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xgryffinwhore · 3 years

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september nights

request: i was wondering if you could write another soft bill smut? i don’t really have a specific plot in mind, we’re just really lacking content on tumblr rn :( in some really precarious place where they don’t want to get caught

warnings: soft smut, like i mean very soft.

word count: 2118

before your lips met bill denbrough’s, love was always, to say the least, a conundrum. lets be real for second, boys wasted your time, and you let them. only the cute ones of course. you are a hopeless romantic, drunk off of molly ringwald and john travolta films. you wanted any relationship you had to be just like the movies.

through your heart breaks, your best friends stood by you, your losers. eddie, richie, bev, stan, ben, and bill. for each tear you shed a punch was thrown to the man who caused it, they were protective over you. bill the most though, he always got so defensive when you were in the mix. all throughout middle & high school, bill has had to deal with every guy who even dares to think about breaking your heart.

“its not fair bill” you wailed into your pillow. he stroked your back and hushed you, his eyes welling with tears. “im never fucking good enough for any guy and its so fucking sad!” your complaints being cut off mid sentence by a choked out cry. “y-y/n. all of y-your boyfriend are i-idiots. anyone w-who would d-d-do this to you isnt w-worth your t-time. anyone w-would be the luckiest in the w-world to have y-you in their life” you picked your head up and looked at him with swollen lips and blood shot eyes “there no one out there for me bill, no one.”

he bit his lip, fighting back any tears dripping from his eyes “they j-just dont see how p-pretty you are. how g-gentle and caring and s-s-sweet, and h-how your face c-can light up any room. theyre f-fucking idiots, and you d-deserve m-more.” you clearly thought he was being nice, because you could take a MOTHER FUCKING GOD DAMN hint, so you replied “i wish there was someone out there like you, for me, that thinks of me the way you do.”

he furrowed his brows, tossing his head back and running his fingers furiously through his hair. “d-dammit y/n!” he cursed “cant you s-see what ive b-been trying to say? w-w-what ive been t-trying to say f-for the last f-five years!?!” your expression was bewildered, your brain was going a mile a minute trying to figure out what he meant. his frustration got the best of him, he got up and stormed out the door, feeling embarrassed and stupid for trying to make you understand how he felt.

he was half way out your front door, fuming for his keys lodged deep into his front pocket; when suddenly:

“bill!”

his head turned at the call of his name, “y-y/n please i d-”

smack.

your lips locked with his, he rain pouring heavily outside. bills lips stilled at the contact, but this lasted briefly, he deepened this kiss by pulling you in to his abdomen by your mid back. your bunched the front of his base ball t shirt with your fists, and he did the same but with your hair.

the rest is basically history.

now six months later, and you couldnt have been happier. bill knew how to treat you, nights out twice a week (you always wanted to pay but bill insisted,) holding your hand to and from classes, he let you borrow have his varsity baseball jacket, which smelt just like him and was a little too big for you.

when he would drop you off and your classes, he would always grab your hand and transfer a tiny piece of paper into your palm. when you got into class to unfold it, it was always a cute little message about his love for you.

bill had it bad for you, everyone knew that, and you loved every minute of it. he met every and any standard you had, and exceeded your expectations.

it was september, still warm enough in derry to wear shorts, so you and your friends thought of a last hurrah for the ending of the summery weather.

“camp out, its nearly perfect” Richie exclaimed. eddie rolled his eyes “like youve ever been near anything perfect toizer, do you even know what perfect means?” richie shoved eddie “yeah eddie i actually have. have you seen amanda’s tits?”

you tuned out richie and eddies bickering as you’re boyfriend cleared his throat. “you g-gonna go?” he said into your ear, “only if you promise to wear bug spray bill, you know how bad-” he cut you off with a kiss, his mouth forming a small smile at how cute you were. “get a room, honestly” stan poked, pda wasn’t his favorite... “at least i h-have something to k-kiss aye s-stannie”

you arrived at the edge of the forest, parking your car at the last parking ish space. you walked toward the sounds of ben and richie fighting, and came to see that richie really went all out. three tents, sticks for a fire, and more snacks than anyone needed.

you all spent the remanence of the daylight dancing in the light sky, sharing stories, and eating waaaay too many chips. it was dark now, you all huddled in a circle near the fire; making small talk and trying not to admit you were all very tired.

“ok folks, im off to bed” richie yawned “me stan eddie n’ mike will take the green tent, bev and ben in the red.” richie paused and smirked over at you and bill, you were tangled in his limbs, golfed in his navy blue pull over. “and uh- heh- billy boy and y/n in the yellow tent eh?” you could practically feel bills eye roll, god richie was so immature.

“w-we dont have to s-sleep in the s-s-same tent, i c-can ask ben if he’d s-switch” you look up at bill and reassure him “bill no- its not a big deal, right?” he tucks your hair behind your ear and kisses the side of your temple “c-course not.”

you both went into the tent, bill began to unroll the blankets you both had packed tightly into your bags. You both set up your makeshift bed, bill leaned against a pile of pillows while you hugged his side, your face buried in his neck. his smell was absolutely intoxicating; his skin had remanence of his milk and honey body wash, but it was slightly overpowered by wintergreen, clove, and his bourbon cologne.

you were like this for around an hour, the orange crank-powered lantern being the only source of light. you switch positions though, you now laid your head on his lap, reading a magazine you stole from the hair salon. he watched your eyes scan every letter, when you read something funny you’d huff to yourself, and when something was intresting you stuck your tongue out from between your teeth. he adored you.

“d-dont stay up t-too late” he stroked your hair off your shoulder “we have t-to have you w-well r-r-rested.” you sat up from beside him, as he adjusted the pillows and took off his pull over, then his pants. he got under the covers and waited for you.

“nice donut boxers” you laughed. “s-shut up” he blushed and regreted not changing them when he had the chance. you turned around took off your shirt, you were shy about how you looked, but it was just bill. it was just bill. you heard his breath hitch, his eagerness radiating off his body onto yours. the air became tense as you unzipped your pants and threw them to the corner. you turned around, bills pupils growing until you were completely facing him.

“yeah i know. mine are boring” you laugh nervously, brushing your hair behind your ear and getting under the covers next to him. he didnt respond, he couldnt take his eyes off of you.you began to sit up again “i can go put back on-” “n-no!” he interrupts, his blush taking up his entire face.

“i j-j-just cant b-believe i g-get to see something s-so special” he gulped “s-so b-b-b-beautiful.”

you grabbed him by his shoulders and kissed him, hard. youve been with boys before, i mean youve dated plenty of people. but no one ever called your body special. hot, yeah. nice, yeah. beautiful, sure. but no one ever thought that it was special.

bill was a kind boy, the most you two have ever done is get each other off with your hands, always clothed. bill never asked to see more, he felt lucky enough just to make you feel good, and that was enough for him. so when you felt the heat of his hands hovering over your body but not touching it, you new you’d have to call the shots tonight.

“bill,” you laid down “just touch me everywhere, please.” he crawled in between your legs, kneeling so that he could lean over your face “m-my pleasure.”

he traced your collar, leaving small, delicate, kisses to make up for what his fingers left behind as they trailed. he kissed the valley between your breasts, licking slow striped down your skin. he picked up your upper back a little and cocked his head to the side, you nodded and he unclipped your bra. he sat their with his mouth open, taking in the view. you blushed and muttered “hey, keep that mouth to good use.” he dipped down and sucked on your nipples, his mouth felt so good against your skin grazed with goosebumps. he was gingerly with his tongue, it was sexy, it was romantic. he kissed down your stomach, his fingers sweeping down your sides. you could see his member pressing against his boxers, the pressure made him wince every once in a while. his fingers met your panties and he hooked them. again, he looked up for permission, you nodded once again.

he brought your underwear down your legs and off, looking back to see what he had relieved. he licked his lips, getting ready to please you more than he already did. but you felt bad, bill always gave gave and gave. “its ok, im ready right now.” bill looked up at you in shock, he wasnt expecting you’d want to go all the way. “y/n, y-youre sure?” you lean up and kiss his lips, swiping your tongue against his bottom lip “please.”

he pulled down his boxers eagerly, his member sprung out to hit his stomach. he lined up with you, checking once more that it was ok. then he pushed in, bottoming out. he felt bigger than you thought, of course he was well endowed, but he filled you up so well. you mewled, the pain and pleasure making a delicious feeling that made your toes curl.

he waited, but began slowly moving after a bit. he grunted, feeling you wrapped around him was something he’d never be able to get out of his head he thought to himself. he grunted “f-fuck this feels g-good’ he grunted, his breath becoming heavy and full of lust. with every stroke, you felt yourself get more and more lost in the bliss he made you feel. “youre making me feel so good bill” you moan, the sound of his name coming out of your mouth driving him absolutely crazy. he speeds up, loving the view of your face contorting in pleasure and your body moving with his.

he couldnt help but feel admiration to you, your hair formed a halo around your head, and the sweat that coated your skin made you glisten in the orange light. “im t-the luckiest in the world” he husks, holding your cheek.

you felt the knot in your core coming undone, “bill im close” you strain, trying not to be too loud so you dont wake your friends. he moved your leg up to his shoulder, hitting you from a different, deeper angle. his fingers went to your clit, making you bite your had to stop you from screaming. “you l-look so p-pretty y/n, t-taking me s-so well. making y-you feel so good.” “so good bill” you repeat, drunken off his cock and fingers.

without warning, you came came, your legs spazzing as you moaned “fuck bill” he followed, his hips stuttering, as he cried out into your shoulder. he pulled out and laid next to you, both of you breathing heavily and coming off your highs.

“y/n” he looked at you “t-that was really j-just wow- thank y-you.” you kissed him, chaste and sweet “that was great yeah?” “it w-was perfect babe. t-thank you f-for t-that. i love you y-y/n.”

“i love you too bill.”

he sat up, his fingers dancing on your inner thigh.

“y/n?”

“yeah?”

“c-can we p-please do t-that again?”

#bill denbrough #bill denbrough x reader #bill denbrough smut #bill denbrough x you #bill denbrough fanfic #IT movie #it fanfiction #it bill #jaeden martell #jaeden lieberher #jaeden wesley #jaeden x reader #jaeden martell x reader #jaeden martell smut #richie tozier #eddiekaspbrak #stanley uris

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peakyblindersxx · 3 years

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whiskey business - john shelby x reader (part 6 of ?)

gif by my queen @michaelgreys, i'm basically her fanblog now but im not mad about it :) i mean just look at him!!1! i almost fainted

a/n: first of all, if you stuck around to this point, tysm for reading!!! this has been one of the most amazing fics ive ever been a part of and it's all thanks to the gorgeous @stxdyblr-2k, who generously took control of the next few parts. her brain is beautiful and we all owe her flowers or something. when i read what she sent me i couldn't bring myself to change much except for some small edits, so pls give her lots of love if you like it!!!! i'm still working on requests as well :)

love, abi xxx

read part one two three four five | my masterlist

tagging: @datewithgianni, @mayaslifeinabox, @deepdonutkid, @springsoulofengland, @lilymurphy03

prompt: nothing this good can last forever. john doesn't know how to feel, and neither do you.

warnings: nsfw! a teensy bit of smut, angsty as fuck prepare yourselves accordingly, a lil fluff if u squint, yeah this fucked me up

Obviously, it wasn't the last time.

Over the coming months you had many last times; his mouth pressed against your neck said as much. As his responsibility at work increased, you'd find yourself heading to his office after your lectures and night classes more often, perched on his lap, smoking, while he finished up his numbers under your critical gaze.

Thomas was more than aware; his snarky comments made it obvious he had his ways of monitoring your actions. You'd seen the dark car lurking outside your rallies and lectures, and no matter how you'd try to throw him off, not even telling Ada where you were going and even, in a moment of desperation, through your neighbours back window, somehow, his silent shadow was still looming. He was practically begging you to make a mistake, to give everyone an easy out. You just couldn't give him the satisfaction. You knew Tommy saw the world as a chess board, always several moves ahead of his opponent. Even when you played him in chess club all those years ago, you could outflank him if you thought on your feet and kept him thinking he was winning until you obliterated him in the end game. It was brutal, sure. But as he told you, there were bigger games at play. You had your own. Thomas could read your mail, intercept your phone calls and have you followed, but he couldn't hear what you said out of earshot. Your lot could smell an interceptor in your ranks, so spying at that close of a proximity was out of the question.

That's why he'd decided to let you have John. You knew his silent approval and his constant management of the narrative meant he saw a tactical gain. There was only so much information he could get from Ada, but John? He just had to agitate him in the right way and all your secrets would come tumbling out. It was difficult hiding your world from John; of what he knew of, he was supportive, quizzing you over current affairs and political discourse, listening intently. Yet, you had to watch your mouth. You had to keep a barrier up and you knew John sensed the distance. Fundamentally, there was nothing either of you could do.

So here you were, in a comfortable limbo. Your days were filled with work, evenings were for lectures and reading groups at the city's university, Ada and you often stopped for a drink or three; you'd go by your flat to freshen up, and then to John's office. Sometimes, you wouldn't visit for a week or so when the guilt sent you over the edge, it was draining to be living so many lives and knowing you were betraying the person you loved most on earth. Ada was oblivious, taking you on her nightly adventures filled with men, dancing and waiting while she was busy kissing in dark corners. Sometimes a young blinder would ask if you wanted to be walked home. The first occurrence you thought was sweet, but as the nights it occurred coincided with nights John seemed extra pent up, you'd decided to ask. The boy, who couldn't be older than twelve but who you knew was trained in using firearms and had a revolver pinned to his hip and a razor in his cap, looked confused.

"Mate, it's not a tough question. Why do you come and ask?"

"There's a phone call." He shrugs, "Isaiah or Michael tells us to go and get you."

Isaiah and Michael were somewhat aware? Fucking hell. Your fling was basically a military campaign at this point, so many of your friends were complicit. The little lads who ran as messengers around Birmingham were complicit. You had to just end it.

But when you sat on his thigh, his chin hooked over your shoulder, it felt so worth it. He never turned you away when you came crawling back. He never mentioned it until after you were finished, hooked under his arm.

"Fucking missed you, gorgeous."

Sometimes he'd remind you not to be a stranger with a wink, but you could tell it was tearing him apart too. He never once came to you. That's how he could justify it in his mind; obviously, the bare minimum was not having sex with his sister's best friend, but in failing that, waiting for you to initiate it was somewhat better. He barely talked to Ada now, citing work as an excuse, but truly the guilt sickened him. He couldn't believe he was prepared to continuously hurt his little sister and betray her. But every time you turned up at his door, he couldn't find it in himself to turn you away. In his mind, every single time you came to visit him was the last time he'd let it happen, yet he was always waiting for you to come back, his blind closed to signal he was prepared. He never would call, it had to be your choice.

You'd been off and on for over five months now. It was so difficult to hide in plain sight, but you just couldn't stop yourself. Neither of you purposefully meant for this to be happen but fuck, was it fun.

For your birthday he'd gifted you a fur coat from the same shop his sister, aunt and the fashionable crowd of Birmingham had purchased theirs. He joked that you looked like a "proper razor chaser", kissing you when you pouted at his teasing, begging you to wear only the coat when you fucked him next. It was a practice for blinders to buy a coat for their wives and girlfriends as a status symbol. You were neither, but John claimed that being his "favourite lass" also counted.

John was a laugh, but you knew at any time he could close his door to you. Until he decided he couldn't be bothered with you, you weren't going to get caught. You just had to be careful until he got bored.

***

You did end up putting a foot wrong. It was a Thursday night; you were sitting on the edge of John's desk while he was ridding you of your blouse. It was past midnight, Birmingham was asleep. You almost didn't bother coming out tonight, but you knew John had lost a deal and you wanted to be there for him. Your skirt and stockings were strewn across the desk with his shirt, vest and waistcoat, muddled into the files and papers which were once neatly stacked.

His fingers were pumping in and out of you, his mouth lapping at your breast, your head tipped back in euphoria, groaning. The stress made him more affectionate and tender with you, and it was nights like these that made you wonder. Wonder if this could ever be something more, something real.

John's body suddenly pulled away from yours, quickly turning the light off.

"John, what-" You were cut off by John’s hand over your mouth, muffling your words.

"Shut up and get behind the desk." He hissed. "Someone's coming upstairs."

You quickly grabbed your clothes from the shiny oak surface and crouched, hiding yourself from view, quickly making yourself decent. You weren't going to get shot through the head with your tits out. You listened to the stairs creek, and it sounded like a group. You two were easily outnumbered. They were talking, but the thick panels of wood muffled their voices.

As your eyes adjusted to the darkness, the cracks in the door giving the room a dulled glow, you could make out the figure of John. He was free of his shirt, toned body on display, standing with his back flat to the wall, revolver produced from a discreet notch in the door frame, gaze fixed on where they'd enter. He was tense, ready. The door was unlocked from the outside, the door handle twisting.

John's lip shifted in confusion yet still he kept his trigger finger ready, not a single shake from your general.

The light flicked on and a shriek rang out. It was blinding, and you stood up slightly dazed. Finn was in the doorway, John next to him clutching his chest, panting and lowering the gun.

"Jesus Christ, Finn, can't you knock like a normal person? Scared the shit out of us." John bellowed, shaking as the adrenaline coursed through his body, resting his hands on the edge of the desk as he regained his breath.

"You're the one who pointed a gun at me! I didn't even know you were in 'ere!" Finn yelped.

The commotion had attracted the attention of Ada and Isaiah, who had come running and stopped in their tracks upon seeing you standing behind John's desk in the middle of the night. They weren't stupid. John was topless, your clothes obviously rumpled, both with matching tousled hair and practically stinking of guilt. You'd been caught red handed. Ada's eyes flicked between both you and John, and you could practically see the pieces of the puzzle clicking together in her mind, all the moments she found questionable since you'd returned suddenly making sense, realising she had been deceived by the two people who she was meant to trust most in life. Finn looked absolutely crushed, he'd never been able to conceal his emotions as well as his older brothers and sister, linking his fingers through Ada's, squeezing her hand.

"I forgot to drop this off earlier." Finn stated, holding up a money box, "Ada had keys so we thought we'd sneak in so I wouldn't get done by Tommy. We did call round yours, Y/N. We thought you were in bed."

"I'm sorry." You said. It was not enough but you just didn't know what else to say. You couldn't make it right, you'd really fucked up this time. Tears pricked at your eyes, as Ada examined you in silence.

John stepped in front of you defensively. "Look, Ada-"

"How long has this been going on?" She asked, her voice shaking with rage. You and John exchanged a glance. "I said, how fucking long?"

"Five months, six in a fortnight." He answered.

Isaiah whistled lowly. "That's fucked. I thought it was only a few times, that it'd finished."

"Never really over when it's John is it." Finn interjects, you glance to him, were you just one in a long string? You shouldn't be surprised but it was easy to pretend he may actually care about you.

"You've been fucking around for six months behind my back?" Ada yelped, Finn trying to comfort her but she pulled away from him. "And you fucking knew Iz."

"I'd expect this from you, yeah? Wouldn't put anything past you these days.." she sneered at John, "But you? You?! You're meant to be my best mate, but here you are sneaking about fucking my brother?"

"Ada-" you began, eyes welling with tears.

"I thought I could trust you. You're just another fucking razor chaser, aren't you?" She spits. "That's why you came back."

"No it wasn't, Ada-"

Her eyes flashed with anger, but this time John was on the receiving end. "You bought her that fucking coat ,didn't you? The fur one. You did! Fuck's sake!" Her fists were clenched, shoulders squared. For the first time in your life, you understood why crowds parted for Ada Shelby. Understood all the free drinks and cab rides, the nervous serving staff declaring your meal on the house (always acknowledged by Ada with a hefty tip), understood why the men of Birmingham didn't last long with her.

"Did it feel good to swan about town in that fucking coat, while acting as though you cared about me? It's so fucking embarrassing. All trussed up because my knobhead big brother makes you feel special? Thanks for rubbing it in my face."

"Ada, I love you. I never meant to hurt you, I got caught up and that's on me. It's my fault."

"You're not acting like you love me. This isn’t what love is, Y/N." She retorted.

You couldn’t do anything but nod. She was right.

John opened his mouth to speak, Ada silencing him, a scowl darkening her features.

"I don't care what you have to say. Any of you. Who else knows?"

"Thomas, Michael, Arthur-" John listed off slowly, each name prompting Ada to break down a little bit more in front of you.

"I didn't know Arthur knew." You said pointedly, John sending you an exasperated glance. He was planning on dealing with that later, but right now was about his sister. Fuck him if he thought you were going to stick around much longer. You didn't want to hear him justify everyone else knowing about your fling with your best friend being left completely in the dark.

"That all you have to say for yourself?" Ada snaps at you.

"I have fucking no defense, do I Ada? I should've walked away." You pushed your hair back, frustrated at yourself, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. You begged yourself not to cry. Tears wouldn't help anything.

"Why didn't you?"

You didn't know. Your silence only riled her up.

"Why didn't you fucking walk away?" Ada yelled, slamming her hands on the desk.

You felt hot tears run down your face, quickly moving your hands to dab at your tears.

"Don't you dare fucking cry. After all you've done, you don't get to cry in front of me." Ada growled at you, John going to shush her, obviously wanting to comfort you. "You can all fuck off. You've all lied to me and gone behind my back. Fuck’s sake, you could've just told me. You could've just told me."

"We didn't want to hurt you." John said, reaching out to squeeze her shoulder but she flinches away.

"This hurts so much more. You get that you all lying to me is so much worse, don't you?"

"We weren't thinking."

"You really fucking weren't." Ada laughs bitterly, shaking her head, blinking away tears. "Fuck you lot."

She stormed out, tailed by Finn, begging her to slow down and talk to him, protesting his innocence in the situation. Isaiah hesitated in the doorway, his eyes flickering between you and John.

"I had no idea you two've been at it for so long."

"Iz, fuck off yeah? I've had enough today." John shot back, sliding across the desk towards you. "You alright, lass?"

"We're done here, John."

He slid off the table, his hand cupping your face, "Hey, gorgeous, I get it but don't go breaking my heart tonight. Can we just leave this for tomorrow? Sleep on it."

The idea of getting any sleep at all tonight was laughable, you'd be up all night replaying these moments and torturing yourself. Tonight couldn't get any worse so you had to finally end it. Now was the right time.

"John, it should've never happened."

"But it did."

"I don't want to talk about this anymore. It's over."

"Y/N. You know for me it was never just about-"

"You're making it difficult. Stop making it difficult. Whatever you say isn't going to change that right now we have to do the right thing."

"I know you're right, but I don't want to let go. Is it so wrong to want you? I adore you, you know that."

You wouldn't meet his eyes. Sighing, John pressed his forehead to the side of your head, chin brushing your shoulder, eyes closing. He was begging you to stay with him. There had to be a solution, you'd figure it out together. His voice was cracking, eyes glassy. He looked so much younger when he was pleading. The tall bloke who terrorised the Midlands with his razor rimmed cap, a revolver in his hand, and a ruthless trigger finger had vanished. You wanted to stay, burning to curl up with him and for him to kiss it better.

"I should go." You told him. He rested his forehead on your shoulder, letting out a shaky sigh before pulling away, nodding.

"I'd drive you home but obviously-"

"Obviously."

John suddenly turned from you, eyes narrowing at Isaiah who was still hovering at the door. "Thought I told you to fuck off. Make yourself useful and get Y/N home safely." His tone was ice cold once again.

Isaiah nodded, offering his arm to you. You reached the door and instinctively looked back at John. His eyes met yours, staring at you from his desk, just as you knew he would. He prepared himself to watch you leave every night, but this time was different. That was it with you two.

Isaiah strode down the street with you in silence. You were tucked into his side as was customary with the upcoming blinders who were particularly ambitious, but there was no relaxed chat.

"Isaiah. What’re you thinking?" You asked, voice tinged with nervousness.

He sighed, running his free hand across his jaw, "That was intense in there."

"Just how he is." You shrugged.

"Does he love you or sommet?"

"Fuck knows… does it matter?"

"Of course it does. Do you love him?"

"Drop it. None of that matters, it shouldn't have happened in the first place so it can’t," You snapped, the anger at the situation you'd created suddenly overwhelming.

Isaiah whistled, raising his brow at your obvious turmoil. "You're in fucking deeper than you want to admit."

He walked you up your path, watching you turn the key to the side door leading to your bedsit. You paused, turning to him.

"Iz… I don't know what to do next."

It was so dark, you could see his face only by the lit cigarette burning to embers between his fingers. He inhaled deeply, pausing before delivering his carefully laid out plan of avoidance. Obviously the event of him crossing the Shelbys and losing their good graces weighed heavily on his mind. You nodded, listening intently, noting his ideas of relocation but he explained they were a final resort. The best thing to do was try to regain their trust; in the long run, he had calculated, it was the only option that didn't result in your life being haunted by the Shelbys. Even if they left you alone, their enemies would make a point to go after you, seeing you as an easy target. The other option was to leave the country.

"Good luck, Y/N. I mean it." He muttered as you turned the handle to the temporary safety of your home. You nodded, offering you cheek for the polite good night kiss you'd become accustomed to. He rolled his eyes and obliged, pressing an affectionate kiss to your cheek and ruffling your hair. "I'm serious. Watch your back."

***

John broke down when he finally heard the lock click shut. His eyes had been prickling with boiling tears, his jaw tensed to hold them back. He yelled out in anger, flipping his desk with force, a loud crash as the wood splintered against the stone flooring, glass shattering from the photo frames. His hands went to his head, unable to stop the gasping breaths escaping from his trembling lips, his face reddening.

"Fuck’s sake." He growled. He'd fucked everything up. He had nothing, just as he'd told you the first night you returned. The consequence was no surprise, he'd anticipated the fall out for a while, but he couldn't resist you. He was completely guilty and had no defense; his only justification being that you made him think with his cock, not his brain.

Fuck’s sake. Polly was going to murder him. She'd always had a soft spot for Ada, as the only girl in the family, and was no stranger to lecturing him over his flirtatious behaviour around Ada's friends. She'd murder him. He had a half mind to never go home. He rubbed at his eyes with his knuckles. Polly had no use for tears. That's what she'd tell him when he was a boy coming home with a skinned knee. This was far worse.

He was also sure that he was a worse brother than Tommy, perhaps the worst in the world. His baby sister, who he'd helped to toddle, carry proudly on his shoulders after school and race with her on his back through the fields on the outskirts of Small Heath, had walked in on him obviously in the midst of fucking her best mate. If he had swallowed his pride and actually talked to her, he wouldn't be in this mess. He could've told her that things changed, that for the same reasons Ada loved Y/N he had fallen for her, that he was truly sorry but she had to know before it got too far and someone got hurt. He couldn't go back.

He should've never approached you that night.

He should never approach you again.

He looked over the mess of his office, the splintered wood and shards of glass, a confetti of paperwork. Now nothing mattered. None of this mattered. He'd lost everything and he had only himself to blame.

#john shelby imagine #john shelby x reader #john shelby fluff #john shelby series #john shelby fanfic #peaky blinders fluff #peaky blinder fanfic #john shelby smut #peaky blinders smut #peaky blinders #peaky blinders x reader

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yesimwriting · 3 years

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Falling Angels: chapter two

A/n took me longer to get around to writing part 2 than i thought!! i didn’t know there was an audience for this idea but im glad you guys liked it!!

Im adding a country to the grishaverse to make my story work,, def not a big deal i just needed a country in which i could control the history of without worrying about conflicting with cannon lol

Link to part one: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/yesimwriting/652318577650696192 (lmk if this works ive never linked something to a tumblr post lol)

Series Summary: Y/n is a rising star in the most famous circus in Ketterdam because of her ability to see the future. Unfortunately for her, Kaz Brekker knows more of her backstory than he should, and he’s willing to use that to his advantage. The one thing he’s not betting on? That he doesn’t know her entire story

Chapter summary: Y/n gets a visitor before getting tricked into the most dangerous show of her life.

Pairng: SOC x reader, Kaz Brekker x sunshine-y! Psychic! Reader

My father seemed to love me more after two glasses of something amber. It was after these two glasses that he would tell me realities his inebriated self believed I needed to internalize. He’d pat my head affectionately and smiled at me as he told me that the world was a bad place. Most of his lessons are lost in my mind, but the one I remember most clearly is that there’s no such thing as a kept secret. There’s always a leak or a flaw or a factor you could not account for. He told me that if I wanted to keep a secret, I would have to decide what I was willing to risk for it.

I know from Seria’s reaction to his presence that listening to Kaz is a risk, but it’s a risk I’m willing to take for my secret. “I don’t know what you think I am, but you’re mistaken.” It doesn’t really matter that he believes me. I have the paperwork I need to disprove him. “I have to get to my tent.”

“The princess gets her own tent?” His words are saturated by mock casualness but I can feel his pride on how he delivered that line.

My body is still tense from balancing over flames and his confidence only adds to my desire to unravel. I can’t get angry here. Not at him. Not with the way he grips that cane of his. “I don’t understand what--”

“You may be able to play pretend here where no one wants to look twice at you, but I know what you are.” His stiffness leaves my skin prickling. “I know who you are.”

I swallow back my panic. “Then who am I?”

“You’re that king’s bastard--the one with a high bounty on her head.” Don’t back down. Even the smallest crack will confirm his story. “As long as she’s returned alive.”

Thoughts of what my father would do to me if ever given the chance strike me with more anxiety than his presence does. “I’ve heard of the girl you’re talking about,” I admit, the lie leaving me as easily as the air leaves my lungs when I exhale. “But I’m not her.”

“You’re not from Ketterdam, if you were you would have known who I was after you friend referred to me as Dirtyhands.” I have no defense, but I never claimed to be from Ketterdam. “You make your business claiming to be a psychic.” I am a psychic, but now is not the time to make that argument. “Elkosa is a relatively small and self efficient port kingdom, the island is nothing more than a jagged coastline barely larger than Ketterdam, but I have connections in all places.” He knows someone from Elkosa? I have to fight the instinct to move all of my weight on the balls of my feet, prepared to run. “A captain of the royal fleet told me the story of the night the King’s bastard ran into the meeting room the night before ten ships were meant to sail to Ravka.”

He studies my reaction as I struggle to keep my expression blank. “None of that seems connected.”

“Patience is a virtue most Saints are familiar with.” I roll my eyes. “The bastard couldn’t have been more than nine at the time, but the guards did not want to let her in. The King told them to let her interrupt. The sailor noted this because he had never made an exception to his meeting before. The girl described a nightmare to her father, a nightmare of a storm and ten dead birds. The king did not comfort her, she finished her story by saying that he asked to know about all of her dreams. She went back upstairs and the King continued the meeting as normal but the next day the King cancelled the trip.”

I remember that night as the night I realized that if I’m not careful, I’ll feel what I see in my visions. It felt like I was drowning. I felt the death of each of those men and instead of comforting me, my father nodded once like I had offered him advice and sent me back to my room. “And?” My defense is weak, my mind too lost in the memories of drowning. “Many smaller countries are superstitious.”

“The next day the worst storm to have impacted that ocean occurred. For four nights and three days the storm continued.”

I press my nails into my palms. “You don’t believe that I am precognitive, so that sailor’s unverified story has nothing to do with me.”

“A princess that can see the future disappears at the same time a failing circus hires a girl who has no business in this city who claims to be able to see the future.” He adjusts his stance, taking pressure off the cane as if he’s preparing to need to use it for something else. “I am not fool enough to believe in coincidence.”

“And I am not fool enough to crack beneath the vague threats of a man. In my experience, men always threaten with a blade when really all they’re in possession of is a butter knife. Try to drag me from here kicking and screaming, find a way to incapacitate me and put me on a ship to Elkosa, but when the King sees that you brought him a stranger he will have your head.”

He blinks, expression hard as stone. I tense, preparing for a physical blow. “I didn’t expect you to be a half-decent liar, but I should have.” I bite my tongue to avoid resorting to something I can’t take back. Like begging. “Even if it’s in only half your blood.”

“I am not her.” My stubbornness burns more than the need to survive. I inhale, hoping to shake the grasp of the sensation but it only worsens. The pinch of dread in my chest is heavy and familiar. A vision.

No. Not now--not in front of him. I push against it even though I know that only makes it worse. Not now. Not now. I should be grounding myself but all I can think about is how stupid I am and how bad this situation is.

“I’m not an idiot, I know to be quiet. I see myself crouched somewhere dark.

“Being defensive doesn’t make you any more intelligent.” It takes me a minute to recognize Kaz in the darkness.

We’re somewhere small, our backs against the same wall but our shoulders do not touch. This vision is enshrouded by the feel of panic.

This other me grimaces, but her eyes lack anger, “Remind me why I agreed to help you again?”

“You never told me why,” he admits, “you can change your mind on participating and I can change my mind on whether or not you're more useful than your father’s money.”

Something loud crashes from behind the door we’re both staring at. “You’ll have no use for me or my father’s money if we die here.” I squeeze my hands together.

He hesitates, “My ghost will.”

The future-me almost smiles. “I wonder if I’ll be able to see ghost futures.” I hesitate, something strange behind my eyes. “I wonder if that can exist, if there’s a future beyond endings.”

Future-Kaz is silent for a long second. “There should be,” he says, “for someone like you, at least.”

I watch the way I take in his words. “You’d be there, too,” my voice is low, “your ghost at least.” I turn my head, staring at the door instead of him, “If you weren’t, I’d miss the brooding.”

The vision leaves me with sweaty palms and swirling thoughts. All of my visions do that. Not all of them make me feel so confused. Apparently, he needs help and I agree to do so. At one point we’ll be pushed into a life or death situation and I won’t loathe him.

I blink twice, forcing myself to hold onto the reality in front of me. I don’t have to agree--the future isn’t set in stone. For all I know tomorrow morning I’ll have a vision in which he kills me.

“Are you ignoring me?”

Shaking my head, I turn to face him. “You need help.” I don’t wait for his reaction. “You’re not here to return someone to the King of Elkosa, you’re here because you need someone that can see the future.”

“I--”

“It’s not that you won’t take me to Elkosa, it’s that you’d rather use my abilities for something.”

I’m confusing him again, but that’s okay. I’d rather deal with him confused than angry. “I need to know how a certain business deal of mine is going to be worth what it costs.”

He’s spent the entire time claiming he doesn’t believe in my power. Was that some kind of tactic? In the vision I saw, despite the panic surrounding the situation I didn’t feel panicked around him. The probability of that future occurring is probably low. I’ve been wrong before, the future changes too much for me to know everything.

“That’s not how readings work,” I admit, “I don’t have that much control on them. Most of them come to me randomly. The events I see always involve me or someone I care about to a certain capacity. I can give someone a general glimpse into their future but I can’t promise I’ll see what they want. Sometimes I can see the general vision by just focusing on their energy but usually I need some physical contact for it to work.” That seems like a fair explanation. “Oh--and not all of my predictions come true, most are blurry, few are solid--the future is always moving.”

Wait...the vision I saw where I was with Kaz wasn’t blurry. Those can be wrong, but it’s much rarer. Do I really agree to this?

“Then maybe I should make it involve you.” His aggression has me forcing myself to stand my ground. He can threaten me all he wants but that won’t change things. “Or take the money your father would give me and cut my losses.”

Every time I’ve purposefully destroyed a solid vision, something bad has happened. I’m genuinely considering it. “What do you need a psychic for, anyways?”

“To get through the Fold.”

Despite everything, I laugh. “I’ve never seen anyone get through the Fold, literally or in my visions.”

He’s unphased by my doubt. “It’s happened.”

I really don’t want to help him. “Well then good luck, I’m happy to part ways here.”

I manage one step forward before he moves his cane in front of my path. I’m getting tired of this. “You’re assisting me one way or the other, whether that aid will be financial or through your services is up to you.”

Anger pinches in my stomach the way it often does when I’m told what to do. The one thing centering me is the vision still reflecting in my thoughts. There’s no denying it--I had felt comfortable with him. There is a future in which I feel comfortable with him and I’m not sure I’ll be able to avoid it.

“I won’t get in trouble for you,” I tell him, “The Ringmaster holds onto those indentured to him, especially the commodities that bring him profit.”

There’s something stiff about his silence. I wonder if he’s always like this, pushing the weight of his presence onto those around him without saying a word. “When I have a goal, it is achieved. I’ll speak to him.”

I cannot imagine a conversation I want to be involved in less. The Ringmaster and this man that Seria had labeled ‘Dirtyhands’. “I just had a vision--I saw your entire conversation and it ends with you missing an arm.” His stoic expression does not shift. “Okay, I’m aware that it wasn’t the funniest joke, but throw me a bone--you threatened to kidnap me and sell me to my father in order to extort me and I’ve been nothing but polite to you.”

He’s quiet for a moment, something in his expression changing in a way I can’t read. “All you’ve done is lie since the moment you started to speak to me.”

The optimist in me would like to think that his annoyance counts for banter. I shrug, feeling a little lighter than I did a second ago. I’m certainly not comfortable but I’m starting to see how to put up with the tension without letting it strain me. “Well, polite for my standards.”

I let him brood. “You must have done well as a royal.”

My past cuts through the peace I managed to grab onto. It’s not his fault, he has no way of knowing what the castle was like for me. I open my mouth, but I don’t know what I’m going to say. “I had my moments,” I finally settle on, hoping the echo of pain isn’t visible behind my eyes.

I guess it doesn’t matter if he sees me bleed. He’s heartless, and I hate sympathy.

“Y/n,” Seria’s voice is genuine anger, “You’ve turned into an idiot--first the tightrope walk and now entertaining whatever deal he’s trying to coax from you.” I love Seria, she’s the reason I didn’t die in the street when I first arrived in Ketterdam, but she sees me as a mindless child. “Whatever he told you, whatever he promised you--it’s a lie.”

“He hasn’t promised me anything.” I need to calm her down. Once she’s calm, everything will be normal again. “And he knows.” I don’t have to turn to feel the way Seria gapes at me. “He knows who I am, so I have to do what he wants.”

“You never have to do anything a man is forcing onto you, y/n. We’ll find a way--”

“Seria, it’s fine,” I reach to touch her arm, “I’ll be fine, you can’t protect me from everything and you don’t have to.”

Kaz throws a pointed glare at the man who was with him earlier. When did the stranger get here? “Boss, she’s faster than she looked, but I have what we need to get the girl--”

“You’re late,” Kaz sighs, bored, “she’s agreed.”

Wait--what was he going to do if I didn’t agree? “Out of curiosity, what are you talking about?” The man blinks twice, squeezing a rag between his ring-clad fingers. “You were going to use chloroform to kidnap me, weren’t you?”

For some reason I don’t understand, the stranger gives me a look that’s a cross between sheepish and charming. “Nothing personal.”

“Or original.”

Seria pinches my arm. “Y/n,” she scolds, “your sense of humor is going to kill me one of these days.”

I cringe, pulling my arm away. “When I met you, you were pickpocketing in the pleasure district, please remember that.”

She rolls her eyes. “An attitude like that is going to leave you without a place to sleep at night.”

I take her comment for the empty threat it is. Every other day she’s threatening to kick me out of her private trailer so that I’m forced to fight for cots or speak to the Ringmaster about my lodging arrangements. He’d give me what I want, but speaking to him feels so slimy I’d sleep in the woods before trying it.

“Kaz.” I turn my head in time to see the girl that gave me the advice about the tightrope walker. “We need to go, he’s coming soon--you’ll do better to speak to him in the morning after she’s gone, that way he has nothing to hold over your head.��

“Once I’m gone?” The girl had called me a Saint. I can appeal to her. “I’m not--I’m not going anywhere, I said I’d help.”

Her eyes widen, sympathy reflected clearly in her dark irises. “There was never a version of this in which you ended up staying here.” I hear a hint of apology in her voice. “You won’t believe me, but I promise this will be better for you.” All of her pity is gone with those, replaced by something hard.

Seria responds for me, “I think you should go.”

“What?”

She almost smiles, but her eyes are painfully sad. “I never wanted you to be here forever. I don’t trust these people, but I trust their ability to get you out of here, even if only for a little while. Bad things are coming, and I think you’ll miss the worst of it if you go now.”

What she alludes to is a blade in my heart. “You want me to leave you here to deal with it?”

“Y/n, I’ve been hurt here more times than I can count--”

“No, I won’t leave y--”

Seria squeezes my shoulder, “It’s not forever.” When she wants something, it’s almost impossible to get around it. “Besides, if I need you, you’ll see it.”

My world feels to have lost the vibrance of color. I’ve left so much, but I let myself believe I wouldn’t leave her. I pull her into the hug. “The moment I see a vision of you in any type of danger, I’m coming back.” I hug her even tighter when she tries to pull away so that I can whisper something in her ear, “I’ll use this opportunity to leave the Ringmaster and then I’ll get you out, and together we’ll leave Ketterdam. We’ll find your child, like you always wanted to and they’ll know that they're lucky because they’re the only kid in the world to have you as a mother.”

She squeezes me so tightly I find it hard to take full breaths. “Two,” Seria whispers, “I have two children.”

My eyes burn as her words find their way into my heart. “I love you, Seria.”

“I love you too, my star,” she pulls away enough so that I can look her in the eye, “you don’t like being called a Saint, but I can’t think of anyone more deserving of the title.”

Tears prick my eyes as she releases me. “I’ll find you.”

“He’ll be coming soon,” the girl warns, “He spoke to an advisor about wanting to find you after the show.”

No doubt to praise the fire stunt he forced onto me. Bastard. I nod once but I don’t move. I can’t bring myself to leave Seria until the girl places a hand on my elbow.

Falling Angels Taglist: @glowstick-lesbian @cashlum @whatiswrongwithpeople @pass-me-jeez-it @thecraziestcrayon

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niksixx · 4 years

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Close to Perfect

Requested: My idea

Pairing: The Dirt!Nikki Sixx x Fem!Reader

Description: Your baby’s father doesn’t show up to the birth of your son, so Nikki takes his place.

A/N: As always, your support is incredible. Reblog, comment, add tags <3

Y/B/N: Your baby’s name

*Picture is NOT mine. Found on google. Credit to the owner.*

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

In a room filled with three other people that are comforting you and doing all they can to make you feel safe, you’ve never felt more alone and afraid. Sweat slicks every crevice of your body as you try to focus on the nurses hooking you up to machines and not the bone crushing contractions you’ve been feeling for an hour.

Your due date wasn’t quite near, but your baby boy wanted to make his appearance to the world a bit earlier. Your water had broke suddenly in the kitchen as you were preparing dinner, almost dropping the butter knife as the liquid trickled down your thighs. In a panic, you called the only person you could think of in that moment: Your son’s father.

As he chose not to be in your son’s life, it shouldn’t have surprised you that he refused to bring you to the hospital either. Begging and pleading as the contractions grew more frequent and painful did nothing but cause him to hang up the phone.

The only other option at that time was to call a cab, tipping generously at the end as the cab driver had to deal with your moans and whimpers from the backseat. Luckily there was a nurse with a wheelchair waiting for you at the entrance to the hospital.

As the nurses finish adjusting the IV, you wiggle around in the bed to try and find a comfortable position. A growl erupts from your belly, and instead of being graced with substance, you’re presented with ice chips.

While the contractions were growing more painful, you still weren’t fully dilated enough to start pushing. You opted for the epidural, promising to yourself that your next pregnancy would be all natural.

After the nurses left to wait on other patients, the solemn reality hit you. You were about to become a first time mother, and you were going to have to do it alone.

Calling your child’s father was useless. He’d never show up. He didn’t care enough about the life he helped create, and you refused to believe that you even needed him there. You could do this just fine on your own.

And then the epidural had worn off and as you reached ten centimeters dilation, it was time to finally push. But as the nurses and obstetrician were helping you adjust for labor, your cell phone chimed next to you.

With a stretch, you clicked the speaker, hoping to make the phone call quick as you were only minutes away from your first push. “Hello?”

“Hey, Y/N. You know that Def Leppard cutoff shirt I always wear?”

The doctor gives you a quizzical look. “Uh, Miss--.”

“Yeah, I do,” Trying to mask the groan of pain, you bite down hard on your lip. The intensity of the contractions is only growing stronger now, and you’re not sure how long you can last. “Listen, Nikki, now isn’t really a good time.”

“Wait, don’t hang up! I just need to know if I left it at your house last week. I can’t find it anywhere and Mick swears he didn’t steal it.”

Again, the doctor shoots you a look, one more annoyed this time. “Ma’am, we really need to--.”

“Nikki, I’m literally in the hospital about to give birth. Can the shirt wait?”

There’s a sharp breath on the other end after a long pause. Aside from your baby’s father, Nikki was the first person who had known about your pregnancy. You’d grown up together, and even visited Nikki and his band a few times while they were busy touring the world and playing music for anyone that’d listen. “Right now?”

You nod. “Right now.”

He hesitates before asking the question he already knows the answer to. “Is he there?”

“No, Nikki. My water broke earlier and I called him to ask if he could bring me to the hospital. He hung up and I called a cab. Unfortunately, your shirt isn’t my main priority right now,” You laugh in good nature. Part of you is hurt, though. How could anyone neglect their responsibilities as a parent? How could anyone, any man, deny their child?

Neither one of you signed up for this life. The baby’s father had made it his priority to remind you that your child was merely an accident, and therefore he owed no responsibility for a child he never wanted.

Nikki had been more than a friend throughout your pregnancy. Caring for others was in his nature, apparently, but when it came to you, it felt different. He took care of you in ways he didn’t need to. Helping you bathe. Picking up food to ease your cravings. Holding you as you cried in his arms. He had always gone above and beyond for you even when he didn’t need to.

“I can be there in fifteen minutes,” There’s commotion on the other end of the line, most likely Nikki panicking to find his shoes and keys. Fifteen minutes isn’t ideal, and your doctor is certainly in a mood now as he stares at you with a blank expression, eyebrows pulled together. Another contraction hits and you grip the sides of your thighs tightly. “Y/N, I’m on my way. Don’t have that baby without me.”

~~~

Nikki is by your side shortly after your first push. Seeing him wide eyed and a bit frazzled eases your pain, and you’re glad he’s there now. You didn’t realize how much you needed his support.

“I’m here, I’m here,” He kisses your forehead quickly, reaching one arm around the pillow to cradle your head, other hand clasped tightly in yours. “Let’s have a baby, okay?”

You nod and focus on the doctor as he commands you to push. Unfortunately for the epidural wearing off, you feel every shred of pain. Sucking in a breath you push again and again, sweat beading your body as every ounce of energy is slowly being drained from your body.

“Baby’s crowning.”

Nikki gazes back at you, his look one of pure adoration. “You’re doing so good. Only a few more pushes okay? You can do this.”

His words make it feel possible. Your lips are dry so you lick them once before adjusting your grip on Nikki’s hand. “I can do this.”

“Ready, Y/N? And one...two...three…”

An ear splitting cry erupts throughout the room, and the weight is lifted off your shoulders as your squirming baby boy is placed on your chest. The blood and gunk on his tiny body isn’t even worth cringing over as you hold him against you. Tears course down your cheeks and drip off your chin, but Nikki is there beside you wiping them away, all the while completely mesmerized by your strength.

As much as you don’t want to let him go, you hand off your son to the nurses for a quick bath. Head against the pillow, your body is overcome with extreme fatigue. A hand comes up to your forehead, pushing the hair off your sweaty skin.

“I did it,” Pride swells in your chest. The morning sickness, the constant cravings, the heartburn, the back pain, everything was worth it. “I did it.”

And even pride swirls in Nikki’s heart. The road to your son’s birth hadn’t been smooth sailing. There were many bumps in the road, and Nikki knew more than anyone how much you had doubted yourself, your abilities to raise a child alone. But if anyone could overcome the adversity life threw at them, it was you. And you’d do it with passion and grace. “I’m so proud of you.”

~~~

Wrapped tightly in a white blanket, your baby boy is fast asleep against your chest. Your jealousy thickens as you observe his sweet little face sleeping so peacefully against your chest.

Almost as if he can hear your thoughts, Nikki pipes up from the chair by the window. “Are you tired? Do you want me to hold him?”

You’d have forever to hold your little boy, so you gingerly hand him over to an excited Nikki. After helping him reposition his arms to support the baby boy’s head, your own head sinks into the pillow, eyes fluttering shut.

“Hi, Y/B/N. It’s me, Uncle Nikki. I’ve been friends with your mother for a while now, and I want you to know that you have the best mommy in the world.” Your eyes fly open as quick as they had closed, and the sight in front of you warms your heart. Pressing a delicate kiss to your son’s head, Nikki holds him close. “Somedays, she’s going to struggle though. And when she does, I want you to know that I’m always going to look after her. She can do this alone,” Emotion clouds Nikki’s voice. “But I want her to know she doesn't have to.”

Something in the atmosphere changes. The man in front of you cradling your son as if he were his own had transformed before your eyes. Your heart had always held a soft spot for Nikki, and growing up it wasn’t uncommon for adults to assume you were romantically involved. You’d always denied a relationship between you and Nikki, but as you stare at him softly singing a lullaby to your son, the possibility of you and Nikki entertaining something more than friendship rose to the surface.

“And there’s something I never want you to forget, little one,” Nikki speaks to your son, but his eyes, so full of something that can’t be described as anything other than longing, are zeroed in on your face. “Your mother, even with all her flaws, her quirks, and her insecurities, she’s as close to perfect as one can get. And to be loved by her is something out of a dream.”

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pwnyta · 3 years

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Some Pokemon doodles at 3 in the morning as ya do.

Arceus’ shiny little reapers. Yanmask, Drifloon, Mimickyu, and Shedinja.

Gellers babies are ready for the cold weather. As am I. Delilah has some objections but Dillas never seen the seasons change and hes excited for snow. Hes adjusting well to the modern era and a new family.

After coming to terms with his sudden blast into the future and learning that murdering your kingdom rivals is frowned upon Omar has begins to adjust to the modern world. He says ‘thanks I hate it.’ (So many new foods are worth the trouble tho.)

The Chi crew: The glasses theyre wearing are (mostly) for intel/communication.

Gadget is the big boss lady of the Chi crew. She has a bit of a gamer temper while working where she will seem like shes all fun and games but she will throw a controller or punch a hole in the wall... When shes not busy she spends her time in Pjs and a good book.

Anisos is perfectionist inventor. He made his own Porygon named Two (dont ask what happened to ‘One’), He introduced Two to a dubious disk and Two not wanting to disappoint It’s creator agreed to use it but it really scrambled poor Two up. Anisos feels endlessly guilty about it and vows to care for and protect Two until he cant anymore. (Two is actually significantly stronger than Anisos, but its the thought that counts.)

Tripwire is a sensitive little android. After Its last upgrade Its personality might have gotten a little messy but the power and intelligence boost was worth it (for Its job... maybe not so much for Itself). Trip is a little twitchy and often repeats Itself but is a kind droid, It sticks close to The Creator (Anisos) despite Anisos’ insistence It can do as It pleases and encourages independence.

Trip before the disk^ It replaced It’s legs because theyre lighter now and its easier to float. It barely ever walks anymore.

Deep Blue is a mute (not really) member of the crew... who also works in Deoxys’ lab, Dex thinks hes highly suspicious but he gets his work done without issue so he just keeps an eye out and lets him be. Because hes quiet others tend to enjoy his placid company not realizing he likes to gather info and will use it against anyone he must. Probably the most ruthless of the Chi gang.

Grey is a bit of an over achiever and thinks Gadget isnt that great of a boss so is gunning for her position. Shes very organized but super inflexible in her thinking which puts her at odds with some of her contemporaries. She has a particularly hard time dealing with Trip whos the hottest of messes.

THESE GUYS EXIST.... IDK if im satisfyied with their design... WIP. Maybe. Or I’ll get over it. Bugsy, Diplo, Cross and Uda--v

Kappa crew is about done... the little degen weirdo crew.

The Phi crew:

AH HAHA! TO think I was like imma draw a nice colored image of the Phi crew.

I did this dumb drunk twink and was over it.

Is this the appearance of a believable spy?

And the higher up Psi crew.

Hermann and Leon were friends as kids and lost touch but found themselves in the same crew! Hermann is quite surprised his old buddy is now in this line of work but hes happy to have him and will beat the ass of anyone who messes with him just like the good ol days!

Mosaic hates being on Psi division because Father Mistletoe and Perma are three crazy weirdos and Parallax stole the only other fun crewmate (Decibel) and she cant even complain about it because Father will absolutely kick her ass. He dont care. If only she can be in Kappas crew.

Father, Mistletoe, and Perma I think Ive posted about before so ... w/e

#Pwny Gijinka mon fanarts.

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lovely-necromancy · 3 years

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A Cure for Insomnia CH 16

////TW SA mentioned/hinted at/// Depiction of a panic attack as well

The hospital was a buzz with energy, which was a bit weird considering how small the town was. Were there really this many patients today? You honestly didn't know, hell for the longest time you weren't even sure this was a hospital when you moved here.

That was changed recently, like very recent. Last night in fact when you had been forced awake by medical staff trying to determine your condition. That sadist doctor of yours kept a small smile on their face the entire time you groaned about wanting sleep. They had simply tutted at you saying you needed to be monitored for several hours before they could let you rest.

Thankfully you hadn't seen them today but it was only ten thirty. A lovely nurse had been checking in with you all morning, even before you woke up. He'd come in when you had buzzed after waking up in pain and given you a dose of your medicine through your IV drip. When you questioned him about where you were he seemed to still in concern. Worried that you hadn't remembered your accident that lead you here.

After assuring him and giving him a play by play of your day yesterday, giving him the assumed day, and answering who the current president was he let you off the hook. Mark, your nurse, had been very keen to tell you the Cowell family is in charge of your care and will be here later in the day to visit with you. Granted you actually feel up to visitors. Which you take as code for 'would you like me to deny visitors?'.

You let him know you'll be fine with visits after ten. Knowing full well how fast news can travel in the small town it's only a matter of time before a parade of Hornets meander through to check in on you. First you wanted to grab your bearings before being thrown to your overly concerned friends.

Or maybe they weren't overly concerned after all you did just experience a home invasion that left you hospitalized. Simply being concerned is a natural reaction to your situation. But your head hurts just thinking about anything right now. So, you'd like to take a moment for yourself, have a bit of time to process everything.

Either way you'd been right, news travels fast in this small town. Nearly all the lodge residents had been waiting for an hour to see you when ten rolled around. At ten on the dot Aubrey, Barclay, and Jake stormed into your room and surrounded you like piranhas in a frenzy. You looked towards Dani, Hollis, Kirby, and several other lodge staff members for help only to get small smiles and a shake of the head.

They wouldn't be helping you out of this anytime soon. You just had to endure the genuine concern and affection from your friends. Luckily for your splitting head the visit only lasts thirty minutes before everyone has to leave. Life still goes on even when a loved one is in the hospital. With several promises to return tomorrow and requests that you take it easy the rambunctious group was gone.

You relax into your bed before turning on the TV and finding something mind numbing to watch. The food network works! You hope Diners, Drive-ins, and Dives is in the roll today. You're in luck as it starts playing right after the commercials.

The voice of your doctor is getting closer to your room. Great if you weren't already upset by the atrocity happening with the pizza at that restaurant then you are surely in a sour mood now.

“Well sir we hope you can reason with the child. They have simply fought us each time we've brought up the tests. We'd say it was mildly impressive that they held such coherence last night, had it not been for the headache it has given us.”

Oh here we fucking go again.

“I don't need the tests.”

No one had made it through the threshold before you spoke. Everyone froze at your cold tone. Until the doctor makes a motion towards you.

“As you can see, they're very stubborn.”

“I'm not stubborn you're just not listening to me. I haven't had sex in a year so I don't need a pregnancy test and I just got bashed around last night. I don't need an invasive search done.” You ignore the Cowell family as you speak to the doctor, “I find it concerning how keen you are to do a rape test on me even though I've repeatedly told you I just got banged up in the scuffle. Nothing more.”

The doctor still has their small smile placed just ever so on their face. There's something really off about them. Even under normal circumstances you hate hospitals and doctors. Mainly because they never listen to you about your issues, something you know would be even worse if you had 'Autistic' labeled in a medical file. But something about this doctor seriously rubbed you the wrong way. Perhaps you two knew each other in previous life and it was coming back to bite you in the ass now.

“Doc, the kid says they don' need a test, then they don' need the test.” Big Jo says breaking the staring contest between you and the doctor as they slide their gaze away from you to look at Big Jo.

You take no little satisfaction from seeing their stupid smile finally leave their face. It isn't long before it's replaces and they bound over to you. Poking and prodding you, jabbing with a lot more force than they should need to. After a small adjustment to your IV they clear you for this check up and allow the Cowells to have their visit with you.

“Something's off about them.” you say cautiously after the family steps into the room.

Big Jo sighs, “Ye' but they took care 'o ya last night kid.” Ushering his family through he closes the door behind them only to turn back to you with a stern expression, “so ya better play nice with 'em got it?”

Fighting back the intense urge to roll your eyes you nod, before turning to Little Jo who's made her way over to your bedside in her hands several thick graphic novels. The same ones your store started to carry a few weeks back. Looking up from the books you see her watery and puffy eyes. What she takes from Big Jo in personality she takes from her mother in empathy.

“I-I-I yip-yip I thought yip you might get bored so I yup wanted to let you borr-yip-borrow these.”

When she places the books onto the small table beside your bed you can see the tremors that rake through her hands. Choosing not to comment or bring any attention on the tween's obvious nerves you settle for an ice breaker.

“Thanks, don't know how much more crimes against pizza I can stomach.” motioning to the TV where a man is making paper thin crust on pizza to have a pizza that cooks in a minute.

That's not pizza it's cooked cheese and tomato sauce with toppings. Not pizza at all.

Jo nods softly, her normal enthusiasm no where to be found today. A pang rips through your chest as you watch her eyes cast downwards. With no clue how to help her feel better you have to swallow the sigh in your throat to not make the air heavier than it already is. Dia and Big Jo aren't much help either when you spare them a glance.

Dia herself is wiping her eyes with a tissue and sniffles escape her every few seconds. Not much is different bout Big Jo, he may have more prominent eye bags today but you weren't going to judge him for not sleeping. Even under normal circumstances you didn't have ground to stand on. Mark mentioned Big Jo was the one who found you from what he'd over heard at the nurses' station this morning.

Knowing this made the foreboding feeling in your stomach grow. The way he's looking at you with his cold stoney stare-he's not even really looking at you more through you. But his stare pierces you and sends the pit in your stomach lower than you thought possible. If it wasn't so chilly in the room you'd probably be sweating right now.

“Dia, why don' ya take Josephine home.”

Hearing this you lift your hand up to Little Jo before she has a chance to scurry out of the room with her mother. She looks at your hand and then back to you before launching herself into you with a crushing hug. Gravity doesn't help your case as the child's entire weight is on your prone form, you hadn't sat up when they came into the room.

“Get better soon.” the pain was worth it to hear the small plea. She at least felt a little better if she could talk without her vocal tic interrupting her.

After you pat her on the back and promise to rest up she's out the door with her sobbing mother. It's a quiet few moments after the door shuts before Jo takes a step towards your bed. If the pit in your stomach went any lower you're sure you'd be able to see your insides. The hulking man takes a seat in the chair next to your bed sighing as he leans back rubbing his face.

“Tell me what happened kid.”

You relay the events of your day to him. How you and Toby had gone out of town for slushies, gotten caught in so much traffic that you felt it was a punishment from God himself. The funny feeling you had after dropping Toby off, the one that said just to go straight home. And how you had a feeling someone had just been in your home. You left nothing out about the altercation with ski mask. That wasn't saying much because you only remember the ski mask and how you tried to claw their face off. When Jo pressed you for a physical description you weren't any help. Having been too caught up in survival mode you only registered the stupid frowny face on the ski mask as being a key detail...but any fool could laser transfer a decal. And the same went for that painted mask, anyone could grab an art store face mask and block paint some black over the features.

Vaguely you recall them wearing a jacket. Had it been red, yeah like a burnt burgundy maybe? It wasn't a lot to go on and seemed to frustrate Jo even more, if the pinching of his nose was anything to go by.

“You are aware of the situation, yea?” his accent has dropped, he's speaking in a more neutral tone and inflection. This might be the most rattling moment of the week-and it's only Tuesday.

He isn't looking at you so you give a quiet 'yes sir' in response.

“Kid your car got broken into on my lot. Your home gets invaded and you get bashed around/ All this a few months after my other front end girlie disappears in the middle of the night.”

A lump forms in your throat at the mention of Bambi. You can see the pattern he's stringing together, honestly you saw it long before today. You'd just been sloppy and took too much time to gather evidence of your stalkers' existence. Bambi's disappearance wasn't voluntary and it looks like you may be next.

“Called Lydia already and we're upping the security at the cottage. Until I'm satisfied with the level of security you will be staying with us.”

“I co-cou” the lump was hard to speak around, “I can't impose like that, it's fine I'll-”

“You'll just what sleep in your car become an easier target? Go gallivanting to towns miles away where no one knows you.” his harsh words cause you to sputter, “For Christ's sake YN we don't know who we're dealing with right now!”

You don't make eye contact with Jo. You can't make eye contact he's raised his voice. You're lucky you're laying down or else you'd be rocking back and forth right now.

“Unless you have a clue who's out there and the police catch them, this decision is final. This isn't up for debate YN.” he finishes harshly

Even though he's finished you still can't look at him, your nerves are so shot and all you can do is bite your lip.

“Look I...I'd feel a lot more comfortable knowing you weren't out on your own while this gets handled. Josephine looks up to ya like an older sibling, she'd be crushed if you ended up like Bambi. Same goes for Dia. And I don't want that for my girls.” he says softly, “Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes sir.”

With that Jo leaves you in the room after informing you that they'd be back to check you out of the hospital tomorrow. And that you could expect a visit from Sheriff Owens at some point before then.

Even after Jo leaves it feels like someone has your heart in a vice. And every few beats they squeeze it, constricting the flow of freshly oxidized blood to your body. For good measure they try to yank the organ straight from your chest cavity but just end up bruising your rib cage.

Oh God you can't breathe, you're trying but you can't tell if you are or aren't anymore. The beeping of you heart monitor is increasing with each second. It's annoying ringing is too much and you need to rip the cords from you immediately. That just makes the ringing worse as it flat lines not finding any beating or rhythm under your skin.

Soon you're swarmed with a team of nurses trying to settle you down in your panic induced haze. Their grabbing hands and forceful touches burn your skin and light a fire that travels through your veins; and only serves to make you thrash more. Taking a swing at the nurse who holds a needle you continue your struggle against the other bodies holding you down as she stumbles away.

A few nurses rush in from the door to help her, not that you notice.

So many of the sounds are merging together and you can't understand anything. From the shrill beep of the heart monitor, the voices calling out at various pitches, footsteps. Everything forms into one gigantic frantic pitch in your already fried mind.

A growl rips through the room, you can feel the vibration of it all over you. Did that come from you?

In an instant all hands are off of your panting form and just before you can sit up a deep pressure is applied to your torso. Warmth seeps into you as the pressure lowers itself onto your body. Effectively ending your meltdown and lulling you into a dissociative state.

Floating is the only way you can describe it. The sensation of weightlessness and a gentle rocking caused by the adrenaline trying to defuse itself back into the body. Or the foggy haze that clouds your mind as you try to remember what just happened. Trying to rational the series of events and this outcome. But nothing comes to you except more brain fog. A confusing storm of frustration and vulnerability hits you. And you are left powerless to do anything. You can't kick your legs or scream as much as you want to.

The weight on top of you is forcing a calm to wash over you while the emotions inside wish to break free like a whirlwind. Your distress kick starting the whirlwind back up again only to die like a camp fire in a thunderstorm when you can't get any sort of momentum to your tantrum.

You can only loose yourself to the fogginess drifting further away from your psychical body. Completely unaware of the world around you as it washes away into nothingness.

When the floating feeling finally lifts you have to blink to shake off the remaining stupor. You're able to tell there is still a heavy weight on top of you but also something holding down your left hand. You turn away from the wall that you've been staring blankly at for hours, if your sore neck is anything to go by, and see Connor perking up at your movement.

“Hey bud,” you raise a hand to ruffle his ear and he lays his big head back onto your chest. “hey Tobes.” voice cracking as you greet the man you assume is holding your hand in a death grip, not once looking up from Connor.

There's a tight squeeze on your hand and you have to close your eyes and take a minute to collect yourself before turning to face him. The last thing you remember before drifting off was a group of nurses trying to sedate you. Having no clue what went on after that and when Toby came in you're preparing for the worst. Finally facing him you pause when you make eye contact.

“Jesus! What happened to-to-to you!?”

When you'd last seen him you'd dropped Toby off in the same shape you got him. Now he's sporting a heavily swollen black eye, one that looks pretty bade considering his nose bridge is also swelling a bit. It almost looks like it's pulsing. The dark purple bruise and deep red bleeding from under it to spread away from the injury is such a drastic contrast to his weirdly grayish complexion. You aren't sure if the black eye is actually that bad or if it just looks that way due to Toby's lack of melanin.

“Tim and I got into a fight.” his one good eye cuts to the side, “Barkclay had to split us up. Drove me here to get it checked out, it's fine.” He's dismissing it, they probably can't figure out if his eye really is fine right now, since he can't feel pain and that thing looks tightly swollen shut.

“Barclay.” is the only thing you can manage to say. Your brain wasn't prepared for most things right now and it's having trouble processing the gnarly injury mixed with complete nonchalance.

His lips pull back into a smile and not one you've seen from him before. Sure you've pulled a couple genuine mirth filled smiles out of him, or seen his teasing smirks, or bashful shy smiles when you've been out with others. But this smile, if you could even call it that-it was more like he was barring his teeth. Toby looked ready for another fight or like he was a feral predator about to rip out it's prey's jugular. There's a brief flash of a image that pops into your mind's eye, one of Toby's bloodstained face with this exact expression, teeth soaked red with blood and chunks of flesh in between . A chill runs through you at the thought. Had Connor not been laying on top of you, you would have shivered.

The instant you squeeze Toby's hand, the smile wipes off his face and he stares down at your interlocked hands. He returns the gesture before bringing his other hand over. Looking up at you through his eyelashes he flips your hand and when your expression doesn't change and you don't pull away he begins to play with your fingers.

“What was the fight about?”

“I don't have to answer that.” his tone is short and clipped.

You don't press the subject, obviously Toby doesn't want to talk about it. And you're fine with that, anyway if the fight was bad enough for Barclay to need to break it up and he drove Toby here you can assume Tim instigated and is probably getting kicked back out into the RV with no AC. As bad as it sounds you could care less. Toby's your friend not Tim, you only care if Toby's ok and while he may have a very fucked up eye in the future, right now he seems like normal Toby. A bit more irritated and on edge but that's normal after a stressful day. Hell you punched a nurse a few hours ago.

“What happened to you?”

There's a small part of you that wants to sass Toby, that you don't have to answer that. Thankfully the rational side reminds you that fight with a roommate is very different than having been beaten in a home invasion. Once again retelling your story but this time starting after you dropped Toby off. No need in going into as much detail as you went into with Jo or how much you'll need to go into with the sheriff. Toby's hands would grip yours tightly throughout your recounting. It's one of the reasons you didn't go into a ton of detail. Understanding your friend is barely holding on by a string on his good days you aren't about to load your stress along with his already eventful day.

“You can't stay there alone.” he says after you finish the recap.

“Uh duh? Like Jo's already ordered me under house arrest at his house.”

It's like the tension leaks out of him like air leaving a balloon with the way he deflates after you say that. His grip loosens on you hand and he goes back to idly playing with your fingers.

“Good...that's good.” he nods to himself.

In the silence of this hospital room with his service dog on you instead of attending to his clear anxiety ridden form, you realize Toby's a lot more caring than his exterior lets on. The brunette might not wear his heart on his sleeve but it's easy to see it once you know what you're looking for. In this moment as battered and bruised as he is, even the potential possibility of loosing function in his left eye, he's more concerned with you. Whether it's low self worth or just how he treats friends you'll have to find out later.

“Hey...Tobias, I'm here y'know?” you start to sit up waving off a pecking Connor. Once you're far enough up you retract from Toby's grip, which he does fight you on a little. And you reach out further to his bicep, you can't quite reach his shoulder in this position.

“I'm ok Tobes, I'm here.” for some reason 'Tobias' doesn't sound right for this moment.

Toby doesn't give much of a reaction which is fine since you weren't really expecting one. He places his hand over yours for a moment before bringing it back into his grip and fixates on playing with your fingers once again.

With a smile you go to pet Connor with you free hand, hoping Toby might shake himself out of this funk. After a bit of petting you grow restless with the lack of stimulation and ask Toby to pass you on of the graphic novels Little Jo left for you.

It's easier than you thought reading with one hand would be, especially since you can prop the book on Connor who doesn't seem to mind. Pup is resting across your legs now that both humans in the room are stable enough to function without his intervention.

When you finish the first book Toby speaks up, eye still focused on your hand in his. And you find out that although the series isn't his normal thing he did enjoy the art style and a few of the jokes. He waits for you to finish each book before talking more about them and the arc of the story they laid out. Opening up for the two of you to have a nice discussion on the fantasy game based series. It's honestly so much fun for you, where you lack in background awareness Toby is quick to fill you in and point out little ques the writers and artist dropped. In return you're right there explaining character motives and the subtle looks of a character's eyes.

It's a fun few hours before visiting hours are over. And Toby paused at the door before he left, he looked like he wanted to say something but held back. Just as he turned to leave you call out.

“Get home safe.” it's normally his line but you aren't going anywhere tonight.

“I will....get well soon. I'll see ya later.”

There's that awkward smile! You can barely contain the beaming one you sent him before he left. Despite being hospitalized for injuries sustained by a home invasion from your potential stalker...well plural now, you've had a pretty great day.

Fuck that sounds so bad. Should you feel guilty about forgetting your messed up circumstances? No, no everything is getting sorted out. If anything this is going along with your plans for Big Jo to help you out. This was more than enough evidence to prove that you aren't just paranoid. And you're about to have a safe place to hang while this all gets settled.

The fact that you got injured is less than ideal but this is what you get for being sloppy and unfocused.

You have a lot of faith in your boss, you know this will be dealt with. Thinking back to everyone who came to see you today...you just hope everyone can be as confident as you are that this will all end soon.

#a cure for insomnia #ticci toby #ticcitoby #ticci tobyx reader #ticci toby x reader #tobias erin rogers #Timothy Wright #timothy wright x reader #timothy wright x brian thomas #Brian Thomas #brian thomas x reader #masky x reader #creepypasta fanfic

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starryknight09 · 3 years

Text

Friendly Fire

Febuwhump Day 4: impaling

Read on AO3.

________________________________________________________

Peter dodged the drone that tried to ram into him and kicked it as it passed by. It fell to the ground in a clump of metal. These things terrorizing Manhattan weren’t hard to destroy but there were so many of them the sky practically looked black. It was the Avengers first mission since they’d defeated Thanos after Captain Marvel had snapped the gauntlet. It was too bad she’d disappeared back into space a few weeks ago because they could really use her right about now.

Peter swung closer to the main battle where most of the drones seemed to be amassed. He shot out a taser web along the way taking down another five drones that were crowded too close together.

“Nice shot kid.” Tony said as he flew by.

“Thanks Mr. Stark.” He grinned under the mask and shot out another web at a drone that had ventured too close. “Is it just me or does it seem like we’re not even making a dent in these guys?”

“According to FRIDAY we’ve taken out about ten percent of them.”

“Wonderful.” Clint complained over the comms. “So at the rate we’re going, we’ll have these things cleaned up by tomorrow morning.”

He wasn’t wrong. They’d been at it for almost an hour now and the sun was about to set.

“Anyone have any bright ideas?” Rhodey asked.

“We could really use Thor right about now.” Clint said.

“Yeah well point break’s off philandering with Quill and his merry men, so we’re going to have to make due.” Tony said.

“It’s too bad we can’t just EMP them.” Peter said, all his skills being tested as he dodged drones, webbing up as many as he could and striking any that got too close.

“We’d have to take out a significant portion of New York's power, and mine and Rhodey’s suits, for that to work, so let’s try to avoid that.” Tony sniped.

“Guess we’ll have to do this the hard way then.” Clint said. Peter briefly caught sight of the archer on the top of nearby rooftop as he swung past.

To be fair, there was a lot going on, so what happened next wasn’t completely Clint’s fault. Or Peter’s.

A handful of drones attacked him simultaneously, and they were too close to use his webs. He landed a hard hit on one, but when he did, he got too close to another one and his spidey sense flared as it shot its lasers at him. He yanked hard on his web to dodge out of the way and narrowly avoided getting hit, but the moment he moved his spidey sense wailed at him. Before he could figure out why, his leg jerked. What?

“Oh shit.” Clint swore and a second later the pain hit him. His leg felt like it was on fire. He looked down at it and it took a moment for his brain to process what his eyes were seeing. One of Clint’s arrows had speared through the fleshy part of his calf.

Oh. Ow. Ow ow ow. The shock and the pain of it had distracted him enough that he’d forgotten to throw another web out to stay in the air, so now he was falling on top of bleeding. He managed to focus and fire a web onto a building, just in time to slow his descent so he skimmed across the ground and landed on his good leg without hurting himself any further. He slowly crumpled to the concrete, staring at his skewered leg stretched out in front of him. Blood leaked out and stained the pavement. The sight made him dizzy. Luckily, none of the drones seemed to have followed him.

“Uh, anyone got eyes on the kid?” Clint asked over the comms. Peter knew he’d fallen out of the archer’s line of sight.

“Why?” Tony asked immediately, and Peter could sense his tension.

“He might’ve, sort of, just a little bit, gotten in the way of one of my arrows.”

“What? You shot him?” Tony yelled.

“It was an accident!”

“Where is he? Peter!”

Oh right. He could talk. “I know how a shish kabob feels now.” He groaned. “Can’t say I’d recommend it.”

“Where are you?” Tony asked, panicking. “Never mind. I see you.”

Ironman flew toward him and landed with a clang. The helmet retracted and Peter could see the man’s eyes widen as he took him in.

“It’s not that bad.” Peter tried to reassure him.

“Not that bad. We need to work on your definition of those words. You’ve been impaled.” Tony said, crouching down to get a closer look at his leg.

“It’s just a flesh wound.” Peter said and let out a hysterical laugh. He couldn’t help it.

“Not funny.” Tony had gotten touchy about him getting hurt ever since he’d come back from the snap.

“No but seriously, it’s just the fleshy part. I think if you just pull it out it’ll be fine.”

“Pull it—” Tony stopped and took a deep breath. “You never pull it out. If you ever get stabbed or skewered or whatever you leave it in. Capiche?”

Peter nodded.

“And you’re supposed to be a genius…” Tony muttered to himself and then the next moment the helmet of his armor formed back into place. “Try to hold still kid.”

Peter frowned. “I thought we weren’t taking it out.”

“I’m not.” Tony said and one of the fingers on his armor uncapped and Tony aimed it at the arrow. A focused laser shot out of the finger and sliced off one side of the arrow, near enough to his skin that Peter felt the heat, but it didn’t burn. Tony repeated the same process on the other side so now only about an inch of arrow shaft stuck out on each side of his calf. For just hitting his leg it sure was bleeding pretty profusely. The puddle of blood under his leg had been slowly expanding. Looking at it made him feel a little ill.

Tony seemed to notice the same thing in the next moment. “Let’s get you out of here kid.” Before Peter could protest, Tony had lifted him up in his arms and taken off.

“What about the fight?” Peter asked, starting to feel lightheaded. They’d barely been winning before and now they were losing Spiderman and Ironman.

“Don’t worry about it. They’ll be fine.” Tony answered, sounding distracted.

Peter wasn’t sure he believed him, but he didn’t have the energy to argue. He closed his eyes.

“Stay awake Pete.”

“I’m awake.” He responded, opening his eyes with a reluctant sigh.

The rest of the flight passed in a pain filled blur. By the time they made it to the compound he wasn’t feeling the greatest, but he was still awake, and he wasn’t crying or screaming in pain even though he kind of wanted to. Every jostle had sent sparks of agony up his leg. Who knew how much an arrow wound hurt? He had a new respect for Hawkeye and his primary weapon of choice. He never wanted to end up on the wrong end of an arrow again.

“How are you doing?” Tony asked as he deposited him on the waiting gurney on the roof. Peter gave him a weak thumbs up and the man gently pulled off his mask before they started wheeling him to the elevator.

“Don’t worry. I’m going to kill birdbrain.” Tony growled.

“Don’t.” Peter said with a wave of his hand. “It was an accident.”

“He should’ve known better than to be shooting those things so close to you.”

Peter knew it wasn’t worth arguing over. Tony was acting like an angry dad, and when he got like that, nothing Peter said would change his mind. They descended and as soon as the elevator doors opened, they pushed him into the medbay, Tony following alongside the bed. Dr. Cho was already waiting at the exact spot where they stopped and locked the bed.

“I saw the scans from FRIDAY.” Dr. Cho said, more to Tony than him, as the medical personnel started helping him out of the suit. “It should be an easy enough fix. We’ll put him under to take the arrow out and stitch up the artery and everything else, but he should be back to normal in a day or two with his healing ability.

Tony let out a relieved sigh.

“You should go back and help.” Peter suggested once he knew the injury wasn’t too severe, even though he didn’t really want Tony to leave his side. He winced as they finished carefully peeling the suit away from the arrow, guiding the ends through the holes in the suit, but unable to keep from jostling it slightly.

“I’m staying.” Tony said, adamant.

“But—”

“They’ll be fine. Trust me.”

Peter acquiesced with a sigh, hoping Tony was right. He tried to ignore the flutter of motion around him as the medical people worked, attaching an IV and all the necessary wires to him.

“Hey Mr. Stark?” Peter prompted and Tony purposely didn’t acknowledge him as he continued to stare at a monitor over Peter’s head. Peter sighed. Right. He tried again. “Hey Tony?”

“Yes?” The man looked down at him with a smirk. Peter rolled his eyes. Ever since the snap, Tony had been relentless about Peter calling him Tony instead of Mr. Stark, and Peter had been working on it, but it was a work in progress.

“When I wake up will you watch Monty Python and the Holy Grail with me?”

Tony shook his head in consternation. “You’re a menace kid.”

Peter grinned. “Is that a yes?”

“We’ll see.”

“It’s a yes.” Peter said confidently. “Because you love me.”

Tony’s eyes softened almost imperceptibly but Peter noticed it. “Sure do.” He confirmed, something Peter was pretty sure the pre-snap Tony never would’ve admitted, especially around other people, but this Tony was different. He was softer, gentler, more willing to share his emotions and show affection. Peter was still trying to adjust.

Tony ruffled his hair. “But don’t tell anyone I said so. I’ve got a reputation to maintain.”

Peter snorted. Ok, maybe he hadn’t completely changed.

#febuwhump2021 #febuwhump #irondad

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a-blue-secret · 3 years

Text

CHAPTER III

BACK TO MASTERLIST

Chapter II | Chapter III | Chapter IV

GENRES: royal au; fantasy au; magic au; friends-to-enemies-to-lovers; king!beomgyu, vizier!taehyun

PAIRING: taegyu

WARNINGS: none

WORD COUNT: 2.5k+

AN: Nothing that happens here will have a major impact in the long term, but it's important in helping you to get to know Beomgyu a little better.

SUMMARY: Best friends turned enemies, Kang Taehyun has managed to trick Choi Beomgyu into his service, and to rule for a year and a day, until his youngest brother would be old enough to take the throne. Choi Beomgyu has no intention of being obedient however, and tries to thwart Taehyun’s orders at every turn. With a growing amount of distrust and lies within the court, will Taehyun manage to keep the kingdom of Gojongja from falling apart?

Now. This story has been told from Taehyun's perspective for two whole chapters and a prologue, so let's switch it up a little shall we?

.・゜-: ✧ :-　　

Beomgyu glared daggers at his vizier's black coat tails as they whipped out of sight. He shook his head, sighing. Kang Taehyun was annoying, there was no doubt about that. But Beomgyu had to admit that he had a right to act like that. He knew he was being an absolute pain for the younger. But could he help it? No. Taehyun promised him he wouldn't have to come back to court, and yet here he was, ruling the very same court he vowed to never set foot in ever again. He should have known something was up when Taehyun wanted his service for a year and a day. He should have known. Well, Beomgyu presumed he wasn't thinking straight, because his ex-best friend had turned up at his door after three years of no communication. His common sense was bound to be clouded just a little by the sudden appearance of Taehyun.

Beomgyu glowered, shaking off any more thoughts of the younger. Taehyun had said going out to town was risky. Well Beomgyu was determined to prove him wrong.

"Seojung! You and the other guy- prepare me a carriage. I wanna go into town."

Seojung nodded, before hurrying off to find another footman. Beomgyu watched him go, before setting off back to his chambers. Just in case things did get a little violent, Beomgyu wanted to change into something more practical. He was quite fond of this ivory ruffled shirt, and didn't want it to become ruined.

.・゜-: ✧ :-　　

Beomgyu stared intently out of the carriage door as they rode through the streets. Now he properly thought about it, he hadn't truly been out of the castle in months.

Beomgyu peered at the fields they passed, noticing the diligent farmers working the land. As he poked his head out of the carriage to try and touch the branch of a tree as they passed it by, the carriage went over a pothole in the road, and he was suddenly knocked about, hitting his head on the top of the window frame. He let out a pained grunt, rubbing his head and retreating back into the safety of the carriage, grumbling about annoying coachmen. Though, it was actually his fault since he'd asked them to take the most secluded route, but that was just a small irrelevant detail that didn't need to be discussed.

When he deemed a road quiet enough to step out, he called to the coachman.

“Okay, stop here."

The carriage slowed, and one of the guards stepped off his horse to open the door for him. Beomgyu was slightly annoyed at the entourage of guards that were obligated to follow the carriage. He'd wanted this to be a low-key trip, but as the King, it seemed that he had to have several people follow him at all times.

Beomgyu stepped down into the streets, blinking slightly at the sun. They'd stopped in a quiet alleyway, where there were little people. He looked around him, took a few seconds to get his bearings, before setting off into the streets. Glancing behind him, he gave a slight huff of annoyance when he saw two guards trailing about three metres behind him.

Beomgyu, after Taehyun's words, had been prepared to be mobbed and crowded round as soon as he stepped into the public areas. However, much to his surprise, something else happened. Most people ignored Beomgyu. While it did feel rather strange to not be stared at, this oddly gave him comfort, as it made him feel like he’d returned to his old life again, instead of the extravagant palace life he now led. He looked around, and noticed why he was being ignored. There were lords even more extravagantly dressed than he was. Beomgyu scoffed a little as he saw a lord strut by, covered in shining golden fabric which caught the light as he walked. Beomgyu could immediately tell the fabric was nothing expensive, and smiled to himself.

He wandered around the streets, spotting the odd market stall every few houses or so. He stopped at one, and the lady managing the stall did a double take, before clumsily standing up to bow several times.

“Your Highness!” she stammered. “I- is there anything I can do for you?”

“Oh, nothing much,” Beomgyu said, smiling, gesturing for her to sit down. “But maybe, uh,” -he placed a finger on his lips- “about the Highness stuff? I’m not really meant to be out of the palace right now.”

“Of course,” the lady stuttered. He smiled at her, looking at the rice cakes a little wistfully. The castle had excellent chefs, but nothing beat the taste of homemade tteok. The woman saw him looking, and offered the rice cakes to him. “Would you like some?”

Now, it was Beomgyu’s turn to stammer in surprise. “I- I… would- would that be okay?”

She smiled, picking up one in a napkin. “If you would like, Your Greatness. I have not sold any all day, so they may be a little hard though.”

Beomgyu hesitated, before giving in and accepting the napkin. “Thank you,” he beamed. She bowed.

“It was my pleasure.” When he tried to offer her money, she shook her head. “Oh, I don’t need payment. It is payment enough for you to have come here.”

Beomgyu paused, but seeing the woman was firm, he sighed, putting away his money. “If you insist.” He looked around. “And if anyone asks, no I did not buy tteok from your stall. It’s a secret, okay?” He tapped the side of his nose and winked slightly, before calmly walking away.

He took a bite out of the tteok, and almost melted with happiness. It was a little hard, but it just made it taste even more real. Everything at the palace was too perfect. It all tasted as if it were manufactured to perfection. Beomgyu didn't know how Taehyun coped with it. He finished off the rice cake and dusted off his hands. One guard wordlessly stepped up to Beomgyu to take the napkin from him. Oh. He'd forgotten they were there. Beomgyu mentally shrugged. Oh well. They weren't that intrusive, now he thought about it. Perhaps they were okay.

He waited for the guards to catch up. When they didn’t, Beomgyu looked over his shoulder to find they were still in the same position, a few metres behind him. When he motioned for them to hurry up, they just stared stoically back at him. So this is how it is, huh? he thought, reluctantly turning around. Well.

He walked around the streets, receiving many shocked gasps from citizens who recognised him. For the most part, however, he was ignored, and it was completely fine by him.

.・゜-: ✧ :-　　

"Ooh." Beomgyu stopped at a stall, spotting a cool ruby brooch.

"Ah, you are interested sir?" the man spoke with a thick European accent. He must be a trader, coming over from other lands. "It is very precious, very precious. Lots of money."

Beomgyu picked up the brooch, running his fingers over the indentations and small ridges in the stone. It was beautiful, there was no doubt about it. "How much?" he asked the man.

"Uh…" The trader pointed to Beomgyu. "What money you have?"

"Huh?"

"You. Money. What money?"

"Oh, how much do I have?" When the man nodded, Beomgyu patted his pockets. "More than this is worth, I think."

The man took the brooch from Beomgyu, bringing it up to the light to squint at it. "This brooch, worth lots sir," he said. "Maybe…" He put the brooch down, and counted on his fingers. He frowned, thinking, before showing Beomgyu ten fingers. "Maybe more?"

Beomgyu smiled slightly. He was slightly confused as to what the trader meant, and tried to slowly back away. "It's very nice," he said, "but no thanks."

"Are you sure? Very pretty sir, it is very pretty."

Beomgyu shook his head politely before walking away. The man shrugged, and set the brooch down on his table, adjusting it until it was in just the right position.

.・゜-: ✧ :-　　

"What should I do?" Beomgyu wondered aloud, kicking up the sandy road as he walked. He looked behind him at the guards. "Wait, I just realised I don't know your name," he said to the other guy. He walked up to them, glad that they stayed still and didn't decide to step backwards. "You're Seojung, but I don't know who you are. What's your name?"

"Jisung, Your Greatness."

Beomgyu nodded. "That's cool. My mum was going to name me Jisung, you know. But,” he said, spinning around, looking around at the trees, “I suppose I quite like my name. Choi Jisung doesn’t sound as princely, does it?”

The two guards didn’t say anything, but Beomgyu, tired of being silent for so long, carried on talking.

“I can’t really talk so freely in court. Well, I still can’t talk freely out here, but in the palace all I do is just bicker with Taehyun.” He walked up to the tree, pulling down a branch slightly to smell the blossom. “It’s sad, really. We used to be best friends, but now we’re just like enemies. I really want us to be friends again, but…” Beomgyu sighed. “He’s betrayed me too much for me to think we can be close again.”

Beomgyu looked back at Seojung and Jisung. “Wait. I shouldn’t have told you that.” Beomgyu cursed in his head. They might be stoic and silent now, but he knew that they’d have no trouble gossiping about all they’d heard to the other guards. He thought for a moment. “Okay, there’s nothing else I can do. You guys are now promoted to my personal guards. From today onwards, you have no more contact with the lesser guards, and must discuss things with my other personal guards. I think I have two more? Yep. Bang Chan and Jung Inhyuk. And, since you’re now one of my personal guards, you have to talk to me.”

The two men looked at each other, before looking back at the King. No one had been promoted on such weird terms before. They both bowed. “Thank you, Your Greatness.”

“So! Where should we go?” Beomgyu mused aloud. “Do you know where we are? Come on, you’re allowed to speak. It’s fine.”

“I believe we are near the Hak-gil market, sire.”

“Hm… from here, I think I’ll actually be able to find the way to my house. Come on, let’s go.”

.・゜-: ✧ :-　　

“Ta da! Welcome to my humble cottage,” Beomgyu proudly announced to the guards who still stood a little ways away from him. His arms, which had been thrown wide, dropped to his sides. “Oh, come here will you?” None of them moved. Beomgyu sniffed. “Fine. But you’re still coming inside whether you like it or not.” He pushed open the gate, walking along the familiar path towards his front door, before smiling nostalgically at the mat.

Suddenly, he shook his head. Why was he getting sentimental over a mat? It hadn’t even been three months, for crying out loud. He sighed a little playfully to himself, before turning around to see the guards still standing on the other side of the gate. “Seriously?” he called to them. “This is literally like a game of ‘Red Light, Green Light’. Are you going to stay still? Or will I have to send you back to the beginning?” When his little joke received no response from the two men, he frowned. “Okay look, does anyone have the key to my home? I wanna go inside.” Neither of them moved. Beomgyu was growing a little frustrated by their lack of response.

“You know what? I command you to answer me,” Beomgyu said. “Do any of you have the key to my cottage?”

Finally, (finally!) Seojung shook his head. “No, sire.”

Beomgyu sighed sadly. He walked around to the side of the house, peering in through the window. He could see into his living room from here, and could make out the small table and his bookshelf packed tight full of books. When he squinted, he could make out the china tea cup resting on the table. On the day of the Crown Handing, he'd left the house in a rather messy state, because he thought he'd be able to come back to the house soon enough.

The plan had been simple. Go to the Crown Handing, crown Kang Junghoon, leave court to never come back. Only, he thought, things hadn't turned out to be that simple, had they? He smiled a little bitterly, staring intently at the teacup. And then, after he'd been (unwillingly) crowned, he'd been too busy alternatively sulking and preparing for his coronation. By the time he was King, asking to go back home to tidy it up seemed foolish.

Beomgyu straightened, before strolling around to the front door again. He walked up to it's duck egg blue front, spotting where the paint was forlornly beginning to peel off. Leaning down, he pressed his eye against the keyhole, like a child would do. There was nothing much in the front of his house, but it was a fun thing to do. He took his eye away from the keyhole and looked wistfully at the front door, before stepping away and walking back down the path. “Okay. Looks like we’re going back home.”

.・゜-: ✧ :-　　

Back at the palace, Beomgyu was walking to his chambers when he spotted Yeonjun. The Lord caught sight of the King, and came up to him and bowed.

"Your Greatness. Do you happen to know where the Grand Vizier Taehyun is?"

"A King, ignored in his own palace in favour of his advisor?" Beomgyu joked. "As of Kang Taehyun's whereabouts, I'm afraid I have no idea where he is. May I ask, why are you looking for him?"

"Oh, just to confirm a few details of the contract," Yeonjun explained. He bowed again. "Good day to you, Your Greatness." He was about to leave, when Beomgyu stopped him.

"Wait. Since one of the rules is for you to get us to trust you, do you want to start with that?"

Yeonjun hesitated. "Um, I suppose it depends what you have in mind?"

"Some archery, friendly fencing match, maybe a horse riding session? You look to me as if you are very athletic." Beomgyu raised his eyebrows, patiently waiting for Yeonjun's answer.

"Wouldn't your vizier disapprove of you not keeping to your schedule?"

"Pfft. My main goal in life is to annoy Taehyun so this works exactly in my favour. No but seriously, it's okay. I have no schedules today so I'm free to do whatever."

"In that case, I will gladly accept your offer, Your Greatness."

Beomgyu and Yeonjun began to walk off in the direction of the sports courtyard.

"Oh yeah, we're gonna have to do something about that if we want to get to know each other better. When there are no servants, you're going to have to just call me Beomgyu, and I'll just call you Yeonjun."

#court of lies #beomgyu #taegyu #taehyun #txt beomgyu #txt fanfic #txt taegyu #txt fluff #txt taehyun #txt angst #tomorrow by together #tomorrow x together

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black-streak · 4 years

Text

Waiting for the Worms - Comfortably Numb

Part 5

Warnings as always. This isn't terribly dark. Again, more informative, but a fun little lead up towards the future, so there's that. (Take note of the way Marinette describes her movements, it's not extremely important, but gives a little insight to her mind.)

(Closed list) People I've had on hold for a week: @northernbluetongue @thethirdwheelfriend @shizukiryuu @theatreandcomicfreak @michellemagic @karategirl119 @moonlightstar64 @my-name-is-michell @mystery-5-5 @zalladane @queen-of-the-trash-planet-tm @miraculousdisapointment @dorkus-minimus @jardimazul @allthebooksandcrannies @g-arya @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @persephonescat @mycupisbroken @luciferge @18-fandoms-unite-08 @dawnwave16 @alwaysreblogneverpost @kris-pines04 @mysteriouslyswimmingfan-blo-blog @weird-pale-blonde-person @you-will-never-know-how-i-think @kokotaru @naclychilli @slytherinhquinn @clumsy-owl-4178 @ladybug-182 @darkthunder1589 @evil-elf16 @dast218 @lysslovsanime @emilytopaz @naoryllis @iloontjeboontje @thepeacetea @danielslilangel @finallyaniguana @i-like-fairytail-and-stuff @vixen-uchiha @yuulxd @bleeding-heart-romantic @magic-inthe-stars @st0rmy-w1th1n

~---~

Sitting in a coma for a year was only mildly less terrible than sitting in a grave for however long.

On the one hand, Marinette was in a coma for a much longer period of time as far as she could tell. On the other, she was alive and could feel this body. Could hear the nurse read the newspaper to her, always announcing the date at the beginning of the visit. Sure, most of the news of this local area meant very little to her, but beggars can't be picky or whatever the saying was.

Still, nothing could possibly beat the feeling of waking up fully. As these eyes (Both! They both opened now!) took in the room, she decided to focus in on her nurse. Watching the little delicate movements and shifts and attempting to replicate them to ensure all her nerve endings still worked. That muscles, large and small, still responded to commands, nothing paralyzed or unresponsive. While every movement strained against itself, everything still worked to some extent. Weak, but there. It seemed laying mostly still for over a year and a however much longer had deteriorated the muscle mass. Not surprising, but annoying when she desperately wanted to work her body into a frenzy just to prove she could.

Laying there a little longer to take stock of healed over injuries, she came to the realization that this throat felt weird. She opened the mouth and attempted to ask the nurse, only for nothing to come out. Narrowing eyes, she reached out and gently tapped thin fingers on the nightstand next to the still reading nurse, drawing his attention to her.

Startled molten gold met her and suddenly he was up and taking the vitals, checking everything to be sure Marinette was truly awake and okay. He started speaking in a soothing, soft voice, though she could barely focus on the words enough to process them. Reaching out again, she stopped him midstep and then brought that same hand up to the throat to indicate the problem. She couldn't speak.

The man seemed to understand and nodded along, quickly paging a doctor and coming back to her, pressing a button to gently prop her up and slowly adjust a few machines before turning back and slowly asking a few basic yes or no questions.

Did she know who she was? Yes, she was Marinette, stuck in the once dead body of her soulmate. She shook to indicate she didn't. With the state of the grave, she doubted she would be welcomed back to the manor. Best not to let them know who Jason was and have them contacting Bruce.

Did she know where she was? A hospital. She gave a nod for that.

Did she know the date? Yes, the nurse had read the date every day for a little over a year now. That much was easy to agree to, despite the timeline confusing her.

Does she know what happened to her? Well yes, but she shook her head no. She couldn't very well explain dying by Joker's cruelty while in the wrong body as Robin and climbing out of a grave. That was like, three separate identity reveals to one stranger. It also made zero sense and she'd probably end up institutionalized.

With the knowledge that she understood him and wasn't brain dead, the man informed her of the various injuries she knew of, plus a few bonus ones that alluded her. Then, he mentioned her inability to speak.

While all of the breaks and bruising had healed up well, the damage to the vocal chords had been horrific and while they did their best, the damage was done. They couldn't even remove them without it potentially cutting off her airway or esophagus.

She was effectively mute.

Marinette finally woke up after a year in a coma and however long in that grave and she still couldn't scream to her heart's content. This was stupid.

All she could do was glare off into space, ignoring the doctor that came in to do a checkup.

…

After a week they took her off feeding tubes and IV only hydration and started reintroducing a liquid diet. Progress was slow and painful, but necessary.

After another two weeks they brought in soft solids like pudding and oatmeal. This is also when they first tried to help her stand up a little on her own and fine motor control was finally stable enough to write short phrases on a white bored. Rehabilitation was turning out to be an annoyingly long process.

After a month in this place, she finally left her room for the first time and abruptly realized they transferred her to a children's hospital at some point. It made sense. Jason was about fifteen when she died for him and small due to his time on the streets. Stunted growth, likely. They probably assumed she was about fourteen right now, despite the year technically making them sixteen. Even then, it would make the cutoff for a children's facility.

The bright colors across the walls and floors jarred her a bit after the nothing of so long, but was a welcome change. She tried not to glare at the little sick kids running about as she wheeled slowly along corridors, not quite able to walk on these stick thin legs.

Reports of a child John Doe had been filed, but no one really looked at those that hadn't lost their kid, so no one who would recognize Jason ever saw his report. She would be here a while. At least until she recovered enough to be considered okay for discharge. Then she would be put into the system as an orphan. She had no intention of staying long enough to see that through.

Jason and her had taken to the streets before and would thrive out there more than in any foster home they could find her. For now, she would settle back and allow the recovery process to take control.

…

Or so she thought. She'd only been awake for a little over a month, but she guessed the file must've been put through when she first came in to try and find his guardian. Someone, somewhere, recognized Jason Todd.

Whoever they were sold the information to Talia Al Ghul.

The woman came in the middle of the night and stole Marinette away. With this weak body and useless voice box, struggling didn't even seem like an option.

Where would it get her, anyways? Dropped off a rooftop and possibly stuck in a grave again? Talia could kill her again and she wouldn't stand a chance in defending herself. Marinette was not willing to take that chance, so she stayed complacent in her kidnapping.

Talia asked many questions of her, curious as to the state of her new play thing. She had to have known that Jason was supposed to be dead. Marinette didn't bother with paying the questions any attention. It's not like she could respond and she felt hesitant to reveal the inability. She worried over what Talia would do upon finding out the extent of the damage. Would keeping Jason be worth it to her?

Either way, she sensed the ever festing frustration in the older woman with every passing inquiry left unanswered. The look in her eyes spoke of a willingness to torture the information out of her.

Good luck with that.

At the same time, what could Marinette possibly lose at this point. She already died once and had no home to return to. The once ever present tug in her mind was long gone and hadn't returned with her resurrection. She already lost Jason and her old life. If she actually died again by Talia's hand, would it kill her as well by this point? The body was as good as hers what with the lost connection. Either she could either actually die in it now or she was immortal. When it came to it, with no connection or way to truly live on or track down her past life, she had nothing left to fear.

Eventually she came to a decision. Looking up at the woman before her, she lifted a hand to point to the throat and quickly made a slashing motion across it, which Talia immediately nodded in understanding at. She left for a moment only to drop into the seat across the way again and drop a notebook and pen between them. Marinette picked it up and slowly wrote out a phrase.

'Vocal Chords destroyed.'

Talia only nodded and gestured to continue.

'Long coma, deteriorated muscles. Not much function.'

"And coming back from the dead? How'd that happen?"

Marinette only shrugged. She truly didn't have an answer. Luckily that seemed sufficient an answer.

"Your brain is fully functional though. I can see how closely you're watching me. Waiting and observing. Not nearly as reckless as your past actions made you out to be. Perhaps dying has that affect though."

Marinette only watched silently as Talia mulled the thought over.

"And the damage otherwise?"

'Mostly healed over. Weakened though.'

The following conversation continued much the same. Talia asked questions and either answered them herself or waited for a short response in return. It didn't take long to get the full extent of the situation hashed out. Talia seemed to regard her with an excited gleam now and reassured her that that could all be fixed. Not to worry, the process only hurt a little. In the end, 'Jason' would feel all better.

Marinette wasn't sure exactly how to respond to this news. Yes, the promise of healing faster and possibly regaining her voice was a tempting offer, but in the end, she knew the woman wanted something from her. The price of health would be steep, of that she seemed sure. Again, she couldn't help but wonder what her alternatives were. This would happen whether or not she consented. Might as well make it feel like she had some control over the situation, if only for the comfort it lent her. She gave a jerky nod and watched the woman's smile grow.

Letting this head loll to the side, Marinette blanked out on everything else, falling into a restless sleep for the duration of their journey to wherever they were going.

…

Over the next few weeks, she woke up in random locations, being carted off into a hotel and up towards their rooms. She was never allowed to leave the room or do much more than eat and drink and use the restroom. It was similar to how she imagined prisoners lived, only in nicer conditions. Talia, while adjusted to live in any conditions, preferred to live luxuriously after all. And it wouldn't do to have a random, half dead kid following her around, raising questions all the time. Marinette couldn't truly blame her for that. She remained hidden.

…

At the end of their travels, she followed Talia out of the final hotel room and out into a cab. The cab dropped them off at a seemingly random location only for the two to walk out into the dessert. She wouldn't be surprised if that cab was only a front for the league. They walked for well over an hour, Marinette lucky to have healed enough to walk so long, even though it started to wear her down after the first thirty minutes, only determination to not be left behind moving her forward.

Talia must've stolen her without informing anyone else of her intentions. Otherwise, she's sure they would've taken a more direct and less discreet route. As it was, they reached a cave entrance and made their way down and down until eventually they begin to veer down different paths, Talia disabling traps as they went.

Eventually they reached an opening into a glowing green room, the glow emitting from a massive pool in the center. Something about the place set her on edge. The glow reminding her of Plagg's toxic green eyes and letting off what had to be a magical aura. Talia smiled down at her in a reassuring manner, putting a hand to the small of this body, nudging her forward.

Calculating the risk, it seemed her best bet to go along with the woman's plan. Talia would want her alive, so surely this wouldn't kill her. Plus, Talia seemed sincere in her promise of healing this body up and Marinette might as well be a walking lie detector at this point. The woman meant her every word. Taking a deep breath, she only hoped this magic would accept her as well as the miraculouses had.

Hovering a foot over the pool, she hesitated only a moment before remembering Kagami's advice from all those years ago. Hesitation had never helped her before and had no place here. Blinking, she nodded and let herself drop down into the pit.

#ml x dc #maribat #jasonette #WFTW #part 5 #mightve been sitting on this for a week on accident #my bad

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volganic · 3 years

Text

Song of Awakening

[part 1] [part 2] [part 3] [part 4] [part 5] [part 6] [part 7] [part 8] || [AO3] || [discord]

i didnt mean to take two months to update but ive been playing among us and now i have ideas for an among us au that i’ll never write

“I have to go back to the woods!”

“Absolutely not.”

They spent the better half of the morning bickering with each other: Link needed to complete his mission — the sole reason for leaving the castle — and Volga wouldn’t allow it. The dragon argued he was unconvinced that Link’s grief had fully passed for his fallen comrades; a wandering mind would only land him into more trouble if he wasn’t careful. Pinks and oranges of the early dawn bled into blue, and Link was growing impatient with Volga’s stubbornness. He folded his arms and stared the dragon down.

“I’m going back.”

“I won’t allow it.”

“I’m flattered that you think I need your protection, but I really don’t,” Link huffed. “If I don’t finish my tasks in Faron Woods, even you can’t protect me from the general’s wrath.”

“I would never keep you from your duties as the hero, but you are no hero yet,” Volga snapped. He rose from his seat with his spear in hand, drawing closer to take his turn to intimidate his smaller companion. “One Manhandla sapling is of no danger to you or your army — let it sprout. You are lying. There’s nothing in those woods for you except another death wish.”

The Hylian refused to listen, bristling in his spot. “That’s where you’re wrong, Volga. There’s something else in there too, and after I kill the sapling, I’m going to find it.”

“Then I shall accompany you—”

“No!” Link put his foot down to interrupt Volga from spouting out another excuse or insult. “I can handle it alone from here. If I can’t do it, it only goes to show that maybe I’m not worth bearing the Triforce. I have to prove myself worthy.”

Their eyes fell downward to Link’s gauntlet. Where Link might have considered the outcome of his last venture into the woods as cowardice, Volga saw it as means to survive. The Triforce was a sign of status; if this was how Link wanted to prove (to nobody but his goddesses) himself as worthy, Volga could allow it.

The spear in his grip slackened. With a grumble, he spoke. “Very well. If it puts your mind at ease, I will honor your decision.”

Link’s posture relaxed as his face broke into a sheepish smile. Maybe he’d win a lot of arguments from this point on if he used this excuse. He adjusted the holster holding his blade behind his back. “I’ll hold you to it; don’t think I forgot how you managed to sneak up on me last time.”

Volga turned away and grunted in response.

“Hey now,” the Hylian approached, placing a tentative hand on Volga’s arm, “I appreciate all you’ve done for me, but I also need supplies from the village below. As much as I like suffocating against your dragon body at night, I think I can manage a night of sleep with a decent bedroll!” Volga shot him a glare. Link smiled a bit wider, but his expression softened. “In all seriousness, thank you. You’re really a great friend.”

Link gave the dragon’s limb a quick and gentle squeeze — a wordless promise to return when his mind was clear.

——

The sun had yet to reach its highest point when the Hylian managed to enter the deepest part of the grove. The environment was serene, peaceful — a little too quiet for his liking. There were dangerous creatures that lived in these woods, he knew, and to not even hear the song of a bird or the buzz of an insect’s wings through the air perturbed him. The only sounds that reached his ears were the leaves rustling against the breeze with the occasional sound of twigs and gravel being crushed under his boots.

The wooden bridge that led to an old Hyrulean outpost creaked underneath his weight, threatening to give out from the lack of use. It was useful back when he and Impa had led their small brigade when they had first encountered Lana, but the lack of upkeep since those few months had left the fortress withered and decaying, succumbing to the depths of the forest. Even if it had been months ago, the magic that lived in this place left it looking as if it hadn’t been used in centuries.

Careful to cross the bridge through the other side of the outpost and to another keep, Link found what he was looking for — sort of. A Manhandla sapling in bloom lay in the center of the clearing where sunlight could seep through the branches overhead. Upon closer inspection, Link found that the bud itself had been ripped cleanly out of the plant. He took his sword in hand and approached it even closer, leery of finding it in hiding. The tip of his blade poked and prodded and turned the leaves over to find any evidence of the carnivorous creature.

From the looks of it, either someone had done his job for him, killing the Manhandla sprout — or someone was bold enough to pluck it while in its sapling stage and grow it elsewhere.

While he was no botanist, the Hylian knew that it had to come to either of those outcomes; Manhandla in its sprouting stages weren’t mobile yet at this size. His mouth fell into a puzzled frown. Mission accomplished? As an added measure, Link staked the tip of the Magical Sword into the ground underneath where the Manhandla should have been, uprooting it from the earth. It wouldn’t hurt to make sure there's no chance of another one growing in its place, he thought, covering his nose and mouth with the folds of his scarf as his heels dug into and tore the leaves of the plant, cautious of its toxic dust.

Now it was mission accomplished.

——

The doors to the fairy fountain deep were heavy as Link pushed them to open. Clearly they haven’t been used since Farore knows when, kudzu and overgrowth nearly sealing the doors shut. If it weren’t for his sense of direction leading him astray from the forest path, fear of getting lost in these mysterious woods, and the crumbling staircase leading him there, he would’ve never found it.

The air inside the fountain was... different. It smelled wet, but held a crisp clean air about it as if unbothered by time outside of its doors, even with the scuffle with evil forces not so long ago. The Hylian tentatively stepped inside with sword in hand, half-expecting to be ambushed by something. Or someone. He couldn’t shake the feeling of someone watching him as he moved to the middle of the room, watching for any shadows that moved behind the stained glass window on the fountain’s wall. When there was no promise of a threat, Link sheathed his weapon and approached the edge of the fountain. Despite the withered and crumbling rock around the edge, numerous flowers floated across the water as if they were freshly picked.

Strange, he thought. Rumor had it that the Great Fairies often made themselves known to those of pure in mind and soul – something he would definitely argue he possessed. His ears picked up the faintest echo of a woman laughing, but paid it no mind – whoever it was, she was too far away for him to consider her an immediate threat. Delicately Link splashed his hand in the water, pulling some of the flowers toward his direction. The tips of his fingers barely grazed its petals before the water in the fountain began bubbling.

Uh oh.

Link staggered backwards as a torrential wave of water erupted from the shallow water of the fountain. An infectious and jovial laugh assaulted his ears and a large shadow obscured the streaks of sunlight that poured the window. He felt dazed for only a moment, clothing soaking wet from the eruption and the water that dripped from the ceiling before he lay witness to a rather giant woman now in front of him. She studied him with a sultry eye and hummed pleasantly.

“O, hero of Hyrule,” she cooed, beckoning him with a manicured finger, “come into my fountain! Don’t be shy.”

His face flushed in embarrassment with the sudden realization that this was the Great Fairy. He never expected her to be not only outrageously “tall”, but voluptuous and seductive; the stories he had heard from merchants who had set up shop outside of the castle walls about the fairies did her no justice. Link pushed himself up and brushed off any rubble (he had to look at least somewhat decent in front of a lady) and obeyed, stepping over the edge of the fountain into its cool waters. Immediately whatever worry that lingered in his body seemed to wash away much more effectively than the springs on Death Mountain.

“What brings you here, my hero?” The Great Fairy invited him to sit closer to her. Link inched over and brought his hands up to sign. She leaned forward and delicately pushed his hands down. “There’s no need for that,” she winked. “I know what gifts the goddesses have bestowed upon you, and your secret is safe with me.”

He opened his mouth to argue, but quickly quashed it. Inhale, exhale. “How do you know about it?”

“Oh, my love,” she laughed cheerfully, “I know many things. I might be the closest thing to Hylia herself! It’s a wonder that people pray and come to me for guidance.” The Fairy stretched out on her stomach, hovering only inches above the water and giving her undivided attention to her guest. “I know that the guardian of Eldin is the one to have awakened your divine gift, and that he is keeping a close eye on you as your mentor. I can only hope that he continues to treat you well.”

Link sighed wearily at the mention of his friend — Volga would have easily objected to coming into any fairy fountain. “He does… in his own way.” A pause. “Do you know anything more about him?”

The Great Fairy chuckled softly. “That I am not inclined to say, dear hero.” Link then decided she knew more than she was letting on if she knew that they were friends in the first place. “You’ve come to seek me for guidance, have you not?” she asked, changing the subject. “How may I be of service?”

“Do you know anything about the witch, Cia? And Lana? What are their goals? What can I expect?” The Great Fairy cupped her hand under the water to slowly pour it over his head, sensing his unease. Nervously, he rubbed the back of his neck, shivering with the feeling of the cool water trickling down his collar as it alleviated his nerves slightly to prepare him for any life-changing revelations. “Do you think I’m prepared enough to take the role of the legendary hero?”

“My love,” she began, “I offer guidance and assistance, not opinions or visions of the future. I cannot tell you exactly what you must do to fully prepare yourself for the coming battle. I will be here to assist you when you need me the most in your most dire hour. What the goddesses have intended for you is out of my control. Your fate is in their hands.”

Link feared for the worst, expression growing downcast with the answers he was given. “However,” she interrupted, “I can tell you that it is more than admirable that you have come so far in your ordeals. You make a fine hero as you are now. I have no doubt that you will do only the best for Hyrule… even if you are grounded on his mountain.” She winked, her pink lips spreading into a sincere smile. Link could only smile back feeling how infectious hers was.

“Thank you.”

“Always a pleasure,” she purred, reaching out to affectionately prod his cheek. The Great Fairy then rolled onto her back, dramatically throwing an arm over her face. “You must go now if there’s nothing more I can do to assist you, as much as I’d love to keep you here for myself. Your soul is bound to another, after all.”

Link felt his cheeks burn with the thought that the Great Fairy – the Great Fairy! – had found him appealing, but shook those thoughts out of his mind. Of course, legend always had found the hero bound to the princess. At least, it always presented itself that way. It wasn’t a destiny he would have personally chosen for himself, as he hasn’t had much interaction with Princess Zelda in the first place, but if the goddesses dictated it, so be it. As long as he served for Hyrule, he would serve for her. He stood silently and stepped out of the fountain with that in mind.

“You will find your other half in the most unlikely of times, my love — in fact, you might have found it already!” she exclaimed suddenly when Link neared the entrance. He blinked and turned to look at her to ask what she meant, but she cut him off. “Please, do not hesitate to come see me again. It gets awfully lonely here.”

The Great Fairy made her exit with a dive and a splash into the short pool of water, laughing all the while. Link turned away to save himself from getting drenched again, finding that the woman was indeed gone, nothing but freshly picked flowers and a few silent fairies fluttering over the water’s edge in her wake.

——

“Massster! Human isss back! He bringsss thingsss!”

Volga turned away from the ores he had been attending to when the sound of the younger Lizalfos scouts pattering after their chieftain echoed off the rock walls. Their arms were filled with items that definitely had no place in his caves. He grumbled at the sight; Link might have been simple at first glance, but the items he had gathered in excess proved that he was going to be a pain in Volga’s side.

“Where is he now?”

“Bottom of mountain! Climbing ssslowly!”

“He may be a friend to our clan, but he will not treat you like his dogs,” he scowled, gesturing for them to drop whatever items Link had pushed onto them to the side. The scouts obeyed without a second wasted while their chieftain apprehensively drew to Volga’s side.

“He asssk nicely. We help.”

“The boy is more capable of carrying his own rubbish up the mountain.” Volga’s frown remained. The chieftain stood patiently for any more orders. The dragon released a drawn out sigh and waved his kin away. “You have my leave to go. I will take care of the rest.”

With the clear dismissal, the chieftain scurried off further into the chambers of the caves, leaving Volga with his hoard of ores — and Link’s hoard of belongings. The dragon turned to the discarded items with a look of disgust. He left his own pile to sift through Link’s things; what on earth could he possibly need? Underneath the pile of clothes including his green tunic, there were a number of small bottles of potions, larger flasks of fragrant soups and broth, a few rupees here and there, a mirror — useless, useless things!

“What are you doing?”

Volga turned back to the entrance of the cavern. Link stood there with an incredulous expression having caught the dragon red-handed going through his things. He looked so different outside of his uniforms, clad only in a longer sleeved shirt that made him look like someone he wasn’t: someone lost; someone vulnerable; someone who shouldn’t be within his domain. Volga carelessly tossed the small mirror back into the pile. “You’re able to handle yourself, so why, I wonder, you use my kin to transport your rubbish up the mountain, I’m curious. Clearly it wasn’t worth the time.”

Link’s mouth formed a small frown. “If I’m offered help, I’m not gonna turn it down.” He pushed the sleeves up of his shirt up to his elbows and pushed through Volga to tend to the bottles. As callous as they were treated, none of them were broken. “I could have brought more, you know.”

“Essentials, I understand and commend you for. The mirror, however, is excessive.”

“Old habits die hard,” said the Hylian with a small hum in his voice. “I like mirrors. Appearances are important to keep up within the castle walls: I can’t act my part as a captain if I don’t look like one.” Carefully he picked up the round mirror and looked himself over in it. He couldn’t bring himself to look for too long; his hair was in disarray and dark circles began to form around his eyes from lack of proper sleep or rest; the exact opposite image of a hero.

“If you have the strength to uphold your title, appearances mean nothing. As battered and broken as you look now, I’m well aware of what you are capable of.” The dragon strode back over to his own belongings, taking one long glance at the ores in their respective pails. He had more than enough to trade. “It’s well into the evening. You need to rest.”

Link nodded in agreement. “I also told you I’d bring my own bedroll. The caves are a little warm for me, and it’s not too cold out—”

“Sleeping outside?” Volga asked. “To leave yourself exposed? I think not.”

“You’re free to follow if you want, but I’ve already made up my mind,” Link announced, pulling his scarf tighter around his neck and tucking his bundle underneath his arm as he made his way back outside. The rest of his belongings wouldn’t move anywhere. It took a good amount of restraint not to laugh when he heard Volga’s heavy footsteps following him a few paces away, but that didn’t stop him from smiling at his companion when he found a decent spot to settle down. “I take it you’ve never slept outside of the caves?”

“Why would I?” he bit back, crossing his arms over his chest to brave himself from the gentle breeze tickling his cheek. The temperature wasn’t at its lowest yet; Link really was a fool if he thought only a blanket and scarf were enough. “They offer all the protection you could need.”

“That’s true, but only if you’re either a dragon or have the means to survive in the heat.” Even with the fireshield earrings, the caves provided a little too much warmth. Waking up feeling uncomfortably sticky from sweat wasn’t necessarily pleasant. “I’ve never thanked you properly for the earrings before, but you nearly burned my ear off when I had the chance. So thanks for that, too.” Link’s face twisted into a pout at the memory, but it didn’t stop him from patting the grass next to him to invite the dragon closer. “At least here outside you can see the sky.”

“And that leaves you exposed to the elements, too, boy,” Volga said with a tone that clearly painted him as annoyed. Regardless, Link took satisfaction when the dragon made an effort to humor him by taking the spot next to him at least an arm’s length away. The dragon removed his helmet and held it to his chest as he laid down. It felt strange being so close to home, yet so far away, left vulnerable to the bitter cold that crept underneath every crevice of his armor. A puff of smoke left his lips to try and regulate his body temperature. The sound of Link shuffling around in his bedroll couldn’t drown out his amusement. “Is there something you find funny?”

“No.” Though the scarf around his neck concealed most of the Hylian’s face, it was obvious that he was lying. Volga held his stare, but turned away when it was clear that Link wasn’t going to budge. This was stupid. He couldn’t fathom why he continued to play in Link’s games, but he never had also expected to take him under his wing. It was like an itch he couldn’t scratch, but keeping Link so close seemed to soothe it, and, despite the immaturity he displayed more often than he should, the Hylian was slowly fitting into his hero role. That enough was satisfactory.

“Have you ever been to the village below?”

Volga’s eyes remained closed. “No. I have no interest in mingling among those beneath me.”

“Do you even have friends?” Link propped himself up on his arms. “And before you say your scouts or chieftains, they don’t count. I mean anyone outside your tribe.”

“I have you,” Volga said, “but sometimes I wonder if I’ve made a poor choice in keeping you as a friend.” He tilted his head and cracked an eye open, knowing full well that his comment would strike a nerve. In a huff, Link turned over and pulled the covers up to his ears. It was Volga’s turn to laugh quietly. “I have you, and I have ties with the Goron Patriarch. I wouldn’t have as grand of a collection without him.”

“Alright, I’ll give you that one.” Link turned onto his back. “It wouldn’t hurt to expand your horizons. I heard that merchants are supposed to stop by and trade in the village tomorrow.”

“I’d rather not. They have nothing I could possibly want.”

“Now you’re just being a killjoy, Volga.” Link chided with a yawn. “How old are you, anyway?”

“Enough.”

“Oh, come on—”

“No,” he interrupted, “I mean to say ‘I’m old enough’. I doubt you would believe me should I reveal my true age to you, which is why ‘enough’ should be a sufficient answer.” Volga let the words hang in the air for a moment for Link to absorb it, followed by, “You should be resting, boy, not spewing whatever thoughts are bouncing around in your mind with answers you can’t comprehend. With your duties to your army fulfilled, we resume ours in the morning.”

“One more question?” Before being given the chance to be shot down, the Hylian asked, “What’s your favorite color?”

The dragon remained silent. Of all things, that’s what he wanted to know? Whether it was out there to annoy him, or purely out of innocence, Volga didn’t know — and didn’t know how to answer it himself. As a dragon, instinct had told him to curb the favoritism to ward off those with prying eyes, as thieves were around every bend to steal whatever he coveted most. As for favorites, he realized then he didn’t have many — a favorite weapon? A favorite meal? A favorite song? — much less narrowed down to a specific color. He lived in a world painted in reds and oranges and yellows and greens with splashes of golds and silvers and a bioluminescent blue, but none of it appealed to him.

Volga craned his neck to look back at Link, unsure of how to answer and unsure of how Link would react, only to find that either he had taken too much time mulling over his response, or the Hylian was more exhausted than they had initially thought. Link had succumbed to the fierce grip of sleep. Under the covers of his bedroll, Volga could see Link’s chest rising and falling, his breaths light and evenly spaced; finally at peace. Without the expanse of the ocean staring back at him waiting expectantly for an answer, clarity had struck through Volga, and he knew his answer. The words poured out just above a whisper:

“I’m fond of the color blue.”

#hyrule warriors #volink #YEAAAAAA #fic

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dramarising-replacement · 4 years

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Re: https://dramarising-replacement.tumblr.com/post/617916922335543296/so-ive-had-a-subspecies-since-september-i-noticed

TL;DR: Things are fishier than they seem, and M might actually be more of a thief than SB. At the very least, M 100% falsely accused SB of theft; at the worst, M stole SB’s idea and went on an editing spree to cover their tracks.

I don't have a tumblr so usually commenting on posts here is more trouble than it's worth, but I just have to on this one for some reason. Maybe it's because I think the entire concept of “subspecies” is stupid, maybe it's because thanks to a namedrop I could easily dig everything up... but from what I found the drama OP (M) definitely seems shady. Brace yourselves, my salty friends, for an unnecessarily long deep-dive into stupid drama (because what else are you going to spend quarantine doing?).

First, let's take a look at the timeline.

According to the original post date, the drama OP (M) created their subspecies in Dragon Share on September 13 2019. The thread has moderate activity levels up (~2 week post gaps max) until December 13 2019, when it apparently dies (barring any ghost bumping of course). The next post on the thread is made May 11 2020, when M suddenly becomes active again. M also created a new subspecies thread in Dragon Share on May 9 2020 at 13:05 FR (exact times will become relevant later on); it seems the posts were filled in with edits made within the next couple days, as is standard. Also of note is the fact that many of M’s posts in their original thread have edits made May 9 2020 from 10:39-13:27 FR (this will be key); additionally, a majority of these edits are made on posts that contain the guidelines for the subspecies- not sales, affiliates, pinglists, etc. that would require any sort of update.

The “accused” in this case (SB) created their hatchery thread in Dragons For Sale on December 24 2019. Aside from sales/affiliate posts, no edits to the main hatchery posts were made since December 29 2019 (likely filling in from a structure laid out 5 days prior), except for on March 19 2020, when it looks like they might have converted how they list dragons for sale to be linked to a tab instead of posted/adjusted g:t ratio. In any case, I believe these particular edits do not really play a big role on the overall timeline and drama, same as M's edits on their new thread. For a user that describes themselves as “barely active”, they do a decent job at bumping posts, with ~1 week between bumps except for 2 spans of ~1 month: from Feb-Mar, and after a short bout of bumping, from Mar-Apr.

The drama begins when M makes their post on SB’s hatchery thread May 09 2020 at 10:10 FR, which is edited less than a minute later (maybe a typo correction?). So here’s the timeline all pieced together:

September 13, 2019 – M creates the subspecies

December 13, 2019 – M seemingly goes inactive on their thread

December 24, 2019 – SB creates their hatchery thread

peace, until…

May 09, 2020 @10:10 – M accuses SB of “stealing” their idea on SB’s hatchery thread

May 09, 2020 @10:39 – M edits their subspecies requirement post

May 09, 2020 @13:05 – M creates a new subspecies thread

May 09, 2020 @13:14 – M edits their old subspecies main post

May 09, 2020 @13:21 – M edits a post about ‘Queen’ variant(?) requirements on their old thread (Important)

May 09, 2020 @13:27 – M edits a post showing examples of ‘Queen’ variants on their old thread (Important)

~BONUS~ May 12, 2020 – people start defending M on SB’s hatchery thread. The posts weren’t exactly the nicest, so who knows if they’ll still be around by the time this gets out of the queue

Ok, I know what you’re all thinking- what does all this mean? How is this shady?? For that, we will have to dive a bit more into the content of the posts to put some context to that timeline; but first, let’s take a look at the threads and see if the theft accusation is accurate.

M’s old subspecies thread:

Messy layout/design. Links are left as ugly long URLs, but most importantly… there is no consistency on what the subspecies design is! In the main post, no colors are listed, but the genes are specified to be Slime/Lionfish, Sludge/Bee, and Capsule. In their next post on the subspecies requirements, genes are listed as Slime, Sludge/Bee, Capsule- no Lionfish to be found! Color specifications are kept vague, with only a Honey tert required, though they do also lay out 4 specific named variations using Amber/Amber, Amber/Gold, Lemon/Gold, and Lemon/Lemon. The post with the ‘Queen’ requirements lists genes of Slime/Hex/Capsule, with no colors specified except for the same 4 variants made earlier.

M’s new subspecies thread:

Still a work in progress, but looks to be pretty much identical to the previous thread; the only main change is that banner is replaced with an original (credited!!) logo (good job on that, M). The main post specifies genes of Slime, Sludge/Bee, and Capsule. The color rule examples post contain the subspecies and the ‘Queen’ variant (Slime/Hex/Capsule), and include some additional variants as well- ‘Crystallized’ (Bee sec), ‘Wasp’ (Lionfish prim), Pollenators[sic] (Glimmer tert), and ‘Hornets’ (Pinstripe/Sludge/Glimmer).

So if you’ve been paying attention, M’s ~super special unique subspecies~ has color requirements of “anything honey-like” (while also having 4 specific color combinations) and a combination of random genes in addition to the “official” genes thanks to the addition of “variants” that have nothing to do with the original Slime/Sludge/Capsule premise. The only consistency seems to be Honey tert.

SB’s hatchery thread:

Aside from some hard-to-read colors used, has nice formatting. Lists 6 pairs, which are strictly either Amber/Amber or Grapefruit/Grapefruit, with a small range of matching terts for each pair (not necessarily encompassing Honey). 5 pairs give primarily Slime/Hex (+small gem gene chance), and 1 is Slime/Sludge. As far as terts go, 2 have terts weighted towards Capsule, 1 is Capsule/Runes, 1 is Opal/Glimmer, and 1 is Glimmer. So primarily Slime/Hex/assorted, in an xxy Amber/Grapefruit+assorted.

So to put that all together:

M’s claim of subspecies “theft” would really ONLY pertain to their ‘Queen’ variant, not their main subspecies (only 1 of SB’s pairs has a 50% chance at making M’s subspecies). In addition, the range built into SB’s pairs violate the only seemingly consistent rule of M’s subspecies: a Honey tert. The only argument for “theft” would pertain to the gene combo of Slime/Hex, which appears in 5 of SB’s pairs and M's ‘Queen’ variant (though again, SB’s pairs do not have the right tert color/gene most of the time!).

Now, do you remember that timeline? After accusing SB of “stealing” their idea (presumably for the ‘Queen’ variant), what did M immediately do? They went back to their thread and specifically edited the posts pertaining to the requirements for the subspecies and the ‘Queen’ variant! It’s theoretically even possible that the ‘Queen’ variant didn’t even formally exist when SB made their hatchery- all the dragons mentioned/posted in M’s thread are the standard Slime/Sludge/Capsule subspecies, and 3 of the registered dragons of the ‘Queen’ variant were bred in January (well after SB started their hatchery), with 1 other dragon acquired from untraceable sellers at some point (likely around the same time as it is the parent of the other 3). You might even say that perhaps M “stole” the idea for the ‘Queen’ from SB… M also posted the proof themselves in the OP that they use shady edits to change the narrative in their favor- SB specifically mentions this in the screenshots after calling out M for removing their link, who then backs it up by claiming they were “project” dragons; yet M placed them in the “Completed breeders” tab, which was hastily edited to now include “Breeders that need gene alterations”, a shady move that SB commented on and M decided to post proof of for some reason lol.

So if this is true, and M accused SB of stealing their idea, then raced to edit their posts to create a narrative to justify their claims… why would they do it? My theory is simple: an honest mistake combined with jealousy. There are only 12 registered dragons listed on both the old and new subspecies threads, half of which are owned by M. On the other hand, SB’s hatchery lists 22 dragons sold, only 1 of which is exalted. Now I don’t know anything about hatcheries, but I think that is a decent amount for just under 5 months of sales, especially when taking into account the periods of seeming inactivity. I think that M either went on hiatus or forgot/gave up on the subspecies back in December, before SB created their hatchery. SB then created their hatchery, using similar (but definitely not the same!) ideas. Time passed, and one day when browsing the sale forum M comes across SB’s thread. Seeing SB’s hatchery have the popularity they never had, combined with poor memory of the details of their subspecies after such a long time had passed, M comments mistakenly accusing SB of theft. However, not long after they find their old thread, and realize that SB isn’t at all copying their Slime/Sludge/Capsule xxy Amber-ish/Honey, and rush to make the edits needed to tidy up their claims. In the process, they quickly realize it’d be best to just start a new thread altogether, as the current thread was a mess and had no more reserved space past the ‘Queen’ variant (which may have been reserved/lore space before M covered their tracks). Far less sinisterly, perhaps M continued their subspecies idea after abandoning the thread, and after accusing SB they realized that they never actually officially updated their subspecies.

But who’s to say? There might not be a smoking gun one way or the other, but there’s enough circumstantial evidence to say M doesn’t look as innocent as they sound. As far as SB’s response, it was definitely out of line and way too harsh. But you’ve also gotta admit you’d be pretty peeved if you had been peacefully minding your own business for months and suddenly someone comes in out of the blue, wrongfully accuses you of being a thief, demands you give them credit for all your hard work, then proceeds to buy your dragons to make them part of their “rightful” hatchery, erasing any mention of you as just another slap in the face. From looking at the dragons they’ve sold, SB doesn’t really seem to care what happens to them- genes have been changed, links have been removed, no drama that I can see. It really seems like they are reacting more to M’s shadiness over the whole deal than anything else. That said, nobody likes being namecalled, so SB’s parting remark wasn’t right even if they were wrongly accused of theft.

#Drama #Flight Rising #Genes #Long post #Shady #Petty #Forums #User #submission

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jawritter · 4 years

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Gifted Hands

Part 2 (complete)

Request: That surgeon Jensen story was so amazing. Bless the anon who requested that & bless you for writing it😂 reading that I had idea, if you could write another Jensen story, maybe it could be the reader having a major surgery and she is scared so Jensen being her surgeon prepping her from like a month? He stays with her while anaesthesia and then takes care of her? Oh oh, you can maybe add some funny, embarrassing moments, like catheter? That sounded weird but it would make an interesting story😂

Pairing: Surgeon!Jensen x Reader

Word Count: 3460

Warnings: Smut, unprotected sex, fingering, a little anal play (very light), suggestive squirting, probably language some where. I think that’s it.

If you missed part 1 you can read it here!!

Gifted Hands Pt. 1

Want more? Check out my masterlist:

*******MASTERLIST*******

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One month. One month of doctors appointments, one month of x rays, one month of hip readjustments to find out where you needed to be. Then there was the blood work, the test, the stress of knowing you have a fairly major surgery coming, and you were not looking forward to it. In fact you had it marked as `D-Day '' on your calendar.

One month of trying to catch up on as much work as you could, and sell as many paintings and things as you can before you were going to be down for upwards of six weeks before you could even could even function properly on your own, and six months before you were even fully back to yourself.

This had set your whole life back, every step you took forward, you felt like you just took six back. You were afraid you were going to lose your apartment. You were afraid that you were going to lose it all because you couldn’t work. You were literally agreeing to trust a complete stranger to help you through your recovery.

Speaking of said stranger, if it wasn’t for Jensen, you probably would have gone crazy. He’d literally been your saving grace through all of this. Even though you didn’t want to admit it, you looked forward to your appointments so that you could see him.

The third appointment in, with only two more before your surgery, he’d asked you out to dinner before you left the office that night; and you agreed to go. One because he was insanely attractive, but also because you wanted to get to know the man that was going to be your caretaker more before you were almost completely dependent on this man for at least 6 weeks.

You were not disappointed.

Jensen was funny, compassionate, and caring. He was everything you ever wanted in man, but had convinced yourself that it didn’t exist. He had the kindest heart that you’d ever found in another person.

He was smart, and witty, he seemed to know just how to make you smile. Even when you didn’t think you could, he wouldn’t stop until he pulled it out of you. No matter how down you were, or what all was going wrong, he seemed to just be right there, and was more than content to be there.

It didn’t stop with dinner. You found yourself spending a lot of time together. He’d started picking you up after he got off of work everyday. Taking you out to eat, or just coming to hang out with you.

The day before your surgery was scheduled he text you and told you to pack up enough clothes to do you for the foreseeable future, to just make sure you had everything you needed, and he’d be there to pick you up after work and get you settled and ready to come and stay at his place after your surgery so that he could take care of you.

You felt awkward about it at first, and the fear that you were going to lose your apartment was something you had shared with Jensen, though he swore if that happened you’d figure it out together.

You ended up just staying there with him that night, and he drove you to the hospital this morning. The morning of your surgery. Your “D-Day”.

To say that you were nervous was an understatement, but it did make you feel better that he was going to be the one that was performing the surgery. He stayed with you until he had to go and clock in. After you were situated in a room and hooked up to the IV’s and things.

Now it was the waiting game. Jensen swore that it wouldn’t take long, and he’d be back to get you with and bring you back.

Sitting there in your overly exposing nightgown, your mind was wondering on just how much things had changed for you over the past month, and you were wondering just how much more they were about to keep changing.

You hated the situation you found yourself in, but you were more than a little grateful that you had found your way to Jensen. He was quickly becoming everything to you, and he made it no secret his feelings for you.

You’ve heard your whole life everything happened for a reason, that nothing happened by accident, even the bad things. Even though this to you looked bad, you knew that without a shadow of a doubt it led you to Jensen, so maybe it would be worth it in the end.

The sound of the door opening pulled you out of your thoughts as Jensen entered into the room. Holding a catheter that was still wrapped in it’s bag in his hand, sort of behind his back like he was hoping you wouldn’t notice it.

“What’s that?” You asked him as he sat down on the bed next to you. Taking your hand in his, playing with your fingers.

“Catheter… Don’t worry. I’m not going to put it in until you're out, but it will have to stay in for the next five days until you can get yourself up and walking around on your own again.” He said. You must have looked as mortified as you felt, because your face said it all. He started to crack up as soon as he looked up at you.

“You gonna pass out on me sweetheart? It’s just a catheter. It’s standard medical procedure for things like this.”

You hid your face in your hands. Trying to fight down the horrible embarrassment that was creeping it’s way beyond the total terror to the surface to override what you were feeling, and make you wish that you could jump into the floor if it would open up to swallow you.

“Well…. I uh…. I was hoping that the first time you saw that particular part of me, it wouldn’t be because you were having to insert a catheter.”

At that he threw his head back in a perfect laugh. Shaking his whole body, making you forget momentarially about your current embarrassing situation.

“Is that what you're worried about?” He asked you, leaning over and kissing the top of your forehead before standing up and starting to adjust and IV to so that it could travel with you to the surgical theater where they would be performing your suring.

“I promise you pretty girl I’d much rather be inserting something that was not a catheter myself, I’ve never been more jealous of a tub.” He said winking at you, trying to make light of the situation, but you blushed deeper and pulled the covers over your head with a groan.

Leaning down and pulling them back. His face is so close to yours that you could feel his breath fanning over you.

“Let’s just work on getting you better, then you’ve got all the time you want with me.”

Leaning down he brushed his lips over yours in a quick kiss before the door opened, revealing the anesthesiologist, and another nurse.

In less time than you could even regester what was happening you were in the operating room, Arms being strapped to the table as they do when they are going to perform surgery on you. Jensen walked around into our line of view just as you were about to start panicking,

“Okay sweetheart, we’re going to give a little shot into your IV here, and then put that mask on you there, then you're going to take a little nap for us, before you know it this will all be over.” Jensen said. Fully scrubbed in for the surgery, a cap covering his hair and a mask over his perfect face.

“You're going to be there when I wake up right?” You asked him as you saw the anesthesiologist inject the liquid into the IV. The nurse is getting ready to move the mask over your face.

“I’m going to be right there sweetheart.”

That was the last thing you remembered before it all went black.

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The recovery was NOT a walk in the park. True to Jensen’s word he was right there holding your hand when you woke up in the hospital, and he never left your side. Not once. He’d taken vacation time during your time at the hospital and personal time to extend into that so that he could be with you through the worst part of your recovery. Which the hospital was more than willing to work with him.

After you were finally released from the hospital, and that damn catheter was removed, thank God. Jensen brought you home to his apartment.

He did everything for you, even took on your physical therapy yourself so that you didn’t have to go back and forth to the hospital.

Over the course of those six weeks you got closer and closer to your green eyed surgeon. Who you were curtain was really your angle posing as a surgeon, to be here for you right here in this moment because without him you wouldn’t have made it, you were curtain of it.

Even after the six weeks was up he convinced you to just stay with him at his apartment. Because let’s be honest, you two were more than just friends. He said he’d gotten so used to sleeping next to you at night that he probably wouldn’t be able to sleep without his arms wrapped around you, and if you were being honest with yourself you wouldn’t be able to sleep either.

Even after life had progressed to somewhat of a normalcy and Jensen had gone back to work you still didn't start feeling like 100% yourself until around six months. By then Jensen and yourself were openly in a relationship and had been for months, but you there was one thing you were afraid of right now.

Sex…

You were afraid it was going to be painful, or knock something loose again, and they would have to go back in, even though your primary doctor said that you were in the clear, and you did feel better.

Jensen was patient with you. Even though you’d been sharing a bed for ever since you came home from the hospital, he never pushed you.

Never once did he try and convince you to have sex with him. He let you work through things in and at your own pace, and sex was no different. It’s not that you didn’t WANT to. Any woman with a pulse would want to have sex with a man that looks like him, but fear of having to go through all of what you went through again was keeping you at bay.

You were sitting on the bed in your shared bedroom, watching something on netflix on our laptop, when Jensen came through the door from work.

He looked more tired tonight than you’d ever seen him. He stripped off his scrubs and made his way to the bathroom, not saying a word as he closed the door.

It must have been a really bad day, because he usually always greeted you before he went to take he shower.

You waited patiently. Giving him whatever space he needed. Letting him work through whatever it was until he was ready to talk to you. He never pushed you, so you were never going to push him.

Finally he made his way out of the bathroom and flopped down on the bed next to you. Hands covering his face. It took him a long time before he finally spoke.

“I lost someone today. I couldn’t stop the bleeding, and I lost her.”

You made your way over to him and snuggled into this side. He didn’t hesitate in wrapping his thick, surprisingly muscular arms around you. Holding you close to him.

“I’m sorry, I’m sure you did everything you could.”

You didn’t really know what you could say to make him feel better. You wished there was something you could do, but you just didn’t know what.

“Guess my hands aren’t as gifted as I thought they were….” He mumbled against your hair. Running little trails around the exposed skin of your lower back with his finger tips.

It was a gentle touch. Something he usually did at night while you were laying together, but this time it was different for you. Lighting a fire deep down inside of you. Sparking something in you that you hadn’t felt in a very, very, long time.

Shifting your bodies to the point of you laying underneath him he kissed you deeply, slowly. Enough to make your toes curl. His tongue slowly exploring your mouth. His hands lightly brushing over the exposed skin on your side where your shirt rode up when he flipped you. You couldn’t stop yourself from melting into him.

Pulling away he smiled at you softly and went to move off of you, not wanting to push you too hard. You reached up and grabbed his shirt pulling him back down into a more demanding kiss. This time stealing his breath away from him.

“Why don’t you show me just how gifted those hands of yours are?” You told him. Running your fingers through his still damp hair. An impish smirk crossing his face as he hovered over you, staring down at you.

“You sure baby? I don’t want you to feel like you have to do this just to make me feel better.” Jensen said, but you could feel the outline of his impressive length pressed against your thigh. You knew he wanted this with you, and you more than anything tonight wanted it with him. It was time. You’d put it off as long as you needed to, probably too long, and you weren’t going to let fear rule you.

“I’m sure.”

His lips were on yours again in an instance, his hands trailing up your sides. Taking with it your shirt until you had to sit up and let him throw it off of you. Your hands pulling his shirt over his head and throwing it somewhere across the room.

Your hands trailed up his thick, broad chest and shoulders as his fingertips lightly explored the skin of your breast.

“No bra sweetheart?” He asked you jokingly. You couldn’t help the giggle that exapted your lips as his finger tips tickled at your sides. When they ghosted over you.

“They’re not very comfortable to sleep in”

“Oh I’m not complaining.”

With that his soft lips wrapped around your exposed nipple sucking and licking at it lightly. Just enough to drive you crazy before moving on to the other breast. Your back arching into him as his hands roamed your skin. Leaving a trail of fire in their wake. All the way down to your panties. Pulling them down your leg and you kicked them off the rest of the way.

“Your so beautiful sweetheart.”

His lips made their way up to your neck, and then to the sensitive skin behind your ear.

His hands trailed from knee up the inside of your thigh. Grazing over your already wet folds before making their way down and up the other leg, and back again.

You were about to beg him to stop teasing you, but you never got it out. His fingers found your clit about the time you thought you couldn’t take anymore of his teasing, and a moan fell from your lips.

He slowly worked you in slow circles. Barely touching you, then applying almost too much pressure. Sliding two of his thick fingers into your aching core. Curling them slowly as he thrust them in and out of you in an agonizingly slow rhythm.

His thumb is still working your clit as he did. The coil building tightly in your stomach as you neared your release. Jensen kept on working you over building you hirer and hirer until you couldn't take it anymore and were thrown over the edge. Your mouth falling open in a noiseless moan, your body almost convulsing underneath him as he worked your through it. Not slowing his admisistrations.

Even after you came down. Your body is over sensitive, and you tried to move away from him. He held you down to him. Slipping a third finger inside of you.

“Jensen I can’t” You said, your voice weak and hoarse.

“Yes you can sweetheart. Trust me, trust your body. Let me show you what these hands can really do.”

Before you could respond to him, he put the middle finger of his free hand in his mouth, and brought it down to your tight little whole. Rimming you a few times before inserting his finger slowly into your ass, building it up to the same pace as his hand that was currently still working you aching, over sensitive cunt over. Your body was shaking underneath him. A whole new sensation added to you. The pressure building in your lower half was almost painful, and were scared you were going to pee on him.

“Jensen….”

“Your right there sweetheart, let go.”

And with that you did. Your orgasm hitting you so hard you couldn’t even scream. Your vision blurring as he slowly worked your through, a gush of liquid leaving your body. Coating his hand hand forearm.

When he pulled away from you, your body was still shaking. Coming to hover over you Jensen pushed the hair that was tuck to your sweaty forehead away from your face, and peppered you with little kisses. Waiting on you to fully come back to him.

When your vision finally came into focus again, you found his beautiful olive green eyes staring at you. Lust blown and hooded, but still piercing nonetheless.

“Hey.” You whispered to him. Still floating a little from the strongest orgasm you’d ever had in your life.

“Hey, you okay?” He asked, and you nodded at him.

Spreading your legs with his knees he positioned himself between your thighs, his tip grazing over your entrance. While you were lost completely he must have shead the rest of his clothes…

“We can still stop if you want.” He whispered against your lips, but you placed yours to his. Kissing him to stop him from worrying over you.

Slowly as to not hurt you, he slid himself into you inch by inch. Stealing and giving you time to adjust to him. He was massive, and he stretched you in a way that was almost painful, but was so satisfying all at the same time.

Kissing your neck and jaw. You nodded at him. Letting him know it was okay to move.

He pulled out of you almost all the way before sliding slowly back home. Repeating this action over and over again. Moans falling form both of your lips as he slowly picked up his pace. Driving you both towards your end with each deep thrust.

The pain you scared of and worried over wasn’t there. Everything you were afraid of seemed so silly now. The only thing that was there was a deeper love for him than you had ever known was possible.

It wasn’t long until that familiar burn had started in your lower abdomen the coil winding tight again as your walls started to flutter around his throbbing cock. Waves of pleasure hitting you with every drag of his manhood against your walls. His tip hitting your cervical wall as he brushed your G spot over and over again.

“Jensen.. I…”

“I know baby me too…”

Reaching between your connected bodies Jensen started making harsh circles over clit. With only two more thrust you were thrown over the edge again. His name falling from your lips like a prayer as he rode you through it. With only a few more thrust he was there with you. Stilling deep inside of you. His seed coating your walls. His body collapsing on top of yours. Barely holding his weight off of you on his forearms as he tried to regain control of his body.

Once you both had come back down from your high he pulled you close to his side. Hands trailing little patterns over your skin as you laid together. Skin against skin. Just enjoying being close to each other.

Right there in that moment you were more sure than ever that EVERYTHING good and bad happens for a reason. It’s a journey, and it isn’t always easy, but if it weren’t for the bad. There would be no good.

Even though your situation was scary to you, and harder than anything you’d ever gone through, you would have never found Jensen if it had never happened.

Your life hand changed forever, all because two gifted hands were there to hold you through it, and because of that, if the outcome was the same, you’d go through it all over again. Just to get to him.

“I love you Jensen.”

“I love you too pretty girl….”

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fivestarglam · 3 years

Photo

https://kortina.nyc/essays/kinky-labor-supply-and-the-attention-tax/

Kinky (S1) vs classical (S0) labor supply curve.

Over the past few decades, labor force participation has sharply dropped for men ages 20-34. Theories about the root cause range from indolence, to a lack of skills and training, to offshoring, to (perhaps most interestingly) the increasing attractiveness and availability of leisure and media entertainment. In this essay, we propose that the drop in labor participation rate of young men is a result of a combination of factors: (i) a decrease in cost of access to media entertainment leisure, (ii) increases in both the availability and (iii) quality media entertainment leisure, and (iv) a decrease in the marginal signalling utility of (conspicuous) consumption goods for all but the highest earners.

At the macro level, this results in sub-optimal production, as firms are unable to satisfy their demand for labor via the usual mechanism of increasing wages. If you believe that economic productivity and growth are good, this presents a challenge when attempting to design stimulus policy, because subsidies or increases to the minimum wage would yield the same non-result as firms increasing wages. We discuss the potential efficacy of the somewhat radical idea of a tax on human attention or time spent consuming entertainment media as a way to stimulate productivity.

#Declining Labor Participation in Younger Demographics

The overall labor force participation rate in the United States has been declining for the past several decades. The most obvious potential explanation would be an aging population (retirees comprising an increasing percentage of the overall population), but you can see this is not the root cause when you break out the labor force participation rate by age and sex:

Labor Participation Rate via Bureau of Labor Statistics.

Labor participation has been dropping much faster for young men than any other groups. (Interestingly, labor participation has been increasing most rapidly for older demographics, presumably because they must continue working later in life in order to support basic needs and healthcare costs).

In Leisure Luxuries and the Labor Supply of Young Men, Mark Aguiar and Erik Hurst note that:

Despite stagnant wages, declining employment rates, and an increased propensity to live with their parents, younger men report increased happiness during the 2000s. This contrasts sharply with older men, whose satisfaction fell along with their relative earnings. We see the life satisfaction results as indirect evidence that younger men experienced relatively little decline in the consumption and greatly valued their improved leisure options.

Much of young men’s time which in past decades was spent working is now spent playing video games, according to Aguiar and Hurst. Given that reported happiness moved in the opposite direction from wages and employment rate, it would seem there is some preference for this specific type of leisure over the purchasing power sacrificed in the form of foregone wages. But given that leisure activities have always been an alternative to work, we should ask what about video games specifically makes them more compelling than historical leisure activities.

Update: this paper from Gray Kimbrough arguing against the interpretation from Aguiar and Hurst is also worth a read.

Decreasing Cost, Increasing Availability, and Increasing Quality of Media Entertainment

Video games are just one example of media entertainment content that has become more a more attractive leisure choice as a result of advances in internet and mobile device technology.

For most of history, media consumption was bounded, like other forms of consumption, by cost – if you wanted more books, movies, music, console video games, etc, you needed money to buy them. Notable exceptions to this pattern were radio and cable television, where you could access programming at all hours of the day for a low fixed cost (or in some cases for free) – but in these cases, limits on the syndication of premium content entailed that not every hour of watching was equally enjoyable, and there were generally still diminishing (enjoyment) returns on each additional hour spent watching.

The digitization of content enabled infinite storage of evergreen content in the cloud and effectively zero marginal distribution cost of content through copying. Enabling on-demand access to all of the content that has ever been produced entailed a huge increase in the supply of good content. This essentially made all of history a viable competitor to people producing new content. Similarly, social media–produced for free, by amateurs–provided another huge influx of new content and more competition for attention.

This increased supply and competition put pressure on professionals creating new content to make it better and cheaper. On top of that, taking a page from the cable TV playbook, internet media distributors gave away content for free, and used advertising subsidies to pay for the small amount of content that was still being professionally produced.

All of these changes benefited the consumer by making more and better content available for free. Today, you can pretty much always spend yet another hour consuming some new and interesting content freely available on the internet, so once you have paid the (quite cheap) cost of access to your ISP or mobile data provider, you no longer require additional wages to pay for additional consumption of media as a leisure activity.

Decreasing Signalling Utility of Conspicuous Consumption Goods

Before we accept that young men are simply foregoing working in favor of spending more time playing video games or consuming other forms of media entertainment content, we should ask what else they might spend foregone earnings on and why they are not working to fund that spend.

In general there are three types of goods: goods that meet your basic needs, leisure goods (including media goods), and conspicuous consumption goods (those that signal genetic fitness, social status, belonging, etc.). If young men playing video games are not foregoing their basic needs (an assumption we’ll make here), and the cost of media entertainment goods has dramatically fallen, then they must be trading off consumption goods. Next, we argue that this group has decreased consumption because the signaling utility of these goods has decreased.

What is conspicuous consumption and what does it take to get it?

Historically, the primary purpose of working was to generate enough income to satisfy basic needs. Once those needs were met, an individual had a tradeoff to make between spending their remaining time on work or leisure.

Observing the behavior of the nouveau riche in a post-industrialization society in the late 1800s, Thorstein Veblen introduced the theory of conspicuous consumption - the purchase of goods and services for the sake of signalling social status (vs. the intrinsic function provided by goods that meet basic needs or those that enable leisure).

As living standards improved in the 20th century and individuals had more discretionary income, this behavior expanded to men, women, and children across all economic classes who began to spend more money on goods and services as a sort of social fashion. Implicit in spending more time on work is a preference for conspicuous consumption over leisure.

If you have the money, how do you decide what to consume? Benjamin Schwarz suggested in his review of Elizabeth Currid-Halkett’s The Sum of Small Things: A Theory of the Aspirational Class that:

This process depends on the great extent to which the elite’s consumption is at once devoted to and relies on “cultural capital”—that is, the adoption of values, tastes, and norms through social inculcation and formal education. That cup of Intelligentsia coffee may “only” cost five dollars, but learning about it in the first place depends on prizing the judgment of certain cultural tastemakers (again, say, the New York Times and those right-thinking podcasts), and on possessing a worldview that attaches a particular value and virtue to a particular container of hot liquid. Acquiring that cultural capital is, itself, a rarefied and usually expensive endeavor, because it involves a lengthy and complex process of what the sociologists call cultural and social formation: The peculiar cachet that the educated class attaches to that cup of coffee is far more likely to elude the daughter of an insurance adjuster brought up in Lansing, Kansas (a middle-class suburb of Kansas City), who attended the local high school and Kansas State, than it is the daughter of a screenwriter raised in uber-achieving north-of-Montana-Avenue Santa Monica, who attended the Harvard-Westlake School and Yale. Thus, buying that cup of coffee—or that organic cotton t-shirt, or that subscription to Harper’s—signifies a class identity that the purchase, in turn, reinforces.”

The increased cost in time to acquire the knowledge of what to consume is yet another way that conspicuous consumption is becoming prohibitively more expensive.

The catch with all of this is that the psychological utility sought from conspicuous consumption is relative, not absolute. Sarah Perry sums this up nicely in her book, Every Cradle is a Grave:

More than anything, however, a human utility function is a function of social belonging. That’s the ultimate point not only of income, but of intelligence, beauty, and many other material and non-material goods: they may be traded for social belonging… We want income because we want to be able to get the attention of others. We want a safe social place, primarily—and, of course, we want a better social place than the one we currently occupy.

The implication of this relative sizing up is that there is an ever-rising bar to maintain or improve your social position relative to the people and communities from which you seek affiliation or belonging. This was never easy given the money and time required, but at least it was possible when you sought that social belonging from people and communities that were more geographically constrained.

How does scale of distribution impact conspicuous consumption?

Consumers are no longer signaling on a local scale, but rather on an internet scale. On the one hand, this amplifies signal, because you can reach likeminded people who aren’t part of your local community, but on the other hand:

The consequent noise of everyone else doing the same thing crowds that signal out.

The people you may be trying to reach may be more preoccupied than ever before given the media dynamics described above playing out.

Together, these changes increase competition for the attention of the people whose attention you’re vying for…

And stoke an arms race in money and time in pursuit of relative conspicuous consumption.

As an example, consider how this increased competition plays out in online dating platforms. On Tinder, the top 20% of men are competing for the top 78% of women. Why? It’s a matter of the breadth of selection. Offline, due to the constraints of physical space and time, any given woman would have a finite set of potential partners to choose from. Online, the selection is much more vast and most women only “like” the most attractive men. The Gini coefficient for the “Tinder economy” is 0.58, which means that it has higher inequality than 95% the world’s national economies – in other words, it’s pretty grim if you’re a man in the bottom 80%.

Update: we got lots of responses about the sample size / validity of this Tinder study, so it’s worth checking out, but also worth noting the argument we present does not hinge upon this study.

We believe that this effect can be extrapolated into most contexts where digital distribution is used for signalling purposes. Yes, you could work more in order to buy more consumption goods, services, and activities and spend more of your free time posting about it online in order to break through, but it’s a grind given the ever-escalating, relative nature of the competition.

Unless the lottery or a new work opportunity vaults you into the top 20% of income earners or you’re fine spending the majority of your time crafting your online image like the Maya Millenials out there, you have little chance of breaking through. And if there is no meaningful signalling utility from the consumption goods, services, and activities you could buy with increased income, why work more than you need to meet your basic needs and fund leisure? Paul Nystrom dubbed consumerism as a “philosophy of futility,” and with the Internet stoking conspicuous consumption into overdrive, more people may be starting to sense that.

What are the implications of worker preference for leisure over wages?

A common response to a high unemployment rate, low labor force participation, and low economic productivity is the proposal of increasing wages / the minimum wage. This proposal stems from the idea in classical economics that there is a smooth, upward sloping labor supply curve, where each increase in wages yields a corresponding increase in labor supply (because the higher wages entice more people to work or people to work more hours):

Classic labour supply and demand equilibrium

The shape of this curve is a function of the marginal utility of higher income to each worker, which looks like the following:

Marginal utility of higher income, classical.

The assumption here is that each additional dollar of income is increasingly useful to a worker, because it enables the purchase of more basic goods, leisure goods, and consumption goods.

Just as there is a ceiling to the amount of income which can be spent on basic goods (food, shelter, etc), we posit that, given our above discussion, there are now natural ceilings on the amount of income which most workers will spend on leisure goods and conspicuous consumption goods.

First, the ceiling on income useful for purchasing leisure goods is the monthly cost of an ISP or cellular data plan (along with the cost of the hardware used to access the internet).

Second, the ceiling on income useful for conspicuous consumption is effectively zero – until you reach the ‘power threshold’ where you can spend enough to distinguish yourself as part of the top 20% of spenders, which is incredibly high. Every extra dollar of income you earn below this power threshold is effectively useless for the sake of conspicuous consumption, because on a relative basis it’s not enough to out-signal the ‘best.’

We propose, therefore, that the utility of marginal income actually looks like this:

The solid line depicts zero marginal utility of increased income once you have met basic needs and subscription cost of infinite media entertainment, up to the point where you break back into the top 20%.

And, as a result, there is a ‘kinky labor supply curve:’

Firms unable to meet demand for labor due to ceiling on wage elasticity.

The classical labor supply curve would intersect the labor demand curve at (E0), and although the kinky labor supply curve intersects the labor demand curve at (E2), firms can decrease wages from here without decreasing productive output, all the way down to the actual equilibrium point at (E1). This suboptimal equilibrium entails that:

There is lower employment, which is a deadweight loss to the economy (lower overall economic output). There is actually greater demand for labor than can be met, but there’s no way to realize it because marginal increases in wages yield no increase in supply of labor past the equilibrium point (E1).

Wages are lower, which is an effective economic transfer from labor to firms. Firms would actually be willing to pay higher wages to the workers they employ, but because this would not yield more hours of labor, firms do not increase wages, so every hour of labor performed by a worker is paid at a lower wage rate than workers would earn at the classical equilibrium point.

A compounding factor worth noting here is the gig economy and the increase in availability of on-demand work, which helps workers realize a much more continuous distribution of preferences for allocating time across work and leisure (vs their ability to historically do so, which would have been more discrete / discontinuous). The gig economy makes labor supply more elastic at the lower, leftmost portion of the labor supply curve and removes what you might think of as a floor on labor supply that was imposed by the standard forty hour work week. (h/t Sam Lessin for calling our attention to the gig economy as another pressure on labor supply.)

#The Kinky Labor Supply Curve Results in Lower Overall Economic Output

Because the demand for labor exceeds what workers are willing to supply, production and overall economic output are lower when workers prefer media entertainment leisure over wages.

You might argue this is a good thing. People actually prefer to spend their time consuming media over working, and we have achieved the luxury of enabling them to act on this preference. And, when people primarily consume digital media goods, the result is the production and consumption of less physical trash.

On the other hand, you might argue that lower economic output is a bad thing. Historically, economic growth has raised standards of living, increased lifespan, and has generally enabled more stable societies that are more insulated from the volatility of nature (eg, locusts eating an entire season of crops).

If you’re in the camp that thinks lower economic output is bad, the natural follow-up question is what kind of policy changes might counteract this phenomenon.

#Policies for the Leisure State

If firms are unable to generate increases in labor supply by increasing wages, government transfers to workers would be be an equally ineffective solution when workers value leisure time over increased purchasing power. This entails that the possible solution space is probably limited to taxes (and probably does not include, for example, things like wage subsidies or an increased minimum wage).

One potential solution would be to tax the unproductive leisure activities which people prefer over work. This is perhaps not as crazy as it seems, because (i) the true cost of these activities is already distorted from a consumer perspective by the advertisers who subsidize media consumption,and (ii) we already tax income and productivity – if time and money are fungible, you might just pull the idea of income tax ‘above’ the decision of how to spend time, and say that each person is responsible for investing some amount of sweat (in the form of time or money) into the public good.

Of course it would be impossible to gain political support for such a radical idea, especially when people today enjoy leisure time for free. No one would support a policy that required them to buy this time back from the state in the form of a tax.

Since media companies are capitalizing and profiting on a huge amount of attention that might otherwise be spent productively, however, taxing them for the share of the citizenry’s time that they consume could be more sensible and more practical than taxing citizens themselves.

One view of the status quo is that media companies are aggregating human attention and selling it at a discount–far below minimum wage–to advertisers in a massive arbitrage on human capital. So, the state could set the price of an hour of human attention at the minimum wage rate, and charge media companies 12% (the federal income tax rate on minimum wage) of that wage rate for each hour of human attention they consume.

Media companies would respond in one of two ways, because they no doubt earn nowhere close to the amount of profit they would need to pay this tax. They could charge more to advertisers, ending the current price arbitrage on human attention. Or, they could pass the cost on to consumers directly, charging per unit of consumption instead of offering infinite consumption for a fixed price.

#Why limit the attention tax to media companies vs all providers of leisure goods?

It seems a bit odd to single out consumption of digital media as a uniquely taxable leisure activity – why not tax all leisure activities?

What’s attractive about restricting the tax to digital media companies is that (i) they are profiting on the captured attention already and (ii) consumption of digital media is highly measurable. One of the challenges of the attention tax is measurement, and probably one of the reasons we have never considered such a tax viable in the past is the challenge of enforceability – it would be impossible for the state to measure the difference at a per citizen level of a productive unpaid hour (eg, care for a child or elderly person) from a leisure hour (spent reading a physical book).

While today it would still be difficult for the state to account for every hour of each citizen’s time, it would be quite feasible to measure each person’s hours of attention that were definitely spent consuming digital media entertainment. Taxing only these hours would be both practical and meaningful in terms of total percentage of time measured and enforceable in practice.

#Takeaways

While it is fun to explore alternative mechanisms for motivating the labor force if labor supply no longer responds to increases in wages, it is far more likely that lost worker productivity will be made up for with technology (eg, automation via robotics, software, artificial intelligence) that makes remaining workers more productive. While this would lead to a host of other problems (eg, inequality) and almost certainly lead to a welfare state, it is probably more straightforward to implement the necessary technological advances than the attention tax. Furthermore, a welfare state where most people could devote most of their time to the pursuit of leisure seems to be more consistent with preferences revealed by recent trends in labor participation and alternative uses of time.

This essay was co-authored by Andrew Kortina and Namrata Patel.

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Skin Tag Removal surgery ₤ 175.

Cryopen Basingstoke Cryotherapy reading Cryopen Skin Treatments Newbury.

Content

how Do You do Away With It?

Facelift treatment

healing Time.

concerning Skin labels.

how Is A Facelift procedure Performed?

my skin really feels and also looks freshened as well as i have actually had numerous compliments from family members/friends. i would certainly advise this treatment to any person and can truthfully say its worth it. I entered into the birmingham facility to have a hydra-facial therapy done. I read up testimonials on this treatment as well as seen some good evaluations so determined to go for it.

how Do You get Rid Of It?

Does cryotherapy tighten loose skin?

Cryo therapy Weight Loss This metabolic increase can last 3 to 5 days and may become permanent in just a few sessions. Mens facelift treatment will also reduce cellulite and tighten any loose skin without surgery. Localized cryotherapy can safely target those areas on the body that you specifically want to trim.

Vaginal tightening up with FemiWand ® is a non-invasive cosmetic treatment that brings back the appearance and also function of the vaginal area. Several ladies have both interior as well as external adjustments in their personal regions after giving birth as well as aging. This can include lax genital muscular tissues as well as cells as well as less attractive labia.

How long do blisters last after liquid nitrogen?

The blister may be either clear or filled with blood. Sometimes a crust or scab may form instead. After 4 to 7 days, the blister will break, dry up and fall off.

Gone with this as I desired a treatment that wouldn't need me taking time off work. After speaking to a few companies that provide non intrusive face lifts, i chose to proceed with VIVO as Anthony was absolutely remarkable and also nothing was way too much difficulty for him. After sharing my issues, he chatted me through the treatment and also guaranteed me that I would be looked after and also I truthfully! The treatment was totally pain totally free, just a little prickling which I got used to after a while. I had my face, my neck as well as my decolletage provided for a truly excellent rate; it has just been simply over a month because I have actually had my therapy as well as I've been seeing many improvements, mostly on my upper body and around my eyes. Actually satisfied with the therapy and I'm excited to see the full outcomes.

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I had the hifu treatment done 5 months back and also i am so satisfied with the results, i have seen a distinction in my under eye location and also my jowel location. i regret not going for the full works, which would have deserved it for the additional amount. i would certainly advise this treatment to anyone that wants some "UMPH" to the skin. I had the femiwand treatment done at the birmingham center, I was made to really feel so comfy prior to the treatment and also while I was undertaking the treatment.

Facelift therapy

I had the genital tightening and also I assumed it went actually well and I am currently waiting on outcomes and also will certainly upgrade my review once I start seeing outcomes. After having a course of skin tightening therapies my belly is now so solid as well as tight.

I had a non-surgical facelift done from the birmingham center 3 months ago, i had an examination prior to my therapy which clarified what to expect from the therapy. after the treatment i had some redness and rigidity of the skin.

if you are searching for non surgical face raises at an excellent rate after that you have concerned the appropriate area. The HIFU treatment I had with vivo facility has actually really exceeded my expectations.

You can go back to your day-to-day routine immediately, and after 72 hrs you can return to sex. It is advised that you wait 24-hour before resuming exercise. A key advantage of vaginal tightening with FemiTone is that no downtime is required following the treatment. Had a fat freeze therapy at Vivo center and i was pleasurable regarding it. Staff was beautiful, prior to the treatment i was clarified regarding all the actions as well as what they are going to make with my fat, the therapy took couple of hours however in those hrs i have not really feel any type of paint or pain. Bought after care lotion as well as was adhering to the advises the personnel offered me as well as now after 2 and also the half weeks i can see the results and feeling really happy concerning it. At first I was really skeptical regarding the HIFU treatment as I have rather delicate skin and was terrified of the idea of having anything done to my face.

As we age, however, collagen production lowers especially in some of the deep layers of the face.

On the body the body the ultra sound vibration is become attain weight loss and also skin smoothing and firm.

When we consider youthful skin, we consider a limited, plump, solid look with a healthy and balanced radiance.

We usually incorporate face therapies like radio frequency therapy to increase the impacts of the treatment.

Any potential negative effects will certainly be clarified to you in depth at your examination.

HIFU treatment often tends to last in between 60 as well as 90 minutes, relying on areas dealt with.

Some individuals may experience swelling, tingling, or tenderness, though this is temporary.

Patients may experience a slight redness later on, though this should go away within a couple of hrs.

recuperation Time.

Vivo's "non-surgical" genital tightening treatment entails two various treatments - one where a "FemiWand" is positioned inside the vagina to turn and give off ultra-sound waves, as well as one more where a "contraction round" is placed. A key advantage of vaginal tightening up with FemiWand ® is that no downtime is needed complying with the therapy.

about Skin tags.

How long does it take to heal after cryotherapy?

Pain from cryotherapy can last up to 3 days. Healing is generally quick (7 to 14 days) with little or no scarring. Within hours after treatment, a blister may form. If the blister breaks, clean the area to prevent the spread of the wart virus.

since ive had the therapy my skin really feels rejuvenated and also looks a lot even more healthier as well as glowy. i will absolutely carry on having my sessions for this therapy as its doing wonders for my skin. i would advise this treatment to any individual that feel like they have dull skin. I had a therapy done at the birmingham center for the fat freezing treatment, i had actually the treatment done 4 months earlier on my tummy location as well as love manages.

I had a little bit of sagging after having my daughter, now i can ultimately return right into my swimsuits. obtained my lips done about 2 weeks earlier currently the swelling has gone down they look outstanding i would suggest this clinic to anyone who desires there lips done as the girls are charming and made me feel really comfy with the therapy. was really happy with the personnels mindset and also have scheduled in for an additional therapy.

i have most definitely seen a difference since ive had the therapy, im extremely satisfied with my outcomes. i would suggest this therapy to any individual that desires that lift to there face. I had the non surgical face lift at the Birmingham center, it has actually now been 3 months and also i have seen a difference in my skin in the feeling and look.

The lady at the facility was so lovely as well as really friendly in the direction of me as I enjoy to talk away. The results of the treatment were outstanding, I am extremely happy with just how it ignores now compared to prior to I had it done. Our non-invasive vaginal firm therapy makes use of HIFU (high-intensity concentrated ultrasound) to enhance and tighten the vaginal wall surfaces. The FemiWand genital firm appropriates for healthy and balanced women over 30 and intends to "reconstruct skin elastin and also restructure vaginal tissue." FemiWand ® is a high-intensity concentrated ultrasound therapy that makes use of a powerful ultrasound power, applying concentrated thermal home heating to the internal layers of vaginal tissue. The heat causes tightening of collagen and also elastin and permits long-term change by promoting regrowth of these important healthy proteins.

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i need to state the outcomes are better than what i anticipated as well as will certainly be returning to have an additional session. my hubby has seen a difference in the location as well as its made me feel a lot a lot more confident regarding myself. The personnel at the facility were very pleasant as well as made spoke me with the entire treatment to make me feel comfortable. I am really delighted with the therapy costs at vivo clinic, I have looked at other facilities and also they are extremely pricey compared to vivo. I think the costs are affordable as well as are definitely worth it for the therapies. i am a normal client so i have had a few various therapies done, i would not have my treatments done anywhere else.

just How Is A Facelift treatment Performed?

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The precision of the treatment permits total control over the movement and strength of the ultrasound to guarantee optimum convenience for every single patient. Occasions such as these instance the skin's natural collagen to be to be changed with fibres that do not recoil or extend effectively.

What are the side effects of cryotherapy?

The most common side effects of any type of cryotherapy are numbness, tingling, redness, and irritation of the skin. These side effects are almost always temporary. Make an appointment with your doctor if they don't resolve within 24 hours.

Lots of people will not look for therapy for genital laxity as they believe it needs a costly and high-risk operation. Our treatment is a budget-friendly, medically confirmed, non-surgical method of genital renewal. A non-surgical procedure for vaginal firm is the new godsend to woman... ask any lady that has seen her Doctor concerning her vajayjay not playing the video game. It's an extensive procedure to obtain the surgical treatment they need as well as some never get referred for it. Our FemiWand genital tightening modern technology uses high-frequency concentrated ultrasound to reinforce as well as tighten up the vagina. We established FemiWand utilizing the exact same modern technology that has actually been successfully made use of in non-surgical renovations. After treatment, clients can see a significant decrease in genital dry skin, reoccurring infections, as well as urinary system incontinence.

I actually didnt know what to anticipate, I assumed id simply give it a go as I didnt have anything to lose yet I am actually delighted i determined to go for the treatment, my buddies have actually said I consider least 5 years younger. beautiful team member, im a routine consumer and im constantly delighted with the solution i get. Terrific therapy I advertisement with Danielle, beautiful woman and also saw to it I really felt comfy in any way times.

How can I treat keratosis at home?

Treating keratosis pilaris at home 1. Exfoliate gently. When you exfoliate your skin, you remove the dead skin cells from the surface. 2. Apply a product called a keratolytic. After exfoliating, apply this skin care product. 3. Slather on moisturizer.

Where Can I Have Hifu Facelift therapy

These modifications can even affect wellness, as ladies have lowered sensation in the area as well as minimized sexual pleasure. Hifu vaginal tightening up is giving women the appearance and also feature they when appreciated without cuts or stitches. Genital tightening with FemiTone is a non-invasive, non-surgical treatment to recover and also to reorganize vaginal tissue without making use of anaesthetic or numbing creams. FemiTone is a high-intensity concentrated ultrasound therapy that makes use of an effective ultrasound power, using concentrated thermal heating to the inner layers of vaginal tissue. We thought about that consumers would certainly translate the advertisement to mean that the FemiWand can give effective therapy for vaginal firm as well as the other recognized problems.

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