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grace-likes-things · 3 years

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Beside Her

Peter Parker x Stark!Reader

A/N: uhh it’s been a while. Here’s this! And here’s to me posting a random one-shot every two years lmaoooooo. Disclaimer: alternate reality where no one died/left after endgame.

Summary: A mission Peter’s off the job for, and which goes terribly wrong.

Warnings: blood, major character death, this one is v angsty folks.

Word Count: almost 6k

~~~~~~~

“So, am I alright to go with?”

“No way, Peter. Your sling may be off but your arm can't handle the kind of wear you put it through yet. Give it another day or so.”

Peter sighs, exasperated, “But the mission’s tonight!”

“Nuh, uh, Pete,” my dad cuts in across the room, “You’re staying here, doctor’s orders. I told you we’d check, and we did, and Helen says no.”

“Mr. Stark—!”

“Not me, Helen, you really gonna combat her decision?”

Dr. Cho gives Peter a stern look, having had experience with his impulsively-gained-injuries before. He turns away, ducking his eyes, knowing not to challenge her.

“Peter it’s fine,” I say, hand on his good shoulder, “You’ll join us on the next one.”

“If—“ my dad buts in, “he doesn't go shatter half the bones in his arm again. And don't go assuming you’ll be on the next one, Y/N, I'm hardly supportive of you coming with tonight as it is.”

I sigh, turning stubbornly towards him as he waltzes out of the room, “I've been training for over 3 years, dad I—“

“Nope. Still my kid, don't push your luck. We’re t-minus 1 hour out, so go get ready,” and with that, he turns the corner and leaves.

“Sorry Pete, better luck next time.” Helen picks up her clipboard and departs, leaving us alone in the room.

I turn to Peter, who’s looking rather defeated about the fact that he won't be allowed on the first mission in three months. I nudge his shoulder playfully, “Hey, think on the bright side, now you get to snoop around the lab uninterrupted for a couple hours.”

He gives me a halfhearted smile, “Yeah? I still wish I could be out there with you.”

His eyes change into an anxious look. I look at him, sympathetic, and grab his hand in mine.

Since the snap, the fight with Thanos, and almost losing my dad, Peter’s had this protective, premature-guilt complex concerning the people close to him. We got lucky not losing anyone, but I think seeing my dad recover from mourning us and the near-death experience I had in the battle, he’s not really comfortable being separated from us in a fight.

“I know. But it’s relatively minor, from what I’ve heard. I mean — minor enough to convince my dad to let me tag along, so.“

“Yeah, I know. I just hate not being there to have your back.”

I lean into his side, shoving him playfully, “You suggesting I can’t handle myself?”

“Absolutely not,” and I see I’ve forced a grin onto his face, “Just think, ya know, maybe your dad’s had a few too many juice pops lately, and I gotta be concerned — I mean, a gain in weight could throw off his balance in the suit—“

“Oh! Throwing my dad under the bus here, are we?” I laugh, “That’s funny, maybe I’ll mention it to him later.”

“Kidding! Don't tell your dad I said he’s fat — he's not.” He hangs onto my hand as I stand from the med-bay bed, “He’s a very fit man, you know, for his age.”

I laugh, “This just gets better and better! I’ll make sure to tell him you think he’s old too after I get ready.”

I move to walk away, but Peter stops me, tugging my hand gently.

“Hey, but seriously,” he murmurs, “be careful tonight. Come back in one piece for me. Okay?”

“Of course,” I say, and lean my forehead against his, “And you have a fantastically boring night, let your arm rest. Don't get into any trouble.”

He kisses me long and gentle, “I’ll try not to.”

——————

Tonight’s mission was a fairly routine one. One of the lingering branches of Hydra left, hiding in a bunker and planning nothing good. We’d all been briefed on the most recent information about their weapons and tactics, and the team had decided tonight was the time to shut the place down.

I examine the repulsors in the palms of my suit, sleeker like Peter’s, but armed similarly to my dad’s. There’s about 15 minutes before we fly out, so I tuck my braids beside my neck — getting my hair caught in the helmet seriously blows — and make my way up to the launch pad.

“Hey, offspring!” my dad plants his hand on my head and shakes it, “You still wanna come along on this one? Sure you don't wanna stay home? Absolutely? Because you know, you’re welcome to, in fact, DUM-E's been missing you down in the lab, i’m sure he’d appreciate your company—“

“Nuh uh, old man, I'm going with. You said so.”

“Oh, so I’m old now? You know, I did end up with an extra five years than you, so you can cut me a little slack.”

I laugh and walk onto the quinjet to meet the team, “Never.”

————————

“You all remember your assignments?” Steve asks, “Me and Sam, Tony and Wanda, Nat and Y/N.”

A chorus of yes’s and nods follow, as if this wasn’t the fourth time we’d answered that question.

The ride to the bunker is relatively boring, other than my dad pestering me with Stay with nat, and don't get distracted, and be careful, and don’t do anything I would do, and definitely don't do anything Peter would do. Nat and Wanda chuckle at my situation from across the quinjet, and it was getting pretty old by the time we landed a bit outside the target.

Once we’ve all gotten set with weapons and coms, we start out on the jog to the bunker. Upon arriving there, Nat and I are tasked with stealing a hard drive that contains targets and weapons data. From what we know, it’s in a room close to the center of the building, so we have a long way to go while trying to get noticed as little as possible.

My dad tells me to stay safe and call for him if needed before we part ways, and Nat and I are alone in a dark hall.

“Alright,” Nat whispers, “We move toward the center of the bunker, 4 floors down, we’ll use the vents if we have to. They might cause a scene somewhere else, but our job is to keep hidden, all the way in and out if we’re lucky.”

“And when are we ever lucky?” I murmur back with a smirk.

“Don’t jinx it, kid, let’s go.”

For the most part, the beginnings of the mission are easy. We used Friday’s heat signatures for a full week to map out the guards’ schedules, so we knew what halls to stick to and when. Making our way to the less-monitored maintenance stairwell, we walk in silence, keeping an ear out for updates over the coms. Just as we reach the bottom of the third flight of stairs, a pair of guards walks through the doors.

“Hello, boys,” Nat says and quickly turns to me, “I’ll take the tall one.”

With that, we spring to action.

The pair raise their weapons toward us, but Nat quickly disarms the man across from her while I blast the gun from the shorter man’s hand and drag him through the doorway before he can reach the alarm on the outside wall. Slamming him into the stair railings, he tries to get rid of me by throwing a headbutt my way, but my suit takes the brunt of the impact. Pulling my arm back and releasing his wrist, I aim a punch square at his face and hear a crack when it lands on his nose. After a disdainful grunt, he shoves me back and tries to kick my legs out from under me, but I quickly grab hold of his ankle and yank up. The man lands harshly on the floor, and one kick is all it takes to knock him out.

When I look up, Nat has already beat her opponent and is checking the outer hall for more guards. “It’s clear,” she says, and we both take the ankles of the two guards and drag them through the door into the nearest room, tying them up securely before jamming the door in place.

“I hope they enjoy a nice nap, let’s keep moving,” Natasha says, and we make our way back to the stairwell.

Finally on the fourth lower level, we hold ourselves with a bit more caution. This is where they guard more heavily, and we still have quite a ways to travel before we’re near the center of the building. With light steps, we make our way down the dimly lit halls, occasionally ducking through doorways and turning corners to avoid passing agents, guards and other workers. It seems as if most of the work they do happens down here, as we constantly see high-ranking members and people in lab coats muttering to one another as they roam the halls. I’m only able to catch a few words of any given conversation, and of the ones that were spoken in English, none of them sound pleasant.

Nat and I travel fairly uninterrupted for the next few halls before she stops me and says, “Alright, we’re close to the center now. The hard drive we need is going to be in a lab somewhere around here, so we’re checking rooms. If there are any heat signatures, we clear it together. If Friday doesn’t pick any up, we split and multitask.”

I raise my eyebrows, “Oh? Going against my dad’s orders, huh?”

She gives me a wry smile, “You seem to be able to handle yourself, and it’ll get us out of here faster,” she points at me, “Just don't make me regret it.”

I laugh, “I won’t.”

And with that, we start scanning the upcoming rooms.

The first room we check has a few Hydra agents inside, so we clear it together, check the computers for the right information and come up empty handed, breaking the doorknob and continuing on. We go about this for a while, knocking out the occupied rooms together, splitting up to clear empty rooms, checking for the right hard drive, and moving on. It’s tedious, but no alarms have been activated so far, and we make a good team.

Now very close to the center of the bunker, we come upon another few rooms free of heat signatures, so we once again divide and conquer. We have to be getting close now.

“I’ll take this one on the left, you’ve got the right?” I ask, walking carefully toward the door.

“Gotcha, call if you find anything.”

I open the large metal door and take a cautious step in, examining the room around me. There are no lights on, so I use a light on my suit to see my surroundings.

It’s strange, the room is large with high ceilings, but is pretty much empty. A few scraps of metal and packaging are strewn about the floor. Concrete floors and dark walls line the place. I take a few steps further in to double check that I haven’t missed anything, but all I see is one door on the opposite side. I turn back to exit when the entrance I came through slams shut in front of me. Alarmed, I run forward and try to open it, but the handle won't budge.

“Nat!” I whisper hushed through the coms, “The door shut behind me, can you get it from the outside?”

I hear her footsteps approach from the other side and the sound of her trying to open the door, “I can't get it, and the lock must be electric, there’s nothing to pick. How’d this close on you?”

“I don’t know, I didn’t see it.”

I hear a new voice over the coms, “Wait, did you two get separated?” My dad’s voice resounds with a hint of anxiety, “What did we talk about, Y/N? I said to stay with—“

“I tried! Not my fault the door shut behind me.”

“Well you should’ve gone through the door with Nat in the first place!”

“Hey!” Natasha’s voice cuts in, “While I would love to listen to you two bicker, we’ve got a job to do. She’s fine, Tony, we’ll figure it out.”

“I could just blast the door handle—“

“No, Y/N, it’ll be too loud, we’ve gotten this far without being noticed.” I hear Nat huff through the door, “It’s in our best interest to keep it that way. Friday’s telling me there’s another door, leads out to a hall. I can go around and meet you there. It's further toward the center, so at least if you have to blast the thing down we’ll be closer to the target.”

“Sounds good, I’ll wait for you,” I say, and with that, Natasha stalks off through the halls.

I turn to make my way across the room, walking leisurely. This place really is unusually huge for a seemingly-unused underground room, about the size of a school gymnasium. I’m wondering if it may have been used for storage or training when I hear a noise to my left.

Turning swiftly with my guard now up, I see a male guard walk through a side door. Another entrance? How did I miss that? I ready my fists in a fighting stance and call through the coms, “Hey Nat? This room was occupied, I’ve got it handled for now but you might wanna make it here quick.”

Strangely, I get no response, but I don't have time to dwell on that fact because the man is charging toward me.

He’s a good fighter, and we both land some hard hits as we combat to occupy the room. I flip over him and blast him into the wall, but he recovers abnormally quickly and rises up again for more. I land another punch to his stomach once he’s in range, but he quickly grabs my wrist after and squeezes with inhuman strength, crushing the thin-design gauntlet on my hand. The metal cuts into my palm before tear what remains off and launch him over my shoulder onto the floor. I move to kick his side but he grabs my leg and throws me off balance, and my back hits the floor in a harsh slam. Groaning, I try to sit up as the guard grabs a metal pole off the floor — oh shit — and slams it onto my other palm, crushing my second gauntlet. Two hands now bare, aching, and unarmed, I continue to fight at a slight disadvantage. But I’ve trained for years, I can handle this.

It turns out maybe I couldn’t handle it.

The guard has to be one of Hydra’s human experiments, because he’s stronger than the average adult. I struggle to gain the upper hand for several minutes. He's had me pinned me to the ground, and just when I think his weight is lifting off me he brings down the pole on my side. Hard.

I groan and curl away. Even through the thin — and now damaged — metal of my suit, the blow took the air out of me. I press my palms to the cold floor to push myself up, but another blow strikes my back and I collapse forward. Finally, the man grabs a fistful of my hair and slams my head into the ground, and a ringing suddenly starts in my ears. Dizzy, head aching, and barely able to think, the next thing I register is being dragged across the room to the opposite wall by my wrists, which are then cuffed in front of me.

And strangely, the guard who put all that effort into beating me walks out of the room.

“Hey!” I shout, “What’s going on, asshole!? Come back here!” But he doesn’t return, and shuts that same side door behind him. I groan in frustration, head still pounding in pain, and try to reach the team again, “Anyone hear me? I’m still in this room, my gauntlets are broken and I'm cuffed, anyone around?” No response, “Hello?”

I’m starting to think Hydra somehow interrupted our signal when another noise distracts me from across the room.

The door opens once again, and this time five people exit. Four guards and…

Peter.

A chill surges down my spine.

They’re dragging Peter into the room.

“Peter?” I call out, panicked, “Hey! What are you doing with him?”

He’s dressed in plainclothes, so he didn’t come here as Spiderman. He doesn’t look like he’s in the best condition, slumped and hardly fighting the guards who are carrying him to the center of the room. My mind starts racing with all the things they could’ve done — what’s wrong with him? How could they have hurt him so badly he isn't able to fight back, especially with his strength? I need to get him away from them, but if these four guards are anywhere as strong as the last, I need a plan of attack. Or backup. Where is the team?

And how did they get to Peter? Peter Parker, not Spiderman, so not out on the streets — he was supposed to be in the lab tonight. Did they get into the compound? Is anyone else hurt? My mind keeps spiraling into more and more panicked thoughts, and then I hear him.

“Y/N?” He calls out, “Where are we?” His voice is raspy and slurred, and I think they must’ve given him something, some sort of drug. I’m about to call back to him when a guard lifts him up and punches him in the stomach.

“No!” I shout, raising up to my knees and then beginning to stand before one of the four guards points his gun at me. I stay there, kneeling before the scene, not knowing what to do to stop either of us from getting hurt. The three remaining guards begin to beat on him again, kicking and punching and Peter is too delirious to serve any resistance other than curling up and grasping weakly at the ankles of the men hurting him. I can hear his pained whimpers, and my heart squeezes in my chest, I feel tears building in my eyes.

“Stop! Stop hurting him, what do you want?!” I scream, wanting to get closer to him but still at a stand still with the fourth guard, “Come on, tell me what you want! You’re not getting anything by just beating him!”

The three guards pay me no regard, but the fourth, still pointing his gun at me, snickers as if I’ve said something funny.

Peter is still at their mercy, receiving hit after hit and a voice in my head tells me, they’re gonna kill him. You have to do something or they’ll kill him.

“What do you want? Come on, what is it?!”

And with a heavy accent, the man says, “To cause you misery.”

The chill returns, and I decide — despite my terrible odds — that I have to get them away from Peter.

I get my feet firmly under me.

I charge toward the guard with the gun, bracing myself.

And he does something I didn’t expect.

He turns the gun on Peter.

I hear three shots.

“NO!” I scream, my eyes go wide and I drop to my knees once again, facing Peter and crawling toward him, “No, no, no, no, no!”

The guards shuffle back into the shadows, laughing, seemingly done with their job, but all I can see is Peter.

I’m frozen for a second, staring, shaking, unable to process the scene before me. He lies on his back, staring up at the ceiling, hands grasping at his chest where blood has begun to pour from three wounds. I race toward him and drop to the ground at his side, placing my cuffed hands firmly over the holes in his chest.

“Peter?” I say, my voice tight and choked, “Hey, hey listen to me, you’re gonna be okay. The rest of the team is here, my dad is here, he's gonna get us out, okay?” A few of my tears leak down onto my hands, running into the blood that now stains them.

“Y/N?” He mumbles, hardly able to speak.

“Yeah, it’s me, I'm so sorry,” I sniff and try to keep my throat from closing up, “I’m so sorry I couldn’t stop them but you’re gonna be fine, Peter, we’re gonna get help.”

His face is twisted in pain, and when he tries to speak next, only a cough comes out, and blood bubbles out over his lips.

I fail to hold back a sob and move my hands to his cheeks, “Shh,” I try to get out, but it comes out shaky, like a whimper, “Shh, don’t— don’t try to talk.”

His eyes look into mine, I can see the pain behind them as he lies there, struggling to breathe. I stroke his cheek, and only now come to notice the blood I’ve painted there. I sob again. I don't know what to do, I don't know what to do, I don't know how to help him.

Can I?

Is it too late?

I cradle his head across my thighs, take one of his hands in mine and leave the other on his cheek, trying to provide some sort of comfort.

“I’m sorry, Peter, I’m so sorry, I’m sorry,” and I just keep saying it, breathing it out and heaving air back into my lungs between sobs. Tears are constantly tracking down my face now, and i’m doing all I can to subdue them while he’s still conscious, still looking at me.

My mantra of apologies keeps repeating, and my thumb keeps stroking along his cheek, and I don’t know how long I sit there, crying, mumbling, desperately hoping someone comes to help us before I notice him release a slow, defeated breath.

In, out.

“Peter?” I mumble. My blood freezes in my veins. My breath stills. I wait for his chest to rise again. I watch and pray for it to happen. Please, please, please.

It doesn’t move.

A long, whining sob erupts from deep in my chest as I drop my head and cry, and cry, and cry above him, “No, no, no, no. Please, no.”

I sob, loud and painful, unable to take a breath in anymore. I shut my eyes and don't look up because I can't look at his face — his eyes are still open his eyes are still open.

I’m never gonna see him again,

I’m never gonna hear his voice again,

I’m never gonna kiss him again.

The pain in my chest gets worse and I feel dizzy with the force of my sobs.

And then suddenly there are arms under mine, and I'm being dragged backwards.

Away from Peter.

“No, no, no, no, let me go! Let me go!” And what i’m saying is barely coherent between the sobs, “Let me stay with him, please, please!” But the arms hooked under me don't relent, no matter how hard I pry at them, no matter how hard I kick and scream. He’s getting farther and farther away from me, alone in that room, and I can't bear the thought of it.

“Please, let me go!”

And suddenly I hear my name, as if through a haze, but I can’t make out who’s saying it. I don't really care. I have to get back to him, I have to stay with him, I can’t leave him alone.

“Y/N— “

“Y/N it’s us! Come on!”

I pull and pull at the hands around me but I can’t remove them, I keep getting pulled backwards until—

I’m yanked through a doorway, and the room where Peter lies is dark and blank in front of me.

My hearing isn’t fuzzy anymore.

I gasp in surprise but the sobs haven’t stopped, and my father’s unmasked face appears in front of me.

“Y/N? Hey! You’re okay, we’re here!” His hands are on my face but I swat them away.

“No! Peter’s in there! We can't leave him! We have to take him home, we have to get him home—”

“Y/N— “

“Dad they shot him, I couldn’t help him, I couldn’t help him—“ my words dissolve again into cries of grief.

“Y/N he's not in there.”

I turn to him in confusion.

“He is!” I point my hand frantically toward the doorway, “In the middle of the room! They k— they killed him in there!”

“Y/N…” my dad speaks.

And it’s then that I notice my outstretched hand, pointing toward the door.

There’s no blood on it.

I start to shake harder.

“I- I saw it, I saw it happen I— “

And I notice the thin fog rolling out through the doorway, lazily dispersing along the floor.

I look up. I breathe heavy and shakily. The whole team is staring down at my red, tearstained face. Cap’s face is twisted into concern, Natasha looks sad and sympathetic. Hydra agents lie dead or out cold on the ground, alarms blaring, but no one takes any steps to exit. The raid is over…

And I can't see any blood on my hands.

“Y/N, it was a hallucinogen,” my dad says firm, but gently, “Whatever you saw in there wasn’t real.”

I stare at him, trying to make sense of this. It looked so real. It felt so real.

“But— but I saw it— I felt it, I could feel what they did—“

He gently breaks the cuffs from my wrists, “I know, I know kiddo, but it wasn’t real. They know how to get in your head.”

I shake my head in confusion, “But the cuffs? And my gauntlets are broken—?”

“Whoever did that was real.” Nat cut in, “They hurt you so you wouldn't fight the simulation and then the drugs were pumped into the room.”

I sit there on the floor in front of the Avengers. Disbelief, confusion, and grief all playing across my face.

“Check the room,” I demand.

My dad points a light into it, and Steve walks through, “No one here, see?”

My mind still races, it felt so real.

“Friday?” My dad speaks up, a gentle hand in my hair, “Where’s Peter now?”

“At the compound, sir, working on his suit in your lab.”

I sniff and mumble out, “Vitals?”

“All normal levels.”

I sigh, squeeze my eyes shut, and drop my head into my hands. A sob of leftover panic and relief fights its way out of my chest.

“C’mere,” My dad says, and pulls me closer to him, a soothing arm around my back.

“I need to see him,” I choke out, “I need to know he’s not— “

“I know, I know, we got the job done here, we’re going home.”

——————

I don't remember the walk back out of the compound. It’s all vague reassurances and worrying eyes. I think my dad buckled the straps around me once we got to the quinjet.

The flight back is somber, quiet, despite the fact that we succeeded. I feel the entire team’s eyes on me, but I don't look up. I’m too busy sitting curled on my seat, staring down at my hands.

There was so much blood. So much of his blood.

I spend the next few hours staring, not speaking, unable to stop the images from replaying in my head. My dad sits beside me, stroking my hair, muttering things I can’t hear.

I thought he was gone. All I can hear are the choked, wet sounds of the blood rising from his throat, all I can see is the stark image of dark red dripping down his pale cheek. Pain in his eyes. His chest refusing to move.

“Y/N,” I think it’s the fourth attempt someone makes to get my attention, and I look up to see my dad kneeling in front of me, “We’re almost back.”

“He’s at the landing pad?” I whisper, my voice hoarse.

My dad takes my hand and says, “Yeah, I had Friday call him up.”

The next thing I’m aware of is the quinjet touching down, and I unbuckle the straps and stand up. My dad rests a reassuring hand on my back, and when the ramp lowers, he walks me forward. He can tell I’m still doubtful. He can tell a part of me still believes what I saw back in that room.

But then we reach the ground and I see him.

Peter is standing back from the landing pad, accompanied by Pepper. He’s healthy, he’s standing on his own, he’s not bleeding, he’s not hurt, he hasn’t been shot, he’s okay.

He’s not dead.

I pick up the pace, walking out of reach of my dad, and once I’m close enough to see his eyes a sob fights its way up my throat and I throw my arms around his shoulders.

“Hey, shh, it’s alright,” his arms wrap firmly around my back, one hand landing in my hair and one stroking up and down my spine. His hair tickles my cheek, his shirt collar is bent out of shape — he never folds them right. He’s warm and strong and breathing and alive. I bury my face in his neck as another sob wracks through my body.

“What happened?” I hear him ask, confused, and his voice rumbles so low and soothing and I can feel it against my chest, hear it in his throat where my ear is pressed. I can’t stop my cries long enough to answer him but I realize the question wasn’t directed toward me.

“She’s not hurt,” my dad’s voice reassures him, “They messed with her head. She thought — she saw them hurt you—“

“I thought you were dead,” I croak out. My grip on him tightens and I let my hand trail to the curls at the base of his neck, let them twist around my fingers. My voice has risen an octave when I say, “You died, I saw you die.”

We sway for a moment, his hands still running down my back and through my hair, I don't think he knows what to say. I wouldn’t know, either.

We stay there for a minute, and the rest of the team has walked inside to give us some space, I assume.

After a while, when my sobs have quelled and I'm just quietly sniffling against him, I feel his hand on my cheek, pulling me back.

“Hey,” He whispers gently, wiping his thumb under my eye to clear away the tears there, “Good thing that wasn’t me then, right? I’m right here. And I’ve got proof— I was talking Dr. Banner’s ear off in the lab the entire time, he can vouch for me,” I let out a watery giggle at his antics, “You wanna go inside? Get you warm, patch you up?”

“Yeah,” I sigh out, disentangling myself from him, but keeping an arm around his side as we walk into the building, “Sorry, I’d give you a hello kiss but I’m pretty sure there’s snot running down my face.”

He chuckles and presses a kiss to the hair at my temple, “That’s okay, let’s get you cleaned up.”

——————

After a brief period of time, I’ve showered, changed into pajamas, and am now sitting at the bathroom sink where my dad is bandaging the shallow cuts on my hands from the broken gauntlets. We sit in relative silence, and there’s no doubt from the look on my dad’s face that I appear just about as shell shocked as I feel.

“Kiddo, you gonna be okay tonight?” He asks in a hushed voice.

I don't look him in the eye, instead watching him work on my hands as I mumble out, “Probably not.”

He huffs with a bit of amusement, “Well, thanks for the honesty, I guess.”

He finishes up on my left hand and raises my chin to look him in the eye. I don't know what to say, so I let him speak first.

“Seriously, Y/N, that was heavy, what you went through. Don’t be afraid to ask any one of us for help, okay?” He looks me pointedly in the eye, already doubting I’ll take him up on that. I am his daughter, after all.

“Yeah,” I whisper, “Got it.”

He stands with a sigh and puts the first aid kit back under my sink.

“Goodnight, come get me if you need me.” He presses a kiss to my head and leaves.

——————

Tony looks at the clock. 7a.m., three hours after they returned from the mission.

“Friday? Has Y/N gotten any sleep yet?”

“No, sir. She spent a few hours in the kitchen with Mister Parker, but it appears as if they are both headed to their respective rooms now.”

“Alright. Alert me if she needs help, Fri.”

“Will do, sir. Goodnight.”

——————

“Sir, it appears as if Y/N is in distress.”

Tony wakes up to the alert just forty minutes after he’d laid down to sleep. He's quickly alert and shuffling out of bed, down the hall to his eldest daughter’s room. Although, when he turns the corner he sees Peter already at the door.

The teen looks up at him, “Hey, Mr. Stark. I— Friday told me she needed help. I was just gonna check in.”

“Me too,” Tony sighs, “You go ahead, Pete. It’s you she needs to see right now. Goodnight.”

The man turns to leave, but stops short of turning the corner. He says, tired, but playfully, “Door open, Parker.”

“Gotcha, Mr. Stark,” And the boy walks in to comfort his daughter.

Several hours later, after Tony’s gotten his meager version of a full-night’s sleep, and after a night he’s sure has held several nightmares for his daughter, he walks back past her door to make sure she’s okay.

He smiles warmly at the scene. Wrapped in Peter’s Midtown sweatshirt, his daughter sleeps, restless but quiet, leaning an arm over the boy she loves. He holds her secure, both their legs strewn about the covers, and Tony can't help but notice Y/N’s hand. Resting softly at the side of Peter’s neck, fingers in the hair behind his ear, and her thumb rests just over the boy’s pulse point. Thrumming gently in sleep, reassuring her — even in her unconscious state — that what she saw was fake. Peter is alive and well, sleeping soundly right beside her.

—————

Alrighty that’s it! Let me know how you liked it and thanks for reading!

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carriagelamp · 3 years

Photo

April l was apparently the month for me to revisit some children’s authors who are steeped in controversy at the moment. So here’s my hot (well, lukewarm) takes on issues that absolutely do not need a single other person talking about them. Also some actual good books that I read this month!

Badger in the Basement

The Animal Ark books are a childhood classic — though I recently found out that apparently there’s a difference between American and British publications, and the American versions didn’t include a lot of actual COOL animals which is… bizarre. As a Canadian stuck in the middle of this, this nonsense drives me nuts. This one was about the main character, the daughter of pair of vets, trying to protect a local badger sett from men wanting to participate in badger digging and baiting. These books are always feel-good, and it was a nice single-day-read while I waited for a library book to come in.

Chi’s Sweet Home

The cutest manga series about the misadventures of a little kitten, Chi, who has been adopted by a loving family. I’ve never bothered to read them in order, but apparently this time I stumbled across the last in the series -- whoops! Still, stood on it’s own pretty easily, and it was a fun read! Things get tense when the family realize that they may have found Chi’s original home… and may have to give up Chi forever.

Earth Before Us: Dinosaur Empire!

This was an odd graphic novel, I feel like I’m not sure who the target audience was exactly. It was a nonfiction comic done in a Magic School Bus style, with the purpose of teaching current, up-to-date facts about the animals that lived in the Mesozoic Era. If you’re into dinosaurs, you’ll probably enjoy this! The art is absolutely adorable, I love the dinosaur illustrations, and I learnt some really neat facts. That being said, the pages are really dense, and there’s a lot of info crammed in… some of it will probably go way over a child’s head without specific additional teaching or a very strong personal interest. But that being said, a dinosaur obsessed kid is still probably going to really dig this… as would a dinosaur obsessed adult. It wasn’t my cup of tea exactly but I’m sure it is someone’s.

assorted Dr Seuss Books

I love these types of controversies because it means getting to listen to every moron who has never had an opinion on Dr Seuss ever start generating a mile of them out of the aether. So many people are so mad about the six books that are getting retired and I bet most of them haven’t even read them. These are not the friggin Cat In The Hat or The Lorax or even the likes of Yertle The Turtle. I was raised by a grade one teacher, was a voracious reader who loved Dr Seuss, and wrote my university thesis on children’s literature, and I still only knew two of the six books on that list. So by all means, if you want to write an essay explaining why those specific books are worth clinging to, feel free, but if you haven’t even heard of them maybe it’s not a big deal. *grumble*

Anyway, my grousing aside, it gave me the urge to reread a bunch of Seuss books, including the two retiring books I personally knew: McElligot’s Pool and To Think That I Saw It On Mulberry Street. I do still enjoy both, especially McElligot’s Pool which always sparked my imagination, but it’s obvious why they’re being retired and I personally think it’s the right choice. There’s so much good kidlit out there, we can survive without these.

Goodbye, My Rose Garden

A f/f romance manga, fairly standard fair though cute if you’re looking for some historical angst, pretty dresses, and mutual pining. A young Japanese woman moves to England in the hopes of meeting a writer (Mr Frank) who she has long admired. Along the way she is employed by an enigmatic woman with plenty of money, rumours, and melancholy following her. I’ll be honest, uncut romance isn’t really my genre, but I’ll probably still try to the second book to see if the story picks up.

From The Holocaust to Hogan’s Heroes: The Autobiography of Robert Clary

It’s no secret that I’ve been on a Hogan’s Heroes kick. This is the autobiography of Roberty Clary, who plays my favourite character in the show, Louis Lebeau. And holy shit what a life this man has had. He was a Jew growing up in France before the start of the war, and who was one of many children taken away from his family and sent off to the concentration camps in Germany. This was an amazing, intense, inspiring, and heartbreaking read… it has Clary’s voice all over it, and it tells everything from the charming childhood he had, to the horrors of the concentration camps, the brutality of survival, and then about his exciting journey into the entertainment industry afterwards. It’s an experience, would recommend if you’re a fan of the show.

The Ickabog

The second controversial author I read this month. Originally I was going to give Rowling’s new book a miss, given everything that’s been going on over the past few years, but in the end my curiosity got the better of me. Politics aside, it was a fun read! Not groundbreaking, but enjoyable enough and written in an interesting style. It didn’t read the same as a lot of modern kidlit, it felt more like a cross between a classic fairytale and a Dahl book. Perhaps a bit like Despereaux. It tells the tale of how an idyllic country gradually falls into ruin through the ignorance, inaction, and greed, and how a supposedly fictional monster hides the very real, human monsters at the heart of the country. It was cute and pleasant and I’m glad I decided to get it from the library, though for anyone who is choosing not to engage for political reasons: you aren’t missing anything major.

Franklin In The Dark

A Canadian classic. I don’t think there’s a single person my age who hasn’t read or been read a pile of these books, and the nostalgia is so comforting. I found this on Youtube and listened to someone read it to me, and honestly 10/10 would recommend for a calm evening.

The big reason I decided to seek this one out though, was because I finally got to the M*A*S*H episode that inspired this entire series! In the episode C*A*V*E, in which Hawkeye is freaking out over his claustrophia while the camp is forced to take shelter in a nearby cave during some intense shelling, he mentions that if he had been born a turtle he would have been afraid of his own shell, and that the other turtles would make fun of him cause he’d be forced to walk around in his underwear. And so this first story about a young turtle who’s afraid to sleep in his own shell and drags it around behind him. So if you were ever curious, Franklin the Turtle is in fact named after Dr Benjamin Franklin Pierce. (this is also why the French version is named Benjamin!)

Wolves of the Beyond: Lone Wolf

I loved the Guardians of Ga’Hoole books as a kid but I never read the Wolves of the Beyond series. This first book was an interesting read, Lasky does a great job creating worlds and societies for the animals that inhabit them. Lone Wolf is about a deformed wolf cub who was abandoned in the wilderness to die. And he would have, if a desperate mother bear, who had recently had her only cub killed, hadn’t stumbled across him and saved him, vowing to raise him as her own...

Petals

A “silent” graphic novel. It has beautiful artwork and is told entirely through pictures, no text at all. It’s loves and heart-wrenching, though it left me feeling somewhat unsatisfied… I felt like there should have been more. Still, a neat story.

The Southern Book Club‘s Guide To Slaying Vampires

What a banger of a novel!! I can’t recommend this one enough. It’s about a group of suburban mothers in the ‘80s who form a book club out of a shared need for community and a love of grisly true crime novels. But when a strange drifter appears in town and starts setting down roots… and when children begin disappearing… these women need to band together to confront the horrors that have invaded their neighbourhood, and face down not only a terrifying monster among them but the patriarchal system that allows it to flourish. To quote the preface:

“Because vampires are the original serial killers, stripped of everything that makes us human — they have no friends, no family, no roots, no children. All they have is hunger. They eat and eat but they’re never full. With this book, I wanted to pit a man freed from all responsibilities but his appetites against women whose lives are shaped by their endless responsibilities. I wanted to pit Dracula against my mom. As you’ll see, it’s not a fair fight.“

The Weirn Books: Be Wary of the Silent Woods

I love Chmakova’s graphic novels, though I’ve only ever read her slice-of-life middle grade series before. This one is pure fantasy and very fun. It’s about two cousin “weirns” — witches with demon familiars — who attend the local night school. Things get strange though when an ominous figure appears outside the old, abandoned school house deep in the Silent Woods, and begins tempting children down its path…

I’m very much looking forward to word of a second book and was honestly kind of surprised that I haven’t heard more about this book given how popular her other series is. This has all the same charm and quirks but for those of us who prefer stories based in fantasy rather than reality.

And A Bonus...

For some masochistic reason I got a Garfield book out of the library. Jeez, if I didn’t love these as a kid, I found them absolutely laugh out loud hilarious, and now I just don’t see it anymore. But here I will share the one strip in the book that actually made me laugh

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jamestrmtx · 3 years

Text

Fairytale Complex - [Undertale | Sans x Reader]

[Gender Neutral, Frisk's Parent Reader | Slow Burn]

Chapter Sixteen | Dummy! (Part 1 of 3 | His POV)

[First] | [Previous] | [Next]

Alternate Chapter Title: Oh, Sugar Honey Iced Tea!

• • •

"You're the one they're dating, aren't you?" Jerry asks, obstructing the line. A few potential customers leave when they notice what's going on, not bothering to become involved in the mess. "How's that gonna even work, though? They're only into real men as far as I know. You're just bones and magic."

"This really ain't the place for us to be talkin' about this, pal," Sans replies, looking behind Jerry. "Just lemme do my job. We can talk about this after I clock out."

"Don't you have a lunch break? Let's talk by then."

"'Fraid I've already got plans for lunch."

"Does it involve them?"

"Maybe." The monster shoos him out of the hot dog stand, continuing to serve those in wait. "Dunno why you're still so hung up over this, though. Why don't ya move on?"

"That's easier to say than do." Again, Jerry obstructs the line, ignoring those who tell him to buzz off. He suspends himself over the cart and grabs Sans by the collar, pulling him off the ground until he's to his eye level. He narrows his eyes and tightens his grip on the monster's shirt, yet the latter remains calm. "How far have you gone with them? You're betraying our friendship."

Sans uses magic to break free from Jerry's hold. Then, he shrugs, hands slipping into his pockets. "Let's end it, then. Rather have that than let you keep on questionin' me over weird stuff, and then make me lose customers 'cuz ya keep on blockin' the line."

"Wouldn't have happened if you'd just tell me what's going on."

"I would," Sans comments, taking a water bottle and handing it to one of his clients. "But realistically speakin': What's it to ya? From what I've noticed so far, they've moved on from you, pal."

"But I haven't."

Chuckling, Sans takes a break from the conversation to look up at the sky, grey clouds blocking the sun and the heat. There are people around with their umbrellas already at hand. Those who don't have any rush to find someplace with a roof. "I'm gonna say this nicely, so hear me out." He emerges out of the hot dog stand and starts closing things up, not only due to the worsening weather, but it being barely ten minutes away from his lunch break. If Jerry was still at it, he needed that extra time to get him off his back. "I don't want any trouble, so stop tryna stir some. You had your chance, Jerry. Now it's none of your business who your ex chooses to date, and even less how far they've gone with that person."

"It should be if Frisk will be in the picture."

"Then take responsibility and look after them. You're worryin' too much about this."

"You don't know what I've been through."

"Maybe not, but I can at least tell you to try. Didn't you do the same when I was talkin' about hitting things off with (Y/N)?"

"That was a mistake." He scoffs, glaring at the monster. "Don't rub it in."

Sans finishes closing up right as the first few drops fall. A strong wind blows, wet earth and hot concrete wafting through the air. When he walks off -- Jerry now left behind -- Sans soon stops, hearing him mutter out a 'wait'. Then, he turns around, facing up at the human man, anger present in his posture, stiff and awkward. "Just... Just tell me if you're serious about them or not."

Though it pours, Sans is unable to move. He stays still and considers Jerry's words, thinking back on the night at the hotel and yesterday evening.

Sure, he found them attractive -- attentive and dedicated when it came to their role as a parent, too.

But why exactly did he want to be with them?

Despite his social circle, he mostly thrived alone, and taking up big responsibilities wasn't his thing, in truth. It often tired him out to so much as consider having a serious relationship with someone, and he couldn't even maintain his current friendships or the day-to-day life with his brother. He sounds a lot like the same man he's judging with those last lines, yet it doesn't feel right; that same sensation increases the more he considers his feelings and the situation overall. Living with his brother brought upon an inevitably energetic lifestyle. His personality was far different from Papyrus's, and -- on some occasions -- he didn't exactly feel his best self knowing those differences were still present between him and most of the people he knew.

So why was he getting himself into something as complex as a romantic relationship?

Was he only curious about how it all felt, having heard others around him talk about love and intimacy ever since he could remember?

If that was the case, then it really wasn't okay for him to keep fooling around with them.

And judging by how stern and persistent Frisk was when it came to defending their primary care parent, they wouldn't be, either.

"You just think they're attractive, and that's about it. Right? They're only eye candy to you, I'm sure." Jerry comments, Sans's time having run out. "Betting you ten bucks you'll ditch them the second you get bored of them."

He doesn't hold back his tongue, replying with, "Talkin' from experience?"

With the rain now pouring too hard for either of them to continue, Jerry settles by glaring at the skeleton before giving his back to him. "You dodged my question," he remarks, snickering. "Let's have a talk when you've actually got an answer, and maybe then you can go ahead and judge me all you want, bro." Silence arrives, broken with, "In the end, you're just as bad as me."

Sans stays quiet, analyzing the bit of truth in Jerry's words.

Before Frisk freed his kind, how many times didn't he simply stand by the sidelines, watching as fallen human after fallen human got hurt, sought, and wounded -- until their passing?

He didn't hurt anybody, but then he also didn't help anybody either. Things had gone in a similar way with Frisk; he'd only watched over them every so often, fulfilling Toriel's promise of not hurting any human, but half-heartedly -- seeing as he'd never bothered to help them much, either.

What guaranteed he wouldn't do the same thing here at the Surface, and even more with a human crush he was only recently getting to know?

"Sans, you're soaked!"

Speaking of them, Sans sets those thoughts aside and looks up to see an umbrella covering him up. (Y/N) stands under it and close to him, brushing shoulders as they escort him off to drier land. Their touch sends electricity down his body, yet he forces himself to ignore it, a flash of guilt overcoming those wants. He accompanies them under a bus stop, its roof providing partial cover from the rain. They keep the umbrella straight even as they rummage through their belongings, looking intent to take out something from there. "Hold on a second," they say, retrieving a pink and polka-dotted handkerchief from one of their bag's tiny side pockets. "It's… not really much, but it's better than staying all wet."

Sans nods, still too lost in his thoughts to respond properly. He takes off his jacket and grabs the piece of cloth, quirking an eye socket when he sees the human move their gaze elsewhere. "...Your shirt's a bit thin," they comment, as if reading his mind. If it embarrassed them, it was hard to tell with their voice, too quiet for him to catch onto any change in tone. "Should we find somewhere else to stay? The sky just keeps getting worse."

Almost seeming to set those priorities straight, the weather responds to their comment by lashing out more rain, stronger than before. A car drives past, sending a torrent of water at his and everybody else's direction, holding little regards to speed, puddles, and those nearby. He reacts by instinct, casting a quick shield to prevent everyone around from getting wet. As he steps back, his shoulder brushes with theirs again and he's forced to suppress another shudder. His soul and body both long for their presence; his brief time with them at the hotel has now become a faint yet pleasant memory he wanted to keep and cherish whenever possible. "Let's go," he replies. Then, he reaches out for the umbrella without looking.

He grabs their hand instead -- by accident, that is.

To his surprise, they don't pull back, and he follows their gaze to see them looking up at the sky. "...It's getting worse," he hears them say, a hint of sadness showing up on their tone, words muttered. "Let's go to my place." Their comment is pure survival instinct more than anything suggestive. He sees their chest rise and fall at quicker intervals, hinting at panic. "I need to go get Frisk if the weather keeps up like this."

Their voice breaks and their hand stays with his. Briefly, he wonders why they're scared over the bad weather, that being something mostly he was known for.

"Aren't they with Toriel today?" Sans asks, trying to lighten up the mood. "The kid's safe if you're worried about 'em."

(Y/N) remains quiet, observing the rain before saying, "I… I lost them in a storm like this one the last time they ran away." They huff, not in annoyance, but in fright -- based on the shudder their body makes. They press themselves closer to him, the height difference making their arm brush with his shoulder. Their head rests against the top of his, tilted over to the side. "I'm worried they'll do it again with what… happened yesterday."

He slips his free hand back into his pocket, still too awkward to pull his hand away from the umbrella. "Do ya really think they'll do somethin' like that again?" It's an unforeseen question, one he feels imprudent over asking. Even so, there's no turning back now, and he can only try to soften up his words better. "They looked pretty sorry for doin' that twice."

"Still…" They press closer to him, holding his waist. Judging by how careful their touch is and how little their expression shifts from their sorrow, he shakes off the possibility of this being one of their attempts at paying back at him for his flirting. "I'm worried." Their hand slips away, leaving the ghost of their warmth on his bones. "We should get going. You're still soaked." They smile, continuing with, "Thank you, by the way. It was a lot better having you pick us up, rather than taking the bus at seven."

Finally capable, Sans pulls his hand back and follows them out of the bus stop, finding additional coverage under the roofs of nearby buildings. "No problem," he says, looking up at them. Only the human and himself can be seen walking; the rest of the people around either make a run for it, or take cover inside shops and offices. "That's what we're all here for, pal."

They smile; all the uncertainty from before seems to have never existed with how bright their expression is. Then, they nod and bump their hip against his. "I mean it," they say, lips tugging upwards. "I, well… I still feel weird over our date, but in a good way, though."

• • •

He arrives at their home an hour after.

The weather's still at it, though compared to previous times, there's no thunder to worry about yet. All sorts of leaves litter the grass and the roads around, the strength of the wind being responsible for it. A few car alarms go off as debris falls over them, leaving their owners to try bringing control over the situation.

When he makes it with them to the front door, they open it up in no time at all and bundle him up with a towel as soon as they step inside.

"You should shower and change, just in case," they say, slipping off their shoes. They set the pair aside next to the welcome mat, and he figures he should do the same, too. "I'm not sure if monsters can get sick this way, but you should head over to the bathroom while I look for some clothes."

It's only when they turn to him that the situation finally gets to him. Captivated by their words, he looks up at them with a grin, that alone resulting to be enough for them to freeze and stay still, like a deer in the middle of a road. "Taking this dating thing seriously, huh?" he asks, stepping closer to their side. They don't take a step back, nor do they glare, looking as lost as humans often did when they fell Underground. "I'm flattered."

When they do show their anger, it conflicts with a frown and watery eyes -- far different from their usual self. Even when they'd become frustrated confronting Alphys and Undyne about their lives underground, they hadn't shown sorrow like this one. It's distant and concerning enough for him to want to back away from his frequent teasing.

(Y/N) takes a step forward, the clicking of their shoes now gone. Then, they lower their gaze and their frown quivers as they try not to let their tears fall. "I…" They hold on to his shoulder, bringing him closer as they do the same. Their eyes narrow and their unknown conflict shows through the wrinkles on their forehead and the subtle pout of their mouth. With how close they are, it wouldn't take much for their lips to brush with his teeth.

Just as he feels their arm around his waist, they pull back, looking elsewhere as they backtrack on their steps. "...I need to ask you something," they say, still facing away. All of a sudden, their conflict dissipates and anger returns to their posture. They cross their arms, finding strength again. "Can... Can you stay over so we can talk?"

Sans nods, keeping his cool. He tries not to think back too much on how close they just were or how they'd brushed off their sadness like it was nothing, yet it's hard to do. His soul pounds as he holds them back with a 'wait', refraining from physical contact. "You doin' alright, (Y/N)?" he asks, holding back a breath. "We can still talk about yesterday, if you wanna. Maybe we can't go anywhere with the weather right now, but I can make us that dinner I promised you last time."

Their lips form a firm line as they consider his offer.

Seconds later, a smile shows on their face. They then look down at their phone, checking the time. "Sounds good." They grin, a stifled laugh following it. "Now go change, Sans. We can't keep this up if you get sick!"

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#sans x reader #undertale x reader #lgbt #lgbt themes #gender neutral reader #male reader #female reader #mother reader #father reader #parent reader #chubby reader #long fic #romcom #adventure #mystery #platonic relationships #slow burn

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hannie-dul-set · 4 years

Text

saturday came rolling by quicker than you'd expected.

standing near the entrance of the rather expensive restaurant (you swore that even the plants by the door are worth more than everything you were wearing combined) you opened your phone, double checking to make sure you were at the right place that jaehyun's mother messaged you.

admittedly, it was a bit weird that you were hanging our with your new friend's mother whithout the knowledge of that said friend, but even if you wanted to back out, you couldn't because it would be rude to do so.

you returned your phone back into your white sling bag after confirming that this was indeed the place and made your way into the entrance, the restaurant's guard opening the door for you.

the moment you stepped in, you started to feel a bit self conscious. you were only wearing a simple navy blue wrap dress underneath a cream cardigan and a pair of sandals to match— deeming you absolutely out of place inside the fancy interior of the establishment.

to the eyes of the occupants of the restaurant, you probably looked like a lost puppy considering your attire and the fact that you had no idea where the hell mrs. jung was.

"miss, can i help you?"

your search was interrupted by one of the waiters, you assumed.

"oh, um, i'm looking for mrs. jung..?"

were you supposed to say that? at that point you didn't even care— you just wanted this whole lunch thing over and done with.

"ah, then you must be y/n l/n, correct?" you were slightly confused, but you nodded anyway.

"follow me, miss."

and so you did, carefully treading along the restaurant floor. you were afraid if you even breathe in the wrong direction, you'd end up breaking one of the many expensive decorations littered all around the place.

the waiter lead you to a secluded part of the restaurant. sunlight was beaming into the large arch windows that were adorning the walls and there were only three tables set up, all of which were unoccupied save for the one at the very end.

as you moved further inside, the two people that were sitting at the last table had noticed you and the waiter walking in. their heads turned towards your direction and you stopped in your tracks.

one of them was mrs. jung, obviously, but the other one you weren't quite expecting.

"miss y/n?"

"jaehyun?"

amidst your shock, the waiter had already left, leaving the three of you alone. your eyes were frozen stuck on jaehyun dozens of question marks floating around his head.

you were confused, but then you remembered that this was her son, of course he'd be here. but couldn't she at least have told you?

"y/n, dear, it's good that you've finally joined us! i was worried that you wouldn't come."

jaehyun was the first to snap back into reality. he diverted his attention from you to his mother.

"mother," you couldn't pinpoint the exact emotion he was carrying in his voice. "care to explain why miss y/n is here?"

"i invited her, of course," mrs. jung seemed to be completely unbothered by not so pleasant demeanor that her son was baring.

"sorry, i can just leave if you'd like," the atmosphere was unbearably uncomfortable and you'd much rather just leave if you could. you gave them a small bow before turning your heels, hand clutching your bag as you were about to leave.

"no, it's alright—" the screeching of a chair was heard and you felt a hand grab onto your arm, preventing you from moving forward. you turned around and you were met with a rather frantic looking jaehyun. "you can stay."

eyes wide from the sudden close proximity, your gaze moved back and forth from jaehyun's very very close face to his hand that was holding onto you— you could feel the heat slowly rising to your cheeks.

jaehyun must've noticed the situation that you two were in and he let go of you hurriedly, a coughing out a small sorry in the process. from the corner of your eye you could see his mother looking at the both of you with an amusement in her face. mostly because of his son's absolutely uncharacteristic behavior but you weren't aware of that.

"i apologize if my words sounded rude," jaehyun started, finally managing to get himself back together. "it wasn't my intention to send you away— i was just surprised to see you again."

"no it's okay," you gave him a smile of assurance and he visibly relaxed.

you nearly forgot that his mother was actually here (not to mention she was the one who invited you) until you heard her speak up.

"maybe i'm the one who should be leaving?" she teased, jaehyun giving her a disapproving look.

"you're staying. i believe you still have some explaining to do, mother."

much to your surprise, lunch went a lot better that you'd expected, especially taking into account the prior events that took place. mrs. jung eventually told jaehyun everything— the fact that she contacted you last time as well as her reasonings. jaehyun wasn't really upset that his mother was trying to set you two up, he was absolutely flustered to the highest point— cheeks flaring and avoiding eye contact from you as much as possible, you couldn't help but laugh at him, furthering his embarrassment.

"i apologize for my mother's behavior," he tells you (although, his eyes were looking everywhere else except for you).

the evident unease that was present earlier was replaced with comfortable air to which you were surprised, but nevertheless you were thankful. the conversation went on until the topic eventually landed on you.

"y/n," jaehyun's mom started, taking a sip from her peach-colored drink before continuing. "i realized i never got to ask your age."

"ah, i'm turning twenty-one this year," you replied, earning a hum from the older woman.

jaehyun places down his fork, diverting his attention towards you instead. "you must be in school then. do you mind me asking what your major is?"

"oh, no i'm not, actually,"

you continued to eat your food (you asked jaehyun what it was called but it your ears failed to understand the rich language) while the two of your companions promptly stopped, expecting you to continue. the sudden attention directed on you was a bit discomforting, so you placed your utensils down and wiped your lips with the napkin available.

"i can't really afford college so i'm still trying to save."

"what about your parents?" jaehyun asked, concern lacing his voice. "shouldn't they be the one's supporting you?"

"they sort of abandoned me after i graduated high school," you reply, staring at the untouched drink in front of you. "so i had to do things on my own from there."

you didn't really have a problem talking about your situation— you'd always been one to believe that all things happen for a reason, so you don't hold anything against your parents. you were never one to dwell on things; you'd rather choose to just keep on moving forward no matter how many setbacks you encounter. but of course, even though you had moved, emotions from the past sometimes resurface.

"i'm so sorry to hear that, sweetie," mrs. jung tried to sympathize with you. "i hope you're not too uncomfortable talking about this."

"no, it's okay, i've moved on," you pressed your lips together into a smile. "and although i'm not exactly in the best place financially, i'm pretty happy with my life right now. the experiences i've gathered and all of the wonderful people i've met— i'm very thankful for all of that."

after your mini speech, you looked over to jaehyun, who was looking at you with an expression that you weren't able to pinpoint.

"you really are an amazing person, miss y/n."

the words that left jaehyun's lips left you stunned, unable to think of a response. he might've said this to you through chat but this time he was looking at you— looking at you so so intently that you lost your entire train of thought.

"oh— um, thanks," you managed to sputter out before going back to your food.

"you know, dear, i'd be more than willing to help you with your financial situation right now," jaehyun's mother says and you politely decline.

"no, no, it's okay! i've saved up quite a bit already, and on top of my many part time jobs, my art has been doing pretty well recently," you explain. "i don't think it would be right for me to take money from you."

mrs. jung thinks momentarily before speaking up. "art? are you an artist, y/n?"

"i remember her mentioning it to me at one point," jaehyun joins in the conversation.

"well... i'm not exactly well known but i do a bit of freelance work here and there," you meekly mumbled. "i also do commissions."

until now, you couldn't tell what exactly was going on in jaehyun's head, but mrs. jung seems to be elated from your words.

"that sounds wonderful, dear!" jaehyun's mother beamed. "if you aren't too busy, i'd like to commission you, as well."

"really?"

you perked up from hearing her suggestion. you still had a few paintings lined up to be finished, but you'd be a fool to pass up on this opportunity.

"i still have some things to work on," you began. "but if you could wait until those are finished, then i see no problem!"

"there's no rush, dear! work on it as you see fit— we can discuss the details privately in a later time."

"alright, thank you so much, mrs. jung! i'll be sure not to disappoint you."

the day went on and the lunch you spent with the two jung's was over. after bidding then goodbye and thanking them for the nice meal, jaehyun had insistently offered to drive you home, but you politely declined, saying that you can just take the bus instead.

sitting on one of the benches at the bus stop, you pulled out your ear buds, deciding to listen to music as you waited. today wasn't as bad as you expected. jungwoo and haechan were wrong about mrs. jung— she may be a bit excessive and a bit too evasive regarding her son's affairs, she seemed like a genuine and sweet lady, none the less.

amidst your thoughts, you felt someone sitting beside you so you instinctively scooted away. you heard a cough from the said person, so you looked over to them. surprised, you pulled your ear buds away.

"jaehyun?"

"miss y/n," he looked at you. "i would like to formally apologize for my mother's behavior— she tends to cross boundaries without meaning to, i hope you don't take anything against her."

to be honest, you never expected jaehyun to run after you. it appears that the tables have turned seeing that he looks extremely out of place in his expensive looking coat inside the vicinity of the run-down bus stop. jaehyun still looked a bit embarrassed talking about it seeing that his face was painted a light dust of pink, causing a mirthful laugh to bubble in your throat.

"it's okay," you smiled at him in assurance. "i was definitely caught off guard, but i can see that your mother doesn't have any ill intentions."

jaehyun let out a sigh, visibly easing up upon your response.

"thank you for understanding," he gave a you smile and you were taken aback— jung jaehyun smiled at you for the first time that day and holy shit he has dimples.

before you can conjure up a response, the bus came into view and you stood up in haste, moving closer into the street. as the vehicle neared, you looked behind to see that jaehyun was now on his feet but he was yet to leave. the both of you made eye contact and you grinned at him.

"i'll be going now, jaehyun. thank you for today!"

his expression mirrored yours, hands snugly tucked into the pockets of his coat.

"likewise, miss y/n."

you curtly nodded before finally entering the bus. as you sat down, you looked outside the window only to see jaehyun still in the same position as before but he had his phone in his hand, fingers tapping away at the screen. he noticed you looking at him, giving you a small wave before walking away.

your phone buzzed from inside your back and you quickly took it out. a laugh escaped your lips and a wide smile blossomed into your face.

gold painted canvas

the classic rich boy and poor girl love story but with less prejudice and more happiness

13 // safe ride home

a/n: written part!! :D pls enjoy hehet <3

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twiceblackvelvet · 4 years

Text

Soulmates?

requested!

Early rises and strolls to work for the opening shift are far more pleasant than imaginable. The sun rising slowly over the horizon whilst the pathways are clear of other people and hardly any cars noisily taking up road space. It’s calming, beautiful, in fact, to see the change in hues in the sky from a deep orange to a lighter yellow once it’s high enough above everything else. A camera roll full of pictures taken with the beams blazing down could never possibly do it justice, but it does help take off some of the chills during the winter months just looking at them.

It’s quite an easy job, truth be told, the only complication that ever presents itself is through difficult customers and they are few and far between thankfully. Doing the rounds to turn on all of the appliances and the fridge lights is a welcomed routine compared to the never-ending cleaning that comes with a closing shift. It should be a world record how long it takes to hoover the floors, mop them, and then try not to mess up all of that hard work by creating a shoe path through the wet flooring.

For the last six months, Mina has been working at the convenience store, and taking on every single shift her schedule will allow whilst still trying to continue her studies. Serving customers isn’t the be-all and end-all but she is grateful to have been offered the position with no experience in hospitality whatsoever. The owners had recently had to let go of one of their original employees after he was caught taking money from the register thus she was hired before even sitting the interview out of desperation to replace him.

Whilst there are a few customers who are tough to deal with, there are also the locals who are always full of small snippets about their lives, or, will simply offer a courteous smile if their own day is not going as planned. Her favorite, however, is watching all the young and in love couples enter the store together, there’s something about watching their small yet romantic gestures toward one another, and whilst the green-eyed monster known as jealousy would rear its head for anyone else, Mina merely longs to feel what they are one day with her true love.

A soulmate is a difficult thing to explain to anyone which is why it is taught and told from such a young age. The idea that there is one single individual wandering this Earth who is meant to be just as in love with you as you are them, and no one else seems unreasonable or forceful at best. Every relationship in life is significant and can work if each of you put in the work to make sure that it lasts. Just look at how often people will get attached to celebrity relationships, only for them to break up a few years down the line and people are convinced love isn’t real. In fact, there are many people during her life who have told her it was a crazy idea to hold out for ‘the one’.

However, Mina has always been a hopeless romantic and never been able to grasp the concept of dating multiple people when there is a very clear sign on her right hand linking her to the one she’s meant to be with. The one who will offer her a tingling feeling in the pit of her stomach whenever they exchange so much as a glance. The one who she’ll meet for the first time and something inside of her will click, telling her that they are the one for her. The one who will offer her endless reassurance whenever things in life get difficult. She’s always wanted it all, and more. But, they’ve yet to enter her life and whisk her off her feet.

Her mother would often share tales about meeting her father when they were younger, both of them too scared to reveal their markings, both of which being on their legs in the shape of a tiny rocket, to confirm what they had believed to be true, that they are soulmates. But, one day her father invited her mother to a break from an intense study session by going into his pool. They had both completely forgotten about having not shown their markings but as it turned out, they were the exact same. It was always Mina’s favorite bedtime story to hear about how her parents fell in love with each other, their own firm belief in soulmates only furthering her desire to find her own.

There were plenty of people during her early years that Mina thought were going to be the one, and rather than following entirely in her parents’ footsteps, she’d find any excuse to look at people’s right hand, such as holding their hand as she grabbed a skipping rope from them, or even going as far as gifting the girl next door an orange every single day on the bus to school until one day she took it with her right one. All of which failed miserably but she never gave up hope that one day it would simply happen without her having to think too much about it.

A small four-leaf clover resting directly in the palm of her right hand. It’s beautiful, and Mina often finds herself tracing it back and forth whenever she’s bored. Her father had explained to her that it must mean her life with her soulmate will be full of luck, but finding them alone will require a lot of luck, Mina isn’t so sure she’ll be gifted any more beyond that.

Today is no different from every other morning shift, no one bothers to enter for at least the first hour which means restocks and ordering anything that appears to be running low. The higher shelves she has to grab the old wooden ladders from the storeroom in the back, which, she’s convinced are going to one day give way and break causing her to crash through the display behind her. However, the manager, Mr. Kim, no matter how many times she asks him to get some new ladders simply states that he’s going to soon. When soon is exactly, Mina has no idea but she doubts it will be soon.

“Is anyone working?” A high-pitched voice calls out close to the counter. From her spot on the bottom rung of the ladders, Mina can only just say make out some brown hair.

The bell for the door to signal a customer had entered has clearly not done its job as Mina quickly rushes around to see who it is that’s waiting for her. Fortunately, it isn’t one of the angry customers who no doubt would have put in a complaint about her for not being at the counter, but instead, it’s Sana who works in the coffee shop just up the street and often calls in for a morning visit when they’re both on earlies. Mina thinks Sana has a sixth sense about this because they’ve never formally exchanged schedules with one another nor do they know each other beyond each other’s respective workplaces.

Sana’s own soul mark is directly under her left eye, a small golden star with sparks flying off of it. Mina adores it and finds that it makes Sana’s already beautiful eyes even more charming to look at.

“Ah, there you are Mina. Here, I brought you your usual. If the morning is kicking my ass, I know it is for you too.” Sana says as she hands over Mina’s usual order of an americano. Her eyes look tired and Mina can tell she isn’t fully present as of yet. “What were you doing? Do you know the bell is broken?”

“Restocks,” She quickly takes a sip of the piping hot drink, Sana subconsciously doing the same but regretting it when it burns her tongue a little. “Thank you for this. It was warm out on my walk-in but those clouds look threatening.” The pair of them look out the window to see the sky now lacking the sun-flamed sky that Mina adores and replaced by dark, overcast clouds. “No, I didn’t know the bell was broken until now, it seems everything is falling apart in here.”

“Did you get your new ladders yet?”

“Nope.” Mina pauses to look back toward where they’re just standing in the middle of an aisle and gives herself a mental reminder to move them once Sana leaves. “I’m thinking about just fetching my own in from home, we’re never going to get them and now, the bell probably won’t be fixed for the foreseeable.”

Sana’s eyes follow Mina’s toward the aisles and then drift up toward the bell above the door. She places her cup down onto the counter and taps Mina’s hand to get her attention back on herself.

“Don’t bring your own. I might know someone who can bring you some and fix the doorbell, you’ll still be here at 1 PM, right?”

“Yeah, I finish at 3, but you know he’ll never agree to pay for any repairs Sana, and especially not ones he hasn’t personally authorized”

“Don’t worry about it Mina, she owes me a favor anyway. Just take it as yet another act of kindness from your favorite and prettiest barista.” Sana chortles, fluttering her eyelashes.

“Oh, Jeongyeon is going to get some new ladders for me? I didn’t realize that’s what you meant.” Mina jokes knowing just how to make Sana a little jealous.

“Very funny, you know I meant myself, not her… Though now you’ve said it, you’re right, it could have meant her.” There’s a quick flash of Sana’s eyes unfocusing and drifting off likely to thoughts of her co-worker who she’s been dating for around a year. They aren’t soulmates but Jeongyeon isn’t a believer and Sana thinks she has too much love to give for one person. However, Mina has often caught Jeongyeon tenderly stroking Sana’s soul mark whenever they believe no one is around.

“Who is it?” Mina queries upon realizing Sana never said who it was that would be her savior.

“Hm? Oh… right. Don’t worry about it, just a friend of mine who can repair it for you.” Sana quickly looks up toward the clock on the back wall and picks her cup up from the counter before shifting toward the door, bell once again not working when she opens it. “Okay, I gotta go but 1 PM, be here not hiding in an aisle, or next time I might just snitch to Mr. Kim. Bye!” She shouts heading out before Mna can say goodbye in return.

It’s a fairly easy day, the weather does indeed end up turning sour as a downpour quickly starts not long after Sana had left and doesn’t ease up even for a second. There are only a handful of customers who enter and the majority of them are simply trying to escape the rain, which Mina is supposed to ask whether they’re going to purchase anything or not but she doesn’t have the heart to force them out into the cold, thus there was at one point just a collective of people stood by the door hoping for a dry spell that never arrives. They do all fortunately shuffle off one by one, all of which running to their cars or the next building for shelter.

By the time 1 PM rolls around, Mina had completely forgotten about her conversation with Sana. The ongoing entertainment of watching people force their jackets up over their heads whilst trying not to walk into streetlights had provided enough of a distraction for her. So, when someone with their coat up over their head holding a pair of ladders enters the shop, Mina simply believes they’re a customer.

The coat comes down to rest around her shoulders and reveals a face that is small yet striking. Eyes dark and wide, nose bright red from the cold, and the rest of her skin an olive color. She’s tall, quite tall in fact as she stands above the very ladders she’s holding around her left arm. A toolkit rests in her right hand, it’s small but looks heavy, however, if it is, the girl doesn’t let on as she carries it easily. Her frame hidden by the huge coat slumped around her but Mina finds her breathtaking and can’t quite remove her eyes from her face.

“Um… hello?” The girl waves a hand in front of Mina’s face dragging her out of the hypnosis she’s sure this girl had just put her under. “Are you Mina?” Yet again, Mina drifts off elsewhere upon hearing her name exit this girl’s mouth so softly.

“Y-Yes... I am… Mina. Yes. Sorry. I’m Mina.” She stutters, quickly trying to make even a slight bit of sense.

“Yeah, I got it the first time. Sana told me you need some ladders and your doorbell is broke?” The girl poses as a question but quickly gets to work looking at the doorbell which isn’t far away from her head but Mina would struggle to get anywhere close to reaching it. “Those are yours, by the way.” She points toward the ladders. They’re brand new, metal. Far sturdier than the wooden ones.

“Thank you, um…” Mina hesitates, realizing she hadn’t asked for the girl’s name as of yet, nor did Sana tell her who she was.

“Tzuyu.” She states flatly, never bothering to look back toward Mina whose eyes are piercing through the back of Tzuyu’s head never moving.

It doesn’t take her long to fix the doorbell. The batteries inside had managed to corrode and damaged some of the inner-wirings but luckily, Tzuyu had some spare on hand in her toolbox and got it back to signaling the door opening and closing in no time. Mina has no idea what Tzuyu has just technically done as she’s never been the most gifted when it comes to repairs, however, watching her weave the wiring together and connect all of the pieces back together certainly looked impressive.

There’s an awkward silence for a second as Tzuyu steps away from the door to finally look at Mina once again, neither of them knowing how to finish off this unpaid transaction of services.

“Um… Thank you,” Mina starts, but is unsure how to continue, just knows that she wants to continue talking. “So, Sana said you’re doing this as a favor to her?” Mina tries to ask, Tzuyu, however, moves to retrieve her toolkit from the ground.

“Yes. She’s a good friend.” Tzuyu says coldly, turning toward the door to leave but then swiftly back to the counter. “It was… It was nice to meet you, Mina.” Her voice more upbeat this time, yet forced as she outstretches her right hand in front of Mina.

Without hesitating, Mina grasps her hand in her own in a handshake. However, her skin immediately feels an electric shock the second their palms connect with one another, and Mina is stunned into just standing there frozen. Tzuyu is the first to pull her hand away which startles Mina back to reality realizing she wasn’t alone in feeling it. But, before she’s given the opportunity to talk to the girl in front of her the small four-leaf clover resting in the center of Tzuyu’s palm quietens any words that were close to escaping leaving them stuck in her throat.

Tzuyu catches sight of Mina’s same soul mark and immediately rushes out of the door and away from her without a word.

A big part of Mina is telling her not to be stupid, telling her not to risk her job by chasing after her and potentially being seen as a weird stalker. However, the other side that desperately wants to figure out if this moment is the one she’s been searching for, the one she’s been seeking since the very first time she was even told about soulmates. With the consequences for her actions at the very back of her head, she dashes out of the door following Tzuyu and runs to catch up with her, stopping outside of the coffee shop where Sana works as she grabs onto Tzuyu’s arm to stop her, the same shock feeling coursing across her skin as she does so.

“You have it too and you feel it. Tell me… that you feel that.” Mina huffs out, breath struggling to catch up to her.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Tzuyu blurts out hurriedly upon noticing some eyes starting to watch on, her own eyes refusing to look at Mina. “Let me go.”

“No, I know you feel it. I saw you pull away just before… and you have the same mark like me. You know what this means, right?”

The silence between them returns as both Sana and Jeongyeon exit the coffee shop together to watch the interaction between the two girls unfold, a few people stop in the middle of the street to eavesdrop in, one of them even pulling out their phone to record it. Jeongyeon moves to ask them to put their phone away and they reluctantly comply.

“Is everything okay, Mina?” Sana asks.

“Yes, Sana, everything is fine.” Tzuyu answers for her. “Go back inside.”

The two girls shuffle back into the coffee shop, however, they remain by the door just in case whatever is happening between Mina and Tzuyu goes further downhill than it clearly already is even if neither of them will say why.

“Please, just say something… I know you have it too.”

“Look, Mina… I don’t know what kind of fantasy world you’ve created for yourself inside your head that you so clearly live in… but just because you have the same tiny little mark as someone doesn’t mean anything. Yes, everyday people rely on such a silly little thing to determine their entire lives, and good for them if that’s what they want. But it isn’t for me. You’re not for me.” Tzuyu’s voice cold and without any emotion whatsoever, and yet Mina can feel every single emotion inside herself all at once fighting for dominance over which one will retort back to her.

“But…” Mina barely whispers, unable to form a full sentence.

“But nothing, we just met.. You can’t really believe that we’re now supposed to spend the rest of our lives together because of that one single moment.” Tzuyu pauses, waiting to see if Mina will answer before continuing when she doesn’t. “Plus… I already… I already have a girlfriend.”

For the first time in her life, doubt about who she is supposed to spend her life with has managed to creep up and break down all of the previous standards for love Mina had put. Her hand uncurls itself from around Tzuyu’s arm and she sinks down to the floor because she’s right. All this time, Mina thought that having a soulmate or one set person who you’re supposed to always be with was how life is supposed to be, giving it far too much control and power over her to the point where she has likely pushed away plenty of others who would have no doubt made her happy, made her fall in love, and made her look forward to her future.

Instead, she’s given all of the power and control to someone she hadn’t even met yet. Now that she has, she realizes her mistake because Tzuyu could never be the one for her, even if the mark is there. They are not compatible whatsoever, not at this moment. Perhaps, during different times in their lives, they could be perfect for one another, and perhaps they could live out all of the things Mina has dreamed about. But Tzuyu is taken, and Mina is too much of a fantasist.

Mina can feel Sana and Jeongyeon slowly raise her up off the ground, however, her entire focus is on Tzuyu’s retreating figure walking away from her down the street. She can hear them talking to her and asking what has happened but her throat is unable to produce sound. Everything feels so cold and as if she’s surrounded by emptiness.

Perhaps, there is no such thing as soulmates after all. Perhaps, there never will be.

#twice imagines #twice scenarios #mina imagines #tzuyu imagines #mitzu #mina x tzuyu #kpop imagines #girl group imagines #kpop scenarios #girl group scenarios #twice angst #twice fic #mina #tzuyu #myoui mina #chou tzuyu

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quieteating · 3 years

Text

New Post has been published on Quieteating

New Post has been published on https://is.gd/E0YrgT

Oren

I once knew a guy called Oren.

He was my tour guide in Israel.

He was a somewhat testy man but I forgave him as he gave colourful commentary of the sights and smells of the Holy Land. Even if he was busy openly ripping us off on the side.

One of the many things that I didn’t appreciate was his perchance for taking us to not very good places to eat. Instead, it seemed to be where ever his buddies had set up shop. Sick and tired of being treated as a walking ATM machine, towards the end, I formented a rebellion and choose to go to somewhere else that he had not chosen. Half the tour bus decided to follow me. As soon as it was clear that this was not an isolated uprising, his hurried scrambling to pick another avenue was particular entertaining to watch as he sought to salvage some of the situation.

Thankfully, at night he abandoned us to our own devices. With lack of the rather aggressive shephard, I was able to try some rather excellent Israeli food. So seeking to relive the better memories of our trip, we choose an Israeli establishment for a recent meal.

Stone baked flat bread, tomato, olive oil. This bread was nicely bouncy, lightly flavoured and had just the right consistency to go with the pickled vegs, the tahini, peppers and hummus. A good choice to start the meal.

Pickled vegetables. Crisp and tart, it provided a good contrast to the smoothness of the dips.

Tahini. Creamy and nutty, a delight.

Grilled peppers. Less stinging then the pickles, this was a milder contrast if needed.

Hummus. Heavily spiced and fulsome in taste, it was great.

Grilled sweetbreads, za’atar, lemon. Here is where things started to get interesting. These rather moreish offal delights were delights. Lightly grilled with cumin and finished with citrus, the strong innards were dulled down to be something rather pleasant.

Marinda tomatoes, kalamata, pine nuts. In a more ordinary dish, the salad tried to be great but the tomatoes were sadly not up to scratch. They were instead rather sapid.

Squid, spiced lamb sausage, tahini. An interesting dish with the somewhat plain squid being bolstered by heavily spiced lamb mince. A tasty mixed dish, if spoilt somewhat by over zealous use of salt.

Grilled ox heart, watercress, radicchio. This dish reminded me of oriental stir fried beef strips, except the beef was a bit chewier. Tasty in any case, with heavy flavour balancing wish more placid leaves. Although it was rather salty.

Pollock pastrami, burnt romano peppers. An unusual dish, I had never heard of pollock pastrami before. Served in flat broad sheets on top of peppers, it reminded me of bacon strips served on tomatoes. What it made up in uniqueness, it sadly did not balance in taste. A bit over-enthusiastically seasoned too.

Pork belly, yoghurt, zhoug. A bit of fat to make the meal go down. Although maybe something a little less adventurous, it was nonetheless a good way to end. It also avoided the strong taste of the sea, something that is not really welcome when I eat meat.

I got some curious looks from the waiter as I partook in my food. He kept on having to top up the water jug. Judicial use of salt can really highlight flavours. Going a bit far can block out what you are trying to show. Excessive amounts can lead to kidney stones, something which I hear is a far from a pleasant experience. So maybe I can’t blame my friend Oren too much. Maybe he just had too much salt in his food. That might have explained a lot.

A quiet eating 7/10.

Lunch (2 courses per person) was GBP25 excluding drinks and service.

Oren

89 Shacklewell Lane, Dalston, London E8 2EB

#flat bread #hummus #lamb sausage #oren #ox heart #pollock pastrami #pork belly #squid #sweetbreads #tahini #tomatoes #zhoug

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liskantope · 4 years

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A personal look back on my summer 2020

My fall semester has already been going on for a little while, but in the past week the weather has suddenly switched from hot to autumny and now it feels like the summer was a period which is truly over and which I can look back upon as (unsurprisingly) one of the most singular summers of my life.

I consider myself to be excellent at autobiographical memory, probably in the 90th percentile or so, at least when it comes to being able to recall the year or month (or sometimes week) that particular events of my life occurred. I attribute this to often being able to connect various things that were going on in different areas of my life at the same time (rather like separate arcs in a television episode) in ways that allow me to anchor any particular memory to the time it occurred. Sometimes there are particular time periods where the "plot arcs" of my life somehow seem to fit together really well in a united larger story or a single flavor, whereas looking back at other periods I can with some effort remember various arcs but it's hard to hunt them out and put them together, as though they were part of a poorly-written TV episode which doesn't have any particular unity.

Summers for me have always stood apart from the years they were in (with the slight exception of the summers I spent abroad doing my first postdoc which had so little structure that my general routine was the same all year round). This summer I often looked back at the summer of 2010 (the last divisible-by-ten year), which was an example of the former: somehow all the separate arcs going on in my life at the time -- my studying and research (sadly, this was the most recent summer when I actually felt good about how studying/research was going!), stuff that was going on in my immediate family, progress in my social life, my first forays into doing local gigs as part of a band, the weather, my apartment/roommate situation, shows I was watching, and personal internal struggles I was facing -- feel like they were all nuances of the same flavor. (This was back in the days that I had cable and it so happened that Curb Your Enthusiasm was on the TV Guide Channel and I was introduced to it and watched it a lot just that summer; for years afterwards the theme tune immediately brought back the emotions that came with the flavor of summer 2010. Semi-coincidentally I've been watching a lot of Curb clips on YouTube since I noticed them appearing early this past summer.)

The following summer, summer of 2011, is an example of the latter kind of time period in my memory: I'm able to remember a bunch of separate things that went on, including a visit to Switzerland, some of the research I was trying to do, my living situation (and anticipation of a move and the shift in my social life it would bring), my discovery of the local Unitarian Universalist fellowship and being a regular attendant there the entire summer, some particular online interests, and the unpleasant bike accident I had, but it takes some effort to recall that this was all happening in the same three months. (One thing I do distinctly remember about my living situation is that my one roommate spent most of the summer out of town and that, in anticipation of my next roommate who I knew traveled less and would be much more social, I was telling myself, "Enjoy this level of privacy now because chances are you'll never have it again." I was absolutely right in my prediction that there would be much less solitude and privacy with the next roommate who I remained living with for several years, but I sort of assumed that after that I would have found some kind of a partner to be with all the time, and... oh the irony as I sit here, still continuously partner-free, after another day of the far more intense privacy and solitude of the past six months!)

This past summer, the summer of 2020, is very, very clearly bound to become a longer-term memory of the former kind: its extreme flavor is unmistakable. As is probably the case for most of us, my experience of summer 2020 has been shaped almost entirely shaped by the pandemic we're still in the midst of. For me this has meant constantly being home alone (although I settled pretty soon on into a pattern of going on daily bike rides and weekly supermarket trips plus a number of other types of errands. Also, a caveat to the rest of this paragraph is that my parents visited one weekend and that provided an exception to some of the otherwise constant conditions below.) I became uncharacteristically super introverted and very intent on making as much research progress as possible in the absence of teaching duties. None of this has been too unpleasant, but there has been a complete and utter lack of any form of fun, both in traveling (this may hold the record of the only summer where I stayed in the same 6-mile radius the entire time) and in social events. The one positively pleasant thing in my life this summer was discovering the most beautiful area for cycling in any place I've lived, as well as a handful of late-evening warm-summer-night walks. The extreme degree of loneliness and the necessity of self-discipline to keep my wheels turning has been smothering, and actually I think I dealt with it much better than I would ever have imagined I could if someone had told me this was coming a year ago.

I'd say my summer was a personal success in that way and in most other ways apart from the main concrete objective of completing a research preprint, which failed quite badly and is putting my career aspirations in a very precarious place (it would have been nice to get some heavier blogging done as well). One could say that this was a less important goal than that of not letting my mental health spiral, though, and I did succeed quite well at the latter. (In fact, I was doing much worse in January and February than I was when the pandemic hit.) I'm upset that my goals seem to take me much longer than I feel they should but am glad that this doesn't seem to be due to an inability to sit down and focus on the work, as was the case with research during some summers of grad school.

Part of the flavor of summer 2020 that will live on in my memory has to do with my being home alone so much of the time, never having to get near other people, in an apartment that I kept hot, that, let's just say it took me a ridiculously long time to accumulate each laundry load and there were often T-shirts draped over my sofa to be reused for an hour or two at a time over multiple days.

While I'm continuing on this gratuitously self-absorbed vein, as I've noted that I love keeping track of personal "endurance" records, I've (again unsurprisingly, because of the situation) made a bunch of them which I'll finish by taking note of here:

Longest time without stepping out of the front door: I actually was careful to make sure I never stayed entirely inside for two days in a row, but it finally happened the weekend before last (after a late Friday night walk in my complex where I may or may not have gotten back inside by midnight). I believe it was 61 hours, or very nearly 61 hours, without exiting my apartment. This may be a lifelong record; the only other event that compares was a 2-3-day period in March 2011 when I was very feverishly ill in the wake of a snowstorm, and I don't recall how far beyond 48 hours I stayed in.

Longest time without going into my office (or even onto my campus) in over a decade of having an office: from April 2nd to August 11th. Hardly a unique one here, but I never thought I could have handled only having my home to work in for over four months.

Longest time not going near any public transportation whatsoever, since high school: Sunday March 8th (or just after midnight on March 9th, a bus ride as the final leg of the journey home from my last trip of any sort) to 26 Sundays later on September 6th because of having to leave my bike in the shop.

Longest stretch of time not withdrawing cash or paying for something in cash: since sometime in early March and counting. The only times I've touched the cash in my wallet at all during all of this time was on two occasions when I gave a bill to someone in need.

Longest time since age 19 not touching a drop of alcohol: since April 11th (at a virtual birthday party of a friend) and continuing. This smashes a record from last fall of something like 54 days.

Longest time with the thermostat completely off (no use of heat or AC): from one of the last days of March to, I think, June 4th. This was nothing to do with the pandemic (in fact, it makes the pandemic situation slightly more remarkable since I've had to be home for a lot more of the time); the spring where I am was just particularly pleasant.

Longest time not shaving my facial hair: 32 days in the late summer, breaking a record from earlier in the summer of exactly a month.

There are probably other even sillier ones, such as the fact that I’m pretty sure I didn’t put on shoes from sometime at the start of June to a few days ago. You’d also think I’d break an endurance record for not uttering a spoken word to anyone, but I haven’t kept track of that.

Let’s hope future intervals in my life are much less extreme and record-breaking; that’s the gist of what I wish for everyone right now.

#personal #autobiographical memory #covid pandemic #math research #personal records #alcohol

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hekate1308 · 5 years

Text

Driving Lesson, Fictober #1

Genre: Fanfiction

Fandom/Pairing: Good Omens, Crowley/Aziraphale

Warnings: No warnings apply

Prompt: “It will be fun, trust me.”

“It will be fun, trust me.”

Aziraphale studied the steering wheel in front of him sceptically. “I highly doubt that”.

“Angel” Crowley sighed, “We did agree that now we’ve got nothing left to worry about, we can do what we want…”

“And me learning to drive is what you want –“

“Hey” Crowley snatched his left hand off the wheel and pressed a kiss against it. “That’s not what this is about. Thing is, since we finally talked, we’ll be spending a lot of time together, and I want the two loves of my life to get along when we do.”

Aziraphale felt himself blushing furiously. This was just the kind of thing Crowley did and said all the time now, ever since their bus drive back to his place and the talk they’d had there. When Aziraphale had asked him after the first couple of days why he felt the need to be so utterly romantic, he’d looked him in the eyes and said “I’ve been waiting for this long enough, angel” and that had been that. He’d been steadfastly ignoring his hints that he’d like a more explanatory answer ever since.

And yet there could be no mistaking the gestures he’d bestowed on him in the last few months, no thinking he was just trying to tempt Aziraphale to his side – something the angel had been very good at pretending at, for the first few centuries – no telling himself that they were at best friendly adversaries, not even friends.

And now Crowley only wanted this little thing. Just wished for Aziraphale to learn how to drive.

“What do I do then, dear?” he asked softly. In all the years Crowley had had the Bentley, he’d been content – and sometimes terrified – sitting next to him. If he had paid attention to him at all, it had most certainly not been because he had any desire to pick up on his driving techniques.

“Oh. Right” Crowley looked pleased; Aziraphale wished he’d take off the sunglasses so he could see his eyes – he loved it how they glittered in the sunlight; but Crowley wasn’t so far to leave them behind quite yet, not yet comfortable enough even if it were just the two of them, but they would get there – “So first of all you have to turn on the motor.”

“But there’s no key in the ignition” Aziraphale pointed out, feeling rather smug as he did so. There. He knew some things about cars.

Crowley rolled his invisible eyes. “That’s because I would never do that to my dear girl” he all but cooed at the car. “Just tell her to start. Nicely.”

Aziraphale had known that Crowley poured quite a bit of magic and miracles into the Bentley, of course – otherwise, especially considering his driving style, there’d hardly have been a chance that the car would have survived the past ninety years. Still, this seemed to be a bit excessive.

But that was what they had saved the world for, wasn’t it? So they could indulge and be together.

So he very gently told the Bentley with his mind that he’d like to take a drive now, please, because Crowley wished them to, and suddenly the motor was on.

Crowley grinned. “See? Told you.”

He nodded, then gripped the steering wheel.

“Oh no” Crowley rubbed a hand over his knuckles “This is supposed to be a nice experience for all of us. You have to relax.”

“I have no idea what I’m doing” he confessed.

“That’s alright, you’ve got me and the Bentley to take care of you” Crowley told him with the expression of a demon who hadn’t known what to do when he first purchased his beloved horseless carriage either and had early on become determined never to learn the way humans did but was now expecting it of his – lover? He supposed they were lovers.

His heart warmed as he thought of them as lovers, and he decided to try and do this.

“We can go as slow as you want, angel” Crowley said, voice rather thick with emotion all of a sudden, “That’s why we’re here.”

Here being in the middle of the night at Tadfield air base, where it all had started, really.

No, Aziraphale suddenly realized; it had started long before then. Maybe even…

He took a deep breath he didn’t really need and decided to try and drive.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Alright, angel, I know I said we could go slow, but you’re driving less than ten miles an hour” Crowley pointed out.

“I am just trying to get the hang of things” he defended himself.

“You won’t if you keep doing thisssssss. You can’t jussssssst drive ten miles an hour in London” Crowley hissed, although his smile rather ruined the overall impression.

“I would say it’s impossible to drive ninety miles an hour in the city, and yet you do so on a regular basis.”

“That’s because I let the streets know who’s boss. You’d just be politely asking them to not inconvenience you. This won’t do” Crowley decided.

He sighed. “Fine.” The car accelerated slightly.

“See? Told you this was fun.”

Aziraphale said nothing, but in truth, he was starting to see why one would just take drives for pleasure. In the past, he had mostly seen the road trips Crowley took him on as more chances to spend time with him, but it was surprisingly pleasant to just sit there and… go somewhere. Even if he’d still have preferred to drive slower, but knowing his demon, he wouldn’t be allowed to.

“Maybe we could put on some music?” he suggested.

Crowley grinned, proving that he too had noticed that Aziraphale was enjoying himself, the pleased, happy smile of someone who’d made his lover happy. “Alright. I just bought these yesterday, so they should be alright –“

And it was indeed Vivaldi’s Four Seasons that started playing instead of Queen, which seemed to be the Bentley’s go-to music, usually.

Aziraphale knew that Crowley mostly listened to classical music when they were together, simply because the angel liked it. Recently though he’d admitted that he’d now and then gone to a concert over the last six thousand years when he’d missed him – “That kid Mozart was really talented, wasn’t he”.

He smiled to himself.

“Good. You’re starting to relax.”

“Of course I’m relaxed, dear. I’m with you.”

And, almost as if it were sentient and could understand what was being spoken, the Bentley’s motor hummed.

To Aziraphale’s utter delight, Crowley blushed. “Both of you should shut up” he muttered, but there was no heat behind it.

“It’s true” Aziraphale told him, because he wanted to see him blush again. He wasn’t disappointed.

They drove on; the guards ignored them due to a convenient miracle Crowley had performed. And anyway, there wasn’t much to guard, was there, they would have said; just computers, and computers only did what the people punching the keys told them, so there was little to no danger there.

Aziraphale smiled to himself once more as he recalled the day of the Apocalypse-that-wasn’t. It had taken him a long time to get to admitting that he and Crowley were on their own side, but he’d got there in the end.

“We should stop soon” he said.

“Why, angel? You already have enough?”

“No” he answered simply, “But I want to hold your hand, and I can’t do that when I’m not supposed to let go of the steering wheel.”

Crowley spluttered. “I – tsk – agh – you can’t just say stuff like that!”

“Why not? You do it all the time.”

“That’s different!”

“How?”

“I told you – I’ve been waiting to do so.”

Aziraphale wanted to ask again, but wasn’t keen on hearing another excuse as to why Crowley wouldn’t answer him, so he didn’t.

Still – eventually, he stopped the car.

They watched the stars from the hood of the Bentley, holding hands.

“I really like doing that one” Crowley told him, pointing at a constellation with his free hand.

“It’s beautiful, dear” Aziraphale replied even though he wasn’t looking at the stars; watching Crowley was enough for now.

Then, before he even knew he’d ask, he quietly added, “How long were you waiting for this?”

At first, he thought he would once more fail to get an answer, but then, Crowley, looking anywhere but at him, quietly replied, “Since some foolish guardian of the Eastern Gate told me they’d given their flaming sword away.”

“Oh Crowley.”

“Yes, yes, well, all over and done with.”

A shy Crowley was something Aziraphale had come to know and appreciate in the months since the world didn’t end. “You were right” he told him softly.

“What about?”

“This – driving is fun.”

Now Crowley looked smug again. “Told you.”

“Yes, dear, you did.”

And he kissed him.

#fictober19 #good omens #my writings #ineffable husbands #aj crowley #aziraphale #cutting it close but still lol #enjoy

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slushrottweiler · 5 years

Text

Vesuvia University Institute of Medicine and Magic: Kink and Fetish Study

Chapter 3: The use of vibrating paraphernalia and its effect on improved phone interactions

The latest chapter in my smutastic sex study fic, featuring every one favourite Disaster Doctor, and apprentice Terra. For today's @smutember entry "Quickie" and "Toys"

...

Holy fuckstick that is a lot of cock!

Laid out in a neat row on her bed was the largest collection of sex toys Terra had ever seen outside of the internet. The assorted rainbow of coloured paraphernalia varied wildly in shape, size and materials. From simple peach-toned dildo to a sleek glass phallus, to the three-pronged pink monstrocity with a variety of attachable ridges, textured sleeves and seven-speed vibration settings; it would seem that every kind of penetrative sex toy had been included in Terra's recent parcel.

She picked up a vibrator at random; this one a stylish mauve with artistic curves meant to pleasure both the clit and g-spot. After fiddling with the settings, the device began to whirr softly and Terra let out a bark of laughter. She dug her phone from her back pocket and dialled the most recent number on her register. If she was honest, her call and text log was mostly just this one number.

The call was answered on the second ring, and Terra didn't wait for a hello before chiming in.

'Why the fuck did I just receive a bouquet of cocks?'

Terra heard Doctor Julian Devorak choke on the other end of the line. She was beginning to enjoy startling the man.

[[MORE]]

'Terra! I ahh... um well you see... ah hang on.' Julian stuttered, and Terra switched off the purple vibrator as she flopped down amongst her new presents. A technicoloured toy shaped like a 'roided out flower bumped into her forehead and she batted it away.

She could hear the doctor shuffling, then a door closing tightly and Julian clearing his throat. 'Sorry, I'm in my office now. Did you just say you received a severed appendage?'

Terra cackled, 'No! I got a box of dildos, you twit.'

'Oh! Well that is far less disturbing. Why didn't you just say that my dear? You know how to scare a man!' Julian's voice relaxed noticeably and Terra let a smile start to form on her lips.

'We sent them to you to try out. Experiment with alternate stimuli, that kinda thing.' He continued.

'You want me to use ALL of THEM?' Terra sat bolt upright on her bed and looked around at the sea of dicks that surrounded her. 'I don't even know what some of these are! Like, what the actual fuck is this spirally one supposed to be?'

Terra picked up a glittery silver vibrator, that tapered off into a corkscrew. It had a heavy knob at the base and what appeared to be a large suction cup. The button at the base triggered the motor, and it began spinning wildly, startling a cry from Terra. She could hear Julian laughing on the other end of the line.

‘I think that one is supposed to be a unicorn cock?’ he chortled.

‘What?’ Terra squawked, tossing the toy across the bed.

Between chuckles, Julian managed to respond. ‘I thought you’d enjoy the whimsy of it.’

‘You picked me out a magic horse dick!’

He choked on his own laughter and Terra grinned from her side of the call. She switched off the unicorn dildo and pushed it to the far side of her penis rainbow. If she was honest with herself, she’d always been fascinated by the creative variety of sex toys but had been too chicken to purchase any of the more outlandish models. With that in mind, she could guess that a few other toys were based on the reproductive organs of various mythical beasts.

‘Well they’d make a good talking point for dinner parties.’ Julian suggested.

‘Yeah,’ Terra laughed, ‘I’ll just place this flower dick on a bookshelf and see how many people think its modern art.’

‘I genuinely dare you to do that.’

The two snickered together at their own joke. Terra brushed her hand over the toys, eventually settling on the rabbit-eared one that had caught her eye. This one was a smooth silicone toy, the kind of high end design that tried its best not to appear like a penis. Deep, luxurious red; she stroked the length of it, pleased to find it had no seams on the shaft, or clit stimulator. She turned it over in her hands, pressing a button at random.

A soft hum filled the space. This toy didn’t rotate, simply quivered in her grip. She could control the speed of each independent motor of the toy, and she experimented by rotating between intensities and rhythms. She switched her phone onto speaker to test out the sensation on the palm of her hand.

The vibration tingled through her fingers and up her arm, a rolling rhythm that made her eyelids flutter when she pressed it into a sore joint of her hand.

‘I think I’ve found my favourite.’ She mumbled absently.

There was a sharp gasp from the phone. ‘You’re trying them out now?’ Julian asked.

Terra turned and flopped down on her pillow beside the phone. She waggled the toy at the device, as though Julian could see it.

‘Just against my palm. If nothing else, it’ll do wonders for my hand cramps.’

‘Well that’s something. Which one is it?’ Julian asked.

Rather than answer, Terra scooped up the phone and snapped a quick picture of herself, posing ridiculously with the vibrator held against her cheek. A few of the other toys could be seen at the edges of the frame, but mostly it was just a closeup shot of her goofy pout and the red vibe. Without thinking, she sent the photo to Julian.

‘I don’t know the name, its this red one.’ She explained.

‘There are three different red ones.’

‘Yeah I know. Is red your favourite colour or something?’ Terra teased.

‘Mahogany actually, but red is rather –’ he trailed off when the bing of an incoming text signaled, and Terra grinned at the ceiling as she imagined his gobsmacked face. She thought she heard a strangled groan, but it was gone in a rumble of chuckles.

‘That is… unreasonably adorable.’ Julian declared. His voice was pitched a bit lower, possibly to keep the volume down.

‘What can I say? I am just a bundle of cuteness.’ She replied sarcastically.

‘Yeah...’ Julian trailed off with a sigh.

Moments tricked by in silence, and Terra checked her phone to see if the call had dropped. Tapping the still-active toy against her shoulder, she asked, ‘So, do I need to take notes on them or something?’

Julian cleared his throat before responding. ‘Yes, if you like. Otherwise you can call me, and I can record the data. You could film it if you were comfortable with that.’

‘Yeah, nah.’ Terra said. ‘So you’d guide me through it?’

The line between them seemed suddenly heavy with tension. Julian hadn’t been present for any guided masturbation sessions since ‘The Car Incident’, as Terra had been calling it. They’d still met up plenty, but their experiments had been self-guided, with Julian taking on the role of silent observer. It hadn’t yielded as consistent a response as their previous tests, and a part of Terra was itching for the doctor to have a more active roll.

‘Um no.’ Julian answered, and Terra tried not to feel disappointed. ‘But we can angle it a different way. I’m looking to progress the angle that you respond more to the actual speech than who is saying what. Less instruction kink and more a voice kink. So we can try you describing to me what you are doing, and I can take down the notes.’

The idea of describing herself getting off to Julian did have some appeal, but not as much as she would have liked. Still, she was being paid to try these things out, and the idea of Julian listening in as she got off had its perks. She wondered if maybe, late at night when he was tired and not thinking quite so straight; did he get off on the images of her he had seen that day? Did he think about her touching herself, think about touching her himself .

She turned the vibrator over in her palm. Terra knew she shouldn’t be hoping for things like that. Julian was her supervising doctor for Christ’s sake. But… she still wanted him to want her. Just as much as she did. Which was cruel and wrong and not something she should be thinking about. She needed to get this out of her head, focus her mind on something else.

‘Are you busy now?’

‘Huh? Wha, no not really.’ Julian stuttered adorably.

Terra reclined back on her bed, kicking the other toys onto the floor and settling comfortably in a warm patch of sunlight. She switched the vibrator onto its lowest setting and touched it gently to the exposed skin of her thigh. The tiny tremors were pleasant and just a little naughty, and she let out a low hum as she traced the vibrating tip in random patterns.

‘That’s good doc. Don’t want you working too hard.’ Her own voice had slowed, turned thick and smooth like honey.

‘I’ll have you know I maintain a very healthy work/life balance.’

That earned a lazy snort from Terra, who let her eyelids flutter shut -- to focus completely on the sound of Julian’s voice and the rumbling vibrations.

‘Which is why you’re constantly found asleep at your desk?’

‘Well maybe my desk is just surprisingly comfortable.’

‘I’ll have to test that for myself doc.’ Terra purred, and she heard Julian swallow thickly over the line. With a shiver, Terra dragged the toy up her thigh until it skimmed the edge of her denim cut-offs. She skimmed the tip against her inner thigh as goosebumps trailed in its wake.

‘Would you like that my dear?’ Fuck, Julian’s voice had taken on that deep tone he used when he instructed her. She couldn’t tell if he did it on purpose; if he was teasing or serious, but the sound had anticipation coiling in her stomach and heat pooling between her legs.

‘And if I did?’ Terra purred back, ‘Maybe I want to imagine being laid out across your desk. Spread across it like a dream.’

Carefully, so she didn’t jostle her phone from where it balanced on the pillow beside her, Terra unsnapped her shorts and kicked them away. Her underwear was already damp, and she immediately pressed firmly down on her aching clit. A low groan escaped as she massaged the aching bud through the light cotton, her other hand still ghosting the vibrator against her skin.

When Julian spoke again, he sounded torn between arousal and frustration. ‘Damnit Terra, that’s not --’

‘It’s just a fantasy doc. Isn’t that why you sent me this box of toys? To let me play?’ This was the first time Terra had taken such a talkative role in their sessions, and the sound of Julian’s breathing growing laboured was a jolt to her system.

‘Is that what you’re doing? Playing with me?’ he groaned.

Terra smirked. ‘Well, right now I’m playing with myself.’ As if to punctuate her words, Terra turned the vibration setting up, so the rumbling buzz sounded louder in the quiet afternoon space. She slid the tip under the seam of her underwear, stroking it back and forth until a full body shudder rolled over her. She heard Julian curse quietly.

‘How about it doc? Wanna play with me?’

‘Terra…’ he dragged out her name, a warning mixed with a plea.

‘Come on. For science…’ Terra knew she was treading a very fine line. She was probably stepping over it. But right now, with the ache between her legs and the sound of Julian’s breath in her ear, she couldn’t seem to help herself.

‘Fuck. You will be the death of me.’ Julian hissed and a breathless laugh escaped Terra as she realised she had won. As if this was the signal she had been waiting for, Terra pulled aside her underwear and finally pressed the vibrator fully against her clit.

Her back arched off the bed on impact, a shaky gasp mixing with Julian’s groan. Not wanting to go slowly, she rubbed the rumbling vibe fully against her clit, hips bucking up to meet the toy. It wasn’t hard to imagine Julian’s attention fully fixed on her, knowing he was listening with rapt attention from the other end of the call.

‘Tell me what you’re doing Terra.’ Julian asked. His words shook as he spoke, and it only egged Terra on.

‘For science?’ She teased and revelled in the snarl that echoed through the phone.

‘Just tell me, please.’ he begged and oh, that was a new and exciting sound.

Terra dragged the toy down over folds until it was coated in her slick. Lining up the shuddering tip with her entrance, Terra pressed the toy into her slowly, letting the pleasure of her being stretched fill her voice.

‘It’s inside me.’ she panted once it was pushed to the hilt. The two soft ears settled easily on either side of her clit, and she quickly cycled through the patterns to find a roiling pulse that made her toes curl. ‘Fuck it fills me up so well.’

‘Gods Terra.’ Julian huffed and she started to move.

Keeping her wrist action steady, Terra slowly eased the toy in and out of her. As she panted, she quickened the pace, letting the toy press up against her g-spot with ever push. She was so wet, it glided easily in and out.

‘I’m going slow. Its… fuck, its bigger than I thought it would be.’ humming low in her throat, she sped up slightly, meeting her own movements with a thrust of her hips. Julian groaned, and a loud thump sounded, as though he had just slammed his head back against a wall.

‘It feels so good doc. Reaches all the right spots.’ she murmured, turning her head so it faced the phone beside her head. Julian’s voice was tinny through the speaker, and was muffled, like he was holding the phone close to his lips. God, now Terra was thinking about his lips. Firm and pink, and so quick to quirk into a sly smile. She could see him in her mind’s eye, leaning over her on all fours as she plunged the toy deeper, pressing the ears more firmly against her clit.

Julian swallowed hard. ‘Does it fill you up darling?’

Terra’s reply was a whimper and an increase in speed. Her hips jerked up as she fucked herself harder with the vibrator Julian had picked out for her. The steady buzz mixed with the wet slap of silicone meeting skin. Her own gasps seemed to reverberate off the walls of her bedroom, but she was focused solely on the quiet sounds coming from her phone. There was a clack of metal and fuck… was that a zipper.

‘Julian…’ Terra gasped and the doctor gifted her with a full blown moan that had her grip tightening on the toy. ‘Julian, are you…’

‘Don’t.’ he groaned, and she strained to hear the sounds in the background of Julian’s call. A steady thumping blended with his panting breaths, keeping time with her own actions.

‘Just,’ Julian continued through his teeth, ‘Just dont stop.’ he groaned.

Terra moaned, her free hands gripping her hair as she fucked herself harder. ‘I won’t. I can’t stop.’

The sounds of sex bounced between them, Terra’s moans turning to heady pants as she pushed herself higher. She was so wet now, her own slick coated the toy and her own fingers. Sunlight warmed her quivering legs as her imagination melded with the sounds Julian made.

With a particularly strong thrust, Terra all but squealed and arched of the bed, throwing her head back as the vibrations pulsed through her. Her actions disrupted her phone, which slid away and fell off the pillow. Instantly she whimpered at the loss, eyes snapping open to flail madly across her bed until she could scoop it up again. Quickly tapping it off speaker, she pressed the mobile against her ears and whimpered in pleasure at effect. It was like Julian was panting right in her ear, like he was pressed against her and the sounds pumped heat into her blood.

‘Don’t go.’ She begged without thinking. She pressed the phone harder as she slammed the toy into her aching cunt. “I’m getting close…’

‘I’m not going anywhere darling.’ Julian groaned on the other end of the line. ‘I’m right there… with you.’

“Fuck Julian. Fuck, fuck, fuuucckkk…’ Curses and pleas tumbled from Terra as she neared the edge. Julian moaned along with her, his cries muffled like he was biting his lip. Screwing her eyes shut tightly, Terra let herself sink into the vibrations of the toy and his voice, until she felt like she was wound so tightly she would snap.

‘Oh fuck, I’m cumming!’ The words ripped out of Terra and she came. Her orgasm smashed into her, hot and quick, with the sounds of Julian's gurgled moans filling her head. Her whole body seemed to shudder as the vibrations pushed her over, mouth open wide in a perfect silent O.

It took a minute for Terra’s brain to reboot. She slid the toy out of her with a quiet squelch, turning it off and letting it drop beside her without a care for the sheets. Considering how wet she was, she would have to change them anyway. Heavy panting came from the other end of the line, and Terra wondering if it was just an echo from her own ragged breathing of if it was really Julian who was so out of breath.

‘Well,’ Julian cleared his throat before he spoke. He did sound a little out of it. ‘I think we’ve found your new favourite toy.’

In her orgasm-fried state, Terra just threw her head back and laughed.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

Julian stared at the phone he had just hung up. The standard call screen closed after a moment, revealing the last thing he had looked at besides the call. Filling the screen was a picture of his patient, pouting ridiculously. Her hair was spread out against her pillow in a vivid green halo, amber eyes flashing with mischief in the afternoon light. And poking her in the cheek was a deep red vibrator, its dual ends just visible in the shot.

The very same vibrator he had just listened to her get herself off with. A sex toy he had bought her.

Because she was a Patient in a Study HE was supposed to be supervising.

Looking down at himself, Julian cringed at the sight. His fist was still clenched around the base of his cock, softening after he had come hard to the sinful sounds coming from the girl he couldn’t seem to get out of his head. His own cum was splattered against the dark denim of his jeans, hanging low on his hips from where he had pushed it out of the way just enough to free himself.

Dropping his head back against his shut office door, Julian covered his eyes with his arm, and groaned.

He was well and truly fucked.

#smutember2019 #smutember day 7: quickie #smutember 2k19 #the arcana game fanfic #julian devorak fanfic #VU sex study #Chap 3 #julian devorak #julian x terra #devoter #apprentice terra #completely imappropriate science #like... just awful science #but is sexy and thats the point #doctor devorak #disaster doctor #dr devorak #doctor/patient situation

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hyba · 5 years

Text

T A G : 11/11/11

It feels like an eternity has passed since I last did tag games. I’m so thankful that @ren-c-leyn has kept me in mind for these because I love them, and now that I’m getting back in the groove of things, I just want to binge writeblr tag games!! ^^ Thank you so much for the tag! I’m so excited!!!!!!!

Let’s get started!

1. Why did you first start writing? Not just your current project, but in general.

I first started writing as a teeny-tiny first-grader in elementary school. Our teachers had us write a lot of stuff. We wrote about our field trips and turned those into little storybooks, we made our own stories - and we even illustrated everything! It was altogether such a pleasant experience that it only makes sense I fell in love with writing!

It probably helped that I was completely in love with reading, too. I’d check out books from the library and take them home and my mother and I would take turns reading them out loud! Such beautiful memories. ^^

2. What do you tend to notice the most about your writing while you’re writing it?

I’m a bit of a stickler for grammar and spelling, so that’s something that I have to get right on the spot! Sentence structure, punctuation, grammar, spelling, and overall tone / voice / diction / narration are things that I look at while writing.

Especially when I’m just starting a story, I don’t pay attention to plot so much and just go for the scenes that trickle into my mind.

3. If you had to write a single genre for the rest of your life, which would you choose?

Oh no! Just one?!

I’m in love with the fantasy genre - I adore how freeing it is! But I’ve gotten the best reviews for my suspense writing.

I’m going to cheat a bit and say fantasy only because a lot of my writing falls under that category (even horror - mermaids and vampires and ghosts all fit under fantasy if it’s convenient :P) and also because I can always incorporate elements of mystery and suspense into it.

4. What are your favorite things to describe in writing?

Ah, description.

My weak point.

My enemy.

The bane of my existence.

I jest! ^^ I love description. I just haven’t really given it the amount of concentration and dedication that I probably should. That’s something I just recently started working on.

If it counts at all, I like vague descriptions of suspicious people / places / things. Descriptions that send a chill down your spine. Descriptions that are intended to make you feel something rather than envision something.

That’s the kind of description that I think I do pretty well with at the moment.

5. What elements do your favorite characters tend to share? (Not just in your own writing, but in general.)

I think most of my favourite characters tend to be:

Characters that are basically strong loner types.

Characters that can take care of themselves, that aren’t averse to learning something new, that keep true to their morals and know what they’re all about.

Characters that take the hand they’ve been dealt and turn it into something beautiful, even if they have to fight and claw for that.

Characters that won’t throw anyone under the bus just to get the things they want.

Characters that are loyal to their friends - that are willing to believe in them when nobody else will.

Characters that are good at their core and that don’t succumb to the temptations that would end up hurting them or those around them.

Characters that are determined to make the world a better place for themselves and those around them.

Characters that have a positive outlook on life, despite the tragedy and loss that they may encounter themselves.

Probably a lot more, but I’m going to stop there ^^

6. What’s something you wish you would have known about writing when you started?

This one’s actually a tough one. I don’t feel like my personal writing journey has given me reason to think that there was something I should have known earlier. I feel that I’ve been learning things as they appear, and in a timely manner. The lessons come, and I learn from them, and I do better. I don’t tend to think of them in terms of the past.

I guess I could say that I hadn’t quite expected it to be so difficult to just finish one story. This is a more recent lesson, given that I’ve just started putting the finishing touches and edits on quite a lot of my stories, but it’s an important one all the same.

Starting a story is easy. Finishing it and seeing it through to the end is harder. It requires discipline, even if this is just something you’re doing for fun. But it feels amazing to put the words “The End” at the end of that manuscript and sit back and feel proud of yourself. ^^

7. What’s one thing you wish you would have kept from back when you first started writing?

I’m a hoarder in many ways, so I kept most of my stuff from back when I first started writing stories! ^^ I still have all the books I wrote and illustrated and I have the diaries I kept and the books I bought and I just love going back to them and seeing what I was doing as a little girl!

Also, I back up all my writing on my hard drive and I started to do that in high school - which, incidentally, was also when I started writing more seriously - so I also keep all the old WIPs and stories I ever made, and those are so fun to go back to as well!

8. Do you like any of your old writing?

I’ve deleted some pieces that never went anywhere, but I’ve kept about 90% of my old writing and I’m extremely proud of it, regardless of how many faults I now go back and find. ^^ Most of those pieces were passion pieces - written in bursts of inspiration - and whenever I go back to them I can feel the same thing I felt as I wrote them and I get excited to continue them!

And that’s why I have all these WIPs...

9. What do you think of writing ‘rules’?

I’m not much for writing rules. Tips and advice are great, because it’s implied that it’s just something you can do if it works for you - but when you say something it a rule...

Personally, I don’t like rules in writing. I like writing the way I write. Sometimes that means I never describe anything. Sometimes that means I go back and edit as I write, so that by the time I’m done with something I’ve edited it about two-hundred times. I use ‘realized’ and ‘seemed’ and ‘felt’ and ‘looked like’ and all those other “no-nos” all the time, and I don’t mind a single bit.

At the end of the day, this is art. Art comes from passion. It comes from emotion and inspiration and a place within our minds that moves us to create. And if I’m creating something I want to share, it’s going to be by my own standards and not someone else’s.

That being said, I have the utmost respect for those who share their tips and advice and even their rules, because they’re sharing their experiences and what works for them, and I’m certain that most of those rules will work for a great many other people! ^^

It’s awesome that we’re having such an open community where people can talk about what does and doesn’t work for them, and what they prefer to do! Even if I don’t like rules, per se, I do enjoy reading about them just to see what works for others and experiment. ^^

10. What’s something that really encourages you as a writer?

Reading amazing pieces of writing always encourages me to continue creating my own stories in the hopes that one day someone might pick up my book and sit down and read it all the way through until the wee hours of the morning and think to themselves, “Wow, that was a great book.”

It’s a nice thought. ^^

11. Have some positivity you’d like to pass onto your fellow writers?

I’d probably want to let people know that their writing is a direct result of their effort, their imagination, the time they’ve decided to spend on that one story -- and all of that isn’t worthless. It’s something good and great and awesome and it’s something that shouldn’t be dismissed in times of doubt!

Please remember to take some breathers, to not put unnecessary pressure on yourself with your writing, and to take it one step at a time. Slowly or quickly - you’re surely getting there if you just keep writing when you can! ^^

That was really fun! What wonderful Qs!

I’m going to tag @coloursintheblur, @trickster-writes, @norawritess, @inexorableblob, @tracle0, @pied-piper-of-hamlet, @tea-and-pirates, @kaatiba, @alexwillow, @clawhee-writes, and @nectareouswrites ^^ And, @ren-c-leyn, if you want to jump in and do these Qs as well, please do!

It��s been a while since I tagged some of you because I’ve been gone for so long, and I’d love to hear your answers!

Here are my 11 Qs:

1. What cultural value do you see in writing/reading/storytelling/etc.?

2. Do you try more to be original or to deliver to readers what they want?

3. As a writer, what would you choose as your mascot/avatar/spirit animal?

4. What do you think most characterizes your writing?

5. How do you select the names of your characters?

6. Choose one of your OCs (or more). How would they want to be seen by others?

7. How do you find or make time to write? Are you consistent or do you write whenever you get the chance?

8. What does literary success look like to you? Is it important for you as a writer?

9. Are there any scenes that you’ve had to edit out of your WIPs? Can you tell us about them if they don’t spoil the book?

10. Would you feel comfortable publishing or sharing your writing using your real name, or would you prefer a pseudonym?

11. When writing, do you try more to be original or do you prefer to deliver to readers what they want? Do you think that a book can do both? Which is more important to you as a writer?

Have fun!

#writeblr #writing #tag games #writers #writers on tumblr #amwriting #11/11/11 tag #pseudonym #publishing #success #stories #characters #fun stuff #i can't wait to get back to all the tag games I missed

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canaryatlaw · 5 years

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well it’s late and I should be getting to bed. but today was fine. I woke up to my alarm at 10:30 and got ready, then ubered to my doctor’s appointment. same deal as last time, two shots and then they had to take my vitals every thirty minutes for 2 hours afterwards to make sure I wasn’t having an allergic reaction. That’s only the protocol for the first two visits, after that it’s just thirty minutes and you’re good. I brought my laptop and got to work editing the brief I’d gotten returned to me this morning with edits by the same guy as last time. this one was better at least, less frustrating and condescending (though at one point he was like “we talked about this” and I was like bitch I’ve never spoken to you in my life don’t treat me like a fucking child) thought still not a pleasant process. I don’t remember if I said the other night I emailed a resume and cover letter to the DV clinic after they sent me an email asking if I’d be interested in applying for a staff attorney position they have open, that would really be an ideal position for me at this point, and since then I’ve only really been able to think about that. Like sure, this current gig is better than unemployment by a long shot, but it’s still not a full attorney position really, and the money is still not great. The one hesitation I have is the clinic recently combined with a child welfare nonprofit that I’m not terribly fond of, they generally focus on parents and family rights which I tend to find come at the expense of children’s rights. But, I’d only be working on the DV side of things, and even so they do have some child welfare initiatives about reforming the system that I would definitely get behind, I just have a hard limit against representing parents in abuse and neglect proceedings period. I have no idea if that would even come up in any interview, but if it did I’d have no problem making my feelings on the matter clear because I’d rather not get the job than take a job I don’t feel like I could adequately represent my clients. But yeah, we’ll see what happens with that. Two hours later everything was good so I took an uber pool home. Worked for a little while more before getting ready for the chiropractor and heading over there. They have a girl in training for their PT positions so she was taking the lead on things while supervised with my normal guys, I’m always happy to work with people in training or school because I know how vital hands on experience was to me as a law student and how that applies to many other situations as well. Good appointment, went home afterwards and chilled out for a bit before doing some final work on the edits. I got all of the comments corrected, tomorrow I’m just going to give it a final once over to correct any what-he-likes-to-call “overly casual language” which is obnoxious because whenever he’s not saying that he’s saying I’m using too many words than needed to get my point across and I’m just like....dude, those two instructions don’t always work together. But ultimately not bad. When I finished for the night I turned on netflix and watched some Anthony Bourdain to chill out for a bit before showering and starting to get ready for bed, and now I’m here. Tomorrow I have to take kitty to the vet for a follow up appointment due to her strange behavior/lack of eating earlier this month, she seems to be doing better, is definitely eating more so I’m not too concerned. Hopefully public transit will cooperate this time and we won’t get stuck waiting for the bus for 20+ minutes in 85 degree weather (it’s at least only supposed to hit 76 tomorrow, but if we get that long of a delay I’ll probably get an uber anyway and hope they’re okay with having a cat in a carrier). And yeah, that’s about it. It just turned 2 am so I should definitely be getting to bed now, so that is what I will do. Goodnight dearies. Have good sleep.

#daily journal #July 2019

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lovemesomesurveys · 5 years

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On MySpace, what was in the last bulletin you posted? Most likely it was a survey. Man, I wish I could still access those. 15/16 year old me survey answers... yikes.

When and where was the last time you took a picture of yourself? In room a few weeks ago.

Have you ever been scolded by a mall cop? Not scolded, but one told me to take my hoodie off once. ha. He was cool about it.

How often do you catch yourself daydreaming? I zone out a lot.

What’s your favorite thing to think about as you’re falling asleep? I don’t have much control over where my brain goes. It likes to go some weird, random, and sometimes dark places.

Is there anything that you want to do, but you won’t do because you’re too afraid? A lot of things.

Who was the last person to yell at you? Not sure. I don’t get yelled at, but like my parents and I have our disagreements and get frustrated with each other sometimes.

Who gets up the earliest in your household and what about the latest? My dad gets up the earliest everyday even on the weekends when he’s off work. The latest is me.

Have you ever had a pet walk across your keyboard while you were typing? No. My dogs have always been too big to do that.

Which political issues are you most passionate about? I don’t want to get into politics.

You’re going to your favorite foreign country, so what landmarks do you go see? I’d love to check out many places in Sweden.

What’s the longest amount of time that you’ve spent away from your home? A week.

Did the last movie you watched have any emotional affect on you? I just saw Glass on Saturday, which was pretty crazy. In a good way.

What motivates you to go to school? I’m done with school, thank goodness.

How much caffeine have you consumed in one day? I used to always have coffee first thing and then a can of soda later on. Sometimes more coffee later that night. I haven’t had soda; though, in over year. Well, minus the sip I take with my medicine (I have to crush my pills and soda is the only thing I can take it with). Now I’m just about the coffee, twice a day. Nice, warm, big, delicious cups of coffee.

Are you more hyper and up-tight or laid back and relaxed? Hyper and upright don’t seem to go together in the way you paired these things, but I’d say I actually come off laid back to people who don’t really know me and probably just cause I’m pretty quiet, but really I’m more tense and anxious.

When was the last time you heard someone talking about you? *shrug*

How did you pick out your last outfit? I just grabbed some leggings and a sweatshirt. Not much thought went into it.

Are you embarrassed to bring people into your bedroom? I would be now.

When was the last children’s birthday party you attended? It’s been a couple years.

Are you good at reading other people’s body language? I think so. I could be taking it the wrong way sometimes, though.

If you’re sick, do you go to school or do you stay home usually? It depended on how sick I was. Typically, I’d power through, but there were times where I just couldn’t. There were times in college before I had a pretty big surgery for something where I was sick a lot and went to school with a fever and chills. I’d have to pop some Tylenol before class, sometimes even during, and just push through. Weak me today can’t relate.

Does chicken noodle soup really make you feel any better? No.

What’s one meal that you like to eat whilst sick? Usually I’m not much into anything because my taste buds are all messed up and everything tastes bland. And then depending on what kind of sick I am, I may not want to eat anything, really. I have to force myself to eat toast or soup in times like that.

Thinking of the last survey you filled out, did you enjoy it? It was okay.

Have you ever fed bread to ducks or geese? Yeah, before I learned how terrible it is for them. <<<< Same. :X

Is it hard to imagine you were ever as small as a one or two-year-old? Yeah. Such a long time ago. D:

What set the tone for your mood today? It’s only 1:56AM. So far; though, I feel pretty crappy cause of this cough and cold thing I have going on.

Have you ever set out to ruin someone else’s day? No. I would never intentionally do that.

Have you ever felt like the whole world was against you? Just like life in general, ya know?

What was the name of the last video game you played? Life is Strange.

What was the name of the last board game that you played? I don’t remember, it’s been too long. I love board games.

What was the last thing that you told yourself? *shrug*

How many times a day do you wash your face? I actually don’t. I just apply moisturizer sometimes.

If someone throws hot coffee on you, how do you react? Uh, well, I’d react to something HOT being thrown at me and be like WTF? I’ve spilled hot coffee on myself on accident, so I know it’s not a pleasant feeling.

Is there a high school or college that you would rather be attending? I’m doneeee with school.

Have you ever lived in an apartment or duplex home? Duplex.

Has anyone ever commented on your weight? Yes. I get told how I’m “too skinny” all the time.

What’s a show from the ’90s that you miss? I mean, I still watch a lot of my favorites from that time.

Who provokes your sarcastic side the most? My brother and I sarcastically joke around all the time.

Have you ever thought about joining the military? No. I couldn’t anyway.

When you were little, did you ever stare at disabled or “different” people? I was/am disabled and am quite familiar with the stares.

Could the contents of your bedroom get you in any trouble? No...

Do weather patterns sometimes have an affect on your health? Rainy, cold weather can give me headaches and make me achy. Hot weather makes me just absolutely miserable.

If it snows a lot where you live, do you experience cabin fever? It doesn’t snow here. :(

When was the last time someone disapproved of something you were doing? I feel like my family disapproves of me not doing things I should be doing pertaining to my health. I know they get frustrated with me for that.

Do you consider yourself to be approachable? I’m not sure.

How do you respond to cheesy pick-up lines? Laugh. I’ve been asked the whole, “aye girl, what’s your sign?” before.

How was the service at the last restaurant you visited? Fine.

Are you ever jealous of happy couples? No. I may feel envious sometimes, but not jealous.

How would you describe a thought that’s sticking with you today? I’ve been thinking about how crappy I feel.

Lately, who has spent the most time on your mind? No one in particular.

In a car, air conditioning or roll the windows down? Air conditioning.

Is there a new song or band you’ve discovered? I’ve come across some new music recently. I don’t really listen to music a whole lot like I used to, so I went on Spotify the other day and checked out some new stuff to add to my playlist.

What teacher gives you the most homework?

What type of personality do you find most annoying? Cockiness and arrogance.

Are you punctual? Yes.

Have you ever howled at the full moon? ...No.

Have you ever seen yourself on camera? Yes. EW. The most torturous thing ever was back when I for some reason took this “acting for the camera” class and we’d have to do monologues and skits that were filmed. The WORST part about that was the professor would play everyone’s tape in front of the class and we were to give constructive criticism. Omg it was horrible.

Do you give any consideration to what’s said in your horoscope? I don’t even read those anymore. Back when I used to, I was so opposite of how a Leo is always described. They’re always said to be confident and outgoing people and I’m just like, ahahahahah.

When was the last time you felt like you were being followed? Yikes. I used to feel that way sometimes whenever I had to go to the bus stop or was going home from the bus stop.

#personal #text #survey #surveys

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lilywinstanleyfisher · 2 years

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Chosen subject area

The subject area I have chosen to explore for my final major project is commuting. Almost everyone does it, but most people would rather not have to. It can be uncomfortable, time-consuming, overwhelming, tiring... Considering how many people use public transport daily, you would think it would be a bit more pleasant. It also comes with a steep cost – a day travelcard for my dad costs him over £25. If all this was not already bad enough, the COVID-19 pandemic has made people hyperaware of how unpleasant public transport can be, especially at peak times where you find yourself squashed between a train door and a stranger. The physical and emotional effect of daily travelling is something that will differ from person to person but could be a potential starting point for my further research.

Despite all these negatives, I have recently found my commutes to university somewhat enjoyable. Especially when I have a lot going on, the journey gives me 45 minutes to clear my head and not have anything to worry about (except missing my train!). I think commuting has the potential to be at least a little bit pleasant for everyone.

It is also the best opportunity for people-watching. You can tell a lot about people on public transport from the way they are dressed, what they are carrying, and even their destination. I find it entertaining to make my own deductions about where individuals have been and where they are going based on appearance and behaviour. Are they a businessman on their way to the city? A school child who has trudged through a muddy field to catch the train? An art student on a trip to a museum? People-watching on my commutes could provide garment references for this project, and looking at different individuals' behaviour will also be helpful for informing silhouette and functional aspects of potential garments. It could also feed into a narrative for my project – what will my final piece tell others about the wearer and their story?

Behaviour and etiquette on public transport changed quite a lot during COVID. For example, at the beginning of the pandemic, trains were deserted, and personal space was abundant. As restrictions began to be lifted, suddenly rush hour returned, but this time the experience was even more uncomfortable. For a while, on less busy services, sitting directly next to someone was impolite and individuals without masks were frowned at. Now we are coming out of restrictions, there is uncertainty around returning to normal. Sitting next to someone is allowed but is still more awkward than before and going maskless feels wrong despite the mandate being lifted.

Public transport is likely to be my main source of inspiration, but I do not want to neglect things like driving, walking, cycling, etcetera. Most of the duration of my commute is spent walking and it is this time where I can think without any distraction. Walking has proven benefits for mental and physical health, but public transport is so common and accessible that most people opt for it instead. Is there a way of bringing the benefits of personal transport to public transport? Alternatively, how could people be persuaded to walk rather than hop on a bus or the tube, especially in central London?

As of now, I want this project to be centred on people. I am really interested to see how experiences of commuting vary, whether going by train, bike, or avoiding it altogether by working from home. Finding out what people do to make their journeys more bearable, and in what ways they might enjoy or detest them will be useful for deciding a potential audience and purpose for the project. Can I change people’s opinion of commuting? Do I want to highlight the unpleasantry, or exaggerate the more enjoyable aspects?

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leila-khaled · 6 years

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“P ilar* gave birth in a private, “humanized” hospital in Mexico City that takes a holistic approach to health and combines world-class medicine with the comforts of a five-star hotel. The exterior walls of the hospital are covered with ivy, the floors are marble, and soothing tunes from a piano often echo in the multilevel foyer. Guests are served organic food. The bathrooms are appointed with terry cloth robes embroidered with the hospital’s emblem, and the tips of the toilet paper are carefully folded into a triangle. When I interviewed her, Pilar told me about her pleasant water birth in one of the hospital’s hot tubs. But in a village that feels a world away from Pilar’s reality, Lupita’s birthing experience left a dark stain in her memory and pain in her heart. When she recognized that it was time to give birth, she sought the help of the village midwife, Leonila—an elderly woman who has used traditional techniques to bring children into the community for generations. Leonila had recently attended a government-mandated workshop where she and other midwives were informed about potential obstetric emergencies that can occur during the birthing process and instructed to refer all births to the regional hospital. So Lupita and her family loaded into a pickup truck, which trudged along a windy, uneven mountain path. Leonila’s story of what happened next is shocking. By the time they arrived at the hospital, Lupita was on the brink of delivery. Her family clamored for the help of the hospital staff, but Lupita was refused service. When she could no longer hold the baby in, Lupita rushed into a bathroom and delivered a stillborn baby into the toilet bowl. A nurse burst in on the distraught, weeping Lupita and scolded her for the pool of blood. She ordered Lupita to clean up the mess. While women in all countries have unique birth stories, in Mexico the appalling contrast between stories like those of Pilar and Lupita runs along deeply entrenched boundaries of race and class. Affluent, light-complexioned women enjoy humanized options provided by private care and accredited midwives, while poor Indigenous women are actively being deprived of access to the traditional birthing methods they have relied on for generations. Ironically, despite an increasing interest in natural birth in the country, traditional midwifery in Mexico is under siege. From 2010 to 2014, I interviewed, spoke with, and observed more than 2,000 health professionals, hospital administrators, professors and instructors, medical anthropologists, fathers, and mothers all across Mexico. My informants included midwives, physicians, and more than 100 women undergoing pregnancy, birth, or the postpartum process. Their stories throw a spotlight on the shocking gap in Mexico’s birthing system between the country’s most vulnerable and most affluent women, which is where my work is situated. In Mexico’s middle- and upper-class communities, high-tech births such as cesarean section are often the norm. According to Mexico’s National Survey of Health and Nutrition, 45.1 percent of all births in 2012 were via C-section—about quadruple the generally considered ideal rate of 10–15 percent. The World Health Organization has found that mortality rates for mothers and babies do not decrease when the cesarean rate is above about 10 percent, making it hard to justify the risk and expense of performing C-sections beyond this benchmark. Nonetheless, the rate of C-sections is even higher in Mexico’s private hospitals than in public clinics, indicating that middle- and upper-class Mexicans are actively seeking the procedure, even when not medically necessary. It is in this context that thousands of fervent parents are passionately pursuing “humanized” births: natural birth (meaning without painkillers such as epidurals), home birth, water birth, and European-trained midwife- and doula-assisted birth. But these natural techniques are not cheap. In 2014, a midwife-assisted humanized birth package in Mexico City cost approximately 32,000 pesos (US$1,719 at today’s exchange rate)—1.3 years’ worth of earnings for someone making the minimum wage of 67 pesos per day, or about half the annual income of someone in the middle class. While many of the birth practices in humanized hospitals aim to “revive” the techniques of traditional midwives, ironically, traditional midwifery is being prohibited in many of the poor Indigenous communities where these techniques have endured for centuries. These birth techniques include massaging the pregnant woman’s belly to position the fetus, preparing herbal teas to stimulate the birthing process, various birthing postures that broaden the birth canal, ritual burying of the placenta near the home, and postpartum restoration through consuming bone broth and taking an herbal bath. This threat against traditional midwifery practice has been institutionalized over the last decade: The government provides monthly stipends to the poorest quarter of the population conditional on their compliance with several rules, one of which is that pregnant women give birth in a government hospital. Traditional midwives like Leonila are required to direct all births to hospitals. And they are threatened with murder charges should a woman or baby die in their care, no matter how far they live from hospitals. Some of the women I met are several hours by bus or pickup truck from the nearest regional hospital where they are mandated to give birth. These requirements might make sense if the quality of medical care was much higher in hospitals, as the government claims, or if traditional midwifery was resulting in particularly high levels of injury or death. But my research did not show either of these to be true. On the contrary, I found that women were too often receiving inferior care in hospitals, whereas I found the quality of care by midwives to be superior. While the government blames midwifery practices for high maternal and infant mortality rates in Mexico’s most impoverished regions, I noticed that racial discrimination and insufficient infrastructure were recurring themes when interviewees recounted the deaths of wives, sisters, friends, and newborn children. People spoke of village clinics that are sporadically closed, chronically understaffed, and lacking in basic medications and instruments; crumbling roads that make emergency trips to the regional hospital extremely risky; and overcrowding at regional hospitals that leads to long wait times and forces women to lie in hallways on cardboard “cots” when all hospital beds are taken. Given these dire conditions, many of the traditional midwives I interviewed feel that it is their ethical obligation to provide midwifery services to fellow villagers who seek their help. And while their interventions are in direct defiance of official government mandates, their actions are actually abetted by physicians in government posts who wish to wash their hands of potential responsibility for a maternal or infant death. At times, traditional midwives are directly encouraged to intervene: For example, a medical resident I talked to told me that he would rather refer a potential obstetric emergency to the local midwife than take the blame for whatever poor outcome might result. At other times, traditional midwives feel indirectly morally obligated to intercede in cases where medical staff fail to serve women: Another provider told me that his clinic will refer an obstetric emergency to the regional hospital knowing that the woman is likely to die in transit, since it is better that her death be logged as “in transit” than as having occurred in his clinic. The Mexican government often uses traditional midwives as scapegoats; meanwhile, there are no official statistics on the birth outcomes of these midwives. The midwives I met had varied degrees of abilities and knowledge; some maintain private logs, which they keep secret from health officials, detailing thousands of successful births. The reputations of the most successful midwives, such as Eugenia, a renowned traditional midwife in the high mountains of Veracruz, are premised on empirical observations of their birth outcomes by villagers and clients from the surrounding region. They gain new clientele through word of mouth. Even one negative outcome can severely tarnish a midwife’s reputation. (This empirical, community-based form of ongoing validation runs counter to Western demands for statistical proof.)”

#Mexico

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