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#kinda a gray area i feel
androidboy · 6 months
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Feel free to tell me to fuck off but I just wanted to say that I hope you find peace and happiness. Relationships with PTSD and disabilities are so complicated and I understand worrying that you might never find a sense of comfort or safety with another person again. It's not my place to offer advice, but I just wanted you to know that I get it and I'm silently hoping that you find a way to navigate this that's healthy for you, whatever that means. Again, sorry if this is weird from some rando on the internet
no i appreciate it ❤️ i decided that when she gets back i tell her (in a way nicer way than this) that she sucks at open relationships and i need to feel like i’m on steady ground and i’d like her to be a part of that but we either go exclusive or break up
like literally since ive made up my mind about this my head has felt so much clearer. i am already kinda mourning the relationship tho like i wish i could see us moving forward bc there’s so many things i still want to experience with her but the way we’ve nosedived i don’t think it’s gonna happen
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henrybelly · 6 months
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i wonder if part of the seeming-illiteracy i complain about when it comes to how fans understand many warriors characters is a product of how the series is compartmentalized?
people form an opinion on a character's actions in one arc, then they form an opinion of how they behave in another arc, and then they try to combine these two opinions -- and so if in the first arc, the fan's opinion is negative, then in the second, the character makes amends and grows, and the fan forms a positive opinion, the result isn't "this character did bad things and then grew as a person" it's "this character has done some good things and some bad things and should continue to be held accountable for all of the bad things"
a great deal of it is also the mindset that "sin"/any mistakes fudamentally stains you as a person, so no matter how much you repent or change, you are still a bad person -- and also that "bad thoughts" are, if not as condemnable as "bad actions", still something the character must be persecuted for and atone over. notice how these are both christian frameworks of wrongdoing.
maybe because we go back and forth so often in the timeline, we end up with this character-development-soup where any action a character took in the 4th arc is still just as relevant to who they are as the action they took in the 6th arc. it's hard to discuss "ivypool" when i don't even know if the people i'm talking to have read avos, tigerheart's shadow, the broken code, AND the Thunder excerpt, or if we're arguing over OOTS ivypool and one post they read on tumblr
an example of this timeline-soup fallibility in my own analysis is how i think about Blossomfall's age in comparison to Thornclaw's. i think of OOTS as "my era" because it's the series that was coming out when i got into the books as a kid. So, Blossomfall in my imagination is almost always OOTS Blossomfall.
Therefore, when I try to reconcile "blossomfall and thornclaw are a couple" with the OOTS Blossomfall that lives in my brain, alarm bells go off. It's hard to factor in the timeskip between OOTS and AVOS because i'm still subconsciously living in OOTS.
anyway, it's just something to think about
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acaiyatree · 1 year
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you ever think about the fact steph was going to take on the nightwing mantle if it weren't for the n52??? like jfc this girl is just, going around and getting mantles LMAO
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aaronymous999 · 8 months
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“The Barbie Movie is anti-men!”
No. The Barbie movie was just not made for u s. I honestly didn’t find the movie all that relatable outside of Allan but it’s still a GOOD movie! I wasn’t bored during it, it was funny, the music was good, it’s thematically a great movie. I was just not the target audience and that’s okay!! Seeing my 49 year old mother crying at the end of the movie was all I needed for the movie to make me happy, knowing that it touched my mother in a way that other movies don’t often do. And that’s okay :)
Barbie is a movie for anyone who has lived the female experience, especially older women like my own mother who grew up playing with Barbie. That doesn’t mean that you can’t relate to it just. As a human being, and I have lived a female experience briefly in my life but I didn’t relate to the movie. And that’s okay! If you relate to this movie fucking awesome!!! I’m so glad that there’s a movie that means a lot to you :) /gen
I’m just beefing with the other men on the internet who didn’t relate to it like me, yet they insist it’s a bad or “anti-men” movie when it’s clearly not???
Also shoutout to Allan he was literally made in a lab for the transgenders
Only critique? I wish it was more anti capitalist and anarchist but that was never really the point so I get it I will wallow in my corner praying for a progressive movie to arrive that fulfills my genderfuck anarchy goals. ( Idk maybe I’ll write something to fulfill my own dreams ❤️❤️ )
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moonsidesong · 1 year
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played the fangame danganronpa another with a friend and i didn't really like the ending but i very much enjoyed mekaru bc she's just woman byakuya togami. i'm going to talk a lot in the tags now
#the translation was kinda weird and bad but you get used to it after a while#i do plan on playing the sequel just cause me and my friends enjoy playing murder mysteries#oh uh spoilers beyond this point i'm gonna give some hot takes for. the 3 followers that care about dangit grandpa#anyway uh. ending. yeah i'm definitely biased bc i don't really like sad endings for the most part#but i didn't really. like it.#i'm not really opposed to the idea necessarily of the protagonist NOT being a survivor it's definitely interesting#but given that this game's take on hope vs despair is that 'hope is created not found'#i thought it kinda sucked that they just left maeda/utsuro to die despite obviously being the one suffering the most#also i didnt. like. kisaragi much. him/his alter ego being the epic savior in the end sucked bad not gonna lie#i thought he was really interesting in his initial appearance bc he was someone who Knew what was happening#but was rendered unable to communicate any of it bc of his brain damage#but then he dies (which was expected wasn't really upset about it) and from there you only have flashbacks to go off of#and then he's just kinda boring#it'd be one thing if he was a heroic reliable person we knew from the start but he's just this. guy that shows up in chapter 5#and we get told he's like the best we should trust him and believe in him but. like. idk this guy! it didn't feel earned#anyway kinjou was. a character. for sure.#i liked his arc and all but when they revealed in the ending that Oh actually his beliefs on crime haven't changed at all lol<3#he still only thinks in extremes even after all that mess about recognizing the murders were done in gray area circumstances#so like what was that all FOR#also. like. Goddddd. GODDDD. AKANE TAIRA. UGH#when she gets revealed as the mastermind and she's like going crazy off the walls sillygoofy despair lady I thought she was really fun!!!#i enjoyed her quite a lot!!!!#but then utsuro gets involved and she's just immediately extremely pathetic#she just immediately loses all presence bc she just stops taking any authority as the mastermind and is like ouwuoiuuh utsuro samaaaa#i thought her being a maid but actually is a girlboss would be a FUN SUBVERSION but nah we just have peko pekoyama 2: evil this time#like when are we gonna be done with the trope of Woman is cool and powerful until Man shes subservient to is involved and then she's a wuss#it sucks it SUUUUCKS#utsuro himself is. fine. he's basically just bootleg izuru but i didn't really mind that i thought his origins were kinda interesting#anyway i'm out of tags so i guess that's the end of my hot takes#i liked the individual cases! i liked mekaru! ending was kinda bad. goofbye
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conflictedkismet · 3 months
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Thinking so so hard about my Update Assistant/Elizabeth design....
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grokebaby · 5 months
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I'm actually so sad noticing the gross patterns our stories with [Redacted] often fell into bc. For the sake of comparison and reminiscence, I think it'd be neat to recount the original versions of the stories, of characters such as JP (Jetter Peaches), and the one I've now decided I could work on again, Jarmo.
But I don't frankly feel comfortable recounting everything in detail bc. Oh god.
To spare me from having to go into more detail than even saying this, I'm just gonna mention that it'd need some hard class trigger warnings and leave it at that.
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fabulouslygaybean · 2 years
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gerard way gender rant in the tags bc this is my blog so i get to talk abt what i want and it's been on my mind for a hot minute
#like... it just feels weird that ppl are taking them wearing a dress to mean that they've come out as transfem?#please tell me y'all haven't forgotten that clothes don't equal gender right. like a dress is not inherently Female#it just leaves a weird taste in my mouth. it would be 110% fine if he WAS transfem but it feels weird to just assume#he has talked abt how he relates to trans women and that he's struggled with gender and that's valid!! im not denying any of that!!#but they've talked about how they dislike applying labels to himself and i feel like im the only person who finds it weird that ppl are -#- so quick to jump to the nearest label the moment he wears something more gnc than he usually does#also like.. its one thing to say that they're probably not cis. which is very true#but another thing to be so adamant that he's a 100% binary trans woman that it comes off as more intrusive than anything#they probably aren't cis. they've struggled with gender and use he/they pronouns and use some typically feminine terms to refer to himself#and it's fine to look up to him when it comes to gender!! i admire the fact that he's so open about it and i find comfort in knowing that -#- in a way he's kinda like me!! they love their trans fans and don't rlly consider themselves cis but also hasn't said anything about -#- using the word trans to describe himself. and those things can coexist. there can be a gray area between cis and trans#idk man. it just feels weird. i dont like how ppl force labels onto someone who has made an effort to avoid labels.#are they probably queer? absolutely. im not denying that. is it still weird that folks are being oddly invasive about his gender? yeah.#we're allowed to talk about his relationship with gender/sexuality + how he's always been focused on making a welcome space for queer folks#but acting as if it's Written Fact to assume he's a binary trans person is just. weird.#to clarify: this isn't me being mad at anyone in particular. if you're one of the folks who talks abt them being transfem then whatever.#im too tired rn to have any kind of beef with y'all. in the end we all basically know nothing. the only one who understands his -#- relationship with gender is gerard themself. im no expert. im just some queer teenager on the internet.#ive just seen it being passed around and i needed to type this out for myself so i can figure out WHY it was making me uncomfortable#nobody's obligated to agree with me or to even pay attention to this. im rlly only writing it out for myself and myself only.#im keeping the reblogs turned off though bc i don't wanna start fights over it
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eatember · 11 months
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The downside of growing up in a place where cringe out-groups weren't a thing is that now I have fuckall instinct for what activities will attract what people irl.
In my hometown? Absolute coolest people at ren faires and larps and shit. There are people into furries and hacking etc who are based and very popular! Here? Completely different. How did they fuck it up this badly.
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harrysfolklore · 2 months
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jacob elordi and yn take a lie detector test | vanity fair
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MASTERLIST | MY PATREON | jacob insta blurb
"YN," the interviewer said, you and Jacob were sitting side by side with expectation shown in your faces, "Jacob."
"Hello," you said in unison, which made you look at each other and laugh.
"We're going to be taking a lie detector test today," the interviewer explained, "One of you will he hooked up to the machine while the other asks questions, and then you'll switch."
"Why are my palms sweating?" you said, making Jacob laugh and kiss the side of your head quickly.
"Who would you like to go first?" the interviewer asked again.
Jacob and you looked at each other for a few seconds before he winked at you and told the interviewer he would go first.
The video showed someone from the crew getting the machine ready and getting Jacob hooked to it.
"Do I look afraid?" Jacob asked, making you relax and laugh.
"You look fine, babe," you looked at the guy who was in charge of the machine, who give you the cue that you could start asking questions, "Okay, is your real name Jacob Elordi?"
"Yes," he answered.
"Were you born in Melborune, Australia?"
"No, I was born in Brisbane."
"Are you ready to take this lie detector test?" you asked, a smile playing on your face.
"I think so," he looked at you with a nervous smile and then looked at the camera.
"Okay, let's get started."
JACOB ELORDI TELLS THE TRUTH
"So, you were born in Australia. Do you like LA better?" you asked, reading the folder in front of you.
"Right now, yeah," Jacob answered, a small screen on the top left showing the lie detector machine working.
"Would you say you've adopted the LA lifestyle since moving here?"
"Yes,"
"Do you like going to yoga classes with me?" you raised your eyebrow, noticing a smile appearing on Jacob's face
"Absolutely." he answered confidently and you directed your raised eyebrow to the man behind the machine.
"He's telling the truth," the man said
"Were you doubting me?" Jacob said, an offended tone in his voice.
"Just confirming," you looked at the folder once again,"Do you consider yourself a heartthrob?"
"Yeah," he answered, but the look on his face said otherwise.
"A lie," the man said.
"I don't consider myself a heartthrob," he began, "but I mean I guess I kinda have to accept it."
"Yep, there you go," you said and a cheeky smile played on your face as you read the following question, "Have you ever felt jealous of any of my co stars?"
The room got quiet after the question, Jacob threw his head back and closed his eyes for a moment, and you couldn't help but laugh.
"Just answer the question!" you said and he shook his head.
"I wouldn't say that I'm a jealous person, specially not of your co stars because I'm an actor myself and I know how it works," he began, "I'm just protective, okay?"
"No reading, that was too close," the man behind the machine spoke, "It was a gray area, we could ask it again or we could just move on."
"Let's move on, he doesn't want to admit that he was jealous of Andrew Garfield on camera," you joked and Jacob couldn't help but laugh along, "Did you feel nervous during our first date?"
"Yes," his eyes widened at the memory, "I was about to piss my pants, actually."
"Truth,"
"Oh I already knew that," you shrugged with a cocky smile, "If I asked you to move to New York with me, would you do it?"
"Yeah, definitely," he smiled, "New York is the shit."
"Alright, babe, let's keep this interesting," you said with a grin. The lie detector machine still monitoring his responses, "Have you ever borrowed my clothes without asking?"
"Of course, guilty as charged," Jacob chuckled, "Your oversized sweaters are just too comfy to resist, love, and don't get me started on your purses,"
"This shouldn't have been a question, everyone knows the purses you use to go out are mine," you rolled your eyes with affection,"Okay last one from me,"
"Bring it,"
"Do you believe in love at first sight?"
You looked at Jacob curiously, and he took a moment before replying.
"Yeah, I do," he answered smoothly, "I mean when I met you, there was this instant connection, and I just knew there was something special about you."
"He's telling the truth," the lie detector confirmed, and you couldn't help but smile.
"Smooth answer, Elordi. Looks like we're on the same page about love at first sight," he smiled back at you, "Lord that was so cheesy, It's my turn! But, did at any point of this interview did you lie and we didn't catch you?"
"I mean, I don't know if you caught me," Jacob rested his chin on his hand.
"Did he lie?" you asked the man, both you and Jacob turning to look at him.
"He's not lying," He confirmed and Jacob gave you a smug smile
"I guess you passed the test."
YN TELLS THE TRUTH
You took your place in the hot seat while Jacob prepared to play the role of the interrogator, nerves kicking in as the crew hooked you up to the machine.
"Okay, YN," Jacob said, a smirk showing on his face, "Let's get started, shall we?"
You nodded and he sent you a wink.
"Is your favorite movie still 'The Notebook'?"
"Absolutely," you answered immediately and the machine confirmed your answer.
"Classic," he muttered, "Have you ever faked a compliment about my cooking?"
"Maybe once or twice, but it's only because I didn't want to hurt your feelings," you bit your lip, and Jacob gave you a surprised expression
"So, I've been living a lie?" he raised his eyebrow at you.
"No, no," you reassured him, "Your cooking skills have definitely improved over time."
"Truth," the man in charge of the lie detector said, and Jacob nodded in approval.
"Fair enough. Now, have you ever pretended to like a movie just because I wanted to watch it?"
"Guilty again," you covered your face in embarrassment,"But in my defense, no one wants to watch the Star Wars movies after a long day of filming."
"My feelings are definitely hurt," Jacob said and dramatically put a hand on his chest, "This test is making you look like a bad girlfriend, actually,"
"Come on now, give me more questions,"
"Alright, let's dig a little deeper," Jacob said with a smirk, "Have you ever considered stealing my phone to read my text messages?"
"Maybe once or twice," you said, "But only out of curiosity, not suspicion."
"Well, you know I'm wrapped around your finger so I would let you go through it anytime," he shrugged, "Do you think my Australian accent is sexier than your American one?"
"Oh, come on! That's not a fair question," you couldn't help but burst into laughter.
"Just answer the question, love," Jacob teased.
"Fine, fine," you said, still laughing, "Yes, your Australian accent is undeniably sexy."
"Truth," the machine confirmed, and Jacob playfully raised an eyebrow looking satisfied.
"Do you regret any of the roles you've played?" he asked, and you took a deep breath before answering.
"No, all of the roles I've played have been very meaningful to me," you replied, and the man operating the machine machine looked at you with a raised eyebrow."
"She's lying," he simply said, and you shut your eyes hearing Jacob laugh.
"I guess you have some explaining to do," he chuckled, shooting a playful glare at you, "Come on, spill it."
"Okay, fine," you admitted, "There was this one project early in my career that I took for the paycheck, and looking back, I wish I had chosen something more aligned with my values. It's not a regret per se, but more of a lesson learned."
"Fair enough," Jacob nodded, moving to the next question, "Have you ever stalked fan accounts dedicated to me?"
"Maybe a casual scroll here and there," you admitted, trying to seem cool about it.
"Casual scroll, huh?" Jacob raised an eyebrow and peeked at the lie detector, "The machine doesn't seem convinced, right?" he asked the man.
"It's a lie," he confirmed ad Jacob burst into laughter.
"Caught red-handed, love. What's next? Have you ever used my toothbrush without telling me?" he teased, making you laugh
"No way! That's just gross," you protested
"You hesitated there. Are you sure?" Jacob raised an eyebrow again
The machine signaled the truth, and you sighed in relief.
"I was just grossed out by the thought. I promise I've never done that."
"It's not like we haven't kissed before," he teased and you rolled your eyes but smiled, "Okay last question.
"Hit me with it," you said, ready for whatever it would be.
"Have you ever thought about what our future holds? Like, where we'll be in 10 years?" he asked, his expression turning serious.
You took a moment to contemplate the question.
"Yes," you answered sincerely, "I think about it quite often. I imagine us still together, maybe with a family, still acting and pursuing our passions and of course supporting each other."
"Truth," the lie detector machine confirmed your words, and Jacob's serious expression softened into a warm smile.
"Well, looks like we're on the same page there once again," he said, "Did you lie at any time and we didn't catch you?"
"Nope, I was an open book, babe," you replied, sending a wink his way.
"Did she lie?" Jacob turned to the man behind the machine,
The man hesitated for a moment, building suspense, before finally saying, "She's telling the truth."
"Told you!"
The video ended with both of you laughing at each other, and it became one of Vanity Fair's most watched Lie Detector tests.
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grayeyedandroid · 1 year
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I have zero idea what I did to my neck but it now feels like somethings angry and I can’t hold my head up anymore (not numb like it gets sometimes, just pain). feels kinda burny, not to the touch but the type of pain. do Not enjoy this. argg
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hypnoswrites · 7 months
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Bad Taste
A commission I was allowed to post! I had a lot of fun writing this and I hope you all enjoy reading it :D
WARNINGS: Yandere! Chrollo, PT member! reader, female! reader, explicit nsfw, casual sex, mentions of explicit violence, mentions of murder, mentions of character death, reader is kinda immoral but that comes with the pt territory, dubious consent
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"You have bad taste, you know that?" You said, lying on your side, tired eyes slowly moving over every choice that had gone into the design of the bedroom. At first glance, you would've called the excess of gold and silver gaudy, but then there was that minimalist abstract painting in the corner, or the classical bedside table made out of gray marble, and you decided even that descriptor wasn't fully applicable. The maximalism of a rich hoarder, was the only term that felt somewhat correct. "None of these pieces work together."
Chrollo smiled as he looked up from his book, participating in your critique of his interior design skills. "I'd call it the curse of having many interests. If you ask me, committing to a single style or type of art when there is so much variety in the world is as much a sign of bad taste as you consider this to be."
"The art nouveau brutalist bathroom is an abomination, Chrollo."
"Or so you continue to remind me. Would you rather I hang the Klimt with the byzantine sculptures?"
"No. I'd rather you throw those away. Or sell them." You sat upright and pulled the sheets off your body, sitting on the edge of the bed so you could stretch properly, your fingers tapping against the side of the mattress while you thought of what you were going to do next. Shower or get dressed and leave?. "Such a waste letting them get water damage."
"Stop suggesting we have sex in the bathtub then."
"No." Something about the clumsiness of sex in bathrooms had always appealed to you, and if you liked seeing Chrollo with his hair wet while he was bent over you, who’d judge you? "I don't think I will."
"I figured."
You stretched your arms over your head, feeling a delightful pull on your sore muscles. You’d slept badly, you always slept too lightly when other people were around, but the calm and laziness of the morning made the slight exhaustion lingering on your body feel less bothersome. There was nothing on the agenda today, so you could truly just go your own way. Perhaps you’d train a bit later in the evening, or visit a botanical garden if the weather was nice. Visiting gardens was always your go-to activity on lazy days, since you always felt truly at ease feeling your nen curl around so many different specimens, all responding to your commands. Controlling flora was a tricky ability, especially in less habitable areas like the dusty deserts surrounding Yorknew, so to be in a location where nothing would ever be able to truly harm you was comforting. You didn’t know whether that comfort came from the security or the control. 
At the thought of your ability, you wondered when you’d use it next. The last time had ended a bit anticlimactically. You’d wrapped nettles around a man’s throat, only for him to suffocate and die in mere minutes, apparently allergic to the plant. You’d gotten in a bit of trouble, since he’d been meant to give information, but luckily his colleague knew enough to save your hide. When you’d started to master your own ability, you’d never considered allergies being relevant so often. 
You lowered your arms and rolled your shoulders, looking back at Chrollo who was smiling ever so slightly. “So when’s the next heist? Or are you leaving to find new members first?”
He raised an eyebrow. “You are under the impression that killing Hisoka has no priority?”
Ah. You should’ve figured.
“Didn’t want to assume. Aren’t you supposed to be quite strict with the ‘no leg matters, just the spider’ philosophy?” You suppressed a smile at the mention of Hisoka, knowing any sign of affection, as small as it was, wouldn’t be appreciated. You didn’t particularly care about Shalnark and Kortopi, only having worked with them in passing for a few years, so it wasn’t like you felt betrayed by the magicians actions. If anything, you’d found Chrollo’s continual leniency on the magician’s schemes to be surprising, and retrospectively quite an obvious mistake. “Well. With eight or so members it’ll surely work out fine.” 
It would. You’d only seen a handful of them in combat, but if they managed to corner Hisoka, he was dead, an opinion that was supported by the fact that Hisoka was already supposed to be dead, having lost to Chrollo in the arena. 
You’d watched the show on television, a bit disappointed when it had stopped being broadcast due to the deaths of most of the camera staff. Either that, or the producers had chosen not to show such a massacre, as exciting as it had been. Even with gyo constantly activated, you had barely been able to keep up with the quick movements and techniques displayed, which had definitely increased your respect for Chrollo, the trust and belief the rest of the spider had in him definitely not unfounded.
You’d asked Hisoka in private shortly after his quasi-death and expulsion of the spider how he intended to fight them all off, certainly in close quarters, but he’d just kept it vague and acted indignified at your lack of belief in his capabilities. It wasn’t that you didn’t believe him to be capable of somehow pulling off something most would deem impossible, but rather that you really wished to know how he was planning to do so. A mystery is only as compelling as the explanation that is served, and you were left only with curiosity and impatience. 
Still, you’d decided a while ago that you would bet on Hisoka. The odds were high that he intended to kill you along with the rest of the spiders if he ever got the chance, but you doubted he’d chase after you if you made yourself scarce before anything big could happen. The parts of the plan he’d clued you in on were compelling enough to bet on, since even if Hisoka failed miserably, you still had enough time to work out a second plan of your own. 
"Just to sate my curiosity on the matter." Chrollo asked, looking over the edge of his book as you grabbed a short satin dress you’d worn yesterday night that had been discarded next to the bed. Pulling it over your head, you were relieved to not fully be naked anymore, not out of a sense of decency or prudishness, but because Chrollo’s stare tended to be a bit too appreciative for your liking. "Are you two close?"
You didn’t need to ask for clarification.
Truly, you liked Hisoka. He was an interesting figure and so upfront with his betrayals that you wondered how he still managed to fool anyone into trusting him. His style, his humor, his fighting style. It was all so uniquely him and yet at the same time so inhumanly distant that you had trouble seeing him as an actual person. Instead, he felt more like a character you could enjoy watching, and you would be lying if it hadn’t flattered you that he’d enjoyed watching you too. 
"We're not intimate, if that's what you're asking." This was edging a bit too close to a discussion on your relationship with him for your liking. Chrollo, ever the achiever, didn't bore you with such things usually. Instead, he'd either lure you into some quasi-intellectual debate or just leave you be. Your favorite ending to one of these meetings had been when he'd expressed interest in some blockbuster that was airing, and you'd surprised yourself into inviting him to come and watch it with you. The movie theater experience, complete with popcorn and a soda, had been fun in a domestic way you'd not experienced in a while. Ranting about the bad quality of the film was also a fond memory, though you were not the type to grow attached to domestic activities. "Didn't think you were the jealous type."
"I wouldn't call it jealousy." He said earnestly, chuckling when he saw the disbelieving tilt of your head. "If anything, I'm trying to see whether you've betrayed the spider too."
You forced your eyebrows to lift in surprise. "Oh. I'd never. How little faith do you have in me?"
Whatever playful tone you’d placed in your words, it seemed to be the wrong choice, as you were pulled back into bed by your hair. The casual atmosphere had ended, and the pretense of this just being a chat was broken. His fingers curled around locks of your hair, pulling at your scalp, and the book was discarded somewhere on the bed. 
You let it happen, finding the sting of his grip on your hair more comfortable than this conversation, especially since it ended up with your barely covered upper body sprawled over his lap. He looked down at you, and if he spotted your gratitude at this turn of events, he did not show it. Instead, he actually seemed angry, his entire face frozen on a blank slate. If he could not even find the state of mind to force a neutral expression, you’d definitely crossed a line. 
Luckily, he acknowledged his own anger too, which saved you from having to navigate what exactly he was taking offense to. 
"You've chosen a bit of an unfortunate moment to joke with me. Safe to say, I wouldn't call myself completely stable at the moment." It was at times like this that you truly appreciated his features, his face and body made to be cast in marble. Bloodlust only enhanced the image, washing off the false domestic and normal air that he clothed himself in to blend in. "It'll pass, but for now I'd urge you to give me a serious response."
That made sense in retrospect. Last night he’d been quite a bit more rough than he usually was. His hand had found your throat on many occasions, and while you did not mind being manhandled a bit, the force with which he sucked hickeys into your neck and the pressure of his arms around your waist had proven a bit intense at times. You’d just explained it away as a mood, but this made quite a bit more sense. 
"How about this, I’ll give you a quick rundown of everything I know: I haven't spoken with him ever since that entire mess with Shal and Kortopi," His hand tightened around your hair, and you figured he didn’t like you minimizing the events that had occurred, but to be fair, he would’ve been more suspicious had you acted all respectful to his dead friends. "But he did tell me something beforehand which I think you might find interesting."
His expression did not change, but Chrollo did seem a bit irritated that you were playing coy. "Well?"
"The boat led by the Kakin Empire heading towards the dark continent. Apparently there will be some kind of contest held on board during the trip, and Hisoka seemed quite interested in it. If I had to guess, he's going to be there, trying his best to make the entire affair about twenty percent more complicated." 
If you felt any regret having spoken those words, you didn’t feel it yet, though you kept the possibility open that you’d feel a bit bad about it later. If only, if only.
The seed had been planted. Chrollo probably had an inkling that you telling him this was intended by Hisoka, but that didn’t really matter. Hisoka wanted a fight, so it’d be out of character for him to suggest a fighting stage and not show up. The spiders would crawl on board, head toward the dark continent, a place so dangerous every expedition you’d heard of had stellar mortality rates, and hopefully they’d never return. 
On the day of the departure, you’d stay behind. You liked excitement and part of you wanted to explore the dark continent and its mysteries as much as any other, but it’d be certain death for you if you went. There were too many things left to experience on this planet, and dying at the hands of either Chrollo or Hisoka left a bad taste in your mouth. 
They were both dear to you, but you really hoped they’d kill each other and sink the boat. 
"A hobby you two seem to share."
"As if you don't." You lightly admonished, smiling as his fingers were still pulling at strands of your hair, his eyes murderously intense as he stared down at you. "Well, are you going to kill me or am I free to go?"
"You seem to be misunderstanding something." He grabbed your face and made you face the wall, a multitude of painted faces in varying degrees of realism staring back at you. "Whatever I don't get rid of, I collect. And since I am quite fond of you, even if I deem your betrayal to go too far, I won't kill you. Instead, I'll pin you to these walls like those paintings you seem to hate so much and enjoy the sight of you until I feel ready to throw you away. Act with that in mind."
You suppressed a sigh and realized you'd been right in your assessment of where this was headed. A shame, even if it was way too late for you to take back your countermeasures anyway.  "Chrollo, do you hear yourself speak right now?"
"I do. I know what I sound like." He sighed and let go of your face. When you slowly remade eye contact with him, he was looking quite pensive before he bent forward, closing the gap between you and him. For a second you hoped that he'd kiss you, just to cut this conversation short. You knew what was at the end of that road, while this was inching further and further into uncomfortable territory. “Don’t act like this is coming out of nowhere. I think you’re quite aware of the effect you have on me. I myself find it quite interesting at times, and in all honesty, it would be much easier to see exactly what you’re made of if I keep you a bit incapacitated.”
"That sounds quite scary." You said, less sarcastically than you'd intended, the sincerity of his words sending a shiver down your spine. The slight quirk of his lips, the complete nonchalance with which he'd admitted to his plans for you if you betrayed him, all made you believe that he was not kidding in the slightest. You'd always known it was a bit risky sleeping with the head of the spiders, but that danger had been part of the enjoyment. What fun was there in hooking up if there wasn't a risk of death involved? "I wasn't aware you felt about me like that."
"You have your moments."
"I see."
Being proven right was a bitter victory in this case, as much as you wanted to pretend it didn’t bother you in the slightest. You and Chrollo had spent many a night like this, and a few months ago, you had been quite pleased with the set-up, your post-heist adrenaline and bloodlust always being channeled in the best way possible, but in that same period you’d felt something start to change. 
During heists he rarely deployed you, something that was even beginning to be noticed even by other spiders. Your abilities were being questioned, and you’d even heard that little black-haired shit wonder whether you always slept your way to the top. Three members had to remind you of the rule not to fight other spiders, because otherwise you would’ve gouged out his eyeballs and thrown his guts to the dogs.
It was insulting, and the mere idea that Chrollo was in love with you was even worse.
It made you uncomfortable to see a man you had so much respect for debase himself in chasing you. He never did anything outwardly romantic, but he stared, and you could tell that any time you spent with him was intriguing him. It wasn’t supposed to be like that. He was supposed to be better than that. You couldn’t stand it when he sighed after kissing you or left books on the dinner table for you to take when you left. 
He couldn’t betray the spider, not in such an awfully human way. 
And so you’d decided one morning while waking up in his arms, his heartbeat thumping underneath your ear, that you’d prefer it if he died. Death would freeze the image you had of him, of the ruthless and constantly shifting leader of the Phantom Troupe. Death would freeze all of them, since after Uvogin and Pakunoda’s deaths you’d noticed more and more cracks in what used to be a perfect formula. 
Feitan and Phinks, who used to go off on their own in between heists, now seemed bound to the hip, their cruelty and ruthlessness a mere façade for what even a blind person could see. Franklin called Shizuku every few hours, checking in on her location and how she was doing. Nobunaga had completely lost it, even if everyone pretended to not see it, and you weren’t someone who generally empathized with unknown faces, but the civilian woman he’d fixated on after the death of Uvo was clearly having to deal with a lot of delusional bullshit.
The changes spread gradually, but the spider was not what it used to be. Most of the members had grown up together and preferred not losing one another, the recent deaths of those close to them proving they were not as okay with being replaceable as they’d pretended to be all this time. None of them would ever utter such a thing, but you noticed it regardless. 
Being annihilated on the way to the dark continent, or at their destination, would be the best way for the spider. All in order to hold onto its principles. In some way, you felt like you were saving the man whose death you were planning, whose body had been pressed against yours so often. You’d never been the sentimental type, but the idea that you were saving a legacy from dying out painfully was beautiful to you. Chrollo wouldn’t ruin himself in your name. The others wouldn’t slip away into insanity and sentimentality. 
Hisoka was the only one who knew how you felt, and had even agreed with your views, meaning he was the sole ally you had in this perspective. You’d spent years with the Troupe, and in some distant way, you loved the spider. Vaguely, you realized you’d accept it if Chrollo killed you now. Maybe he’d prove you wrong. Maybe he would get rid of your traitorous self, kill Hisoka and purge the spider of all that had desecrated it. 
You would accept it gratefully. 
Chrollo let go of your hair and his thumb traced a line across your forehead. 
“Fine.” He breathed out. 
“We’re leaving it at that?” You asked, cursing yourself for even responding, and even more for the desperation you felt at the loss of his aggression. Chrollo immediately moved, languidly shifting your body and his so you were below him once more, your legs on either side of his hips. He pushed his hair back and rubbed his eyes a bit before taking another good look at you. You couldn’t decipher his expression fully, but decided a mix of exhaustion and exasperation came closest.  
“We’re not.” A hand moved under your waist and lifted up your lower body, slotting you against him. He bent forward over you and out of the corner of your eyes you saw him slowly wrap a hand around his cock and pump himself a few times. When he was sufficiently hard, he moved the hand with which he’d touched himself up to your mouth, two fingers patiently waiting on your lips to be licked. Knowing this song and dance, you opened your mouth, your tongue searching and finding his fingers instantly. Whilst you were sufficiently coating his fingers in spit, his dark eyes moved over your body. “We’ll be done once I say we’re done.”
The authoritative comment did little to turn you on, his possessive and romantically laced comments from earlier still making you feel weird. Still, when he pulled his fingers from your mouth and lowered them to your pussy to lubricate your entrance, the few flicks he performed against your clit did make your chest rise from the mattress a bit. 
Pressing his forehead to yours, he quickly grabbed his cock and pushed it inside you, a satisfied sound leaving his throat as he successfully entered you. The pace he set was slow, gentle in a way that made you want to cry.
“Don’t betray me.” He said, and you felt your stomach turn at the pleading tone accompanying it. It was hard to enjoy the way he rolled his hips against yours, pushing his cock further into you, when your mind was miles away. How could you be present when all you wanted was to leave and forget he’d ever disappointed you like this. “I’ll do much worse than kill you if you do.”
That wasn’t a lie. He’d probably lock you up, steal your ability and hurt you until you didn’t have the strength to fight him anymore. Maybe he’d cut your legs off, maybe he’d bind you to a bed until malnutrition and muscle decay did the work for him. That part didn’t scare you, it was what he’d do after that that terrified you. He’d keep you with him, sleep next to you, and trace your injuries. He’d insist you read with him, watch movies with him, make love to him instead of the distant sex you preferred. He’d love you, earnestly and in his own way, and you’d rather die than experience it, since it would mean the man you loved was utterly gone.
“You know, don’t you?” He asked. “Please tell me you know.”
You wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him, desperate for him to shut up.
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innerwomen · 1 month
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An AU I have in my head is in, "The Cravings," what would have happened if Batmom's water did break? Alfred wasn't there so it was gonna go down...
Anon, you read my mind! In honor of this request, this is how I think it would go down if her water broke! (Alfred ain’t there so it is all about to go down) Thanks for the request! 💞💞💞
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Not Alone.
Paring: Batfamily x (pregnant)Batmom
TYPE: ask!
WARNINGS: pregnancy, water breaks, contractions, mention of female genitalia (kinda couldn’t avoid that one lol) swearing.
Here is the other way this could have gone. ‘The Cravings’
Reminder: give me your requestsssss 🧙‍♀️
You watched the seconds hand click, click, click, past the numbers, there was nothing to do in the mansion without the boys, Bruce or Alfred. You didn’t realize just how big Alfred’s presence in your life was. He was always there to gossip, to assist, and to advise; you missed him and made sure to remember that when he came back from visiting his family, you would thank him.
Not one sound came from the manor that wasn’t one of your own, it got to the point your swallowing was the only noise heard. You would have brought Titus out, but he was at the vet, so you were truly all alone. You hated this part of the night, the awkward stage between evening and midnight, where it was late into the night but yet to early to sleep.
“I can’t take this anymore! What do people do when they have nothing to do?” You abruptly stand from the couch and pace back and forth. Somehow you end up in the batcave, ironically this room makes you feel the safest and was much more interesting than the hollow manor. You sit yourself in one of the three big chairs that faced various screens, each one had a different purpose, but you could just recognize two, the location tracker and emergency call button. Neither did anything interesting or slightly entertaining.
“D/n, promise me when your older you will be normal? In the sense that- you don’t become a hero, or a vigilante, just a regular person… I’m getting gray hairs just stressing over the boys.”
As if she were replying, you felt a kick to the lower right side of your swelled stomach. Suddenly you felt your stomach contract and tighten, taking you by surprise and leaving you with shortness of breath. A strong pressure forces itself onto your lower back and sides. Causing you to groan in pain and discomfort. When the contraction ended you were thankful you were already seated and tried to catch your breath before another wave of pressure appeared.
As you stood up to go to the kitchen for water, you felt light liquid make its way from your inner thigh down to your knee, it was clear and you knew exactly what it meant. Your heartbeat picked up and you began to feel anxious and scared.
You quickly sat back in the seat and tried to calm yourself before calling Bruce. When you finally steadied yourself you called your husband.
He immediately picked up, not letting it ring twice, “Hello? Honey, everything alright?”
Right as you were going to reply another contraction started, forcing down your words and being replaced with grunts and groans.
Immediately Bruce was concerned and uneasyin his reply, “Y/n, what's wrong? Tell me what’s wrong. What’s going on?” He left little space between his sentences, saying it all in one quick breath.
Between the pulses of pain you reply, “My water broke, please, please, please make your way home fast!”
For one particularly painful contraction, you squeezed your eyes shut and placed your head down, the pressure on your bladder and vaginal area making it excruciatingly unpleasant to sit, stand, lay down, or be in any other position.
He could pick up on the pain you were experiencing through the strain of your voice and drew out breaths; he tensed at the thought of you all alone while you went through contractions and the other pains women face at the end of their pregnancy.
“Don't worry baby, we are on our way. I know it's hard but please try to calm down and watch your breathing. We will be home in less than ten minutes.” You could notice the extra effort he put into his tone of voice to comfort you and sound calm and collected.
——————
“Come on, we are going back home!” Batman yelled to his ex-robins who were in patrol in different areas of the city with his ear device. “Leave your posts and make your way to the manor!”
“What? I haven't even finished my block!” Damien says as he retaliates with his father, on brand.
A yawn can be heard through the comms, “Sounds good to me, I'm tired as hell over here.” Tim happily accepts the invitation to leave earlier than planned.
“Is something wrong?” Dick asks apprehended.
“It's always something with this family….” Jason sighs at what was the familiar brotherly antics.
As he runs to his vehicle, Bruce tells the boys the reason for the unplanned leave, “Y/n’s water broke, she's going through contractions and she needs us, so hurry your asses!” He tried to refrain from cursing his sons, but sometimes it was called for.
Upon hearing the motive for the leave, and the fact their mother was home, alone and pregnant; the boys wasted no time in packing it up and leaving.
———————
You were traversing through the surges of pain while stressing about when your family would finally arrive back home. The contractions became longer and the time interval between them was shortening. You had already called ahead to your doctor, and you were taking his advice and walking around the cave slowly when you heard an engine coming from the private driveway.
The Batmobile was parked and out of the vehicle, all five of your boys rushed towards you.
“Mother, are you feeling alright? How long ago did your water break?”
“Mom, for how long are the contractions?”
“Ma, are you hungry? Tim, get her Pop-Tarts!”
“On a scale of 1 - 10 how much pain are you?”
The boys immediately bombarded you with questions, hugs, and food. You embraced it all, though you were in pain, you muddied them and were just happy they were all now here for you.
“Hush! All of you, you all crowding her, let her breathe.” Bruce pushed past the dotting sons and made his way to you, “We are here for you now, love, okay?”
“Thanks, guys,” you smile up at the boys who will no doubt take care of you and be present for every step of this new journey of their baby sister, D/n. When a dizzy spell hits you, you lean your weight onto your husband's side, who immediately wraps his arm around you, and who with all the love in the world is here and ready to support you through it all.
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limarieb · 25 days
Text
i come around (when you least expect me)
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Pairing(s): emo!Wanda Maximoff x fem!reader
Summary: After a one-night stand during a party, you find yourself in an odd gray area with your best friend's sister. It just so happens that your best friend's sister is also the person that has been making your life a living hell for the last few years... all without your best friend knowing.
Warnings: enemies to lovers, cursing, mentions of drinking/parties, high school au, Wanda lowkey kinda mean but i SWEAR its lowkey, non-graphic scenes of kissing/making out (no smut... yet...?)
Word Count: 3.5k
Author's Note: sorry for my lack of posting, but i promised it would come soon(ish)! here's that 100 follower special i promised — oh, and thank youuuu all for the follows and support... i love you all <3 (title from 'heartbeat' by childish gambino) ... also, requests/asks are still open!
Main Masterlist | ao3 | Wattpad
...
Pain. Throbbing, aching pain. The discomfort from your current hangover surrounded every inch of your mind, physically and metaphorically. Well, almost every inch... because memories from last night were finally reaching the surface now that you have awoken, conscious and, unfortunately, sober.
The sweet lips on yours.
The feeling of skin, hot and sweaty, against your own.
The perfect dichotomy of soft hands on your body as they gripped at your skin roughly, almost primal in nature.
And they all belonged to your best friend's twin sister.
You started to get ready for the day — whoever talked you into attending a party the day before the school year began should be arrested and fined for such a disservice.
Thankfully, you planned enough ahead to bring clothes to the twins' house for today. The outfit you had chosen was relatively casual: the worn-down, navy blue sweater that had been your father's during his college years and the comfiest pair of jeans you could find.
Venturing downstairs to the kitchen, you finally felt the extent of how poorly your stomach felt due to the heavy drinking from the previous night. You opted for something easy, pulling the first box of cereal that your fingertips touched out of the cabinet. You never liked cereal too much, but anything went during difficult times like these.
As you poured yourself a bowl of the bland cereal, footsteps sounded throughout the house. They were coming closer and closer to your location. You assumed it had been Pietro.
You were... close — it was her.
When you looked up from the bowl to see who the person was, you were displeased to find the girl standing there, simply observing you with a smirk on her face. It reminded you of the villainous expressions from the television: conniving and mischievous.
"Stop staring at me like that," you sneered, trying to keep your volume low enough that Pietro would not hear you but loud enough that she would sense the harsh seriousness of your tone.
Wanda maintained her gaze, simply tilting her head as if to challenge you, "Like what?"
"Like you know what I taste like."
The faux innocence in her expression slightly faltered. Her eyebrows rose, the shock from your words evident on her face. As Wanda opened her mouth to form another witty remark, the sound of a door opening made the two of you go effectively silent. Wanda looked toward the direction of the sound, awaiting his entrance in a way that demonstrated her indifference toward last night's events. You, on the other hand, completely averted your gaze from both of the twins due to the shame that coursed through your veins.
The rational part of your brain begged for you to tell Pietro about what happened last night; it would resolve the guilt that clawed at you with each passing minute, lifting the weight off of your shoulders entirely. Yet, each time that you began to plan the exact words of your apology, any ideas you had conjured seemed to fall short. It was not as if you could search the internet for a script concerning "how to tell your best friend that you mistakenly (but not so mistakenly that you stopped it) hooked up with his emo, bitchy twin sister at a party."
Your eyes swiftly returned to Wanda, watching her inch closer to where you stood by the counter. She reached her arm behind you, leaning in close enough that your breath mingled with hers. If asked, you would completely and utterly deny that part of your mind was anticipating the vibrant feeling of her lips on yours again; however, the fleeting glance at her lips revealed otherwise.
Wanda noticed. Of course, you would fall into her trap, and she noticed. She smirked in response to your reaction before leaning away and taking a few steps back. A banana was in the hand that had been behind you. Scoffing at yourself, you cannot believe that you let her tease you again.
"See you at school, Y/N," she declared with narrowed eyes, looking you up and down once more before waltzing out of the front door.
You took a deep breath, attempting to recuperate your mind for the day ahead of you. As soon as Wanda had left, Pietro walked into the kitchen, ignorant of what had just occurred.
Standing still as if in a daze, you could only sense Pietro race around the kitchen, grabbing various items he needed for the day ahead. After a few minutes, he slowed to a stop after closing the door to the fridge. He must have sensed your unusual stillness, then he asked, “You okay? Looks like you’ve seen a ghost.”
You shakily nodded. “All good,” you forced yourself to stutter out. Not even you believed your words, but it seems as if Pietro was too busy in his own world to truly notice the lack of honesty in your reply. “I’m all good. Now come on, we’re gonna be late.”
The two of you scurried out the door in the hopes that you had not missed the bus. It was a bad habit that you both had been trying to break for years now but remained relatively unsuccessful.
As the two of you approached the classic, yellow school bus that sat on the corner of the street, Pietro raced ahead in order to save you the extra minute of running. He gracefully entered the bus, climbing its stairs with ease; meanwhile, you were audibly out of breath and tried to ignore the glances the bus driver gave to the two of you.
Pietro, like most mornings, found himself sitting with some of his friends from the cross country team, leaving you to fend for yourself. You quickly scanned the bus for an empty row so you could sit by yourself, but you quickly realized that was a luxury you could not afford after such a late arrival. While you could not find an empty row, you were about to find a single empty seat towards the back of the bus.
You shuffled your feet to the empty seat but stopped as soon as you noticed its other inhabitant: Wanda.
Bile suddenly formed in your throat at the thought of having to spend more time with her — more specifically, without her brother, your friend, and coincidentally the only person to keep her dangerous, spontaneous nature in check, present. You approached her, simply attempting to take the bus ride silently and one minute at a time. You swore to yourself internally that you would not respond to her, irrespective of whatever she may say or do.
The bus slowly pulled away from the stop and started its route toward the high school. For the first few minutes, everything seemed to be going unusually fine. Wanda sat silently beside you, wired earphones trailing from her phone to her ears. As her gaze remained fixed toward the window, you wonder if she had even noticed that a person had now occupied the seat next to her, let alone that person being you.
You naively took her initial lack of response as a victory. With a sigh of relief, you allowed your body to relax in the seat and closed your eyes for the remainder of the ride.
Then, you felt something.
The brush of something on your thigh.
You opened your eyes to scope the scene, making sure you had not imagined the sensation; however, it seemed to be just that: nothing. The only thing positioned in your lap was your backpack filled with your books for the upcoming year. You closed your eyes and began to drift away once again. Maybe you were going crazy, you pondered. (Maybe you could blame your irrational behavior last night on such insanity. Would the insanity defense work for things like that, too?)
Then, you felt it again.
Without much hesitation, your eyes shot open once more. Only this time, you were met with the sight of a hand, decorated with several rings and chipped, black nail polish, situated comfortably, almost possessively, on your upper thigh. You peered toward Wanda's face, which was still facing the opposite direction, attempting to gauge her reaction. Yet, you saw nothing; her expression was rather unchanged, leaving you more confused than anything.
Before you could think about what to do about the situation, the bus drove over a mountainous bump on the road. You internally cursed the local government officials for the obstacle, for whether it occur by accident or intention, Wanda's hand flew directly into the apex between your thighs. Eyes widened in shock, your lips drift open as you gasp from the sensation.
It finally gave you the courage, however, to shove her hand away, but not without seeing the signature smirk she acquired in the process. Anger began to boil inside you. You repeated to yourself that it was because the brunette's touches were unexpected — not that she had been victorious. In the end, you just silently thanked yourself that you had chosen jeans, or else that could have ended much differently knowing the Sokovian.
Days turned into weeks, each bringing the routine of snide comments and less-than-playful banter between you and Wanda. You still had not found a way to enlighten Pietro about your issues with his sister (both the endless torment and... that night), given that (1) she was his twin sister and (2) she always seemed to be around. The cynical part of your brain believed that her unusual proximity was purposeful — she probably just wanted to see the fallout.
While the two of you had not gone further than your typical banter again over the past few weeks, though, you still felt incredibly agitated. (You chalked it up to anger because it definitely could not be the possibility of pent-up sexual frustration between the two of you.)
However, one day differed from the rest.
You noticed early in the day that Wanda was being extraordinarily quiet. Part of you was thankful, praying that her silence would continue until the end of the school day.
It was a Thursday in late October. Like most days, you followed Pietro to his home after school, venting to him about how you were excited it was Friday tomorrow because you were simply over all of the midterms being assigned and just wanted time to relax.
(You continued to ignore the underlying guilt that sat in the pit of your stomach from remaining silent about everything that happened with his sister weeks before; you attempted to ignore it even more by rationalizing your silence, stating it was "only one time" and a "mistake that would never even happen again.")
As you entered the house, Pietro immediately drops his bag on the floor and runs up to his room. You rolled your eyes at this typical, teenage-boy messiness, and opted to place your bag on the hooks that Agatha designated for such items.
Feet padding across the wooden floors, you wandered into your happy place of the home: the kitchen. You opened the fridge, looking for a small snack that could satiate your hunger until dinner. Finding nothing of interest, you closed the door. Your body jumps, though, at the figure that had been hiding behind it: Wanda.
The patience you once had had officially worn invisibly thin.
“What the fuck, Wanda? What do you want from me?” you asked exasperatedly, the energy you once had for such shenanigans having become completely depleted after a difficult week of school. "Listen, I don't know what I ever did to you for you to treat me like this, but I'm over it."
“Are you…” She started but quickly cut herself off. Her head tilted, trying to figure out if you really did not know the answer. You noticed the way her mouth opened and shut out of pure bewilderment; while you normally would make a comment about it in an attempt to tease her in return, you figured now was not the time. When Wanda found no evidence of lies in your expression, she continued to speak, “You really don’t remember, do you?”
You threw your head back, a chuckle escaping from the back of your throat, primarily due to the exhaustion caused by this long-awaited conversation. “No, Wanda, I don’t remember! If I had, don’t you think I would have apologized by now! Don’t you think that maybe, just maybe, I would have given you an “I’m sorry” so we could have avoided all of this? So that I would not have to deal with your bullshit for the past decade? So tell me, Wanda, what did I do to deserve this?”
“First day of school. Second grade. Recess," she spat out. Her words were so quiet but uttered with such venom.
Your brows furrowed in confusion at the seemingly random series of words, "What?"
She rolled her eyes, clearly frustrated with your lack of memories. While you could not remember what made her act this way, it had evidently stuck with her for years.
"It was my first day at this school," she began, her expression turning from red, hot anger into a stoic and collected nature. "Pietro and I had just moved to the States after losing our parents a few months before. Agatha was the only family member, albeit a distant family member, who was alive and willing to take us. So, we left everything behind and moved here."
You already knew the majority of this information, mostly after hearing it in brevity from Pietro. He had never truly talked about his time in Sokovia in depth, finding it distressing and uncomfortable to recall. You only discovered this one day when you both were 9, and you had followed him to his house after school for a play date. In a state of innocent curiosity, you asked him why he called (what you had assumed to be his mom) by her first name upon entering the house. He explained the basics, and that was the end of that. You understood and respected his quietness on the subject since then.
"Pietro has always been the better twin — better at school, better at sports, better at making friends. And, I'm just... me. So, he has always been better at the whole 'socializing' thing, even as an immigrant child with little knowledge of the States. Everybody seemed to like him, I guess. I, on the other hand, refused to talk... well, for the most part, at least. Anyway, on the first day of the second grade, my first day of school here, I was sitting on the edge of the concrete, picking at the grass."
She paused her speech, shifting her gaze to meet yours. "Then, this girl approached me. I thought, 'Wow, maybe I will have friends, maybe I will have friends and will finally be like Pietro.'” Wanda shook her head, shutting her eyes as if to remember each minute, each second, of that fateful day. Her accent was unconsciously growing thicker by the minute. “So, I greeted them, introduced myself like our mama had taught, and asked if they would like to play with me. You want to know what she did, Y/N?"
She opened her eyes, locking them with yours in a harsh stare. "'You talk funny,'" she hissed. "That's what the girl had said before running back to her group of friends. Truthfully, it's not even that deep of an insult, but it somehow spread like wildfire how the 'new girl' was abnormal, how she couldn’t even talk normally, how she was dirty with her dirty shoes and probably had fleas from her even dirtier home country, how no one could touch her or else they would be 'infected' by her."
“Why are you telling me this?” you stuttered out. “What does this have to do with you being a complete and utter bitch to me for the past ten years?”
Wanda huffed, “That girl was you, Y/N.”
Every breath you had suddenly left your chest. Your eyes widened, unsure of how to respond, “What?”
“You say I made your life a living hell? Bullshit. You ruined mine. You have everything I have ever wanted: friends, good grades… parents,” she said, her tone becoming soft with insecurity toward the end. “You even got my brother, my fucking twin brother! For fuck's sake! And yet, you still had to ruin my life."
"Wanda, I'm..." you began, but all of the words you have acquired in your seventeen years of life were failing you. "I'm sorry. I- I don't..."
This time, Wanda laughed, but it was not the depressed, low chuckle like before. No, this was something else entirely, a burst of maniacal laughter that indicated an unfound level of absurdity. Your eyebrows furrowed.
"'You don't' what, Y/N?" the brunette taunted.
You decided to be honest with her, "I don't know what to say."
"Of course not. 'Little Miss Perfect' never knows what to say when she finds out she's not so perfect after all."
Your sympathy gradually faded to the original anger you had been feeling. Your eyebrow involuntarily quirked, "Hold on, now... I never claimed to be 'perfect.'"
“Oh, please,” she replied, belittling your attempts to argue her predetermined notion of you. She began to mock you, “My name’s Y/N. I have the best grades in the entire school, all my friends love me, and, at night, my parents tuck me into bed and call me their little princess…”
Slowly but surely, your vision turned red. You stepped closer to Wanda, hoping the proximity would deter her from making additional snide comments about you.
“We all have our shit, Wanda,” you sneered. “You better quit now before I give you a reason to.”
She scoffed, “Oh, really? What are you gonna do? Tell mommy and daddy I…”
Her words were cut short by the placement of your lips on hers.
Truthfully, you were unsure of why you decided that this was the best course of action; perhaps your brain was simply shut off by the rage coursing through your body. Yet, that confusion did not stop you from continuing. In fact, it did not hinder either of you from continuing.
The kiss was forceful, containing all of the emotions you both have felt since that fateful night. Her mouth pushed and pulled roughly against yours; you returned the energy just as much. There were no thoughts, no rationality, behind both of your actions — only pure lust and passion.
Your hands started at her jaw but slowly drifted upwards toward the roots of her brown, messy hair, gripping and tugging at the strands. Parting from your lips for the first time in what must have been minutes, she released a moan from the sensation and continued to drift southwards toward your neck. As her teeth scraped at your pulse point, you were finally brought back to the reality of the situation.
You used the hands that were still threaded within her hair to pull her away from your neck; although, neither of you immediately stepped away from the other. You took the opportunity of your closeness to note how swollen her lips had become, how hot she looked under the dimness of the kitchen lighting.
"What are we doing?" you mumbled into the open air, not exactly expecting a response from the Sokovian in front of you.
She remained quiet, eyes flickering between your eyes and your lips. Her tongue darted out briefly, licking over her own lips in (what you assume to be, at least) preparation for more.
So, you seized the opportunity of her quietness to continue, "I'm not... I'm not perfect, okay? My parents... it's complicated. Sure, they're alive and whatnot, but... they don't care. Honestly, half of the shit I do — the grades, even — I do it so that they might finally pay attention. So, like I said, we all have our own shit to deal with."
Her lips parted, eyes stilled and staring into yours.
"And, l am sorry that that comment fucked you up as a kid. If I had known, even as a kid, I would've not said anything like that. I know I can't reverse time but..."
This time, her lips effectively ended your speech; however, the kiss was much softer than earlier, showcasing a newfound appreciation and, perhaps, feelings.
"I know," she acknowledged in a whisper after pulling away. "I'm... I'm sorry, too, by the way. I shouldn't have acted like that — it was cruel. We can talk more about it, about our... issues, later, but um- I just want to start over. Just us."
You nodded in affirmation, a blush flooding your cheeks.
"Just us."
The two of you sealed the agreement with a soft peck.
The sound of a glass shattering on the floor captured the attention of both of you, ending the kiss with the redirection of your heads in order to discover the culprit.
In the doorway of the kitchen, Pietro stood surrounded by broken glass splattered across on the wooden floor.
With widened eyes, you said the first and only thing that came to mind: "Oh, shi—"
End.
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seraphdreams · 2 years
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waittt why is eremika a confusing ship
based off the fact that eren shows his love for her in such an odd way and towards the end, it started getting confusing because mikasa killing eren was supposed to symbolize letting go from eren yet years later it’s like she’s still attached. i’m not saying she can’t still love him but it’s the way she loves him. on eren’s end, he’s been nothing but evil to her and put her through hell (besides those few times) it kinda felt stockholm syndrome-ish to me.
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moonstruckme · 4 months
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hey :)) first off, i love the hozier caption in your bio. second, I’ve been reading so many of your fics recently and i think you’re sooo talented! i wanna be like you when I grow up (im 20 almost 21 lol)
anyways, I’ve never really requested anything but i wanna give it a try. I was wondering if you could do a poly!marauders x reader fic or a just remus x reader fic where’s she’s driving and accidentally hits an animal and is really upset about it but they’re there to help to her move it and comfort her.
i just hit a cat and im not taking it well. we think it was just a stray cause I left my number with it in case but no one has called. my family kinda, but not really, made fun of me for being so sad about it and i kinda just need something with the guys being so affectionate and loving with her after everything.
it’s totally okay if youre not up to it! I understand that it’s such a hard topic so I won’t be offended if you don’t feel comfortable writing in this.
thank you again and im sooo looking forward to youre future work!! you’re talented, brilliant, incredible, amazing, show stopping, spectacular, never the same, totally unique, completely not ever been done before (lady gaga)
Mwah mwah mwah <3<3
-aves
(sorry this is so long)
Hi sweetheart, thank you so much! (Is your username a Lizzy McAlpine reference? I love that) I'm really sorry you went through this, I've been fortunate enough to have never hit an animal but I've seen it happen and it's so horrible, I'm really sorry you've been dealing with this :(( I think you did the right thing by leaving your number with it, and I hope the weight of that trauma and grief is starting to lift off you my love. Thank you for requesting <3
cw: mention of killing an animal, reader feeling guilty
poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.8k words
James hears the door and is up instantly, bounding down the hall to greet you and Sirius. 
“Hello!” he calls ahead, eager for company after being left alone in your flat for over a half hour. “You guys took your time today, I thought even Remus might beat you home. Was traffic a riot, or…”
Sirius is looking at him with panic in his blue-gray eyes, clearly trying to convey one of those telepathic messages James has never been great at interpreting, and you…you’re looking at nothing. Your gaze is distant as you work off your shoe, the area around your eyes puffy and gray with smudged mascara. 
“Hey,” James breathes, then feels stupid. It sounds like he’s accusing you of something. He tries again. “Is everything okay?” 
Sirius gives him a look that says What do you think? and crouches beside you to help with a stubborn knot in your shoelace. Your hands are trembling, James notices. Dread settles like a stone in his stomach.
“I’ve got it,” Sirius murmurs to you, fingers gentle as they intercept your own, but the alarm doesn’t leave his expression as he watches your face. Ah. As much as it kills James to see you upset, Sirius will have no idea what to do with you in this state. Tears have always set him on edge. 
James squats, joining the two of you on the floor. “Hi, sweetheart.” He does his best to keep his own anxiety out of his voice as his hand finds your ankle, fingers wrapping around the bit of skin between the hem of your jeans and your socks. “Has something happened?” 
Your eyes meet his already full of tears, and James braces himself. Sirius does too, by the look of it, his shoulders tensing as he watches your face like you’re about to crumble away to nothing right here on their doormat. 
“I—” That’s all you get out before you have to bite down on your lip to keep from crying. A tiny whimper escapes, and spider web cracks spread across James’ heart. A sluggish tear leaks from your right eye. 
“It’s okay,” he swears, though he has no way of knowing it. You press the back of your hand to your mouth, trying to quell the sobs that shake your frame even with no air to feed them. “Oh, honey.” James leans forward, wrapping you in an awkward but very heartfelt hug, your knees between his chest and yours but your head crossing the distance to wet his shoulder with your tears. 
A sympathetic pressure builds in James’ sinuses, but he does his best to breathe through it. Stability tends to help you more than sympathy in these situations, and since Remus isn’t home yet, it’s left to James to be the reasonable one (Sirius would have all sorts of jokes to make about that, but he doesn’t seem to be feeling up to them either). 
He gives you a few moments of reprieve, a few passes of his palm up and down your spine, before trying again. “What’s going on?” he asks, gently as he can. “You guys are scaring me. Sirius?” 
Sirius’ brow pinches like he almost doesn’t want to say it either, and the anticipation in James’ chest heavies. “We were driving home,” he says slowly, keeping a wary eye on you lest he worsen your upset, “and a rabbit ran in front of the car.” 
Relief nearly chokes James at the same time as a sympathetic sorrow takes ahold of him. He pets the back of your head. You tremble with the force of your crying, leaning into his touch greedily. 
“She was driving?” he asks quietly, though he’s nearly sure. If your reaction isn’t enough to go off of, he already knows that you usually pick Sirius up from work and drive the both of you home. 
Sirius nods. 
“It doesn’t sound like there was anything you could do,” he murmurs to you, cupping the back of your neck to encourage you to look up at him. You do, sniffling as your lip quivers, and James uses his thumb to brush a wet streak of mascara from your blotchy cheek. 
“It must have been so scared.” Your voice breaks on the last word and James’ heart along with it, leaving a throbbing wound in the center of his chest. 
“I doubt it had time to be scared, honey,” he tries to reassure you, but his own voice is fraught. He looks to Sirius. “Did you…do you know if it…passed?” 
Sirius is half hiding behind his hair, a sure tell of his disquiet, and it brushes his shirt collar when he nods again. “We weren’t sure at first, so I got out to move it off the road. It was dead.” He winces at his wording, and you bite down on your lip harshly. His tone softens as he addresses you. “I really don’t think it felt any pain.”
You look nowhere near ready to believe him, and James is preparing to offer to make you a cup of tea and let you sort out your grief at your own pace when the front door opens again, stopping when it hits Sirius’ side. 
“Oh.” Remus pokes his head through. “Hello. Why are we all sitting on the floor?” 
Sirius scoots the rest of the way out of the door’s path before deciding to stand instead. He speaks to Remus in a low voice while James runs a hand up and down your side in an attempt to soothe you. He locks eyes with Remus over your shoulder, watching as the taller boy’s gaze takes on the weight of understanding. 
“Oh, I’m so sorry.” Remus wraps Sirius in a half-hug, kissing his surprised boyfriend on the temple before stooping beside you. “That must have been awful to have to see. Let’s get you up, yeah?” He wraps a spindly hand around your forearm, more encouragement than anything, and James grips your other hand as he stands to pull you up with him. 
Neither of them seem quite willing to break contact with you, walking you over to the couch like a newborn fawn despite your murmured I’m okay. Sirius follows close behind. The both of you look like you’re perching rather than sitting, unable to completely relax even now that you’re home. 
“It must have been quite a scare,” Remus sympathizes, sitting on the edge of his favored armchair. 
“A bit,” Sirius mutters, and your throat bobs. 
Remus cocks his head. “What’re you thinking, darling?” 
James almost wants to look away at the rawness in your expression as you raise your eyes to meet Remus’. “I just…I can’t believe I killed it. I’ve never” —your voice pitches, and you swallow again— “I’ve never killed anything before.”
 “It was an accident,” James tells you, beseeching. 
“You couldn’t have stopped,” Sirius says. His voice has an odd, desperate quality to it, and James sees Remus notice it at the same time as he does, both boys leaning forward to see Sirius better. For the first time, James notices—had he missed it before, or has it only just started?—that Sirius is trembling slightly too. James’ free hand twitches instinctively toward him, but his dark-haired boyfriend is only touchy when he’s in a good mood. He’s not keen on physical comfort; no matter how many years James has worked on him, Sirius has always preferred to keep his struggles internal. “Or avoided it,” he goes on. “It happened too fast.” 
Remus nods at you. “As awful as it is, these things happen sometimes. Hopefully,” he adds when another tear slips down your cheek, “never again to you, but selfish as it is, I’m glad you didn’t slam on the brakes or anything else that could have gotten you and Sirius hurt instead.” 
You glance at Sirius, and he gives you a weak smile, taking your hand and squeezing gently. 
“Nothing you could have done,” he whispers. 
Your lips tremble again. James watches as panic flashes in Sirius’ eyes, but he keeps it together. “I’m really sorry,” you tell him, voice wavering. “I shouldn’t have made you take care of the bunny by yourself.” 
James' chest aches as Sirius takes a steadying breath. “You were frazzled. Understandably upset,” he corrects himself, squeezing your hand again. This time you squeeze back. “It was a one-man job anyway.” 
You make a soft sound, leaning your head on his shoulder, and James has the sense something has settled a bit in each of you. He raises your joined hands to his lips, kissing the back of yours as Remus’ eyebrows furrow. 
“Have you had a chance to wash your hands, love?” he asks Sirius, who blinks.
“No. I forgot.” 
Despite the heavy atmosphere, James actually feels the beginnings of a smile tempting his lips as he watches Remus forcibly quell his horror. “Right then. Why don’t we go do that in the kitchen now, and I’ll make us all some tea.” 
“Good idea,” James says heartily, swiping his thumb back and forth over his own kiss on your hand. “Oi, could we take out the good cookies as well?” 
Remus hums what James chooses to interpret as assent, shepherding Sirius into the kitchen. 
“I’m sorry,” you say to James once the other two are out of hearing. 
He looks down at you. “What for, sweetheart?” 
You shrug, your shoulders remaining just a tad too high after the motion. You’ve stopped crying, and James is grateful, but he doesn’t think this shameful look is a vast improvement. “I feel like I’m being dramatic. And Sirius is the one who had to see it. He had to drive home too, I was too upset.” 
James’ battered, broken heart wells for the both of you. He forgoes his attentions to your hand, wrapping his arm around your shoulders instead to tuck you against his side. “You’re not being dramatic,” he promises, “okay? You and Sirius were in the wrong place at the wrong time, and you both had to witness something awful.” Your head sinks onto his shoulder, and he rubs your upper arm. “I think it’s alright to be sad for a while. For yourselves, and for the bunny. Just, don’t torment yourself, alright?” He withdraws enough to see your face, and you tilt your gaze up to his. “Please. You don’t deserve the guilt.” 
Your eyes cast down, contemplative and a bit shy, a moment before your head comes back to its spot on his shoulder. “Thanks,” you murmur. 
“No thanks necessary, babe. You can cry all night if you need to, I’ll be right here. Just do me a favor,” he lowers his voice, glancing toward the kitchen, “let me sit between you and Sirius if you do. Many more tears and I think he’ll have a heart attack.”
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