#Idk like I do normal people things I can’t just pause on my life | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

minustwofingers · 1 year

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exoplanet p.3

pairing: ellie williams x fem! reader (ur a girly girl in this one!!) (she/her pronouns)

summary: you’ve won the life lottery as one of the few people on earth with parents who gained admittance to the most prestigous safezone in the world after the outbreak. but after a lab accident sends you out to jackson, wyoming, real life hits you fast. it’s a good thing that a hot lesbian finds u. (lol). mean ellie at first, slowburn, enemies to friends to lovers, fem reader asf

warnings: (PLEASE READ!) explicit language, violence, description of a medical procedure sans anesthesia, recreational drug use (idk how else to put it ellie gets absolutely zonked in the beginning), reader overthinks asf and is a little neurotic but that's why we love her x

a/n: hey guys! thank you so much for the wait! it's been genuinely insane how sweet and incredible all of you are. i've never felt so appreciated for my writing!! also, some notes: this chapter is heavily inspired by my last relationship. sorry if it's not as immersive bc of it! and also i don't have ANY medical knowledge so...cast a blind eye when u get to that scene

part 1

part 2

tags: @prettyplant0 @666findgod @sawaagyapong @rystarkov @buzzybuzzsposts @addisonnie @galacticstxrdust @parkersmyth @pinkazelma

wc: 6.6k

enjoy x

“One more time.”

You gave Ellie a withering look from where you were sitting at the end of her bed.

“Please,” she said, drawing out the s. “Just once more. I promise.”

“Fine.” You rolled your eyes—a habit of hers that you were quickly picking up—and took in a deep breath. “Fuck.”

Ellie lost it, peals of laughter bouncing off the walls. “Another one. Say something else.”

“I don’t understand why you think this is so funny,” you said.

“You say it so weird.”

“I enunciate,” you clarified. “I don’t ‘sound weird’. It’s called pronouncing every letter in the word and not having a lazy mouth.”

“Please,” she gasped. “At least say bitch. You haven’t said that one yet.”

You looked her dead in the eye. “Bitch.”

If you weren’t already certain that Ellie was high out of her mind by the smell of her room and the general haze in the air, the way she howled with laughter and fell back on her bed would’ve made you entirely positive.

This was new. You’d begun to hang out with her in her room after dinner—that was normal—but when she’d knocked on your door smelling heavily of weed once you’d said goodnight to Joel, you were nothing less than shocked. Of course, she had none left for you. Which was probably good, because only a sober mind could navigate a night sitting on Ellie’s bed without doing something really, really stupid.

“I can’t believe you call me weird,” you said, tucking your feet under her and giving her a pointed look.

“You’re so lucky you didn’t grow up where I did,” Ellie said, wiping a tear away from her cheek as she tried (unsuccessfully) to rein in her giggles. “You would’ve been eaten alive, good lord.”

“What were you like as a kid?” you asked, resting your chin on your knees.

She considered for a moment, growing more somber. “Um…I don’t know if you would’ve liked me very much.”

“What do you mean? Of course I would’ve liked you.”

“No,” she said, swiping at her face so she pushed a strand of hair away. “I don’t think you would have.”

“Why not?”

“I was…” She paused, picking at her cuticles. “Back then I didn’t have anyone. I was an orphan, you know. My parents were never in the picture, so I was the only one I could count on. I was really rough around the edges and could be nasty. But I probably would’ve ignored you like I did everyone else. “

“Everyone? You didn’t have anyone? No friends at all?”

Ellie blinked, and her gaze remained fixed on her hands. “Basically, yeah. I mean, there was one girl, but that’s…I don’t want to talk about that right now, actually.”

“That’s okay,” you said, reaching forward to touch her knee. She flinched at the contact but didn’t brush you away. The image of a young, scared Ellie living somewhere alone made your chest ache. “You don’t have to tell me.”

“What were you like?” she asked, tilting her head and meeting your eyes.

“Hmmm…” Mirth crept into your tone. “What do you think?”

“What do I think?” Ellie echoed, her eyes cloudy as she thought. Then a small smirk formed on her face. “Oh god, were you one of those spoiled brats? Were you a mean girl?”

“God, no,” you said, raising your eyebrows. “Not mean.”

“Then what?”

You paused. “I was really shy, I guess. And quiet, too. I didn’t do much but read for a good 10 years of my life. I used to have awful pronunciation because I would spend more time reading than talking to anyone. But I think I would’ve liked you.”

Ellie shook her head.

“Yes,” you said. “Maybe I would’ve been a little scared of you. I probably would’ve never had the courage to talk to you. But I would’ve liked you, I think.”

“Scared of me?”

“Yeah.”

“Why? I was a kid.”

“I was mostly going off of how I felt when I actually first met you,” you said, shrugging.

She gasped theatrically. “You’re scared of me?”

“No!” you said, smacking her knee. “That’s not what I mean. You’re just really intimidating.”

“Intimidating?” She looked at you incredulously.

“You’re so tough,” you explained, feeling heat grow in your cheeks. “You seem just—I don’t know, just so capable. There’s nothing you’re too afraid to face, nothing you’re too afraid to say.”

“That’s not true,” she said lightly.

“Well, of course I’m sure there are things that you’re afraid of,” you amended. “But you hide it so well. You just seem so…fearless.”

“Hm,” Ellie said, letting her head rest against the headboard. “I think you would’ve made me a nervous wreck. If we’d met when we were kids, I mean.”

“Why?”

She shrugged. “I’ve never met anyone quite like you before. You’re just so untouched.” She winced. “God, no. That sounds gross. I just mean…I dunno. I wouldn’t have known how to act around you. You haven’t had to harden up like everyone else I know.”

“Are you saying I should develop trust issues or something?” you asked, your voice a teasing lilt.

“You know,” she said, nodding seriously, “That is part of it. It was really off-putting how quickly you trusted me. But I guess that’s just a product of where you grew up.”

“Yeah,” you said softly. “I wonder how I would’ve turned out if I’d grown up like you.”

“Can I be honest?” Ellie asked.

“Sure.”

“I don’t think you’d still be here if you were me,” she said, her eyes crinkling. “No offense. You just have zero survival skills. I swear that shit has to be genetic. I’ve never met someone more averse to violence in my life.”

You sighed, pressed your hands deep into Ellie’s comforter as a thought hit you. “I think if you’d been born in my position, you would’ve been greater than anything either of us could ever dream of. Much greater than me.”

“Definitely not,” said Ellie. “There’s no fucking way I’m studying the way you apparently do. I honestly think I’d take being an orphan over the study schedule I saw in your bag.”

She was of course referencing the time table you’d roughly sketched up the morning before you’d ended up in Jackson. It was blocked to the minute, citing the study content and the location of said study session. She’d been beyond horrified to see it.

You laughed, nudging her socked food with yours.

“Is there music? In Terranova?”

“Oh,” you said, startled at the abrupt change of subject. “Uh, yeah. Of course. I listened to it all the time.”

“I used to have a Walkman,” she said, leaning back as she reminisced. She was lying flat on her back now. “It ended up breaking a while ago, but it was like my child.”

“Have you ever seen a movie before?” you asked, sitting up rigid straight as the thought occurred to you.

“Duh,” she said, giving you a weird look. “Do you think I live under a rock?”

“How many?”

“Hm.” Ellie began counting, ending on her second hand. “I think 6?”

“You’ve seen a total of 6 movies in your life?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you want to see more?”

She shrugged. “I mean, I guess. It’s just tough to find CDs that are still functional after so long.”

“Hold that thought,” you said, holding a finger in her direction as you stood up.

“Hey!” she called as you bolted out the door. “Where are you going?”

You came bounding back to her room in a matter of seconds, your laptop in your hands.

“What the fuck?” she said. “Isn’t that your homework thing?”

“Yes,” you said, feeling around for an outlet, “But I also have a ridiculous amount of movies downloaded on this. Our dorm wi-fi is shit and I have way too much storage on this thing, so I just download, like, every movie I’ve ever wanted to watch.”

“Your dorm what?”

You waved your hand. The last thing you wanted to do was explain to her how the 802.11 standard allowed wireless connections a few years after the outbreak. “Not important. Here, come look at this.”

Your laptop roared to light with the help of your charging cord. Quickly, you typed your password in and opened your downloads. Ellie hovered over your shoulder, squinting at the screen with confusion.

“Here,” you said, opening up the album that had everything you had seen for your entire university career and passing the laptop to Ellie. “Use the touchpad—there, yeah—to navigate. Press to click. These are all movie files that I’ve seen. We can watch them on my laptop. Some of them were filmed in Terranova, too, so they’re post-apocalypse.”

She perused the selection you had for quite some time, the glow of the screen lighting up her face against the dim room. “Okay. This one.”

And thus began a tradition. Each night after you’d finished showering and Joel retired to his room, Ellie would come knock on your door and ask if you wanted to come over. You’d talk for a while, then open your laptop and pick something out to watch. Ellie was never high after the first time, which was unsurprising considering that there definitely wasn’t a way to get any in Jackson. Where she found any the first time was still a mystery to you.

A week or so after your first patrol with Ellie, Joel had taken it upon himself to teach you how to shoot. You were surprisingly not as bad as you’d expected, but the rebound was tough to get used to, and you were still hung up over the whole “killing living things” part.

Your first patrol—first real one—came quickly, and before you knew it, Ellie was handing you the same gun you’d dropped the first time with a suspicious look.

“Don’t kill one of us with that thing,” she warned. “Be smart, okay?”

“Sure thing, boss,” you said to her, mock saluting as best you could while you were leading Japan to the mounting block.

She rolled her eyes. “Please act normal or I’ll make you carry around that glorified pocket knife instead again.”

The patrol began as usual, Ellie leading you down the same path you went last time. It was a beautiful day out, with the early spring sun filtering through the evergreen trees that populated the woods and birdsong filling the air.

Though conversations with Ellie were getting easier (given that it actually seemed like she wanted to talk to you now), you were still starstruck. Nothing that you did and nothing that you thought could get you to stop seeing her the way you did. You were routinely distracted by everything about her. It was a wonder that you could even function as a normal person around her, much less handle a weapon and a horse.

You two had nearly made the full rotation when your surroundings exploded in action.

“Fuck,” Ellie hissed as someone behind you two fired a shot that narrowly missed Shimmer.

You whipped around, gun in hand, to see two men—two normal men who weren’t infected. One held a bow, the other a gun.

The one who had fired the first shot never even stood a chance. He was down on the ground seconds after you’d seen him, Ellie’s aim taking him out before you could even ready your gun.

The second man notched an arrow and managed to draw it back and release into the air right as Ellie’s bullet struck him, sending him falling back.

“I don’t think there’s any more,” said Ellie, slightly breathless as she scanned the forest. “Sometimes outsiders pull this shit—try to kill us for our supplies. I’ve never seen them this close to the wall, though. I’ll have to tell Maria and Tommy.”

Normally, you would’ve felt up to making some sort of sarcastic comment about how that was a really unconcerning thing for her to tell you and that you actually felt so much more comfortable going on patrol knowing that there were also just run-of-the-mill people trying to kill you, but a twinge in your lower body distracted you.

Slowly, nervously, you looked down. Air immediately left your lungs.

“At least we’re done,” Ellie was saying, wiping her hands off on her thighs and slinging the gun over her shoulder. “What a crazy end for your first actual patrol, huh?”

When you didn’t answer, she turned to you and saw the arrow sticking out of your side,

“Shit,” said Ellie, jumping off Shimmer and reaching you in seconds. “Shit, shit, shit. Oh god.”

“Am I going to die?” you asked, staring starstruck at the blood escaping the outline of the arrowhead. You couldn’t feel anything anymore. Were you in shock?

“No,” said Ellie firmly. “Absolutely not. Do you need help getting off?”

Before you could answer, she was already helping you down, carefully avoiding the protruding arrow.

“Listen,” she said, back to being her unwavering self, “We’re right by the wall. I’m going to help you walk in, and then I’ll grab some supplies, okay? Don’t try to pull the arrow out. You hear me? Don’t.”

Swallowing hard, you nodded. She helped you walk the few steps to be carefully concealed by the wall, then grabbed the two horses and darted past you, making a break for Maria and Tommy’s cabin.

In a haze of confusion, you could see Maria running out, holding a box out to Ellie in exchange for the reins of the horses. Ellie said something that made Maria point towards you. She nodded, then ran back to you.

By the time that she’d reached you, the shock had begun to wear off, replaced by the stinging pain from the object that had impaled you. It was worse than anything you’d ever felt before in your life, and it took all you had not to keel over.

“Hey,” she said, reaching out to grab your face so you had to look at her. “Don’t be afraid. I’ve done this before, okay? I’m, like, the master. It’s going to be alright.”

“Done what before?” you managed to grind out.

Ellie let go of your face to dig through the box Maria had given her, producing a needle, a bottle of rubbing alcohol, and what looked like a spool of thin thread.

Horror slowly trickled through you as you realized what was about to happen.

“It doesn’t look all that deep,” Ellie was saying as she examined the arrow. “So I don’t think it’s hit anything. It’s just going to be a nasty hole. I’m going to pull it out now, okay?”

You let out a strangled scream as she grasped the arrow’s end and yanked it out without warning.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” Ellie repeated. She threw the arrow over her shoulder and knelt so she was hovering over you. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you gasped. You were most certainly not. You couldn’t quite get your eyes to focus, and your heart was beating out of your chest.

“Alright,” she said firmly, grasping your shoulders and pulling you up so you were slumped against the wall. “Sit up straight, alright? Also, this is going to hurt.”

At first there were just snipping sounds as she cut part of your shirt away—then something cool and wet pressed to your wound. You cried out again as a fresh white hot pain bloomed in your middle.

“I know, I know.” Ellie’s voice was consoling as she reached up to brush away the sweaty strands of hair stuck to your forehead. “Just a few more seconds.”

“Fuck—off—” you gritted out from your teeth.

Ellie’s eyebrows shot up. “I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that. Just this once.”

She released the alcohol-saturated cotton pad, throwing it aside and fussing with the thread and needle until she was satisfied.

By the time her fingers were ghosting over your abdomen again, you couldn’t pull your eyes away from the puncture wound and the needle she was wielding.

“Don’t look,” said Ellie. “Pick something else. You don’t need to watch.”

“I hate needles,” you whispered, choosing the air over her shoulder to be your focal point.

There was a prodding at the top of your wound, and you hissed.

“I can’t say I’m a fan myself.”

Something pierced through your skin, and your midriff exploded in pain.

The edges of your sight went fuzzy, stars forming in the corners of your vision. Someone that sounded suspiciously like you cried out. Your cheek rammed up against something solid and warm.

Once the initial sting had faded, you realized that you’d slumped into Ellie, your face buried into her neck. She didn’t make any move to push you off, instead just taking one hand to brush up and down your arm with a feather light touch.

“You're fine," she said firmly. "Everything's going to be fine."

Your fingers curled around the hem of her shirt as the needle exited through the other end of your wound, pulling another whine from your throat. It was easier to not feel like you were about to pass out when you were crushed into Ellie, clinging onto her and just focusing on the way she felt against you.

“Hang on, I'm almost there,” she muttered a few stitches later. You’d quieted down, only letting out the occasional gasp as she pulled the thread through. “You're doing so well. Just one more.”

Now that you were more conscious, you had no idea how she was managing to stitch your side while you were nearly on her lap, but she continued to weave her needle through your skin, pulling it taut.

“And done,” said Ellie. You felt her take another cotton square to swipe against your skin.

You laid against her for a few more moments, panting as the shock slowly began to fade. She shifted, and for a moment you were sure that she was going to shove you away, but then the hand she’d lifted hesitantly rested on your head, her fingers parting to card through your hair.

“How did you learn how to do that?” you asked, your voice muffled from where you were pressed against her.

“Trial and error.”

Her joke was enough for you to finally let go, sitting back against the wall. Her hand slithered out of your hair, resting back in her lap.

“Shut up,” you said. “That’s awful.”

Ellie shrugged.

“I’m sorry,” you said, feeling the bumpiness of the stony wall press into your back. “I have a really low pain tolerance.”

“So I’ve noticed,” said Ellie, the side of her mouth quirking.

“I’ve never been hurt before,” you heard yourself saying. “Like, beyond the occasional splinter or bee sting or accidental scrape or ankle sprain. It’s just not something that happens.”

“Must be nice.”

You smiled sadly. “Yeah. It’s not nice being weak, though.”

Ellie looked away from you then, silent as she packed up the first-aid kit. Then: “I don’t think that’s true.”

She’d said it lightly, like it was meant to be an offhand comment, a throwaway addition that wouldn’t be remembered by either of you. But the sentiment still struck you, twisting your heart.

You were less capable because your survival had never required anything more. You were weak because you could be.

Her voice from the night she’d been high floated back to you. You haven't had to harden up like everyone else I know.

Out here, weakness was a luxury few could afford.

“Not so untouched anymore, huh?” you said, since you didn’t know how else to respond.

“I won’t tell anyone if you don’t,” quipped Ellie. “But if I were you, I wouldn’t lose sleep over it. I still consider needing to be held to get 4 stitches as being soft. You haven’t changed a bit. No offense.”

Your cheeks burned bright red. “I—”

“I’m teasing,” she said before you could defend yourself. “Arrow wounds suck. I get it.”

“Right.” You turned away, keeping your gaze fixed firmly on the ground beside you. With feeling more yourself came the inevitable shame at what you’d just done. What had you been thinking, touching her like that? Grabbing onto her like that?

This was going to haunt you for the rest of your life.

“Don’t make that face,” said Ellie. “I’m sorry for saying that. I didn’t mean to embarrass you. It really is fine.”

It was not fine. It would never be fine. You wanted the thugs to come back to life and finish you off, and then have the earth open up and swallow you for good measure.

Ellie probably thought of you as an overgrown child. You doubted that there was ever a point where she could see you as anything equal. If she ever knew how often she appeared in your imagination, she’d probably be disgusted.

She called you pretty a contrarian voice in your head reminded you. Don't you remember?

But maybe she hadn’t meant it. She hadn’t said it explicitly: “Y/N, I think you’re pretty.” She just hadn’t argued when you’d pointed it out. Maybe because she was being nice, or maybe because she was actually being sarcastic.

“You were really brave, okay?” said Ellie. “Your first armed confrontation and you did well.”

“I didn’t shoot anyone.”

“It could have gone worse,” said Ellie. “You could’ve accidentally shot me. Or died. And neither of those things happened, so that’s successful in my book.”

“That’s very glass half-full of you.”

“That’s me. Ever the optimist.”

You snorted.

That night, Ellie knocked on your door and asked you if you were up for another movie. You found yourself sitting on her comforter, plugging in your computer and booting it up minutes later.

Physically speaking, it had always been a little awkward to fit two people on her twin bed if they weren’t right next to each other, given that your laptop screen was a very unimpressive size. When you’d first started watching with her, Ellie would rest against the headboard, her legs stretched out in front of you while you would sit with your legs crossed, positioned sideways so you weren’t accidentally pushing her legs off.

But after the day you had had, your back was sore and your whole body ached. Sitting on something soft without any back support as you angled yourself to look at the screen was quickly proving unsustainable.

“Pause,” said Ellie about ten minutes in. You’d been watching an older sci-fi flick—Ellie’s choice.

You complied, leaning forward and pressing the spacebar. “What’s up?”

“Are you even comfortable sitting like that?”

“Yeah,” you said.

“Liar,” accused Ellie, crossing her arms over her chest. “Don’t think I don’t see you ‘discreetly’ cracking your back every 2 minutes. It’s ruining the movie.”

“Sorry,” you said, shaking your head and smiling in exasperation. “It’s from all the years I spent hunched over a textbook.”

“You know, you can sit up here,” she said, patting the space beside her. “I don’t bite.”

“Jury’s still out on that,” you said, though by the time Ellie let out a laugh you were already unfolding your legs and moving so you were next to her.

She leaned forward, grabbing the bottom half of the laptop and lifting it. “Hey, do you want a blanket?”

“Sure.”

Ellie’s other hand grabbed the edge of her comforter and held it up.

Hesitantly, you slid your legs under and watched as Ellie did the same, awkwardly holding the laptop in the air before you were both settled enough to rest it on your covered right thigh and her left. “Better?”

When you nodded, she reached her tattooed arm out and pressed play. The audio picked back up, but you couldn’t for the life of you focus on the movie.

When Ellie had asked if you’d wanted a blanket, you were expecting her to toss the throw blanket that would really only fit one person at you, not invite you to get under the blankets with her. That was significantly more intimate.

You two were sitting close enough that your sides were touching, from shoulder to thigh. You could feel her chest lift with each breath, feel the heat coming off of her.

After a while, Ellie properly laid down, taking the laptop and hoisting it up so it rested on her lower abdomen as she settled into her pillow.

You gulped, your eyes flickering between her face and the screen. Ellie’s gaze was fixed intently on the screen, her eyes half lidded with exhaustion.

You could be tired too. You weren’t, of course—your heart was racing a thousand miles an hour. But she didn’t know that. It was normal to lay down next to her, right? You’d done that with Irena more times than you could count, and it was never weird. Yeah, you could do that.

Also, if you were totally horizontal, you would stop getting distracted by the sliver of her skin that her crooked shirt showed of her chest.

In a moment of blind courage, you scooted down so your head was lying right next to Ellie’s. She didn’t seem to react, just extending her hand from under the covers to steady the laptop as it wobbled from the movement.

Her sheets smelled like the soap that you used to wash your hair—a cottony freshness that had the slightest hint of lavender.

“Are you going to fall asleep on me?” asked Ellie after a while, her voice nothing more than a whisper.

“I could ask you the same thing,” you responded, equally quiet. Then, because you hadn’t made enough rash decisions for the night, you angled your head so it rested in the space right above her shoulder.

She inhaled sharply but didn’t move. On her next exhale a piece of her auburn hair tickled your forehead.

“How’re your stitches?” she asked suddenly, like she'd just remembered.

“They’re okay. I think. As stitches go.”

“After this is over, I’ll check on them,” she said. “Don’t let me forget, okay?”

“Okay,” you whispered, suddenly feeling shy. It was one thing for her to cut off your shirt and see your skin when she was trying to save your life while you were mentally gone. It was another thing altogether to pull up your shirt without adrenaline coursing through you.

You didn’t pay any attention to the rest of the movie, instead hyperfocused on the rhythm of Ellie’s breathing and the fact that if you moved just a little your chin would be on her shoulder.

Her mention of the stitches wasn’t helping at all, either. Now all you could think about was the embarrassing way you’d basically tried to crawl under her skin, burying your face into her and clutching at her clothes like you were a child.

A part of you was disappointed that you hadn’t been more lucid at the time. If you had, you would’ve been able to clearly remember the softness of her skin against yours. You would’ve been able to enjoy it for what it was—the only time you’d be able to touch her like that.

Because you couldn’t go around just grabbing onto her shirt and getting into her lap. That was a one-off, the only time that the rules were waived. You couldn’t touch her like that now, now that you didn’t have any excuse. It wasn’t allowed.

But sometimes you wanted to so badly that it hurt.

The movie ended abruptly, wrenching you out of your thoughts.

“Hey,” whispered Ellie. “Sit up so I can see.”

Reluctantly, you pressed yourself up from your back and began rolling up the hem of your shirt. Ellie twisted to face backwards, her thin top riding up and showing part of her back as she reached for the lamp.

Once golden light returned to the room, Ellie turned back and bumped your hands away. She bent over, tilting her head so that she was looking at the stitches straight on.

They didn’t look bad, you had to admit. Though you wouldn’t consider the actual experience of getting the stitches a 5-star experience, Ellie had clearly known what she was doing. The surrounding flesh didn’t look angry or irritated, and she’d pulled the stitches just tight enough without it puckering.

She prodded at the side, then gave a satisfied nod. “Looks good. What did I tell you? I’m really good at this sort of stuff.”

“I think you would’ve made a really good doctor,” you said once she’d sat up straight again. “Under different circumstances.”

“Is this you telling me that you don’t think I’m a good doctor now?” she teased.

“Your bedside manner could use some work,” you offered.

Ellie laughed then, shaking her head and crossing her arms over her chest. “Yeah, yeah. You lived. You'll get over it.”

“Did you go to school?” you found yourself asking, hung up on the thought of Ellie as a potential medical student. If she’d been in one of your intro biology classes, you never would’ve been able to pay attention. That was a fantasy you could shelve away for later.

“Sort of,” said Ellie, looking down at her arms. “I went to a military prep school run by FEDRA. I didn’t graduate though—obviously. I was long gone by then.”

“Right,” you said, remembering that she’d mentioned that she’d been 14 when she’d left Boston. “And what was it like?”

She paused, opening her mouth before closing it. “It was—unkind. Joel's told me about schools before the outbreak. It was nothing like that. There were some normal classes, but most of it was meant to prepare us to be soldiers.”

“Is that where you learned how to do sutures?”

“Among other things.”

Terranova had no military academies, given that there was hardly any military presence. The founder of Terranova had bodyguards and there was a police force that controlled the borders, but it was nothing like Ellie described. With invisible borders and a social order that valued peace and tranquility over all else, there was no real danger posed to any of the citizens.

But from what you had learned from movies and books and comments from older people, you had gathered a very dim picture of what a military academy looked like—harsh, strict, and cruel.

“I’m sorry you had to grow up like that,” you said.

“It’s okay.”

“Is there anything you would want to study? If you could?”

Ellie’s eyes closed. “Yeah. There are a couple things.”

She did not elaborate.

It didn’t take long for you two to settle back into your routine of meeting in her room each evening and watching one of your downloaded movies. Following the night after you’d gotten your stitches, you wouldn’t even have to ask—Ellie would pull up her comforter and let you slide in next to her without giving you a second glance.

You’d also gotten over the fear of touching her. Now, when you flopped back so your head was on her pillow, you’d adjust until you were nestled into the crook of her neck. She never once reacted to it, remaining perfectly still unless she was adjusting the laptop or messing with the sound.

Because it was normal, of course. You and Irena would rest your head on each other’s shoulders sometimes. That was something that friends did.

One night a week or so into April, you and Ellie made a harrowing discovery: there was only one movie left in your collection that you two hadn’t seen together.

“Damn,” said Ellie, furrowing her brow. “And there’s no way to get more on here?”

“I’m afraid not,” you said, frowning. “To download more or stream one, I’d need either an Ethernet cable or a wi-fi connection. Neither of which function out here anymore without cell towers and maintained cables.”

“Right,” said Ellie, though her face told you that she didn’t understand a word that had come out of your mouth. “So—this is it?”

“Yeah.” Your finger hovered over the play button. “Savor it, I guess.”

When you settled back and into her side, the heavy weight of dread settled into your stomach. Now that you’d finished showing her your entire collection, it’s not like she’d have a reason to invite you over every night. And there was especially no reason for you two to lie so closely together unless you were both trying to watch something on a small screen.

Once again, your excuse to touch her was gone.

You pressed closer to her as your mind raced. There was no way that Ellie didn’t see what you were doing as platonic, right? Was it possible that she was creeped out by how touchy you were but just tolerated it to be nice?

Maybe. You swallowed hard, keeping your eyes fixed on the screen. Ellie didn’t see you like…like that. She spoke to you like you were an obligation, a burden. Because you always had been. You’d been a responsibility thrust on her by a father figure who felt like he was indebted to you from that stupid bag of coffee you were lucky enough to bring.

Oh, god. Had Joel told her to befriend you? Had he asked for Ellie to pretend like she enjoyed spending time with you and to put up with your privileged, soft-hearted nonsense?

The knowledge that you were spiraling wasn’t enough to stop you. You did the best that you could—tried to remind yourself that it’d been a while since she’d looked disgusted with you, recall that she was outspoken enough to tell you to fuck off if you did something she didn’t like—but it was to no avail.

Ellie reached forward and hit pause on the movie, thrusting you both into silence.

“Is everything okay?” she asked after a moment.

“Yeah, why?”

“I can feel your heart going, like, crazy fast.”

You froze. “Oh. Uh, yeah. I was just thinking.”

Ellie pushed the laptop off of her, sitting up to give you an odd look. “About a near death experience or something? You running a marathon up there? That shit’s not normal.”

You laughed nervously. “It’s really nothing. Just an, uh, suspenseful movie.”

Which was actually really stupid of you to say, because you were watching some obscure Tarkovsky film that did nothing but pan over burning buildings and pensive men. For the past 5 minutes, there had been nothing on screen but the back of a car driving through traffic with minimal sound. Also, it was in Russian, and the English subtitles made zero sense.

There was a reason why this was the last movie you chose.

“This is the most boring fucking movie I’ve ever watched in my life, so you’re a dirty fucking liar,” said Ellie. Then her face pinched in worry. “Wait. Have you taken a look at your stitches lately?”

Before you could answer, she was grabbing a flashlight off her nightstand and yanking the comforter off you. She was pulling your shirt up when you finally found your voice.

“Wait!” you said, grabbing the bottom of your shirt and yanking it back in place. “It’s not—I don’t have an infection, okay? There’s nothing wrong with me. I really was just thinking, okay?”

“About what?” She reached back to place her flashlight back on the stand without taking her eyes off you.

“It’s nothing important.”

“If you say so.”

She picked the laptop up and placed it back on her thighs, lying back down. You followed suit, but this time you didn’t touch her, opting to keep as much distance as you could so she wouldn’t hear the stuttering of your heart.

Not even 5 minutes had passed before Ellie sat up to pause the video again.

“Is something wrong?” she asked.

“No. Why?”

“You’re acting weird,” she accused, but there wasn’t much conviction behind her voice.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that you’re acting weird,” she repeated, shutting your laptop off and moving it to the bottom of her bed, despite the protests that left your lips.

“I don’t understand,” you said. “I’m just watching the movie. I’m not doing anything. “

“You’re not watching the movie,” she said. “You weren’t even looking at the screen. What’s got you so bothered? Did I do something?”

“Of course not.” You pulled your legs under you so your legs were crossed and your back was against the wall. “You don’t need to worry. It’s honestly fine. I’m sorry if I’ve done something to imply otherwise.”

Ellie rubbed the bridge of her nose, sighing. “You stress me out. You can just tell me, you know? No need to be so cagey. I promise I’ve heard worse.”

“Don’t be so quick to say that.”

“Okay, now you have to tell me,” she said. “I’m never going to know peace again with a hook like that.”

You were about to open your mouth to tell her that it was stupid and that it didn’t matter, but something stopped you.

That was the coward’s way out. That’s what you’d always done—hid your feelings and concealed your emotions. That’s how you’d been raised. That’s how you thought everyone was. But now that you’d spent 2 months in Jackson, you’d realized that some people actually just said what they thought. And that, in the grand scheme of things, it was a better system than the Terranovian culture of superficiality.

Just because the you 2 months ago would have shook her head and changed the subject didn’t mean the you now had to.

Maybe this you could be different. Maybe, for once, this you could be brave.

“I really—” You stopped yourself. Saying I really like you didn’t even begin to encompass what you felt for the girl sitting across from you. To distill the sheer magnitude of your feelings down to four words felt criminal. The swell in your chest that never went away whenever you were near her could never and would never be adequately represented in the puny offerings of the Latin alphabet and the English language, and if you were going to do this, you were going to do it right.

You dared to look up at her for a moment. She was completely still, her green eyes reflecting the dim moonlight from outside. Once you met her gaze, you couldn’t bring yourself to pull it away.

“I’m really sorry that I’m putting you in an uncomfortable position for saying this,” you began (because old habits ran deep, and you would rather die than be impolite), “And I totally understand if you don’t want to talk to me after this. And I’m sorry for not telling you earlier.”

“As much as I’m sure that this is some sort of cultural cornerstone for you, please spare me the 6 foot long disclaimer script,” Ellie drawled.

“Right.” You gulped. “Anyway. As I was saying.”

“Any day now.”

At that moment, she had never looked more perfect. Your eyes had adjusted to the dark lighting, so the weak moonlight that spilled in from the window above her created a halo around her head.

“It’s you.” Your voice came out tiny. “You’re all that I can think about, and I don’t know what to do.”

There. It was off your chest.

For a moment, it was as if you’d suspended time, stopping Earth on its axis as you both held your breaths. There was nothing but silence and the occasional wooden creak of the old house’s foundation in the wind.

Ellie’s face betrayed nothing, save for something in her eyes and the disappearance of the smirk that had been on her lips moments before.

Then she spoke, her response whispered.

“Come here, then.”

final a/n: NOW HOLD ON before you show up outside my dorm with pitchforks and torches 🗣️🗣️🗣️ i'm so sorry but this was a necessary evil as this was going to a massive scene without the chapter break. also a disproportionately massive chapter compared to the other ones coming out. i write very quickly and should get the following part out in a timeframe similar to the first 3 parts. thank u for reading ! tell me what you think abt this chapter while you wait x

#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams self insert #ellie williams x oc #ellie williams fluff #ellie williams imagine

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missgryffin · 3 months

Text

lying in wait

Randomly listened to some Hamilton over the weekend, ended up with "Wait For It" stuck in my head, and wrote this in a couple hours today. I think it's angst, but with a nice dash of crack? Idk 😅 But I hope it makes you smile! 🫶 below + AO3

November 3, 1981

The cottage is silent, save for the ticking of the old grandfather clock in the hall, and it’s already pitch dark, with only the faint glow of street lamps and budding moonlight shining in through rain-slicked windows.

Lily draws up her knees to her chest where she sits on the sofa, peering mindlessly into blurry windowpane. She doesn’t remember the last time she walked aimlessly down a road, or went into a shop. Sometimes, on stormy autumn nights like this, she wonders if she ever will again.

Footsteps tumble down the stairs, then come to an abrupt halt.

“Lil?” She can see his shadowed outline, one hand in his hair. “You just…sitting in the dark?”

She shrugs, though he probably can’t see, and asks, “Harry went down alright, then?”

James chuckles to himself as he crosses the room, picking his way around the furniture until he drops onto the sofa next to her. “After reading every book twice and playing the Snitch game for thirty minutes…yes.” He leans closer, grinning. “Our son is asleep.”

She rests a hand on his scruffy cheek. “It’s only supposed to be ten minutes of the Snitch game,” she teases him.

“I know,” James sighs. “But he asked for ten more.”

Lily snorts. “What, and then ten more after that?”

He throws his hands weakly in his lap. “Wha—am I supposed to say no to the kid? He looks just like me!”

She falls into him, a laughing heap, and for a moment, they simply giggle deliriously together. It’s nice. It’s normal. Or at least a sliver of it.

James cuddles her into him, and Lily breaths him in. They’ve lost so many over the few years since Hogwarts, but they still have each other. She clings on to that, to him.

“I love you,” she says into his chest.

He kisses the top of her head. “I love you, too.”

A stretching silence; a heavy sigh. “It’s his birthday.”

“I know,” James murmurs. “I can’t stop thinking about him.”

Lily peels herself off his chest and swings a leg over his lap, sitting with her arms looped around his neck. How many conversations have they had over the years while sitting just like this? How many more will they get?

“He said he’d be in touch by today.” Her mind won’t stop racing. “What if this was a bad id—”

“It wasn’t,” James cuts her off. “Besides.” A heavy sigh. “It was…our only idea.”

“Do you think…” She pauses, plays with his hair. “Do you think we…did the right thing?”

He sits up straighter, pulling her closer against him. “You’re the only two people in my life I know I can trust completely,” he says. “So yeah, I think we did.”

There’s no use rehashing it again; they’ve done that enough. Yes, he now has a target on his back, but it’s not like he wasn’t already a target before. No, it couldn’t have been anyone else—not Albus, who knows more than he’s saying; not Remus, whom Albus and Sirius both suspect; and not Peter, who’s been looking exhausted and strung-out from the night-shift reconnaissance he’s been assigned. Yes, he had to leave. And no, it wasn’t cowardly to do so.

Granted, that last bit had taken a not insignificant amount of convincing (damned Gryffindor), but he eventually came around to their idea. Staying around in England with Voldemort sure to be onto him was certain death. But why not take advantage of being top of Voldemort’s mind? Why make it easy, when instead he could make it hard? Give the Order a leg up? Let them use him (or rather, the idea of him) as bait to lure and manipulate all the Death Eaters looking for him, and maybe even root out the spy in the process? And really, if anyone was going to lead Voldemort on a wild goose chase, setting traps and lying in wait, who better than Sirius Black?

Still, she worries. She can’t help it. And she knows James worries too, even if he does do a better job of hiding it.

There’s only one thing left to do, really; only one way to pass the time sufficiently distracted from racing thoughts. James must read her mind, because he’s all eager hands and excited tongue when she kisses him. Maybe it’s unhealthy, how much they’ve used sex to cope the past year. But when his mouth feels like this and hair’s in her hands…she’s not sure she cares.

“Prongs!”

They jump, springing apart like they’re fifth years caught after curfew. James swears under his breath as they fumble to right the clothes they’d started shoving aside before he reaches for the small mirror sitting on the coffee table.

“Padfoot!”

Lily frantically feels around the sofa for her wand.

“Why’s it so dar—oh, don’t tell me you were just—”

“We were waiting for you,” James covers.

“Mate. That’s worse. Just say you were shagging.”

“Well, we weren’t yet.”

“Hi, Sirius.” She brandishes her now-glowing wand, recovered from the seam between the cushions.

“Lily! Looking rumpled as ever!”

She yanks her cardigan back up her shoulder as she scolds, “Shut it.”

“I miss you, too.”

They can only see Sirius’s chin in frame, and it seems like he’s moving around.

“Happy birthday, man,” James says.

“Thanks.”

“Where are you?”

“Hang on—I have to show you—ready?”

“Yeah?”

His face comes into view and Lily instantly gasps.

Sirius grins. “Like it?”

His once shoulder-length hair’s been chopped off stylishly short in a fresh cut that makes him look like old Hollywood charm in that loose button-down he has on.

“Damn, Pads!”

“I…barely recognize you,” Lily stammers.

“Well.” He adjusts the mirror closer to his face. “That’s sorta the point.”

A heavy pit settles in her stomach.

“How you been?” James asks. “Travel go okay?”

“Yeah, fine.” Sirius shrugs. “I’ve been doing things the Muggle way—that Muggle Studies N.E.W.T.’s finally paying off, who woulda thought.”

“Where are you now?”

The mirror turns around, panning over an ocean-side city lit up with lights through a set of patio doors. “Cannes,” he says, and Lily hears the grin in his voice. The mirror turns back to his face. “I have access to money here, dad’s side of the family, in the French bank. And I figure…” He flops back atop a hotel bed, one hand beneath his head. “If Voldemort wants to come get me, he’ll just have to bring his snakey arse down to the beach, won’t he?”

They all bust up into snorting, wheezing laughter. It’s not normal; none of it’s normal. But laughing with her husband and their best friend like this is the closest to normal she’s felt in a long time, and she thinks, if this is how life has to be for awhile, she can live with it.

#missgryffin writes #jily #jple #james x lily #jily fanfiction #alternate ending #not really sure what this is it just happened #everyone lives au #justice for sirius black #getting the adventure story he deserves

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matryx7728 · 4 months

Note

Thoughts about Gabriel ultrakill and the heavenly council

okay okay okay okay okay so

i’m assuming this is referring to the tags i rbed that one post with so. youngings avert your eyes maybe idk how deranged i’ll get while typing this

gabriel ultrakill has such an impossible appeal to me and i’m going to attempt to put it into words

first of all. look at him. he’s so fucking pretty it’s insane have you seen that guy he’s beautiful in a way i can’t wrap my head around

he acts the way he acts he gets beat for the first time ever literalky ever by a machine and falls in love with it but mistakes that love for hatred and then when he reports back to the council they blame him for getting his ass handed to him like hello ???? you can’t just do that to him this is not what this post is supposed to be about im getting off topic

the way he acts his character his flow hsi jehevrnrgehrgrgrhuuuuuggaggggggggghh he triggers such a primal carnal desire within me that i’ve not felt my entire life until i witnessed him do you fucking grasp how much just how much i need to just be Near him do you understand how much i want to just hold his hand or to grab his stupid tiny little waist i want to place my hands on him in any kind of way okease oh my god please i need to cling to him i NEED to watch him do common normal things like twisting a doorknob or tie a knot oh my god i need to see him tie a knot you know how you have to pull the strings taut i need ti see him di that i need to see him lift something slightly heavy i need to watch him throw something into the air and catch it or alternatively i need to see him almost not catch it and do that jolt thing people do when they almost drop something to catch it i need to see him do that i need ti see him grip something i need to watch him stand up from a sitting position i need to watch him forget the direction he’s supposed to be going in and then do that weird pause and glance around before turning around and speed walking in the opposite direction i need to see him pick up a spherical object and watch the way his hands wrap around it i need to watch him reach around to try and grab something slightly out of reach

i need to jump on him i need to cling to him i need to climb all over that guy i need to feel the ridge of his spine i need to watch his adam’s apple shift as he swallows or speaks i need to watch his throat do that when it’s like you know when you lean your head back and the skin over your neck is pulled taut and the movement of yiur throat is much more significant i need to see him do that i need to watch him preen his wings i would collect his shed feathers and keep them in a little box or put them on a necklace and he’d be like Why Do You Have Those and i’d be like 😊😊😊😊😊😊 i think his wings are so fucking pretty i also think they’d be warm like they change temp depending on his mood notmally they’d be relatively warm like a heated blanket enraged they’d be like the temp of the surface of the sun and ecstasy they’d be even hotter donyou get me

there are so many things i think about him i have no words for them i just think he’s so catastrophically attractive ok in every way possible my view on him varies all the time sometimes i’m like Wow I’d Really Like To Be Friends With That Guy and other times i’m like I NEED HIM IN ME ummmmmm thats

okay getting only slightly more unhinged i’ll cut it here just in case cause we’re enterying hornypost territory

do you understand the amount of lust my body contains for gabriel ultrakill i would love to be pinned down by that guy by the shoulders or to have his hand run along the length of my spine or against my jaw i need to press my body up against his i don’t care how i just need to Touch him i NEED to hear that archangel whimper (<- listened to the gabriel whimpering audio clips 67 times) i need that guy down my throat uhhhhmmmmmm yeah i’m cutting that one short it seems my rational mind has finally kicked in

have fun reading my category 7 autism event

#ultrakill #gabriel ultrakill #oopsies !#haha unmmmmm #that’s okay #suggestive #i’d add more tags but #uh #| okay i had to edit all tags from this one forward in because someone walked in my room as i was typing #and i frantically hit post to get it off my screen #as i was saying #id ad more tags but this little tangent here absorbed so much of my brains ability to describe things #but hey #if i have another wet dream about gabriel tonight i’ll keep you guys posted j guess #i’m sorry #matryx speaks #mail

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thetomorrowshow · 2 years

Text

burn a light between

hello all! welcome to this team rancher fic requested by @flyingfish1234 who said:

Oh, yes! I was just wondering if you could write something with either chronic pain as a main point or something. Maybe something double life but idk? Team rancher?

here we are fish my beloved!! this has been crossposted on my ao3 - TheYesterdayShow.

title is from Speedway by Cedar Sigo.

Tango thinks he hides his trepidation well when he wakes up at spawn, Jimmy stirring beside him. He bemoans his mistake, apologizes, agrees to go with Jimmy’s plan.

When Jimmy leaves to see if he can regather his stuff, Tango buries his face in his palms, takes a shaky breath.

No wonder he’d been attacked by all those mobs. No wonder that creeper had turned up out of nowhere. No wonder he’s the first one yellow.

He’s soulbound to the Canary.

He hadn’t realized it until he discovered his soulmate, but he’d wanted it to be anyone but Jimmy. He’d wanted Grian, really, as crazy as the man was—or Impulse, someone he knows well and is decent at surviving. Heck, he’d even have been fine with Scott or BigB, despite barely knowing them—and when it comes down to it, even Scar has a better track record of survival than Jimmy does.

There’s nothing he can do, though. He’s stuck with Jimmy, as much as he doesn’t want to be. And he really doesn’t want to be.

But it’s forcibly him and Jimmy against the world, so Tango gets to gathering materials for their base and tools. His life depends on keeping Jimmy alive, impossible as it seems.

He’s barely cut down a single tree when his knee gives out from under him. He hisses at the pain—it’s not too bad, not like anything that had actually happened to him, but Jimmy must have tripped or something and banged his knee.

Tango balances himself against a tree, takes in a breath. When he feels like he can put weight on his left leg again, he does—but it doesn’t stop hurting. It aches, occasionally stabbing through with pain sharper than he would expect from a single fall. Maybe Jimmy tripped again?

Tango can handle a little pain. He’s died before, he’s been injured before. He grits his teeth and gets back to work, pausing every now and then just to breathe through it. Jimmy must have seriously messed up his knee doing whatever he did. Just more reason to get a hut built. Maybe Tango can convince him to just stay inside for the entire death game, where the only pain will be once-in-a-while singed fingers from poking at the fireplace.

Aw, who’s he kidding? Tango’s stuck with the Canary, of all people. Even if Jimmy stays inside, it’ll leave Tango with some cursed obligation to get them killed, and then they’ll be on Red and who even knows if they’ll be able to keep a lid on the bloodthirst enough to be conscious of their fragility. Tango’s never really interacted much with a Red Jimmy, but he’s probably even more reckless and danger-inducing than usual.

His knee throbs again and Tango bites his tongue accidentally, then curses at the taste of blood. Jimmy will have felt that. Which, now that he thinks of it, is kind of embarrassing. Someone he barely knows is right now aware that Tango just accidentally bit his tongue. That’s stupid. This whole soulmates thing is stupid.

There’s nothing he can do about that, though. There’s nothing he can do about any of this. So Tango goes back to ignoring the pain pulsing out from his knee and continues gathering supplies for their home.

Tango’s building a cow pen when he realizes that he can’t feel his left hand.

He pauses, wipes away the sweat that’s dripping into his eyes, then tugs off his rough leather glove with his teeth (his right hand still holding the fence post in place). At first he doesn’t see any noticeable difference. It looks like his hand, he observes as he turns it back and forth, normal, just slightly buzzing and—is it swollen?

He didn’t think he’d been working for too long, and he doesn’t remember pinching a nerve—and pinching a nerve, while it would explain the numbness and buzzing, does not explain swelling. He holds the fence post with his knees, awkwardly half-squatting to keep it in place (his left knee still aches which doesn’t make that any easier) and pulls off his other glove to compare his hands.

Yep, his left hand is definitely swollen—skin reddened and splotchy in comparison to the right, and the lines of his knuckles are just slightly farther apart on the left. He tries to bend the fingers of his left hand, finds them stiff and reluctant to move.

That can’t be right. Tango’s built dozens—if not hundreds—of bases and farms in his life, and he’s never seen anything like this happen from the exertion of the task. The longer he stares, the more the numbness gives way to a slow aching pain spreading through his entire left hand.

What on earth—

Right. Jimmy.

Jimmy’s out doing something—looking for a horn, maybe?—and he must’ve, like, dropped a cobblestone on his hand or whatever. Not that Tango can come up with any reason as to why that might have occurred.

He flexes his fingers again, watches as the movement meets even more resistance than before. This sucks. He doesn’t think he’ll be able to grip anything with his left hand at this rate, and he doesn’t even know why.

It hurts more, now, in an almost tingling way, like brushing a collection of needles across his palm. Jimmy’s got to be doing something idiotic—but there’s nothing he can do about it on his end, except growl in frustration and slap some ice on the offending hand. Which he does, even though it only helps marginally. It at least brings it closer back to the numb state it had started with, so after ten minutes of icing, tapping his foot impatiently as he sits on the steps that lead into their shack, Tango ties the ice onto his still-sore knee and returns to work.

As soon as Jimmy gets back, Tango isn’t letting him out of his sight until he figures out what he’s been doing to injure himself in such inconvenient ways.

When Tango wakes up in the morning, it’s not just his hand and knee that are bothering him (though they still are). It’s also his hip—and it hurts. A lot.

He gasps a little when it shifts, grinding against the joint, as he tries to sit up. Usually Tango would chalk that up to age and not staying young forever, but he hadn’t felt any sort of warning that this was coming. His joints ache now and again, but it’s always achiness that vanishes quickly and only bothers him when it’s cold out, and that is not what this is. This is bad. This is worse than anything so far in this game. This is—well, if he didn’t know any better, he’d say this is his hip dislocated.

It’s not—he can move it well enough, he can feel his leg below it just fine, but it hurts so terribly that it has to be something bad, doesn’t it? He doesn’t remember sustaining an injury, but he must have for something this awful.

Tango does his best to work around it for now, rolling out of bed and limping to where he’d thrown his clothes the previous night. They need to get some sheep, get a change of clothes spun. It’s been a couple of days, and despite the cleanse of the respawn, his usual outfit is becoming a bit ripe.

His hip screams at him, and he only gets his shirt pulled over his head before he has to stop and check it over, probing figures searching for the injury.

There’s nothing.

The fingers of his left hand pulse from where he’s grabbing his leg, and he watches as they turn red and begin to swell again.

Right. Soulmates. Jimmy.

A quick glance around the shack tells him Jimmy’s not here. He must’ve already headed out for the morning—something that worries Tango, mostly because of the pain that’s sure to be coming his way.

But he also kinda just wants Jimmy to be okay.

He hadn’t known Jimmy but by reputation, and it’s so terribly strange actually living with the Canary. But . . . not in the way he’d expected.

Jimmy jokes around and gives Tango praise for the bare minimum and always has a smile. He’s really a nice guy when it comes down to it, and Tango’s genuinely a bit surprised that he hadn’t known that before. Everyone who had teamed up with him in the past only proclaimed his faults.

What’s probably the most gut-wrenching to learn about Jimmy is that he cares. Jimmy cares a lot—he takes the time to name each of their cows, he insists on carrying Tango through the door of their house bridal style when it’s first complete, he extends offers of friendship and trust to anyone he meets. Just yesterday, Tango watched him cradle an armful of chicks on his knees, pure adoration beaming from his face, as if it was the first time he’d even seen a baby chicken.

Tango can’t imagine how much it must have hurt for Jimmy’s former allies and friends to loudly shout his mistakes and ignore everything great about him. Tango’s not even known him for a week and he’s already coming to terms with the fact that Jimmy is more than his legend, is more than what everyone says. Jimmy’s a person, a kind if often misguided person, and Tango definitely still doesn’t want to be soulbound to him but he can at least show him the same kindness.

Jimmy’s a good friend. He deserves some happiness.

That doesn’t excuse all the hurt he’s causing Tango.

Jimmy may be a good friend, but he’s a terrible soulmate. He keeps getting hurt in some stupid way, leaving Tango to limp across their one room hut to the furnace just to try and warm up his terribly aching body. Not that it’ll help much, knowing that it’s Jimmy’s pain and not his own.

Now, he is a little bitter over it. He grumbles a few curses under his breath as he stretches, trying to pop the joints of his left knee and hip as if it’ll ease the pain. He massages the three main points of pain as well, his response to pain so deeply ingrained that he can’t help but try to soothe it, even if it isn’t his own. He’s not sure where Jimmy is right now, but he is sure that there’s no way the man is walking.

Maybe it’s Tango’s responsibility as his soulmate to go find him. Then again, maybe it’s Jimmy’s responsibility as Tango’s soulmate to be more careful about his health.

There’s nothing he can say for it now. Jimmy’s out and about getting injured, so Tango ought to get that farm started that they’d discussed last night. He takes another moment to just breathe, the pain settling into more of a pulsing ache, then hobbles out of the house, more than a little unhappy with Jimmy.

He doesn’t see Jimmy all day. All day, he continues to hurt.

It’s still dark out when Tango wakes, an agonized moan escaping his lips.

He can’t move. The entire left side of his body radiates with fire, from his jaw to his toes, leeching any coolness from the right side and leaving him sweaty under the blankets he can’t move to get out from under.

It hurts, it hurts so much worse than Tango could have ever imagined, it feels like axes splitting open the skin of his side and fishing hooks caught in his knee and white-hot razors along his arm and hand and back and gravel in his hip and a porcupine nestling his foot. Everything hurts so, so bad, and it’s everything Tango can do not to burst into tears as a choked cry squeezes past his clenched teeth.

“Oh—Tango! Did I wake you up?”

Someone’s speaking to him, he doesn’t know who so he can’t tell them what’s wrong, that’s just common sense, can’t be seen as weak on this world—

But there’s something right about their voice, something that, deep down past all the layers of torment, pulls at his soul.

Jimmy.

“Hurts,” Tango manages to wheeze, and there’s a moment of nothing but suffering before there’s a soft glow beside him and he focuses on Jimmy’s clear brown eyes, his brow wrinkled in concern.

“Oh, gosh, you’re all sweaty,” Jimmy murmurs. “Do you want the blanket off?”

Tango nods, gasps when it sends shooting pain up his jaw. Blurrily, he sees Jimmy slowly pull himself up from his knees by gripping the side of the bed, then place his lantern down.

Moments later, gentle hands are tugging the blanket off of him, wrapping it up into a ball at the foot of the bed. Tango takes a shuddering breath, cursing raspily when he feels a tear trickle down his temple.

“Oh, gosh. Oh, geez,” Jimmy mutters from somewhere beside him, then there’s a large hand shifting under his right shoulder, another holding his right hand. “I’m about to help you sit up, all right? It helps, I promise.”

Tango nods almost imperceptibly. He’s practically lying in a puddle of his own sweat, and despite the terrifying pain crashing wave after wave into his body, he feels as if he might be more in control while sitting up.

Jimmy counts to three, then heaves him up so quickly Tango’s almost too shocked to feel anything. Almost.

Because as soon as he’s sitting up, all of the worst spots—his hand, hip, knee, jaw, foot—scream at him in one huge burst. His right hand somehow finds his pants to grip hard, reassurance that he’s here, he still exists, even when his world feels like nothing but endless shards of glass being hurled at him.

It takes Tango too long to realize that Jimmy’s sat beside him on the bed, both arms clutched around his middle. A sob tears from Tango’s throat at a pulse in his left hand, and as he turns his head ever so slightly, he sees Jimmy wince in time.

Right—Jimmy’s feeling all of this as well.

How in the world had he been able to walk, let alone help Tango sit up?

More importantly, Tango hadn’t done anything dangerous in his sleep. This pain doesn’t belong to him. Jimmy had been awake already—had he left the house, had something bad happened to him?

Panic drowns the pain, and Tango releases his pant leg and turns properly, using the low light of the shuttered lantern to examine Jimmy for injuries. There’s no blood or bruising that he can see on Jimmy’s exposed left arm, but the sleeveless white undershirt he wears to sleep obscures his side and the lighting is too dark to see his legs properly—

Jimmy carefully uncurls Tango’s questing right hand from where it’s wrapped around the hem of his undershirt, pats it. His face twists guiltily when he speaks. “I’m so sorry, Tango. I have a pan of water boiling for tea, it’ll help if you feel like trying it.”

Tea. Tango’s never been much of a tea-drinker, but it actually sounds . . . really nice. The pain is severe enough that his stomach is rolling, so at the very least, something to calm that would be great. A warm drink could ease the aching a bit too. He nods agreement, winces when it sends another jolt down his neck.

His knee and hip begin to hurt exponentially more—at levels he didn’t think were possible—when Jimmy stands and crosses the room, leaving his line of sight. Tango breathes in through clenched teeth, then out. Again. Again. He’s not going to cry, he tells himself despite the tears already falling. He can breathe through the pain.

A flash of something hot—stinging—burning hits Tango’s right arm just above the wrist and he jerks, hissing when the jostle just exacerbates everything. He looks to his left—Jimmy’s cursing over and over, balancing a very full pan of sloshing, steaming water. The light of the furnace is brighter than the lantern, and Tango can see a light red burn spreading across his right arm. A glance down at his own arm shows the same mark.

“I’ll rub some ointment on that in a sec, just gotta pour the other cup—”

That cup presumably goes smoother, because soon enough, Jimmy’s limping over with a cup for him. Jimmy presses it into his hands with instructions to let it seep, then goes back for the medical supplies. After several minutes of the cup warming Tango’s hand, he feels the burn on his arm cool, and though it’s only a marginal improvement in the grand scheme of his body, Tango’s grateful for it.

“Stupid Grian and his stupid no-potions rule,” Jimmy grumbles as he gingerly sits beside Tango again, sipping at his own tea. It’s not instant, but Tango feels his body relax slightly without his own input.

He lifts the cup to his nose, sniffs it. It smells almost woody, and while that’s not usually something he goes for, preferring a sweet drink, he tastes it anyhow.

It’s . . . well, it’s strange. It’s quite a bit saltier than he expected, and the woody flavor is very present—almost as if biting into a piece of driftwood found on the beach. He’s not sure he likes it.

He can’t deny it’s helping, though. It still hurts, a lot, but the tea cuts through the fog of pain in his head and relaxes his tensed muscles.

“Better?”

Tango nods, breathing a sigh of relief when the motion only twinges. “What . . . where’d you learn to make this stuff?” he rasps, shaking the mug for emphasis.

“Lizzie taught me, actually. I’m not sure if she invented it, though. It probably came from Ocean tradition.”

Tango chooses not to ask about that. Instead, with a slow wave of pain cresting, he takes another sip and brings up the obvious.

“You’re hurt.”

Jimmy winces. “No. I’m not.”

Tango croaks out a laugh, despite there being nothing funny about any of this. “Oh yeah?” he challenges. “Why’s it hurt, then? I’ve been feeling it all week. What’s going on?”

The hunch of Jimmy’s shoulders is despondent, his gaze into the tea guilty once again. “I’m not—I haven’t been getting injured,” he begins. “Well, except for just now, with the boiling water. But this—” he gestures vaguely to the left side of his body with his cup— “this is just the way it is. It always hurts.”

That’s not possible, though. Jimmy’s young, and he runs around and farms and keeps up with everything, and with this level of agony Tango doesn’t think that would be possible for anyone, no matter how young they are.

“Is this—is it a Canary thing?” asks Tango, trying to work it out aloud. “Like, the curse is already trying to kill you, and it just hurts until—”

“No,” Jimmy interrupts quickly. “It’s not—it’s nothing to do with—that. It’s—look, Tango, do you know what chronic pain is?”

“I’m a smart boy, I can figure it out,” Tango says drily, then more seriously, “like arthritis?”

“That’s one kind, yeah. It really just means a pain that you’re stuck with for life. And that’s . . . that’s what this is.”

“Yeah, but arthritis isn’t—isn’t this,” Tango protests, biting back a gasp as his elbow flares. “It’s—it means that sometimes you need a cane ‘cuz your knees are tired. This—”

“—isn’t arthritis,” Jimmy finishes. He looks tired, more than anything. “It’s called Complex Regional Pain Syndrome, or CRPS. You ought to look it up when this is over, not too many people know about it. And arthritis can be a lot worse than you think, you know.”

CRPS. Tango rolls the letters around his tongue, takes another sip of his tea. The pain is definitely more manageable now, seeing as he’s not clenching his jaw so hard he’s afraid of cracking a tooth. “So . . . what, you just woke up one day like this? Or were you born with it?”

Jimmy frowns. “Neither, really. It—well, some years back, my hand just . . . stopped working right. Temperatures were all wrong, it got all swollen sometimes. All that. And ever since, it’s just . . . it’s spread.”

Tango takes a moment to process that, as well. It’s a little difficult to wrap his head around: Jimmy’s been feeling this pain for years, and it’s only gotten worse as time passed. Like dementia, his mind supplies randomly. At first it’s just little things here and there, then it builds and then one day you wake up with everything wrong.

“That . . . that sucks,” Tango says vehemently. “You just live like this? All the time?”

“There are good days and bad days,” Jimmy shrugs. Tango swallows back the pain that rolls through his left shoulder at the motion. “This is—this is a bad day. I pushed myself too hard this week.”

“Is there anything that helps?”

Jimmy raises his mug. “This stuff. Stretching and sleeping well and all those healthy lifestyle things. But potions don’t touch it, and neither does a respawn, so.”

That’s a disappointment for sure. Tango had been about to ask Grian to lift the potion restriction for Jimmy alone in light of this information. If Jimmy’s right, though, and there’s nothing that really relieves this pain. . . .

“How are we going to survive?” he mumbles to himself. If they’re both in constant, mind-numbing pain, how will they ever be able to stand up to the other crazy pairs on the server? How will they be conscious enough to even recognize threats?

“Sorry,” Jimmy says quietly, and Tango doesn’t realize until he glances over that Jimmy’s face is shadowed in guilt.

“Hey, no—that’s not your fault, dude! Why would you ever think it’s your fault?” Tango may still be fairly irritated (or a lot irritated, with this revelation) about Jimmy being his soulmate, but Jimmy’s his soulmate and he won’t stand for that kind of treatment of his soulmate.

Jimmy shrugs again. “I’ve always sort of—dragged everyone else down, you know?”

“What? No—”

“C’mon, Tango,” Jimmy says, fixing him with an exhausted glare. “I may be dumb, but I’m not stupid. I know what they call me. I know what they think when they see me. I know what you thought when you realized that I was your soulmate—you didn’t want me. I could tell. I’m—I’m not meant to be happy, I’m not meant to win anything, and everyone knows and makes it their life mission to make sure I’m alone in that.”

It’s not the words that worry Tango the most. It’s the matter-of-fact tone, the clear belief that these thoughts are universal and unshakeable, that really bothers him.

“That’s not true,” he automatically responds. Jimmy just shakes his head.

“Grian won’t give me a horn because he thinks they won’t be fun when I have one,” he counters. “Martyn kicked me out of the Southlands and Grian voted to keep me out twice. Everyone I’ve met since the start of this world has been grateful that it wasn’t me they were stuck with. The last server I was on, everything was taken from me and I was exiled. I’m the Canary and my life is supposed to suck—whether it’s death or destruction or my own body fighting me, I’m supposed to be alone, so that if I die from the fumes no one else will!”

Tango’s not sure how to respond to that, so he doesn’t say anything. All he can think is those sound like a lame excuse for friends.

Jimmy’s shoulders are shaking and he sniffs, runs a hand under his nose. “I’m sorry that the universe—or whatever higher powers there are—stuck us together, Tango. I really am. If I’d had any idea that someone else would be feeling . . . this, I never would’ve agreed to come on this round. We can talk to Grian, arrange something, take me out of the game. I’m sorry I’m here. I’m sorry you’re with me.”

And then he hunches over into a miserable little heap, one that sends pulsing aches through Tango’s bones and his heart.

Because Jimmy’s right. He had been upset, angry even, over being paired with Jimmy. Ever since he found out, he’d been bitter—never to Jimmy’s face, but clearly his efforts to hide his true feelings hadn’t been enough and Jimmy had noticed.

And now that he knows it all—or at least, knows as much as Jimmy felt like telling—those feelings have completely vanished in an instant. Instead of resenting Jimmy just for the chance of being stuck with him, or getting angry at how he seemed to be getting hurt all the time, Tango just feels so much love for Jimmy it hurts.

He may not know the guy very well, but he knows by now that he struggles to even stay on his feet on a daily basis. He knows that he’s world-weary, tired, exhausted. He knows that he must feel like everyone has abandoned him for a chronic condition that he can’t control just because it tends to lead him into death a bit easier.

And maybe Tango is still angry, but not at Jimmy. He’s angry with Jimmy’s so-called friends for abandoning him to a world of nothing but pain.

“You’re amazing,” Tango tells him, and he hadn’t realized exactly what feeling those words were going to be imbued with when he said them, but now he knows and his heart is singing in admiration. “Jimmy, you’re telling me that you deal with this every day, and you’re still an incredible player? That’s—you’re amazing,” he says again, and this time, Jimmy lifts his head up.

His eyes are dry, surprisingly, but he only offers a disbelieving smile. “You think?” he asks drily.

“No, really—how long did you say this had been going on?”

Jimmy bites his lip. “Five years or so? I don’t remember.”

Five years. Five years of this all-encompassing pain, the pain that just minutes ago Tango had been certain he was dying from. And nobody had ever even noticed. He’d somehow hidden it.

He’d hidden it from Tango, too.

“I wish you’d told me earlier,” Tango says. “I wish I’d known.”

“Yeah, sorry. I didn’t know you could feel it, otherwise—”

“Not for my own sake,” Tango interrupts. “I wish I’d known so that I could help you be more comfortable. It’s not the whole, feel-each-others’-pain thing. It’s about how you’re my friend, and I want you to feel better. For you, not me.”

Jimmy doesn’t believe him, he can tell. Tango’s not surprised after what he’s said. He takes Jimmy by the shoulder—the right one, of course, slinging his arm around Jimmy’s back to do so—and gently tips his head so that it’s leaning against Jimmy’s.

“I wouldn’t trade you for anyone else on the server,” Tango says, doing his best to rub Jimmy’s shoulder comfortingly. “Who cares if we die first? You’re my soulmate, dude. What’s important is that I got your back no matter what.”

Jimmy bumps his head lightly against Tango’s, lets out a shuddering sigh. “You sure?” he asks, voice so terribly small and achingly vulnerable.

“No doubt about it. And if any one of the others says anything about you, just let me know. I'll make ‘em regret it.”

“You can’t kill until you’re on Red,” Jimmy points out. Tango grins.

“There are a lot of other ways to ruin their lives,” Tango threatens ominously. Jimmy snorts out a laugh.

He’s still in severe amounts of pain. He still barely got any sleep. Somehow, though, Tango feels motivated. Motivated enough to help Jimmy understand that he’s willing to learn to be better.

“So what’s first?”

Jimmy shoots him a confused look. Tango takes another sip of tea before continuing.

“You said this tea stuff helps. What else? Should we take the day off, or power through it? Is there more to do to make it better? What do we do?”

“You—you really want to stay?”

“What, like you expect me to leave you to deal with this alone?” Tango scoffs. “No way. I’m here to support you, man. I want to stay.”

Jimmy nods several times. “Okay. Okay. Um, there’s a few chores we’ll need to do once the sun actually rises, but other than that we’d probably ought to take it easy. Um, ice might be good? But that’s mainly just to numb it enough to get through the chores, it’ll probably be worse after because it hates extreme temperatures. Other than that, we just need to . . . ride it out, see how it goes.”

Tango can do that. He trusts Jimmy knows what he’s doing. “I can handle most of the chores—we’ll both feel better if you stay in bed, I think. I can go get some ice from the icebox to start.”

Of course Jimmy protests. For some reason, none of the others had ever talked about how adamant Jimmy could be about his own capabilities, how desperately he wanted to help. And as the morning goes on, maybe Tango relents a little bit when the burning under his skin gets the better of him—lets Jimmy feed the cows while he pulls weeds out of the garden, lets Jimmy cook up something for lunch while he collects eggs and feeds the chickens.

And if they both sleep the rest of the day (Jimmy tells him they’re out of ‘spoons’, something Tango’s never heard before but is willing to accept), nobody comes calling to find out.

Tango knows Jimmy’s exerting himself when the ache in the bones of his left leg jumps from a 4 to an 8 on a 1-10 scale of pain. He’s learned by now that it’ll just trigger a chain reaction and soon his entire body will be on fire, so he packs up his hammer and nails and throws a tarp over the section of roof he’d been redoing. He leaves the ladder propped up against the house, sets his toolbox down just inside the door, and starts a pan of water boiling.

Jimmy stumbles in twenty minutes later, just as the pain in his upper back crescendos.

“Sorry,” he gasps, shucking off his chestplate that Tango notices now has a very glimmery effect to it, “went down to the Deep Dark. It’s—it’s something else down there.”

“That’s incredible!” Tango exclaims, and he helps Jimmy with the rest of the armor, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from making a noise at the spikes of agony shooting through him. Jimmy smiles proudly, the only indication that he hurts at all the pinching of his forehead and the lines around his eyes.

Jimmy willingly gets into bed while Tango finishes up the tea—a sign of how exhausted he is, really. Tango’s learned over the past week that Jimmy does not like giving up, even at the expense of his bodily functions. It’s another thing about him that, for some reason, had never been touted by his so-called friends.

When the tea is done and they both have their mugs, Tango gingerly clambers onto their pushed-together beds and kneels beside the face-down Jimmy. “Is it all right if I touch you?” he asks, suddenly anxious. Jimmy’s back tenses; Tango’s own back seizes in pain.

“Wh—how so?” Jimmy asks cautiously.

Tango works his hands absently in the air, miming his intended actions to no one. “Like, a massage. I thought it might help to loosen the muscles up or something.”

Jimmy’s quiet for a moment. “Maybe. I’ve never had anyone willing to try.”

Tango swallows back the anger at how lonely Jimmy sounds and gets to work, starting with both hands, switching to just his right when it proves too painful to be continuing with the left. He massages up and down Jimmy’s back, then his left leg, all while Jimmy presses his face into the pillow and is silent.

It doesn’t really help. Tango only feels marginally better, although that may be more because his body is less tense rather than any actual pain relief. But when Tango lies down properly, gritting his teeth at the spasms of pain trailing up and down his body, Jimmy turns to rest his cheek on Tango’s shoulder.

“Thank you,” he whispers, sniffling a bit. “Not just—but for everything. I don’t deserve you.” Tango shifts so that his arm wraps around Jimmy, holding him close to his chest. Despite the stinging at the motion, Jimmy melts into him, and Tango wonders just how long it’s been since Jimmy was properly hugged.

Jimmy may be the Canary, but Jimmy’s his Canary. And Tango’s going to make darn sure that he’s always got someone to hold him when the pain won’t relinquish its grip. He’s going to be here for Jimmy until they both die first, and even beyond that.

Tango’s going to do his best to prove to Jimmy that his pain does not make him a burden. It does not make him unworthy of love.

And maybe Tango will learn a few things along the way, about chronic pain and disability, and how unfair the world is for those who need help. For now though, he’ll just hold Jimmy tight until they both fall asleep, and hope that Jimmy will begin to understand just how amazing he is.

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wench-and-jezebel · 1 year

Text

NCIS Reaction: The Curse

Wench (@scripted-downfall) reacts [with (maybe) occasional asides by Jezebel (@typicalopposite)]

Since this is apparently a running part of my reaction, today’s snack report: unfortunately paltry because I have zero appetite. I am, however, having apple soda again, so all hope is not completely lost!

CROSSBOWWWWW

Beautiful crossbow, actually

I know he just found a body or something, but I'm still stuck on the crossbow because it was pretty

Body it is

[I bet it’s terrorists] Ya know, we haven’t had terrorists in a whole damn episode; it probably is lksadjf;lk

Tony being good with maps gives me life

They almost left him :(

He had to run to catch up :((((

Not Tony complaining about their lack of funds again (Valid, though)

"How did he get so..." "I believe 'mummified' is the adjective you're looking for" Actually, my The Mummy-obsessed mind autofilled "juicy", but that's exactly the opposite end of things

[Ooffff flip phone] I love flip phones. Had a flip phone for years and I’d still have one if I could.

TONY, YOU'RE BRILLIANT. BUDDY JUST SHOWED OFF HIS NAVAL KNOWLEDGE AND I AM PROUD

I can't tell whether to be happy that Gibbs remembered Tony's two-year anniversary as an NCIS officer or be annoyed that he was that dismissive of it.

Going with annoyed given his subsequent, "Seemed like a good idea at the time" [With Gibbs, as you’ll see in later episode, he is very protective of Tony but he’s very… I can’t think of another character to compare him to, but he does care about Tony]

– – –

Here, we paused the show to have a “short” conversation.

Wench: Bobby?

Jezebel: If Bobby’s personality was more like Rufus. Like Bobby combined with Hotch. Or… Botch. If you will

Wench: Well, that's both good to know but also... idk, maybe this is a flaw in my personality, but I always feel like constant ribbing goes too far. Like, for a Dark Angel parallel, Max and Alec's banter might not have been bad, but it's constant and oppressive and too extensive to be just light-hearted banter. Her initial "Alec, as in smart-aleck" isn't that bad on its own. Combine it with everything else, it gets less haha, they're bantering and more damn, she's an asshole to him. Here, the teasing would have been fine, but now it's kinda wearing. And I feel like that being your work environment would suck.

Jezebel: And that’s fair. He is very much a grouch teetering towards if not sometimes full on ass hole. But man’s had a hard life and let it make him a hard ass I guess you can say. Lol

Wench: Sure, but he’s mainly only being like this to Tony. Kate has had a few interactions like this, but not nearly as many. And Ducky — as mentioned — has to deal with Gibbs interrupting him a lot. But still, way more Tony than anyone.

Jezebel: Well, Tony’s the one (other than ducky, I think) who’s been with him longer. Yes it’s normally geared at Tony. And if Tony is your favorite, I’m guessing that would bother you. Initially, Gibbs was my favorite when we first started watching again because I knew the full backstories and what was to come before watching. So I guess I just view it as Gibbs being Gibbs, and they don’t seem hurt by it so it is what it is lol

Wench: I get that, but also… idk, again, maybe I’m putting myself into character roles (not just Tony’s) too much, but that kinda. Sucks. Like, I ramble to people and have them walk off without paying attention, or interrupt because what I’m saying is “unimportant,” and yeah, maybe it is, but it’s still something important to me. So I see Ducky getting interrupted/dismissed, and I know how much that can, frankly, hurt. (I recognize that me rambling about something frivolous when we’re hanging out doing nothing anyway is different from a rant in the middle of a crime scene investigation, but it doesn’t change things that much. The point stands.) Or I see Kate getting disciplined for asking for an explanation, and that irks me because I completely get the importance of understanding why you’re doing something. (And yeah, I get that sometimes you have to snap to attention and follow orders, but not all of Gibbs’ little that was an order; I don’t answer to you things are in situations that are time-sensitive to that degree.) Or my family reunions, with nastiness hidden under “teasing.” You don’t go along with it and you’re “not a good sport” or “too sensitive”, but it’s so oppressive that it wears, and ignoring it becomes vaguely impossible. There’s so much that it’s not just a slightly-mean-spirited-but-still-funny-haha joke; it’s more serious than that. (This is the Tony parallel of the story.) And seeing these dynamics played for laughs is a bit. Iffy. To me.

Jezebel: And all that is fair. And is it possible that you’re putting yourself too much in the characters’ shoes, but that’s both fair and kinda a big part of shows in general. And something I don’t think writers consider. Because, iirc, it’s never touched on that any of this bothers either Tony or Ducky, and both will fight to the death over Gibbs, as would Kate (except she has repeatedly fought him on her thing 😂). And by fight, I mean also in a sense of if someone came and was like you’re a horrible person look how you treat them. They would be like whoa ho no stop! Leave him alone

Wench: I mean… tbf, them defending him doesn’t mean that much. Just pointing out that Dean would do that for Sam

Jezebel: Fair, but Dean also expresses things Sam does to hurt him. Again, iirc, that’s NEVER touched on here. (Ok, maybe not EXPRESSES, but you know they do.) Also, to this: they are brothers and Dean has been raised to do NOTHING but protect and love Sam. And to put him about everything. Tbf, Gibbs is just Tony’s boss and Ducky’s coworker (I don’t think he’s his boss). They don’t HAVE to care so much for him. They just do.

Wench: So, tbf, that was just an example of how someone’s personal willingness to defend treatment does not automatically make it good treatment… but, r.e. your point about them not having to care about GIbbs: that doesn’t change the fact that they do. And they largely seem to respect him. So his judgement still matters, even if it doesn’t have to.

Wench again, but a slightly separate topic: I do think that a large part of the issue is that this is the comic relief.

Jezebel: Yes!!! It’s very… I can’t think of the word. The show is a serious and sometimes dark show. I think it might get better for you as it goes

Wench (continued from above): But they only show the filler, and not much of their other interactions. So their relationships basically come across as "Gibbs 'banters' with Tony about disrespecting him" without actually showing the parts where he does the respecting that would counterbalance it. (yet). Or "Gibbs doesn't care about Ducky's rambling interests and seems to think him a bit doddering" without showing the conversations where that doesn't happen.

Jezebel: Fair

Wench: And I get that's not the focus of the show, so the writers didn't prioritize it... but it's still important. It's the difference, imo, between direct characterization and implied characterization. This show currently is very... surface-level. There's no need — or desire, seemingly, on the behalf of the writers — for analysis by the audience; everything important thus far is simple and spelled out. The script more or less says that Gibbs respects Ducky; thus, Gibbs respects Ducky. And, since the script says it, they don't need to actually write it because obviously it's true. That's the direct characterization bit, and, until it's directly contradicted, that's just the status quo.

Jezebel: Yes, and that’s what I mean when I said that the writers didn’t consider viewers taking the banter personally and it coming across as rude instead of funny.

Wench: Whereas I'm looking at the indirect characterization and seeing nothing to support this direct characterization. There's not much underlying respect to their interactions. Aside from when Ducky's actually giving facts about the case, every interaction has been Gibbs shutting Ducky up. (e.g. walking out/hanging up on one of their conversations, etc.) So, intellectually, am I surprised that none of the team is ever negatively harmed (ostensibly, at least) by Gibbs' personality? No. The side of their relationships that would make it healthy are just always happening off screen or something. I'm just saying that the characterization is inconsistent depending on whether they're talking on screen or not, and taking the on-screen interactions as a sign of how they interact off screen makes things a lot less happy-funny-haha than it's intended.

Jezebel: Yeah, that all makes sense. Just, like I’ve said before, I don’t dive that deep into stuff, so that’s why I initially don’t get it. But I get it 🙂

Wench: That sounds vaguely like I'm browbeating you into agreeing. Plz tell the reaction viewers (and me) that I'm not doing this alkdsfj

Jezebel: I think I’m at the point where I see that you take the characterization very seriously, judging by what you’re saying. And I take what the script says for what it says, if that makes sense.

Wench: Yeah, I follow.

Jezebel: But I can tell you that it’s not that deep or whatever, and you can know it’s not that deep because you see in the script that it’s not supposed to be that deep. This is just supposed to be comic relief. But if you’re still affected by it like it is that deep, that’s fair, and who am I to say you’re in the wrong for that, you know? Or anyone else for that matter.

Wench: Yeah, I get what you’re saying. And I doubt I will stop commenting on them being mean to Ducky or Tony (or maybe even Kate, sometimes, especially if I start liking her more), but I recognize (and, technically, have since the beginning of the show) that it’s not as serious a thing as I’m saying. I know it's comic relief and a very surface view of writing, intellectually, but I still want to remark on it, emotionally. You know?

Jezebel: Yeah that’s fair

Wench: Ready to continue?

Jezebel: Yeah, but hold on let me heat up my (normal) food

Wench: ljlaskdjflkadjf rude

Jezebel: 😂😂😂😂

Thus concludes the “short” conversation that lasted 50 minutes.

– – –

The British side of me is annoyed by the “lootenant” instead of “leftenant.” (No, I’m not British; I was just raised on British Isles television.)

Abby is adorable

Kate's hair being so long and unrestrained bugs me

Abby is still adorable.

Oof, poor dude being charged as a deserter :( BUDDY WAS DEAD [Right ?!?]

Bravo, Tony. Research skills!

Not them being mean about his research skills :(

Okay, the conversation about GIBs vs Gibbs is kinda funny [😂😂]

"You took the easy way" Accurate. Go off, Tony

Tony and Gibbs in chorus is rather funny, ngl, but also. Gibbs, leave off the "if" statement if it changes nothing about the outcome alkdsjf

I do appreciate Ducky chatting to the corpses every episode [It’s gonna be sad eventually] Oof [That’s all I say]

THE LIGHT BOARD IS SO COOL

Also, vaguely adorable that he remembered the case by connecting it to Gibbs

Once again, the emphasis on his rambling is a touch sad but whateverrrrr

Gibbs not listening to him even about the case tho ("No! I just told you...")

aksdjflkasjdf "*heavy sigh* Well, looks like we're gonna have to go to Hawai'i, boss."

Oof, the talk of ages [I feel ya Gibbs]

I appreciate Tony giving shit back to Gibbs this time

Dude, his age is bound to be in his file somewhere

Tony... affectionately, shut up :) [Tony done put him in his feelings]

Oof. "He'll be exonerated?" Um... 'bout that.

Damn, six years isn't bad! Though, btw, Randy is automatically a bit suspicious. Was he in the service?

Something about the wife's acting in this scene is also a bit suspicious, but I don't think it's intended to be.

[OH DAMN. He died the day she was born; that sucks]

Damn, Gibbs, go off.

I will give you that Gibbs' acting does a bit to cover up the writing issues; he's clearly harsher and more serious when he's actually angry at someone than when he's bantering. (e.g. that agent vs Tony/Ducky/et al)

This time, Tony's the one harping on a joke lakdsjf [😂😂😂]

Gotta love adrenaline-junkie!Tony coming back for an episode

BRINGING BACK ABBY’S SIGNING!!!

– – –

Okay, midpoint reaction time…

I honestly think this episode is better in the writing. It's really ironic that we just had the discussion above on the episode (other than the pilot) that's actually been not-bad on the "teasing" front. For one thing, it's far less restricted to one person. Gibbs, Ducky, Tony, Kate, even Abby... they've all had moments where they're teasing and moments where they're being teased. For another... idk, it's all hanging together better. There are moments where each character gets to be shown as blatantly competent on screen. Gibbs, obviously, has one as the main character, but you've also got Ducky exhibiting his stellar knowledge of autopsies (past and present), and Tony rattling off random naval/geographical facts, and Kate handling research/next-of-kin interviews on her own, and Abby doing her own awesome lab stuff. This is the first episode — except, again, maybe the pilot — in which I didn't feel like most of them were reduced to archetypes (the mad scientist; the jester; the techie; etc) [🙂]

Storyline is interesting — no terrorists quite yet, though — and decently paced thus far; we’ll see if that continues. Uh... it's getting late and I'm out of things to say rn; stay tuned!

– – –

alkjfalkj Abby and Tony, the duo I needed

Damn, an actually enjoyable interaction between Kate and Tony [☠️☠️]

Still loving Abby's fashion, lab appropriate or no

"What schmuck?" "Our schmuck, unfortunately" alksdfj

WHAT DID I SAY ABOUT RANDY BEING SUSPICIOUS [😂😂😂😂] One of these days, I'm gonna actually solve the case before they do successfully. (I still maintain that the last one should have been a computer virus) [☠️😂]

Not Tony harping on the funds again alskdfj “First class toilet?”

“How old do you think Gibbs is?” aslkdfj

Never trust chick flicks, I swea- YES, GIBBS, AGREED [☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️]

[I love that after that whole “short” interaction…. You have had twenty moments of Gibbs being different ☠️] I know, I’m crying. I’ve made a fool of myself. Our readers will never trust me again. (I SWEAR IT WAS ACCURATE IN THE OTHER EPISODES OKAY)

[I’m ded at how he said Gibbs] aklsdjf

“I don’t even want to hear the word ‘curse’ out of your mouth, DiNozzo.” “Would I say that, boss?” “You said it to me.” [“You said it first”]

[She’s got the smirk of a guilty person. GUILTY] Tis true. But also, is this your reaction!?!?!? :))) [*silence*] This was a joke; please keep doing it [😂😂😂]

… [Well shit] Damn, she's got receipts. Literally.

Abby and Ducky, my dears, I love you

[Not a niblick]

This is called "how many times can we say 'niblick' in one scene" [☠️☠️☠️☠️]

I like her necklace again

"... my dear" "... my darling" I love them

[Guiltyyyyy]

He said the word "fraternize"; that's a yes on the romance (GOmens vibes)

"That wans't in your report" "It didn't seem pertinent" It's always pertinent, my dude.

Oop, Tony's flirting smile makes an appearance

"Do not 'sir' m-" [*simultaneously* Do not sir me] Oi. [= Tony called me old and now my feelings be hurt] alksdjf;lkasdjf ACCURATE [The reading part still kills me. ‘Cause same my dude. My old dude] :( [I have to take my glasses off to read☠️]

You can tell things are getting intense; the music is picking up

I really want it to be Randy, plz. I called it and I wanna be rightttttt.

Abby's getting so many good scenes; I love her [Yessss] Like her music too, btw. [😂]

“Speaking of big boys” [👀 that’s why people ship you two, Tony] I mean.... Steddie quotes… But also, no. I don't like it. Please, no. [☠️☠️☠️☠️ Hurry up and appear McGee] Yeah, I, uh… I don’t like it. Their characters just. Don’t work. Imo.

Who’s snoring? [☠️☠️☠️☠️ That meeee. I’m Gibbs] alskdjflaksdjf rude. Don't you dare. I need you to proof this before I post [Ok lol]

TONY'S HAIR

"I'll get them to confess" mmmhmmm

Another good Kate-and-Tony interaction

aslkdjflkasdjf "hermetically sealed" gives me Now You See Me flashbacks. "That's it: I'm allergic to hermetic seals"

[Ooooooh… I hate her] Yeahhhh [Get her Kate] Okay, I confess, I appreciate Kate’s passion here [Chick fight. Pull her hair.]

Kasjdflkasdjf THE ANIMATION OF THE CRIME

alksjdf poor Abby, getting her animation slighted. I knew I didn't like that petty officer chick; "petty" is right

[Hinky] HINKY. Such a good word.

[☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️ Noooooo, I’m ded] Did. Did they legit say that she. Walked by. And distracted the other servicefolk. Because she turned heads.

ONCE AGAIN. WHY DOES ANYONE TRUST THE NCIS ANYMORE. THEY'RE ALWAYS LYING.

[So many. SOOOOO MANNNYYY. Episodes end with that elevator shutting.] aksldjflkasjf

*elevator shuts*

– – –

Okay. Um. I’m aggravated. Not because the writing/acting/characterization was bad, because it wasn’t. But because. After I spent all that time detailing how it’s been bad in the past. They then went: PSYCH. And changed the handling of the entire cast and character list. I liked it better, don't get me wrong, but those were not the characters who'd been in every past episode since the pilot. Jezebel, please tell me you agree.

Anyway... I enjoyed that episode, so I'm pleasantly surprised. The Abby interactions with everyone else were delightful. The team was a bit less archetypal/formulaic. The comedic relief was lighter, less implied-to-be-harmful-even-if-directly-stated-as-not. I liked Kate this episode; she had a lot of Max's positive traits and very few of her negative ones: smart, capable, and impassioned, but not rude, arrogant, or logic-blind. Gibbs was a lot more of a grouchy mentor figure (affectionate) than a grouchy mentor figure (derogatory). And the others, of course, I loved. I always do, though, so that's not a surprise.

And I'm realizing that you're definitely asleep or something, aren't you, Jezebel. [*silence*] I think that’s a yes.

Welp.

Okay, then.

This is great.

Ummmmmmm. *nervous chuckle* Not that I’m paranoid about posting my reactions without Jezebel beta’ing them, but I’m abso-freaking-lutely paranoid about posting my reactions without her beta’ing them. Also, I literally cannot post this without her say-so because it has her words in it, and I have to get her consent. But, I have work tomorrow and I kinda wanted to post this before I went to bed. But, I’m tired. But- [I’m awake, lol. And 😂😂😂😂😂 I agreee (about the characters) It THRILLLS me that this happened this particular episode] SHE LIVES! Muahahahah, I can post on time. This midnight conversation with myself is still staying in the reaction, however, because I find it hilarious.

Hope you enjoyed our wackiness, and the random way this show seems to thrive on proving me wrong… ‘Til next time!

#ncis #ncis reactions #reactions #episode reactions #leroy jethro gibbs #kate todd #tony dinozzo #abby scuito #donald mallard #s01e05 #the curse #wench (pr)

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quillyfied · 2 years

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Holy hell SO MANY THOUGHTS WHAT A FINALE

- first and foremost, two wishes are still left, which are surely going to cause shenaniganery in the future (and as I’ve theorized recently, this doesn’t yet put the nail in the coffin for Marwa and a better resolution; Nandor has entered a period of stasis, much like the rest of the house, and I don’t know that his arc can move forward until he acknowledges that he hurt people other than Guillermo this season. Could be wrong, could absolutely see them moving on from this bc it is a dark comedy and Marwa was more plot device than character, but I would hope they wouldn’t because of the real life bad implications. Still content to wait that out for now; it’s the little glare and head tilt as Marwa locked Nandor out of her man cave that truly makes me think she still has a further role to play that she can’t do while she’s Freddie, because even as a female copy of Nandor she found ways to fight back. Could this be a manifestation of Nandor’s self-loathing? Yes, absolutely, she liked everything he liked and he doesn’t like himself, but that’s still interesting and she’s still a valuable piece of the story that deserves to be the vehicle of Nandor’s retribution before she goes and starts revolutionizing the astronomy field. If nothing else, if the writers were operating on a “treat characters as characters and not as diversity bingo tokens so yes something bad is going to happen to Marwa, not because she’s a woman of color, but because she’s a plot device tied to Nandor” basis, I hope they see from fan backlash that they could have handled that so much better and therefore do better in the future, because Not Cool).

- Colin Robinson is back to normal…and yet he isn’t quite the exact same, is he? Very very sad sympathy for Laszlo and his chapter of parenthood ending, hoping he finds ways to immortalize that time period bc it clearly meant a lot to him (and he is going to deny that he cares anything about it in the future and be stoic laconic Laszlo again but we see you, Lazzo, you are sad and we are sad with you).

- How DARE they use Fiddler on the Roof to close out this strangely melancholy season, it is my favorite and I love it and the cast singing Sunrise, Sunset was so perfect ;A;

- of COURSE Colin Robinson’s detailed and fastidious nature is a form of self-perpetuation, what a guy. Waiting, though, to see if his now-lost second childhood memories are going to play a role in his future. Hope Laszlo or Guillermo writes them down but also I doubt it? Idk. The showtune whistling as Colin Robinson wanders off after the contractors gives me pause about this being the last we hear about how he spent a season as a kid and close to Laszlo and Guillermo affecting him.

- really glad Nadja didn’t burn the former vampiric counsel chamber to the ground, both because it would have been upsetting to lose all the bits and bobs I’m sure the Guide has stuffed behind the club veneer and because it’s incredibly funny that this is the only time the blood sprinklers have worked. Of course it is.

- speaking of things happening or not happening because of humor, GUILLERMO!! GET IT, HONEY! But alas, I hope his super special Slayer blood prevents him from being turned because that would be Super Funny Actually. Or something to do with familiar bonds not allowing vampires other than their masters to turn them. Something that once again prevents Guillermo from getting what he wants and making him really think and get creative about what he wants from life and how to pursue it. Genius move going to Derrick for it, though, top notch thinking.

- this season was hysterical and moody all at once and I thoroughly enjoyed it, minus the major problematic element of Marwa being turned into Freddie, but again, I don’t feel like that little plot point is over just yet and I’m content to trust the writers for now and table my misgivings. Because!! Two more wishes! Guillermo truly striking out on his own! The house getting back to normal but losing both Guillermo and Baby Colin and how that will affect them! Nandor seemingly content to sink back into the same old same old when he has been struggling against it for two seasons! Laszlo and Nadja being back to spending more time together again! The Guide still holding onto council secrets! Lots to play with and get into trouble with later on!!!

#wwdits spoilers #wwdits season 4 #wwdits #overall: loved it! can’t wait for next season! so much still to resolve!#and more to play with!!

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choccymilk · 2 years

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ik it’s really cliche and overstated on the internet probably, but extroverts can be extremely selfish a lot of the time. they really don’t understand what it’s like to be an introvert in a society that normalizes extroversion so heavily. and I get that you can’t really understand when you don’t know what it’s like and never can, but at least pretend to try to sympathize with it a little. when I’m forced to be around people for more than like 40% of the day, I literally become a potato. my entire life is put on pause and I’m totally immobilized because instead of using my free time to do stuff I’d normally do or finish things I want to get done, I have to use that time to do nothing and recover from the excruciating uncomfortableness of going against my nature and being outside my comfort zone for hours on end. and the recovery takes probably double the time spent socializing, which means I’m still not fully recovered even into the next day when I’m somehow expected to do it all again ._. like.... I know it sounds like I’m literally a fucking infant but I’m so serious idk how to convey that this isn’t an exaggeration and I literally can’t help it as ridiculous and stupid as it seems. and if I try to adjust for it and spend less time with people or be less social, people will think I’m rude or selfish (ironic) or lazy or don’t like them and take it personally. which as a people pleaser literally makes the situation 100000000x worse because I can’t stand the thought of making the people I love sad and disappointed in me. but it’s like :))) you don’t get it.. even if I love you and enjoy our time together immensely, it’s still draining just to NOT be alone and not have sufficient time to introspect and process things and be in my own space. it’s like.. so many things stack up from this one small problem. I’m exhausted from socializing and not having time to recover, I’m terrified of people hating me for being myself, I’m completely stifled from having to hide myself and not feel understood by anyone, and I’m incapable of doing anything I love doing or being productive in any way because I spend so much of my time negatively affected by my perceived obligation to fit myself into an extroverted box that clearly isn’t my fucking size or shape :))) it’s literally crippling.

#sorry.

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servin-up-surveys · 2 years

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survey #009

“... but no one can break my heart like i can”

Anything you’re looking forward to this month? Ugh, no. Literally nothing. I want summer to be OVER. I'll only accept a pause for a brief period in August for Ryder's birthday. Have you or would you ever forage for mushrooms? Bitch fuck yes let's go be fairies What’s something you dislike about spring time? The fucking heat. As well as all the pollen. What’s your favorite lollipop flavor? Probably strawberry. Are you into gardening and what do you enjoy planting? No, it's really not my thing. I'm just not into getting hot and sweaty outside, for anything. What’s some flowers you find to be pretty? Oh god, tons. Flowers are literally the only thing that keep me from loathing spring. I love dahlias, hydrangeas, tiger lilies, roses, poppies, tulips... I really, really could go on forever. Would you say you’re easy to get along with? Yeah, I think so. Who did you last hold hands with? Girt. Do you name your plants? N/A Do you like to dip your fries in a frosty or ice cream? I've actually never seen the appeal of doing that??? Do you prefer staying in cuddled up or going out for a date? The former more than the latter, but I think diversity keeps it fun. Have you ever stargazed with someone? Well, that wasn't actively what we were doing, but considering we weren't doing anything else on the trampoline but lying there looking up... I guess we were. I miss nights in the woods. If you were royalty, what would you like to be addressed as? I'd have to think, which I don't feel like doing. As my life goes. Are there any things coming up that you have to travel for? No. What relative are you closest with? My mom. What last had you startled? Oh jeez. I can't think of anything since at Girt's place when he honestly understandably got defensive about something with his family. I was just really, really shocked (and triggered) to hear his voice go up even so slightly and become firm. My terrified-of-men ass ended up outside crying, which was embarrassing because the man didn't do anything close to yelling. Putting myself in his shoes, I probably would have snapped too, because he was just tired of the topic. We talked outside and i was fine after a while, I just. Really, really have to learn that anger is not an evil emotion and people are allowed to non-harmfully express it. Just as soon as that emotion is in a man's hands, I fuckin emotionally bolt. Girt's mom literally like watched it happen in my eyes, according to Mom when they also talked. As soon as his voice went up a single decibal above what was normal, she saw it. I grabbed and stroked Girt's arm to let him know I was there while at the same time I was thousands of miles away. What emotion have you experienced most lately? Oh, jeez. There's love, confusion, uncertainty, self-doubt, etc. Love has probably been the strongest. Let’s say there are no obstacles preventing this... What would you do for the rest of your life? If there truly are no obstacles, then I'd probably build up to a life with a shitload of well-provided for pets of all different sorts. What’s an odd phobia someone you know has? Idk, I'm the one with the weird phobia. Do you have any ghost stories you’ve experienced? Two very confident ones, but I just don't feel like explaining them all again. Recommend me something you’ve been into recently. I think i have made it ABUNDANTLY obvious lately that Rammstein has fully and entirely devoured my life lmao Do you like sushi? I refuse to try it. What’s something you’ve been putting off? Eeeek dusting my room. I have a lot of stuffed animals and knick-knacks I have to move around and then put back in the right places in order to properly dust, and I just hate doing it. What is one annoyance you’ve had today? I'm very, very drowsy. What’s one of your favorite videos? HAHA so in a recent survey I mentioned "comfort" videos of mine that I like to watch to make me smile and i was literally referring to my relationship with Rammstein's "Zick Zack" music video lmaooo, actual life goal is to become that one grandma w/ the walker and 69 jersey, actual queen. Who is your favorite person to spend time with? Girt, easy. Have you ever gotten into a physical altercation and lost? I've never been in a physical fight. Did you have your own bedroom growing up? No; my younger sister Nicole and I shared a room. Do you try to carry all of your groceries in at once to avoid another trip? No, because that is literally oathing me into falling as soon as I try to step over/onto anything. Getting into our actual house is a very painful step upwards for me and my legs, the last thing I need is to be weighed down by too many groceries. Would you ever or have you gone golfing? (mini golf counts) Mini-golf is fun; I have no desire to go legit golfing. Hell, I don't want to even mini-golf right now; it involves too much bending and such and my knees just couldn't handle it. How about bowling? I'd totally go bowling, it's fun. Do you enjoy decorating your home for any occasion? Ack, it sucks, I love LOOKING at holiday decor, especially Halloween and Christmas stuff, but I'll be damned if I like putting it up. What’s your favorite color in the rainbow? Mmmm maybe indigo. Or red, idk. Do you tend to stumble over your words when you’re nervous? Bitch what you mean I do that already when I'm NOT nervous Are you a fan of Ozzy Osborne? Me? No way, never. Never willingly listened to the guy once in my life. Have you ever caught Covid-19, or any of the variants? I have not. I took a test when I had that awful cold, and it was negative. What color was the blanket that you last covered up with? It's pink. What’s a dance move you can confidently do? None, haha. What is a name of a person who you don’t particularly like? Colleen. What is something you dread? I'm always EXTREMELY nervous stepping on the scale at doctors visits. Even now with the numbers dropping, I'm still so nervous to look at it. What’s the first flowers or trees you notice that bloom when it gets warmer? The fucking dogwood trees. Which notoriously smell like rotten fucking fish. Why it was picked as the state tree, I'd love to know. What are 3 words or phrases you use most often? "Mood," "lmao," and "deadass" or something. What type of pain pills do you use for a headache or do you just tough it out? I grab Ibuprofen. Can you remember the last time you dressed up nice for an event? Ugh... I most recently "dressed up" to get pictures taken for Mother's Day, and I sobbed because of how much I hated how hideous I looked. It took everything to not just cry and cry while we were actually getting them taken, because I was the one person there who just looked fucking awful. What did you last thank somebody for? Probably Mom for making dinner, idk. Are you content with your social life? I'm fine with it. It would be nice to have one face-to-face friend to hang out with besides my boyfriend, but it's not a big deal at all. What is something freeing that you’ve done recently? Nothing really comes to mind. Have you ever had edible flowers? Oh, I'm certain I've tried a flower I knew was edible as a kid, haha. No telling how far I got. Do you enjoy spicy foods? I lovvvveeee spicy food. What’s a song you’ve had on replay recently? See also: Rammstein's entire discography Have you ever slipped in the shower? I have, but caught myself. What is something you want to be remembered for? Having a big heart full of love for animals and good people. What is something besides cash/cards that you keep in your wallet? I have pictures of some of my nieces and nephews. I should mention I didn't just like, pick out of them all who I wanted a picture of, I was given some photos that fit in there. Do you like pickles? Ugh I love pickles and have actually been craving them so badly lately. Do you consider yourself to be more of a loner or outgoing? I am the textbook definition of "loner." What’s your plans for the next upcoming season? So fall? I mean, nothing that I really know of besides celebrate my anniversary with Girt. Maybe I'll try to take more nature/scenery photographs this year. Maybe do some Halloween stuff like ACTUALLY do something with a pumpkin this year. What emotion do you feel the strongest right now? Gaaaaaaah anxiety. What’s the strangest name you’ve heard someone name their child? Tbh I *try* not to name-shame because you really just don't know what led to that name being chosen, but some are definitely... out there. I remember when Blanket, Michael Jackson's son, was born, I was at a loss trying to explain THAT one. Have you ever or would you ever wear a cat ear hat? Yeah sure, especially with a costume. What is something scary you have done? Jesus, sharing a bedroom with this one woman during a psych hospital stay years ago was genuinely terrifying. I don't know exactly what her issue was, but she was EXPLOSIVE as all get-out. I mean like, throwing-furniture-around angry. She made me so uncomfortable that I eventually talked to a nurse and was moved. This poor lady at one point wound up in solitary throwing shit around (I mean LIFTING her fucking bed) and if I remember right eventually had to be given an injection to calm her down. That experience fucking sucked; for some dumb reason the solitary room was very close to the day room where we all gathered, so all we heard was her screaming and cursing at nothing. I hope she got the help she needed. Do you think fish are cute/pretty? Well yeah, of course. What’s the nastiest dish you’ve ever had? Oh I dunno. Do you or anyone you know talk or walk in their sleep? Well, I scream awful and/or hateful shit in my sleep. When my hypomanic streak ended, the nightmares snuck back in. Absolutely not to the degree they once were, at least not yet. I mostly only know I still do it because Mom points it out. I've never walked in my sleep, but my younger sister has. As a kid, she deadass RAN in her sleep, lmao. Then on one occasion when she was way older, I stopped her from wandering outside while she was asleep. She was literally trying to open the front door. THAT could have ended badly, so thank goodness I was up in the living room. Do you ever make bets on anything? No. Even if I had money, I wouldn't. I'd cherish money I earned too much. Where did you get your shirt at? I have no clue, it's just a very ordinary red tank top. How many towns have you lived in? Three. All touching. Are you currently hungry or thirsty? I actually am kinda hungry. Do you like to be hugged? Dude I LOVE hugs. Girt's mom absolutely loves how tightly I hug and it's the best thing. Do you like cranberry juice? Cranberry juice is VERY easily one of the most disgusting drinks known to man. Do you or have you ever taken lessons for anything? I took guitar lessons for a little while in high school, and then my sisters and I were all dancers for many years, starting in middle school. Nicole's second job is literally at the dance studio, as she was the most passionate dancer and is also just way too good with kids to not be a teacher there. Has something heavy ever fallen on top of you? Not that I recall, no. Do you know a lot of people who share the same name? Well, Girt and I both have an older sister named Ashley, which is WEIRD. Do you prefer minty toothpaste or something else? Minty, yes. Do you have a favorite shape? Circles. I find them satisfying. Do you own a pool? Do you enjoy swimming? We don't. I do like swimming, though. Do you like oat milk? Sigh, no. Ashley gets that now and I tried it because I hate the dairy industry, it's appalling, but I just straight-up have not liked anything that isn't real milk. Do you or anyone you know have a pet snake? I have oneeee. <3 God, I want more. I know Mazzy has snakes too, but I'm not sure if any other friends of mine have any. Do you ever donate your unworn clothing? Yes, always. Do you own anything with your country’s flag on it? What is it? HELL no. Have you ever been inside of a mansion? No, but shit man, I wish. Do you have ADD/ADHD? I've been diagnosed with ADD in the past, but it's not something that's clung on through time. My focus is actual shit and I believe there is a problem with it, though to just be real y'all I have heard so many diagnoses by now that I just don't even seek 'em out anymore. Like I would honestly love to know it I DO have high-functioning autism, but I just. Don't feel like going through everything to find out. Do you prefer chocolate chip or sugar cookies? Both are good, but I prefer chocolate chip. Would you ever get a tattoo of a cat? Yeah, sure. I would not put getting a tribute to Roman done past me after he passes on. Even then, I might just want a Halloween-ish cat, AND OH!, I was once very serious about getting a watercolor Cheshire Cat. Do you know anyone with the name Brianna? I sure do; my very first best friend was named Brianna. We haven't had contact in MANY years, though. Most certainly wish her the best in the world, though. What are your opinions on self diagnosing mental disorders? This is WAY more intricate a topic than people think. It depends on so, so much. In general I don't support it, but there are cases where I would believe somebody without a professional diagnoses. What’s something you like about the town you live in? Absolutely, positively nothing. This place sucks. Do you celebrate Halloween? What’s your favorite thing about it? Sigh, I really don't. I wish I did *something*. I just love everything about it, the whole aesthetic and vibe. What did you last draw? A rough outline of a meerkat figure. I had to stop because my tremors were so intense during that hypomanic streak that I really just was not drawing well at all. Do you ever jokingly flip people off? If I'm very close with you and know you won't think I mean it, I will. Who do you know that gives the best advice? Probably Mazzy, honestly. Do you ever go to your local library? No. Have you ever listened to Hollywood Undead? Yeah, I like 'em. Have you ever binged watched a whole show in one day? I probably have at some point. Could you go for a nap right now? No, I'm fine. What’s the weather like today? Insufferably fucking hot. I just got back from riding with Mom to feed my sister's cat, and our car's AC doesn't work, so it's miserable in the car. Do you like mushrooms? Noooooo.

#lyrics: ''werewolf'' by motionless in white #survey #surveys #random questions

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sillyyoungwoman · 2 years

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I haven’t written anything about my life lately because I’ve just been living pretty normally. I wake up every day and I work out, I do hw and I eat. It’s like a routine but I’m not bored of it. I’ve been trying to hang out with friends more often because I need to socialize more. It’s just draining sometimes. I always feel so exhausted when I’m out for too long and I’m always daydreaming about being home. I’m really tired of rotting away though so I want to go out, I want to experience new things. I’m in this weird stage where I just feel like I’m walking in circles. Like my life has been on pause for the past 4 years. I can’t explain it but I really don’t feel like I have a future. I can’t see it and I absolutely can’t picture it. I honestly don’t even have goals I want to accomplish except for like the basic life goals but other than that, there’s nothing. It’s seriously the weirdest feeling. I feel like I’m going to school for nothing and like I’m living for absolutely nothing. I really can’t picture my future. I know this sounds like I’m just unmotivated and lazy with no life goals but it’s not that at all. I want to do things but it’s just for a while, not long term. My future does not exist in my head and ever since I was small, I could never see my future. I never wanted anything in my life. When people ask me what I want to do, I always say all these things but it feels so hallow to me. It’s like I say it just because people expect me to have life goals. How do I tell people I’ve never ever pictured a future for myself? Idk this is how I’m feeling right now and the older I get, the more I feel this.

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solomons-cooking · 3 years

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How the Brothers react when GN!MC has their period.

TW: blood, period talk

I’m on mine rn, thats it. I also have a strange craving for Belphie cuddles

Lucifer:

When you tell him “Eh?”

Has no idea what to do.

Lets you skip school for one day when the pain gets too much

Used to Mammon faking being sick, so is skeptical of how much it really hurts

Doesn’t really know how to approach you

Will buy you whatever you need from the store, no questions asked

Expect a text like “Left or Right”? Idk hes kinda dumb sometimes

Kinda relies on his brothers to take care of the situation

Will aid in cooking for you, but only breakfast idk

Mammon:

When you tell him “HUH?”

Literally looks you up and down in horror

Doesn’t believe you bc he can’t see your “wound”

You explain to him WHY it happens

He gets all flustered and just looks away from you

*nervous sweats*

“Well uh, if ya need anything MC, just lemme know!”

Very sweet

Checks up on you, but only when it's convenient for him

If youre with Asmo, Mammon tags along. he also wants to be pampered

Leviathan:

Literally says “ew”

Already knows about the process, idk don't ask me why

Maybe he knows from hentai? idk guy is a google freak

Offers for you to play video games with him

Makes sure you're comfy

Will literally pause his videogame/get to a safe spot to get you anything

Feels really bad for you tbh

Orders food from Hell's Kitchen, whatever you want!

Satan:

Has no idea what a period is

Listens to your explanation and continues to do research.

Reads a little too into it

“I’m sorry your uterus is trying to kill your womb”

^ He also announces stuff like that in front of people, kinda cringe

Buys/tries everything he reads to make sure your time is as painless as possible

This includes potions and spells that he hasn’t tried before, but is confident they’ll work

Insists you stay in his bed, so he can keep an eye on you

Basically wants to play nurse, but kinda sucks

Cooks for you

Asmo:

As soon as he hears this, he starts preparing

Already has tampons/pads for you, no need to ask

He knows you want a bath, no need to ask it's already drawn up

He sees your skin start to break out, doesn't say anything but offers to do face masks

Massages? Whenever you ask! He again, will still offer

Imported chocolates, the finest wine, expensive facials (if you like those things)

Avoids going out, would rather stay in with you

He really likes to take care of you, he secretly likes that you're on your period

Plays with your hair and does hair styles for you

Ugshsdashd he’s just too cute okay

I wish I had Asmo in my life

Beel:

When you explain it, his face omg gets so red

“Uh… so.. Youre okay though right? Like...this is normal?”

Beel you sweet boy

He sees you have trouble walking sometimes (youre hurled over in pain against a wall), he just picks you up so you dont have to walk

He carries you EVERYWHERE. He loves it too.

Cravings? Beel has them too. Probably the same ones.

Literally is your Barbatoes for the time being. Will do ANYTHING so his human isnt in pain

Too nervous to buy you sanitary supplies (tamps, pads..)

Belphie:

He’s smart when it comes to humans, he knows what you're talking about

Asks if you have everything you need, will order from Akuzon if you dont (or will get Doordash/instacart )

Cuddles when you want to be touched

Naps literally all the time, youre tired and you just wanna nap at 7pm

Can tell when youre in pain. When you guys cuddle, he makes his hands warm with magic and puts them over where the pain is, so it lessens it

Did you read that? SPOONING BUT WITH HOT HANDS WEWFIOJGW

I want that

Man also has the best medicine cabinet in the Devildom, so you are set for medical supplies

Dope music playlist

You also get Beel

#obey me #obey me lucifer x mc #obey me mammon x mc #obey me levi x reader #obey me satan x reader #obey me headcanons #obey me x reader #obey me beel x reader #obey me belphie #obey me asmo x mc #obey me gn!mc #obey me reactions

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harrysgoldenline · 3 years

Note

can you pls write an angst where y/n went to her and harry's house that they bought or something like that in Italy to try to move on and go on with her life after harry broke up with her but then she never expected that harry will be there as well with his new gf.... you can end it whatever you like!! thank you

Word Count: 1.6K

Warnings: idk, sad I guess? also not proof read oops sorry lol

When In Italy

It has been three months since you’ve last seen or spoken to Harry. A very abrupt change after being together for four years, with constant talk of marriage and starting a family, the break up was something either of you really expected. It started as a break of sorts, eventually turning into a complete break up after only a couple weeks in a somewhat mutual way. With Harry's career taking off in so many different ways, with acting, the new tour and more, his life had changed completely and has left him very little time for anything else.

It went from daily phone and FaceTime calls, constant text messages and flowers being delivered to nothing.

“You really think that’s a good idea?” Your best friend asked you, concern plastered all over her face, “that won’t bring up too much?”

She had been sitting with you as you finished packing up your suitcase, trying her best to give you her support as you were going to be going on a spur of the moment trip to Italy and staying at the home of you and Harry, needing the much needed getaway and disconnecting completely. Seeing different things online about him all the time didn’t make it any easier and no matter how hard you tried to avoid it, he always found his way to pop up.

“I just need a break, everything here is a reminder to.” You sigh, “I just want a change of scenery. I think it’ll be good for me.”

“I hope so…” she frowned, looking up at you with a sad smile, “please don’t just sit there in the house all alone. Go out, meet some local Italian men!”

“I’m definitely not ready for that.” You say, forcing a laugh as you close your suitcase, zipping it up and placing it on the floor by your door, “but I will really try, I promise. I will call you if I need you and you can come out?”

“Hell yeah I can.” She laughs, standing up and giving you a hug, “and you’re really going right now?”

You bite your bottom lip as your eyes fill up with tears, nodding quickly as you look at her and she quickly pulled you in a tight hug.

“You can do this.”

***

You pulled your suitcase through the front door, waving goodbye to the driver as you turned around to close the door behind you as they left you alone in the house that has so many memories inside. You pause at the door, taking a couple deep breaths as you look around and try and keep your mind at bay before walking to the guest bedroom, deciding the main bedroom was too much and the guest bedroom was already way nicer than your apartment.

After taking the time to unpack, knowing you would stay awhile, you put away your things into the various drawers and closet in the room. You keep out a swimsuit and change into it quickly, sliding a simple dress overtop before walking out onto the balcony attached to the bedroom, taking in the smell of the ocean and beautiful view, memories overwhelming your senses.

“Well don’t you look absolutely stunning.” You can practically hear him say all over again, reliving the memory as if it was actually happening, “ ‘m the luckiest man in the world.”

You remember him coming up behind you, arms tight around your waist as his head rested on your shoulder, soft kisses being pressed along your shoulder as you leaned back into him, a large smile covering both of your faces before you leaned your head back, connecting your lips before he pulled back.

“I can’t decide…” He had whispered, connecting your lips again.

“Decide what?” You had giggled, turning around to face him, arms resting around his shoulders as his came around your waist.

“If I want to get married here or have our honeymoon here.”

You shuddered slightly as the memory came back, letting out a deep breath before packing a beach bag quickly and leaving the house just as fast, taking a walk down to the private beach and settling yourself in a lounge chair. Applying your sunscreen you could almost convince yourself it was him applying it on you like he always would do, large hands massaging it into your skin.

You push the thought away as you grab your phone, playing music softly to try and distract your mind. Your fingers hovered over your different social media apps, wanting desperately to just give it a quick click, wondering if you could get any update on where he could be from his fans, posts always finding their way on your feed. Instead, you hold it down, deleting all of the various apps and throwing your phone down on your bag, grabbing your book and letting the music play, opening to the first page to try and escape into the new world.

***

After a few hours been spent peacefully on the beach, you decided to head back to the house to take a nice bubblebath and order yourself some dinner, deciding that you would go to town the next morning in order to cook some of your own meals. The walk back to the house was more enjoyable this time and you began to feel a sense of hope as you approached the house, your heart not clenching in as much pain as it originally had done when you first pulled up to the house earlier that day.

Using your keys, you unlocked the back door, locking it behind you again as soon as you got inside, making your way to the bathroom right away and letting the water fill up the bathtub, pouring in some of the fancy bubblebath that you remember buying once from your favorite boutique in town, making a mental note to stop there again tomorrow.

Discarding your clothes, you hung them up, deciding you could use it once more as a cover up after not even going into the water, and you honestly didn’t even have the energy to even think about doing laundry right now, even simply showering was too much most days so you were happy to submerge yourself simply into the warm water, eyes fluttering closed as it embraced you with it’s comfort.

You began preparing yourself a mental list of things you could do tomorrow, forcing yourself to get out of the house and keep yourself occupied after locking yourself away in your apartment the past few months, planning on taking baby steps but knowing that even starting will be more like a push off a cliff.

Pulling yourself out of the bath once finishing cleansing your body, deciding to save washing your hair for the next day, you pulled yourself out of the bath, honestly just wanting to curl up into bed and go to sleep but knowing you needed to force yourself to eat something. So, you dry off, applying some matching lotion to your body, which made you feel a sense of pride of yourself as you made small steps to take care of yourself again, thanking the air of Italy as self motivation and threw on the robe that you swear was the softest one in the world.

A sudden sound coming from the house made you jump, a hand coming over your chest to try and calm your racing heart as your mind tried to think of all of the possibilities of who could be there, or maybe it was coming outside? Or honestly at this point you thought it could be your imagination as the memories that have been flashing into your mind have been so vivid it felt like it was actually happening. Your feet softly padded on the wood flooring, making your way to what you thought was the site of the sound, feeling bile rise in your throat at the sight before you.

It was Harry there, with one of the most beautiful women you had ever seen in your life, laughing together.

You weren’t sure if they saw you, both of their hair wet as towels wrapped around them and it seemed like they had just got back from the beach, making you think that you must have just missed each other as you swapped positions. You slowly walk backwards, thinking of running out the back towards the beach and calling a car, leaving all of your clothes there.

You could see slightly into the master bedroom, seeing their suitcases sprawled and things laid on the couch as they chatted together, knowing they must have arrived when you were down at the beach, your presence unknown as all of your things sat seemingly hidden in the guest room which you were now desperately trying to go and hide in, but after it being too log since you been here, you accidentally ran into the wall, a photo that was hanging there crashing to the floor, glass shattering.

Two heads quickly snapped their way towards you, both pairs of eyes meeting yours as gasps left both of their lips, Harry’s face going pale as he saw you. You opened your mouth to speak, but with this being your first time seeing your partner since the breakup, no words were able to come out.

Spinning on your heel your ran back into the guest bedroom, pulling the suitcase out of the closet and messily shoving all of your clothes into it, tears stinging your eyes and unable to hold them in as they silently spilling on you cheeks, more coming as you heard the familiar steps coming your way, feeling the presence behind you and hearing the door shut softly behind you.

“Y/N?”

—————————————————————————

Part 2 anyone???

ALSO PLEASE READ THIS!!

I was wondering what people would think about me doing personalized little blurbs/imagines for people who donate to my tip jar? you could give me your name, prompt, pronouns, etc and i will write it just for you!! :) i’m trying to write more and it’s hard bc i’m a broke college student who needs to work but if people who WANT a personalized little fic with bucky or harry or something with their own name and such maybe I could do something like that? of course I will still be doing all normal requests and such but this way it’s kinda like a one time patreon for people who want to do something like that? idk please comment/send me a message/ask and let me know what you think!!!! let’s talk!

#harry styles imagine #harry styles angst #harry styles blurb #harry styles fan fic #harry styles fan fiction #harry styles imagines #harry styles headcannon #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles series #harry styles writing #harry styles request #fic rec #harry styles #harry styles dirty imagine #harry styles one shot

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kingexpl0sionmurder · 3 years

Text

Body Electric - Kaminari Denki - Smut

Author: @kingexpl0sionmurder Pairing: Kaminari Denki/F!Reader Rating: 18+ (contains smut) Words: 5,491 Warnings: Sex work (Cam boy/girl), Quirkless AU, Aged-up Adult characters (someone is in grad school! wow!), mentions of masturbation (both male and female), mentions of casual ShinKami, established KiriBaku, Idk they are all just really sexually liberated and don’t care about watching each other cum. Is that voyeurism? I’m bad at tagging things. Title taken from a Lana Del Rey song. AN: Another BNHarem collab piece! The theme was sex work, and I have wanted to do a camboy Denki for a long time so here we go. This was really smutty in my head but Denki makes me soft and it turned out really cute in the end, I’m sorry? He’s such a dork I feel like any sexual encounter with him would just turn out like this in some way, idk. Thanks to @unbreakablekiribaku and @sailorsero as usual for being supportive of me. Happy birthday to @lady-bakuhoe and @burnedbyshoto 🎂🎂 There is no one else I would rather be birthday triplets with!

Please check out the Collab Masterlist: HERE Look 👀 at My Masterlist: HERE Buy me a Kofi if you’re scared of clowns too: HERE

---

Sighing, you sat up on your elbows, squinting at the chat on the screen, willing your heart to stop pounding and your breath to even out. The donations were pouring in, the chat moving so fast you couldn’t even read it. “Alright, lovelies, I hope you enjoyed that. Be right back and we’ll chat a little bit, okay?”

Donations popped up, the chat slowing a little as the clients who only came to jerk off to you left, leaving those who considered themselves true fans. You stood and made your way to the bathroom to pee, rinsing your toy off in the sink and washing your hands. You went back to your room, pulling on a hoodie and settling in front of the screen again.

“Alright, I’m back! I have some time for a few questions and then I have to go for the night. Let me see what we got!” You scanned the chat, ignoring the normal inappropriate questions. Mindfucker: Do you know who Chargebolt is? Cause I heard he watches your stream.

Your heart, which had finally slowed to a normal rhythm, picked up again. You most definitely knew who Chargebolt was. You gave him a good amount of money from your donations when you watched his cam shows yourself. “I do actually, he’s pretty popular on here, isn’t he?” You sat back a little, furrowing your brows. “How do you know he watches me?”

RedDaddy: He did a Q&A and mentioned your channel! Told everyone to check you out.

You recognized the names of the viewers and knew they were also regulars on Chargebolt’s streams as well, so you believed them. Chargebolt was gorgeous and funny, just your type. The knowledge that he was interested in you enough to watch you get off on camera was flattering. You hoped your blush wasn’t showing on your face.

“I’m surprised he knows who I am!” You had missed the last Q&A he’d done, since it hadn’t been on his normal streaming day, and you’d been stuck at work late. Leaning forward again, you bit your lip, looking into the camera from under your lashes. “Can I tell you guys a secret? I watch him, too. Why do you think I never do shows on Thursdays? That’s Chargebolt day.” With a wink you sat back, trying to will the blush from your cheeks. Mindfucker: I knew it! I bet he’s watching right now. You smiled, shrugging. “I hope he enjoyed the show, then!” You tried to hold it together, suppressing the urge to burst into a fit of giggles at the thought, answering a few more silly questions from your regulars, before signing off for the night, promising to be back again the following week.

You let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding, leaning your head back and groaning. It was wild that the guy whose cam shows you watched on the regular, the one who had inspired you to start your own, who you thought of half the time when you were filming yourself getting off on camera for strangers, knew who you were and was one of your viewers.

It brought you down a whole rabbit hole for a second, wondering if he got off on you getting off. Why else would he watch? Did he ever donate? You assumed he had a secondary account so you wouldn’t know it was him even if you tried to look at your past viewers, just like you had a secret account so you could watch him as well.

Cracking your eyes open, you clicked to view the donation tallies for the evening. You’d made enough to pay the rent on your apartment for the month in just one night. Sometimes you wondered how you ever managed to survive before you started doing this. It was meant to be a temporary side job, but you’d been running this cam channel under the screen name Neko for over six months, and you had clawed your way out of debt in such a short time, it didn’t make sense for you to stop.

You viewed a few more visitor stats with interest, before logging off the computer and shutting the laptop. You had to get to sleep for your real job in the morning, so you figured it was time for bed, pushing thoughts of Chargebolt to the back of your mind for now.

It wasn’t until later when you were lying down to sleep, that you thought of him again. Your eyes closed as you ran through a scenario in your head, wondering if he would mention you on Thursday, and what would come of all this? You had noticed your viewer numbers had spiked that day, so it was definitely beneficial that you’d caught his eye. You just weren’t sure what would happen next.

Denki was grinning into the camera, wiping the cum off of his abs with the towel he kept beside him, his chest and cheeks flushed pink. He adjusted in his chair, tugging the toy out of his hole and chucking it to the side, pulling his boxers back up over his softening cock. “I hope it was as good for you as it was for me, babes.”

He chuckled at the comments flooding the chat as he reached for his water and took a sip.

Tapeman: As always, you never disappoint me, Chargebolt.

“Hey thanks, Tapeman! I appreciate you always coming to hang out...get it? Coming?”

Mindfucker: Ridiculous.

“Aw, you love me, Mindfucker.” He winked at the camera. “So, did you guys enjoy my Q&A the other day?”

The chat filled with praise, making him grin. He loved to talk to his fans, and sometimes they had some great questions for him. He knew a lot of people just watched him as a way to get off, but he liked to give a little piece of himself to them because he knew that most of the people who watched were probably lonely, and he wanted to help with that in some way. He kept things laid back, joking and laughing with his viewers before and after the show, taking requests and doing his best to remember some of the regulars. Some of the few who had been with him from the beginning he’d made into moderators to help with keeping things somewhat orderly in the chat. Some of them he actually knew in real life, like his roommate Hitoshi, who used the alias Mindfucker.

Mindfucker: So are we going to talk about Neko? Denki’s eyebrows rose. “Oh, you mean the stream the other day? It was…” He made the appropriate motion as he said it. “Chef’s kiss, immaculate. She’s so beautiful…” Trailing off, he let himself think back to the way your chest heaved and the face you made when you came. “I would do anything for her, man.”

RedDaddy: Dude, I agree! She’s also super sweet, like, the total package.

Sighing, he leaned his elbow on the desk, his cheek resting on his palm. “I am a simp, my guy.” He sat up, squinting at the chat. “She said she watches, right? Is she here right now?” He scanned the names of the viewers, frowning. “She probably has a second account. Well, if you’re here, Neko, you should hit me up. I read all of my DM’s okay?” He grinned, winking again. “Alright, I have to go feed the cats so I’m outie 5000, thanks for hanging out and I’ll see you guys next week!”

He said his goodbyes, ending the stream and sighing. He wiped off his toy with the towel and clicked through his stats for the day, smiling at some of the comments that came with the donations. Hitoshi came into his room a few minutes later, holding one of the cats, an orange tabby named Miso, in his arms. “I fed them, you don’t have to.”

Was it weird that his roommate watched him fuck himself on toys and jerk off on the internet on a weekly basis? Nope. Denki had forgone all sense of modesty when it came to sex a long time ago, and Hitoshi was the same. It helped that they fucked around on occasion, best friends who got lonely and lived together sometimes did that, he guessed. Or maybe they were weird. It was whatever, he didn’t like to think about it too much.

“What would I do without you, Toshi?”

“Kill the cats, probably.” He deadpanned, leaning in the doorway. “Burn all the toast you try to make, buy the wrong peanut butter, eat Cheese-Itz for breakfast every day, forget to pay the cable bill.” He raised his eyebrows. “I can keep going.”

“Fuck off, I got the all-natural peanut butter once, it was an accident!” Denki threw his soiled towel into the laundry basket by the closet and picked up the toy he’d used, waving it around a bit. “Did you enjoy the stream?”

Hitoshi snorted, eyeing the dildo warily. “I didn’t really watch, I had my eye on the chat. I was looking for Neko.”

“Man, I can’t believe she’s a fan!” He waved the dildo some more, watching as it jiggled. “I would let her do unspeakable things to me.”

“Look out, your sub is showing, Denki.” Hitoshi teased. “But I agree, she’s pretty great. I wonder if she’ll ever do private shows.” Pausing to scritch Miso behind the ears, he continued. “I’m sure they’d be in high demand.”

Denki stood, pointing at Hitoshi with the dildo. He really needed to put it down somewhere and stop brandishing it around like a sword. “Don’t even, I’d spend all my money on that girl.”

“I know you would.” He chuckled. “I did try to go through the usernames and see if I could find out who she could be, but I didn’t have any luck.”

“It’s okay! I’m leaving it up to fate now, man. If the universe wants us to know each other, we will.” He stuck his thumb towards the ensuite. “I’m going to wash my ass and then we can play Among Us if you want.”

Hitoshi, completely unphased as usual, nodded. “I’ll get a team together. Check the discord when you get out.”

Humming, Denki made his way to the bathroom, picking up his phone on the way. It buzzed as he closed the door, and he glanced down to see he had a message from his other moderator and friend, Eijirou, aka RedDaddy. Tossing the dildo in the sink, he looked down at the screen and opened the message.

Eiji: No luck on finding Neko on the stream, but she said she never misses a Thursday, so I bet she was there.

Denki: Thanks for keeping an eye out, man. I appreciate you. Among us in 30?

Eiji: Bet. I’ll ask Kats to play too.

Your next stream day had you feeling nervous. Chargebolt had talked directly at you on his last stream, asking you to slide into his DMs, and you had yet to take him up on it. You didn’t know what you were so scared of, Chargebolt was a nice guy. You chalked it up to the fear of the unknown. If you sent him a message, what would you even say? ‘Hey dude, nice cock?’ It was bound to be a disaster.

Pushing your nerves back down, you made sure you were ready for your stream, excited for the news you were about to drop on your viewers. You were needing a little extra cash due to some unfortunate car trouble, and you’d figured out a way to make up what you needed in record time.

“Hey everyone, welcome!” You smiled at the camera, waving your fingers. “Thanks for coming! I see a lot of familiar names here tonight. Hi Mindfucker, Dynamight, RedDaddy, Tapeman, LightningMcQueen!”

LightningMcQueen: Hey, beautiful! I’ve been looking forward to this all week.

Dynamight: Chill out, McQueen, you look desperate.

RedDaddy: Be nice, Dynamight. Hi, Neko!

Dynamight: Fuck off, Shittyhair.

Mindfucker: How’s your cat, Neko?

“Be good, Dynamight. You’re lucky I know you don’t mean that!” You giggled at the antics of your regulars, smiling at the question about your cat. “Ichigo is doing good, Mindfucker, thanks for asking! I’ll bring her on camera after the show if you want to say hi!”

Minfucker just sent a cat emoji and you laughed, shaking your head. “I’m beginning to think that you’re just here for Ichigo and not me.”

The chat went crazy with people denying it, telling you how much they loved watching you every week. You lit up, feeling more excited about your news.

“So I have something I want to discuss before we get started today. I’ve decided I want to try out doing some private shows, so I’m going to be offering up a few spots. I’m going to give some of my longest and most frequent supporters a shot first, and if all goes well, then I’ll open them up to the rest of you! I’ll be adding a signup link at the bottom of my page after tonight’s stream, so if you’re interested you can apply and I’ll pick a few of you and we’ll work out a schedule! How does that sound?”

Dynamight: McQueen already has his credit card ready I bet.

“Aw, you don’t want to play with me, Dynamight?” You teased, giving the camera your best pout.

Dynamight: You couldn’t handle me, Princess.

LightningMcQueen: Hush. You’re a bottom, Dyna.

Dynamight: Die you fucking extra.

LightningMcQueen: Love you too, blasty.

“I was going to let you pick the toy today, Dynamight, but if you can’t behave then I’m just going to have to let someone else have a turn.” You gave the camera a disapproving look, frowning. You’d picked up that these guys were friends, so you knew they were just messing with each other.

A donation popped up from Dynamight with a comment attached.

Let McQueen choose this time, babe.

“It looks like Dynamight is going to let you choose, McQueen. Which one?” You pulled over the box you kept your toys in and showed it to the camera. “Pick a color.”

LightningMcQueen: Yellow

You pulled the yellow silicone out of the box and showed it to the chat, smirking. “I call this one Chargebolt because it’s the same color as his hair. Are you sure this is the one you want me to use?”

When your stream ended, Denki leaned back in his chair, taking a deep breath. The fact that he’d watched you fuck yourself with a dildo that you’d named after him was the hottest thing he could have imagined. He was jealous of that piece of bright yellow silicone more than he should be. He’d still enjoyed it, if the mess across his abs and chest were any indication.

He cleaned himself up and pulled on a shirt, clicking on the link for the private show signup. It was pretty straightforward, listing the price and how long the show would be, and asking for his username and what he would be interested in doing or seeing and what day would work best.

Staring at the form for a moment, he contemplated his options. He could sign up with his LightningMcQueen account, and he might have a chance. He was the first one out of his friends to find your channel one night when he was bored and horny. Then he’d shown it to Hitoshi and then shared your info with Eijirou, Katsuki, and Hanta. He would be considered one of the longest and loyal viewers like you had said.

However, if you got a request from Chargebolt? What would you do? Would you ignore it?

“Toshi!” He called out, knowing his roommate would hear him without him having to get up. “I’m having a crisis!”

The door opened, and the purple-haired man stood in the doorway. “I am not prepared to handle your bi panic right now, Denki.”

“Are you going to put in for a private show from Neko?” Denki pushed on, ignoring his friend’s exasperation.

“I spoke that into existence last week, you know. You’re welcome.”

Flopping back in his chair, Denki closed his eyes. “Should I send in the request with this account or with the Chargebolt one?”

Hitoshi shrugged, watching their cat Sashimi wander into the room. “You’ve wanted to talk to her for ages, man. You could have messaged her forever ago and you wouldn’t be playing this game with her. Sign up with your actual account.”

“I mean, she must think I’m cute, right? Otherwise, she wouldn’t watch.” He sat up, logging out of his secondary account and into his main one. He had a few unread DM’s, so he clicked, his breath catching in his throat. “Dude, look.”

There was a message from you, short but sweet.

Hi, Chargebolt. I don’t know if you saw the stream today, but you should check it out if you haven’t. I left it up for you.”

“She wants you to see her use that dildo she named after you.” Hitoshi patted his shoulder, and then bent down to pick up Sashimi. “I signed up but I told her I just wanted to have a date with her cat. She probably won’t pick me.”

“She will, she loves cats.” Denki clicked on your page and scrolled down to the bottom where the signup was again, letting it populate his main account in the information, and writing ‘any day except Thursday’ in the section for the time that worked for him. “I’m going to get this girl to date me, just you watch.”

Snorting, his roommate closed the door behind him as he left. “I believe in you, Pikachu.”

Once his request was submitted, he went back to his DM’s and sent you a message back.

“I was there, Neko. I never miss a stream. I submitted for a private show, so I hope you’ll pick me. I’ve been one of your viewers since the beginning, you know.”

---

In your head, you tried to plan what you would say once you were face to face (via camera) with the one and only Chargebolt. Everything your brain seemed to come up with fell short. What did you say to this guy, who you’d been simping over for over 9 months, who lit up your screen every Thursday with terrible puns and panty-dropping smiles? You knew exactly what he looked like and sounded like when he came. It was a strange thing to think that you knew that but you’d never actually spoken to him before.

It made you feel a little better when you realized he knew just as much about you. That he watched you fuck yourself on a dildo you’d named after him, and then spent the rest of the stream showing off your fluffy white cat Ichigo.

It was time to put on your big girl panties. You could do this.

Chargebolt had been one of the few that you’d chosen to do these shows with. He was also the last one. You’d met with 4 others, the ones who were the most active in your chat, the ones you assumed were actually friends.

Your first one was with Tapeman, who asked you to call him Sero. He was cute, with the widest, prettiest smile you’d ever seen. He made you laugh, and called you beautiful, and spoke to you in Spanish. You didn’t feel uncomfortable once with him, and the experience gave you hope that the rest would be just as nice.

Mindfucker was next, whose name was Shinsou and lowkey your favorite one. He didn’t want anything sexual at all, which surprised you. You sat with him and drank tea and you got to meet his two fur children, Miso and Sashimi, while he told you about his roommate. You let him admire Ichigo, and talked about music. He was sarcastic, but not in a mean way, and you were pretty sure he was going to be your new best friend.

RedDaddy and Dynamight had asked to do theirs together since they were dating. You wanted to question why they both watched your stream but RedDaddy, who was actually named Kirishima, answered it for you.

“We’re both bi, and we think you’re cute!”

“Yeah, plus McQueen has a thing for you so we like to be in the chat to help him out.” Dynamite, aka Bakugou, added in his gruff voice, folding his arms across his chest.

“Aw, that’s sweet!” You smiled at them. “He didn’t request a private show though, so I guess he doesn’t like me that much.”

Bakugou coughed and Kirishima grinned. “Maybe he was nervous! I’m sure you’ll meet him in one of these someday!”

“Enough about that dumbass.” Bakugou leaned forward, his hand on Kirishima’s knee. “Give us a show and we’ll give you one in return. Use that orange and green one for me, Princess.”

And give you a show they did. You got lost in how they looked at each other while they jerked each other off, and you were pretty sure they forgot you were even there at some point. When it was over, you suggested that they start their own channel.

Bakugou scoffed, but you could tell he was blushing a bit.

“I don’t know, Neko. I don’t think I could share him with anyone else. Except you, you’re the exception.” Kirishima grinned, winking at you.

But now it was Chargebolt’s turn. You made sure you had everything you needed, making sure Ichigo was out of the room, and then signed into your account.

Chargebolt was online, so you made the private room and sent him the request. You felt like you were shaking, and you checked yourself in the camera to make sure you didn’t look like a wreck.

You barely had time to breathe before he entered the chat, his camera screen coming to life and showing you his smiling face. You melted a bit, biting your lip, gazing at how attractive he was.

“Hey, Neko!” Chargebolt was as vibrant as ever, tucking his hair behind his ears, the black lightning bolt in his hair dark against the bright yellow of the rest of it.

“It’s nice to see you, Chargebolt.” You tried to relax, rolling your shoulders back. “It’s kind of weird knowing you can see me too.”

He laughed, leaning back in his chair. You tried not to stare at his arms in the tank top he was wearing. Chargebolt had a small frame, but his muscles were defined. You’d seen him plow through an entire bag of chips on stream once, without pausing to breathe, so you assumed he must be one of those people with amazing metabolism that you envied. “You can call me Denki if you want, kitten.”

You choked on air at the nickname, trying to compose yourself. “Kitten?”

“Well, Neko means cat, doesn’t it?” He raised an eyebrow. “I won’t call you that if you don’t like it.”

“No!” You practically shouted. “No, I mean, it’s fine. I like it.”

“Sweet.” He grinned. “Man, I’ve wanted to get you alone like this for so long, and now I’m just feeling really nervous.”

“You’re nervous?” You were surprised. The always cool but super dorky Chargebolt was nervous because of you? “So am I.”

Chargebolt- sorry, Denki, rested his elbow on the desk, propping his head in his hand. “Well, glad to know I’m not the only disaster here. I’ve been trying to get the courage to talk to you for months, and then finally Hitoshi got me to talk about you on stream a few weeks ago, and now here we are.”

“Who’s Hitoshi? One of your regulars?” Knowing that you weren’t the only one who was sweating bullets had you relaxing a bit.

“Oh yeah, Mindfucker! You know him right? He did a thing with you the other day, didn’t he?”

Eyes wide, you stared at him. “Shinsou?”

“Yeah, that’s my best friend and my roommate. He said he showed you the cats.” He shrugged. “You picked all my friends for your private shows. Sero, Kiri, Bakugou, Shinsou.” He paused, smirking. “I forgot that you don’t know that I’m LightningMcQueen.”

“That’s you? I was wondering why they didn’t send me a request, but it all makes sense now.”

Denki shot you finger guns and winked. “Kachow!”

“Oh god, stop it.” You rolled your eyes.

He chuckled, grinning at you. “So, did Shinsou talk about me?”

You giggled, remembering back. “He told me a story about how his roommate mistook a fuzzball for a spider and spent the afternoon sitting on a table waiting for him to come home and kill it.”

“It looked like one of those freaky poisonous ones from where I was sitting. I was afraid to let it out of my sight in case it got away and then multiplied and killed me in my sleep or something.” He took a deep breath. “Spiders are terrifying.”

This man was amazing. “You are everything I always thought you’d be, you know that?”

“I’m going to take that as a compliment.” He sighed. “You have to have some kind of embarrassing story to tell me so I don’t feel like a fool. You’ve got to make it even.”

“One year my dad hired a clown to come to my birthday party. He walked in the front door and I jetted out the back door and hid in the garden until he left. Clowns are just as terrifying as spiders.”

Chargebolt laughed, and the sound made your stomach do a somersault. It was just as bright and happy as he was. “That is the cutest shit I’ve ever heard!”

“I’m glad my childhood trauma is amusing you.” You deadpanned, trying to keep the smile off your face.

“Aw, don’t be like that kitten! I’m glad we can bond over our irrational fears like this, you know?” He

You shivered happily. “Okay, okay.” You cleared your throat. “So, you didn’t write anything down here for what you wanted out of our chat today.”

“Oh, okay, down to business then.” He sat up straight. “Well, I wanted to tell you myself instead of submitting it on the form.”

Intrigued, you raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t want to give me a chance to back out?”

Snorting, and shook his head. “Nah, I think you’ll like it, kitten.” He folded his hands behind his head. “I want you to tell me what to do. I’m at your mercy.”

Swallowing thickly, you blinked at him. That was...really hot. “You like being told what to do?”

“I would love nothing more for you to pull my hair and peg me within an inch of my life while calling me your little cock slut.” He stared at you with an eyebrow raised, looking pleased with himself when he saw your expression.

Your thighs clenched together involuntarily. “Fuck.”

“Yeah, right? I mean, I’m a switch, I’d do the same to you if you asked. But we can save that for next time.” He smirked. “So, you down?”

Next time? This man was going to kill you. “Take off your shirt, Denki.”

“Fuck yes.” He groaned, reaching behind him and tugging the garment over his head.

His chest and abs came into view, and you let your eyes linger on the barbells through his nipples. “Pants too.”

He pushed his chair away from his desk and shimmied out of his shorts, kicking them to the side. You gazed at him in his blue boxer briefs, eyes lingering on his thin waist, strong thighs, and the outline of his cock. He was a sight to behold, honestly.

You held the fangirling back, leaning forward to get a better look at him. “Do you have any toys, Denki?”

“Of course, Kitten.” He moved out of view for a moment, coming back with a box.

“Let me see.” He tilted the box towards the camera, your eyes flitting over the different colors and shapes inside. “The pink one.”

“Okay, hang on, let me-” He cut off, standing up and throwing the pink toy on the bed. He picked up the laptop and moved it, laying down beside it and angling the camera so you could see what he was doing.

“Did you stretch yourself, baby?”

He made a noise that sounded like a whine in the back of his throat at the pet name, obviously pleased by it. “Yeah, of course I did.” He glanced at the screen. “You should, uh, take your shirt off too.”

“I thought you wanted me to tell you what to do, not the other way around.” Teasing him, you crossed your arms over your chest.

He pouted slightly. “I’ve been good so far though, right?”

“All you’ve done is take off two items of clothing and move to the bed. You’re gonna have to work harder than that!”

Huffing, he lifted his ass off the bed and tugged his underwear down his legs, kicking them off, his hand already moving to wrap around his already hard cock.

“Did I say you could touch yourself, Denki?” It was getting hard to keep up the stern act you were putting on, but you knew it was what he wanted. You wanted to watch him touch himself, watch the way his eyes fluttered closed when his thumb brushed over the leaking head of his cock, and the way he would bite his lip when he moved his wrist a certain way.

You could be patient though, so you continued.

“If I was there right now, what would you want me to do first?”

He stilled, blinking at you a few times. “I would want your mouth first, I think.”

Humming, you sat back, pulling your shirt over your head, letting him admire the lacey purple bra covering your chest. “You’d want my mouth on your cock? Trace my tongue along that vein along the underside and suck on the head a little?”

Denki groaned, closing his eyes, his grip visibly tightening around his shaft. He looked like he was trying not to get worked up too fast. You were amazed at how your words were affecting him, so you pressed on.

“I’d take you all the way down until I was choking on it, and I’d let you hold onto my hair and fuck my face. God, you don’t know how many times I've dreamed about doing that for you. What would you say to that?”

The blush spreading down his neck and chest made him look so pretty. “Ugh, fuck kitten, you’re killing me.” He swallowed hard, opening his eyes to look at you again. “I’d tell you how good you made me feel, but I wouldn’t let you finish me off that way.”

“Oh no? Tell me what else you’d do.” You took the opportunity to move to the bed yourself, pulling off your leggings and panties all at once.

Eyes glued to you while you unclipped your bra and threw it across the room, he continued. “Fuck, um, I would...god, you’re beautiful.”

Flushing at the compliment, you looked down shyly, breaking character. “I’ve heard you say that before and I still don’t believe it.”

Denki scoffed. “If you need a daily reminder, I’d be happy to be the one to tell you, kitten.” You could hear the sincerity in his voice, and it made your heart do a little flip. “I might seem like a dumbass but I’m using this camboy money to pay off my student loans for my masters in English lit so I can quote you entire sonnets from Shakespeare without hesitation if that will help you believe me.”

Your eyebrows shot up, impressed. Realizing you’d ruined the moment, you sighed, covering your eyes with your hand. “I’m sorry, I’m crap at this. I really just want to watch you cum.”

Chuckling, you heard him shifting on the bed. “Okay, how about this? Forget the toys. Just close your eyes and listen to me.”

“Okay.”

“If you were here with me right now, just like that, I’d spend so much time exploring every inch of you with my tongue. I’d start with your lips, your jaw, your neck. Collarbones, shoulders, your chest, those cute nipples-”

“How are nipples cute?” You interrupted with a snort.

You could hear him trying not to laugh, his voice pitched a bit higher. “Shh, don’t ruin it.”

“I think you just did when you said ‘cute nipples’.” You’d never had this much fun with someone in a situation like this. “If I had a dick, my boner would have just died.”

Denki wheezed, and you opened your eyes to look over at him. He was gazing back at you, his eyes bright as he laughed into his palm. “God, I like you so much, kitten.”

Your grin softened, your heart pounding at his words. “Me too, Denki.”

#kaminari denki #kaminari denki x reader #kaminari denki smut #denki kaminari #denki kaminari x reader #denki kaminari smut #bnha x reader #mha x reader #bnha smut #mha smut #kingexpl0sionmurder writes #bnharem collab

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phoenixyfriend · 3 years

Text

SW Suddenly-Omegaverse AU: Surrogacy, Worldbuilding, Obi-Mom

Truly the main irony of all this is that everyone considers Obi-Wan the Better Omega but Anakin is the one who's actually 👀👀👀 about pregnancy

Obi-Wan: I have the deepest respect for those who do it, but the idea of growing another person inside of me is weird and gross, no, thank you.

Meanwhile Anakin is like. Immediate baby fever. Someone actually approaches him like "hey... there are forms you can fill out to request an exception for pregnancy, and like... regulations" because he's that obvious about it.

I assume that if they've got safety nets for accidental pregnancies, then they're probably aware that there are people who want to do it on purpose? I feel like in an omegaverse where 'biological imperative to procreate' can be so much more intense, then maybe there's old precedent that stuck around even after suppressants got most of those hormones under better control.

Bit torn. Just know I want Anakin to Make Baby.

"Anakin, what are you--" "Do you think offering to be someone's surrogate would be acceptable to the council as a way to be pregnant without getting attached." "...what." "They'd probably accept that as a way to practice not getting attached, right?" "N...no, that's not... what?"

Anakin approaching Bail and Breha and being like “Do you... still want a kid? I would provide a kid. Do you want one here*?”

* in this dimension

Great way to give up the baby as a parent because he'd still be able to see them once in a while but also like... it's not HIS kid, technically. He can be a cool uncle who happened to give birth, which is distant enough to not be 'attached,' but close enough that his Tatooine-raised 'must ensure family is safe whenever possible' background doesn't flip out. It helps that 'Core World Royalty' is like... a top-tier family to be raised in.

(It would have to be post-war because he probably shouldn’t be risking his life while very pregnant. He needs to be reminded of that sometimes.)

Bail/Breha is an alpha/alpha relationship and while a pregnancy is still possible,* it’s a whole lot more difficult, and that's on top of Breha's canon medical issues that resulted in her heart and lungs getting replaced.

* AFAB alphas can get pregnant, and AMAB omegas can inseminate, but the success rate on that angle is much lower than the 'traditional' alpha/omega roles, as is any attempt at reproduction outside rut/heat. They're low-fertility overall for the non-dominant aspect of their reproductive system, which... ha, Anakin and Obi-Wan try to get explanations for why the senary system works the way it does, but it's a very longform history lesson that comes down to 'idk this got cemented so long ago that nobody really knows why anymore.'

AKA "why do you title these roles male omega and female alpha instead of intersex omega and intersex alpha since both parties have both genitals."

ANYWAY

Anakin: I want to make babies. But I don't want to get kicked out of the order. But I don't want to give up my own babies for adoption. But I can't keep my own babies if I want to stay a Jedi. So basically I want to have someone else's babies? Anakin: ...wait shit that's just surrogacy.

Anakin, calling up Obi-Wan: Hey are the Organas still struggling to have a kid? Obi-Wan: ...not really your business. Anakin: You're friends with Bail again though, right? Obi-Wan: I am, but-- Anakin: Do you think they'd want me to be a surrogate? Obi-Wan: What.

I can't decide if it's funnier for the Order to be like "I mean... technically there's no rules against this?" or if this is a precedent set by at least three omegas every generation because that's just how a/b/o manifested for omegas in a biological and cultural sense.

Bail: Wait, your former apprentice is... volunteering... to be our surrogate. Obi-Wan, exhausted: Yes. Bail: He barely knows us. Obi-Wan: He respects you and you're the closest people he knows that want a child and would be good parents. Bail: And he's just... volunteering? Obi-Wan: Yes. Also, you did say your primary worry was that a surrogate might be targeted for assassination and you couldn't ask someone to risk that, right? Anakin is very much able to avoid assassins, and would be staying primarily in the Temple anyway. Very safe, and not particularly scared of assassins in the first place. Bail: Your words say you approve, but your tone says otherwise. Obi-Wan: Anakin considers me his father. I'm not old enough to be a grandparent. Bail: Ah.

Anakin is a surrogate and enjoys it and everything is fine and then like a year later he's accidentally pregnant with his own and Rex's kid, and nobody knows how to ask if it's actually an accident.

A suggestion from @gelpenss:

OH MAN i.... have to drive home. But I just had a thought about like. I always want to poke at Betas in A/B/O like are they “normal” or different from our standard or.... but ANYWAY assuming they have a pheromonal thing I just think it would be neat if betas had the ability to be the Bucket of Cold Water. Like if caught early enough, and with the caveat it’s not permanent, a beta could arrest a rut or heat in its tracks until a more ideal time. Like. They aren’t birth control. But they are the remind me later button.

Okay done driving I am Returned to bring up why I brought up betas and it’s this: well okay 1. It plays nice with a popular but inaccurate dog breeding urban legend that female dogs will like, delay heat cycles? so that the bitches above them in pack hierarchy have first choice of mate selection. And I think in omegaverse it would be cool if that was a Bio Fact, and also historically enforced by the third designation. 2. It gives me an excuse to have betas have the Most Sensitive sense of smell because it’s their “job” to pick up on things before they go too far to be put on pause. 3. I’m just thinkin ‘bout a beta clone [...] just hovering around Obi-Wan because they found out how much stress his heat cycle causes and they’re like “okay cool I will help make sure it does Not”

I want to like a/b/o verses but betas niggle at me. I want to give them a hat and a Function that woulda helped before modern medicine.

I'm not sure how I feel about betas being able to delay heats, but I do like the idea of them having a more sensitive sense of pheromone smell than most. Most aliens assume it's omegas with the best sense of smell, and betas with the worst, but it's more complicated than that because they all specialize: Alphas are actually less attuned to pheromone smells, but more attuned to things that were useful back when humans were still a hunter-gatherer species. Omegas tend to be heightened towards danger smells like fire or aggression, and pheromones relating to children/care. Betas, as suggested above, are very sensitive to pheromone changes relating to mood and behavior of the community around them.

I like the idea that betas were historically the ones that ended up taking care children, unmated omegas, and so on during people's heats and ruts, because they kept their heads about themselves long enough to do things like cook and clean while someone was reeking of hormones. The checks and balances work out that betas may have lower fertility, but it makes them better able to support the network around them.

It works in with humanity's general collective history of thriving the most when working as a community.

Given that I decided that this is Jangobi, the clones might all subconsciously view Obi-Wan as Mom. Not intentionally, but, you know... Obi-Wan the not-evil stepmother. He doesn't know how he got into this situation, but he sure is here, and he sure as hell doesn't know how to get out.

Obi-Wan "I don't need to get pregnant, I have three million stepchildren" Kenobi

I definitely love "clones all want to make Obi-Wan's heats less stressful" but like in a different way from Whatever The Fuck Anakin's Got Going On.

Obi-Wan using the force to dull the pain in a Shiny's broken leg while the medic works on it and the Shiny just mumbles "Thanks mom" and everyone gets very embarrassed and pretends it didn't happen.

But then it happens again. And again.

Obi-Wan asks for an explanation from Cody and gets a halting response that, since Jango is technically their father, and his scent has been all over Obi-Wan recently... and Obi-Wan puts in a lot of effort to take care of them all.......

Anakin overhears the clones calling Obi-Wan "mom" and just. The most judgmental eyebrow raise.... Mostly in the sense of "You never let me call you dad" "Thought you said you weren't anyone's parent." "Hey, hey, Obi-Wan. What the fuck."

BOBA. BOBA ABSOLUTELY CALLS OBI-WAN MOM WHENEVER POSSIBLE. IT'S DEEPLY FRUSTRATING.

Obi-Wan eventually manages to admit that he's uncomfortable with it at minimum because of the gendering the word has for him, can they at least use the neutral 'buir' instead?

Word spreads like fire, takes like two days max for everyone to switch.

(Anakin demands cuddles as compensation for not getting to call Obi-Wan any true parental term for years.)

#Anakin Skywalker #Obi Wan Kenobi #Bail Organa #Rexwalker #Jangobi #Captain Rex #Commander Cody #Boba Fett #star wars #the clone wars #omegaverse #SW Suddenly Omegaverse #mpreg tw #phoenix posts

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needleandhammer · 3 years

Text

From Simmer to Score

Pairing: Soft!Curtis Everett x Reader

Summary: Curtis is good with his hands. And other stuff.

Warnings: 18+ only, explicit, smut, oral sex, penetration, fingering, dub con breeding, unprotected sex, breeding kink sort of, size kink, petite!reader, Curtis' fingers

Word count: 4k

A/N: This doesn't really fit the prompt i chose from @stargazingfangirl18 's 5k Soft Dark Challenge: "You hire a local handyman to help you with a few home projects." But the prompt still inspired this. I wanted to take the prompt somewhere more explicitly dark but once again my contribution to this challenge turned marshmallow soft. This is an au, non-apocalypse au, normal life au, idk. Just self-indulgent. Also, it was a struggle finding a gif of clean Curtis. Because he's clean in this and not living on a train, i swear.

“Try again. Very good. Let’s have you run through the exercises and then we’ll take a look at the new homework."

At your smile, the little girl nods and quickly turns to concentrate on coordinating her footwork on the pedals of your old Altenberg while reading the notes in front of her.

You back away, heading to the kitchen for some iced tea. You nearly forget your other guest who sits at the table.

This is the third time he’s accompanied Wendy for her lessons. For a man of his size, Curtis makes no sound except the faint swish of pages turning in his book. Like before, he arrived with Wendy, nodded a greeting at you, waited for your invitation to the kitchen, and then spent the entire hour silently reading.

You pull the fridge door open and pour tea into three glasses. You quietly slide one towards him. Curtis’ eyes flicker up to you, brilliantly blue, and he gives you a low murmur.

“Thanks.”

You’re about to return to Wendy when you hear your name in Curtis’ smooth baritone.

He nods to the notepad left on the table. “I, uh, noticed your reminder to call for maintenance. Something wrong?”

“Oh.” You tidy up the table, sheepish at being caught procrastinating house chores. “Just needed a second look at the water heater. The repair company came by and we tested things out when they were done, but the next day I had no hot water.”

You grimace, thinking of taking another cold shower.

“If you’re okay with it, I can grab my tool bag from my car and take a look,” he says.

You’re not prepared for the offer. “I wouldn’t want to impose.”

He shakes his head, no hesitance. “I don’t mind at all. As long as you don’t.”

“I mean. I-I would really appreciate the help.”

Your time with Wendy ends after you review practice goals with her until her next lesson.

Curtis joins you two. “Hot water is running again.”

Your jaw drops and you skip to the kitchen. Hot water pours out of your faucet. You return, unable to resist grinning widely at him.

“Thank you, Curtis. You’re a lifesaver.”

“Curtis taught my dad everything about fixing houses!” Wendy chirped. He offers her a crooked smile.

“Do you have everything?” you ask your young pupil.

While Wendy thanks you and you help her pack, Curtis watches on with a faint curve to his lips.

“Edgar’s changing over to late shifts for the next couple of months. I’ll probably be driving Wendy to lessons again.”

You nod. “Sounds good. See you both then.”

After they leave, you enjoy a glorious steamy shower and then you settle onto your couch with a plate of leftover grilled veggies and fish.

Reviewing your schedule, you consider taking on one or two more students. It was years ago that you gave private lessons to help pay for college. Nearly a decade of moving between a few jobs, you are now in a quiet suburb working with a team of digital designers. The job allows you to work from home half the week, a flexibility you take great appreciation in. The professional stability encouraged you to return to music and to helping others develop their musical interests.

Wendy is your only student at the moment as you want to ease into taking on this additional responsibility. You smile, recalling your initial meeting with Wendy and her father, Edgar. Her father’s bubbly energy is such a stark contrast to Curtis. Edgar opened up quickly, sharing that he and Wendy’s mother were no longer together, that he would support whatever Wendy wanted to do. There was a perpetually youthful vigor to the room when Edgar was present.

Wendy calls Curtis, Uncle, and his adoration for her is clear. He barely said two words when he was here the first time. It doesn’t bother you. You get the impression Curtis purposely tries to not draw attention to himself, and you can empathize with that preference for tranquility.

_ _ _ _

It’s a windy day, heavy with rain clouds, the next time Wendy and Curtis are over.

“I saw your screen door was down. Planning on replacing it?” Curtis asks when you wrap up with Wendy.

“Nah. I was just going to look up what I would need and try fixing it myself.”

“It’s kind of heavy.”

His tone doesn’t imply any skepticism aimed at you and you’re not offended. You’re used to people calling you ‘small,’ though you’re not small so much as you’re short. You like to think you take up ample space. You also admit strength is not something you have in abundance. Your whole life you relied on family and friends for a lot of literal heavy lifting. But Curtis already helped you out once.

“I could fix it up.”

“I won’t ask you to do that.”

“It’s no bother, really. I’m happy to help out.”

He promises to be quick about it. While he works, Wendy happily practices on your piano.

“I have Oreos,” you announce.

She pauses to grab a cookie. “Thank you so much for letting me practice longer.”

“Of course, dear.”

She chats a bit about her upcoming birthday plans, as children are wont to do.

Curtis pops his head in. “All set. Do you want to take a look?”

You follow him out back. Swinging the screen door on its hinges, you nodded appraisingly.

“I suppose it passes inspection.” You look up with a cheeky smile, pleased to see Curtis’ lips twitching. “Thank you. Really, Curtis. I do wish you’d let me pay you.”

He shakes his head. “It’s nothing. Besides, you’re great with Wendy. I’m grateful for that.”

You can tell he loves Wendy just as much as if he was her father. “In that case, I shall give Wendy her next lesson for free.”

He blinks at you, trailing behind as you make your way inside and calling out to Wendy.

Curtis has resigned himself to a quiet, bare life. He doesn't think he wants anything much. He has Edgar’s loyalty, a result of the brotherhood he formed in his impoverished teen years. They survived together, looked out for each other. Once Wendy came along like a little star burning in a smoggy midnight, Curtis counted himself lucky to witness the little girl growing up. A chance to help nourish one seed.

The first time he arrived with Wendy at your home, Curtis couldn’t help listening in on the entire lesson, making no progress in his book. Your clear voice, your generous encouragement. You, light on your feet moving so swiftly. You, barely reaching his shoulders yet mighty in spirit, curvy and sensuous. Curtis had an urge to lift you in his palms to be stored safely in his pocket.

_ _ _ _

And so things follow. Wendy diligently learning and Curtis primarily accompanying her, taking his place at your kitchen table. You come to enjoy his steady, grounding presence just a couple steps away from you and Wendy.

Now and then, he’ll notice some upkeep you’re doing – a leaky faucet, a box of new light bulbs on your counter – and volunteer his assistance. You are reluctant to put him to work, sure that he spends enough of his days working and doing chores in his own home and besides these are tasks you can handle even if you find them tedious. Curtis is always gentle in his offers, always obtains your permission first. As time goes by and you grow less shy about accepting his help and he grows more comfortable in your space, you realize working with his hands is second nature to Curtis.

It doesn't take long for Curtis to admit to himself he wants to be near you.

Curtis doesn’t meddle. He doesn’t mingle. He doesn’t have any interest in widening his social circle. He is aware you thrived on your own for a long time, just like him; and like he has Edgar and Wendy, you have a small close-knit group of friends. Lending a hand to you doesn’t count because you are like him.

Maybe this is why he lets his guard down under your roof. There is something kindred in your calm nature that his soul responds to. Under your roof, no silences need to be filled; no pretenses forced upon him. Your invitation to rest is unspoken – he hears it and almost weeps. The more time he spends with you, like two wavelengths in tune, the stronger his urge to insert himself. To fix, or in some way leave his mark on your home. Curtis doesn’t have any interest in widening his social circle. Lending a hand to you didn't count. Until he cannot help it. He doesn’t reach out for you, doesn’t try to prove you’ll curve perfectly within his arms; but he’ll ensure your softness can curl up in a sturdy home and delight in simple pleasures.

One evening, when Edgar works later than usual, you ask if Wendy and Curtis would join you for dinner.

“Nothing fancy. I have some noodle soup and salad. Curtis, can you call Edgar to meet us here?”

Wendy sets the table. Curtis assists with the food.

He’s quick to cup your hand in his when it's nicked with a knife. You can’t help leaning into him as he runs your finger under water, wraps it in clean paper towel. He finishes with the salad, making you sit at the table.

Edgar joins you all, tired but quickly gaining energy with food and a few sips of wine. You are full and warmed by their company. While Edgar cheers on Wendy while she practices from her book, you feel Curtis’ fingers curl over your hand. His thumb brushes over your cut. You share a smile with him.

_ _ _ _

You settle into your little Toyota only to find it won’t start. It stumps you because you never had issues with this car before. You have no experience with car maintenance and don’t know the first thing to check for an engine that won’t wake.

Calling Curtis to see if you can reschedule, he insists that he can swing by to pick you up.

He had called you, his voice almost shy. He wanted to surprise Wendy for her birthday with a piano and asked for your help.

You direct Curtis to the string instruments shop in the city’s downtown area. The two of you are greeted by a sales staff upon entry. When asked, Curtis looks to you, wordless, so you do your best to describe to the salesperson what you're looking for.

There are several options of acoustic and digital instruments. You give little demonstrations on a few pianos that you consider reasonably priced.

“Curtis, check this one out.” Your hold on his sleeve is loose and propels him towards one of the upright Baldwin pianos.

“I think any of these would suit Wendy. The sounds are clear, and they don’t take up too much space. The salesperson said this one is second-hand and it’s in really good shape.” You press a few chords, then look up at Curtis with a smile.

He looks at you, gaze gentle. “I’m not worried about price. I’ll take whatever you recommend.”

That was his general response when you asked his opinion during your time in the shop: he was up for anything you recommended. Other than that, he trailed behind you so that the salesperson assumed you were the primary purchaser. Much like in your house, Curtis seemed to try hard to not draw attention. Oddly, you didn’t think anyone in the same room with him could help noticing him. Even with the dark apparel he favored, Curtis’ reserved nature can't hide all the intensity and strength just thrumming beneath the surface of his tall imposing build.

You convince him to sit beside you on the bench. He’s never played before, but humors you and tries random combinations of thirds with you. You watch his hands – clean, wide, with thick fingers – hover and slide along the keys.

He nudges you.

“Sorry. I was just impressed your sausage fingers are quite nimble.”

A half-hearted glare. “Thank you. For coming with me.”

“If I say you’re welcome, will you take a look at my car when we get back?”

He stays for dinner.

It starts raining and you have to rush out to gather hanging linens. He helps and you both run back inside. You're giddy at his eagerness to assist, resulting in damp clothing on you both.

“Oh, let’s dump it here. I’ll fold it tomorrow.” You are happy to leave the laundry in a pile on an armchair, in too good of a mood to care.

You catch him with his attention on you, a look so soft you have to look away, walk blindly a few steps. His touch is on your arm, turning you around just as you reach the piano.

He dips his head low to press chapped lips to yours, capturing your lips more, closing in to envelope you in his heat.

Curtis’ hands grip your hips with a quick jostle against the piano, prompting a slur of bright notes ringing from the keyboard that you are pressed against. And then he’s hitching you further up and firmly in his arms. His tongue licks against yours. You slant your open mouth, inviting him to taste, to devour you from the inside out. Your legs wrap around his waist like you belong there, tethered to this point in time. There’s no past or future, only Curtis, only feeling safe and real in his arms now now now.

You barely register Curtis moving, tipping you onto the couch cushions to hover over you so close. You can’t remember burning for someone like this. You can’t remember much of anything, focused on Curtis, solid and unyielding between your thighs, muscles buzzing with raw strength.

You want so badly to know more of him. Your hands wander shamelessly under his shirt, sliding up his wide back, grazing under to squeeze appreciatively at his pecs only to be called south by a narrowing of hair that leads you on until you bump his belt buckle.

You’re distracted by the tease of hot kisses he drops along your neck. There’s something sweet, vulnerable in how you allow him access to the delicate skin there. It makes Curtis bury his nose against the crook of your jaw, a long moment for him to whisper something like a prayer, before his tongue swirls and he nibbles your ear lobe. Your high pitched gasp hastens his desire. Your shirt is gone. Your bra untangled from your arms. Your breasts, oh, Curtis takes a mouthful of one fleshy breast, sucking greedily when you moan, breathless and aching now.

You claw at his shirt until it too disappears. You wriggle to help Curtis pull your pants and underwear off. Your legs want to yank him back to you, but he braces himself to allow just a bit more space between you both than before.

“Let me.” It’s almost a growl, and you want to say yes, but you want to kiss him more. You’re clinging by his neck, drinking from his soft lips, until you both part to draw breath.

His hand caresses your cheek, sliding over to slip two fingers into your slack mouth. Your tongue swipes at them, lips close to suck them in, eager to touch and taste any part of him. Jaw tight, Curtis pulls his fingers away and down. Down. His hand spans large over your curves and you hold your breath, grit your teeth. One finger saturated with saliva, sinks into your cunt. You swear you can feel more arousal dripping from you to soak his hand and he adds another finger, drawing short whimpers from you as his fingers withdraw and plunge in. God, you won’t ever tease him about his fingers again because they’re perfect. Agonizing in their quest to undo you.

His voice is husky groans, wanting so bad to feel your oh so tight cunt around his cock. Soon.

He tortures you, adds a third finger. You’re riding them, whimpering as he pumps them in you and parts the digits to stretch you. His weight slides away and you can only grasp at his hair, you’re barely glimpsing his head between your legs before you arch high when his thick wet tongue swirls and licks your folds, dialing up the white hot blooming inside you. His fingers curl just enough inside to press that patch against your pelvis that strings you tight as a bow. Pressing insistently, scratching with finger pads, until you burst and all you can do is chase more of that pulsing pleasure, humping against his face. Your hips quiver while Curtis laps at your slit.

His sucks grow gentle, thumb teasing your bud, helping you come down from the intense high.

You sigh his name.

“I’m here.”

“I want you.”

His arms wind around you, holding you tight while he kisses you. You can’t remember feeling anything better than being cradled like this as Curtis languidly kisses you.

He’s not rushed to move from you, so you cling to him and he loves you for it. Yes, he’s hard, but he wants to savor this. Already high on the sensation of your soft flesh underneath him, your thick thighs tight at his waist, your quiet hums of pleasure the evidence of his thorough work.

He ran from his past, from early years strife with despair, washing away those memories like dust and grime. He thought his life of isolation was one that moved him forward; but he has been stuck all this time.

Seeing you care for Wendy, Curtis realized he wanted that. He wanted what his friend had. He wanted you, and the precious something conceived between two souls that sing for one another. Soon. He’ll make your sweet little body his to protect, to warm through the nights.

_ _ _ _

“Thanks so much for having us for dinner,” Edgar says. He was been watching Wendy run around your humble backyard, chasing butterflies and searching for little frogs. He turns to you with a toothy grin. “And for your help with the gift. Wendy’s going to flip. I’m lucky to have you and Curtis both around.”

Your smile is just as affectionate. “Happy to have you here. Although,” your smile turns sly, “I’m a little disappointed that your special lady friend didn’t join us.”

“Curtis,” Edgar mutters under his breath. Curtis is washing dishes at the sink and pays no mind to any half-hearted curses directed at him.

Your brow arches, urging Edgar to talk as he can't help an embarassed grin.

“Well, she was traveling for work, unfortunately. But I know Wendy doesn’t mind her.”

The girl has whispered to you that Edgar’s girlfriend is beautiful and she wished she would become her new mom; this you keep to yourself, not wishing to embarrass or pressure your friend further.

“I’m happy to hear that.”

Edgar’s eyes slide sideways, quiet for a moment before he jumps out of his seat and heads to the door leading to the backyard. “I’ll just…uh…” He exits, trailing off without finishing his sentence.

You sigh and take another bite of your cake, indulging in the moist chocolate flavor. Glancing up, you find Curtis watching you. His attention is singular, a warm simmer in those bright blue eyes, causing you to freeze except for your tongue that finishes sweeping over your upper lip. His gaze narrows, grew weighty, tracking your tongue as it retreats into your mouth. He pushes away from the counter, steps close until he is able to drop to his knee beside your chair. One strong yank has your seat turning so you face him.

The door creaks open again.

“Well, the sun’s getting low so I think we’ll head home and wind down.” Edgar announces with his daughter close at his side. He has a boyish grin on his face, pulling Wendy towards the front of your house. "Wendy, say good bye.”

“Isn’t Curtis leaving too?”

“Oh, I’m sure he’ll leave when he’s ready.”

“Have a good night, you two,” you say, walking with them to the front. Though Edgar is still cheerfully thanking you for the meal and insisting you stay inside and not see them off.

“You go on and just have a good time, both of you.” He sends a wink your way. You shake your head at him. “Curtis! You be a gentleman now.”

Quick as he can, he has Wendy secured in the car and they are on their way.

“Huh.” You lock the front door before turning to find Curtis. You can tell he wants to roll his eyes at Edgar’s antics. Instead, he closes in on you.

“Are you worried about me not being a gentleman?” he murmurs. His fingers hook under yours loosely.

You smirk. “I’m worried about you being too much of a gentleman.”

That smolder returns to his gaze. For a second, your body shivers, overwhelmed and you side step him, if only for a moment’s relief from the heat of his eyes.

You reach out. He takes your hand.

Once you’re down a layer, he grows even hotter seeing the mesh and lace number you have on. A tantalizing tease with the hard peaks of your nipples veiled in barely-there maroon. Just daring him to unwrap you. So he does.

His mouth leaves a wet trail seeking sensitive spots on your neck, you breasts, your thighs. Even as he moves, he still covers nearly all of your body, his heat and weight drowning you in want.

Your shudder has him grazing his beard up the inside of your thigh so that you arch and plea for his touch. God, all your uninhibited responses spur the blazing hunger in him. Curtis peels the mesh underwear down, impatient for a taste of you. His mouth waters, catching wafts of arousal and then he’s sucking and lapping your wet pussy. His rumbling groan is like a physical nudge that bows your back, and you remain rigid in the air at the sensation of his thick tongue pushing into you. Wide shoulders part your legs, shifting until your thighs rest on vast muscles.

You rock against him, keen at the hard sucks. Two fingers dip into, fucking you and rubbing with a dizzying rhythm that brings you over the edge.

With little effort, he holds up your hips and you feel a pillow slide under you to angle you higher. Then his muscled arms hook under your knees and he finally lines up and rocks forward. The tip of his cock parts your folds. Your breath hitches. His cock slides in, forcing your walls to stretch, to mold tightly to his girth.

“Curtis” – your hand was going point to the little bedside table with condoms.

Instead, you’re gripping a blanket. Gasping as he withdraws and your pussy tries to hold him in.

You mumble against his lips, incoherent. “The…inside..”

And then he feeds you his length again. And again, that delicious, addicting friction.

"Yes, inside," he agrees softly. "Like this."

With every pump, the spark catches and blazes higher. Curtis rises onto his knees, thrusts harder, watching your eyes flutter open and shut. He’s panting with the pretty picture of a needy you. He grips your thighs. As if his life depends on how tight he clutches you. Concentrating hard, his eyes drop low. Fuck. He can see your pussy clench, your puffy outer lips suckling his cock. Curtis swears your little body is refusing to give him up, and you’re wet but your cunt squeezes him so tight he has to drive harder into you to avoid slipping out.

You’re not even aware of your breathy moans, so turned on by his groans, the rough thrusts he gives you. There’s no grinding. Curtis can tell he’s rubbed against your g-spot and he keeps his snapping hips angled just right, one callused thumb circling your clit too lightly. And then your breaths stutter, your legs seize, your back arches. Curtis grits his teeth, keeping the exact same pace, draws out the storm of your pleasure. It’s so consuming, you lose your voice.

Just as you are able to breathe again, able to sense the physical realm around you, Curtis speeds up, bucking hard with low grunts, powering into you.

A high gasp – you feel him flood you. He drops to press his chest to you, still pumping his release into your clenching walls; and it’s too much, his cock merciless within your sensitive channel. He can’t help it, even as your legs start writhing with his unrelenting stimulation, even as he hears your hitched whimpers.

He finally stills. His lips find yours, tongue stroking deep.

Long moments later, his name is gentle, falling from your lips. “We didn’t use protection.”

Curtis nuzzles you, rubs his nose along the planes of your cheeks. Returns to suck your bottom lip. “It’s okay,” he whispers.

There’s a soft frown upon your brow that he kisses, and then scatters more kisses on your face.

“But, what if?”

“I want you. I want everything with you.”

You’re barely able to react as he nips hard at your collarbone and then rolls his hips. He’s half-hard inside you. You’re quickly losing yourself in Curtis, overwhelmed by the combination of his hungry mouth on your skin, unyielding clasp on your thigh. His thrusts persist, pins you in place, lights you up and scorches you. You’re right where he wants you, whining for more more more.

Now with each beat of his heart, Curtis has his mind’s eye on the prize. He’ll have you over and over. And you’ll grow a piece of him inside you. You are the way forward. You are his.

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A/N: Hurrah, this one felt like it took forever. I blame Curtis. He didn't give himself up to me easily. Let me love you, ya broody boi! Thank you for reading!

#curtis everett #curtis everett x reader #smut #fanfic #siris5ksoftdarkchallenge

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