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DPxDC Police Officer Wes
"Excuse me, sorry, Mr. Batman, sir!"
That's definitely not a voice he knows. Bruce halts in his steps, aborting his usual retreat into the shadows, and turns back around. Commissioner Gordon, who was still in the process of wrapping up his small talk with Tim - the term 'grumpy banter' would describe their conversation more accurately at this point, but Bruce knows better than to argue with the two over semantics - also turns around, pausing in the middle of the sentence.
A ginger haired boy, wide-eyed and obviously either nervous, starstruck, or both, is staring at him from a few feet behind the Commissioner. Bruce can see a few more faces peeking from behind the half-opened door to the roof, all of them filled with anticipation. He knows two of them: detectives that work directly under Gordon, Isaiah Vasquez, and Tasha Kuznets. The third one, a black man in his forties, also looks vaguely familiar, but Bruce can't recall a name.
Yet, he knows absolutely nothing about the ginger, who hasn't blinked once since Bruce noticed him and is now biting on his lips. But he is wearing a police uniform, so, possibly, a new hire?
"Weston, get out," Jim sighs, waving a shooing hand at the boy with a look of barely concealed exasperation on his face. Definitely a new hire, then. That's the level of annoyance he reserves only for the overachieving rookies that he begrudgingly likes but never admits to.
"I-" newly named Weston starts but cuts himself off. Then, he takes a deep breath and straightens up, "Just one question, sir!"
"Weston, I swear to God," Commissioner pinches the bridge of his nose, lifting his glasses up a bit. But Tim tilts his head to the side, looking in the ginger's direction and raising his eyebrows. His domino mask hides it, but Bruce knows his menagerie of kids well enough to see that he is at least a bit curious about the boy. So he turns back around fully and inclines his head, giving Weston his attention. He doesn't mind talking with those rare few members of GCPD that Gordon likes.
Weston perks up like a very eager dog at the sight of a treat. In the contrast lighting of the BatSignal, his hair looks like it's on fire.
"If you don't mind, was the 'Smiling case' relevant to Joker in any sense?" The boy asks, loud and clear - maybe even too loud - with his unblinking gaze still glued to Bruce. Like he is afraid that if he closes his eyes for a moment, Gotham's vigilantes are going to disappear without a trace.
It's not a question Bruce expected, to be honest. The 'Smiling case' was closed just a few days ago, Gordon was still not done with the paperwork, as far as Oracle's records went. A murder of three, where all victims had some badly drawn clown makeup on them - post-mortem makeup, as it turned out, the murderer tried to deceive the investigation by trying to cover it up as Joker's doing. Only, he didn't do a good job at it, all the Bats were way too familiar with the Mad Clown's signature style. Not to mention that Joker was still securely sealed in his Arkham cell.
Bruce turns to look at Red Robin. He was the one working on the case, so Bruce gives him the choice of answering or not. Tim jerks his shoulder, looks the ginger boy up and down, and then shakes his head.
"Aside from a poor attempt at leading the investigation in the wrong direction, no, it wasn't," Tim shrugs, "The guy isn't even a Gothamite, he knew of Joker only from the rumors and media. And the clown faces were a makeshift cover-up."
Weston visibly deflates at the answer. Bruce watches in a slight amusement as Tasha nudges the other officer, one he doesn't remember the name of, in the shoulder, and stage-whispers, "Pay up." The older man huffs and disappears behind the door, followed by Isaiah.
"Thank you, Mr. Red Robin," Wesley nods politely and takes a step back, his eyes darting to Gordon. Tim snorts a laugh but doesn't correct him. Commissioner, though, gives the boy a long, dreadful sigh.
"Is that all, officer Weston?" He asks, not even bothering to hide his 'tired dad' voice.
The ginger nods again, "Yes, Commissioner Gordon."
"Then get out of my sight before I make all your shifts double," Jim commands, and Weston nearly runs back to the door with a speed that makes Bruce involuntarily think of speedsters. Must be the red hair.
Tim turns to look at the Commissioner right as the door to the roof slams shut behind both Weston and Kuznets.
"Who is he?"
Bruce is also a bit curious now. New recruits in the GCPD are nothing out of the ordinary, but Jim seems to know this one personally, and Kuznets, who is one of his trusted detectives, seems to also like the officer.
Gordon briefly huffs and stuffs his hands in the pockets of his coat. It's quite chilly today; Bruce makes a mental note to switch everyone to their more insulated suits. Scarecrow is currently out on the loose. It won't do any good if any of the Bats went down with a cold.
"Wesley Weston, fresh out of the Academy," Commissioner sighs, but, somehow, Bruce gets the impression it's not a sound of simple exasperation over a new officer eager to prove himself. Jim proves his assumptions by looking around the shoulder to make sure the door to the roof is still closed, and continuing, "Born and raised in the middle of nowhere, Illinois, but GCPD was his first choice. He explained it as having a few friends living in the city, which, unfortunately, proved to be right."
Bruce frowns and grunts, alarm bells ringing in his mind. Deliberately choosing to work in Gotham despite not being from here can be caused by many reasons, and nearly none of them are good reasons.
"Unfortunately?" Tim inquires suspiciously, also with a slight frown, but Jim waves them both off.
"No, he's got nothing to do with any of the criminals. It was the first thing I checked when he mentioned 'friends'. If anything, he's quite on the opposite; he'd make a great detective one day, what with his countless conspiracy theories, determination and the insane urge to dig up every single detail known to mankind," he laughs a bit, and Bruce notices a slight, teasing twinkle to the Commissioner's eyes behind his glasses. "On his second day here, the boy went and plain told me he knows that Batman is Bruce Wayne and that he's saying that because he knows I know and he is aware we're working together."
The alarm bells in Bruce's mind turn into sirens. They never discussed the matters of Bats' real identities with Gordon - Bruce had his suspicions that the man knew it and simply kept his status quo. In all fairness, James Gordon didn't make it to Gotham's Commissioner by sheer dumb luck, so all the Bats kind of expected him to figure it out one day.
But Jim knowing who's behind the cowl is one thing. A new, out of town officer is quite another.
"What did you answer?" Tim asks with an easy smile, but Bruce sees the barely noticeable tension in his shoulders.
Gordon nearly grins, "I didn't believe him, which turned out to be exactly what he expected. He also told me of some kind of a familial curse - he called it 'Cassandra's curse', I believe you're aware of what it means. And then, when I naturally expressed my doubts, proceeded to show it in action. Believe me, it works. Sometimes, it even works too well," the man looks to the side with an amused huff, "That's why officer Weston is strictly prohibited from voicing his opinions on any of the ongoing cases outloud. Detective Kuznets almost missed some critical evidence because of his input once."
Cassandra's curse, Bruce has heard of that saying before. Granted, he never thought it could be a real thing, and he is not intending on starting now, not before he investigates the matter thoroughly. But he does trust Jim - years and years of working together would do that to people - so he simply nods in understanding, leaving the matter of supernatural aside for now.
"What about his friends?" Red Robin asks again, and that causes Gordon to wince momentarily.
"That, I believe, was the cause of his performance just now. One of his friends runs an occult shop, and the other one loves to hang around our forensic scientists and coroners occasionally," the man waves their immediate frowns off again, "I don't go into the morgue often, but I heard he's good at finding out the causes of death by a few looks at the body. And they run a lot of bets between them three," Jim shrugs nonchalantly, "The last one was about the 'Smiling case', I take it."
"Any reason to worry about them?" Bruce can't help but ask. It's not unusual for people to be weird in this city, and running an occult shop and hanging out with pathologists are not exactly reasons to go through background checks when they've got much more pressing issues on their plate. Namely, Scarecrow: it's been more than a week since his escape, but none of the Bats have heard anything about him yet. Oracle is already busy enough with that and the current uprise of gang activity in the Narrows, there's no point in piling even more work on her shoulders just because of some gossip that rubs Bruce the wrong way.
Gordon, thankfully, doesn't take his question lightly and pauses, scratching his chin.
"No," he finally concludes after some thought, "They are a bit strange for non-Gothamites, I'll say that, but in terms of this city? They are no stranger than my neighbors from upstairs." Gordon doesn't tell them to leave it alone, Bruce notices. However, it's probably not because of any doubts he has; the Bats just have a habit of tripplechecking everything anyways, and who would know that better than Jim Gordon?
A quick glance to Tim proves Bruce's thoughts. Red Robin, despite the mask, looks thoughtful. How many cases is he already working on, seven? Bruce makes another mental note to ask Alfred to cut his caffeine intake. It might be a bit hypocritical of him, what with his own plans to send a few messages to JLD about the 'Cassandra's curse', but Bruce excuses himself as the adult in the family.
Commissioner Gordon clears his throat.
"Do you want me to turn around so you can make your mysterious escape, or-" he starts, but both vigilantes are already gone by the time he finishes, "-or not, okay."
#dpxdc#dc x dp#batman#tim drake#red robin#wesley weston#wes weston#police officer!wes#jim gordon#commisioner gordon#bruce wayne#from a fic i never wrote#and will not write#feel free to use#cork writes#cork prompts#it turned out longer than i thought#cassandras curse
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.summary: nami's punishment continues. terry divulges himself. he also exposes himself. and indulges again.
short warnings: sensory play, oral, fingering banner: by me (i'm working on making some better than this one lmao. first attempt I know it ain't cute)
Part One || Part Two || Part Three
Nami thought she would get tired of her hands being bound away from her. She thought she would snap and tell him she didn’t like them anymore. Instead, she pulled on them as her arms ached, so much that the burn became familiar; like brushing her teeth. She wanted them even if she wanted to touch Terry more. In the guest room, Nami flexed her feet, one of them was bound at the ankle to the end of the bed. The other was pushed up, opening her legs. She stared up at the ceiling in wait, Terry somewhere in the house doing who knows what before he came and did god knows what to her body.
“Your playtime has been cut in half, significantly,’ he says, still feeling miffed from her earlier attitude.
Nami noted that Terry wasn’t going to just let things go. He held her to her choices while standing on his own. The fact that he was still going to indulge her was surprising. After the chicken tenders and fries, she figured he would keep distance between them. Instead, he spent ten minutes kissing her while her hands tugged on her pretty yellow leather cuffs. Personalized with ‘Pretty Gyal’ in black thread, the cuffs were becoming bracelets. A cute accessory to the debauchery Terry inflicted upon her.
“But, I can indulge myself, yes?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Good.”
She couldn’t see him from her positon on the bed. Head in the pillows, the room was a comfortable temperature, the cuffs weren’t too tight and she was at ease. Moments later, Terry came to the side of the bed, placing a bowl on the table next to it. He picked up her phone and turned it off.
“No distractions.” He had left his own to die in the kitchen.
The guest bedroom door was shut, enclosing them in their own little world. He knelt next to the bed, his finger tips running along her side.
“Tonight was supposed to end with my face buried in your pussy. I was supposed to be eating you like the last supper, watching you try not to cum. I was supposed to let you get one off, because I wanted to watch you break apart.”
“I’m sorry, Sir,’ she says, ‘really sorry.”
Terry’s face softened for a little, she noted the way the lines in his forehead disappeared before they snapped back and his eyes slanted away from her as he looked at her restraints.
“So you’ve told me.” He paused. “However, your punishment doesn’t end after being spanked.” He kissed his teeth and shook his head. “I want the lesson learned to stick so you remember not to do it again. Understood?”
“Yes, Sir.”
He looked behind him at the bowl before continuing. “You circled sensory play and over stimulation.”
“Yes, Sir,’ she replied, though her voice lifted at the end in question.
“I’m going to add edging and if you are a good girl for me, I might let you cum.”
The threat and reward lingered in the air between them. Her body tingled as he stood up with his fingers stroking her cheek, her bottom lip, and she parted her mouth. The bowl beside the bed disappeared as he placed it on the bed between her legs.
“I want you to talk to me, okay?” Terry vocalized. “This is for you and you need to tell me what you like. Tell me what feels good.” He gestured to the room. “In here, I’ll do my best to give you what you need. Maybe even what you want.”
Terry’s words hung between them as he stood up.
He didn’t like to improvise but the chilling item in the bowl would have to do. Cold, his fingers dipped into the ice, the circular pieces came from a mold meant to make it easier to add to water bottles. The cylinder shape looked phallic and the sadistic tendencies Terry had began to surface. That would not be happening tonight. He wanted to be the first thing to fuck her.
“Just feel,’ he instructed, ‘make the noises you want to.” He looked at her soft brown eyes.
Nami hissed as the ice that landed on her belly and it sat chilling on her skin. It slowly started to melt, the cold water running down the her sides and hips. As it sat there, Terry took another piece in his hands and ran it down her inner thigh. She was warmer here and the ice snapped in half in his hands.
“Hm..”
His hands dipped into the bowl again and she hissed when a piece of the ice circled her nipple and another slipped between her legs.
“Oh,’ she hummed, unsure which sensation she should focus on.
The one on her chest was cold, but it was tolerable and her nipples hardened as he circled it around. The ice slipping between her lower lips was harsher, colder, and uncomfortable.
“I…I don’t,’ she began, her eyes searching the ceiling as she tried to find the words.
“What’s wrong?” Terry asks, stopping his movements and that gives Nami the clarity she needed.
“I don’t think I like that as much,’ she admitted in a whisper. “Can I scratch that off the list?” She asked, the genuine question in her eyes made him smile.
“Yeah, we can take that off, babygirl.”
The initial touch of the ice was blissful, but the biting chill of it after wasn’t something she’d derive any pleasure from. Not even from the ice that he was pressing flush to her pussy, though the cold she liked.
“Tell me why you don’t like it.”
Nami licked her suddenly dry lips.
“What part of me playing with your pussy with ice turned you off.”
“The…the, um,’ she fumbled, his expression was one of pure elation as if he was enjoying talking to her this way. This wasn’t a Dom in front of her. Her free leg suddenly drew upwards as realization set in. He was too readable this way and she didn’t know if to feel happy or aroused.
“At first it feels good. But then it’s too cold and it hurts. It stings and numbs.”
“We can try it another way.”
He couldn’t push it off any longer. The ice had long since melted and his fingers were coated in her thick and sticky essence as he worked it from her body. He could feel her body shaking to stay still. Her hips stuttered and she gave into the pleasure, eyes drifting closed as she moaned.
“You like that,’ he teased, applying a little more pressure.
“Yes,”
“Shh, my pussy is talking,’ he grabbed another piece of ice and chilled his hands before adding them to her body.
He alternated between eating ice and rubbing it across her skin. The more he played with her pussy the hotter she began to feel and the ice became pleasurable.
“That’s it, pretty baby.” He cooed. “You want to cum for me don’t you.”
Nami was speechless, the multiple sensations her body was experiencing made her toes curl. A knot sat deep in her stomach, tight, and getting tighter. She fought against it but she knew moving would make it worse. Nami took deep breaths, loudly blowing them out as she tried to count herself down from a ten to a two. Her head cleared a little and she thought of something else, the shake in her limbs relaxing after a few minutes. Terry had pulled his hand away and watched as she fought the urge to cum. Her chest rose and fell slowly and she counted to herself.
“Good girl,’ Terry was amused, ‘yu really waah cum fi mi nuh you?’ he laughed. “Tell mi how it feel.”
Nami watched his eyes light up as he smiled. All fucking thirty-two teeth were bared and the shift in his speech sent the flood straight from her pussy to the bedsheets. She blinked in wonder as he kissed her wrists. Terry then leaned down and pressed his lips to her forehead, cheek, nose, and then her lips. His fingers began to poke around her hole, flirting with her wet folds as his tongue licked into her mouth. The squelching sounds had been minor before. She could hear them now and feel the way her slick stuck to his fingers.
“Talk to me, Nami,’ he whispered.
“It feels good.”
“I know that,’ he replied. “Talk to me.”
“You have me so wet,’ she admitted, his fingers stroking continuously in the same pattern, driving her thoughts wild with the repetition.
Her breath fanned against his face as she breathed, trying to control herself as his thumb began to strum her clit like a guitar. His fingers moved downward and she bucked her hips unexpectedly when his middle and ring finger pushed into her cunt and stroked in a ‘come hither’ motion. His thumb made light circles on her swollen clit. He scissored his fingers, stretching her left and right.
Terry kissed down her jaw and sucked on the skin of her neck. The words left her lips faster than she could form them in her head.
“Does it feel good, baby,” Terry asked.
“Yes, Daddy…”
“Who's making you feel good,’ he hissed. His stroke became faster.
“You, Daddy-please,’ Nami pleaded. His hand was doing demonic craft through his fingers. He was the spawn of a pleasure demon and she could feel her offering leaking from between her legs.
Nami felt her body arching into his fingers, seeking out more from him, and he pulled them away. The relief that washed over her as her body fell to the bed was magical. Clarity set in and she threw her leg over to close herself off, trying to rub away the intense feelings pulsating through her slit.
Terry reached over to the nightstand and turned on her phone. He slid it unlock and set a timer. He dropped the phone onto her stomach as he kissed down her body, his tongue drawing her left nipple into his mouth. He grinned as she pushed her chest upwards towards him, the touch caught her off guard. His tongue lapped there for a few seconds then left a trail towards her sex. Before that he tapped the outside of her leg to get her attention.
“Yes, Sir,’ she slurred, the sexual haze settling over her as she tried to keep her thoughts clear. She was overwhelmed and her body felt hot.
“You have two minutes left,’ he pressed a light kiss to her sex. The tip of his tongue flicked against her swollen clit and she whimpered. “You can hold it that long and Daddy will let you cum.”
“Please, I’ll be good!” She didn’t want to wait two minutes.
Amused, Terry looked up from his wet fixation. “You’ll be good huh?”
Nami whined. “I’ll be so good for you.”
He kissed her pussy again with a bit more firm pressure. Namis legs shaked.
”Two minutes.”
He started the timer and pushed her legs apart. Terry pressed his hand into the back of her knee and held it open as his tongue licked between her wet slit. She tried to count, but lost track when he licked from her weeping hole to her sensitive throbbing clit. Terry felt her trying to drag her body away from him. He let her, watching her twist away from him as he licked his lips. He followed her, pushing her legs back open. He finds the phone and drops it beside her head, his eyes threatening her to keep still.
“Be still.”
He grabbed her hips and lowered his mouth back to her pussy, slurping his tongue through it. His mouth was cold. The ice shocked her body with a sudden chill. Terry’s tongue quickly licked the chill away, warming her up and making her slicker. The sounds of him eating her out were loud and wet. He sucked her clit into his mouth roughly as his fingers rejoined in stroking her hole.
Nami was on the verge of tears, the knot in her belly was hard to keep away, and she couldn’t see the time to know what was left and she was sure she wasn’t going to make it.
“Hold out for me,’ Terry says.
His fingers were playing a symphony on her g-spot, how could she?
“Yuh naa go rush Daddy yuh?”
He brought his fingers to his mouth, sucking them clean as she caught a glimpse of his face. His mouth and chin were soaked. The sight of him covered in her mess was too much. The deep baritone of his patois was just as mind numbing as the fingers that had been slipping in and out of her pussy. Nami’s legs drifted shut, her toes curling.
The alarm on the phone blared and she let go, whimpering as her orgasm soared through her. She didn’t even need him to touch her, just the sight of him between her legs tasting her and the feeling of his thick tongue pushed her over. The alarm was just the trigger. Terry watched her body shake, her hole leaked, creating a large wet spot on the sheets. He thumbed her over the sensitive clit and watched how that same leaking hole clenched around nothing. How her sweet little pink cunt needed to be filled as it welcomed his fingers again. He stroked her a few times, watching her face wince in overstimulation. As Terry watched her sum, he kept eating the ice.
When his cold tongue flattened against her pussy a second time, Nami tugged so hard on her restraint the latched holding them to the bed snapped. Her wrists were still bound as they came swinging forward from the sudden momentum. Terry heard the snap and looked up and his hand came out to grab her wrists before her hands could grab him. He had disclosed jujitsu as one of his hobbies but she was still surprised at his reflexes. Maybe it was the marine in him too. Either way he pinned them over head, but didn’t hold them. He looked at her in warning and she silently understood.
“Yes. Sir.”
He brought her body to the edge of the bed after unbinding them completely. He knelt between her legs as he watched her hands to make sure they were above her head. She had them face downwards and gripping the sheets. Once he parted her legs his mouth latched on to her clit. He assaulted it with his tongue, licked, sucked into his mouth, and devoted so much attention to it she was begging him to let up and slow down.
His tongue licked lower, his resolve gone as he licked his way into her hole, sucking the slick she hadn’t stopped leaking. It was all unbeatable this time and he gave into temptation. He pulled her legs over his shoulders so he could hold her still. Nami rocked her hips against his mouth, his wet and deadly mouth.
“I knew this pussy was going to taste good,’ he breathed out, a light chuckle in his chest.
His eyes were blue, Nami’s mouth dropped open as Terry’s tongue flicked against her like a snake's tail.
With her legs pressed towards her chest, Terry’s tongue played around in her pussy. He was such a noisy eater, slurping and sucking until she was trying to wiggle away from him. His hips began to rock and he flattened his tongue against her pussy letting her ride his face. Her chest rose and fell as she sucked in air. She needed some relief and it was starting to expand in her lower belly. A fire so hot the ice on his tongue did little to soothe.
She felt like crying. The sensation of being licked and forcing herself not to cum was making her head split. She felt like she was being pulled in two different directions. Nami looked down at him again. His eyes, fuck, those eyes.
Were they?
Green? Now?
Chameleon ass…..
Fucking green eyed bast-
The shrill of the alarm scared Nami right into her orgasm. Her back arched off the bed and her toes curled from their position in the air. She sucked in a deep breath, feeling her pussy quiver as she wished to turn on her side and rub her thighs together, the friction needed.
When did he set another one?
Terry tore himself away from her cunt. Standing abruptly he wiped a hand over his mouth and chin, but his skin still shone with the aftermath of her orgasm.
Nami tried to sit up. Her body slumped back to the bed as she joined him in trying to catch their breath. Her voice was soft, sleepy sounding, but he heard it:
“Thank you, Daddy.”
Terry looked down at himself. He had worn briefs beneath his sweats, hoping to contain himself a bit better and resist the urge to jerk off as he tasted her. Nami wasn’t like previous submissives. Her naivety turned him on. Her wonder and interest renewed his lust for the community. He looked down at her, his heavy breathing silent as she laid there, legs spread, for his next instruction. She was waiting to know what he wanted her to do. He bit down on his lip, slightly upset he lost control just now. He shouldn’t have indulged in her the way he had. Not when punishment was the precursor. He should have edged her and then let her be. Yet, Terry had given in. He had let her cum. He had went against his own R.E.L.Ls to indulge when he had been waiting for the right moment. A tinge of anger settled into his bones and he looked away from her inviting body and slipped into the bathroom.
He had exposed a part of himself that he shouldn’t have and she caught it. Caught him. He couldn’t fault her for what she did not know was happening. As he busied himself with running her a bath, Terry opened the bathroom’s closet and pulled out a towel and placed it on the sink counter.
“Sir,’ came her soft voice.
She stood in the door, her hands bound in front of her, curly hair messy, and his shirt was wrinkled and damp. Nami was a mess of his doing and he bit back the urge to smile. Shit. He needed to reel himself in. The scene was over and he could feel the drop in energy.
“Yes?” He replied after swallowing.
“I was trying not to cum.” She whispered. She raised her hands and rubbed them over her flushed face. Her mascara had run, making dark streaks over her cheeks. “I really was trying.”
Terry’s eyes softened as he walked over to her. “I know.” He cupped her face and brought his head down to kiss her. “You made it to the end of the two minutes.” He pulled away and kissed her forehead. “Twice.”
“Am I still in trouble,’ she asked as she pursed her lips.
“Nah, you’re not in trouble.”
He let her go and she watched him prep her bath. He never stayed in the bathroom with her, so when he beckoned her in she didn’t hesitate.
“Grab the counter.”
She put her back to him and placed her hands on the counter. He stood behind her and she watched him in the large mirror. Shirtless, his chest pressed against her back and he unnecessarily leaned into her to remove the cuffs. His hands wrapped around her wrists as his fingers unlatched the leather. He kissed her neck, pulled down the shirt and pressed his lips to her shoulder all the while keeping eye contact with her in the mirror. She tried to look away but his eyes were hypnotic, drawing her in and keeping her hostage.
With the cuffs gone, Nami lifted her arms to rub her wrists. Beside her, Terry opened a drawer and pulled out a blue tin of salve. His hands then grabbed the back of the shirt and lifted upwards before tossing it into a hamper near the closet. Terry turned around and turned off the water, testing the temperature. She stayed still, watching him over her shoulder. The muscles in his back flexed as he stood up right.
“When you’re done, wrap in that towel and come see me in the living room.”
Spread over his lap, Nami’s eyes rolled upwards as he rubbed the thick salve into her ass and inner thighs. His thumbs pressed into her skin and she went limp, enjoying the care. She was in another one of his shirts, not caring it was hanging off her head as she let her arms dangle. His hand smoothed up her back, her shoulders slumping more into his thighs.
Choking. Spanking. Grabbing. Massaging.
Those hands could do whatever they wanted to.
“Do you need a nap?” He asked.
They had done a lot over the past few days and he wondered if he was moving too fast. She was just so willing.
“Not yet,’ she replied. If she did she wanted to take on with him.
“I want to talk about one of the kinks you have.” He says.
He pulls down her shirt and helps her sit up. She tucks her hands into her lap as she sits cross legged next to him on the couch. He closed the salve tin and dropped it on the infamous table.
“Yes, S-’
“Speak freely.” He says. “This one is serious.”
He had studied that paper like it was his orders for work.
“Do you understand the depth of control I have to have to allow you to participate in consensual non consent, even with me?”
Nami bit down on her bottom lip. It was one of the first kinks she circled and though she knew the extent of what it could be, Terry’s question had her second guessing.
“No.” She whispered. “Do you not want to do it? We can take it off.”
Terry’s hand came down on her knee, stopping her fidgeting. He leaned back and shook his head.
“That’s not why I am asking.” He looked at her and then to where his hand was on her thigh. “You are giving me consent before it ever happens. That’s different than in the moment. Yeah, you can safeword, but there is no other way to do the kink unless you go all the way. No safewording.” He could see the concern on her face. “I wouldn’t do anything you hadn’t agreed to prior, but we can’t plan this kink. It comes when I want it to.”
Nami had mentioned she wanted to give up control, as much as she could, because she liked being used in that way. For lack of better words if he wanted, Terry could use her as a toy. She derived so much pleasure from sexual intimacy. The kinks heightened the feelings, but being that close to a man was the main turn on. To be desired in that way.
“If I see you aren’t enjoying it then I will stop it. And we can try at a later time.” Terry continued. “I’m going to come to you when you don’t want it. When you’re tired or when you’re busy. Your safe word is the only trigger and if you use it, I will never do this kink again.” He paused. “If I have control then I have it. It’s not shared. It’s not traded back and forth. It’s mine the same way your body will be in that moment. At my discretion and for how long I desire to use it.”
She twisted the shirt in her hands while she looked down at the material.
“But it wouldn’t happen until after I fuck you so you have nothing to worry about for now. I just wanted you to know the severity of that particular kink.”
“How do we warm up to that?”
Terry laughed, not at her, but he understood the joke. “We don’t, however, exploring your kinks helps me create the scene for you. I’ll do what you like after I do what I want.”
Nami nodded, unsure of what to say. She needed to think about it.
“Can I ask you something,’ she inquired.
“Of course,’ he replied, his hand sliding up her thigh and beneath the shirt. “Anything you want.”
“You….earlier, there was a difference,’ she fumbled over her words, trying to string them together so they made sense. “I called you Daddy but you didn’t correct me. Or punish me for it.”
“In the heat of things I can forget to pace myself and I slip into a different head space.”
“Was it my fault?” She asked.
Terry’s eyes shot up to hers and he leaned forward, almost in her lap. She kept her hands tightly fisted in the shirt.
“No, you did everything right.” He sighed.
Nami waited for him to speak again, though she let out a sigh of content when he kissed her. His tongue swept over her bottom lip and she opened her mouth, letting him taste her as if he hadn’t. Her hands twitched and she huffed. So badly she wanted to hold his face, his shoulders, scratch up his back, marvel at the way his toned stomach rippled beneath her fingers and feel the heaviness of his dick in her hands.
She was snatched from her thoughts as his hand pushed between her legs, the heat inviting his fingers back into her cove, just as wet as it had been before.
“What are you thinking about that made you so wet, Nami?” He teased, pushing her to lie back on the couch.
He unfolded her legs, pushed her arms up and settled between her thighs.
“I really want to touch you.” She says, eyes glossy as he played with her pussy. Their talk became more sensual as he pushed them into her cunt, stroking a fire that was warming her belly.
“I know.” He kissed her neck, tugging the skin between his teeth as she arched into his fingers. “I can’t keep my hands off you.” He admitted. “You taste so fucking good, baby.”
He crawled to the floor, kneeling beside her before pulling her legs to either side of his head. He brought her body down, resting her thighs on his shoulders as he held her still. He kissed her clit, looking up at her as she held onto the back of the couch.
“Mi nuh need yuh touchin mi rite now.”
Terry whispered patois to her pussy, his lips licking up her slick as she dug her nails into the back of the couch. There it was again, Nami thought, something gentle about how he spoke to her, the patois rolling across her ears as she moaned. She tried to keep still, to watch him devour her, but her body betrayed her and she rocked her hips back and forth against his mouth again.
She was still sensitive from earlier and the need to push his head away while pulling him closer at the same time was high. His tongue was flat as it pressed against her cunt and she could almost feel his damn tastebuds flaring up as they became soaked in her mess.
“Sweet little pussy,’ he hummed. “Mi a guh fuck yuh senseless.”
taglist: @nayaesworld @peachbuttetfly @harmshake @heauxvibez @avoidthings @mymindisneverhere @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @eilujion @heytaewrites @browngirldominion @insidefeelingofanadult @blackerthings @gwenda-fav @brandithecrystalgem
@captainwithoutmakingitlove @dremmmm @kindofaintrovert @thegreatlibraryofalex @jimmybutlrr @beenathembo @kuromiish @virgomess @bbyxgall @theereina @randomhood @ash-ketchumzzz @dundienominated @slutsareteacherstoo
{ if you wanted to be on this taglist and I have not added you yet please let me know! I feel like I'm forgetting people and I don't want to do that! }
#terry richmond x black!reader#terry richmond x black!oc#terry richmond x black oc#terry richmond smut
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YOU GAVE ME ROSES / I LEFT THEM THERE TO DIE
touya todoroki x reader
touya loved you in december, and now he can’t go back. so instead, he writes to you.
inspired by back to december
doll,
i hope you’re okay, wherever the hell you are now. a guy like me, you’d think i have death all figured out by now. but i don’t. i don’t know where you’ve been taken, but i hope its somewhere good and bright. in other words, i hope its somewhere better than this shit hole.
hows life? hows your family? just kidding. i know its going terrible because i’m a selfish bastard who didn’t protect you like i should have. do you hate me now? i still don understand why you didn’t when you around. you have terrible taste in men, baby.
the last time i saw you. god damn, its burned in the back of my mind. i’ll never forget your face, doll. you saw me out there, fighting off those damn heroes and you didn’t even look scared for yourself. you look worried, and i’ll never understand why you went charging in there yourself. both of us know i ain’t worth saving.
but this is me swallowing my pride.
i’m sorry.
i’m sorry i stayed around, and let you fall in love with me. if you hadn’t met me, you’d be fine. you would have never gotten involved with a scumbag like me. and… you’d still be here. don’t know if i’ll ever forgive myself for that. for any of it.
god, if i only realized what i had when you were mine. what i’d give to go back to december, doll. see your face in the snow, your pink nose scrunched up. i complained about taking care of you when you were sick, but i hope you know i’d do it a million times over. i never answered your question when you asked me why i’m so good. its because of my mom.
i havent been sleeping, doll. my mind replays when i left you. why’d you have to chase after me? why not just let whatever happens happen to me? only you believe you could change fate, not even for yourself but for me. i don’t know what to make of that. i sure as hell don’t deserve that shit.
i miss your skin, your sweet smile. you were so good to me, so god damn right. the way you’d hold me in your arms, even when i couldn’t cry- its like you’d know when i wanted to. and i’m fucking idiot for dreaming, for even having wishful thinking.
but if i could love you again, i’d do it right. i’d go back in time and change it all.
but i can’t.
and now you’re gone.
i know i said i’d give your ashes to your parents, but remember- i’m a selfish asshole. i’ll hold on to them for now. i’ll see you again soon, anyway. and wherever the hell that is, i’ll turn it around. make it all right. you deserve it.
touya
#dabi x reader#dabi x self insert#dabi x female reader#dabi x y/n#dabi x you#dabi touya#dabi mha#touya todoroki x reader#dabi is touya#touya bnha#touya x y/n#touya x reader#touya todoroki#todoroki x y/n#todoroki x you#mha todoroki#todoroki x reader#bnha todoroki#bnha x y/n#bnha x reader#bnha x self insert#bnha x fem!reader#mha x y/n#mha x gender neutral reader#mha x you#mha x reader#mha fanfic#bnha fanfic#mha fanfiction#bnha fanfiction
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RIFFS AND REGRETS - NOAH SEBASTIAN
oc name used: arabella
warnings: mention of sex?? throwing up??
unedited btw
summary: lol u dont get one keep reading.
The pounding on the bus door was enough to drag my sorry ass out of bed. I should NOT have drank that much. “Bella!!!” the pounding was repetitive. “Sorry! Sorry! Geez. i didn't even have a bra on.” My drummer, leo, stood infront of me with the hangover holy grail. coffee.
I rub my face, god i slept in my makeup. He hands me an iced latte, in which i accept gratefully. We were currently parked in the bus sector of good things festival, approximately two days before it kicked off. I knew he was here, engraved into the back of my fucking skull. I just wonder if they were still together.
I was talking about noah of course, the topic of him having haunted my dreams the past 4 years. Silhouettes of Silence (SOS) kicked off after we stopped being friends, which im sure was a real slap in the face for him. I do briefly remember the events leading up to the pure distaste and hurt i feel towards the man, but i could honestly go on forever.
I was snapped out of thought as leo repeatedly snapped in front of my face. “Get your shit together you haven’t even seen him yet” he says, raising an eyebrow at me. “Wheres lucy and gene?” i ask, glancing around the poorly furnished bus. “Probably hooking up somewhere." “I ought to fire those two one of these days.”
With a sigh, i get up from my position on the leather couch. “Cmon, we gotta go set up our merch tent.” much to my absolute dismay, we were opposite none other than the bad omens merch tent. I just avoid eye contact. I loiter near pierce the veils tent, danielle had babysat me my entire childhood so we were close.
“Silhouettes of silence, huh?” i heard a voice behind me. I could recognise that little shit anywhere. “Folio!!” i turn on my heels, running towards him. I hug him tightly, even after all this time he still smells and feels the same. “Ive missed you, man.” he says, pulling away. I shrug awkwardly, “hah… sorry. Kind of skipped town after everything went down. Im proud of you, you look well.” i say, shifting awkwardly on my feet. “Same to you bella, you look better.” he says with that stupid smile. “We should hang out some time.” i say, smiling at him. “Mhm, bring back our thrifting adventures.’ he says, glancing back to his tent. “Hey i gotta go, catch you later yeah?” he says, disappearing before i can even say anything.
“That was an absolute disaster.” i gesture to danielle, who had appeared next to me. “Eh, id say it wasn’t too bad. If the rest of em are like that, this’ll be a breeze for you.” she responds. “Just wish it wasn’t like this.” i say. She hums, before stepping back to return to her organising. I take a deep breath, it was day one and i was already exhausted. I manage to leg it back to the bus without another unnecessary encounter with an omen boy, but at what cost.
I step inside the dark tour bus to be met with the sound of moans and skin slapping.
Oh my god.
“Abstinence in the tour bus they said. Itll be fun being in a band they said”
—--------------------------
Another day of rehearsals and setting up, pre show day nerves hitting me hard. I go for a walk after the suns set, just minding my own business. It was late, and quiet. Moments like this really kept me alive. My bassist and guitarist were immature, i feel like im going no where with my life, im still caught up on a GUY- oh god theres somebody behind me.
“You look like shit.”
“Oh my fucking GOD jolly you scared the shit out of me you creep.” i hiss, turning around. He just laughs, walking alongside me. “Its like 11pm, why are you out here walking alone?” he asks. “Thinking.” i mutter, looking down at my feet. “Fuck. i cannot see.” he mumbles, turning his phone flash on.
We do a lap of the festival grounds, just catching up a bit. “You look different.” jolly says abruptly. I stop walking, now confused. “Sorry?” “its just.. I dont know. Youve lost weight, dyed your hair, started a band, covered yourself in tattoos its just.. Weird. You definitely look more.. You.” he says. I ponder for a moment. “Geez youre observant.”
We finish our lap off, before going our separate ways to our buses. “Soo… seen him yet? Leo asks, sprawled out on a leather couch with some chips. “No… not yet atleast. But i'm gradually ticking off his bandmates.” i respond, sitting down next to him to steal a chip. “They were your friends too, bella.” he says, his voice softening on me. “Dont get all sappy on me” i say, shoving him. He laughs.
—--------------------------------------------
Showtime.
I could actually throw up.
I stand infront of the shitty bathroom mirror, some comfy flares and a hoodie on for now. I take deep breaths before warming up my voice.
Everyone gathers for soundcheck.
“Hi yes im in my slippers, uhhh someone give me a song to sing.”
“Floral and fading!!!”
“My voice doesn’t go thaaaat high!!”
Its about 3pm now, ive already pregamed some drinks and some artists have even started. Leo is curling my hair, while i cake on some makeup. “Im so not ready for this.” i say, setting my face. “You’ll do perfectly fine, warm your voice up.” he says, poking my side.
I stand backstage, cracking my knuckles. Something I usually do out of pure fear. I rock on the balls of my feet, zoning the fuck out. “You got this.” Lucy says, standing in front of me. I just nod, anxiety swirling in my stomach. “You’re on in 10.” the stage manager says, walking behind me. I sigh, rubbing my face. “Im gonna shit myself” i choke out a laugh.
I finally get my shit together and step out onto the main stage. Our song ‘urban legends’ blares through the plethora of speakers, my stage presence is bipolar compared to me naturally. I’m confident on stage, not in real life.
Passion seeps through my voice as i perform our debut album, ‘echoes of silence’ the crowd is ecstatic, feeling the vibe. I transition into our newer songs, whom have grown popular on tiktok. Its exhausting really, but i love the adrenaline.
As our set closes, i stalk past all the sea of backstage members, catching the eye of the one man id been trying to avoid. I don’t have time to care though, i can hear leo walking behind me, trying to get my attention. Fuck. i need a bucket.
I run into the backstage bathrooms, throwing up. Gene and lucy hold my hair back. My ears are ringing and i feel queasy.
The last thing i hear before i black out is
“Is she okay?”
_____________________________
credits to whoever came up with 'abstinence in the tour bus' i read it somewhere and think of it religiously lol.
#bad omens#bad omens band#bad omens cult#bad omens fanfiction#noah sebastian smut#noah sebastian davis#bad omens imagine#noah sebastian#noah sebastian x reader#noah sebastian imagine#noah sebastian fanfiction#noah sebastian fic#noah sebastian brain rot#noah sebastian fluff#noah sebastian headcanons#noahsebastiancult#noah sebastian one shot#bad omens smut#badomens#noah bad omens#noahsebastian#nowah#ollieyapsalot#hehehaha#im literally a poet
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Dessert & Discoveries
a Tevan or Buck x Tommy fic
Let me preface this by saying that it's been a while since I've caught up on 911, and I've only seen #Tevan through gifs (which I have been religiously scrolling through) and this little scene between Evan and Tommy in 7.10 took me by the throat and shook me like a rabid dog. Written for me, but you can read it if you want. It's not done, and will be uploaded to Ao3 once I get all my shit sorted. But here's a sneak peak.
************
“But I have daddy issues?” Evan said, reaching for the wine.
“God, I hope so.”
Evan huffed. He was going to protest, win this round with some facts and percentages he probably saw on a social media post. But then Tommy gave him a look: all composed and patient, as if to say that even if Evan dared to argue back, he wouldn’t stand a chance. Seconds before, they were simply enjoying dinner in the apartment. Now, Evan felt… singular in his presence. Like the moon, always under Earth's overwhelming gaze. And all Evan could feel was the focus in Tommy’s eyes, studying his face as if he hadn’t seen it a thousand times already.
It made Evan’s stomach flip and his nerves sing.
Tommy was still looking at him like that, with that barely there smirk Evan loved. The need to rise to that challenge urged what Evan did next.
He stood up abruptly, surprising his boyfriend.
“Wait, Ev—” Tommy started. But Evan didn’t give him a chance to finish. He pushed the table away loudly, and crowded into Tommy’s space, in his lap. God, he felt good underneath him, strong and soft in all the right places. Yeah, that was better, Evan thought. He ground his hips down, just a bit. There wasn't much he could do in Levi's, but the feeling of his boyfriends thighs underneath his, holding him up no problem? Sinful.
He kissed him again, shushing any questions from Tommy with his tongue. Evan could taste the confusion on his mouth. But he melted into the kiss, hands reaching for Evans waist.
“Evan,” Tommy managed between being kissed and kissing back. His breath hitched as Evan’s hands wandered up and underneath the back of his shirt. His boyfriend was too hot, Evan thought. No, scratch that. He was actually perfect, with his gloriously strong back like a statue. And his spine…. He ran his fingers down it, savoring the way it made Tommy shiver, his hands pulling them closer.
Tommy tried again. “Did I say something--?”
Evan caught Tommy’s lips between his teeth. He bit down, just a little, and earned a moan in response from Tommy.
Oh, Evan thought. Okay, yeah, that was hot. He struggled to remember what Tommy just said, and asked him to repeat himself, which he did.
“Yes? No…” He just felt…
“I’m … -wow, you’re hot-very attracted to you right now and weird. Horny and weird? Is that a thing?”
“What do you mean weird?”
“Like, I don’t know. I think I want you to… look at me like that again. Yeah.”
Evan bent down to get a better angle at Tommy’s neck, kissing and sucking just below his ear.
“Hold on,” Tommy said. He reached up to put his hands on either side of Evan’s face, cradling him to a stop. They were both breathing hard, chests heaving. The only thing Evan wanted in this world, at this moment, was to simply get his his mouth back on his boyfriend. Anywhere. Everywhere.
Instead, he met Tommy’s soft and caring gaze. Some mental gymnastics were clearly going on behind that ridiculously handsome face.
And then something seemed to click.
“I’m going to try something. If you don’t like it, please tell me. If it doesn’t do anything at all, then we know and that's fine. But if you especially do not like it, you tell me, okay?”
Evan shrugged. “Okay?”
Tommy nodded. With gentle pressure, he guided Evan off and down, until Evan was kneeling, neck bent forced to look up at Tommy. He swallowed and watched as Tommy’s eyes tracked the movement of his throat. He had never been more aware of his throat and the surrounding areas than he was now. With his boyfriend... looking down at him.
Tommy’s eyes were dark. His fingers traced the length of Evan’s chin, making him shiver.
#Listen#like I said#this ship has a chokehold on me now#follow this post to see when I update it with the link#if you're interested#tevan#911#tommy kinard#evan buckley#911 fanfic#buck x tommy
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Hi! I once went through your blog and there was a post about how the alleykids are scared of the hood because he tortured robin AKA tim in the tower. I searched for it but I couldn’t find it. Could you please reblog it or smt. Because that thought is stuck in my head fr days.
Ps. I really enjoy your posts!! Keep it up!!
H!!! Thank you so much for the encouragement. I really appreciate it.
As far as reblogging the OG one, I couldn't find it :( I scrolled for over an hour trying to go back to it, but it's pretty buried. Curse Tumblr's ineffective searching system. I can summarize/expand what I remember, though!
Tw: child abuse
So, a lot of fanon interpretations of Jason have him trying to protect/support Crime Alley. It's an endearing and compelling characterization (particularly with a Good/Trying Dad Willis contrasted with any version of Bruce). In trying to help his community, he may focus these efforts on the kids.
Alley kids, as they are forced to be by their environment, are obviously wary of adults. If they *do* have a trustworthy adult in their life, the cops, CPS (or whatever it is in NJ), mandated reporters, etc. may do more harm than good (particularly with how corrupt Gotham is). So, Jason would need to work endlessly to gain even smidges of their trust.
To do this, he would need to:
Continuously choose to protect them (even against monetary gains, alliances, or stories told by other people)
Trust/believe what the kid says, even if Jason knows they are lying
Not report them (cause Gotham's system is bad and that does more harm than good)
Offer aid without forcing it
Never hurt a kid
Etc.
The Crime Alley kids may or may not trust each other (depends on the setup), but they trust adults even less. At least fellow kids in their situation seem to understand. Therefore, they will not trust adults other Alley kids have deemed unsafe.
All this is suffice to say that, depending on the reveal, all of Jason's hard work (and his good intentions to help these kids) will crash and burn the moment they find out he beat the shit out of Robin.
Regardless of Tim!Robin's characterization [goes out of his way to aid/patrol Crime Alley when he can vs avoids it], Robin is still a kid. Seeing or hearing that someone they trust to protect them against abusers has beat up a kid?
Yeah. Some or all may never trust him ever again (may never allow him to help them again).
Obviously, this would hurt everyone involved. If ya don't want that fucked up level of angst (and gods do I love angst), you could chat about someone threatening to inform people about it. You could force Tim to have to defend Jason's reputation because it's better for the Alley Kids [and no. The kids aren't dumb for refusing help from RH after finding out about it. That's smart survival].
It doesn't have to be the Tower either. It could be another canon event that a Alley Kid ends up seeing.
Anyways!!!! Tons of angst there :D
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Teeth
Dear Mr. Caradoc,
this is me emailing you so you have this in writing, just like you asked me to. I'm nervous to leave a paper trail, for obvious reasons, but I also trust that you aren't going to use this against me. On the other hand, I am grimly excited. Like this, nobody will be able to say that I didn't ask for help before it was too late, least of all you.
Which brings me to my point: please, for the love of God, help me. I've tried everything by now, dentists, doctors, family, friends, nobody can help me. They are all itching to send me to a therapist, or better yet a closed institution, and as fast as possible too. But I am telling you right now, if you call the police on me for a wellness check and I am locked away, my blood is on your hands.
With that out of the way: Here is what you didn't want to hear from me the other day at the coffee machine, properly and in writing.
It all started early one morning. I usually wake up around five these days, but I remember it being even earlier that day, I think around 3am or 4am. Did you know that we feel pain stronger at night than during the day? I looked it up. It peaks exactly at 3am. But even without looking that up, I could've told you, because the pain I felt that morning was something I'm never going to forget.
Have you ever gotten a root canal, Mr. Caradoc?
I did, two years ago. It was my lower molar, the first on the right side. I can still see the filling, I think, when I pull my lips back—well, I could, anyways. My dentist did a pretty good job all around, not just with the actual procedure, but also in explaining to me how it works. When a tooth is infected or inflamed down to the pulp, the very inside underneath enamel and dentin, what they will do is, they will bore a hole in the respective decaying tooth, and then hollow it out completely, removing everything within it that's alive, and then fill it with something dead and inert, with rubber and cement. And although it is a dead man walking from then on, surrounding tissue is able to keep such a tooth alive, as my dentist told me, almost indefinitely. He did an excellent job hollowing me out, but it was a bad day to find out that I don't properly respond to the anesthetic he used.
It was that same pain that I felt again that morning, at 3 or 4 in the pain hour, and that was what I was looking for in the mirror as I was standing there in the dim grey light and pulling my mouth open with a finger. A sign that my root canal had to be redone.
But what I saw instead was, and I know how difficult this is to believe: a tiny, tiny dark door, hollow, maybe more of an archway, smaller than the pin of a needle, carved right into the enamel of my tooth.
The first thing I did was of course to call my mom up in a panic. She had to spend twenty minutes calming me down before I'd stopped crying for long enough to take a picture of it, and then when I did and sent it to her, I could immediately hear the pity in her voice. She told me that it was a very normal thing to have nightmares like this during pregnancy, and that she had gone through the exact same thing when she was pregnant with me. I have to admit that I got very angry at her for it. I know what a nightmare is, I am not a child. I was wide awake. People all around me have taken on this patronizing air towards me ever since I've started showing, as if carrying a baby somehow negates everything I have accomplished and everything I am, and has turned me into some fragile stupid thing.
I hung up on her. I'm not proud of it. We haven't been on the best of terms anyways, and I'm sure this didn't make it better.
Four hours later, I stood on my dentist's doormat, practically banging at the door to be let in. I was overjoyed when he opened my mouth to inspect the molar and immediately agreed to give me a filling, but it only struck me why he'd told me to take the day off as I was inspecting the molar in the rear view mirror of my car, and all he had done was to fill in the archway, leaving the intricate carvings around it alone. And they were intricate now: It was as if somebody was miming pillars around the hole in my tooth. I stormed back into his office in distress, and found myself set up with a blanket and some hot tea in the waiting room as one of the dentist's assistants patted my knee, instead of just filling the damn structure in.
I went home. What else was I supposed to do?
The next day, the pillars had been carved.
It went on like this. First there came windows, rows upon rows of them, with ledges and flourishes. Then, the next tooth showed a hole. Then the next. Archways started to grow steps to lead up to them. Windows became larger, more opulent. And the pain—I never saw the actual carving happen, not even once, but I felt it. I felt every single chip, every last line in them.
I saw dentist after dentist, convinced family to look into my mouth, friends, acquaintances, coworkers, even my boss, but there was always that same goddamned look of pity. The woman is going crazy, their faces seemed to scream, as they even stopped being able to see holes at all. But I am not crazy. This is not phantom pain. I know what is happening to me, and I need it to stop. I am being made a home for something, and I want it out.
My parents have asked me to move back in with them. I will be packing my bags next week, but I'm afraid that they aren't planning to help me with the pregnancy. If my suspicions are true, these bags will be on the floor of a mental hospital very soon.
I am asking you for your help because you have always been on my side, even back when I was fighting for accommodations for my morning sickness. I don't know who else is left to ask. I also don't know what I expect you to do about this anymore, but I need it to be something.
My jaw has started hurting.
Please.
Yours,
Kalinka Czajkowska
If you liked this, don't miss the continuation in the next chapter of Particle Decay! Ms. Czajkowska isn't going down without a fight.
Particle Decay taglist:
@gioiaalbanoart @noblebs @wyked-ao3
@cowboybrunch @writingrosesonneptune @marlowethelibrarian @cometkov
#warnings for: forced institutionalisation / dentists / tooth horror / body horror#heres my spooktober story :)#project: particle decay
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one of many problems i encounter trying to find undertale fanfiction is that, in my mind, talkingsoup's 'the scientist' series is 100% canon, so anything that contradicts that just don't feel right
#i KNOW it's not like that but the scientist just. it's so good.#this isn't even my main problem but it is smth that pops up in fics that manage to get through my Intense screening process#cause like. there's no way to screen for 'how similar to 'the scientist' is the characterization and worldbuilding'#it's not the end of the world but man i just finished a reread of the whole series#it's even better than i remembered. god it's so good#of the 3 stories entropy is probably my favourite but how to save the world is incredible incredible#and the original story obviously that's how i got here in the first place back when this story was just newborn#MAN. i need other writers to read the scientist series as a prerec actually -#it has everything. cosmic horror. memory fuckery. the best time loop story i've ever read. a protagonist who lies literally constantly ♥️.#a message of hope. things will get better. Man. it's so good#forgot what i was talking abt. started gushing abt the scientist instead
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cursed kids v2 ⚠️👹
i've been a jjk first years stan since day one and have been wanting to redraw the first art i did featuring the three of them
#my art#jujutsu kaisen#jjk#itadori yuuji#fushiguro megumi#kugisaki nobara#yuuji#megumi#nobara#fanart#jjk fanart#im so tired help but theyre DONE im sososoosos pleased with them#even yuuji who dug his heels in to th very end :'>>>#wow 2020 rly was 4 years ago huh#to my credit i still think the designs i came up with in th og r honestly really good???#obv i didn't do a fullbody redraw (n thank god fr that) so i couldn't include All my details and there were some things that i edited#but overall they r solid !!!! i rly regret tht i couldn't include nobara's fishnets dgfhs#gave her her bat instead . equivalent exchange :)#she has one in the original but i specifically remember being bummed that the pose didnt let me show the nails that were in it#so took Full advantage of the new pose here !! she has killed before and will kill again#other changes....yuuji's omamori earring n sword details r New! as is the decision to include his canon scars :> fits the vibe#megumi changed the least?? changed the tassels n colour of his shoulder kanji to match yuuji and gave him a cigarette to fill empty space#other than that i think th majority of his changes r just me getting better at drawing megu#god the edited poses make these designs sing im so happy i did this#these r my kids !!!!! they have grown with me!!!!!#i am very proud and also sleep deprived and i need to not look at these anymore
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the average person doesn't expect you to be a perfect ethical consumer, that's not possible for the vast majority of us. but what youre saying is it's better to do nothing at all and choose the worst possible options (sweat shops, overseas shipping waste, idea/product theft, all wrapped up in SHEIN) than to put even the tiniest effort in where you can.
[they are referring to this post]
What I said was "some people are doing literally everything they can to survive and have no extra bandwidth to spend extra time and money on their purchases, and it is cruel and therefore un-punk to gatekeep punkness and add additional shame to these people's lives based on that fact."
I think it's still a good thing to try to ethically consume; I literally never said it wasn't. I had never even heard of SHEIN before. Rather, I am much more concerned about what I saw as arbitrary gatekeeping based on ability and income.
And frankly how dare you claim that I am supporting sweatshops and abuse by saying that this additional work you are demanding (in this case, presumably, vetting every clothing company you buy from) is not always possible for people. It is not a light accusation to accuse me of supporting abuse.
"How dare you say we piss on the poor", Etc. 🙄 this isn't Twitter. You are determined to enforce moral purity, but you are failing to see the nuance.
Because when I say "no extra bandwidth," I mean no extra bandwidth. This is not the "car shows it's on E but actually secretly it has a lot of gas left" situation that abled people constantly assume disabled people mean when they say they are at their limit.
This is "the car has stopped moving, and to move it I'd have to break my body pushing it." This is "at a certain point, people will hit a wall in terms of money and time and energy, and any energy spent after that comes directly out of their life force."
So the argument "okay but just spend a little more time money and energy actually" is not a valid one.
And the argument "if you are not able to do this specific task, then it means you're not doing anything else to make the world a better place" doesn't exactly impress me either. You said yourself that it is impossible to be a perfectly ethical consumer for most people.
How do you know what else people are doing to resist oppression? How many hours per week until your standards are met?What if someone works 3 jobs? Does that mean it's harder to be a good person if you're poor?? Why do you get to decide what specific avenue of bettering the world is the most morally repugnant or acceptable? What kind of proof of goodness and effort would make you satisfied enough to lay off on the shame?? Who are you helping??
Clothing is a fundamental human need, and some of us have to buy cheap fucking clothes quickly. Billionaires are buying their seventh yacht this month. The people who own fast fashion companies are abusing their workers and putting local affordable clothing stores out of business - and this applies for basically every company with price points that low because governments are failing to regulate corporations to enforce basic human rights.
I have $300 to spend on a new wardrobe as my old clothes have fallen apart or become too small. Do you have a way for me to get a new winter coat, 3 flannels, 10 shirts, 3 dress shirts, new sandals, 10 pairs of pants, 5 bras, 12 pairs of socks, and 10 pairs of underwear within that budget and also definitely 100% ethically sourced, with free returns in case it doesn't fit? Or will I simply have to use the cheap stores?
I have about an hour to spend on this per week. Many mainstream stores doesn't make clothes in my size, and I am now in *year 5* of needing an electric wheelchair and being unable to get one; plus I live up a flight of stairs, so I can't even bring my walker out with me - so thrift shopping is not gonna cover this. Should I continue to wear small and tattered clothing until I have the time, money, and energy to meet your standards?
Did you know there are more empty homes in this country than homeless people? If I decide to splurge on only 100% ethically-produced products, and I can't make rent, and I become homeless, are YOU going to be there for me?? Or are you too busy litigating the endless tiny shames of poverty in your own community?
So I ask you again, are you SURE this is where you want to direct your punk energy?
Because there are a whole lot of rich people relying on people like us punching down and to the side instead of looking up to see where the money is going.
Because energy and time, as it turns out, are limited resources. And I would never expect you to secretly have more than you claim to have.
#original#punk#hopepunk#cripplepunk#i swear to god#reading comprehension website#how dare you say we piss on the poor#jfc 'what you're saying is we should do nothing' - what I'm saying is YOU are doing nothing by enforcing this boundary#you have to give people more credit than this. i believe you want a better world too. and it would be cool if you used your energy to#instead ask 'how do i fight for the people in my community to be clothed and have the time and income to shop ethically?'#or 'how do i support activism that pushes for regulation that could control these companies?'#monitoring how poor people spend money is a supremely Republican thing to do. as is demanding clear moral purity from every scenario.#you want a better world too. you want to demand your peers do better. - fine. good.#but you need to be asking if you have remembered and included everyone's needs when making statements like this.#capitalism is all for forgetting about poor and disabled people and refusing to believe their limits.#shame is a necessary weapon in fighting greed but it IS a weapon. be so careful where you point that shit. enough shame can kill a person#and a lot of us are already defending from it from all sides.#shaming a person who is already at their limit for not doing more is an act of cruelty. think very carefully about what that means please.#i literally don't even know what SHEIN is lol i just know classism when i see it#but I've had friends whose clothes were visibly falling apart with no income and so much so shame so deep in their hearts they were dying#and if they had seen that post it would have made them even sicker and gotten them no closer to the dignity of being properly clothed#shame is a weapon and /you need to be careful!!!!/
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like why did they change where Vegeta was when Cell announced the cell games in the anime
why did they make this vegeta starting shit with yamcha instead of chillin in the lab with his family? why did they take Bulma out of the lab? Why'd they say she was Out while Dr Brief was repairing 16? Why did they change Bulma working on advanced robotics to running in late with her baby?
it's the same scene except: - Bulma's actively at work being a scientist - Vegeta's not being rude to her (or anyone else!) - Vegeta waits for Trunks instead of leaving the room - Cell interrupted the airwaves, which means Trunks and Vegeta were just hanging out with Bulma and Dr B while they were working
Those are all Great Character Details!! That the anime rails against!!
#these cowards afraid of showing Vegeta actively choosing to be around his wife and child even when he's Bad#Because Goku who is Good never ever even once makes that choice onscreen outside of filler#and then they justify that choice by making Chi-Chi seem horrid and unreasonable for (checks notes) Not Wanting Her Child to Die#anyway I am once again being bitter about anime vs manga klasjdklasd#I can't believe I let the anime convince me I hated Goku man Goku's SUCH a good and ridiculous character in the manga#the anime just SUCKS at letting him be who he's always been#and has to reframe and recontextualize and reword everything he does so that it seems like he's Actually Quite Mature and Thoughtful nO#THAT's VEGETA YOU COWARDS#also the fact that bulma said she wouldn't live with him at the beginning of this arc to him casually hanging out with her and trunks#after cell beat his ass and humbled him is REALLY GOOD SUBTEXT for their shared relationship having improved without showing it#it's great subtext for all three of them and toei just went 'nah' and decided to make it a whole group shot so ...? Master Roshi could sit#and explain how ??? Tournaments Work??? Just so Cell could log on and also explain how tournaments work?? God it's been so long#since I've watched the anime and now when I do it just makes me mad aklsdjskja the manga is SOOOOO much better#there are some spots where the pacing is more ideal in the anime like goku turning ssj for the first time but like man. everything else is.#like why are you making Goku snarky with Vegeta dude his clapbacks are SO much funnier when they're just Tactless Honesty#like Vegeta's not insulted by Snark bitch he grew up in the Freeza force that man was raised by THE bitchiest drag queens#Vegeta's insulted by someone saying something deeply and insultingly True to his face as if it's the fucking weather#Goku in the anime is like 'a battle of wits hoho' but Goku's purity is part of the joke he's not snippy he's just got no social etiquette#He's just honest! He's not trying to be insulting. That's what MAKES it insulting! That's the WHOLE GAG of why Vegeta can't stand him#Goku is always just telling the truth and it's always the rudest shit Vegeta's ever heard in his life#'it's a sunny day! i'm way stronger than you! see you out there bud!' 10000% Genuinely Friendly. Golden Retriever-Ass Pure.#Infuriating. Hilarious.#anyway I looked at anime clips to make sure I remembered things right and that was a mistake#as someone who has a soft spot for it and grew up on it -- compared to the manga it's bad and it's always been bad#and toriyama was right to be disinterested in watching it jesus christ they BUTCHERED his work#anyway this has been another shot of haterade with sketches thank you for scrolling my rambletags askljdask#dbtag#i just truly can't get over how they make Vegeta call her 'woman' in the anime and he literally only ever calls her Bulma in the manga#except for on namek when he refers to her as 'the/that woman' because she is a complete stranger#why is he calling her woman like he's a 1940s american husband and not an extraterrestrial from a deeply advanced society toei
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I think people overestimate how feminist team black is. If someone brings up how Baela should be the heir to Driftmark, it's always "she would've been Queen if not for the Greens!", ignoring that 1, she would be Queen consort, not a Queen in her own right, and 2 she has a legitimate claim in her own right to Driftmark. Team Black's goal is to crown Rhaenyra, but Rhaenyra becoming Queen isn't a win for feminism because it does nothing to dismantle the rest of the patriarchal system that exists in Westeros. From what we've gotten so far, it reads that Rhaenyra wants to be the exception and not the rule. Rhaenyra has made a lot of bad political decisions, which means she can't acknowledge Baela's claim because it would weaken her own claim (blatantly admitting her eldest sons are illegitimate would not end well for her to say the least). So she betrothes Jace and Luke to Baela and Rhaena to kind of atone for that, like as a consolation prize Baela will be Queen and Rhaena will be lady of Driftmark, neither of them would hold either title in their own right. It's good matches because the kids like each other and will treat each other well, but it's not a feminist win or a feministic liberation. It's usurpation, usurpation that takes place because Rhaenyra has to do damage control after having illegitimate children and after a serious of bad political decisions (both hers and her fathers, Viserys is the arbiter of this entire mess). To me, Rhaenyra is very reminiscent of Mary Queen of Scots, I can see a lot of elements drawn from Mary's history in Rhaenyra's story and character, down to their sons eventually taking the crown they failed to claim/keep.
#hotd#hotd spoilers#house of the dragon#house of the dragon spoilers#Rhaenyra targaryen critical#I'm going to do a rewatch prior to season 2 & I'm going to analyse the bad political decisions from vis & Rhaenyra that lead to the dance#like by no means the only factors at play lets not forget otto daemon larys etc#but it's an interesting factor that the fandom doesn't really acknowledge#and a lot of Rhaenyra's bad political decisions are understandable because of her youth and because viserys does fuck all to prepare her#like even if she wasn't who he choose as heir she should've been given a better political education as a princess#but vis fails his most of his other four kids in that regard to#i mean he also fails to acknowledge them or remember them but anyways#he is a huge part of the reason aegon and aemond became he they did#props to whoever probably alicent for sending daeron to oldtown so he could grow up well adjusted#alicent: i'm writing a letter to daeron is there anything you would like to say to him?#viserys: daemon? why are you writing to daemon?#alicent: daeron?#viserys: who?#alicent: our son? the one you sent to squire in oldtown?#viserys: i think i'd remember if we had a son who's name was one letter different to my brothers#viserys: in fact i do alicent do you mean the one who lost an eye?#alicent: *screaming internally*#viserys targaryen#king viserys#rhaenyra is such an interesting character but i hate how the fandom sanctified her because how dare characters be complex and have flaws#like you dont have to justify their actions or bend over backwards to deny their faults to like a character you know 😭#and the same thing is done to daemon who is far more fucked up and far more flawed in the show than the fandom allows#i hate the team stuff tho i get hbo going for it as a marketing move that was genius but my god are certain stans insufferable#the entire point of the dance is that its a pointless tragedy there's no good or bad side theyre both awful in their own ways#but thats a longer rant for another time outside of the tags
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side effect of having my hydroxychloroquine work really well is that i'm forgetting what it felt like to be Really Horrifically Sick. both because of the emotional distance and because of my general memory issues. the memory issues are a LOT worse concerning Times When I Was Horrifically Sick.
so i'm actually pretty grateful to my past self for the amount of time i spent oversharing here. if i scroll back like seven months in my autoimmune tag i can find posts of me essentially going "eh, i'm sleeping for 22 hours a day but i don't really care anymore bc i've accepted i'm gonna die" and "life sux. can't breathe or think or feel my chest but that's constant so i don't wanna go to the ER about it AGAIN" and "docs took 14 vials of blood 4 x-rays several lung images several lung tests and an EKG before i even left the hospital today. even tho they havent gotten my test results back yet" and i'm like god Damn.
I REALLY LIVED LIKE THIS????????
#if you have ever been the favorite favored patient at an american hospital. you know.#presumably triage is similar in other countries too i just know the american experience is very tied up in. cost benefit analysis#you have to be in BAD shape to be taken seriously at american hospitals. even the good ones. (especially the good ones??)#if you're waiting in the ER for four hours bc of triage it sucks. if you wait for 60 seconds because of triage uh.#You Are In Deep Trouble. You Are In Much Deeper Trouble Than An Annoying Waiting Room#WOW i was so fucking sick. i'm just. flabbergasted.#like i know intellectually that these things happened and have vague memories of all the testing processes and stuff#but i don't Feel it anymore. those things happened to a different person. please god let me have hydroxychloroquine forever#do you guys remember me being sick?? i think some of you actually might remember it better than i do which is. WEIRD.#anyway. back to fic editing now#autoimmune tag
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you guys really weren't kidding about how fucking good lake mungo is
#i think it just came out above ex machina on my list of favorite movies what the fuckkkkkkkk#technically i need to rewatch ex machina before deciding for sure but either way SUCHHHH A GOOD MOVIE AAAAAGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH#wait just remembered- i actually read the plot summary on wikipedia a loooooong time ago (but i hardly remembered any of it)#and having reread it just now after finishing the movie oh my GOD it does such a shitty job of conveying just how great this movie is.#what a dull clinical description what the fuck! please if you've ever read it and decided not to watch based on that#PLEASE give it an actual chance it is SO much better than wikipedia makes it seem.#it just doesn't (and CAN'T!) accurately portray just how truly haunting the movie is. a masterclass in how to tell a great ghost story#without relying too much on jumpscares or obviously horrific imagery (imo). just....wow.#and now for some screaming [🚨🚨🚨 brief spoilers incoming 🚨🚨🚨]:#SHE WAS THEREEEEEEE SHE WAS THERE THE WHOLE TIME IN EACH OF THE 'FAKE' PHOTOS/RECORDINGS OH MY GOD#AND EVEN THOUGH I TRIED *SO* HARD TO BE VIGILANT I NEVER SAW HER!!!! AND NEITHER DID THEY!!!!!!!!!!!!!#GOD I DON'T THINK ANY OTHER PSYCHOLOGICAL HORROR MOVIE HAS EVER MADE ME FEEL THIS INSANE HELP!!!!!!!!!!!!!#ok i'm done. anyway cool movie haha#lake mungo#📺 tag#send tweet
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is there an opposite of nostalgia where you remember sth as worse than it actually was in order to stop yourself from missing it so much it dissolves you like a wet straw wrapper
#whatever that's called it's me with my MA#like if you offered me a fun and cushy well paid job in london now i'd seriously have to think about it bc like. ugh yknow#but i read my 2018/19 journal yesterday and i mean. what the fuck.#every day's like ''read 2 books and went to 5 museums. met [person i don't know i will come to love till i die yet] they seem nice :)''#i don't know how that period was so charmed but my god#it really WAS beautiful and good and special. it was better than i remembered last time i was in london.#everyone in class had my exact brand of brainworms. every friendship was the most intense thing ever. ppl liked me and i wasn't even trying#every week they'd make me read ten works of world literature and it fucking ruled#like even if goldsmiths hadn't gutted their literature department since then this wouldn't be replicable idk it was a different dimension
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#one of the things I have to be careful of this school year#is not putting all this pressure on myself to suddenly be wiser and more stable and more knowledgeable than I am right NOW#not to mention organized#my ambition with teaching has grown sooooo much as my teacher self has stabilized#like oh shoot. I want to be ACTUALLY good at this. not just getting by on personality or passion#but idk. that can just open up all sort of rabbit holes for me to fall down. where I panic about not knowing more or being a different kind#of teacher. like I just need to a) stay the course. b) make small changes to be more disciplined/try to teach writing/grammar a little bit#better. a little bit at a time.#because it’s already such an overwhelming job#also on a more profound level I need to keep remembering it’s not about me and asking God to guide me#because it’s like. there are just suddenly a lot of eyes turned my way#in terms of just being like ‘yeah you’re a Real Teacher now’#not that they’re even saying it. but the kids have accepted it. the student body has accepted it#(benefit of staying in the same place for 5 years)#and so it is a whole new pressure#but yeah. I think not giving in to it and just trying to chip away at being more organized and more in-depth and a better communicator#and assessor#(sp?) and just yeah all of it#just reflecting. and rambling.
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