#into someone that is needed. not wanted. but needed. important distinction here.

[tossawary]

When writing both original fiction and fanfiction, it's my personal preference and style to remind people who characters are in the narration when I feel it might be needed. It's especially handy when bringing OCs into a fanfiction. Example: "The person calling out to them was [Character's Name Here], the baker they had met earlier that morning." This quirk of narration often reads to me as the POV character internally reminding themselves who someone is.

Sometimes, a character is quite bad with names or wasn't given one, which is where it's handy to refer to this other character by a fixed epithet. Example: "The person calling out to them was the square-faced man from yesterday, who had given them those bad directions." OR: "The person calling out to them was the mayor's daughter." This reads to me as though the POV character is distinguishing people by a particular feature or remembers them by their relationship to someone else, which is a common way to remember people, until their own name becomes more fixed in your mind.

I also think it's important to keep an epithet / title the same across a scene. Epithets are best used, in my opinion, when that particular feature or quality is actually relevant. It's a little weird for a POV character to suddenly think of their own husband as "the tall man" unless his height is suddenly important in some way, and it might confuse the audience into thinking another person is in the room. If a character doesn't have a name, then "the square-faced man" or "the mayor's daughter" effectively becomes their name, and it's confusing to have a character's name change too much with every other paragraph. (It would be fine to also refer to "the mayor's daughter" as "the girl" or "the young woman" as long as there aren't any other nameless girls speaking in the scene.) Keeping the same title allows it to blend in in the same way that the word "said" does, rather than break up the flow of a scene.

Not every person or character is bad with names and remembering people, of course, or is inclined to give them funny little internal titles. There are people who are very good at names. There are tricks to use to get yourself to memorize names as you're introduced to someone. Narrative styles are going to be different by author and by the current POV character. (Sometimes, you might want the audience to be confused and disoriented!)

In fact, thinking about how different characters think about each other is one of my favorite starting places for crafting a perspective voice. A single character might be referred to in the narration as "His Majesty" by one character, "my husband" by another character, "the king" by a third character, "the usurper" by a fourth character, and "Dad" by a fifth. The name that a character calls someone else by will often say a lot about their relationship and their opinion of that other person. If the prince appears to think of his father as "the king" rather than "Father", that implies something about their relationship.

But back to introducing character names, you as an author, in my experience as a writer and reader, generally can't rely on the audience to easily recall very minor character names unless they're very distinct or the character was introduced in a particularly memorable way. Like, if you introduce a character as the protagonist's best friend, Mary, and immediately start refering to her as Mary because it's followed by a conversation between the protagonist and Mary, that's fair! It's reasonable to expect the audience to just learn Mary's name here! But then if Mary disappears after Chapter 1 and doesn't show up again until Chapter 10, I think it's reasonable to subtly reintroduce her to the audience again. Example: "It was Mary smiling at me from the doorway, and I jumped up to hug my best friend immediately."

Like, there's no one way that you have to refer to characters and introduce them and reintroduce them, of course. Characters have different levels of importance and sometimes we don't really need to know who they are. Sometimes, an author wants an audience to feel grounded, to recognize people, and sometimes they want their audience to feel lost and scared. It's all situational. Style is a thing.

But because it's all situational, this is something I like thinking about and I think it's something worth studying when you're reading original fiction. It's interesting to pay attention to how characters enter and exit scenes in different forms of media, and how the narrator introduces them and how other characters greet them aloud. (Shakespeare comes to mind as a neat thing to look at, to see how theatre does it. Comic books and films and visual media will do it differently to a text-only story.) The audience doesn't have the background that you, the author, carry around in your head all of the time, and you often need to give them a helping hand in keeping your cast of characters straight. Even in fanfiction, without including OCs, not everyone in the audience has the whole canonical cast perfectively memorized, and not every character in any given cast actually knows every other character! It's not just OCs who need introductions, whether those introductions happen subtly or a character enters the story with a bang.

Kind of another side note:

One of my favorite character introductions comes from the book "The Princess Bride", in which Princess Buttercup is kidnapped by three men who are referred to only as "the Spaniard", "the Turk", and "the Sicilian". You don't know their names for quite some time. Buttercup doesn't know these people.

You only learn the Spaniard's name when the Sicilian leaves him at the top of a cliff, tasking him the Spaniard fighting and killing "the Man in Black" who is pursuing their kidnapping. When the Spaniard is about to fight someone to the death, the book pauses to tell you that his name is Inigo Montoya, and then there is an ENTIRE CHAPTER dedicated to Inigo Montoya's long and tragic backstory, in which you learn about his decades-long quest to find the six-fingered man who murdered his father. And then the book abruptly dumps you the audience back out onto that cliff, where Inigo (no longer just "the Spaniard" and no longer just some random kidnapping thug) is about to fight for his life.

I think it's a terribly fun piece of whiplash that suits the comedic style of the book really well. (The book is a little different to the movie and there are things about it that I don't like, the movie gets across a level of a sincerity and love through the acting that the book misses in places, but there are lots of really funny elements to the book that the movie sadly couldn't cover.) The transformation from "the Spaniard" into "Inigo Montoya" is really neat to me.

#tossawary fandom #tossawary reading #long post #tossawary tpb

[crescentfool]

having the hc that minato is ace is incredibly funny sometimes when you think about how ryoji is oh so very bi because it's like. "ah. death stole my ability to be attracted to people," in the same way that ryoji stole minato's eye color and energy level. like wow, thanks ryoji, you just keep finding things to steal from minato!

#persona 3 spoilers #minato arisato #hc and au nonsense #lizzy speaks #happy international asexuality day to my fellow aces out there i hope you know that you are loved!!! 🎊🎉🥳 #i like viewing minato with the lens of him being gay / ace. esp bc it stems from my own experiences so it's fun to look at- #him from that perspective even if that's not what was intended by atlus y'know? #and im sure others have other hcs from me that are informed by their own life experiences and i think that's great ^_^ #something that i found interesting while playing FES was how. stilted? minato's animations felt when hugging the girls #you could definitely go with the perspective that it's a graphical limitation or they didn't have time to polish the animations #and that's def true!! but sometimes i see the hug @ yakushima beach + the other hugs and then i compare it to the sou/yo hug in p4 #and there's like... a noticeable difference to me with how intimate and close together the hugs are... #that said i do know that the animations for reload are updated and the hugs are much more natural (good on them tbh!) #the other thing is (pensive sigh). the way you couldn't reject any of the girls when doing their social links in FES #objectively speaking i'm glad that they did away with that and i like how the rejections were handled in reload. it feels naturally written #but also a part of me enjoyed looking at the “hey atlus what the FUCK” moment and thought of how to interpret it differently #specifically with the idea of minato having like.. little to no autonomy and kind of going along with the relationship #it kind of reminded me of myself tbh with like going along with the rship without considering what you want bc #it's what others want or expect out of you... LOL. i dont think atlus intended for someone to interpret it this way but #eh i think that's the fun part of hcs and looking at characters with certain lenses! #regardless of how you perceive minato i do think there's something to be said about him being the kind of guy who molds himself- #into someone that is needed. not wanted. but needed. important distinction here. #the one caveat my brain runs into when im like “minato is ace!” is when i remember thanatos exists and i go #“you know what these ideas can exist simultaneously” GKLHFHDFHD when in doubt schrodinger's headcanons #anyway that's all i've had this thought in my brain in awhile and haven't sat down to share it properly until now 👍 #have an excellent weekend everyone !!! lizzy loves you all lets all nurture our inner yippee!!! 🥺💙

[be-the-glenn-to-my-maggie]

I just need to rant okay. As a kid who has grown up hearing pretty much everyone complain about the government this and our horrible society that I’m honestly just… done all around. No Grandma Agnus, I don’t care about how you think lgbtq+ people are all going to a hell I don’t even believe in but you know what, cousin Cadence? I also don’t care about how all homophobic people are the true evil ones. No, I don’t care that trans people exist but guess what? I also don’t care that there are people who think differently because people are entitled to their own fucking opinions so long as they aren’t actively harming others (if you don’t like them don’t interact with them more than you have to on both sides, it’s not a hard concept).

Yes I understand that racism has played a huge role in our country but I’m pretty sure that’s not why they got your order wrong at Wendy’s Uncle Jason. Yes I understand that women have had it tough in the past but guess what, last I checked we’re doing a hell of a lot better and no men are not stupid or evil for fuck’s sake and yes they do have problems of their own even though they’re not women

No, I don’t think that all rich people are evil or owe us something (and that’s coming from someone who used to live in a tiny little trailer and only got a small packet of gum for Christmas once) but I also don’t think that workers are over-exaggerating some of their horrible conditions such as payment. No, I don’t care what pronouns you use Finley but guess what when you come at me for “assuming your gender” or whatever twice in the same day despite the fact that it changes literally every hour then that’s where we start to have problems. No, I don’t care that you believe in god but fun fact I am a heavy believer in the separation of church and state and will you look at that, it seems like church and state are getting a bit too chummy up in this house when you claim that all women who get abortions are murderers who are gonna go to hell and abortion should be criminalized for the sake of their souls Auntie Susana.

On top of that I become old enough to vote and stuff soon but honestly I don’t really want to. All I’ve seen my whole life are a bunch of adults going at each other’s throats like rabies-infested dogs and for what? So that they can try to get an extra bit of rope in ya’ll’s tug-of-war? And then older people come at people my age who don’t want to be involved in the shitshow? It almost makes me want to laugh my ass off because that’s like polluting a well and then pleading for the townsfolk to drink that nasty water.

Sorry for my harsh words. I just had a lot of frustrations and really needed to say something anywhere. Know that none of this was directed at you or anyone with strong opinions in a malicious way, I’m honestly just so tired. It feels like everyone everywhere is fighting and for what? No one listens to anyone anymore. I do fully intend to vote when I’m old enough, I’m just done with everyone shouting at me from all sides.

I am very confused as to why this rant was brought to me, because I literally am one of the people you're complaining about.

When I saw this ask, I had to stop looking at this website for like three days. It's a very privileged take, honestly. I don't blame people for getting tired of hearing about politics and world issues all the time, it is exhausting. But as someone who's frequently called exhausting, well, I'm fucking sorry if hearing about the people suffering around you is bothering you. That is a privilege. You can feel that way, but recognize you feeling that way is a luxury.

Your (I'm assuming) metaphorical Grandma hating gay people isn't the same as your metaphorical cousin calling homophobes evil. As I said to my mom yesterday in a very similar conversation, your grandma has the luxury of leaving that conversation any time. So do you. I, as well as other gay people, do not have that luxury. Getting annoyed or tired about any debate on basic human rights I understand, but equally at both sides is bizarre to me. It's like getting mad at a random person in 1912 and the Titanic passengers equally for continuing to talk about the Titanic. One of these groups hAS TO BE TALKING ABOUT THE TITANIC RIGHT NOW. You're not on the Titanic, so you can shut your newspaper and get annoyed it's all you hear about. THE TITANIC PASSENGERS CANT! One side is there because it's literally them being talked about. The other is there because they have too much free time and are demons.

I understand why you feel like people are fighting all the time. They are. But politics are not very black and white. In America it's really just the right and the farther right. But individuals are fighting because things need to be fought for, simply enough. Silence is complicity, and your first two paragraphs are just that.

@antigirlb0ss look at this shit

#sorry buddy i don't know why you brought this drivel to me #but i am not the one #i eSPECIALLY am not the one for not wanting to vote convos #although i understand feeling ike ur vote is useless #it's not smaller state elections are very important #but gtfo about racism and sexism dude #they still play major major roles in our society and it's absolutely valid for someone to complain about them? #also rich people are not evil but billionares are #theres a distinct difference #and also “workers are exaggerating some of their horrible conditions” hOW DOES THE BOOT TASTE MY GUY DOES IT TASTE GOOD? jesus christ #capital owners don't need you LARPing as a shoeshiner for them they are actually fine just on their own #both sides-ing every issue you brought up here literally makes you the problem #trump: there are good people on both sides #<- that's you #melissa's asks #melissa bullshit #i get more and more radicalized (become more reasonable) every day

[cruelsister-moved2]

ugh i kind of want to do my diss about music + trance states possibly gender mediation through trance states or something like that but ritual and trance have been a hot topic in ethnomusicology for ages so I doubt itd be very original whereas ik the stuff ive been getting into about englishness, the past, race, and cultural hybridity is more hot off the press or whatever plus ive done it before so i have a lot of groundwork already. and then I feel like what I would love to do abt neurodivergence would actually feel like the thing thats most important and revelatory but I genuinely dont know how I would actually go about it like i think id have to do fieldwork or something like I feel really out of my comfort zone when im not basically just synthesising theory from two previously unconnected fields I know that is basically what my brain is just good at 😭😭😭 basically torn between what I should do what I can do and what I want to do eeeek

#I think when term starts I can just like bring my three ideas to my supervisor and see what they say #Im literally just so scared of making a fool of myself that I want to come with like everything already laid out or something like #I have a year to do it I don't think I have to have started before term begins 😭😭😭 #and wrt the second one like that is important too it's just that firstly it's a very small field and secondly ik there are other ppl kind #of having the conversation as well now like since lockdowm #when I started they were still v much in nationalism and I was like I think race and the empire is like an underexplored component in this #but I think 2 years on there are definitely like wheels turning more now #and also outside of trad like it's been explored for years most of what I did was just like taking decades old work and inserting it here #its just that this is honestly a very very white field (which is exactly like. my point) so nothing really made it in #and like idk its weird as a white person to try n make my career out of that I don't want to do that Im also just like in 3 years of this I #have not had one non white lecturer or classmate #so it does feel like it kind of. is my job to make the ppl around me think abt like. why that is #ik if I go into arts education racial equality will always be a big part of my priorities but like. my goal would really be helping someone #to become A Voice on the issue rather than trying to be that myself which I think is an important distinction #sorry this is so long and. no one cares this is just my thinking to myself place and also I need to remember what my prev thoughts where #I mean if anyone is like oh that one sounds dumb or whatever then i welcome that ayeueisidhdj but im just like u don't like. have to read #this I know its sooo rambly

[vadlings]

Represention of Autistic Frustration in Laios Dungeon Meshi

Like many other autistic people, I related strongly to Laios Touden while reading Dungeon Meshi. This post isn't going to spend time disputing whether he displays autistic traits or not—while I could do that, I want to focus on why specifically his portrayal struck a chord with me in a way the writing of most other autistic-coded characters has not.

Disclaimer: as the above suggests, this post is strongly informed by my own experiences as an autistic person, as well as the experiences of my neurodivergent friends with whom I have spoken about this subject. I want to clarify that in no way am I asserting my personal experience to be some Universal Autistic Experience. This post is about why Laios' character feels distinct and significant to me in regard to autistic representation, and while I'm at it, I do feel that I have interesting things to say about autistic representation in media generally. This also got a bit long, so I'm sticking it under a read more. Spoilers for up to the end of chapter 88 below.

The thing that stands out most to me in regard to Laios' characterisation is the open anger he displays when someone points out his inability to read other people. This comes up prominently in his interactions with "Shuro" (Toshiro Nakamoto):

The frustration pictured above (Laios continuing to physically tussle with Toshiro, using crude language toward him) becomes even more notable when you remember that this is Laios, who, outside of these interactions, is not easily fazed and often exists as a lighthearted contrast to the rest of the cast. Then we get to Laios' nightmare.

In Falin's words: "Nightmares love emotional wounds. Wounds you hold in your heart. Things that give you stress, or things that were traumatic for you. They aggravate memories like that and cause the dreamer to have terrible dreams." (chapter 42, page 10.) (damn. i'm properly citing for this post and everything.)

Thus, Laios' nightmare establishes an important fact: even if he is unable to recognise social blunders while he's making them, he's at least subconsciously aware that other people operate on a different wavelength to him, and that he's an outsider in many of his social circles (both past and present). His dream-father's disparaging words stress the impact this has had upon his ability to live up to the expectations set out for him, and we also get a panel of kids who smirk at him (presumably former bullies to some degree). Toshiro's appearance only hammers home how much Laios is still both humiliated and angered by his misunderstanding of their relationship.

I've thought a lot about anger as concomitant to the autistic experience. When autistic representation portrays ostracization, it's generally from an angle of the autistic character being upset at how conforming to neurotypical norms doesn't come easily to them; as a result, they express a desire to 'get better' at meeting neurotypical standards, a desire to become more 'normal' (whether the writing implies this is a good thing or not). In contrast, not once does Laios go, "I need to perform better in my social interactions, and try to care less about monsters, because that's what other people find weird." His frustration is directed outward rather than inward, and as a result, it's the people around him who are framed as nonsensical.

The Winged Lion starts delineating Laios' anger, and Laios' reaction is to think to himself, "It can sense all my thoughts, huh?" (chapter 88, page 16.) This is the scene that really resonated with me. I'm not saying I have never felt the desire to conform to neurotypical norms that is borne from insecurity, but primarily, I know that I don't want to work toward becoming 'normal'—I don't want to change myself for people who follow rules I find nonsensical. It's the difference between, "Oh god, why can't I get it," and, "WHY CAN'T YOU GET IT?" (phrasing here courtesy of my friend Miles @dogwoodbite). And for me personally, Dungeon Meshi is the first time I've seen this frustration and the resultant voluntary isolation from other people portrayed in media so candidly. Laios' anger is not downplayed or written to be easily palatable, either.

The culmination of Laios' frustrations in this scene wherein we learn that Laios has fantasised about "a pack of monsters attacking a village" drives home just how alienated he really feels. I need not go into his wish to become a monster himself, redolent of how many autistic people identify/have identified with non-humans to some degree as a result of a percieved disconnect from society (when I was younger, I wanted to be a robot. I still kind of do.)

Obviously, wishing death upon other people is a weighty thing, but the unfiltered nature of this page is what deeply resonated with me. The Winged Lion is laying Laios' deepest and most transgressive desires bare, and they are desires that are a product of lifelong ostracization by others (whether intentional or unintentional). This is the brand of anger I'm familiar with, and that my neurodivergent friends express being familiar with, but that I haven't seen portrayed in writing so explicitly before—in fact, it surprised me because most well-meaning autistic representation I've experienced veers toward infantilisation in trying make the autistic character's struggles easy for neurotypicals to sympathise with.

Let's also not neglect the symbolism inherent to Laios' daydream. "A pack of monsters attacking a village". Functionally, monsters are Laios' special interest—he percieves everything first and foremost through his passion for monsters. His daydream of monsters attacking—killing—humans, is fundamentally a daydream of the world he understands (monsters) overthrowing the world that is so illogical to him, that has repeatedly shunned him (other people). I joked to my friends that it's an autistic power fantasy, and it actually sort of is. And in it, his identity is aligned with that of the monsters, while his anger manifests in a palpable dissociation from the rest of humanity. This is one manga page. It's brief. It's also very, very raw to me. I think about it often.

To conclude, I love Laios Dungeon Meshi. This portrayal of open frustration in an autistic character meant a lot to me, and I hope I've sufficiently outlined why. Also, feel free to recommend media with autistic representation in the notes if you've read this far—I would really like to see if there is more of this nature. Thank you for reading. I'm very tired and should probably sleep now.

#dungeon meshi #dunmeshi #laios touden #shuro #toshiro nakamoto #the winged lion #autistic #autism #clay writes #i GUESS #this was so spur of the moment. im so busy right now i dont have time to be analysing laios touden #i wuont angry autistic rep..

[kittyprincessofcats]

ICJ Ruling

Okay, let's get into this.

First of all, I get the frustration at the court not ordering a ceasefire. I was disappointed and frustrated at first too, since a ceasefire was the biggest and most important preliminary measure South Africa was requesting - and of course we just all want this horror to finally end for the people in Gaza. So I get the frustration and disappointment, I really do.

However, I do think this ruling is still a major win for South Africa, Palestine, and international law as a whole and here's why:

The court acknowledged that it has jurisdiction over this case and completely dismissed Israel's request to throw out the case as a whole. It will now determine at the merits stage (that will probably take years) whether Israel is actually commiting genocide.

The court acknowledged that Palestinians are a "distinct national or ethnic group and therefore deserving of protection under the genocide convention". Pull this out next time someone tells you "there's no such thing as Palestinians, they're all just Arabs".

The court acknowledged very unambiguously that "at least some" of Israel's actions being genocidal in nature is "plausible". South Africa has a case, officially. Israel is accused of genocide, in a way the ICJ deems "plausible", officially. This is huge. (And seriously, how freaking satisfying was it to hear all of those genocidal statements by Israeli politicians read out loud and used as justification for this rulling?)

The court might not have ordered a "ceasefire" in those words, but they did order Israel to "immediately end all genocidal acts" (which includes killing and injuring Palestinians) and submit proof that they actually did. How are they going to comply with this ruling without at least severly reducing or changing what they're doing in Gaza?

In fact, this wording might actually be more appropriate for a genocide (vs a war), as author and journalist Ali Abunimah notes on Twitter:

He's completely right. Israel lost today, by overwhelming majority (I mean, 15 to 2? I heard people predict the rulings would be very close, like 9 judges vs 8, but instead we got 15 to 2 (and even 16 to 1 on the humanitarian aid). Holy shit.) The court disimissed almost everything Israel's side of lawyers said, while acknowledging that South Africa's accusations are "plausible".

And this is important especially because of Mr Abunimah's second tweet there^. Because the question is, where do we go from here?

This ruling means that Israel is officially /possibly/ commiting genocide and that should have huge international consequences. The rest of the world now HAS to take these accusations seriously and stop arming and supporting Israel - and if they won't do it on their own, we, the people, have to make them. This is THE moment to rise up all around the world, especially in the countries most supportive of Israel (the US, the UK, Germany): Protest, call your representatives and demand a ceasefire and an end of arms deliveries to Israel.

We now have a legal case to back our demands: If Israel is, according to the ICJ, "plausibly" commiting genocide, then all of our governments are, according to the ICJ, "plausibly" guiltly of aiding in genocide. And we need to hold that over their heads and demand better. We need to do that right now and in huge numbers. Most politicians only care about themselves and saving their skin. We have to make them realize that they could be accused of aiding in genocide.

(As a German, I'm thinking of Germany here in particular: After South Africa's hearing, our government dismissed their case as having "no basis" - how are they going to keep saying that now that the ICJ officially thinks otherwise? Over the last months, people here have been arrested at protests for calling what's happening in Gaza a genocide. How are the police supposed to legally keep doing that now that the ICJ has officially deemed this accusation "plausible"? I used to be scared to use the word "genocide" at protests or write it on my protest signs - not anymore, have fun trying to arrest me for that when the ICJ literally has my back on this one 🖕🏻.)

So yeah - don't be defeatist about this, don't let Israel's narrative that they "won" (they didn't) take over. This might not be everything we wanted, but it's still a good result. Don't let what the court didn't say ("ceasefire"), distract you from the very important things that they did say. Let this be your motivation to get loud and active, especially if you live in any country that supports Israel. Put pressure on your governments to not be complicit in genocide, you now officially have the highest international court on your side.

#ICJ #ICJ ruling #ICJ hearing #South Africa vs Israel #Free Palestine #Palestine #Palestinian genocide #Gaza #Germany #I get why Palestinians are disappointed and I don't want to devalue those feelings #(but maybe this can give you hope) #But thinking about this as a German this is huge #Most politicians and people here still deny (or at least strongly doubt) that there's a genocide happening #Calling it a genocide is seen as an 'extremist' position #And some of our politicians have been borderline gaslighting us and calling anyone who calls it genocide 'crazy' #So I'm just feeling immense vindication and a newfound fearlessness and motivation to be louder and more active than ever #and I hope others here feel the same #I hope the quiet masses stop being scared to say something now

[fangswbenefits]

Double-edged Sword

Summary: Miguel knows he has to let you go before you can be his. But it’s not that simple. Especially when you keep on testing his limits…

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x spider-woman!reader

Word count: 2.2k

18+. Miguel POV. Obsessed and jealous Miguel. Soft/inexperienced reader. F*ngering.

Part 1 (if you're just starting out) - Previous part

By the time Miguel rose from his slumber, he was met with a pair of curious eyes glaring at him.

"You snore."

A sleepy yawn worked its way out of his throat as he lifted his wrist to assess the time. It was still fairly early in the morning, and he allowed himself to relax against your soft pillows.

You were on your side, both hands tucked under your head, and your trademark sweet smile curling your lips.

"Did you sleep well?"

Miguel nodded, mustering the will to sit up against the bed rest. He soon realised he had fallen asleep on top of the comforter with just a blanket covering him, whereas you were nicely tucked inside your bedsheets.

A distinct barrier between you two.

He looked down at you through sleepy eyes, wishing he could plant a soft kiss to your temple.

You looked so peaceful and it brought a sense of calmness to him as well.

"I was thinking of meeting Tom today.." you began, as you flopped onto your back. "Think you can get someone to cover for me? Just for a while?"

And just like that, Miguel's stomach turned uncomfortably. "Today? Already?"

Your head turned to him. "Why? Do you think I should wait? Do we have something important today?"

"Maybe you should wait a little longer," he said with a sigh. "Take some time to figure out the best approach."

"I've been waiting for months... I just... I really need this," you whispered, now facing away from him.

In reality, Miguel knew there wasn't much he could say to deter you from this. He couldn't really blame you from wanting to set things right with someone who meant so much to you.

He would have given everything to be able to get that opportunity with Gabriella.

However, the less rational side of him was seething with jealousy. After all, you had revealed you had feelings for him.

But what truly fueled his escalating jealousy was what had happened last night. The kiss, him touching himself in front of you, and you touching yourself in front of him. Intimacy had engulfed you both so unexpectedly, that he wondered if it had been a mistake.

He dreaded that thought, so he promptly pushed it away.

"Sure. Take your time."

You then shifted to sit next to him, your shirt briefly clinging to your breasts, letting him know you were braless.

Of course.

He groaned inwardly at the sight of the small protuberances on each nipple.

And you caught him staring, arching a brow in amusement. "Want to see them again?"

He cleared his throat and shook his head. The last thing he needed now was a raging boner.

But it seemed that you were hellbent on torturing him, so when you got on your knees, briefly crawling to him, and finally settling on his lap, he knew he was fucked.

You were wearing nothing but a shirt and sleeping shorts, and when you looped your arms around his neck, he instinctively closed his eyes, bracing himself for yet another erection.

He had expected you to lean in for a kiss, but you remained still, eyeing him with utmost interest.

"This place can be so isolating," you sighed.

Miguel gripped your hips, adjusting you back to prevent having you seating on his crotch.

"Nueva York is overflowing with spiders, yet you still feel so lonely, you know?"

He did know.

It was lonely at the top.

While many spiders had relationships of their own and managed to build their lives around them, Miguel had nearly forgotten how used to being alone he had gotten.

"So you feel lonely here?"

You seemed unsure. "I have you to keep me company, though I figure that doesn't really count. you were forced to babysit me when I forgot got here."

"I wasn't forced to do anything," he corrected, slightly frowning. "I saw the potential in you and wanted to harness that."

Your fingers were absentmindedly caressing the nape of his neck. "I feel really comfortable around you."

That caught him slightly off guard.

"I never thought I'd be able to reveal that secret to anyone... you whispered, shifting to sit on his growing erection. "And last night.."

The not knowing was killing him. On one hand, he was scared to find out that it had been nothing but a hear of the moment thing, but he yearned for more than that... and that part of him needed to kn more.

"Was is because of loneliness, then?"

You pressed your lips tightly together.

"Well, I suppose loneliness gets the best of us, eventually," he sighed, trying his best to seem as casual as possible. "Sometimes, using your hand just doesn't quite do it."

At this, you widened your eyes, before averting your gaze. "It wasn't because I felt lonely... I... I just... you're really attractive and.."

Miguel decided that was enough.

He brought his hand to the back of hour neck and pulled you closer until your lips grazed along his.

"Can I kiss you?"

You swallowed, pressing yourself down on him. "Do you always get this.. excited so easily?"

He gripped your chin between his fingers, tilting your head to have your eyes meet his. "Only for you."

It was a simple confession mixed with desire, but it was enough to startle you.

Fuck.

You leaned back as if snapped from a daydream. "Do you mean that? Or are you just saying that to make me feel better?"

Miguel took a deep breath. "I mean that, and you can feel it," he proved his point with a roll of his hips.

You moaned softly, eyes fluttering shut and mouth dropping open.

His sweet girl was so, so responsive...

Instinctively, you tried to match the sway of his hips, but it felt clumsy and Miguel brought both hands to your hips, gripping them tightly.

Your breaths were coming out shaky as he guided you on his clothed cock, guiding you on how to move your body alongside his.

"Does that feel good?" he asked seductively.

"Yes..." you gasped. "I... I'm.."

Miguel felt the first beads of precum drip from his tip. "You're what?"

Your hands came to grip his shoulders, and you took a deep breath before one of them slid down to your

body.

Miguel immediately knew what you meant, but he intended on having things go differently this time.

" can do that for you... he offered, gripping your wrist gently, as your fingers prepared to slide inside your shorts.

You bit your lip, eyes still squeezed shut. "You have to...”

"I want to," he said firmly.

Nodding, you brought your hand up to his shoulder again, and he took the chance to gently slip his fingers past the waistband.

You immediately shuddered and leaned to rest your face against his neck.

He trailed down carefully and his cock twitched once he reached your clit.

"Is this okay?"

You moaned in response, wrapping your arms around him.

Your clit was already swollen and Miguel felt his fangs threatening to drop once he began to slowly roll the pad of his finger around it.

It didn't take long until he felt your wetness seeping through the layers of fabric and staining his suit.

"Please... Miguel..." you groaned, now jerking your hips against his touch.

He began to drag your wetness along your folds to coat your clit with it. You were soaked for him, your body already working on preparing you to take his COCk.

But he would have to be gentle.

He would have you riding his fingers first.

"Please what, sweet girl?" he cooed, planting a kiss to your temple."

You answered by trying to have his finger slide down to your entrance.

So eager...

"Can you take one finger?"

You halted your hips and took a few seconds to nod.

"I can take it..."

He could cum just from your shaky voice and how much you craved him.

As one finger reached your opening, he felt you tense up lightly.

"I'll be gentle," he promised, tracing the sensitive spot. "Tell me to stop, and I will."

"Don't stop..."

He pressed yet another kiss on your flushed skin, and slipped the tip of one finger inside, feeling you immediately squeeze around him.

Miguel realised that if he were to be your first, he would be utterly fucked. The way you gripped his fingers with your walls nearly tipped him over the edge. He couldn't imagine how ridiculously good it'd feel to have his cock inside you instead.

"Try to relax.."

And you did try.

Until his thumb pressed down on your clit.

Your hips immediately bucked into him, encasing his finger inside you until he was buried knuckle-deep.

"Easy..." he growled, his fangs emerging right away from the overload of sensation.

He doubted you'd be able to take another thick finger of his, so he settled for having just one sliding in and out, drawing the sweetest gasps from you.

"You're doing so well.." he praised.

You rolled your hips instinctively, fucking yourself on his finger as best as inexperience allowed you.

"Take... take your... suit..." you pleaded, clawing at his chest with one hand.

The digital layer vanished down to his waist. He didn't want set his cock free or he would cum in an instant.

Then, he saw you roll up your shirt with trembling fingers, exposing your breasts.

He nearly came rigth there and then.

But nothing could have prepared him for what you were about to do.

You desperately brought your pierced nipples to graze against his bare chest, slowly raising your before sinking down around his finger.

Miguel was now certain that you would be the death of him.

He felt your wetness dribbling down his hand, but kept a steady pressure on your pulsing clit. With each undulation of your body, he was able to feel the cool metal of your piercings digging into his skin, and couldn't fight back the growl that emerged from deep within him.

As expected, he was embarrassingly close, and needed to do something about it.

"Lift your hips."

You groaned in response, stilling for a moment.

"Wait….. why?"

"I'm close.."

You slowly clenched around his finger, and his hand came to grip your hip tight.

"Too close..

The beginning of a pout settled on your face, but you did as requested, finally putting a stop to the near excruciating pleasure he was feeling.

Now he could focus on you.

You buried your face in the crook of his neck to anchor your with each flick of his finger and with each sway of your hips.

"Are you okay?"

You didn't answer, but he could tell from your erratic breathing that you were nearing your peak. Your whimpers increased in intensity, as you clumsily rode his finger, chasing after your bliss.

The sound of his watch beeping broke the rhythm for a second, but Miguel ignored it.

As long as no canon event was involve, he wouldn't shift his attention from you.

It beeped again.

But you were so close.

"I... I think I'm.."

He didn't need your words, your body language spoke to him in ways he didn't know he craved.

The movement you started convulsing against him and tightening your grip around his neck, he knew you were coming undone. Your walls clenched around his finger as the orgasm tore through your body.

Another beep, which Miguel ignored again.

Miguel allowed himself to enjoy your tightness, realising you would need far more preparation than this if you were to take his cock.

Your legs were shaking slightly, as he kept pressing the pad of his thumb against your pulsing clit.

But what really made his cock twitch was the way you kept mumbling his name in between sobs, eventually slumping against his chest.

He slowly withdrew his finger, earning a deep sigh from you.

<CANON EVENT IMMINENT: ANOMALY DETECTED>

Miguel's heart nearly burst out of his chest from the unexpected announcement, and you jolted into him, still descending from your peak.

Instant bones killer.

Much against his will, he brought himself to suit up and carefully set you aside on your bed with a kiss pressed to your forehead, before jumping to his feet, quickly clicking through his watch.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled hurriedly, glazing at you as he neared the bedroom window.

You were a panting mess, but quickly tried to gather yourself. "Don't apologise. Just go."

He hopped onto the window sill and took a deep breath, throwing you a final glance. "TIl find you once I'm done."

"You don't have to... I have to do this on my own."

He nodded. "Don't deactivate your mic."

Your straightened your shirt before sitting on mattress. "Miguel... it'll be fine."

"Do as I say."

You eventually nodded.

He hated having to part from you, but his duty came first, and he couldn't step away from it.

Not even for his sweet girl.

"Lyla, summon squad 12, and give me the readings on the anomaly."

Before swinging into the cool morning air of Nueva York, Miguel saw you crossing your legs and stare at him with those sweet eyes that he was so addicted to.

But he would be there for you again.

He would find you.

And he would make sure your devotion would he his.

Not Tom's.

Once Miguel was done with the canon disruption, he threw himself into a portal to get to you.

Your mic wasn't working, and your bio readings weren't available, and he could only assume you had switched off your watch.

Luckily, he had checked Tom's file before deleting it as you had requested.

He knew exactly where to go.

The sun had began to set on the horizon, engulfing the city in shades of orange that helped mask his movements across the innumerous rooftops. He refrained from using his web often, as the laser-like flashes would draw too much attention.

So he took it to jumping and clawing his way up the steep walls of the building opposite to where he lived on all fours, already being able to pick up some interference coming from your mic.

You were close.

"... you want me to leave."

Miguel reached the metal railing of an emergency exit, and balanced himself on it, feeling his heart stammering against his chest.

"You're so good at that, so go ahead."

From there, he was able to spot you in his apartments, near a window. He caugjt a glimpse of Tom and immediately decided he hated him.

He was scowling deeply at you, arms crossed, and words sharp as knives.

How dare he?

His claws were digging into the railing, and Miguel felt droplets of venom spill from his fangs.

This Tom individual wasn't even attractive to begin with, so he figured your previous attraction to him had to based on something else.

"You hurt me! You cannot do this and expect me to pretend nothing happened."

Clearly not based on personality.

Your voice was so low, Miguel was barely able to make it through the mic. "Tom... it was also hard for me..."

Miguel was visibly seething at this pint, wishing he could just drag you out of there. You deserved better than someome who didn't bother listening to you.

"Please leave."

There was a long pause and Miguel held his breath, not wanting to miss out on your reply.

"Don't do this..." you whispered, and he could hear the sadness in your words.

It was itching him to put an end to it.

But...

Deep down, Miguel knew you needed this. Closure. Even if things didn't go as you had hoped, you had tried your best to remedy this situation.

His heart hadn't wanted you to go visit Tom, but his mind spoke differently. He had to let you go to him, to have you as his.

A double-edged sword.

"You left me for months. Ignored me for months. You don't get to do this without a decent explanation," the idiot went on, further angering Miguel. "And since you don't want to tell me the truth, I want you gone."

This time, you cleared your throat and stormed out of the room, not exchanging another word.

Miguel considered dealing with Tom in his own way, but you came first.

He plunged from the rooftop and into a deserted alley, pacing quickly to meet you as you exited through the door, zipping up the hoodie that hid your suit underneath.

Miguel called after you, but you didn't turn to face him.

"I don't want to talk, Miguel."

Not wanting to be spotted by some passer-by, he urged you to walk into another alley.

"I heard some of it," he said softly once you were both out of sight.

You pressed your back against the wall, looking absolutely defeated. It was almost criminal that someone like you had to ever feel this way.

"You did what you could," he went on, placing one hand on your shoulder. "Maybe one day he'll understand."

Miguel didn't want him to be near you ever again, but he had to comfort you somehow.

You lowered your gaze and fixed it on a small puddle of water at your feet. "I deserve this."

"You do not."

"I don't want your pity."

He shook his head. "You won't have it."

In fact, he was willing to give you his heart if you'd take it. But he wouldn't dare say that out loud. Not in this moment.

He waited for your to make a move, but you remained quiet.

"Let's go back to Nueva York," he suggested, placing one hand on your shoulder.

You sobbed softly, and he saw a couple of teardrops drip from your face.

He just couldn't bear seeing you like this, so he took a step closer and you quickly wrapped your arms around him.

"Thank you... thank you, thank you..." you kept on repeating in between sniffles.

He held you tightly in absolute adoration and devotion. "I'm here for you."

"You're a great friend, Miguel..."

Friend.

That word made his heart sink violently.

"Just as a friend?"

There it was... his obsession for you creeping in.

You pulled away from his grip, teary eyes narrowing at him. "Oh... with benefits?"

That was somehow even worse.

Your face twisted into something else as you patted your face dry. "What do you want from me, Miguel?"

Anything.

Everything.

"Anything you're willing to give me," he said truthfully.

Maybe he shouldn't have been so straightforward, but he was merely answering your question. He didn't want to lie, and didn't want to go back to having to hide how he truly felt.

"I don't know if I can give you much more than this."

Your words lingered in the air after hitting him hard and he felt as though his body had been plunged into freezing water.

"Why?"

Your gaze wavered and you began chewing your lip. "Because I don't know if I'm ready for anything serious..."

Miguel straightened to his full height. "Anything you can give me... I'll take it."

He sounded desperate, and deep down he knew that it was probably working against him. Being intimate with you only could only satisfy him for so long if nothing was to come of it.

As much as his body yearned for you touch, his heart was seeking something that wasn’t skin-deep.

"Can I ask for something?"

Anything.

Everything.

He would give it all to you.

You cleared your throat. "I need time."

He could definitely work with that.

However...

"Do you... like being with me?" Miguel carefully asked. "And I'm not talking about being with me like earlier today." Your fluttering orgasm was proof enough.

Your eyes widened and he could tell you had not expected his bluntness. "Of course I do... I... just need time."

He pressed his lips together into a fine line. In truth, he didn't want to be just friends with you. He didn't crave that level of human connection. He needed much more than that from you.

"You only want me as a friend."

It wasn’t a question, and it sounded more like an accusation.

Was he being fair with you? Was he being fair with himself? These questions kept on looping inside his head, but his emotions had a stronger hold on him.

"I trust you," you said in a whisper. "I don't trust people easily."

That did ease some of the uneasiness within him, but he still wanted more. The grip of his obsession for you was tightening around him viciously, and it was getting harder for him to keep it at bay.

"Maybe I want more than that."

"Miguel..."

He leaned in, bending his head just enough for his lips to almost meet yours, searching for the comfort of your warmth.

He could feel you slipping through his fingers again.

You turned your head lightly and pressed a lingering kiss on his cheek instead.

His eyes fluttered shut, and the dreadful feeling that you were parting from him suddenly overcame him.

"Maybe you should go back..." you said after parting from him. "I'll stay here for a little while..."

"Because of Tom?" he could feel the poison dripping from his words.

You shook your head vehemently. "Because of me."

Part 7

Masterlist

#miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara #miguel o'hara x fem!reader #miguel ohara x reader #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099

[ambrosiagourmet]

Did Laios have a plan

... when he made his deal with the Lion? How much of it was intentional and how much of it was out of his control?

Well. If I'm being honest I don't really want to try and provide a definitive answer to that question, because I think the ambiguity is, itself, part of the story. I've gone back and forth a few times myself, and I don't think either category - "fully intentional" or "fully coincidence" - is entirely true.

That being said, I would like to point out a few things that I've seen taken for granted as true. Things that, imo, are much more about the character's perspective, or about what the character WANTS people to think (well, that's really just the Winged Lion).

Consider this not exactly an argument for "Laios masterminded everything from the start and saved the world with his cunning," but more... "Laios considered what he was doing more than people give him credit for." Make sense?

Alright then, let's go:

So to start with, I want to show every time (that I could find, at least) that the question of 'does Laios have a plan' gets brought up. This is specifically after his Ultimate Monster Form is revealed, to be clear - the question isn't about if he has a plan in general, it is if he has/had a plan when he made this specific deal with the Lion.

Here they are:

-

-

You'll notice, in all of these instances, there never really is an answer given to the question. Either because there is no way to get one, or, with Kabru at the end there, because he explicitly doesn't let Laios answer. There's even a bit of an arc here: we start with a sort of desperate 'I've mostly given up but maybe this isn't as bad as it looks,' then get a more optimistic 'maybe we really are saved,' and finally end on 'it all worked out in the end, so we maybe don't need to know.'

But, as much as there is some genuine growth in Kabru's 'accept the outcome, rather than dissecting the truth,' I also think it says a lot more about him than about Laios. Kabru is the one trying to handle his questions and his uncertainty - as he said, he wants to confirm his judgement of character. He wants to feel like he had control over things.

And he lets that go! But he also doesn't actually get the truth, either, and his implied assumption here (that Laios, the wide-eyed monster-lover, probably just followed his desires), still relies on his judgements and assumptions about Laios.

But okay, these bits are all focused on the characters theorizing about Laios. How about we look at the character who actually tells us the facts ("facts"): the Winged Lion.

The Winged Lion has quite a bit to say about Laios and his monster form.

He says that Laios hates humanity, and would rather be a monster

I've talked about this a bit already, but the Lion makes a lot of claims and assumptions about Laios that aren't necessarily true.

First of all, let's just make sure we clearly establish that the Lion is being manipulative here. That may seem obvious, but it's important to understand that there is a difference between 'the truth' and 'a version of the truth specifically framed to prey upon your deepest shame and insecurities about what you really want.'

To point out a few quick-and-dirty contradictions here:

If Laios really hated all other humans, then the Lion wouldn't hinge so many of his other arguments on Laios' love for Falin and his friends.

the Lion claims that Laios "[doesn't] even care enough about the future of [the] world to express an opinion about it," even though Laios has literally expressed opinions on what he wants for the world, to the Lion's face.

In general, the Lion does not make a distinction between urges and choices (see, for instance: him using Marcille's subconscious fear of the canaries as a way to keep her from stopping the monsters from attacking in chapter 86).

I'm not saying there is not a piece of truth here, but also... we are not our darkest thoughts, and we especially are not those thoughts as defined by someone who wants to hurt and control us.

But let’s move on to the stuff the Lion claims about Laios once he has been turned into his monster form.

2. He says that (or rather, acts like) Laios is under his control

The Lion really enjoys grandstanding about how Monster Laios is an ultimate tool he has control over. He gloats about making Laios fight the others, and has him smash through the magical barrier.

But smashing the barrier is kinda the only thing that Monster Laios actually does for the Lion. He doesn't attack anyone. He doesn't hurt his friends, despite Chilchuck thinking that Laios has "turned completely into a monster." And he certainly doesn't simply let the Lion go through with his plan to eat everyone.

This barrier smashing is actually an interesting and odd thing for Laios to have done specifically, so remember that one. I'll come back to it later.

But, yeah, to the original point... despite the Lion's dramatics, all that Monster Laios does is pose, smash up a magic barrier, and then eat him. Not exactly under his control.

AND SPEAKING OF EATING THE DEMON...

3. He frames Laios attacking and eating him as thoughtlessly violent

This one is pretty funny to me, and the Lion keeps it up for the whole scene. I'm not sure how much of this is his genuine understanding of the situation, and how much is him intentionally framing things in the most insulting manner, but like... truly. The ego involved in this. To see someone who has, multiple times, tried to stand against you - someone who has literally wished for your non-existence, to your face - to see this person attack you, specifically, and have your first reaction be 'huh, I guess he's a reckless weirdo to the core???'

Incredible stuff.

And this part, too:

He claims that Laios can't recognize anyone, that he's out of control. And yet, the Lion is the only person that gets eaten here. He is Laios' singular target.

Hell, Laios even specifically attacks one of the bodies that is actively hurting Chilchuck. I don't know if that was entirely intentional on Laios' part, but I do think it's notable.

The Lion torments Laios' friend, and when Laios does something that interrupts that action, the Lion reframes it as unhinged violence. I don't know, there's something here about the way that cruel people only talk about the things people do to resist them as violent, and ignore the violence that causes such resistance in the first place.

In any case, the main point is that the Lion insists on treating Laios like an unthinking animal during this fight, despite the fact that Laios is clearly trying to accomplish something here.

And what exactly is Laios trying to accomplish? Well, the Lion isn't entirely wrong. Laios is trying to eat something. He tells us as much.

And truly, everything Laios does as a monster points to this. He had a goal. And he accomplished it.

Let me back up a moment. I need to explain smashing the barrier.

So, Laios first starts considering how to kill the Lion when he is confronted with the fact that his only other choice would be to kill Marcille. Immediately and entirely discarding that solution, because of course he does, he tries to wrap his head around what defeating the Lion would even look like.

He clearly continues thinking about this, as a nearly identical conversation happens a few chapters later, when Laios is once again told that killing Marcille is the only way forward.

Only, this time, he's started to come up with an idea for how to do this impossible thing.

Harkening all the way back to the Living Armor chapter, Laios draws on the same lesson - if the Lion has made itself part of the world, if it has made itself into something alive, that means he can kill it. And eat it.

But there's an important extra detail to this. If he's going to try and kill (and eat) the Lion, he needs to strike when it’s vulnerable. He needs to strike when it's eating.

This is why he smashes through the barrier. Again, nothing else he does as a monster really benefits the Lion. He doesn't attack anyone else. The only command he obeys is to smash the barrier. Because the Lion has to think he has won for Laios to be able to eat him.

Beat him. For Laios to be able to beat him.

The question of why Monster Laios wanted to eat the Lion is, I think, the most ambiguous part. Was he curious? Hungry? Did he fight for his own life, for his friends, or for all of humanity? Did he know how to win because he had planned everything from the start, or because he was driven by an unquenchable instinct to do whatever it took to survive?

I don't know that it is possible to say for sure. But I do know that the Lion underestimates Laios, through it all. He underestimates Laios as a human, and he underestimates Laios as a monster.

And in the end, after he is bested, even then I don't think the Lion ever gets Laios. I don't think he understands how much Laios means his words about the Lion being burdened by hunger...

or what Laios cares about most...

or what meaning there is in life, for him.

So I don't buy what the Lion is selling about Laios, generally speaking. I don't buy that Laios didn't ever know what he was doing, and I don't buy that he was nothing more than a hungry beast.

Well. I mean. He was a hungry beast. But he was a more than that too. He was the Devourer of All Things Horrible. And he didn't just happen into that title by chance.

#dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon #laios touden #winged lion #dissecting how the Lion's negging works is a great exercise in understanding manipulation honestly #dungeon meshi spoilers #dunmeshi analysis

[clockwayswrites]

City Pigeons Bleed Green Part 4

WC 1123 Masterpost CW allusions to past torture, dehumanization, anxiety

“Looks worse in person, doesn’t he?”

Dick was jolted out of his thoughts as Jason spoke. He gave little nod, but didn’t look away from the kid asleep on the bed. Seeing the photos were bad enough, but Jason was right, he looked worse in person. It was distressingly clear all that he’d gone through between the fainter marks that the flash of the camera had washed out and the way the kid’s bone’s were clearly outlined under paper thin skin.

“It’s wild seeing someone who looks so much like B looking so fragile,” Jason continued in a low rumble. “Like, none of us think the old man can do everything anymore, we’re all beyond that childish notion, but doesn’t mean that B still doesn’t seem larger than life. To see a kid with his features look like that…”

“It’s going to be okay, little wing,” Dick assured hi. “We’ll look out for him now.”

Jason snorted. “Always the optimist.”

“Nope,” Dick said, shaking his head. “I’m just pretty sure that anyone who comes for him, you and little Red will put in the ground.”

Dick could see Jason start out of the corner of his eye at that, but didn’t pay it any mind. Instead, Dick finally entered the room instead of just lingering in the doorway like a creep.

“What’s the plan, baby bird?”

Tim stopped twirling the screwdriver in his fingers (a nervous habit) and glanced Dick’s way. “I want to fit a piece of insulating rubber between the collar and his skin. I should be able to get it off without zapping him, but they didn’t… I’m pretty sure they didn’t intend it to ever come off, or at least not cleanly.”

“So rubber as a back up, makes sense. What’s the catch?”

“Well, like Duke said, we don’t know what will happen when we remove it,” Tim answered, “and I’m pretty sure he won’t stay asleep for it. He stirred some when I was checking it over earlier. I want the collar off him but…”

“Pretty sure that’s more important than rest,” Jason said. “He’s got as long as he needs to rest after. Besides, gives us a chance to get some fluids and food in him.”

“Okay, you wake him up then,” Tim said, tone edging into snippy. The baby bird really was stressed by this.

“Now hold on,” Jason started back.

Dick just rolled his eyes and squatted by the edge of the bed. Gently, he rested a hand on the kid’s shoulder. He rubbed a slow circle with his thumb. “Hey there. Can you wake up for a little bit? We want to get you more comfortable.”

The kid gave a sleepy snuffle and turned his head, nuzzling his cheek against Dick’s hand for a moment. Dick could feel when the kid actually woke up by how rigid he went.

“It’s okay, you’re safe, remember? You ran into Red Hood and Red Robin. They brought you to a safe house. I’m Nightwing, but they’re both still here.

“Hey Kid,” Jason said, his voice distinct behind the modulation.

Green eyes fluttered open and darted quickly around the room. The Kid was too young to have to catalog all the exits and makeshift weapons, but that’s exactly what he was doing. Dick slowly removed his hand and rested it, palm up, on his knee. The kid seemed to chase the touch for a moment before he went the other way and pushed himself to sit up back into the corner where the bed med the wall.

“Sorry,” he croaked out.

Dick nudged the sealed water bottle on the side table a little closer to him. The kid took a moment to look from it to Dick and the others in the room before he reached out very slowly to take it. Dick was sure the kid thought they were going to take it away by how quickly he snatched it back once his fingers were on it, but none of them commented on it. None of the commented on the way he checked the seal either before he broke it and chugged half the bottle.

“Maybe go slow with the rest of that bottle, but keep drinking it. We’d like you to eat too. If you’re not comfortable eating something we—”

Jay cleared his throat and Nightwing rolled his eyes behind his white out lenses. “That Red Hood cooks, we have MREs and bars that are sealed.”

“We can also cover your stitches so that you can take a shower,” Jason said, “but only after you eat. Don’t need you falling over in the shower.”

“And before you eat,” Tim chimed in, “we want to get that collar off.”

The water bottle crinkled loudly in the kid’s hands. He started, dropping it on the mattress then scrambled to pick it up.

“Shit, sorry, I’m…”

“It’s just water, Kid,” Jason said. “It will clean up fine.”

“Can you take a deep breath for me?” Dick asked, voice soft. He tapped out a rhythm on the bed frame with his blue stripped fingers.

The kid took a shuddering breath and then another. Jason left the room as the kid breathed, coming back with another bottle of water and an orange juice to set on the side table.

“There you go,” Dick soothed. “I’m going to talk about it, is that okay?”

The kid gave a jerky nod.

“Do you want the collar off?”

The kid nodded again. “Yes.”

“Is it going to harm you if we take it off? One of us Bats is a meta too. He said there could be a backlash of power.”

“I can control it,” he whispered. The words were barely audible over the nearly bottle that he was twisting in his hands. “But the collar… if you… it, um, shocks.”

“We know,” Tim said. “But I know how to take it off. We’ll put rubber between your skin and it too, so even if I tries you won’t feel it.”

The kid’s eyes seemed to flash brighter as he looked up at Tim. “You can? I tried to but I didn’t have… I couldn’t find the tools. All I could do is kill the tracker. It zapped me out for a day. I was so sure that… right, yeah, please, I want it off. You all… you’d do that?”

“Of course,” Dick said.

The green shifted to him. “But you don’t even know what I can do.”

“We know you’re a kid with a collar around your neck that hurts you. That’s enough for us,” Jason said.

The kid looked between all of them before he slumped forward. Dick gently plucked the water bottle from his limp fingers.

“Please,” the kid said. “Please.”

--- AN: Y'all, darlings, I am... so tired I didn't have it in me to read this over before posting so I'm sure there are double words and wrong words. Be kind to my soul. It was a very busy day with a lot of important things and fatigue is kicking my ass. But before anyone worse, I wanted to write this and I'm happier having gotten some writing done!

Still, I hope you like this part! We got Dick POV this time! Stay delightful, my darlings.

I no longer tag, you can subscribe to the post here.

#dp x dc #batpham #city pigeons #trauma tuesday

[mondaymelon]

— "𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗼𝘀𝗲 𝗺𝘆 𝙘𝙡𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙨?" ♥

:feat~ alhaitham, kaveh x gn!reader:

⤷ modern!au, fluff✩ ⤷ they’re away at work and you miss them, so you decide to give them a call… wearing their clothes.

ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ (open!) : @manager-of-the-pudding-bank, @iamdedinside, @ilyuu, @achlysis @poweredbyghostadventures & @solxima, come get your sumeru men (kaveh)

ALHAITHAM’s automatic message is what greets you.

“This is Al Haitham. Currently Busy. If it’s urgent, leave me a voicemail.”

You hadn’t expected him to pick up in the first place, but you knew his work schedule, and he should be on break right about now… however, you won’t allow yourself to be disheartened!

The solution? Call him again, and again, and… well, you miss him a lot, so you’ll just continue until he picks up… eventually.

And when he finally does…

“This is Haitham. What do you want…” His stern voice trails off upon seeing you, and that your camera is on. “Love, why are you FaceTiming me? Did something happen?” The way his exasperated tone melts into one of sincerity instead makes you feel warm inside.

“I missed you.” You pout, before rolling onto your stomach. Instantly, the male’s concerned expression morphs upon seeing what you’re wearing - into one of hesitant silence.

“Is that… my shirt…?” Archons, you know exactly what you’re doing, aren’t you?

“And what if it is? Do you not want me to wear it…?”

Please don’t pout at him like that, or the stoic man might just cave in.

“Why are you…” He’s hesitant to ask, but he does so anyway.

“It makes me feel like you’re here.”

Those words make him fall silent.

“...Fuck.” He’s turned his camera off, but you’re able to catch a glimpse of the red that’s risen to his face before he did.

It’s so innocent how you’re obviously capturing his heart. ♥

KAVEH almost immediately picks up, and you can practically hear the excitement in his voice. 

“Love, what’re you calling me for?” There’s distinct talking in the background, and you worry that you may have disturbed your boyfriend during an important work meeting. You try to take a look at his video, seeing people dressed in business suits behind him.

“Oh, are you busy?”

“Not at all!” You can hear his smile. “What do you need?”

“...I just missed you.”

That’s when the male notices that you’ve donned his sweater, draped too large over your frame. Your words, along with the sight he’s just beheld, is enough to turn the blonde into a blushing mess. He has his hand over his mouth, stuttering and stumbling through his words as he practically glows red.

“L-Love- i-is that my… sweater…?” He sounds shy, almost, with the undeniably apparent flush that’s dusting his cheeks and ears.

“Yes…?”

Ah, his heart is racing now, how is he supposed to concentrate on anything? “...Because you missed me?”

“Mhm.”

“Fuck this…” Kaveh sighs under his breath as he runs a hand through his hair. After a moment of silence, he speaks again, calling to someone off-camera. “Boss, I’m using my sick hours today, I’ll be leaving early!” You can hear a distant, “wait, what?” in the background… but it’s already too late - Kaveh’s already sprinting out of the door, beaming at the camera, slight blush still present on his cheeks.

“I’m coming back home, so wait for me!” ♥

(a/n) kaveh is so silly

#★ ˎˊ˗ mondaymelon #astronetwrk #favoniuslibrary #alhaitham headcanons #alhaitham x reader #genshin alhaitham #alhaitham #al haitham x reader #al haitham #haitham x reader #genshin haitham #genshin kaveh #kaveh headcanons #kaveh #kaveh x reader #genshin impact kaveh #x reader #yandere genshin x you #genshin x you #genshin x reader #genshin oneshots #oneshots #oneshot #fluff #genshin fluff #genshin imagines #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact fanfics #genshin fanfiction #genshin headcanons

[writingwithfolklore]

Level Up Your Descriptions

I learnt a tip for resume writing that I find applies pretty well to novel writing too. Essentially, you shouldn’t write on your resume that you took orders and handled cash at the till at your restaurant job because people already know what a server does. You should write the unexpected or unique things you bring to the job.

Same with writing descriptions in fiction. There are certain things that people are going to automatically assume about others, about a place, about a thing. For example, you wouldn’t say, “she grabbed out brown coffee” or “the car drove on four wheels.” Because when we think coffee, we already think brown/beans, and when we think car, we already think four wheels.

                This seems obvious, until you consider that mentioning that the café is warmly decorated, cozy, and is full of writers working on manuscripts and people catching up over coffee is… exactly that. While maybe a baseline of information like this is appropriate, all you needed to say was ‘café’ and we’re already in this image. For a setting or person that doesn’t mean much to the story, this could suffice.

                However, for an important element in the narrative, you’re going to want to bring your descriptions beyond that assumed/obvious baseline.

                We know an elderly person is going to have grey hair, shuffle slowly, and speak in a creaky voice. We might not know that their purse seems far too heavy for them, and they have a distinct smell of gunpowder that follows them into rooms.

                I’m reading a book right now by Jasper FForde called ‘Jack Spratt Investigates The Big Over Easy’ and it’s full of interesting and unexpected descriptions. Here is one of my favourites:

                “The years had been charitable to Mrs. Spratt, and despite her age she was as bright as a button and had certainly not lost any of her youthful zest. Jack put it down to quantity of children. It had either made her tough in old age or worn her out—if the latter, then without Jack and his nine elder siblings, she might have lived to one hundred ninety-six. She painted people’s pets in oils because ‘someone has to,’ collected small pottery animals, Blue Baboon LPs and Jellyman commemorative plates. She had been widowed seventeen years.”

                Think of what things make a person or space you know well unique, and try to imbue those details into your work. What makes a place look lived in? What sort of objects or feel or smell does it have? What distinguishes your best friend from others in a crowd?

                Feel free to share a description that's really stuck with you!

#writing #writers #writing tips #writing advice #writing inspiration #creative writing #writing community #books #film #filmmaking #screenwriting #novel writing #fanfiction #writeblr #descriptions #character description #level up your descriptions

[phoenixyfriend]

Hey have a fun AU I came up with the other day after reading a bunch of fics with related tropes

It's a raised Sith AU. Anakin was found by Sidious well before he was found by Qui-Gon. He was raised by the Sith, is a classically horrible monster stalking about TCW to be Vader (mask and all, just as an intimidation factor instead of life support) while Ventress and Grievous and Dooku do their own things in a different section of the war. He's got a Really Fucking Weird dynamic with Obi-Wan, mostly attempting to kill him etc.

At some point, Palpatine allows Anakin and Padme to meet. The romance that blooms is one that Sheev decides is useful to him, so he lets it happen.*

Padme gets pregnant. Sidious arranges for her death. Anakin loses his entire shit and tries to kill Sidious. Obi-Wan is off trying to save Padme, unaware of Anakin getting his remaining limbs cut off by his this-universe Master. (This is important, because Anakin does remember Obi-Wan trying to save Padme.)

So we have Anakin, who was raised Sith, and just lost the only things that have mattered to him since his mom died when he was a kid, and Palpatine has pushed him further into the Dark than he ever has. Anakin… knows more about the Sith Secrets in this universe.

Anakin finds a Sithly Time Machine. Maybe on Malachor. There's an owl? Whatever.

Anakin, someone who's been Vader for the vast majority of his life, wakes up at age nine. Maybe even younger, like six. His mother is already dead at Sidious's hands. He's already roommates with Maul. He's already being trained as a baby Sith.

Anakin, being a 20 year old war veteran, is much better at escaping than Sidious has planned for. He reprograms a medical droid to take out his slave chip, steals a ship, etc. All the stuff that Maul wasn't very good at, and Anakin was too young for, so Sidious didn't have the preventative measures in place for yet.

Anakin heads for the one place and person he thinks he can trust: Obi-Wan Kenobi.

(Obi-Wan is still a padawan. But this Baby Sith just declared him Adoptive Teen Dad, so.)

@lizasweetling (all indented bits from here will be hers):

Because Sith. Bad for mental health of the user and generally bad for their environs But also baby. And if hes dragging Maul around no doubt the dude is constantly himself confused why he is here Like yeah, Sidious sucked, and this 6-9yo is way powerful and knowledgeable on the dark side (?????) But why are we going to the Jedi? And not even trying to kill them apparently?????

Anakin is very much being affected by Baby Brain and Baby Endocrine System. He cries a lot more than he should.

I WASN'T THINKING OF HIM BRINGING MAUL BUT YEAH. THAT'S. THAT'S A POSSIBILITY.

Jedi Council trying to decide if this is more "Adult Sith got shrunk" or "child got evil man's memories." Vader wants to know why it even MATTERS. (He didn't actually plan on telling them, but he has very little self control right now.)

The first Good Act he does is tell them where to find Ventress and Ky. (In the original timeline, he viewed Ventress as like. Cool older cousin.)

Vader's right, that distinction does not matter Aaaw, she deserves that, that's nice Maybe she will be like 20% less homocidally traumatized

Anakin is furious when Maul and Obi-Wan pick him up under one arm like a package. He is a GROWN MAN he is an ADULT he was a SITH LORD and about to be a FATHER, he is TOO OLD FOR THIS.

They point out that he is Baby.

😂 sorry lord of evil, you're too baby, have a nap and maybe your feel better. Assuming the crisis on Naboo is still happening, and as such the vote of no confidence is right now, it might be a great time to report Sidious as a Sith lord. Post-escape from Sidious, both he and Maul definitely will need a nap. It's that kinda place.

Oh, it's probably at least a year before. Anakin keeps trying to sneak off to kill the man himself, but the Jedi are more ready for his Sneaking than Mustafar was, so he keeps getting caught before he can reach the Senate.

At one point he tries to just CHARGE the place and you get Mace and Obi-Wan sprinting after him. The News captures videos of this very small child getting chased by an older Padawan and a Master and they are mostly yelling for him to PUT DOWN THE SABER.

(Sidious might see him but what's he going to do? Might cause too many problems for Sidious to be aware of Anakin's presence with the Jedi, though. Best not.)

It's probably more expensive on average to hire an assassin on a child, just in general But on a jedi youngling??? If he can even find someone to do that, it will be so very, ridiculously expensive And likely 70%+ upfront payments

Ahsoka definitely seeks him out. Toddler baby child. She adores him for reasons unclear to anyone and everyone.

!!! Baby has baby!! Vader's probably a little thrown by this. Been a while subjectively since someone just loved him. And not even for like, a reason. Baby Vader coerced into sitting obediently for nap by tired kiddo: [The council liked that]

The number of times that vader could only be convinced to nap by Obi-Wan grabbing him, caging him in his own lap, and forced to Sit Quietly until he just fell asleep like that...

He has things to do, he's not tired 😡😡😡💢 (He's 9. Distances are between 150 and 195% longer when measured with steps, he's hungry (subjectively) all the time, and has only middling coordination He so is too tired)

Anakin doesn't know Qui-Gon at all but he keeps getting stuffed into the man's top because he's just. Small enough to fit.

Like the bomb boobs gif, but it's a small child.

the indignity

You just. You can't let him get too self-important.

Vader is Disgusted every time the pediatric healers try to talk down to him like they do to other 6yos.

The difference between this and other "Vader goes back in time to the Jedi" AUs (like Force of Many Sights) is that this Vader has never been a Jedi, and doesn't know anything about them except how they fight when he's trying to kill their friends.

Also Maul's there.

Because even he has a hard time taking himself seriously when hes so easy to manhandle Rest of the time; I am fear, I am death personified As luggage child: I am so small. The tiniest. I crave violence He's probably very annoyed they keep taking away his saber And hey! Obi gets practice not losing his! Woooo!

Something something Anakin clinging to Maul's back (piggy back ride) and chewing on his head or something stupid like that. Perfect height for head biting.

You know, the classic anime head bite

Maul probably has been nominally talked into this because this 9yo is a powerful darksider But he is also the world's most annoying tiny kid Maul would've thought his phenotype would make him immune to this ridiculousness He was wrong At least the teeth are a bit less pointy than his other little brothers'? Appreciating the little things

tfw your unwanted little brother drags you to what you think is a cult but actually they're way less culty than your last two places so you just stick around to keep an eye on the little shit

Anyway. ObiMaul for this one.

They're peers They're tired They just want to sit down and not have to chase this weird little murder child They have a lot in common 😊

They are all just a little bit stupid, I love them.

Qui-Gon is a Cool Mom (throws condoms at them and books it).

Yeah, that's about as much involvement as would be appreciated They probably did a lot of sparring before the tension broke Which did not relieve said tension, generally made it worse (Competence, athleticism, sweat-) Vader is confused, but probably doesn't mind He's probably glad they're distracting each other from stopping assassinating a certain someone (Which- that is 9yo hubris. He would need help to do that)

I still can't decide where on 6yo-9yo he falls but somewhere in there

Babies means easier hiding in shirt, teenie Ahsoka, and longer for him to convince the Jedi council to do a Sith hunt before the Naboo situation

Also longer for Maul and Obi-Wan to faff about being all Tension

* Vaguely inspired by the backstory of Rulebreaker/Wildheart, which is great but significantly more of a romance fic than this.

#anakin skywalker #obi wan kenobi #maul #darth maul #obimaul #obi wan and anakin #anakin and obi wan #ahsoka tano #time travel #de aging #star wars #phoenix posts

[all-mirth-no-matter]

Time After Time | Chapter Eighteen

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader, Tommy Shelby x Original Female Character

Summary: Tommy has an important question for Grace, Ada and Freddie get married, and someone else comes back from the dead

Warning: language

ao3 link | catch up on tumblr here

Chapter 18: Trouble

Will it come to pass, or will I pass the test? You know what they say, yeah the wicked get no rest. You can have my heart, any place, any time.  Got so much to lose. Got so much to prove. God, don’t make me lose my mind.  — Trouble, Cage The Elephant

“Do you like races?” 

The way Tommy asked the question made your heart clench. 

You sat in the back room of the pub, peeking through a small crack in the doorway as you tried to remind yourself, It’s not real. You were trying to unsuccessfully distract yourself with the inventory as you stayed out of the way. 

But your eye caught the way Grace’s head tilted as she offered him her shy smile.

“Is it Cheltenham?” she asked sweetly. He hummed out a yes. “And you want to take me?” 

The way she emphasized the last word made you want to roll your eyes. 

You heard him clear his throat. “You’ll fit in. Prim, posh, like the rest of the rich girls who come in for these races.” 

You couldn’t help but look down at your own outfit, so dingy next to her deep red sweater and bright blonde hair, not a soft curl out of place. Get it together, you chastised yourself, completely over the self-loathing streak you’d been in lately. 

But the way Grace’s cheeks pinkened slightly at the compliment felt like twist of the knife already plunged into your psyche. 

This had been Tommy’s plan, you tried to remind yourself. The night before, after he’d come over from his altercation with Billy Kimber in the pub, he’d explained how he’d persuade the new barmaid to accompany them. 

You’d almost laughed at the way you had to remind him that he couldn’t just force someone to prostitute themselves out just because he said so. You had to remind yourself that in this period, with Tommy’s influence, he probably could. But you’d been successful in steering him away from that method. 

And while his proposal still felt very daunting, he’d decided to go the more flattering route. Still, you didn’t like the idea of leading her on. Not just because of your own feelings, but because you didn’t like putting someone in potential danger. Even if Kimber had good intentions (which you severely doubted, even though you’d never met the man), it wasn’t fun being blindsided that way. 

But Tommy had convinced you to ease her into it. Not to tell her something until there was something to tell. Again, you weren’t happy with it — but you’d come to learn how far Tommy was willing to bend on matters like these. 

You heard coins dropping on the counter, Tommy’s voice pulling back to their exchange. 

“Here, for the dress. Make it red.” 

“I’ll need more than that.”

Tommy huffed out an amused breath before you heard another coin be placed on the table. “That’s three pounds.”

“And how much did you pay for the suit you’ll be wearing?” 

“Oh, I don’t pay for suits.” You heard the clinking of glass as he collected the bottle of whiskey and glasses he’d asked for when he originally entered. Then he continued, “My suits are on the house, or the house burns down.”

“So you want me to go lookin’ like a flower girl?”

“What I want makes no difference. It’s not me you’re dressing up for.”

The sound of the snug window doors closed, and you felt yourself exhale, knowing the conversation between the pair had come to an end for now. A few seconds later, you heard the pub doors open and close, then the distinct sound of the snug doors close. 

Tommy had a meeting — some men who’d reached out wanting to discuss some potential business. 

After a few minutes, now back on the inventory, you got up and opened the door to the main room to check on something. You stopped when you noticed Grace leaning against the wall of the snug, her ear pressed against the window. She didn’t notice you, her concentration focused on overhearing whatever conversation was going on in the other room. 

You were deciding whether you should stop her, or continue to observe to see what she was up to, when the sound of singing began to grow louder from inside the snug. The singing caused her to push away from the wall, but not before her eyes finally met yours. Her mouth dropped in surprise before snapping shut as she tried to busy herself, but you didn’t miss the slight panic behind her eyes of being caught. She grabbed a crate of bottles and hustled into the side room behind the bar.

“All right, boys,” Tommy boomed as he opened the doors and gestured for them to exit, “when I know who knows what about what, I’ll let you know.” 

One of the men pushed the second man still singing out the pub door, and you caught the last bit of his song. 

“—I long to see the boys of the old IRA!”

Tommy shook his head as he set the bottle on the counter. 

“Pretty bold of them to sing that with the new Inspector running around,” you commented as you moved behind the counter, grabbing the paperwork you’d originally come out for. 

He huffed out a chuckle, bringing the cigarette to his mouth. “They’re only rebels because they like the songs.” 

You rose your brow, “Will they be back?” 

“Nah,” he shook his head, blowing out smoke. “They’ll go back to the Black Swan in Sparkbrook. I have to go, but tonight,” he pointed at you as he walked backwards toward the door. 

You nodded, a slight flush across your cheek at the bluntness of his comment. Only a few men sat in the far corners of the booth, but still, it wasn’t like Tommy was trying to be discreet. 

It’d been two nights in a row now that Tommy had closed out the day in your apartment. Nothing scandalous had happened either time— he hadn’t even kissed you since you’d gone to the races. Not that you were necessarily opposed to things moving a bit further — but knowing your luck the minute the two of you did, the world would swallow up into itself to stop you. 

The sound of Grace clearing her throat as she reemerged from the side room caused you to turn around. 

“That wasn’t what it looked like,” she began, and you were surprised at her gumption to address her obvious snooping. 

Your brow creased, “Really? You’re going to pretend like you weren't eavesdropping?” 

“I was just— they were my countrymen,” she stumbled, her eyes looking down to her hands. “I got curious. I know I shouldn’t—”

“No,” you emphasized. 

You could see her throat bobble. “I’ve never seen them before. I haven’t seen many Irishmen in this pub, really. It was a Republic song they were singing, wasn’t it?” 

“I think so,” you answered, still skeptic but curious. “Tommy said they don’t normally drink here.” 

“Oh,” she said, chancing a look back at you. “Did Mr. Shelby say where they do?” 

“Tommy wasn’t exactly whispering just now, I assume you heard him say where,” you answered. Her eyes dropped quickly, her cheeks pink as she met your eyes again. Unsure what her angle here was, your curiosity piqued. “Are you interested?” 

“I have no sympathies for them,” she said sharply, almost out of instinct. Her facial expressions shifted from disgusted to shameful, and then back to a forced neutral, as she must have realized her own tone too late. 

But in the quick moment, there was pain behind her eyes that you couldn’t help but notice. You didn’t completely understand, but you knew enough to know that what was going on with the division of Ireland at the moment was delicate. Especially with the reputation the Inspector had brought with him. And based on the history you knew, it was only going to get worse.

“I didn’t mean to imply—“

“The keg is empty, I’m going to refill it,” she said instead, avoiding your gaze as she went into the inventory room. 

“Grace.”

She stepped back into the doorway, her eyes still downcast. You waited for them to meet your eyes again before you continued. 

“Just… be careful.”

Ada had disappeared. You nor Polly had heard from her since Freddie came back and proposed to her at the train station, ignoring Tommy’s request for them to flee the city. 

So when a knock on your door startled you early in the morning, you were surprised to see the girl, who flew into your flat with a handful of white fabric. 

“YN, you’ve got to help me.” 

She threw everything in her hands to the bed as you asked if everything was okay. 

Turning around, her grin answered that question for you. “I’m getting married this morning. You have to help me get ready. Please.” 

Without another thought, you jump to start helping her. Her dress was beautiful white and ivory layered fabric that resembled very much what you imagined the women’s fashion was going to become. It was loose around her stomach, her baby bump finally prominent. 

“Where are you gonna go after the ceremony?” you asked, helping her tie the back of her dress. 

She sighed, “Nowhere.” 

“But I thought Tommy—”

“Freddie won’t have it. He’s insistent we stay here for now at least,” she said, her previous bubbly mood falling.

“Well since you’re staying, are you sure you don’t Polly to be here now? I mean, it’s not every day you get married.” 

She shook her head. “She’ll just try to stop me.” 

“And you didn’t think I would?” you asked, half joking. 

“I did.” Her answer surprised you. “I’m not an idiot, Y/N. I know that you and Tommy have been seein’ more of each other.” 

“It’s all still pretty platonic,” you countered, fiddling with a piece of her jewelry. When she creased her brow at your use of phrase. You offered her a shrug. “We’ve kissed, but I just can’t tell what he wants. I don’t even know if it’s a good idea, I just… I can’t help myself.” 

She gave you an empathetic smile, sitting with you on the bed as she took the jewelry out of your hand and replaced it with her own. “I may hate my brother right now, but I do love him. And I know him. I see glimpses of the boy he was before the war when he’s with you. Polly sees it too — we have a bet going on how long it’ll take before the two of you will make it official.” 

Your mouth gaped at that, shaking your head. “I’m choosing to ignore that comment.”

She chuckled. “Don’t worry, we wouldn’t dare say anything to Tommy. He’s nearly as stubborn as I am.” 

“Fine. But why then did you come here if you thought I was going to try and stop you?” 

She paused, biting her lip before fastening her shoes. “Because you didn’t tell Tommy about Freddie. He was genuinely surprised when I told him. Honestly, I’d assumed you’d told him already—”

“I wouldn’t.”

“I know.” She offered you a smile before tilting her head. “And, I know you don’t normally like to talk about the deep things — at least, not with me — but… can I ask you, why?”

Ada hadn’t pried much into your life. It’d been one of the things you’d been more grateful for in your friendship. 

Honestly, previously you had assumed she hadn’t pried because of her immaturity. She was very much a carefree, live-in-the-moment kind of girl, keeping most emotions and conversations at the surface level. 

But the look on her face made you wonder if you hadn’t been giving the girl credit. Maybe she was all those things sometimes, but she really did surprise you on how sympathetic and slightly intuitive she could be when she wanted to. And maybe she’d always been aware of your aversions to personal prying this whole time. 

You took her hand and offered her a sincere smile. “I moved around a lot growing up. I found it difficult to make friends, even through adulthood. When I first got here, you welcomed me in when I had no one. You helped me make the most of this life I found myself in and helped me miss my old life a little less. You welcomed me into your family and you were always there to remind me of a cheerier world. I’ll always be grateful to you.” 

Ada pulled you into a hug. “I knew I made the right decision.”

You wiped away the small tear that’d rolled down your cheek as she pulled away, busing yourself with the final piece of the ensemble.

You stood up and began tying on her veil. It was so delicate and ornate, adorned with flowers around edge that matched the free spirit you’d always seen in your friend. 

You stood her up and smoothed out her veil, then turned her to face you, your eyes scanning for any final touches. When you were done, you took a step back and covered your mouth, your smile bursting. Her own smile widened at your reaction, turning to appraise herself in your mirror. 

“Oh Ada,” your heart was bursting, “you’re beautiful.” 

She blushed, her grin wide and excitement infectious. Despite the circumstances of her fiance, you really were happy for Ada. As the first person who’d accepted you in this new world, you felt very protective and loyal to Ada. 

It’d been why you kept her secret about Freddie from the rest of her family, and why you’d promised to wait and tell Polly until that afternoon, after you knew the ceremony was official. 

While anxious, the matriarch had taken the news better than you expected. Though you guessed she was anticipating them getting married, what she hadn’t was Tommy’s deal with the Inspector to get Freddie out of the city. 

Apparently, Polly’s attempt at ‘dealing with it peacefully’ hadn’t worked out the way she expected. Ada turned up at the Garrison flushed and out of breath, looking for either her brother or husband. 

“They’re gonna kill each other,” she’d nearly cried when you grabbed her arm, stabilizing her as she bent forward. 

“Ada, you need to calm down,” you tried to push the cup of water back into her hands. She breathed sharply as she rubbed her stomach. “This isn’t good for the baby.” 

“I don’t care,” she said through a haggard breath. “I have to find them. I have to try—“ 

You followed her outside and kept up with her until Freddie emerged from the stairway of a canal bridge. She threw herself into him, and you urged him to take her home and make her rest. You watched from the side of the road as they crossed it. 

“He’s going to ruin her life,” you heard Tommy’s deep voice behind you. 

“You can’t keep doing that to her,” you said without turning around. You felt him move beside you, both of you still looking in the couple’s direction until they turned down an alleyway. “The stress isn’t good for the baby. She nearly passed out in the pub just now worried you two were going to kill each other—“ 

“I should have.” 

“But you didn’t.”

He took a deep breath, “He loves her.” 

Your eyes shifted over to finally look at him, his eyes still staring at the empty alleyway. 

That was the first time he’d ever acknowledged their feelings for each other. You were convinced he thought Freddie was using Ada — hell, since they got back, you were tempted to start thinking that way too. It wasn’t a secret how dedicated he was to the communist party, and you knew most of the strikes around here were either spearheaded by Freddie himself, or encouraged by him. There were times you began to question what he loved more: Ada or his cause. 

But time and time again, Ada assured you that their love was real and strong enough to combat even Tommy’s fire. 

And now, it seemed, something had finally assured Tommy that Freddie wasn’t just in it for her last name. 

“What convinced you?” 

“When we were kids, Ada used to chase us around, shouting at us to slow down, to wait for her, to include her in our little games.” Tommy’s throat bobbled as you watched the reel move behind his eyes, lost in his childhood memories. “Freddie would always slow down. I never realized… or maybe I did.” 

He blinked, breaking the trance he’d been in as he reached into his jacket and pulled out a cigarette. He ran it between his lips and lit it. 

Blowing the smoke away, his eyes hardened. 

”He asked about the guns,” he said, his voice low despite the relatively secluded spot. “You haven’t told Ada—“ 

“No,” you said firmly, not letting him finish his question. 

He hummed approvingly. Another moment passed before he spoke again. “You never asked me why.” 

Your brow creased as you tried to decipher what he meant. 

“Freddie and me.” He blew out a puff of smoke. “I’ve seen you watch us, when we’ve been in the same rooms. You heard what he said in the pub the day Danny blew in. And I know Ada has told you how close we used to be. But you’ve never asked me why Freddie and I fell out.”

“You never offered,” you countered, meeting his eyes again. You crossed your arms, not sure what he was playing at with bringing this up now. When he brought the cigarette to his lips again, it was obvious he wanted you to continue. “I guess I just assumed you both returned from the war with different outlooks on the world. He doesn’t accept the powers-that-be and wants to change them.” 

He hummed, blowing out his smoke. “And me?” 

“Did you ever feel that way?” you found yourself asking, head tilted as you considered him. You hadn’t thought about it before, but it would have made sense. Freddie’s passions weren’t new, they were deep and rooted, and it would make sense for him to have been a member of the communist party either during the war or before. You were realizing now that there was a chance Tommy could have been entertaining the idea as well before he left. 

The way Tommy’s lips tightened into a hard line and he lifted his chin told you enough. But surprisingly, he offered you a short answer. “Once. Before.” 

“And now?” He didn’t answer that one. You took a deep breath as you continued. “Maybe you still don’t agree with the powers-that-be, but I don’t think it matters to you anymore. Freddie wants to change the world; you want to use it.” 

“I won’t let ‘em put us back in the mud,” he said, his voice calloused as he stared forward. He swallowed, “I need a drink.” 

Instead of walking toward the Garrison, where you knew Grace was closing up for the night, Tommy turned right, toward your apartment. 

You felt your breath let out, not realizing you’d been tensed up since Ada had blown into the Garrison. 

Catching up with Tommy, you decided to lighten the mood a little. “I’m gonna need to restock if you keep drinking all my whiskey,” you teased.  

He let out a humored breath. “Well, next time you’re at the Garrison, just grab a bottle on me.” 

You rolled your eyes, “Yeah Harry would love that.” 

“Not up to Harry anymore what happens to the inventory.” 

Tommy let out a puff of smoke as you turned back to face him before letting him into your flat. 

“What do you mean?” 

“I bought it.” 

“What?—“ your brow creased as his words sunk in. “You bought the Garrison? Can you even do that?”

“I made Harry a very fair offer,” Tommy said plainly as he made himself comfortable in your flat. It was beginning to feel less strange to have company. “He’ll stay on for as long as he wants and still manage the place.”

You felt a pang of sadness for the former owner. Harry loved that place, and always had such pride for it and its patrons. 

“But why?” You asked, starting to take your shoes off. Despite you traveling in time, there were still some little rituals that you just couldn’t shake. And taking your shoes off when you got home was one of them. 

Tommy began to pour two glasses. “Arthur needs some direction.”

“A distraction, you mean.”

He rose his brow, but nodded. “Regardless. He needs to keep his head out of the bloody bottle and on the business. Besides, weren’t you the one who said we needed to find a way to pass the influx of money coming in from the shop?”

It’s true, you had raised that question to Tommy recently after the Monaghan Boy win. Not that you knew much more about money laundering than you’d learned from watching Breaking Bad. But it’d apparently been enough to pique Tommy’s interest and take you seriously. 

Tommy was right though. What you’d been anticipating was finally coming to a head — Tommy was, for all intents and purposes, the head of the Shelby family and the Peaky Blinders. Arthur, who had been feeling the effects of his slow descent for the past couple months, was drowning his sorrows almost daily and picking a fight whenever he got the chance. You’d even begun watering down his drinks by the time he’d get to through half a bottle on nights when you were working in the pub and he was working his way to being sloshed. 

“You’ll have to help him,” Tommy spoke up after you didn’t comment. 

You breathed out a disbelieving laugh, “Like Arthur would ever listen to me.”

“You’ll have to make him,” he took a step toward you and offered you your drink. When you met his eyes, he smirked, “Like you did me.” 

You rose your brow. “You want me to nearly push him in the Cut and play a get-to-know-you drinking game with him?”

His smirk turned into a small smile, “Maybe not exactly like you did with me. But you’ll talk to him. You’ll reason with him. He’ll come to accept it.” 

“You’ve been promising he’d come to accept me for months now,” you countered. 

“And he has, you just haven’t noticed.” 

You shook your head, still not convinced and beginning to worry about how you’d get along with Arthur now that you’d be essentially working for him. 

“You two and can discuss the Garrison’s future at the next family meetin’.”

You rolled your eyes, half laughing at the comment. “The only reason Arthur invited me to the last one was to accuse me of influencing you. There’s no way he’d be cool with me coming to more—“

“He won’t have a choice.”

Your brow furrowed, “What does that mean?”

Tommy pulled your hand into his, causing you to stop pacing and stepped into you. The act surprised you, meeting his eyes again. They were soft, a small crease in the corners as he looked between your own, then to your lips. 

“You’re mine, ‘member?” his deep voice vibrated against you as he reached up and ran his thumb across your cheek, then down to your chin. You got deja vu from that first night outside of your apartment building as he reminded you of the words you’d said to him Christmas Eve in his bed. “Well I’m yours. We’re in this together, ya?”

Your heart pounded at his words. Whatever hesitations or insecurities you’d been feeling were gone as Tommy held you against him, his eyes waiting for your response. 

“Yeah,” you said easily, welcoming his lips to meet yours. 

His kiss was soft, a gentle tug that showed no signs of being rushed, but savored. You hummed contently into it as you felt his lips smile against yours. 

What was it about this man that made your brain go fuzzy and speech cease? Every time he brought his lips to yours, you felt like everything made sense. Like you weren’t standing in a room surrounded by puzzle pieces — but that the final piece was falling into place, even just for a moment. You laced your fingers through his hair, desperate to hold on to this feeling for as long as you could. Even if it was just a taste. 

He pulled away slightly, his forehead rest against yours as you caught your breath. “Whatever we face, whether it’s Arthur or Ada—“

“Or Kimber or Campbell,” you added with a slight mocking mirth. 

He breathed out a soft laugh and rolled his eyes. “Or whatever else might come our way — I know we can face it. Together.”

You lifted on your toes slightly to meet his lips again when a hard knock at your door caused you to jump. 

You and Tommy looked to each other confused — no one aside from Tommy or Ada ever came to your apartment. A second knock prompted Tommy to take the lead in opening the door as you grabbed for your bag with Polly’s gun inside. 

“Danny?” Tommy greeted opening the door wider for the formally dead man to come into your apartment. 

Danny Owens gave you a shy smile and wave before offering Tommy a salute. “Danny Whizz-Bang reporting, sir.”

You dropped your bag, pointing at the man and looking between him and Tommy. “You’re supposed to be dead.” 

Tommy nodded, “at ease. What are you doing here, Danny?”

“Charlie said to try here if you weren’t at your place,” he said before taking a seat. Tommy offered him the bottle of whiskey and he poured himself a drink. 

“So no one is gonna explain the very alive friend of yours sitting at my kitchen table?” you asked, still unsure what was going on. 

Tommy took a deep breath before running his hand through his hair. “It was a trick to fool the Italians. Danny’s been living in London, keeping an ear out. Apparently, there’s news he couldn’t wait on.”

“I was in a pub,” Danny began, gripping the edge of his hat in his hands. “It’s called the Mother Redcap, an Irish pub. I was talking to some old bloke about Birmingham. He said there’s been trouble. An IRA man shot. He said a lot, but the only bit I heard was that their high command think it’s the Peaky Blinders who shot him. I came up on the next boat to warn you.”

“I heard about that guy,” you said softly. “It was outside of the Black Swan. Was it one of the men you met with the other day?”

Tommy nodded.

You thought about the way Grace had eavesdropped on the men, and how she’d been so interested on where they were from. Your brain ticked that there was a connection there, but you brushed it aside on the grounds that you were just searching for something to be horribly wrong with her. While you believed she still had some kind of secret, you didn’t think she’d go as far as shooting someone. 

You looked down at your own hands, a vision of blood covering them from your own dirty deeds, and knowing that anything was possible. 

“Is it true?” Danny asked, pulling your attention back to the men in front of you. 

“No,” Tommy answered, taking a deep breath. “But lies travel faster than the truth.” He thought for a moment before gesturing toward Danny. “Get a message to them. Tell them to send someone to parley. Tell them there’s been a misunderstanding and we don’t want any trouble.”

Danny swallowed the rest of his drink before rising. He saluted Tommy again, then gave you a slight bow. “I will do my duty, sir. Ma’am.”

He left before you could ask anything more. “Tommy, what the hell—“

“Just another thing to add to the list,” he said, shaking his head as he grabbed his own glass and threw it back. “Right now, our focus is on Kimber. And tomorrow is Cheltenham. We’ve gotta be ready.”

>> next chapter: coming soon << chapter masterlist

#peaky blinders #tommy shelby #thomas shelby #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby imagine #thomas Shelby x reader #tommy Shelby x oc #thomas Shelby x oc #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinder imagine #time after time #mine #fanfic #fanfiction

[moeitsu]

If your only argument for shipping Arthur and John is “well they’re not real” stay the hell away from me.

I’m not even going to get into why IT IS incest. But here’s my take nonetheless:

Shipping incestuous relationships, even among fictional characters, is ethically problematic. It normalizes taboo behaviors and can distort perceptions of healthy relationships. Incest is universally recognized as harmful due to the potential for exploitation, abuse, and genetic risks. Romanticizing such relationships in fiction risks trivializing these serious issues. Choosing to ship incestuous relationships, even in fiction, perpetuates a harmful misconception and undermines the effort to cultivate a respectful and understanding narrative.

Misinterpreting a familial bond between characters raised as siblings as romantic chemistry reflects a misunderstanding of a healthy adult relationship.

It's important to be able to distinguish between different types of relationships. Such as recognizing the boundaries between familial love and romantic love. When people romanticize these sibling-like relationships, it blurs these distinctions. And it creates misconceptions about appropriate relationship dynamics.

This misinterpretation underscores the need for highlighting the role of media literacy in appreciating diverse human connections. Portraying and perceiving these characters' relationship as romantic undermines the value of familial bonds and may foster unrealistic expectations in adult relationships. It's crucial for audiences to acknowledge and respect the various meaningful connections that extend beyond romantic narratives.

I’m sorry if this reads like an essay, but as someone who’s taken media literacy classes in college and grown up in the Superwholock fandom, I have a lot to say on this topic. Engaging with fandoms and media since a very young age has deepened my understanding of how narratives influence societal norms and personal perceptions. It’s fascinating yet concerning to witness how certain portrayals in media can impact a fans interpretations and behaviors.

I want this to be open for discussion, because I think it’s important to promote a healthy and thoughtful consumption of media. As well as contribute to healthier representations and relationships in media and storytelling.

That’s it, goodnight, sleep tight, and be kind.

#arthur morgan #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #ao3 #john marston #abigail marston #shitpost #shipping discourse #discussion #let’s discuss #rdr2 dutch #rdr2 fanfic #arthur morgan rdr2 #red dead redemption community #red dead fandom #fandom

[moodymisty]

May I request a yandere primarch of your choice getting very jealous after seeing you laughing with one of his brothers at a party and then dragging you back to his room after to remind you who you belong to?

[ 𝕸𝖔𝖔𝖉𝖞𝕸𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖞'𝖘 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙 | 𝕬𝖔3 ]

Author's Note: the community wanted Yandere Horus, so Yandere Horus you all shall have. I hope you enjoy, anon. I'm ok with this, but there's more I wanted to do. But at the end of the day I had to just bite the bullet and post it so I can take a break without this looming over me.

Summary: It's the first real outing since you've been officially named as Horus' beloved, and he realizes how much he dislikes how curious everyone is of you.

Relationships: Horus Lupercal/Fem!Reader

Warnings: NSFW, Big Dick Lupercal, Takes place well before the Heresy, Yandere, Toxic relationship, That typical sort of yandere dubcon but not really dubcon kinda thing, Breeding kink if you squint, Size kink/Size difference, Getting absolutely obliterated by a ten foot tall man built like a truck, if you squinted hard you could take some dialogue as a bit sexist but it’s a stretch, Aftercare? lmao this is 40k

Word Count: 2714

Perhaps you aren't the foremost expert on parties, but the last you had thought, a party was supposed to be...

Fun.

And lacking in the drawl of military strategy and logistics. This seems more so like an ineffective way for the High lords of Terra and other high value persons of the Militarium to speak to the Primarchs and their captains, but with wine involved.

As the recently crowned Lady Lupercal, many of those high value persons are now eager to make friends with you, attempting to smile as wide as comfortably possible and earn any sort of good will they can. For many of them speaking to a Primarch, let alone making connections of a Legion would be hysterically rare; Though it seems many of them have the idea to do so through you.

Horus had warned you of it, so you suppose you shouldn't be so surprised.

Only just now have you managed to get away from them all, taking solace in a quiet corner of the palace. A Custodes on guard had given you an odd look- and by look you mean just a glance from the corner of his eyes- but he seems content to allow you somewhat near him as long as you remain quiet. Though you suppose you can't remain here for long. You have to be a part of all this, as much as you might dread it.

“Lady Lupercal?”

You turn the moment you hear the distinctive accent of Macragge-born Guilliman, who approaches you as you stand close to one of the palace's myriad of balconies. That title still feels odd to hear. He brushes just past you to stand on it, and waits until you join him. His head is tilted downward at an angle to make eye contact with you.

It's night now, and you can see the lights of hundreds of ships orbiting Terra up high above. It darkens his armor and the lights of the palace cast a harsh shadow on Guilliman's clean face.

"Had your fill of this evening?"

Normally Guilliman is quite forthright, so his small talk is a bit of a surprise. Everything has lead you to believe he was a very politely blunt sort. Though you've only spoken to the Primarch a handful of times, and very briefly.

Only just recently as Horus has made it known to everyone that you are his beloved, have you begun speaking to his legion; And his fellow Primarchs.

"A little bit. I just need a bit of air, and then I'll come back."

Guilliman crosses his arms over the delicate and expensive looking robes he currently wears, having shed his armor for the evening. It must be from his home world, judging by the interesting style and shape.

"I am a bit surprised he's thrown you to the wolves like this. Before, he was quite secretive about you." You doubt Horus would let you leave his sight unless it was extremely important, and it's not as if you can rely on him forever. Or demand him to stay.

"I assumed someone had managed to catch his attention enough for me to get lost." Guilliman shifts his weight slightly, and lets out a very quiet chuckle. It's sincerity makes you smile.

"Don't tell any of the others, but we've all gotten lost our fair share of times in this maze of a palace." He rubs his temple with two fingers. "It just keeps growing, it's like a Labyrinth. I've begun to wonder if Dorn will ever cease."

His genuine exasperation makes you laugh. It's such a human gesture, and such a human problem. It's quite easy to forget they are human, at times.

You hadn't realized you'd been smiling the whole time, but it grows when you see his disgruntled face. It goes away however when he realizes he amused you.

"If I figure it out before you, maybe I'll make us a map." Guilliman smiles.

"I will hold you to that, you know. If cartography isn't yet familiar to you, perhaps you should begin learning."

You were about to respond to him, a smile on your face, but Guilliman turns his head away towards the inside of the palace; Your own gaze follows shortly thereafter.

He must've heard Horus before he could see him, because not moments later you can see Horus walking towards the both of you; His pelt shifts on his shoulders as he does. He makes a straight line towards the balcony the both of you stand on and ignores anyone else along his path.

"Here you are," Horus smiles at you, but it's not his usual one. The one that's warm and casts the room and a pleasant atmosphere. "I see you've been chatting with one of my brothers." You nod with the smile Guilliman gave you still partly on your face, but before you can speak anything more- perhaps what the two of you were talking about- Horus does so for you.

"Perhaps we should take our leave for the evening. It is quite late, and it seems nothing or anyone worthwhile is going to make it's appearance."

He looks towards Guilliman and for a split second it almost seems like an argument is beginning to brew, with the way they're looking at each other; Guilliman is confused and defensive while Horus' jaw tenses. You can't understand how his mood has so suddenly changed, neither can Guilliman clearly, but it seems something has happened in your absence.

Now you stand literally and figuratively in the middle, before retreating your Primarch's side. He will always serve as your anchor, even when he's this turbulent.

Guilliman simply gives a curt hum in response, and seemingly decides to not uncover Horus' sudden change in disposition.

"Very well. I hope the rest of your evening fares you well," He looks down to you, though the pleasant aura he had has now returned to the cold and structured one he is known for. "And I enjoyed our chat."

Horus gives Guilliman no more than placeholder platitudes and farewells, of which the man takes with a short nod, before leaving with you in tow to return to his chambers.

That entire trip to return to them, is intense.

There is no chatter, and Horus doesn't even have the soft upturn of his lips he usually wears. Instead his face his firm, with something clearly boiling beneath the surface. You wonder if it's something from when he was gone that you could ask about, when he isn't in such a sensitive state.

Even as friendly and easygoing as Horus is, his fellow Primarchs are largely not the same apart from a few, and you wouldn't be surprised if one of them managed to- in a phrase not suited to describe a Primarch- pissed him off.

When you enter the deepest most room in Horus' wing of the palace, what serves as his bedroom, you suddenly feel his hand on your shoulder. You would've turned around even if he hadn't done it for you, as he takes a knee to get more on even height with you. But even with it, you still have to almost look slightly up at him.

Suddenly that hand on your shoulder moves to your face, gripping your jaw and forcing you to look at him. That firm, irritated face has been replaced with an angry, irritated expression. His nose slightly wrinkles at the top, brow furrowed.

He holds your jaw tight, but you’re not fooled into thinking it’s anywhere near him putting in effort.

“What is your title.”

You’re confused for a moment, frightened by the look in his eyes, as he adjusts his grip. You try to stay his name, but it just comes out as a confused stutter. He reiterates with more clarity.

“What is the title I gave you.”

You grasp his wrist tight and whimper out:

“L-Lady Lupercal.”

The noise that arises from him is somewhere between a hum and a growl.

“Did you forget it while you were busy being a little coquette in front of my brother?”

You hadn’t; It had been the focus of your short conversation with Guilliman. You’d tried your hardest to be nothing but polite to him, with the formality expected of speaking to a Primarch. But this is all new to you; Whatever Horus saw wasn’t there, and you’re desperate to prove as such.

"N-No, he just came up to me and I was trying to be polite, Guilli-"

He swallows the name of his fellow primarch with his lips, pressing them against your own. It's angry; Forceful. You can feel his hot breath on your skin as he takes in heavy breaths, and how tense he feels. You moan softly into his mouth but even the brief moment of pleasure is overcast by Horus’ fuming anger.

He pulls away from your lips with a soft pop, and still in a kneel begins undoing the broach of his cape. Once it falls to the floor his eyes meet yours and he states:

"Take it off."

His sentence is vague and you stand unsure in the gargantuan room, as he now removes his wristguards. Once they're off, he puts a hand on your waist and pushes upward, disturbing the fabric of your dress. You feel it pull and stretch against his hand, as if it’s little more than parchment. He could ruin it all in one fell tear.

"I am being patient with you."

It's hard to disobey a primarch, especially one staring at you with those eyes. The fabric of your dress falls to the floor moments later, undone and forgotten. You step out from the circle it makes at your feet.

You imagine the only reason he hadn't simply destroyed it was after having it made just for you, in the colors of the Sons of Horus and to his exact specifications- their legion mother needed to be in worthy attire he has said- his patience won out over the potential days of headache.

But it feels like a blink you go from standing to being nearly swallowed by his sea of a bed, blankets tussled around your naked form. You think you might’ve backed up until you fell onto it, but it’s all a blur.

"The Crusade has taken much of my time, and since I have introduced you to my brothers, perhaps you have forgotten your place,” He says as he undoes the fastening of his belt.

Even on pieces of furniture meant to handle a man of such size it still buckles and bows underneath his weight, shifting your body as he cages you underneath him. His hand grips your thigh, and the sheer size forces them apart. Your body tenses and squirms underneath him.

To think such a short conversation would've had him so fuming, as his hand presses against your cunt. It makes your lips purse and and words that you might’ve considered saying don’t even leave your lips. His fingers roughly press through your folds curl inside of you, an aching stretch that has you squirming underneath him.

Though it’s not as if you have any chance of moving, even the slightest bit of his strength has you completely at his mercy.

You can feel his anger in every motion, but your blood is pounding in your ears enough that you can barely hear him. You think you might've said his name, told him to slow down, but even if you had he doesn't listen in the slightest.

Pulling his hand away from between your thighs he’s quick to flip you onto your stomach, and you lay exposed before you suddenly feel him press again the back of your thighs.

In an odd, impossible to explain way, you at times almost forget that your beloved towers over you at near or over double your height. That he possesses neigh untenable strength.

Now is a moment you do, as he presses his hips against your ass and buries you in the plush material of the bed.

Your fingers grip the blanket like a lifeline as he buries himself as deep as he possibly can, staying for a moment for seemingly little other reason than to torture you. Even with only the slightest bit of his weight on you, you feel trapped and barely able to move.

It's taken time for you to get used to taking Horus without hours of preparation- and while it still does take time, you'll always feel like he's overtaken your entire stomach. It’s that teetering on the edge of pain that has you gasping, a body not made for him being forced to. Horus is normally exceedingly gentle, but less so tonight. He is at least gentle enough as to not break you.

Whatever he saw that wasn't there between you and Guilliman, he seems intent on teaching you a lesson on not doing.

“Horus, pl-“

His massive hand grips the blanket beside your head as he grunts overtop of you.

“You are the legion mother of my sons.”

Your back arches and lips purse as his cock brushes against places so deep that it almost has your eyes watering. You swallow the massive knot in your throat and try not let out enough noise that passersby could hear.

“You will be the mother of my blooded sons, one day.”

The implication has your heart race with fear and something else as the primarch holds you down. You barely have the time to think about it, it only sends a jolt of feeling right down your spine into your gut.

Given his size it’s so easy to push you around, that he often times has to press on your shoulder and hold you like some sort of toy. Even the softest thrust can push you forward and nearly off of him; You don't have the strength to hold strong against it.

Worn and tired your nerves spark from so much sensation, cunt tightening around him. Horus continues to thrust into you with little care and your teeth grind, toes curling.

It feels good, so good, but it teeters on the edge of dangerous. Especially knowing his mood. Then again, sometimes even the simplest things are dangerous, with someone like him.

The primarch curses and swears in both high and low gothic as he finally cums inside of you, the inhuman amount leaking from you when he pulls out.

Horus looks over you, and it seems whatever you’d seen in him earlier is gone- for the time being. Even if you can't look directly at him, it's almost as if you can feel the emotion in the room change. More odd Primarch things, you assume. Not that it matters much in the end.

You lay tired, legs limp as your body aches.

Perhaps in the moment it may feel good, very much so, but oftentimes your body then reminds you that it isn’t made for a Primarch. Particularly one who decides not to be gentle with you.

There has time where no one sees even a hint of you for days, after he's done with you. He apologizes it for it, but you can always tell with that smile of his, he isn't actually apologetic.

He gently pushes you with a hand to that you roll on your back, and you look up at him worried, wondering if he's still angry.

“I am sorry, my love.” His words are sweet like wine, like they so often are, as his hand not gently holds your cheek. He isn't anymore, and you don't question it. You don't want to bring it back.

Though this isn't the first time he's become this way, though it is the first time he's done something physical in response.

“Now that my brothers know of you, I can’t help but feel as if they might take you from me, once they realize how perfect you are.”

There’s words you want to say, many of them, but you can’t manage it. Only a requited whisper of love is what you manage to say. Horus takes it well and his saccharine sweet smile always manages to pull you in and ignore the things behind it.

“I only wish for you to be mine. Always and forever.”

#horus lupercal x reader #primarch x reader #warhammer 40k x reader #reader insert #reader #mywriting #DOBBIE IS FREE!

[copperbadge]

Hello, Mr. Badge, I seem to remember that you once posted about your processes and systems for staying organized in life with Excel spreadsheets etc. I’ve been struggling a lot with depression and executive dysfunction issues and don’t want it to impact my work.

Do you use the same processes at work? I get overwhelmed with the amount of documentation we have and the exceptions to the rules in our processes.

I'm so sorry you're struggling! It's really rough, and the more complicated the task feels, the more fraught it seems, the harder it is to even get a start. I feel that hard.

As for organizing work like my home life....well, it's sort of the same. I don't make a strong distinction between life and work simply because a lot of what needs organizing in my life IS my work, so it's tough to talk about them separately.

For example, I use Google Tasks to build a to-do list each day, but that to-do list starts with "stuff I'll do before work" then "shower" then all my work stuff, then "evening" and then all the stuff to do after work, ending with "7pm chores" (because I have a lot of stuff to do right around 7pm, which I need to post about elsewhere). Then the stuff I've pushed off to next day is below that, and that just bumps up the next morning. What's important isn't really how I keep the list, but that I keep it in a way that is constantly accessible, and I've trained myself to 1. put everything on it, even stuff like "grocery shop" and 2. check it whenever I feel lost. I don't find google calendars very helpful, however, so while work makes me use one for meetings, everything else goes on a calendar I made in Google Sheets that I'm just super used to by now.

It sounds like you're having a fairly specific issue, which may not even be related to your mental health (though assuredly the mental health issues aren't helping). If you have a lot of confusing documentation and exceptions in the stuff you do at work, that can be legit stressful even for someone who isn't dealing with other stuff, so I just want you to know that this may not only be a You Problem. My problem is usually the opposite, in that I'm often the first person doing something, or the only person who's done it in a while, so there's no documentation at all. But when I do have documentation I often will simply rewrite it.

After all, just because you have a handbook doesn't mean you have to use it. You can copy it over into another document and make yourself a step-by-step guide and/or a checklist. Like, I do our holiday cards every year, and my "HOLIDAY CARDS" document says "Here's the first thing you do, here's the second, do this before going past that, check this before asking for that". Literally at one point the document says "Stop. Before you go any further, do this step. Even if you don't understand why, do this step" because in the past I've disregarded that instruction ("Why on earth would I do it this way?") and lived to regret it.

Making the guide really, really sucks. Often it will take me four or five passes at a project before my guide is comprehensive (this is my fifth year doing the holiday card project and the document still has some steps missing at the end). But once you have it, it's invaluable, and often in the past I've found other people want my guides because they're fairly clear and precise about what needs doing when. For example, you might say, "Open the file and move column B to in front of column A. NOTE: THERE IS ONE EXCEPTION, THIS IS THE EXCEPTION." Or "Once you've saved the file, save a second copy to your backup folder so you can go back to it if you delete something you shouldn't. Stop and check: is this file from before or after October? If after, remember, you have to also rename it." If you find that there's a mistake you make frequently, figure out what would stop you from making it and add that in.

(We had a guy at work whose last name was VERY long and Italian, and so when I was working phones he got a special entry in the directory document I made -- the first line was all his directory info and the second line was just the phonetic pronunciation of his last name. He found out, which I had never intended him to do, and lost his shit laughing. "No wonder you're the only one who gets it right!")

So my recommendation to you is to create your own handbook, your own templates, and your own way of doing things and just slip that back into the system you have at work. Draw a diagram by hand if you need a flow chart. My approach to all my organizational issues has always been "What would make me do this correctly / prevent me from doing that thing wrong / remind me what to do / make it easier for me to start".

I think of this nowadays as the "Take the cupboard doors off" school of organizing, because to really make full use of my kitchen in a way that I liked, I had to take some of the cupboard doors off. It looks messier and kind of cheap, but it's actually a much more organized system now, and who's in my kitchen other than me?

#sam has adhd #adhd #organizing