeked into the room.

"It's time to get ready for bed. I brought you some clothes, Peter. I know you didn't come here with anything. We'll get you more clothes soon."

"Th-thank you." Peter mumbled, accepting the small bundle.

"Well, I'll leave you to it." she smiled, ruffling his hair once more before walking out the room.

"Bathroom's down the hall, Peter." John said, pulling out his own clothes. "Better haul ass if you wanna beat the rugrats. They ruin the bathroom."

Nodding, Peter turned and made his way towards the bathroom. As he made his way down the hall, he could hear the other workers struggling to wrangle in the small kids that didn't want to go brush their teeth or put on their pajamas. Though firm, the tones were all full of caring.

Peter couldn't remember the last time he was given those types of instructions, much less with those tones.

He was expected to be smart enough to just do it on his own. No one ever cared if he did though, nor did they always provide him with the means. If he was dirty or with bad breath due to improper mouth care, they either made fun of him or ignore him in favor of other people ridiculing him for it.

Walking into the bathroom, he froze. The wall outside it was lined with cups labeled with each child's name. The cups each contained a tube of toothpaste, a toothbrush and a stick of deodorant. Looking at the names, Peter's eyes stung as the cup right next to John and Alex's was labeled "Peter". Inside was everything the other kids had.

His mind warred with his heart. His heart was over joyed with the simple expression of care, while his mind screamed how he was taking supplies from the other kids. Supplies he shouldn't have been given because, what had he done to earn them?

Taking his toothbrush and paste out of the cup, he starred at them a few minutes before shutting the door and turning to the sink. The mint burned his mouth, but he didn't stop. He brushed and brushed until his teeth and mouth felt smooth and clean. The spider bite and made him sensitive to mints, but he couldn't say it wasn't worth it. Rinsing out his brush, he set it on the clean counter top before changing into the fresh set of clothes. They were a little stiff from the wash, but he didn't care.

A beating on the door, made him jump.

"Hurry up!" a small voice yelled through the wood. "I gotta go!"

Grabbing his brush, Peter opened the door and hurried out as a tiny boy rushed inside, not even bothering to shut the door as he yanked down his pants and did his business.

"Carter! Shut the door!" A brown haired woman scolded, shutting the door. "Sorry about him, Peter. He has a nasty habit of waiting till the last minute to go."

Peter looked up at the woman in surprise. She knew his name?

"You're the newbie, kid." she grinned. "Of course I know who you are. I'm Lisa."

"H-hi." Peter stuttered.

"Well, more introductions later. It's time for bed now, squirt. Scoot on. Tell Alex he better stay in bed tonight. The bed isn't off the ground so he can climb underneath it to write at night when he thinks we're all sleeping. I can see the light from his flashlight under the door."

She laughed before turning to question the emerging Carter on whether he had washed his hands or not.

Peter hugged his other clothes close to his chest. Everyone here was so....nice. They all seemed to care and get along.

He didn't know what to do with that.

His former families hated him. They never wanted anything to do with him. There was even one family that never learned his name. They just called him "brat" or "little shit" or "trash".

He had to leave.

They didn't know who they were being so nice to.

They didn't know why they shouldn't be.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Yuri Watanabe has seen a lot during her career with the police forced, but anything involving children always took her back to how she felt as a rookie.

In a lock box, buried deep inside the Matthews’ bedroom closet, was pictures upon pictures of physically and sexually abused teens. Attached to each picture was a letter thanking them for the “present” they delivered.

It was atrocious.

She listened as members of the team whispered their hatred and disgust for the couple. Many of them mentioned how eager they were to get home and hold their own children.

The more they searched, the more they found. Floor boards were pulled up, revealing more lock boxes with pictures and letters.

The more they found, the more they worried about the young boy that had been removed from the home.

It had been revealed that the couple had waited till each teen reached the legal age to sell them off, but they had no idea what all the children had endured until then.

The door to the boy’s room had remained closed during the search of the house. No one really wanted to enter, afraid of what they might find. Eventually though, it was the last room in the house.

They had been aware that a request for a picture of the boy’s aunt and uncle had been requested to be freely handed over to the kid. Usually, nothing from a crime scene was to be removed, but a simple picture could easily be overlooked.

Walking in the room wasn’t what they expected.

Truthfully, no one was really sure what they expected, but this wasn’t it.

The room was bare aside from the most basic things. The window was bare, no blinds or curtains. The bed was covered in a thin blanket, which the removal of revealed a sheetless mattress.

There was no lamp or any other light source in the room meaning, when the over head light went out, the kid was in darkness.

Pushed up against the wall was a single dresser with broken doors. Inside each drawer were clothes way past their prime, not many of them even looked washed.

Inside the closet, hung two pair of jeans and two worn out sweaters.

“Jesus.” one of the officers breathed. “This poor kid.”

“I was really worried what we’d find in here. I didn’t need to, the kid doesn’t have anything in here.” another grimaced.

“There’s another blanket over in the corner. Looks just as bad as the one on the bed.”

The officer crouched down, gloved hands pulling out the blanket before dropping it in surprise.

“Someone get the captain!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Yuri watched as the evidence they collected against the Matthews was loaded into the van. Her gaze followed the entire trek of the sealed bag containing an outfit stained with blood that they had found inside the kid’s closet.

“Forensics is gonna have a fit.”

“They’ll have to get in line, Phillips.” Yuri sighed. “The entire team is already in arms. Finding a blood stained outfit in the back of an obviously neglected kid’s closet is never a good thing.”

Phillips nodded, turning to look at her.

“We found the picture. Where should we take it?”

“The kid was dropped off at a group home. I’ll get you the address and you can take it to him.” she paused. “Where did you find it?”

“Tucked under his mattress. Looks like the kid was hiding it.”

“Wonderful.” Yuri replied, tight lipped and disgusted.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Have you heard anything from Nat and Clint?” Pietro asked, watching as Wanda filtered around the room they had set up for Peter. She busied herself arranging extra pillows on the bed and putting away the clothes Pepper had had Happy go pick up from the store.

They wanted Peter to be able to pick out his own things, but there was no doubt he would need things as soon as he arrived.

“They’re waiting till tonight to do anything. They found out the agency that had assigned Peter to that…….place. They’re going to look for his file.”

Pietro sighed, sitting down in the rolling chair at the new desk.

“Are you nervous about what they’ll find?”

“No. I’m just frantically working in Peter’s room for my health.” Wanda huffed. “Of course I’m worried! I’m so torn between wanting to know and not. I know I’m the one that asked them, but now I’m questioning my decision. Is it really going to change anything?”

“I think it was the right choice.” Pietro smiled, standing up and pulling her into a hug.

“If anything, it might help us better approach him. The more we know, the better prepared we are.”

“I just want him to want to be here as much as we want him to.” Wanda sniffled.

“He does,” Pietro assured her. “He’s just having a hard time accepting it. Once we break through those walls, I think we’ll finally see the Peter who’s happiness we used to feel so strongly.”

“It’s been a few hours,” Wanda smiled, looking up. “And I haven’t seen a single mark on my skin.”

“And that’s a good start.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Peter climbed into bed and for the first time since he was sent to the Matthews, he felt the softness of sheets and the warmness of a real blanket.

The smell of fabric softener filled his nostrils, and though it was a bit strong for his sensitive sense of smell, he relished it.

If only for a moment.

He couldn’t stay here.

He shouldn’t stay here.

Even though Pepper would break her promise and leave him, this wasn’t a place he could stay.

He was dangerous.

People who were nice died around him.

It’s why he knew he didn’t deserve to have anyone good in his life.

Ultimately, he would kill them. It would be his fault. He would take someone good from the world, and he would remain.

Still, listening to Alex and John throw playful insults at each other as the climbed into their own beds made his mind halt.

He had been here a few hours and no one had yelled or hit him. He had been fed, properly clothed, and people talked to him kindly.

He knew this unwelcome feeling paled in comparison to what he had felt with Wanda and Pietro at the compound, but it still was to much.

There was to much at risk by staying. There were kids here. Good kids. Kids that deserved to be sent to good homes with people that would love them. Kids that deserved to find their soulmates and be happy.

Looking over at the window, Peter stared at the glass. Outside the window was a world he could get lost in. A world where he would never hurt anyone, because no one out there loved him. He could leave New York and live out the rest of his life alone, just as he should be.

Everyone would be better off if Peter Parker didn’t exist.

Sliding his hand under his pillow, he ran his fingers on the smooth texture of the photo of Ben and May.

He missed them.

It was his fault they were dead.

Bad things that happened around him were always his fault.

Squeezing his eyes shut, he waited in the darkness for Alex and John to fall completely to sleep.

Despite Lisa’s comment of Alex wanting to stay up past bedtime, the boy fell asleep before John. His deep breaths sounded in Peter’s ears as he waited on John’s to even out.

It wasn’t long before they did.

Sitting up, he reached under his bed and pulled out his beat up backpack. He carefully placed the picture of Ben and May in the front pouch before shedding the new pajamas and tossing them in as well. He slipped on the clothes he had come in and crept to the door. He opened it slowly, peering out into the hall.

He didn’t know why his heart was beating so fast. He could easily hear the silence of a house of sleeping people.

Stepping out the door, he closed it softly behind him and made his way to the bathroom. He hesitated as he looked at the cup with his name on it before removing its contents and putting them in his book bag as well.

Spider-Man the thief.

You could have these things and more with Wanda and Pietro.

The voice returned.

No.

Yes. They’re your soulmates.

Peter Parker doesn’t get to have his soulmates. That’s not how it works.

Peter Parker is alone.

By choice if you leave.

He shook his head. The stupid voice was wrong. They only thought they wanted him.

No one really did.

Why would they?

It wasn’t just the Parker Luck working against him that sent him to those various homes.

No, that was the him being taught his place.

He was sent to each family to learn just how little he mattered. Just how much of a burden he truly was.

He had been taught lessons, and helearns from his lessons.

It was time for Peter Parker to disappear for good.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Can we talk about how shitty this filing system is?” Clint huffed as they rummaged through various filing cabinets.

“There’s no rhyme or reason to any of it. There’s no order!”

“There’s an order.” Natasha glared. “It’s just a hateful one.”

Clint raised his eyebrows at her.

“They’re organized by ‘successes’ and ‘failures’. The files of adoptions and kids with good reports from foster homes are the easiest to find.”

“Guess they want to see their ‘good’ kids first.” Clint growled, aggressively slamming shut another drawer.

“Let’s move to that room over there.” She motioned across the hall. “It’s further from the office so it’s most likely full of more ‘troubled’ cases.”

The room contained filing cabinets that weren’t even closed properly in some cases. Opening the closest, it was easy to see why.

“Look at how thick some of these are.” Clint frowned, lifting one file almost to full for its folder.

“Work from the front. We’re going to assume the further back we go will be kids who have been here longer. Peter wasn’t born into the system.” Natasha said, opening on of the drawers.

The two worked quietly and quickly for a time before Clint cheered.

“Found it!” He grinned, moving to pull it out.

He frowned at how thick it was.

“Looks like we’ve got some reading to do. Let’s makes some copies.” Natasha said, taking the file from his hands and moving to where they had seen a copier.

As they ran each sheet, they read.

Peter’s file was full of various families he had been to. He was labeled a troublemaker and a generally unpleasant child to deal with. He was rude, selfish, violent, a thief, and a liar.

“This doesn’t mesh with the image I’m getting of the kid. Pepper’s pretty preceptive. I find it hard to believe a 15 year old kid, with these descriptions, would be able to act innocent enough to fool her.”

“Considering what we just saved him from…..speak of the filth. Here’s a report from them on Peter.”

Natasha laid the two pages out for them to see.

“Peter is a highly aggressive child. He is physically and verbally violent. He will go days without eating if not given what he wants, when he wants.

He has destroyed a lot of the things we have given him. He doesn’t take care of himself or his things. His hygiene is a touchy subject and one of the more difficult things to manage. He simply doesn’t care.

He gets into fights with other children once they leave school and comes home with various cuts and bruises.”

“Well, that sure doesn’t match the timelines of Wanda and Pietro’s marks.” Clint grunted.

“Still, we feel we can manage through this storm. We care deeply for his safety and well-being and are committed to seeing him improve. We are very interested in keeping Peter until he’s gotten the help he needs.

We’re positive he’s going to be perfect soon.

-Kathy Matthews.”

“In a very few years he would have been.” Natasha scowled, knowing what “perfect” meant to the couple.

“Let’s finish up and get out of here. I want to meet this kid.” Clint frowned at the papers. “I want to hear what he’s got to say.”

“You won’t. He’s apparently pretty closed mouthed.”

“Can’t blame him. I’m sure they drilled silence into him.”

“This is the last of it. Let’s put the file back and get out of here.”

“I’m going to assume we’re both in agreement we’ll look over everything before sharing with the class.” Clint looked at her, taking the file.

“Naturally.”

#tuywe #To Us You're Worth Everything #Avengers #Fanficiton #wanda maximoff #peter parker #pietro maximoff #peter parker/wanda maximoff #Peter Parker/Pietro Maximoff #soulmates au

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lamujerarana · 4 years

Note

for the prompt: Geralt/Jaskier, 9

Geralt was behaving very strangely.

He was speaking, somehow, less than usual—which Jaskier truly hadn’t thought possible—and he was…skittish.

Yes. That was the word.

Geralt had, admittedly, spoken quite a lot this morning when they set off to investigate the rash of missing children in the area. It had mostly consisted of profuse swearing, filled with some words even Jaskier, surprisingly, hadn’t heard before, although he could gather the general gist of it, which was that Geralt did not want Jaskier to accompany him on this mission.

Geralt had been known to complain endlessly about being accompanied by Jaskier on dangerous missions in the past, but Jaskier had always been sure that it was mostly for show and that Geralt was secretly pleased to have company during his lonely travels.

This morning, however, he’d felt for the first time since their initial meeting that Geralt genuinely did not want Jaskier to go with him.

Jaskier was hurt. Hurt and offended.

Especially since Geralt had seemed in fine spirits the day before—he’d even asked Jaskier if he wanted to go drinking at the pub with him, which was a first. Normally, Jaskier had to badger Geralt into doing anything that even vaguely resembled the average person’s idea of what constituted fun and entertainment and didn’t involve beating monsters to a bloody pulp for money.

But then, this morning Geralt was fidgety, couldn’t meet Jaskier’s eyes, and seemed generally uncomfortable in Jaskier’s presence.

The only logical assumption Jaskier could make was that something had happened between them last night.

Unfortunately, Jaskier also remembered nothing about last night after, oh, about drink number three.

He’d woken up alone in his bedroom, stumbled downstairs, caught Geralt trying to sneak off without him, and insisted on going with him.

They’d argued, but it had ended with Jaskier declaring, in no uncertain terms, “If you don’t want me to go with you, Witcher, you’ll just have to—tie me up or something.”

He hadn’t stomped his foot, but he’d felt like it. He did so enjoy high emotion and melodrama, although generally not before he’d guzzled down whatever breakfast he could afford.

Geralt had—it seemed so unbelievable now—lowered his eyes, grunted once, and then, bizarrely, fled from the pub.

There wasn’t really any other way to describe it—of that Jaskier was certain.

Jaskier fixed a puzzled frown on Geralt’s broad shoulders as they rode through the countryside toward the site of the most recent abduction and tried to make sense of it all.

The Butcher of Blaviken, the White Wolf of Rivia, a daring, strong, fearless Witcher who struck fear into the hearts of all who laid eyes upon him, who had slain monsters capable of making lesser men piss themselves in terror, had fled from a beautiful, soft-spoken, gentle, stylishly-dressed bard.

Jaskier simply did not understand why. Geralt had never been frightened of him before. Certainly Jaskier’s mien was anything but menacing.

Jaskier decided to confront Geralt about his suspicions directly. He could not depend on Geralt to do anything other than avoid the issue to an irrational degree.

Words were the medium in which Jaskier excelled, in which he chose to create his transcendent works of art; Geralt’s chosen medium was violence. And brooding. And this was not the sort of issue that could be settled through violence or brooding.

So that meant that this was up to Jaskier to set right.

What could he have done? Stolen Geralt’s purse from him? Spent what little he had on food, women, and wine? Geralt should thank him for that, if that’s what he’d done.

Perhaps he’d said something tactless about Yennefer, the enchantress with whom Geralt had been tortuously in love for years, but of whom Jaskier disapproved intensely—he did not think that her decision to cheat on Geralt with her ex or leave Geralt so abruptly said much about her general character.

If Jaskier had ever been so lucky as to be able to call the Witcher’s bruised heart his own, he certainly wouldn’t have squandered it as carelessly as Jennifer had. He would have cherished it and treated it with the care and love it so richly deserved, and he would have given Geralt every ounce of love and adoration he bore in his own soul.

They could have had one of those epic, soaring romances that lived forever in the hearts and minds of the people: the White Wolf of Rivia and his own true love, Jaskier the Bard. Geralt would perform various acts of astonishing bravery, skill, and nobility, and Jaskier would dutifully chronicle them for posterity through various songs and poems. Working together, they would ensure that no one would ever forget either of them, bard or Witcher. A perfect pair.

Of course, there would also be a number of deliriously happy love ballads that would be equally popular.

But, alas, while Jaskier was all too willing to fall in love with Geralt, the Witcher had never betrayed the slightest hint of interest. And he had known Jaskier for years now.

It had been difficult, but Jaskier had eventually, as the years passed, accepted that their epic romance was simply not to be—except in those adoring, wistful love ballads that he had written in secret and never played to anyone, ever, out of fear that they would somehow find their way back to Geralt and Jaskier would end up losing some treasured parts of his anatomy.

It was a shame, really, since they were some of his best work. Perhaps he’d publish them someday, when he was very old and Geralt was much less likely to track Jaskier down and commit various acts of violence upon his person.

Today, however, he was more interested in ensuring that he could retain Geralt’s general goodwill and friendship.

Jaskier squared his jaw determinedly and urged his horse forward until he was riding side by side with Geralt and Roach.

“Geralt,” Jaskier said firmly, “we need to talk about why you’re acting like this.”

“Like what?” Geralt replied gruffly. He still wasn’t looking at Jaskier, and Jaskier found that he hated it. “I always act like this.”

Jaskier shook his head vehemently. “No, no, no, you don’t. I’ve known you for a long time, Witcher, and I know all of your moods, and this is a new one.”

“No, it’s not. I’ve been in this mood many times throughout my life.”

“No, you haven’t.”

“You don’t know everything about me, bard.”

“You know, someday I am going to get very offended at the way you spit out the word ‘bard’ as though it were an insult.”

“That’s because I am insulting you,” Geralt growled, teeth bared like the white wolves after which he was named.

Jaskier wanted to tell Geralt to go perform several unseemly acts, but he decided against it. He hadn’t started this conversation in order to get more furious at Geralt. “Well, this is just getting us nowhere! Why don’t we try—”

“I agree. Talking with you is always pointless.”

“It is not! You know, there are people out there who admire me and are actually interested in what I have to say and—” Jaskier caught himself, sagged in his saddle, put a hand over his face, and took several deep, calming breaths. Geralt could be so unbelievably taxing sometimes. “Geralt, I just want to know what’s bothering you and how to fix it. You don’t need to snap my head off. Or make insulting and very hurtful remarks.”

“Insulting and very true, you mean.”

Jaskier was tempted to ride off in a huff, but he knew that would just be giving Geralt exactly what he wanted, so of course, it was the last thing Jaskier was going to do.

“Why are you being like this? What did I do to piss you off?”

Geralt silently contemplated the sky for a few moments. “You don’t remember last night, do you?” he said at last.

Jaskier was left rather speechless, but eventually, he managed to say, “I remember parts of it.” Geralt gave him a skeptical look. “Very early parts of it.”

“Hmm. Well, if you don’t know, you can find out from someone else. I’ll not tell you.”

And with that, Geralt gave a particularly vehement twitch of his reins and he and Roach rode off well ahead of Jaskier and his poor, thin horse.

Jaskier was left staring after him, more lost now than he had been when the conversation began.

What the devil had he done?

***

Jaskier was soon distracted from his troubles by the arrival of a bizarrely clad, monstrous Pied Piper, who, it seemed, lured little children away from their homes with lovely, hypnotic music, imprisoned them, and, eventually, had them for supper.

Jaskier was particularly offended at the idea that the Piper had used the venerable art of music for such ignoble ends. How dare he? Didn’t he know that music was sacred and beautiful and…

Suffice it to say, he ranted the entire way back to the pub and inn at which he and Geralt were staying.

The moment they arrived, Geralt fled (again) upstairs to his room, leaving Jaskier to entertain himself for the rest of the day.

Jaskier spotted the burly old innkeeper sweeping up the mostly empty pub (it was still much too early for drinking).

The innkeeper had been here last night, he remembered. Perhaps he had witnessed whatever sin Jaskier had committed.

Jaskier headed directly toward him. “Good afternoon, my good sir!” he said cheerily. “I was wondering if I might, perhaps, have a word with you?”

The innkeeper, who was rotund, balding, and had a horrible mustache that resembled the pelt of a dead rodent more than anything else, straightened up, looked Jaskier over disapprovingly, and said, “If it’s about your bill, young sir, I expect you to pay in full or you’ll ‘ave nowt but trouble followin’ you.”

Jaskier waved that notion away. “No, no. Nothing like that.”

The innkeeper’s displeasure morphed into confusion. “Well, what, then?”

Jaskier mustered up all of the dignity he could, rose to his full height, and declared, “I would like to know what I did last night.”

There was a glint of mirth in the innkeeper’s eye of which Jaskier did not approve. “Don’t you know, sir?”

Jaskier cleared his throat. “As it happens, no, I do not.”

The innkeeper, damn him, had the colossal gall to smirk.

Jaskier scowled. “I imbibed rather too much of your ale, and my memory of last night is…poor. So I would like to know if I did anything untoward. Or, perhaps, embarrassing.”

“Oh, aye, that you did.”

Jaskier almost didn’t want to know at this point, but it did seem that his friendship with Geralt was perhaps at stake, so he had no choice but to ask, “Specifically?”

“Well, now,” the innkeeper said amiably, scratching his nose, “where to begin?”

“With anything concerning my friend, the Witcher. Was there any…” He waved a hand around as he searched for the right word. “…embarrassment related to him?”

“Hmm.” The innkeeper frowned. “You mean apart from the two hours you spent serenading him?”

Jaskier’s stomach dropped. “Serenading? What…what did I sing? Nothing too embarrassing, I hope?”

“No, no, the songs were very good. Had me poor wife bawling, they did, and all of my serving girls. All about how much you love that lad an’ how bewitchin’ he is, an’ ‘how sad you were that he din’t love you back.” His eyes twinkled. “The Bewitchin’ Witcher. That’s what you called ‘im.”

No. Oh, no. It wasn’t possible. Those were the secret songs Jaskier had been writing for Geralt these many long years. He couldn’t speak of his love to Geralt—or anyone else, for that matter—and ultimately he had poured all of the feelings that were roiling about inside of him out into these songs, but he certainly had never intended to sing them to Geralt. While he was present and in mortal danger.

Jaskier fought to keep his expression calm. “And…how did Geralt take this?”

“Thought it was funny, at first, then ‘is face got darker as the singin’ went on, and he was very put out, I must say, when you threw up all over ‘is clothes and passed out on ‘is lap. All covered in your own sick, you were. You both were. He carried you upstairs, cursin’ all the while, and that’s the last I saw of you.”

Jaskier had awoken alone in his bed and mostly clothed, so he assumed Geralt had simply deposited him on his bed and left.

He hoped that was all that had happened. That he hadn’t woken up and made an awkward situation even more so.

“Ah,” Jaskier said awkwardly. “Well. Thank you. I believe that’s all I needed to know.”

Jaskier turned to make his escape, but was brought to a halt when he heard the innkeeper say, “Oh, and you did kiss ‘im, you know.”

“On the mouth?” Jaskier asked without turning around.

“Aye. And for a long while at that. That’s right before you emptied your stomach all over the Witcher’s clothes, now that I think on it.”

Jaskier shut his eyes. Of course it had been. Of course.

Then it was Jaskier’s turn to flee up the stairs, his heart pounding loudly in his chest all the while.

He had told Geralt the truth of how he felt about him.

How could he have been so—so stupid, and careless, and—a dunce, that’s what he was, a dunce.

He swore to himself that he would never drink another drop of alcohol, ever again, and promptly realized that he craved a drink more than anything in the world.

Curse his luck.

He didn’t think he would ever be able to look Geralt in the eye again ever. This was the rather ignominious end of a friendship that had endured through so many long years that it grieved Jaskier to think of them.

A drunken serenade and an embarrassing kiss, that was all it took to unravel a friendship it had taken them years to build.

Jaskier paced back and forth in his room for hours, agonizing over what he should do, how he could fix this.

He supposed he could go to Geralt, apologize, and do his best to downplay the feelings to which he had so stupidly confessed.

Or he could pack his bags and run away and hope that time would lead Geralt to forgive and forget, so that the next time they ran into each other, things would be less awkward.

Significantly less awkward, he hoped.

Jaskier was conflicted about which course of action to take until he recalled how sharp and pointy Geralt’s sword was and how easily he had beheaded that impudent Pied Piper.

Jaskier’s hand went to his own throat. He rather enjoyed having his head attached to his body and wasn’t eager to risk the loss of either.

Well. That settled that. Jaskier would pack up and be on his way tonight.

He’d find some obscure town to hide in—no, wait, Geralt tended to favor those. A royal court! Now those Geralt loathed and rarely frequented.

Yes, a lavish royal court sounded ideal. Somewhere peaceful, where there were few monsters who would require the arrival of a Witcher.

Jaskier knew just the place and set about preparing to leave immediately.

Given that he had such few possessions, it didn’t take him long at all to set off down the stairs, lute slung across his back.

The inn was far busier now than it had been earlier that afternoon, but still Jaskier had little difficulty picking out the portly form of the innkeeper.

He made his way through the crowd, attracted the innkeeper’s attention, and asked him very politely to tell Geralt that he had been called away unexpectedly and would be gone for a long time.

Possibly a very long time.

The innkeeper nodded his head. “You and your lad had a fight, then?”

“Not at all. I was called away. Urgent business,” Jaskier sniffed. Who did this innkeeper think he was to be prying into Jaskier’s private affairs—or, more accurately, the lack of them?

“Odd that I din’t see no messenger headin’ up to your room.”

“I suspect, my good man, you must have been busy and missed his arrival.”

“Oh, aye, I suppose that must be it.”

The manner in which the innkeeper was looking at Jaskier was entirely too knowing and downright disrespectful.

“Well,” Jaskier said with a curt nod. He placed a few coins in the innkeeper’s hand. “For your troubles. Do see to it that Geralt gets my message.”

The innkeeper nodded.

Jaskier all but bolted for the door, headed for the stables.

The stables were curiously empty, given the number of customers in the pub. Jaskier supposed that few of them were planning to stay the night, or they mostly lived near enough to walk home. Or stumble, as the case may be.

Jaskier strode directly toward the stall that held his own little mare and was busy strapping on her saddle and his luggage when he heard Geralt’s unmistakable growl say, “Going somewhere?”

Jaskier cursed softly under his breath, gathered himself together, and then rounded on Geralt. “I thought you weren’t talking to me,” he said shortly.

Geralt was leaning in the doorway of stable in a simple shirt and trousers. His long white hair was distractingly loose and lovely as it ringed his dimly-lit face, and his perfect, muscled arms were crossed casually across that wonderfully broad chest of his.

“Perhaps I changed my mind,” Geralt replied, oblivious to his own loveliness.

“Oh, so you’re not angry at me now?”

Geralt took a step toward Jaskier, who couldn’t help but think that this was some kind of trap that was going to end with him thrown into a pile of manure. “I take it you know what happened last night?”

Jaskier saw no point in denying it. “The innkeeper told me.”

Geralt raised his eyebrows expectantly. “And?” he prompted.

Jaskier wasn’t sure what Geralt was expecting him to say. “And…I’m sorry I ruined your clothes?”

That seemed to amuse Geralt for reasons Jaskier could not fathom. “And?”

Jaskier rolled his eyes and sighed wearily. “And…I suppose I am sorry if I embarrassed you in any way.”

“Worse has been done to me.” Geralt took another step toward Jaskier. “Those songs…what were those songs?”

“Oh,” Jaskier said as casually as he could, “they were…nothing. Just. Some new songs I’ve been toying with, but nothing, really.”

“Nothing?”

“Nothing.”

“That’s a pity.”

Jaskier was speechless for a beat, but gathered himself together quickly enough to say, “What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means that I was angry about the very public serenade, I did not enjoy being vomited all over—some of it fell in my mouth, Jaskier, and in my hair. I had difficulty getting the taste of it out of my mouth, and it was foul.“

Jaskier winced. Oh, god. He had thought this couldn’t get any worse, but apparently he was being optimistic. “Yes, um, sorry about that. If it helps, I have sworn off liquor forever. Permanently. It’ll never happen again.”

Geralt shook his head and smiled fondly. “You, give up the bottle? I find that difficult to believe.”

“I have!” Jaskier placed a hand over his heart and held up a hand. “I swear it.”

“We’ll see,” Geralt replied, with far more skepticism than Jaskier felt was entirely necessary.

Jaskier belatedly realized that Geralt was standing very close to him now.

Jaskier braced himself internally. This was when he was going to get thrown into the filthy manure, he just knew it.

Geralt took a deep breath, almost as though he were steeling himself, and said, “I objected to all of that, bard, but…I did not object to the sentiment behind the songs. Or the kissing. Or any of the filthy things you whispered you wanted to do to me, right before the vomiting began.”

Jaskier was a master of words, but his facility with language seemed to have departed entirely, precisely at the moment when he needed it most. “So. You’re saying…what?”

“Many things.”

“Geralt.”

Geralt’s hands were…they were on Jaskier’s hips and…his face—no, his lips were drawing closer to Jaskier’s own and…then Geralt kissed Jaskier with more gentleness than Jaskier had thought him capable of.

When Geralt drew back, Jaskier’s mouth was hanging embarrassingly wide open, and his brain couldn’t seem to string together a coherent thought.

“Ah,” Geralt teased. “So that’s what it takes to get you to stop talking. If you’d told me that earlier, we could have saved a lot of time.”

Jaskier’s jaw snapped shut as he scowled. “You like it when I talk.”

Geralt smiled that overly fond, sweet smile again, and Jaskier’s heart convulsed.

Geralt lowered his lips to Jaskier’s once more, and this time, he lingered. This time, the kiss was passionate and eager.

Jaskier was breathless, his face flushed pink, by the time Geralt was done.

“Maybe,” Geralt allowed. “But I like kissing you more.”

“You do?”

Geralt nodded.

Jaskier still couldn’t believe any of this was happening. Perhaps he had hit his head somehow and this was all a dream. A wonderful, wonderful dream that he hoped would never end.

“Our romance,” he announced, “must be truly epic, so that bards will sing of us for centuries. I’ll write the songs myself, of course.”

“Yes, I heard last night that you’d already gotten a head start on that.”

“Yes, those songs were very good, weren’t they?”

Geralt drew closer to Jaskier, and for a moment Jaskier was convinced that Geralt was going to kiss him again. His eyes were closed and he waited breathlessly to be kissed once more…and then he felt Geralt’s breath brush against his ear.

“If you ever call me the Bewitching Witcher again, Jaskier, you will regret it.”

Jaskier pulled back far enough for Geralt to see his smile. “But you are bewitching, Geralt.”

Geralt scowled in a manner that surely would have stricken terror into the heart of anyone he had not kissed breathless a minute or so ago.

“Jaskier,” he growled.

Jaskier plucked his lute and his small bag of clothing and assorted poetry books from his mare’s saddle.

He strode out of the stable, strumming his lute and cheerfully singing “The Bewitching Witcher.”

“Jaskier. I will break your lute if you don’t stop this.”

Jaskier grinned cheekily at Geralt over his shoulder and said, “Make me.”

Geralt did—although he did so pleasantly, with his mouth and his hands.

Hmm. Perhaps Jaskier had been wrong. Perhaps violence wasn’t the art in which Geralt excelled. Perhaps it was love, and sex, and kissing.

Yes, Jaskier mused as he sighed, entirely content, into Geralt’s passionate kiss. Perhaps it was kissing.

He would have many long years to find out.

#the witcher #jaskier #geralt of rivia #asks #my fic #long post #meme

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big-bad-ulf · 4 years

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The Prodigal Wolf Returns || Ulfric & Winn

Timing: Midday, Thursday 4th of June Parties: @packsbeforesnacks, @big-bad-ulf Summary: Ulfric meets with Winn to discuss what drove him out of town, and consider their next moves. Warnings: Mentions of assisted suicide, depression, and grief.

The clearing in the woods was quiet, remote, and neutral. Somewhere they could both feel at home, but that neither could claim ownership of. Hearing footsteps approaching, Ulfric dropped the cigarette stub between his fingers, stamping it out into the leaf litter below to conceal most of the evidence of the bad habit he’d picked up again after Celeste’s passing, though the smoke still lingered accusingly. “I suppose thanks are in order, for coming all the way out here,” he greeted Winn stoically, before finally turning to face the returned wolf. “As you’re aware, I’m not the one who you need to explain your actions to.” He hoped it was apparent he meant Layla and Ariana, but the young man didn’t have the best track record thinking things through to their logical conclusion. “But I’d like one, because as it stands I can’t imagine a scenario in which ‘sparring’ with a tiny human girl while in wolf form was necessary? Nor was fleeing town when you knew others of your kind were in danger.” The older werewolf’s tone was tired, weighed down by the collective suffering of White Crest’s pack over the last few weeks, but an anger borne of disappointment simmered beneath the weariness.

Winn had been dreadin’ this conversation since he’d figured out everyone thought he’d skipped town. Ulfric was… intimidating, to say the absolute least. Winn could handle teenagers. He could handle folks in his own (relative) age group. And Simon was, well, kind, in a way that he wasn’t sure Ulfric was. But part of the problem was that he didn’t know Ulfric. Didn’t know most of the wolves, really, all friendliness aside. So, worst-case scenario, Ulfirc hated him. Best case scenario, Ulfric thought he was an idiot. As he entered the clearing, smoke tickled his nose. The Full Moon was on them and Winn was pretty sure he’d have smelled it even if Ulfric hadn’t just been smoking, but he stowed the frown. It wasn’t his place to judge someone’s habits; he’d had bad habits of his own. Still had some. “I appreciate it,” Winn said, “but it’s unnecessary. I should thank you, for bein’ willing to hear me out.” He leaned against a tree, scrubbing at his eyes. Reconciling with his father and (part of) his former pack hadn’t helped his sleep, much as he wanted it to and, with Natalia out of town, he was running low on aram. “Talked to both of them. Only one left that knew, I think, is you.”

He weighed what he knew about Blanche in his mind, what he knew about Ulfric, and his newfound fondness for the truth. “Blanche is… like a sister, to me. She’s a trouble magnet. If there’s supernatural nonsense goin’ on in White Crest, I head her way. ‘Cause chances are, if she isn’t already involved, she will be in, like, an hour. I know it was stupid, thought I had better control than I did. After I got a hold of myself, I dipped, for just a few minutes. Came back, told Blanche that I was leavin’ to take care of some things, left a note somewhere I thought she’d find it. Phone had been dead before that, and I figured if she told folks I was gone, they’d know that I’d be back soon and couldn’t really make a twelve-hour drive shorter.” Winn sighed. “That’s usually the part of the story where folks have questions, so hit me. Oh, right. Social media. A shirtless photo of mine got flagged and, since I didn’t have my phone, I couldn’t contest the deactivation. That one was just coincidence. Lady Luck wasn’t in my favor.”

“It was stupid,” Ulfric confirmed when Winn was through with his explanation. He crossed his arms and paced in a tight, restless pattern as he weighed the other wolf’s actions, to decide what needed asking. It wasn’t like he could pass any judgment in an official sense, it would be up to Layla and Ariana and any of the other wolves who felt slighted to decide for themselves how they felt and how they wanted to interact with him on a personal level. But as a more experienced wolf, he felt obligated to address the aspects of Winn’s behavior that had the potential to harm the entire pack, or even their entire species. “I understand this girl means something to you, but we don’t need to be teaching more humans how to fight us.” Not that it was likely a human of average strength would stand much of a chance, even with whatever ‘mind powers’ Blanche supposedly possessed, but that was beside the point, their weaknesses were meant to stay between them. “Learning that would only help her against our kind, and if you’re worried any one of us is a threat to her that’s something that can be dealt with internally… It’s the fact you don’t seem to know your limits that troubles me most, though.”

Ulfric stopped and stood his ground as he came to that conclusion, looking over Winn appraisingly as he remembered the young wolf bragging about having killed a hunter. He’d chalked it up to mostly harmless arrogance at the time, but when he later explained he hadn’t done it on purpose that should’ve raised more red flags than it had. “You don’t seem like you’re that new to this. You should have a better grasp of how much control you do or don’t have. So, I suppose my questions are, do you know what pushed you over the edge? What do you plan to do to ensure this doesn’t happen again?”

Winn tried not to bristle at the half-accusation, pushing himself off the tree and walking towards Ulfric as, hopefully, non-threateningly as possible. “With all due respect, I never said that I was trainin’ her to take out wolves,” he said. And he hadn’t been! Werewolves were just big and so were, what, half of the things B would run into? “She only knows the bare minimum, assumin’ she hasn’t talked to Kaden ‘bout his other job. Ain’t hard for a human to try silver, given only every story about us tends to revolve ‘round that fact.” He took a deep breath, exhaling through his nose. “But we can argue ‘bout Blanche later, it’s not like I’ll be sparrin’ with her in wolf form again.”

“It worries me, too. ‘Cause I’ve…” he paused, looking up into the canopy to choose his words carefully. “Let me backtrack. You don’t know much about me, and it might be… helpful. Since you’re the wolf ‘round here with the most experience…” Now, Winn was pacing. “I was turned almost eight years ago. The only turned wolf in a pack of, uh, werewolf fraternity brothers, down south. They guided me through my first dozen shifts, taught me how to be calm. So, believe me when I say: I have plenty of control, ‘specially for not havin’ been a wolf all my life. And don’t get your britches in a bunch, I know that sounds like bullshit, right now.” Winn ran a hand through his hair, uncomfortable with the conclusions he was beginning to draw about his time ‘changed.’ “I said I accidentally killed a Hunter… well, that was half-true. The accident was my own — I was sleepin’ with a Hunter, didn’t know he was a Hunter. The killing was on purpose. Self-defense, when he abused my trust, tried to go after my pack.

“After that, I was in… a dark place. That would’a been late 2015. Next thing I remember, I was in Europe, staggering in my human form out of the woods in early 2018. Thought, until recently, I’d spent a year or two in and out of my wolf form… but, I’m startin’ to question that. Couple theories’ve been tossed around, maybe it isn’t true. But when I… attacked B, it felt different. On a Moon, when I let the wolf come to the forefront… even when I was tryin’ to keep us separate, I still knew what was goin’ on. But with B, I don’t remember anything between getting thrown into a tree and pullin’ myself back from the brink. It was, well, dissociative is maybe the closest way to say it. I was there, and then I wasn’t. I’ve never lost control like that. Not even, y’know, when I was still new at this. It’s… it’s like hittin’ that tree pulled something out of me, something from under my conscious. I— Have you ever heard of anything like that? Where a wolf just… wasn’t himself, or even his wolf self? Even if it had been, say, Ariana, I don’t think it would’ve changed it. I still think that… part of me would want to attack everything.”

“There’s no need for that if you’re not going to do it again.” Ulfric agreed with Winn’s statement about Blanche. Truthfully, he did not want to be having this argument in the first place. A good old-fashioned brawl could be cathartic but having to play the role of stern lecturer just made feel weary, worn-out, and old. Running wild together, celebrating a successful hunt, sharing tales of old legends and recent exploits, those were the things he’d looked forward to about being a part of a pack again. Having to step up and confront things that put them in jeopardy was a responsibility that came with that privilege, but not one he enjoyed or hoped to have to take up often.

The older werewolf couldn’t contain a small grimace of disgust upon hearing Winn’s story. The chance that they might be a hunter was one of the many reasons it was a bad idea to get involved that way with humans, but he didn’t bother to voice his opinion on that. The man was an adult capable of making his own choices and he’d also spent a lot of his life as a human, so it was easy to see where that mistake had come from. Besides, it seemed he’d more than learned his lesson on that front.

“I’m sorry that you had to go through that. I can’t imagine how hard it must have been to come back from a betrayal like that.” Ulfric replied at last, because the tale was tragic, if difficult for him to relate to on a personal level. “I haven’t heard of wolves entering an abnormal state like that,” Of course, his own ‘wolf self’ was similar in some ways to what Winn had described, an entirely animalistic being, but even then it retained the animal instinct not to attack its own kind without severe provocation and the risk of that side of himself emerging outside of a full moon was very low. “It seems the answers may lie in what happened in those lost years. What are the theories?” Staying transformed for the better part of years… Was such a thing truly possible? Ulfric could’ve almost been jealous of Winn for having that freedom from morals and responsibilities of the human world for so long, if the suffering it was causing him now wasn’t so apparent.

“Have you tried… it could be possible, or so I’ve heard, to bring some memories back through mystical means.” He suggested hesitantly. “I don’t like getting involved with such things, but you can’t just… go on the way you are, not without having to isolate yourself.” And that was the last thing he wanted for any of his kind, regardless of whether he held them in high regard or not. “If something were to bring on this feral state in front of a crowd that would mean disaster for all of us. And I’m sure you know that,” He leveled the younger wolf with a hard-nosed look. “Even if some of your actions suggest a distinct lack of judgment of the more mundane variety.”

“I— Thanks.” Winn frowned, stopping his pacing as Ulfric spoke. “I have a… friend, who looked into some, uh, wolf causes. Didn’t find much, some reports of wolves stayin’ transformed who went… feral, who couldn’t change back into their human form.” What Rio had told him had scared him, but it hadn’t felt, well… correct. It seemed like even those wolves had the sense to not attack other wolves, that they retained some of their humanity, even if they became more animal than human. ‘Course, many of them didn’t live to tell their tale, and the records that Rio had found could only tell them so much. Some had been written by Hunters, others written by a wolf who had to put one of his own down. But Winn had come back, which seemed to be the wrinkle. No Hunter had ever tried to bring a wolf back to themselves, but not even a packmate could. So, if Winn had been transformed, how could he have come back?

“Given I’m back, though, my friend and I ruled that out. ‘Specially for a bitten wolf to come back from bein’ feral? Seemed unlikely. Not when there was another explanation. Which is, um…” Alright, okay. He could admit this aloud. “My dad is a huxian. He thinks it might be mystical, yeah. Somethin’ taken from me, or somethin’ I gave up.”

He swallowed, mouth dry. “I’m still tryin’ other avenues. R— My friend is lookin’ into… side-effects of wolfsbane. What shit street wolfsbane might get spiked with. I—” Winn scratched at his arms, almost wishin’ that he was wearin’ a shirt. “I took wolfsbane for months, after I killed that Hunter. Blamed myself for what happened to the pack. And I guess I… stopped.” He looked up into the canopy. “But you’re right. I need to figure out my shit, so I don’t put us all at risk. And, short of goin’ back on the wolfsbane — which I’m not gonna do — we really don’t have any leads. If there’s… a part of me, that’s missin’, then I don’t want to go on like this. I can’t. Even if…” Well, there was always this part. Winn looked back down at Ulfric, mouth set in a hard line. “Don’t… I don’t want your pity. This isn’t y’all’s problem, but there’s… well, if I’m missin’ two years, there’s a chance that…” He coughed.

“There’s this Hunter I know. Luke mentioned him at the meeting. He… If I did somethin’ bad, hurt an innocent life, he’s the one I trust to… put an end to me. But I don’t want him knowin’ about what happened with B, and— I don’t know what could happen, if I get those memories back. No one I’ve talked to so far does. But if he’s… if I’m different, if I try to hurt someone, I need y’all to be willin’ to stop me. If that happens… As the person I am now, I want you… to take me down. If you can’t kill me, let me rot. If I can’t control myself, I am… I am not more important than all of you.” His voice was hoarse, tears pricked at the corners of his eyes. He couldn’t remember crying this much in a very long time, but he needed to be firm. “Promise me. Please. I’m sorry, so sorry, to put that burden on you.” He held out his hand, for the other wolf to take, to seal the pact. “But it has to be done.”

As Winn’s explanation continued, it became more and more clear to Ulfric that his actions couldn’t be explained away by stupidity or cowardice. That was a shame really, both of those causes would’ve been much easier to deal with than this mystery of missing memory. Everything Winn said seemed to introduce a new piece to the puzzle (Huxians, wolfsbane, and of course, the seemingly inescapable interference of hunters), but it was unclear how they whole fit together or how much of a threat would be revealed when the big picture came together. When the young wolf came to the end of his speech and what he was asking him to do sunk in, Ulfric’s blood ran cold. Protecting the pack was paramount, but the thought of killing another wolf was profane, it would be the ultimate sacrilege towards the gift his ancestors had bestowed upon him.

“I’m not going to sit idly by and let you harm other members of the pack, of that you can be certain,” he answered carefully, considering his options. If Winn were to slip into a permanent state of mindless, unbridled aggression, the usual ‘last resort’ of exile would do little to keep him from returning and causing havoc in their territory. Caging was another possibility, but he knew if their circumstances were reversed, he’d prefer a quick death over a life spent in chains, and it seemed the young man would as well. And finally, allowing hunters to deal with him in that state would only further inflame their hatred towards his kind, along with being plain undignified. “If your continued existence poses a threat to their survival, I promise you, I’ll do what needs to be done.” Ulfric accepted after a long moment’s deliberation, giving Winn’s hand a firm, resolute shake, though the clamminess of his palm betrayed his instinctual, visceral reaction against the plan. “Let’s not let it come to that though,” He added, more of an instruction than a hope. “I’ve had my fill of death for the time being.”

““Thank you,” Winn said, quietly. “But… Agreed. Don’t want it to come to that.” It wasn’t that Winn hadn’t considered his death before. Hell, after what had happened with his old pack, there had been times where he’d… well, where he’d really considered dying. Winn liked to think he was better, now. If not totally well-adjusted, at least pretty solid on the ‘me dying wouldn’t fix the issue’ mantra. Counseling helped that, and learning about counseling only reinforced it. Which is part of why he knew: “I need those memories back, though. Even if it hurts, or if there’s… a reason I buried them. Now that I know they might not be there, it’s like… it’s like I can feel the space where they used to be. They’re a blindspot, sure, but more than that they’re… part of me. I can’t…” He sighed, sitting down on the forest floor and breathing in the woods for a moment before continuing. “As I am now, I can’t imagine what reason I could have had to bury them or… take them? I don’t know anybody who’d have the answers. Plus, there’s all the shit with Luke, and what happened with Ari, and… Fuck, man, I haven’t even asked you how you’re doing. I… I mean, I didn’t know Celeste, but I talked to Ari some, and… I know it’s a cheap question, but are you okay, Ulfric?”

“I think I can understand that. Why you’d want them back.” Ulfric assured him. He was familiar with having gaps in his memory, though he’d never had much choice in the matter. Berserkers had lost the ability to remember most of their actions while transformed centuries ago, and their intentions behind that, if there were any, were shrouded in mystery and myth. He did have a choice, though, between taking the easy way out and walking away from the carnage he’d caused while in wolf form and reconstructing what happened during that time as best he could. Ever since his ill-thought-out vengeance against the hunters who took his younger siblings, he’d chosen to do the latter. Chosen to look at the carnage and accept why it had happened, and that it was a part of him.

“What we do is what we are,” he pondered aloud, before directing his attention back on Winn more fully. “I respect your choice and wish you luck. You can count on me for… whatever it is you think I can provide.” Which wasn’t much, given his lack of expertise in the realm of the magical. He couldn’t even truthfully say he’d provide friendly support, because he was still too wary of the young wolf and the potential danger he posed to the pack as a whole to consider him a friend. An alliance was clearly in both their best interests though, so Ulfric refrained from repeating his earlier comments about not wanting any help from him when he asked how he was. “I’ll survive, so will you,” he stated simply and firmly instead, almost ordering the fates to make it so. “Any other option doesn’t bear thinking about.” The older wolf turned briskly and took off into the trees. Action was required of both of them, if the White Crest pack was ever going to be able to consider itself safe. They could spare no more time for conjecture and contemplation.

#chatzy #winn #the prodigal wolf returns #wickedswriting #suicide tw

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powermetalhag · 4 years

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Digging Deeper

@alienfuckeronmain tagged me in this massive tag meme (Thank you!! I love doing these things). If I tag you, feel free to ignore this if you don’t feel up to doing it/reading it. If you aren’t tagged and want to be, feel free to just say I tagged you ❤

I tag: @flowerkitten @meemimajima @darlingdear @wizards1977 @violet-tea @lickthatbattery @lusamine @misfit-on-a-journey @lampshroomomg @cyrsed @wooden-duck @wildbayou @curse-you @ghostly-rowlf @icedchailatte @oni-lover

1. Do you prefer writing with a black pen or blue pen? black

2. Would you prefer to live in the country or city? City

3. If you could learn a new skill what would it be? I’d love to be able to sing and metal-scream really well. I’m trying to learn but I practice pretty inconsistently and it’s an uphill battle bc I don’t have much natural aptitude for it. Also it would be really cool to be a contortionist.

4. Do you drink your tea/coffee with sugar? I don’t drink coffee. Sometimes I sweeten tea, sometimes I don’t.

5. What was your favourite book as a child? I didn’t like reading books much as a child. When it came to reading novels, my reading comprehension was pretty below average (I think I posted about this ages ago, but when I tried to read Harry potter when I was 7 I couldn’t follow it at all. I somehow thought that Harry and Hagrid were the same character and that Hagrid was just the name for Harry’s Wizard self. My concentration just wasn’t there). I read a lot of manga though. I think my favourites were fushigi yuugi, saint tail, and miracle girls.

6. Do you prefer baths or showers? showers.

7. If you could be a mythical creature, which one would it be? Hobbit

8. Paper or electronic books? I prefer paper books, but I mostly use electronic ones.

9. What is your favourite item of clothing? my cloud-print long sleeved mesh shirt

10. Do you like your name or would you like to change it? I used to want to change it, I don’t anymore.

11. Who is a mentor to you? I don’t think I have one

12. Would you like to be famous and if so, what for? I like the idea of creative projects of mine becoming a little bit known, but I’d never want to be famous.

13. Are you a restless sleeper? Not really

14. Do you consider yourself a romantic person? I’m probably less romantic than the average person, but in the right situation I can be.

15. Which element best represents you? I associate myself with fire (bc I'm a leo) but in some ways water or air might better represent me. Idk.

16. Who do you want to be closer to? Honestly? Pretty much all of my friends. My life is complicated and the severity of my ocd makes me keep everyone at a distance more than I’d like to.

17. Do you miss someone at the moment? Everyone who I haven’t seen since quarantine started.

18. Tell us about an early childhood memory. As young kids my sister and I hated Tracey Sketchit from pokemon so passionately that we would draw his face on the bottom of our feet before going to jump on the trampoline so that we could feel like we were jumping on him

19. What is the strangest thing you have eaten? When we were little my sister and I would sometimes eat raw dried spaghetti dipped in vegemite when there was no other easy snacks in the house. We called them cardboard sticks. (The food situation in my house wasn’t dire or anything, we were just too lazy to make a sandwich or something lol)

20. What are you most thankful for? I am thankful for the people I have in my life and for the amount of stability i’ve been able to have in my life in recent times.

21. Do you like spicy food? I do, but if I eat it often enough to increase my tolerance to it I get bad reflux. So I remain a spice wimp who can only have mild.

22. Have you ever met someone famous? Zakk Wylde, Chris Lilley, and some guy who was on Blue Heelers. Also I spoke to Tracy Grimshaw on the phone once. Meeting Zakk Wylde was funny because I was REALLY weird and embarrassing.

(Long story ahead, feel free to skip) Basically, my friend and I were 16 and wandering through the city high on acid. We saw Zakk standing near Hungry Jacks and became completely captivated by him. We had no idea he was some big famous rockstar, we thought he was just some random guy. I cannot convey to you how intense his presence felt at that time. It was like he was everything that is and ever will be metal but congealed into a human being and magnified by 2000x. (in case you don’t know him, he looks like this)

We were so high that we were very in our own world and felt like we were the only ones who really existed and that everything else was just kinda there for us to observe. So we started following him and discussing him as if he couldn’t hear every word we were saying.

I remember us being like “He’s the most metal thing i’ve seen in my life” “He’s like Neptune, king of the sea, but a brutal version” “He’s the raw original concept that all other metalheads were disseminated from. He’s the true, the original.” It made sense at the time that he could be the origin point of metal and the first ever metalhead because time and space felt like it existed in a looser way than usual. We were really fixated on the idea that metal was invented through his very existence as a direct expression of self, then people copied him, then people copied those people and so on. The further they got from the source (Zakk) the more diluted the essence became. That’s why being around normal metalheads wasn’t as viscerally overwhelming as being in the presence of the raw undiluted concept. We concluded that no metalheads were actually expressing themselves through their subcultural identity. Unknowingly, they’re just expressing him. And we were saying all of this while walking maybe a metre and a half behind him while he ignored us.

Eventually some of the people he was with noticed we were following him and started talking to us (they may have been members of Black label society or they may have just been friends of his, idk). They were friendly and said that they used to do acid when they were younger too and invited us to get drunk with them. We said yes and walked with them for a little. I don’t think Zakk said a word to us the entire time. He probably found us annoying. But we kept staring at Zakk and getting overwhelmed by how intense it was just to be in his presence. Then me and my friend abruptly turned and left without saying anything because being around Zakk was getting to be too much. It was like a sensory overload. As we walked away we barely heard them yelling back to us “something something something ZAKK WYLDE!”. I was familiar with the name but I’d never known how he looked. I googled him a few days later and learned that it was indeed Zakk Wylde who we met and that he’d been in Brisbane with black label society.

And that’s the story of how I passed up the once in a lifetime opportunity to get drunk with Zakk Wylde because his vibes were off the charts.

23. Do you do you keep a diary or journal? No. Kinda wish I could, but the habit doesn’t stick.

24. Do you prefer to use a pen or a pencil? Pencil

25. What is your star sign? Leo sun (Virgo cusp), Scorpio moon, Sagittarius rising.

26. Do you like your cereal soggy or crunchy? Crunchy

27. What would you want your legacy to be? I’d like to have a positive effect on the people in my life and leave art behind that people might enjoy or relate to (I use the word art loosely, I mean any kind of creative project). I think I've become more aware recently of how important that is to me, which is why I've been so uncharacteristically dedicated to finishing my comic.

28. Do you like reading, what was the last book you read? I like reading books but I don’t always have the attention span for it. I tend to read more non-fiction than fiction. The last book I read was Nothing Feels Good: Punk Rock, Teenagers, and Emo. A really great book if you want to learn about emo history. The only downside is that it was published in 2003, before emo really took off in the mainstream. Had some insightful things to say regardless.

29. How do you show someone you love them? Idk I can’t think of a concise answer for this. I think it varies depending on who it is and what our dynamic is. When I took that love language test it said my love language was quality time.

30. Do you like ice in your drinks? I don’t like it in water. It’s fine in most other drinks.

31. What are you afraid of? I don’t think I can answer this without oversharing or getting too bleak

32. What is your favourite scent? I like tropical scents like mango and coconut

33. Do you address older people by their name or surname? By their name

34. If money was not a factor, how would you live your life? I’d buy a house with my sister and I wouldn’t have a job but I'd volunteer and do freelance creative work. I’d donate a lot more and help people out more. I’d learn lots of new skills and make lots of art. I would have an amazing wardrobe too.

A kinda sillier dream is that I'd start a cheerleading team where our routines are exclusively to metal songs. As well as entering competitions, we would also be an opening act for bands (in this dream i’m much better at cheerleading than I currently am). It would be cool ok

35. Do you prefer swimming in pools or the ocean.? Ocean. I miss going to the beach so much

36. What would you do if you found £50 on the ground? See if someone dropped it. Then idk, would depend on my financial situation at the time.

37. Have you ever seen a shooting star? Yes

38. What is the one thing you would want to teach your children? I’m not going to have children. I’d like to be a good influence in my friend’s children’s lives though.

39. If you had to have a tattoo, what would it be and where would you get it? Probably some old-school gradient style neopets art (maybe an aisha) or 90s tamagotchi art or a cool wizard. I’d get it on my thigh. I’m very unlikely to ever get a tattoo though

40. What can you hear now? The hum of my computer. It’s old and loud and on its way out

41. Where do you feel the safest? In my bed at home with my cat Luna or hanging out w my sister

42. What is the one thing you want to overcome/conquer? Once coronavirus is less of an issue (which may be in the near future where I live), I’d like to try and push myself to start dating again. I haven’t done that in a long while. The limitations that ocd causes me makes it hard for me to imagine a relationship-- even a casual one--being workable. But I ought to at least try before I decide that. Sometimes things turn out to be easier than I think they’ll be 🤷‍♀️.

43. If you could travel back to any era, what would it be? This is so hard!!

If this is purely for enjoyment and not to change the past, i’d probably just want to see all my favourite bands live while they were in their prime and like, cry the whole way through because I am so moved.

44. What is your most used emoji? :) or :/

45. Describe yourself using one word. I’m really bad at questions like this

46. What do you regret the most? Eh, that’s a bit personal. I feel like i’ve overshared enough in this thing.

47. Last movie you saw? Diary of a Wimpy Kid: Dog Days

48. Last tv show you watched? Degrassi the next generation

49. Invent a word and it’s meaning. Idk

If you’ve read this far ty!! Here’s a little sheep for your trouble

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tallmantall · 2 months

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roses-ruby · 5 years

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Cherry Muffins and Lavender Tea

Namjoon x Female Reader

Genre: College AU, Sugary Fluff, Humor if you squint, Smut but it’s ugly, and the teeny tiniest angst

Warnings: curse words, sex, orgasms, oral (female receiving), choking kink, daddy kink, hot biker Namjoon, sex with clothes on, might make you hungry (i’m not sure about everything that’s considered a warning sorry! If there’s something you want me to add, tell me)

Word Count: 8,196

Summary: You’ve got feelings for my man Namjoon, the scary looking dork that drops by where you work. But how will you relay them?

A/N: My first story! Omfgsfkhbifb I’m nervous so please leave a kind word, I’ll love you forever. Might have mistakes cause i’m an idiot. None of this would have been possible without the great @countrysundae she’s my darling and inspiration and I love her sooooo much and you should too!!! Please appreciate her Pisces ass, and send her some love! Oof anyway, please enjoy

10:30

Originally set for 8, 10 fucking 30 is when the bells of your alarm informed you to awake for maybe the 99th time that morning. Groaning in displeasure you move your stiffened muscles to shut the damn thing off. This is a process that’s become a routine; waking up way later than originally planned, no matter how many timers set, or reminders kept. Even though you admit you are sleep deprived constantly, it doesn’t make you a heavy sleeper habitually! You wake up to the tiniest noises at night, from your roommate trying to sneak back into the shared room in ungodly hours of the night to the leaking tap in the bathtub. And yet your phone’s alarm is your placebo-it does absolutely nothing for you.

Though you do try. You keep about 5 alarms on at once, to your roommate’s expense who somehow is both a night owl and early bird all at once. Speaking of which-

“So, the witch finally sees daylight,” snickers Sana

“what the fuc--how long were you there?!” You rasped, grabbing at your erratic heart

“Just got in 5 minutes ago, that was my first alarm and trust me when I say I would’ve strangled you if I heard another.”

It’s true, she’s done it before. Your poor roommate was an occasional victim of your ruthless sleeping habits. You’d sometimes slip into conscious from slumber to hear her whine about your blaring alarms in her own sleeping state. Other times you’d wake up from a pillow landing on your face from a girl who’s had Enough.™ But you didn’t feel too bad for her, since you’ve given her the option of waking you up herself and she’s proven frivolous far too many times for such a simple task. Lowkey? She deserves it.

“Ooh another fun night, huh?” You grin in your sleepy state

Sana giggles “Mhmm, think Mark’s in love with me the poor chap,” she mocks his English accent making you both laugh at yet another fuckboi who’s become a victim to Sana’s lethal looks. Giving her a glance over, from her messy hair and smeared lipstick you conclude she indeed had a very fun night.

Sana came from a well-off background and had it all. Good-looks, smarts, the money, and a very good heart. She didn’t have to go to university, but her mom was not having it. The whole ‘be grateful for the opportunity people suffer to receive’ speech led her here. A parent’s guilt tripping wasn’t something you were unfamiliar with. You considered yourself an average person. Kinda cute, smart, headstrong and half of a pretty good character…Your parents on the other hand, were really wimpy.

“We always thought you’d go to the neighborhood community college”, your dad remarked in horror holding the prestige upper state university’s acceptance letter that arrived recently.

Your dad, who thinks jaded denim vests are cool.

“You’re too young to be living on your own, you’re still a bird who can’t use her wings correctly, not ready to leave the nest!” Said your distressed mom, who’s solution to all bad food was to put more cheese on it.

Don’t like your chicken curry? Pass on the parmesan sprinkler!

You hear the bang of hands on the table and a chair screeches, “let her go, she’ll come back with her tail between her legs”, your little brother who plays fortnite all day and is going through his ‘I hate feelings but secretly cry every night’ faze shouts before storming off towards his room.

All you do is sigh and roll your eyes, picking at your over-parmesaned chicken curry with your naan as your parents continue to nag, cause after this whole fiasco your mind was certainly convinced.

You’re going to the university.

Now that you are here, nothing was easy even for someone as headstrong as you. You were smart enough for a scholarship, but living expenses were something else entirely. Which led you to seek employment at a small café, a few miles from your university. It wasn’t the most bustling of places as it drew in a handful of consumers a day, even your fellow students chose the McDonalds right across the street. Everyone enjoyed the quick coffee and frozen fries, rather than your place’s slightly pricier fresh brews and handmade savory biscuits. Alas, you considerably appreciated the quiet composure your café provided. From the dim soft white lighting, to the 60’s slow jazz-which you routinely exchanged with a Studio Ghibli playlist from YouTube discreetly, blended well together. Gave you time to catchup on your schoolwork. Your boss was a chill 42-year-old who won the lottery a few years back, and let you clock in any time before 12, even if your morning shift began from 9. Maybe it had something to do with how the last waitress quit to work at McDonalds.

And he was always there.

Kim Namjoon. The quiet stud that had captivated your heart without even trying. Also, the fucking reason you wanted to get up earlier in the mornings damn it!

Namjoon was a psychology major who was always reading a new book. Mostly from his favorite author Haruki Murakami. And he always stopped by at the place you worked to indulged them. Parking his Harley-Davidson Softail outside and softly walking in with his old school leather jacket and gloves, ripped jeans, a book in his hand, his huge hard…helmet forgotten on the bike’s handle. He’d gently relay his familiar order of cherry muffins and lavender tea, raking his hair back with those beautiful black gloves, and striding to his usual seat in the back of the café.

He’d grace your presence 3 times a week, usually at 9:30 before his 10 am classes; another early bitch bird. All you wanted to do since then was to be able to take his order.

You had met Namjoon at the beginning of your first semester last year. But he hadn’t harbored much of your attention until that fateful day. Chilly winds and frequent rain were what you were adjusting to, as fall was in its peak with every other color on the leaves a vibrant orange, grabbing at your focus. Having arrived on time for once, you were engaged in your workspace. The co-owner and your co-worker of the small café, the boss’s niece, had taken a day’s leave, and you knew she’d beat your ass if you were late. Tray in hand, you served a bacon quiche and caffé americano to the table refuging a girl in an infinity scarf and glasses who didn’t bother to look up from her phone, when the door chimed open

It’s him again, you thought at the tall stranger you’ve seen around your campus in all black stepping towards the counter. He had small droplets of water on his leather jacket and hair from the rain. You didn’t realize you were staring until he awkwardly looked directly at you, standing with an empty round tray at the side of the table of the occupied girl, who you know is also taking a secret glance at him, and shyly smiles.

Cute.

You walk yourself behind the counter and smile, “hey there”

“Hi, um two cherr-“

“-y muffins and lavender tea, right?”

He nods

“Why don’t you just say the usual?” You laugh, wringing up his order in your old school register

“I didn’t think you’d remember me out of all the customers,” he states bashfully, dimples on display

“‘all the customers?’’ you laugh louder, “we get like 15 a day, I’m sure I’ll remember you”

“Oh, I thought I just came too early”

“You definitely do! I don’t have the energy to get up and comb my hair at 9 in the morning, much less bike to a café for cherry muffins”

“You like it?” he grins “it’s a Harley-Davidson, my dad owned one”

“It’s as pretty as you sweetie,” you don’t know where that confidence was coming from, because you’ve definitely haven’t talked to a boy like this before. Blame it on the chilly weather.

“oh, thank you,” he rakes his leather gloved hands through his hair, looking down at his shoes

Stepping towards your tea station, you grab open the bag of loose organic dried lavender buds, on the shelf above. Picking up a measuring spoon, you scoop and slide in some buds in the French press. You grab the boiling water on the electric stove, next to your station and slowly pour it onto the herbs. You close down the French Press and set a timer for 6 minutes.

Taking a breath, you look around the café. Namjoon stands there as towering as a tree, looking at his book, ‘Women who Run with the Wolves.’ Most people would go sit down if it wasn’t pickup, but he always stood right at the registrar. Strange. Unsurprisingly, you remember being intimidated as hell in the beginning. Usually people that come to the café are chill in the ‘harmless millennial hippie’ type of way, dressing themselves in mutable colors. But he looked like he would yell if you even slightly messed up his order or gave a ‘wrong look’ to his bike. You loosened up when his order was always so easy, and his book choices always so cute. You almost bust out laughing when he came in with ‘A fault in our stars;’ especially when he sat at his table with glossy eyes, trying to finish the last pages. His smile also melted all worries away.

Infinity scarf girl gets up to leave (but not before giving Namjoon a longing look), leaving you both alone in the balance of your heartbeats. There was slow piano from Kiki’s delivery service filling up your café’s background. The weather still faintly drizzling, the soft gray clouds seeping through the broad windows, making the café’s wooden brown hues a tad bit dimmer, yet the fairy lights radiant. Pedestrians with transparent umbrellas in beige coats and red hats pass by every so often, not a care in the world. Smells of fresh scones and cinnamon filled your nostrils, making you remember holiday nights at home. Though your thoughts often redirected themselves towards the handsome stranger and the harmony of the quiet fall day.

The timer dings and you get back on track, using the handle to press the floating buds down to the bottom of your French press. You head toward the counter’s display case. Below is a steel countertop with coffee/tea cups, silverware, small plates, trays and a set of tongs. You grab a cup and plate, fixing them properly you pour the tea. The steam drifts towards your face, an amazing aroma that complimented the purple complexion of your brew. Grabbing a set of tongs, you take out two large cherry muffins, placing them on a tray, along with the tea. You decide to grab a chocolate chip cookie as well from one of the clear cookie jars set on the wooden crown of the display case.

“Here ya go,” you place the tray in front of him. He places his book and gloves onto the tray and gets out his wallet from his beautifulbooty back pocket. After paying he picks up the tray and halts

“Cookie?” He holds up the chocolate chip cookie in his hand, a bit confused

“It’s on the house, they’re the best thing in the café, but I end up eating most of them, so might as well give ‘em out”

He smiles, “thank you, it looks delicious”

“No problem, anything for our loyal customers,” you both laugh, “it’s beautiful out today”

“Hm, not as much as you,” he states, walking away from you towards his usual seat. Now, he turned around very quickly after he said that, so you didn’t really get to see his face after such cheesy words, but the tips of his ears were red. Oh.

He’s cute cute.

Stunned, you stand there for a moment or two, just wide-eyed; staring at nothing, until you spin on your spot and head back into the tea vicinity of the café. You feel your heartrate rise and alarms go off in your head. But not the loud intrusive kind. The kind where a baker knows his three-layered chocolate fudge cake is ready. The ones where a mom takes freshly baked cinnamon rolls out in the morning. The ones when the apple pie is prepared to be sliced. Those kinds. Covering your extremely warm face with your hands, you muffle a squeal.

Since then, you’ve started paying close attention to Kim Namjoon.

You didn’t know what it was, his tall broad frame and long thick legs, which you wanted to be choked with. His large hands in those chunky leather gloves or when he took them off, to handle the pages of his book delicately; his long skinny fingers would graze over the soft wood, both things you wanted to be choked with. Or his keen eyes that would get larger or darker depending on what part of the book he was reading, and you imagined in which manner they would present themselves with while he’s choking y-Ok. Ok. Ok. You had a kink. Endeared was how you felt at his intimidating appearance.

You also adored how far away from intimidating he actually was. You were smitten with his gentle demeanor in dealing with people. His pacifist nature, and how much he loved tiny crabs, how he was so respectful towards everyone, younger or older, never judging anyone’s appearance or his love for characters that’re as large, and clumsy as him, like Ryan from that Kakaotalk app. And his laughed that carried large amounts of joy over cheesy, silly things ultimately making you laugh as well.

You were sure you loved Kim Namjoon, yet you barely spoke to him-

I mean who’s gonna disturb a huge scary-looking dork when he’s trying to read? Certainly not you. What you desired is a way to get close to him somehow, and for that you needed to know more about him. It wasn’t hard to pick up gossip though, when you were friends with the loudest chatter mouth on the planet.

You told Sana once about your silly crush and she shrieked so hard it sounded like a howl. The next day she had all the deets on who she referred to as ‘Hunkjoon.’ He had an IQ of 148, he hates seafood, he’s so clumsy that his friends refer to him as ‘the god of destruction,’ favorite color is black (no duh), he’s well-known, terribly smart, and to your dismay, associated with the exceedingly popular frat boys Jung Hoseok and Kim Seokjin.

Ugh

Jung Hoseok and Kim Seokjin, or who you so kindly referred to as the Seokbitches, were the schools James Dean. ‘Icon of teenage disillusionment.’ Hehe, perfect definition by google. They were notorious, for playing ghosts in their classes, throwing a party every.single.damn.day., never keeping their dick™ in their pants, and having the most obnoxious laughs on the earth…

Ok, so maybe only you knew them for that. To others they were the teenage love and rebellion dream, James Dean. They never attended classes, because they were fuckthesystem peeps, threw a party everyday so the poor souls stuck in an endless cycle of capitalist warfare aka their fellow students could enjoy the more fun things life has to offer, indulged in every part of youth-including the 24/7 horny part, and had the most beautiful laughs in the damn planet.

How were they Namjoon’s closest friends…How? Anyone with a functioning brain can tell the vast difference between the trinity. Namjoon attended all his classes (yet fate didn’t give you a class with him, the bitch), he actually read books, and he wasn’t hooking up with 2-3 girls every night, unlike certain people.

You heard from a classmate a while back that ‘bout two years ago Namjoon had a serious girlfriend. Since their breakup, he hasn’t been with anyone else. It’s good that he’s single but you’ve still only talked to him here and there. A few shy glances, a few awkward touches. Nothing more, but lord do you want more, alot more. What if a girl more daring gets him first? Do you really need angst in your life? NO! but you are still at a loss of what to do. You had one boyfriend so far, and it was one of your worst experiences.

The guy was a total creep. And the worst part? You asked him out. All your friends had relationships and he was someone who rode the bus with you, making you laugh here and there. So, being the usual teenager, you thought it’d be a good idea to date him, like a fool. Who knew he wasn’t just being charming, and making fun of people (trying to be edgy as you now know) was a hobby for him? You did. Right after you overheard him announce the fact that you look like a winged bat when you suck dick just to make his jerk-ass friends laugh. It was so humiliating, as you never did something of the sorts with him, yet his friends would stick out their teeth in a ‘vampire like manner’ whenever they passed you in the hallway, as well as your first heartbreak. You got him back by filling his locker with Limburger cheese, from your mom’s collection of cheeses. His gym clothes smelled for a month, and people called him cheeseboi for the rest of the year.

You shed your blind innocence that day and knew that men are trash. Namjoon isn’t like that though, and you’re surer of that than anything. He’s special for you and you want to be the special one for him. Sadly, you just didn’t know how to start a conversation with Namjoon, without looking like you jumped in boiling water. I mean you had hook-ups in college. Who doesn’t play around here and there? But fuck-this is definitely the first time you actually like someone. Like really like them, so you just clam up and don’t know what to do. That’s where you are today.

You bounce from your bed, heading towards the bathroom. “I’m late again,” you mumble.

Sana hears that (at this point she could have better hearing than dogs)

“Hunkjoon, huh?”

“That’s not his name Sasha”

“Listen, why do you even spend your time trying to get with him in that boring café?” Sana shouts, hopping off her bed she makes her way to the bathroom and throws her hands around you who’s brushing her teeth. “You should ask him out, maybe to a club. A little booty popping, ear sucking, mouth licking, and he’s yours”

“Please don’t ever use any of those words in that way ever again.”

“I’m serious!” Exasperated she throws her hands in the air before resting them on each of your shoulders together and squeezes you. “You just need a change of scenery, that place is no hook-up central for us modern kids. Just one party, and he’ll be all over you.” You tug her off your back and narrow your eyes-looking at her through the mirror; you continue to brush your teeth. She knows you want something far from a hookup with Namjoon, yet she-

“And then,” she smirks, “maybe your mouth would be full of his cum-not toothpaste”

You choke.

“Sana what the fuck,” you rage running after the laughing vixen with your toothbrush as a makeshift knife

“Don’t act like it’s not what you want!” She cackles as you tackle her onto the bed ready to stab her eyes out when your phone rings. Oh shit. You know exactly who that is. Picking it up, you run to the bathroom, spitting out your toothpaste

“H-h-hello?”

“Where. in. Jesus’s. name. are. you?!”

“O-oh, coming Linda, I’m in traffic” Sana proceeds to imitate a car beep sound at that-“and I’ll be there in 5 minutes!”

“If you aren’t, I’ll personally serve your head as our main dish this afternoon!” She screeches before hanging up

“Shit,” you catch your breath, “I gotta go,” scrambling around, you find something appropriate to wear in late April weather. You brush your hair in a hurry and throw on a high ponytail. Sana just watches you the whole time, staring at you up on her elbows from her bed looking deep in thought. Grabbing one of Sana’s car keys and your purse, you rush out the door with a quick bye to Sana. She doesn’t reply back but after you are out the door she flings back onto her bed, arms expanded.

“I’ll ask Hobi,” she says to herself

Parking in the small lot behind the café, you run inside the back door. You gather yourself, fixing your hair and your fast heartbeat, you wrap on an apron and head to the front.

Linda spots you right away.

“You’re late,” she grits

“Yeah, traffic sucks,” you grin awkwardly, praying she’ll believe you.

“Just get to work, the pound cakes are almost ready to take out,” she points toward the oven. You nod, heading into the vicinity of the oven in the back next to the stove.

“Hey Linda,” someone shouts making you turn, “the person at table 3 wants some sourdough starter”

Linda acknowledges, moving into the back storage where the starters where kept.

You spot a girl. A new girl. A very very pretty girl, with long light brown hair up to her waist, and a delicate body. She meets your eyes and smiles and you return the gesture before looking away like you didn’t momentarily become gay looking at her soft features.

It’s good to have her around, you conclude. Usually you worked the morning shift with Linda 3 times a week, taking afternoon classes during those days. (coincidently when Namjoon comes by) You know there’s a girl who works the afternoon shift, but you never really ran into her. And since you do come late 1 out of 3 times, Linda ends up doing most of the work herself, including making all the café’s delicacies. You’re so very thankful to Linda and her uncle for not firing you, and very glad that Linda has some actual help now.

You’re pulled from your thoughts when the oven timer dings and the door chimes open.

The new girl greets the customer cheerily while you concentrate on taking an enticing whiff of the vanilla pound cakes, about to pull open the oven’s door when you stop dead in your tracks. You’d recognize that deep voice anywhere.

Turning your head so fast, you feel your neck burn from whiplash you spot your Namjoon finishing his order to your co-worker. He meets your eyes for a moment, and god you’re sure you look like a fish.

“Would you like anything else? We have really good chocolate chip cookies,” pipes the newcomer

“I know, they’re delicious,” he catches your eyes again, “but no thank you, not this time”

“Aww, well I love them a bit too much. Even though I’m new I’ve had quite a few,” she starts ringing up his order

“I thought I haven’t seen you around here”

“Moved in recently and kinda have trouble unpacking…I need a stronger body ya’know”

“Is that so,” Namjoon quirks a brow and you feel like you’ll throw up. Why is Namjoon late? Catch 22 didn’t seem like his style of book? Why the fuck is she giggling so much? Who let her steal all your cookies? And why is his hair so much messier than usual? He looks so cute omg?... What’s that burning smell?

…Shit

You gawk at the oven in horror as Linda shouts your name from a mile away.

Sana’s scrolling through her phone on her tummy when you bonk her head with your purse

“Ow, what the fuck-”

“When’s the next frat fiasco? I need to relive some stress”

She smiles, “I knew you’d come around, and that’s why I went ahead and asked Hobi to bring Hunkjoon tonight.”

You beam at the mention, “Sana you angel!” Then immediately scowl, “Wait at a seokbitch party? Just fucking great”

“Don’t be so sour,” Sana sighs, sitting up, “Namjoon doesn’t go to many parties anyway so his best friend was the only solid way to bring him.”

Giving it a thought, you beam again, jumping on Sana

“Sana you angel!”

“Whatever’s up with your hair by the way, looks like you’ve been pulling on it.”

“Don’t ask…long day.”

Arriving at the party, you grimace at the smoke of marijuana blanketing you as soon as you enter.

“Alright, Hobi should be around here somewhere,” Sana looks around,” standing on the tippy toes of her heels, trying to look past the frisky bodies, but it’s of no use with the amount of people in the room.

The room was packed with tipsy children. There was barely any elbow space even though the frat house was huge as you and Sana squeezed through hot, sweaty dancing bodies. Some unbalanced drunkards clumsily pushing into you every now and then and you wondered how anyone came to these things. It’s hot, and everyone smelled of axe and sweat. Parties would be much better with just a modest group of people you know, or maybe that’s the small-town girl in you speaking.

No! You cringed internally. You must forget about your outdated methods and passive behavior. Tonight, you will become someone completely new. Someone who takes action.

“Oh there!” Sana shouts over the music, waving furiously to someone by the stairs

Soon after you hear the jubilant voice of Jung Hoseok as he comes into view to greet Sana with a hug, and after being temporarily blinded by his smile you give him a once over or call that twice, because fuck He looked good in a simple white tee, tight blue jeans, dark brown Timberlands and his hair pushed up with what seemed like some gel and messy fingers (think back to Gayo Daejejeon 2018 mic drop)

“This is the girl I was telling you about,” Sana points at you

Hoseok joins in on your shameless gawking and grins

Embodying you was a baby pink thin strapped mini dress, and when you say mini, you mean your black Chantelle Présage lace thong is showing mini, but you’re a woman on a mission, and you didn’t care if you were naked at this point. Your hair was thoroughly straightened, and you went for a glossy cherry makeup look, courtesy of Sana. You weren’t trying to look like a cherry muffin, buuuut you didn’t mind if that’s what people thought, specifically one person.

“It’s nice to meet you,” he extends his hand, eyes duskier than a moment ago

You should wear shades in front of him or you’re sure you’ll go blind.

You shake his hand and give him one of your most forced friendly smiles, trying not to make much conversation as you just wanted one thing. Though that shiver upon your spine at his grip tells you otherwise.

Hoseok motions for you both to follow him and you pick his trail

Sana elbows you

“We talked about this! You’re supposed to be acting like a lamb, ready to be jumped on at any time, not a fox,” she whispers at your obvious display of wanting nothing to do with the Hyena

“I’m being nice! I am! This is how I’m nice!”

Sana rolls her eyes, and you sulk. It’s not your fault she is a master seductress, and you just don’t know how to be kind to the guy who’s trying to undress you with his eyes when he knows you’re here for his friend. She told you two things about seducing men, act completely incompetent and laugh at all their lame jokes. The more you feed a guy’s concocted ego, the more you feed his desire for you. And well, a way to the man’s heart is through feeding him…or something right?

But all your thoughts disappear into nothing once you lay eyes upon the man you’ve been wanting for almost a year.

Kim Namjoon, holy fuck.

Never has a loose black tee and oversized maroon velvet bomber’s jacket looked that good on anyone before. He commands your undivided attention with that low-neck line and gelled up hair. Healthy, glowing skin spread out like a canvas. His jeans ripped in all the beautiful places around the man’s thick, strong thighs, and black derby’s? Classic, yet defiant as always. He was fucking beautiful and you were awestruck. Hoseok says something to the group of 3 guys standing by the back sofa, including Namjoon, most likely about you, but you don’t hear anything once Namjoon locks eyes with you. There’s evident surprise in his eyes, which dims into concentration at the dress you’re wearing.

“So Namjoon,” Hoseok interrupts your thoughts, “I heard you both’ve met before?”

Namjoon doesn’t break away from you for a moment, smiling slightly “we’ve met, it’s nice to see you here”

He was being strangely vague. “You too,” you mutter

You could physically feel Sana scoff at the virginity act.

“Alright, I can use a drink-Ali, Jason, Sana let’s go get them”, Hoseok works fast to evade the intrusive attention on the both of you

“Why do you need 3 people to help you with drinks”, says a confused Jason

Flustered at the man’s impaired ability to read between the lines Hoseok scrambles for another excuse, “um…uh, I don’t know what you want? And uh there’s a lot of people, so uh”

Jason stubborn as ever quirks, “well I can just tell you what I wan-”

“JASON! ALI!” Sana shouts and everyone, aside from Namjoon, who won’t turn away from you, glances at her, “be a darling and pour my drink for me,” she uses her sultry voice, throws a sly smile, and they all get led away by her, even Hoseok, looking hypnotized

Watching them walk away you let out a sigh. This is it. This is your moment. You really should’ve had a shot before this. Drunk you wouldn’t clam up and clench her buttocks that sober you is doing for some reason. Clearing your throat, you start blurting out the first forms of conversation that settles in your mind.

“Nice to see you here, finally away from the café-not that I don’t like seeing you there…I mean I do, but this is nice too hehe”

You mentally slap yourself for the worst beginning. When have you ever been this quiet? Sana couldn’t get you or your alarm to shut up most of the time and this is the moment you choose to get awkward? Maybe this is it. He’ll just walk away now and you can wallow in self-pity.

“It’s great to see you too, out of that café…not that I don’t like it as well” he smiles

Your whole form relaxes, and you feel the knot of pressure in your back coming undone. You know you’re overthinking, know that your mind is self-sabotaging you, so it can get out of this hellhole back into its safe space between your bedsheets. So, you take a breath and focus on his eyes, trying to bring back the confidence of an 80’s café waitress. “You got yelled at pretty hard this morning, were you ok?” He asks

“Oh, don’t worry about that. I kinda deserved it and Linda’s the biggest sweetheart, she would never actually hurt me.” Minus where she almost tore your hair out in the backroom

“…speaking of which, why were you late this morning?” You slapped yourself again

He gave you a look. Shit. “You track me?” he grins

“No-no, nonono…n-yes. I track all my customers”, you smile awkwardly, “they keep me on my toes ya’ know the little bastards” If only you could forever tape your mouth

It was a bad joke but he lets out a chuckle where his eyes turn into little crescents and his dimples poke through his skin

“Well, I missed my alarm this morning, so I was too late to arrive on time…but I still wanted to come…”

“…Why?”

“I just,” he stares at you, “did”

“I see. It’s our tea isn’t it.”

Both of you share a laugh

“You look beautiful by the way”

“This little thing?” you twirl your hips, “just found this in the back of my closet”

The brag was true because you never fucking dressed up for anything, yet always shop like you do.

When you look at him again, you see his eyes dark at the move you just did, which you’re sure exposed your ass

Gathering courage, you start walking toward and up the stairs not giving Namjoon another glance. You could feel his bewilderment through your exposed back, as he follows you like a lost puppy. You hide a smile. Heading into an open room, you find its balcony. Outside, the spring wind picks up your hair and you take in a deep breath, letting go of all your nerves that tense up once you feel the balcony door open and close and the presence of another person in the little island.

“Are you alright?” You feel his breath on you, and you barricade a shudder

“I’m fine…I just couldn’t breathe in there with all the weed,” you turn and smile at him.

“I hate it too,” He smiles back

There’s a moment before you both break eye contact and he’s stepping up beside you

Looking out from the balcony, you pander in the serenity of the dark night and silent winds. The music is still mutely conscious in both your eardrums, as well as the laughter of kids who came here to forget tomorrow. There’s always a calmness you feel with him, no matter the weather or locality. The tips of your arms are touching and the barring heat your entire left side simmers in provides you with the translation of your need to be closer with him.

“I’m sorry I’m not good at small talk”

You turn your face to him as he takes a breath before speaking again

“I’m very awkward, sorry about that”

“You aren’t the one who’s awkward, you raise a brow, I’ve been making bad jokes all night. And well, who’s good at things like small talk?”

He smiles at you, “Your jokes aren’t bad,” he says bringing his face closer to yours, “and I love hearing you talk”

“Thank you” There’s another silence before you ask, “started a new book recently?’

“I did!” He quirks, “‘Yellow Wallpaper’ by Charlotte Perkins Gilman, it’s disturbing yet addictive. Like an Edgar Allen type you know. The increasing dread creates a form of suspense, which feels like a drug. Even though you can tell the ending won’t be good, you carry on led by a strange empathy as if you’ve become the character and it-“

Namjoon stops suddenly and stares at you smiling. “Um…sorry I got carried away, I’m probably boring you”

“Nuh-uh” you stop him immediately, “You aren’t boring at all. I love hearing you talk”

There’s a radiant blush on his cheek as red as your cherry lips, and you just want to devour him. “When I,” he begins looking away, “When I come to the café, you always seem so interested in what I’m reading. Most people don’t really care about that from me. They care that I ride bikes or about my popular friends. Not that I mind. I’m fine keeping them on a surface level. But,” He looks at you, “I want to know you better.”

“Me too” you blurt out very quickly

Your faces are so adjacent you can smell his soft mint toothpaste from his steady breathing. He’s staring at your glossy lips, your whole form is covered with his warmth, fluttering your senses leisurely

“Want a taste,” you whisper just for him to hear

“I bet it’s as delicious as it looks,” he lets out a heavy breath

“Well lucky you cause tonight I’m serving them specially for you”

You close the distance between your mouths and take in his plump lips. It wasn’t rushed, yet it wasn’t slow. It felt like the most perfect kind of kiss in the silent spring, the one that’s described in timeless romance novels. The one that you tell your children to look for, if they’re fortunate enough in their youth. That they’ll know it’s from the one.

He brings his hand upon your cheek and rubs it tenderly with his thumb. You both move back and stare in each other’s eyes.

“Well…was it delicious?”

“Better than cherry muffins,” he licks his lips to taste your cherry gloss on them

You crinkle your eyes to cringe and giggle

“You’re so cute,” he says and he’s kissing you again

This time he slips his tongue in your mouth and you hum in content, grabbing at the back of his blonde hair. Your tongues dance wildly, and Namjoon reaches for every nook and cranny of your wet cavern. Immoral sounds are escaping you both as your closed eyes burn in delight. Putting your legs on each side of his torso, he hurriedly picks you up from under your thighs and easily carries you inside the room, towards the bed.

You both break off as soon as he lands your bodies on the spring. His body still contains the heat from your thighs, and he’s pressed so close to you, you can feel your nipples against his rock-hard chest as well as the tent in his jeans. Breathing heavily, you stare in his starry eyes, filled with so much lust it feels like they’re dripping.

With a shaky breath you try to melt his lips onto yours again, just for him to shift back.

“Do you want this?” He asks, determined to move off if you refuse him

That would be a sin. “Yes.” You speak clearly, “I always wanted you, since I first saw you, Namjoon.”

“Fuck,” he whispers, before he’s on you again like the kindest, warmest deity he is.

He’s back into exploring your mouth as your hands find their home roaming his broad back. As he moves his hips up and down your wet entrance, a heat shoots up through your spine. His hands are kneading your ass, and everything is moving in slow motion for what feels like forever. Breaking off your mouth, he moves his kisses along your neck down to your cleavage, sucking hickeys on sensitive areas you moaned around. Growling at the invasive flimsy fabric surrounding your chest, he begins to tear it apart. His hands pulled down your transparent bra. You gasp at the intrusion of air surrounding your upper body.

“Mmm, fuck yes baby,” you could feel yourself soaking his cloth covered crotch as you fuck yourself upon his restricted dick.

Namjoon smirks reaching towards your back to take off your bra, letting his warm fingers tickle your skin as you lift your back to help him remove it and discard it to the side. Namjoon takes you in, caressing your face and you feel like he’s going to compliment you before he’s spitting words in your ear

“You little slut, you came here just to be fucked didn’t you”

Flustered you splutter, “Yes, ah please”

“That’s yes daddy for you baby,” he uses his large fingers to take hair off your face and removes his jacket and shirt

“Yes daddy, please,” you eye his tan muscles and broad chest. He noses your jaw and takes his mouth around your areola. You immediately run a hand through his golden locks, your mouth hangs open as he flicks your nipple with his tongue. Around his arms was sunken skin, in the form of muscles and you run your hands through every cervix.

Your breathing is labored

He moves back, moving your thong slightly to the right as he dips two fingers into you,

“Drenched and shameless muffin,” he mutters scissoring your entrance slightly, staring at you darkly

You are sprawled out for him like an unwrapped muffin. One leg hangs off the bed, while the other is desperately wrapped around his torso as if you’re scared he’ll leave. Your breasts are exposed and wet with saliva, and you’ve just handed him your cunt for the taking. You’re high off his soft sandalwood scent, as he takes your chest in his large hand, rolling your nipple in his thumb and index finger, pulling it slightly. His fingers are wet from your juices and you’re embarrassed you’re this wet. Vulnerable, you shut your eyes and look away before he grabs your cheeks with his hand and brings your face back towards him, hitting a certain spot that has you arching your back and knitting your brows.

“Don’t close your eyes baby girl, I need your focus completely on me”

“Then no more teasing,” you pout

Namjoon chuckles as he brings his fingers dripping with your silk into his mouth; looking straight into your soul he licks around his fingers in the lewdest way possible. “Sweeter than cherries” he mutters, slowly unraveling your wrapped leg and caresses the inside of your wet thigh, never letting go as if reassuring you that he’s right here. Languidly, he noses down your navel and further below until he’s lined with your aching core

“Daddy” you whimper

Giving you kitten licks around your folds, he licks a long strip before placing his tongue slightly inside your walls and suckles your juices. Your legs were on each side of his head, and you pulled at his hair out of frustration. The higher your voice went, the more he licked, bringing his tongue around your bundle of nerves and gently rolling the nub around. His hands traveled from your thighs to your waist, and slowly towards your breasts and kneaded. He flattened his tongue against your folds again, to take a finer taste of you, as he hummed knowing you were close. He took his right hand off your chest and used it to slide two fingers into your inner depths.

His mouth then went back to your clit, slowly rolling it around his tongue in a circular motion as his fingers drilled into you faster and faster. You let out a string of curses as your thighs began to shake, and the knot in your stomach becoming undone. You came with a yelp as your eyes began to see stars and vision whitened.

All your sudden adrenaline left you and your limbs limped onto the bed, fingers no longer in Namjoon’s hair. Letting out heavy breaths you saw Namjoon slowly coming out of your legs to face you. His thick lips were wet with your juices, and he licked through them and smiled.

“You’re so beautiful baby girl,” he said before kissing you again. Your tongues danced through your exhaustion, and you moved your hand towards his hard on. You felt him hiss into your mouth as you slowly rubbed him through his jeans. Backing off his mouth you smiled, it’s your turn daddy, and undid his zipper. You felt his hard dick in your hand, blessed in length. Spreading precum around his shaft, you watched him twist his expression. He reached into his back pocket and took out a condom, tearing off the wrapper with his teeth and handing it to you.

You gave him a smile as you rolled the condom onto his length and lined it with your entrance-giving him a hand job as he gradually moved into you. Once he was fully sheathed, he took a moment, before pulling out a slamming into you again

You let out a gasp at his pace, still a bit sensitive from your last orgasm. He was relentless and pounded into you over and over again, as the whole bed shook at his force.

“F-fuck dadd-y ooh” you cried as the same knot appeared inside your stomach. You grabbed his hand on the side of your head and brought it up to your face to give it a kiss. Light headed from the force of his thrusts, you could still feel him looking at you as you brought his hand upon your neck and laid it out flat

He cursed at your submission, and lightly put pressure on your neck “You’re such a good girl, daddy’s good girl, good girl fuck,” his paced faltered and you could feel your orgasm approaching with the pressure around your neck. With his other hand he stimulated your clitoris and that’s all it took to have you cuming once again.

Your mind travels back to how much you’ve wanted this-wanted him. His strong arms are no longer hidden under his bulky jacket, his fingers no longer clean with traces of paper fiber, but with your juices. How the hands you’ve wanted for so long around your neck, the eyes you waited to be filled with just you, the moans you suffered to hear from his luscious lips. It’s all happening. It’s all yours and no amount of overthinking will take this away.

With a few more thrusts he reached his own peak with a grunt, flopping down on you shortly afterward. You could feel his heavy, hot breathing on your neck and you wrapped your hands around him. You take a few more huffs before talking to him.

“I really like you” you whisper

“So I’ve heard,” he chuckles moving off you, he picks you up to move you upright in the bed with your head on the pillow and your arms still around him. He lays down next to you. “I’m not going anywhere baby. I really like you too. You didn’t really think I came for the tea did you”

Your heart soars and you meet his dimpled smile, He looks so youthful with his after sex glow, “Hey I make that tea with a lot of love and care!”

“Right, I’m sorry,” he laughs

“I didn’t know you liked me, your head is always in your books”

“Well originally, I came to chill and read. Until I found the cutest waitress that makes amazing tea-“

“-Shut up,” you jab him with a giggle

“-and I didn’t want to seem creepy, so I just payed attention to my books. But I did try to talk to you. I would stand as still as a tree next to the registrar trying to think of something to say. You tended to look intimidated of me, so I always froze up and just sat down. I asked my friends how to talk to you, and they kept giving me strange advice. I don’t think they know how to get a girl without sexual innuendos. They didn’t know how you looked, just knew you as café girl. If Hoseok found out you were café girl tonight, he’d probably try and do something stupid”

You took in the information he gave you and put the puzzle pieces together. You both were huge overthinking dorks. “I was only intimidated in the beginning,” you begin, “even if I was I still found you hot and probably would’ve jumped on your dick had you asked”

He suppresses some coughs while turning red

Smirking you lead him on, “Oh, so you’re shy now but wanted me to call you daddy just a few minutes ago”

“T-that’s” he begins, and you laugh out loud thinking this is definitely your Namjoon

“What about your choking kink? That was cute and unexpected” he gives you a sly grin

“Wait, shut u-that’s not…it’s your fault with those leather gloves, and leather jackets”

You poke his dimple out of mock anger and he tickles you. The rest of the time is spent by talking out your feelings, your dreams, favorite books, and desserts until you both fall asleep in each other’s arms.

You wake up by what you believe is your alarm. Opening your groggy eyes, you look up towards the ceiling of a room that wasn’t yours. After a minute more in conscious you realize it’s not your alarm ringing, but a pounding residing from the closed door of the stranger’s room.

“Can you guys please give me my room back now,” shouts a frustrated Hoseok

That’s when you remember the nights events and look at a sleepy Namjoon next to you. After checking the time of 7:41 shining through the digital clock on the nightstand next to what you now know as Hoseok’s bed, you smile and cuddle up to the warm body.

“Go away Hoseok,” Namjoon groans, “My baby’s trying to sleep.”

Both of you ignore Hoseok’s whines of protest as you whisper to Namjoon

“It’s fine, I’m glad he’s here so I can get to work on time for once. My alarm never wakes me up”

“Babe don’t worry, from now on I’ll be your personal alarm. As long as you can be my cherry muffin”

“I’ll do you one better and make one for you at the café”

“Those cherry muffins taste good,” he looks at you, “but you taste better,” and winks

You giggle until you hear the disturbed voice of Jung Hoseok behind the door,

“You guys are disgusting and have no idea how to whisper”

...

“GET OUT OF MY ROOM”

#Bts #Namjoon #Bts fanfiction #Bts fluff #Bts smut #Namjoon fluff #Namjoon smut #RM #Kim Namjoon #R:CMLT

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howieabel · 4 years

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Poetry in the time of isolation

For the first time in the globalised age, everyone is reacting to and in some way affected by a single story - a virus making its way around the earth; and this is the first time in history that we can speak about our experiences to people all over the globe as it happens.

I've recently been reading about other plagues and epidemics in history. A century ago, as the first world war was raging and coming to an end for some, the Spanish Flu took more lives in a shorter time than the war took in its four years, a sum which could have been many times more than 50 million people. Nobody really knows exactly where that flu came from, although anyone who knows what life was like in the trenches wouldn't be too surprised of its potential to spread. However, the first cases of the flu were in military forts in the USA, and may have spread to Europe from there. It was only called the 'Spanish' Flu because Spain was neutral in the first world war, and therefore its press was more free - Spanish newspapers reported on the flu accurately, unlike every other combating power who didn't want to demoralise their troops with the mass death that was occurring, not at the hands of enemy soldiers, but a common enemy to all combatants - the appalling conditions that they were fighting in, the ideal way for a virus to wreak havoc.

This time around, calling the virus the Coronavirus, or Covid-19, is more sensible, as much as demagogues like Trump may want to call it the 'Chinese virus'. It seems to have been past from bats (like Ebola) to pangolins, which were sold in wet markets in Wuhan in China, to humans, but as is always the case, these origins remain murky, and often disgusting. These markets are unregulated by the government, as animals from all over the world can be imported there, where they languish in the most awful conditions - not to feed the poor, but as a sort of trophy food for the rich; and that's why many countries are in on the game, letting their merchants illegally export rare, often endangered, often hunted animals to the wet markets.

The Chinese government had tried to crack down on this after previous outbreaks of SARS, including in 2002, but it has proved difficult to rein in the peculiar tastes of the new rich, and of trophy hunters around the globe. Hopefully they learn from the crisis and regulate or eliminate the trading practices of their wet markets. In the mean time, it seems they have controlled the outbreak very well once it happened, and now they are sending doctors to Italy, alongside more recent help from Russia and Cuba, to help with the Italian government's much less successful attempts to control the spread. Unfortunately, as we saw with Ebola, these viruses can pop up every few years just about anywhere, especially, it seems, where there are bats. But I don't know enough about the transmissions from animal to human to write more about this. What i'm most interested in are past examples of how human communities and their governments have tried to shield their vulnerable from plagues and pandemics.

The most interesting example I found was from when the plague came to Italy almost 400 years ago, in the autumn of 1629. This of course is especially relevant as, from the day of this post, Italy is the worst affected of all countries by the virus, which poses a number of questions - Why Italy? Because they have one of the oldest populations? Because there is more inter-generational living than in many other countries? Because of just simple bad luck, for example a virus spreading through catholic mass, hour upon hour upon hour, so that by time it was realised to be a problem, it was already too late?

The reason the reaction to the 1629 plague interests me, is because it shows the importance of government and community reaction to a pandemic - it can make all the difference. Italy had a number of different city states, so we can compare their reaction, and although such comparisons are never perfect, they are some of the best we have. For example, in Verona 61% of people died - in Milan, 46%, in Venice - 33%, and in Florence? 12%. So what did the Sanità, the city of Florence's health board, and government, do so well that they greatly lessened the death toll in comparison to other cities in Italy? One reason this is an especially interesting question is because 12% seems to be around the average mortality figure for the coronavirus (especially among countries with an ageing population and/or a fractured health care system).

What did the Sanità in Florence do then, in the plague year of 1629? They arranged the delivery of food, wine and firewood to the homes of the quarantined (30,452 of them). Each quarantined person received a daily allowance of two loaves of bread and half a boccale (around a pint) of wine. On Sundays, Mondays and Thursdays, they were given meat. On Tuesdays, they got a sausage seasoned with pepper, fennel and rosemary. On Wednesdays, Fridays and Saturdays, rice and cheese were delivered; on Friday, a salad of sweet and bitter herbs. Every morning, hundreds of people in the lazaretti were prescribed theriac concoctions, liquors mixed with ground pearls or crushed scorpions, and bitter lemon cordials. The Sanità also devolved some tasks to the city’s confraternities. The brothers of San Michele Arcangelo conducted a housing survey to identify possible sources of contagion; the members of the Archconfraternity of the Misericordia transported the sick in perfumed willow biers from their homes to the lazaretti. But mostly, the city government footed the bill, and making use of its own police force, court and prison – also punished those who broke quarantine. Its court heard 566 cases between September 1630 and July 1631, with the majority of offenders – 60 per cent – arrested, imprisoned, and later released without a fine. A further 11 per cent were imprisoned and fined, rich and poor alike.

Some of this account would even sound impressive now (especially the pint of wine a day!). It must have been like a revelation to the poor for them to realise that something like this was possible - that the people around them who were thirsty or hungry didn't have to be. It shows how a crisis can destroy the previous idea of normalcy and replace it with a totally new normal. In Britain, for example, the Conservative Party for years laughed at the spending plans proposed by the Labour opposition, ridiculed them as the mad schemes of communists, and every day ad infinitum posed the question on television - but how will you pay for it? Doesn't it all seem very unrealistic?

And now look where we are - our governments are spending more money to cope with this crisis than anyone had ever suggested, millions and millions of people's wages are being payed as a sort of Universal Basic Income, and it suddenly turns out that it would have been a very good thing if everyone had free and fast public broadband after all, now that it is apparent that everyone needs and deserves good communication during this pandemic, not only for them to communicate with their loved ones, but also so they can access the right information. Homeless people in London have been given hotel rooms at no cost. People are coordinating in their communities to help the elderly and the vulnerable, to bring them their groceries so they never have to leave the house. Many countries have nationalised their entire private hospital network, to give their beds to the infected. Look at how Korea and Taiwan have reacted to this crisis, for example, and then compare it to European countries. Many government's have not yet gone far enough, and will need to go further over the coming months to cope with the crisis as it unfolds, and as usual the British and the American governments are some of the most reluctant, not just to foot the bill, but to make what was previously thought impossible, possible after all. If they show, in direct counterbalance to the last decade of austerity, that they had the money to do this all along, it might cause them some problems afterwards. But they have no choice - we are living now in a new normal, and all the old economic orthodoxy has been thrown out the window.

In a time of crisis like this, it suddenly becomes apparent that doctors, cleaners, supermarket staff, food and public sector workers, and in this case also postmen and delivery workers, are the lynchpins of society. It's a shame we haven't spent the less 10 years looking after them a bit better, and perhaps because of this, many more people will lose their lives than should have done if we had started looking after them earlier. There's still a very high possibility that the NHS in Britain could break under the pressure. Unfortunately, we don't have as many doctors are we could have had. There isn't much of an incentive for the young to train to become doctors or nurses, with such pitiful pay and long hours. But there are still many selfless souls who take it upon themselves to make the sacrifice - nevertheless, most of my friends who studied medicine and care had to leave the UK to continue their studies after school, countries where they are now helping in this crisis as junior doctors. They simply couldn't afford the university and accommodation costs in the UK.

As we all begin to adjust to this new normal, and as it becomes clearer that the old world can never be brought back again, perhaps from now on we can fix some of our mistakes and prepare better, so that when the next crisis comes along, we don't find that the people who keep our society going were kicked out of it by the rest of us a long time ago. And as we come out of the crisis, with millions, even billions, of unemployed all over the world, remember then how it was possible to pay people's wages even when they weren't working. If we are against all visionary thinking, then we are also against the NHS, the 8 hour working day, and public parks and free museums. They were utopian ideas once, and in many countries, they still are. What will be normal afterwards? Our reaction now will define the future we can create. Our breadth of vision will determine whether or not we demand its creation.

“The assumption that what currently exists must necessarily exist is the acid that corrodes all visionary thinking.” - Murray Bookchin

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#Coronavirus #UK #Britain #Conservatives #Boris Johnson #England #Virus #Covid-19 #Wash your hands #Wuhan #Italy

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merritidings · 4 years

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Character Questionnaire: Merrinyn Delorsath

BASICS -

1. Height?

5′5″. (She is of average height. At least in her former settlement.)

2. Eye colour?

Black. (It’s actually dark blue.)

3. Do they need glasses?

No. (That doesn’t stop her from wearing one whenever she feels like it.)

4. Scars and birthmark?

None. (It’s hard to get scars when you’re always far from the action, drowning in books. She did get a paper cut a few days after leaving her old settlement, settling for the surface to learn more about this part of the world, though that amounted to nothing more than a few minutes of annoyance.)

5. Tattoos and piercings?

None.

6. Right or left handed?

Right-handed. (For a time in her youth, she instead she was ambidextrous. That was until she figured out the word she was looking for was “amphibious”.)

7. Any disabilities? Physical or mental.

None. (She can’t pronounce the letter “R” if it’s in the last syllable of a word, as in “wafer” or “paper”, ending up either mispronouncing it as the letter “W” instead, as in “wafew” or “papew”, or accidentally speaking in a British accent. Don’t tell her I told you this. She’s very sensitive about her rhotacism.)

8. Do they have any allergies?

None. (...though she once almost died after eating crab. That was most likely due to improper cleaning of the food. It never happened again. Strange.)

9. Favourite colour?

Seafoam Green. Or blue. (She also likes pink.)

10. Typical outfits?

Whichever works, really. I prefer clothing that would not impede my mobility over clothing that’s all for show. (She used to wear simple sleeveless, collarless, pants-less garments made of coral, see below, until she moved to the surface-world where a kind old lady gave her common clothes for free because she looked “cold” and “very naked”. Still, she tends to rip out the sleeves and collars and even pant-legs of her clothes whenever she feels like it, usually when she’s near the water and there’s no tedious socializing to be had.)

11. Do they wear any makeup?

No. (She does, but only rarely and mostly during “special” occasions.)

12. What weapon do they use, if any?

Between my magic and my staff, I can be quite the formidable fighter. (She isn’t. She has also been thinking of acquiring a trident recently. Three pointed tips are better than one blunt head.)

PERSONALITY -

13. Are they more optimistic or pessimistic?

Neither. I dwell in between optimism and pessimism. Nothing is ever absolutely positive or negative. There is also the middle, and there I thrive. (Technically, she’s more optimistic, considering she’s always optimistic that each day holds new things for her to learn. She does get pretty pessimistic when things don’t go her way, though, especially if she becomes obsessed with learning about something and her progress somehow gets impeded.)

14. Are they introverted or extroverted?

Neither. I am an ambivert. (Mostly true, though she leans more towards being an introvert, as she spends more time being an introvert, with all her research and reading; however, she doesn’t get drained as much when she has to be an extrovert, though she tends to avoid opportunities where she has to be one.)

15. What are their pet peeves?

When someone interrupts my research on anatomy by slaying the creature I am to observe. *very audible sigh* Brutes... (She also can’t stand people who can’t wait in line, even though she herself hates lines.)

16. What bad habits do they have?

Someone once said I’m terrible with making friends, though to be fair, I’m here to study and learn, not to make friends. (She spends way too much time with her books and research and not enough time connecting with real people. It’s uncertain whether this is because she’s such an obsessive sage or it’s just a triton thing.)

17. Do they have any phobias?

I fear nothing. Fear only exists when one does not understand something. I seek to understand everything. I do not fear. (Insects, especially flying insects, specifically cockroaches. She thinks they’re gross and they always have the high ground when it comes to the element of surprise. She’d probably like them if they were larger, though, since she’d at least be able to keep them from entering her orifices without permission. Oh, and falling from great heights. She hates that.)

18. How do they display affection?

I don’t. Affection is unnecessary. As long as you are useful and efficient, you are. (She really doesn’t. At least, she doesn’t know how to. Even her compliments are awkward and strange.)

19. How competitive are they?

Competition is good as motivation for personal growth, but only when it motivates a competitor towards personal growth. (She isn’t as competitive as others are, though it’s mostly because she’s a triton and tritons don’t really consider surface dwellers as competition. At least, that’s what she believes.)

20. If they could change one thing about themselves, what would it be?

No response. (It differs on a daily basis, more like it adds up, but she doesn’t take to it like changing herself because she doesn’t like herself. It’s actually more of changing something here and then something there to unleash the full potential of her existence. Like having eyes that see better in the deepest dark or gills that can allow her to safely breathe in any environment. It’s alteration in the spirit of evolution, not alteration because of emotions.)

21. Do they have any obscure hobbies or routines?

Is collecting forks an obscure hobby? (It is.)

BACKSTORY -

22. What are the names and ages of their close family members? Parents, siblings, etc.

My father’s name is Mernes and my mother’s name is Erryn. I have one older brother, Jharvas, and no other siblings.

23. Is their family alive and are they still in contact with them?

Yes, they are all alive and well. My father and my mother live together back home while my brother has also set out to, according to him, find himself. I’m certain he’s simply pursuing the vampire woman again. Men have never been quite as smart as us. (Her brother is indeed with a female vampire but he’s not pursuing her. They’re working together, trying to make a life with each other.)

24. Where are they from? City, nation?

I’m from the sea, the depths of which no surface dweller may survive. (Her settlement is within the oceans east of Hegaehend, far east. They call it the City of Sh'lafijn, though others simply refer to as Marai.)

25. Did they have a childhood best friend?

I had childhood friends, though I don’t think it wise to select from them a singular best. (She does. Her name was Dhorimyn. They’ve lost contact over the years. The last she’s heard of her, Dhorimyn had left their settlement for parts unknown.)

26. Have they had any pets?

I had a pet shark named Kadita. (They’re dead now.)

27. Did they grow up rich or poor? What were their living conditions like?

We used to move a lot when I was but a young girl. It took my parents a while to settle down in a place of our own. We were neither rich nor poor. We were in the middle.

28. What is their educational background?

I went through formal schooling, learned from the greatest mentors of my settlement, and grew into a fine sage. I learned more on my own than I did with anyone. (She’s not kidding. Her curiosity actually led to her amassing more knowledge about things outside of their settlement than the “greatest mentors” of their settlement, which were the only 10 triton scholars of their settlement.)

29. As a child, what did they want to be when they grew up?

I always wanted to be a scholar, and now, here I am. (At one point, she also wanted to be a kraken. She thought having more limbs would be efficient. She was three.)

30. What advice would they give to their younger self?

If I ever, for some strange reason, meet my younger self, I would simply tell her to continue swimming towards her current path. She will become me, and I am the best she can ever be. (We’ll agree to disagree.)

31. Growing up, were they ever bullied or were they the bully?

I was never bullied. I never bullied anyone. I just didn’t have the time. All my focus were on my studies and my research. (She was bullied. For being too absorbed in her studies. She was often referred to as the “teacher’s suckerfish” by the other children. To this day, she still thinks it was a compliment because “a suckerfish assists its host by feeding off of its parasites.” She wasn’t wrong.)

32. Who do they look up to/who is their role model?

No response. (She currently doesn’t look up to anyone, especially since she’s out of the sea and she takes to surface dwellers as subjects to study, not mentors to put on a pedestal. She used to look up to an older mentor from her settlement but he died after trying to “befriend” a female shark as a male shark, so that was that. It’s a long story, and it’s not what you think.)

PRESENT -

33. Do they currently have a place of residence?

I rented a small place for me and my...friends in Arx, at the Whale Water Port. It’s close to the water, plenty of fish, and has access to several libraries and universities. It’s the best place for me here on the surface. (Remember the kind old lady who gave her free clothes because she looked “very naked”? That became her landlady. It’s a good place for someone living “alone”.)

34. What is their most treasured possession?

My most treasured possession? I suppose the letter from my late colleague could fill this role. For now. At least until I find the answer to his question, and I will. Eventually. (She’s not as into possessions as most people are, so having a treasured...item isn’t on her radar. That should change once she gets a particular trident, though, and maybe a particular cloak and a particular decanter to boot. Maybe.)

35. What is their drink of choice?

I don’t drink that much, but I seemed to have developed a taste for the drink called Bilgewater. It reminds me so much of home. (Bilgewater is of course the bluish-brown, sometimes jet black, concoction that's made by soaking the inner organs of various sea creatures soaking in a fermented brine and then running them through a sieve to remove the bones and viscera. It's usually on most tavern's menu for at least 5 copper pieces, or you can ask your friendly neighborhood fisher to brew you one for the same price. The only real side effect of this drink it that the lingering taste of rotten, brackish seafood remains on the palette for a few hours.)

36. Which king/queen are they loyal to, if any?

None have sought me out yet, so I’m loyal to none. That should change if any reach out and we find ourselves agreeing in our principles. (So long as she get to do her research, she’s not very picky on a monarch to side with, but only if completely necessary. She’d rather not get drawn to unnecessary conflict if they can avoid them.)

37. Have they ever killed anyone?

No response. (In every attempt at progress, there will always be a casualty or two. Maybe even three. It is rarely intentional, however.)

38. What was their last promise and did they keep it?

I promised my brother I’d stay with our parents, keep them safe... (She could not keep that promise.)

LOVE -

39. What was their first kiss like, if they’ve had one?

It was...wet. And pretty sloppy. The things we do to satiate our curiosity, right? (Of course it was wet. She was underwater. It was mostly sloppy because it was their first kiss, and her “research” partner was understandably nervous, especially since she secretly liked Merrinyn. They never spoke of it again, mostly because Merrinyn concluded that it was not a fruitful experiment and Dhorimyn decided to keep her secret her own.)

40. Are they in a relationship/have a love interest?

Love is an unnecessary distraction that I cannot currently afford. (She is too busy with her research to consider a relationship, any kind of relationship, at the moment.)

41. Have they ever been in love?

Like I said, an unnecessary distraction. (She has not, though she believes she has.)

42. Have they ever had their heart broken?

No response. (Numerous times: When her pet shark Kadita passed away, when her older brother Jharvas left them in pursuit of a vampire, when she slowly lost contact with Dhorimyn, and when her favorite mentor died to sharks while in the form of a shark.)

SPIRITUALITY - 43. Do they follow a god, if so who?

I don’t follow gods. I don’t have faith in them as much as others do. I only have faith in myself, in what I can see, and in what I can prove. (That said, she does appear to admire both Habbakuk and Melora, especially the latter whose stories and lore she views as quite inspiring.)

44. What do they think happens to them after death?

I cease to exist and my body decays to join nature and the sea. That’s it. That’s all there is to it.

45. What is their spirit animal?

A kraken. Definitely a kraken. (She’s more like a dolphin, but okay.)

#romtask #character development

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