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delulujuls · 4 months

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the mad dutchman and the fearless dutchess | mv33

summary: one dutchman is a lot so now imagine putting two dutch teenagers in one team and tell them to not kill each other

warnings: car crash, some cussing, (they sometimes can't stay each other but at the end of the day its just them against the world)

pairing: fem!redbulldriver x max verstappen

Max and Y/N had known each other since the times when they still had scrapes on their knees and wobbly milk teeth. They met at a go-kart school - he had a helmet that was much too big for him, she wore a patched jumpsuit from her older brother. Both didn't know exactly what they were doing or what goal they were pursuing; the most important thing was to be the best - for the joy of their parents and an endless supply of sweets.

However, go-karts quickly turned into racing cars and minor races transformed into Formula 1.

All the way to the top, Max and Y/N's relationship was very dynamic. From exchanging candy together after winning the podium, through years of rivalry and mutual dislike. Despite countless arguments and mutual hatred, Y/N always sided with Max and defended him with her always smaller body. She might not like him and get angry with him to the point of turning red, but no one could tease him or raise their voice against him. This applied to both other kids in the paddock and adults, too.

Both Max, Y/N and certainly Jos Verstappen himself probably remember how after one of the collisions at the end of 2008, Max's father went into a pure rage. While young Verstappen could argue and quarrel with anyone, he lost that ability when his father intervened. Seeing tears on the flushed face of the boy, Y/N firmly clenched her fists and stood between the father and son. Jos's voice caught in his throat when the almost half his size eleven-year-old girl looked him in the eyes and said that she wouldn't allow him to shout at Max like that.

Y/N Y/L/N was fearless both on and off the track. And although Jos Verstappen never admitted it, he was impressed by both her skills and incredible courage.

After the years of intense relationship of Max and Y/N, the unbreakable friendship was born when they both joined Christian Horner's team at the age of eighteen. Red Bull had been following their actions for many years, looking forward to taking them under their wings after their promotion to Formula 1. There was no doubt here - Horner had to have these Dutch duo in his team.

The first victories began to come the moment both Y/N and Max realized that they no longer had to compete with each other. When it became clear that they were playing for one goal and that now it was two of them against nine other teams. There was no first or second driver at Red Bull. There was Y/N and Max, Max and Y/N. There were two crazy Dutch teens, who were focused only on the best possible results. Christian never showed favoritism to any of them, because he knew that by doing so he would waste all those difficult months trying to win them over.

The team's tactics were also amazing, because the race strategy was revealed only after the starting signal. There were no plans or schedules, no strict rules. Whoever had better speed and performance in a given race became the leader. This was not subject to any protest or discussion.

Y/N and Max had known each other practically their entire lives. They had been on the same team for over 6 years, and despite Christian's breakneck efforts, there were still days when there were tensions between the pair. Obviously, there is no good relationship without an argument from time to time, but when it came to a Dutch-style quarrel, few preferred to participate.

"Do you have to be so damn stubborn?"

The girl asked, taking off her helmet and balaclava.

"If I hadn't been stubborn, the fucking Haas would have overtaken us at turn eight."

He replied, unplugging his headphones. His tone was still calm, but there was a trace of irritation on his face.

"He would have overtaken us because we were giving him the tunnel, which wouldn't have happened if you had let me through."

Y/N growled. She had no intention of arguing, but the weekend had been hard and she was exhausted. Max's temperament was absolutely unhelpful in this situation.

"I didn't get an order to let you through."

Verstappen responded by wiping his face with a towel.

"You see me in the fucking mirror and you have to wait for an order? Stop talking nonsense, Max."

He sighed and tossed the towel aside.

"Or maybe you were worse than me, hm? Didn't it occur to you that maybe you just fucked up today?"

The girl clenched her jaw. She felt anger begin to rise within her.

"Out of the two of us, you're the one who fucked up today because you acted like a complete idiot!"

Max snorted and tilted his head back. The button that started the argument clicked into place.

"Do you have anything else to say?"

Y/N pressed her tongue against her teeth. She wanted to unleash hell, but she didn't have time for an idiotic argument and to waste her energy on him.

"Fuck you, Max."

The girl growled and grabbed her things, heading deeper into the garage. She didn't feel like being around him, at all.

She unzipped her jumpsuit and grabbed some water, sitting on an empty crate. The situation from the last race kept replaying in her mind, as did his words. Analyzing and cluttering her thoughts was not good, especially when another training session awaited them, and staying focused was crucial.

"I heard some Dutch swearing," Christian started, standing next to her, "Is everything okay?"

The girl just nodded.

"Max just needs to feel at home sometimes"

Christian squeezed her shoulder and patted her on the back.

"Another half an hour and you won't have to look at him for the rest of the day."

Y/N sighed and rubbed her face with her hands. Despite the adrenaline pumping through her veins, she was exhausted. The upcoming Grand Prix was making her sweat a lot.

After a while, she received the order that the car was ready and she could go out on the track. She prepared for the drive and took her place in the car. As she left the garage, she noticed Max, who was also getting ready to start. She showed him the middle finger, to which he, of course, did not remain in debt.

Y/N took her place at the starting line, gripping the steering wheel tightly and focusing on the starting lights. When they went out, she raced with screeching tires and sparks flying. The previous session and Max's words kept playing in her mind. What if he was right? What if she really messed up and was worse than him?

The girl cursed under her breath, aggressively tackling the turns. She wasn't worse than him, she wasn't worse than anyone. She had worked hard for her position and everything she had achieved was well-deserved.

"Max started, in a moment the pit lane will be clear of the last Alpha Tauri and we'll have a complete set. Don't rush, focus on management and dynamics,"

"Do you really think they called me the fearless Dutchess for no reason?"

"Just be careful, Y/N. It's just practice; you don't have to prove anything to anyone."

"I don't have to, but die verdomde idioot maakt me gek."

"I have no idea what you just said but please, focus on driving; everything else is not important."

The girl tightened her grip on the steering wheel and accelerated. Everything else was important because she wasn't worse than anyone. And she would prove it, even if she had to—

Darkness.

Y/N only remembered losing consciousness during the accident. She found out about falling off the track, somersaulting through the gravel and still hitting the metal barriers at 120 kilometers per hour only after the fact.

On the track, only one Red Bull car remained, but Max wasn't focused on driving; he was engrossed with the past argument he got with his friend. However, a voice from the radio snapped him back to reality.

"Y/N had an accident on turn eleven. Be careful on the surface in that area."

"What happened?"

"It's hard to say, but it didn't look good."

Max pressed harder on the gas, wanting to pass the accident site as quickly as possible and ensure the situation was under control. When he saw the wrecked car, smoke billowing and no rescue personnel nearby, Max's adrenaline froze his veins.

He parked his car at a distance from the accident, hastily releasing himself from the safety harness. When he got out of the car and saw the fire, he didn't think too much; he ran towards the friend's car, shouting her name, but there was no response.

Max fought against time. Besides him, there was no one to extinguish the fire and he had no idea what temperature the fuel in the tank was. He quickly pulled Y/N out of the wrecked car and, holding her in his arms, ran towards his own car. Hiding behind it, he laid her on the ground and, as gently as he could, removed her helmet and balaclava. He checked her pulse and fortunately, it was there. The impact force must have caused her to lose consciousness.

After some time, the appropriate services arrived at the scene and an ambulance took the girl to the hospital. Max knowing he couldn't finish the race, jumped into the ambulance and squeezed his friend's hand. He was furious with her, but now all the emotions were overshadowed by concern and fear. He hoped that the accident only looked serious and that she was just bruised. Max would never forgive himself if something happened to her, especially because of some idiotic argument that ultimately had no meaning.

Y/N woke up just before the ambulance reached the hospital. She was surprised to see paramedics around her, even more so by Max's worried face, which, as soon as their eyes met, calmed down a bit.

"I never thought I'd be so happy to look into those deceitful eyes of yours." Verstappen said, smiling and squeezing her hand.

"What happened?"

The girl asked with difficulty. Her throat hurt terribly; the hot smoke and vapors had taken their toll.

"You had an accident and you passed out. We'll be at the hospital soon."

"An accident is an understatement," one of the paramedics interjected, removing her drip from the hanger. "You did a Grosjean from Bahrain 2020."

Y/N blinked a few times, and it took her a moment to connect the dots. Judging by the man's comparison, her accident must have indeed been unpleasant.

"What's the condition of the car?"

"Just needs a wipe," Max said, smiling.

The girl rolled her eyes at her friend's words, but started coughing. She quickly put her oxygen mask back on.

"Don't worry about the car," Max said, still keeping her hand between his, "The most important thing is that you came back to us."

"At what cost? At least, being unconscious meant I didn't have to look at you."

Y/N said sarcastically, but she smiled. Everything hurt terribly, but she was grateful that, after this whole situation, she could see a familiar face. Even though it was red and sweaty from the race, it had a genuine smile and tenderness in his eyes.

"I guess she's fine, gentlemen. You can take her back to the track; she'll be able to finish the race for sure," Max said loudly, turning around. Y/N laughed quietly at his words and he returned her smile, squeezing her hand tighter.

The girl didn't realize that the fucking idiot sitting next to her was not just her friend, occasional rival and someone she sometimes wanted to tear apart. Max Verstappen, the mad Dutchman, turned into her guardian angel that evening. And she, the fearless Dutchess, started falling in love with him.

#f1 imagines #f1 one shot #f1 #formula 1 #f1 oneshots #max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #mv33 #red bull

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thewitchqueenofharrenhal · 8 months

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I get so mad when I think about how Alyssa Targaryen was the only true “semi empowered” daughter of Jaehaerys & Alysanne, the only one of their daughters to ride a dragon and this was purely because she was always meant to be their beloved Aemon or Baelon’s wife.

The wife of the heir or the spare.

The narrative further highlights this because for all of Alyssa’s “willful” nature.

One of the few lines she gets is there to serve as a reminder that she is happy to exist as Baelon’s childbearing wife. That what she wants is to give Baelon children.

That is why she is allowed to “matter” to Jaehaerys & Alysanne that is why she’s allowed to be a dragonrider.

Maegelle is simply given to the faith.

Jaehaerys tells Vaegon to be “sweet to Daella” when they are children because she will one day be his wife. However once it is clear Vaegon holds no interest in any of his sisters. Jaehaerys loses his patience with Daella wanting her married immediately within the year.

Daella is only about to turn 16 and that is the age of “womanhood” in Westeros. She’s not an old crone by any means. Daella is also later dead by 18 from complications in childbirth.

The speculation that was married and impregnated too soon.

Saera has none of the fears that Daella did and yet there is nothing written about her claiming a dragon as Alyssa did. No rather she is immediately framed as a monstrous child. A monstrous child who is getting drunk beyond belief at 12 years of age.

What is the reason for Saera to feel the need to become an alcoholic at 12?

The kindest description we have of Saera comes from Septon Barth who makes it clear she is simply ignored by her parents and she lacked care and comfort.

Her relationship with Jaehaerys is perhaps the most disturbing of all. In a family where incest is encouraged. The entitlement Jaehaerys feels towards Saera’s sexuality is even more appalling.

It’s stated she is granted most everything by her father. She finds no sway with her mother who seems almost contemptuous towards her. Yet all the things that are given to her by her father appear to be trinkets and trifles. Nothing of real substance or power. No where are we told Jaehaerys grants Saera the care and comfort she desires.

A scandal erupts that results in Saera telling her parents she is no longer a maiden. Simultaneous to this "horrifying outrage" that leaves Jaehaerys speechless. Is that fact that she is not ashamed. So much so that when she compares herself to men like Aegon and Maegor. Her father descends into a rage. She is locked in her room begging her father for mercy. Not her mother, Not Septon Barth, No one else but her father.

This entire issue around Saera stems purely from the fact that she had sex that Jaehaerys did not consent to. That is her great crime. Worse still we are told that Saera instead of going to her room that night attempts to steal a dragon and isn’t allowed one by the dragon keepers.

This girl who is described as so willful and vivacious. This girl who reportedly wants everything, does not have a dragon. While there is a chance she simply never tried for one. I find it hard to believe that Saera did not want a dragon of her own. Rather I think she was never allowed one. It shows in the fact that she attempts for one when she is the most desperate. This is the birthright of her house and yet she can’t have one?

Why? Because she had sex. Would the situation have been different for Saera if say Vaegon had shown interest in her? Vaegon who Jaehaerys crowed as third in line to throne. Vaegon who escaped the fate of so many of his sisters because he was given another option on account of his gender.

Sickeningly enough, Jaehaerys who never seemed to have any special interest in his daughters. Takes special interest in punishing Saera. She is forced to watch from the window of her cell as Jaehaerys tortures one of the knights she dallied with.

The boy is bleeding from half a dozen wounds before he falls. She is later forced into the faith. "For a few years" to "redeem" her. Poor Saera endures her hair being shaven, and being beaten by a cane for over a year before she is able to escape.

Saera is actually willful. Here is a Targaryen Princess that isn’t happy to make babies for her Targaryen brother. That makes her a problem. Saera doesn't compare herself to the women in her family when she is being interrogated by her parents. Not even the powerful conquerors - Visenya and Rhaenys.

No she compares herself to Aegon & Maegor who had multiple brides. Saera knows where the true power lays even in her family. The most tragic part again is the text made it clear to us that Saera is not the evil little girl she is seen to be by those around her. Rather a little girl in need of comfort. Yet Saera ends her story working as a whore. Scarely at 18. When she makes her great escape she does not seek comfort or help from her family. Not her parents, Not her brothers, Not her friends. No one. Jaehaerys himself not in grief but disgust mocks Saera as a whore, for having to buy her passage to Lys by doing sexual acts to get there.

This powerful Targaryen Princess, Daughter of these beloved Monarchs. Had no options to her.

Viserra like Saera is served worst of all by her parents. However unlike Saera it isn't by Jaehaerys this time rather Alysanne.

Alysanne Targaryen who when informed she was being set to wed a man she didn't want. A man ten years older than her. Went directly to her brother. The man destined to be King and told him what was planned. Alysanne ends up escaping into the night with her beloved brother. Married to him and with a Queenship confirmed for her. A Queenship that allowed her to be as influential as she is remembered. This very same Alysanne is contemptuous towards Viserra who she labels "slyer" than Saera. An ill comparison knowing how Saera was treated. A daughter she views as power hungry for not wanting to be sent off to the North to marry a man so much older that he had outlived four wives. Viserra is only 15 at this time. Viserra who is described as intelligent knows that the only way she will be granted some agency, some power in her house is by marrying her brother. We are told by Alysanne of all people that Viserra does not love Baelon. As if it is a great character flaw.

Yet one night, 15 year old Viserra drinks so much she needs two maids and a knight to bring her back to her bedroom. Why? because she had went naked into her brother's bed in the hopes that him sexually desiring her. Would save her from the unwanted marriage her mother was forcing her into.

A page right out of Alysanne Targaryen's book and yet it comes across so much more twisted. We are told that after this disturbing incident. Alysanne simply makes arrangements to have Viserra sent off to the North.

Viserra dies at 15 from a broken neck. This child who is framed so negatively in the text - Just wanted one last night of laughter. Interestingly enough, Viserra's last night of joy did not include anyone in her family.

When Princess Gael dies too. Alysanne attempts to reach out to Saera and yet all her letters are unanswered. Vaegon dutifully responds to his mother's letter but coldly and with distance. In the end she does have Baelon. The son who was 29 when she protected him from her sly 15 year old daughter Viserra. The daughter she had little empathy for and could not see herself in. Jaehaerys dies soon after as well but not before ensuring his granddaughter is also robbed of her birthright. Not only that, but also setting in the eyes of many. An iron precedent that no woman from his house will ever rule. He dies being read to by Alicent Hightower who he mistakes for his not one but many of daughters. In the end he believes precocious Alicent was his daughter Saera. Returned to him from beyond the narrow sea. Surely it couldn't have been guilt?

#asoiaf #hotd #a song of ice and fire

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spaceyaceface · 10 months

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Hey,

Happy birthday!!!

I really love your writing

Since you asked for fic/drabble ideas or things like that, I thought of something like MC being hurt badly and trying to hide it cause they know that Ominis/Sebastian will get mad, but they find out anyway

Have a great day, you're awesome ♡

Oops this turned into a full on oneshot, haha! Thanks for the prompt!!! I had fun writing this and exploring the trio's friendship a little bit more :)

Sebastian Sallow x Reader/MC x Ominis Gaunt (platonic) (Maybe Ominis x MC if you squint)

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings: Injury

Breathing was starting to hurt a lot more than it should. As you walked slowly through the empty halls of Hogwarts, you were forced to take shallow breaths, the pain in your side nearly unbearable.

The rib (or ribs) had to be broken---there was no other explanation for the piercing pain that persisted long after taking your usual Wiggenweld. While the foul tasting potion worked wonders on the minor bumps and bruises, it did nothing for the fractures in your ribcage.

You'd been studying some healing magic--you, Ominis, and Sebastian had started the N.E.W.T. level class for Healing this last year, though Sebastian had taken to it much better than either of you. He was a natural. You were merely passible.

Anyone with common sense would have gone straight to their best friend who they knew could help them, but you didn't have common sense. What you did have was an anxious feeling whenever you though of your two friends chastising you for getting hurt once again. They'd tried to tell you over and over again not to go out to the Highlands alone, but it was a habit that was hard to break. Unfortunately, you ran into a poacher who cast a very powerful Depulso and ruined your night.

As a result, you went with the option that was probably really stupid---heading to the Undercroft to attempt to heal yourself in private.

You'd left your healing textbook there, and you thought about what spell would work best as you struggled to walk through the Defense Against the Dark Arts tower under the Disillusionment charm, hand pressed to your side. Episkey probably wouldn't work, you thought. That one was fine for broken toes or noses, but a whole rib...

Your thoughts trailed off as you opened the door to the Undercroft and heard the voices achoing from inside.

Blast that noisy door. No use turning back now.

You heard Ominis call out your name as you dropped your hand from your side, attempting to stand up straighter. "Is that you?"

"Yeah, it's me," you called back, trying not to wince at the effort it took to speak.

"'Bout time you showed up," Sebastian said, grinning at you. He had his wand out, poised at the training dummy the two of you had nicked during sixth year. "We were starting to worry a dragon ate you."

You laughed a bit, forcing down the wince it caused. "No dragons this time, I'm afraid."

Your feet stayed planed firmly in their spot. It would be difficult to walk without showing signs of pain; if you could just stay perfectly still...

"Why the hell are you just standing in the doorway?"

Damn Sebastian and his ability to perceive you.

You braced yourself for half a second and took a step forward, face kept in a perfect mask as the pain pierced you once again. "Just trying to decide if I had the energy to put up with you two tonight."

Ominis frowned from where he was leaning against the wall. "You're breathing weird."

Oh, for Godric's sake--

"I'm not--I just came from the Highlands, it was quite the walk, alright?"

Sebastian narrowed his eyes at you. "Are you hurt?"

You clenched your jaw. "No. I'm fine."

But of course he wasn't satisfied with that answer. He could see right through you, and so could Ominis, whose nose scrunched slightly at the obvious lie that left your lips.

Without warning, Sebastian aimed his wand at you, and a basic cast was headed your way in an instant. You moved purely out of instinct, twisting to put up a shield to block it, and crying out at the fire that ran through your nerves at the movement.

You collapsed to your knees, gasping for air as the two Slytherins rushed over to you, talking over one another.

"Sebastian, what did you do? Are you alright, what's happened---"

"They blocked it, don't point the finger at me---"

They were both crouched down, reaching out to you. "I'm fine," you hissed between shallow breaths, trying to push their hands away.

Ominis let out a rueful laugh. "I think we're a little past that, aren't we?" His hand wrapped around your wrist in a gentle but firm grip.

"Where does it hurt?" Sebastian asked.

You scowled down at the floor, stopping your struggles against them. You'd been defeated. "My side," you said softly. "I think I've got a broken rib. Or two."

"And why are you here instead of the hospital wing?" Ominis said, holding your arm steady as you shifted to sit on the floor.

"Because she's suspicious enough of me," you replied. "She already knows I get into trouble outside the castle. Better to not to let her in on how much trouble it is."

"Too much, obviously," Sebastian said, frowning at you. "Were you planning on healing this yourself? You can't even preform the bandaging spell properly."

"I figured I'd get it eventually," you said lamely. Ominis's hand hadn't left your arm, and you found the contact comforting, despite the scowl he had on his face.

Sebastian sighed. "Why didn't you just ask us for help? I should be able to take care of it."

You started to shrug, but stopped halfway through the action when it made you wince.

"And I thought Sebastian was the idiot of the three of us," Ominis said.

"Hey."

"You know I'm right."

Sebastian didn't have a proper retort for that, and instead reached forward, letting his hand hover over near your side. "May I?"

You nodded, not seeing the point in refusing any longer.

His fingers brushed over your ribs, and in just a moment you sucked in a sharp breath, whimpering when that only caused the pain to worsen. "Right here?" he asked. You nodded in confirmation.

Ominis's hand traced down your arm and held your hand as Sebastian pulled out his wand. You squeezed his hand, preparing yourself for the quick pain fixing the bone would cause you. Sebastian muttered the spell, and with a sudden surge of fire in your side, you were healed. You let out a deep breath, making full use of your lungs once more.

Sebastian patted your shoulder as you frowned at the floor. "That wasn't so bad, was it?"

"It wasn't the physical pain I was worried about."

Ominis chuckled. "Ah, yes. You're worried about the psychological damage we'll cause by chastising you, is that it?"

"More or less."

"Then we better get it over with, shouldn't we?" Sebastian said, shifting to sit at your side instead of across from you.

"Or we could avoid it entirely," you said hopefully.

"Not a chance," Sebastian said.

"You haven't left us a choice," Ominis added.

Who would have thought the two of them agreeing on something could be so much more annoying than their bickering?

"Look, we know we can't stop you from going out there," Sebastian said. "You're just as stubborn as I am, which I wish was a complement."

"It's not," Ominis interjected.

"Yes, thank you, Ominis. But we just want to know you're safe when you get back."

Ominis squeezed your hand once more. You hadn't really realized he'd still been holding it. "We worry, you know." His voice was soft.

You sighed. They were right. And you hated it. As much as they might protest, they'd always let you do your thing. They'd always been there for you with the outcome, just like tonight. And you'd repaid them by disregarding their worries and throwing yourself out into danger over and over agin. "I know. I'm sorry. You're... you're right."

Sebastian smirked. "There's that psychological damage."

You laughed quietly. "Yes, it's painful to say it, I assure you. But... I should stop. I will stop." You looked at the both of them, sitting on either side of you. "For you two."

Ominis let out a sigh. "I'll hold you to that, you know."

You smiled. "I know. I'll be needing it."

Sebastian grinned. "Now that you can block without collapsing like a pile of bricks, think I could show you a couple of spells?"

The night went on, and you started to realize how unimportant those trips to the Highlands really were. Why spend any time out there, when you had all you needed right in front of you?

#hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow x reader #ominis gaunt x reader #ominis gaunt #sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow x mc x ominis gaunt #platonic #sebastian sallow x mc #ominis gaunt x mc

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sallage · 4 months

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Childhood Secret

Primary AU

Warning: This is a tickle fic!

Summary: Bakugo and Midoriya were assigned a mission together that was set to last a couple of days. Due to the prolonged period of constant exposure to each other, the tension between the two heroes only continued to rise, resulting in some unsavory measures being taken to ensure the smooth execution of the mission.

Pairing: Lee Bakugo, Ler Midoriya

Words: 1,757

Reading Time: 7 Minutes

A/N: I think I'm creating an alternate universe? haha these stories will be kind of like one shots but they might reference each other and correlate. Idk honeslty lets see what happens!

Read more ∘₊✧ Here ✧₊∘

“Kacchan-“

“Shut up, you damn nerd! You’re going to get us caught!”

“You’re the one screaming.”

“I’m not fucking screaming!”

“Kacchan!”

Bakugo and Midoriya were on a mission together, tracking down a group of thugs who were selling quirk erasure darts on the black market. The authorities had caught wind of the shady dealings and sent the two rivals to investigate. Since the investigation was far from home, the pair were forced to stay in a hotel while they gathered evidence and proof of the crime. They spent multiple nights in a nearby hotel, waiting for the best moment to confront and arrest the criminals.

Now, Bakugo and Midoriya had taken hidden positions in a bush near the suspects, waiting cautiously for the exchange that would justify the arrest. Having been forced to spend the previous few nights together, tensions were high between them, the bickering rivals on edge due to their eagerness for the mission to end.

“Kacchan, you need to-”

“Don’t tell me what the hell to do, damn it.”

Midoriya's face was pinched with irritation. He had been putting up with Bakugo's attitude since before the start of their mission, his patience wearing thin with each passing interaction. Although they only spoke when absolutely necessary, the quick exchanges were enough for Midoriya to receive a small sampling of the other's volatile temper.

Normally, he could endure it, as Bakugo usually chose to avoid the other. However, in the midst of this mission, he had no escape, and was forced to deal with Bakugo's wrath on a consistent basis.

“Kacchan please-“

“Shut up! I’m sick of hearing your stupid voice!”

“I’m just trying to-“

“That’s it!”

Bakugo uttered a grunt and moved to sit on his knees.

“What are you-“

“Getting the hell away from you. We don’t need to be in the same damn bush.”

“You can’t, they’ll see you!”

“Don’t tell me what I can and can’t do!”

Bakugo had shifted his position, allowing the bush to part and expose them to the danger of being seen. Midoriya panicked, knowing he had to act quickly to prevent Bakugo from completely ruining their plan.

Midoriya quickly activated Black Whip, wrapping a tendril around Bakugo's wrist and pulling it back, reinforcing half their cover. Bakugo's face filled with confusion, his brain working slowly to comprehend Midoriya’s sudden audacity. Before he could react, Midoriya managed to grab his other arm, forcefully pulling him back into the bush. Bakugo's only reaction was a startled grunt as he tried to catch his balance.

“You fucking idiot, did you just-“

“Shhh, Kacchan! I know you’re mad but you can’t just-.”

“Get your pathetic quirk offa me!”

Instead, Midoriya summoned another tendril, its powerful coils wrapped themselves around Bakugo's waist. The tendril forcibly pushed the blonde back into a seated position. As Bakugo struggled against the restraints, Midoriya recognized that he could no longer afford to be lenient with his friend. He had to take drastic measures to ensure this whole mission wouldn’t turn out to be a huge waste of time, which it would be if he let his friend blow their cover.

With that in mind, and before he could lose his nerve, Midoriya sent a thicker tendril to the other’s face, slapping it over the explosive blondes mouth.

Bakugo’s eyes widened with pure unfiltered shock, Midoriya’s expression mirroring it. Neither of them ever figuring the green haired boy had the balls to physically shut Bakugo up. The stunned blonde didn’t move for a few seconds before his face reddened with heated anger and embarrassment. Right then and there, Midoriya almost let him go and apologized.

Almost.

Bakugo let out a burst of angry curses, despite the muffling caused by the black tendrils wrapped around his mouth. Although muted, Midoriya could still make out some of the words.

“Yhuuu fuhhhkkn mhhrrhhon, yhuuuu dhhuhr dhoh thhii thhoo mhh? I’ll khhlll yhuuu! Lht mhh ghu!”

Despite the guilt bubbling up in Midoriya’s throat, he shook his head and peeked out of the bush. “I’ll let you go when they arrive so we can arrest them. Otherwise you’re going to have to stay here. I’m sorry, Kacchan. I want this to be over as much as you do.”

The change in Midoriya's assertiveness was surprising, even to himself. He was unsure where this newfound confidence was coming from, and whether it was due to sleep deprivation, the exhaustion from dealing with Bakugo for days on end, or the new confidence he gained from developing and training new quirks. Regardless of the reason, Midoriya wasn't planning on backing down now, not when he already pissed the blonde off to the highest degree possible.

Bakugo was becoming increasingly infuriated, the veins in his temple popping out in rage. He continued shouting muffled curses at Midoriya, promising to make his life hell and inflict death upon him; the works. Midoriya ignored him, occasionally shushing him so he could focus on their targets. When Bakugo realized that Midoriya was hardly paying attention, his temper got the better of him. His hands began to spark.

Midoriya's eyes snapped back, seeing Bakugo's hands light up within their small and dry hiding place.. As Bakugo's quirk started getting louder, Midoriya quickly decided to take action and use an old trick he'd learned as a child to try to control the other's explosive temper.

Knowing that Bakugo was in a vulnerable position, Midoriya took full advantage of it, summoning two more black tendrils to dig into his unsuspecting underarms. The sparks in his hands cut off in puffs of black smoke and Bakugo’s curses and threats dissolved into shocked yelps, the random attack causing his eyes to widen in surprise before shutting in suppressed mirth. He clamped his arms to his sides and thrashed against the tendrils which Midoriya stiffened so the sound wouldn’t carry.

“Whhht thuh hehhl! Yhu’re fuhhking dhehd! Mmhmhhhm Sthhhhp!!”

Even with his arms clamped firmly to his sides, Black Whip was still able to wiggle through, the skinny tendrils flicking against his hollows.

“Yhu bhhuhuhsrd! Sthhp!”

Bakugo opened furious, red eyes to fix them on Deku’s timid green ones. Everything in his expression told Deku that he was going to blast him out of existence. Deku knew that once he used his quirk on Bakugo, his fate was sealed. But just because he accepted it, doesn’t mean that he was going to go down without a fight. Deku squinted his eyes at Kacchan.

“If you can calm down-“

“Dhhn tlhh mhe thu chhlm dwnn, bhhstrd! Ihhhl khhll- MMMmmmhhh!”

In the middle of Bakugo’s usual rant, Deku sent some tendrils to mess with his sides, flicking up and down and dragging them around slowly. Growing up with the aggressive blonde, Deku was the only one alive that was aware of his ticklishness. Although the playful tickle fights stopped after Bakugo’s quirk manifested, Deku hoped he still would be.

And boy, was he.

Bakugo had his eyes scrunched closed. He was no longer cursing or screaming, just looked like he was trying to control his reactions, occasionally thrashing or twitching when a tendril found a sweet spot. For a minute, Deku thought he successfully tamed the wild animal he called friend, until sparks flew again in the corner of his vision.

Immediately, Deku directed the tendrils teasing his sides to go straight for that cripplingly ticklish spot Bakugo had as a kid, the spot right underneath his armpits and above his ribs, praying that it was still as sensitive after all these years.

Bakugo’s body siezed, the sparks discontinued, and he immediately dissolved into muffled laughter. He shook his head and glared at Midoriya, which lost all its bite from the tears of mirth that began to pool in them. Deku couldn’t help but smile a little as he watched his childhood friend struggle against sensations he probably forgot he could experience.

Bakugo struggled hard against Black Whip but it was no use. The tendrils dug and swirled ticklishly on his ribs. Bakugo did everything in his power to keep his composure, but once that spot was nicked, all hope was lost. It had been so long since he was tickled, he forgot how stupidly debilitating it could feel. He forgot all about using his quirk and wanting to leave the bush, he just wanted Deku to stop.

Deku kept this up for a few seconds before easing up, realizing from Bakugo’s increasingly reddening face, that with his mouth covered he could only get air from his nose. Once he could breathe again, he shot a dangerous glare at Midoriya.

“Nehhhvu dho tht agnnnn, yhu hrr mhe?”

“I won’t if you can calm down and stay here. Were almost done.”

“Ght thss ohh mhi mouh.”

Deku nodded and pulled his quirk back from Bakugo’s mouth. The blonde stretched his jaw and scowled at the other, giving him a death stare.

“You’ll pay for that, you bastard.” But his voice was notably hushed.

“Are you going to stay in the bush?”

“Fuck you and this bush!”

“Kacchan!”

“You listen to me, you- AH!”

The tendrils squirmed under his arms, and his eyes widened as he remembered they were there.

“Deku!”

“I’m sorry, but we’re so close, and I don’t want to be here longer than we have to.“

“Whatever, you damn nerd. Get your dumb quirk offa me.”

“Fine.” Deku reined in Black Whip. “The truck’s pulling up.”

After waiting, watching, and biding their time, the villains finally made the illegal exchange. Deku and Bakugo stepped in and proceeded to do what they were trained to do; knocking them around and rounding them up for transportation. Once they had reported their findings and secured the arrest of the villains, Deku chanced a glance at Bakugo. What he did in the bush may have crossed a line, and he wanted to address it.

“Kacchan, I-”

“Never speak of it.”

“… I just-”

“Ever.”

Deku was aware of when it was appropriate for him to stop attempting to engage in heated discussion with the blonde, so he did. He often found himself yearning to have actual conversations with Kacchan, wanting to finally put aside their past conflicts and issues and simply interact like normal people. Like friends.

However, today was not meant to be that day, nor would tomorrow be either. Deku accepted this with calm and determined patience, hoping that the time would come when Kacchan was ready to accept his friendship. Until then, he would simply wait, with the unshakable hope and faith that it would happen one day.

#bnha tickle #ticklish!bakugou #tickle fic #tickle community #tickle blog #t word community #sallage-mha #lee!bakugou #mha tickle

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idontknowreallywhy · 3 months

Text

Estera Ch 34 - Anniversary

What went before

Four whole chapters of 90% proof fluff?

Pfffft, can’t be letting that streak continue… 😂

I know what’ll fix it, some good old Scotty inner-monologue.

But lest he get too angst-ridden, there’ll be some puppy piling and some Babs to fluffen things out…

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Hey, how’s things? Fancy a chat?

Always. Give me 2 mins to escape.

Scott carefully extracted his legs from under a pile of snoozing younger brothers and shuffled his way off the couch, staggering slightly as the blood rushed back into his tingling feet.

As much as he loved the traditional puppy pile, he knew he was never going to sleep tonight - too many thoughts were circling like vultures over a half dead sheep. If he let himself relax they’d swoop and… let’s just say it wouldn’t be pretty.

It was best he stayed awake.

This particular day of the year was always tricky, for all his family’s cunning attempts to distract him from it (and Virgil really had outdone himself this year). But it was the anniversary of the date he’d been shot down. The date everything had gone to hell. The date his life had split in two and there was a before-Scott and an After-Scott. Because despite his best efforts, he’d never been the same since.

And nor had they.

He paused and looked back at them, peacefully jigsawed together - Alan sprawled across the laps of John and Virgil, Kayo curled like a cat on Virgil’s opposite side and Gordon had somehow entwined himself between their legs. He would swear he could actually taste the bitterness of the regret that surged up, yet again, for having been the reason they’d experienced so much pain at that time...

Little Allie had been too young to understand that his Scotty wasn’t mad at him, hadn’t deliberately chosen not to come home to him… he’d apparently gone mute for weeks. John had been in the middle of exams and had just stopped sleeping. He’d aced them, sure, in the eyes of the rest of the world at least, but Scott knew the eventual scores hadn’t been what John had wanted or expected. Gordon had ended up suspended from school for trashing the library, until Virgil had met the headmaster to explain the situation and the suspension was replaced by authorised compassionate leave until the end of term. That should have been his job, not Virgil’s. Well… maybe Dad’s. But he’d sworn to be there when their father couldn’t be and the fact that on that occasion it was because of Scott himself that their father was unavailable… it felt like a double failure.

And then his Virgil… It had nearly destroyed him.

Scott didn’t know the detail. He only knew what he knew about the others because he’d overheard conversations, seen school records, noticed the twitch in John’s jaw when he’d belatedly congratulated him on his results. But his closest brother… all he knew was that it had been bad. Really bad. There was nothing more to overhear, because people just didn’t talk about it. Ever.

Kayo, thankfully, hadn’t been around at the time, but he still worried about what she knew and what impact that had. She knew a lot of things nobody else did… it was her job after all… and it shouldn’t matter. But occasionally when certain parts of the world, certain organisations came up he would catch her looking at him in a way that… well, worried him.

He really wished mind bleach was a thing.

He shook his foot impatiently and limped out of the lounge. His left shoulder twinged insistently and he tried to ignore it. It was purely psychological, he knew that very well. The scans had been clear for years and it only bothered him at this time of year. Ironic really, that this was the only phantom pain that remained. After all the violence that had been inflicted on him… all the fractures and internal damage… the only thing that still bothered him was the injury that had been his own fault. The one he’d given himself when he finally gave into despair and tried to smash his way through a steel door.

He shivered. This wasn’t a great line of thought to be pursuing. He mouthed the lines he’d been grounding himself with all day:

Sunward I’ve climbed and joined the tumbling mirth of sun-split clouds…

He was free. He was loved.

It was all in the past.

All except for the bits that still managed to hurt them all.

Recent events had dispelled the illusion that, with time, his brothers might forget that for too long their strong eldest brother had been the weakest of them all. His bout of illness had given them a little refresher in why loving him would cause them pain. He wished it didn’t. It was too unfair that the people he most wanted to protect from his fallibility were the ones was most likely to be hurt by it.

The little voice that often sounded a lot like Patricia’s questioned whether it made any sense to feel guilty merely for being loved that much and pointed out that loving them back didn’t require shielding them from every kind of pain the world could inflict either. He was trying to believe it. Really. But the need to protect had always been so central to who he was… it was easy enough for Patricia to say these things because she didn’t have to live in his head.

Estera had made a similar point. He’d found that harder to shrug off, though, perhaps because she wasn’t being paid to make him feel better.

After a few weeks of respite the same old dream had returned with a vengeance this morning, almost unchanged, and he’d woken in a cold sweat, nauseous and confused. He’d spent most of the day wanting to call her, to reassure himself it wasn’t real, that the invisible thread was intact… that she was ok. He knew she was… and that his memories were false. But sometimes they could still be so vivid.

And today he just couldn’t get the memory of her screaming out of his head.

Except, of course, he’d never heard it. Not really. He stopped for a moment to let that fact sink in, tracing his fingertips across the stone walls of the stairwell.

He made it to the privacy of his room and called as he walked through the door, feeling a little as though he could actually, finally relax as she answered:

“Hi Blue, how are you?”

He wasn’t sure when the nickname had crept into use, and he wasn’t unaware that she was now effectively referring to him by the same name as the damn hellhound, but he found he didn’t dislike it at all. In fact it made him feel kind of warm inside. It was so very her.

“Hey! Nice to hear from you! Not a lot going on here, everyone else fell asleep during movie night so I’m just chilling on the balcony now. What are you up to?”

“Having a little lunchtime walk. Just sent the kids off to lunch and managed to persuade Barbara to switch my playground duty to Monday as I just cannot mediate any more battles this week.”

“Ah, dear old Babs, she doing alright?”

Estera chuckled “Well the reception desk collection of news-clippings featuring your face is increasing on an almost daily basis. She keeps asking when you’re coming back to visit us again.”

“Good to know someone out there appreciates the Scott Tracy. Send her my love.”

“You are a ridiculous creature.”

“Guilty as charged.” Scott grinned to himself.

She snorted and then hummed thoughtfully.

“You didn’t answer my question you know, don’t think I didn’t spot that.”

“I didn’t? What question?”

“I asked how you were and you told me what you were doing. That’s not the same thing.”

“Ah… Huh. Nothing gets past you does it?”

“Nope.” Scott could picture the raised eyebrow that would likely have been deployed in the brief pause that followed. He sighed.

“I’m… mixed? It’s ridiculous really because I’m perfectly aware it’s just a calendar date, an arbitrary system imposed by some ancient guys, and it’s not as if we’re even in the same point in space or anything… so just because the number is the same it doesn’t make the day particularly special… but…”

“It’s an anniversary?”

“Yeah. It is.” He fidgeted absent-mindedly with the mechanism of the lounger and only narrowly avoided trapping his fingers as it shifted suddenly. He pinned his free hand between his knees and cleared his throat, continuing: “Virgil and co have been trying to distract me all day.”

“Did it work?”

“Not really… but we had a nice time anyway.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Scott thought about this. He probably should. Ten minutes beforehand he thought he did. But now… he didn’t actually want to. The compulsion to overanalyse every memory that had been swirling through his head had eased, the cycling thoughts dissipated and, for now, he was happy to let them go. It was enough that she knew and understood.

“Actually… no. Is that ok? I’ve been thinking about it a lot all day and would rather just focus on something else for a bit?”

“Of course it’s ok. As long as you talk to someone when you need to.”

She and Virgil could be tag-teaming. He briefly wondered if his brother had tipped her off, but then realised she would have a similar date this weekend and probably didn’t need prompting.

“I’m getting better at that, I promise.

“I’m always here if that helps.”

“Noted, thank you. Really.”

He let his shoulders relax into the backrest and his hand fall to rest at his side. He could hear seabirds - such a familiar sound yet a bizarre experience when he was looking out over a quiet moonlight ocean himself. Given his ship could have him by her side in less than an hour, it always made him feel a little unbalanced to remember how topsy turvy their days were.

“So, lunch with Penny tomorrow, you excited?”

“Yes! I mean, I think so? Or slightly terrified?”

They talked of Penny-Event survival tactics and Scott heard the word “shenanigans” in context for the first time, vowing to use it constantly from now on. Estera expressed doubts about his tried and tested methods of upper class social engagement which she unfairly summarised as “flirting outrageously with everything that moves” and suggested she might need another less “Scott Tracy” approach. He feigned outrage and offence. She called him ridiculous again and laughed wholeheartedly. Mission accomplished. He closed his eyes and tried to fix in his memory that sound he realised he’d needed to hear so badly… hoping it would at some point become the stronger one. She was happy. She was ok. All of them were ok.

He realised he’d drifted, listening to the melody of her voice but not the words. Mentally slapping himself he refocused and realised she was now talking about a mixed martial arts competition she was thinking about entering.

“You should do it.”

“You think so?”

“If you’d enjoy it, why not?”

“I might not win…”

“Ha! Competitive much?”

“Isn’t everyone? Wait, what time is it?”

“Here it’s about ten to midnight, what are you, 11 hours behind?”

“Ok, good. I have time, will just walk a little quicker. Ugh my watch just won’t hold a charge anymore, I swear I plugged it in last night... why don’t they make things to last anymore?”

“Oh that’s frustrating, is it still in warranty? They should replace the battery for you?”

She mumbled something.

“Sorry, E, I didn’t catch that.”

“Don’t worry. Hey, I’m nearly back, so I’ll have to go in a minute… maybe you should actually get some sleep, Scott? I’d put money on you not having had a decent chunk of shut eye for a week at least.”

He laughed again but slightly awkwardly this time.

“Yes, Miss.”

He heard the jangling of the school entrance buzzer and Estera quietly greeting someone.

“Hey, before you go…”

He’d had a sudden idea but before he could get any further he heard a familiar voice calling “Hellooooo Scott Tracy!” in the background.

He could tell Estera was smothering the giggles and then she muttered quietly “Oh dear I’m sorry, there’s really no point denying it, my poker face is awful… could you do me a favour and say hello? If this works I’ll get the best rota slots for a month.” He heard the phone being passed over and braced himself before adopting the voice:

“Well hey there Babs, my dear, how are you keeping?”

A peal of tittering before she returned the greeting and informed him she was keeping very well and had been following his progress. He was then mildly scolded for being so silly as to fall off a skyscraper. He found himself apologising. Then promising to come back and visit again soon. Eventually the phone was handed back and Estera’s voice was a blessed relief to hear.

“I owe you one. She’s just concluded Alastair hasn’t coordinated sports day in a long time and I’m sure she had me lined up for that this morning.”

“Happy to be of assistance, I think? Although sports day sounds like a fun thing…”

“Not the planning part, Scott. It’s like building a bridge out of jellyfish. Anyway, you were going to ask something?”

Had he? Oh! He had… perhaps it wasn’t a good idea, she probably had things to do but he couldn’t think of anything else to say on the spot so cleared his throat and asked anyway:

“Um, it was just… did you have any plans for Sunday? I know it will be… a day… for you but maybe did you want to do something together? Ten years since we met and all? You could update me on the lunch… schenanigans? But… of course I totally understand if you’d rather be on your own, I wouldn’t want to interfere with whatever you… might… have um…” he was rambling now, suddenly unsure of himself.

“No, I… it would be nice not to be alone. That would be good.”

“Great, I’ll get Alan to cover for me. Your choice as to what we do, I’ll turn up where you tell me.”

“I think I have an idea. How about my place at 8am? Bring your running shoes.”

“F-A-B”

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He smiled as she hung up and lay back for a minute, enjoying the slower pace of his thoughts. His eyelids drooped and he startled - he couldn’t fall asleep here, they’d miss him. But maybe now he could have a little doze out there, in the company of his precious family. He quickly switched his habitual jeans for more comfortable sweatpants and quietly opened the door with the intention of sneaking back downstairs. Then nearly jumped out of his skin.

“Vee! What…?”

Virgil sat on the floor opposite the doorway, head leaning back, eyes heavy with sleep. He jolted awake, slightly headbutting the wall as he did so and struggled to his feet.

“Y’rite Scotty?”

Bleary eyed as Virgil was, Scott could almost feel the assessment in his brother’s gaze, more probing than any of his beloved medi-scanners. Scott suddenly realised how waking to find him gone might have felt.

“Yeah, I’m ok. Sorry to disappear. Was chatting to Estera and didn’t want to disturb you all.”

“No problem. Just didn’t want you to…” Virgil paused to yawn so widely it made Scott wince, sure he must have dislocated his jaw in the process. His little brother then blinked rapidly and looked around as if trying to locate his train of thought. Scott threw an arm around his shoulders and steered them both back in the direction of the lounge.

“You didn’t want me to what?”

“Oh. Right… Be alone. Feel alone. Think that you had to be alone… if you didn’t want to… be alone… you know?”

Virgil yawned again and Scott squeezed his shoulder a little tighter.

“I do know. And I don’t feel alone. It’s ok. I know I always have you.”

Virgil smirked “And not just us anymore… right?” Even his sleepy eyebrows were capable of behaving outrageously it seemed.

“I’m going to assume you’re too tired to know what you’re saying which would make it unsporting to throw you in the pool.”

Virgil snorted “You could try!”

“Ssssh, you’ll wake the others.”

They’d reached the lounge. Alan had shuffled into the space Virgil had vacated and John had pivoted to the horizontal and was drooling elegantly into the couch cushions. Scott made the speedy situational assessment that reintegrating into the original pile was going to be excessively complicated and thus setting up camp afresh on the other couch would be a better bet.

“Sit” he ordered in as commanding big brother a whisper as he could manage. Virgil obeyed and immediately lost the ability to sit upright. By the time Scott returned with a heap of blankets his head was resting on the arm rest and he was adding his bass rumble to the familiar symphony of Tracy sleep noises.

Scott distributed his stash, ensuring the whole family was adequately tucked in and took a moment to thank God, the universe, whoever it was that finally brought him home to them. Then he lifted Virgil’s legs, acknowledging privately he might have had a point about the pool-throwing thing, and carefully manoeuvred his way on to the couch, snuggling under his own blue blanket. He leant back and allowed his eyes to finally close, enjoying the sense of security the weight of his brother’s feet across his lap provided. As he drifted off he mused on that metaphor… how what an onlooker might see as a burden, could in fact be the most spectacular privilege he could ever ask for.

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#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #scott tracy #Estera #tb estera #idontknowreallywhy fanfic

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angel-maybe-alive · 1 year

Text

My problem with Hades and Persephone retelling

(aka this will not end well for me)

So sometime ago I made a post about things I hate in "modern literature" basically me ranting about booktok shit, and I mentioned my pure hatred for the "hades/Persephone retellings" genre and I tried to explain it in the reblogs but I didn't phrased myself very well there so I want to do it again?

So here I go swinging another baseball bat to the wasps nest.

The Homeric hymn of demeter is this very known tale of why we have the seasons, the plot basically goes as: Hades god of the underworld kidnaps Persephone goddess of flowers, demeter her mother goddess of crops gets desperate don't do her job while trying to find her the world suffers yada yada something something in the end Persephone has to spent half of the year with her mother (spring and summer) and the other half with her husband in the underworld (autumn/winter)

Right

Now let's go to the " doesn't matter my opinion people will be mad at me "part

The full myth as is presented in the Homeric hymn of demeter has Persephone pretty clearly being kidnapped and held against her will

The myth was very clear about Persephone's not willingness to the marriage as she 1- screamed for help 2- was described as miserable when visited by Hermes 3- asked for her mother 4-lightened up once hearing about her 5- is described as being tricked by hades to eat the pomegranates who kept her tied to the underworld

In the context of when the myth was created the reasoning was pretty clear to be about the horrifying yet inevitability of wedding, and the separation between mother and daughter.

Arranged or forced marriages are a fictional thing to a lot of people nowadays, it's a thing of time pieces or something from religions that you don't understand and find oppressive but it was (and still is in some places ) a reality

The arranged marriage has its perks in some context as it takes away the burden of having to choose your partner and if your culture is build on this you would not see this as a oppressive practice just how things are the sky is blue and someday your father will choose your husband.But there's also the fear, your future husband could be half decent person there was a chance or an horrible monster very possible sometimes you truly couldn't know.

Kinda like death itself there was This uncertainty, the fear yet anxiety and maybe longing of it without knowing what would come next.

So in context this tale probably resonated a lot with girls and women at the time as a reminder that after the marriage they can still see their mothers time to time, it wasn't death itself just separation, even if their wedding was bleak as a dark winter, spring will come.

And I love this tale really

Then we have the new context, like I said the fear and longing of arranged marriage is not a reality to many people in modern western secular world, But suffocating mothers are.

There is discussion on whether or not Persephone went on her own will but it is a pointless discussion the result is still the same she has half of the year up here half down there.

But the retellings do a weird thing, some of them reframe it to make demeter the villain.

Demeter goes from grieving mother to an angry wench who it's just terrified of an empty nest and suffocates Persephone she is mother goethel locking Rapunzel in a tower,She is the opressor.

And hades is the stand in badboy he is rhysand, darkling, Damon Salvatore and draco Malfoy In leather pants and all the other guys in black clothes but not in a cringe emo edgylord way in a dangerous way with a jawline to cut diamonds and abs for days, rich and powerful a dominating alpha ready to sweep the damsel ad bring her to freedom.

Do you ever heard that anarbor song 18, if not listen it's exactly the hades guy on those retellings

And the thing is I have no true problem with this concept it's not my cup of tea(I prefer the golden retriever rather than the black cat) and I do think the amount of coercion and straight up sexual assault on those are quite not good, but it might be someone's else's cup.

The problem is calling this a feminist retelling as by making Persephone a willing bride it empowers her.

It truly doesn't.

The original was already empowering a grieving mother doing anything on her power to save her lost daughter is fucking punk.

Yet the rebellious vein of the modern author the desire to be that girl the one who had the guts to actually runaway from home after fighting with your mom for not letting you paint your hair, mixed with the desire to be coddled by a dark prince charming, aman who will desire you so much he won't be able to control himself, a beautiful rich man who will worship you, have amazing sex with you, will be enough of a feminist to respect your choices yet enough of a patriarchal alpha male to spoil rotten with all things money can buy, provide for you as you are his queen, this desire takes one of the most simple yet understandable tale of true feminine power and bastardize it to another opposite Attraction tale.

And this is why I hate hades and Persephone retellings.

#anti acotar #anti booktok #anti hades and persephone #writing #books #i know post this is a terrible idea #but i will just say my prayers and wait for the bullshit #feminism

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aletterinthenameofsanity · 3 months

Note

"Ask me anything" huh? Can I ask you to rant about stuff you love about Doctor Who for a handful of paragraphs, with the additional requirement that you cannot use correct grammar NOR can your statements be fully coherent?

Doctor Who is like 50% fun nonsense and I think commentaries on it should reflect that. No elaborate and precise statements, just pure joy unhindered by foolish concepts such as "making perfect sense".

I was waiting until I was close to going to bed to answer this because this really needs my half-asleep brain to answer properly. (Or improperly, in this case.) Now, onto as grammatically improperly as I can make this (hopefully I pulled this off. like to think I did!):

you know what i love about doctor who? i love that this show covers every single genre in the universe. that it is horror and comedy and historical fiction and sci fi and alternate history and dystopian and myths and steampunk and biopunk and murder mystery and western and fairytale because genre doesn't apply, because the doctor is a mad man in a box telling the story, except that they're not, the doctor's not the one telling the story, because this is really a story about the companions of the doctor, the people who are reflections of them, the people who become the doctor, the people who were doctors all along, the people who were kind and brave and traumatized and curious and above all, wanted to see the stars, because this is a story about the stars, about the grand expanse of space and time, about everything that ever was and ever will be, but the thing is, the mechanics of the show and how seasons are shot and that no actor can ever stay young forever, because the show is made with real people, everyone has to move on, and that's the beauty of it, isn't it? that people have to move on.

writers and actors always have to move on but with doctor who, because some genius (affectionate) in the 60s decided that regeneration would get to be a mechanic in the show we get to have an eternal canon, we get to have renewal, we get to have companions reflect back on the doctor in an infinite number of batshit insane and unhinged ways, we get to see hope and grief and a bottomless fall and an infinite rise because the doctor cannot die even though everyone around them can BUT ALSO because this show is about travelling, about running, about having the entirety of everything that has ever existed or will exist or can't exist or might exist at our fingertips.

as a result you can have episodes like midnight and partners in crime in the same season and no one will bat an eye, you can have the farting calcium invasion-of-the-body-snatchers be the monsters that propel two of the best character pieces i've ever seen in my entire life, you can have capitalism critiques involving fish poop under the thames, you can have them visit the greatest people that will ever live and the worst, you can have them inspire artists and scientists before they die and that's just as important as the aliens or saving the world, you see, because at the end of the day doctor who is about love, it's about the small moments as well as the big saves, it's about wilfred staring at the stars and amy demanding her imaginary friend show up to her wedding and harriet jones worrying about her mother and about danny admiring the fact that a student said please and about ryan and graham learning to ride a bike together and about jackie being the last person that mickey said goodbye to in journey's end, it's about love and character development and charles dickens and vincent van gogh getting to smile and laugh before they die, it's about the love, you see?

doctor who is about running as far and as fast as you can because even though you're more afraid than anyone who has ever existed you have to see them all, you have to love them all, because you have so much love you can't contain it in one heart, that's why you have two hearts, because you love so much, too much, and you will never find peace, you will never find an ending, but right here, right now, you can have this. and that will never be enough, it can't be enough, but it still matters.

because the love was there.

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prodbyblush · 1 year

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How do you think sword leaders treat their wives and propose marriage?

ｎｏｗｌｏａｄｉｎｇ …

▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ 100%

ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴇᴛᴇ!

・❥・ requested

→ fem!reader

Mugen!Cobra would propose to you anytime and anywhere but Sannoh!Cobra would propose to you as a result of something that happened to you. See the difference?

There are times wherein he's conflicted on what to do and who to listen to. And sometimes, when he listens to what his own mind and judgement tells him to, it often leads him to pushing you away; spending more time riding down the road and missing you terribly halfway through. Wondering if you'd still love and forgive him when he comes back to you on his knees.

COBRA would definitely begin with a speech of how thankful he is to have someone like you in his life and how understanding you are followed by an apology for the times he made you feel neglected and alone. In which afterwards, he'd take out the small velvet box from his pocket, the gleaming ring shining under the light to you.

"Will you make me the happiest man by marrying me?"

The moment ROCKY realized that he can't live a life without you is also the moment he caught sight of a beautiful wedding ring beckoning to him through the window of the shop. At that very moment, it was clear to him what he needed to do.

He'd bring you to a place that is both romantic and comfortable for you. Preferably where it's just the two of you alone. And while in the middle of the conversation did he so casually bring up about asking you to marry him. He doesn't forget to mention that it's okay if you say no to him, he won't be mad at you. He's actually prepared to hear you say no.

But when he heard your sweet yes, he'll look at you with hearts in his eyes, heart racing incredibly fast that he nearly cries out of pure joy.

It doesn't take MURAYAMA long for him to propose to you. Presumably after a year or a year and a half after dating, he's already down on one knee, asking you to spend the rest of your life with him.

So nervous and excited that instead of saying "will you marry me?" he'd tell you "you will marry me!". His nervousness and adrenaline are basically rushing in him simultaneously.

And as soon as he sees you nod your head yes in response to his proposal, he'd get up pepper kisses all over your face and hold your hand for the rest of the day. Murayama's super excited that he cannot stop smiling and jumping around. Throughout the rest of the day, he basically just wants to have fun with you.

SMOKEY is the opposite of Murayama. He'd take a bit longer to propose to you. He just wants to become really close to you, get to know you a little more deeper and join you in every aspect of his life as you would with him.

The timing has to be correct as he thinks. His cue would be wherein you're both ready to commit more and settle a new life together.

Although he wasn't planning on it, ironically it had began to snow when he thought of proposing to you. The first day of snow has always been significant to him. He's coming home, coming home to you, the velvet box tucked safely inside the pocket of his jacket.

While in the middle of the watching a movie in the living room, he'd take the box out and show you a small but unique designed ring, popping you the question with so much love in his eyes and with the softest voice.

And when you say yes, he'll put the ring on your finger, tackling you into a cuddle, the movie being forgotten.

Though it takes him time to fall and let someone in his life, HYUGA is the type that once he falls, he falls hard.

The way he'd do it, he'd do something sweet but not over the top sweet. A dinner followed by a walk in the park, he'd then take you to the place you love before beginning to say lines of how everyday he'll prove to you how he is worthy of you and how he'll always choose you everyday.

And just like Rocky, he's also prepared himself to hear you say no, rapid heartbeat pounding in his ears as he begins to romantically confess to you and how he wants you to always be by his side.

You truly did change his life for the better. Hearing you say yes to his question made him breathe out a breath of relief, giving you the biggest hug, one that feels like how many minutes have passed.

That is the second best thing he's heard in his life. The first one when you agreed to date him.

#high&low #high and low #high&low x reader #sannoh hoodlum squad #sannoh rengokai #cobra x reader #white rascals #rocky x reader #oya high #oya koh #murayama x reader #rude boys #smokey x reader #daruma ikka #hyuga x reader

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15-lizards · 8 months

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sorry to bother but... what about gender swapped lannisters twins?? how much worse are male!cersei (kevan or cerso) and female!jaime (jaima)?

Oh my god wait…

Also disclaimer I’m aware that doing these gender swaps messes up character dynamics/what makes them so complex but again this is just for speculation and good fun 👍🏻

Cevan is somehow so much worse than regular Cersei because he has male audacity now (which fem Cersei does have but now he can back it up) Originally wanted to marry the Targ princess whom he still obsesses over to this day, so he was quite annoyed when his Momma sided with Roberta. He does Jamie’s eldest son failure by marrying the new queen and giving up his claim as heir to Casterly Rock, bc of course he only cares about himself and his power. Whenever Roberta is pregnant, Cevan’s beloved sister Jenna is miraculously pregnant at around the same time. And once Roberta gives birth, her chubby and dark haired babies have a sudden tendency to lose weight and have lightened hair. He’s scheming and notably irritable and paranoid, but thinks he savvy enough to outsmart the small council. He’s also constantly getting bombarded by noblewomen to be his mistress, but he prefers to keep it in the family ofc. Though he has tried Lord Merryweather once or twice. By the events of GOT he manages to get Roberta killed on one of her hunts, installing his dear insane daughter Johanna as king, making his mother start a bloody, continent wide war to protect that claim. Through pure luck does he get his enemies killed and his sycophants in positions of power. But feels lost without his mother after she dies. Classic Cersei through and through.

Jenna Lannister living in the most gilded cage in the world…she was never a female knight or warrior but rather the most loved and sought after courtier in the Red Keep. She was well liked at court and preferred to socialize and dance and gossip (much to possessive Cevans annoyance) to politics and scheming, taking few things seriously. When the war started she was the favorite of the king, and was thus stuck at the Red Keep. On the day he started screaming to burn them all, she managed to convince the kingsguard to leave the hall and quickly forced his neck down on one of the thrones blades. After the war her mother marries her off as a war prize to a useful Lannister ally. Despite her good health she’s unable to carry a baby to term, and the three times she’s given birth, the baby has tragically and suddenly died of mysterious complications. By GOT she’s now one of Roberta’s ladies in waiting, and despises her and what she’s done to her brother. The court half fears her and half loves her, calling her Kingslayer behind her back and even to her face at times. She goes off as an emissary during the war but gets captured when the Lannister army loses a battle to the Young She Wolf, resulting in the hand she killed the mad king with getting cut off. Brienne is still her gf bc lesbians.

Mommy issues bonus round. Tyresa Lannister is the first cousin and widow of Johan Lannister, who died. She is a domineering woman, a powerhouse in politics, but is deeply resentful of any woman in power besides herself (cmon internalized misogyny). Close friends with the king and queen when she was young, and eventually became the royals closest advisors, leaving when they would not wed their daughter to Cevan. She was the unofficial head of the Lannisters by the time of the war because she sure as shit was not letting her useless cousins and brothers and uncle be in charge of an army. She plays her cards right and becomes the most revered and feared woman in the seven kingdoms, no man objecting her to her face. She sells her daughter as a war prize and is going to arrange her heirs auction, but he goes off and becomes king, leaving her to secure her legacy on her own, starting an entire war to keep her family safe and their legacy in tact even if she doesn’t particularly like them.

#asoiaf #*chanting* baby swap baby swap baby swap #fem Tywin dom gilf #sorry

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strscrossed · 7 months

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high school reincarnation au hcs ✨

okay so here are all the ideas I have so far for it! also excuse me if anything seems weird because I graduated high school in 2012 lol. this is a modern au so consider it a world like ours.

mikasa is adopted by kenny when she’s 9 because her parents were killed in a road accident on a rainy day

because she doesn’t have the warmth of the jaeger family, her life takes a different turn. kenny isn’t an emotionally present guardian and he’s away for work a lot so she basically raises herself. levi is a grown man and he does check in and call her frequently

because of no therapy and an almost non-existent support system, she develops some really unhealthy coping mechanisms. she breaks into kenny’s liquor cabinet often because he barely touches it. she starts partying and everything that implies. she smokes, she self-harms, and she’s disturbingly good at hiding it

her other hobbies are painting, reading, playing the keyboard, and singing

she and kenny move just before her junior year of high school (11th grade, grade 11, whatever year applies between the ages of 16 and 17) just so she’s in a better area with a good school because he does want to see her succeed

despite her alcoholism, she’s a star student. she’s one of those “read it once and absorb it like a sponge” types

eren is born to a doctor and restaurant owner. he has an older half brother and the family is actually very happy. he meets his friends who all make him work for it but they eventually forgive him. he also plays on the varsity soccer team because at a young age, his parents made sure he’s constantly active and busy. as a result he’s also a good student (shocking!!!)

he and lara meet and despite some bad blood, she looks like mikasa and he’s hot so there’s a mutual physical attraction with them becoming fwbs. it’s purely physical but lara is kind of clingy post orgasm and he goes along with it

when mikasa starts, she just continues on as she always does. she joins art club and book club. she avoids social contact because well, again, she’s severely traumatized and has convinced herself that she doesn’t deserve happiness

during a project for class she goes out into the balcony for fresh air and that’s when she sees eren and lara being too comfortable on the balcony (making out)

unfortunately for her, she moves back and hits something and they both hear it. and eren sees her. she makes a mad dash for it.

eren finds her the next day because he’s a weirdo who got her schedule and gets her alone. they talk and she says that she’s not ready to date anyone. they can be friends.

he respects that even though he’s not satisfied with that at all. he pulls her into his friend group and they’re all so happy to see her

but she’s off. she’s quiet. she seems out of it most of the time and she freaks out if anyone grabs her arm

eren finds out about her drinking problem and her issues because he takes her home one day and finds empty cans under her bed. they have a huge fight and after she tells him to leave and he only does because his mother calls him yelling

she’s pretty cold to him after that and all of their friends when they try to stage an intervention

she starts partying again and somehow she maintains her grades despite being so often due to going on benders more than usual

this is as far as I got. I really like angst and well, eren and mikasa end up fighting a lot here because she’s completely destroyed from her trauma and he just wants to love her.

#high school reincarnation au #tw: self destruction #again I was in high school in the late 2000s - early 2010s so this is the stuff I’m familiar with

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apoptoses · 1 year

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Bought some Plato at the half price book store on a whim and inadvertently got my heart destroyed over Marius.

In his Symposium, Plato has Socrates attend a party where the parties attempt to define and describe Love.

The love between an older Lover and younger Beloved is the ideal, wherein the Lover, via his intelligence, improves his Beloved’s life. Through his good conversation, education, and introducing the Beloved to connections which will help him set up his future business dealings, the Lover behaves in a way that is noble, just, and not shameful. Thus the Lover is not shamed by gratifying his Beloved and becoming subservient to him, and so long as the Beloved hopes to become more virtuous through his Lover’s love, he is not shamed by gratifying him in turn. This is a love that will help the Beloved earn wings (a point which will be returned to).

The trouble comes when the Lover’s desires and actions are not just. The Lover who lives with his Beloved runs the risk of becoming possessive. He wishes to be with his Beloved day and night, occupies his every waking moment. He prevents his Beloved from making connections with other men which will further improve his life and instead takes such delight in carnal pleasures with his Beloved that they both fall into the realms of hubris. This type of Lover is shameful, for he does not improve his Beloved’s life in any way, only enjoys him as one would a toy, and the Beloved ceases to seek virtue through his Lover.

There’s a concept introduced in the Phaedrus, that all souls begin in the heavens, flying with their chosen god. Suddenly their wings are taken from them and they plummet to earth, becoming mortal. The only way to earn back ones wings is through Love, love that is just and noble and pure. By falling in Love ones wing feathers begin to grow back, and if that love remains just the Beloved will gain their wings back and their soul will one day return to the heavens.

But the Lover that behaves in a way which is not just plucks those wings from his Beloved. He condemns his Beloved to wander the earth in torment for thousands of years as a result of his unjust Love.

Marius is an atheist (so probably doesn’t give much of a crap about the stuff about gods) but he’s also a classicist and I can’t help but think about the trajectory of his relationship with Armand. Even from the start he skirts the line between Plato’s idea of just (life improving) and unjust (possessive and exclusively sensual) love, and by the time Armand is taken the two of them have been going out with Bianca most every night and living more of a hedonist life of fun than the highly educational life Marius seemed to envision for his household. It wouldn’t surprise me at all if Armand’s capture felt to him like the universe punishing him for unjust behavior. How could he have seen Armand in the coven and not been haunted by the concept that unjust love ‘steals the beloved’s wings’ and condemns them to wander the earth in torment?

And so it only makes sense that his redemption must come in the form of Daniel. When Daniel takes on the role of Beloved, Marius is finally able to quantifiably improve a life. By his Love and education Marius pulls him out of madness and metaphorically gives him his wings via giving him the ability to be independent once more.

#was always seething a little about his reaction to seeing armand in paris but idk now i get it #and i just feel deeply sad for them both #this also parallels armand's relationship to daniel in devil's minion #and how in becoming an unjust kind of lover daniel ends up wandering in torment #but i can't write up all that too or else i'll just start to cry lmao #friday the 13th somehow feels like the most appropriate night for becoming a marius girly #marius/armand #vc meta #marius de romanus

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milla984 · 11 months

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Just another rainy day

Summary: Reader comes home after a few days away on a work trip and smut ensues. Sort of.

Pairing: modern AU Bheem x fem!reader (but Bheem still has a nose ring)

Category: smut (NSFW, 18+, MDNI)

TW/CW: kissing, unprotected penetrative sex, mentions of food

Word Count: 2.8k

You close the front door of the apartment as the noise of the downpour fills the silence with the repetitive tapping of raindrops bouncing off the rooftop. You take off your shoes and socks to leave them at the entrance, besides Bheem’s boots, then you let your bag flop on the floor and toss the keys into the glass bowl at the entrance, producing a loud clink - which should be his cue to stop doing whatever he’s doing to give you a proper welcome back. There’s no answer, though, except for a muffled sound of water splashing in the shower and a delicious aroma coming from the kitchen.

You hang your coat and scuttle like a mouse across the room to take a peek inside the pot cooling on the stove, lifting the lid to confirm Bheem prepared one of your favorite dishes for dinner. Food is part of his love language, and even if it’s not five-star restaurant quality the simple fact he made it is enough for you to declare all the other biryanis don’t hold a candle to his version.

It takes a moment for you to notice the crumpled mass of fabric lying on the armrest of the couch, in the living room; upon a closer look you realize it’s the nehru jacket you bought him as a birthday present, and a few feet away there’s also one of his shirts. The trail of clothes he left behind points to the hallway and you patiently pick each item up, so you could put them into the hamper. You know he doesn’t expect you to be his maid, since he’s capable of doing his share of household chores, he’s just… Bheem, getting so excited over the little things in life (such as stripping off to have a well-deserved shower at the end of a long day) that you can’t really get mad at him.

Once you’re done with the laundry basket you walk towards the bathroom and you raise a hand to push the door fully open - that’s when he turns off the faucet, causing you to gawk, speechless: he may be as innocent and impetuous as a child, on occasion, yet you can’t help but stare at the grown man who’s in front of you.

All of him, since his imposing physique takes up half the space in the cabin.

Thanks to the semi-transparent panels you can see he’s tilting his head back to shake the excess water out of his hair and let it roll on his shoulders, down along his spine to his rock-solid ass and thighs. You lick your chops at the thought of the veins climbing up his knee, towards his hip; he could probably choke you with those legs and the fire burning in your core indicates you find the idea inviting. He’s a sweetheart by nature, nevertheless experience taught you his inherent impetuosity leads to interesting results during your most intimate one-on-one sessions.

You jump out of your trousers and toss them behind you, and with only your kurti on you rush to the kitchen to spoon some virgin coconut oil out of the jar and put it in a small bowl. When you go back he’s standing in front of the bed, a towel wrapped around his waist and his muscular calves exposed.

“Bujji…?” you call him in a soft tone.

“Ammu!!!” he roars, his eyes shining brighter than the stars in the sky. He’s so strong he lifts you up while he greets you. “Are you tired?” he adds, enthusiastically, and doesn’t really give you a chance to reply because he can’t contain the excitement of holding you in his arms. “Hungry?! How was—”

“Kiss me and I’ll tell you all about it,” you cut him off, in the hope that he won’t be tempted to ask more questions. Right now you’re in desperate need of his nose ring pressed against your upper lip, and he obliges.

Kissing Bheem feels like being blessed by a ray of sunshine, warming you up on a cold winter’s morning; his soul is pure as dew glistening on jasmine petals, his embrace is where you wish you could spend eternity.

“I am hungry,” you whisper, “and tired, but I’ve got duties to fulfill.”

He smiles again and nods, kissing you one last time before he sits on the covers; you kneel behind him, using your palms to warm up a moderate amount of coconut until it melts completely. You’ve been dreaming of this for days: you start with a gentle massage on the nape and move up to the crown to distribute the oil on the scalp, then switch to a firmer pressure to play with large chunks of his hair to help him relax.

Calling it ‘a duty’ is a private joke, as far as possible from an old-style, strict interpretation of gender roles within a couple. In fact, you’d never pass up a chance to put your hands all over him and worship every inch of his naked body and it’s definitely a display of desire he’s very fond of.

When you bring your attention to his outer ears, rolling the flexible helices between your thumb and index finger, his head falls backwards and his curls tickle your cheek. You peck him gently on the temple and scoop a larger quantity of coconut oil out of the bowl, repeating the warming process; his hands sneakily reach the hem of your kurti to try and lift it - to no avail, since the back portion of the garment is trapped under your weight.

“Do you want me to stop?” you purr, and his laugh makes something stir in your belly.

No, he doesn’t want you to stop - what comes next is his favorite part.

You start working his shoulders and the pads of your fingers glide on his skin, dampened with the tiny droplets glistening in the dark fuzz he’s never bothered to get rid of; he groans in pleasure and you too enjoy the sensation of his firm muscles being manipulated, the light friction making them even warmer to the touch. They’re so defined you could use his entire back as a living anatomy chart, so you torture your lips in a feeble attempt to suppress the temptation to cover him in bitemarks. After reaching his waist you usually go for a knuckling technique along both sides of his spine in an upward direction, but tonight you have other plans.

Bheem lets out a surprised, short gasp as you tug at one border of the towel around his hips to peel it open. You put your palms flat on his thighs and you slowly stroke back and forth, your chest pressed against his body and the tip of your tongue following a linear path from the base of his neck to the sensitive spot behind his ear. The scent of coconut on his olive complexion drives you insane and you dig your fingers into his flesh; he winces in discomfort, so you release him and use the bed of your nails to graze over the veins you’d be able to find even with your eyes closed.

He grows impatient soon and grabs your right wrist, dragging it towards his groin; when you’re so close you can perceive his heat you trap his earlobe between your teeth and he whimpers, like a puppy who’s gotten his tail bitten by one of his siblings. You ghost the back of your hands against his ribcage, your chin resting on the crevice created by his collarbone. You look down and the mere sight of his hardening cock hits you so good that the pounding between your legs turns into a wet patch.

“I missed you so much,” you whisper.

He raises his arm to caress your head and the tattoo on his bicep contracts, sending jolts of pure lust to your brain. “Four days, chinna!”

“Too long,” you declare, resolute, “I want you. I need you...”

In a flash you’re sprawled on the covers, Bheem’s big hands nearly tearing the kurti off of you; he’s propping up on one knee, towering over you to pin your forearms down and rub himself over your panties. You bite your lips again: he’s allowed to do some teasing in return, and you know he likes the idea that spending less than a week apart turned you into a writhing mess, hungry for him.

His breathing quickly becomes ragged from the fast-paced, rocking motion but the spark in his eyes is absolutely feral. It doesn’t take long before the tension mounting in your lower stomach screams for release, overwhelmed by the bobbing and pressing of his tip on the same, soaked spot. You’re a single step away from begging him to put you out of your misery when he pulls your underwear down. And almost at the same time, the whole room plunges into darkness.

You both react with different degrees of annoyance - Bheem’s annyoed and somewhat resigned grumble covered by your vocal “No, damn it! Not now!!”

“Welcome home,” he sighs and he plops on his side to avoid crushing you by mistake.

You bang your head on the mattress and whine, as a demonstration the pet name he uses for you sometimes fits perfectly. “I hate when this happens! Hate it!”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Bheem grunts. He stands up and in the blue-ish hue filtering through the windows he walks to the dresser, clearly searching for a pair of briefs in the dedicated drawer.

“Where are you going?” you ask him, perplexed.

He gives you a little frown from over his shoulder. “Uhm, someone should check the—”

“Breaker box?! Like you always do and nothing changes and the power comes back on its own?” you point out, since you have no intention of letting a stupid blackout disrupt your evening.

“It’s just…” he stammers, then he stops mid sentence with the drawer half-open in front of him.

Finally he turns around, and you see for yourself why he’s got such a mortified expression on his face. The random honking of scooters driving into traffic, in the distance, seem to add a poignant effect to the moment, but you shrug and pat on the sheets.

“I really missed you. Please… stay?”

He rapidly considers the pros and cons of the two scenarios he’s facing and eventually he shrugs as well. Someone else would be in charge of checking the breaker box, for once, so you wait for him to lie at your side; you put your head on his chest, your heart contemplating the power he has over your life.

There’s so much of him to cuddle that his presence alone makes you feel safe: the worst part about work trips for you is not the consciousness you won’t be returning to the comfort and protection of your apartment for the night - it’s being forced to spend that time alone, in a stranger place without his warmth and considerable weight close to you.

The rain trickles down on the glass and the reflection of the street lamps light paints stripes on his forehead and nose. His body resembles the image of a bear in your mind, so it’s no wonder you often call him that (even though it’s such a special endearment you never use it in public to respect the sacred privacy of your bedroom). Your hand wanders briefly on his sternum, twisting and twirling the fuzziness growing on his pecs; he’s very much used to you doing this whenever you chill out on the couch, watching a movie, and he’s well aware of how good his beard feels when he goes down on you.

You hug him tighter and envelop his right thigh with yours: the feeling of his coarse hair over your sensitive clit is painfully exquisite, the friction from the grinding movement muffled by the slick texture of your arousal. You’re literally humping the tattoo matching the one on his left bicep and the back of your fingers start brushing over his nipple; Bheem shudders and tenses up, so you wait for another possible indication of uneasiness. He clenches his fist around the messy locks at the base of your neck to offer you his left nipple, instead, and your subtle oral fixation is more than glad to please him.

You plant butterfly kisses to trace the outline of the areola, alternating between sucking the stiff, tiny bud and blowing warm air on it; you never rush through this stage of foreplay, and he’s a terrible enabler who’s learned to use your weakness to his full advantage. When your fingers leave his chest to trail down to his navel, cupping his reinvigorated erection, he gently yanks your head back to claim your mouth for himself.

This is without doubt what you’ve been craving all along: your moans roll on his tongue like sweet mango juice, your hearts beat in unison as echoes of an otherworldly dimension of pure intimacy. He then shifts to his side, so that your bodies align perfectly in front of each other; his palm dances on your skin, his skilled fingers unclasping your bra to help you remove it. He’s done waiting and you nod, in a silent confirmation you share the same urgency.

Bheem slips his left forearm under your right knee, lifting your leg up against his chest. He’s got you pinned in an awkward position - your calf resting on his bicep and your forehead touching the bridge of his nose - but it’s the best way to have you ready for him, and you hold your breath as you feel his bulbous tip nudging at your entrance. He’s not fully in control of this new setting, so he hesitates; he slips out as a result and you squirm in pain for a fraction of a second, which prompts him to loosen his grip and kiss your shoulder to make sure you’re alright.

You smile and let your free hand reach for your folds. This time he holds his breath and you gently guide his head on the right spot, waiting for him to push deeper: a loud moan escapes your throat when he finally does, drunk on the blissful feeling of having him inside of you and the knowledge you belong together. He tries swaying his hips in a rising movement, still figuring out the optimal dynamics, and your lips come closer.

“Bheema…” you mutter, clawing at his muscles.

He growls, a low rumble that reverberates in your ears, and the realization seems to dawn on him: he starts thrusting with his thigh and his pounding gets faster, more confident, a wild exercise in untamed passion. He’d let go of you in an instant if you asked him to, nevertheless you cherish your status as a captive of his powerful hold. Your grip on his skin turns into a primal instinct to further assert your possession rights over him once he sets a frantic pace.

The slapping noise distracts you before you can feel his fingertips kneading your butt cheek: he buries his face in your hair and his last, ferine growl sends him over the edge and he twitches multiple times inside of you while your own climax builds up in response. You throw your head back while a second and third slap land on your ass, your legs shaking and not a single sound from your lips during one of the most intense and satisfying experiences of your life.

You collapse on his chest, panting and laughing with what little breath you’ve got left. There’s a sudden, electric buzz in the air and the lights come back on, as you predicted.

“Are you okay?” he inquires, a tangible trace of confusion in his voice. “Did I do something wrong?”

You snuggle against him to play with the earring adorning his lobe. “I can’t even think straight... you were amazing.”

Bheem blushes and tries to maintain eye contact, but has to look away in the end; he just fucked you into a mind-blowing orgasm, still he’s too embarrassed to talk about it. No amount of words could ever describe or quantify the love you have for him.

“Come on, get up! We must feed you, Pallavi...!” he bellows, back to his usual cheerful self - his smile a beautiful reminder of how falling for him was, indeed, inevitable.

“I know, I’m starving,” you agree, and you retrieve your panties and kurti to swiftly put them on as you get off the bed, “but I’m going to take a long shower, first.”

He nearly throws you off balance when he grabs you by your waist, making you sit on his lap while he stares at you like he’s got a shocking secret to confess.

“I’m so happy you’re back,” he giggles, “three nights without you is definitely where I draw the line.”

@ronaldofandom, @gifseafins, @ladydarkey, @bheemaxrama, @astrafangs, @ronnoxandlumoss, @rambheemlove, @chaidrivenwhore, @ssabriel, @burningsheepcrown, @busy-bii

»»»— read pinned post for taglist info —«««

#rrr bheem fic #rrr bheem x fem!reader fic #rrr komaram bheem fic #bheem modern au fic #rrr bheem x reader #rrr bheem smut fic #mdni #minors do not interact #smut + moderate fluff #reposting here bc i deactivated my side blog #milla writes n*s*f*w*

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memorypassage · 1 year

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This is the story of one Cambridge boy, who, despite all his privileges, felt betrayed by the world. He saw destruction in every corner of his life. He lost all he thought he could ever love, so he fell to his knees and asked God, "Why must you punish me? I'm far too handsome to not be in magazines!"

But God said nothing to me, so I resigned to my room and scrolled, weeping, to the bottom of my Instagram. I clicked furiously through every one of my tagged photos and learned nothing about myself. I asked every girl I’ve ever slept with to rate my performance, and the results were horrifying. I watched Mad Max: Fury Road with my mother to learn what masculinity means. I read the top twelve pieces of relationship advice from How I Met Your Mother on Buzzfeed. I threw out my 2-in-1 and bought separate shampoo and conditioner. I listened to Jerskin Fendrix every day for a month. I googled myself so many times, I started trending. I read back my love letters to southeastern French villages, and knew that I was really just writing about you. I was so busy trying to understand who I was that I forgot my dog's birthday; I'm sorry, Dylan. I woke up every day and had to re-remember all that had been taken from me. Like the whole of Groundhog Day combined with just the second half of 50 First Dates

And at one moment, I never felt more like I wanted to die in my life. And in the next moment, I never felt more like I needed to try in my life. To be who I know I could be. To be an outrageous rock and roll icon. To be a masterful lover. To be the best dressed guy in this Shoreditch venue. To be on the cover of So Young magazine in collage form. To be a well-regarded DJ of rare techno on vinyl only. To be the hero of my dope childhood dreams

So I put on fresh socks and a Kanye West album, and went to find my next calling, to turn the page in the book of my life. I bought a coffee table book about minimalism, and a new sweater. I cut my own hair badly and started using face scrub. I unfollowed every girl who posted pictures of healthy meals, and every girl who posted pictures of happy meals. I’m sorry, Henry. I gave myself a hilarious name on Facebook. I pretended to not know who Lil Yachty was. I told everyone I'd met that I'd never seen Black Mirror. I threw out my bedframe, and put my mattress on the floor. I destroyed my aeropress and started drinking instant coffee. I acted like I knew nothing about craft beer. I bitched about every group in South London. I am sorry, Sorry

And as I started to define myself purely by the things I hated, I knew I had become the antithesis of my 2016 manifesto. I was so lost in my plight to exist, that I forgot to live, and I forgot to love. And so learn from me, children. Be better than I am! Vanity plagues me, but it's not too late for you. I love you. Good night

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grigori77 · 4 months

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2023 in Music - My Top 5 Favourite Albums

5. LONELY THE BRAVE – What We Do to Feel

The alt-rockers from Cambridge, UK have completed their reinvention after their post-sophomore record shake-ups with what is arguably their best album to date, a canny mixture of moody, anthemic guitar-heavy muscle and haunting introspective beauty. Enthusiastically gruff vocalist Mark Trotter definitely seems to have really earned his place now after making an impressive debut on 2021’s similarly excellent The Hope List, taking what was already a strong band producing great music and helping to transform them into something truly special.

Standout tracks: Long Way, The Lens, Our Sketch Out, Victim, In the Well, Eventide, Unseen, The Bear

4. HOLDING ABSENCE – The Noble Art of Self Destruction

Looks like it’s third album’s the charm for one of the very best bands to have emerged from the 2010’s second-gen post-hardcore alt rock scene (which also produced my absolute favourites of all, Don Broco … but that’s a different story). Following up in FINE FORM INDEED from their already MAGNIFICENT second album The Greatest Mistake of My Life, Cardiff’s (no longer) best kept musical secret have crafted a streamlined powerhouse of a record that’s all killer/no filler, perfectly showcasing their ubiquitous double-threat of blistering guitars and lead singer Lucas Woodland’s spectacular, nakedly honest vocals.

Standout tracks: Head Prison Blues, A Crooked Melody, False Dawn, Scissors, Honey Moon, Her Wings, These New Dreams, The Angel In the Marble

3. HOZIER – Unreal Unearth

The rightly beloved Irish singer-songwriter has returned with what is arguably HIS VERY BEST record to date, a brilliant ever-shifting musical landscape incorporating subtle, spellbinding Celtic-flavoured gentleness, ear-wormy pop-accented bops and bravely inventive experimentation. The result is the year’s most effortlessly SOOTHING musical offering, which has done wonders to cheer me up every time I’ve put it on after a rough day. But I still miss “the woo” …

Standout tracks: De Selby (Parts 1 & 2), Francesca, I, Carrion (Icarian), Eat Your Young, Damage Gets Done (featuring Brandi Carlile), Who We Are, Butchered Tongue, Anything But, Abstract (Psychopomp), Unknown / Nth, First Light

2. ENTER SHIKARI – A Kiss For the Whole World

The craziest rock band to have EVER come out of St Albans continues to blow me away with their fiendishly eclectic mixture of edgy post-hardcore grit and anarchic electronic-edged musical MADNESS. This is BY FAR their most streamlined record to date (I can’t believe it’s little more than HALF AN HOUR LONG!), but in some ways also their most rewardingly EXPANSIVE, Rou Reynolds and co. once again playing in an arena of massive themes and making us think as much as they make us ROCK OUT. More of this please, lads!

Standout tracks: A Kiss For the Whole World x, (pls) Set Me On Fire, It Hurts, Dead Wood, Bloodshot, Bloodshot (Coda), Goldfish, Giant Pacific Octopus (I Don’t Know You Anymore)

1. SLEEP TOKEN – Take Me Back to Eden

It’s fascinating to think that just a year ago I’d barely even HEARD of Sleep Token, and certainly wasn’t at all FAMILIAR with anything they’d done. Then they dropped The Summoning and everything changed … less than 12 months later this is BY FAR the best record I’ve heard ALL YEAR, and as far as I’m concerned anyone who DOESN’T rate it at the very top of their own 2023 list clearly wasn’t paying attention (I’m looking as YOU, Kerrang!). The mysterious Vessel and his equally unknowable fellow collective have crafted a work of unrivalled MAJESTY here, a little over an hour of pure sonic MAGIC which constantly flips between the hardest possible progressive metal and a dizzying myriad of other genres from its attention-grabbing opening to the heart-wrenching closer. The end result is not only the best album of the year but a very strong candidate indeed for, potentially, my album of the DECADE. Worship indeed …

Standout tracks: Chokehold, The Summoning, Granite, Vore, Ascensionism, Are You Really Okay?, The Apparition, Take Me Back to Eden, Euclid

The ones that didn’t quite make the cut:

STONESIDE. – God of the Mountain (the Texan prog metalheads amaze us once again with their long-awaited debut album); PVRIS – Evergreen (multitalented musical genius Lynn Gunn delivers her most eclectic and full-on electronic alt-rock record to date); TESSERACT – War of Being (the latest offering from the endlessly inventive Milton Keynes prog metal maniacs just might be their best yet, and it’s DEFINITELY their most memorable); BABYMETAL – The Other One (quite possibly the greatest metal band to ever come out of Japan have done it again with another stone-cold banger of a record); STAIND – Confessions of the Fallen (one of the greatest secret weapons of the American post-grunge era makes their long-awaited return after a 12-year absence with one of their best albums to date)

Honourable mention:

EXPLORING BIRDSONG – Dancing In the Face of Danger

Much like with Sleep Token before them, I was genuinely ignorant of this emerging prog rock band from Liverpool up until mid-November, when Kerrang! Radio introduced me to them through their haunting cover of Deftones’ Diamond Eyes. Then I did what I always do, see what else they’ve got knocking about on YouTube, and within two videos I was LOST. Their second EP is completely fucking AMAZING, a magnificent musical adventure of pure imagination and experimental GENIUS which goes a long way to prove you don’t actually NEED guitars to rock out, lead-singer and pianist Lynsey Ward doing a genuinely beautiful job with just her keys. All five tracks are absolute FIRE, but the undeniable standouts are Bear the Weight and the killer closer, No Longer We Lie.

#2023 in music #lonely the brave #what we do to feel #holding absence #the noble art of self destruction #hozier #unreal unearth #enter shikari #a kiss for the whole world #sleep token #take me back to eden #exploring birdsong #dancing in the face of danger

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kayssweetdreams · 1 year

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Prim and Proper Problems Bonus Chapter: The Worst First Day

The moment that the bus pulled up to Prim, Proper, Perfection, The girls finally began to stir from their strange and long slumber. The first thing that they noticed was Madame Prim giving them a strange, smug, stare. "Come along now. It's time for your first day." She said, as the girls slowly got their bearings.

Yuri and Kaylo slowly got out of the bus as they walked towards the doors of the large imposing school, anxiety in them. Unlike Timeville Public and The Barnum Naka School, There was nothing that made the girls calm down. The girls saw no color, heard no music, instead there was only the loud clicks of Madame Prim's shoes as they followed her down the halls of the school. When they reached her office, the two girls were given their schedules...and boy where they strange.

Yuri had received her classes (English, Advanced Beauty, Proper Playthings, Etiquette 101 and Language Arts) while Kaylo received hers ("Chemistry" Respectable Music, Etiquette 101, English, and Perfection Personified) and both girls were quickly sent off to them. As soon as they stepped foot in the classes, they immediately hated them

Yuri ended up getting bored about what a 'proper' girl should play with, and almost got her hands smacked when she DARED to try and investigate a small butterfly near a window, while Kaylo had been forced to play a very long and very elaborate song on a harp that ended up lulling her to sleep...and it resulted in her getting her knocked off the stool.

By the time lunch rolled around, both girls were exhausted beyond belief. "I don't know how much more of this I can take..." Yuri whimpered "I'm starting to think that Juvie was a better option." She said as she and Kaylo got their lunches...and they were very small portions of food. The two of them took a small bite from the small meal...and found that they had absolutely no taste whatsoever.

The two of them struggled to try and swallow it, as it was the equivalent of eating that horrible stuff you got in cavity fillings. When they finally DID get it to go down, they paled "We're never going to last a month are we..." Kaylo said, her eye twitching. Yuri shivered "I miss your aunts cupcakes. At least those were edible..." she said. Kaylo gave a small smile. "I actually have one on me, we can split it." She said, revealing a small chocolate cupcakes with pink icing.

The girls smiled and cut it in half, but before they could even take a bite, they heard a all too familiar voice. "What on earth are you eating?!" Yuri's eyes widened and Kaylo suppressed a groan. That same trio of girls had come back...and they were staring at the small cupcake. "Something actually edible in this place." Kaylo retorted as she and Yuri lifted up the cupcakes to bite. However, before she could even get a single bite, she felt something swat it out of her hands and onto the ground.

"Sweets aren't permitted here. Are you trying to become as fat as a whale?" She heard the girl state. Kaylo's neon pink eyes twitched angrily. "If anything you should be thanking Madame Prim, and Me." He heard her say. That however was a very bad thing...because something that made Kaylo angry was getting between her and Sweets.

In her anger, she loudly slammed a hand on the table and her eyes flashed into The girl's face "NOW YOU SEE HERE YOU LITTLE-" What then happened was a very long, and very angry tirade from Kaylo, with more swears than a sailor could ever dream of saying. The entire cafeteria looked on in pure horror "-AND IT'S ALSO YOUR FAULT THAT WE'RE EVEN IN THIS STUPID SCHOOL!! IF NOT FOR YOU AND THAT HAG NAMED MADAME PRIM!!!" She finished.

The entire cafeteria looked on in silence after Kaylo finished her raging tirade. Even Yuri was in shock at the pink haired girl. However, a familiar clicking caught their attention. "What on earth is going on in here?!" Madame Prim asked with the upmost authority. A orderly whispered the entire ordeal to Madame Prim who gasped in horror. Her eyes then narrowed at the girls.

"Bring them along. It's time to get a well deserved Disciplining." She said. The orderlies grabbed Yuri and Kaylo as their protests and yells echoed through the halls...and they became the newest model students of Prim, Proper, Perfection...

#Balan Wonderworld #Yuri Brand

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