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directdogman · 11 hours ago

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We asked some of the DT cast for stories from earlier in their lives!

Gingi: "Hmmm... That's a tricky one. Well, there was... Uhhh... Okay, no. Not that. Uhhh... Pass."

Randy: "From MY life? Uhhh... Like, from when I was a kid or something? Uhhh... I, uhhh- Oh! Okay, s-so... I think I was about fourteen, right? Uhhh, my father was kinda... Y'see, he'd yell at me sometimes, like, "Randy, why aren't you GOOD at anything! I didn't raise a lazy QUITTER. You're going to find something that you're GOOD at if you're gonna continue living under this roof!" So, uhhh, I had to learn to play an i-instrument, y'know?

Uhhh, I-I think he picked the clarinet for me 'cause my brothers already played guitar and piano, y'know? Uhhh... Then I was trying to practice it at home... a LOT, and he stormed into the room, SNATCHED it from my hands and snapped it. He went off about how I couldn't do anything right, I was a failure of a son, I didn't live up... [Randy clears his throat] Heh... Anyway, I was relieved! I HATED playing that thing! I could never get my fingers in the right places fast enough, y-y'know?"

Karen: "Hmmm... I don't have many stories from when I was in school. I kinda kept to myself. I wasn't noticed a lot. I liked it better that way. But, when I was seventeen, our class was entered into a regional math competition. Basically, we had to solve equations in our spare time, and whoever got the most right answers got a prize. I did a LOT of them. Fifteen hours worth, one week. I was mostly curious to see how I'd place if I really tried for a short burst of time, see how I ranked. But, I kept going... and I ended up ranking in the top 5. Nationally.

The organizers invited all of us to a ceremony where they handed out prizes. Our parents too. I watched other people from my class get smaller prizes one by one, for participating and when I didn't get one, I figured they'd just forgotten about me. It happens, I wasn't surprised. But, then out of nowhere, they started handing out scholarships to the top 5 entrants. I was one of the five.

I can't tell you how it felt to be one of them, to be seen. To be recognized for giving it my all. Anyway. My parents weren't there, they arrived an hour after the whole thing ended, after everyone left. I told them about my win. My mother pointed out that the scholarship would've only covered a portion of my full tuition. I asked why they weren't there. She got angry and said I'd texted her the wrong time. I didn't. We went out for dinner after that. My sister seemed proud."

Oliver: "Oh, man! Uhhh... Where to begin! Y'know, I was a real menace when I was in school! I wanted the world and I wanted it now! Oh! Oh! Okay, so back when I was in high school, we got all this HAM and then... Oh. Actually, y'know what, that story has a crime in it- Not, like, a BAD one, but...

Okay. Uhhh. Something, uhhh- Oh! I've got it. So, I was six years old, right? My mom came to pick me up from school that day, as per usual! The thing is, it was actually my BIRTHDAY! She didn't give me my present that morning, said she'd show me what she had for me as soon as I got home. I was stoked! I knew it had to be something REALLY gnarly or really pathetic for her NOT to want to show it to me right away and there's no way she would've short-changed me!

So, we got home and there it was. She'd gotten me a SNAKE. I'd been reading books, talking about 'em CONSTANTLY... I didn't think she'd- Uhhh- It's not- Well, it wasn't a typical gift to give a kid like me, y'know? But, she noticed how much I loved them and wanted me to have one.

Aw, he was the cutest little guy too! A corn snake! So, y'know, I got to hold him all the time and... Aw, I miss that little guy! I called him Mr Slithers when I first got him, but then we started calling him Schlep! Y'know, like Asclepius? The Greek God with the snakes! Aw, I miss that little guy… We didn't always have much, with my dad gone, but she always made sure I knew how much I meant to her."

Norm: "You want a story from MY life? Pardner, I've been around the world, OFF the world, in one end o' a wormhole and out th' the other SIDE. Where would I begin? Well... I worked at NASA for a spell, but I... Ah, t' hell with all that. I was with the Air Force, back in Korea. I 'member... Back when I was still a Corporal, actin'-Sergeant, th' job wasn't JUS' about shootin' down other planes. Sometimes we also handled folks who surrendered on th' ground, y'know? Admittin' POWS, which we traded back fer our own.

Anyway, we had this one fella, Choe somethin'... You'll have t' forgive me, it's all a lil fuzzy now. He was a conscript, o' course. He jus' wanted to see th' end of the war. 'Cause o' my rank, it was my job t' oversee th' cataloguin' what he had when we caught him and get him t' sign the completed inventory. The fella had a PPSh-41. Full drum. Doubt he'd ever even fired th' thing... It was MY firs' time holdin' one. Always wondered how they handled.

I looked at Choe, I looked at my buddy Reggie... Oh. I knew Reggie from all th' way back in Phoenix... He picked up the language better than me. They used t' give us candy in our rations. Hershey's Tropical. Haven't seen any on the shelves since the warp, but… Well, a half-decent candy bar's pretty fillin', good source o' calories, stops yer men from losin' their goddamned minds. Even perfected the recipe fer the climate. Didn't melt like the bars here. Sorry, I'm ramblin' again.

So, I made Choe an offer, with Reggie's help. We leave the gun offa the form, he gets the candy bar. The, uhhh, gist of what he said t' Reggie was that the gun was o' no use to him now that he'd been captured, but he'd very much like the candy bar. So, we left it off the form and o' course, he signed it. That night, me and Reggie went out, drank a whole bunch o' somaek and fired that thing off 'til we didn't have a single bullet left fer that drum. That night was really somethin'."

God: "Oh, man, have I seen some shit... I mean, hell, I've lived a lot of lives… I know I mightn't look it now, but hey, I had my fair share of jobs, little things for myself to do, friends... But, not anymore. Y'see... Ah. I just had this feelin' set in over time. A realization, I guess you could call it. There was this rot inside me. Every go around, there were these similarities. I'd notice more of 'em each time. I'd know stuff before it happened. I'd know people's thoughts before they'd think 'em... and. It was revolting, what I was doing. Keeping people around me that I knew would outlive me, taking up valuable time, making their lives worse for… Ah, you wouldn't get it.

Anyway, I tried to shove the feelings down for a long time, but sooner or later, I couldn't sleep at night, ignoring what I knew. I was a piece of filth, plain and simple. I made the world worse for being in it, and I couldn't make up for all that time, bein' around people for so long. The only thing I could do to make it up to everyone was to disappear. But, if I just went, people would've missed me. That wasn't right either. They had to know why. So, I went to everyone I knew. Well, anyone who'd care if I left. And I told 'em everything about me. Every bad thing I'd said, done, the things I should've done... What I was, deep down. If I thought of anything I didn't want to say, I said it. With as much detail as I could think up.

Then, I started walking. I doubt anyone came to look for me. Doesn't really matter now, does it? Heh. I've been wanderin' ever since. You gotta keep your distance from people, y'know? A quick bite and a how-do-ya-do's dandy and all, but any more than that, and you risk getting attached. Or havin' other people get attached to you. Nothin' lasts forever."

Bigfoot: [wistful ape noises]

(It was dark at the foot of the Appalachian mountains. Far above the tapestry of leaves and pine needles, the sky was alight with stars. Distant, yet the dim specks staining the dark expanse above the trees were the only light reaching this place now. A shaggy behemoth sprinted through the foliage at a breakneck pace, knocking any tree unlucky enough to be in its path back with its hefty arms. Never slowing down, never stopping.

Suddenly, a powerful beam shone down from above. Brighter than the moon, glaring like the sun. The giant halted suddenly, locking up as the light hit its lens. It looked up slowly, his gaze trying to meet the light. Barely perceptible amidst the haze, a figure loomed on a branch, its silhouette visible against the sky as the absence of starlight. Its spotlight head flickered as if it was scanning, now the brightest thing against the sky. After a pause, the figure unfurled its wings and gracefully glided to the ground, where it landed. Even against the windless tranquility of the woods, its landing made little sound. The hulking beast didn't stir. He had seen this figure before, always at a distance. Closer each time. Mistakable for the moon against the night sky.

The furred brute thought to flee, but it had seen this figure in flight. He was swift, but it was much swifter. The figure inched gradually closer, its steps slow, deliberate and silent. Slower than it'd had ever moved before. As it stopped right in front of him, its head dimmed, allowing him to see it better. As he studied its slender figure, its head cocked in place, as if scanning him. A dim whir now audible from the bulb. At that moment, the monster felt as if the being was looking into his soul. Its movements were sorrowful and graceful, each movement angled like a bow. It could truly see him.

Slowly, a feathered wing extended towards him, gracefully connecting with the side of his head. The first time he'd felt the contact of another in a quarter of a century. The monster barely shirked, causing her to retract her wing momentarily. As he gazed back towards her, his lens now locked onto the bulb sitting atop the slender body before him, the figure's wing slowly caressed his face. No noises were exchanged, but the beast knew what this touch meant. "You could be happy."

Momentarily remembering who he was, the behemoth retracted. He sighed, his gaze now meeting only the dimly lit leaves at their feet. She too knew what this meant. "There is another." The figure looked down as well, visibly dejected. Not at his rejection, but for fate's cruel acumen. After a silent moment, its wings unfurled and it took flight, disappearing into the branches above them. Unsure of itself, the monster stepped forward, the moon's light glinting between the branches. Regaining its composure, the titan began its sprint again. Never ceasing, never yielding. It would find its family. Even if it had to search every inch of this land.)

Little Billy: "get fucked, narc."

Stabby and Shooty: "Oh, man! Have WE got some stories!" "Lotsa stories! Heh heh heh!" "Y'know, we're kinda bad boys… Hard eggs!" "The hardest! HEH HEH HEH!" "Y'know, we-" "Oh! Oh! Slick! Tell 'em about the time you i-" "…No. Not that one, bro." "What?! It's the most GANGSTER shit either of us h-" "I said DROP IT! OKAY?!" "…" "…" "…" "…" "Sorry, bro…"

Mayor Mingus: "What is this, for a MAGAZINE?! I don't have time for any of this. In case you haven't noticed, I have a CITY to run, and anything I don't do myself WON'T be done correctly. Now, if you'll excuse me..."

("When I was a kid, I used to bring Maw Maw to church. Someone had to. When she got older, she lost much of her sight. Her optical sensors deteriorated and she wouldn't let anyone open up her head to replace them. She never explained why. I was happy to spend time with her, though. Especially since my father never joined us. Like HE'D ever step foot in a church.

I never believed in any of that malarkey either, to be clear. I don't even think she did, until her later years. Perhaps it comforted her? I guess that's beside the point. After every sermon, we'd go out and get a burger at the Burger Hovel in the mall across the street. Then, we'd go upstairs and she'd try on clothes at the department store. Because of her sight, she couldn't read the tags on her own. She needed me there for that, to know if something would fit. She rarely bought anything. I think she just liked trying them on, being someone else for a little while... It was nice, though. Being useful, helping her do something she couldn't do on her own.")

#dialtown #dialtown phonegingi #phonegingi #dialtown karen #karen dunn #dialtown oliver #oliver swift #mayor mingus #dialtown mingus #sgt norm allen #dialtown norm

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sunderwight · 3 days ago

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Contemplating an AU where Shen Yuan isn't actually as unhinged as he might seem, because Systems and Transmigration are not just common fictional tropes in his world but actually like. Established things that happen.

Everyone knows that there are fictional worlds that end up existing as different realities. Chicken-or-the-egg style debates are rampant and academia and religious circles, as no one can quite agree on whether there are cosmic forces that are creating worlds based on fiction or if there are some psychic currents that influence sensitive creative types to perceive other worlds or what, but it's known to happen.

Systems are also not-infrequently encountered phenomenon. Like demons or other supernatural concepts. Sometimes in life you just encounter a scenario where a semi-technological themed spiritual parasite will latch itself onto you as part of a process to ensure the regulation of some world or part of a world or something. Again, lots of debate and attempts to figure out what is really going on are ongoing in Shen Yuan's world.

Transmigration has also been documented. Souls are confirmed to exist and it's known that dying makes you extra susceptible to the influence of various Systems and the possibility of moving between worlds. Lots of people have, over the course of history, done this and then come back to their original world and reported on it. Experiments of varying degrees of ethical dubiousness have been conducted before eventually being banned in the name of not killing people to try and figure out interdimensional travel.

One of the reasons why Shen Yuan gets so pissy at Airplane's hack writing is because he's gone to university and studied transmigration and interdimensional physics, and he's firmly in the camp that thinks that some kind of scarcely-documented cosmic force is creating worlds based on fiction. Sure, the odds of any given fictional world becoming an alternate reality are very small, and extremely dependent on a number of factors that can be difficult to deliberately invoke, but by Shen Yuan's calculations there's kind of a perfect storm of what factors he theorizes are relevant and that makes Airplane's hack writing the height of irresponsibility. Stop putting that poor protagonist through this shit! He doesn't deserve it! You're playing with fire!

Anyway, Shen Yuan's school of thought is not the widest nor the most respected, so in addition to his art critiques he's laughed off as a quack.

For his own part, Airplane has also studied interdimensional physics and he's confident that his writing is way too unstable to ever be Substantiated. But just in case he throws in a few token protections against that kind of thing.

Peerless Cucumber: those "protections" are just superstitions! they don't actually work! there are more than seventeen documented cases of Substantiation that contradict all of them, and even more that contradict each individually! making the curtains blue does nothing!

Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky: chill out bro, you wouldn't want to give yourself a coronary and wake up as Luo Binghe. how would he fuck you then?

#svsss #scum villian self saving system #scum villain #shen yuan

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bethanydelleman · 2 days ago

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I always try to help as kindly as I can when someone asks for context about a novel or TV show that is set in another time or culture, but sometimes I also just want to scream "Context clues!", especially when they get angry at a character, because even things written in a different time or place for that time or place will usually have enough in it for you to figure it out.

For example, people will often say, "Why doesn't Edward just break his engagement to Lucy! He's so weak!" about Sense & Sensibility and then be angry at him about it. Yes, there are historical conventions that explain the reasoning which might not be understood, but it's also right in the novel. Multiple alignment good characters, including Elinor herself, praise Edward for not abandoning Lucy and for keeping his word. Even if one doesn't fully grasp the reason, it's clear that he is doing The Right ThingTM.

It seems like the way some people approach anything is to apply only their own values and norms to it. When I pick up a book written 250 years ago or watch a TV show that wasn't made in my country, I'm starting with the assumption that morals and norms may be a bit different than my own. If a character does something I find odd, I pay attention to other character's reactions to see if it's normal or not. If everyone makes a big deal out of something I don't get, I register it in my brain as A Thing that I should probably look up later. If a value seems really important, I think to myself, "They probably put this moral rule above others" (we share most moral rules across cultures, we just order them differently). This doesn't seem like rocket science to me. Do people not do this?

#jane austen #online discourse #classic literature #sense and sensibility #edward ferrars #I see this so much with Asian dramas too #why do you not approach with an open mind?#Why not learn some stuff?

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kumasakka · 2 days ago

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.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ❝ 𝐅𝐀𝐍 𝐁𝐄𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐑 ! ❞

　despite having an official girlfriend, known to the whole world, he doesn’t catch a break from his beloved fans. or quick reminder that he married his fan number one + social’s !

ft. itoshi sae , iglesias bunny , kaiser michael.

content. 1.8k wc, slightly suggestive, dirty thoughts, freaky / off-handed comments, crack, unserious, spoiler - free, up to 0.5k words each drabble, isagi makes insensitive jokes, inspired by freaky tiktok comments.

author’s note. I had so much fun writing this because this is lowkey how I act whenever I see them but not that freaky. be so for real, that’s how you would act when they were your boyfriend hehe. part two?

ITOSHI SAE.

　SPEAKING frankly, it's not like you are weird or anything. Not as weird as some of his fans — but you're definitely weird. Again, in a positive way though. You're weird in a positive way.

Can someone even consider this as a positive?

Your own boyfriend is cringed out by you sometimes, giving you weird stares as if you're his fangirl. Only that you are his fangirl and he knows it. He knows you'd watch every match of his until your dying breath.

"Hehe..." you sighed out dreamily, leaning against your palm.

Watchful eyes following Sae's every movement while he was trying to eat in peace. You two were at home, you cooked something delicious and now you kept him company while he was eating.

"Something wrong?" he wiped his mouth with a tissue.

His pretty teal eyes blinking ever so slowly, his long lashes adorning his face and highlighting the colour of his eyes. You could die in peace and you meant every word when you said that.

"Nothing..." you lied smoothly, letting out a giggle.

A giggle that reminds him of his fangirls and also fanboys.

God, you couldn't hell yourself though. He was so fucking hot, face so handsome and body built like the greek statues, his »I don't give a fuck«-personality fits him so well and his nonchalant attitude.

Suddenly you dropped a—

"You're so hot." you stared at his features, lips curling into a smirk.

"Oh. Thanks." he returns back to eating, not minding your comment.

And then — you stood up from your chair, only to move closer so you can sit closer to your boyfriend.

"I'm so lucky." you started off slowly, leaving him wonder for a second. "I see what Shidou sees."

"Shidou?" he deadpanned at the mention of Shidou Ryusei.

"Ugh, stop talking about him." you frowned, waving your hand dismissively.

"Didn't you start with him?" he glanced at you from the corner of his eyes.

"Oh wow..." you gasped, "do that again."

"Do what?" he glanced at you again from the corner of his eyes.

"THAT!" you couldn't contain your giggles anymore as you pushed his plate away from him, latching yourself onto him. "UGH YOU'RE SO FINE, I LOVE YOU SO MUCH!"

"Ah..." he trailed off, patting your back as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

"I wanna smash my lips against yours." you whispered, voice muffled because of his clothes. "And this definitely isn't the only thing I'm smashing today."

"[name]..." he deadpanned again, your fan behaviour insufferable yet cute in its own way.

"Yes, my darling husband? My sexy, handsome, beautiful and attractive Sae?" you giggled dreamily against his shirt, feeling his arms around your figure.

"Let me finish my food." he paused, "please?"

"Of course!" you distanced yourself again before taking the spoon into your hand. "Say ahh."

Spoiler alert: he didn't open his mouth.

"Mmh?" you hummed in confusion, then blew lightly against the hot meal, "the plane is coming! Say ahh!"

"Ahh..." he parted his lips reluctantly.

"Good boy!" you teased him.

"Never ever say that again."

　┌──────────────────┐

❤️ 112.8k. 💬 3.221 ⌲ 9.2k.

itoshisaesonlygf gender is NOT the same as sex. gender is what you identify as, while sex is what i'll be having with @official.itoshisae tonight. stay informed.

official.itoshisae respectfully back off.

　⤷ itoshisaesonlygf guys he’s only shy !!

　⤷ ryuassei.only I knew you wouldn’t cheat

　　　me pookie wookie dookie cutie patootie ❤️

　　⤷ itoshisaesonlygf keys and livestream it

ryuassei.only imagine faking a relationship 🤣

　⤷ itoshisaesonlygf blocked banned reported

　⤷ rinnie_poo gtfo weirdo

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ryuassei.only IM FUCKING JEALOUS LOCK UR DOORS YOU WITCH IM BURNING DOWN YOUR HOUSE

　⤷ itoshisaesonlygf what a weirdo

　　⤷ itoshisaesonlygf get em banned

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rinnie_poo hoping that guy is stepping on lego stones, his socks get wet, spoon falling into the bowl and stubs his toe against something.

　⤷ itoshisaesonlygf I love you rin

　　⤷ rinnie_poo call me if he’s being an asshole.

　⤷ hide.its.slursagi what a lovely greeting lol

　　⤷ rinnie_poo shut the fuck up

　　⤷ ryuassei.only “SYBAU 💔🥀” ahh

　　⤷ rinnie_poo you’re getting crushed anyway

　　⤷ itoshisaesonlygf SHOW THEM !!!!

　　⤷ ryuassei.only ho is u a traitor? 🥀🥀

itoshisaesonlygf omfg he looks so good I wanna give him the sloppiest, wettest, best kiss ever

　⤷ itoshisae.official I’m right here.

userrando0010 we know it’s you shidou 💔

　⤷ ryuassei.only ugh fine I got caught

　　⤷ userrando0010 HE REPLIED WHAT.

　　⤷ userrando1392 FUCK ME PLZ

IGLESIAS BUNNY.

　YOUR gaze stayed glued to your phone as you sat on the couch, finger scrolling through the newest edits of your boyfriend. A grin crossing your lips as you watched the edit.

"Tsk..." you let out a gleeful giggle, seeing your boyfriend on the edit.

Wasn't he the finest man ever walking on earth?

"His girlfriend is so lucky..." you muttered, commenting under the post and then replied, "thank you..!"

Content with liking the edit, saving the post and favouriting it, you scrolled to the next edit — just to comment something else. "Not going to lie, he ain't safe from me..." you mumbled.

"Who isn't safe from you?"

"AHH!" you flinched in shock, immediately locking your phone as a reflex while your heart pounded quickly against your chest. "Ohmyfuckinggod Bunny!"

"That's me." he looked down at you, his hands placed against the edge of the couch while looming over you from behind.

"Hi." you smiled at him innocently, head lifting up to face him.

Yet your eyes wandered from his pretty face to his toned body. "Oh wow." you couldn't help but let out, taking in the sight behind you even if it meant that you'd snap your head any moment.

"Careful before you hurt yourself." and with that, he placed his hand under your head to push it lightly — so you'd face ahead again.

"Whatever you want." you replied and turned fully now to admire him even more.

Thinking back to that one comment, your mind immediately was filled with silly thoughts. "Oh... But I seriously think I can handle all that." you started giggling as you averted your eyes, biting your index finger.

"Whatever you're saying." your boyfriend smiled at you, making himself place on the edge of his couch. "What were you watching?"

"Edits that should get banned because the stuff is too much to handle, apparently." you answered immediately, not hesitating to face again. "Ugh..."

"Mmh?" he hummed, tilting his head slightly to the side.

One of the most attractive things he could do to be honest. With that lethal facecard? And that body?

"I'm so so so lucky." you whispered under your breath, cheeks heating up at the sight.

"Are you? Or am I?" he chuckled at your comment, batting his lashes.

"...I have nothing appropriate to say." your face was expressionless yet your inner voice screamed it all.

He erupted into a laughter his time, letting you watch how his adam apple moved along in an attractive way. You couldn't describe it properly in words — but he was all you needed in life.

"Ugh kiss me already." you throw yourself at him, clothed body bumping against his naked upper body.

"Whatever you want, love." his hand found itself behind to the back of your head again, pulling you into a quick kiss — it left you stunned honestly.

As soon as he distanced himself, you blinked slowly while your brain tried to processed what just happened.

"You..."

"Yeah?" he chuckled, your reaction too amusing for him.

"You deserve your ass ate for this."

"Please no."

　┌──────────────────┐

❤️ 192.5k. 💬 6.019 ⌲ 16.6k.

[name]thehunter “dinner’s ready, @bunnythebunny!” I say as I sat on the table ❤️❤️

userrando2737 GUYS SHE WATCHED MY EDIT, SHE WATCHED MY EDIT AND COMMENTED!!\*£|~${! PLZ NOTICE ME PLEASEEEEEEEEE

　⤷ [name]thehunter please continue the great work love 🫶

　　⤷ userrando2737 SHE REPLIED SHE REPLIED I’M DYING BYEEEE

　⤷ userrando4444 this is SENDING me 🙏

userrando0174 oh who is u?

　⤷ [name]thehunter im ya grandma

　　⤷ userrando1773 LMFAOO WHAT’S THIS

bunnythebunny oh thank you for dinner, it was great ☺️ is there more?

　⤷ [name]thehunter you know where I am.

　　⤷ userrando2938 OH WOW.

　⤷ userrando4992 can I eat u?

　　⤷ userrando9913 gtfo u gooner, he’s mine

userrando7369 ready… set… GOON ❕❕

　⤷ userrando2884 touch grass lil buddy 🙏

　　⤷ userrando7369 how abt I touch u? 😈

　　⤷ userrando2884 not here 😳

　⤷ userrando8926 the 69 says it all

official.itoshisae whatever is cursing my eyes.

　⤷ bunnythebunny oh nice to see you! ☺️☺️

　　⤷ official.itoshisae lukewarm eyesore

　⤷ [name]thehunter dw I love you kiss 💋

　　⤷ bunnythebunny does this count as cheating?

　　⤷ official.itoshisae yes now break up.

KAISER MICHAEL.

　HE was asleep. In a deep slumber probably while his front was fully turned to you, letting your eyes wander all over his glorious face — almost shining in your eyes.

Maybe even blinding you with his beauty?

Your lips curled into a grin, taking in his facial features. Of course he was pretty. It's your boyfriend, after all. The bastard of every soccer match whenever you watch him play.

And here he is, sleeping soundly — not knowing the danger's of the world aka you. But what can you do? The dragon (you) has to protect the princess (michael) from the village (fans).

But he himself was in danger. If you ever would take a look at him, you'd fall for his charms — just like you did. "Hehe..." you giggled in delight, pulling the blanket closer to you.

Was inner you fangirling? No, no. You are just happen to be lucky enough to catch a glimpse of his sleeping beauty.

"You're so fine. Looking at you makes me feel like a victorian man, seeing a woman's ankle for the first time." you whispered, your hand inches away to caress his cheek.

And suddenly — he opened his eyes while raising a brow, catching your wrist at the right time

"What nonsense..." he muttered under his breath, voice sounding fully awake.

"You were awake the whole time!?" you gasped in shock before he pulled you closer. "Ack!—"

"Did you seriously just say something about victorian man seeing a woman's ankle?" he questioned, mischief not found in his voice — instead it was curiosity.

"Yeah, I did." you answered before realising, "ah. You don't understand."

"So what if?" he rolled his eyes, already annoyed by your teasing grin.

You swiftly freed yourself and found yourself on top of him. Well only your upper half was above him while your knees were still propped beside his hip.

"Basically it was scandalous for a woman to show off her ankles in the victorian era. High-class women were limited to show off most body parts and showing ankles were challenging the norms. I guess, victorian men liked that." you taught him.

"Ah..." he nodded and his one arm sliding around your lower back.

"Pfft— You're so cute." you giggled.

"Didn't you saw I looked fine? Like a... fine shyt?"

You bursted into laughter as he said that.

"You're superrrr cute!" you laughed.

"Oh?" he mused under his breath, raising his hand to tap against your quivering arms. "But you are the cute one."

"No." you lowered yourself, planting several kisses on his cheek. "You're so fine, babygirl."

"Babygirl? Are we calling each other cringe pet names now?" he raised a brow, finding joy in your affection. "Perle? Or should I say, Bubu Bärchen?"

"Eugh, never say that again!" you shook your head frantically, a shiver running down your spine.

"Mausebär."

"Schnuckiputz."

"Schnecke."

"Okay you won, stop those outrageous pet names."

　┌──────────────────┐

❤️ 110.2k. 💬 4.217 ⌲ 12.3k.

callmeempress I feel pregnant whenever I see @michahhel.kaiser

nessfetchthis what a wonderful sight to wake up to!

　⤷ callmeempress certainly ❤️

　⤷ userrando4674 fetch this bone 🦴 !!

　　⤷ callmeempress that’s it you’re getting blocked bye me AND michael

　　⤷ userrando4674 WHAT NO IM SORRY PLZ I WILL FETCH IT MYSELF

hide.its.slursagi get HIM pregnant

　⤷ callmeempress actually, you’re so right… might do that as well thanks 🌹❤️🔋

　　⤷ michahhel.kaiser [name] syfm

　　⤷ callmeempress make me 💞💞💞

　　⤷ userrando1883 can I join???

　　⤷ michahhel.kaiser no gtfo.

　　⤷ userrando1883 YES GAWDDDD HE REPLIED UGH WHATEVER YOU SAY EMPEROR

michahhel.kaiser next time post smth better than this. this absolutely looks heinous.

　⤷ hide.its.slursagi the earth was flat until ur dad got buried.

　　⤷ michahhel.kaiser @callmeempress why didn’t u block him yet?

　　⤷ callmeempress this was a good one tho

　⤷ nessfetchthis oh you never look heinous!!

　　⤷ callmeempress alexis, love, cutie, sweetheart sometimes I’d love to sugarcoat it but you would probably eat that too if it’s for michael… this picture does look heinous

　　⤷ userrando9999 WHAT’S WITH THOSE CREATIVE INSULTS???

　　⤷ userrando7819 CLOCKED HER OWN SON????

userrando2231 I also wanna wake up to this sight hellooooo?

　⤷ hide.its.slursagi blind motherfckers

　　⤷ michahhel.kaiser thy actions are the most strange. thou show few signs of intact sanity.

　　⤷ hide.its.slursagi loving parents ❤️

　　⤷ michahhel.kaiser count your days.

　　⤷ hide.its.slursagi count your scars.

　⤷ userrando6699 NOT ISAGI CLOCKING THEM ALL IN THE COMMENTS INCLUDING YOU KING?

userrando1083 seeing this made me accidentally hit my chin KAISER YOU LOOK SO HAWD PLZ ONE CHANCE ❕❕

　⤷ hide.its.isagi which chin?

　　⤷ callmeempress I’m considering to block you seriously…

　　⤷ hide.its.slursagi I was just joking! 😅

　　⤷ userrando1049 he said as he grinned like evil larry.

　　⤷ userrando9966 he said as he knew that he hurt the world’s feeling 🥀🥀

#❨🎐❩ 𝐀𝐃𝐌𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐀 :: shitpost.#blue lock x reader #blue lock #bllk x reader #bllk #itoshi sae x reader #sae x reader #itoshi sae #sae #bunny iglesias x reader #iglesias bunny #iglesias bunny x reader #bunny iglesias #michael kaiser x reader #michael kaiser #kaiser x reader #michael x reader #drabble #x reader

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harkness-pet · 2 days ago

Text

my house of stone, your ivy grows, and now I'm covered in you - pt. 1

Pairing: Agatha x fem!reader

Plot: you are a gardener who starts working for Agatha, a housewife of a rich man who’s never home. as the summer blooms, so does the tension between you two.

Tip me if you like my work and want to support me :)

You weren’t looking for anything special that summer, but since the flower shop you had been working at closed, you needed something new, preferably something that was outside.

When Mrs. Agatha Harkness Whitmore posted a notice at the town’s market bulletin board, asking for someone to care for her garden through the summer, your fingers had plucked the little white card without hesitation.

The house she owned stood at the edge of town, wrapped in ivy. It was enormous and you could only imagined it went back generations of Whitmores. It seemed to be full of ghosts.

But the first time you met Agatha, she wasn’t some brooding figure in the shadows. She wasn’t even the owner, she was the owner’s wife.

She was lounging by the pool, sunglasses perched in her wavy, dark hair, skin already kissed bronze by the early summer sun. She looked like a 1970s movie star.

“You must be the new gardener,” she said, a slow smile blooming across her lips.

You nodded, trying not to stare. She looked like a painting — all curves and calm and careful elegance.

“My husband’s been pestering me about the garden for ages, but I just don’t have the green thumb.”

You tried to smile politely, your hands stiff at your sides.

“You’ll find the tools in the shed. But if you have questions,” she added, lifting her glasses just enough to meet your eyes, “ask me. Not him.”

Then she settled back, arms behind her head, and let the sun drape itself over her body. That day, you clipped roses with shaking hands.

~~~

The days passed slowly. You wore cutoff shorts and tied your hair back with a scarf, sometimes humming Fleetwood Mac songs under your breath. Agatha rarely left the house except to sunbathe.

But when she stretched out in her chair, the silk of her robe falling open just enough to show the dark line of her bathing suit beneath, your breath caught in your throat. You didn’t know where to look. You didn’t know how to breathe.

But she always watched you.

At first, it was little things, a glass of lemonade left on the table, her voice drifting out through the open French doors, murmuring about how “the petunias look like they might finally cooperate.”

Then came the conversations.

You would be kneeling in the dirt, hands deep in rosemary and thyme, and she would call to you.

“Do you like Fleetwood Mac?” she asked once, lazily twirling a glass of iced tea in her fingers.

You looked up, sweat on your brow. “Who doesn’t?”

She smiled faintly. “You remind me of Stevie. Wild. Young. Intense eyes.”

You didn’t know how to answer that. So you smiled and changed the subject.

But the conversations kept happening.

Books. “Have you read The Bell Jar?” she asked one afternoon. You had, and you talked about it for nearly an hour.

Dreams. You told her about wanting your own herb shop someday, a big garden with a greenhouse and a crooked little sign by the road.

She listened like no one ever had.

Once, on a blistering afternoon, you were on your knees trimming lavender when her voice floated over.

“You’re baking out here,” she said. “Come have a drink.”

You turned. She was sitting up now, that same black one-piece clinging to her like it had been painted on. Her hair was pinned loosely, neck bare, skin glistening. You hesitated, hands dirty.

She lifted a glass and tilted her head. “Come on. I won’t bite.”

You stood, wiping your hands, trying not to feel every inch of her gaze travel over you. She handed you the glass — lemonade with fresh basil, ice clinking — and smiled when your fingers touched.

“I like watching you work,” she said casually. “You have this way of moving. Very... focused.”

You swallowed too quickly. “Thanks.”

“I used to love gardening,” she continued, looking out over the beds. “When I was younger. Before the house got too big and the marriage too... dry.”

You didn’t know what to say. You took a long sip and let the silence stretch.

“I wanted to be a writer,” she said almost as an afterthought. “Before I became Mrs. Whitmore. Before I became someone’s trophy.”

“What would you write?” you asked after a while. The surprise etched on her face made you hesitate whether you said something wrong. “Sorry, you don’t-“

“I’d write historical fiction,” she confessed, voice almost a whisper. “Ask me more things.”

You stared at her, wordless, and her hand reached out and squeezed your arm. “Please.”

That was the first time you felt the heat shift — not the sun, but something between you. Something that wasn’t just your wishful thinking.

A week later, she asked you to put lotion on her.

It was late afternoon, the sun dropping gold across the pool deck. You’d just finished laying mulch in the herb bed, your shirt sticking to your back with sweat. She was already there, as always, reclined, skin glowing.

She turned her head lazily as you passed. “Sweetheart,” she said, that husky drawl of hers curling around the word, “would you do me a favor?”

You stopped. “Of course.” Of course. Anything. Everything.

She held up a bottle of sunscreen. “My back. I’ve been out here too long and I can’t reach. You don’t mind, do you?”

You took it from her, your fingers brushing hers. She turned over slowly, her robe slipping away entirely, and the sight of her — bare back, curve of hip, the way the suit dipped low… made you thirsty and lightheaded. And it was definitely not the sun’s fault.

Her skin was golden, glowing. You knelt beside her, your legs brushing the warm stone tiles, and uncapped the bottle.

You squeezed the lotion into your palm. You swallowed, rubbed your hands together, and then laid them gently on her back.

Her skin was hot beneath your fingers. You moved slowly, careful, tracing the edges of her shoulder blades. She let out a low hum, not of discomfort. Approval, maybe. Her head turned slightly, her cheek resting on the towel.

“Your hands are strong,” she murmured.

You didn’t respond. You couldn’t trust your voice. You just kept rubbing, watching the way the light danced across her spine, trying not to fall apart at the seams.

As you slowly worked the lotion in, you could hear her humming under her breath, a sound that filled the silence, made everything feel intimate. It wasn’t a song or a tune; it was just a soft, satisfied hum, like she was savoring every moment.

You applied more lotion, your fingers now pressing gently into the muscles of her shoulders, working out the tension there. The motion of your hands on her body became more methodical, more thorough, and you felt the muscles in her back relax beneath your touch.

She tilted her head back slightly, closing her eyes as if giving herself over to the moment. Her breath became slower, deeper. And just as you reached the curve of her spine, she let out another soft sigh, her body tilting slightly, giving you more access.

"That feels good," she murmured, her voice a little thicker now, like she wasn’t quite sure what to do with herself. “You know exactly where to press…”

You smiled, feeling her soft skin slip under your fingertips as you continued. Her skin was warm, almost burning in the heat, but it was comforting. With each glide of your hands, you could feel her breath getting heavier.

You leaned in closer, your hands traveling down her back, pressing deeper into the small of her back. You could hear her heartbeat pick up ever so slightly, the shift in the rhythm unmistakable.

"You’re tense," you said softly, pressing your palm against her lower back and kneading gently.

Her breath caught, and she let out a tiny, involuntary moan, the sound like a secret shared between the two of you. You couldn’t help but smile at the way her body reacted to you, how she seemed so alive under your touch, as if your hands were pulling something from her she couldn’t hide.

Without thinking, you moved lower, your hands gliding down her back to her hips. The lotion left a trail of smoothness behind, and as you moved lower, your fingers brushed against the side of her ribcage, feeling her body shift ever so slightly under your touch.

She let out a small gasp, her eyes fluttering open, meeting yours for the briefest of moments before she turned her head away, biting her lip as if to hold back the emotions rising in her. Her legs shifted slightly, her thighs pressed together. The gesture wasn’t intentional, but it was enough to catch your attention.

You could feel your own pulse quicken, your breath coming a little sharper now as you continued.

"Tell me if I’m hurting you," you murmured, but there was a teasing edge to your voice.

She shook her head slowly, her voice a quiet whisper. "No... don’t stop."

Her words felt like a challenge. She wanted you to keep going.

You let your hands roam a little further, your fingers now massaging the back of her thighs. You couldn’t stop yourself. It wasn’t just the way she had asked, nor the hum of pleasure that escaped her lips. It was the way her body responded to every movement of your hands, the way she needed this from you.

Then her phone rang and it broke the spell. You flinched back as if someone had slapped you.

She seemed to also realise the position you were both in and she didn’t meet your eyes again. She reached for her phone and murmured a quick “thank you”. You turned away and pressed your eyes shut when you heard her answer the call with “hello, darling.”

You saw Agatha’s husband only a handful of times. He didn’t seem to be home very often. Agatha once said he only came home late and expected warm dinner and warmer bed. You didn’t want to think about that. You didn’t want to think about him too much because you hated him far too much for someone who had never even met the guy properly.

Your mind didn’t have that much space for hatred, though, as it was entirely occupied by Agatha.

How she tilted her head when you talked about your garden. How her eyes softened when you told her about the basil you were growing from seed. How she listened. Really listened.

One morning, you nicked yourself on the rusted edge of the pruning shears. A clean slice across your palm, blood welling before you could even curse.

You pressed your shirt to the wound and cursed under your breath, wondering if you should run into town for antiseptic. But before you could make up your mind, Agatha was there.

Barefoot on the flagstones, a linen blouse knotted loosely at her waist. Her robe draped over one arm. Her expression was unreadable.

“You’re bleeding.”

“It’s nothing,” you said quickly, but she was already crossing to you.

“Sit.” Her voice was softer than usual. No teasing. Just quiet command.

You obeyed. She knelt before you, brows drawn in a line of concern you hadn’t seen before. She cradled your hand in hers, gently tugging the cloth away. Her thumb brushed near the wound.

“You really should be more careful,” she murmured.

She disappeared into the house and returned with a small tin. Rubbing alcohol. Gauze. A bandage. You watched her move, quick, efficient, but still elegant, like everything else she did.

When the alcohol touched your skin, you hissed.

“Shh,” she said, glancing up at you. “Almost done.”

Her fingers worked gently, but something about the moment slowed time. The way she touched you. The way her brow furrowed, eyes flicking up every so often to meet yours. And you... watched her the whole time.

She looked at you then. Fully. Something in her face softened even more, and for a breathless second, it seemed she might kiss you.

But she didn’t.

She patted the bandage gently and stood, brushing her hands on her thighs. “There. Good as new.”

You were not good as new. You were ruined. And she had no idea.

Or maybe she did.

You didn’t mean to fall under her spell. She was older. Married. Untouchable. But those long, sun-warmed days blurred the lines between right and wrong. There was something about her, something caged and dangerous, something soft and aching, too. You saw the way her eyes lingered on you a second too long. You heard the way her voice lowered when she asked how you slept the night before.

You caught her watching you from the upstairs window. You were trimming the hedges, sweat dripping down your neck, and something made you glance up.

She didn’t move away when you met her gaze. She didn’t pretend she wasn’t staring. She just stood there in the thin white curtain, dark silhouette against the glass. Watching. Wanting. Waiting.

You didn’t wave. You didn’t smile. You just let her look.

And then one day you stayed too late. The sun had already begun to dip behind the trees, casting long shadows over the lawn. You packed your tools slowly, unwilling to leave, your skin still humming from the way Agatha’s hand had brushed your wrist earlier while passing you the clippers. A touch that meant nothing. A touch that meant everything.

She’d gone inside an hour ago. She didn’t say goodbye. Just disappeared through the French doors.

You almost didn’t go looking for her. You told yourself she was fine. She always was. Sharp and composed and untouchable.

But something tugged at you. You wandered around the side of the house toward the open window in the sitting room. The lights were off inside. You were just about to call her name when you heard it.

Not a sound you’d ever heard from her before.

A choked inhale. A low, soft sob.

You froze. For a moment, you thought about pretending you hadn’t heard. You could leave now. Walk away. Let her have this private storm.

But your feet moved before you decided. You stepped up to the open door and found her there.

Agatha was curled in the corner of the couch, knees tucked under her, one hand pressed to her mouth. Her other hand clutched a glass of wine, nearly full. Her head turned slightly when she heard you, but she didn’t lift her face.

“I didn’t expect you to still be here,” she said, voice rough, almost hoarse.

“I was just leaving.”

She nodded. Wiped her cheek quickly with the back of her hand. “Sorry. Don’t— It’s just a headache.”

You stepped closer. “Agatha…”

“I’m fine,” she said quickly, sharper this time, her armor trying to snap back into place. “I don’t need—”

But you crossed the room before she could finish. You knelt in front of her.

Gently, you reached out and brushed the tear from her cheek. Your touch was feather-light and her breath caught.

Her eyes locked on yours, wide and dark and full of everything she wouldn’t say. Sadness. Fear. Hunger. Loneliness. She didn’t flinch when you touched her. She didn’t move at all.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she whispered.

“Like what?”

“Like you see me.”

“I do see you.”

That undid her more than anything. Her chin trembled, just for a moment. Her grip tightened on the wineglass like it might be the only thing anchoring her to the world.

You cupped her face fully now, thumb smoothing across her temple. You didn’t kiss her. You didn’t say anything stupid or brave. You just stayed there for a breath too long.

And then you stood.

“I have to go,” you said quietly.

She nodded, still watching you. Neither of you said goodbye.

You walked out into the dusk, heart hammering, and knew that whatever was happening between you, this wildfire, this slow ache, was no longer something you could control.

And neither could she.

~~~

The next day, with the sun burning high and no breeze to speak of, Agatha appeared on the poolside again. It looked like whatever happened the day before had been a mere dream, but her expression revealed that something had changed.

She wore a sheer white robe that slipped off her shoulders, revealing a dark purple one-piece that clung to her. You noticed her watching you several times and you were waiting because you knew. You knew that the barrier between you was crushing down.

“You must be boiling out there,” she said finally, her voice low.

You wiped your forehead with your sleeve and internally exhaled. Here it was.

“Come cool off,” she said, and this time it wasn’t a suggestion.

You hesitated. The pool shimmered in the blazing sun.

“Is your husband home?” you asked, careful.

Her mouth quirked. “He’s away for the week. Business. Or golf. Or another woman. Who knows.”

You walked toward the water.

“Strip,” she said, before you reached the edge. “You’ll ruin those clothes.”

So you did. You peeled your shirt off slowly, eyes on hers, and felt a thrill run up your spine when she didn’t look away. Her gaze was direct, unflinching. You almost stopped breathing when you realised that what you saw in her eyes was hunger.

You slid into the water only in your underwear and let it envelop you. She joined you. Silent. Close.

And when your fingers brushed hers beneath the surface, neither of you moved away.

She tilted her head at you and moved closer, her fingers intertwining with yours. “I didn't expect you when I put the ad for gardener.”

“What did you expect?” you asked and your hand was already sneaking around her waist below the water and you were pulling her closer ever so slowly.

Her eyes burned at the move. “Someone quiet, who comes and gets the job done.”

“Oh I can definitely get the job done,” you promised with a smirk as you finally pulled her flush against your body.

She whimpered and raised her legs around your waist. “You’re dangerous.”

“Dangerous?” you echoed. “Me?”

She laughed softly. “You act innocent. But these words and… I’ve seen the way you look at me.”

You grip her hips firmly. “And how exactly is that?”

She hesitated and then her voice dropped. “Like you want to do very bad things.”

You leaned in just enough to feel the warmth of her breath.

“Maybe I do,” you said, eyes locked on hers. “But I think you’d let me.”

That surprised her, the shift in tone, the confidence in your voice. Her mouth parted slightly. “Oh?”

You tilted your head. “Look where we are. You. Me. Alone in your pool. No husband. No excuses.”

She gripped your shoulders firmly and then her hands trailed up to hide in your hair. “Hm,” Agatha hummed and god, you felt the sound in every cell of your body.

Then the world stopped as you stared into each other’s eyes, breathing heavily even though you didn’t even kiss each other yet.

And in that moment you finally kissed her.

No hesitation. No testing the waters. You took her mouth like it was something you already knew. Her lips parted under yours with a soft gasp, one hand instinctively curling around your hair harder, tugging.

The kiss went on. Her breath hitched, her body instinctively moving even closer. For a moment, she let herself be kissed, kissed like a woman someone truly wanted.

When you pulled back, just slightly, her lips were parted and flushed.

She stared at you for a long second, expression unreadable.

Then: “Christ. I really should fire you.”

You grinned. “But you won’t.”

“No,” she admitted. “I really won’t.”

And this time, it was her who reached for you with a hunger so fierce it left you both breathless.

~~~

You were still feeling almost high after the intense make out session in the pool. It was a shame you had to leave, but Agatha’s friends from a book club were coming and it was better for you to leave.

She planted a soft kiss on your lips and pressed a note into your palm before she opened the door for you to leave.

You read it with shaky fingers on the way to your car.

Come tonight. Midnight. The greenhouse.

Your heart leapt.

~~~

Midnight came slowly.

You didn’t sleep. You laid in your room, the attic room you rent above the bakery in town, and stared at the ceiling fan spinning shadows overhead. Every time you blinked, you saw her. Agatha. In the pool. In the lounger. Her eyes locked on yours.

You dressed quietly. Soft jeans. A loose cotton tank. Nothing that screams intention but everything that could be slipped off in a moment, if needed.

You walked the two miles to her house by starlight. The air was thick and warm, the night breathing around you. Crickets sang in the tall grass.

The greenhouse stood at the edge of the garden, tall and domed, a cathedral of glass and iron that always felt a little sacred, even in daylight. Tonight, it glowed faintly from within.

A single lamp burned inside, tucked behind a pot of orchids.

And she was there.

Agatha.

She stood among the ferns, barefoot, her silk robe falling open at the collar to reveal a satin slip beneath, dark plum, clinging to her in all the right places.

“You came,” she said.

You swallowed. “You asked me to.”

A faint smile played at her mouth. She closed the space between you slowly. “I didn’t think you would.”

“Why?”

“Because this…” Her hand lifted to touch the edge of your shirt. “Is a line neither of us is supposed to cross.”

You breathed in. She smelled like roses and wine. Like summer nights.

“But you want to.”

She nodded. “I think I’ve wanted to for longer than I’ll admit.”

You touched her then. Your hand, light on her waist. Her breath caught.

You could still walk away. You knew that. But your hands were already memorizing her curves, already pulling her in.

And then her mouth was on yours.

The kiss was quiet at first. Just the slow press of mouths learning each other. Her hands found your hair. Yours found her back, the silk slipping beneath your fingertips.

She moaned, soft, surprised, when your lips parted hers, when your tongue brushed hers. The sound shot straight through you.

You guided her back against the potting table, orchids and ivy swaying around you like a jungle. The greenhouse was humid, the glass fogging, the smell of soil and citrus all around you.

She broke the kiss, only to whisper, “Take this off.”

You obeyed, shirt falling to the floor without a second thought.

Her fingers trailed down your ribs. “You’re so… young,” she said, but her voice shook. “Too young for me.”

“I’m old enough to know what I want.”

That did something to her. Her eyes darkened. She pulled you closer and kissed you like she was starving. Like no one had touched her in years. Maybe no one had.

She guided your hand to her hip. “Then show me.”

Your first time together was a mix of lips at your throat, whispered orders, hands guiding yours. But her body betrayed her, however much she wished for control, she found herself surrendering to you.

You found the places that made her gasp. The way her hips rolled when you kissed the hollow of her throat just right.

She laid back like she belonged there, bare legs tangled, hair fanned around her. Her chest rose and fell quickly. Her lips were already red from your mouth. Her fingers curled against the stone.

You kissed her throat, her shoulder, the place just under her ear that made her gasp.

You moved slowly, not to tease, but because she deserved to be cherished.

Every time your hand moved lower, she arched into it. Every time your lips found skin, she broke a little more.

When you finally touched her, your fingers gathering the wetness between her legs, your fingers curling inside her, she bit her lip so hard you thought she’d bleed. You found the rhythm that made her shake with pleasure as she was desperately grasping at your shoulders.

“Please,” she whispered, not to beg, but to give permission.

You didn’t rush. You gave her everything she didn’t know how to ask for.

And when she broke beneath you, trembling, breathless, cursing softly into your shoulder, she clung to you like she didn’t want to come back from wherever you had taken her.

Her voice, after, was barely a whisper. “God, what are you doing to me…”

And in that moment, she was yours. Complete, fierce, and helpless.

Afterward, you laid on the greenhouse floor, tangled in your discarded clothes, half-covered in a blanket she had pulled from a storage bench.

She brushed your cheek with the back of her fingers.

“You scare me,” she said softly.

“Why?”

“Because you make me feel alive again.”

She fell asleep in your arms that night.

When you woke up, the sun was beginning to rise. The greenhouse was golden again and forever drown in your passion.

Agatha was still there, curled against you, hair messy, lips bruised, a faint smile on her face.

And you knew you were fucked.

#agatha harkness x reader #agatha x reader #agatha x you #agatha harkness smut

151 notes · View notes

sadboyeddie · 2 days ago

Text

𝐒𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠’𝐬 𝐎𝐟𝐟 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐁𝐨𝐛

Summary: Bob has been acting different. You intend to find out why.

Warnings: (MDNI 18+) Fem!Reader, No Use Of Y/N, Blow Job, Sex Club, Smut, Dirty Talk

A/N: It’s been a hot minute since I have written smut so I hope it’s passable. Let me know tho.

WC: 5.8k

Something was off with Bob.

He was acting strange somehow.

More secretive

You've gotten used to his many moods and behaviours since living together at the Watchtower. In fact with how many of the members of the team were trained to basically not feel shame you knew far too much about some of them.

Walker on the other hand is just a dude who doesn't care. He's given up on shame.

But with Bob his day to day has become routine, a schedule he keeps to. He says it helps him manage the darker parts of his life, at first you thought he meant the Void; but he was also talking about his older habits.

Bob had been clean for a long while now and there has never been an indication of a relapse, and honestly you're a little mad and disappointed with yourself for even implying there might be.

It's just Bob doesn't sneak out; he always tells at least someone, usually Yelena, where he's going. He doesn't clam up and start spluttering half baked excuses when asked what he did the previous night. He never blows off movie night, usually the first there in the common room with his blanket, waiting for you to arrive with the popcorn.

But he has been. He has been sneaking out, has been clamming up, he has been skipping out on movie night.

You try to casually ask around but for a bunch of spies who usually have no boundaries they seem very nonplussed about your queries.

Yelena assures you it's fine and to just leave it alone, Ava hasn't even really noticed and John says he's probably got a secret girlfriend.

You trust Yelena, you know how close her and Bob are. It once drove you made with jealousy but after realising there was no romantic feelings between them the fogged cleared and you realised how good it was for Bob to have a best friend like Yelena.

Also you didn't want to be one of those people that got jealous every time a member of the opposite sex talked to someone you liked.

You do sometimes wish it was you though.

Anyway, since everyone was of so little help you decided to figure it out yourself. You were a pretty decent spy yourself.

Like Bob's normal routine of laundry on Sunday, grocery shopping on Wednesday and changing the bed linens on Saturday; his mysterious night time activity was also on a schedule.

Twice a week, Tuesday and Thursday; leaving the tower at 7:30pm on the dot.

You watch as he passes Yelena, offering her a small smile and a nod in greeting before getting on the elevator.

She doesn't even ask where he's going. She must know something.

You decide against cornering her and asking again, you know there's no point. Not even Hydra would be able to torture the information out of her. Where's Bucky when you need him?

Okay, that was a little rude. Thank god there's no telepaths in the building.

You wait until you hear the door to Yelena's room close before heading towards the elevator, you watch as the numbers gradually countdown until reaching the first floor. You smack the button and wait for it to come back up, contemplating taking the stairs but there's no way you'd make it to the bottom in time.

You should have planned for this.

Before deciding to just base jump from a window the doors ding and you step inside, as you go to close the door you hear Walker calling for you to hold it. Feigning deafness you hit the 'close' button a few extra times and thankfully they shut before he makes it.

That last thing you see before the doors shut is John's annoyed yet confused gaze.

You impatiently tap your foot against the cool metal of the floor, why is this taking so long? Has the elevator always been this slow? What if there was an emergency?

When the doors open with a ding you let out a huff and speed walk over to the buildings exit, nodding to the security guard behind the desk.

When you're on the street you frantically look around for the familiar flop of brown curls, the street is fairly empty this time of night but even with the street lights it's still dark.

"What way did Bob go?" you call back to the guard.

With a slightly startled jump, he puts down he word jumble and points to the left, you give him a quick thank you before making your way down the sidewalk.

Thankfully you don't have to break out into a jog because a few meters up the road is Bob.

You take a second to fall back a bit, getting too close in your eagerness to find him.

He has his airpods in and is bopping his head a bit to whatever song he is listening to.

Usually you'd find that cute and endearing but you're in work mode right now. No time for fun.

You're feeling immense guilt with each step you take. He's done nothing to truly make you doubt his trust and yet here you are stalking him. The man just brings this out in you. You swear before moving to the tower you used to have boundaries.

Bob is your friend, one of your closest. You spend the most time with him then anyone, hell, most nights he ends up in bed with you.

When it started he'd make up poor excuses; glare from the street lights (50 floors up?), cold in his room, (he usually slept with the A/C on cause he runs hot), Alexei snores, that one you believed.

But you could never find yourself to care because you quickly realised that you slept better next to Bob. Your nightmares weren't as frequent and you ran cold so you enjoyed having a personal heater in your bed. He's like a barnacle that attaches itself to you as soon as he hits the mattress and you find that his touch grounds you.

He's told you that it helps him too, you did notice that after the first few times the dark bags under his eyes started to recede, and maintenance wasn't having to come up and change as many light bulbs anymore, when Bob would wake from his nightmares he'd let out a pulse of energy that was like an EMP.

Much to your disappointment nothing sexual ever came of it, Bob being far too polite and shy. The closest you have ever gotten is feeling his hard on in the morning before he stutters out and apology and rushes from your room. You always felt a tad guilty wishing more did come from it, he saw you as a means of comfort and you wanted to climb him like a tree.

You often got the feeling he reciprocated your feelings, that was until you saw him interact with anyone else. All smiles and crimson cheeks, biting his lips and meaningful stares. Stupid Bob making everyone he interacts with feel special.

You thought you had made a new breakthrough with your relationship when it became more playful and sassy but you noticed once again he became like that with others when he had warmed up to them enough.

Still you had your own things that you did together, apart from sleeping in the same bed, you had tv shows that just the two of you would watch, you'd wear his clothes and he'd put his hair up in one of your scrunchies when it would get into his eyes when reading. Sometimes when he was out shopping he'd buy you some clothes, stuff he thought you'd like.

You were even wearing one of the shirts now; a grey shirt with a small butterfly decal on the chest.

You're pulled out of your thoughts when Bob crosses the road, you wait for a car to pass before following, making sure to maintain a distance.

You end up following him for a good twenty minutes before he makes a sharp right turn down an alleyway, you're grateful he walked, you would have never been able to catch up to him if he took a taxi or uber.

But you know Bob likes to walk, he says it helps regulate his moods. Every morning he goes for a walk around the local park, sometimes you join but he does like to go alone, listening to music and getting his steps in is almost as beneficial as therapy according to him.

You peak out from behind the brick wall of the apartment building and watch as Bob takes a quick glance around before knocking a pattern onto a metal door.

Your heart sinks into your ass as you watch him enter the sketchy building, your fears being all but confirmed.

You spend what feels like an eternity fighting with yourself, deciding whether or not to go home or go drag his ass out of whatever crack den he's found himself in.

You know you don't technically have a right to do that, you're not his girlfriend or parole officer, but you promised him the last time he almost Voided out that no matter what you'll be there to pull him from the fire, no matter what.

You know that the only thing that's holding you back is the obvious rage Bob will feel towards you when he realises you violated his trust but it's something you're willing to deal with.

You march with purpose to the end of the alleyway and think back for a second, remembering the door knock.

Shuffling awkwardly you wait with baited breath until the small socket slides open, a pair of eyes give you a once over before the door creaks open.

You're instantly met with a wall of sound, loud music and a deep bass coming from behind the broad shouldered bouncer.

"You comin' or what?" he asks, clearly annoyed.

You duck your head and slide past him, confusion hitting you like a truck.

Walking through a dark hallway, you make your way towards the source of music, the closer you get the more your eyes start to adjust, there's small dim lights on the walls but they do nothing.

When you reach the end the door is covered by a heavy black curtain and another attendant is standing by.

They barely pay you any mind as they lift it back for you to walk past.

In all your years of espionage nothing could have trained you for this.

You stand there, eyes wide as you take in your surroundings.

This room is better lit but still dark; mood lighting. All across the room is people in various forms of nudity and undress. Masses of skin and writhing bodies. The room is a red and almost all surfaces are velvet, various toys and lewd art decorating the walls.

You're no stranger to sex and intimacy but you are way out of your depth here.

For a brief moment as you watch what is happening around you and forget why you came.

You take note of a bar at the back of the room, male and female waitstaff walking around naked with only black and white collars to their necks, if not for the trays of alcohol in their hands you'd think they were part of the activities.

Although judging by the waitress to the right of you being taken against a table perhaps they do join in the fun.

The wanton moaning and sounds of completion start to get to you, your mouth going dry as your body heats up. You go to leave, this is all too much and you can't focus, but as you turn to go your eyes catch on a figure, a very familiar figure.

This time when you see Bob he's only wearing his jeans, top half completely bare, but that's not what stopped you in your tracks; the woman holding his hand and pulling him along looks like you!

You choke on the saliva that's filled your mouth as your mind short circuits. This woman features are far too similar to yours to be a coincidence.

Same hair; length and colour, same build; height and weight, and if you had to guess you'd say she may even have the same eye colour.

You watch as he follows along obediently, a small plastic bag swinging by his side and a smile on his face as he's being lead from the room, through more curtained doors.

The burning inside you is no longer from arousal and embarrassment, you now feel very jealous.

Anger and hurt also bubble under the surface. Why would he go out to a club and find someone who looks like you when you look like you?

Okay, that's not a smart argument but he already has you, so he doesn't need her.

"You're overdressed," a deep voice says from beside you. Snapping you from your intelligent thoughts.

You turn towards the man but quickly avert your gaze when you realise how very naked and very turned on he his.

He lets out a chuckle at your innocence before talking again, "first time?" his voice is a little louder to cut through the sea of groaning.

"That obvious?" your laugh is strained and forced but polite none the less.

"Very," he chuckles, if not for his bare body and this entire situation you wouldn't mind talking to him, he kind of looks like Prince Caspian. "You want a drink?"

"Desperately," you reply without thinking, your eyes now landing on his face, strictly on his face, "but I'm curious as to what goes on behind those curtains," you point to the door Bob went through.

"Private rooms," he points to he left, "glory hole booths," he grabs two glasses of brown liquid off a passing waiters tray and hands you one, "whiskey," he nods.

Your heart plummets at the information but your grateful for the drink, though whiskey has never been your favourite it will do in a crisis.

"Want a closer look?" his voice is deep and sultry and honestly if you weren't bat shit crazy about the ex addict that lived three rooms down from you, you'd probably take him up on his offer.

"I'll have to take a rain check," you shrug apologetically but the tall handsome man with seemingly black eyes seems to take no offense with your rejection.

"Another time," he smiles as he leaves you to it, his attention already quickly being taken away buy a dark haired woman.

You make your way around the crowd, nervous that if you walk through and get too close someone might grab you and pull you in.

When you reach the curtain there's no attendant there to usher you through, which you're relieved about. The less people to witness whatever you're doing or about to do the better.

This hallway is much better lit, there are sconces by each door which is adorned with a metal plate that labels the room.

On each side of the hallway there are five doors, you're probably about to see a lot of stuff you don't want to but you're desperate.

You place your ear against the cold wood of the first door on the left, hoping to hear voices or at the very least you might be able to pick out Bobs moans? He's got a pretty deep voice so you've always assumed his sounds of pleasure would be just as deep.

Unfortunately the door is very thick and any sound or voices you hear are muffled and faint.

You take a breath before slowly turning the knob, cracking open only enough to see if the occupants are either Bob or the doppelganger - doppelbanger.

You let out a small miserable chuckle at your stupid word play and a small relieved sigh when you see they aren't in here, that is until you hear the whip come down on the mans ass and thighs, you wince at the crack but the man makes a sound that you once heard in a nature documentary about tigers so you guess he's having a hell of a time.

Good for him, at least someone is.

You continue on with your pervy task of violation as you switch to the other door opposite to this one.

You're not sure much time has passed but you're down to the last two doors.

You admittedly took a little longer as one of the rooms really intrigued you, a woman on her back with her head handing off the bed as a man quite literally fucked her throat.

Maybe you were a bit of a voyeur.

Maybe you needed therapy.

But first you needed to find Bob.

What would you do when you find him? Burst into the room like some perverted knight in shinning armour? It's not like Bob was here against his will. Would you confess that you like him? Is this really the time and place?

The rational thoughts leave your head when you hear a loud broken moan coming from your left, you let out a pitiful noise (and squeeze your legs together, what is wrong with you?) as part of you already know that this is Bob's room.

With practiced ease you crack the door open and hurt your own feelings when you confirm your suspicions. There lies Bob on the bed, red and covered in sweat as the copy of you slides off him and collapses on the side. You notice she's not even naked but your focus is not on her.

You're screaming in your own head to turn away, go home and cry into some ice cream - or better yet nachos, but you've already crossed so many boundaries tonight why not a few more?

Bobs eyes are closed, a very fucked and blissed out expression covers his face as he fights to catch his breath, thanks to the large angled mirror at the head of the bed you can see everything. His length, thickness, the veins how it curves slightly to the left - and to your utter surprise; a stick-and-poke tattoo high on his upper thigh, is that Kermit (?), close to his dick.

Which now is starting to get hard again.

You remember having a rather detailed conversation with Alexei about the refractory periods of Super Soldiers, the conversation was funny until it wasn't. Yelena's obvious discomfort of the topic her father chose was humourous until he started to make it personal and then everyone was uncomfortable.

"You goin' to the booths after this, Robby?" Not You asks as she traces a perfectly manicured finger over his chest, making him tremble slightly.

"Yeah," his breathing is back to normal but his voice is soft and slow, "will you be in there tonight?" he seems so hopeful and that causes your heart to crack open just a little bit more.

"Not tonight," she sounds almost sad, "but there's some good one's in there."

By now Bob is almost completely hard again and he goes to sit up on the side of the bed, Not You follows suit. That's when you notice it. Notice the clothes the copy is wearing.

She's dressed just like you.

And not just in clothes you own and wear sometimes, no she's wearing almost the exact same thing you're wearing now.

Same grey shirt with black sleeves and a small butterfly decal, the black jean jacket that has fallen down her arms is the same as yours, hell, even the white velvet scrunchy in her hair is the same.

What in the Twilight Zone, Invasion of the Body Snatchers is going on here?

A brief glance lower and you realise even her underwear is the same, red lace! How did he know what you're wearing?

Whatever guilt you previously felt over violating Bob is gone because this perv is just as bad.

And the thing that should probably be stressful is that you don't care. You don't care even a little bit. Bob is so desperate for you he basically replicated you.

Even though you were right there!

Okay, so the anger is back.

In your moment of realisation you didn't notice Bob getting to his feet and getting dressed, even the Replicant has changed back to her other outfit, which was easy - nipple pasties and black lacy panties.

You close the door quietly and start to panic when Bob starts moving to leave. He can't catch you here now!

You hot foot it to the end of the hallway and out through the curtain, if you bravely risk your hygiene and safety by going through the Naked Sea you could probably make it out before Bob exits the hallway.

But the sight of Yelena standing in front of the exits causes you to stop still and let out a far too loud "what the fuck!"

Thankfully the man jackrabbiting into the woman near you and her sounds of tortured bliss drown out your frustrated cry.

The Jackrabbit man makes awkward eye contact with you - awkward for you, he seems to rather enjoy it.

Before you can stop yourself you give him a thumbs up and a "nice form!" before turning to the glory hole hallway, not even waiting to see the reply from the man.

This hallway is almost identical to the last, except there are double the amount of doors and each pair of doors are closer together. There's two signs above the entrance to the hallway; one with a large hole and a lewd drawing of a lower half; legs spread, the other more simple, a smaller hole with a penis coming through it.

You head down to the end of hallway and open the door to the right, the penis hole side.

Weird thing to say.

Thankfully it's empty, you lock the door behind you and take a seat on the admittedly comfy cushion and wait for this to all blow over.

You have to admit, the sound proofing in this place is pretty spectacular, the small speakers in the corner playing soft music also adds to the ambiance. This place is kinda nice. Maybe that's why Yelena was here.

Wait! Why the hell was she here? Who else comes here? Is this a hangout place for the Thunderbolts to decompress? How come you weren't invited?

Unfortunately you weren't meant to find peace because your quiet moment is interrupted by someone entering the stall connected to yours.

If you hadn't have been in such as rush you might have noticed the small lights next to the door that signified occupancy and that when you locked the door the light went from red to yellow, which meant the person inside was waiting for another.

But your earlier gloating about being a good spy was now invalid because you are a terrible spy.

You hear someone clear their throat on the other end followed by the shuffling of clothes. You go to rush out protests, putting your face dangerously close to the hole but that's when your eyes catch on something.

Hi-ho, Kermit the fucking frog.

What was he thinking, honestly.

"Is this o-okay?" his deep voice cuts through the silent tension, Bob completely unaware of the conundrum you're currently facing.

Whelp, when in Rome.

You try to drop your voice an octave lower before answering in a whisper, you'd rather be strapped to a car battery again then face the humiliation of Bob finding you here.

"F'course, sweetheart," you inwardly curse as the pet name you normally call Bob comes out automatically.

The desperate whimper Bob lets out proves that he didn't mind one bit.

"Like it, like it when you call me that," his voice is already wrecked but that could be chalked up to his previous activities.

A sour taste fills your mouth and you silently scold yourself.

This is a once in a lifetime opportunity and you will not ruin this for yourself!

In your brief trance Bob has slipped his cock through the hole, and you let out an audible gasp; not intending for it to be that loud you bite your lip.

"Like that, honey?" he asks, letting his pet name for you easily slip through his lips.

Or maybe he just calls everyone that, you think bitterly before scolding yourself again.

Stop it!

"It's thick," you hum, "I like that," you move a little closer and Bob lets out a small shutter at your warm breath against his member. You could really have some fun with this.

"Put it in your mouth, honey," he sounds desperate, pathetic, just like you feel, "suck on it, please."

His cock bobs in front of you, a small bead of pre cum gathers at the tip and you find yourself utterly entranced.

You lean forward and lick over the head, making sure to clean off all the salty liquid before wrapping your hand around the base.

His hips move closer to the wall giving you more to work with, suddenly you hear a slight thud above you followed by a muffled whine, if you had to guess Bob probably dropped his head against the wall in front of him.

A small breathy chuckle falls from your lips onto the underside of his cock, which in turn twitches in your hand. He's so sensitive.

You slowly lick the vein at the base all the way up to the tip, repeating the action a few more times just to spread some saliva around.

"Pl-please," you like when he begs, "I want more," he whines again.

"Be a good boy for me," you whisper, you think he didn't hear you but judging by the small curse you know he did. You remember Bucky saying how the Serum enhances the senses.

"I'll be good," he swears, "I'll be so good, I p-promise, honey."

You clench your thighs together, the deep vibration mixed with the desperation in his voice getting to you.

You lean forward and take the head of his cock in your mouth, hollowing your cheeks and adding a tight suction before taking more of him in.

"Fuck!" he slams a fist down on the wall as you continue to suck him down, only stopping when he hits the back of your throat.

You hold him there for a minute, savouring the feeling of him, taking joy in the fact you're finally living out one of your fantasies.

Unfortunately you never mastered the whole gag reflex thing and the burning in your eyes and throat is becoming too much, you pull off of Bob with a loud gag followed by a whine before going to apologise, Bob doesn't let you.

"Fuck, honey, do that again," his voice comes out rushed, "please choke on my cock again."

This isn't your first blow job but a quick suck and fuck with a few men who weren't even close to the size of Bob really makes a difference.

You gracelessly wipe your eyes and nose before spitting on your hand and giving him a few strokes, base to tip, he slightly stutters forward with a groan.

You get higher on your knees and kiss the head of his cock twice before swallowing it down, making sure to cover your teeth the deeper you take him.

Before you can make it all the way down Bob lets out a broken whimper as he thrusts forward, his cock hitting the back of your throat hard making you gag, you pull back to collect yourself as you hear Bob rush out apologies.

You don't really hear him as you watch a thick string of saliva that's connected from your mouth to his cock, you watch mesmerised as it starts to sag down, before it breaks you lean forward and wrap your mouth around him again.

The words die on his lips and is replaced by a drawn out moan, deep and warm, one that you could find yourself getting used to hearing.

You don't shy away from the uncomfortable feeling of him at the back of your throat, instead you lean into the burn, with each and every gag Bob lets out a small sound of pleasure or a curse, every time you swallow around him; savouring every drop of pre cum that dribbles out of his cock he hits the wall with his hand.

He has his thrusting pretty much under control but each time one sneaks through, thankfully it's not hard enough to bring you to a stop.

You're suddenly reminded of the woman on the bed getting her face fucked, how she barely choked.

You try to remember hushed conversations whispered between friends in the middle of the night at high school sleepovers; if you relax the throat and breath through your nose it's much easier.

You tighten your fist that's still wrapped around the base of Bobs cock, too long to fit entirely in your mouth, and you rub your thumb on the underside, gently over his vein. A move you'd normally do when holding his hand while watching a move.

"Oh, fuck," his voice is raw and full of pleasure, "I'm c-close," you think you can hear scratching against the wall, "honey, I'm so close."

You relax your throat as much as you can while trying to breath through your nose, allowing yourself to feel pleasure, you reach down and unbutton your jeans.

"Yes, touch yourself," Bob whimpers, his sensitive hearing picking up on an almost soundless action, "cum with me, honey."

You push past the waistline of your underwear and groan at how wet you are, the vibration sends a thrill through Bobs cock and he lets out a debauched moan at the feeling.

Wasting no time you use two fingers to gather your slick before rubbing it over your sensitive clit, your whole body is wracked with a shiver at the feeling.

You get to work catching up on your orgasm, honestly you're not that far behind, you truly believe that you'd would have been able to cum from the feeling of Bobs cocks and rubbing your thighs together alone.

You match your fingers with the pace of your mouth, flicking your bundle of nerves when ever you flick your tongue over his tip.

"Switch, fuck, switch hands, honey," bob pleads and you slow down just a fraction making him whine, "want your slick on my cock," he begs.

A noise falls from your mouth that you never thought you could make, a moan mixed with a whimper, muffled by Bobs cock, you quickly follow his instructions and switch hands, but before you do you scoop up some of your wetness between your fingers.

As you make the switch your eyes widen at the sticky mess coating your digits, you are far more gone then you thought.

Bob cries out when he feels the warm wet heat of your other hand, he ruts against the hole uncaring of the protesting whines you let out.

He babbles out apologies but makes no move of stopping, "sorry, honey, can't stop," he's breathless and wrecked, "s'your fault, you did this," he blames, he sounds too far gone like he doesn't even know he's talking, "drive me wild, love your sweet mouth, wanna feel your pussy."

You pull back with a moan, unable to keep up with his new punishing pace. You can already feel the the back of your throat bruising.

"Wanted this for so long, imagine it all the time," your breath catches at his confession although you're not sure what he's confessing to exactly, "get so hard in bed next t'you, honey, wanna come on your sleeping body, fuck."

The hand that was rubbing your clit stills as you listen to Bob, now terrified, but still very much aroused, that he's figured out it's you.

"Yeah, sweetheart?" you pull back and spit the saliva that's pooled in your mouth onto his cock, "desperate for me?" you ask before taking him back into your mouth, you resume the movement on your clit, feeling yourself getting closer to the edge.

"Yes, fuck, yes, honey," he slams in deeper again, hips stuttering as he's reaching his end, "wanna wake you with my cock buried inside you, wanna live inside you," he lets a choked moan slip out, "please, wanna cum."

The depraved confession followed by the desperate plea send you careening over the edge, your broken cry is muffled on Bobs cock and the vibration of your wrecked sobs paired with the grazing of your teeth on his sensitive skin is sending him right behind you.

Loud groans fall from his lips, followed by a name that is unmistakably yours, as he paints your throat with his cum, "swallow it all," he begs breathlessly, "keep me inside of you, always."

You hollow out your cheeks as you milk him dry, making sure not to waste even a single drop, your fingers are still lazily stroking over your sensitive bud as you slowly come down from the high.

Bob lets out another whine as you pull of his softening cock, the air still thick with tension, but this time it's a different sort of tension.

He pulls himself through the hole and you wait, like a coward, for him to talk first. Like a never ending torture he drags this out, zipping himself up and making himself more presentable.

Finally, finally, he says something, "I'm sorry."

You're so caught off guard you make a small noise of confusion.

"I didn't mean to say those things," he says, his voice sounds a little guilty, "or call you by that name," he takes a heavy breath, "it's just someone I have a crush on." His small humourless chuckle makes you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding.

He doesn't know it's you!

Are you happy or disappointed?

A bit of both, really.

"S'okay," you whisper, deciding to keep up the lie, at least for now, "I liked it."

His laugh now is breathy and a bit lighter, "good," there's a bit of movement on his side before you hear the opening of his door, "thank you."

Before you can answer he's gone. You sit back on your legs and take a second to wait for him to leave and to wrap your head around what just happened.

You sucked Bob's dick.

You sucked Bob's dick and he has no idea.

Bob has a Kermit the frog tattoo.

You're going to have so much fun with this.

As all these very important thoughts run through your head you're suddenly snapped back to reality when the door opens and closes again, part of you is excited, hoping it's Bob but when a heavy, gruff and familiar Russian accent fills the room you let out an undignified yelp and scramble to leave.

Does everyone come to this fucking club?!

On the walk back to the tower Bob lets out a small smirk, his senses filled with your scent, a smell that's undeniably you. He couldn't believe his luck when he saw you peaking on him in the private room at the club.

He's going to have so much fun with this.

#my writing #thunderbolts #bob reynolds x reader #bob reynolds #bob reynolds x you #lewis pullman

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meadowfics · 3 days ago

Text

out of sight, still in my mind

namgyu x f!reader

after two years together, you, burnt out by the club scene, stay home while namgyu struggles realizing he can’t enjoy himself without you.

warnings: drugs and alcohol are mentioned. the club scene in general. mean namgyu (not towards reader). swearing. namgyu being a simp. fluff. suggestive content.

in club pentagon, the air was hot while your sight saw streaks of blues and pinks, the strobe lights slicing through the haze of sweat and perfume.

two years ago, you wove through that chaotic crowd, your confidence was a force beneath the pounding bass.

namgyu stood by the bar, sharp eyes scanning the room.

the guy was a club promoter in his element. somewhat charismatic (if he wasn't pissed off), untouchable, the guy who could make or break a night.

you caught his gaze, and held it as you approached him.

"hey." you smile, as namgyu took in your figure covered by your black dress.

"hi." namgyu says after he scanned over your body.

"what's your name?" you ask as your hand traced over namgyu's forearm.

the tall guy in front of you tried to act cool, and he is being good at doing so.

most of the women at the club threw themselves onto his bestfriend, thanos, so internally he was surprised that you wanted to get to know him... namgyu.

"its namgyu. what about you, pretty girl?" namgyu takes your right hand in his, sightly shouting in your ear due to the loud music surrounding you both.

“I'm y/n.... do you wanna dance?” you asked, your voice cutting through the music.

the heat throughout namgyu's chest seemed to grow, knowing that 'do you want to dance' means a lap dance.

most women will drag a guy to the darkest corner of the club, give them a lap dance, and sometimes things continue from there. other times, the two people usually move on.

he raised an eyebrow, sizing you up, "what do you mean?"

the club promotor knew exactly what you meant.

“follow me.”

you didn’t say anything else. you let the rhythm take over, holding his hand while pulling him away into a dark hallway in the club which led towards the bathrooms.

of course namgyu followed. he received the best lap dance of his life from you, and the conversation you guys had afterwards connected the inevitable chemistry.

by the end of the night, he had your number, and you had his touches burned into your memory.

that was the spark that lit the fire between you and namgyu.

now two years later, you’re curled up on the couch in your shared apartment, the TV flickering with some late-night drama you’re barely watching.

the clock ticks past midnight, and the city outside hums with its usual chaos.

namgyu’s out at club pentagon, doing what he does best... aka promoting, mingling, keeping the energy alive.

it’s his world, the one he thrives in, surrounded by liquor, drugs, and bodies moving to a relentless beat.

you? you’re done with it.

not him, never namgyu, but the scene.

the late nights, the sticky floors, the constant noise...it’s drained you. you’re burnt out, and tonight, you chose the quiet of home over the messy club.

you trust namgyu, though.

he’s wild, sure, but he’s yours.

he’s never given you a reason to doubt him, not in two years.

still, as you sit there in your silk pink nightgown, the absence of his presence tugs at you.

you wonder how he’s doing, if he’s laughing with thanos, the club’s usual guest rapper, or tossing back shots with the regulars. you don’t worry about him doing something stupid...he’s too loyal and stubborn for that...but you can’t help missing him.

your fingers trace the hem of your nightgown, the soft fabric grounding you as you try to focus on the TV.

it’s no use.

your mind keeps drifting to him, to the way he grins when he’s in his element, the way his hands feel when they pull you close.

across the city, namgyu’s at club pentagon, but something’s off.

the lights are too bright, the music too loud, the crowd too pushy. he leans against the bar, a tequila sprite in hand, his usual charm dulled.

he’s not himself.

normally, he’d be in the thick of it... hyping up the DJ and making sure everyone’s having the time of their lives.

tonight? he doesn't give a fuck.

namgyu is irritable, snapping at a bartender for mixing his drink too slow, rolling his eyes when a regular tries to pull him into a conversation about some new party drug that would've sent the wrong person into overdose.

“yo, namgyu, you good?” thanos asks, sliding up beside him.

thanos is a crazy person, all gold chains and purple hair, but he is observant when it comes to his people.

“nahhh, just not feeling it,” namgyu mutters, taking a sip of his drink.

it tastes like nothing, the burn in his throat doing little to spark his usual fire.

“not feeling it? since when do you not feel pentagon?” thanos laughs, clapping a hand on namgyu’s shoulder.

“c’mon, man, loosen up. have a hit, dance, do something.”

namgyu shakes his head, his jaw tight as he swats the offered blunt away from his face.

he can’t explain it, not to thanos, not to anyone.

the truth is, he misses you.

it’s a weird, heavy feeling in his chest, one he’s not used to. he’s never needed anyone to have a good time before. he’s namgyu, the guy who can turn any lame night into a crazy one.

without you there, the club feels hollow, like it’s missing its pulse.

the music doesn’t hit the same, the drinks don’t loosen him up, and the crowd just annoys him.

he glances around, half-expecting to see you weaving through the bodies, that sly smile on your lips, but you’re not here.

it’s killing him.

as thanos walks away to dance behind some girl... a girl approaches namgyu.

she is all confidence and glitter, her purple skirt barely covering her thighs, her bandeau top leaving little to the imagination.

she’s got that look in her eye, the same one you had two years ago when you offered him a dance.

“hey youuu,” she purrs, leaning closer, her breath warm with vodka.

namgyu had no idea who this girl is, and the girl didn't know him either.

“wanna dance?”

he doesn’t even look at her properly. just shakes his head, lifting his glass to his lips.

“nah.”

she doesn’t get it, stepping closer, her hand brushing his arm.

“come on, it’ll be fun.”

namgyu's patience snaps like a taut wire.

“are you fuckin' stupid or something?” he says, voice low and sharp, his eyes finally meeting hers with a cold edge.

“i said no, get the fuck out of my face.”

the woman's face flushes, embarrassment replacing her flirty smile.

“sorry,” she mumbles, backing away, her heels clicking as she disappears into the crowd.

thanos comes back after noticing the interaction.

the purple haired guy raises an eyebrow, leaning against the bar.

“damn, man, you didn’t have to do her like that.”

namgyu doesn’t respond.

he downs the rest of his drink, the burn doing nothing to fill the emptiness in his chest.

it’s barely 2 am., only an hour since he arrived, but he’s done. he sets the glass on the bar with a clink, grabs his jacket, and turns to thanos.

“i’m out.”

“out? it’s not even late!” thanos looks at him like he’s grown a second head.

“what’s up with you?”

“just not feeling it,” namgyu repeats, already heading for the exit. he doesn’t owe anyone an explanation, but the truth sits heavy in his mind: he can’t do this without you.

it’s not just that he misses you...it’s that you’ve changed him. you’ve got him wrapped around your finger, and the thought of it scares him.

he’s never been this dependent on anyone, never needed someone to make his world feel right. not even thanos.

you? you’re his everything. the club, the drugs, the drinks... they’re all just noise without you.

the city streets are slick with a recent drizzle as he steps outside, the neon signs reflecting in puddles. he pulls out his phone, tempted to text you, but decides against it.

he wants to see you, not just talk through a screen.

the drive home is a blur, his mind replaying the night, the way the club felt wrong without you there.

he’s used to coming home at 6 am., happy and hyped up from a good night.

right now it’s 3:02 am., and all he wants is you.

you’re half-asleep on the couch when the door creaks open.

you blink, glancing at the clock, confusion knitting your brows.

namgyu’s never home this early, not unless something wild happened...like that one time he got into a fight with a drunk guy who tried to start a brawl, or the night the club got shut down early because of a busted sound system.

tonight? nothing like that.

he steps inside, his jacket slung over his shoulder, his dark hair slightly messy from the night’s chaos. namgyu's sober eyes, though, they’re what catch you.

he is tired, clearly didn't take any drugs tonight... and his eyes are heavy with something you can’t quite place.

“namgyu?” you sit up, rubbing your eyes, your voice soft with sleep.

“why are you back so early?”

he doesn’t answer right away.

your man's eyes land on you, taking in the way your silk pink nightgown clings to your frame, the soft glow of the TV casting shadows across your skin.

he drops his jacket on the armchair and crosses the room in a few strides, pulling you into a deep, tight hug.

namgyu's arms wrap around you like he’s been holding his breath all night and you’re his first gulp of air. your boyfriend's scent... alcohol, cologne, and something distinctly him envelops you, grounding you.

“missed you,” he murmurs into your hair, his voice low, almost vulnerable.

you pull back slightly, searching his face. his eyes are raw, unguarded in a way he rarely lets show.

“did you do something stupid?” you ask, half-teasing, half-serious, your fingers brushing against his cheek.

“no,” he says quickly, shaking his head.

“i didn’t. i just…” he trails off, his hands still resting on your waist, his thumbs tracing small circles against the silk, “i couldn’t have fun without you there.”

you blink, caught off guard.

namgyu, the life of the party, the guy who can charm a room with a single shout or drug, couldn’t have fun?

“what do you mean?” you ask, your voice soft, curious.

he sighs, running a hand through his hair, his fingers catching in the messy strands.

“it’s not the same. the club, the people, the drinks. none of that shit matters if you’re not there. i tried, you know? i tried to do my thing, keep the vibe going, but it felt… empty like, what’s the point?” namgyu's voice cracks slightly, and he looks away.

he’s embarrassed to admit it.

you can’t help the smile that tugs at your lips. you lean into him, wrapping your arms around his neck, your fingers tangling in his long silky hair.

“i missed you too,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

“i was sitting here, thinking about you all night.”

he pulls you closer, his forehead resting against yours, his breath warm against your skin.

“you’re in my head all the time, pretty girl.” he admits, his voice rough with honesty, “even when you’re not there, it’s like i can’t shake your ass off of me.”

you laugh softly, the sound muffled against his chest.

“you’re making it sound like i’m a problem.”

“you are,” he teases, but there’s no bite in it. namgyu's slender hands slide up your back, pulling you impossibly closer.

“you’ve ruined me. i can’t even do my job without you.”

you tilt your head, meeting his eyes.

“you’re still good at your job. you’re just… whipped for me.”

he snorts, but the smirk on his lips is soft, real.

“yeah, maybe i am.” he pauses, his gaze flickering over your face, like he’s memorizing every detail.

“not gonna lie... you’re worth it, though.”

you don’t say anything for a moment, just let the weight of his words settle between you. the TV is in the background, the city outside a distant murmur.

you’re both quiet, but it’s not uncomfortable. it’s the kind of quiet that feels like home.

you shift, pulling him down onto the couch with you, your legs tangling together as you settle against his chest.

“you’re gonna have to quit that job someday,” you tease, poking his chest, your voice light.

namgyu chuckles, his breath warm against your skin.

“yeah? and do what? sit on the couch with you all day?”

“would that be so bad?” you grin, tilting your head to meet his eyes.

he pauses, his smirk softening into something real, something tender.

“nah,” he says quietly, his hand finding yours, his fingers lacing through yours.

“that’d be perfect.”

you smile, leaning up to press a soft kiss to his jaw.

namgyu hums, his arms tightening around you.

he's home, and he is yours.

masterlist

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cosmogyros · 2 days ago

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language-learning advice from a pro

(I started writing this post just now as a message to a friend who asked for language-learning advice. But I’m a GIANT NERD when it comes to language learning, so it got wayyy too long to be a message. So I’m posting it here in the hopes that it might help others as well. I have not edited this or even read through it all yet – it just poured straight out of my fingers – so please let me know if you spot any typos!)

Okay, first of all, there are two parts to language learning: active learning and passive exposure. You can choose to do only one or the other, but you’ll have the most success if you do both.

ACTIVE LEARNING

Active learning is pretty much what it sounds like: actively focusing on the language, learning new words, sounds, phrases, idioms, etc. It’s often centered around a textbook, sometimes with accompanying audio, but you can do active learning in other ways too. For example, you can read a news article online and check a dictionary for every word you don’t know. Or do the same thing with a foreign film – when you hear a word you don’t know (or see it in the subtitles), pause the movie and look it up.

Active learning makes you progress fast, but it also tires out your brain and overwhelms it with new information, making it easier to forget things you’ve already learned. That’s why it’s best to space out your active learning sessions and fill the gaps with passive exposure.

PASSIVE EXPOSURE

The goal of passive exposure is for your brain to randomly encounter words and phrases it learned recently and go “Hey! I recognize that!” This is SO important not only for reviewing and consolidating your memory, but also keeping up your motivation! If the only place you ever encounter your TL (target language) is in your textbook, on some subconscious level your brain will think it’s not that important… because after all, you never encounter it out there in the real world, do you?

Passive exposure can include any of the following and much more: listening to music in your TL; watching a movie in your TL (either with English subs, or with no subs at all and just don’t worry if you don’t understand everything that’s going on); skim-reading a book or a short story or a news article or a blog post in your TL and looking for words you recognize, even if you can’t 100% remember what they mean; finding speakers of your TL in real life and eavesdropping on them; watching instructional YouTube videos or short documentaries in your TL (the visuals ought to help you understand some of what’s going on, even if there are no subtitles); etc.

The idea is to let your TL wash over you without straining your brain at all. Zero effort, just relaxation and fun. You will inevitably notice and understand a few words or phrases, and that percentage will increase as time goes on, but you’re not actively studying when you’re doing passive exposure. Remember the two things you’re trying to achieve with passive exposure: 1) effortless review/practice, by inevitably re-encountering some stuff you’ve already learned; 2) reminding your brain that this language is a real cool thing out there in the world, not just a boring chore located in a textbook.

But there are also two more extremely important benefits to passive exposure that are drastically neglected by most language-learners: 3) picking up the correct pronunciation and accent; 4) gaining an instinct for natural, native-sounding language.

These are two things you will not learn in a language class or from a textbook. You can’t learn them except by doing a LOT of listening and reading in your TL. But the good news is that it doesn’t need to be the “Active Learning” kind of reading and listening; it can absolutely be the “Passive Exposure” kind, and you will still pick this stuff up.

The most important thing, above all else, is to figure out a method of passive exposure that works for YOU personally. This means: do NOT force yourself to repeatedly do something that you don’t enjoy, because you won’t benefit from it. To pick the right method, think of your interests and the things you like to do in your free time: watching movies? reading books? listening to music? writing in your journal? surfing the internet? You can do any of this in your TL, too. Yes, you will encounter a lot of stuff you don’t understand at the beginning. But A) that’s good for you, it helps you learn patience, which every language-learner needs, and B) the internet has free translation tools everywhere you look.

COMBINING BOTH

Personally, I like to pick a well-respected textbook with accompanying audio (Assimil is my favorite; Teach Yourself and Colloquial can also be very good, especially the older editions; Linguaphone used to be fantastic but I’m not sure if it’s still around) and work my way through it, doing one lesson per day if possible. That takes only about 10 to 20 minutes, so that leaves a lot of time for passive exposure. My preferred method is listening to music (I learned a good 50% of my German from just obsessively listening to German pop music in high school), but here are some other things I like to do:

find an internet talk radio station in my TL and put it on in the background

same deal with a podcast

translate a few keywords related to my favorite hobbies/interests into the TL and then paste that text into YouTube and watch random videos in my TL

read a news article in English, and then find a news website in my TL and see if I can find an article about the same topic in that language

watch bad reality TV or soaps in my TL with no subtitles, just trying to guess what’s going on from context

etc.

No Duolingo. No Rosetta Stone. (I’ve written a whole post about the latter here.) You don’t need to spend any money at all, though if you e.g. use a pirated resource to learn and find that it really helps you, I strongly suggest buying it from the original producer after the fact, to say thank you.

MEMORIZATION

This is very much a “YMMV” piece of advice, but: if you’re having trouble memorizing stuff, just don’t. Don’t bother trying to remember anything. Remember that “passive exposure” bit? It does a lot of the heavy lifting in terms of memory. If you keep bumping into the same word or phrase over and over again, you will incorporate it into your body of knowledge almost effortlessly. Of course this is easier with more common words that turn up again and again – but you’d be surprised how well you can get by, especially at the lower levels, with only the more common words!

Intentionally memorizing vocabulary can of course be very beneficial, so there’s nothing wrong with it. But I notice that it’s often one of the biggest pain points for language learners, and I believe language learning should be pain-free.

FROM INPUT TO OUTPUT

Once you’ve gotten a good grasp of the basics of the language, a really effective way to consolidate the knowledge you’ve gained is to use it actively and creatively yourself, in speech or writing (or ideally both!). For speaking practice, besides simply making friends who are native speakers of the language, you can search for a physical or virtual tandem. This is when you meet up with someone who’s a native speaker of your TL and is trying to learn your own language. You can meet for, say, an hour, and chat together for half an hour in your native language, and then half an hour in their native language. So both of you benefit!

Don’t underestimate talking to yourself, too. Whether it’s narrating your actions, complaining to your pet (okay, I guess that’s not technically “talking to yourself”), or simply having an imaginary conversation with someone else, it’s actually a good way to practice.

I also really enjoy writing in my journal in my target languages. The act of hand-writing a word does a lot to help me remember it. If you like writing, of course, you could also look up penpals who speak your TL.

And that’s about it. As always, I am more than willing to answer specific questions on language learning, as this is something of a specialty of mine and I absolutely love to help other folks get started on their own language-learning journeys. Please feel free to drop me a line if you need any concrete advice or are struggling with some aspect of your current language-learning efforts!

#language #languages #language learning #learning languages #langblr #cosmo gyres #i am a dormant giant when it comes to this shit hahaha #i've been accumulating knowledge in this area for a couple of decades now and rarely get any chance to share it #so it genuinely makes my day when i get to share some tips and help folks out #language learning should not be scary! it should be fun! and more people should do it :D

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anotherhomelanderblog · 2 days ago

Text

Ichor

Summary: Homelander returns to you bleeding after his confrontation with Soldier Boy goes awry. Seeing your lover injured is a new and disconcerting experience for you - and, unfortunately, sometimes panic makes your tongue stupid. Content: Homelander x Reader | established relationship | angst | hurt/comfort | set near end of S3 | mild injury | blood Word count: 2.7k Author's note: Hello again, lovely people! This is just a standalone fic since I wanted to post something and I figured this would be one of my shorter ideas. However, it has still turned into a psychological minefield for me to navigate - and now, my own sanity in tatters, I cut it loose! I just thought Homie could do with some reassurance after Soldier Boy rejects him near the end of S3. This fic is also a birthday present for @themeraldee, who is so sweet and kind and has the absolutely galaxy brained ideas planned for this awful man! I hope you have the best day! ❤️

ao3

You’re not thinking when you say it.

You’re running on adrenaline, trying to be the grown up, hold the fort together. He’s bleeding, for Christ’s sake. You’ve never seen him bleed before. He hasn’t even specified why out loud to you. What on earth are you meant to be thinking?

He’s barely said a word since thundering back into the penthouse, where you were anxiously waiting, with a bleeding Ryan and a team of even more anxious medics in tow. His gloved hands haven’t stopped twitching at his sides for at least ten minutes, something the medics clustered around Ryan on the sofa seem all too conscious of.

You want to ask Homelander what happened, who did this to him, to both of them, but there’s a silence in the air that’s got your nerves on edge. Homelander’s eyes are irritated when they flit recurrently around the room. There’s a light flickering above that you can tell is bothering him.

He’s probably right – of course he is – when he mutters to no one in particular that Ryan doesn’t need checking over. Ryan is like him. But then, that gash on Ryan’s forehead would concern any father, wouldn’t it? And you can’t see who else but Homelander dragged the medics up here while the rest of the tower is under evacuation orders.

And it’s not as though he’s stopped you from dabbing his left ear with a cloth. It’s not as though he is invulnerable to injury either, apparently.

Blood. Homelander’s blood. You can smell it, or maybe that’s just panic. A droplet of it is smeared across the meat of your hand. You don’t know whether this makes you feel sick or honoured.

The Homelander is bleeding. He bleeds.

And all you can do is fucking dab, dab, dab at the evidence.

You’re furious with yourself for taking his invulnerability for granted in the past. He bleeds. How can such a thing surprise you? You're really not thinking straight. You get about half a second’s worth of internal warning that you’re about to say something stupid when a strange little laugh bubbles up from somewhere panicked in your chest. But it’s too late.

“So it is blood and not ichor running through your veins then,” you blurt out.

You can’t take your eyes off the redness leeching from his ear.

At once, Homelander’s restless gaze snaps to you. He looks unimpressed – you have made a bad joke – and an apology is already forming in that same panicked place inside you. You can’t imagine what your own face is currently doing.

But then, lo and behold, his expression falters. His brows pull together, and he tilt his head slightly.

“Why– Why would you say that?” he asks.

He sounds wounded in a way that makes your heart knock with guilt. You freeze and withdraw the cloth from his ear. His ego is worryingly fragile for a man of his abilities, yes, but tonight of all nights you shouldn’t be tripping over the cracks.

“I–”

“Just forget it,” he interrupts you.

He curses under his breath and turns towards the invitingly lit wall of mirrors lurking to the side of you both, his eyes glistening. Oh no. You know the signs of what – and who – may be bargaining for a visit if he’s eying those up. Fortunately, Ryan seems too distracted in conversation with the medics to notice the change in his father’s demeanour.

You pivot after Homelander, grabbing his padded arm. He doesn’t stop you. You feel him trembling. A muscle in his jaw spasms in warning. He’s clearly caught between storming off and drawing Ryan’s attention or staying put for more public humiliation.

“I’m sorry,” you say. You sound more grounded this time.

He doesn’t move. If you were anyone else, it’d be imperative you run a mile right about now. But you both know you’re in far too deep for that.

Instead, you walk directly into the blast zone: stepping in front of him, you take his face in your hands. His eyes are downcast, purposely avoiding yours. He scrunches them shut as you start to stroke his cheeks.

“Hey. I am sorry,” you say in a softer tone. “Sometimes I say stupid stuff when I’m shocked, but I really didn’t mean anything. Will you please tell me what happened tonight? Hm?”

On the one hand, he’s fine: his hearing doesn’t seem to have been affected by what must be a ruptured ear drum. You know he has unimaginable experience in dealing with pain, but you don’t think he’s masking anything here. No, what’s bothering him is more mental than physical.

Isn’t it always?

His eyes open again as a rogue tear finally spills down his left cheek. For the sake of his pride, you ignore it. His gaze becomes distant, honed on one of the mirrors; it’s from behind that protective glass he’s recounting events. He gestures vaguely to his ear.

“This was Maeve. She got my nose as well.” He shrugs nonchalantly. Then he sniffs despite himself. “She’s dead now. Soldier Boy too.”

You’d figured he was gone when that terrifying explosion destroyed half the tower. The fact Homelander could fly you to safety at a moment’s notice, should the whole structure collapse, is one of the only things keeping you brave enough to stay up here.

But Maeve…

You’ll have to decide how you feel about that later.

Homelander closes his eyes once more and finally lets himself lean into your touch, as needy for your affection as the first time you offered it.

“Did you get to talk to him?” you ask, brushing your thumbs along his jaw.

That was supposed to be his play for the meeting: try to get Soldier Boy to switch sides now they knew their familial connection. Who were Butcher and his ragtag band of criminals in comparison to Compound V and blood? It was a wishful scheme borne from the desperate, impulsive part of your lover that increasingly gets the best of him, but you wouldn’t have dared suggest an alternative. He’d gotten that look in his eye.

And then Noir ended up dead.

Right here, however, in the cold light of reality, something in Homelander’s face crumples for a second time. You’re getting close to the raw core of this. The bleeding you’ve witnessed very literally pales in comparison. He’s avoiding your gaze again.

“Yes,” he says, and his voice is quieter than you’ve ever heard it. “But…”

You don’t like the emphasis he puts on that word.

Your mind runs through every possible nightmare scenario until you find your arms are enveloping him of their own accord. You bury your face against his chest and inhale deeply. A soft, surprised noise breezes over your head, then you feel one of his hands reach up to gently stroke through your hair.

You pretend you don’t also feel the vice-like grip of his other hand as it snakes around the base of your neck, keeping you wedged to the Vought-branded padding of his suit. His. It really is far too late for running, but this element of him you can handle.

As long as he’s standing. As long as he’s alive. You don’t try to resist him; you press a kiss to his chest.

What happened at that confrontation? It’s times like these you wish you had powers too, so you could stand alongside him when the crunch comes. You knew something was going to go wrong in there…

“You deserved better,” you whisper.

You’re not expecting this comment to make him flinch like you’ve burnt him, but it does. His hand stills in your hair for an instant before he’s petting you like nothing stopped him. If you listen carefully enough, you’re sure you’ll be able to hear the muscles behind his face filtering through several conflicting expressions.

“What?” he eventually asks, bewildered in that unworldly manner of his that surfaces when the world gets too genuine. You know he can’t help it; most of the time, it only endears him to you more.

“You deserved better than to find out you had a father and then lose him like that,” you clarify.

Truth be told, you’re not particularly saddened by the demise of Soldier Boy. Finding out he was Homelander’s biological father might’ve been enough to turn Homelander’s world on its head – how could it not? – but, to you, he remained the scarily powerful supe trying to depower and murder your lover. Forgive you if you’re not his biggest fan. With his death, at least he can’t pose that threat anymore.

“Yeah, well…” Homelander’s voice sounds choked all of a sudden. Because he feels touched by your words or is freshly grieved about his father, you're not sure. He sighs and clears his throat. “Let’s just say, he didn’t see it that way.”

Now you frown.

“What did he say to you?” You let go of him and try to pull back to properly gauge what he’s getting at, but that’s the wrong response. He doesn’t let you. You hope Ryan is still distracted enough not to notice any of this. “Homelander, I swear to God, if he’s been filling your head with bullshit–”

“I’m a fucking disappointment, apparently. Imagine that.”

He snarls the words into your ear, and his fist tightens in your hair as he does. The whiplash of his vitriol would make you flinch in return, if you didn’t already feel his hold on you finally loosening – though you’re still not free.

Clinically controlled, he tilts your head back like you’re a precious china doll for him to position, and one of his thumbs strokes your jaw as yours did his earlier. But there’s none of that anger in his voice marring his face. Instead, he stares into your eyes – scrutinising you, yes, but – with a wariness that should be unbalancing.

“Well? Am I a disappointment to you too?” he asks.

He’s trying to project bitterness. You sense the undercurrent of him pleading for your assurance mixed in too, never able to just ask outright without lashing you too, so you know better than to think this means you have the upper hand here. After all, this isn’t a fair question for the strongest man in the world to ask a person whose life he could crush between the fingers of one hand. But that isn’t his fault, you tell yourself, and you meet his desperation with an intensity you can only have learnt from him.

“No, you're not,” you say firmly. “And I know you much better than Soldier Boy did.”

It takes a lot for you to hold off sneering his father’s name. Still, if anything, this measured response seems to upset him further – you’re not giving him opportunity to escalate. How unfair.

With a curt sigh, he slides the arm not gripping your jaw downwards to take the bloodstained cloth from you. It’s been clenched in your grip, but you relinquish it without fuss to watch in confusion as Homelander draws it up to his face to wipe something from his right cheek.

Foundation? Concealer?

Your brow creases, but he doesn’t speak. His eyes bore into yours as he drags the cloth over his skin. His movements are rigid, like you’re forcing him to do this. Is this a test of some sort? Gradually, the makeup smears with the blood already laced into the cloth’s damp fabric, revealing the not-quite invulnerable skin underneath is… inflamed.

You blink.

Homelander has a bruise below his right eye socket spreading the length of his cheekbone – and, from the state of the discolouration, you’d wager it’s not a fresh one. Your mind starts to fly once again with questions, when the culprit hits you.

Herogasm. That fucking ambush.

“Fuck,” you whisper, staring transfixed at the unwanted souvenir.

You don't want to imagine how hard someone would’ve had to hit him to leave a bruise like this. You reach up to caress the injured cheek, but he turns his head away. Your heart clenches.

“Oh, sweetheart–”

“Don’t be embarrassed? Right.” He scoffs, forcing the fake nonchalance back, then releases his hold on you entirely. His eyes close, and when he reopens them, they’re glassy and irritable like earlier. “I mean, you signed up to date a god, didn’t you? Don’t you wish my veins were filled with ichor? You can be honest.”

You bristle. “Of course not. I told you. I didn’t mean–”

“Because I fucking do.”

There’s an accusation in his gaze – and, if you’re not mistaken, a millisecond’s flash of red. Fortunately for him, you spy the pitiful and humiliated creature lurking underneath it, and it gives you pause.

“Blood is more than good enough for me. Especially the blood that runs through your veins,” you tell him, stepping closer as if to prove it. You jab his chest. “You’re not the disappointment in this situation, understand? Soldier Boy is. Stop expecting me to reject you too.”

He blinks several times in quick succession, but, this time, when you tentatively reach out, he lets you trace over his cheek with the pads of your fingers. He hums, which you take to be a nonverbal sign of his approval. He’s actually barely resisting the urge to nuzzle against your touch.

Relief floods your system.

Chuckling, you lean in and kiss the part of the bruise that appears the least tender for good measure. Despite the fact you don't have the strength to make it any worse, that isn’t the point.

“You have a family who loves you, Homelander. We’re not going anywhere,” you whisper. “I chose you. I’ll choose you every day. You’d better believe me.”

A huff leaves his lips as you start peppering little kisses across his face. His hands slip comfortably around your waist, and he offers you a soft look. You offer him a smile in return. His lips meet yours like nothing is wrong in the world.

And, for one blissful second, nothing is.

“Uh, dad?” Ryan calls over.

You jerk back in surprise, your face warming. It doesn’t take an emotional genius to hear the awkwardness in Ryan’s voice. There’s a brief glimmer of amusement in Homelander’s eyes at your reaction before he’s plastering on his most reassuring, fatherly smile.

“Yeah, buddy? Everything alright?” he calls back.

With a needlessly dramatic swoosh of his cape, he strides over to his son, dismissing the medics with a warning flick of his wrist. None of them need telling twice.

Crisis averted. You hope.

The source of your anxiety finally settled, you take to inspecting your hands in an effort not to eavesdrop on father and son. The small streak of Homelander’s blood that had so bothered you earlier catches your attention. You find yourself more at peace with it now. What was previously crimson liquid is turning a dry brown in the fine lines of your skin, nestled into you as snugly as you know he’d like to be in his ideal world.

You observe this tangible proof of his humanity that connects you both on a level you’ve not had access to before. The sight of it fills you with a strange compulsion, one you’d normally consider morbid. You raise your hand to your lips, casting a quick glance across the room to make sure you’re not being watched, and lick at the blood.

…What exactly were you expecting?

The taste is faintly metallic, same as your own. Ordinary. Authentically human. Nothing artificial, to your palate. Nothing divine either.

You glance back over at Homelander. He’s reverted to form – hands clasped behind his back; superhero assurances that he won’t ever let anyone hurt Ryan like this again, he will not let them; that William Butcher doesn’t deserve Ryan, that Ryan deserves better, is better, innately better, than everyone who caused him this pain; that Homelander isn’t going anywhere; that they’ve got this, they’ll be fine.

Your lover may now know he isn’t as synthetic as he was led to believe, and he may know you love him, but you’re not so sure he’ll ever accept that he isn’t of the divine.

Homelander bleeds blood and not ichor, and you wouldn’t have him any other way.

#homelander x reader #homelander x you #homelander fanfiction #fanfic #homelander

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penguicorns-are-cool · 8 hours ago

Text

Ok ok I have some suggestions

Something important is that the effect of replying with actual words to a conversation is that it lasts longer. Nothing else. Sometimes this is a good thing, long conversation can be very cool and fun, but a significant amount of time the conversation is supposed to be short and simple. Sometimes it’s a thing where they’re trying to figure out your opinion and if this is something you feel strongly about. If the conversation is short and easy you either agree or have no strong feelings, if you keep the conversation going it’s a sign that you may have an issue. And sometimes, someone just wants to drop or change the topic and it can be annoying if the other person is dragging it on. Especially if you don’t really have anything to add to the conversation and you’re just saying things to continue the conversation.

What I do is kind of like what you say you used to do with only responding if you have an opinion but with a very important twist. In order to show that you are paying attention and engaged in the conversation, you have to every once in a while make a little noise or comment. By that I mean things like “mhm” “huh??” “Weird” “cool” “completely understandable.” Sometimes people don’t want a long conversation, they just want to know you’re listening and they will keep talking if they believe you are listening, if they want a longer conversation they will make an effort to give you something to respond to.

My advice for you is to think about if what you’re about to say will add to the conversation in any way and if you even want the conversation to keep going. If the answer is no then you can just make a noise to show you were paying attention. (If you do want the conversation to go longer but have nothing to add then you can also change topics)

Also a really good sign a conversation is going a bit too long is if it starts repeating at all

As for the very argumentative sibling. There is a big difference between picking arguments for the fun of it and accidentally extending a conversation to the point where it feels like an argument. Some people genuinely like arguing. My girlfriend is one of them. If I notice she is being argumentative for fun and it’s going a bit too long then I tell her I want to stop talking about it and we change topics.

TLDR: try incorporating non-statement reaction words like “mhm” “cool” or “how dare” into your conversations

Question that I suspect is autism related

I have, on more than one occasion over multiple decades, been told that I “need to have the last word” and that I “have a response for everything”.

Additionally and in a similar vein, I’ve been told that “everything is an argument with you” and I “always have to say something”.

When I was a little kid I was bad at conversations. People said stuff I had no opinion on or didn’t need follow-up and so I wouldn’t answer and they’d get bored. And eventually through trial and error I figured out that if someone said something to me, all I had to do was say something related back, and the interaction could go on as long as it needed to.

But then as a teen- and now as an adult- a number of people (mostly people I’ve found to be very delicate and particular about things in a sort of need-to-be-in-control authoritarian way) have expressed the identical observation about how I naturally try to converse, and I’m not sure what to do about it.

And the thing is, I have a sibling that talks like this too. We bicker all the time. He changes his own opinions seemingly at a whim for the purpose of being contrary, and it’s impossible to make a statement or observation out loud without him contradicting it, and even when he is demonstrably, factually wrong about something, he will dig his heels into the dirt and defend his stance to the grave.

And like. I hear myself responding, or adding on to people’s comments, but I don’t hear the ‘arguing’ they describe, or the contrarian habits of my sibling. Even when I’m paying attention and being bery careful not to follow up too much or speak too often or disagree or correct something that isn’t important, I get called out for “picking a fight”. They say something, I answer, they reply, I continue, then seemingly out of nowhere they snap. I think everything’s fine until suddenly it isn’t.

And so I guess my question is, how can you tell if you’re a contrary sort of person? How can you tell when to respond or follow up on a person’s statement and how do you know when to leave it in silence? Does everybody see me this way, and is it only people who are already short-tempered who are willing to say it?

I honestly don’t really have that much to say, and half the time I don’t even really want to talk at all, but I’ve been told countless times that I “just seem to like the sound of your own voice” and have to just be “tuned out after a while”. So if it isn’t necessary and I don’t even want to, why am I doing it?

Is there a reason I’m like this? Why is my sibling like this? How do I stop talking when there’s nothing to say, and how can I tell the difference between a conversation and an argument before the other person visibly snaps?

I’m a full grown adult

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gooseraider · 2 days ago

Note

hey! i saw that ur requests are open! 🌱 so i thought i’d drop something here if u’re interested.

so maybe something sweet with loser!ellie on the first date with reader and it’s just so sweet - maybe ellie’s trying to impress reader but she already really likes ellie? 🪽

write it if you want to - no pressure ☀️

love, hallow 🦋

first dates & fun facts

a/n: i’ve never been on a date so i don’t know the first thing about first dates, anyways hope you enjoy!🪿

you’re applying the finishing touches to your look, making sure the curls in your hair looked perfect. you receive a text from ellie saying she’s outside your house.

hurrying to finish getting ready, you hear a knock on your front door and after dousing yourself in perfume, you run down the stairs and open the door.

“hi.” you say, slightly winded from running to the door.

“hey, i- uh.. i got you these.” ellie says, pushing a bouquet of pink daisies towards you.

“sorry if you don’t like them, i was running late and couldn’t decide which flowers you’d like the best so i just got those because they’re pink and you said your favorite color was pink and-“

you cut off her rambling with a kiss to her cheek, “i love the flowers ellie, thank you.”

“okay cool cool, im glad you like them.”

ellie stands awkwardly in your doorway, fiddling with the loose threads on her sweater. “you ready to get going?” you ask.

“yeah, let’s go.”

ellie leads you to her car and opens the passenger door for you.

”thank you.”

“yeah no problem.”

you can tell ellie is super nervous, deciding to ask her some questions to ease the mood.

“so where are we going? you never told me.”

“oh shit, sorry, we’re going to the boardwalk. figured you’d like it y’know, there’s beaches and rides and stuff.” she says, playing around with the radio trying to get it to the right station.

“that sounds fun.”

“you sure? cause if you don’t want to we can totally like go somewhere else, i don’t mind honestly.”

“i’m sure, i love the beach and rides and stuff, especially if im going with you.”

ellie’s face turns completely red, she doesn’t speak for the rest of the way there, to flustered to form a coherent sentence.

you guys arrive at the boardwalk, ellie comes over to your side and opens the door for you. “thank you.” you say.

ellie reaches for your hand, her own hand trembling as she does. you take her hand immediately noticing how shaky she is. “hey you okay there?”

“yeah, sorry uh.. i’m just not used to going on dates y’know, especially with someone as pretty as you.”

you blush, “if it makes you feel better this is my first date as well.” you admit.

“really? no way, how?” ellie says clearly confused by your confession.

you shrug, “i don’t know, i guess i just haven’t found someone i’d want to go on a date with.”

“oh.. well i’m glad i get to take you on your first date.”

“and i’m glad you’re taking me on my first date ellie.”

you two walk along the boardwalk for a while, talking and getting to know eachother. you just found out about ellie’s hamster named saturn, and her cat named slushy.

“aww they’re so cute.” you say as you look at the photo of her cat and hamster next to each-other.

“you should come over and meet them sometime.”

“really?”

“yeah, they love meeting new people, especially slushy, she always coughs up new hairballs for guests.” ellie says while laughing.

“well now i have to meet them.”

“next date i’ll take you to see them.”

“next date? that fond of me already williams?”

“what can i say, you’re easy to fond over- wait no that makes no sense sorry i don’t know what im saying anymore.” she says, looking down trying to hide her face that’s now beet red.

“it’s okay i get what you’re trying to say, and if it helps, i’m fonding over you too.” you say, shooting her a wink.

you spot an ice cream shop ahead, “ooo look let’s go get ice cream.” you say, pulling ellie with you in the direction of the ice cream shop.

yall successfully get your ice cream and now you two are sat on a bench that overlooks the ocean. “how many sharks do you think live on the ocean?” you ask ellie

“well, we don’t know exactly how many sharks are in the ocean but it’s estimated that over a billion sharks live in the ocean.”

“woah that’s a lot.”

“yeah, there’s over 500 different species of sharks, with great white sharks being the deadliest species.”

“how do you know so much about sharks?”

“i don’t know, i guess they’re like super cool so i just research things about them.”

“okay little miss shark genius, tell me more information about sharks.” you declare, turning to face ellie.

“well uh… sharks have a sixth sense. they have an organ called ampullae of something… uh i forgot… but anyways they use it to sense electrical stimuli and hunt animals hidden under the sand in stuff.”

“wow i didn’t know that.”

“not a lot of people do, sharks are one of the most misunderstood sea creatures. everyone thinks they’re like some evil blood thirsty creature but in reality they’re just a protective species.”

you stare at her in awe, finding her random shark facts really interesting. “so… did i impress you with my shark facts or did i just ruin the date and you think im weird and you never wanna see me again.” ellie says, scratching her neck nervously.

“you did actually, now i get to say i went on a date with a pretty girl and i learned something new about sharks.” you say, taking another bite of your ice cream.

ellie continues to stare at you, you suddenly worried you said the wrong thing, “why are you looking at me like that? did i do something wrong?”

“no, shit- sorry, you just have ice cream on your face.”

“oh.” you try wiping it off, only to miss. ellie reaches over and swipes the ice cream off your lip.

you two are now realizing how close you actually are, you notice how both of your knees are touching, how you have a clear view of ellie’s eyes, and how you can feel her breath on your face. you see her glance at your lips then back to your eyes, you decide it’s now or never and you lean in, connecting your lips with hers.

the kiss is short but sweet, “sorry, i didn’t mean to do that you probably didn’t want to-“

you’re cut off by ellie leaning back in and kissing you again, this time her hand comes up to hold your face. tasting the mint flavor on her lips, you pull away.

“i’ve been wanting to do that all night.” you admit.

“took you long enough.” ellie teases.

“oh hush, we both know you wouldn’t have the balls to kiss me first.” you giggle.

the ride back to your house is much more comfortable, music playing softly in the background. ellie’s hand is resting in yours the whole way back to your house.

when you arrive at your house, ellie gets out and walks you to your front door. “i had fun tonight, thanks for going out with me.”

“i had fun as well, and thank you for teaching me random facts about sharks.”

neither of you wanting the night to end, you both settle on one last kiss to end the night.

“i really did have fun tonight, thank you.” you say, pulling away from the kiss and pulling ellie into a hug.

“same time next week?” ellie jokes.

“i’d love to.”

“wait, actually? i didn’t think you’d want to go on another date.”

“you’ve got to be kidding, i just kissed you three times tonight and you think i don’t want to see you again?”

“well not when you you say it like that.”

you roll your eyes, pulling ellie closer, “goodnight ellie, get home safe.”

“goodnight.” she says kissing the top of your head, heading back to her car.

you two wave goodbye to each-other as one last goodbye.

“god, what is this girl doing to me.” ellie says, laying her head down on the steering wheel.

#ellie williams #ellie willams x reader #ellie williams fluff #ellie x reader #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams fanfic #ellie x fem reader #ellie williams x f!reader

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demothers-empty-blog · 3 days ago

Text

Du bist Perfekt

I recently got this ask stating they’ve been feeling quite insecure about their body as of late. That’s okay. We all have off days, we are our harshest judges. The best thing we can do when the going gets tough is reach out and try to see things from a different perspective. Hopefully, this way, you might see yourself in a better light.

I love you, and you are loved.

The dress you’ve been eyeing doesn’t fit again. God, what would it take for you to gain a little bit of weight? Not much, just enough for the fabric to stop hanging off your shoulders, maybe give it something to cling on.

You hate this sticky feeling in your chest. Staring in the mirror provided in the stall, you try to make it work. Maybe if you pin this here… no, no, that won’t do. Maybe like this? Or like that?

You pinch the ends of the dress, making it tighter around your waist and chest area, but you’re left unsatisfied with the outcome.

A sigh leaves your lips, frustration is such an ugly feeling. You don’t want to cry but it’s coming, those burning tears. It doesn’t stem from sadness, doesn’t feel as relieving. It’s blunt, you feel stuck, like nothing’s changing.

You yearn for natural curves, something to add to your figure, maybe you wouldn’t feel as invisible.

Envy is an evil little worm, the thought that pops in your head is an unwelcome guest.

“Intrusive thoughts are not you,” you affirm, quickly wiping away the few tears that managed to slip halfway down your cheeks.

You’re tired of baggy hoodies and jeans that need belts or else you’ll be flashing every passing soul on the street with your pants around your ankles.

“Schatz?” You hear a voice calling from beyond the stall.

You must’ve taken too long. König’s sense of timing is, well, jarring sometimes.

You swing the dress over the door, “It doesn’t fit…” you mutter, voice almost undetectable. König doesn’t miss the disappointment in your lowered tone.

Your pain is his, he’s disappointed with you and it chips away at his heart. König wants you to shine like he knows you can.

Today was an unsuccessful trip for clothes but your boyfriend did not allow the day to end with a frown on your face. He guides you out of the store and to your surprise, he actually managed to find his way past the many stores scattered throughout the mall.

And found the ice cream place.

A little treat wouldn’t hurt. He presses a kiss to your cheek and your lips automatically curl up into a smile. “There’s my girl,” he says with a pleasant rumble in his chest.

Once home, König lets you settle yourself on his lap while he lets some show drone on in the background. Neither of you are really listening.

“I really liked that dress…” you finally say, not realizing you’d voiced your thoughts out loud until König responded.

“Couldn’t get it?” He asks, cautious. You give a shake of your head.

“…didn’t fit.”

König laughs and you shoot him a mean glare. His eyes widen exactly like he does when there’s been a misunderstanding.

“Nein—Nein, my love. I am not making fun,” he’s quick to say, hastily pressing a kiss to your cheek. “I am simply… erm, was ist das Wort? Relating.”

You feel him shift awkwardly on the couch and you fall further into his lap. König rests his head over yours, wrapping his arms around you tight. It’s lovely, this warm feeling. He engulfs you in this hug and you’ve never felt safer.

He just wishes he can protect you from your mind too, because who better to relate than the anxious king himself?

“Don’t overthink,” you hear him say from above. “We can struggle to find clothes together.”

There is a brief pause in the conversation, both of you needing time to gather your thoughts.

“…do you like you?” He asks.

“I like me.” You answer, “I just… wish I was a bit different is all.”

It was his turn to let out a sigh. It’s another beat of silence before he speaks again. “I suppose, it depends on how you feel, mein Schatz. Do you want to bulk, we can start a meal plan?”

The thought of eating more than you should makes you a smidge nauseous. You want to enjoy your meals, not eat as a chore.

“Burgh… no thank you.”

The conversation fizzles out and you two end up watching a bit of the show. It was okay, it’d be better if you didn’t hear commentary from yours truly every five minutes.

It’s a damn lie that König doesn’t like to yap or keep things short, that man is passionate about his rambling.

When he opens his mouth again, you cringe internally and brace yourself for another rant but instead, König was still thinking about your earlier conversation.

“You know that I love you?” He starts, making sure you’re listening carefully by tilting your head up to meet his face full of concern and a deep love words fail to describe.

“Ich liebe dich. Doesn’t matter when, or what size you come in. Won’t change the fact that I love you. I don’t want you being uncomfortable with yourself. I want you to thrive. The way I see it… you have to lean into your strengths. You are nimble, elusive… graceful. I can never be able to disappear into a crowd or squeeze myself in and out of tight spots.”

He almost seemed like he longed to be like you, be invisible for once. For him, it was a good thing. No attention, no eyes on him, no judgment.

But comparison is the thief of joy.

König is glad you are different. The world would be quite dull if we were all the same.

“Be you, Schatz. It’s who I fell for.”

#könig #könig cod #👑#könig fluff #könig x you #könig x reader #könig mwii #könig mw2 #könig modern warfare #könig call of duty #cod fluff #cod x you #cod x reader #cod mwii #cod mw2 #cod modern warfare #call of duty #demother asks

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jennelikejennay · 1 day ago

Text

How to Make Up Vulcan Words

Using the Vulcan language is like trying to follow a recipe written by a grandma who already knew how to make the thing and only jotted down a couple measurements. That is, it does have information, but it rarely has all you need. Even words I would consider obvious and necessary simply aren’t in there. However, if you know how to put Vulcan words together, you can create a lot more words than the VLD will give you.

Vulcan is a language that relies very heavily on a small number of roots and affixes. English does the same sometimes, especially in scientific language, where we use Greek and Latin roots to hide the fact that we’re doing it. This makes it easy to make up new words whenever you want, in exactly the way the creators made them: by jamming together bits until a word is built up with all the parts you want.

There are only two basic rules: first, you have a limit of two hyphens, so when parts are connected with hyphens (which is the case with some affixes and all roots) you are limited to three. There’s no limit on apostrophes or jammed-together affixes, though, so keep that in mind.

Second, you want the final version to be the part of speech you are looking for, which may require a change in ending. Verbs usually (but not always) end in -au or -tor. Making a noun out of a verb is a little complicated, but in the end, a noun can have any ending. Adjectives end in -k, often -ik. Adverbs end in -ng.

The basic process I use for finding a word is this.

First, I look up the word I want in the VLD. Instead of searching by word, I go to that letter of the alphabet and scroll to it, in case there are related words in the same area. It’s probably not there, so I try a couple of synonyms. Then words that aren’t synonyms, but are related.

Hopefully in all that searching, I’ll come up with a couple of roots. For instance, I can find that sadakh means “to eject.” Dakh means to cast out, get rid of. Sa- can mean a bunch of things, including “male” and “automatic” but I see it in a lot of words like extend, exhale, expand, etc. So I think in this case sa- means outward.

Then I can add on other roots and affixes that I want. Say I want a substance that has been ejected, I can use -tukh, stuff, substance, and get sadakh-tukh. Or if I want a machine that ejects, I can use sadakh-vel. A thing that ejects? Sadakhek. A person whose job is ejecting things? Sadakhsu.

Here are a bunch of Vulcan affixes, some of which are in the VLD, some of which you have to figure out after seeing them in a bunch of related words.

su: person. This can mean a person from a given place or a person who does a certain thing. It attaches without any punctuation. ashausu: one who loves. besu: a companion, one who is beside or with you. kugalsu: a person who is betrothed. sasu: a man. kosu: a woman.

-vel: thing, object, machine. tor: do; tor-vel: mechanism. tum-tor: to count, tum-vel: computer.

-tukh: stuff. alem: salt; alem-tukh: sodium. dau: affect; dau-tukh: hormone.

ek: -er, something that does a specific thing. Not used with people. feshel-tor: to disrupt; feshelek: disruptor. spitau: to drill, spitayek: a drill, something that drills. (Note: -ek is going on the noun form of the verb, generally, spitaya being the act of drilling.)

sa-: male, masculine. sa-mekh: father. sa-fu: son.

ko-: female, feminine. ko-mekh: mother. ko-fu: daughter.

‘es: -ness, basically turning another word into an abstract noun. abru’: over; abru’es: dominance. marom-: excellent; marom’es: excellence.

shi’: place. masu: water; shi’masu: oasis.

-bosh: full of. kau: wisdom; kau-bosh: wise

-fam: without. kau-fam: unwise.

-tal: study, the study of. gen-lis: language, gen-lis-tal: linguistics. (And -talsu is a person who studies the topic! We’re all being amateur gen-lis-talsular right now.)

tra: this is an odd collective plural, which I think is really cool. It’s a big mass of the thing you’re talking about. So sular is people, but sutra is a nation. masu: water; masutra: ocean.

rik, ri: not or without. kwon: forever; rikwonik: temporary. tsuri: normal, usual; ritsuri: abnormality, divergence, eccentricity. kup: can, able; rikup’es: disability. Vulcan loves to use this one to make opposites; if ever you need a word and only have its opposite, use this.

pi’: small. laptra: forest; pi’laptra: copse. sahan: wind; pi’sahan: breeze. You can make diminutives of any kind like this.

weh-: more. abru: above; weh-abru: upper.

dan-: most. irak: far; dan-irak: farthest.

From a few roots and these affixes, you too can craft words like shi’sasnem, bathroom, or qlar’hy’es, curiosity. The VLD alone barely gets you through a few sentences of whatever you wanted to say, but if you know how to construct your own words, you really can say almost anything.

#vuhlkansu #conlang #vulcan language

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gyurilla · 9 hours ago

Text

margins m jaehyun

jaehyuh x reader

genre; angst, fluff, rivals to lovers, uni students to graduates

wc; 1.2k

you didn’t cry when the professor handed back your paper.

but your hands shook.

182.

you stared at the number for a long time. cold. hollow

you had spent three nights on this. you barely slept. barley ate. you skipped your friend’s birthday dinner to finish that last paragraph.

you wanted it.

it wasn’t just the grade.

it was the fact that you knew — you just knew — jaehyun did better.

because he always did.

you told yourself it didn’t matter anymore.

that you’d matured past the constant race.

but when you walked out of the lecture hall and heard the TA laugh and say “wow, 197 again, as usual!”

and saw him flash that polite, infuriating smile—

something in you broke.

he was kind to others

but you, it was a whole different story..

he gave you these looks that made you feel stupid, like you were clueless.

Ი︵𐑼

you locked yourself in a bathroom stall.

not to cry.

you didn’t cry.

you just sat there. for a long time.

listening to the sound of your own breath, trying not to fall apart.

why did it still matter?

why did he still matter?

Ი︵𐑼

you used to think of jaehyun as a rival.

now?

you think he’s just proof that maybe you were never as smart as you thought you were.

Ი︵𐑼

the final assignment is worth 40%.

And for some reason — maybe to be poetic, maybe to be cruel — the professor pairs you with jaehyun.

you hear your name next to his and your stomach turns.

the whole class turns to look at the “dream team.”

but you know the truth.

you are the one always chasing him.

Ი︵𐑼

you split the work. silently.

no texting. no meetings. just shared folders and quiet edits.

you do what you always do: stay up until your back aches, redline your paragraphs to death, question every sentence until you hate them all.

you print everything, annotate it by hand, underline your own flaws in pen so permanent it bleeds.

and then — you see it.

you get a printed section back from him.

and in the margin, tucked in between your lines:

“this is really bad.”

you stop.

blink, the tears began to fall.

you gave it back the same day, tear stained the paper, his eyes widened but you didnt see that.

Ი︵𐑼

by the next week, he gave you back your rewritten paper

you see more notes, you hands are sweaty now but..

“your citations are sharper”

“i rewrote my whole section after reading yours”

“honestly i’ve always liked your writing.”

“sometimes i wonder if you know how good you are.”

your fingers go still.

he never said anything like that before. not in years.

not since your first year, when you both answered a question at the same time and he smiled like he didn’t mind losing.

you remember that smile.

you remember.

but that was before everything turned into this cold, quiet war.

Ი︵𐑼

you keep the papers.

not out of sentiment.

but because you don’t know how to respond.

you can’t write back.

because if you do, everything will spill out, all that built up anger.

all the ways you hated walking into a lecture knowing he’d do better.

all the ways you wished he’d say something like that before.

you don’t write back.

but the next time he sends you a draft —

you find more margins..on his own paper? like he was trying to befriend you..

“you got the internship last year. I heard. You deserved it.”

“i didn’t apply. i knew you would get it.”

“i’ve never told anyone this. but you’re the reason i push myself.”

“im scared i’ll never catch up to you.”

you read those lines at 3:17 a.m.

you cried so hard, you thought you were the one chasing him.

and all this time, he thought the same thing.

Ი︵𐑼

when you see him again, you almost can’t look at him.

you sit across from him at a library table, and he’s already reading. already halfway through a book you haven’t even opened.

it makes you angry.

“i read what you wrote,” you say.

he doesn’t look up. “i figured.”

“why now?”

he flips a page. calm. “because we’re graduating soon. and i dont think i’ll get another chance to talk to you.”

you stare at him. “so you only speak to me through paper?”

“i didn’t think you’d want to hear it out loud, and isnt it a bit romantic?”

silence.

and then, low — like a confession:

“i thought you hated me.”

your laugh breaks, bitter. “i thought you did.”

he looks up.

“you were always ahead,” you whisper. “and you always looked so calm. like it didn’t even matter.”

“it did,” he says. “but i thought if i looked like it mattered, i’d lose you completely.”

you flinch. “you never had me.”

he swallows hard.

“i know..”

Ი︵𐑼

the final draft is due in two days.

when you print yours, it’s covered in red ink. not his. youre. you critique yourself before anyone else can, its not even on purpose..you grew into a habit of doing it.

but when you pass him the pages, he just stares.

“why do you tear yourself apart like this?” he asks softly.

you shrug and looked away, he flips to the last page.

stares at the blank margin.

then, slowly, he pulls out a pen.

“you were always better than me.”

“but i liked it because it meant i got to stay near you even if you didnt see me.”

you scoff, but you wait until he leaves.

then you fold that page.

and keep it.

not because of what it says.

but because it’s the first time someone saw you — really saw you — and didn’t want to beat you.

they just wanted to be next to you.

Ი︵𐑼

you graduated.

he did too.

bo grand goodbye. no final conversation, just a simple congratulations and you walked off.

you moved cities.

he stayed close.

and every now and then—mutual friends, random tagged photos—you see him.

jaehyun.

still sharp. still quiet.

still the boy who wrote in your margins.

you kept the page.

the last one.

folded it three times, tucked in the inside your wallet, corny..you know but it meant everything to you.

“you were always better than me

“but i liked it because it meant i got to stay near you even if you didnt see me.”

you read it more than you should.

when work gets hard.

when you’re tired.

when you forget you’re capable of anything.

somehow… it still helps.

and then one night, out of nowhere—

jaehyun: coffee? i miss you

you brought the page.

Ი︵𐑼

he was already there when you walked in.

blsck hoodie. head down. same quiet posture, like always.

“hey” he said when he noticed you.

“hey.”

it wasn’t awkward.

it was just… full. with everything you never said.

you slid the paper onto the table between you.

“i kept it.”

he stared at it. then at you.

“i wanted to say something,” he murmured. “back then. i just… didn’t think you felt the same, and i was pretty shy..”

you smiled faintly. “i wish you did..”

a pause.

and then—

“i love you,” he said, quiet but steady. “i think i have for a while.”

you wrote in the margin beneath his words.

“i loved you first.”

he looked down. laughed once, softly.

“i was hoping you’d say that.”

Ი︵𐑼

ju; @lvlyhiyyih I HOPE THIS WAS GOOD SWEET CHEEKS

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