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bruisedboys · 4 months

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i love ur writing sm 🥹 since we got jealous!finnick can we get jealous!reader and how finnick reacts to it? ❤️

“Baby, come on.” Finnick follows you out of the glass elevator, almost jogging to catch up with your angry march. You speed up pointedly. “What did I do?”

“Nothing, Finnick,” you say sharply, without looking at him. The entire elevator ride was heavy with your silent irritation. You don’t want to talk about it, obviously.

“Well, why are you acting like I did?” Finnick presses.

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

“I’m not.”

“You— sweetheart.” Finnick snags your wrist and pulls you back. You scowl, annoyed at being pushed around. You struggle in his grip but he only grabs your other wrist, holding you still. It’s times like this that you hate having such a muscular boyfriend.

“Come on,” he says, practically begging with you now. “What’s the matter? I don’t understand why you’re so mad.”

“It’s nothing,” you say through your teeth, still struggling against his grip.

Finnick rolls his eyes and holds you tighter, his fingers digging into your wrists. “Is this about Johanna?”

“What?” You falter in your attempts to escape. It is about Johanna, actually. You’d rather he didn't know that, though. “Why would it be about Johanna?”

Even to your own ears your incredulity sounds fake, your voice a notch too high. Finnick stares at you hard and you look away, burning hot under his gaze. Big mistake.

“So it is about her?” he asks slowly. You can hear the knowing smirk in his voice.

“I don’t—“ you stammer, desperately trying to string together a lie that’s not as embarrassing as the truth. You stare at him and his awful grin for a few seconds, fuming. Then, “Fine, yes, it’s about Johanna. She wouldn’t leave you alone!”

“We talked for ten minutes, honey,” Finnick says, measured to your frantic. “You know she’s just a friend.”

“She called you handsome and then winked at you,” you say, mortified, your act completely forgotten. "What am I supposed to think about that?"

You realise your mistake too late — you’ve given yourself away. You’re about to take it back in an attempt to save yourself from an onslaught of teasing when Finnick laughs.

“So you’re saying I’m not handsome?” He asks, eyebrows raised.

Bastard. You hate him, you swear.

“Never mind,” you say bluntly. “Whatever.”

You twist out of his grasp and stalk off. You’re still absolutely rolling in annoyance when you get to yours and Finnick’s shared room. You get as far as the entryway before Finnick’s on you again like a hawk. He grabs you while you're sliding your shoes off and pushes you none too gently against the nearest wall.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

“Sure you are. You just laughed at me!" You say incredulously, hitting him in the chest.

“Because you’re being silly, darling," Finnick says. Somehow, he makes it sound affectionate. He strokes your cheek with the back of his hand. "Johanna’s a friend. How can you think I’d ever look at anyone else that way when I have you, hm? I’m yours forever, sweet girl."

You blink at him. What is his problem? He laughs at you for being jealous and then says something as life ruining as that? He’s gonna be the death of you one day.

"You really need to stop saying things like that,” you say weakly.

Finnick tilts his head to the side, a knowing look in his ocean eyes. “Why’s that?”

You glare. “You know why.”

Finnick just laughs. “You’re adorable.”

You’re about to tell him to shut up when he kisses you, too fast for you to see it coming, too lovely for you to stop it. His mouth is warm. He tastes like wine. You forget you’re angry at him. When he’s kissing you like this, you have no reason to be jealous. You guess you never really did.

“I’m sorry,” you say when he pulls away. His kiss has unravelled you. Sucked away all your anger and hot jealousy. “For being so mad at you. S’not your fault.”

"It's okay," Finnick tells you, shrugging. He dips down to kiss you again. You push up on your toes to reciprocate his heat, your hand pushing up to love on the hair at the nape of his neck. He’s pulling back before either of you can get too carried away, a smug smile on his pretty mouth as he says, “Jealousy looks good on you, baby."

thank you for reading! please consider reblogging if you enjoyed it 🤍

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mastermindmiko · 6 months

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NEWTs

pairing: Remus Lupin + reader

word count: 1004

summary: With NEWTs approaching, you and Remus have taken to spending time in the library to study, more often than not really.

warnings: none, just cute fluff

Hey! if you think this didn't completely suck, feel free to check out my masterlist.

I wrote this at one go, very late at night, so if there's any mistakes please don't mind them and lmk

"Are you actually studying? or are you just ogling at me?" Remus asks, he looks up from his papers to look up at me, and I turn flushed. I have not been studying, but how can I when I just have this gorgeous boy in front of me.

"You should study, NEWTs are in a few short weeks." Remus says, and he dips his quill back into the pot of ink to jot something down on a piece of paper. I shrug my shoulders, and stretch my arms until I'm laying on the table. I tilt my head to look at him from the surface of the table, and say, "It's really your fault. No one should be allowed to look this gorgeous. It's distracting."

It's now his turn to blush. No matter how many times I reassure him that he's the best thing I could ever hope for and how pretty he is, he never seems to believe it. He waves my compliment off with a wave and it makes me smile even harder. I sigh and continue to watch him work.

"At least do some practice papers."

"I'd rather practice looking at you."

"Despite how wonderful that is..." He begins with a chuckle, "You're not going to be graded it."

I huff and begrudgingly sit up straight. I look at my papers with a pout and I hear him chuckle a bit at my expression. Remus has the exam schedule beside us on the table so he knows what to study first. He's had a schedule organized for about two weeks now. I just study with him, but almost all of the sessions are as productive as this one.

I flip open one of the papers where there are many potions questions from chapter ten to fifteen. I don't need to ace my NEWTs really, I'm going to be Hagrid's trainee here at Hogwarts. He's basically guaranteed me a spot, but just in case, I'd rather not fail.

A few questions in, he slips his hand into mine and rests them both on his thigh. I smile, before raising our hands to press a small kiss to the back of his. I lower them back on his thigh, trying not to act like I see the way he turns pink. He clears his throat and we hear someone gag.

"You two are disgusting."

"Don't worry James, I'm sure Lily will give in soon." I reply after James says his words. Sirius is next to him and they take their seats on the table. Madame Pince glares at them and keeps a watchful eye on them. She is most likely the person anticipating their leave the most. Remus asks them, "Are you here to study?"

"Unfortunately, yes." Sirius grumbles as he brings out a book that looks tattered like it's never been taken care of before but as he opens the pages, I notice that this is the first time he's ever opened them. I say, "Being a Auror is hard work Sirius."

"I know, I just wish Prongs here would study with me instead of with his precious lily-flower, he's even worse than the both of you." Sirius mumbles, and I smile, not minding the semi-insult. I say, "Don't be too harsh on him, he's waited a long time for this."

"A very long time." James adds, nodding his head eagerly. Sirius shrugs his shoulders, mumbling something under his breath. He turns to James saying, "You can go with her, I know you want to."

James presses a dramatic kiss to his best friend's cheek that has Sirius groaning and wiping it away. James grabs his things and moves to the other side of the library, but not before shooting Sirius a kiss and saying, "You were always my first love, Padfoot!"

Madame Pince shushes him, and he turns rigid for a second before running towards Lily who beams when she sees him. It's only a matter of time before she realizes how much she likes him. Sirius looks at Remus and huffs, "I guess I'm your study partner, just don't do any stupid couple-y shit, like giving each other a kiss each time you get a question right."

"That's actually not a bad idea." I teases and lean from my chair to press an overexaggerated kiss on Remus' lips. He turns red once he hears Sirius groan loudly. He lifts a hand to cup my face and then he parts away. Remus has never been one for PDA. I giggle as I watch Sirius give us a glare and sink into his chair.

"Let's just get this over with." Sirius says, and he starts flipping through pages, immediately overwhelmed by the amount of material. I return back to my work and so does Remus. The library is more crowded than ever with exams coming up, but still it's quiet, as if madame Pince would ever let anyone disturb her atmosphere.

Remus wraps his long leg around mine and pulls me closer to him, dragging the chair across the marble floor, creating a small screeching sound. Sirius mumbles again. Remus presses a kiss to the side of my head. He whispers, "I'm so proud of you."

"Turns out I wasn't in as bad shape as I thought I was." I say with a smile looking at the ninety two percent that I scored on the potions quiz. Remus teases, "You never are."

He grabs my chin in between his fingers and he tilts my head towards him. He gives me a big sparkling smile, and I return it, feeling those butterflies go haywire inside me. He presses a soft kiss to my lips. I return it in an instant.

He keeps on kissing me until he decides to insert his tongue into my mouth. I kiss him back, pulling myself closer to him. He squeezes my waist and I let out a small whimper. Sirius looks up from his papers and groans loudly, "For Merlin's sack stop snogging and get to working!"

an: sooo, it wasn't a Regulus one, it was a Remus one. Regulus is coming I promise you that.

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lycanlovingvampyre · 1 year

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MAG 185 Relisten

Activity on my first listen: cutting the jasmine in my garden.

"So when she turned and saw them standing there, so official in their vests and helmets, what else was she to think? Ah, thank goodness, it flitted through her mind as Tina felt herself relax, whatever it is, someone is taking care of it. Because that’s what they were for, to take care of these problems, to shuffle people away for their own protection, and keep the world working as it should be." There is an episode of The Fresh Prince of Bel Air, when Will and Carlton drive the car of a friend of the Banks' family somewhere to meet up, and being two black young men in a nice car, they of course get pulled over. Will already knows what this means, but Carlton (while being black has still lived a rather privileged life because of his dad's wealth, private school, country club, a butler etc.) was super oblivious about the officer's suspicions and intentions. I always have to think of this episode when I think about MAG 185.

"This did not happen to people like her." I mean, I do think MAG 185 isn't about the typical racial profiling per se, more about it happening to people who think of themselves to be so privileged and safe from police brutality, that they never would have guessed it could also happen to them?

"It had all been there, all of it. Her life, her loves, her choices, her mistakes. No details spared, no nasty inference ignored." That's one of the domains, that can't be sorted that easily. This is clearly Eye, and even before Tina was arrested she felt like being watched. Then the identical looking police men who arrested her sound like the Stranger. That thing with the world just carrying on without her and even if there are people noticing, they antagonize her like the girl hurling a stone at her and the father quickly shooing her away in terror could be Lonely?

"'None of these things are illegal,' she had said." And Spiral?

Hmm, I mean yeah, that statement had rather few fantastical things happening which makes it seem more realistic and not like a supernatural, impossible twisting of reality.

MARTIN: "No it’s just… Is that how these creatures see us now? As one of them?" JON: [Amused] "I forgot that’s a new experience for you." MARTIN: "Excuse me?" JON: "You have to remember I’ve had this for years. Right from the start, it’s always been ‘Archivist’ this and ‘Archivist’ that. All these weird, awful creatures assuming I’m ‘in’ on all the secrets. Even when they were trying to kill me, they treated me like I was a… a peer." Hm yeah, we know it because we're seen primarily Jon's story, but there are big chunks of information missing for Martin (especially S3 and 4). Even though he was there when he was been addressed as "Archivist" for the first time. Or for the first two times? Elias singing "dear Archivist" at Jon's birthday, and then when Prentiss texted him (lol, that sounds funny...)

JON: "Not all of them. And now? Sure the power’s shifted, it’s all politeness and respect, but it still feels just like more of the same. I guess I just stopped caring at some point. Besides they are technically right, I am one of them. To a degree." Yeah, in the beginning they were like "Ohhhh, did I hurt the poor young Archivist? What'cha gonna do? You're gonna cry? Gonna run to Elias?". Then after the coma it's suddenly "What are you doing... Stop it!" and now they're full on Schrödinger's douchbag with "Pls don't kill me, I didn't mean it! It was just a joke!"

MARTIN: "It’s not the same. I’m still just your ‘plus one’." JON: [Amusedly] "Don’t put yourself down. It’s not your fault you’re a bit overshadowed. I am such a very big deal after all." MARTIN: "Oh, very big arse, more like it." Lol

JON: "Either way, even if I wasn’t here, I don’t think you’d be in any danger. Not anymore. I wasn’t sure when we first started out, I hadn’t properly, er… looked into it, as it were. But now I’m certain." Still, I think Jon actually did mean the "I won't let it [harm you]" in MAG 161. He would have fought tooth and nail if he had to in order to protect Martin.

MARTIN: "I’m one of them." JON: "One of… us." MARTIN: "That’s not as comforting as you think it is." JON: "Doesn’t mean it’s not true though." Still a bit in denial^^

MARTIN: "Even though I didn’t ask for it? Did nothing to deserve it?" JON: "‘Deserve’. Huh. Now there’s a word that always causes trouble." MARTIN: "Don’t be patronising." JON: "I just mean that nobody here deserves the position they’ve found themselves in, not really. I suppose a few may have asked for it, sought it out even, but far more didn’t. They just made the wrong choices for the right reasons. Or even the right choices. But ones that still led them here in the end." NOT REALLY! Also, yes, more philosophizing about morals, I love that shit!

INSPECTOR: "Argh! Look, you can’t know if they’re all guilty, alright? It’s just about evidence…" Right, so if that one's here in this domain, then was Tina in the statement really that innocent? "None of these things are illegal" can mean a lot of things.

INSPECTOR: "Hey, fuck you, you scrawny little tit! What the hell do you know?" Luckily, there are a lot of awful people out there who, sooner or later, will show their true face in public (And then this becomes a whole new problem when the majority of society can’t understand why that was wrong...). Also, we got a bit of physical description of Jon there! I never really gave anything to Nikola's "little Archivist" in MAG 97, I thought she meant it in a belittling way. But Jon get's called "little" again, so I guess there's something to it xD Also, we knew he's not the fittest since he gets tired from carrying a metal pipe around, but another confirmation here, boy's scrawny!

MARTIN: "No, you were right to. That’s… that’s a lot of power to have to deal with. Lot of responsibility." JON: "Yes, thank you, Uncle Ben." MARTIN: [Chuckle] "Pop culture? Really?" JON: "I’m allowed to know what Spiderman is." Even if Jon embodies this old fashioned dark academia look, I don't think that's him at all and people just misjudge him. He's been a bookworm in his childhood after all!

MARTIN: "Not helping people is still a decision, isn’t it?" JON: "Well, you saw Jordan, I’m not sure ‘helping’ is –" MARTIN: "I know, I know, not the right word. Ignoring them then." JON: "Yes. It’s a choice I’ve been making a lot recently." MARTIN: "I guess we should get used to it. Knowing that all these awful things are happening for our benefit." JON: "Maybe it’s better if it never gets comfortable." MARTIN: "Maybe." Huh, that's a thought you can convert to rl. The luxury we live in first world countries is sustained at poorer country's cost. And it's so hard to fight this, to try and get resources, which were traded fairly or get them locally. And if you can find something like that, then you need to be able to afford it because these things are of course a lot more expensive than the exploited thing.

Heh, how that familiar Lonely squealing already starts and Martin immediately noticing^^

That is a really cool cliffhanger. Not only teasing Martin's domain, but Martin and Jon being separated in a Lonely domain, again!

@a-mag-a-day

#a-mag-a-day #mag 185 #tma #tma spoilers

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tutuandscoot · 2 years

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Here’s a fun little post I’ve been planning to do for a while:

So I, as I’m sure with many others, the first time seeing this lift: (or others like it) wondered how that can be possible without cutting his legs.

I was fascinated by it and wondered how they did it (for probably longer than I should’ve been) [there’s a great post somewhere that talks about the physics of it that I’ll link when I find it again]

(I do know how it’s possible to be done btw.. it’s because the blades have 2 edges- therefore distributing the weight across 2 points rather than one.)

Cleary I wasn’t the only one because there are several instances VM have been asked about it over the years.

Here: (2010 NBC fan questions)

Here: (2018 Olympics Q+A- filmed at oly summit in the summer)

Here: (2018 breakfast TV interview)

[I’m sure there have been other instances on camera and several others, but I feel like 3 is enough to state my point.]

So, what I love about all these instances is when ever he/they are asked if it hurts when she stands on him, he either says straight out ‘NO’, like just ‘no’ or as in the last one interrupts to say ‘no, it doesn’t’ or kind of dismissively nods along as T answers explains that he doesn’t wear padding (but never says wherever it hurts him or not).

Let me get to the point here. Whether it does hurt him or not, he never says ‘yes’, implies that it does. He doesn’t even say ‘yeh but I’m use to it’.

This is essentially me on my I ❤️ SM bullshit because he doesn’t want anyone to think that (if it does) Tessa is hurting him. Whether it does or it doesn’t is not important. That they do these types of lifts so much and she hasn’t slipped, she just ‘rocks it’ (I’m sure it’s possible she’s slipped at some point). But I just love how he dismisses the idea that it hurts or he could get injured because, it’s their jobs. It’s the choreography. His job is to lift and hers is to be lifted.

Compare that to another couple answering the same question (I think the way in which they answer is interesting too, just as a comparison):

(Isn’t it great how this already has the captions and I don’t have to waste time doing it myself!!)

That seemed like a pretty definitive ‘YES’…..

I’m not trying to say anything nasty with this- I just find it interesting. And I think it’s another… kinda ‘trademark’ of VM’s- it’s just how they are with each other. It’s part of that thing where they will never ever say a bad word about each other, they will never coach each other, they will never imply that one of them did something wrong- like if one makes a mistake the other is quick so say it was their fault. They are so so good at their respective jobs. Tessa knows not to slide, so she doesn’t slide. Scott knows to put her in the right spot so he knows she won’t slide, and it’s his job to stay on balance. If each of them is doing their job properly and it still hurts- then it doesn’t matter if it does, that’s just the job.

It also, I feel to me at least, it also goes along with not shaming the girl for having to be lifted. I only say that coz I’ve experienced it and it’s a terrible burden to have on you that as the partner being lifted you need to be light and strong and hold yourself, yet people still think you are “too heavy”. (And that’s sometimes when the unhealthy habits start). And we know for a fact Tessa experienced this body/weight shaming as well and Scott never let her think that- always dismissed anything anyone had to say on the subject as bullshit- and rightly so because it was none of their business. He is the only one her weight effects as he is her partner, and he’s the kind of parter that (I’m sure) would say ‘well then I need to be stronger or have better form- it’s not on her’. He recently said (and has said in the past) how she is the best partner in the world because she holds herself so well, she was taught to feel as thought she was doing the lift herself. If there is an issue technically with a lift, it means they both need to fix something, it’s not one persons fault. They approach it all as a team and everything one does affects the other. So maybe if they are both doing everything right, it doesn’t hurt. But if it does, he doesn’t let anyone think it does.

In summary.. Scott is a prince and we should clone his ass..

#virtuemoir #tessa and scott #the greatest ice dance team the world has ever seen #lifts #Scott is a prince #has anyone else ever noticed this or is it just me?#so like.. does it not hurt the way VM do it?#or does it and Scott will just never say that it does??#or is Charlie just a baby?#that was a joke #kinda..

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justabro-kenbitch · 2 years

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𝐄𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥𝐝 . 𝐏𝐭 . 𝐈

𝐀𝐧𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐲 𝐁𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 ( 𝐀𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐞 )

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 : in this first chapter none

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1744

𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫: I hope you enjoy this first chapter, this book does not exactly follow the events of the series, there are new characters. if the writing is not beautiful, excuse me but English is not my first language;) I blame leaves translator for any mistakes

When you are the youngest of one of the most influential and wealthy families in London it is definitely not as beautiful and fun as you might think or rather, if you like drama, romantic problems, affairs and so on I am sure you would like maybe but in a family made up of my father Count Stephan Gardiminton a middle-aged man with a new passion every 2 months that becomes an obsession, the last? Dogs but not a normal dog like the queen's, border collies, and our maddy is literally driving all our maids crazy.

My mother Dorothy Gardminton countess, also a middle-aged woman with red hair and who literally loves to style any type of hair be it hers, mine, my brothers or anyone else who asks her for advice on a color or a hairstyle .

My older brother Richard, a lover of worldly pleasures and one of Anthony Bridgerton's best friends, a really good duo, knows how to be very serious when he wants to be stiff at times but when he lets himself go believe me you would like to have him as a brother.

My sister Daisy, we never really get along very well, two characters too different, she is very serious and composed in short I don't stick to this description very much, she hasn't married yet says it's her choice, but the truth is that she rejects all those who try to propose good or bad and then complains because she is alone.

My brother Edward, he is definitely my favorite, he taught me to ride a horse, to shoot and he always goes to buy my favorite chocolates even if Daisy hates them, she is so tough, fighting in the box, smoking and refusing all the his suitors but in the end he is the loveliest of my brothers.

And then in the end, and I would like to say that it always ends with a flourish there is me, with my 18 years and my debut in society ... not that I really need it Anthony has a crush on me for more or less always and of course I don't mind this at all, my mother already thinks I'll marry him but you always have to leave all doors open.

"Alice?" I wake up from my thoughts observing Richard's green eyes "yes?" He snorts and I smile guilty "you didn't listen to me did you?" I shake my head and he repeats what he had just told me "you'll have to go to prom tomorrow night and dad thinks I have to accompany you" I look at my brother's tired face "I don't really care who's accompanying me as long as someone does it .. ..eh uhm Anthony will come? " I ask not looking into his eyes, green eyes that rise to the sky "sure that Lady Daphne will be there too" I smile inside me "plus you and Daphne are the only ones who have gone well with the queen so I expect a lot from you two diamonds in a season it's something quite bizarre "puff" and when you stop going to your mistress and start looking for a wife, you won't want to be a bachelor libertine until you're 30 dear brother "he frowns at me and I walk away from there in the park with a wicked grin on his face.

As I turn my face to see if Richard was ranting at our parents about my insolent behavior or following me I bump into someone and almost fall to the ground "oh sorry I'm desolate" in panic I notice two pitch eyes watching me "my fault" a tall guy with amber skin a light beard and short dark curly hair looks at me with a half-hidden smile "miss looks a lot like-" "Basset!" The hands of the handsome gentleman immediately move from me to embrace the one who is clearly my brother Richard "Richard my friend how long have I not seen you" the two shake hands with a smile on their lips, while I look confused. scene better to say I look at the handsome guy in front of me who saved me from a ruinous fall, focusing on his clearly toned body even under the many clothes "I was just saying to this Lady who looks like you without equal" the same brings back the attention on me, catching myself even to observe him "I would say that it is possible since she is my sister, Alice this is the Duke of Hastings, Simon Basset not one of my dearest friends" I bow slightly and then be immediately stopped by the man "please not all these formalities, Lady Alice grateful to have made her acquaintance" the duke continues on his way giving me a last and beautiful smile, leaving me alone again with Richard "is he married?" I ask as he continues to look in the direction of the Duke "no and he always said he didn't want marriage and children ... so my dear is pointing to something else".

My family that same evening was invited to the Bridgertons' house as is often the case, our families are very close, my father, the Earl, was very good friends with Viscount Bridgerton and my mother and Violet have now become like sisters from the long time gone by. together, so it happens very often that there are lunches or dinners that engage both families, and now they are with Eloise and Benedict smoking a cigarette on their comfortable swings hidden from prying eyes "I made this sketch the other day take a look" Benedict grabs it and looks at it with his eyes bulging "well it's really wonderful if it was printed on canvas it would be even better" I re-observe my sketch depicting a picnic by the lake and turn up my nose "I don't know I am not convinced yet" I put it away and Benedict snorts "you are a talent ... not to mention when you sing Alice if I swear an angel" Eloise takes the word "a woman as talented as you in art, music and writing who should only aspire to a marriage, it does not seem unfair to you "I take a long drag on the cigarette" but I do not aim only at marriage ... all my hobbies and talents will be cultivated that I die before that does not happen, I will not be alone an oven churns out babies "Eloise seems to admire my words" and rightly so "Anthony's voice makes me frightened that I almost fall off the swing" if you leave us alone I promise not to spy on our mother Eloise "the girl gets up in a hurry and Benedict does the same, patting his brother on the back before walking away.

"Will you really keep the secret?" I ask giggling he makes the same smile holding out a hand to get me up "it depends how much lady bridgerton will make me angry these days" I smile looking at the sweetness in her brown eyes "you wouldn't really do it" I insinuate walking with him in the back of the garden letting him no one sees us smoking, me and Anthony have been smoking and walking together in secret for 2 years now no one has ever found us and this fortuitous combination must continue "how's it going with Daphne? You told me you're really considering that slobbering Nigel Barbrock "he seems to weigh his steps" and told you to convince me to deny my promise "I nod silently" Anthony you know it's not really a good choice she's too many years older than her and for heaven's sake a title doesn't make a man " he looks forward to himself serious "I think it will be just fine" I point my feet and he just takes a couple of steps before turning to me "good God Anthony never say again foolishness of such magnitude ... that man is a slobbering bachelor who loves little girls ... get out of your head to make him marry your sister "he crosses his arms to his chest" and who prevents me, you? " He asks haughtily "of course I will stop you, since your common sense has run away apparently" almost a smile escapes him "and what do you do if I say no?" Oscar, when he stops being sarcastic "because otherwise I will never agree to dance with you or even less to continue our outings in secret" he is shocked to understand that there is someone smarter than him "you are as beautiful as shrewd and detestable, all the more to use my poor and innocent feelings against me ... "I laugh at his words and throw my cigarette looking at him defeated by his own game that has taught me so well in recent years" you hit a sore spot ... I know that I have led astray my dear lady "I shrug my shoulders" on the other hand you have involuntarily told me that you would have answered yes for a dance and that our outings please you "I giggle with my cheeks a little red" I have not said it underneath, but in case I will take it for sure you in consideration after 3 years of courtship seems to me the minimum for so much perseverance and commitment "he smiles at me and God thank that smile so beautiful" tomorrow I will debut and I really hope dear viscount who will ask me for the first dance ... so I suggest you think carefully about my words "he approaches me placing his hands on my waist" if you had any doubts Lady Alice I suspect you do not know me well yet, I would never admit I was wrong but losing your hand is definitely a worse event. .. remembers that I never lose "his lips gently lean on my cheek making me blush unmatched at his gestures and whispered words in my ear, but my brother Edward's voice brings me back too soon to reality" Alice we have to go " I thank my brother's distance and the tree behind which we are so that it makes it impossible for him to see me and Anthony spinning quickly away after a kiss on the back of my hand "but where and you are finished "I come out of the shadow of the tree" here brother I will arrive immediately ".

#bridgerton #anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton x female reader

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majaloveschris · 1 year

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I tend to walk just like him on that pap walk vid when I'm uncomfortable with something. I've never seen a video where Chris was walking like that, even accompany or not accompanied with someone. The way he walks hunched over – I'd understand if he was walking like that to hear something she was saying, but it doesn't seem like she's saying anything –, the way he rubs his hands together all the time and tries to hide them in his pocket every time Alba lets go, these are clearly signs of someone who was nervous, not nervous irritated but anxious nervous.//

There’s another video of him and her not aware they are being filmed and this video took place mere minutes AFTER the pap video of him speed walking and holding her hand. How do we know? Because there was a song playing in the background and it was playing during their walk….so you tell us why a man so in love can’t hold his gfs hand for the duration of a three minute song. Also tell me why when Alba saw the camera she reached for Chris’ hand and his goes in his pocket as he LOOKS to see if his hired photographer caught that. Also as something with anxiety if I’m with a person I love and trust you better believe I’m holding their hand for support and comfort. So if he was as you say anxious than there’s a bigger issue here if he put his hand in his pocket vs reaching out for hers in his distress.

It’s not social anxiety because he was so confident when they were on the stairs, he was cool and casual even in the video I mentioned about. I have an anxiety disorder , please don’t use his anxiety as a crutch, he’s willfully in this mess, he made his bed and he shall lay in it. Chris does have anxiety I’ve seen his small gestures and coping mechanisms during red carpets and various interviews….he displayed none of that during neither pap video. He purposely looked like that, he was selling a narrative and failed.

Too much has happened since November where even those who thought this was a legit relationship have enough actual proof to question everything. If they are real, this is a toxic ass relationship and he’s dating a racist.

I also see why celebrities get away with things, they make the narrative questionable so even if things look shitty, the way the situation is presented will have you questioning your own sanity and looking at a different perspective and going….”well I can understand it this way or that”

Anon, the above isn’t in a rude or mean tone, I just type too fast and type as things come to my head. I’m frustrated at Chris but probably shouldn’t be because no one forced me to believe his image.

This entire shitshow is shit. I also thought this could be real at one point but it’s just too much obvious bs going on that I’m just like idc anymore. I’m most concerned if Chris is a lowkey racist for associating with these people.

Thank you so much for sharing your thoughts. I think that hand video told more than it just being a video but I’ll agree to disagree. ☺️🥺Social anxiety sucks and I hope yours gets better, mine ruined my life and I feel like a failure because I feel it’s my fault and I allowed it to.

Wishing you all a great week. 🫶👋

You can clearly see on that video that he doesn't want to hold her hands. It would be weird all alone, but if we even add his anxiety and the fact that she is his lover and the person who makes him the happiest, she should make him more comfortable and less anxious. And looking at that video, she did the exact opposite, because he would rather put his hands in his pocket. It's not like she wanted to hold his hands, because the only reason she went for them was because she realized that somebody might be filming them.

I can imagine that he was anxious about this whole situation, and I guess by that time he'd realized he'd made a big mistake. However, if it wasn't because of this, he would have behaved differently with Alba.

I also think that if he wanted, he could sell this relationship. I wouldn't say he is trying, though. I don't think he is rude, but I see where you're coming from.

Anxiety is a really tricky thing, so don't blame yourself, please. You do your best, and you're trying; that's what matters ❤️

#majaloveschris #chris and alba pr #chris and alba in nyc #cevans-love

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roguestorm · 2 years

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What bothers me about Excalibur #18-20 is how it discounts Kwannon's feelings. We all - readers and characters alike - know that the body swap is not Betsy's fault, that it was Spyral's idea and it was a violation of Betsy's agency, etc, etc. We all know that! And none of that changes the fact that Kwannon is allowed to be mad about it, is allowed to have a lot of resentment towards the person who existed in her body while she was in a limbo between life and death. Other people look at her and see Betsy and confuse the relationships they had with Betsy with the relationship they have with her. And, moreover, Hill makes it very explicit that Kwannon has been controlled all her life, has never really had agency, and that the body swap was an extension of a pattern where she was never allowed to live her life. She wasn't allowed to keep her lover or her child, she never knew her parents, she's never been allowed to make her own decisions, and even her acts of rebellion were ultimately futile and playing into someone else's hands.

In having Kwannon say, "It isn't to be solved, it merely is," or "The terrible things between us have been done to us! That is not who we are," Howard is using Kwannon as an author mouthpiece, to clear Betsy of all charges. She is ignoring that Kwannon is a person who might have her own complicated and negative feelings about Betsy. Again, Hill makes clear that Kwannon will forgive Betsy, given enough time, but that currently, she still feels the damage done too keenly to be magnanimous about it. In giving Kwannon that magnanimity, that wisdom, Howard is denying her actual personhood and using her as a tool for Betsy's story. In so doing, she is repeating the exact same mistake the body-swap story originally did - treating the white woman's story as more important and interesting than the Asian woman's. When Excalibur #19 focuses on Betsy's pain and casts Kwannon as the voice of reason, it denies Kwannon the sympathy that it asks us to feel for Betsy.

(On another note, as I am a Betsy fan, Howard's insistence on absolving Betsy of ever being guilty of anything is completely silly when she's writing a violent killer who is guilty of rather a lot. Howard loves Betsy so much she's incapable of writing good Betsy content, and she's throwing Kwannon's characterization away at the same time.)

#m.txt #x men blogging #kwannon #ch: eat your heart out bruce willis #s: excalibur v4 #other people have talked about this story before i just wanted to name specifically what bothers me about it

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multifandomrandomgirl · 9 months

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Loving You Was The Biggest Mistake I Ever Made - Mike Nesmith x female!reader

Masterlist:

A/N: Trigger warnings of verbal abuse, cheating, sex, etc etc

Debating writing a part two for this.

-----------

“Mike, please. This can’t keep going on!” Y/N sobbed as her husband paced up and down their living room angrily. This had been the fifth time this week that he’d come home late, he smelled of sex, and women’s perfume and often had lipstick stains on his cheek, collar or neck. This had been going on for months, and Y/N was getting sick and tired of his shit. Michael wouldn’t even be truthful about it, he’d try and lie and say stupid things such as ‘Oh yeah, we were filming this episode where Davy’s a woman and he had to kiss me’ and it was those lies that drove her mad. She wanted him to tell the truth but the Texan refused to.

“What can’t keep going on? I’ve not done anything, I have no idea what you’re on about.” Michael pulled a sour face, he knew he’d been found out, he knew he was in trouble but he refused to take any responsibility for anything. Why should he? He thought that if Y/N had been a better wife, he wouldn’t need to sleep with other women to satisfy his needs. In his eyes, he believed that it was her fault, not his. He shouldn’t be held accountable for his actions when they were justifiable.

“I think you know exactly what you’ve done Michael, and don’t you even dare think about putting the blame on me. I don’t want to take the blame for your awful actions. You’re the one cheating and making the decision to cheat, not me. This is all on you Michael.” Y/N spat.

“Is it really? I think otherwise.” Michael rolled his eyes as Y/N started to cry harder, he thought she was absolutely ridiculous, there was no need for the waterworks. “Oh Y/N enough with the fucking tears already. It’s ridiculous, come on. You’re an adult, you don’t need to sob at every minor inconvenience.”

“You know, both Davy and Peter told me that they’d seen you getting blowjobs behind the scenes from random other women before going home with them. It’s getting harder and harder to believe you when every night you come home dishevelled, covered in lipstick and smelling of sex and other women’s perfume. I’m not sure what to believe anymore.” Y/N scowled at her husband.

“Them fucking little snitches.” Michael grumbled without thinking before speaking, taking himself aback.

“Oh, so you have been cheating on me then, hmm? Now that I’ve brought your bandmates into this you admit to having cheated on me? How long has this been going on for Michael? Really? I want the truth this time. I think I deserve the truth, Michael. Please.” Y/N pleaded with the man.

“My bandmates had no right in interfering with my marriage and my actions, it’s none of their business what I do or who I sleep with. But yes, I am fucking cheating on you, I have been for the last three and a half months. I needed satisfying and you haven’t been in the mood to have sex, I needed it Y/N, don’t you understand? Do you see why I’ve been cheating now? Does it make fucking sense in your stupid little brain? You’re useless to me, Y/N.” Mike spat at her, Y/N pulled a face.

“Firstly, I think your bandmates had every right in telling me, I was bound to find out sooner or later and I am very grateful that Peter and Davy told me rather than hiding it from me. Secondly, fuck you. I cannot believe that that’s the main thing on your mind. Fucking hell Mike, I’m disgusted, I can’t fucking believe you. You know, there is a reason as to why I haven’t been up to having sex these past few months but I’ve not had a chance to tell you why because you’ve been out every night with a new woman ‘satisfying your needs’” Y/N mocked him at the end of her sentence.

“You have a reason? Fucksake woman, surely you can’t have a reason for not fulfilling your husband’s sexual needs, one of your main duties as a wife. You really shouldn’t have a reason for causing me such a problem.”

“I’m carrying your fucking child, Michael. That’s why I haven’t wanted to have sex! I’m not up for it because although I’m only three months along, I’m exhausted from all the work I do around the house to ensure that you have a clean house and food to come back to after you’ve been sleeping around. I’m fucking pregnant. How’s that, huh?” Y/N yelled and then she made a start for the stairs.

“Don’t you walk away from this. You’re only telling me this now? You’re three months along, why the fuck are you only now telling me? God, you are useless.” Michael snapped.

“I’m only telling you now because you’re either always out cheating, or you’re fighting me because I won’t sleep with you. God Mike, can’t you fucking see how stupid this is? How much of a dick you’ve been? I can’t continue with this anymore.” Y/N stormed up the stairs, ignoring the shouts of her now very angry husband and slammed their bedroom door.

“Where the fuck are you going?” Mike screamed at her as she reappeared down the stairs with a suitcase in hand, she looked up at him as calmly as she could, tears threatening to fall all over again.

“I don’t know Mike, I need to get away from you. All I know is that I’m leaving.”

“You can’t leave, you’re carrying my child. Baby, please let’s try and figure this out.”

“No! I’m sick of this, you can’t cheat, scream, and accuse me of being a bad wife and expect me to stay. Loving you was the biggest mistake I have ever made, I’m done.” Y/N slid on her shoes and ran out of the house with her suitcase and a waterfall of tears.

She had no idea where she was going or what she was doing, but soon she found herself on the doorstep of Peter and Davy’s shared house, she rang the doorbell and Peter opened the door, his face fell when he saw her tear-stained face.

“Y/N?” Peter asked, pulling her into a hug.

“I hate the fact I ever fell for that cheating bastard, I regret ever being with him.” She sobbed into the arms of the blond man.

“You left him?”

“I had no choice.”

#the monkees #michael nesmith #peter tork #davy jones #micky dolenz

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ladynilie · 1 year

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Will you ever speak, my angel, my baby girl?

Those words from a year ago, which you never used again, they haunt me.

Those eyes that focused on mine as you breastfed, I miss you looking at me with love, I miss you seeing my love through my eyes.

It would surely reassure us both so much, if you would see me, listen and and hear, be with me body and soul.

Your spirit is changing so fast, and all of the things you keep missing, all of the things I try to teach you as you regress rather than progess, my heart and soul cannot bear it, I have no patience left to spare.

Speak to me, my baby girl, it was just you drowning jn your our fluids, it was just for a moment, you survived it, you can do this, you must do this, for your sake, for my sake, we must do this.

You must learn and you must grow, though I want to keep you controlled and to myself, you must do this for all of us. I suffer seeing you suffer, and the world is cruel. To little girls, to girls, to women, to the odd, to the weary, to the smart, to the creative, to the blessed to the cursed, to the survivor, to the needy. There is no way to win, but you must take all your chances.

Show me you understand, please, that my efforts and my love, my tears and my prayers aren't in vain.

I would sacrifice my life, my dreams, my people, my gifts in all that is left of them. But you need me for now, and it would all be useless.

Show me you understand, please, baby girl.

This frustration of mine, that made me hit you back when you hit me. That made me push you back when you wouldn't let me sleep, wouldn't let me breathe. It is not my fault, it isn't your fault. It is hard on us both. I understand, but do you, my love? Or do our mistakes affect you more than all the living rest?

Even I cannot remember the last time I felt I got anything right. I see nothing but dark, angry, black, impulsive, forbidden, hurtful thoughts. Eating up my mind, wearing at my soul.

What kind of mom am I, now? Once a fangirl queen, so excited, so happy, so gentle, understanding and creative. For fictional babies that did no need me, clearly, but for my own baby? No.

No, with you I hesitate, with you I fear my own shadow and breath. With you I punish notions that make a person whole and I dread to see the results that will inevitably follow.

Why.

Yet one thing for certain is that I am dying, of despair, of grief, of wonder I cannot appreciate in your presence, my radiant sun, my blinding star.

Your younger brother is catching up to you fast. He adores you, yet you cannot stand him, and hurt him, and reject him so much it has affected him too.

I barely find chances to look after him as he looks after me, constantly reassuring me, when you refuse to do as much for me.

Where are you? Perfect, beautiful, pure, clever, enchanting baby girl, from before the symptoms? Before that continuous regression.

What did I do wrong?

I thought you needed a brother, Baba and I are old and will not live or bear for long. I miss my own brother. You would have missed yours too, if you knew. Was I wrong?

I have suffered motherhood, my transformation was painful and unnatural. My body and my mind. My relationships and my dreams. My faith, and my soul. None of it can ever go back, to before you. None of it makes any sense without you. None of it counted until you. And yet.

So fragile you are. More so than the rest.

So broken you are. More than most.

So resilient you should be, more than many.

Please God, help me help her.

I grieve so much the changes in my life. Do I deserve this? Am I being humbled? I hope at least this much for my suffering is being forgiven so.

I am with them both, and miss them both. I am not here, just present.

I miss my mom though she made me then broke me.

I miss dad though he made me too, then broke and it broke me too.

Even my brother, that stupid, selfish ass. ASD though he never, ever knew himself to be. It was up to me.

Autism, I have suffered you once, I have suffered you enough. All the bullying to protect, to shield, to nurture and to bond. Uncredited, I though myself his hero.

You're the crazy one. They all said. It was all fine. Till I changed school then he was targeted for being the crazy one's only sibling generations after. I always overdid it. It was the only way to make it count. To be your own legend.

Yet on the spectrum, his shades were clearly lighter. He understood most of the time, and heard if not sometimes listened. He looked at me more. He hated most people but sort of liked me. Mama says he says he loves me. He grew up then hurt me once more. The most precious friendship of my life forever lost, forever hated for its loss. You cut me off so cruelly, and we had all feared it would be you who would be lost if I left first.

I am so punished and so blessed.

But I hurt and feel God's gift of test.

Too bad I am failing, too bad I keep falling.

Sinking into a character of the mom I hate to be, the mom I could not have forgiven if she were my own.

I am empty, it is your love and joy that fill me.

Your growth is necessary, I cannnot go on much longer than this without damaging you well-intentioned though it might be.

Please baby grow, and be well with and without me.

God help her help me.

I am lost.

Without all of my baby.

Help me, I cannot see, the good in ASD.

I hate it.

Fuck it all. Fuck me. Poor fucking you. Poor fucking me.

And you, her father, are useless to me. I cannot bear again, knowing it could be another me.

#asd #a story about me #i clearly have npd

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simpforcatra · 2 years

Text

stop whining about your magic being used as a nuclear bomb, and become the villain you've always wanted to be

#lolllll i rewrote the text like 3 times. there's also a typo. oh well #we love her for all her mistakes and faults. or rather. she has none #only victories and awesomeness #its catratober. i have 3 days till her bday. wtf #catratober #catra #spop #shitpost #shera

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lovelybarnes · 3 years

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stood up- b. barnes

pairings: bucky barnes x reader, anderson x reader (?) warnings: angst, getting stood up, language, unrequited feelings about: prompts (DA29) “i got stood up.” + (DF30) “i think you’re my soulmate.” +(DF41) “are you going to cry? please don’t cry. a/n: i love to hurt but dw it’s a happy ending, i actually like this fjsk, a the time i finished this, i just posted another imagine, so i can’t wait for you guys to read this one in a couple days

every passing second makes you hyperaware of all the sympathetic stares that are currently directed at you. the feeling of pity is enveloping you whole, wrapping you in a thin layer of shame that you think must be related to the careful makeup you caked on your face for this date. your recently manicured nails scratch at the tablecloth, trying to avoid your new expensive dress, deep midnight color clinging to your nervous self. teeth stress your dark wine bottom lip, anxious eyes darting across the restaurant.

with each face that enters the place, none of them being his, the presumption that he isn’t coming solidifies. with it, comes the embarrassment. you can feel the warnings of tears, already threatening to ruin the mascara you had applied so carefully, not bothering to choose the waterproof one because why would you be crying on your date?

you suppose it’s your own fault- how dare you attempt to get over bucky? how dare you trust the words of a shield agent? you pick at your nails, gathering up the courage to stand up and leave. your waitress, however, beats you to it, a faux apologetic look on her face. “oh, so you’ve been here for, like, half an hour and it seems no one is coming, and we kind of need the table, so…”

you hold back an uncomfortable cringe, nodding stiffly as you stand. “right. i’m sorry. i don’t need to… pay for the water, right?” you ask dumbly, ducking your head when she shakes her head condescendingly.

pushing the door open, you step into the brisk air of the night, clouded over with an uneasy disappointment that you’re sure is because of you. you stand for a second to look at the stars, realizing how pretty of a night this would be if you weren’t so damn frustrated. the upset hasn’t passed yet, although the beginnings of anger are peeking up in your stomach.

while you stare up at the moon, the universe decides your getting stood up wasn’t enough, choosing to gift you with cold droplets of water that make your mascara run. it’s unbelievable, you nearly scoff tearily.

you walk to your car then, the moonlight that should have been romantic when you walked out of the restaurant now only making you feel lonely. you don’t let the tears come yet, having enough pride to not let the smitten couples appreciating the romance of the rain see you cry, deciding to put that off until you’re in the quietness of your room.

you drive in the sound of the pattering rain, concentrated on keeping your breathing even so as to push back the tears, not wanting to have an accident on the way back home because your vision was clouded over with sadness.

the relief you feel when you arrive at the compound is immeasurable; the knowledge that all you have to do is walk quietly to your room, and you can release the pent up emotions that eat you whole is unbelievably satisfying. the horrible itching feeling that comes with the tears arrives again when you notice your reflection in the impressively clean windows of the stark compound. through the stains of your ruined makeup, you can see the remnants of how dolled up you were, how much time was spent with the intricate details that made you smile when you looked at yourself in the mirror.

you swallow back the painful lump in your throat, opening the doors and sniffling at the dimly-lit room. your heels click tiredly on the floor, precious bracelet lightly jangling when you move. you can’t find it in yourself to care when you realize you’re dragging water inside, resigning to letting stark lecture you in the morning.

as you stand in the elevator, waiting for it to reach your floor, the emotions you’ve pushed so far down decide to spring back up in the form of an overwhelming dejected exhaustion that makes you physically slump. you lean against the cool of the metal railing, shutting your eyes hard to avoid looking at yourself. you only pry your eyes open when you hear the soft ding of the elevator, surprised and once again embarrassed to see bucky standing between the open doors.

“y/n?” he asks quietly. his demeanor immediately changes when he takes you in, body softer in the way it always is when you’re with him. his reaction makes you fall deeper, which reminds you exactly why you were going on your failed date. you straighten, clearing your throat, “um- i have to get to my room.”

your voice is thin, heightening his worries and stopping you with a gentle hand to your arm before you step off the elevator, “what’s wrong? what happened? are you okay?” he asks, and you nod blindly at all of his questions, realizing that the longer you stay with him- with his warm hand that you can’t help but lean into pressed against your cold arm- the more you really want to cry and scream because it’s not fair that he’s been given to you, yet you can’t have him, even if he has you.

“i’m fine,” you lie obviously, forcing your eyes again from his. “y/n, what happened? you’re clearly not fine,” bucky pushes, the hand on your arm beginning to rub stressed circles into your skin. you give up then, looking back at him. “i got stood up,” you say finally, words cracked. you shake your head, “and i just spent so much time on everything and-”

“that’s stupid. who would stand you up?” bucky interrupts, eyes genuinely confused while you scoff. “apparently anderson from security,” you respond bitterly, looking away. “he’s stupid, y/n. he has to be to not go to a date with you.”

you exhale frustratedly, “maybe not. maybe there’s something wrong with me and i’m the stupid one for even thinking someone would want to go out with me,” you countered. “hey, no, you are- you are amazing, y/n. amazing and stunning and intelligent and he missed his chance to be the luckiest guy in the world,” he insisted, gently pulling your attention back to him with a gentle hand on your cheek. you give him a watery laugh through the loud, unfair questions in your head: why don’t you love me like i love you, then?

you don’t realize the tears that run down the streaks of already ruined mascara until bucky points them out, wiping them away with his fingers, “no, no, don’t cry, please don’t cry,” he begs. you can’t help it, though, biting your lip to hold back your unrequited confessions of love.

“nobody wants me. i don’t even think i want me anymore,” you weep, oblivious to the breaking of bucky’s heart when he hears your words, pulling you flush against his chest. “don’t say that, doll. that’s not true-”

“it is. what other reasons can you think of that explain why i’m the only one that’s shown up to the rare dates i’ve been on? why have i had to go on those stupid dates just to forget how pathetic i am that i can’t get over you?”

you’re too deep in the ocean of your thoughts to realize what you’ve said, too little light available in the dark to let you realize the hints you have and will undoubtedly let out if you continue blubbering into bucky’s shoulder like the mess you are. your feelings are scattered, words so disorganized that any way you piece them together will be a mistake. “why else does the one person who i actually want to love me back not want me?”

bucky can make sense of the words you’re saying, the heavy weight they carry when he realizes exactly what they mean, and what you imply. he’s frozen, heart simultaneously fluttering at the mere thought of his feelings being returned and breaking at the cries you’re letting out because of him.

he’s refused to ever be the source of your pain, restricting his own poems of confessions because he didn’t want to hurt you, never wanting to be the reason you cried. he supposes now it was the wrong choice, one he needs to fix.

the bead of insecurity buried stubbornly in his mind shrieks, however, because he’s as clueless as you are and can’t possibly imagine someone like you- so kind and pure and good- loving him back. so he needs to make sure, needs to hear you say it in your voice.

“what?” you let out a watery scoff, full of embarrassment rather than annoyance at him, “don’t make me say it, bucky, please-”

“please say it- i- i need you to say it.”

a beat of silence passes before you sniffle, pulling away from the man you’ve called your best friend and wanted nothing but to be able to call him more. “i love you, bucky. in a way that makes me pretty sure you’re my soulmate because i don’t even believe in that but you make me feel like i should.”

bucky’s storm clouds lighten, doubts dissolving when he listens to what you said, tasting your words and examining each one just to remember it. he pulls your lips to his when they’ve barely processed. “you should,” he says when he pulls away for a second, only to make you lose your breath again when he aches for you immediately, kissing you again, “believe in soulmates.”

“why is that?” you ask breathlessly, letting him pull you back in because you both have been waiting- dreaming about this for so damn long, and he isn’t sure he’ll ever be able to keep away from you now that he has you. he presses a sloppy kiss to your lips, so perfectly imperfect when your teeth clash and you both laugh gently, noses nudging each other when he leans his forehead on yours, “because we’re meant to be, y/n. in that way that soulmates are.”

570 notes · View notes

pigeonp0st · 3 years

Note

you did NOT say “hey send more wanda requests!” but here i am... sending you one jejeje :) how about cute fluffy red eyed jealous wanda? she just wants to hang with reader but EVERY! AVENGER! ALSO! DOES!

Wanda Maximoff x Reader #2

Words: 1,970

Warnings: Jealousy, Cursing

Notes:

Thank you for requesting, and by the way: I appreciate all of the Wanda requests so...hey! Send more Wanda requests. Oh, and this was written during a writers block so it’s not the best but I hope it’s good enough ;( Sorry for spelling mistakes.

————

There are moments during Wanda’s life where she is jealous, believe it or not. No, it doesn’t happen very often anymore; because really she has nothing to long for that she doesn’t already have.

But it happens… So despite her unwillingness to admit it, she’s currently experiencing one of her not so often bouts of jealousy—and it feels like such an ugly word, but it’s how she feels because everyone really just loves you, and she just wants you for herself.

and yeah, okay, someone could make the argument that she ‘has’ you already, and she feels that way, but she knows she doesn’t. Logically.

You could completely decide that you don’t want to be with her anymore, Wanda knows, and if that were something you wanted she wouldn’t even think about stopping you.

She’s not that type of jealous though. She’s not concerned you’ll leave her for someone else, despite how close you and Steve get while you’re discussing something, and despite how many times you fall asleep with Thor on the couch, despite how many times Tony seems to be looking for you, she doesn’t necessarily care about any of it.

As a matter of fact, Wanda would say that she loves the way everyone loves you. She loves how close you are with them...she just wishes it didn’t have to mean so little time for her.

So she’ll train with Clint and watch from the corner of her eye as you train with Natasha, and she’s not jealous about the way that you laugh with her, or the way that she smiles at you, or the way that Natasha pulls you until your faces are inches— okay she really didn’t need to fucking pull you so close-

“Y/N,” Wanda calls, absentmindedly throwing Clint into the cushioned wall with her powers. You don’t pay attention to her, much to Wanda’s dismay, instead you smirk at Natasha and she smirks at you— and really Wanda’s about a second away from throwing Natasha into the wall too— but then Nat headbutts you with just enough force that you’re winded by it, and completely and utterly finishes the fight.

Wanda stops her advancements towards you and starts clapping her hands, feeling utterly ridiculous but hiding it well.

From the way Natasha tilts her head at her perhaps she isn’t hiding it well enough.

You still don’t turn around to notice her though because now you’re locked into conversation with Bruce. And Okay.

She’s able to admit to herself now, that yeah, sometimes her jealousy comes from fear rather than want, but it’s only because anyone would feel threatened by Natasha.

She is also able to admit to herself that this is...harder for her than she previously thought.

————

This continues for a while longer. Wanda looks at you hanging out with the others, tries to get your intention, and gets utterly ignored.

She knows you aren’t doing it on purpose, but it hurts enough that whenever you, or the person you’re hanging out with ignore her she sighs and completely leaves the room.

She waits for you to look for her like she looks for you, she waits for you to be alone, but you never do, and you never are.

It hurts in a way it probably shouldn’t.

———-

Wanda has been pouty lately.

When you ask about it she rolls her eyes and crosses her arms over her chest like a disobedient five year old. It’s both amusing and concerning.

Concerning because she’s obviously upset about something, and amusing because she has the cutest pout, and the most dramatic flair about her.

You won’t be dropping this though. “Wan Wan-”

“Okay,” Wanda grimances immediately, “please never call me that again.” She looks horrified when she says it, and your amusement only goes up. Until you see the red glow in her eyes and remember that her powers have been showing the whole day.

This can’t go on.

“Wanda, did I do something wrong?” You ask, clearing your throat in an attempt to start the conversation over.

Wanda momentarily stops glaring at the table so she can glance at you. When she does she seems to sag into her seat at the worried look on your face. This isn’t your fault, she reminds herself, angry that she let her own stupidity affect you. “No,” Wanda sighs, her jaw clenching and unclenching. “No, draga, you haven’t.”

Darling, you remember. That’s what ‘draga’ means. Despite circumstances the term of endearment fills you with butterflies. “Then what’s wrong?”

This time when you ask Wanda answers, looking sheepish and guilty. “I...Y/N I want to spend time with you. Is that…” she pauses, feeling frustrated beyond belief, “is that okay?”

You’re...confused, to say the least. You don’t understand why Wanda would think it isn’t, she’s your girlfriend, you love spending time with her. You had thought that you were already spending time with her before.

“Wanda,” you stutter, eyes wide at the sudden tears in her eyes. When she tries to look away you put a hand on her cheek and force her glowing red eyes to meet yours. “Hey, hey, Wanda—baby—of course it is.”

It’s more than okay.

Wanda nods, looking just as shocked by her tears as you are. “I have no idea why i’m crying,” she says shakily, rubbing her eyes. “I don’t know why...I” Wanda pauses, letting out an angry defeated growl, “just- god, I...i’m just so frustrated.”

And she is, she really is. Wanda hadn’t realized how much this has been affecting her. She’s just angry at herself for needing you so much, and angry at the others for taking you away from her all the time, and then angry at herself again for being angry at the others just for wanting to be with you— she’s just angry. And it’s so exhausting.

But you aren’t. You’re the only thing in this life, to Wanda, that isn’t. It means everything, that’s why she needs you. Not all the time. Just sometimes at least.

You, little does Wanda know, need her around just as much, and more than that you need her to be okay, and she isn’t right now. Wanda looks so devastated and helpless, so helpless, that you’re hugging her before you can even register it, like your body moved on it’s own accord.

“Wanda,” you ask, concerned, “do you feel like i’m not already spending a lot of time with you? I mean...we sleep in the same bed.” Wanda hugs you so tightly though, that you wonder if you’ve been imagining the moments you two have spent together.

“No, no you have been,” she says sadly, and with a resignation in her voice that you don’t understand. “I guess...with all of the loss that’s surrounded me, and with the way I still try to distance myself from the others, I'm just really alone without you.”

You freeze completely, hit with an unbearable amount of sadness for the women you love.

Wanda pulls away from you when you tense, looking frantic because she worded that wrong, she hadn’t meant it to sound like she was guilt tripping you. “Obviously it’s not your responsibility to hang out with me all the time, I want you to hang out with your friends, it’s just...I mean...they do get to do stupid mundane things with you more...and I mean I want that too, but only if—”

You put a hand over her mouth, silencing her immediately. “Baby, slow down. Breathe. You’re gonna die if you don’t.”

“Okay…” you start when you realize Wanda has done what you asked and calmed down as much as she’s going to be able to right now, “no, you’re right, now that I think about it. Lately the others have been asking for me a lot and we only ever get a chance to watch a movie at night...we hardly see each other besides that.”

As you say it you’re shocked to find out how true it is. You’ve been so busy with your project with Tony, and training with Natasha, and Thor has been so sad lately that you’ve been trying to help him— and Clint with his sudden want to start cooking, and Peter with his girl problems, and—

And you hadn’t really taken a moment to realize that you miss Wanda too, you haven’t had the time to realize it while you were shuffling around the compound, but Wanda has had time. She’s had all the time in the world.

“Hey,” Wanda says when she notices the guilt on your face, “none of that.”

So you tackle her. Naturally. You tackle her because you love her, and she’s too sad. She looks too sad, she’s always too sad, and she never deserves to feel that way.

Wanda lets out a loud; ‘oof’ and falls back against the couch with you on top of her burying your face in her neck.

She doesn’t understand at all what’s going on, but she’s willing to give you what you want...until you start making weird noises.

“Rummmmm, tssssssss, weeeeeee.”

“Are you okay?” Wanda asks, legitimately concerned.

“Shhh, babe, i’m charging us up. Weeeee-”

“Okay,” Wanda laughs, pushing you off of her. When you yelp and nearly fall off the couch she catches you with her powers and gently lowers you on the ground.

You glare at her the whole way down, a humorous gleam in your eyes. “I’m trying to help babe, what the fuck.”

Wanda simply rolls her eyes at you, releasing another breathy laugh that has your features soften immediately.

“There it is,” you whisper quietly, reaching up to cup her cheek. Wanda smiles into your palm. “I’m sorry, Wanda. I’m realizing that I've missed you desperately too, so we’ll definitely have to make up for the time we weren’t together.”

“You don’t have to,” Wanda sighs, looking down.

“I want to,” you assure, because you do want to. You hadn’t noticed the ache in your heart until it was pointed out to you, but now that it has been...you just want to spend time with Wanda. But…

“But I want you to have other people as well,” you say quietly, “Do you think you could start opening up to the others? They really love you.”

Wanda studies your eyes, thinking. “I have been open with them.”

“You treat them like comrades more than family, even though they obviously love you more than that, and even though you do too.”

It’s something you’ve noticed. Wanda will protect everyone, and be there for them, and she’ll confide in them when necessary, but she’ll also avoid them, and avoid talking with them.

“Okay, I will try.”

The relief you feel at those four words is indescribable. This isn’t the first time you’ve had this conversation with Wanda, and the fact that she’s finally ready to listen fills you with joy that has you jumping back into her arms and smothering her with kisses.

“Hey,” Wanda protests, but she’s laughing, “I'll have to take it slow. Maybe i’ll start by finally coming to their movie nights”

“Sounds perfect,” you grin. And it does. Wanda hides in her room during those nights, but now she can be your game night partner. “Oh!” You yelp, jumping off her lap, “we should start training now. No one’s been able to beat Natasha at scramble but if we start training now by Friday we’ll be able to take her down.”

“I really am going to regret this,” Wanda sighs.

“It’s only two all-nighters, don’t be dramatic.”

“WHAT? I am not staying up all night.”

“We’ll see about that.” You whisper under your breath. You don’t think Wanda hears until she throws a couch pillow at your face.

654 notes · View notes

reinvent-and-believe · 3 years

Note

48 from dialogue prompts + 50 from wordless i-love-yous for geraskier?

Dialogue Prompt 48: “You make me want things I can’t have.” Wordless I-love-you 50: buying them a special treat when you go out shopping

It catches Geralt’s eye while he haggles over an outrageously priced jar of alchemy paste with a none-too-impressed herbalist on the outskirts of Novigrad, a buxom widow with thick-braided auburn hair by the name of Irmina.

“This for sale too?” He picks up the brooch from the countertop where it rests in a beam of golden light streaming through a dingy window. He examines it. It’s simple enough metalwork, a brass oval with a scalloped edge, but inlaid in its face is a single pressed yellow flower framed by tiny white blooms encased in resin.

The herbalist’s dour demeanour brightens immediately. “It is indeed!” she answers, her brown eyes shining in a plump, suddenly pleasant face. “Made it myself just last week. It’s something of a hobby of mine, making pretty knick-knacks from the flowers we can’t sell. Got plenty more like this if you’d like to peruse ‘em, master witcher! Forget-me-nots and arenaria, hellebore, violets, any flower you might like.”

A buttercup, he realizes belatedly. That’s the yellow flower in the center.

“No.” He sees Irmina’s brow furrow in offense, so he hastens to appease her. “No need, I’ll take this one. I...I’m partial to buttercups.”

Her freckled face breaks into a sly, knowing smile. “Oh, aye, I’m sure someone is partial to buttercups.” She winks, waving away his stammered attempts at an answer. “Never you mind, I know a man besotted when I see one, and it seems a witcher’s not so different. Tell you what. Fifty crowns for the paste and I’ll throw the brooch in for only ten.”

Leaving the herbalist’s shop with an overpriced paste, a lighter purse, and a useless trinket, Geralt curses himself for a fool.

He’s not sure why he bought it.

He knows buttercups are Jaskier’s favorite, of course. “None but the noblest of flowers for my sobriquet!” Jaskier had squawked indignantly when Geralt once made the grave mistake of referring to the pesky things as weeds after he’d stopped Roach from chomping on a patch of the bright, poisonous blooms.

They are weeds, buttercups. They serve no function. They can’t be used in any of the potions, decoctions, or oils Geralt brews, nor do they have any particularly helpful curative properties for humans.

“As ever, my dear witcher, you have no sense of poetry,” Jaskier had sighed in a most put-upon voice when told as much. “Their function is they’re pretty. Their function is to enrich our lives through the beauty of the natural world.” He’d looked to the sky, tip of his tongue between his teeth showing through his frown as was his custom when puzzling through the right way to turn a phrase. “From a strictly utilitarian perspective, perhaps the buttercup has less value than, say, moleyarrow, or verbena, or chamomile, even. Some plants provide nutritional or medicinal or alchemical qualities of various sorts. But some exist to make life worth living! To transform the banal into the sublime.” He’d plucked a buttercup from the roadside, twirling it between his long fingers. “It’s graceful and balanced, effortlessly beautiful. It’s vibrant, bright like...like sunlight, on a summer afternoon! And when you see it growing alongside the various and sundry flora, it fills you with the loveliest burst of warmth, like a lover’s smile.”

“So...it’s a pretty weed.”

“You’re incorrigible, witcher, that’s what you are.” Jaskier had huffed dramatically before tucking the buttercup behind Geralt’s ear, his face alight with a delighted grin.

Like sunlight on a summer afternoon.

The Kingfisher Inn is crowded when Geralt arrives. He goes to the bar, orders an ale from Olivier, and leans against the counter to take a look at the stage.

Jaskier loves playing the Kingfisher. In many of the inns he plays across the Continent, he’s relegated to a corner to try to sing over the clang of dinner, his only option to win the common folk over a raucous drinking song or a filthy ditty. And while the bard doesn’t shy away from such vulgarities, the patrons of the Kingfisher tend to be of a more artistically inclined ilk, responding with appropriate gusto to the virtuosic art songs that he rarely performs outside of competitions or Oxenfurt.

Or so he’d explained to Geralt when he’d suggested they meet up at the inn.

Jaskier sits atop a tall stool on a rather large stage framed by crimson curtains, his sky-blue doublet a vivid contrast. The audience, enraptured, listens to his ballad, a melancholy tale of a fair maiden who’s violently killed before she can profess her love to a farmhand in her village, a beautiful, strong, kind man whose hair shines like a blaze of pale fire in the sunlight. Her love for him tethers her to this world, and her spirit—bitter, weary, and endlessly yearning—calls the men working in the fields to join her dance at midday, when the sun is in its zenith, hoping against hope for the chance to finally confess to her beloved.

In the end, the brave, noble farmhand sacrifices himself, hoping to stop the spirit’s killings by listening to her song and joining her as she beckons. And as they are reunited, as she finally kisses the lips she’s longed for in a blinding blaze of sunlight, they pass on together, their spirits becoming one.

It’s a contract Geralt worked a few years ago, a noonwraith outside Oreton—or at least something close. As ever, Jaskier has taken artistic liberties, romanticized the actual events (“Sometimes, in our pursuit of Truth, we must sacrifice the facts,” Jaskier loftily explained on more than one occasion. He seemed quite taken with the profundity he seemed to find in the statement. Geralt called it pretentious once and Jaskier hurled a chunk of bread at his head). Once it might have bothered Geralt, but he’s grown accustomed to Jaskier’s rather malleable relationship with veracity in his ballads. There’s no denying the impact of his storytelling: when Geralt glances around the inn, he sees several patrons discreetly dabbing at their eyes.

It’d been an ugly case, leaving him feeling empty, drained. Noonwraiths haunt his thoughts far longer than most the monsters he dispatches. They’re victims of circumstance more than anything, young women who’ve been transformed into bloodthirsty, violent spirits through no fault of their own, through the violence inflicted upon them. Nearly forty men had fallen prey to her before the farmhand distracted her with his kiss—though Geralt would hesitate to classify his grotesque, gruesome sacrifice as such—so the witcher had a chance to strike her down with silver. Jaskier has spun the miserable tale into something beautiful, moving, something that clearly resonates with his captivated audience, that speaks to a greater force at work than the chaotic, banal evils the witcher sees every day, and Geralt thinks he understands, for a moment, what the bard had told him of Truth and facts.

(Geralt doesn’t know what greater Truth is served by changing the beloved farmhand’s hair from the dull brown it really was to “a blaze of pale fire,” but then, Geralt’s not a poet.)

The final notes hang in the air, all eyes fixed on Jaskier for a rapt, breathless moment before the room bursts into wild applause. Jaskier stands and bows deeply, once, twice, a third time, surveying the room as he offers his thanks. When his gaze catches Geralt at the bar, his expression of showman’s grace vanishes, a flash of something that looks almost alarmed for a split second before it’s replaced by a small, gentle smile.

Geralt nods and raises his mug toward the stage in cheers, draining the remainder. Jaskier is quickly swept into the swarm of captivated fans, accepting their praises with a gracious, if distracted, smile.

The witcher turns back to the barkeep to order himself another ale along with a glass of wine.

“Geralt!” Jaskier swerves to avoid a near-collision with a frenzied barmaid on his way to join his companion at the bar. He grabs the wine glass with a groan of appreciation, taking a swig before asking, “Is this for me? Gods, but you’re a marvel, darling, I thank you.” He takes another sip and sends a disarming, roguish wink to a pair of girls staring at him and giggling to each other. “I wasn’t sure when you’d arrive, but it wouldn’t have mattered, I suppose, they only had one room to let when I checked in and it hasn’t cleared out since. You’ll share mine, of course, but I’ve been here a week so, you know, best brace yourself, I’ve quite made the place my own.”

Geralt snorts. He’s stayed in enough rooms that Jaskier has made his own over the past decade to predict with some certainty what mess he’ll soon venture into.

(Doublets draped over furniture after they’ve been discarded; crumpled sheets of paper tossed near, never in the fireplace; a few near-empty bottles of wine; a shirt hung to dry over the modesty screen between the sleeping and bathing areas; bottles of a dozen oils and perfumes and soaps scattered haphazard near the tub; an unmade bed that may well contain an abandoned undergarment or forgotten stocking left by some well-satisfied guest.)

“Have you eaten? Shall we? I’m starved, felt jittery all afternoon and didn’t eat a damned thing which was all well and good until I got onstage and suddenly wished for a fainting couch. Or we could take your things up to the room first, of course. Oh! We could have them bring our dinner up to us, it’s awfully crowded down here tonight and I’m not sure I’m up to socializing all evening, to be honest, I’ve been dreadfully out of sorts, did you notice, Geralt, that I’ve…”

Jaskier continues his ramblings, and the witcher can’t help a twinge of worry for his friend. It’s not unheard of for Jaskier to be in a heightened state over a particularly important performance, but usually afterwards the nerves dissipate and he seems more himself. Not to mention, why would playing in an inn prompt such anxieties? Even if the Kingfisher clientele trends toward the more refined than the country folk he often plays for, it’s still rather a low-stakes environment to trigger such stress.

“New song?” he asks casually. Jaskier always beams when he notices such things, when he makes an effort to ask about his music.

Instead, Jaskier blushes, looking away with an expression that almost seems guilty. “Ah, yes, well, I wasn’t certain when you’d be arriving, of course, I thought I might try out something different, a sort of test audience, as it were, to feel out the piece before I use it for anything important.” The look he’s fixed on Geralt seems almost wary. “Did you...like the song?”

Geralt shrugs. “Not quite how it happened,” he grumbles, out of habit more than anything.

A smile, genuine and rueful, breaks out on Jaskier’s face. “Gods, I’ve missed you, my friend,” he says, shaking his head and looking away quickly.

“Hmm.” He reaches quickly into the coin pouch at his side, thrusting the trinket from the herbalist into Jaskier’s hand with a brusque, “Here.”

“Whatever have we got…” He cuts off as opens his palm. “Oh.”

There have been so few times over the years that Geralt has seen Jaskier speechless that he begins to worry he’s offended him. He turns the brooch over in his hands, once, twice, his thumb swiping gently over its smooth enamel face. He doesn’t look up.

Even in the crowded room, Geralt can smell the shift in his demeanor, the muted sickly-sweet anxious smell becoming something sharp, metallic, pained, like he’s been stabbed. “You’re upset.”

“I...no.” Jaskier shoves the brooch into his trouser pocket, a tense smile on his face, not at all reaching his eyes. “Thank you, Geralt, it’s lovely. Shall we take your bags to the room now?”

“I didn’t...I didn’t get it to upset you.”

Jaskier laughs, a broken thing, and Geralt grows even more alarmed. “You didn’t, it isn’t that, sometimes I want things I can’t have is all.” He grabs the saddlebag sitting at Geralt’s feet, not meeting his eyes as he rushes past him up the stairs to the last bedroom in the hall.

Geralt follows after a moment, giving his companion a respectful distance. There’s a tightness in his shoulders, a knot in his gut that only grows as he watches Jaskier’s hand tremble on the key as he unlocks the door.

It was a stupid idea. He knew it was stupid when he bought it, yet he bought it anyway, somehow ruined everything anyway.

“Here we are.” Jaskier’s voice is filled with a forced cheer as he sets the bag down, hand never leaving the doorknob. “I’ll go fetch us some supper. Or, actually, you know, now that I think of it, I’ve a few errands to run before it gets too late, meant to do it earlier but you know how it goes, lost track of time…”

“Jaskier.” Geralt moves toward him but stops himself, helpless. “Please. I’m sorry I upset you.”

Jaskier stands in the doorway for another moment. He takes a deep breath, closes the door, and walks slowly to the writing desk in the corner. He pulls the chair out, moving the doublet strewn across it before sitting. He doesn’t look at Geralt.

“You didn’t.” Every word is calculated, deliberate. “What kind of ungrateful wretch gets upset over...over an exceptionally thoughtful gift from a friend after a time apart?”

Geralt sits on the edge of the bed. His elbows rest on his knees, fingers locking together as he stares at the floor. “You’re not a wretch. The fault is mine.”

“Dammit, Geralt, there isn’t fault, I only—why did you bring me a gift?”

Geralt frowns. “I’ve bought you things before,” he says slowly.

“Things, yes!” Jaskier vaults from the chair, pacing listlessly about the room, no longer trying to mask his inexplicable distress. “Lute strings when I broke a string and I was low on coin. The lute is my livelihood, it made financial sense for you to replace the string so I could pull my own weight, help you when we pass through several towns in a row with no contracts. Boots when you noticed the hole in the heel of my old pair, because I slow you down limping about in footwear that’s falling apart. Room and board, sometimes, because you know I’m good for it, I’ll cover you the next time.” He’s stopped pacing, stares silent into the fireplace.

“Wasn’t keeping a tab.” Geralt’s voice is quiet. “You needed strings and boots and food and a room.”

Jaskier doesn’t turn to face him, but Geralt sees his hand slip into his pocket, pull out the brooch. His head bends, studying it.

He’s not offended or annoyed or angered by the gift. He’s hurt. But why?

Except...

Jaskier looked guilty when Geralt brought up the song. Like he’d been caught red-handed. Did you like it? he’d asked. Incredulous.

The noonwraith singing her song in hopes that her beloved hears her confession. That he’ll hear her song of longing and come to her.

Hair like a blaze of pale fire, not dull brown.

Sometimes I want things I can’t have.

“Geralt?”

The witcher snaps back to attention, eyes fixed on Jaskier, finally facing him.

“Why did you get it for me, Geralt?”

Geralt frowns. “It’s...pretty,” he starts lamely. “I thought you might wear it when you play. You wear gaudy things.”

Jaskier snorts, a small, crooked grin on his lips.

“It made me think of you,” he confesses quietly, his eyes tracing the wood grain of the floor. “Sometimes...things don’t have to have a function. It was a buttercup and it was pretty and it…made me think of you.”

When Geralt dares to raise his eyes, Jaskier’s staring at him, brows drawn together and mouth slightly agape. After a moment, he walks toward the witcher, sitting carefully beside him on the bed. He reaches his hand towards Geralt’s and presses the little brooch into his palm.

“Will you pin it on me?” he asks softly.

Geralt nods.

His fingers feel thick and clumsy as he fumbles with the delicate clasp. The top few buttons of Jaskier’s doublet, as ever, are undone, but it closes neatly just beneath his exposed neck. Geralt slips a finger beneath the satin fabric to pull it away from his throat, cautiously piercing the fabric with the thin pin and sliding it into its slot, locking the clasp with shaking hands.

His hand doesn’t move from Jaskier’s chest. A sword-calloused thumb, seemingly of its own volition, grazes lightly over the bobbing Adam’s apple.

“Geralt.”

He looks up, almost pulls away but for the flushed cheeks, the tongue that darts out to wet pink lips, the hooded eyes beneath dark lashes fixed on Geralt’s mouth. Jaskier’s breath is warm against his face. When did they draw so close?

“Are you going to kiss me, Geralt?” The breathy whisper is laced with wonder.

And he didn’t...didn’t buy the brooch to entice Jaskier into anything, didn’t mean to solicit any sort of reward, and he opens his mouth to tell him so, yet as his rough hand moves to gently cup the back of Jaskier’s neck the words that tumble out instead are, “I’d like to.”

And Jaskier throws back his head and laughs, a euphoric, intoxicated sound, as his lovely hands cradle Geralt’s face. He brings his forehead to rest against Geralt’s as they still, breathing each other for a moment before Jaskier surges forward to capture his lips.

His kiss tastes like sunlight.

#geraskier #geralt x jaskier #the witcher fic #the witcher #my fic #anon asks #prompt fill #thank you so much for this absolutely lovely prompt!!!!! i'm so sorry it took me months to actually filling it!!!

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startanewdream · 3 years

Text

Five Stages of Starflower

Summary: James is oblivious, Lily is mostly okay with her unrequited love and Sirius has a few plans about this situation. For @keepingupwithpotters,@sunshine-marauders, @cellularphoneexplosion and @zephyrcove who all gave me the most Jily prompt of all time (“Are you flirting with me?” “You finally noticed?”) and for @magixbeans (“I refuse to stop irritating you until you give me attention.”). Thanks for helping me celebrate this day ❤

Warning only for a few f-words every now and then (Lily curses when she is upset).

Sirius knows it.

Sirius fucking Black knows it.

Lily had been careful ever since last semester when she started to realize the signs of those things. She’d tried to back away, to avoid more contact despite the fact they had exchanged letters through Summer (just normal conversation, talking about what was going on and their families and discussing their friends – it didn’t mean anything), and that they had seen each other (they just happened to be on Diagon Alley on the same day to shopping, which was smarter and safer—and also didn’t mean anything), and Lily had convinced herself that her feelings for him were entirely friendly and would remain so—if only they hadn’t become Heads together.

There was no way her feelings could remain amicable when she was required to stay together with James Potter for hours at a time, alone in the Prefects Room as they worked and planned, their hands brushing against each other sometimes; or when they would run away to share a hot chocolate at the kitchen, enjoying the fact that as Head Boy and Head Girl they could ignore a little more the curfew, and he’d make her laugh and would help her wipe off the chocolate out of the corner of her mouth.

Lily had fancied someone before, and she knew how to identify the signs, as pale as those previous signs seemed when it came to James. Still, she knew what meant the way she would shiver whenever he’d touched her, or how her heart would skip a beat when their eyes met without planning and he would grin deviously at her or how she would sit closer to him than she needed, just to catch a sniff more of that wonderful scent.

She was falling for James Potter and the worst part was that she’d totally missed the timing in which he fancied her back.

Because all those signs she saw in herself were unfortunately absent from him. James had apparently mastered the art of considering her as nothing more than his friend, because when he’d touched the corner of her mouth—and she had blinked to him, she really had, a blink that said we are alone now and you are touching my mouth can you just kiss me?—James had done nothing but smile nicely, friendly, drawing away.

And she absolutely knew he was treating her as just his friend when the very next week he’d asked her if she didn’t mind changing her Friday patrol rounds with Leanne Diggory. Fridays were the day they patrolled together until late in the night. Fridays were the days where they would go to the kitchen and share a drink and talk about life and it was their moment.

‘Sure,' she had said, acting as if she didn’t understand what his request meant for them. ‘Any particular reason?’

James had flushed then, his hand automatically flying to his hair like he did when he was nervous and after a moment he glanced at Leanne across the Prefects Room. Lily had followed the direction of his gaze; Leanne was smiling back at James and Lily understood even more.

‘Well,’ she said then, keeping her voice carefully light even as a crushing weight had taken residence in her chest. ‘It’s a pretty reason.'

She couldn’t fault James for not being interested in her anymore, but she couldn’t also just stop feeling that thing for him, not since there was no way for her to avoid him completely. So she resigned herself to having a platonic crush on James Potter, one that she administered very well until the day of the first Quidditch game of the season.

Lily had been so diligent that none of her friends had noticed her feelings for him—and she knew that because there was no way Mary or Dorcas would keep it silent if they suspected. She had been careful not to gasp when they were on the grounds and James had been dropped at the lake by Sirius, stepping out of the water and taking off his shirt to dry himself (but she had taken that memory to her heart and lost herself in dreams about him); she had not frowned when she saw James leaving his group at the last Hogsmeade trip to go talk with Leanne, flashing that dangerous grin of his to her (but she had punched her pillow in anger lately, wishing James had come to her).

And then there was the first Quidditch match and Gryffindor had won and in the post-game euphoria, Lily had made the tiny mistake of hugging James and keeping that guilty longing smile on her face when they had broken apart.

That’s when her gaze had met Sirius, and he had widened his eyes in surprise, taking in all that her smile meant—by the time Lily had rearranged her face into a normal expression, Sirius was smirking knowingly, that moron.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

He knows. Lily knows he knows. Sirius knows Lily knows he knows.

It could be worse if it were any of other James’ friends, she reasons dismayingly. Remus would have come to talk to her and urge her to share her feelings with James; Peter would spill the word to James, unable to keep a secret from him.

But it doesn’t look like any of these other scenarios is really worse as she sees Sirius’ eyes shining with a predatory look, like a wolf that knows it got his prey.

She considers running away. But Lily is no coward, there is no place for her to go permanently and she believes in keeping her enemies closer, if Sirius could be considered as one, at any chance. That’s why she keeps her ground, pretending everything is nice and not at all bothered when she sees James is near the fireplace talking with Leanne Diggory.

It won’t fool Sirius, but Lily can keep her dignity at least.

And remaining alone at the drinks table allows for him to get closer to her, which is important for her to check how much damage she did today.

‘Enjoying the party, Evans?’

Lily nearly sighs. Nearly one year of friendship with the Marauders told her they only call her by the last name when they are in full teasing mode.

James calls her a lot by Evans, though, but it sounds nice and she rather likes it.

‘Same as always. Nice party.'

‘Oh, I thought you’d be feeling… too crowded.' Sirius throws a glance towards the fireplace and Lily doesn’t need to follow the direction of his gaze to know what he is talking about. ‘Maybe you wish you were at one of those Head meetings.'

Lily pretends to be amused. ‘Heads can enjoy parties too.'

‘One of the Heads is certainly enjoying the party if the party is happening back at the throat of Leanne Diggory—’

She can control her eyes enough to not look in their direction to confirm how literal Sirius is being right now, but she cannot stop the grimace on her face fast enough; it is a spasm of hurt and anger and jealousy, and it becomes obvious that Sirius saw all these emotions when his grin just increases.

Well, too late to still save her dignity.

‘Good for him. Now, if you excuse me—’

‘Oh, I don’t,’ he replies gladly. ‘Why, you seem a little green to me, Evans.'

‘It’s my eyes, maybe you didn’t notice their colour before.'

‘Well, I never particularly cared, but I remember a young bloke reciting that your eyes were pure emerald bestowing grace upon that poor bloke’s heart.'

‘Jade,’ she corrects before she can think better of it. ‘He compared them to jades.'

Sirius’ grin is criminal now. At least, it’s making her want to murder him.

‘My, Evans, for someone that threw a hex at him you seem to have memorized his words.'

‘He kneeled to recite that poem to me in the middle of the Common Room, what else could I do?’

‘Snogged him?’ Sirius suggests, arching one eyebrow when Lily shakes her head. ‘Just imagine, if you had snogged him back then, he might not be snogging someone else right now.'

It’s a fair assumption, but this time Lily doesn’t have to disguise any particular emotion. She doesn’t regret not going out with James before; they were far too different back then. He matured a lot since those days when he would ask her out when he would be so infatuated with her that it was annoying mostly…

Unfortunately, in the list of things he changed since growing up, his feelings for her were included.

That makes her frown.

‘He is free to do whatever he wants,’ she says, a safe mid-term.

‘Or whoever he wants.’

She closes her fists, wanting to punch something; most likely Sirius’ face, though she will settle for her pillow too.

‘Are you here for any reason or you just want to piss me, Black?’

‘Mentioning that James’ hands are all over Diggory’s bum would piss you?’

‘Ah, fuck off, Sirius,’ she says, not bothering anymore to pretend anything.

He laughs—a loud carefree sound that seems like a dog’s bark to warn that something is happening; in this case, that Lily Evans is making a fool of herself.

‘I will leave you alone—if you just admit it.’

‘Admit what?’

'Are we really playing this game, Evans? Let's not go through the five stages of Lily Evans' acceptance of her undying love for James Potter, shall we?'

Lily blinks, fighting not to splurge over her drink.

'I have no idea what you are talking about, Sirius.'

'Have it your way then. I just thought you should know, I was kidding. James' tongue is carefully kept inside his mouth.'

And he indicates the fireplace. Lily looks at it now and, sure enough, though James is still talking to Leanne, he is fairly apart from her, hands untouching, in a friendly stance.

When she looks back, Sirius is not there anymore, but wherever he is she knows he is smirking, that prat. Continue reading on AO3 :)

#Jily #Jily Fanfiction #Canon Jily #Sirius Black supports Jily #sirius and lily #this is all self-indulgent #written as a love statement to Sirius and Lily's friendship #And also because Sirius was the original Jily shipper #and he called them Lames no question about it #posted now because somewhere in the pacific is already my birthday #and since I am half-japanese I can post in Japan Time #it is known

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ilovedainironfoot · 2 years

Text

THEY ARE TO NEGOTIATE WITH A FIRST AGE FROM AMAN FIGURE LIKE MELIAN OR FINGOLFIN INSTEAD OF THRANDUIL, HOW DO THEY REACT ? ( ALL THORIN’S COMPANY and Gandalf and Bilbo because they are part of the company EXCEPT KILI AND FILI )

none of the gif are mine !

asked by @theelfmaiden for the ask game \^o^/ ( it’s closed now and sorry it took sooo long ^^’ )

I didn’t know much about Melina or Fingolfin because i..tried to read the Silmarillion once and I failed miserably at understanding who’s who and what’s what and all ^^’ !!! That was a great ooportunity to search about them again ! There are probably a lot of mistakes, I don't know too much about the characters, I hope it will be ok anyway !

QUICK PRESENTATION OF MELIAN AND FINGOLIN FOR THOSE LIKE ME :

MELIAN :

Melian was a Maia of the Valar race. She lived in the gardens of Lórien and none among her people was more beautiful, none wiser or more gifted in singing with a bewitching voice. It is said that the Valar left their work, that the birds of Valinor silenced their songs, that the bells of Valmar remained silent and that the springs forgot to flow when, at the hour when the rays of the Two Trees mingle, the voice of Melian rose over Lórien. The nightingales escorted her, she taught them her song, and she enjoyed the deep shade of the great trees. Serving Estë, who is medicine and she invented the Lembas. and and liiiiittle tiny detail : HER HUSBAND WAS KILLED BY DWARVES !

FINGOLFIN :

King of the Noldor elf, led his people across Middle-earth, maintained a war against Morgoth for four hundred years until he decided to end it and challenged Morgoth to a deadly single combat . This elf doesn't take shit from anyone.

THORIN

WITH MELIAN :

-All he can’t think at first is :”Oh fffffffffffffffffff.....”

-He really would have preferred to run into Thranduil, that would have been less...strange ? Awkward ? Diplomatically chanllenging ?

-As heir to the throne of Erebor he was taught the history of the Dwarves, including the murder of Lady Melian's husband, something the Dwarves have never apologised for

-something that will not start with him, as we well know because since this awful tragedy happen, many Dwarves thinks they were in their rights for this action and dwarves don’t change their mind very easily

-So he is in the “we were in our right, your husband didn’t honor his word and killed many of my people because of this” kind of mood

WITH FINGOLFIN :

-shows a lot more respect here

-Same as with Melian, he has heard about him, he has heard about Morgoth, heard story about this ancient being so he will try to not make this elf angry

-he feels sooooo little compare to this giant, physically and about his abilities as a king

-becomes humbled very quickly

BALIN

WITH MELIAN :

-He is one of the VERY RARE few dwarves to think that Melian's husband did not deserve such a death and that the dwarves are rather at fault in the story

-and ooooooooooh it never did anyone any good

-”How dare you suggest YOUR OWN PEOPLE did wrong ???” and he always answer by “Well, we all know what gold sickness can do to us, maybe that what happened. We can’t say Elves are wrong all the time after all.”

-will he say that at loud in this very particular moment ? No. But he always gave his opinion on this whenever the subject was raised.

-he will offer his condolences and apologies for the loss of her loved one, knowing full well that they will never be official and therefore useless but at least one dwarf did and knowing how stubborn Dwarves can be, he thinks the gesture is really important

-but for now he has to deal with a “I will cause a diplomatic accident or I’ll die” Thorin and a “I hate all elves and you’re not an exception” Dwalin and a bunch of starving therefore angry “I didn’t receive any diplomatic training to avoid causing a war” dwarves.

-biggest challenge of his life and he’s trying his best to get everyone to behave

-The first thing he tries to negotiate is food: "I assure you, My Lady, they will be quite different after they have something in their bellies !”

-somebody helps him please

WITH FINGOLFIN :

-has to physically restrain his brother to challenge the elf in a fight

-he would really like to hear the elf talk about his warlike exploits pretty pleaaaaaaaaaaaaaaase ? and shows his best cute grandpa smile

-scolds other dwarfs when they are disrespectful “Lads ! Don’t you know that elf ???”

-Gandalf, Bilbo ans Balin are the reason why the Company has help in the end

DWALIN

WITH MELIAN :

-”YES WE KILL YOUR HUSBAND BUT YOU BETTER SHOW SOME RESPECT TO MY KING OR I WILL FINISH THE WORK”

-never have dwalin with you as an advisor in a highly sensitive meeting

-he will make things worse just by breathing

-the way he looks at her is already an insult

-Gandalf wants to kill him

-Balin wants to kills him

WITH FINGOLFIN :

-”Dwarves are better than your pointy-ears people, draw your sword I'll prove it to you !” and then get slapped by Balin

-grumbles throughout the interaction with the elf

GLOIN

WITH MELIAN :

-as he is also a member of the royal family, he too has received a great deal of education on the history of the Dwarves and he knows who they are dealing with

-he is curious and a little scare because...what if she wants revenge ?

-Before he was married and had Gimli he wouldn't have doubted twice about going into battle, even unecessary, but now...he wants to get back alive to go home to his wife and see his baby grow up

-tries to be as respectful as he can despite his nervousness

-at some point grumply whispers that : "my wife is much more beautiful anwyay and besides she sings much better than her !”

WITH FINGOLFIN :

-very impressed

-the elf is just a giant

-he would love to hear the elf's story but he would never dare to ask

-at some point grumply whispers that “my wife is a better fighter than him anyway !”

OIN

WITH MELIAN :

-I DON’T HEAR YOU, LADS !! WHO IS SHE ?

-he is a bit disgusted not to be able to hear her sing clearly even if he will never admit it

-one of the worst diplomatically speaking :” OH YES I HEARD ABOUT THE BETRAYAL OF YOUR HUSBAND !”

-unlike Thorin or Dwalin he doesn't care about this story, it happened so long ago he doesn't realise that for Melian it is probably still very recent

WITH FINGOLFIN :

-WHAAAAAAAAAAAAT ? WHAT DID YOU SAY ?

-”OH OK YOU MUST BE A GOOD WARRIOR I GUESS !”

-same, he doesn't really care who he is, it’s just a pointy ear, whatever he’s done

DORI

WITH MELIAN :

“Can i hear you sing ?” Just by hearing the lady speak he knows that she has a golden voice even without having really heard of her

-really sweet, maybe too much, he is one of the half of the dwarves who try to counterbalance the behaviour of Dwalin and Thorin

-he absolutely wants to touch the Elf's clothes! His expert eyes have flashed on it and he wants to know the material and admire the embroidery and know how it was made please please please please pleeeeeeaaaase

-is watching Nori like a hawk "If you steal anything, my dear little brother, I'll rip your arm off and stick it in your stomach from behind DO NOT TOUCH ANYTHING I DARE YOU".

WITH FINGOLFIN :

-he would do anything to bring back a tunic belonging to the Elf as he finds his clothes simply magnificent

-even if at first he grumbles a little, he ends up admiring the Elf very quickly when Gandalf tells them about the king's exploits

-he also wants to ask for advice on hair care as Fingolfin'hairstyle is perfect

ORI

WITH MELIAN :

-he’s already sketching her in his book

-has no idea who she is and soon becomes very embarrassed when he learns the story

-he doesn't dare look her in the eye

WITH FINGOLFIN :

-he really tries not to be impressed, really but....Aulë he’s a little scared

-he already has his book open and is taking a hundred notes a minute on what he sees, what he hears, what he understands especially about this elf

-helps Dori keep an eye on Nori who wants to steal everything he can get his hands on

NORI

WITH MELIAN :

-NO IDEA WHO SHE IS AND NO CARE WHATSOEVER !

-PRETTY JEWELS EVERYWHERE !!!

-Dori let me go I promise I'll just touch ! I’ll only touch ! Promise on my beard Come on, let go! Let go ! Let goooooo !

-Oooops it’s in my pocket i don’t know how I swear, Ori, don’t look at me like that !

-he regrets teaching Ori to steal because now his little brother is quietly putting back the jewellery he previously stole

WITH FINGOLFIN :

-tries to steal bits of armour from the elf

-not impressed at all

BIFUR

WITH MELIAN :

-hears the elf’s voice and is directly hypnotized

-he is already carving the elf's face on a piece of wood, not that he finds her beautiful ( from Dwarf’s standards ) but there is something in her eyes that makes him react

-he feels the tension between Thorin, Dwalin and Melian, he does not understand why but he is on guard to protect his cousins

WITH FINGOLFIN :

-doesn’t trust the elf, too tall, too impressive, too...too mcuh elvish ?

-he doesn't know where they are or what's going to happen, just that the situation is not in their favour so he's ready to fight at any moment

-he stares at the Elf like never before and then creates a jointed toy of him to tell the little dwarves who they met during their quest

BOFUR

WITH MELIAN :

-in the same team as Dori from "we're going to counterbalance the tense atmosphere caused by Dwalin and Thorin"

-tries to make jokes but fails

-on the other hand, he does not hesitate to compliment the elf, somewhat awkwardly, on his voice

-even if it doesn't do much good, it earns them points

-slaps Nori's hands when he sees him with objects in his hands "You put that back !”

WITH FINGOLFIN :

-again he makes jokes but this time to hide how impressed he is

-he helps Bifur to create the figures of the two elves

BOMBUR

WITH MELIAN :

-he is with Gloin in the "My wife is more beautiful" team

-As he often has food hidden in his pockets, he regrets not having distributed it earlier because he can see that the situation is...tense. Especially Thorin and Dwalin

-I would like to go home with my wife and children, can you please calm down ?

-he is already listing the ingredients to create a dish that would remind him of this elf

WITH FINGOLFIN :

-he never thought he would one day meet this elf he heard about in the great stories, like...woaw

-he begs Ori to draw him a picture of Fingolfin for his children

-same as for Melian, he lists all the ingredients to create a dish that will remind him of the Elf

GANDALF

WITH MELIAN :

-immediatly exhausted, he already know what will happened and how the dwarves are going to react

-Eru please give me patience and force AND THORIN OAKENSHIELD DON’T OPEN YOUR MOUTH YOU ARE FORBIDDEN TO DO SO !

-DWALIN SON OF FUNDIN YOU PUT THAT AXE DOWN IMMEDIATLY !!!

-is thinking very seriously about knocking out the future king under the mountain

-DO NOT ASK MY ABOUT MY OPINION, THORIN SON OF THRAIN, IT IS NOT THE MATTER HERE THANKS YOU VERY MUCH !

WITH FINGOLFIN :

-a liiiiitle afraid about the dwarves’reaction...and Fingolfin’s reaction

-he already has to deal with the dwarfs, he would like to not have to deal with both parties

-takes the opportunity to discuss with the Elf the danger that the council (well, especially him) feels is hanging over Middle Earth

BILBO

WITH MELIAN :

-Poor Hobbit has no idea of the uncomfortable and awkward yet obvious situation that exists between her and the dwarves.

-has absolutly no idea of who she is, only understands that she is kind of really important but well doesn’t really mean anything to him

-he becomes very, very, very, very, very awkward very quickly when the Elf genealogy and the 'slight problem' between Melian's husband and the dwarves are explained to him

-he prays very hard that no one will ask his opinion on the matter, thank you very much, leave me out of it

-he finds her soooo beautiful and can’t get enough of her incredible voice

-gives +100 sympathy points for dwarves simply by his presence

WITH FINGOLFIN :

-still no idea who he is too but still extremly impressed

-he’s so tinyyyyy compared to him !

-he roughly understands who they are dealing with when he hears the whispers of the dwarves

-very very very polite like always and very cute

#the hobbit #Thorin Oakenshield #balin #dwalin #bifur #bofur #bombur #oin #dori #ori #bilbo #gandalf #gloin #nori

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northern-passage · 3 years

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Honestly it's been extremely disappointing seeing authors that I followed and supported go and trash mishka. And its extremely hard to listen to you guys preach kindness and support towards IF authors and then see you guys do the exact opposite. And for what? Because of racial stereotypes? Which ones? When she called one of her characters "animalistic" (which she apologized for)? That had more to do with her being a vampire rather than her race so I really hope that isn't what you guys are talking about. Or is it because you feel she hasn't properly researched? If that's the case, I can name 5+ IF books that definitely need to do more research so I hope you're out here "criticizing" them too and not just targeting mishka because of her bigger platform. If you truly feel this why not reach out to mishka and let her know "hey there's a couple questionable things in your story that I think you should fix" you know like a fellow supportive if author should do? Instead of basing on her on your account?And I know this will have some people pissed, but oh well, race and sexuality has very little to do with it and this is coming from a bisexual poc. When finding a new story most people know nothing about the author, let alone their race and sexuality, so the authors that I've seen discrediting mishka and insinuating that her success is due to the fact that she's white and cis are not only straight up assholes but are also completely false. Its become abundantly clear this week that the readers aren't the only reason for this community's toxicity. What makes it more sad is that I started following a lot of you a while ago and totally planned to support you guys once your stories were finished, all this drama sort of just left a sour taste in my mouth. I completely understand some of twc fans are being horrible to you guys and I'm sorry for that but that's doesn't call for you all to shit on mishka and her writing. We all just need to do better

no one is shitting on mishka, literally the whole problem is people like you coming into my and other authors inboxes for no reason other than to throw around accusations and play victim. i have no problem with twc and i don't give a shit if you read it and enjoy it. i don't mind people defending authors either, when it's necessary - i've done it myself. but here is the problem - you people don't know the difference between harassment and criticism. you send harassment, claim it's criticism so you can be absolved of any wrong doing, and then when your faves are actually rightfully criticized, you claim it's harassment so you can ignore it.

yes people are going to be harsher to mishka because she has a huge fucking platform and is making insane amounts of money. of course we should criticize other authors as well and everyone knows that i have! but again there is a huge fucking imbalance here comparing some authors to someone like mishka, who very rarely actually has to take accountability, because again - she has a massive platform, swaths of fans that act as an echo chamber, and people like you running to send annoying ass messages to anyone who so much as breathes in her direction. this is the fucking problem.

at this point you are just being willfully ignorant and choosing to ignore the fact that twc is written by someone with privilege and that people have every right to criticize her for the things she's gotten wrong, especially when it comes to depictions of marginalized communities. people have constantly brought up these criticisms all throughout the fandom, people who are directly affected by the things she has done - telling me to "just message her" is literally so fucking dense. you really think no one else has ever tried that?

no one is out here trying to "cancel" mishka, literally none of us care about that. i'm not going to downplay the harm mishka has caused with the stereotypes portrayed in her depiction of M or the way she poorly handled A's asexuality as well as the countless other things that people far more qualified than me have brought up before - i don't think mishka is willfully malicious, and i don't think she's responsible for any of the annoying shit you all make other IF authors deal with. it's great that she has apologized for some of her mistakes, i do appreciate that.

as for today, she never should have had to apologize for this shit.

what was being talked about was never actually mishka herself. you all just purposefully misconstrued people's posts to make it seem like she was a victim so you could come harass us - because you all just love doing that so much.

mishka really had to take time out of her day to come on tumblr dot com to apologize to authors because of YOU. none of us asked for an apology from her, none of us expected anything from her in regards to this because it's not her fault. we simply wanted people like you to fucking leave us alone! and you can't even do that, not even after mishka asks you to. at this point i don't think it has anything to do with her or twc i think it's just a bunch of you itching to be rude and nasty as fuck to people online and you use mishka as an excuse to do that.

fucking log off and go read any other book besides twc. i'm so fucking tired of talking about those books - which i did enjoy at one point! but not anymore after all the shit you people constantly send me and the way you all act and treat others in this community, all in the name of an author who disavows your vile fucking behavior and wants nothing to do with you.

you think it's extremely disappointing for you? how about all the authors who have to grapple with the fact that there are readers who have no respect for us as people, don't give a shit about our feelings, constantly harass us and feel entitled to our work and our characters? how about mishka who has to come on here and apologize for her readers and their awful fucking behavior, and see all the messages sent on "her behalf"? literally get the fuck out of here.

#ask #anonymous

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