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allthebrokenpromises · 2 years

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(Just a warning my internet cut out when I tried to post this ten minutes ago and I copy-pasted it from a screenshot so there may be spacing issues.)

A trope that consistently ruins media for me is the good old "that's not a disability, it's a super power!" It makes me madder because when it turns out that while the disability a character has isn't 'cured' it's associated with them being the Chosen One of their universe.

Take for example, Team Starkid's Black Friday. It's a decent musical, an engaging plot, but Hannah as a character is something that I really can't take. She has difficulty coping with the world around her because SHE'S SOME KIND OF INTER-DIMENSIONAL CONNECTION AND THE ALIENS ARE FIGHTING WITH HER AS A WITNESS. Meanwhile a lot of the audience is going "look, she's stimming! Autistic icon!" Thing is, she isn't. She may have been written to display autistic traits, but she as a character is NOT AUTISTIC she's MAGICAL and this is NOT OK. If people are recognising a character as representative of a group of people when the character is actually just written with magic powers to serve the plot, it's not ok. People with real disabilities may be capable of things normal people can't easily do, and they may not. But one thing's for sure MY AUTISM IS NOT A MAGICAL SUPERPOWER.

It is a truth widely acknowledged that in fiction disability is often cured, and this is harmful to people with real disabilities. I would argue that disability actually being a superpower is more problematic than curing it, because it doesn't just go away, it's helpful. It's called DISability for a reason. I complained about this to a friend with ADHD and he said "it's essentially telling someone who's hallucinating that the toaster is talking to them" which isn't entirely accurate but still follows my line of reasoning so I'm including it. I will now be going through some good and bad examples.

Encanto: Bruno's OCD. Not the most nuanced portrayal of OCD as I understand it, but a win for it not being either 'cured' or plot relevant. It's not explicit to audience members who don't enjoy researching their media, and it's a slightly stereotyped portrayal, but it's still good. B+.

Nino Kuni (the movie not the game): Does a decent job of actually addressing the impact of disability but turns out to be plot relevant and as a result is cured in the end. C.

Percy Jackson: ADHD and Dyslexia turn out to be plot relevant disabilities and superpowers because the characters belong in an environment that is catered to their disabilities. Characters still struggle with their disabilities at times. Percy is surprised when Annabeth, a person who has spent her life in an environment suited to her disabilities struggles with the same things he does outside this environment because she seems so put together. I like it. A+.

How To Train Your Dragon (movies): Main duo are missing limbs. This limits them in some ways. They are vikings, so they don't really care and do things anyway. A.

Bubble: (Netflix movie, recentish, what prompted this rant) Main character has an Auditory Processing Disorder. This is initially shown as a superpower, though it's shown to have an impact on his life. (I have a lot of other bones to pick with this movie btw but I'm trying to focus on the disability representation) He talks about how he struggles/has struggled with sound significantly (for maybe five minutes). He has noise cancelling headphones to help him with this.But when he takes them off he's in tune with the magic of the city or whatever. Shortly after he opens up about how he has issues with sound, he loses his headphones. Everyone else suddenly remembers he has issues with sound while he is sitting at a loud party and ask if he's ok with the noise. He shrugs and apparently has no non-magical hearing issues for the rest of the film aside from one half-hearted effort at blocking one ear while doing a war cry. Garbage. F. Also the Group Dad is missing a leg he lost in an accident. He's very hardcore, runs with a limp, shatters his prosthetic, is fine with it because this movie is barely an hour and a half and doesn't believe in giving anything depth aside from pounding it into your head that it’s the little mermaid.

We do undeniably need more representation of disability in major media, but it needs to be the right representation. This magical chosen one powers cop out is beyond harmful when characters display traits of a disability because while people won't take it entirely literally, at least when they claim you need a cure they don't act like you can do things they can't so shouldn't complain. Fiction writers apparently see disability as a character flaw, and the rule of fiction is heroes must overcome their flaws.

Feel free to correct me or add to this obviously, I just felt it needed to be said and I can’t speak for everyone.

#i'm legit gonna make a video essay about this it's unleashed some Rage in me #rant #I don't normally complain about representation because I feel unqualified to do so but this trope has been bugging me for years #disability #learning disability #pjo #percy jackson #representation #encanto #adhd #ocd #starkid #autism #actually autistic #how to train your dragon #bad trope #harmful tropes #stereotypes #long post

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jdeowrites · 11 months

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Life Doesn’t Change After You’re Published, and other kinda-truths

It’s been one entire year since my debut novel, TJ POWAR HAS SOMETHING TO PROVE, was published on June 7, 2022. My little YA contemporary about a girl and her body hair, but also about so much else.

It sometimes feels like no time has passed at all—like just last week I was on my way to my little local book launch with friends. I remember that day so clearly. I got my hair (on my head, ha) and nails done for funsies, and my brother came to town for the launch. On our drive to the bookstore I was happy and excited, but also had jitters in my stomach because I wore a dress that ended just above my knees—with my very hairy legs exposed. Yes, this was despite not having removed my leg hair in years, and despite having worn shorts so many times in the interim without any discomfort. I knew why, of course: It was because now I was wearing an outfit typically very strongly associated with femininity (a dress) and somehow it felt like the two things couldn’t go together. I mused that here was further evidence that unlearning harmful things society had taught me was going to be a lifelong venture. Which was an interesting, amusing, and somewhat fitting realization to have on release day.

I still force myself into that discomfort often. In some ways, as I said to my audiobook narrator last year (Mayuri Bhandari, she’s amazing), I even feel some responsibility to do so. Whenever wonderful, open-minded readers say to me, “I didn’t even know brown girls grew that much hair,” I think to myself, well, then it’s even more important that I show them.

To not feel, as an artist, completely divorced from my own work once it was public was one of the many surprises of having a book out. People always say that life doesn’t drastically change once you have a book published; and that, I was prepared for. Frankly I was more than happy with that idea--I’d spent so much time on promo in the lead up that I was exhausted, and looked forward to a quiet post-release. I missed my writing.

But although there’s no magical life-changing switch, I’ve found that things have changed. Just slowly, and subtly, as satisfying and long-lasting change often is.

I’ve talked at length about how the content of the book changed me. But in a general sense, I can think of many things in my day-to-day life that have changed since being published. For example, having friends in real life snapping pics of my book at stores across the continent; having people in real life ask me about my writing (a bit of a horror really); being tagged in blog posts and Twitter threads where people talk about their favourite books; getting DMs from people gushing about the book; talking to teens as a published author about books; having readers stand in front of me and excitedly tell me all the things they loved about my book while I smile silently thinking is this real? Is this real?; the opportunities I’ve had to sit down with other authors and laugh and compare notes and realize hey, we’re all going through the same weird-ass publishing machine; being asked to blurb other authors’ books; walking into random bookstores and seeing a copy on the shelf; being invited for lit festivals and interviews and to give talks and such as an established author. But most of all, it’s in the simple joy of knowing, every day, I am a published author. That has changed me. It’s a new piece of my identity. Once upon a time, it was my wildest dream. It’s a special privilege to be able to say I’m now dreaming of new things.

So, if you’re one of the people who’ve read TJ POWAR HAS SOMETHING TO PROVE, thank you so much for giving my little book a chance. It’s been amazing to see its impact over this past year, and I can only hope it will reach even more readers as time goes on. And for everyone who’s asked me what’s next... I can’t wait to share. Eventually. ;)

#My posts #tj powar has something to prove #tjp #tgbd

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rjalker · 2 years

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Here’s how to make The Murderbot Diaries 80 percent less casually transmisic, for each book and short story published so far as of January 25th, 2023. (Main books 1-6, and 2 short stories)

This post will be updated to include any future books once I've read them.

(If this is the first post of mine you're seeing and you're thinking, aghast or maybe offended, "What??? The Murderbot Diaries is transmisic????? What are you talking about????" Here's a link to my tag for reading these books. It contains all my posts I've made about the series except for a few random unimportant ones. Skim through them until you come to the ones talking about the transmisia in the series. I'll add links to this post with the important ones tomorrow.)

This post is literally just me picking out a section from each book and adding in things to explicitly establish Murderbot’s pronouns, normalize the characters asking eachother what their pronouns are/listing them in their fucking brainchip social media profiles, and maybe even more importantly, making it so that sex is not equated with gender.

I'm trying not to make this post any longer than it already is, so here's the tiny version: Murderbot and all the other bots and constructs so far being agender because they're all robots (shut up if you're going to argue semantics) who don't have genitals is transmisic. There only being one explicitly nonbinary human so far is transmisic. Go search my blog for a more in-depth explanation or wait until I've added links to this.

Dialogue that was spoken though the feed is marked with :: as quotation marks, rather than being italicized, to make it easier to read.

Anyways as a reminder, even if it's not intentional, malicious transmisia, it's still transmisia. I like Martha Well's style of writing. But it has a lot of problems that I'm hoping she'll fix.

She especially has a problem with biological essentialism and gender essentialism, which is exemplified in her The Books of The Raksura.

So to demonstrate how Literally Easy it would be to fix most of the transmisia in The Murderbot Diaries, here's some sections from each book/short story where I've added in and changed things so that it's not transmisic and actually represents the way trans people (and their allies) live and interact.

also, when the characters ask what pronouns Murderbot would prefer rather than asking what its pronouns are, that is 100% intentional to fit the theme of this post. Which is that even people who have the best intentions can be unintentionally transmisic and that everyone always has room to learn more.

So.

Here you go:

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Prequel: The Future of Work: Compulsory

Words added: 150.

(You can read this short story here. Archived version here. Just the text can be found on a tumblr post here. Be warned that the first two links have eye-straining neon art at the top that moves, which is why I made the tumblr post.)

Asa took her arm gently. “They can’t talk,” he told her.

She shook her head as her friends steered her toward the access bridge. “No, it talked. I heard it.”

That still came as a pleasant surprise every time it happened.

The Company had assigned me different pronouns when I was constructed, and I’d always hated them. And I hated the gender they’d assigned me, too. So the second thing I’d done after hacking my governer module (the first was downloading media) was hack into the Company’s systems to change my pronoun and gender assignments.

Now, my pronouns were listed as it/its/itself, and my gender was listed as “indeterminate”. None of the humans got paid enough to bother memorizing our assigned pronouns or genders, so none of them had noticed the change. And every time they rented me out, the humans doing the renting got a copy of my relevant info, including my assigned gender and pronouns.

Maybe someday the euphoria of being referred to the way I enjoyed would dissipate, but apparently that day was not today.

___

Book one: All Systems Red

Words added: 79

Then Mensah said quietly, “SecUnit, do you have a name? Pronouns you would prefer?”

"My pronouns are what was listed on my contract when you rented me." I said, "It, its, itself."

I didn't explain how I'd gotten those pronouns. They didn't need to know that I'd hacked into the Company's system to overwrite the ones I'd originally been assigned. I'd changed my gender assignment at the same time. And they didn't need to know that either. I didn't want them to know that.

As for having a name, I wasn’t sure what she wanted. “No.”

___

Book two: Artificial Condition

Words added: 22

They had listed themselves as unaffiliated guest workers, but you could list yourself as anything, there was no identity check. Two had listed their gender as female, and they both used she/her/hers/herself pronouns. The other one had listed ter gender as tercera, which was a gender signifier used in the group of non-corporate political entities known as the Divarti Cluster. Ter pronouns were te/ter/ter/terself.

(To initiate the meeting, I’d had to make an entry on the social feed, too. The system was extremely vulnerable to hacking, so I had backdated my entry to look like I had come in on an earlier passenger transport, listed my job as “security consultant,” my pronouns as "it/its/itself", which was the format humans used, and listed my gender as "indeterminate". Posing as its own captain, ART gave me a prior employment reference.)

___

Book three: Rogue Protocol

Words added: 135

Her gaze went to Wilken’s back again, but on our private channel she said, ::I’ve never worked with a SecUnit before—I’ve never seen or interacted with a SecUnit before—so please tell me if you need any information or instruction from me. I know you already know my name, but I’m going to introduce myself properly anyways. My name is Don Abene, and my pronouns are she/her/hers/herself. You can call me Abene if you'd like. Do you have a name, or designation? What pronouns would you prefer?::

While I’d had several humans now ask me for my name and pronouns, I had never had a human ask me how to give me orders before. It was an interesting novelty. ::I have standing orders from Rin to assist you. I can do the rest.:: I said, answering the first part of her question, as for the second half... ::It is best if you refer to me as SecUnit, and my pronouns are it/its/itself.:: It wasn’t technically lying, since she’d asked ‘do you have a name’, not ‘what is your name’.

Not that it would matter if I was lying, anyways, considering all the other lies I was telling at the point, but still. Old habits die hard.

___

Book four: Exit Strategy

Words added: 36

I pulled a selection of video from the trip with Ayres and the others on the way to HaveRatton, mostly exchanges I’d tagged so I could critique my performance later. (A few times I’d broken up fights, been forced to give relationship advice, the infamous Cracker Wrapper in the Sink Incident, and the time near the start of the trip where I’d had to explain to a confused but enthusiastic group of depressingly young humans how to properly use it/its/itself pronouns when talking about me.) I cut it together, labeled it “Murderbot Impersonates an Augmented Human Security Consultant,” and sent it to Gurathin.

___

Book four and a half: Home: Habitat, Range, Niche, Territory

Words added: 347

(You can read this short story here. Archived version here. Don’t scroll down to the comments at the bottom unless you want to see people misgendering Murderbot.)

Instead Ephraim asks her, “Can you separate that person from the purpose they were created for?”

Anger flares automatically, despite her best efforts to stifle it. But this is not an insult she will let stand, she can’t.

Ephraim should know better. He does know better, and his motive is clear: Refer to it as ‘they’ rather than its actual pronouns, to make a show of being respectful, the way this whole thing is a show of him being respectful, while denying it the same rights that every other person, including bots, was given without question. It was a transparent farce, and that just made her all the madder.

“Its pronouns are it/its/itself.” She snapped, and the only reason she managed to stay seated instead of storming out of the room in a fury was because SecUnit was still pinging her with armament request forms, getting more absurd by the second. None of its anger leaked into the messages, even though she knew it had to be listening. She wasn’t the one being insulted, so that meant it was her responsibility to shut the idea that this was at all acceptable down forever.

She continued angrily, “You know this, and I know you wouldn’t even think to use the wrong pronouns for anyone else, not a human, not a bot. So why should a construct be the exception? You say SecUnit is ‘a product of surveillance capitalism and authoritarian enforcement’, but how is that any different from any other refugees we take in from the Corporation Rim? Why should we not extend the same rights we grant bots to constructs? Why do you think it’s okay to use the wrong pronouns for a construct when I know for a fact that it wouldn’t even occur to you to do this to any other person? Use its correct pronouns or do not dare to speak about it at all: it/its/itself.”

Ephraim, for his part, looked suitably ashamed and guilty. “You’re right, I’m sorry, it won’t happen again.”

But not ashamed enough, apparently, because he simply repeated the question: “Can you separate that person from the purpose it was created for?”

___

Book five: Network Effect

Words added: 494

There was no planetary feed (stupid planet) but Stupid Boat had its own rudimentary feed that was heavy with games and pornography but light on anything that might be helpful for a security assessment, like who these people were and what they wanted. Even the individual humans’ feed signatures only contained info about their pronouns and sexual availability, which I didn’t give a damn about.

...

She smiled. “Thank you.” Then she added, “Oh, I’m sorry, I’m being rude, interrogating you before I’ve even introduced myself. Forgive me. My name is Farai, my pronouns are she/her/her/hers. What about you?”

I said, “Call me SecUnit. My pronouns are it/its/itself.”

She smiled again. “It’s nice to meet you, SecUnit. Thank you again.”

...

She yawned. “Okay, third mom.” I froze, confused and annoyed, and almost lost all the data I'd just finished tagging. I put that on pause and said firmly, "I'm not your third mom. I'm not anyone's mom. I'm not any kind of gender that can be called a mom. Don't call me that." Amena jolted a little and blinked, looking startled, then frowned, shaking her head slowly, clearly confused. "Wait, what? Don't call you what? What did I say?" Okay, so, she hadn't been deep in thought, she was literally falling asleep standing up. That made it a little less annoying. But only a little. "You called me your third mom." I said, trying to actively remove some of the anger from my voice but probably failing miserably. My emotions were shot, okay? And so were hers. I got confirmation that she hadn't meant to call me that when, a few seconds after I spoke--yes, it was taking way longer than normal for her to process information. She really needed to go to sleep--her eye got wide and her face flushed red. I didn't need to be an expert on human body language to know that meant she was embarrassed. This was further confirmed when she stammered out, "I--I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to say that, I don't--I mean I don't really see you as my third mom, or a mom, or--" She waved one hand in a frantic gesture. "I don't see you as any gender that's normally a mom. I know your gender is indeterminate, I'm sorry, I think I just fell asleep and was half dreaming, so when you told me to go to bed I thought 'oh that's what my moms are always telling me', but your voice was different from both of theirs so my brain sort of just said 'oh yeah that's your third mom telling you to go to sleep'. But it's not because I see you as a mom! I think I would have called anyone who told me to go to bed right then my third mom. But I'm really sorry it happened, and I promise it won't happen again..." Her voice started trailing off at the end despite starting out strong, and I could tell she was starting to fall asleep again. "I forgive you." I said, since it was true and I really didn't want to hurt her feelings, "Just--go to sleep. It's harder to keep you alive if you're sleep deprived." Instead of making another gendered comment, she gave me two sleepy thumbs up, then turned and trudged away down the corridor. I followed her with two drones, just in case.

___

Book six: Fugitive Telemetry

Words added: 5

Senior Indah said, “The feed ID doesn’t need to say anything other than what everyone else’s says, just name, pronouns, and…” She trailed off. She was looking at me and I was looking at her.

...

I posted a feed ID with the name = SecUnit, pronouns = it/its/itself, gender = not applicable, and no other information.

Indah had blinked, then said, “Well, I suppose that will have to do.”

___

And there you go. 80% of the transmisia has now been removed.

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stumbling-through-time · 1 year

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Writing Challenge: Day 2 I Lost the Receipt/ Day 3 The Building Doesn’t Allow Pets

“I lost the receipt and now they won’t take him back!” Kara explains as she whirlwinds into Lena’s apartment and shoves a most impossibly cute Rottweiler puppy into her arms.

All this started with a slew of cryptic texts from Kara first thing Saturday morning. Between the emojis and disjointed ramblings, all Lena could piece together was that Kara had made some sort of impulsive decision last night and needed to store something at Lena’s apartment. She was happy to help of course, but Lena just can’t figure out for the life of her what this could possibly be about. This can’t be food related, right?

And now looking back and forth between the wiggling ball of fluff in her arms and Kara who is frantically unloading what appears to be never ending puppy supplies from a duffle bag into her living room, Lena is simultaneously baffled by this development and not at all surprised.

“Kara I’m pretty sure pet adoptions don’t work like that.” Lena says, trying to calm her friend down.

“Ok, fine.” Kara admits. Deflating from her earlier burst of energy, Kara sits down in the puppy playpen that she had set up and gestures to take the puppy back. “Rex’s foster family only agreed to take him until yesterday and since there was no more room at the vet, they were going to transfer him to the *gasp whispers* P-O-U-N-D.

You know black dogs already have a tougher time getting adopted, and on top of that Rottweilers have an unearned! bad rep for being aggressive and hard to handle, and I was just thinking about him the tiny little thing shivering by himself all alone in his sad little cage, wasting away his prime puppy years. Prime. Puppy. Years. Lena! SoIDecidedToTakeHimHome.”

“At which point you realized that your apartment doesn’t allow dogs.” Lena chimes in.

“At which point I realized that my apartment doesn’t allow dogs.” Kara repeats, nodding along sagely. “But we snuck in and managed to be quite last night, didn’t we?”

“So now what?” Lena asks feigning concern as she tries to suppress a smile since she already knows where this is going.

“So now …” Kara starts, at least with enough decency to look embarrassed, “I was wondering if he can stay with you until I work something out with my landlord? I promise I’ll come by every day, every hour! to feed him and take him out and do all the things. You’ll barely even notice he’s here!”

Right on cue, Rex offers up his support with an adorable puppy arf-arf.

Lena has of course already figured out the logistics of housing this puppy and took note of everything here so she can buy a duplicate copy to set up in her office the second she held him in her arms. But, looking at the two pairs of puppy eyes beaming at maximum begging power, what Lena hasn’t decided is which one she will find it harder to say no to. All she knows is that one, or both, of them is going to be the death of her.

[ headcanon for Rex the Rotty has lived in my head forever from @sango-blep https://sango-blep.tumblr.com/post/699649551451275264/my-comic-for-the-supercorpzine-cant-believe ]

[ not sure if I had glimpse ahead at the Day 3 prompt and it was bouncing around in my head already, or something else, but definitely wrote the whole story before I realized it checks off Day 3 as well

which weirdly works out perfectly since I fell a day behind ]

#30 day writing challenge #writing prompts #supercorp #day 2 #day 3 #i lost the receipt #the building doesn't allow pets #feeding the #brain worms

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strwberriehore · 5 months

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At this point I’m not the “bad guy” but now owed something

You all went too far

Attacking me during my pregnancy to the point I had a miscarriage, my baby is dead because of what you guys did to me

You all lack empathy

If you attacked me in any way dec2022-march2023 you’re partially responsible for my child’s death, for killing my baby…sit with that, do you not care you attacked a pregnant woman causing the baby to die inside of her ? It was really painful physically and emotionally to lose my child. I wanted a family and that was stolen from me along with everything else

I’ve said before if I’m stressed out I get my period early, so instead of a period it was a miscarriage

I’m only sorry to the people that didn’t attack me, who I hurt out of confusion and fear

Like I think Katya, trixies friend, I feel like they posted something about me and I assumed it was an attack…if it wasn’t then I am so sorry I should’nt have said anything and I regret it I hope you understand and if you can’t forgive me

I feel like everyone is out to get me and it makes me extra defensive about everything

I’m so hurt by everything and everyone

I don’t even want to be on social media anymore, I don’t care it’s not worth it

I just don’t have money to go out and do things so I watch stuff on my laptop and phone to pass time

Like I wanted to go to a rock climbing gym but couldn’t afford it

Over a year now no haircut, no health insurance and transportation to get to a hospital if I had it

My cats need a vet to treat their fleas

I haven’t able to heal or recover from anything since I keep getting new shit to deal with

A wound can’t heal if you keep throwing salt in it

I need to rest and not deal with any attacks to actually recover and get better

This isnt rest at all…im getting worse it feels like

This is…me just getting traumatized over and over to the point I have a mental breakdown and can’t function normally anymore

So ya I need apologies, money, and revenge

Who wouldn’t

I feel like what I want is justice, for everything I’ve dealt with

I feel like I’m usually retaliating when I lash out

Ugh I have PTSD, depression, and anxiety

Even had a panic attack the other day, which I haven’t had in years, kinda not surprised after all the anxiety attacks

I feel like I can’t talk about my issues or feelings without someone trying to shame me for it just to hurt me

Kels is a jealous horrific monster, like why can’t you just go away??? Seriously Kels just move on, the copying me is creepy and embarrassing

You all deserve to suffer

I can’t wait to get all new devices, move out, get my privacy back , and disappear

I feel like I never had a chance anyways when I look back at all the hurdles I’ve dealt with

Having an abusive family really set me up to fail, I’ve slept in a car when they had extra rooms in their home because of everything going on

I feel like an orphan since I bounced different family members homes, I remember as a kid my dad took a lot of month long get aways, like he would just leave for like a month and did it often and mom worked so I was at baby sitters homes getting abused too or alone and now I’m older I have no support so I can’t survive

I feel like most people have some kind of family support or something to fall back on

I got lucky with the pandemic since I was able to go to school and work as a nurse, or else I would’ve never left minimum wage jobs

But my nursing license just expired too lol

When I reach out for help I get attacked…

Everything that could go wrong has it seems like

When it rains it pours

I don’t forgive anyone that attacked me this year, especially when I was pregnant, that’s evil, I don’t give a fuck if you knew or not, you didn’t feel my baby die inside of me

after since I wasn’t pregnant everyone thought it was okay to hurt me so I didn’t get to properly grieve my baby, but now it’s been long enough I can process what happened, especially since they would’ve been born by now

You’re all dead to me, kinda like my fucking baby

I’ll “heal” when I get my fucking justice

Until then I’m resentful, bitter, and angry

You would be too

Most of you haven’t dealt with most of what I’ve had to face

If I don’t get my justice I hope you all kill yourselves

You’re all evil and deserve to suffer

Why go so far and overkill with the attacks on me?

You’re sick , no one is even “copying” me, you’re just bullying and attacking me

The shit I’m dealing with is shit I’ve never done to anyone else

You’re all just using me as a punching bag for your own selfish desires regardless of what I say or do like someone else made you mad almost and it’s easier to hurt me than who hurt you

I won’t be happy or nice to anyone until I get my justice, everyone that hurt me gets a taste of what they did to me

Why not just leave me alone?!

I don’t understand people that hate watch…I look for things I might enjoy watching

I didn’t deserve any of this, feels like a stalker gathered a mob to kill me, this is inhumane

Kels is the bad person, they just have a stupid check mark and people care more about that than anything else

I don’t have the check mark so it’s easier to do what the other person says blindly because they’re hoping for some fame or something in return

I NEED justice or I’ll just disappear

And justice is NOT a “payout” no matter how large or me being with the man I want

A payout feels like “here’s a way to disappear from everything and everyone and not be too focused on revenge you deserve”

Like when you sue a hospital after they killed your child during a normal procedure and you get a payout

Real justice is a payout and the people that attacked me get punished

If the people that attacked me don’t get punished then there is no justice. If someone shot your mom in the head wouldn’t you want them to get punished and not basically get away with it? And most people would rather not deal with a death than receive a payout for one.

Even with apologies, payout, and punishment for those that attacked me, I can’t forgive anyone that participated in this or anyone that could’ve helped me but chose not to.

I’m not going to just take this torture, if you can help me but won’t then I don’t want you in my life. I’d rather be alone than around people that let others hurt me

I just need my cats and money to survive

I feel like everyone expects me to be and act unaffected by everything that happened to me wtf ?!

This isn’t me, I can’t be me when I have to constantly defend myself

Everyone knows I don’t have the following they do making all their attacks so much worse since they know it’s not fair

Whatever. shows how bad of a person they are if they’re willing to do that to someone since people have killed themselves over less

I feel like it’s almost weird I haven’t yet

The more I try to plan a hanging the more I realize how difficult it can be, most suicide attempts are not successful and no one wants to try and fail so I’ve switched to cutting my throat with a scalpel since it’s known to be sharper, probably get some strong painkillers like norco first to make it hurt less

With 8 billion people in the world I don’t mind just disappearing and moving with enough money but I’ll probably randomly harass you guys for decades online if I have to do that since I’ll be bitter without real justice

Obviously I have an outcome I’d prefer but I’m okay with that not happening and me either killing myself or moving/disappearing alone with my cats

If I don’t get justice I hope all of you get karma another way like fucking cancer

I really do

I feel like I’m not as mean as I should be after all I’ve dealt with

I’m not overreacting , you’d be upset too

People act like I’m some rich girl with great parents/family/friends and never had a bad day or had to deal with anything bad ever like life has always been easy and fun with no issues

I fucking wish

I wish I didn’t have to wear clothes and shoes with holes in them, I wish I had a supportive family that didn’t abuse me as a child, I wish I wasn’t bullied in school growing up.

I feel like people lie to themselves and make up this story about how great my life is in their head to justify their disgusting actions towards me to not feel bad about being a bad person

I’ve never had it easy

Selling your body for money to survive is not easy either, a lot of people “can’t do it “ and negatively judge me for just trying to survive

I never escaped, I’m just in a different place, same hell

I never deserved any of this , but I deserve justice and I need it to fully heal

Delete everything attacking me, apologies, punishment for them, kels gets humiliated, and pay out to make me happy

THis feels like a slow murder, my baby is dead and that’s not enough

Like if you shoot someone in the head 10 times, it’s unnecessary , just leave me the fuck alone!

You all make me nauseous

I hope whoever the creep is helping kels dies from cancer , you’re an actual psychopath …

Now I feel like I have to double down on everything, you guys broke me , why would I be nice now?

Even with a payout and no justice I’ll probably spend it trying to get my own justice

I can’t even work anymore because of all this so I’ll just kill myself when it runs out

I have no respect for anyone now

I hope most of you get shot in the head

0 notes

tapedecking · 2 years

Text

MIXTAPE #2 (01/08/22)

Handbags and Gladrags - Rod Stewart

Album: An Old Raincoat Won't Ever Let You Down

Year: 1969 (US), 1970 (UK)

Track: Single (Post-Release: 1970)

I recently heard this track playing over the speakers in the shopping centre where my girlfriend works, which I found to be a pleasant surprise - it’s a lovely track, but I’ve only ever heard it in one place: the opening to The Office. Now if you’re listening to this ong and thinking, “this isn’t the opening to The Office”, then chances are you’ve assumed I’m talking about the vastly inferior US adaptation of the brilliant UK series. Well, I’m not. Don’t get me wrong, the US version of The Office is a perfectly functional workplace sitcom, but that’s about it. Whereas, the UK original is such a uniquely hilarious and heartbreakingly genuine depiction of office life, that completely commits to the documentary format, whilst using it to characterise its central cast, and the entire thing is auteured by Ricky Gervais and Stephen Merchant. If you prefer the US version, then fair enough, I get that some people can’t stand the cringe comedy style of the original, or that they find more enjoyment in watching something comfier. I get that. But I’ll tell you what, it does my head in whenever someone tries to pretend that the US version is better or - even worse - more notable than the original, when this show almost single-handedly popularised off the mockumentary sitcom format.

I'm Not the One - The Cars

Album: Shake It Up

Year: 1981

Track: Single (Post-Release: 1986)

Vinyl records are cool - they look cool, they sound cool, and dropping a needle and turning up the volume makes you feel so ridiculously cool. I’d love to collect vinyl, but it’s just such an expensive hobby, especially considering I’d have to buy a record player first! But my girlfriend has a player, and her and her entire family collect vinyl records. They’ll stick one on at dinner time, in order to have some music whilst they eat. Personally, I do my eating in front of the TV, but that’s neither here nor there. One evening, my girlfriend suggested that I be the one to choose a record, and after being tempted by Remain In Light, I chose The Cars’ Greatest Hits. It’s a great compilation, kicking off with Just What I Needed - one of my all time favourite songs, and my most listened song of 2020, according to Spotify! This track, I’m Not the One, was my favourite of the tracks on the record that I hadn’t heard before.

Songs of Love - The Divine Comedy

Album: Casanova

Year: 1996

Track: Album Track

Back when I worked retail, I’d listen to albums whilst I worked - when the store was closed. I’d always ask my girlfriend for recommendations, and this album was one she gave me, having discovered this album and whilst working her way through the list of “1001 Albums You Must Hear Before You Die”. She quickly became a fan of the album, and for the past few weeks, the two of us had been scouring JB Hi-Fis looking for a copy of it on vinyl. All the time we were doing this, I was praying that we wouldn’t find one, as I had already purchased a copy of it for her for her birthday, and was still waiting to give it to her! Luckily my gift-purchasing efforts did not got to waste, and she chuffed upon unwrapping it.

Touch the Sun - Cryalot

Album: standalone single

Year: 2022

Track: Single

As a kid, I was never really into music. My mum would listen to disco, my dad to reggae, my brother to rap, and none of it ever really vibed with me. It wasn't until I was like sixteen that I started listening to music by myself, and even then it took me about four years until I started listening to something that was not a hit from the 80s. Nowadays, I listen to all sorts from all decades, but there's still a lot of novelty for me in hearing a new release from an artist I like, because it never used to happen for me. I got into Kero Kero Bonito a few years back thanks to my friend playing me Make Believe off of Time ‘n’ Place, which now has a place as one of my favourite albums of all time, and I've been following them for a while now, so when frontwoman Sarah Midori Perry announced her solo project - Cryalot - I was intrigued and excited! Touch the Sun is Perry’s second single as Cryalot, after Hell Is Here, and although I found that track to be stronger, Touch the Sun is a very pleasant and fun pop number.

Burning Farm - Shonen Knife

Album: Burning Farm

Year: 1983

Track: Album Track

Two of my friends, my girlfriend and I have a small “album club”, where each week one of us will choose an album for us all to listen to, and then a small review of. My friends had very good music knowledge, and have already heard a large range of acclaimed albums, and so for my most recent turn, I wanted to choose an album that none of us had heard before, whilst ensuring it would also be - y’know, good. And so I turned to my good buddy, Kurt Cobain, and his list of his fifty favourite albums. I chose this album, as I thought the album would be light and fun (which it was!) after having heard Shonen Knife’s cover of When You Sleep, originally by My Bloody Valentine (which isn’t on Spotify, but I’d highly recommend checking out however if you can). This title track was standout for me, with the catchy "na na na" refrain reminding me of My Chemical Romance vibes, and - as my girlfriend noted - being very similar to Land of 1000 Dances, presumably the shared inspiration for the two tracks. I also love the way the song builds at the end, and I think it serves as a great closer to the album.

Stereo - Pavement

Album: Brighten the Corners

Year: 1997

Track: Single (Pre-Release: 1997)

If you’re sick of me mentioning my girlfriend in nearly every single one of these write-ups, I’m sorry! But we’ve been spending a lot of time together lately! Next week’s will probably be more girlfriend-lite. Before before that… Whenever me and my girlfriend get the bus together, she’ll give me one of her airpods, and we’ll put on a massive playlist that mixes all our music together. It’s an interesting mix, and a cool way of sharing with each other songs we really like, but have not been listening to much recently. One such song I shared this way was The Twilight Zone by Rush, off of 2112. Upon hearing it, my girlfriend told me, “I didn’t know Rush had a female vocalist”. Spoiler alert: they don’t. But whilst relaying this story to my girlfriend’s sister, the two of them began making reference to a lyric in this Pavement song:

What about the voice of Geddy Lee

How did it get so high?

I wonder if he speaks like an ordinary guy?

A couple of days later, we were once again listening to our big mix, when this song came on, and ever since, I’ve had those three lines from the song stuck in my head.

I’ll Come Running - Brian Eno

Album: Another Green World

Year: 1975

Track: Album Track

Whilst waiting for my gate to open at Heathrow, I listened to Brian Eno’s Ambient 1: Music for Airports, which I would highly recommend doing to anyone who plans to someday be at an airport, because that albums hits different at an airport. But on the flight back, I decided to try another one of Eno’s ambient albums - Another Green World. Unlike Airports however, this album also contains songs with vocals, including this track, which features King Crimson’s Robert Fripp on lead guitar. There are lyrics featured towards the end of the song that really struck a cord with me:

You'll see, one day, these dreams will pull you through my door

And I'll come running to tie your shoe

They reminded me of a time a little while back, when my girlfriend and I were at a train station, waiting for our train, and her sock had fallen down. Immediately, I knelt down and removed her shoe, adjusted her sock, slipped her shoe back on for her, and tied her shoes back up for her (note: I may have zipped them up instead). But I love just being able to do something small to help her, and this song really captured that feeling for me.

#music #playlist #spotify #rod stewart #the cars #the divine comedy #cryalot #kero kero bonito #shonen knife #kurt cobain #my bloody valentine #my chemical romance #pavement #rush #brian eno #king crimson #the office

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farm-witches-fic-recs · 2 years

Note

What makes a good comment? Is it weird to comment again on a re-read?

Friend, thank you so much for asking this question.

Commenting is such an important part of the creative process for writers, but there can be an element of uncertainty or even anxiety for readers who want to leave feedback and encouragement but feel like they don’t know what to say.

We’re going to take this opportunity to provide a handy set of suggestions based on our own experiences as writers, readers, and commenters.

The Farm Witch Guide to Commenting

Any comment is a good comment. (Unless you’re going to be a troll. If that’s your plan, then don’t comment.) Be kind.

Unless the author has explicitly asked for constructive criticism, the comment section is absolutely not the place for it.

Emojis are just as valid as words. Leave a heart or a crying face, heart eyes, whatever. Go crazy and string them together like a modern hieroglyphic sentence.

Don’t know where to start? Go with what you were thinking about while you read it. “This is so funny/sweet/soft!” or “This was a wonderful story!” or “I loved this!”. Concise, simple comments are still very meaningful.

Pick out a specific line or moment that really spoke to you, surprised you, or gave you all the feels. Copy and paste that line into the comment and add why it caught your attention. (“This was so (character).” or “I never thought about (character) that way before.”)

Did the fic make you do something unusual? Tell them about it! (“I stayed up SO LATE to read this because I couldn’t stop!” or “I read this in my dentist’s waiting room and I have no regrets.”) Writers also love to know that their work made a bad/sad day better.

If there was something personal that connected you to the fic, then tell them “I felt this.” or “This meant a lot to me.”

Don’t be afraid to be “rude”. Most writers will happily tell you some of their favorite comments are the ones in shouty caps and include curse words. Depending on your comfort level, go on and yell about all the stupid feelings you have now and that you can’t believe you’re crying over (whatever). Seriously, “fuck you (affectionate)” is really the highest of compliments.

Don’t not comment on a fic just because it’s not new or fairly recent. We know that social media culture frowns on interacting with older posts, but that’s absolutely not true with fics. We guarantee that Jane Austen would still love to hear that you enjoyed her work.

Re-read comments are the best. These tell the writer that not only did you like the fic enough to come back and read it again, you took the time to tell them that you did. Truly an incredible kind of validation.

We know that some readers think they shouldn’t leave comments because they won’t be “good enough”, as if the comments are payment for the work. The comments that readers leave are the payment. It’s a thank you for the time and effort and care that writers put into these characters that we love and letting us experience them in a different way.

What a comment says is not nearly as important as the fact that you, as a reader, took a moment to acknowledge that you enjoyed the fic that you just read and you are grateful the author was brave enough to share it with the world.

We hope this helps!

#ask a farm witch #engage with your faves #writers need love #comments are encouraging

628 notes · View notes

therealvinelle · 3 years

Note

Ok I'm embarrassed to admit this, but I'm just now copying your Norwegian Bella AU into a text translator, and if you don't already have 50 people in your inbox demanding a translation then shame on ALL OF US because this is glorious! And while Google Translate does have a certain charm (it translated "piper hun ut" as "she beeps") I'm curious to see how you'd put it in English.

Troquantary is referring to this post. In which Bella doesn't speak English.

Fun fact, you're the only one who's gone into my inbox to request this. I was so sad, had the translation half-written and everything, but I was too proud to beg. So thank you, Troquantary, for popping this ask.

As for the dictionary fuckups, sounds about right. I made a few typos, too, that made Google Translate suffer even more. (Such as managing to mix up "henne" (her) and "hendene" (hands), resulting in Aro patting Bella instead of clapping his hands. Poor Google.)

Also, there are a few cultural references and language things that would be lost in the translation, in an attempt to keep them I included notes clarifying things.

Some things, like Aro and Carlisle's very old man way of speaking, are easier said than done to translate, you'll have to bear with me there.

Additional notes are that I added a few things to this version, many of them because translating is hard, but a few because while translating I thought "oh you know what would be much funnier-" and then wrote that.

Alright, without further ado:

When Renée left Charlie she did not go to Florida, she went to Oslo. And she went all in to make her daughter a true Norwegian, hiring Norwegian nannies and making sure never to speak English around the child. Since transatlantic flights are expensive, little Bella Swan rarely got to visit her father, and as such she never did learn what should have been her native language.

She quickly forgot what English she did have in favor of Norwegian, with the exception of words like “Yes”, “No”, and “I’m Bella”.

The few trips she took to visit her father were all the more awkward than in canon since she couldn’t play with the Black kids. Let not the blame fall upon Charlie: he took Norwegian classes and speaks conversational Norwegian. He can’t speak to Renée, because her Norwenglish is incomprehensible even to Norwegians, but he can communicate with Bella.

Not that he’s had a lot of chances to do so.

Bella makes it to seventeen years old, she’s in second grade at Handels* and is a major outsider among the preps there, and then Renée marries a handsome skier**. Together they shall travel the continent all winter to participate in as many skiing races as they can, and in the summer they’ll take gigs at Hurtigruta to see the coast.

*“Handels” is the nickname for an Oslo high school infamous for its pupils being rich and beautiful blonds who are going to be CEOs when they grow up.

**Skiing as a sport is huge in Norway

***Hurtigruta is a famous ferry that travels across the Norwegian West coast

Bella, who sucks at skiing and is too young to work at Hurtigruten, takes the hint.

With dread in her stomach and dictionary in hand she goes to her father in America.

Where she doesn’t speak the language.

Faen.

Charlie gives her a car, and I wish this meta was set in the present because I could have joked about electric cars and the automat only driver’s license*, but Twilight is set in 2005 so I can’t. The car part proceeds without drama.

*An increasing number of Norwegian youth take the driver’s license for automatic cars only, and we’re the country in the world with the highest percentage of electric car purchases.

School is worse than in canon, because she is now a thousand times more sensational than if she was merely the new student. She is from another country! All of Forks keels over with excitement.

To make matters even worse, our girl doesn’t understand a word of what people are saying.

She is too awkward to let them know she doesn’t know English. It’d become a thing, and they might think she’s dumb. To be fair, it’s not good that she’s been through primary, secondary, and now a year and a half of high school and still sucks at English.

So she nods, smiles, mumbles “Hi, I��m Bella” to the new faces, and blushes heavily when anybody says anything.

People assume she’s shy. That’s a bit boring, but oh well.

She has her biology class with the redhead hottie she noticed during lunch. She watched him and his family, they were fascinatingly pretty, but she doesn’t know anything more about them. Sure would have been great if she could have asked the tiny girl (was it Jess?) about them.

Biology proceeds as in canon - Edward badly wants to eat the delicious girl, but fortunately doesn’t.

She runs into him in the office when he tries to switch to another biology lesson, but she has no idea what he’s saying so she only has the suspicion that this somehow concerns her. Which is still uncomfortable, but Bella is probably the problem here. The hottie surely can’t be.

He’s missing from school for a week, Bella finds that weird.

He returns, and to her great horror he starts talking to her.

“Hello”, he says.

Bella dies inside. He’s too handsome!

"I'm Edward Cullen," he continues, and ok, she got that. The hottie is called Edward, that’s good to know. She’s not sure she caught that last name, though, Köln?

He says something else, it’s gibberish to Bella even though she’s concentrating, and at the end there he says “Bella Swan”.

She gulps.

"I'm Bella Swan," she confirms and nods. That should be correct. God, she hopes it’s correct.

He smiles a crooked, boyish smile. She’s awed. She didn’t think it was possible to be so beautiful.

He says something else.

Bella didn’t catch it.

She blushes even harder, she hasn’t been more embarrassed in her life. Here he is, the most handsome guy in all the world, and she has nothing to say to him. Literally, they don’t speak the same language.

She should tell him.

It’s one thing to chicken out of telling the town she doesn’t speak English, but there’s something different about Edward Cullen. He deserves the truth.

But...

He’s the most beautiful person she has seen in her life. He is American, too, so the odds of him knowing Norwegian are microscopical. If he finds out she doesn’t understand a word he says he’ll stop talking to her, and selfish as she is she doesn’t want that.

So with a slightly guilty conscience (but not enough to fess up) she contributes to the conversation with enough words and smiles to pull through. "Yes", "No", "Thank you", and "That's nice".

He is surprised by several of these answers, but instead of giving her odd looks and losing interest he grows more invested in the conversation.

Class ends.

The next day the near accident happens, and he saves her. She is stunned - dear god, did he just pick up a whole car? After teleporting across the parking lot..?

Soon she’s in the ER, and more than a little bit stressed about that fact since she knows the Americans have a terrible healthcare system.

She hopes Charlie has an insurance.

An insanely beautiful man walks into the ER, and Bella is shocked. He is just as handsome as Edward and Edward’s lunch friends!

He introduces himself as Carlisle Cullen, and Bella can only assume this is someone’s older brother. Possibly related to the blonde girl.

He smiles at her, says something, and she answers, "I'm Bella Swan."

He frowns.

That must have been the wrong answer, then.

His hands return to investigating her scalp, and to her great surprise he switches to perfect Norwegian, "kjenner De* noe ubehag når jeg holder her?" Do you feel any discomfort when I touch here?

*De is the Norwegian polite pronoun for “you”. Du = thou = the French tu, and De = you = the French vous. These polite pronouns went out of use in the 1980’s, save for when addressing royal persons, and would be considered antiquated in 2005.

He hurries to add, "Norsk lærte jeg i... fjor sommer. Det var et nettkurs." I learned Norwegian… last year. Online class.

"Hvilket da?" Which one? Bella asks, because Charlie needs to hear about this. The doctor has beautiful, if slightly outdated, pronunciation.

The doctor’s smile turns uncertain. She gets the feeling there’s something he doesn’t want to say. "Husker ikke," I don’t remember, sier han etter en litt vel lang pause.

That’s a shame. And weird.

"De hadde hellet med Dem i dag, som ikke ble truffet av den bilen." You were lucky today, not getting hit by that car. he then says, noticeably changing the subject.

"Det var ikke hell, det var Edward," It wasn’t luck, it was Edward, she replies sharply.

The doctor definitely looks uncomfortable.

She continues, "Han krysset skolegården på et blunk, og plukket opp hele bilen. Jeg så det," He crossed the schoolyard in a moment, and picked up the whole car. I saw it,

The doctor laughs. "Om han kunne det hadde nok gymkarakteren hans vært meget bedre. Nei, frøken Swan*, jeg beklager å si at det høres ut som at De er litt omtåket. Det er helt normalt ved hjernerystelse." If he could do that, his PE grade would be a lot better. No, Miss Swan, I’m sorry to say you seem confused. That’s normal with concussions.

*Addressing a young woman as “frøken” is even more outdated than using polite pronouns.

Why does Bella get the feeling he’s lying?

She’s discharged.

We’ll jump ahead to her trip to La Push - that trip uneventful, since Jacob knows she doesn’t speak English. They stick their hands in their pockets and stare at the sea.

The next day she’s shanghaied to Port Angeles, because apparently she said “Yes” at the wrong time when talking to Jessica (Turns out Jess’s name was Jessica!) and accidentally said yes to a day trip to Port Angeles.

Like in canon she wanders away from the others, and as in canon she is nearly gang raped. And again as in canon she is saved at the last moment by Edward.

He buys her dinner, and she can’t believe her own luck- and misfortune. A date with the most handsome guy on the planet (hence the luck) and she can’t say a word to him (hence the misfortune)!

He says things to her, lends her his jacket, and really this is it for Bella, she’s peaked, life can’t get better than this.

(That’s a lie, it would be better if she spoke English.)

He’s so amazing.

She’s gotten pretty good at navigating conversations with him, so she nods and aha’s her way through.

In his car on the way home the tone takes a more serious turn.

He asks her about something, and it’s a serious question, that much she’s gathered. She answers in the confirmative.

He is silent.

Did she say anything wrong?

(Edward, on his end, just asked if she knows what he is. She said yes, so calmly, not even a trace of fear in her.)

A few days later he takes her out on a walk in the woods.

He shows her a meadow in the woods, and when he steps into it he lights up in the sunlight.

Bella is in shock.

She knew there was something different about him, but- holy cow. This guy isn’t human.

Is she dating a god?

She stumbles into the clearing after him, and they spend a day together where he says things, and she can barely hear any of it (nevermind understand it) because she’s so distracted by how pretty he is.

The next day he takes her to a house in the middle of nowhere. She doesn’t want to guess that this can be where he lives. Surely gods don’t live in houses?

He shows her inside the house, and introduces her for Dr. Cullen and a lady with a name she doesn’t catch.

Bit weird that these two are acting like a couple of parents, they’re far too young and divine for that.

Edward shows her around in an old-fashioned office, and she doesn’t know what to make of i when she sees a painting of Carlisle. Edward launches into a long story when he sees her watching it, unfortunately she doesn’t catch any dates or artist names. At one point she heard the word “suicide”, though, and that’s not good.

She doesn’t get much out of the story.

The baseball game doesn’t happen because Bella didn’t pick up on what Edward wanted and didn’t realize she was being invited to a thing. They spend the afternoon watching a movie instead.

The relationship continues, impeded slightly by communication problems, but she’s mostly able to cover those up.

Until her birthday comes around.

She gets a papercut.

Jasper lunges at her. Edward throws her into a glass table, and then everyone is leaving.

Carlisle is kind enough to switch to Norwegian when he’s stitching up her arm, perhaps remembering the last time she was his patient. "Jasper har ikke vært på dietten vår så veldig lenge." Jasper hasn’t been on our diet for very long.

"Diett?"she asks. She’s never seen Edward eat anything. She wasn’t clear on what the Cullens ate, honestly she thought they were above such things. She was thinking maybe photosynthesis. The knowledge that they apparently eat food astounds her, but diets?

"Dyreblod istedenfor menneskeblod," Animal blood in stead of human blood, Carlisle clarifies.

Whachasay?

Carlisle gives a slight smile. “Jaspers liv som vampyr fikk en brutal start." Jasper’s life as a vampire got off to a brutal start.

...

Vampire?!

Bella’s missed something here.

Oh dear lord, oh fy faen, she has missed something.

“Åja”, uh huh, is all she can say, and suddenly she’s very aware of the fact that she’s sitting there with a bleeding arm.

And Carlisle.

Who is a vampire.

Over the course of the following conversation Bella makes a host of discoveries.

Edward has been a vampire this whole time, and he’s a telepathic vampire. Whether Bella should be a vampire too or not has been a matter of hot debate, but due to religious reasons Edward doesn’t want that.

Carlisle also brings up how Edward died of the Spanish flu.

"Jeg var under den oppfatning at Edward fortalte deg bakhistorien min?" I was under the impression Edward told you my back story? Carlisle asks at one point, and Bella just has to ask very nicely if he’d be so kind as to repeat it.

Turns out the guy is nearly four hundred years old.

Jaha.

Jahahaha jaa ha.

That’s… a lot.

She wanders out of the house in shock, and hardly notices Edward’s strange behavior over the next couple of days.

One day he picks her up at school, and takes her behind the house.

That works out.

He’s a vampire, but he never hurt her. He is endlessly beautiful, perhaps easier to love now that she knows he’s not a god. He’s her Edward, and that’s suddenly easier now that she knows.

They can still be together.

But now that she knows this about him, it’s about time he knows something about her as well.

It’s time to finally be honest with him.

So when he opens his mouth, she opens her mouth as well, but she doesn’t get any further than to “Edward-” before he launches into a monologue.

She’ll have to wait until he’s done before saying her piece. It’s a bit embarrassing, but it doesn’t seem like he intends to stop talking anyway.

And what he’s saying seems to be serious, so it’s probably best to let him finish.

Edward concludes his monologue by kissing her forehead. Then he disappears.

Where did he go?

A big unsure, Bella goes back to the house. She’ll just have to wait until he gets back.

She doesn’t know what to think when Charlie returns from work and tells her the Cullens have all left.

Oh, god.

Edward must have found out she doesn’t speak English.

She made a mockery of him.

He has every right to leave.

Knowing this doesn’t make it any easier to live with.

Bella sinks into a depression.

The hallucinations begin, as in canon, though Hallusinward speaks Norwegian. Thank god for small mercies.

The friendship with Jacob (dictionary in hand) blooms, as someone has to help her see those hallucinations.

The cliff diving happens, and Alice shows up. Bella’s not sure what this is about, but she has gotten good enough at English to know that something bad happened, and Alice wants them to do something.

She’s a bit surprised to find herself on a plane to Italy, though.

Alice tells her to “Run to Edward” and ok, she got that, actually.

So she saves Edward.

After that she’s taken into the sewer, which turns out to house dozens of vampires.

Bella, Edward, and Alice are received in some kind of hall, where an unusual vampire has quite a bit to say. She understands some of what he’s saying, at least the part about “la tua cantante”. She knows a bit about Italian, see, so she knows that he’s talking about a song now.

She wishes she knew the context.

At one point he takes her hand, and appears fascinated by it. She wonders if he’s a palmreader. Not very vampirey, but what does she know.

He asks her a question.

"Yes," she says.

Saying yes has gotten her this far, after all.

But when he lights up and claps his hands together, and Edward and Alice stare at her in shock and betrayal, she knows she must have said the wrong thing.

The two are dismissed from the room before Bella can do or say anything, she’s just listening to Edward make a racket outside in the hallway.

Not good.

The unusual vampire brings her further down in his sewer palace to a basement, and she is given comfortable clothes to wear.

This is getting terrifying.

The vampire leans towards her - and she chickens out.

"Jeg snakker ikke engelsk!" she squeaks. "Non habla ingles!" I don’t speak English.

Han stanser, og ser forvirret ut. "Que- Hva behager*?" I beg your pardon? spør han etter et øyeblikk.

*A very formal, and slightly outdated (you can use it, but people will think you’re putting on airs. And they will be right) way of saying “excuse me?”

Sobbing, Bella tells him the whole story, from how she didn’t want to be the weird kid in school to how she’s now somehow in Italy without knowing why nor what she just agreed to.

When she’s done the vampire starts laughing.

"Dette forklarer jo en hel del," This explains quite a bit, ler han. "Men, kjære Bella, jeg er redd det ikke endrer noe." But, my dear Bella, I’m afraid it changes nothing.

He tells her that she has agreed to serve him and his army of undead warriors into eternity.

Well fuck.

"Du skal få slippe det, når du ikke visste hva du samtykket til - men skjebnen din forblir den samme. Loven er loven." You’re released from that promise, as you didn’t know what you agreed to - but your fate remains the same. The law is the law.

After a moment of silence, during which she looks terrified, he hurries to add, "Vi har en lov. Du må bli en av oss." We have a law. You must become one of us.

A law that Bella Swan has to become a vampire?

People are finally speaking Norwegian, and Bella is still lost. And it’s too embarrassing to keep pestering this poor, polite man with questions.

So she nods.

He gives her a glittering smile, and bites her.

When she wakes, Aro offers her an English course. A language course that, naturally, leads to her staying in Volterra. Why not learn a few more languages while we’re at it, dearest Bella?

Some time later Edward breaks into Volterra to save his Rapunzel, only to barely recognize her now that she’s a vampire who says things. Lots of things, she talks all the time now. WHAT DID ARO DO TO HER.

Too mortified to admit that she never spoke English, Bella claims she’s been brainwashed.

Aro is having too much fun to correct her, and the whole sad affair sets off a regrettable flood of rumors.

#troquantary #norwegian things #bella swan #twilight #twilight meta #twilight renaissance #evighetens kyss #evighetens kyss meta #evighetens kyss renessanse

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favefandomimagines · 3 years

Text

I Bought A Ring (e.b.)

Summary: Abby’s back and Buck doesn’t know how to handle the news. And neither do you.

AN: i’m still PISSED that abby came back even if only for an episode, my poor buck was so hurt ): this was something i had deep in my drafts and now that buck is blowing up it seemed like a good time to post it!

there is a buck fic similar to this and i just wanna say that i did not copy or steal the idea. i’ve had this in my drafts for months since season 3 ended so no one stole anyone’s idea! if you wanna check out their fic their username is @lotsoflovefromlea and the fic is titled ‘Second Best’ it’s really really good

You didn’t think you’d have to face the day when Buck’s past came back to haunt him. You were hoping it would stay in the past and you would be his future. But life has a funny way of putting us to the test.

After the train crash, and Buck saw Abby again, he had been acting distant. Distant enough for you to notice that something was wrong. It wasn’t hard to notice, especially when the two of you live together.

He would rarely talk when you had the same shift at the 118, there was no conversation during dinner and he’d come to bed long after you had already fallen asleep.

It had gotten to the point where you didn’t even remember the last time he kissed you or touched you. And you had enough of the maltreatment.

You exited the shower and saw him standing in the kitchen, leaning against the counter. You walked down the stairs and stood across from him, the tension between the two of you painfully obvious.

“What’s been going on with you?” You asked, breaking the ice. “What do you mean?” He asked, not meeting your gaze. “Seriously? Buck, you’ve been acting like I killed your dog for three weeks since the train crash. What the hell is going on?” You explained.

Buck sighed before looking up at you. He knew he couldn’t keep secrets from you. Including ones that could possibly change your relationship.

“Abby reached out to me. She wanted to meet up to talk.” He said. Buck could tell by the way your right eyebrow was raised and your eyes narrowed that you were not happy. “Really? And you went?” You asked. “Yeah.” Buck answered quietly.

You laughed bitterly before walking around the counter back towards the stairs. “God, you just can’t seem to let her go, can you?” You started. “It’s been, what? Two years? Two years since she left you for her ‘Eat, Pray, Love’ experience and got engaged? And who was the one who never left your side? Me. It was me, Evan and even now, you can’t seem to realize how terrible she was to you. Face it, you were her midlife crisis and you fell in love with her and never fell back out. All while making me fall in love with you.” You finished.

Sure you were a tad bit cruel, but it was what he needed to hear. No one wanting to be the one who had to pop his perfect bubble when it came to Abby.

“I stayed with you when you were suing the department for christ sake! And I can’t do it anymore, Evan.” You added. There it was again. His dreaded first name. The name you never used unless you were beyond angry with him. And he hated hearing it come from your lips. “Y/N, what do you mean?” He asked.

Fear was coursing through his body as he waited for you to finally leave him. After everything he put you through, Abby was the last straw.

“I mean, maybe we should take a break. Until you figure out what it is you really want.” You answered. It wasn’t something you wanted nor did you think it would ever happen. “No. No, no, Y/N, don’t do this.” He begged, walking towards you. “I have too. Since she came back, this relationship has been one sided and I don’t deserve that.” You said.

“Please, Y/N, I love you.” Buck told you. “Do you? Because you have a funny way of showing it.” You replied. You swiftly grabbed your keys and your purse and made a path towards the exit. “So this is it? You’re breaking up with me?” Buck asked, causing you to stop.

“I don’t want to. But you seem to have unresolved feelings for Abby and you can’t claim to love one person wholeheartedly when you clearly don’t. Figure it out, Buck. But remember who was here when no one else was.” You answered before leaving the house.

You didn’t know where else to go after you left. So you decided to go to Bobby and Athena’s. Bobby was like a father to you when you joined the 118 and you trusted him more than you trusted most people.

After trying to straighten yourself up and wipe the tears from your face, you got out of the car and headed to the front door. You knocked a couple of times and waited for the door to open.

When it did, Athena’s face softened when she saw you and instantly knew something was wrong. “Y/N? What’s wrong? What happened?” She asked, ushering you inside. “I didn’t know where else to go.” You answered.

Bobby, wondering who was at the door, turned the corner and saw you standing in the entryway. “Y/N, what’s wrong?” He asked. “Buck and I got into a fight. He went to meet up with Abby and he didn’t tell meand I just, I just don’t understand why he won’t let her go. Am I not enough?” You explained.

Athena shushed you and pulled you into a hug to comfort you. She knew Buck was stubborn but not so much that you felt you had to leave. Bobby was furious. He hated seeing you so upset and he was frustrated with the young man for making you think you weren’t enough for him.

After a few minutes, Athena made up the guest bedroom for you and said you could stay as long as you needed. But you hoped it wouldn’t have to be for long.

Bobby arrived at the station in search for Buck and found him sulking while Hen and Chimney were grilling him about his mood. “What’s wrong with you today?” Chimney asked. “Him and Y/N got in a fight last night and she walked out on him.” Bobby answered for him.

Buck looked up at his captain with wide eyes, wondering how he knew about the prior events. “She stayed at mine and Athena’s last night.” He added. Buck let out a sigh of relief, mainly because he was worried sick about you. You didn’t answer a single one of his calls or texts and he didn’t know where you went off to.

“Why did she walk out on you?” Hen asked. “Because I may have went to meet up with Abby the other day. And apparently I had been acting distant towards Y/N and she confronted me.” Buck explained. “Seriously? You still have feelings for Abby?” Hen asked. “No, Hen-” Buck tried to explain but was interrupted by his coworkers.

“Y/N is the perfect girl for you and you’re throwing her away for someone who left you?” She continued. “Hen,” Buck started. “You’re stupid but not this stupid.” She said. “Hen! I don’t have feelings for Abby anymore. I wanted to give her a chance to explain why she left and to thank her. Because if she wouldn’t have left, I wouldn’t have met Y/N.” Buck interrupted.

“And I,” He started before he stopped himself, not sure if he wanted to tell everyone his secret. “You what?” Eddie asked. Buck looked up at his friends before sighing. “I bought a ring.” He answered. “Wait, what?” Chimney asked. “I bought a ring. I was going to propose but then I got all in my head after Abby showed up. I thought Y/N would say no and she’d leave me just like Abby did.” Buck explained.

The rest of the 118 crew was silent as they looked down at Buck. Hen sat down across from him before speaking. “That girl is head over heels in love with you, Buck. She has been since the first time she met you and the last thing she would do is leave you like Abby did. Though, because of Abby, she felt she had no choice.” She said.

“I need to get her back. I didn’t even know what to do this morning without her.” Buck said. “When does she come in for her shift?” He asked Bobby. “She was supposed to be here by now. She left before me.” The man answered.

Before anyone could form a theory about your whereabouts, the bell went off signaling they had a call.

They soon arrived to the scene of a car accident, one car completely flipped upside down.

The 118 stopped short, however, when they noticed who’s car was upside down. It was yours that was hit by a guy texting and driving and ran a red light.

“Y/N?” Buck called, running to the driver side door. “Buck, you’re too close to this.” Bobby stopped him. “We’re all too close to this, Bobby.” Buck rebutted. Bobby looked at Athena and gestured for her to keep Buck away from the scene. “Keep him away from her.” He instructed his. wife.

Eddie began trying to get the door off and Hen and Chimney noticed you were still conscious, struggling to get out and stay awake.

“Y/N, can you hear me?” Hen asked. “Yeah. I-I can hear you.” You stammered. “I have a piece of shrapnel between the third and fourth intercostal space. Mild to severe concussion and around three broken ribs, and a possible pulmonary contusion.” You told them.

Both EMTs were surprised that you could still diagnose and recognize your symptoms while having a concussion and actively bleeding.

Once the door was off the car, Hen and Chimney set down the backboard and Eddie began cutting your seatbelt.

“Where’s Buck?” You asked him. “Bobby won’t let him help. He’s too close to this one.” Eddie answered. “Aren’t you all though?” You joked. Eddie laughed dryly as the seatbelt was cut free. “Can you move?” He asked.

You looked down at the piece of metal from the seat and back up at him. “You have to pull it out.” You told him. “Y/N,” Eddie started. “Eddie, you have to pull it out or I won’t be able to move. I have a concussion, I’m already bleeding and in about five minutes I’m going to pass out. I will slowly bleed out from the inside if I don’t move. Pull the damn thing out.” You snapped.

Eddie looked at you for a moment before glancing over at Buck, arguing with Athena. As Eddie pulled the piece of metal out of your side, Buck broke free of Athena’s grasp and fell to his friend’s side.

“Y/N, baby, are you okay?” He asked frantically. “I’m going to pass out in a couple of seconds so I’m sorry, Buck. For what happened last night.” You spoke, your breathing becoming shallower. “Buck we gotta move her.” Eddie told him.

Your eyes fell closed slowly and the heart rate monitor attached to you started beeping rapidly. “We gotta get her out now.” Hen instructed. Bobby pulled Buck back as he watched in horror while his friends began giving you CPR once they pulled you from the car.

Your heart beat thankfully went back to normal and Chimney and Hen loaded you into the back of the ambulance.

Buck took the liberty of joining you considering he was your emergency contact, having no other family in LA.

Once the ambulance arrived at the hospital, Buck, Chimney and Hen were forced to stay at the ER bay, not being allowed to go with you.

Buck watched as the doctors took you away and this quickly became his worst nightmare. What if you didn’t make it? What if the last conversation you had was a fight?

Bobby’s hand rested on Buck’s shoulder as they all watched you disappear down the hallway.

It had been hours. Hours of the 118 sitting in the waiting room for you to come out of surgery. Buck was a nervous wreck and no amount of consoling from Maddie or Eddie made it any better. He knew she should have told you about meeting with Abby but he was afraid of ruining everything. But not telling you made it ten times worse.

“Evan Buckley?” A doctor called, alerting the entire crew. “Th-That’s me. I’m Evan Buckley.” Buck replied. “Y/N is going to be okay. We repaired the damage to her lung as well as the other internal damage she received from the car crash. She still had a major concussion and she’ll be out of commission for a while, but she got incredibly lucky.” The doctor explained.

Buck let out a very visible sigh of relief, as did everyone else. “Can I see her?” Buck asked. “She’s in the ICU so only a couple of people at a time.” The doctor said. “You go, Buck. We’ll see her when she’s moved to a normal room.” Bobby told him.

He nodded his head and followed the doctor to your room. He saw you lying in the hospital bed, multiple IVs in your hands and arms and an oxygen tube in your nose.

Your eyes were still closed but he could tell you were awake, though hearing the doctor’s voice alerted you.

“Y/N, someone’s here to see you.” You turned your head slightly and saw Buck standing in the doorway. “Hi.” You said quietly, your voice still hoarse from the breathing tube in surgery.

Buck sat in the chair next to you, his eyes red and watering. “I am so sorry, Y/N,” He whispered. “I should have told you about Abby but I met with her to get closure. And to thank her because if she wouldn’t have left me, I wouldn’t have fallen in love with you.” He added.

“It’s okay. I should have let you explained.” You replied. “I have something else to tell you.” Buck said. “Oh no, now what?” You joked. “I bought a ring.” He said. “Like, a ring ring?” You questioned. “Yes, a ring ring.” Buck laughed. “Where is it?” You asked.

Buck let go of your hand for a moment and fished the piece of jewelry out of his pocket.

“You have to put it on for me.” You said. Buck looked at you in disbelief as he smiled, sliding the ring on your left finger. “I’m assuming that’s a yes.” He said. “Of course it is. I’d be stupid to say no to you.” You told him with a smile.

Buck squeezed your hand gently as he looked at the ring on your finger. “I never want to come that close to losing you ever again.” He muttered. “You won’t. I don’t plan on leaving you for a long time.” You said. “Good. Because I really don’t know what I’d do without you.” Buck said.

He leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on your forehead as you looked down at the ring. “You did a good job.” You commented. Buck laughed at your comment, causing a smile to grace your face. “Hen and Maddie helped.” He said. “I figured as much.” You replied.

The rest of the evening, or whatever time of day you thought it was, Buck stayed by your side. Even when the doctors were running their tests and looking over your condition. After almost losing you, there was no way you were going to get rid of Buck even for a moment.

#imagine #imagines #911 imagine #911 fox #911 lone star #evan buckley #evan buckley imagine #evan buckley x reader #evan buckley oneshot #oliver stark

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realmofimagines · 2 years

Text

What’s Your Real Name? (Leon S. Kennedy x Female!Reader)

Wordcount: 4041 Content: Explicit smut, mentions of alcohol, mentions of drugs, Request: yes Note: again this was rushed and unedited im sorry fjsdfksf but i’m so excited for this to be posted that i’ll edit it afterwards, so please do bear with if you notice any errors :)) (also omfg i hate how when i copy and paste tumblr formatting removes all of my italic shsdfhsdf)

“A bottle of whiskey, please? Thanks.”

Curious as to whom the voice belonged to, you turned your head subtly, feigning as if you were adjusting a loose strand of hair, and spotted your target. You might’ve been blessed with the easiest, most recognisable target in your entire history of working as a spy — who could miss that haircut?!

As the man you knew as Leon Kennedy received his bottle as well as a glass, his eyes slid across the bar and made eye contact with yours. You quickly looked away and smiled to yourself as if you were suddenly shy, though you were simply just a master of your own body language, meticulously in tune with how your behaviour could attract someone.

Leon, as if on cue, took up the seat beside you.

“You were staring,” he pointed out, pouring himself a glass.

You sighed, toying with your now empty martini glass as you turned to look at him. He was extremely handsome up close, and if you weren’t on the job you might’ve jumped his bones that very second.

“You caught me,” you answered, stretching a smile. You quickly looked around the bar, sweeping your eyes across the drunken mob as if you were looking for someone.

“You here alone?” Leon asked, noticing your behaviour.

“I wasn’t supposed to be,” you lied, resting your face on your fist. “I think I’ve been stood up.”

Small little things like this were always your tactic when seducing someone. Creating a reason for them to feel empathetic, even for the briefest of seconds, was enough to hook somebody into a conversation.

“Ouch,” he responded. “What, a first date?”

“Something like that,” you shrugged, sliding your glass away as you lifted your hand to raise the attention of a bartender. Leon caught your wrist gently, and ushered it down as he instead took the lead.

“Another drink for the lady, please.”

You beamed. “Thank you, that’s very sweet,”

“It’s the least I can do,” he responded, his dark eyes glancing at you from over the rim of his glass as he took another shot. “Can’t leave a pretty woman all on her own. That’d be cruel of me.”

You laughed. “Don’t fool yourself — this is clearly mutually beneficial. Where are your friends?”

He paused, realising that you’d called him out for also having been here alone. You wondered what he was doing — was he looking for somebody to accompany him to bed, or was he really that much of a raging alcoholic that his profile said he was?

He grinned, refilling his glass. “You’re very observant. I’m surprised you couldn’t tell that guy you were supposed to be meeting was a jerk earlier on.”

“Yeah well,” you shrugged, taking a sip of the martini that Leon had reordered for you. You quickly glanced at his bottle, noticing how fast he was able to knock it down. A man with such little care for how he drank certainly would have a strong tolerance, as such your preferred method of drugging would have to wait for a while. If he noticed himself becoming inebriated too fast, he would definitely suspect something.

“Maybe I was trying to be optimistic for once. I’ve been trying out this online dating thing and it is not going well. So I meet this guy in person and I think well, this has to be more promising than Jason offering nothing but an unsatisfactory one night stand two miles away, so… here I am.”

“Yeah… not a fan of online dating myself, or dating in general,” he admitted.

Now that certainly piqued your interest. Perhaps he was too busy with the DSO, or maybe he’d had his heart broken. You were too nosy to not press on the matter.

“What, did you get your heart broken?” You asked, sipping your liquor.

“Something along those lines… guess I just spent too much time chasing the wrong girl,” he admitted, glancing away for a moment. “Besides, I’m too busy with work anyways.”

“Oh? What do you do for work?” You questioned. It was useless, you already knew, but you had to gain his trust before you were able to lure him in and interrogate him.

He lidded his eyes. “I work for the government.”

You laughed, realising you probably weren’t going to get much out of him at the moment. “Don’t we all?”

“Well, what do you do for work?” He questioned.

“I’m a nurse,” you admitted, lying so easily through your teeth. It was second nature. Sometimes you weren’t even entirely sure who you were anymore. Ignoring your own twinge of self-hatred, you quickly called in the next round of shots.

The rest of the night ran so easy, you almost forgot that you were here for a job. Find out what you can about the DSO, and report back to headquarters. Leon was so easily giving hints of information here and there — he was practically feeding you what you needed to know, even so much as indicating a location for his next “vacation”. I mean, who takes a vacation to Ohio anyways?

You’d sidled up against one another, your stools having edged so much closer over the night that your legs were practically between his. You were starting to notice the tell-tale signs of intoxication on his face, so with the first opportunity you had you popped open the bead on your bracelet, and tipped the contents of a loose powdered drug into his drink.

He turned his head back to you, looking flushed. His pupils were larger, indicating his evident attraction toward you. The look nearly winded you— gosh, he certainly was handsome. You mentally smacked yourself after you realised you’d already had this thought and that you were getting distracted. You were letting this man distract you. You wondered what he looked like under that leather jacket…

“So… what’d you say, let’s get out of here?” He slurred alluringly.

Swallowing, you had to adjust yourself in your dress as you felt yourself becoming suddenly very hot and wet. You just smiled, knowing that you had about thirty minutes until he would likely pass out, and hopefully by then you’d be able to snap yourself out of this funk.

“I have a hotel just down the street.” You answered. The room had been prepped and prepared for you for you upon arrival

“Perfect,” he answered, slamming a wad of cash down on the bar before lifting his glass up, not breaking eye contact with you once. You watched his every move, right down to the bob of his Adam’s apple that would indicate he had swallowed before you dared to shift from your seat. Once you were satisfied, you took his hand and lured him towards the exit of the bar.

The hotel wasn’t far, but the sudden atmospheric change from the hot, crowded bar to the cold November air outside was enough for you to realise that you weren’t all that sober yourself. It would be fine — you were still a dangerous woman, drunk or not. You’d never failed a mission before, and you certainly weren’t about to let Leon S. Kennedy and his stupid haircut break your streak.

“Here,” he suddenly said, shrugging his jacket off of his shoulders.

Usually you were cold and apathetic, but he was so effortlessly able to stir something within you that had you doubting your every move. You hadn’t felt guilt like this since your first assassination, and you weren’t even here to kill the man.

You’d been so trapped in your own train of thought that you didn’t have time to reject his offer, and soon his jacket was draped over your shoulders. The smell of dior cologne encased you, and with each inhale you felt it intoxicate you further.

With the sudden buzz of your phone in your pocket, and a sly glance which revealed a notification from your boss asking about the status of the job, you suddenly felt more sober. Your back straightened, and you coolly led the way to your hotel room with a swipe of your key card. You allowed Leon inside first before you swiftly locked the door behind you.

“So, are you going to explain why you tried to drug me?” He asked pointedly, turning to face you with a brow raised.

Your stomach dropped, but you managed to maintain your composure and poker-face as you steadily glared across at him. You gave him an incredulous expression, feigning your complete ignorance to the entire situation. Had you not just seen him drink what you emptied into his glass? Did he have that fast of a hand that he’d emptied the contents before you’d noticed?

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about— I don’t do drugs, if that’s what you’re asking,” you answered. Leon’s brow creased, clearly unimpressed with your lack of honesty, and grabbed you by the shoulders. He thrust you backwards and into the door, his face screwed with annoyance.

“You have ten seconds to tell me who you are before I call the DSO in on your ass,” he threatened, his grip firm on the bare skin of your arms.

Your mouth wavered as you mentally fought for your best excuse in the situation you were in. It didn’t help that you were pressed against a wall by the man you’d been suppressing your arousal for all night. Leon was rough, and slammed his fist on the wall beside you.

Normally, this threatening situation wouldn’t frighten you. You were skilled and frankly had knives hidden on your person in case the situation ever got messy, but you’d been studying Leon enough all night to know he had a soft spot, a saviour complex hidden under layers of trauma. So, scared, vulnerable damsel in distress you would play.

“Please, I don’t know what you’re talking about!” You admitted, furrowing your brows with concern. He was so close you could practically feel his breath fanning on your cheek, lingering with the scent of booze.

“You know, I’ve been trying to work you all night to figure out who you are, where you come from,” Leon stated. You frowned, wondering if you’d really been played at your own game. “You’re difficult to crack, but I’ll figure you out.”

Realising the situation was futile and that you weren’t likely to get any information out of him, you completely dropped the act. You finger stroked down your dress, reaching and unsheathing the knife that was strapped to your thigh. At the same time his hand pulled a gun from under his shirt, aiming it directly over the blade you held out towards him and pointing straight between your eyebrows.

“Nobody wins here. The DSO already knows our location— you kill me, they’re coming after you, too.” He stated. His eyes suddenly narrowed with thought, and slowly he began to lower his weapon. “Besides, you won’t kill me. I know you feel it too.”

You hated admitting defeat, but he was right. You were in complete denial if you didn’t admit that being forced against the wall didn’t make your thighs slick with heat, that the feel of his breath on your skin gave you a second heartbeat… you had no idea who this man was, but you knew in that very second that this was a failed mission.

Your maintained eye contact, suddenly feeling sexual tension so thick that you could take a slice out of it with your knife if you wanted to. Unimpressed with your lack of response, Leon swiftly grabbed your hands and shoved them above your head.

“Now drop the knife,” he said, watching carefully as you released your grip on the knife from your hands that he continued to hold bound above your head. It clattered and bounced on the carpet, somewhere you likely wouldn’t be able to find it again. “Good girl.”

You chewed your lip, squeezing your thighs together.

“We’re going to get in trouble for this, you know.” Leon said, stating the obvious. At this point, your pussy was practically blazing with arousal, and you jutted your hips forwards, seeking relief.

“Nobody has to find out,” you quipped back. You weren’t thinking straight but neither was he. “Besides, I’m good at keeping secrets.”

As if eased by your statement, he immediately leaned forwards to pull you into a kiss. It was immediately hard and intense, hands so desperate for one another as they clumsily roamed over each other’s clothed bodies. Your fingers hungrily ran through his hair, tugging and pulling as he squeezed your hips and thighs. He hiked one thigh up over his hip, pressing his groin against yours. The layer of your dress and nylon tights made it nearly impossible for him to provide the pressure and friction that you longed for, so you pulled away from the kiss to start undressing yourself in a rushed manner.

Leon followed your lead and began unbuttoning his shirt, and was eager to reconnect with you once your garments pooled together on the ground beneath you. Your heels were next to be discarded, which were carelessly kicked away as he teetered you over the edge of the bed until you collapsed backwards onto it. His fingers made quick work of your tights, ripping the thin stocking like material from your sensitive skin with little care for the state of them as they tore during the process of him tossing them aside.

His eyes glanced over your underwear, and he swiped his thumb across his lip as if removing drool.

“Were you expecting to get laid tonight? Because fuck, this is a pretty little set,” he commented, settling his jeaned legs between yours as he admired the sight beneath him.

You smirked. “Maybe I always dress this sexy. Does that thought excite you?”

“I’d prefer you undressed, but it definitely excites me,” he teased, his hands running over your torso as he leaned in again to kiss you. His tongue was hot against yours, and he tasted of liquor and peppermint chewing gum. An irresistible combo that had you yearning for more, to wonder what the other parts of him tasted like.

Your fingers couldn’t help but trace from his torso downwards, tugging on the buckle of his belt as you struggled to release him. With a sneaking hand, you were able to remove the handcuffs he kept stuffed in his pocket. Without disconnecting from the kiss, his hands met yours to help, and soon his zipper came shooting down and his jeans were thrown across the room. With a slight of hand, you tucked the handcuffs under the pillow and feigned as if you were simply holding your arms above your head to provide him ease of access to your body.

You broke away for the briefest of seconds, your hot, swollen lips still hovering against each other as you seeked out his eye contact. Leon reached with skilled, experienced fingers to swiftly unclasp your bra, his eyes immediately lowering from your face to your chest as your breasts sprung free. Your nipples were erect from the cold air, but were quickly encased by his large, warm hands.

You were far too desperate to indulge in the pleasures of foreplay, and you were technically on a schedule. If you didn’t respond to your boss within the next couple of hours there would certainly be questions of your whereabouts, as well as your reliability. With that thought, you dipped a hand into your underwear, seeking the touch of your own fingers. Leon observed with hungry eyes, watching as you squirmed and arched underneath him. You teased your entrance, inserting two of your fingers with ease into the slick, velvety insides. Your heart rate began to pick up from the contact as you played with yourself in and out, and you knew for certain that your cheeks were flushed with arousal. Leon swallowed, drinking in every inch of the sight, his cock twitching in his underwear.

Pulling your fingers out when you were satisfied with the lack of resistance from your entrance, you lifted your hand and dipped your soaked digits into his mouth. He sucked the fluid from your fingers, not daring once to drop eye contact with you until he’d licked every drop from your skin. You reached for his underwear, feeling yourself shake with anticipation as the elastic released from his body swiftly. His cock sprung free and you glanced down at it with excited intimidation. He had a girthy member, and it was red and angry from the lack of touch.

“Been a while, Mr. Kennedy?”

He smirked. “Maybe.”

“Are you nervous?”

“I’m not the one who should be nervous,” he teased, leaning forwards to press sloppy kisses to your neck. Your skin fizzled, reacting to every touch from him in ways you didn’t even know your body could behave. You were sensitive, soaking up every brush of his skin against yours, entirely electrified by how he was making you feel. Sure, you’d had good sex before, but never once had you been so turned on in your life as you were in this very moment. Hell, you were practically dripping and you wouldn’t be surprised if the sheets were soaked already.

Leon retrieved a his jacket that luckily had been tossed in arms reach on the chair beside the bed. Inside the pocket he took out his wallet and opened it to reveal a condom. Discarding the other items, he tore open the foil packet and slipped the skin-coloured rubber over his penis after an affirming pump.

“You ready?” He asked, clutching one of your hands and intertwining his fingers with yours.

Jeez. That was intimate. You’d never been asked that before.

“Uh-huh.” You answered, unable to form words that wouldn’t sound like you were entirely desperate for him to be inside of you.

He rolled against you, the tip of his penis providing dense heat as he eased himself through your folds. He rubbed and rutted against you for a few moments, coating himself in a layer of your lubrication before pressing into you. Your body accepted him with ease, which was no surprise considering you’d been wet for him for nearly the entirety of the evening.

A simultaneous gasp-moan was shared between you the moment he was every inch deep within you. He took a brief second to adjust his position, one hand gripping yours whilst the other lay firmly on your hip. He began quick, a fast and brutal pace that knocked the air out of your lungs. You held back your moans, dipping your face into one of your hands as you bounced under each firm thrust from him.

Leon took the hand from your face. “Don’t get all shy on me now,” he insisted, his voice deep and gruff with his breathlessness. “Let me see your face.”

You blushed, but obeyed his request willingly. Your legs were spread deliciously wide, inviting every horrendously accurate thrust that he pounded into you. With each grind, your walls clung tighter to his cock, desperately milking him.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he gasped, releasing his grip on your hand to instead hang onto the headboard in an attempt to reduce the thudding against the wall. It was no use — the bed was squeaking loud enough, the neighbouring residents were already aware of what was going on if they weren’t lucky enough to sleep through it.

You were aware that if you wanted to receive any sort of finalising satisfaction from this, you were probably going to have to take things into your own hands. You enclosed him in a close kiss, your actions so feverish that your mouths might’ve missed if Leon wasn’t so insatiably sturdy. He was an experienced man who knew how to fuck, but did he know what is was like to get fucked?

“Let me ride,” you insisted, to which he perked an impressed brow. He allowed you to push him into a sitting position, his arms loosely draping around your waist and lower back as you sunk back down on him. Whilst it may be the hardest part of your life, receiving expert training has a few perks, including thighs of steel and a long-enduring stamina tank.

Leon jutted up into you, meeting the rhythm of your hips as you bounced and ground down into his hips. You quickly caught his face in your one hand, shaking your head.

“Don’t move. It's my turn,” you stated devilishly, swiping your thumb over his dampened, drool-slicked lips.

“Yes ma’am.”

You smirked, “good boy.”

He opted for instead grabbing your flesh with a bruising grip, choking out breathy moans as you proceeded to increase your pace. With every thrust and grind the skin of his groin brushed against your clitoris in a heavenly manner, and you could feel the white-hot sensation beginning to build. Every nerve was on fire, focused hard on prolonging the sensation as you chased it oh so rampantly, your movements unforgiving.

“Ah, fuck, I’m close,” Leon grunted.

“Me too,” you answered thickly, grasping his neck and head as your fingers dug into his hair. His lips hovered on your collarbone, his breath fanning onto your skin in small, hot pants, an indication of his approaching orgasm. He came first and he came hard, throbbing and pulsing within you as you refused to let up, pushing him down as he resisted your continuation through his sensitivity. He threw his head back on the pillow, gripping at handfuls of the flesh on your ass and thigh as you reached your peak with an explosive moan.

You collapsed forward onto his chest, your hair clinging to your neck with sweat. From here you could hear his heart which began to slow from his comedown. He wrapped an arm over your back, sighing deeply and contentedly.

Now that you’d had an orgasm, you started to see things a little clearer. Whilst you wouldn’t take away this experience for the world, you still certainly had to put yourself first.

With a firm, enchanting kiss to Leon’s lips, you blindly felt around the bed until you made contact with cold metal. Retrieving the cuffs, you sneakily took one of his hands and bound it to the headboard. He froze within the kiss, but you pulled away after leaving a firm press of your lips against his cheek. What was left of your lipstick left an imprint on his skin, and you smiled approvingly to yourself.

“Seriously?” He questioned, using his free hand to rub his face as he observed you dressing yourself at the foot of the bed. You dug in his pockets for a moment, finding the key to the handcuffs. “You better give me that.”

“I might, so long as you promise not to follow me,” you teased, swiping away the smudged mascara from under your eyes.

“Sure, I promise not to follow you,” he said sarcastically, rolling his eyes. Regardless of his tone, part of you knew that no matter what happened and no matter what he did next, he’d eventually end up finding you. That was if you didn’t end up finding him first.

“Don’t let this be the last time I see you, Leon,” you stated, digging around for the hotel keycard to leave him with so that he was at least able to check out of the hotel. You might be unethical, but you considered yourself fair. “Ciao.”

You blew him a final kiss before tossing the handcuff keys onto the bottom of the bed, but he didn’t even dare move an inch even when you’d started to open the door.

“Wait!” Leon called out, to which you turned your head curiously. “What’s your name? Your real name.”

You paused, and smiled. “(L/N). (Y/N) (L/N).”

You then shut the door behind you, leaving him wondering. Leon was disoriented and dizzy, wondering how he’d just gone from the best sex in his life to this, cuffed in a Hotel he’d never even heard of. He certainly wasn’t going to forget you any time soon.

Sighing to yourself, you wondered just how you were going to explain your way out of this one to your boss.

#leon s. kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x reader #smut #x reader

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daydreaming-away-reality · 3 years

Text

Catching Stardust

Tadashi Hamada x Reader | ☁️ + ✨ | 3.9k

Most days, like any other university student, you would wake up tired. Unfortunately for you, that was not today. You had spent the entire night working on your lab report for one of your science courses and didn’t get a wink of sleep. At least it was handed in and done with.

(You had to double check - just in case your brain decided to get desperate and help you imagine the best case scenarios. Thinking and doing were two very different things, they were hard to tell apart when you were so dead tired though.)

It was one of those days.

“Morning, Honey Lemon,” you greeted as you navigated your way into the kitchen for some caffeine. Grabbing your travel coffee tumbler, you watched your blonde roommate in her morning stretching routine.

“Good morning, (Y/N)!” Honey cheerfully replied. “How was not sleeping last night?”

You halted your movements, looking up at her with concern. “Can you tell just by looking at me?”

Honey Lemon laughed. “No, silly. GoGo came home late last night and saw you up. I heard you shuffling around earlier this morning too. No raccoon eyes, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Thank goodness,” you said with a sigh as you continued pouring liquid energy into your tumbler. “This bio course is going to be the death of me.”

“You mean working two part time jobs will be the death of you,” GoGo corrected you as she walked out of her room. “Girl, you need time to have fun too.”

You stuck your tongue out at her. Rummaging through backpack, you noticed a missing tome of knowledge. “Has anyone seen my Medical Terms bible?”

“Coffee table.” Honey called out from the living room as she held the tree pose.

GoGo walked over to you with the heavy book in hand. You mouthed a thank you to her before taking a sip of coffee.

“(Y/N), you need to take some time to make some more friends or meet a cute boy,” Honey Lemon brought up. She exchanged a look with GoGo. “We know someone who you might like. He’s nice and funny, good looking as well.”

You gave your two roommates a sad smile. “By the time I’m ready for a relationship, a boy like that will already be snatched up by someone less stressed about their future.”

Grabbing your premade meals and a couple of snacks, you swung your backpack on.

“I work bookstore and pharmacy today, so I’ll see you both tomorrow morning. Good luck with your projects in the meantime.”

“Bye, (Y/N)!” Honey called out.

“Keep the luck, you need it more than we do,” GoGo said with salute.

Walking out of the apartment, you checked your phone for your schedule once more. Class at nine, bookstore at two and pharmacy at six. And it was already eight thirty, yay. Just your typical jam packed day, all so that you could pay off medical school tuition in the future.

Balancing everything in life was... impossible, but you were managing.

Full course load university student, working two part time jobs, and a very minimal but still existent social life.

It wasn’t easy, but it was what you wanted. Going to med school was a necessary path to take if you wanted to help people out in your future career choice.

Just as you were arriving on campus, a voice caught your attention.

“(Y/N)…!”

You turned to see your friend Mina, another sufferer pre-med student.

“Hi Mina,” you greeted.

“Did you sleep last night?” she asked. When you shook your head, she let out a loud sigh. “Yeah, me too. Dr. Andrews is going to kill us with these lab reports and the test Thursday. I mean, I’d feel smarter if I weren’t so tired all the time.”

You smiled. What a mood.

“Is my make up, okay?” Mina asked. “I don’t want Justin to see me at my worse - not yet.”

You glanced over Mina’s face. She had gone through the usual effort to make herself look cute. “You look fine and I’m sure Justin wouldn’t be scared off. He knows we’re med students.”

Mina made a face. “We’ve only been a dating for two months, (Y/N), two! He doesn’t know what kind of crazy we are yet. You never know when he might get skittish and ghost me.”

If you weren’t so tired, you would have laughed.

Linking arms with Mina, you pulled her towards the classroom.

Today was going to be just another day.

Tadashi checked over the information on his phone as he walked off campus towards the bookstore. He had been looking up information to help his robotics project and a certain book had come up in his recommendations. Deciding that the resource was worth checking out, and was worth the price, he was determined to get his hands on the book while his robot was still in the works.

Walking through the doors, he made his way to the medical section. Browsing the shelves, he kept an eye out for the particular title.

After circling the area for a while, he let out a huff. Where was this textbook?

Noticing a girl wearing a name tag, he approached her with smile.

“Hi, I was wondering if you could help me?”

She turned to him with a smile, (E/C) eyes making contact with his brown orbs.

“Of course, are you looking for something?”

Tadashi nodded, pulling out his phone and showing her the textbook information.

"Ahhh, this one. That’s a popular book with the first year pre-med student courses,” she commented. “Everyone always asks where this one is - we organize this one by title since there’s no author.”

Leading him back into the medical section, the girl stopped in an area of the bookstore that Tadashi had missed earlier. She tapped the spine of one of the books.

“This one is good resource for in depth procedural explanations,” she explained. “Not what you were looking for though...”

Scanning the shelves, the girl paused and frowned when she stopped a particular spot.

“Is it out of stock?” she murmured, checking again. “For a textbook no one appreciates until third year, I’d be surprised if it’s sold out...” She turned back to Tadashi with an apologetic smile. “I’ll check if we have the book in stock - give me a second.”

Pulling out her phone, she typed up some information quickly. The results of her searching seemed to yield the same results.

“It looks like we’re actually out of stock for this textbook right now, although, we are restocking it,” she explained. “Would you like to request a reserve to get a copy?”

“That would be helpful, sure,” Tadashi agreed.

“Great, let’s go fill out a form for you,” she chirped, leading him away. “Are you a med student?”

“No, I’m a robotics engineering student at SFIT,” he replied. “I’m working on something related to the medical field though.”

“Really? That’s so cool,” she exclaimed, looking genuinely interested. “It’s amazing to think how technology can incorporated into health sciences. If you don’t mind me asking, what are you working on?”

“A healthcare robot,” Tadashi explained with a fond smile. “It’s still in the works, nothing has been finished yet, I’m still working on the programming stages.”

“I think that’s incredible. I’m sure you’re capable of amazing things.”

The sincerity in her tone brought a smile to his face. For someone who didn’t know much about his project, the kind words from her were very nice.

“What about you?” Tadashi asked. “Are you a student?”

“Yeah, over at Sato Health Institute,” she responded. Sato was the top post secondary institution for health care in San Fransokyo located nearby - it even shared some programs with SFIT as Tadashi recalled. “I’m a pre-med student - if you hadn’t already guessed.”

“I might have had a feeling,” Tadashi said with a grin. “You seemed like you were familiar with things firsthand.”

The girl laughed. “Lots of firsthand experience, trust me.”

Approaching the help desk, the girl popped around to grab a paper and pen. Scrawling down information onto the page first, she then slid the paper over to Tadashi across the counter.

“Just fill out the rest of the form and the textbook should be arriving in the next three days.”

Tadashi looked up from filling in the form, brown eyes flicking over to her name tag. “Thank you so much, (Y/N).”

“You’re welcome,” she replied. She took a sip from her coffee tumbler. Grabbing a sticky note, she offered it over to Tadashi. “If you’d like, leave your number and I’ll text you when it arrives - I’ll be working that day. I promise to use your number for professional reasons only.”

“I’d appreciate that,” Tadashi said as he wrote his number down. As he finished his form, he noticed a large medical terms textbook behind the counter on the desk next to the computer with a ton of sticky notes sticking out. “Is that yours?”

“That’s my current bible,” she affirmed with an amused tone. “Can’t survive without it.”

The two of them shared a laugh.

“Thanks again for your help.” Tadashi repeated as he returned the form.

“Just doing my job, don’t worry about it! It was great meeting you...” Her (E/C) eyes flickered down to the form and smile appeared on her face. “...Tadashi.”

As Tadashi left the bookstore, part of him was still lingering behind, thinking about (Y/N). She seemed like a nice girl and he really hoped that they might have another chance to encounter her again.

You fumbled with the door before pushing it open, popping back into the dark apartment. Hitting the light switch, you took off your shoes and checked for signs of your roommates.

Looks like Honey Lemon and GoGo were still out.

No surprise.

The three of you were always busy, whether the other two liked to admit it or not.

Just as you were sorting things out in the kitchen and about to grab a snack, your phone buzzed.

Mina: OMG. Did you see Terry’s SNS profile update? 🤣🤣

(Y/N): What did he do this time? Do I want to know??

Mina: He put MD CANDIDATE. The AUDACITY of this man - I got a C+ working with partner project with him. My poor GPA... 😭

(Y/N): I mean...

Mina: DON’T

(Y/N): Cs get degrees 😂

Mina: RIP me. Seriously though, are you free to study for that bio test?

(Y/N): let me grab my snack first, I’ll see you video chat

Mina: True MD candidate here

(Y/N): HA

Letting out a sigh, you swiped a snack from the cupboard before heading back to your room. Fingers crossed you would get some sleep tonight.

“Oh, finally!”

Tadashi wiped his hands off with a rag and turned to look at Fred. Wasabi and GoGo were also looking at the beanie wearing boy, but neither of them decided to engage.

“Something up?” Tadashi asked, speaking up.

“The comic bookstore said they were out of that new series I was telling you guys about the other day,” Fred explained. “I refused to go to Richardson’s place, so apparently, they reached out to the nearby bookstore and they have a copy! I got to go pick it up.”

“The one near campus?”

“Yup.”

Tadashi paused, thinking for a moment before making his decision.

“I’ll come with you.”

“Let’s go then, man!”

Catching up with Fred about the current condition of Baymax, the two soon arrived at the bookstore. Fred immediately beelined towards the help desk with Tadashi trailing behind him.

Just as Tadashi anticipated, a familiar face was working at the desk. This time though, (Y/N) was fairly concentrated on the stack of flashcards piled on her space next to textbooks filled with sticky notes.

“Uh, excuse me,” Fred said, practically bouncing on his toes.

That was enough to jolt her out of her studying. Shoving away her flashcards, she offered Fred a smile. “Yes?”

“I believe someone called about -”

“Oh! I know what you’re here for,” (Y/N) said, jumping up. She got up and skimmed over the bookshelf behind the counter. “Ah, here it is. Fred, right?”

At the sight of his new comic, Fred nodded happily. He quickly accepted it from you. “Is there a comic book section?”

(Y/N) nodded. “Just straight that way, it’s not a big collection, but you might find something.”

“Alright, thanks!”

Fred turned to see Tadashi lingering around. “You coming, Tadashi?”

“There’s something I want to check out, I’ll catch up in a bit,” the black haired male responded.

As Fred disappeared, the girl turned her attention over to Tadashi.

“I didn’t think I would see you again so soon,” she commented. “The book is not in yet, sorry.”

Tadashi smiled. “That’s fine. I see you’re here often.”

“Yeah, when I’m not busy with classes or my other job, here I am.”

The words piqued your interest. “Other job?”

“I also work at a pharmacy,” (Y/N) explained.

“Ahh. You must be a busy person,” Tadashi said. He tilted his head towards your desk. “Studying too?”

She flushed. “Yeah. Only because today’s pretty quiet - my manager doesn’t mind as long as I’m work as I’m needed. There’s a test coming up.”

“Good luck, I think you need it.”

“I do. Thank you.”

Tadashi watched as (Y/N) moved back to sitting at the desk. As she picked up her flashcards, she looked up at Tadashi.

“How’s the healthcare robot going? Any progress in the last 24 hours?”

“Baymax finally had some supply come in for assembling,” he responded. “So, just a little bit.”

“Baymax?” she repeated confused. “Oh. Is that their name?”

Tadashi nodded.

“Baymax… I like it, sounds friendly.”

“I should probably let you get back to studying,” Tadashi commented, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry for bothering you.”

“Not at all, I’m happy to chat with you.”

- Wednesday. 6PM. -

Honey: (Y/N)?

(Y/N): What’s up, Honey Lemon?

Honey: I heard the pre-med students plan on throwing a party this weekend?

Honey: Are you going?

(Y/N): Nah, I think I have work.

GoGo: You always work.

(Y/N): Huh, I never noticed.

(Y/N): Anyways, parties are not my scene. I’d be happy spending a free evening at home instead.

GoGo: Mina says she’ll miss you.

(Y/N): She’ll have Justin, she’ll be okay

Honey: Well, if you ever decide to go, we know a boy you can take with you.

(Y/N): Thanks, but I’ll pass. 🥰

- Thursday. 5PM. -

Unknown: Hi Tadashi. The textbook you wanted finally came in! Feel free to drop by anytime to come pick it up.

Tadashi: Alright, thanks (Y/N)!

Unknown: Yep, no prob!

Tadashi: Hey, is this your personal number?

Unknown: yeah 😊

(Y/N) has been added to contacts.

Tadashi: Hope you don’t mind if I contact you like in the future. 😊

(Y/N): Oh, I wouldn’t mind at all!

“Tadashi, hi,” you greeted, waving as the boy came into your line of sight. With a baseball cap on his head today, you almost mistaken him for someone else. Pulling out the textbook, you handed it over to him. “Here you go! You weren’t the only one trying to get your hands on this textbook today.”

Tadashi peered at you curiously as he accepted the textbook.

“You look tired,” he pointed out.

You just shrugged with a half smile. “The bio test was today - that was gruesome.”

“At least that’s done with,” he encouraged you. “Week’s almost over, too.”

“Best part is I’m off in five,” you agreed.

You could see your words caught Tadashi’s interest.

“Are... are you still working after?”

Shaking your head, you leaned back against the counter. “Nope, told them I was busy today so no shifts at the pharmacy tonight.”

“Would you like to go out with me then?” Tadashi asked hopefully. “We can hit up a café and grab something to eat?”

Good thing you were leaning against the counter, because the surprise you felt would have toppled you over.

“Oh, um, sure!” you agreed, cheeks heating up a little. “I’ll meet you outside in five?”

“Sounds good.”

- Friday. 9AM. -

Tadashi: I enjoyed my time with you yesterday.

(Y/N): I enjoyed my time too! Although the cookies there were kind of hard... 😢

Tadashi: Yeah... I find us somewhere with nice cookies next time.

(Y/N): Just a warning, next time might be a while. My schedule is usually full.

Tadashi: That’s fine!! If you ever find yourself with free time, let me know, I’d like to spend it with you.

(Y/N): 🥰

(Y/N): You’re too sweet, Tadashi.

(Y/N): How are you single??

Tadashi: Haha, I could ask you the same thing. Probably the same reasons as you though. I’m usually too focused with what’s in front of me.

Tadashi: Hope to see you around though.

(Y/N): me too

- Some Tuesday. 8PM. -

“And your total is 18.95,” you said, pressing buttons on the register to confirm the amount. The customer tapped their card for the purchase before taking their bags. “I hope you feel better!”

“Thank you,” the customer responded as they left.

You waited until they had gone completely before heading back to find your manager. Spotting one of older pharmacy students, you decided to talk to them instead.

“Hi,” you greeted.

“(Y/N), need any drugs?” Harper asked with a smile.

“I’ll take them all,” you joked. “Let Aria know I left if you see her for me?”

“Yeah, go. You’re free,” she ushered, waving you away.

As you pulled on your jacket and stepped out of the pharmacy, a figure caught you by surprise.

“Tadashi!” you exclaimed.

“Surprised?” he asked. “Thought I’d walk you home, not safe for you to walk the street alone at night.”

“I do it frequent enough,” you countered with a smile.

“Ooh, risk taker,” Tadashi said.

You laughed. “I appreciate this though, thanks.”

Tadashi nodded. As the two of you were catching up each other on what happened throughout the day, you felt Tadashi slip his hand into yours. Fingers intertwined, you could feel your heart racing.

This was something you didn’t want to let go of.

- Some Monday. 2PM. -

GoGo: Yo, Tadashi

GoGo: Fred wants to know when you’ll be back with the snacks.

Tadashi: Just stepped back on campus.

GoGo: Took you a while.

GoGo: You seeing someone behind our back?

Tadashi: Ha. Does Baymax count?

- A couple weeks later. Friday. 10AM. -

“Someone looks cute today,” Mina commented as you sat down next to her in the lecture hall. She eyed you up and down, nodding approvingly. “Not working today?”

“Yeah,” you replied. “My rare day off besides class. Thought I’d put a little more effort in today.”

“Well, you look adorable,” Mina confirmed. She let out a sigh when she saw the professor walk in. “Let’s see if we can survive these next two hours.”

“Challenge accepted,” you said, bumping her shoulder playfully. “Although, I might lose you halfway.”

Mina gasped and smacked your arm.

You laughed as you pulled your laptop. Although the two hours went by at a decent pace, you were glad the course was three quarters way through.

At the brutal pace your professor went, there was nothing but review for the few weeks before final exams. It was nice to know you didn’t have to teach yourself an entire unit in a week before your final.

Bidding Mina goodbye, you weaved your way out of the lecture hall and out into campus. At this point, most groups of students you saw hanging around were study groups. You would have been like them too, if you hadn’t worked so hard to make things work.

Balancing two part time jobs along with classes had you putting in so much extra effort that it usually paid off in the long run.

Yay.

Navigating your way through the streets with the GPS app open on your phone, you soon spotted the campus you were looking for.

SFIT.

(Abbreviated, because thinking through what each letter stood for was too much effort.)

Slowly wandering around as you pulled up the campus directory, your eyes glimmered when you spotted the building you were looking for. Popping inside, you clutched onto your bag, peering around curiously. There was so much science happening in this space.

Lots of creativity too, you wondered why their tradition was to prank the art school.

Poking around, you soon realized you were lost among the many rooms and labs. Your mission was a failure. Pouting, you pulled your phone.

(Y/N): Help me, I’m lost.

Tadashi: What do you mean?

(Y/N): I wandered into the lab building and was going to surprise you with a visit, but I don’t know where to find you. 🙁

(Y/N): I didn’t think this through...

Tadashi: Awwww

Tadashi: What room number do you see? I’ll find you.

(Y/N): Lab 2B

Tadashi: omw

As you awkwardly waited for Tadashi to show up, you tried not to look suspicious. Although admittedly, you were sure you looked suspicious regardless since you were lost.

“There you are,” the soft yet deep voice greeted from behind you.

Turning around to see Tadashi, you smiled.

“Sorry for the trouble,” you apologized.

“Not at all.” Tadashi shook his head. He took a moment to take you in. Within his eyes, you were absolutely beautiful. He didn’t want to mess up, so he kept it to himself. He’d voice his thoughts one day. “Welcome to Nerd Lab, by the way.”

So this was where Tadashi, your roommates, and their friends all spent their long hours working.

Tadashi took your hand. “Come on, I want to show you my lab.”

Following after Tadashi, the two of you entered the elevator behind arriving on the floor of his personal lab space. He opened a door, showing you his tidy space.

“Baymax won’t be in the works for a while, but here,” he pulled out several large blueprints. The image of an almost plush like character was found in the middle. “This is going to be Baymax.”

In awe of all the labelled details and planning in place, you looked up at Tadashi.

“This is incredible,” you breathed out. “You’re incredible too.”

Tadashi dipped his head down and captured your lips for a kiss.

Before he had the opportunity to pull back too far, you went in and gave him a quick peck as well.

Although the two of you were flushed, the loving gaze you could see in Tadashi’s eyes made you feel hopeful about this relationship.

“Can I see the medical programming?” you asked, breaking the silence.

Tadashi shyly nodded. “All the computer.”

- Later. -

(Y/N): Do you think we should let our friends know?

Tadashi: Nah, they’ll catch on eventually.

(Y/N): But if they don’t should I just accept their blind date request?

Tadashi: WHAT?

(Y/N): 😂

(Y/N): I asked for more details one time.

(Y/N): He’s this handsome robotics engineering student, who nice and has a good sense of humor. Apparently he’s very dedicated to his work too.

Tadashi: …

Tadashi: They’ve tried to set me up with their friend as well.

(Y/N): Hmm, maybe we were meant to be after all

Tadashi: I think so. 😀

(Y/N): 😘

#big hero 6 #big hero 6 imagine #tadashi hamada x reader #tadashi hamada imagine #tadashi hamada imagines #tadashi hamada #tadashi #hamada #x reader #reader insert #imagine #imagines #catching stardust #request #happy 2021!

1K notes · View notes

marrys-dream-world · 3 years

Text

Imposter

Read on AO3

Summary: Adrien's mother is kind and sweet and loving. The only problem is that it isn't her at all.

Notes: This is based off on this post by @infinitysgrace and a post athat I can’t find anymore, but was about how Emilie’s eye color could be wrong in the wishmaker flashback because it wasn’t her, it was a sentimonster. I took some liberties with sentimonster lore because I’m not 100% sure about all that, but I think it turned out well.

One of Adrien’s earliest memories is of crying.

He was young, perhaps three or four, and his room was blurry through his tears. When he grew older, he would get used to his father’s insistence that a night light was coddling Adrien, but at the moment, all he knew was the darkness surrounding him. The room was too big and his bed was in the middle of it, the light from the huge windows playing shadows that tricked his eyes. So he started crying, hoping it would call his parent’s attention and that they would come to him.

(When he grew older, he would learn that crying was useless.)

He felt more than saw his mother coming in, leaving the door open in a crack of light. Her arms wrap around him and she hums soothingly, the sound filling up his chest. She’s warm and smells sweet, like her favorite lavender perfume. He sinks into her, tears drying and sobs reducing to whines. He has tired himself out with that and would probably fall asleep even if left alone, but his mother doesn’t leave. She tucks him in and stays as his eyes close.

The last thing he sees are her wide blue eyes.

Both his parents have drastic mood changes, but Adrien would say that his mother is the most prominent example of this. His father is usually just stoic and, if Adrien pushes him enough, gets annoyed with him. At worst, he’ll get angry and rage at Adrien, calmed down only by his mother’s calm words as she diverts his attention so Adrien can get away. His mother, though, always feels like whiplash.

“Why can’t I go with you?” Adrien, aged seven, asks his mother. He’s sitting on her bed as she packs her bag for another trip with his father. He stopped keeping count of them after the fifth.

“You’re too young, baby.” She said and even the pet name didn’t stop the sting from her dismissive tone. “Next time, okay?”

He bits back a ‘you said that last time, too’.

“But I’m already- “

“Adrien.” His mother chides, frowning. Her (disappointed) green eyes held him down. “I said you could stay here with me if you weren't going to be disruptive. Can’t you behave, just this once?”

He swallows back a lump in his throat. “I-I’m sorry, mother.”

But she already turned her back to him and packed the rest of her bag in silence. His mother leaves out her customary goodbye kiss when she leaves for the trip. He isn’t allowed downstairs to see them go and Nathalie insists it isn't a punishment, even though it feels like it. Adrien mopes in his room, not feeling up to enjoy his free day, no tutors or photoshoots, when all he can think about is his mother.

That’s why he’s taken back when she walks in his room.

“Mother?” He gaps, unable to hide his surprise. “I thought you left. Aren’t you going to miss your trip?!”

“I changed my mind, Adrien. Your father and I decided that the trip would be more productive with just him.” She said, eyes warm. Adrien always thought it was beautiful how her eyes could look blue or green, depending on the light.

“But why?” He asked. She had been so excited for the trip!

“To stay with my precious son, of course.” His mother said, taking him into her arms.

All his questions evaporated right then and there.

After their last trip, his parents decided to take a break from traveling. To network, his father informed him, which meant more boring family dinners and stiff ties. His mom always tuts when he complains about it, so he stays silent this time. At least it’s a dinner with Chloé, his best friend, and her family, so he and her are really only required to have dinner and then they can go off and play in the hotel rooms.

“Arnold- “ Mrs. Bourgeois starts during dinner, before being nervously corrected by her husband.

“It’s Adrien, dear.”

“Oh right, Adrien. You grew up really well, you look more like your mother everyday.” Other people say it gushing, followed by a ‘so cute’ and pinches to the cheek. Mrs. Bourgeois says it like it’s a fact she approves of; Chloé even copies the small nod her mother makes. “You have her eyes.”

“Thank you, ma’am, but I don’t think so.” He says as politely as he can, but everyone in the table still throws him confused glances.

“You don’t think you look like your mother?” His father asked, raising an eyebrow.

Adrien shook his head. “No, I just don’t think I have her eyes. Mother’s eyes are blue and green and mine are just green.”

The Bourgeois family looks at him like he grew a second head. His parents, however, become tense all of sudden.

“Emilie, Gabriel, I think your son might be colorblind.” Mrs. Bourgeois says dryly and Adrien waits for his parents to come to his defense. They don’t.

“Maybe. You know how children are.” His mother says, lightly. “I love your hat, Audrey. Is it new?”

The topic changes to Audrey’s new fashion exploits and Adrien and Chloé are finally allowed to go play.

(Nathalie takes him to an eye doctor Mr. Bourgeois recommended the next day. The colorblind tests come back as negative.)

At age eight, Adrien was already used to working on fashion shows for his father’s brand. It didn’t make them easier to go through, however.

It’s a summer one, this time, and his clothes are light and airy and his skin felt itchy and hot in the air conditioned cat walk. Looking at the bright lights around him hurt and the camera felt like it was looking uncomfortably deep into his soul. Was it too obvious that he wanted to run away? The crowd claps everytime he comes and everyone is smiling. Except for his father.

After the show, his father spends the rest of the ride in silence as his mother tries to defuse the heavy tension that permeated the air with small talk and gushing compliments about the clothes and Adrien’s performance. It falls flat as she hardly looks like she’s up for talking, dark shadows under her eyes and skin paler than usual. Whenever Adrien asks her if she’s sick, she denies. As soon as they arrive home, he drags Adrien from the car towards the house, grip strong on his left upper arm.

“Do you enjoy embarrassing me in front of everyone, Adrien?” His father asked calmly, but his hand tightened on his arm.

Adrien couldn’t speak. It felt like it was happening to someone else, his mind weirdly detached from the situation. The only thing stopping him from floating away was the pain in his arm.

“That’s enough, Gabriel.” He heard his mother, voice muffled. It felt like he was underwater in the pool and she was speaking from far away. Her hand, though, he felt acutely as she extricated his father’s hand from his arm. “Adrien, go, please.”

He runs away without second thought, only pausing guiltily at leaving his mother with his irate father when he starts hearing his father’s screaming. Adrien hides under the blankets in his room, heart racing long after the noise stops as he tries to focus his mind into anything else. He startles when he feels a hand touching his blanket cocoon.

“Shhh, it’s okay, baby.” He hears his mother’s voice and frantically tears his blanket away.

Adrien relaxes as he looks into her wide blue eyes and comforting smile, trying to leap for a hug. She stops him.

“Let me see your arm first.” She says and he reluctantly takes off his jacket, wincing. The bruise on his arm doesn’t look pretty, so it’s for the best that he doesn’t go out much after fashion shows. “I can’t believe I let you get hurt.”

Her tone is soft and she looks, weirdly enough, genuinely confused as she touches the bruise on his arm and coos in apology as he flinches.

“Father is just stressed.” Adrien parrots back his mother’s usual spiel after his dad does something less than exemplary. “It’s just how she is, it’s okay.”

"It 's not okay.” His mother says right away. “I’m supposed to not let anything hurt you, Adrien.”

She says that with such a passion that he can believe she actually means it. But instead of the elation he expected when he heard it, all he felt was a surge of anger. Because why now? After all those moments when she scolded him for avoiding his father or not looking him in the eye, why now?

“There isn’t anything we can do about it, is there?.” He snaps, echoing her words to him from what felt like yesterday.

She deflated. “I’m sorry. There isn’t.”

His father went away from a trip again and his mother, once again, decided to stay.

Spending time with his mother during father’s trip was great, especially since she was in such a good mood and looking much healthier than she did these days. She lets him have an extra scoop of ice cream for dessert as soon as Nathalie turns her back on them, she spends the whole day playing with him in the garder, she helps with his homework and makes him a snack between classes. They play the piano together, making up different tunes and giggling.

“Don’t I have to practice this?” He asked, pointing to the sheets of the classical song he was supposed to learn.

His mother wrinkled her nose.

“You already work too hard, Adrien, it’s nice to have some fun once in a while.” She said, twisting her wedding ring on her finger. She usually didn’t wear it when spending time with him, only when she spent time with father, so it caught his attention. “Besides, nobody has to know.”

They watch a movie he picked that night. His mother rarely did that and when she did, she was very picky about it. Artist stuff, he supposed. This time he got to choose, though, and he picked on based on a manga he liked, Astroboy. His mother seemed excited in the beginning, but her mood quickly subdued as the movie went on.

“Are you not liking it?” He whispered to her and she shook her head.

“I am, baby, don’t worry. Are you?”

“Yeah. It's not really like the manga, but I like it.” He said. “I just think it’s a little unfair, you know. How he doesn’t know he isn’t really the scientist’s son, that he’s just a robot.”

His mother’s arms tighten around him. “I don’t think it’s unfair.”

“Really?” Adrien watched as the images from the screen played on his mother’s blue eyes.

“Really.” She repeated. “Him knowing would be crueler.”

At age ten, Adrien is awakened on a rainy night by his mother shaking him.

It was the night his father was supposed to come back from a trip and he had spent a fun day with his mother, studying and playing (“You need both to be a healthy boy, Adrien!” She grinned at him and he beamed back at her). His mother had looked a little skittish earlier, looking over her shoulder often only to just find Natahalie and fidgeting with the ring on her hand, that she usually wore every time his father was traveling. She wouldn't tell him what was wrong and insisted she hadn’t been sick. Nevertheless, he worried.

“Mother, what’s wrong?” He asked, sleepiness fading away as he noticed how frantic she looked.

“Adrien, I’ve been thinking about this for a while. Every moment I’ve been conscious, it’s been on my mind. Can you trust me?” She asked him, stroking his head with the hand that wore her wedding ring, and he nodded. “I need you to pack a small bag and come with me, okay? We’re going on a trip, just you and me.”

“A trip?” It was all he ever wanted, but the look in his mother’s blue eyes made him hesitate. “Is everything okay?”

“No, baby.” She said, kissing the top of his head. “But it will be. Hurry up, I need you to pack while I handle some things. Meet me downstairs in five minutes, okay?”

With anyone else, even his father, he would have asked more questions. This was his beloved mother, though, so he just got up and started to pack his clothes and some of his stuff that he couldn’t do a few days without. He carefully closed his door, running down the stair and to his mother by the door. She looked damp, her outfit changed and an umbrella hanging by her feet along with some bags.

“Adrien?” She asked, turning her green eyes to him. In her left hand, she held her wedding ring.

“Mother? Are you okay?” He asked, noting how much paler and shakier she looked than when he saw her upstairs.

“Yes, of course.” His mother said as she put her wedding ring back on. “Whatever I said to you upstairs, forget it, okay?”

“W-what?”

“I didn’t know what I was saying.” She said, eyes staring straight at her ring. “Don’t worry, it won’t happen again. Go back to bed, baby. Your father is back earlier than expected and he won’t like to see you up so late. ”

He nodded, unwilling to argue, and took his bag back with him to his room. His mother suddenly acting weird and standoffish wasn’t anything new, it was fine. She would go back to being his sweet, kind mother soon enough. He was sure of it.

(She never did.)

#adrien agreste #emilie agreste #gabriel agreste #miraculous ladybug #sentiemilie #ml fic #my stuff

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punemy-spotted · 3 years

Text

The Price You Pay Chapter 4: Breach

Pairing: Mob!Steve Rogers x Reader, Senator!Andy Barber x Reader

Warnings: Rape/Non-Con elements, Dub-Con, Dark!Fic, Abuse of Legal System, Murder, Character Death (minor, possibly major), Love Triangle, Political AU, Mafia AU, Workplace Sexual Harassment, Abuse Mentions, Possessive/Obsessive Characters, Other Chapter-Specific Warnings May Apply, Possible Dead Dove: Would Not Eat

Chapter Warnings: Angst; Mentions of Past Sexual Abuse; Betrayal; Lies; F!Reader’s Age Kind of Finalized; Specific Reference to Age; Blackmail; Crying; Slight Panic Attack; Dead Dove: Do Not Eat

Chapter Summary: Even the truth can’t set you free.

Chapter 1; Chapter 2; Chapter 3

Notes: And we’re back to pain. My outline got derailed for this chapter so bear with me, sometimes revelations need to be hammered in. No smut here for now but I also needed to get this arc finished so I can start on the next.

Also I know I keep jumping forward — I swear I will write about their relationship growing.

Thank you all for reading and commenting! As always, feedback is greatly appreciated, even if you’re yelling at me.

Not beta-read, these sins belong to me and me alone.

All of my work is 18+ Only, Minors DO NOT INTERACT. I do not consent to my work being posted anywhere besides Tumblr or Ao3 and I post my work there myself. Do not copy, translate, or repost any of my content.

The air is…

Shifted.

Shifted enough that the whole office notices, avoids yours, avoids the glare Steve Rogers fires at them the moment they approach the door, avoids your eye. Shifted enough that you miss the before, the pressure of his presence demanding your attention, the smugness in his endless eyes you denied looking at.

Shifted.

Counsel.

What?

We need to talk.

Is that not what you’ve been avoiding doing all morning, Captain?

You swear you can hear his molar crack in the dead silence, but your eyes never flit upwards from the contract you’re poring through, red pen in hand.

Focus.

It’s a job, this life, and this is a part of it, the presence of him, the pressure of him. It’s a job, and he calls on you to do your duty and you do but no one has ever asked you to be kind and no one has ever asked you to smile as you bear it so you don’t.

It’s a job, this life, and this is a part of it.

You. Are a part of it.

Counsel.

It’s a bark, an order, an annoyance and you shouldn’t let his stubborn fury be the thing that derails you. This is your domain. Your palace of glass and steel, remember? New York buzzes behind you and you surge forward on the tightrope of his affections, teetering dangerously close to his temper and always, always daring him to pull you down.

Try it again.

Fine, with a sigh and a setting down of your papers, You’re closer to the door.

And in your defense, he is, seated on your couch as stiff as a board, scrolling through his phone on occasion and — previously, at least — deftly ignoring your inquiries about the status of his office and why he needs to spend his morning in yours.

He fixes you with a look you do not name and proceeds to stand anyways. The door clicks shut and stays that way — both of you have learned.

Do you still talk to him?

Excuse me?

The Senator. Are. You. Still. In. Contact.

He spreads out every word like an accusation and every word turns you a little colder. You’ve been avoiding this. Avoiding him, distracted by work, the both of you but now you are back in each other’s orbits and this…

This cannot be avoided.

I haven’t spoken to him beyond to tell him I returned home safe that night.

Not. For lack of wanting.

If he’s hurt you, just say the words.

There’s nothing you can say.

It’s been a week. Almost two.

He’s been kind, stayed away, kept his distance but that… that will not last. Only as long as whatever conference has his office busy and then you know what comes next and then you know what comes after.

The bruising may have faded but the memories remain, after all.

They always do.

Steve Rogers is not Andy Barber, is not warm-eyed concern or a soft-voiced invitation, is not trying to save you from the horrors you cannot name, is not to be trusted but Andy Barber is also not Steve Rogers, is not exactly the man you expect, is not the answer to your dilemma, is not the devil you know and you…

Are still testing your wings.

Get up.

Get up and walk away from the prison of your desk, see how far you can get before you shackle yourself to your own ambition. Get. Up.

Blue eyes watch you like he’s calculating the next angle of his attack and technically you know that’s exactly the case but let’s pretend a moment he doesn’t have his claws out and you aren’t trapped in a cage for him to batter.

Delude yourself into the power you think you have, and keep him there, across the room where he cannot show you how effortlessly he strips you of it and how deeply you enjoy it.

Don’t.

You may be in bed with the mob but you are not asleep to his crimes and this is just an interim, a plan, a moment.

You stood me up, Counsel. After we made our deal.

It was a week ago and you ever-so-kindly taught me my lesson — don’t wince as you speak, don’t let him know you remember, don’t let him think you actually learned from his hand, hard against your body.

He hasn’t since, after all.

He says your name.

He says your name and your blood runs cold and you freeze by the coffee machine you keep in your office and you turn. Senator Barber is a friend.

A dangerous friend. I won’t even ask if you know his stance on —

On the Syndicate? Oh I know. I know who he shakes hands with.

Then you know why I’m asking.

Are you loyal?

Are you?

Is it loyalty that keeps you here?

Don’t let your hands shake when you look at him. Don’t let him see the slide of your eyes, the glance outside, the wondering how long before your window would be a portal and that tightrope would snap.

You are not a fool.

This. Is not loyalty.

I keep to my ethical duties, Captain.

You’re sleeping with your boss.

Oh that one makes you laugh, sharp and cruel and you do look at him then, fix your eyes onto him and raise an eyebrow and watch. All that power, all that smugness, wrapped up in one body and how does he contain it, do you know?

I believe the actual term is serving at your pleasure.

It’s back to the game, the dance, the ruse, the steps you take around each other, the blades he digs into your chest the reminders he gives you you are a whore you are a whore you are a whore and you lift your chin up, dare him to look at the bruises his lips leave on your skin and ask him in the silence and what will you do about it.

You could hate him. You do, technically. You hate that you could love him in the early hours of the morning, when his eyes seek you out and soften at the reminder you’re still here. You hate that his invasive presence in your office is a shield as much as it is a virus, a comfort in the silence and you hate most of all that the way he looks at you with that open desire women might normally have just dreamed was possible makes you want to return it.

You hate that he is dangerous. That he has bound you to him like this, chained you to the idea of his warmth and that there is a sick sort of safety in the binding.

You hate that he looks at you now with something like hope, with something like obsession, with something like vulnerability and you hate that it strips you of that cold armor as effortlessly as his hands strip you of your resistance.

And he could hate you too, in the whispers he leaves on your shoulders when he thinks you’re asleep. He could hate that you are soft, that you are sweet on his tongue that you…

Are his.

Could hate that he has thought of nothing else but the very theory of your betrayal and you know none of these things but his eyes are not so inscrutable as he thinks and so—

He twists the knife.

I talked to your Judge, by the way.

You did what?

You heard me. Interesting conversation.

Excuse me?

You really sold yourself to me for a lover’s spat, Counsel? I thought you were better than that — woman of the law and all.

A lover’s spat? That’s what he told you?

Just what would you call it, if not that?

He’s daring you, back to somewhere between smug and angry, as if disappointed you made him waste his time and all you can do is feel your heart sinking, feel yourself back in that place again, the decade-long sting of control over your body, the painful reminder of the girl you once were.

Where is he?

Did you think I’d clean up your dirty laundry for you? I’m not a breakup counselor, and you nee—

You left him alive!? The panic in your voice is so palpable it stops him in his tracks all over again, suspicious and surprised and you step back to reach for something — steady yourself steady yourself steady yourself you are not safe you are not safe you are not safe.

I’m not killing your ex-boyfriend without a good reas—

I was nineteen!

The world tilts, shifts, your knees are buckling, that’s tears in your eyes and you.

Are that girl again.

Too small, too scared, too naive to know better, too easy to mold and break and manipulate and you promised you’d never be her again, you promised you’d get her justice and you promised it wouldn’t be like this over and over again, promised he wouldn’t sink his fangs into you a third time.

What? He sounds smaller. Or is it faraway? You are too busy trying to stand, trying to still the shaking of your hands, the cold chill in your veins, too busy feeling your knees surrendering, too busy sliding to the floor and staring blankly into your memory.

Counsel. What. Did. You. Say. He repeats himself, and then he’s crouching before you, holding your chin in his hand and when did you start having tears on your cheeks for him to wipe away?

I was nineteen, you repeat, blank and broken, not seeing his brow furrow, not seeing the regret flash over his expression, I didn’t want it. I never wanted it.

What are you saying, sweetness? How dare he sound so soft? How dare he sound like he actually cares, when he’s the reason you’re here, on this floor, barely resisting your breakdown yet again?

You know better.

I was nineteen, a third time, I needed a job, something to give me experience, and he — he used me. That was my experience.

He’s starting to understand, but it doesn’t matter to you, not when you’re staring too far into the past, into a sneering face and cruel hands.

(I can ruin you or I can help you, Intern, so you make your choice. You need me.)

It never stops. Not after the first time — but you know that.

But you know that. That’s your knife, the one you twist into his chest and the realization sinks in heavy as an anchor, the thing he’s done.

The thing he’s done to you.

So why wait until now?

I would have waited forever.

You hid the letter. Hid it well enough even he wouldn’t have found it rifling through your things. Hid the threat in those typewritten words and the casual signature swept across the stationary, unaffected.

Men like him never face consequences. Only you, only the women they make use of, the ones they turn into commodities for their enjoyment. Who would care if you’d made it public, if you showed the world the kind of man he was — he was appointed for life, he was friends with the Governor, he was powerful and you were never going to be strong enough.

(You wouldn’t want anyone in the District Attorney’s office knowing just the sorts of things you’re willing to do to get your way. I can still help you be an exceptional lawyer, Intern.)

What are you? Ambition and drive and skill but what does it all mean when it can be reduced to plaything and pet project and whore.

I helped him get appointed. He helped me get into law school. Introduced me to… To Andy Barber, who calls you Sunshine and watches out for you and comes to New York despite having no power in the state just to see you again because he worries, because he cares.

You pay.

And sometimes that payment bounces back.

You pay and you pay and you pay and you struggle but what is the culmination of your strife is it the sight of you finally broken on the floor, is it the moment he’s been waiting for, dragged off your pedestal why couldn’t he have left well enough alone didn’t he know the horse was for your protection and not his pride?

No.

They never do.

They never do, do they, always so wrapped up in themselves and even now he kneels in front of you and wipes your tears but he has no words to say to atone for what he’s done and you know he can never.

I need you to leave.

The words come out without your control.

You know what you are. You are fury made flesh and you will not be manipulated again, not by the pressure of his hands on your face, not by the way he almost hugs you, he lied he lied he lied he lied.

Sweetness…

No. You don’t get to call me that. Not anymore.

You could have tolerated it. You could have accepted it you could have let yourself become the prize he took, owned his defeat by defeating you, you might even have enjoyed it but no.

No.

I held up my end of the bargain.

#steve rogers x reader #dark!steve rogers x reader #andy barber x reader #mob!au #political!au #dark!fic #steve rogers smut #andy barber smut #dark!steve rogers #angst #series #mob!steve rogers x reader #i really am gonna die here

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marauderundercover · 3 years

Text

Taking Chance Ch. 15: Problem Solving (Last name: Wayne)

AO3

Walking into class after lunch break, Marinette keeps her head down. No need to bring attention to the fact that she’s late...again. Sliding into her seat, she breathes a sigh of relief that Mme. Bustier is also late. Probably making copies. Either way, it had saved her from getting in trouble for being late again. Opening her bag to take out her stuff, she winces as Lila’s voice pierces the room.

“And then, he said he missed me so much that he cried!” She exclaims, clutching her hands together and sighing. Marinette rolls her eyes, certain that whoever it is either doesn’t actually know Lila, or doesn’t know Lila. Either way….lie.

“I still can’t believe you’re official with THE Tim Drake!” Alya exclaims. Marinette immediately chokes on air, her entire face turning bright red as she coughs and attempts to catch her breath. It doesn’t help that everyone is suddenly staring at her and waiting to see if she’s okay. The story pops back into her mind. Yeah, sure Lila. Tim Drake is dating you- an annoying little kid. Sure.

“Are you okay?” Rose asks once Marinette finally catches her breath. She smiles awkwardly, not ready for a confrontation with Lila over this, but also wary to let anyone spread this specific rumor.

“Yeah, it’s just-” Marinette pauses and sighs. This wouldn’t be the high road, but she had to watch out for her brother. “I’m just not sure Lila is telling the truth.” Chaos erupts around her. She chances a glance at Adrien, surprised to see his supportive smile. Well, almost. They had gotten closer. And sure, he’s said he liked her in Gotham, but she kinda thought he just blurted it out after seeing she was Ladybug. She wasn’t quite sure if he actually liked her.

“I-I just don’t understand why you hate me!” Lila sobs.

“I don't-” Marinette tries to say. Keyword- tries.

“Girl, you should apologize. Lila's been talking about Tim since before we even went to Gotham! They’re super serious now. They have been for almost two years.” Alya says.

“No they’re not! Do you seriously think an almost twenty year old CEO would date some fifteen year old kid from halfway across the world? I doubt Tim’s ever even been to Italy or France since becoming Co-CEO.” Marinette rambles, knowing with absolute certainty that she was right.

“Marinette! You’re kind of being mean. Lila says-” Rose tries to say.

“Just because Lila said something doesn’t mean it’s true!” Marinette cries, her frustration threatening to overwhelm her.

“Girl, you seriously need to apologize.” Alya says softly. Marinette’s jaw drops.

“For what?” She scoffs, throwing her arms up in exasperation. “For seeing the truth and calling it out? For not bending to Lila’s every whim?”

“For being a bad friend.” Alya says simply. Marinette freezes. A bad friend? Really? Her? A bad friend? How? All she’d ever done was try to be good. To be nice. To be perfect.

“Whatever.” She finally says, standing and grabbing her stuff. She storms out of the room, ignoring the yells of protest from her classmates. She thinks she hears Adrien, but she ignores him too and continues on her rampage past everyone, including Mme. Bustier. She doesn’t stop until she’s in the basement of the school. The only thing down here were a few vending machines. She tries to calm herself down, knowing her anger is unnecessary. But it’s hard.

She wants to let herself be mad, she should be able to be mad about this! She was always trying to be a good friend and do things for other people and help the class even when she didn’t have time. Even if it meant missing out on sleep or doing something she wants to do, she put them first. Always. But somehow, Lila came out on top. She always comes out on top. They always believed Lila. Always.

“You should leave Marinette, before you attract an akuma.” Tikki says calmly. Marinette blinks, trying to figure out- Oh. Kaalki. Duh. Quickly calling on her transformation, Marinette portals into her room at the manor before a butterfly can come infect her. The second she lands, she calls off her transformation and continues her pacing.

“I’ve always been there for them. Always helped them. Always cared. How is calling Lila out being a bad friend? She’s not even my friend!” Marinette rambles with a huff.

“Maybe you should talk to your family- get their opinions.” Tikki suggests. Marinette starts to turn her down, then realizes she has to say something. Lila’s telling lies about Tim. Lies that could get him in some serious trouble.

“I have to tell Tim! If Alya publishes anything about Lila and Tim he could get in a LOT of trouble.” Marinette rambles, throwing her door open. She blinks in surprise at Tim, standing there frowning with a huge cup of what she assumes is coffee.

“When’d you get here?” He asks, and she can tell he’s much too tired to take this seriously right now.

“I’ll fill you in later, Timmy. Get some sleep.” She says, giving him a quick hug before darting around him and down the stairs. She had to tell someone who could deal with it. Not that she wanted Lila to get in trouble or anything like that, but...she didn’t want them to be able to lie about her family anymore. She’d accept all of those other stupid lies if she just stopped lying about the Waynes.

Running past the ballroom, a sudden movement makes her backtrack and actually glance into the ballroom. Her eyes widen when she notices the movement she caught was Dick….hanging from the chandelier. Of course. Well, he’s not going to be much help, she thinks, shaking her head and turning to try and find someone else. Maybe Mr.- maybe her dad was around. Now if she was a superhero/co-CEO combo where would she spend her free time. She hums, before deciding to check his study. If he wasn’t in there, she’d just go through and check the Batcave. He had to be in one of those places. She knocks on his study door, completely expecting silence, so she’s confused when she hears him call:

“Come in.” She raises an eyebrow. Okay, so he is in the study. Pushing the door open, she smiles at him, rubbing the back of her neck nervously at the brief look of complete and total shock on his face.

“Uh, hi Dad.” She says, rocking back onto her heels nervously. He controls his face quickly, gesturing for her to shut the door.

“Marinette. When did you arrive?” He asks, carefully examining her. She turns red when she realizes- he’s looking for injuries. Since going back to Paris, she hadn’t really communicated with her family unless she was injured or unable to fight. Promising herself to change that, she sits in the chair in front of his desk.

“Five minutes ago, maybe? I’m not sure. I just-” She pauses and frowns, realizing that her emotions almost got the better of her today. She almost let her frustration win. Over something silly. Shaking the thoughts away, she says “I was upset. Lila was lying again and usually I can just ignore her but this time… She was telling everyone that she’s dating Tim, and that they’re really serious and have been for almost two years.” Her dad’s eyebrows twitch slightly.

“Isn’t Lila your age?” He asks.

“Well, she’s already fifteen. But still, it would put Tim in a really bad light if Alya posted it somewhere and knowing Alya, she’s going to post it. Because they all believe Lila. And I tried to explain to them that Tim is quite a bit older than us and he’s an actual CEO and we’re just kids to him and he hasn’t even been in Italy or France and-” She pauses, letting herself take a breath. “I just think it’s wrong for her to lie about my family.”

---

Bruce tries hard to hide his shock. His daughter, who he’d known for less than two months, came all the way to Gotham because someone lied about Tim. It wasn’t the first time someone lied about the Wayne family, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last time. But the fact that his daughter was so upset that she had to come here...he was not going to let this slide. Wayne manor was a safe place, so he would make sure Marinette was able to breathe and relax a little before going home. And he was going to plan a way to stop the lies, to help Marinette.

“How can I help?” He asks, wanting to help but also wanting to make sure he does not overstep. He had heard her explaining to Damian why she let the girl get away with so many lies- it was an attempt to stop a mass akumatization. Bruce also wanted to avoid something like that, which is why he would follow his daughter’s lead.

“I don’t know! I know if I reveal everything it’s- it’s gonna be bad. I don’t know if we’d be able to handle something like that right now. Two of our temporary holders, people I trust a lot, are out of town. I don’t really trust anyone else and I’m certain we’d need their powers for the fallout from Lila’s kingdom falling.” She explains, bouncing her leg up and down as she glances around the room, possibly to come up with a plan. Bruce knew that he used a similar method when he was younger.

“What about the rumors related to the family? Do you think it would be safe to end those?” He asks, a plan beginning to form. But he’d have to get her permission. It would change many things.

“Well….yes. Yes, I think it would be safe. And even if it wasn’t, I know the fallout wouldn’t be anywhere as bad as if some of the other lies came to light.” She says. Bruce nods.

“Very well. Marinette, I believe I have something that might work, but I’m unsure if you’ll agree.” He says.

“We tell them I’m a Wayne.” Marinette says simply. Bruce blinks in surprise. It had definitely been what he was thinking, but thinking it and hearing his daughter say it out loud as if it was the most simple thing ever, those were two completely different things. He’s silent, trying to gather his words again when Marinette chuckles nervously. “I mean, we could say that I know you guys. Cause that’s not a lie.” She says. He sighs, realizing that his silence may have hurt her.

“Marinette, honey, you’re a Wayne. I want you to be one, and if you do as well, then of course we can tell them. I can even arrange for nondisclosure statements to be signed by the students in your class and the faculty. In case you’re not quite ready for the entire world to know.” He says quietly, hoping his voice is soft enough to reassure her. Her tense shoulders fall as she relaxes, her smile easing back into a natural one. Good. He didn’t mess up this time.

“Can we really do that? I do want to be a Wayne, it’s just. I’m not sure I’m ready for the world to look at me.” She says quietly. At this, he quirks a smile.

“If Adrien Agreste’s father is able to get an entire school to sign NDA’s about the boy’s lunch habits, I’m certain that having them sign an NDA when it’s for your safety will be no issue. Besides, if anyone breaks the NDA with malicious or ill intent, we can sue them.” He says simply.

“Oh, well, suing them seems a bit much.” She mumbles. He’s about to argue, when she shrugs. “But it also makes sense. Let’s do this.” He’s instantly proud of the determined look in her eyes. From saving her city to fighting lying bullies, his daughter was so much stronger than she thought.

---

Walking into class the following Monday was nerve wracking. It was almost the end of the school year, so she could’ve asked her Dad to wait until the next year to fix it. But she didn’t want to chance Lila lying about Tim all summer. Or anyone else in her family. Lila could use anyone else- even MDC- to get ahead, Marinette didn’t care. But she was done with Lila using her family. Originally, she had wanted to just do it quietly. Tell the teacher and have her pass out the forms. That’s probably how she would have done it too if her brothers hadn’t found out.

Now, her entire family was coming. She was cautious, but they promised to keep their emotions in check while they were in town. And they could always portal out if things got too tense. But, her brothers were drama queens. So it just made sense that they wanted to give her class the papers in person. She suspected Tim also wanted the chance to glare at Lila in person, and she wasn’t about to deny him that.

“Okay class! We have a few guests coming in today. They’ll be here in a couple minutes and I want you all to give them your full attention and respect.” Mme. Bustier announces, clapping her hands to get their attention. Marinette lets out a shaky breath. Here goes nothing. She tunes out the chatter of her classmates, keeping her eyes on the door. Waiting. Watching. Finally, she sees their shadows outside and her leg starts bouncing. Maybe she shouldn’t have let all of them get involved….

“Oh my god! That’s Bruce Wayne!” Alya yells as her family walks in. Marinette winces slightly at the instant fangirling from many of her classmates. She risks a glance at Lila and tries not to laugh at how pale the Italian girl had gotten. In fact, she looked a little green.

“Hello everyone! My name is Bruce Wayne, though I think you all should remember me from your trip to Gotham.” He says with a wide (fake) smile. Marinette wrinkles her nose. She doesn’t like this fake side of her Dad. She’d much rather watch him be overly serious than use that weird fake smile.

“We’ve brought some forms for everyone in this class to sign, as well as the faculty. The rest of the school won’t be required to sign these forms because it is assumed that what we are about to tell you will not go outside of this room.” Tim starts to explain, no coffee in his hand for once. “I know that it will not go outside of this room because these are NDAs, and we can and will take legal action against anyone who tells someone outside of this room about this information.” Everyone is silent, and while Marinette herself feels tense, she notices that most of her class just looks excited. Except Adrien, who was glancing back at her and looking worried. They’d already talked about this, but he was still worried. He seemed to think that this was one of her worst ideas, but honestly, Marinette didn’t care. She wanted to be able to (kind of) openly accept the other half of her family.

“Oh my god, is Tim about to propose?” Alya loudly whispers to Lila. Marinette can’t help it. She snorts. Out loud. Her face instantly heats as the entire room turns to look at her.

“Oh, uh, sorry?” She says, though it’s definitely more of a question than a statement. She wasn’t sorry.

“I am not about to propose. I’m actually not currently seriously seeing anyone, but there is a boy back home who I’ve had a few dates with.” Tim says. Marinette watches as Alya tries to say something, only to be stopped by Nino gently patting her hand and shaking his head. Good. Maybe they’d get through this without anyone getting akumatized. She glances at Lila again, rolling her eyes at the obviously fake upset look on her face. Is she seriously acting like Tim is cheating on her? In front of Tim? How dumb is she?

“I actually came to have everyone sign an NDA since my youngest daughter is in your class.” Her dad says, metaphorically dropping the bomb. He didn’t just drop it though, he chucked it at the class. The effect is immediate, the entire class erupting in whispers. Mme. Bustier tries, without luck, to gain control of the class. Marinette watches as Damian, who looked ready to murder any and all of her classmates, whistles an insanely high pitch. Wincing slightly, she makes eye contact with him and quirks an eyebrow. He shrugs, but it had been successful. The class was silent once again.

“When is she starting here?” Alya asks, obviously going into reporter mode. Marinette makes eye contact with her Dad, watching as he barely quirks an eyebrow, a silent question. One last chance to back out. She nods for him to continue. She wanted this.

“She actually already goes here. She just decided it was time to embrace the Wayne name.” He says, nodding at her. Marinette lets out a grounding breath and stands, quickly moving over to stand by her brothers. She tries to hide her hands behind her back, knowing they’re shaking like crazy. She positions herself between Dick and Jason, instantly able to relax as the feeling of safety washes over her. The class is completely silent, and Marinette isn’t sure if they don’t understand or if they’re in shock. She’s not sure which would be better.

“What?” Alya asks, barely audible.

“Marinette is my daughter, I am her biological father. She’s a Wayne. And you all have been provided with an NDA about her identity, so that she can remain safe and anonymous to the rest of Paris. Your parents have already agreed and signed both their forms and forms giving you all permission to sign a form. They all understand the importance of this secret, and I urge every single one of you to take this seriously.” Her dad says, giving the class another wide (fake) smile. She lays her head on Dick’s arm, relieved that her class instantly starts signing the forms. No outbursts right now, no possible akumas forming. Nothing. It was a relief, it was freeing. She was certain that it was going to come back and bite her- sooner rather than later if the look on Lila’s face was anything to go by- but for right now, everything was calm. And her family was supposed to stay in Paris for another day, so she’d finally be able to let three of her parents meet in person. It was nice. It was safe.

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