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perfectlyvalid49 · 4 months

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Hello, I am not Jewish, but I grew up in an area with a noticeable population of Jews who, historically, were able to be openly Jewish. I learned from a young age about the horrors that have happened to your people throughout history, and have been disgusted by the rise in more blatant antisemitism that has reared its ugly head in the days and months since October 7th, a day which also horrified and disgusted me. I have also long considered myself to be pro-Israel, seeing the neccessity for Jewish self-determination in this world.

With my background out of the way, I saw one of your posts mentioned things we non-Jews might not notice are antisemitic due to it being part of our culture and what not, and I was hoping you could tell me some of them? I've detested antisemitism for as long as I can remember, so if I've been unintentionally doing anything that fits that, I would like to stop. Thank you and have a nice day.

I want to start by saying that I really appreciate the fact that you’re trying, and that you want to learn to do better in case you’re making any mistakes. I am a firm believer that EVERYONE has blind spots when it comes to how they treat members of minority groups, be it antisemitism, racism, homophobia, or whatever else, and that while intent isn’t all that matters, it matters a lot. While I’m answering your question, I’m going to cover some stuff you may already know based on the background you gave in the hopes that this answer will be useful for other people as well. I hope you don’t mind.

I also want to put a couple caveats on what I’m about to say. The first is that this is not a comprehensive list. It’s just whatever came to mind while I was typing this up. I’m sure I’ve missed things, but hopefully this gives you an idea of the kind of thing I was talking about. If anyone sees this and wants to add additional examples, please do!

The other caveat is that different Jews will have different definitions of what is and is not antisemitic. The big obvious stuff, like people chanting “Gas the Jews,” or accusations that Jews use the blood of Christian children to bake their bread, almost everyone is going to agree that’s antisemitic. The more subtle stuff, which is what we’re going to be talking about here, is more likely to prompt disagreement. For example, last year there was a lot of conversation on Tumblr about how the goblins in the Harry Potter game were an antisemitic caricature. The reaction from Jews I know in real life basically boiled down to, “Yeah, I guess I can see it. I don’t really think it’s that big of a deal though.” So, some of the stuff I mention, other Jews might disagree that it’s antisemitic. And there are some things that I might leave out because I don’t think they’re antisemitic that other Jews think really are antisemitic. That’s OK!

I think that if we’re going to talk about antisemitism that is present in Western culture, then we need to talk about the antisemitism that’s baked into Christianity, and acknowledge that because a lot of Western culture has been heavily influenced by the church, even if a person is not religiously Christian, if they are culturally Western, then Christianity has had a large impact on their culture, and we can say that they are culturally Christian. And if this post gets big, I know that I’m going to get murdered for that statement, but that’s ok, there’s nothing Christians love more than a crucified Jew (THIS IS A JOKE (mostly.)) I don’t know if you’re Christian or not, but I live in the US, and most people here are heavily influenced by Christian thought and philosophy without realizing it, even if they’re not Christian, and these are the people I was talking about when I made the comment that prompted the ask.

So how is antisemitism baked into Christianity? Well, to understand that, we need to understand some of the problems early Christianity had, namely, the fact that the Jews of the time rejected their beliefs and the fact that Rome persecuted early Christians pretty hard. And we also need to talk about Supersessionism.

Early Christians had a major issue with contemporaneous Jews because the Jews rejected their teachings. Like, Jesus and his followers were Jews, and after his death they wanted all other Jews to agree that he was the messiah, even though he didn’t do all the things the Jewish messiah was supposed to do. This is both why Christianity has the second coming (so that he can do those things) and why the New Testament opens with a genealogy linking Jesus to David (the messiah is supposed to be from the line of David), the early Christians were *desperate* for legitimacy in their new religion. And when the rest of the Jewish community rejected it, they got a little mad, and decided that Christians clearly understand Jewish holy texts better than Jews do (up to and including editing said texts to better support their views), something that persists to this day. I have actually seen Christians show up on posts about being Jewish and try to explain to the Jews about how we’re wrong about our own religion. This is absolutely antisemitism, and it does really happen.

The other thing early Christians decided is that the Jews have been presented with the true word of G-d and have rejected it, so they must be evil. This is true of the early Christians, but I also want to stress that almost every major player in the Protestant Reformation absolutely HATED Jews. Luther literally published a treatise entitled “On the Jews and Their Lies”, and some scholars think that there is a direct line between Luther’s hatred of Jews and the formation of the Nazi party. I think Luther was the worst of them, but none of those guys were cool with Jews, so just know that all of the protestant denominations were founded by guys who would kill me if they could.

Because the Jews were now considered evil, the Christians concluded that the covenant G-d had made with the Jews now applied to the Christians. Now, in Christian thought, they were the Chosen People, and the Jews were no longer so blessed. This is the premise behind supersessionism, and it basically posits that Christians have replaced Jews as the true people of Israel, and it was embraced by many of the men who shaped what Christianity is today, in virtually every denomination of Christianity that exists.

The early Christians dealt with their Roman persecution problem by allying themselves with the Romans. One might think that this would be difficult, as the Romans are very much the bad guys in the new testament. Like, the guys who arrested Jesus were Roman, and following Rome’s orders, Pilate was Roman, and the men who put Jesus on the cross were Roman. So how could Christianity ally with the people who killed Jesus? Well, it’s simple, they were already mad at the Jews for rejecting their new religion, so they would claim that all of that was the Jews’ fault so the Romans could be allied with for political power. And Rome didn’t like the Jews anyway, so they loved it when the Christians threw the Jews under the bus.

So, a lot of cultural antisemitism has its basis here, with this idea that Jews are not like the rest of us, they’re somehow worse (“the rest of us” meaning people in Christian cultures). And while a lot of it has turned into more overt antisemitism (“Jews killed Jesus,” Jews kill Christian children for their blood to make bread/matzoh, Jews control money/media/government). But this also turns into things like sermons about the evils of the Pharisees or praising Jesus for the cleansing of the Temple. How is that antisemitic? Well, the Pharisees are the fathers of modern Judaism, so if their evil, then the modern version of our religion is based on the thoughts of evil men. Jesus’s cleansing of the Temple was, from a Jewish perspective, a story about a man deciding that the systems that Jews established to make worship easier should be taken away. Praising that is praising the disruption of Jewish worship.

And on the other end of things, we have people (mostly Christians, but some not), who are in love with the idea of Jews, but not actual Jews. In non-Christians, this looks like people with the opinion “Christians suck, but the Jews are cool.” As an example, I had a guy show up on one of my posts to let me know that he used to hold Jews in high regard because he thought our culture would make us immune from nationalism and far-right ideologies. He was so disappointed in us when we behaved just like other groups of human beings. And while he said that he had thought well of us, he still thought of us as being not like other human cultures – that’s antisemitic. And being mad at us for acting like other humans? That’s antisemitic too.

In Christians, it usually looks like people saying “We love Jews, Jesus was a Jew!” This implies that the only reason to love Jews is because of a relation to a deity we don’t believe in. It ignores real, live Jews in favor of people who if real, have been dead for 2000 years, and makes it seem like our only value is that you like one guy from a very different version of our culture (modern Judaism is VERY different than what Jews contemporary with Jesus would have practiced). These people are also the ones who are most likely to try to connect with Judaism through cultural appropriation. The most common example of this is churches that hold a “Passover Seder.” Judaism is a mostly closed religion, and our holidays are not for other people to play dress up. Like, imagine if a church in the US said it was going to do a Native American ceremony with no Native American input, and you have an idea of the level of cultural appropriation. And people would rightly call that out as not ok, but churches do this all the time. The excuse that they use is that the last supper was a Seder, but while that may be true, the modern seder, which is what most churches try to do, is not how Jesus would have celebrated in the time of the Temple. So, their reasoning doesn’t hold much water, Jews tend to be pretty clear that it’s not ok as far as we’re concerned, so this behavior is very problematic.

Moving on from Christianity, there’s also stuff that has been around so long we’ve forgotten their antisemitic origins. I mentioned goblins at the start of this, but did you know that witches are also based on antisemitic stereotypes? The green skin, the big nose, the hat which matches hats Jews were required to wear in parts of medieval Europe, the magic received from a deal with the devil – these are all heavily based on antisemitic caricatures of Jews. And while I don’t think witches by themselves are antisemitic, if you start pairing them with other antisemitic things it gets bad fast. Like, a witch is not antisemitic, and a person kidnapping children is not antisemitic, but a witch kidnapping children is raising some serious red flags. And a cabal (the word cabal is derived from Kabbalah, which is a Jewish practice, and its use is ALSO antisemitic) of witches doing so is a big freaking problem.

Or we could talk about Charles Dickens. His works are considered classics, and are often required reading in school. But Fagin in Oliver Twist is a walking antisemitic Jewish stereotype, and that’s never called out in lesson plans. So to people who have never met a Jew, but have read this classic of English literature, Fagin is what they think of when they think Jews. For the classes with one Jewish kid – how do you think it feels to have everyone in class be like, “Oh you’re Jewish, just like Fagin the bad guy!” Of note, Dickens did write a much less antisemitic Jewish character in a later novel, Our Mutual Friend, but of these two, which one gets taught?

I also want to talk about institutional antisemitism. This is similar to the idea of institutional racism, if you’re familiar with that concept – the idea that racism has worked its way into how our very society is structured, so even if you try very hard to be anti-racist, the society you live in is designed to make life harder for POC. Institutional antisemitism is the same thing, except the system is rigged against Jews instead.

We’ll start with one that Jews and Blacks have in common – redlining. It’s the practice of not allowing people (mostly Black people, but also other POC) to buy houses in certain areas. Usually this was done by banks not giving mortgages to people, but there are also homes where it’s in the deed to the house, or in the by laws of the local HOA that you’re not allowed to sell to Black people. It turns out that some houses/HOAs also have “no Jews allowed” rules as well. And it’s super subtle – is a neighborhood Jew free because we’re an incredibly small portion of the population and just so happen to not live there? Or are they legally barred from living there? It can be hard to tell without doing some significant digging. My synagogue actually had a booth at our Purim carnival last year so that we could see if our neighborhood still had anti-Black housing laws so we could work on getting them changed if so. Solidarity.

There’s also probably some institutional antisemitism in your workplace. There sure as heck is in mine, and the last time I brought it up I was told that I could find work elsewhere if I had an issue with company policy. One of the more common ones it that many jobs that require work on Sundays give a higher rate of pay for that day. The historical reason for that is because Sunday is the Sabbath, and if your company is going to force you to work on the holy day, then they’re going to value that time more highly (my company does an extra dollar an hour for Sunday hours.) But Sunday isn’t the Sabbath for Jews, and when I asked if I could be compensated for my time on MY day of rest, well, see above for the answer I got.

You can also look at the holiday situation. My company is open 357 days a year. Of the 8 days we are closed, one is for Christmas, one is for Easter and one is for New Years on the Christian calendar (It’s the Gregorian calendar after POPE Gregory). Most people don’t work Sundays, so there’s no pay for Easter, but Christmas and New Years are both paid holidays. But the Jewish New Year, which is a religious holiday, is not. Nor are any other Jewish holidays. And we have a lot, and many of them require that you not work if you’re religiously observant. Enough that most people would have to spend their entire allotment of PTO for the year, just to have off for religious observance. You could argue that Christmas and New Years and Easter are federal holidays, except Easter isn’t, and also at my company we aren’t given off for all federal holidays (we’re open for president’s day and MLK day and so on), so you actually kinda do have to defend why these made the cut. Also I’m still waiting for the reason why a Christian holiday is also a Federal holiday in a country that supposedly values the separation of Church and State.

Jews also feel this at school. In college I had a professor schedule a midterm on Yom Kippur – the holiest day on the Jewish calendar, and a holiday that is observed, in part, by not consuming any food or water for 25 hours. I asked if I could take the test on a different day, and my request was denied. I’m sure my school probably had someone I could have talked to about this but I didn’t know that at the time, so I felt like my options were come in to class on a holiday or take a 0% and screw over my grade for the semester. I chose to celebrate as best I could, and duck out of services for an hour and a half to take the test. The professor (in what I’m sure he thought was an act of kindness) had brought several barrels of apples, so that we could each have a snack while we tested. I almost committed murder that day (what, my blood sugar was low enough to be non-existent at that point and I was feeling pretty cranky). And like, I don’t think the professor was trying to be antisemitic. He was trying to be fair by making us all test at the same time, and kind by bringing us a snack. But in effect, he made life much harder for the one Jewish student in his class by refusing an easy accommodation.

And is not being accommodating to Jews antisemitic? Yeah, kinda? It sure feels that way when it seems like your only options are 1) things are shitty because people won’t accommodate you, 2) you have to work extra hard to figure out how to accommodate yourself, or 3) you can stop being Jewish and then everything suddenly is so much easier. Another really common example of this is getting invited to a party, and then none of the food is kosher. Your options are 1) go hungry, 2) bring enough food that’s kosher for yourself and everyone else (otherwise they might eat the kosher stuff and you’re back to 1), or 3) the problem goes away when you stop keeping kosher. And the reason I feel this is antisemitic is that the host is making the space unwelcoming to Jews – you can come, but you’re not gonna like it, so you might as well not come.

The last thing I want to talk about is treating Jews as white. A person might think that this is a good thing, like it’s granting us access to white privilege, but in reality it’s ignoring our needs as a minority. Claiming that Jews are white ignores that some Ashkenazi and many non-Ashkenazi Jews are definitely not even close to white, and it downplays the real discrimination Jews face. Studies have proven that it’s harder to get hired with a Jewish sounding name, and an article recently came out that said the prosecution was deliberately excluding Jews from juries (this is illegal discrimination) because they were less likely to give the death penalty, as examples. And even for white-passing Jews, the Shoah was very much about how Jews were not white. That was a pretty significant part of the Nazi ideology.

And this becomes an even bigger problem when the people who should want to be allies – other minorities and their white allies deny us the ability to seek help from them. When we talk about the discrimination that we face, we’re very frequently ignored, or told that we’re white and that we don’t know what it’s really like. This is what the left is doing right now when it calls us “oppressors” or “colonizers” – it’s denying our history of being oppressed and our history of being colonized because some of us look like we came from Europe.

Anyway, if you’re still here (I know this is VERY long), I hope this was helpful in understanding some of the ways that antisemitism can be present in small things, from church sermons to pay rates to fairy tales. And I want to be clear, I’d much rather deal with the antisemitic implications of Hansel and Gretel than deal with people chanting “Jews will not replace us.” But in an ideal world, I wouldn’t have to deal with either.

#asks and answers #LONG post #Word says 3226 words #antisemitism #it's the little things that grind you down

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smurphyse · 2 years

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The Avocado I Didn't Have | Eddie Munson

Smurph's Masterlist | Zero to Hero Masterlist

Warnings: graphic depictions of violence, depictions of gore, monster fights, descriptions of blood, overuse of 80s song lyrics

Summary: Because your friends won't let you have just one day to yourself, you venture out into the Darkness only to find Edward Munson bleeding out

Sunlight filters in through the windows, a soft breeze billowing the curtains, making them dance along with the wind. The chimes on the porch tinkle while the suncatchers spread colors along the walls. Warmth from the morning sun washes over my legs as I swing them off the bed and stretch out the stiffness in my shoulders.

Reaching high and rolling my neck, I intertwine my fingers and let out a little groan. Recently I've been sleeping like shit, and last night wasn’t any better. Dreams of the Darkness and the lab haunted me through fitful tossing and turning along the sheets. They used to happen every night, sometimes during the day, but they had become fewer and further between. This uptick in nightmares rocks me to the core every time they decide to rear their ugly head.

I let my arms down slowly, feeling a bit better and loose. The hardwood is warm from the sun streams under my bare feet as I make my way to the kitchen. I mutter my usual hellos to my army of houseplants I have scattered around the cabin, and I'm rewarded with their bright happy flora and leaves trailing about. The pothos enjoy their spots up on the bookshelves I’ve got lining the walls while the succulents bask in the warmth on the windowsill.

It’s just one big room -open kitchen with a window facing the front yard that hides my cabin with its array of trees in the dense forest, rugs along the hardwood and crappy armchairs I’ve found over the years sit in front of the fireplace- but it’s home. I found this cabin in the secluded off-the-trails area of Hawkins some years ago and fixed it up the best I could. It took a lot of learning and reading, but luckily I have a little telekinesis that comes in handy when it comes to lifting heavy things and turning tight bolts into wood.

I push aside a few errant vines I keep forgetting to trail along the nails I’ve put in the beams, but once again decide I’m not going to worry about it today. Pulling the coffee pot from the carafe, I slide it between the greenery and fill it with water. Where I am, the water is infected where it’s not dried out, so I bring in water jugs and fill it in the reservoir I’ve set up out back behind the cabin. Another reminder I’ve made my life harder than it needs to be.

But this is safer. There’s safety in seclusion.

"Hey… Hey… What’s the matter with your head, yeah," Redbone croons through the speakers as I putter around in an old flannel and underwear. “Hey… hey… what's the matter with your mind and your sign and oh.”

My sleeve rolls up as I pour the water into the coffee maker, and even all these years later my eyes go straight for the tattoo on my wrist. 000 stands out like a brand. I suppose that’s exactly what it is. I’ve thought about covering it almost every day since escaping Papa and his military goons, but I’ve never been able to make myself get new ink. One, it would require going to a more populated area and showing an ID that I don’t have to prove I’m above the age of eighteen. Two, it’s a part of me.

A painful soul wrenching part that will never leave. Covering the ink won’t fix me no matter how much I wish it would.

You have to know, daughter, Papa’s voice echoes from those deep caverns of memory, always at the worst times. I do these things because I love you. You’re capable of greatness, and we need to bring it to the light. Do you understand?

“Do you understand?” I mock to the empty room, making a face and scoffing. I slap the carafe into the pot and let it percolate, then head outside to check my garden.

In the mood for something yummy after such a shit night, I wander through the thick grass and enjoy the sun on my skin as I make my way over. The garden’s expansive, full of more food than I’ll ever realistically eat on my own, but it doesn’t matter. What I don’t use I take down to Stoney Hightower at the Farmer’s Market in Greencastle, the next town over from Hawkins, and he gives me enough for my troubles and my out-of-season fresh strawberries.

I have everything, from tomatoes to potatoes, from bananas to avocados. The half acre of vegetation is spattered with high stalks and fruit trees, plumed with green bean sprouts and cabbages. My powers had been honed long ago, the initial telekinesis I showed as an infant growing until it included element manipulation.

When I finally learned it was all chemistry, simple mathematics and formulas taught by my father, it all made more sense. Papa wanted to turn me into a weapon. All I’d ever wanted to do was create. He wanted me to destroy, and when I refused I was punished.

Eleven years after escaping him and Hawkins’ lab, I hadn’t gone far. I retreated to the Darkness and inside created my safe space. At twenty six I’ve been alone almost half my life, and I like it that way… but it gets lonely here sometimes.

I pluck a few avocados from a tree, eyeing the Darkness at the edge of my property. The red and purple clouds seem to breathe on their own as they wage their constant war to entreat on my home, only giving way to the sunshine dome around me. I’ve kept myself hidden in this little enclave, masking the area so only I can enter. It’s hard some days to keep up the shield around it, to make sure Henry can’t enter, but so far he hasn’t stepped foot inside.

I can see the creatures circling in the distant crackling sky, and I cock my head as I wonder what food they’ve found in the desolate Dark. Deciding I don’t want to know, I turn on my heel only to come face to face with one of the creatures themselves.

Shrieking like a scared rabbit, I fall hard on my ass and scramble away until my back hits the avocado tree. My precious fruits bounce away and my fucked up brain grieves the avocado I didn’t have before dying. Chest heaving, I blink through the harsh sunlight as its shadow covers me and it’s twitching head cocks to the side.

The head is a giant bird skull with no visible eyes and thin skin, with leathery wings and sharp claws. It’s the size of two grown vultures, massive and imposing. It lets out a little brrup and hops toward me, so I reach out to pet its beak.

“Screech! You scared the shit outta me!” I huff, letting out a relieved chuckle. Screech pats his foot in bliss as my heart rate slows to normal, humming happily and nuzzling his bony chin further into my hand.

I push him away and get to my feet, ignoring Screech’s little groan of disappointment and the insistent fluttering of his wings. He’s always so needy. I put my hands on my hips and cock a brow at him, “Where’s Clem?”

The creature shrugs and looks away, not wanting to give his cuddles to his sister. I hook one finger under his beak and pull at him until he faces me. Though he’s at least twice my height, he knows I’m in charge and after a few tugs he relents.

“Where’s Clem, Screech?”

A small gurgling bark from behind makes my eyes go wide, and I turn just in time for Clem herself to barrel into my chest. I hit the ground harder than the first time, sliding through the grass as she nuzzles into me and licks every inch of skin she can reach. Laughing madly, I pat her leathery skin, the tickling feeling of her flower-bud mouth tingling all over.

I finally manage to roll out from under her and get to my feet, holding out my hands playfully. She wags her tail, her bulky body coiled to pounce on me once more. The size of a small horse, Clem acts like a dog. Just like Screech, she has no eyes, just that flower-shaped mouth that spreads wide when she opens it.

“What are you two up to today?” I ask suspiciously. “Dinner isn’t until six. You guys know that.”

They exchange a look as well as they can with no eyeballs, but it’s clear enough. Just as I’m about to demand an answer, Screech hangs his head and points one bony wing to where the creatures circle the sky.

Something is out there.

“Well, shit.”

I kick aside the avocado I didn’t have before dying, resenting it more than grieving it now. Stomping back to the cabin, I wave my hands as Screech and Clem follow me closely up the hill.

“I fully intended to have a me day, y’know? I was gonna have a bath, a glass of wine,” I call to them as I bang around in my room. I pull on a pair of jeans and heavy boots for the coolness, snag a jacket off the back of the door. “And you two show up and now I have to go into the Dark.”

Clambering into the kitchen, I glare at them through the porch window. I pour fresh coffee into a thermos as they watch me, letting out little chirrups of embarrassment while they wait patiently. I huff and squint at them, “This isn’t something you can handle by yourselves?”

Clem and Screech shake their heads, so I let out a dramatic groan and head for the gun closet. I’ve collected a handful of useful weapons over the years, made a few myself, but I instinctively reach for the pistol holster and their respective pieces. I grab the shotgun and loop the strap over my shoulders before closing it and snatching my thermos off the counter.

Kicking the door open, I step onto the porch. It creaks with my weight, slight as it is. I’ve been meaning to replace the slats but that would mean going into the real world and I haven’t been up for it lately with all the nightmares. I frown at my two little monsters as I pull my long curls into a ponytail.

“This better be good, guys.”

I head off the porch to the side of the cabin, hopping into the ‘84 robin’s egg blue Jeep that lay nestled between the trees. I’d… procured it some years ago and brought it through a gate I’ve since closed. I keep it in tiptop condition, proud of my car that nobody gets to see with its registration that once belonged to someone named Haley Goddard. Poor Haley. I’m certainly never going to give it back.

I’ve found myself capable of a lot of things since leaving the lab when at first I was like a scared puppy in the rain, unsure and terrified. I find books in bargain bins and when I have enough money I buy better ones on everything from mechanics to architecture to horticulture. Learning’s in my DNA thanks to Papa, so I enjoy it even though the thought of him makes my skin crawl.

Clem and Screech lead me through the trail of trees to the edges of my property, which I affectionately call The Haven. We venture into the Darkness, the sunshiney dome of the Haven shifting quickly to the deep purple storms. While I have reception in the Haven, it’s spotty at best in the Darkness, so I pop in a mix-tape I found at the record store to let some semblance of my morning routine happen while I sip my coffee from the thermos.

“If you're all alone when the pretty birds have flown. Honey, I'm still free, take a chance on me,” ABBA comes through on the speakers, a little crackly, but I don’t mind. I pull a face and decide to roll with it, swaying in time with the music as I enter a storm.

The rolling clouds surround us as we drive around the vines, creatures swarming the Jeep but they know to leave us be. I’ve killed enough of them that they avoid me and my bright blue car. I only really have to deal with them now if I get in their way.

I drive through the Dark Hawkins, following Screech and Clem through winding roads in the boonies until we reach the trailer park. Once, before the Darkness took over this place, the buildings were pristine, beautiful. Better looking than they were in the real world. Now, the vines and monsters have taken over and encircle everything with a flurry of dust and violence.

It’s a shame. This world was my safe place once. The entirety of it mimicked the Haven, not just my little property. Henry and I spent hours exploring and mapping all of it, playing with the creatures before they all turned to blood and death. Before Henry’s own demons followed and destroyed everything.

“'Cause you know I've got so much that I wanna do. When I dream I'm alone with you,” I sing along as we go deeper into the Darkness. Clem and Screech lead me through the haze of those flying ratbat fuckers that Henry created, about five miles from the Haven. “It’s magic.”

A group of them were crouched around something, pulling and biting as I hop out of the Jeep. Deciding it might be best to make a quick getaway, I leave the door open as my feet hit the ground, careful to avoid the vines. I don’t want Henry to know I’m here.

The music plays as I approach, tiptoeing around the tendrils embedded in the dirt as Huey Lewis & The News echoes around the Dark, “I was walkin’ down a one-way street, just a-lookin’ for someone to meet…”

I swat away the swarm, poking at them with the butt of the shotgun. One of them turns and hisses at me, swinging out a clawed hand. I smash the gun on its head and kick another, and soon enough they back off, skirring as they slink away.

“Now I'm hopin' (hopin') that the feeling is right, and I'm wonderin' (wonderin') if you'll stay for the night…”

Clem and Screech push them further away as I inspect their prey. My lip curls into a disgusted snarl as I approach, eyeing the splattered blood and hardly recognizable jeans. An electric guitar hangs limply in one of the person’s hands, the strings snapped and the body cracked.

They must have made their way through to the real world and dragged some poor bastard inside.

Skin and bone sticks up from leather and cotton fabric, shredded and glistening far too brightly in this dimmed and darkened place. While Clem and Screech keep the creatures at bay, I kneel beside the body and reach to the blood-covered face of this person. I press the back of my hand to their cheek. It’s sticky with drying blood but still warm.

I let my fingers trail down the mess of broken bones and snagged skin, wrapping my hand around the wrist and feeling for a pulse.

"If you believe it, take my hand, and I'll take your heart…”

I can faintly feel something, but it’s hard to tell like this. I set the gnarled hand down and press my fingers to the throat. Matted hair and sweat lines the person’s skin, and I have to peel some thick curling strands away. It’s fading…. But I can feel it.

This person is alive.

Making sure Clem and Screech are holding their own, shrieking and clawing at the flying ratbats, I push away some hair from their head to get a better look at them. I inspect them as I cup their face gently in my hands. Taking a deep breath, I let myself relax for what I’m about to do.

Any medical combat situation starts with this question, Zero, Colonel Sullivan’s voice comes from the back of my mind, How do I stop the bleeding?

I suck in air through my nose as I focus, letting my friends protect me while I help this person. Platelets stick together around wounds to stop the bleeding. They need help though. Protein binds with platelets to form a fibrin clot.

I need to form a fibrin clot.

I’ve done this enough times on myself but this person is bleeding badly. Barely able to fathom how they’re still alive, I hope they were at least unconscious for the creatures eating into their belly.

Picturing the blood vessels shrinking to slow the blood flow, the energy in the body kickstarts to healing with my help. As they constrict, I hum to focus. The platelets move to cover the injuries, the brain activating to begin coagulation. Sticky blood pools beneath my knees as I work, and my nose begins to drip with the effort.

Guiding protein to the platelets, I let the body begin the process and let go, doing my best to ignore the copper scent of blood as I wipe it away from my upper lip. There will be a lot of work for me to do on them, but for now this will last until we get back to the Haven. Pulling a handkerchief from my back pocket, I spit on one corner and begin to wipe away the blood and dirt.

For a moment I think they might be a woman, they’re so pretty. Soft rounded cheekbones give way to full lips, but the Adam’s apple on his throat tells me he’s a man. He’s young, probably my age, and much too gentle looking to be in a place like this.

Patting him down as the creatures hiss around me for taking their food, I feel until I find the thin lining of a wallet in his back pocket. I dig it out and flip it open, reading the name on the license in the little window.

Edward Wayne Munson, DOB 10/31/1965.

There’s a few other interesting things in his pockets, such as one of those twenty-sided dice nerds like to use in their games. I’d read about D&D, but seeing as I have no friends I’ve never played. A slip of paper folded up in one reads, Corroded Coffin, tonight only! with a picture of a curly-haired guitarist on stage with his band. I also find a joint in his jacket pocket, pre-rolled and in good condition, and I chuckle as I stuff it into my jacket along with his other things for safe keeping.

“Do you believe in love? Do you believe it's true?” Huey Lewis sings from the car as I zip his jacket to keep his organs inside during the drive. The last thing I need is to clean guts from the upholstery.

I loop the shotgun and guitar over my back with the straps, then lean over and grab Edward Munson under the armpits and drag him back to the car. I try to avoid the vines, but as I pull him along, Edward gasps and jerks one of his arms from my grasp.

“Fuck,” I hiss as I scramble to hold onto him. “Stay still!”

He struggles anyways, panic and pain likely taking over despite his weakness and the damage to his body. I grip his hair tightly at the crown, pull his head back to look at me. I find myself gazing into bright brown eyes that are full of terror and glistening with tears.

“I’m going to help you,” I say sternly. “Let me help you.”

Edward lets out a breath of relief, and I let his head drop back down. But then he spots Screech, Clem, and the ratbats. His legs kick out in a panic. Right into one of the vines.

“Well… shit.”

Lightning flashes across the sky with a thunderous crack! The clouds turn red, pulsing in the dark and rolling straight toward us, and I drop him in my fear. He hits the ground hard, but I pull him up again in a flash, a mad dash of panic to get the hell back to safety.

Screech jumps back from the swarm, snapping his beak at the ratbats. He snarls as Clem takes pleasure in biting the heads off any that she can reach. I drag Edward to the Jeep, yelling and cursing even though I’m sure he’s unconscious again.

“You stupid fuck!” I scream as I pull him under the open door. More of the swarm appears, and one tugs at my ponytail, dragging me back until I fall on my ass on the cold ground.

My hand flashes back to grip it at the base. Tears spring to my eyes as it jerks my head back and forth. The wings flap loudly, only the roaring of the rising wind audible over it. Letting out a screech, I manage to pull one of the pistols from my holster and point it behind my head.

The pop is deafening, a dull ringing bursting across my eardrum as the wind howls in my other. The creature yelps as the bullet hits meat, releasing me and flopping across the ground in pain. I scramble to my feet, holding my hand out as I force the ground to raise Edward to the level of the Jeep seats. Quickly rounding the car, I jump into the passenger side and pull him in, then lean the seat back as far as it will go and shove him down on it.

Pulling the passenger door closed, I climb over him to the driver’s side, slamming it shut. Throwing the car in reverse, I back up enough to give Clem and Screech room to defend us, then slap it in drive and tear off toward the Haven.

The sky booms with lights and electricity. The storms burst from the area of town where the old Creel house is, where Henry hides, and my jaw drops as it heads straight toward my little car. Fear bursts through my veins at the thought of him catching me. I stomp down on the gas, the Jeep rattling and bouncing over each bump and vine I’d taken care to avoid on the way here.

Edward groans, struggling to sit up with every bounce of the shocks on the crappy road. His voice slurs, deep and husky as he asks, “What the fuck it going on?”

“Shut up, dipshit!”

He looks my way with bleary eyes. Still bleeding, still damaged, likely beyond repair. I’m not sure I’ll be able to save him, and all I can think about is that damned avocado I should have had before venturing out into a waking nightmare. He nods and goes limp, and I curse to nobody, “Great! Just great! I just wanted to have one nice day!”

I spot Clem and Screech in the rearview mirror, just as fast as the ratbats though they are much bigger. The speedometer hits 80 mph before I reach the borders of the Haven, winding through trees and the trails. I don’t slow until I see Clem and Screech follow me inside.

The creatures hiss outside as they approach the sunlit patch of land, coming up short and snarling at me from a distance. Even though I know they won’t, I sigh a breath of relief that they don’t follow us inside.

By the time I park next to the cabin, my body turns to jelly. My fingers and hands shake as I peel them from the steering wheel. Looking over to the man slumped over in my passenger seat, I shake my head.

“You better be worth it, Munson.”

Smurph's Masterlist | Zero to Hero Masterlist

Notes: Okay, I've been working on this for a while... I need to know what you think of Zero and if you like her/the story so far. I'm really excited for this story and I want you guys to like it! <3

Also, the faceclaim for Zero is Adria Arjona because I think she looks similar to me even though I'm Siksika and she's Latina. We share very similar features ngl Zero is a projection of parts of myself

Stranger Things Taglist: @tlclick73 @theloser007 @sadbitchfangirl @chaoticcancer @harrys-tittie @assassinsasha23

#Zero to Hero #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x oc #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #virgin!eddie munson #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #smurph writes #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #Eddie Munson/OC #ocapp #ocappreciation #ocfairygodmother #eddie munson imagine

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djinnandtea · 10 months

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When I was in high school, I stumbled across an artist that really grabbed my attention and held onto it tightly. His work was gorgeous and fantastical and gory and also more than a little…salacious. All things that teenaged me love. This artist’s name was Luis Royo, and his works often involved some variation of beautiful, thin, light-skinned, half-naked women looking moody and forlorn covered in blood or boning some buff dude in some dystopian wasteland of a universe. But sometimes, Royo’s women didn’t settle for boning random men. Sometimes they preferred something a little more…inhuman. Yeah, baby, I’m talking about monsters.

Now, eventually I stopped buying Luis Royo’s books. I don’t remember why—I mean, I don’t even remember how I started buying them in the first place considering all of my mail was routed through my mother, because again, this was high school—but I stopped. But that didn’t mean that I also stopped thinking about ladies banging monsters. That never stopped. I didn’t have a vocabulary for this interest. I didn’t know what it was called, I didn’t know if other people liked it. I was consuming Royo’s work on my own and forcing it on my high school friends who were considerably less interested in the monster stuff than I was. So I kind of learned to just keep it quiet. But the interest certainly didn’t go away.

As I got older and started to explore different types of art and media and ways of telling stories, I found myself continuously drawn to some version of humans and inhumans connecting, falling in love, getting it on. Sometimes that looked like a really intense vampire phase and an appreciation for all things Anne Rice and Twilight and Sookie Stackhouse. Sometimes that looked like a really deep interest in folklore that involved humans marrying animal brides and bridegrooms. Sometimes it looked like a fixation with the movies of Guillermo Del Toro. And sometimes that looked like accepting there was probably a strange and unconventional reason that Beauty and the Beast was my favorite Disney movie growing up.

I mean. Did y’all see the beast?

It wasn’t until late 2022 that all the dots started connecting. I had decided I wanted to read more, specifically more romance. I added some BookTok accounts to my TikTok feed. I started talking more about romance books with a friend. I started exploring the world of spicy adult paranormal romance and joining Kindle Unlimited, which was very exciting all on its own. And that’s when I found it, my holy grail: the book subgenre known as monster romance. You know that saying, “All roads lead to Rome”? It was kind of like that, except all the roads I took lead to the city of monsterfucking. Monsterfucking was my Roman Empire, if you will. And what a glorious empire it was.

As I’ve engaged more directly and consistently with the monster romance genre, it’s inspired a lot of thoughts for me. That’s why I’ve started this blog, because I can’t stop thinking about fucking monsters, and I want to explore the idea in a lot of different ways. For today, I want to talk a bit about why I think monster romance holds so much appeal for me and for the many others who enjoy it. That seems like as good a starting point as any.

When I was thinking about this question, one of the first things that came to mind was a blog post I read a number of years ago that never really left my head. It was written by Cleolinda Jones over on Livejournal. If you’re an older millennial viewer, Cleolinda’s name might sound familiar, as she’s the author of some very funny movie recaps she called “Movies in 15 Minutes,” which was my introduction to her. But Cleolinda is also known for her Twilight recaps that she posted to her LJ account. These recaps fused a summary of the books with her own observations, and man, her observations were good.

In Cleolinda’s recap for the first Twilight novel, she gets into why she thinks the series has had the success that it’s had. She specifically talks about how she feels Twilight is just an extension of the “good girls wanting a bad boy” trope.

I actually don't think girls like a guy who treats them bad. But I do think they--we--get off a little on the idea of changing someone for the better, or the idea of having the power that someone loves us so much that he'll change or sacrifice something for us….A nice guy doesn't need to change, and, most importantly, he's already nice to everyone. How do you know that you're special if he treats everyone else with as much kindness and respect as he treats you? The "bad boy" type, though? He may range from simple, garden-variety jackhole…to appalling psychopath…, but you know he loves you because he's completely different around you. You are an exception to his very nature….That's the fantasy.

Now, I’m not saying every male lead in a monster romance is a jerk, because a lot of them aren’t. (Don’t worry, Sol, I’d never let anyone accuse you of being mean.) But I do think by virtue of these monsters being, well, monsters, there’s a given understanding by readers that a human should not be fucking one. Monsters are predators, monsters are dangerous, monsters are not made for cuddles and smooches. But these monsters in these books? Especially the ones who are a little rougher around the edges? Seeing them soften for their human partners is deeply satisfying and scratches the exact kind of itch that I think Cleolinda is referencing.

But long before Cleolinda was musing on bad boys, writer and literary critic Hélène Cixous was posing something related in her essay “Love of the Wolf.” This essay has a number of interesting things to say on the tension between love and fear, using the metaphor of loving “the wolf,” aka loving a thing that can harm or destroy us, to make her point. Cixous writes about the thrill of fear when in love, and suggests that we must have that true fear to experience true love.

But happiness is when a real wolf suddenly refrains from eating us. The lamb’s burst of laughter comes when it’s about to be devoured, and then, at the last second, is not eaten. Hallelujah comes to mind. To have almost been eaten yet not to have been eaten: that is the triumph of life. But you’ve got to have the two instants, just before the teeth and just after, you’ve got to hear the jaws coming down on nothing for there to be jubilation. Even the wolf is surprised. (Stigmata, pg. 77)

It’s the idea, once more, of the person that we care about changing their very nature to be with us. The bad boy will treat us with kindness. The big bad wolf won’t eat us. The monster will love us tenderly. We humans are special, something to be cherished, even by something traditionally seen as negatively as monsters have been.

It makes me think too about the popularity of dark romance on BookTok and Bookstagram. Monster romance is kind of like dark romance taken to a different sort of extreme. In dark romance, there is often a baseline threat of violence or a disregard of consent. The male leads are often cruel, unpredictable, and inconsiderate. Their love of the other character drives them to stalk or kill or harm others, and even to be deeply, toxically controlling and possessive of the main character. And this is why folks like them. These are the real bad boys, and I mean the really bad boys, that Cleolinda’s talking about. And with the monsters in monster romances, there can be a lot of overlap. The monsters can be cruel and controlling for sure, but even when they aren’t, their very existence as monsters makes them a super unconventional choice for a human person. If the mafia boyfriend with anger issues who you know you should avoid is appealing, than the entirely different species with claws and fangs and a tail who you’re really not supposed to want to bone is that appeal taken about three steps further.

At some point I’d like to explore the different sorts of monster romance book covers that are popular with authors and artists, because I think they get at the last topic I wanted to touch on today when it comes to the appeal of monsterloving: aesthetics. Size kink can be fun in every genre, but monster romances really understood that particular assignment. The monsters in these books are massive in every possible area. Their muscles are chiseled, their tails are long, and their eggplants are otherworldy. Not to mention, a monster may even have more than one.

There’s also the contrast of furry or scale-covered monster bodies embracing soft, fragile human bodies. Monster bodies are foreign and unique; they’re a fantasy that can’t be found anywhere else, which makes the fantasy inherently more interesting. There’s a lot more that can and should be said here about the gender dynamics at play in the design of these monstrous figures and their human partners, and even possibly the racial dynamics too, but for now I just want us thinking about how the physical depiction of monsters and humans together holds an undeniable appeal to a large number of people. I’m thinking again about Luis Royo and the success of his art that explored this very thing. And that’s really interesting to me.

I’ll stop there for today, I think. See you in the next post!

Currently Reading: Devoured by Monsters - Katie May & Ann Denton

Monster Joke for the Road: What was the dramatic monster’s favorite play?

Romeo and Ghouliet.

Until next time, monsterfuckers.

#teratophillia #terato #monsterfucker #monster lover #monster romance #my posts #art #luis royo #helene cixous #monrom

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likeafairytale · 9 months

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"You have lived so many lives, your brain is not made to remember all on its own. Here. This will help you. This is the best I can do." - Mnemosyne to Achilles about the hourglass

❛A hourglass?❜

❛Yes.❜

❛Is that your way to tell me my father is Chronos, the titan of time? Because that would be pretty cool.❜

❛Still funny, I see.❜

Achilles shrugged to his mother's words, to be honest, yes, he thought he was quite funny right now. Taking the hourglass from the Titaness, he looked at the steady seed inside before looking at the chain, which made him understand it was supposed to be a necklace. The demigod was lost at the moment; his mother appeared to him for the first time in years, to offer him a meaningless gift, but hey, weren't all gods that way? He knew Aphrodite did the same with Anastasia years ago with Helen's dagger, it was maybe just a matter of time before his mother did the same. He has to admit, he was disappointed, but also a bit jealous. At least his best friend had a weapon, something useful, what was he supposed to do with an hourglass?

❛Like I said, it's for your memory.❜ Mnemosyne said, as to echo her son's thoughts. ❛You have an extraordinary memory, Achilles, but a human brain isn't supposed to remember so many things.❜

❛Good thing I'm not completely human then.❜

❛You know what I mean.❜ She replied. She was both amused and annoyed by her son's comeback, but he was just like his father, which was why she fell in love in the first place. ❛How many lives did you live already? Three. Three lives is a lot, Achilles.❜

❛I'm perfectly fine.❜

❛That's not what the room is telling me.❜

Achilles opened his mouth, ready to talk, but he had no sassy comeback this time. He looked around and could only agree with his mother; the room was a mess. Books everywhere, curtains ripped off, it was as if a hurricane came into his room when really it was all his doing. His head was hurting, so much he wanted to smash it against the wall to make it stop. Make the noises, the memories, everything stop. But he couldn't make it stop, no matter how many times he tried, everything was swirling into his mind that violence was the only solution. He came to self harm sometimes, when it was too much, like today for example, something Mnemosyne noticed when he tried to hide his left arm with his shirt already covered with blood.

❛Tya seems quite fine with her memory.❜ He noticed. Although his best friend wasn't there, he knew she did not have violent outbursts like him.

❛Anastasia forgets some things of her life. Like everyone is supposed to. I'm sure you can test her, ask her about something specific, she won't find the answer. But you. Your memory is too perfect. You just cannot forget like you should. I blame myself for that.❜

❛Yeah, so do I.❜

The young man sighed and looked twice at the hourglass, trying himself to figure out how this little trinket could help him, –he was really fond of jigsaws and wanted to find by himself– but he was just puzzled by that. When he was about to turn it upside down, his mother stopped him quickly, bringing his attention on her.

❛Before you do that...❜ She started, with such softness that Achilles was suspicious. ❛I need to tell you how it works.❜ She marked another paused, and he noticed she was trying to find her words.

❛Like I said you remember too much... This will erase your memory. All of them.❜

❛What? So your solution of me remembering too much is for me to remember nothing at all? What kind of bullshit is that?!❜

❛That's not... You'll have core memories. Your likes and dislikes will stay the same, you will stay the same, you will remember who you truly are. You will just have to learn again some things. It will wipe your memories so it can make place for more new ones.❜

❛How does it work?❜

❛Once it's upside down, you forget. Until the last seed is down, you will not remember, but once it's over, your memories will come back.❜

❛What's the point if I'll remember eventually?❜

❛I cannot tell you everything. Some things need to be figured out by yourself.❜ Obviously this wasn't the answer Achilles was expected, but he shrugged it off. He was quite ready to turn the hourglass when Mnemosyne stopped him again: ❛Before you do that...❜

❛Oh by the Gods, what again?❜

❛You will also forget people. By that, I mean everyone. Except me and your sisters.❜

❛...Tya...?❜

❛It's to protect you from her that I am doing this. If you cannot remember her, she cannot find you, and you cannot die. The less you remember, the more chance you have to stay alive. But once all your memories back, once you remember her, you're doomed.❜

❛I don't want it, thanks.❜

Mnemosyne couldn't say that she was totally surprised by his answer, she knew about her son's affection for Anastasia. If she had said that sooner, he wouldn't have listened to her, she knew that well. She thought that if he knew more about how the hourglass worked, he won't be against it, at least won't be so quick to refuse, but she didn't know her son and his devotion for Aphrodite's daughter as much as she thought. Achilles handed the hourglass to his mother, who did not take it. For the Gods, a gift was a gift, and you couldn't refuse it, it was insulting. The young man did not care about insulting his mother, because she was insulting him first, by thinking he will be all right with the idea of forgetting his best friend, the only person who stood by him from the very first day.

❛Take that back and sod off.❜

❛You talk just like him.❜ She said with amusement, and she did not have to say anything more, he knew she was talking about his father. ❛You know how gift works for us. That's yours. Do whatever you want with it now. But you know I'm right. You know that the more memories you made along the way, the harder it is for you to focus.❜

❛I don't care.❜

❛It's not permanent, Achilles. You will remember.❜

❛But for that, I need to forget, and I don't want to spend a day without knowing who Tya is to me.❜

❛Your love and devotion to her is admirable. But that won't reduce the outbursts. They will become stronger. More violent. Who knows, maybe you'll kill someone. Perhaps her. And she does not have the same curse as you; if she dies, it's over for her. Do you really want to risk that, son?❜

He did not like the way she talked. Especially about Anastasia. But he had to admit –reluctantly– that she was right. Today he hurt himself, what if next time he is with Anastasia, and he hurt her without wanted to? What if he hurt her so badly that even him can't save her? The idea hurt him more than his migraines. He said nothing. But his silence was enough for Mnemosyne to know she won.

❛Until the last seed is down?❜ He finally asked, and she nodded.

❛You don't have to use it right away. Take your time. Say goodbye. But for your sake, do the right thing.❜

#achilles petrova #achilles x mnemosyne #achilles writing prompt #writing prompt #i'm not proud #idk i don't like it #but i wanted to write #but it's hard to be focus at home rn #but i needed to change my mind #and i couldn't come w/ anything better #i love my boy okay #and he'll be a wreck when he'll remember he forget nastya #icanbeyourgenie

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trenchcoatsbi · 9 months

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1)i've realized that the snippets the chatfic have incorrect quotes vibes. i might submit them to a generator for the funsies

2) I'm still Not Normal about Racer but hey let's talk about Spot for a bit.

So when I first stumbled upon the Brooklyn newsies, I didn't actually know who Spot was for like a month. It was only after I decided to tag along with whoever I had been following that day all the way back to wherever the larger group stayed, and I saw everybody (most of which were pretty rambunctious and not willing to back down for anything) give full control and respect to Spot. who was the smallest person in the room.

Seriously why was he so short. I genuinely thought his nickname was because he was short for like a year.

Anyways, I ended up gaining my first street name because guess who was an idiot and stole something from Spot? yeah me. Idk why I thought that was a smart move.

Thankfully Spot noticed that I was a thin and pale child who's voice was weirdly shaky (I had anxiety 👍 (i cannot shake it in any life)) and was NOT wearing proper fall clothes because I was stubborn. Because of this he decided not to bash my head in, especially after learning that I had been giving the newsies some extra cash because I could. He ended up taking me under his wing and taught me some skills and tips in case I'd ever end up on the streets. which you know, I did. technically by my own choice but still.

I think I spent around 3~ years as a member of the brooklyn newsies. I wasn't buying my own papes to sell, but some of the guys got a few extras and handed them off to me, with the agreement that I'd give them half the profits to help cover the extra cost. During this time Spot had a bit of a soft spot for me, first simply because I was an easy source of extra cash, and then later on because I was clearly a kid who needed a bit of freedom and affection from somebody who saw me as Magpie, not Alex.

I never said it to his face, but I always did see Spot as a older sibling figure. He was really nice, and although I couldn't hold my own against a 1v1 fight, but he taught me how to defend myself and to use a weapon in tandem with my parkour skills to maximize my damage to somebody attacking me.

I do remember that some time after the strike, Racer's gambling ring got big enough to warrant a building to hold seminightly hang outs. This was all because after the strike and the rally with all the newsies coming to hear us out, some new friendships were made and Racer got so so many more opportunities to earn money. Anyways, during these meetings, me, Racer, and Spot were seen as the kings of the ring. Spot because he scared literally everybody, Racer because he was the one in charge, and me because Those Two. That's my brother and my could-have-been-boyfriend - Voidling Anon

i dont think im familiar with this source but that sounds so cool!! spot sounds like such a lovely fella :D

i always love older sibling/younger sibling type of relationships, even if theyre not like actually blood related siblings and its just a found family type of thing (actually that almost makes it better sometimes /hj)

also love the ring kings hehe ill doodle yall sometime if you want!

ty for sharing voidling <3

#boo posts #voidling anon

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worldismyne · 18 days

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this might be too abstract of a question, but does the whole thing of "the charachters are hundreds of years old" make them less relatable to anyone else?

It probably is my pet peevee lol, but yeah even if I find your idea for Crona to be from victorian times or even before interesting, at the same time it kinda rubs me the wrong way, like its even hard to put to words, I think its the same when you watch LoTR but then learn that Legolas is actually 4000 years old.

(and not even touching the cases of the "she is actually a 1000 year old dragon so its ok-" excuse)

But I guess to try to explain myself, I guess to me people developing from childhood to adulthood in a relative simmilar span of time is kinda fundemental, guess its like trying to relate to a species that doesnt experience love or one which has no concept of leisure on a genetic level.

idk🤷🏿‍♀️, lol, sorry for wasting your time😂

I'll admit, I'm a bit puzzled by what your question is. It's okay if you don't like it, but I don't think it breaks the established canon or anything.

They are an anime character with another sentient being acting as their blood and people still relate to them. I don't think saying they age the same way their mother and aunt do is that far of a strech to make. (It's a fairly common headcanon)

Witches being 800+ years old is canonical to Soul Eater. As is Shinigami-sama and Kid living for hundreds of years at a time. I kinda assumed witches and shinigami opporate within the same lifetimes with how familiar they are with one another.

The whole point of fantasy races having extended lifespans is to explore what it means to be in a certain stage of development outside of socially established milestones.

In the case of my witch headcanon, it's to explore what it would look like if mental age and development reflected physically. Trauma (and fame) can freeze a person internally at a specific state of developement. There's a lot to world build with that. Like Maba who's lived long enough and actualized enough to be an old woman is greatly reveared because of how her expirences have shaped her.

I'm a big hater of × character is hundreds of years old, grew normally and then froze at appearing the age the author wanted to draw them in. It's lazy and usually has 0 impact on their character. Okubo seems to favor body snatching as an explination for why old as dirt characters appear younger, but it was always in the context of villains. I think canonically he's only ever said Chrona's a teenager. Idk if anyone's ever asked him how witches age. There's a bunch of holes in the lore, and witches society as a whole is one of them.

If your question is about whether it's hard for them to relate to other characters and vice versa if they were actually 400+ years old. They are still a teenager. Maturity wise, socially among others of their kind, they are a minor. Nothing changes from having more historical knowledge, other than not being as pressed about things like wars, but it's not like anyone's empathy evaporated.

As for what that would look like in the long term, I cover it in WDGK. Kid and Chrona are around '19' while their friends are moving on to their 30s. It puts strain and distance on their relationships as time goes on obviously. When they first met the rest of the cast, it was when they all happened to be in the same stage of life. They were able to get along just fine then, but as time goes on, it's harder to relate and more about honoring the time spent on each other. There's an inherient tragedy in that.

I explore it as well with Angela, who fears always needing protection despite having human caretakers. The frustration that comes from not being able to force herself "grow up" fast enough despite knowing Black Star won't be around to protect her forever is a huge part of her arc. She can't just decide to be over watching people die in front of her because it's inconvient for her to be stuck, she needs to heal and healing takes time.

That said, even regular people mature at different rates. Sometimes people grow apart and can only be friends for brief periods of time, when their lives overlap just right. That doesn't make those friendships any less valuable.

I think characters coming to find understanding despite having different life expiriences is one of my favorite parts of storytelling. So the more barriers characters have between each other, the more interesting and satisfying it is for them to relate and form friendships.

#Myne talks #Long ass post

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thedarkmistress16 · 1 year

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please gush about your passions and pastimes!!! I would love to hear about them

ack- im happy you want to hear about them!

Passions:

obvs as y'all know recently and just in gen., i guess, writing- i love crafting worlds and stories where anything can happen and just creating scenes above all else, like getting lost in the details of everything. I love getting lost in my own world and making myself happy as most self-indulgent writers do (and showing off my legitimate skill in a proper form of writing after doing shitpost-y things for so long is pretty rejuvenating, XD). And upon going back to some of my older, posted works and wips, I still laugh at the dumb shit I thought was the best stuff ever and now find myself giving those ideas a refresher like my last writing update, because it's still a legitimately enjoyable read.

i love sketching for similar reasons, but more so to visualize a fuzzy, almost-there idea, usually about fashion. Like recently I re-drafted some outfits for a fic idea I had, in order to make the world and designs make sense in my head. And I redesigned an existing outfit, running with certain themes and embellishments in design. I'm so happy I can churn out simple sketches like that when i really put my mind to it and feel content with the finished product nowadays. I feel accomplished as a hobby artist now and it's all thanks to heavy online research, a few how-to books, and putting effort into one art class. It's the second hobby of mine that I want to be good at, almost as much as my writing. Speaking of, I sometimes draw what I write or dream about because it's that prominent in my head.

Wow i love music guys- ha, but you already knew that *lenny face*

Past times:

I really like playing the simpler games in life- not as much in the vein of it being less difficult or busy, but more so with fewer controls, interesting mechanics, and a captivating style that I can easily fuck around in or beat some levels for a few hours. Bring on the (spider) solitare (only 4 suit sucks ass why do i do this to myself), jewel quest (FUCK YOU CROWS), barbie's fashion show (SINGLE DREAM-), zoo tycoon (fuck guest happiness), and sonic adventure or x-men of course.

MMD vids are v neat, like I know a handful of choreos that are fun as past midnight exercises to get my blood pumping and i get to discover new songs and learn more about other languages at the same time! Also the aph as mmd crack vids are the best whether its them making 'i hate this' or 'yeah im hot shit' faces or being completely into it as they're forced to dance or simply copying a vine. Like, they give me brainrot and serotonin at the same time its so fun. I love seeing all the different outfits for mmd vids in general, too, on top of new covers i never would've known about.

I really love analyzing things in general, actually. It's how I learn most of the things I do and know now, even though it technically causes me to lose large chunks of time because all i'm doing is staring at the damn thing, XD. Sometimes (all the time) I'll look at a gif or vid of a character changing their facial expression as they do/say something and I'll be completely enthralled by it. Something similar happens when I stare at REALLY GOOD artwork. I think it's the technical part of my brain trying to figure out the individual elements which make up whatever that thing is, like what facial muscles are being used to convey that emotion or mix of them, what the character is feeling, how the lighting or shading of the environment or extra details in editing affects said expression, etc. And for art, I'm thinking of the lines, posture, composition, object placement, color palette, negative space, tone, and all that jazz you learn from studying art.

Scrapbooking is a fun pastime for me that's extended from celebratory cards to actual gifts to my personal sketchbooks. It's part of the "creating something out of nothing/seeing what you can create with some basic templates and decorations" kind of mindset. And it makes me happy because I get to be creative and my family members and friends (even my employer) love them as part of their gifts every time and come to expect it from me each holiday, so I'm constantly encouraged to do it in the best way. I've recently kinda gone overboard on using ribbons and charms for the spiral and stickers and washi tape for the actual book itself on my sketchbooks, but I find myself wanting to draw in it more because I did that, lol.

I love rewatching the things I love. I usually have the same commentary about it, but its nonetheless enjoyable. And I never know what new thing I'll discover about it next, even if i've seen it over 50 times and only have it on as background noise and don't actually watch it. And yes, I will easily let something play on repeat at least that many times in my lifespan as well (like, a full day of it, at least).

wow i love staring at characters im attracted to for hours on end can i get a HUYEA-

#ask for moi #im glad your interested- truly. made my day! *happy tears*#people who like this word vomit have my upmost respect

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secretlyatargaryen · 1 year

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There was a post I read on this website a while ago about The Darkangel by Meredith Ann Pierce. The post was making the rounds and was fairly popular, I think, and touted the book as an example of an actually good YA vampire/enemies to lovers romance, but I can’t for the life of me find the post.

Anyway, I just finished the book, and I have thoughts.

Trying to find the post online, I found a few articles that talked about the book being problematic~ for its dated romance, and like, okay, I can kind of see that. Aeriel’s goal throughout most of the book is to kill the Darkangel but she also keeps thinking about how she doesn’t want to because he’s ~so beautiful~, but it doesn’t really feel like she’s romanticizing him, necessarily, or romanticizing a bad relationship, because she doesn’t really have a relationship with him. For most of the book, they barely interact, and she thinks about how he’s pretty but also evil, and her desire throughout the book is mostly to save the souls of his “wives”, women whose blood and souls he has stolen who are now undead wraiths (Hi, Bram Stoker). By the way, this book is beautifully written and wonderfully creepy, even if it took me a bit to get used to all the extryme fantysy spellying - the darkangel is not a vampire, but a vampyre - and the 80s science fantasy worldbuilding. But I’m into it.

The story feels less like a vampire romance novel, though, and more like a fairytale, having more in common with Beauty and the Beast or the various enchanted husband tales than with Twilight. Aerial does say she “loves” the darkangel at the end of the book, but that’s after he’s at her mercy and she gets to choose whether to end his life or turn him back into the boy he was before he was turned into a vampire by the witch who kidnapped him as a child. By that time, Aerial is no longer enthralled by his glamor, and has already defeated the darkangel and saved the souls of his wives. The “love” feels less like romance, and more like compassion for someone who she recognizes was also a victim. I think it does move into romance later on (there are two more books in the series), but Aerial never puts up with abuse from him while thinking she can change him or that things will get better. The idea that he can be saved is teased throughout the series - and advertised on the back cover snippet - but there’s never a “oh he’s not that bad” moment.

In fact, a criticism I saw when I was trying to find that tumblr post, which I agree with, is that it’s hard to believe in the darkangel’s “spark of goodness” that is advertised in the cover snippet. Before he’s turned back at the end of the book, he doesn’t seem good at all. He kidnaps Aerial and insults her, feels only contempt for the women he’s turned into wraiths, tortures small animals for fun, and wants to subjugate the world, which he can only do once he finds his fourteenth wife. The “spark of good” seems to be based on the fact that we learn that he was once a human boy, which doesn’t actually make him good. It just makes us feel sorry for him. Oh, also, he has bad dreams, which is a hint that he is tormented by what he has been turned into. Which again, doesn’t make him good, but it does make him a victim in some respects. I could be bounded in a nutshell and count myself a king of infinite space, remarks Hamlet, were it not that I have bad dreams. Also the witch who kidnapped him when he was six is described as his “mother and lover” which...yeah. Even if we take this metaphorically, it’s. Something.

But the book doesn’t really need you to believe that the vampire is good, because at the end his behavior is chalked up to him being enchanted by the witch. Once he’s no longer a vampire he doesn’t seem at all interested in breaking the wings off bats, so there’s that. He also feels really, really guilty about murdering thirteen women. So I don’t know if we’re supposed to think that he deserved to be saved because he had good in him, or if he deserved to be saved because he was enchanted and he totally didn’t mean all that stuff he did as a vampire, or vampyre. I’m not sure if there’s a difference, which the book also seems interested in addressing, so I do want to see how the next two books deal with the fallout. It’s just kind of a disappointment that I was promised a story about a character changing from evil to good and what it ended up being was “it was all magic, actually.” The darkangel, while a powerful figure for most of the book, ends up the character with the least amount of agency, narrative-wise. But that might not actually be a bad thing, if you’re looking for a story with an empowered heroine.

This book also shares some similarities with Deathless, which I probably would have enjoyed more if it weren’t as beloved on tumblr by the weaponized femininity crowd years ago. I still cringe at remembering Cersei stans using that “you are a demon like me and do not care if other girls have suffered” quote as a feminist beacon for “dark romance”. In contrast, Aerial cares about the darkangel’s pitiful, horrible wives and there’s a fabulous scene where they get to tell him off, after Aerial poisons him on her wedding night to him.

Swiftly, silently, they fleeted from the shadows, the folds of the bed-curtains, the seams of the walls. The icarus’ hand went suddenly limp; Aerial saw him start. She slipped free of him as the wraiths surrounded him, stood ringed about him, keeping him from Aerial. The vampyre cried at the sight of them, threw up his arms as if to ward them away.

“What are you doing here, my wives?” he cried. “You are so hideous to look at. Keep off!”

The wraiths drifted in a slow circle around him. “We will not keep off,” they said. “You have chosen us, and we are yours.”

Damn.

I’ve ordered the other two books in the series, but the third one is coming tomorrow, before the second one gets here. That’s what you get with free shipping, I guess.

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masturbucky · 2 years

Text

| Steve Kemp and period sex | imagine~

tw: blood of course, steve is a selfish toxic menace, gross, slight dubcon? I mean he doesn't care if you hurt or not this bastard

Masterlist

Oh, this man? THIS FUCKING ASSHOLE? He's all in it. I got this thought while getting some juice for myself in the dead of night and you cant even imagine how fucking fast I ran to get my phone and write this shit out the fuck of my head, pls.

At first, he's pretty reluctant about period sex. I mean, man's a... doctor. Yeah. Dont get me wrong, he loves his work and he enjoys some blood and meat here and there. But this shit, he's sceptical about what pleasure he can get out of it. Blood is a bad lube, he knows it. He's not really afraid of getting messy, but it also smells awful. Tho he's willing to try, you should try everything in your life, yes, and when he does...

...when he gets in between your pretty thighs, takes your panties off and gets the tampon out of you... he has no thoughts, he's a starved man. You can't place something as delicious-looking as your covered in period blood cunt in front of his face and not expect him to devour it, honey. He's a simple man with simple needs. He WILL eat your pussy, cleaning it with his tongue, his mouth is messy and he moans in your cunt because of how fucking sexy the whole situation is, palming himself slowly. He takes his sweet time, savoring everything you give him, and he genuinely questions how the hell you were hiding from him THAT five star meal in your pants for almost a week every month? And oh, he just started there. Consider it as a snack before the main meal. Damn, should I continue about this main meal thing?

Steve is all for mutual pleasure, sorta. Yes, he loves going down on you, — especially now, when he finally learned about how freaking delicious you are in those period days — but he's a man, he got his needs. And now, when he enjoyed his meal and you're such a fucking mess for him to use, he can't really help but take what's on a silver plate for him. Your cunt, raw and totally sore. He doesn't even need to be gentle and you both know that even if not your ability to heal all the shit he does to you, he'd still wouldn't be. I mean, damn. That's the point. You can take any shit he want you to take. And he loves you for that.

So when you scream in pain when he pushes in after palming himself a little more on the image in front of him — you, all blissed with glistening cunt, and some period blood messily on your inner thighs after his fine dinner — he doesn't even shush you like he usually does, he just chuckles, feeling how different from usual it is inside. You're squeezing him tighter, your walls wrapped around him raw, it's totally not so pleasant for you now. But yep, not his problem. Crybaby can cry her sweet tears, he will lick them away, too. For now he starts moving in and out, his eyes glued to the way his cock glistens with your blood on it, and the way you squeeze? Pardon, the way your walls feel when it's just raw and bloody?

He totally loves period sex.

And remember, its help. He helps you with those awful cramps. You should be grateful, you know?

And of course you are, what a good girl.

#steve kemp x you #dark fic #sebastian stan #steve kemp #steve kemp x reader #steve kemp x y/n #tw blo0d #x reader #steve kemp imagine #tw periods #x female reader #x fem reader #steve kemp smut #steve kemp x female reader

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reidsnose · 3 years

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happy campers

overview: the bau goes on a team building camping trip but reader and spencer spend most of their time together

genre: fluff

a/n: ive been kicking myself for not posting in forever but i think this one is pretty cute! please lmk what yall think :)

masterlist

the stuffy, eight person suv finally rolled to a stop, the overgrown children that call themselves the bau tumbling out as quickly and gracelessly as possible. Morgan and Reid nearing the end of a 2 and a half minute long slap fight that you happened to be caught directly in the middle of. you looked at jj, pleading to make them stop with her mom powers.

"boys behave or ill ground you both," she sighed, going to help out with taking things out of the trunk.

they immediately stopped, muttering under their breath that the other one started it. but before they could start again, Spencer caught a glance at you. you were taking a deep breath, smiling contently, very clearly happy to get some fresh, forest air. despite being in direct sunlight, your smile was far brighter than anything he'd seen in his whole life.

before he knew it he was being snapped out of his daze and asked to help set up the tents. he was really hoping to have a chance to share a tent with you, like you sometimes had done on cases when hotel rooms were scarce. but he knew that almost everyone wanted a spot in your tent because you're that much fun to be around. Penelope would win, obviously, and he would be paired up with morgan again.

he let out a sigh as he finished up pitching one of the tents, pulling the corner and nailing it into the ground. as he did so, something caught his eye: a pink, round, fat little worm crawled out of the dirt.

his attention was now fully on the worm, ecstatic to see it because he had been reading up on worms for a while. he called morgan and hotch over since they were the closest to him, rambling excitedly all hes learned about them so far. he looked up and could see the disinterest behind their polite smiles. his own smile faltered for a second, until he saw you finishing up pitching a tent.

"im gonna go show y/n. shes gonna love this!" spencer giggled, already walking towards you.

"hey kid i dont know if she-" morgan began.

"reid she might not-" hotch started as well.

but he had already reached you, sticking out his hand and revealing the worm. hotch and morgan looked at each other worriedly, concerned that the tiniest rejection from you, even about something as small as a worm, would tear his heart to pieces.

their faces changed from worry to confusion as they watched a wide grin crack on your face.

"oh! a worm!" you exclaimed gleefully.

they observed as you put your hand out and Spencer dropped the worm in your hand. you watched it wriggle around and would occasionally look up and nod along with his rambling, asking questions and listening intently. hotch and morgan were speechless, knowing full well if they offered a girl they liked a worm, she would not have the same reaction.

you and Spencer started walking back over to the tent, where hotch and morgan tried their best to seem busy. you two were laughing, something about putting the worm back where he found it so it gets home safely. if there was ever any doubt that you and Spencer would be the perfect couple, its completely disintegrated now.

you and Spencer were typically joined at the hip, but after the worm encounter, you two were especially inseparable.

the girls went down by the lake to tan while you and Spencer tried to build a hut out of random sticks and logs you found around the forest. and while the guys were fishing on that same lake, Spencer and you were rock skipping, and he was explaining to you the physics behind it. and you were both scaring away any potential fish for rossi, hotch, and morgan to catch. so you two were banished back into the forest for the time being. when the rest of the team came back, you and him were up in a tree, eating some of the snacks they'd packed, talking and laughing and subconsciously leaning into one another. you didn't need to be a profiler to see the signs. you two were head over heels already, even if you guys didn't know it yet.

after a bonfire full of roasted marshmallows and scary stories, laughs and giggles. it was a wonderful, but tiring night and before you knew it you were getting ready for bed, sharing highlights of the day back and fourth with Penelope.

"i'm picking up on a bit of a pattern," she giggled, wiggling her eyebrows.

you wracked your brain, "what pattern?"

"all of your highlights included a certain adorkable genius."

"what? no we just...he's my best friend so we-cause its fun and i just-" you stammered, feeling your face heat up with every passing second.

"relax my love, i was just teasing," she chuckled, turning over to go to sleep.

"yeah i know. goodnight pen."

"goodnight lovely," she sighed, "but give some thought to lover boy."

you chuckled lightly before whispering to yourself, "trust me i have."

you woke up and checked the time, it was 4:47am but you just could not fall asleep. you crawled out of the tent, grabbing your blanket when you felt the cool morning air rush at you. you didn't want to wake anyone, so you made your way over to the little hill that the suv was parked on, stealing the keys from hotch's bag and crossing to the other side that faced east. the sun would be rising soon, it would be nice to watch; you draped your blanket across your shoulders. you heard footsteps coming from behind you, your blood running cold, immediately assuming the worst.

you turned around and were met with Spencer's sleepy smile. his hair stuck up in all directions and he looked perfectly adorable. you had to resist your urge to give in and kiss him right then and there.

"you scared me!" you whispered, trying to stifle a smile.

"im sorry," he giggled, "why are you up?"

"im not sure i just couldnt fall back asleep. why are you up?" you echoed.

"morgan keeps farting."

you and him let out hearty laughs, quickly covering your mouths as to not wake up the rest of the team.

you faced the car for a second, legs growing tired from standing.

"look how pretty the fogged up windows look," you observed, facing back and fourth between the colorful sky and the muggy version reflecting on the suv. you pressed your hand against the window, leaving a print, "so cold!" you chuckled.

spencer put his hand next your handprint, quickly recoiling, "you werent lying," he laughed, shivering a little.

you looked at the two handprints, his comically larger than yours and you couldnt help but smile to yourself.

"do you want some blanket?" you asked, opening your arms.

"i think im too tall," he frowned, "maybe if i crouch?"

"how about," you dangled the keys infront of your face before opening the trunk of the suv, "front row seats to the sunrise and some blanket."

"that sounds perfect," he smiled, begging his body not to redden his cheeks.

you two crawled into the trunk, draping the blanket across both of your shoulders, being pulled together by the small piece of fabric. you two were completely cuddled together, getting maximum warmth from the blanket and each other's body heat. a comfortable silence floated between you, faint bird songs and the others breathing filling it with peace. you felt your eyelids droop, despite the breathtaking rebirth of the sun happing in front of you. spencer was just so comfortable.

he felt the same way, his head falling to rest on top of yours as sleep pulled at his eyes. he yawned lightly, pulling you closer and breathing you in. you smiled. perfectly content.

about an hour later, hotch woke up, searching frantically for his keys. he ran up to check if the suv was still there, only to be met with your sleeping figures in the open trunk, wrapped up tightly in a blanket, smiles on both of your faces despite being asleep. hotch was good at predicting things, he saw scenarios play out fully before they truly began.

he snapped a picture, knowing it would be put to good use in a few years, he smelled a wedding.

spencer and you spent the drive home smiling like a couple of idiots, grins growing wider each time the sun hit the window just right, revealing your handprints.

ultra mega super cool taglist:

@mac99martin @imhreid @spencersmagic @hollydaisy23 @raelady1184 @a-broken-pact @padfootswife @hey-there-angels @star-stuff-in-the-cosmos @sonnydoesrandomshit @averyhotchner @laurakirsten0502 @reidyoulikeabook @rem-ariiana @spencerreid9 @vampire-overlord @takeyourleap-of-faith @spenxerslut @violetspoetic @aperrywilliams @b-a-utiful @eevee0722 @srhxpci @reidemandweep @imdefinitelyfloating @random-human-person @gurkiloni @luvspence @calm-and-doctor @ssavanessa22 @singularityjc

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singtotheskiies · 4 years

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fulfillment // five hargreeves x reader

summary: five’s completely taken with you, and for good reason—you’re the first softness to come into his life.

request (by two lovely lovely anons): Could you write a story about Five x reader and dimples? Reader has subtle dimples too but they don't realize it until a very smitten Five points it out and it's just fluff? And the Hargreeves siblings are just watching as Five and his best friend/crush are obviously in love but too shy to admit it? Thank you!

AND

if you’re taking requests can u write about the reader and five being in the friends to lovers trope and reader starts to overflow in awe of five and starts showering five with well-deserved and true and genuine compliments?

words: 704

warnings: none!! it is literally just fluff bros!!

a/n: god i’m yearning for human connection can u tell,,,, anyway here is an unedited lil blurb for ur reading pleasure!! as a person with lil dimples myself i can confirm that this hit different😞👊🏻 i changed the requests a bit but pls enjoy:))))))

✖️✖️✖️

There’s just something different when Five lays with you like this. The air in his lungs decides to take its time, and his eyelids seem to operate on a slower setting. Somehow, the intersection of your limbs sets him free.

And when you look up at him, all deep eyes and small smile and half-draped hair, he reaches for the present moment. Stay a little longer, he thinks. I know I’m always in a hurry, but just this once—

Your fingers are cool and light on his cheek, and he feels his eyes flutter shut without even thinking. A quiet sigh leaves his lips, and he never wants to move—if your hand is always brushing against his face and a giggle is always just leaving your lips, he’s right where he wants to be. There’s no way something more beautiful than this—than you—can exist.

Your voice, quiet with a hints of a giggle leaking in, causes him to open his eyes. “What’s got you so happy tonight, hmm?” you ask, smiling at him. How do you do that? he thinks. Your mouth only tilts up the smallest bit, but it still makes my stomach go all in knots.

He can’t speak for a moment—you’re filling his head to the brim; there’s no room for things like words. His eyes move down to where the corner of your mouth is quirking upward, and he blinks upon making a new discovery. “You’ve got a dimple right there,” he blurts. Years of learning to hold his tongue and do what he’s told are lost in an instant—all it took was one look at your cheek.

“Really?” you say, fingers leaving his face and moving to your own. “I never knew that! Does it look—weird?” Your brows draw together slightly, and Five just wants to kiss the tiny wrinkles away.

“God, no,” he breathes. “It’s—it’s beautiful.”

“Thanks,” you laugh, and he can’t take it anymore. He captures the small dent with his lips, murmuring so beautiful against it. He’s surprised to find your skin blushing and heated to the touch, and he chases the warmth with another kiss and another, making his way to your mouth. Your lips are so familiar to him, and yet they never get old, never lose their ability to short-circuit his brain.

When he draws back a bit, the dimple is still there and he wonders how he’s never noticed it before. He can’t look away from it now that he has, and the temptation to kiss it again is growing awfully strong.

“You have one too, y’know,” you tell him.

“Yeah, s’pose so,” he says, taking your hand. “Never thought much of it.”

“That’s one of the first things I noticed about you,” you continue, and he chuckles quietly at your admission.

“It wasn’t the blood all over my face?” he asks teasingly, remembering when you had first seen him across the street, covered in the remnants of a fight. You had instantly run over to him, asking if he was okay—always the caretaker.

“All the blood in the world couldn’t distract me from your pretty green eyes or your amazing hair or your cute freckles,” you say, kissing his cheek with a laugh. “Or the wonderful person inside. Guess I saw past all that.”

The words go directly to his heart. “And that’s why I love you,” he whispers. “None of it matters when I’m with you.”

A softening of eyes and a string of slow kisses later, his fingers find their way into your hair, scratching softly against your scalp. A hum makes its way unbidden from your throat, and he marvels at the softness in his hands and ears. “Feels nice,” you sigh, and rest your head against his chest.

It strikes him that he’s never once heard anyone tell him that something he’s done has made them feel good. And now that he’s heard it from your lips, he never wants to do anything else ever again. Why yell, why kill, why do anything else when he could be curled up with you? Maybe this is what his hands were meant to do—so he holds you close with newfound purpose.

And the quiet back-and-forth of his siblings, equally shocked and smitten from their spying place, is lost in the feeling of your skin against his.

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dreamwritesimagines · 3 years

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Burn The Witch 12 - Bad Surprise [Bucky Barnes x Reader]

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful support and feedback my loves ! ❤ Here’s the next chapter, I hope you like it as well and please let me know what you think! ❤ Thank you! ❤❤❤

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Warnings: Enemies to lovers, fake dating, mentions of blood, sex, violence, death, manipulation, language, guns, knives.

Summary: Sometimes plans have to change.

Series Masterlist

Every job required something from people, and your job was no different.

Being a spy was not a conventional profession, everyone knew that. You were expected to be on the move all the time, be a good liar, be a good fighter, be whatever the job told you to.

And most important of all; never show fear, which you were usually fine with. You had learned long ago how to keep your calm in times of crisis. You had even managed to keep your calm facade when your last mission required you to play Russian Roulette with a target in order to keep your cover.

But this? This was something else.

Bucky cleared his throat to stifle a laugh as he looked down at you.

“Is it just me or are you using me as a human shield against a peacock right now?”

Your eyes snapped up at his for a moment before you turned your gaze to the peacock again, taking a subtle step to Bucky’s right to keep him between you and the animal.

Coming to the zoo was his idea, and you thought it could be a fun experience. You had never been to a zoo before, and it would count as one of the old times dates, so you were almost giggly by the time you got there.

Right until now.

“I think peacocks don’t have souls.”

“Alright.” Bucky sipped his coffee while you tried to ignore the fear bubbling at the pit of your stomach, eyeing the peacock that walked around the area behind the fences.

“I’m serious,” you insisted “What if it attacks me?”

“It’s not going to attack you Y/N.”

“It could,” you said, “It looks like it wants to attack me.”

The peacock fanned out its feathers all of a sudden and let out a squawk, making you jump out of your skin.

“Fuck!” the curse left your lips and Bucky’s eyebrows rose, an amused grin pulling at his lips.

“Sorry!” you said quickly, “Sorry, I…I don’t trust peacocks.”

“You got mugged in a dark alley and got shot, and a bird is where you draw the line?”

Correction, you were once held at gunpoint by the Italian mafia and peacocks were still where you drew the line.

“That’s not a bird.”

“….Peacocks are birds.”

“No, that’s the devil looking like a bird,” you said, “In-in bird shape. Bird shaped demon.”

“Okay, how about we see some other less threatening animal?”

“Let me check—oh my God Bucky they have sharks, I love sharks!” you said, waving the brochure in his face and he pulled his brows together.

“Sharks fall under the less threatening animal category?”

“Of course they do!” you said, looking at the brochure before looking around, “I think the aquarium is over there, let’s go.”

You grabbed his hand to entwine your fingers with his as you both started walking towards the huge blue structure.

“So I feel like I shouldn’t ask because I know you can’t exactly tell me the details,” you said, “But you’re not going on another mission soon, are you? This week?”

“I don’t think so,” he said, “Why?”

“I’m kind of planning something.”

He tilted his head, “What are you planning?”

“Not a club, relax.” you said, “Although I find it quite ironic that you’re this unstoppable brave superhero with super strength who gets intimidated by dancing.”

“I’m not intimidated…” he grumbled under his breath, making you giggle.

“Whatever you say,” you sang, and reached the entrance of the huge building and you pulled your hand out of his.

“Excuse me sir, is the aquarium still open?” you asked the security guard by the door and a small smirk appeared on his lips.

“Yes but it is closing in ten minutes sweetheart.”

Sweetheart?

Jesus Christ….

You smiled politely at him, batting your lashes.

“Oh—“ you took a look at the sign, “I just want to see the killer shark and we’ll be out. In five minutes. Please?”

He eyed you up and down but seemed to snap out of it when Bucky cleared his throat behind you as if warning him, making the guy gawk between you two.

Even you had to admit you seemed like a quite unusual couple. You were wearing a short white sundress with ruffled sleeves and sweetheart neckline with your hair loose while Bucky looked as if he was there to kill someone, a complete opposite of you with his dark jeans and black leather jacket as well as leather gloves.

You didn’t even have to turn your head to know that he was glaring at the guard before the guy shifted his weight, then stepped aside.

“Enjoy.”

“Thank you!” you said, grabbing Bucky’s hand as you led him inside. He followed you without any objections whatsoever, in complete silence as the sight of blue filled your vision along with many fish swimming behind the glass.

“You don’t even see it, do you?” he asked softly and you pulled your brows together.

“Hm?”

“Does anyone ever say no to you?”

You approached the label by the glass, “You do.”

“Do I?”

“All the time,” you nodded, still reading the label but your head shot up when you felt him tug you by the hand. A giggle escaped from your lips as he turned you around so that you could look up at him, then wrapped his arm around you to scoop you up, making you squeal.

“Bucky!”

“All the time?”

“Put me down!” you said, your laughter echoing in the empty aquarium halls and he tilted his head.

“Not until you explain yourself,” he teased you, “All the time?”

“Sometimes, sometimes!” you said quickly, “Very rare times I might add!”

“Mm hm, I thought so.”

“If you drop me, I swear to God—“ you started but was cut off when he pulled you into a kiss, making you wrap your arms around his neck. He took a step with you still in his embrace and you gasped as you felt your back hit the thick glass, but every single protest you could think of seemed to disappear from your mind as you lost yourself in the kiss. You raked your fingernails over the nape of his neck, making his grip around you tighter-

Then someone coughed.

Bucky pulled back instantly and you turned your head to see another rather annoyed technician leaning on her hip, watching you with her brows raised.

“Aquarium is about to close,” she said, pointing at you, “Take it elsewhere.”

Bucky put you down and you tried to fix the skirt of your dress, trying to look presentable.

“Sorry!” you said as Bucky mumbled an apology beside you as well, and the technician shook her head and walked away, talking about how she wasn’t getting paid enough for this. You covered your face and let out a whine but Bucky chuckled, causing you to lower your hands to stare up at him.

“Why is this entertaining for you?” you exclaimed and he held your wrist, gently steering you to the exit.

“Come on.”

“We can never come here again, ever.” you insisted as you followed him outside. It didn’t escape your notice that he bumped his shoulder into the security guard’s quite hard, almost knocking him over on your way out and your jaw dropped.

“That was mean!”

“Nah, he had it coming. Are you hungry?”

“But you could get in trouble. Besides, he was a nice guy—“

“Uh huh, a nice guy who was ogling you.”

You pulled your brows together, pretending to be confused, “Oh I’m sure you misunderstood.”

He tilted his head and pulled you closer to wrap his arm around your waist, then brushed his lips against yours, making you sigh.

“Bucky, it was mean and you can’t just kiss me to distract me—”

“I can try,” he murmured to your lips before kissing you again and you looked up at him when he pulled back with a grin.

“Fine,” you admitted, still pouting. “I’m hungry. Starving actually, let’s eat something.”

***

You were finding it harder and harder to convince yourself it was time to go home after every date with Bucky.

Scratch that, you were finding it harder and harder not to invite him upstairs.

But of course, you would have to report it back to the General and discuss the further strategies with him and for some reason, it felt more of a betrayal than this whole thing.

Surprisingly enough, it was something you wanted and not something you would will yourself to do because of the mission. There was no denying it, he was an attractive guy and you really liked spending time with him and you kept having dreams about him and whenever you were with him you had this lightness in your mind, as if you were a different person.

A better person, maybe.

You shook your head at your thoughts and left your apartment to knock on Keith’s door.

“It’s me, open up.”

You heard footsteps before he opened the door and a boyish smile pulled at his lips at the sight of milkshakes in your hand.

“Jesus, finally!”

“I made it at home, can’t promise it’s good,” you said as you walked past him into his apartment and stepped into the living room, “What are you watching?”

“James Bond,” he grinned at you, “Hey, have you ever tried milkshake with gin?”

“No?”

“Me neither, let’s try it.” He said, taking the big glasses from you to pour gin into them. You sat on the couch and took a look at the screen.

“How many times have you watched this again?”

“Like a hundred,” he handed you your glass and you took a sip.

“Not bad,” you commented, putting your feet up on the coffee table. He sat beside you, keeping his eyes on the screen.

“What did you do today?”

“Had a date.”

“With Barnes?”

“Yeah. At the zoo.”

“He took you to the zoo?” he asked and you nodded.

“Yeah.”

“And?”

“And peacocks are fucking scary,” you muttered, “And hey, we learned that Bucky is the jealous type.”

“The guy was dating people back at 40s, I could tell you that much myself.” He snorted, “Chloe says you went on a mission with Julian?”

You slipped a little on the couch, “He’s an asshole.”

“I know. Is he really that bad in bed?”

You shrugged your shoulders, “Nah as much as I hate to admit, he’s pretty good. Unfortunately.”

“So top or bottom?”

“He goes either way to be honest, that comment was more about me.”

“About you?”

“Yeah, I like to be on top.”

“Suddenly everything about you makes sense,” he murmured and you took another sip of your milkshake.

“Don’t try that with Barnes though, the guy is from 1940s. He’s probably used to missionary only, you don’t want to give him a heart attack,” he wiggled his brows, making you scoff.

“Shut up.”

“Chloe is right, maybe you should go full on vintage on that when the time comes.”

You turned to look at him.

“Speaking of Chloe,” you said, “Anything you would like to tell me?”

Keith’s grin faded slightly and he shifted his weight, “Like what?”

“Bringing her coffee, taking her out to the field…” you trailed off, “What gives, man? I thought we had a deal.”

“We never had a deal,” he defended himself, “You slammed me back during training years ago at the academy and told me not to even think about it when you saw me looking at her.”

“No,” you shook your head, “Five years ago, in Ireland. That undercover job, the one that almost got you killed? We made a deal.”

He swallowed thickly, looking down at the milkshake before taking a sip. “Y/N…”

“Keith, you can’t,” you insisted, “She deserves a normal life, a normal family and kids and a dog and stuff.”

“I know,” he ran a hand over his face, “I know.”

“Then?”

“I don’t know.”

“You’re a spy,” you said, “You said it yourself, spies die like flies.”

“Not all of them,” he said, “General is still alive. He has a family.”

“Yeah, one in a hundred,” you said, “Face it. That’s a very low possibility for us.”

“You don’t think you’ll get to grow old and have a family and all that?”

You pulled your brows together.

“No,” you said, “Of course not. I’m probably going to die in one of these missions.”

“You don’t believe that.”

“Keith, I can’t have any of those,” you said, “I can’t. I…it’s impossible.”

“Don’t you want to?”

“It doesn’t matter what I want,” you muttered, “I made my choice ages ago.”

“Y/N,” he sat up straighter, “Do you want to?”

With a very bad timing, your imagination went overdrive and a strange scene flashed before your eyes. You laughing in Bucky’s arms, watching two kids playing in the garden-

You shook your head, trying to shake off the thoughts.

“I could never have that,” you stated simply, “You might love Chloe and you might also be lucky enough to have her love you but…it’s not the same with me.”

“I’d say Barnes loves you.”

A bitter smile pulled at your lips and you bit inside your cheek, taking another sip of your milkshake.

“He loves someone who doesn’t exist,” you managed to croak out, “He loves my cover. He could never love me.”

***

Spending the night at Keith’s and drowning your sorrows in gin and milkshake meant that you would have a killer hangover the next day. Unlike Keith, you didn’t have the luxury to sleep until the noon, seeing that you had a cover job to keep so for the whole day until noon, you walked around like a zombie.

Coffee helped though. Just a little.

Thankfully it was a slow day at the shop. After serving a couple of people, you had nothing to do other than seriously considering sticking your head in the freezer to get rid of the hangover.

“Long night?” Tara asked as she walked past you to put the straws into the cup and you nodded, groaning.

“Remind me not to drink, ever.”

“I make that promise to myself every Monday, does not seem to work.”

You chuckled, “Have you ever tried to mix gin into milkshakes?”

“No?”

“Don’t,” you shook your head as you helped her to move an empty milkshake container into the kitchen. “It’s a terrible idea and I’m experiencing the consequences of that mistake right now.”

“That sounds like a fun night though.”

“Fun night, terrible morning,” you let out a laugh as you walked out of the kitchen but as soon as you did, your eyes caught the sight of the man in the shop. Your smile was wiped off your face as the familiar anger filled your system.

Jesus Christ, this day sucks.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” you asked and Julian had the audacity to shoot you a grin.

“Whoa cute outfit,” he said, eyeing you up and down, “Holy shit I didn’t even know I was into this whole thing, I’m having an epiphany.”

You looked over your shoulder to see if Tara was still in the kitchen, then turned to Julian.

“What are you doing here?”

“I was craving milkshakes,” he stated, “Hey, would you recommend Lavender Macaron?”

“Get the fuck out of here.”

“I think I’m gonna go with Lavender Macaron, makes me think of France,” he said, “Fun times.”

“Fun for you maybe.”

He shot you a look, “Come on Y/N, we didn’t leave the honeymoon suite for two days. That was the greatest-“ he lowered his voice, “Mission I’ve ever had.”

“You’re putting this entire operation in—“ you started but stopped talking as soon as Tara walked out of the kitchen. Julian raised his brows for a moment before smiling at her and you went under the counter to grab his arm.

“Y/N, is everything okay?”

“Just peachy,” you said as you dragged him out of the shop, and he heaved a sigh, following you.

“No I’m serious…” he said with a chuckle as soon as you both stepped outside, then motioned at the uniform, “This is something else.”

“Why are you here?”

“I heard that it was good, I did not think it was this good.”

“I’m seriously two seconds away from punching you.”

“How come you never dressed up like this for me when we were dating?”

“What the fuck are you doing here?” you insisted and he shrugged his shoulders.

“I was around.”

“And I’m supposed to believe that?”

“Believe whatever you want,” he said, “Your shop has good rating, although I’m beginning to believe it has less to do with milkshakes and more about the waitresses.”

“Julian I swear to God—“ you started but you were cut off when someone cleared his throat, making both you and Julian turn your heads. Your stomach dropped as soon as you saw Bucky watching you two with a frown and you withdrew your hand from Julian’s arm.

“Bucky,” you breathed out, “Um-hi.”

“Hi,” he said without taking his eyes off Julian, and you could almost see the wheels turning in his head.

He was trying to decide whether he was a threat to you.

“I didn’t…I didn’t know you were coming.”

“I figured I could drop by,” he said, crossing his arms, “What’s going on?”

Fuck.

Fuck, you had no idea how to turn this around. Thankfully neither of you had said anything about the mission, so it was more than likely that Bucky just knew you knew each other, but other than that, your cover wasn’t blown.

“Nothing! Nothing at all, he’s just—“ you stammered, trying to come up with an explanation, “He’s um—“

“Oh come on Y/N, don’t be one of those secretive people,” Julian said, “You hate secrets. You’re Bucky, right? I heard about you.”

Bucky just raised his brows, his glare on him unwavering but even if it was quite chilling, Julian was a trained assassin just like you were, so he was used to it. Instead he curled his lips, looking between you before offering him his hand.

“I’m Julian,” he introduced himself, shooting you a grin as if you two shared an inside joke “The evil ex-boyfriend who’s gonna take her from you.”

Chapter 13

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #tfatws #bucky barnes imagine #marvel #bucky barnes x you #the falcon and the winter soldier

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crumbledcastle28 · 3 years

Text

Chapter 1: a tug

Warnings: PTSD, sadness, depression, panic attack, mentions of violence

Author’s note: this is part one of my series called “Burning Red.” This is kind of boring because it is a set up for the main storyline, but I hope you enjoy it! Any constructive criticism and support is greatly appreciated. And if I missed a warning, please let me know!!

After everything you’ve seen, everything you’ve done, everyone you’ve hurt, it felt good to just lay low.

A mechanic on tatooine was not what you imagined, but it did the trick.

No one saw you for who you truly were, and that made you happy.

Well, except for Peli.

You came to her sick and angry and alone, and she nursed you back to health. You would be rotting in the desert if it wasn’t for her, and you felt you owed her a little something.

So, you used your “uncommon” set of abilities to help her with her mechanics in any way she needed.

This included: cooking, cleaning, repairing, negotiating, and most importantly, defending.

Peli was no dummy. She knew you had more experience in that field than she did. So she recruited you, and paid you back with whatever she had laying around. A new outfit once and a while, a warm bed, a hot dinner, and a couple of credits so you could go shopping and get out of her hair.

You couldn’t blame her. You were a hell of a lot of trouble to be around.

Constant nightmares, paranoia, and regret surrounded your aura like a fog. Any normal person wouldn’t notice, but someone like Peli could. And it pissed her off a good majority of the time.

“Stop moping and help me clean this oil off my droid,” and sentences like this one, were said pretty frequently around your place.

Was it even your place? All you did was survive. Is that enough to say you lived there instead of just survived there?

You really liked Peli. She gave you a base. A “home” of sorts, and for that you were forever indebted.

But something in you always called you back to your real home, and that scared you more than Peli’s tough love. More than you could even describe.

~~*~~

It was a pretty normal day on Tatooine. The wind howled, the sand covered everything in its wake, and the heat. You would never get used to it.

You were eating your breakfast when a ship landed on the landing pad, and you could already tell it was a doosey just by the way the left engine was sputtering.

If this ship explodes, we better get a damn good pay, you think to yourself.

The ramp starts to open and you take that as your queue to start the walk to your makeshift room. It was really a storage room, but you didn’t mind.

When you get there, you squat down to the ground behind your door and grab your apron and set of tools. You knew Peli would need some help with this ship.

You hear the ship’s ramp hit he ground and you feel it.

A tug.

Not even a tug, a lurch. It felt like a rope had been tied to your soul and pulled you back into your old self.

This was a tug you hadn’t felt in so long. So long, it almost knocks you off your feet.

I closed myself off from this, you think. I shouldn’t feel this. I don’t want to feel this.

You already feel a headache coming on from the shock and ache in your bones, so you start walking back to the landing pad to tell Peli you aren’t feeling too well.

If I get recognized, we are both dead.

You’d rather get a scolding from Peli than a scolding hot gun wound in your chest.

“Hey,” you hear Peli shout at the client, and you pick up your pace. Your heart is hammering in your chest and you feel the panic ooz through your body.

It’s been so long since you’ve felt this, but you hate how it makes you feel alive.

You finally make it to Peli and you see her speaking very loudly (she doesn’t like to use the word “yelling”) at what seems to be your client.

But this is no ordinary client. This is a Mandalorian.

A very broad Mandalorian who, no offense to Peli, could knock her out in his sleep.

You had heard legends of their kind. But worst of all, you had fought them. And damn were they good.

You hadn’t seen any since the purge. You had heard rumors of them hiding under ground, but they had always been peaceful people. You hated how they got dragged into a war.

“You damage one of my droids, you’ll pay for it,” Peli says, and you really wish she would use a more peaceful tone.

The last thing you want to do right now is fight a very impressive looking Mandalorian covered entirely in beskar while your entire body is tingling.

Is he the one who is force sensitive?

“Just keep them away from my ship” he says, and you are surprised at how well he is taking Peli’s annoyance.

“Yeah? You think that’s a good idea?” Peli responds in a tone dripping with sarcasm and you take this as your moment to try to sneak away.

This however, was unsuccessful.

“Come on y/n. Let’s take a look at his ship,” she says and the Mandalorian turns his helmet towards you.

You probably look like an absolute mess. Your chest is heaving, you are sweating, and you are not at all prepared to do any sort of repairs. You are basically in your pajamas. The Mandalorian’s gaze has you nervous enough, but this familiar feeling in your stomach has you dizzy and nauseous.

Just hold on......

You start to follow Peli to the ship while still looking at the Mandalorian. You learned very early on in your life to never take your eyes off a predator. He follows your form and you try your best to mask his incredibly strong force connection gripping your chest.

This man isn’t even trying to hide it? It’s almost as if he is reaching for me?

You make it to Peli where you finally take your eyes off of him. You can see why Peli was so mad now.

“Oof! Look at that,” she says as she scans the ship with her eyes. “You’ve got a lot of cabron scoring up top. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were in a shoot out.”

Oh my God, he was in a shoot out.

This is really not good. This man could have been followed and you could be surrounded at this very moment. You were a skilled fighter, but those kinds of odds were almost unbeatable. Especially when you were still trying to hide your identity.

You are so tense you feel like you could snap. You still feel his eyes on you, and you are praying to whatever is out there that you can just stay alive. That’s the only thing you’re good at.

“Name’s Peli Motto. That’s y/n,” she says as she points to you with her wrench.

She did not just tell him your NAME.

“This is my operation. You’re not gonna find a better mechanic on the planet,” she says as she leaned in closer to the engine.

“Yeah, I’m gonna have to rotate that. You’ve got a fuel leak. Look at this, this is a mess. How did you even land?”

All you wanted to do was scream.

He is a MANDALORIAN who was just in a SHOOT OUT. He is probably being FOLLOWED and we could be dead because of ME.

“That’s gonna set you back,” she says.

She is concerned about MONEY right now?

Peli is a smart woman, but she was walking you into a trap. You didn’t want her blood on your hands. You didn’t need any more of that.

All of this is happening while you are still on the verge of a panic attack.

This Mandalorian is strong with the force. It is squeezing your lungs and your feet and your hands and your brain. All rational thinking is out the window. You had to get out of here before he manages to suffocate you.

God you hate this feeling. A few years ago you lived with this constantly. It became a part of you. Something you enjoyed. But now...

“I’ve got five hundred imperial credits,” the Mandalorian says.

Imperial credits. Great. How did he get his hands on those?

“That’s all you got? Well..” she says and looks back at you.

“What do you think,” she asks in a teasing tone.

You try to plead to her with your eyes. You are sweating beyond belief and your brain is about to explode.

She tightens her brows in confusion at your state, but continues to bargain.

“That should at least cover the hanger,” she says and you feel your jaw almost drop to the floor.

How can she not see it?

“I’ll get you your money,” the Mandalorian mumbles and you try to take a deep breath. Passing out in front of one of the fiercest warriors in the galaxy who may be here to kill you would rip off the last bit of pride you had left. If you are going down, you are going down with a fight.

“I’ve heard that before,” Peli responds and looks at you in a joking way. Like she was trying to coax you into laughing with her.

You try to chuckle back, but it just comes out in a low breath.

You sound insane.

“Just remember—,” the Mandalorian starts

“No droids. I heard ya,” Peli finishes.

“Why do you think I keep this girl around,” she says chuckling with a pat on your back.

You muster up the strength to smile and feel holes burning in your head from the Mandalorian’s gaze.

He really knows how to stare.

The Mandalorian leaves the hanger, and it takes everything in you not to pass out right there.

You thought with him leaving it would die down, but it’s only getting worse.

“Are you ok,” Peli asks and helps you lower yourself to the ground.

You are breathing frantically now and your hands are clutched to your chest.

“He has it,” you say and you know Peli knows what you mean.

She looks at you with wide eyes and you see the realization on her face.

“Oh my god.... he was in a shootout,” she says.

“Uh huh,” you breathe out. The desperate force connection is starting to fade and you feel your lungs fill up with air once more.

“He could have been followed! Or he could be here to—“

“Kill us,” you say. Peli hates when you finish her sentences, but there was no point in caring right now.

“Ok. Get inside. If I need you I will call for you,” she says and you nod, slowly getting to your feet.

You start to walk back to your room, with Peli’s arms guiding you, while taking deep breaths, but you freeze when you sense something else coming out of the ship and you snap your head to the ramp.

“What,” Peli says as she follows your gaze.

Your heart flutters. The force is slowly starting to ease its nasty grip on you.

If you didn’t sense the creature, you would miss it.

A little green baby, wrapped in what looked like a potato sack, was strolling down the ramp, looking directly at you.

“It’s him,” you say.

“He has it.”

#din djarin #mando #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #star wars #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian fanfiction

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my-simp-land · 3 years

Text

You Cheeky Slink

Bucky comes to you in the night to tell you about his latest google dive and maybe something more. Bucky x reader fluff. 1508 words. This is highkey self indulgent so get ready to read the fantasy thats been living in my head lately. Thanks :))

“Doll?”

Bucky stands at my door with just his head stuck into my room.

“Bucky, what are you doing? Where’s your shirt? You’re going to catch a cold wandering around with no clothes on,” I mumble from my pillow and plushie covered bed.

He smirks. He always does that smirk when he’s about to give some smartass response. That stupid lopsided smirk with he petal pink lips surrounded by the beard he’s been growing out. It’s kinda gangly but in a good way.

“Well, I guess I’ll have to come in then, so I don’t catch a cold in this freezing hallway. You know, you don't actually catch colds from being co-”

You had to stop the groan from falling past your lips. “Buck, love you and all, but now isn't the time to drop some of your newly found knowledge on me. It's...what time is it? Bucky, it is past midnight. Please tell me why you’re in my room at 12:38 a.m. talking about colds.”

Peter and I have been teaching Bucky how to use the internet and his phone, and We introduced him to Google a few days ago. Ever since then, he’s been catching himself up on most of what has happened in the last 70s years. It’s really heartwarming to see his interest in aerial technology and space exploration. We’re all glad that Bucky is adjusting well, but he’s been bombarding us all with random knowledge he’s found on the internet.

“Well, in all fairness, you were the one that invited me in, angel. I’m just doing what you said.” The smirk again. It’s too dark now that he's standing in my dark room, but I know the smirk. It bleeds into his voice. It makes him sound more...confident. Or cocky. “But dollface, we’ve explored more of space than we have the ocean. We don’t know what all is living in the deep parts of our ocean, but we know that you’ll get spaghettified if you go into a black hole. Some people think black holes are portals and some think they’re dying stars.”

“Wait, what? Buck, where are you getting your info?”

“Google, of course. Can I sit?”

“Sure.” The heavy weight of a giant man and his absurdly heavy metal arm rests on the corner of my bed. He almost seems hesitant to sit. I can immediately feel his warmth through the blanket. Despite me keeping my area freezing, Bucky always stays warm. “But Bucky, you went to a site to read these things. You used google but from there, what did you do?”

I can hear the wheels turning in his head. “Uh...the interesting looking ones?”

“You can’t believe everything you read on the internet, Buck. Anyone can put whatever they want out there. When you’re doing this research you’ve got to use reliable sources.”

“Reliable sources? Can I lean against the wall and stretch my legs?”

“Sure. Friday will help you with that, but Peter and I, and even Dr. Banner could help explain that to you in more detail tomorrow at a reasonable hour.”

Bucky shuffles his way across my bed to rest against the wall. He’s cautious of my legs as he makes his journey. It’s almost like he goes into assassin mode. Even though I know he’s moving, he tries his best not to disturb me.

“Well, did you know the footstep on the moon will likely stay there for at least 100 million years? There’s no wind on the moon, so it can’t be blown away. And did you know space is completely silent? There’s no air, so the sound waves have nothing to travel through so no sound.”

Bucky carries on with his space talk. Not long after we became friends, he shared that as a child he was interested in planes. He wanted to be a pilot growing up. That quickly became an awkward conversation. Now, Bucky is learning to fly with Sam, but once he learned our travels expanded into space, his dreams were out of this world. Bucky would start his google dives asking about some random thing, but without a doubt, he would end up on space exploration. Peter and I want to see how he’d do in a Wikipedia race. Peter thinks he would be amazing at it, but I know he’d get carried away and go down his own rabbit hole.

“Doll, Neptune has storms big enough to swallow the entire Earth! Can I get under the blankets?”

I hummed my approval and rolled over. Bucky’s voice is deep and raspy, and something about it can lull me to sleep. Usually I can’t sleep with any noise but Bucky is different. He could probably do audiobooks. Steve’s school videos and Bucky’s audiobooks. That’s quite a pair.

Bucky carries on with his space dump until I ask him. “Bucky, Russia got a satellite in space first. Sputnik. Would you have had anything to do about it? Idk. That might be a rough question but…”

He thinks, and he thinks hard. I can imagine his brows would come together, and he would bite at the right side of his lower lip. His Neptune blue eyes would move like he’s reading words off an invisible piece of paper laid before him. He would usually run his fingers through his hair, but Sam mentioned hair loss and that made Buck a little self conscious. I told him not to worry, but I’ll catch him catching himself.

“I’m not sure, angel. I don’t remember anything being about space, but maybe i just didn’t know it was about the space race. That is bizarre though. I was around when we made it to the moon, but I wasn’t. Can I get under the blankets?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Buck starts to talk again as he pulls the blankets over himself. He worms his legs undermine. “Bucky, get your popsicle legs off me. Go put those things on Steve.”

He lets out a small laugh before he continues his ted talk of everything. Bucky has been taken with space, but he’s interested in cooking too. He loves to sit and watch The Great British Bake-Off or MasterChef or Top Chef. It was quite sweet and funny when he tried to recreate one of the meat pies from season two of TGBBO. He was so confident, and his bottom was so soggy.

“We should grow a fruit salad tree. We’ve got to do something to a fruit tree, but we’d be able to make it grow up to 6 fruits! You could have peaches, Steve gets apples, Sam gets...I don’t know, and I get plums. We’d have to think of something for Pete. But imagine it, a huge fruit salad tree orchard behind the compound!”

“If it’s an orchard, why don’t we just plant a whole bunch of different trees?”

“Bragging rights. Can I lean on these pillows? I’m just gonna lean here.”

“Sure Buckbeak.”

“Hmph. Us having a fruit salad tree would be like the animals in Harry Potter.”

“Yeah?”

Bucky carries on, but his closeness and warmth are enough to lull me to sleep.

I woke up not too much later. Bucky has slowly made his way to fully laying between me and my pillow mountain. He’s pulled me in close to him and nuzzles his face into my neck. He somehow got his arms fully around me with my noticing. Our legs are intertwined, and thankfully, Bucky’s feet have warmed up. I can hear his heart beat in this position. Despite the torture and darkness he’s witness, his heart still beats like a young bird’s wings. His body and mind is old, but his heart is young. A young man from the 40s thrust into the 21st century. It is a cruel fate, but I know Bucky is strong enough to carry this burden. A heart is a heavy burden to carry.

I wake with the sun; a curious beam has made its way directly into my eyes. I go to grab a pillow to cover my face, but I seem to be in the death grip of a certain super soldier. I’m able to shimmy my way around to look at him. He looks at peace. Bucky always carries his anxieties and burdens, but in this moment, he looks youthful. He isn’t a super soldier who lost himself for 70 years. He isn’t a man who is widely hated and has to redeem himself. He isn’t a man with blood on his hands. He’s just Bucky; a great guy that will hold you when you cry or share a big bellied laugh with you.

“See something you like, dollface?”

“You slithered your slinky way into my bed.”

“No, no, no. You invited me in, so I wouldn't catch a cold. I just made myself not cold.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. You were obviously the best solution, cuddle bug. Your heart is so full of love and compassion that it’s gone hot.”

“You’re a big sap.”

“Only for my best girl.”

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