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eddiemunsons80sbaby · 1 year

Text

Nothing to See

Pairing: JoexReader

Synopsis: Joe shows up at your job early right before you're leaving for a trip to visit your family with naughtiness on his mind. You try to dissuade him but then your boss shows up and he has to hide. He decides to have some fun.

Warning: explicit language, smut, oral sex, intercourse

You had just finished the last tutoring session before you were heading off for a week of vacation. Now, you just had to finish grading these tests on 'The Grapes of Wrath' and you would be free. You enjoyed your T.A. duties usually but your brain had already checked out. You couldn't wait to get on the road with Joseph and head home to see your family. Your parents were ecstatic that you were bringing Joseph home with you this time.

You had been dating for eight months but the last time you'd been home, four months ago, he hadn't been able to take time off to go. So, you'd went home alone and endure your family pestering you the entire time about when they got to meet your boyfriend.

"Focus," you hissed at yourself, bringing your fingertips to your temples and pressing them in gently. Vacation was coming. You just had to keep it together for the next hour and get this done. Joseph was picking you up. You guys were already packed so you could start the drive as soon as you finished.

Wandering out of your small office, you went to the staff lounge to pour yourself a cup of coffee. You were going to require some fortification if you were going to do this. Steinbeck might be a classic, but you'd never enjoyed that book. It was so depressing, which made sense, since it was about The Great Depression but morose and dismal were not what you wanted when you were on the verge of a blissful week of freedom.

Taking a long sip of coffee, you shook your head to clear it and took in a deep breath, resolved in your mission to finish this job. Professor Walsh would never let you continue to be his T.A. next semester if you left things undone. You turned, heading back to your office and jumped, almost spilling your coffee when a hand grabbed your arm.

"Shh, it's only me."

You looked up into the face of your boyfriend and groaned, rolling your eyes. You slapped his chest, "You complete asshole. I almost wore my coffee."

Joseph smirked, reaching out and taking your coffee. He set it on the desk before moving toward you. Oh shit. You knew that expression. What was he thinking? You couldn't do that here, in this office, with your professor right next door.

"So sorry, darling," he whispered. Reaching one arm behind you, he pushed the door closed and then his hands caged the sides of your head, his body pressing into you, pushing you up against the door. Your breath caught, forgetting all about how very wrong this was because Joseph always felt so goddamn right. "I just wanted to surprise you."

"You did," you said, "but what are you doing? You aren't supposed to pick me up for another hour. I have tests to grade."

"Hmm, yeah," he mused, his finger tracing down the side of your face and along your jaw, his thumb running over your lower lip. "But I missed you and I was thinking, we're about to spend a whole week with your family. Don't get me wrong. I am eager to meet them but it's going to be next to impossible to get any alone time. I can't go that long not being able to touch you."

"Joseph, we can't do that here," you hissed, your body betraying your words even as they left your mouth, your hips shifting to meet his, pressing against him.

"I'll be really quiet," he promised. His head dropped as he took your earlobe between his teeth, nibbling at it gently. Your mouth dropped open, a sigh escaping your lips. Joseph took this as an invitation to continue, his mouth tracing along your jawline. When his tongue ran down to the side of your neck, you shuddered, groaning. You slapped a hand over your mouth, trying to muffle the sound.

"Joseph, baby," you whispered, the sound a combination of needy and scolding. Your brain knew this needed to stop but your body was desperate to continue. "We can't. Really. It's only another hour."

"And then it's a week of trying to sneak time alone with you," he whined, his hand slipping under your shirt. He caressed your breast through your lace bra, rolling your nipple between his thumb and forefinger and you bit down on your lip to keep from crying out. "Come on. Isn't this exciting? We've never done it here before. It makes me all hot, thinking about you here, being all lush teacher."

Joseph's lips found yours again, his tongue slipping past your thoughts, the intoxicating taste of him fogging your brain. Your hands tangled in his hair, pressing him closer to you. Your leg came up, winding around his waist, pulling him into you and he moaned into your mouth. He rolled his hips, grinding his erection against your center. His hand slid under your skirt, gripping your thigh. You whimpered, your hands traveling to his back, incapable of getting him close enough.

"Have a great weekend Harold! I am just going to check on how Y/N's doing with those tests and then I am out of here."

"Shit..." you muttered as your heard Professor Walsh heading down the hallway. Your eyes darted around the office, trying to figure out where to send Joseph. He wasn't supposed to be here. You were going to be in so much trouble if he was found. You looked at the desk and pointed, "Under there. Hurry."

Joseph ran over to the desk, flashing you a goofy smile before he ducked down and slid under the desk. You raced over, sitting in your chair, having to spread your legs to accommodate Joseph being under there. Just as you grabbed your pen and poised yourself over the stack of papers, the door opened and Professor Walsh appeared in the doorway.

"Hey Y/N, how's it going?"

"Almost done," you said with a smile. "Maybe another hour and they'll all be graded."

You felt fingers dancing up your calves and jumped a bit, working hard to arrange your face in a non suspicious manner. That grew harder as those same hands moved along your thighs, pushing your skirt up, exposing you to Joseph under the desk. Son of a bitch. What the hell did he think he was doing?

"Oh great," Professor Walsh smiled. "I don't think you ever told me, what are your vacation plans?"

Just as you were about to answer, Joseph's mouth pressed against your pussy, releasing a warm breath over your panties and you gasped.

"Are you okay?" he asked, eyebrows raising.

"Uh...yeah," you answered, nodding your head a little too hard. Joseph was slipping your panties to the side. His tongue slid along your folds and you shifted slightly, using every ounce of restraint you had. "I'm good." Damn it. That was definitely a squeak. You were squeaking. Professor Walsh was going to know something was up. Joseph's tongue flicked over your clit and you slammed your hands on the desk, causing the professor to jump. "So sorry. Just excited to start my vacation."

"I completely understand. My family is going on a ski holiday next month and I am really looking forward to two weeks of peace and quiet. My kids and wife ski. I will be sitting inside, by the fire, with a whiskey and a good book."

"Sounds nice," you forced out as Joseph's tongue circled your clit before flicking quickly up and down, sending shivers of pleasure coursing through your body. Shit. You really had to get Professor Walsh out of here.

"And you?"

"Not exciting...just home...with my family..." you whimpered, your hands moving down to grip the armrests of the chair so tightly you were sure you would snap them off. Joseph's fingers traced up and down your thighs, his lips wrapping around your clit, sucking gently. Then his tongue was circling again and you had to fight your eyes from rolling into your head.

"Wonderful. Well, don't stay too late. If you don't get everything graded, you can always get to it after vacation. Have a wonderful week."

"You too," you squeaked, never more relieved in your life than when the door closed. Shoving the chair back, you glared down at Joseph. "You absolute asshole. Are you shitting me?"

Joseph grinned up at you, running his tongue along his lip. "Are you going to tell me you weren't enjoying yourself, love?"

"My professor was standing right there," you snapped.

"So...you don't want me to finish? I know you were close baby," he murmured, walking his fingers up your leg, along your inner thigh, back to where the pressure was pleading to be released. He pressed his lips to your thigh, sliding two fingers inside of you and you finally allowed yourself a soft moan of pleasure, your head falling back against the back of the chair. "Do you want me to stop, darling?"

"Don't you fucking dare," you growled, rocking your hips in time with his thrusting fingers.

"That's my naughty girl," he laughed, his tongue rolling around your clit again. You were so fucking close from his previous torture. You had to admit, it was quite a turn on to have him eating you out with your professor right there. The risk of getting caught was quite hot, but you would never admit that to Joseph. He didn't need anymore ideas.

"Oh fuck baby," you moaned, his fingers curving inside you to hit all the most delicious places. The knot in your stomach tightened and he sensed it, his tongue picking up the pace, flicking back and forth until you were in an absolute frenzy of rapture. Gripping the back of his head, you held him against you, rocking your hips against his face. Joseph moaned against you and that was it. Your eyes rolled up in your head, your muscles going rigid as you clamped your hand over your mouth and muffled the scream.

"Goddamn you..." you huffed, "sometimes you are such a pain in the ass."

"Looked like you were enjoying yourself to me," he laughed, rising to his feet. "Come on. You have to admit, that was pretty bloody exciting."

"You are pretty bloody exciting," you replied, standing up and smashing your mouth on his. Joseph's hands shot up in surprise and then a low rumble erupted from his chest as his arms crushed you against him. You reached down, undoing his belt buckle and the button on his jeans as you caught his bottom lip between your teeth, biting just hard enough to get him to whimper. Sliding his pants just past his hips, you pushed him back on the desk and crawled over top of him.

"Shite, I am enjoying this naughty side of you, love," he purred, his hands sliding your skirt up over your thighs again.

"Consider this your early Christmas gift," you teased with a wicked grin as you gripped his cock and lowered yourself onto him. You moaned, enjoying the sensation of him filling every inch of you.

"This is the only gift I need," he growled, his fingers digging into your hips as you began to move, lifting and lowering yourself over him. "Fuck, you are so damn sexy."

You braced your hands on the desk, placing them on either side of his head, rocking your hips backward and forward. He held onto you, raising his hips to meet yours. Your eyes soaked him in, those delectable pouty lips even more full from your teeth, that jaw line that constantly called out to be kissed, those curls crowning his head, those eyes like two pools of chocolate you wanted to drown in. Those eyes were completely focused on you, watching you ride him.

His hands slid under your top, massaging your breasts in his hands. Fuck, you loved the feel of those hands. The pads calloused from years of playing the guitar but it just made every touch even more delicious. Those roughened fingertips were brushing along your nipples and your whimpered, rotating your hips in circles.

"Oh shite!" Joseph cried and you slapped your hand over his mouth. You couldn't blame him. You had to be conscious not to do the same thing as this motion was causing that familiar tightening in your stomach again. You placed your hands on Joseph's chest, your own chest heaving as you continued to roll your hips. "Oh baby...I'm gonna..."

He grunted, thrusting up into you and you felt his climax as his cock filled you with his release. Your nails dug into his flesh as you also reached your peak, your walls spasming around him, holding him in as you both rode the waves of pleasure.

"Fuck!" Joseph groaned and you slapped your hand over his mouth again, giggling.

He gently removed your hand, pressing his lips against your fingertips. You fell forward, collapsing against him, feeling your body rise with each hard breath he took. His arms wrapped around you and he joined in your laughter.

"I'm going to be visiting you at school a lot more," he said, kissing your forehead.

"You better not," you laughed. "You're going to get me fired, expelled, or arrested."

"Well, where's the fun without a little risk, darling?" Joseph asked, wiggling his eyebrows at you.

"Jesus, what am I going to do with you?"

Joseph sat up, bringing you with him, "A hell of a lot more of that."

#joe quinn #joseph quinn smut #joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn #joseph quinn stranger things #joe quinn smut #joe quinn fanfic #joseph quinn fanfiction

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beauleifu · 1 year

Note

HELLO GOOD MORNING 👁〰️👁 HOW ARE YOU?? I literally just woke up HEHDHS MERRY HOLIDAYS FREN

Let’s hope that my request is readable since my brain be mushed💦 Could we get a S/O who’s very flirty and tries to win Mayor’s heart during a mission while he acts oblivious at their attempts to swoon him, he finds them charming for what they do c:

YES CHIMEMORI THIS ASK IS BRILLIANT

oml i never thought i'd be into an idea more, guys guys this was so much fun to write, like PRETENDING TO BE A COUPLE SHIT, anyways, hope you enjoy! Sorry if it's late lmao, hardest part was figuring out what the mission should entail <3 :))

p.s. dont come for me, this is purely fictional and even though I did a tiny bit of research, i know little of dishes served in fancy Chinese restaurants and even less about their signature architecture style, i'm just going off my imagination

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

MAYOR X READER

Lego Monkie Kid

Context: You're in love. The problem? You're terrible at it. To make matters worse, the charmer you've fallen for is oblivious to your flirtatious antics (or is he??). Thankfully, all's well that ends well especially when Lady Bone Demon assigns you two together, on a mission. Matchmakers really do play dirty.

CW: None, Mayor doesn't even tolerate foul language (you learned the hard way)

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

"Go."

Those were the last words Lady Bone Demon said to both you and her henchman before vanishing in a cloud of blue smoke.

It never bothered you, the missions she'd send you on.

You're working for her; it's not like you can complain about something you signed up for. Externally, you follow orders to a T, because if you're not useful then she'll be rid of you. And that is simply not an option, because if you're not at her side then you're not at his.

The Mayor.

The idiot who wormed his way into your cold heart of fire and ice.

And you don't even know his real name.

You've resorted to nicknames, to which he doesn't mind (you'll get extra creative behind doors, alone), but you're really dying to know his birthname. Perhaps with a bit more time, he'll open up.

Right now, you're standing in the mirror, as you have been for the past two minutes. Just staring. Nothing wrong with that.

Unless you were making sure you look perfect for . . . someone.

That's hypothetical, of course.

An idiot in denial looks back at you in the reflection, nervous and tense with anticipation of what's to come.

With a huff, you will yourself not to screw this one up and grasp the doorknob to your bedroom. Your spacious, beautiful bedroom, carved from stone and bone and ice long, long ago. The Mayor had given you a tour of the place once, having been eager to relay to you the wonderful history of this underground fortress. A buried landscape of beauty.

Oh dear, you're getting sidetracked.

Focus, (Y/N).

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

"Soooo. I guess Lady Bone Demon put us together, huh? Wonder what she's got in store for us."

Well, that was an awkward start.

Lucky for you, it's dark outside and the lack of light is sufficient enough to hide the embarrassment clear on your face. Your partner keeps on strolling down the abandoned alleyway, hands folded neatly behind his back and that familiar, lazy smile on his face.

"Did she not enclose the details to you?" The Mayor asks, turning to you.

Shrugging, you vault over a few storage crates. "Not really."

As you slow to a walk beside him, the two of you round the corner into a more open sidewalk, exhibiting a nice view of the Megapolis Bank.

Briefly, you hypothesize that this is your destination, when the Mayor clears his throat, a sure sign he's about to elaborate.

"My Lady needs another soul to absorb, and conveniently for us, there lies within Megapolis a demon powerful enough to sustain her for the time being," the Mayor hums, blank white eyes flicking to the sky. He's always on constant alert, and yet he always seems so relaxed and chipper. "We are to retrieve the asset and deliver him for proper sacrifice."

"Sacrifice?"

He flashes you a wry smile. "He is an energy source, my dear. Otherwise, my mistress will surely fail to fulfill her destiny, being as weak as she is."

A frown lights your features. Lady Bone Demon doesn't look weak.

You chalk it up to demons being superb at hiding their true selves. Half the time you can't even dissect the Mayor's intentions, even if it's a simple trip to the men's room and he'd told you he'd be unavailable for a few minutes.

In the end, you smile. "As long as there's a reward for delivering an innocent person to her."

"Reward?" The Mayor repeats, blinking. "That being fulfilling our destiny; to serve her. Were you hoping for something else?"

Oh, there's no reward.

You stare incredulously at your partner, about to backtrack, when he suddenly chuckles in amusement. Your eyes widen (see? See? The Mayor is incredibly hard to read), jaw slackening as you realize.

"You're joking. There is a reward!"

"Perhaps! Would you consider the next few days off prize enough?"

You're grinning, now, tailing alongside the Mayor like a joyful puppy. His eyes are twinkling at your antics. "A few days?? Are you kidding? That goes way beyond my expectations."

It's true. Lady Bone Demon hardly ever rewards you for completing your missions. The most time she's given you off is eight hours, and even then you'd treated those moments like gold, savoring it up until you were summoned once more.

This missions suddenly feels extremely important.

Maybe that's why LBD offered this specific reward; to entice you to go against your morals. Then again, where were your morals when you served someone like her?

"I see you're properly motivated," the Mayor says, eyes fixed on you.

You wink, attempting a flirt. "This'll be a piece of cake. And hey, maybe we can spend our days off together."

He pauses, seeming to actually consider this.

"I wouldn't refuse a game of chess."

"No, I meant- oh, nevermind," you say with a little, awkward laugh. Sighing wistfully, you clear your throat and glance sideways. "So! Are we almost there? Where are we going, anyways? The bank?"

The Mayor falls quiet as the two of you pass a few strangers. "A restaurant," the Mayor answers, when the people turn a corner. He flexes his fingers. "The demon is the owner. An intelligent move on his part, for there is no risk of encountering people like us. Unless, of course, we booked reservations for first-class service."

He's smiling mysteriously, now. You could almost call it mischievous.

You're getting near it now. The details of this mission.

"This must be a very fancy restaurant, then."

"The finest in the city," the Mayor agrees, turning a corner. Then, he stops all together, enticing you to halt as well. "We must dress and act the part if we are to get close to the target. Be polite, don't refuse the wine selection."

You nod, mentally prepping yourself for the mission. Then, your eyes trail up, realizing exactly why your partner had stopped.

The restaurant is huge, glittering, and loud.

Five, gold stars are positioned just beneath the restaurant's trademark name, The Dragon Dynasty. A thick trail of people waiting in line flow out of the building and to the left, vanishing down the sidewalk. A similar line stretching to the right is much smaller, but greeted at the door by two hulking men dressed in tight black suits, wearing sunglasses and deep frowns. The token bodyguards you'd see in everyday action movies.

The breath is stolen from you. Slowly, you glance down at your own attire, feeling suddenly very underdressed and very stupid.

"We can't go in there. Not like this!" You gasp.

Your partner smiles knowingly. "My lady is completely prepared for this, my dear. She was the sole one responsible for booking reservations months in advance, you know."

"I know that. But it's not like she can magically manifest a-"

You cut yourself off.

For some reason, your skin begins to tingle. Eyes wide with shock and awe, you glance down at the Mayor's own attire, watching it shift and transform into something more fit for the occasion. A lovely, handsome black tuxedo with a long tail and a white bow. His undershirt ghosted from light blue to white in mere moments, the black sleeves of his tux slipping upwards to reveal white cuffs.

Your own attire has endured a similar transformation, something that hugs your body flawlessly and washes away any insecurities you'd been nursing regarding the mission.

Fingertips tentatively travel along your new outfit. "Oh my stars."

"How elegant," the Mayor says, slippery-smooth, his white eyes suddenly like a hawk. "My lady has astute taste in fashion."

Your cheeks are on fire, but you manage a smile.

"You as well. Very debonair."

The outfits feel like they're meant for each-other, even somewhat bone-themed to better represent your mistress. Your companion gives you one last once-over before continuing down the sidewalk.

"Shall we?"

Biting your lip, you sidle up next to him, unable to help glancing over his outfit a few times.

"That outfit really brings out your smile, y'know."

He hums a laugh. "Very corny, my dear. I'm sure you'll reap great success if you attempt something similar in front of our target."

You're frowning, now. Try again. "Uh . . . How about, um . . . If I had a flower for every time you made me smile, I'd be walking in my garden forever," you say seriously, daring to look at him.

That line.

It was meant for him. Of course, it's hidden under the assumption it's meant for someone else.

The Mayor's eyebrows lift. "You have yet to meat the target, though."

"Oh. Oh, right. I mean, hypothetically. I dunno. Maybe it would work on someone I've known for awhile? Someone I work with?" You babble, heart rate spiking as you near the restaurant. Which line will you wait in? How are you ever going to get close to the manager? Why does your face feel on fire?

His smile is relaxed once more. "I suppose."

You swallow. Try again?

Lips part to formulate the words for another pick-up line, but the Mayor glance down at you, beating you to it.

"Oh, one final detail I forgot to disclose. My lady made reservations for the two of us as, dare I say, a couple. First class is not often given to single individuals, families, or mere companions."

Ah.

Your heart skips a beat. "A couple?"

"Don't worry, it's a temporary act in order to get close to the manager. We might as well get the full experience," he returns, eyes twinkling. "Won't this be fun?"

Throat running quite dry, you nod. "With you? I can't imagine it being too awful."

He chuckles again, but there's no more time for words.

You've made it to the front.

The bodyguards stare down at you for a moment before moving to the side to reveal a small, well-dressed woman drowning in make-up, who stands and approaches the two of you with a dull frown. She's seen this before. Been doing this all night, and probably wants to go home desperately.

"Last name?" The lady says boredly.

You feel the Mayor's arm slide through yours, linking the both of you together. "Bone," he says smoothly.

Bone.

How fitting.

You decide it's better than using a last name from Lady Bone Demon's time, considering she's ancient and has lived long past hundreds of family names. 'Bone' is even in her title. Fitting, indeed.

The woman shifts through her clipboard, eyes narrowing. You hold your breath.

"Mr. and Mx. Bone. You got a meeting with the boss?"

"Correct," the Mayor says.

The lady nods. "Through here, then."

She sidesteps, gesturing through the large golden doors, opening one of them to let the two of you pass. Ignoring the glares and mutters of the people in line, the two of you enter the building, leaving behind the cold outdoors and entering an entirely different world.

It's amazing.

You can't describe it. Not the plants you've never seen before in the corners, not the dazzling chandelier overseeing the luxurious dining tables and bars, the glittering diamonds reflecting off the wine bottles sitting by the hundreds on the wine racks. They stretch up to the ceiling, where Chinese history paints the sky with beautiful colors and people. A band in the corner plays smooth café music, the sound distant yet nostalgic for you. And there's people. So many people, despite how hard it is to get a reservation here. They crowd the place, making it difficult to navigate to first class.

The Mayor gives your arm a gentle squeeze. "Should I be afraid you might fall unconscious?"

"No. Are you trying to seduce me?"

"No," he hums, leading you up the wide, elegant, bifurcated staircase. Your free hand trails along the polished, wooden handrail, wishing your eyes were wider so you could see absolutely everything.

"Well, it's working," you whisper, half to yourself.

Pretend to be a couple. Wear expensive clothes probably worth more than your life. Eat at the fanciest restaurant in the city.

You feel like maybe you should read between the lines.

But all of the sudden, you're too busy reading the menu, eyes wide at the expansive selection.

So. Much. Food.

Your stomach growls in anticipation.

"Do we even have the money for this?" You wonder, breathless.

The Mayor's eyes rove over his own menu before placing it down and lacing his fingers together underneath his chin. Locking eyes with you, he cocks a brow. "Need I remind you my Lady has been planning this for months? She is-"

"Completely prepared, I know," you mumble, ducking behind the menu.

Glaring at the beautifully decorated dinner table, you bite your lip and think. Tonight might be your once chance to woo the Mayor. Is it crazy, though, to try it here? Now?

Heart racing, you lower the menu.

"I've never been on a date with a demon, before."

The Mayor had been observing the portraits lining the walls, but now his white eyes are on you. "A date?"

"Don't worry, this won't send my expectations through the roof," you continue, wearing a casual smile yet you're nervous to the bone. Hiding shaking hands under the sleek tablecloth, you try for a small smile. "Spending time with you meets all of them."

Fingers crossed, you hope this works.

The Mayor nods, eyes trailing to inspect your outfit. "We do what's necessary to fulfill our mistress's desires, I suppose."

No.

NO.

You'd failed! He's too oblivious!

Wishing you could throw hands and let out an exasperated yell, you take a deep, controlled breath. You can still make this WORK. "I mean, it's not everyday I get to spend time with my favorite person."

"Hmm." The Mayor's eyes rove over your features, thoughtful yet cheery at the same time. He suddenly chuckles. "You must be hungry, my dear! We mustn't pick favorites when it comes to food, but I daresay I have yet to turn down a dish of roasted duck. Shall we order while the night is still young?"

God damnit.

This is going to be harder than you thought.

You force a smile. "Uh-huh. Yup. I'll have (dinner dish)."

The two of you make your orders when the waitress walks by, and it still sends tingles down your spine when she addresses you both under the same last name.

When she walks off, you're inclined to notice the other couples sitting at the other tables.

Eyes darting south, you inspect a specific pair.

Their holding hands.

Head snapping up, you lift your hands onto your own table and make a motion for the Mayor to do the same. He eyes you curiously, and you shrug. "The other couples are doing it. We might as well, to look the part. Just for a bit."

"I suppose, if you're sincerely nervous about getting caught," he hums.

In one swift movement, he takes your hands in his.

They're cold.

And yet, it sends a thrill of warmth through your entire body, and you fight hard to suppress a smile. Here you were, trying to flirt with him, and yet getting destroyed by your own plans. Oh, gosh.

He seems to detect the tremble in your fingers. "Eager to get this over with?" He guesses, eyes seeing right through you.

You shake your head quickly. "Nuh-uh. This is amazing."

"You did mention your outfit likely costs more than your life," he murmurs, eyes twinkling with the fact that he doesn't believe this claim. "I advise you try and make the most of it."

"Ha ha. Your hands are cold."

"You don't like it?"

He seems ready to let go, so you give him a squeeze before removing one to pat the top of his hand. "I do like it. Your hands are the best. Big cold grabbers that snatched my soul from my chest the moment I saw you."

"Ha! It's a wonder you're still alive." He flashes you his signature unhinged smile.

Then, woe is you, he lets you go. You're cursing your rotten luck as he leans back in his vanilla soft chair. "You must be wondering how we are to set our plan in motion?"

"A bit, yeah," you say faintly. Really, you're wondering what other ways you can get the Mayor to notice your flirtatious attempts.

"You see, first class seating not only secures us an exquisite meal, but also a chance to discuss business plans with the manager. My Lady was willing to pay an entire chest of coins to set up a private meeting with our target!" The Mayor says, clasping his hands together with a dark look in his eyes. "Isn't that wonderful!"

You bite your lip. "So what are we doing waiting here, then?"

"As you will soon find out, the asset is protected by a constant flow of bodyguards, those of which I trust you to subdue in due time. For now, we have five minutes until the show begins." A glance at his watch, wisps of blue flowing from the metal. Then, eyes full of excitement, he cracks a sincere smile. "I eagerly await your performance, my dear."

Wait a second.

You ball your hands in your fists. "You want me to subdue the bodyguards? Shouldn't I be enticing the target?"

"While it's true that the target prefers either man or woman, I shall do the talking. He has an intricate way of discussing matters that quite irks my Lady, and will no doubt touch a sore spot with you."

"Pfft. You're the only sore spot I have," you say, smiling.

He returns it tenfold as two bodyguards ascend the staircase and station themselves at either side of the eating area. Then, the target himself makes his presence clear. He's a quite large fellow, with spiraling horns and razor sharp claws. Yet his eyes are intelligent and darting everywhere in search of danger.

You catch the Mayor's quick side glance; orders to carry out the mission.

If you leave, the demon is sure to send one of his guards to keep an eye on you. When you two are alone, you are to properly subdue the guard and make the owner suspicious enough to send his other guard for a quick investigation. Bam.

Sure, the bodyguards could crush you, but you'd rather them than a literal demon with claws and fangs.

So you slide off your chair, giving the manager a dashing smile before trailing your fingertips up the Mayor's arm, stopping at his shoulder and squeezing lightly.

"A kiss before I go, darling? I'll only be five minutes."

The Mayor blinks, white eyes wide.

He collects himself quickly, however, and tilts his head just an inch to the side, giving you permission.

You smile, giving his cheek a light peck. You'd go for the real deal, but you sort of want to be a tease right now. It's working, as you catch the Mayor's distracted glance as you head off to who knows where. The bar, maybe. Everyone's left there.

You stop at the doors, straining yourself to hear the conversation at the top level. Unfortunately, you'd picked a place far out of ear reach.

"Fear not, my loyal pawn . . ."

You stiffen, eyes darting down to your outfit.

Someone had spoken.

From the fabric.

A light, female laugh reaches your ears. "It's your mistress, (Y/N). I am here to assist you in your mission."

Eyes wide and staring at your clothes, you clear your throat and cock your head, hesitation writhing inside of you. "Uh . . . hi. This won't, um, subtract any days off from my break, right?"

"No, don't worry. Now . . ."

A pocket watch materializes on your hip.

You pick it up, admiring the soft bone shell that encompasses the watch, flipping it open to see the interior. But alas, it's not a watch.

It's some sort of spying mechanism.

"Use this to observe and listen to your partner's conversation," LBD whispers in your ear. "It will vanish after tonight."

You nod wordlessly, knowing better than to offer a smart reply or crack a joke. If it were the Mayor, you'd for sure pull something silly, but this is your boss.

Swallowing nervously as LBD's presence fades, you peer at the watch/spyglass, eyes narrowing curiously. Forget about LBD manifesting in your clothes (she did create them, you suppose), the Mayor was currently hosting a false discussion with the manager regarding a potential trade in goods. His tone and demeanor is strangely unhinged when you're not around, intimidating yet cheery, his movements also loud and boisterous. You wonder if it's all an act.

The stuff they discuss just goes in one ear and out the other.

That is, until the manager sends one of his guards down to check on you. The five minute mark.

You're late.

Smiling wickedly, you pocket the watch and recede into the shadows. Time to put your skills to use, yessir.

Of course, you do. Flawlessly.

The bodyguard stood no chance. He has zero warning as you launched yourself onto him, hooking your legs around his neck and bringing him crashing to the floor. Luckily, no was is around to witness the attack, giving you plenty of time to overpower the man with a few quick jabs - and he falls still.

Then, you drag his body into the nearest men's room, grunting with effort.

You do (and can't help but) pause at the many artworks lining the walls, and the beautiful designs that cover the restroom sinks. If only this were a real date, you think wistfully.

Once the man is properly hidden, you take out the watch again.

"Didn't your partner say they'd only be five minutes? It's been twenty," the manager is saying.

"Are you changing the subject, perhaps?"

"No! I'm suspicious."

"Whatever reason to be suspicious, my good man! I'm sure they haven't gotten themself into any trouble. We have wine to enjoy!"

That's your Mayor. Crazy and theatrical as ever.

"Nonetheless." The manager snaps his fingers, grabbing the last bodyguard's attention. In a silent movement, he instructs the hulking man to follow you, sealing his fate.

You listen for a few more moments, biting your lip as you watch the manager play right into the Mayor's hands.

Either from intimidation or something else.

God, he's good.

You're too busy admiring your comrade to notice the danger.

Too late, you hear the restroom door swing open, and suddenly there stands a tall, imposing figure in the doorway. Your escape route is blocked. The bodyguard spares one glance at you, and the occupied bathroom stall next to you, and correctly assumes the worst.

You whip to your feet, stuffing the watch in your pocket where you feel it dissipate into the clothes.

"Uh-" You start, offering a show of hands. "Nice bathroom, huh?"

The bodyguard shuts the door and locks it.

Damnit.

You roll your shoulders, feeling regret at the prospect of damaging your outfit. Keeping your cool, you meet the guy's cold gaze behind his dark sunglasses. "I'm guessing you don't want to talk about it with me."

Silence.

"Good. 'Cause you'll soon be talking about how you got the best sleep of your life-"

You lunge, teeth bared.

The bodyguard is well prepared, though.

One quick movement of his arm is all it takes to stop your plans all together and send to crashing to the floor, wheezing and clutching your stomach.

He stalks towards you, footsteps loud on the chalk white, polished floor.

You wince as his hand raises to crush you, when-

When his eyes glaze over.

Mouth open in a silent, shocked scream, he convulses on the spot, crumbling to the floor in a mess of noiseless gasps and gags. His skin turns sallow and grey, the life draining from his eyes.

You look up.

The Mayor stands over the bodyguard's lifeless body, eyes glowing.

They dim down a bit when they lock with yours, but that unhinged smile never leaves. "What a coincidence to see you, my dear! I see you're having trouble with your part of the mission."

"Thank you," you gasp, scrambling to your feet. "I tried to seduce him with the architecture here- quite pretty, might I say - but he wasn't having it. You wanna take his place?"

"I'd be delighted," he hums cheerily, holding out a hand. "But I do believe we are short on time."

"Right, right. Did you just suck out his soul, by the way?"

As you take his arm and he draws you close, the both of you oblivious to the chaos outside the beautiful restaurant, the Mayor has the dignity to roll his eyes fondly. "I doubt that concerns you, darling, but I suppose it's fruitless to offer a different explanation."

"I think it was so hot," you flirt, grinning stupidly.

He merely blinks, pulling you closer. A word of preparation in your ear and he teleports the both of you to your dinner table, above the madness taking place below.

The manager looks furious.

"There you are! One minute we were just about to sign the papers and the next, you vanish!"

The Mayor simply smiles smugly. "Apologies! I was simply protecting my comrade from danger! I'm sure you understand."

The target's eyes dart from you to the menacing bone demon at your side. Realization crosses his uneasy face. "Where are my guards?" He wonders briefly, glancing down the balcony.

At that moment, the Mayor makes his move.

He locks eyes with you. "Close your eyes, my darling. We'll be leaving, now."

You obey without thought, squeezing your eyes shut.

The world spins out of focus and you feel your feet swept out from under you, but the Mayor keeps a firm hold of you. Even when your feet once again meet solid ground, he won't relinquish his hold, if but a mere relaxation of his grip.

You crack an eye open.

"Well done."

Both eyes flick wide to take in your surroundings. You're back in LBD's underground fortress, the chaos of The Dragon Dynasty but a mere ghost of what it was.

At your side; the Mayor, dressed in his usual attire. Fancy suit gone.

At your feet; the manager, tied up and gagged.

Asleep, mercifully.

Your own beautiful attire has been reduced to what it was before, all traces of LBD's magic gone. Part of you misses feeling so wonderfully luxurious, but you're really just happy to be alive and back home.

Lady Bone Demon herself slowly descends the stone steps, her stony gaze bordering on approval. Crouching, she inspects the demon at her feet. "Excellent," she hisses.

Sharp, cold eyes flick upwards. "You may go."

The Mayor gives a short bow, still smiling, still with his arm around your waist.

It shifts to hook around your arm, gently yet firmly tugging you away. "Enjoy, my Lady."

You remain silent, something you'd learned was appreciated here. Only when the towering doors to LBD's chambers close do you turn to the Mayor with a goofy smile on your face.

"That was awesome!"

He allows himself to relax, smile more casual. "Agreed."

"Let's not do that ever again."

"Never?"

You laugh, feeling light as air as you travel down the large, imposing hallway, adorned with countless side doors and flaring blue torches. You've gotten used to the bones in every corner, with furry rodents scattering into eyes of skulls and through cracks in the walls.

When you calm down, the Mayor stops and leans down, murmuring right in your ear. "You know, I'd like to have that kiss back now."

Your heart jumps.

Eyes wide, you stare up at him, noses inches apart.

"I-I thought you didn't notice . . ."

"You thought I was oblivious?" A softer smile lights his features, white eyes boring into yours. A deep chuckle vibrates in his throat. "Oh, sweet thing. I thought you were adorable tonight."

Cheeks heating up, you swallow dryly. "T-Thanks. I, um . . . thought you were pretty-"

The last part of your sentence is cut off rather sharply.

The Mayor closes the distance between your lips in one swift movement, one hand sliding behind your head to gently coax you forward.

His lips are cold.

Yet so, very soft. You close your eyes, tilting your head ever so slightly. He can surely feel your small smile by now.

After a moment, he leans back, only to kiss your forehead tenderly.

You bite your lip, trying to calm your heart.

"I eagerly await the next few days," the Mayor mumbles, white eyes half-lidded as they fix on you, inspecting your features fondly. The hand behind your head goes to brush your cheek, touch feather-light. "We don't have to play chess."

God, you love him.

Struggling against a laugh, you meet his warm gaze. "You'd better hope not."

#LBD like “oh yeah. i can make this work.”#but still evil #no she doesn't care she's just bored i tell you #lmk #lego monkie kid #lmk mayor #mayor x reader #oneshot #fluff #tw fight scene #brief #romance #they kiss yessir #pls i love this man #THANK YOU CHIMEMORI #long post #got carried away. so worth it

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ignemia · 19 days

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Ok let me just very quickly get mad about dialects or variations of Sign Languages

EVERY FUCKING COUNTRY HAS THEIR OWN SIGNLANGUAGE VARIANT THAT IS NOT MUTUALLY INTELLIGIBLE.

Fucks sake.

Deaf and mute people learn their language use it, are happy tgen they travel across the state of country they live at and notice oh some words differ a bit and adjust for the region they are at. Now their brain is full of semi-useful information.

Suddenly they go for a solo visit to a different country (let's say an american goes to europe). They assume ASL is going to be understood because all of their friends online have told them how people in europe speak good english.

Well now they get a huge fuck you because they landed in Paris got stopped by police and neither can understand one another. Pull out a notebook and try to communicate by writing. SURPRISE. French people are very proud and do not mandatorily learn english so this police officer is confused wtf is this tourist doing. So they bring them to the police station scaring the fuck out of this poor mute / deaf person because they thing they did or signed something wrong.

Now let's assume they did not come for a round trip they are moving to France. Well now they have to go to the doctors office. Doctors are often trained in sign language or at least have a translator at hand. Guess what. Either situation they do not understand because they know french SL while the subjdct of this theoretical knows only ASL.

So the sign language that was fucking aupposed to make communication for deaf / mute people easier becomes a fucking pain in any case you do not have a hearing person or person capable of speech with you when traveling.

CAN WE FUCKING UNIFY SIGN LANGUAGE ACROSS THE FUCKING WORLD?

Sign language is not even mostly based on words rather than concepts from what I understand from my very limited research into it. So no need for Czech sign for "thank you" to be based on 3 syllables in "Děkuji"... I don't know what the ASL sign is but if you throw a fucking finger heart I will understand no matter what type of SL.you are using.

This makes me so fucking mad.

Please now all the linguists here and all the parties involved in this get mad at me in the comments I wanna hear your justification for making life harder for deaf and mute people.

PS: I have been googling SL because I am considering cutting my tongue out due to crippling voice anxiety. I am not deaf nor mute.

#sign language #rambles #venting #angry #languages #linguistics #dystopian society

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peyton-warren · 1 year

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Blinded by the Fog Part 4

Characters: Captain Syverson and Reader. Mention of Jake Jensen and Cougar Pairings: Jake Jensen x Reader Word count: 3061 Type: angst and fluff Warning: 18+. Minors DNI. Loss of spouse and found family. drinking, swearing. Therapy/ emotional baggage type language. Vague mention of shitty childhood for reader.

Summary: Aaran Syverson effortlessly just became a regular part of your life. AKA Sy completely becomes reader's emotional support bear.

Author's Note: Therapeutic terms, emotional baggage, reluctance to ask for help and hesitancy to accept it in this chapter are straight out of my own mental health journey. Write what you know, right? Thank you to @adulting-sucks for her continued support, especially when I want to chuck this whole thing in the trash and never look at it again.

Ask Box: Open

Series Masterlist Masterlist

Part 3

Aaran Syverson effortlessly just became a regular part of your life, same as Jolene and Madre and Aubrey. He checked in on you each day over the next few weeks, always by text and usually also in person most days. You slid easily into a friendship with him, enjoying his company. And you didn’t find yourself unexpectedly at the bottom of a bottle again. Although you both skirted the issue of why you drank so heavily that day, Sy managed to keep you held together.

You even allowed him to help care for you, though some days you were more reluctant than others. As if he read your mind about your struggle with the overwhelming sense of dread at the thought of a lonely evening meal, you had dinner together at least once every couple days, depending on work schedules. Some days you cooked, some days he either brought food he then cooked in your kitchen or take-out, and more than once you shared food from Cougar’s mom after one of you checked in on her.

It had been mostly clear sailing for about a month after meeting Sy until you hit a rough patch at the end of a hard week of work. Things went sideways on a huge project, and you were left to pick up the pieces. You managed to keep your shit together until Friday, trying hard to neither crack at work nor in front of your new best friend. To make it worse, your brain repeatedly reminded you that Jake would have known something was wrong and how best to help you without you even needing to ask. This stirred up a huge uncomfortable knot of dread in your belly at the thought of going to your empty home. Your brain and heart swirled with that and so many other thoughts and memories of Your Forever.

The sun was setting on Friday as you sat in the parking lot at work with your head resting on the steering wheel of your car long after everyone else left for the day, your head pounding and your heart racing with the anxiety of going home to your empty house, having to face another night without Jake. The unexpected ring of your cell startled you, making you jump, and gasp, hand landing on your chest to keep your heart in your rib cage. You tried to catch your breath as the phone silenced only to have it ring again. You grabbed for your bag, pulling the piece of technology out to see Sy’s name on the screen.

Drawing in a calming breath, you answered. "Hey,” your voice was tiny, barely keeping tears at bay.

“Hey, you ok?" Sy sounded immediately concerned. “Where are you?"

You gulped back a soft sob. "At work." You kept it short and sweet, leaving out all the other details.

"Oh,” There was a beat of silence. “They need you this late on a Friday night?"

It was your turn to be quiet. Then you remembered.

“Oh shit!” you gasped, your hand cupping your leaking eyes. “We were supposed to….fuck are you at my house?”

“Maybe,” he confessed.

Tears flowed quicker as you realized you were a horrible person. Your self involved thoughts kept you from keeping your plans of pizza and a dumb ass movie. Sy didn’t deserve that from you, no one deserved that from you. “I’m sorry,” you barely squeaked out. “So sor-"

“Oh hey hey hey, sweets," Sy shushed you. “I get work needing you."

You sobbed louder into the phone. “No," you mutter, unable to catch your breath. “No. I’m sorry. I’m just sitting here. I can’t… I just can’t go home…not.."

“Baby, it’s ok.” You heard the unmistakable sound of his truck door closing in the background. “Really,” he continued as the engine rumbled to life. “Stay there and I’ll come get you, and we will figure out everything after that.”

Your head shook even though Sy could not see you. “No no,” you started to protest.

“Whut??” Sy yelled into the phone. “I can’t hear you.” He made static noises with his mouth. “I’ll be there soon.”

You couldn’t help but laugh as the connection went dead. Tossing your phone into the passenger seat, you flipped down the sun visor and opened the vanity mirror, looking to see how bad you looked after crying for nearly 2 hours. As you patted your cheeks with a spare napkin, you tried to make the red around your eyes disappear. You suddenly felt guilty for caring what you looked like before Sy got to you. You tried to reason with yourself that you would be as concerned if Madre or Jolene were coming to get you. You didn’t want to look like a mess in front of anyone.

A tiny voice in the back of your mind reminded you that Sy was an attractive man. You told that voice to fuck off, that attractive men had women friends. You needed a friend, and Sy wanted to help. You and Sy were friends. You were allowed to be friends with a man. You were allowed to develop a new friendship with someone your deceased husband never knew. There was zero wrong with it. The end.

Thy doth protest too much, the voice insisted.

The rumble of Sy’s truck silenced your inner debate for the moment. Glancing quickly at the giant behemoth entering the parking lot, you gave yourself one more once over in the mirror before flipping the sunshade back into place just in time as he pulled up next to you despite having the whole lot to park. You gave him a small smile as you rolled your window down, figuring he was going to do the same. Instead he turned off the truck and got out, taking one long legged stride over to you. You ignored your belly flip flop as he set his forearm on the roof of your car and leaned down, instead blaming it on the unmistakable scent emanating from him-pizza.

“You save me at least one slice?” you asked, teasingly, hoping to distract him from your panic attack and red tinged cheeks at the inner debate that happened moments earlier.

Sy smirked. “Only one.” He reached for the handle of your door. “C’mon, let’s go to my house, and we can eat pizza and watch a movie there as well as we can at yours,” he suggested, opening it. You had never been to his place in the time you had spent together, him always coming to your home. And you had to admit you were curious what it looked like.

You rolled the windows up in your car, and grabbed your bag and phone, stepping out. Sy shut the door as soon as you were clear and you hit the lock on your key fob. With a contagious smile, Sy stepped towards you, his arms open, looking to swallow you into his embrace. The panic suddenly swirled back through your veins with a vengeance. “Don’t.” Your hand wedged between your bodies, heart rate spiking, your breathing shallow. You didn’t miss the look of hurt that flashed across Sy’s eyes at your denial as he looked from your hand to your face. “I’m sorry,” you tried, your voice suddenly so weary. “I just… my shit is barely contained. If you touch me, I don’t know if I’ll ever stop crying.” You take a deep breath as you see understanding replace pain, your stance breaks, your body relaxing, your hand dropping. “And then the world will flood and it’ll be all your fault.”

“Seeings as my name isn’t Noah and all,” he teased you, redirecting his body to shepherd you around the truck. Opening the passenger door, he offered you a hand up into the truck that was bigger than all the vehicles you ever owned all rolled into one.

The ride to Sy’s home was mostly filled with comfortable silence. You could tell he wanted to ask what happened but he luckily did not. You were very thankful he was as he was, not pushing you to talk about whatever was going on in your head . You leaned on the window, allowing the cool of the glass to soothe you some. Your vision softened and you really didn’t pay attention to where you were going as you forced yourself to settle into the reassurance of Sy’s presence. He had you.

The pitter patter of rain against the windshield drew your mind back to the present. It was about then the truck pulled into what you guessed was a driveway, and you realized you had no idea where you were, even though it didn't seem like you had been in the truck all that long. Through the smattering of rain on the window, you were greeted by the cutest classic 1900s farmhouse.

“Oh my god,” you gasped at the home. You weren’t sure what you were expecting Sy to live in but now that you were here you had no doubt this was perfectly him. Clapboard siding painted white, simple porch with black wooden columns, black gingerbread accents, and black rocking chairs adorning it. With a beautiful lawn filled with trees and a smattering of well placed flowers and plants, it seemed like it was a picture ripped out of a textbook of American historical architecture.

“You like it?” he asked, not hiding his pleasure in your delight.

Forgetting about the rain, you opened the door to the truck to get a closer look only to be halted by the droplets hitting your face. “Like it? I love it!” you gushed, pulling the door shut, glancing at the man who seemed pleased as punch at your approval. “This is amazing!”

“You should have seen it when I bought it,” he joked. “Absolute train wreck, unlivable. Uninhabitable.”

“You did all this?” you asked.

Giving you a half smile that allowed a hint of dimple to appear at the edge of his beard, Sy seemed to dip his head in brief shyness, or at least humbleness. “Yeah. When I’m not deployed. It's like my form of therapy,” he admitted. “Making something old look new again. I like working with my hands. I did all of it but the electrical, that I called a professional in to do.”

“Aaran, this is amazing.” All of your troubles of the past week disappeared from your shoulders as the two of you got out of the truck and ran for the front porch, well ran as fast as your work shoes would allow you. Sy held the pizza above your head trying to keep as much of the rain off of you as possible.

Once safely inside, your amazement and awe continued. The interior was a mix of historic and modern, the perfect mix if you were honest. Toeing off his boots, Sy hung his keys by the door, and carried the pizza past you as you kicked off your shoes to place them next to his wet boots on a mat by the door. “Make yourself at home,” he announced as he wandered into the next room.

You glanced at the pictures on the wall, mostly family you assumed by the similar features of the folks you were looking at. You were staring at a photo of Sy and Cougar’s basic training class trying to pick the two men out of the crowd when Aaran reappeared next to you. “Any luck?” he laughed beside you, knowing what you were doing.

“No!” you gasped over exasperatedly. Admittedly it has been over 10 years and a lifetime ago. “Help me?” you ask, eyes never leaving the photo.

Sy’s finger quickly picked out Cougar, and you cursed yourself for not seeing the resemblance. “Maybe it's cuz he’s missing his hat,” you surmised out loud, making you both laugh softly. The laughter caught in your throat the following second as you realized your friend was gone, the levity getting wrapped up in the lump of guilt that suddenly appeared in your throat at the realization that you were having a pleasant moment when you lost your husband and your family so so so recently.

“They’d want us to be ok, they’d laugh with us,” Sy sagely told you with a soft voice, his fingers brushing against your wrist. “Hell they are laughing with us if you believe in heaven.”

You know his words were meant to soothe you, you know he had all the best intentions, but his sentiment instead made the tears reappear in your eyes, that knot of pain filling your stomach again. “Oh, baby,” he said softly, his hands wrapping around your upper arms, pulling you into his embrace. “I am sorry,” he muttered into the top of your head as you sobbed into his chest. “I am so sorry for your pain. I wish I could take it from you.”

The two of you stood like that for what seemed like an eternity until your replenished tears dried up. With an unladylike hiccup, you stepped back, wiping at your eyes. “God, I am sorry, Aaran,” you started, looking at yet another wet spot you had left on his chest.

“For what?” he asked. “You have absolutely nothing to apologize for.” You looked up at him, and saw the wet lashes framing his eyes.

“Yes I do!” you insisted, pulling back further from him. “My silliness is making you sad.” You try to move away from him suddenly feeling very suffocating and embarrassed by your lack of decorum, ducking your head to hide further.

His face came into your peripheral view. “Hey,” Sy reached out and cupped the back of your arms, keeping you in place. “Look at me,” he quietly commanded when you refused to meet his eyes. When you did so, you saw his eyes swirl with emotion, several different ones spinning by in the sea of his beautiful irises. Irises that suddenly reminded you some of your husband, but yet different all the same.

Aaran gave you a small smile. “I lost someone I loved in that crash, remember?” Tears filled your vision, and you saw the same eddying in his eyes. “And your emotions are not silly,” he carefully insisted. “Never apologize for having emotions, especially around me. Never temper your emotions to make someone else more comfortable.”

You almost winced as he hit on a shockingly exposed nerve. “You sound like a shrink,” you teased, sarcasm your automatic response to vulnerability. All you had ever done in your life was push your emotions to the side, help others with theirs, but never address your own. You were never taught to properly express them and literally no one had ever given you permission to feel them either. Jake never forced you to hide them, but you realized now you never truly allowed yourself to be completely honest and open with him about them, the trauma of your own upbringing keeping you from showing any emotion at all, simply shoveling it deeper inside, hiding it from the world like a horrible dark secret

“I've seen enough of them over the years I should,” Sy joked, wiping the back of his hand over his eyes. “Here,” he abruptly changed the topic, holding out a pair of sweats and a t-shirt. You glanced up at his face before accepting the soft clothing. “Thought you’d prefer to get out of your stuffy work stuff and be comfortable.”

With a nod, you tucked the clothes under an arm and reached for your bag. “Bathroom?”

Sy pointed you in the right direction. “You care what movie we watch?”

“Something mindless,” you said over your shoulder as you head down the hallway.

You reemerged from the bathroom about ten minutes later, dressed in your borrowed clothes, face cleaned of all traces of make up and tears. Hanging your clothes and bag on a coat hook, you meandered into the living room. Sy smiled softly at you from the couch, his eyes taking you in from head to toe. The clothes were too big for you, you were lucky the sweats had elastic in the ankles so you didn’t trip over them, and the shirt, it hung well past your hips.

“Feel better,” he asked as you sat on the end opposite him. He held out an open beer to you. Taking it, you nodded. “A little bit,” you admitted before taking a sip. “So, what are we watching?”

Grabbing a remote from beside the pizza box, Sy grinned. “Figured I’d go with a classic. Big Trouble in Little China.”

“I haven’t seen that in ages,” you admitted, grabbing for a napkin and a slice of pizza as he pressed play. You had to admit it was a good choice. You were both able to relax into a comfortable silence as you ate. Every once in a while Sy muttered along with one of Jack Burton’s lines of wisdom- “Yes sir, the check is in the mail” - making you snort softly, reminding you a bit of Jake and his own movie quoting habit. Soon you found yourself with a full belly, a relaxed mind and curling into the arm of the couch, your cold toes tucked under the edge of Sy’s thigh, his hand on your ankle, a blanket thrown over your always cold legs. It wasn’t long after Jack Burton (and Sy) announced that “If we aren’t back by dawn, call the President” that your eyes drifted shut. The week finally caught up with you, and you were quick to drop into a deep sleep, something you hadn’t been able to do since Jake left on the mission all those months ago.

You slept through the rest of the movie, hardly stirring a little. You missed Sy turning off the video when it finished. You also didn’t register him picking you up, carrying you down the hall and through the darkened doorway of a bedroom. You didn’t realize you had curled your fingers into his shirt when he tried to stand after putting you on the comfortable bed, nor did you notice your soft mutters of “Ni-night, Jakey” and “I love you.”

But Sy didn’t miss any of it as his heart broke just a little more for you as you happily hummed at his whisper of a kiss your temple to distract you as he gently removed your fingers from his shirt before pulling a warm blanket over you.

“Ni-night, baby.”

Part 5

General Tag List: littleone65

HC Tag LIst: @m07belzenenbelzen @used-to-be-bourbonwithice

BBTF Tag List: Mis-lil-red

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dedkake · 6 months

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20 questions game

tagged by so many people! ty i think this is everyone: @logicgunn @wonkyelk @trainofcommand @frankthesnek

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

there are 209 of them (i have to write this as a sentence because tumblr thinks numbers need to be massive on their own)

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

word count: 340,984

3. What fandoms do you write for?

on ao3? mostly x-men and stargate atlantis

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

they're all xmen lol. by a mile: Snowed In Ready and Willing Mismatched Here Tonight A Matter of Convenience (i like one of these fic 10000x the others, but i'm Not Surprised)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

i do mostly. now. i didn't used to -- interacting with fandom people stressed me the heck out for a long time. i find it much easier to talk to people over here in sga :) however--i still can't bring myself to interact on some of my long personal ace fics.

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

heck i don't know. i love angst. i'm sure i wrote some very angsty stuff in the past that i literally cannot remember rn. for sga i think a couple of my s5 'could've started like this' fic might do:

water on pine and release and shame

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

i have no idea how to even start? most of them? /sprinkles happy endings all around

8. Do you get hate on fics?

not really. occasionally people make comments that rub me wrong about my ace fics, but not outright hate.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

when the inspiration strikes, sure. i think my smutty fic are pretty. diverse.

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

generally no. i don't. and i generally don't read them. but i did once, after spending some time with @juliusschmidt, write a one direction fic. in which xmen were featured.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

yes.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

yes <33

13. Have you ever cowritten a fic before?

it's been a LONG TIME. since i've actually co-written anything. but i used to cowrite and coplan fic all the time. way back when.

it seems really difficult now. but maybe because i do a lot of my thinking out loud, so planning with friends online is a Trial.

14. What's your all-time favorite ship?

why are we fighting? i love all my babies. and i'm a multishipper at heart.

15. What's a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

please take a peak into my wip folder someday, and you will be amazed.

but i don't post wips, so no one besides me will be sad about my never finished wips <3

16. What are your writing strengths?

being concise? sensory description? maybe?

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

can't plot worth a damn.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

i'd rather it was all in one language, with the use of descriptive dialogue tags or narration.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

gundam wing! my boys! back on ffn <3

20. Favorite fic you've ever written?

oh this is a Challenge. just focused on sga bc it's all i can hold in my brain. here are a few i think about often

it could've started like this... no that's cheating laugh it up give me a minute ad infinitum places unknown

tagging anyone who wants!! okay @zhabke and @pinkoptics

#seriously thanks to everyone for the tags #<3 #my fic #ask me things friends #<3333

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vanessaroades-author · 11 months

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From one fellow fantasy writer to another, do you have any advice on coming up with fantasy names?

Oh, this is so good. I have guidelines (that I sometimes don’t keep to) but I think are helpful for writers with more self-control than me!

Disclaimer—you know how some people say that characters just decide their own fate for the writer? How plots/arcs/personalities just come to them? That’s me and names. I can usually make them up midsentence, like they’re just waiting in my head to be assigned to someone that feels right.

Otherwise…

They meant it about Googling every name you make up.

…to ensure that it isn’t a questionable word in another language or has connections you don’t want.

For example, one of my MCs is named Sigyn—the name of a female goddess—but the themes of the goddess and the “gender flip” of the name suit him.

Keep to spelling/phonetic rules within the fictional language

Even if no one actually speaks that language on-page! This helps so much with things feeling coherent and, if your story spans many locations/cultures, helps readers sort them in their mind (if we have a John, Jacques, Alice, and Amelie, you subconsciously sort them into their respective cultures).

At a point in Deep Roots, I had three names from people in the same city that ended with the “all” sound—spelled “al,” “alle,” and “all.” Like a dummy. Don’t do that.

Also, deciding to make the names in each culture very different in sound, preferred letters, length, etc, instantly makes your fantasy cultures more distinct (a Geralt vs a Filavandrel, for instance). Super easy and super effective.

Be wary of the shape the names make on the page

I’m all for complexity and for names with flexible pronunciations (because even if the reader pronounces the name ‘wrong,’ they’re still remembering it).

However when you’re working with unfamiliar names, names with similar shapes or sounds (John/Jack) tend to be very easy to melt together in a reader’s mind when they’re first getting their bearings in the story.

In Queensmen, I had an Amaryllis and an Armillaria—about the same length, start with A, have two R’s and double L’s. They blend way too easily, so one needs to be changed up. (I also always mix up Nineira and Nusamry in my brain but that may be a me thing)

The FEEL of a name is so important and can inform the character

(like you get a particular image in your head of a man named Valentine, right? And I bet it’s not a hulking, unwashed troll). If you’re caught between names, ask for a second opinion. I find whenever my writing buddies come to me with a list of names they can’t decide from, the names are all great, but each give off a slightly different image of the character and an outsider is can be better at picking that out.

When I started Queensmen, I had three names that were bouncing in my head for Elias—Eli, Elias, and Elliot. He was giving me a distinct vibe that apparently only an “Ell” name could satisfy, but Elias felt the most like his trope.

This fits for both “real” names and made up names, because we automatically associate sounds with different kinds of characters—like Geralt is all hard sounds, abrupt syllables, perfect for a tough, reticent monster hunter. Filavandrel is elaborate, ostentatious, hard to not say with a little bit of music in your tone—just right for an elf.

honestly I want more people to use unfamiliar sounds and letters with their names!

that’s it i just want more weird sounds

#hope this is fun or helpful though it is a little late #vanessa.txt

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like-rain-or-confetti · 2 years

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Hiii,

may I request fot the villains of gotham hc? The request is:

How they would react if you you wanted a poly relationship with another villain (ex: black mask and joker)

Obv only if you're comfortable, I hope i did right requesting here, and that i did not write anything wrong

Ps. I'm new on tumblr and english is not my first language

Thx anyways and I love your writing<33

Okay I thought about this for a bit and I think I know what you're looking for...I hope I did this correctly. Your English is brilliant! Thank you so much ❤️

The Riddler: So just when he was comfortable in this new relationship and not watching you over his shoulder every dive minutes, he was made aware of a little issue. He doesn't know when you got all chummy with Jonathan Crane but he also doesn't want to know. So you want leave him for Jonathan CRANE? Wait you don't? What do you mean, you want both? Yes, its a thing but why do you need his brain when you already have Edward's supreme brain!? He's the better man! He isn't taking it too well. Hes quite possessive, once you have his heart, you're basically locked in. He isn't the type to share and in a world where he is superior, why would he be okay with sharing you? Although, that being said, atleast it was Jonathan, had you said someone like Harvey Dent, he would have went nuclear.

Scarecrow: He's kinda thinking you need your head examined. Maybe he needs his own, did you just say you wanted to be in a polygamous relationship with him and Edward Nygma? You're thinking of the right Edward right? The narcissistic one? Has a thing for questions marks and green? Oh you are. So who are you trying to torture, Jonathan or himself? Whilst he might be a little more open to the idea with time, he isn't thrilled that it's Edward Nygma. He understands Jonathan isn't exactly an open book- more welded shut- but does that really mean you have to bring Nygma into this? He's too much on quite literally anything. Perhaps you were the happy medium in this dynamic.

Two-Face: That conversation takes a turn because amidst the talk, Two-Face cut in. "Aren't we enough?" You thought he was referring to Harvey and answered easily. However as Two-Face questioned you further, you noticed that Two-Face's wording painted a different picture. That you were already being shared by two people, Harvey and Two-Face. "Wait that's not how that works!" Harvey cut in. "You don't even have a body!" "Of course I do, dumbass! What do you think you're standing in!?" This continued and you thought to yourself perhaps it was better to bring up Oswald some other time. Now you were thoroughly lost and didn't even know how Harvey actually felt about it polygamy.

Black Mask: Absolutely not. The Joker? Okay first of all, sweetness, you come in here asking him to share you but on top of that, you want him to share with the Joker? Are you high? Fully expect him to either check your eyes or flat out dismiss anything you had to say under the pretenses that you are high. There's no way you'd ask this sober. The clown? Pfft. Roman Sionis never shares with anyone and he'll be damned if he starts with the clown.

Penguin: Okay so it'll turn into a big old rivalry between Penguin and Two-Face but if it makes you happy...he will reluctantly accept this. The key to this working out is to maintain the amount of attention you always gave to Oswald. He works a lot as it is, so this should be easy to manage but he might get a little jealous every so often. So keep an eye on him and see how it goes?

Joker: Very accepting of this, didn't need much convincing at all and you aren't entirely sure if that's because he wasn't listening or if it was because he didn't actually care what you did. He cackled at the mention of Roman Sionis but overall had very little to say than cracking a few jokes about Sionis and how the happy family not only has an addition, but also has become a tight squeeze. Maybe just take it and run with it?

#batman #batman villains #batman scenarios #request #the riddler #scarecrow #black mask #the joker #two face #penguin #edward nygma #jonathan crane #roman sionis #harvey dent #oswald cobblepot

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dyrewrites · 5 months

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Seven Snippets, Seven People

@autumnalwalker tagged me for this delightful thing.

Rules; Post 7 snippets and tag 7 people

So, I am tagging; @rmgrey-author @ruinmegently @starbuds-and-rosedust @pb-dot @stesierra @tryingtimi @desastreus and leaving it OPEN...because that's just fun to do.

All of my snips are from Pale Blood, because it's on the brain again.

Snip One, from Chapter Five

“Oh no, I’m not done with you yet,” Den explained as he climbed over and settled into the small space in front of Delmas. “It would be a crime to waste such a cuddly physique.” Delmas stared at the mess of hair splayed across his chest and into the smiling face it belonged to but the words and the actions refused to connect, “you want to cuddle?” “You make a perfect big spoon,” Den said, pulling away enough to gather his hair into a more convenient position. “Oh, do I,” Delmas stated more than asked and Den laughed, short and quiet as he wriggled closer. It was an intimate gesture, which wasn’t something that happened, at least not to Delmas. When he sought the distraction of another it was rough, anonymous and detached. It was an unspoken agreement for a one time engagement. That was the whole point. To forget the day, to let go of the worries carried, not pick up more. What Den suggested with his tone, with his body language—with his soft cooing and the gentle way he snuggled closer and arranged Delmas’ arms around his shoulders—was a desire for more. A desire he did not reflect but the closeness was comforting. “Alright,” He conceded, “I guess we can cuddle.” Den giggled, pressing closer and sending shivers through them both. The heat of his skin, and the steady pulse beneath it, bubbled the next into a hungry wave and Delmas wrapped his arms tighter and edged closer. “Cuddle,” Den repeated, but there was a purr beneath it and a wiggle in his hips. Delmas considered chasing that wiggle with one of his own, of whispering for more but he hesitated. Someone to hold so close, so quiet, may not have been what he’d wanted when he carried Den to the room but in that embrace he found the want for it—the need. Den fit so well in his arms, so easy to hold. He was warm, he was comfortable and Delmas closed his eyes and curled tighter around him. He hadn’t realized how tired he’d been, but that closeness drew it out and the comfort melted the tension still lingering in his muscles.

Snip Two from Chapter Six

Deliveries—at least the regular, scheduled ones that weren’t for special occasions—were picked up at the backdoor on Som’s day, at the peak of the afternoon, every week. That’s how it had been for close to a decade, ever since the fangs switched bloodrunners to one who refused to open his eyes before the suns did or interact with a single thrall working the dayshift. Which was one of the reasons that Ron glared from the oval window of the bloobank’s backdoor. The other reason was because the fang in question was not only there at the wrong time, on the wrong day, he also wasn’t alone. He’d brought a friend; a slender young friend, with skin the color of burnt amber and eyes of pale fire. And that friend hung on Delmas like an ill-fitting suit. Delmas shrugged and flashed his most innocent smile. Ron continued to glare. “C’mon, Ron, I can see you in there,” Delmas pleaded through the speaker, “I’m not asking for a whole box, just a bag, one single bag.” “Why, is the one hanging off you not good enough?” Ron’s voice crackled back, irritation clear despite the static of the archaic tech. Delmas glanced at his friend, then back to Ron and grimaced. Oh, now he gets it, Ron chided, keeping it close—he was upset, jealous even, but he didn’t have to admit it out loud. “This is Den,” Delmas explained, “and I’ll be more than happy to introduce you when the boss isn’t on the brink of being an afternoon snack.” That was worth considering. Delmas wouldn’t make up stories about the boss, at least not without more color in them. Ron sighed and threw the switch.

Snip Three from Chapter Seven

The cats padding to her side and scrambling up the couch were little comfort against the crushing realization that she was alone, utterly alone. Odea did not socialize, the fear of discovery by her coven was too great a deterrent, but it had never bothered her. She was content alone, with her cats and her job but the Wylds demanded more. Its capricious rulers didn’t allow solitary visitors. They accepted entry in threes, no more, no less—and she would learn that these were not rules of the Goddesses’ making, but ones of safety that came with far greater caveats. KB purred louder in her lap, pressing his little paws into her thigh, and Odea focused on the vibration of him—on the softness of his fur. Kiki was warm against her leg, the weight of her felt on the cushion and Odea wanted to lose herself in that moment. To escape the dread bubbling fiercer in her stomach and disappear into their simple, gentle love. “You would walk into that madness with me,” She whispered to KB as Kiki nuzzled into her knee, drawing her hands to her furry head, “you both would, wouldn’t you?” And, if she hadn’t feared for their safety in the wild, hungry woods, she would take them. They were her true friends, after all, her only friends. Or are they? The thought was slow, quiet and mingled with heavy doubt. She had another; one not covered in fur or reliant on her for food and shelter. He had even displayed respect, affection and, recently, genuine concern. Better still he had magic in him, for what else could keep him whole despite what he admitted to being. Odea sighed and laid back to stare at the ceiling, wincing at the pointy weight of cat feet on her chest and stomach, “I could never ask him.” But she would.

Snip Four from Chapter Eight

“You know the answers he wants,” Delmas whispered, his voice gentle, calming. He didn’t know what was going on in Den’s mind—he could hear what went on in most, but wolves were all raw, howling emotion and their thoughts couldn’t shout loud enough over it for a halfie like him to understand—but he had to settle whatever was building and he had to do it before Nash woke up. “We don’t need Nash.” Den closed his eyes to that voice, held the arms draped over him but the smile on his lips didn’t reach his tone, “but Nash needs this.” “Yeah, I’m getting that.” Delmas held him tighter, leaning to nuzzle his face into Den’s neck. “And, on any other day, I’d be more than happy to cage the bastard and poke him with sharp sticks until he cried for mommy…but this is different.” “He knows more than I do about what mother wants,” Den lied—he tried, anyway, and to his credit he was a masterful liar but lies didn’t work so well on fangs. “Cute,” Delmas said and he kissed his neck, then his cheek and let him go. “You keep your secrets then, I don’t need to know everything.” He stepped up to the cage and gestured to the groaning wolf in man’s flesh just starting to sit up. “But you need to know that Bosch isn’t going to poke him with sharp sticks. He’s not going to ask questions and toss witch’s tears on him either. He’s going to take things from him, out of him, until there’s nothing left he can use. Does he need that?”

Snip Five from Chapter Nine

His eyes were shining, glaring in familiar reds, recording her as she watched them. They were still eyes, soft and wet and weak, and she could see more of him through their burn than his fancy lenses ever could of her. All of his years played in her mind, flashing in nanoseconds. Odea watched his first memories of his mother, a blurry beige splotch that sang with the colors of love and warmth. She watched his first steps, his first fall, and every subsequent trip and bump and bruise. He was cut on a hover-cycle and never rode one again. Then, when he was fifteen, he helped an elderly man move his belongings from one apartment to another, and pocketed a priceless heirloom. That was his first theft. Odea’s eyes jittered and her skin beaded with fresh sweat as more memories of his thefts poured into her. They were petty nothings, every one, without a cred left to show for any of them. “Pathetic,” Odea repeated, digging deeper, further, “Your life, your hopes, your dreams, all of it. But maybe your death will lift you, make you more than you are…” Dusk guide me, she begged her magic, dull and fluttering from disuse. Her Sisters had found her already, there were no reasons left to hide, to ignore the power sparking in her blood. So she pressed it into his skin, ignoring the crackle of tendons beneath her grip and the purple light bursting in the corners of her vision. Her palms burned with the effort and the man whined and whimpered and then she found it; his death. “Two weeks, five hours and thirty-seven minutes,” she told him, dropping his wrists and stepping back to retrieve his mask. His hands shook too much to accept it and, with an unearned gentleness, she replaced the rebreather and latched it into place. “From a nanovirus, in your lenses,” she added and as she spun to continue her walk, she called back, “Even your death is pathetic.”

Snip Six from Chapter Ten

“Renna,” she whispered to the eye; the strange Sister she had not known but who’d known her. There was more in that eye, more in the sensation of it on her skin. Daughter Dusk had touched it, from the stretched distance between city and barrier, between barrier and Dusk’s barren domain the Goddess had reached through the eye in Odea’s fingers. The unknown Sister had broken into Odea’s home, sacrificed her flesh–the use of a precious organ–to send the message, to allow their shared Goddess a mouth from which to speak. And she did not leave empty-handed. Odea smiled as she released the magic, banishing the broken memories, but she did not look from the eye. She held its dead gaze. “So it was you who took my Kiki, not Dusk,” she spoke to it, her voice sharp and deep. Daughter Dusk she would have to meet with, it was inevitable, but if the Goddess had meant to intimidate her further she had sorely miscalculated. The eye was still warm, its magic sparking. Renna had to be nearby, if not in the apartment then in the city–in the slums. She could not have made it to the barrier, not with so great a wound to heal, and Odea would find her before she did. KB pawed at her leg and rubbed against her knee. “Oh, don’t worry,” she soothed him. “We’ll get our Kiki back. Dusk may not bleed or break…” Odea held the eye tighter in her palm, tightening her fingers around it, tighter and tighter…until it popped. “But her Sisters do.”

Snip Seven from Chapter Eleven (is all character descriptions >.>)

Chaos puffed from the bloodbank as the glass doors slid open, the discordant voices within were loud and confused and Odea winced as she entered. There were men she didn’t recognize standing around the counter, around Ron, and one bore a striking resemblance to a far paler version of a holo-boxer her mother used to fawn over nicknamed “The Mountain”–and it would delight her to learn he was one in the same, but she never would; Delmas held his past closer than others held breaths. Odea gaped at him, at the rough leather coat, at his dark patchy beard and the mouse brown hair obscuring his eyes, and she knew–if for a brief moment, a second of clarity–the color of those eyes. That she had seen them, known them, and known him. But it was brief, fleeting, and replaced by irritation at the way the man was speaking to Ron. He didn’t tower over him, as he would her, but he was still taller and his presence far too intimidating. Yet Ron was not frightened. He didn’t shrink from the man’s shadow; he glared up at it, into it, daring those hidden eyes with the bright blues of his own. That’s when she saw the other man, shorter than Ron and the mountain, yet still likely to tower over her. He was slender, with smooth, soft features and hair longer than hers had ever been, offset by broad shoulders and sinewy limbs–Odea clothed herself in layers, covering every stitch of skin, but Den preferred to show as much as was legal and so she had plenty to study. The way he stood, protectively beside the other, spoke of a power beyond the gentle façade he presented. Then he noticed her and his eyes, so fierce and bright, burned into her own and Odea gasped. She couldn't help it, though she felt foolish after, when he smiled and his eyes shined.

#seven snippets seven people #open tag #tag games #pale blood #snippets #it's going to be fun letting other people read this whole thing one day #the narrator butts in often and gets kind of dreamy about the romance that happens #the narrator butts in about a lot but i enjoy when it's a couple's thing because that is not me narrating #it is a whole other character #and i've never done that before so it's fun

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qualityrain · 1 year

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ive heard of honkai impact but i never really got a look at the actual game itself whats your favorite guy like??? how do they work with the plot?? love you bye<3

there is sO much to say and absolutely nothing at the same time

this isnt going to be coherent at all

whats your favorite guy like???

this is going to be very inaccurate because at this point i cant tell what is canon or not + rlly disorganised

tbh. like a generic emo guy. a family guy. ride or die. his love language is dying for you. actually really chill??? and like kind of straightforward (at least to one of the main characters in the game. whether it is for plot or an actual character trait nobody knows) shows no emotion whatsoever(never explained). will kind of crack jokes. highly efficient, won’t do more things than necessary(this is definitely canon). hasnt slept well in like 10 years (vibe). takes promises really seriously. the i owe you and i WILL pay you back guy. he’s an older brother. has STRONG annoying little brother energy with another character that is literally my favourite dynamic in this entire game with 5mins of screentime together. a piece of shit. will talk stupid shit to lighten up the situation. he will do anything for his goals(probably). this guy definitely has trauma and mhy wont ever address it and he’s repressing it like crazy. like has this dude ever processed the whole i almost fucking died and everybody i love is dead thing properly yet. i could tell you his height but not his birthday. its 173cm. i refuse to believe he’s taller than 170cm. there’s probably more but i don’t know what else to say. this guy’s barely a character in the game, there’s absolutely no depth at all. all i have are vibes and my brain ran with it and now this guy has been in my head for 2 years now.

how do they work with the plot??

short answer: they don’t.

long answer: his role in the plot is to parallel another main character(mei) and it is done so so so soooooooo poorly. he appears in one (1) arc in the game and appears in 2 chapters and its imo the worst arc in the entire game and its almost irrelevant and every new chapter that gets added makes me wish more and more that this arc doesn’t exist. I genuinely do not know why this parallel needed to exist like. why? why do we need this parallel to see the main characters with an outside perspective?? there’s probably a reason its just this arc is terrible. they couldnt even get meis arc right in this arc like its sO BAD.

mei has this whole ass scene where she just accepts having to kill this guy!! my fave!! the blorbo!! shes like oh i cant hesitate anymore i have to do this for my girlfriend(basically)!!! AND THEN SHE HESITATES AGAIN AND DOESNT KILL HIM AND IM SO SO UPSET AND ANGRY BECAUSE WHATS THE POINT. she has this whole moral dilemma of ohh noo if i kill this guy its like im a hypocrite or smth cos im doing the same as this guy but i gotta to protect somebody i care about!! for this arc and then SHE DOESNT KILL HIM. he dies another way!!! resolving to kill somebody is not the same as actually doing it!! im so upset abt this because its so. whats the point of the whole scene where mei literally collects herself to strengthen her resolve to not hesitate and kill this guy and shes like oop i guess i wont!

im going to be real i try to forget as much as i can from this arc because i hate it and its probably all wrong and inaccurate but i still hate it to bits and i wish mhy wasnt scared to make mei commit murder

this isnt proof read at all this is a word vomit ive spent over half an hour on this and 3 days thinking abt this. there are definitely things i wanted to add and forgot almost immediately.

thanks for the ask!! 🫶🫶🫶

#the way im not even upset this guy is dead i just want him to die properly to fit the arc!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

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bolontiku · 3 months

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Work stuff: why-do-they-say-these-things-to-me? Edition, ft. Special Kay.

TW: mention of masturbat!on? SA?

The girl follows anyone around to continue conversation, as much as we urge her to continue her work and follow tasks she is allowed to walk around.

Not my business if they allow it. I'm a baker. Not manager. Tho I do tend to count to five when she has pushed my buttons/exceeded my social patience too much.

I am headed into the freezer and another associate comes to my rescue as the kid is following me in and stops her "you can't talk to Baker about those things, you're too young"

I look at her "I really wasn't listening" I point to my ear bud and Augs nods already knowing I zone out, shes learned my brain works differently and tends to come to my rescue a lot. (I've blocked the kid from my socials as she seemed determined to follow me) I look at the kid and ask "how old?"

"I'm old enough!" She stomps her foot and pouts when I look at her "18" she answers.

"Oh, yeah, did you hear that? Teen. Too young. You must be of the age 25 or older to talk to me of mature topics."

Augs laughs "there you go! Now you- Kay go. you're bothering our baker, leave her alone"

"No! But I can! I mean.. I grew up with my brother masturba+ing next to me!! I might be a virgin but I know about sex! I'm waiting for the right one! I get to choose!" She yells.

I am shooketh. So shooketh I freeze and dissociate for a few moments. Augs again comes to my rescue by going off about how inappropriate that is and there is a line, as she begins to move the girl away from me. Even as Kay goes on to say something about her father.

I hide away in the freezer.

What the fuck do you do with that? She lives with her mom now. I don't know what the fuck.

Today they sent her home early as she kept screaming about being scared of the manager. That he kept bullying her. Screaming that everytime she turned around he was there.

First, I am Hard of Hearing, I have to be looking at you to hear the words. Second, I usually have an earbud in one ear, and I could only hear her. So I could only imagine what the customers could hear. I had to remind her to watch her language (and I cuss like a sailor but keep quiet in my corner)

It is a small Cafe. They are told to be kept on task. He is literally treating her the same as everyone else, albeit with more patience. He finally runs out and tells her that if he is such a problem for her he could solve it by sending her home.

She comes to pout and whine in my corner thinking I will back her. I tell her she had a bad mindset about working with him before he even arrived, he has treated her no different but to tell her to get off her phone, which she had in her hand every second she paused. (I counted 9 times I myself told her to put it away)

I calmly explained that she was treated the same by other managers but she had no issue with them. Because he is a bit more business? Cause he is more stern? He wants to get done. No games. It's not hard to get along with him. Do the tasks he asks of you. He will even take time to walk you thru it.

She went home.

The other kids sigh and talk about it. The manager asks them if he was too hard on her and they all said no, that now they would be able to move quicker and more efficiently without her. That he did nothing wrong and she was to blame as he is in charge and whether they liked it or not they had to listen. They said she needed to learn that she couldn't just play around and pick and choose her job and what she wanted to do. (Proud of the kid that said that)

Idk what the fuck. This child.

#chaos journal #tw:mas+urbation mentioned #tw:sa?#child #work things #the things she says #i cant believe at times #but...?#jfc i couldnt function for a day

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worldscollidinginone · 4 months

Text

Chapter 3 - The Aftermath

Go to master list

The next day I woke up with a ridiculously painful headache. It felt like my eyes were glued shut. The smell was revolting. I also realised that I was not in my bedroom. Because my alarm would have chewed my brain by now, and it's not happening right now, which is a blessing, otherwise I would have thrown that alarm on the wall.

Another important thing that I forgot to mention is that I was naked. A very important note is when I mean naked, I mean there is only the cover on top of me and there was no trace of the clothes that I wore the night earlier.

At that moment, Kiara comes in with some food, some aspirin, and a glass of water.

"Good morning Piya."

"Morning. Main yahaan kaise pauch gayi? As far as I remember, I don't think I had sex last night, did I? And did the guy disappear before I could ask questions?"

Kiara started giggling like a small, little girl. I saw a glimpse of her.

"You are in my guest room. And the reason why you are naked is that you vomited quite a few times in the club, and you were crying so we decided to take you to your apartment, your home. But when we reached there, there was no one. So, instead, you are here. And your clothes are getting washed because they stank like shit."

"Oh."

"Here. I have made some breakfast for you. Then I can go into your apartment, get you some clothes and we can head off to work together."

"Did I do something stupid?" The only fear that I had, was to get pregnant by a stranger.

"No. Don't worry."

"Ehm... Piya? Can I ask you a question?"

"Sure. Go ahead."

"You were crying last night. What happened?"

I was trying to be calm, but all the images in my mind were making me crazy, so I snapped.

"Nothing that should interest you, Kaira!"

I lost my cool at that point. I didn't want to, but he was making my life very hard, without being a part of it.

"Look I am sorry. I don't want to talk about it. Is that okay?"

"It's chill."

"It's what, sorry?"

"It's okay, Piya. I didn't realise you were this old."

"What nonsense is this? Just because I don't understand one word that you said, it does not mean that I am old, okay."

This new language of acronyms and weird words will get me in big trouble. I hardly understand what they say. Can't you speak in a language that I can understand? No, make my life even harder than it already is. Oh my god, I was supposed to fly back to New York last night! Nick is not going to be happy about this.

"Come on, get ready! We have to go to work!! We cannot be late."

"Actually, I need to make a call. Can I have my phone back?"

"Sure."

As soon as I got my phone, I called Nick up.

"Hey Nick, how are you, buddy?"

"Buddy, my foot Riya! You told me that you were coming back last night!! I haven't slept all night because of you. Maria was telling me how much she misses spending time with you. Chase was missing you as well. He thought you were going to play with him."

"Yeah, I know Nick. I am so sorry. I know Maria is going to be really pissed at me, which is not wrong on her part. But I will make sure to make it up to you. But I am not coming back, at least not now."

"Fine. Just make sure that you actually turn up at the airport, and I won't be upset."

"Okay."

"Is he around?"

"Who?"

"Him."

"No."

"Well, I hope he turns up in your life. Because you are a mess."

"I know. Anyway, I am sorry for troubling you. I'll call you later."

"Yeah, sure. I'd like that."

I know Nick. I know. I hope so too.

Go back to Chapter 2

Go to Chapter 4

#writing prompts #writeblr #writing #dear zindagi #aliabhatt #alia bhatt #shahrukh khan #shah rukh khan #shah #hope entertainment #red chillies entertainment #dharma productions #mentalheathawareness #mental health #daily life

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lavienbleuuu · 6 months

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If You’re Not Receiving The Respect You Deserve, It’s Not Your Fault

“Rational human will respect the principle of reason in each other and lack all desire to fight one another or seek to dominate one another. The desire to dominate is itself irrational” — Isaiah Berlin, Freedom, and Its Betrayal: Six Enemies of Human Liberty.

There are times when I doubt myself for not receiving the respect I need. Am I doing something wrong? Do I fail to fulfill the expectation of others? Oh, was it my body language or is it my speech?

Then I ended up finding an answer on the Google search engine where some of the top articles looked like this:

14 Reasons Why People Don’t Respect You

Want People to Respect You? Don’t Do These These 8 Things

Do These 7 Things To Receive Abundant Respect

This Is Why People Don’t Respect You

How To Train People To Respect You

I took a long pause of deep breath.

So, it’s my fault then. Okay, let’s change.

I read, implement, pause, give myself a note, implement, pause, reflect, implement, and stop. Because something is terribly wrong.

All these articles directly point their finger at me as though I was the central cause of the issue. I have given my courtesy to reflect and took action on what went wrong, should I still be blamed even after the fourth attempt? After all, not receiving the amount of respect I deserve is merely about the other person, a big whole point about their personality.

A small fictive scenario regarding this matter is when you arrange a birthday present for your partner/friends, you have Thom Browne’s shirt, party, booze, and all you got as your upcoming birthday is just a regular dinner after work with phone notifications to disturb you every 5 minutes. No party, no sentimental birthday presence, or special arrangement.

I am sure you have the moment where you need to go to the bathroom to process the disrespectful words or gestures that make your soul bleed. I remember feeling like I was buried alive where anybody just ignore my screaming. The kind of disrespectful manner where it makes me feel like I am no longer human. I talked to the person, explain how I felt professionally. I was using plain human language with no metaphors, “what you do is wrong. I allow you to not personally like me, but we have work to do together.”

The person even apologizes to me and explains why they are behaving like such an a*shole. But, suddenly amnesia took them completely. Zero effort and still being an a*shole. So, what’s happening here?

The universal concept said respect is earned not given. Perhaps, that’s the reason why Google’s result page shows a bunch of victim-blaming advice, “how to earn respect from others?” Why is it that society always and only demands people with a brain to change, not the unscrupulous who I believe still have a brain, but their egocentricity, the oppressive kind of behavior has made the basic rational action become a difficult concept to execute?

Saying thank you to someone doing a good deed for you is rational action.

Apologizing for a mistake you realize had created is rational action.

Appreciating someone’s effort is rational action.

Rational action, as a part of being a rational human being, is different from being smart. I’m not saying smart people are the problem, everyone is legitimately smart in their own way. But, being rational is the capability of knowing what’s wrong, as a self-interpretation to an innate understanding of what is right. In this case, not receiving the respect you deserve is giving you a quick intro to that person’s quality.

Respecting people is more than transactions or duties of beneficence, for human persons are worthy of respect as the possessors of a rational will. I probably won’t grudge the partner who I have given Thom Browne’s shirt as I receive only fake truffles for the main course. But, I will take note and consider the next step of every disrespected situation, which I will no longer think is just a regular mistake, but an answer to the self-quality. Being together with someone who disrespects you is like locking yourself inside a room with a dementor. It sucks your joy away.

To be rational is to avoid something that could jeopardize both parties, you and I, we and them, US.

Being respectful is just kind. Harmony. But, being kind in today’s society requires a lot of terms and conditions. The problem is that everyone seems to be taking advantage of someone’s kindness. And when something jeopardizing happens, we will give the victim advice, “Don’t be too kind, it’s not good”.

Yes, being kind is criminal nowadays. It shows you how much we are in a very difficult position, trying to survive among our kind. We possess the oppressive personality where we lust for power to dominate other personhood. And they say what makes us different from animals is our capacity to give reasons, to be rational, but do we still human if how we communicate to solve a conflict is using violence as the language? The idea we should eliminate each other’s to win.

If the current era we live in makes thankful or respectful gestures harder to earn, what are we going to do? Do we have a deconstructive concept of where we are supposed to lick [someone’s] ass to earn respect? If the answer is yes, then we have plenty of homework. The symptom of this irrational behavior seems to affect our oxygen to breathe in the social community, our freedom.

What’s worse about the irrational behavior which chooses to strangle anyone is that it’s reflected in each of the current heads of government. We have plenty of news regarding their reckless decisions, disrespect I would say. Perhaps, it is because I come from a third-world country. Nevertheless, they are absent in matters for the public good and instead doing something for the sake of private self-interested.

I have two real examples of our head of government being unscrupulous.

First, just imagine your Provincial Legislative Council playing slot gambling in the meeting for the Regional Revenues and Expenditures Budget. She said it was Candy Crush, but someone online on the 3545 level of the game claimed the template was strange. Please, tell me, what is this if not irrational?

Second, our executive (President) and legislative (House of Representatives) propose to change the limitation of the vice president's age from 40 years old to 35 years old to the judicial (Supreme Court). Just a brief context, Jokowi's eldest son is now a mayor of Surakarta (he is 35 years old) and we’re going to have Presidential Election in February 2024. Is this not what you could call a self-interested policy?

Now, if you have current news about each of your irrational governments, you might want to give the readers some perspective to discuss.

Henceforth, I afford you the courtesy of respecting your intellectual capability to decide that not receiving the respect you deserve has nothing to do with you.

The fault is those of the irrational human whom I believe have done nothing but being destructive, physically and in this context, emotionally.

To be honest, I have no idea how precisely to change irrational human, so they become rational. Perhaps, it could start by acknowledging that they are nothing without us.

Nothing without us.

You might want to read:

Isaiah Berlin, “Freedom, and Its Betrayal: Six Enemies of Human Liberty”.

Peter Lucas, “Ethics and Self-Knowledge: Respect For Self-Interpreting Agents”.

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