#also i was gonna continue this last night
Note
Can you do a step dad/current! James Hetfield smut??its fine if you can't I completely understand!!(srry if its so short I was in a rush!!)
this is actually so good and I had so much fun writing!!
❕ FEMALE CHARACTER IS 18+ ❕
WARNINGS: use of “daddy”, use of “princess”, stepdad x daughter, Reader is 18+, oral m & f receiving, unprotected sex, creampie
My breaths came out quick and hoarse, my fingers disappearing inside of me over and over.
I was so turned on by my new stepdad, but I couldn't do anything about it since he had just moved in a few months ago.
He was in his fifties or sixties and looked hot as hell with his broad shoulders and muscles. He had this sexy silver-grey hair that made him look more attractive than ever.
He was also very tall, almost towering over me. I kinda avoided him so he wouldn't sense how horny I'd get in his presence.
I continued to work at myself, imagining his cock inside me instead. I whimpered out. "J-James!"
I was home alone so It didn't matter.
I wanted to feel him inside me so bad. I didn't care if he was with mom, I wanted him to hold me down and fuck me as hard as he could.
Being alone, I didn't try to filter my vulgar noises; letting them spill out into the quiet room. "Daddy! Daddy, just like that!" I whined.
I rubbed my clit fiercely, just picturing his face.
"Daddy, I'm gonna cum!" I shook.
But before I could feel that sweet release, the sound of someone clearing their throat echoed from my doorway.
I gasped, and tugged my blanket up to cover me, my eyes darting to the doorway where the tall man stood.
Leaning agaisnt my door frame, a grin plastered over his face, was James, my fucking stepdad.
"Oh my god," I stuttered, my cheeks heating. "I'm sorry, I didn't hear you come in." I tried to act cool even though I knew I wasn't.
He took a step forward. "You were really enjoying yourself there." My blush deepened as I stared at the ground.
I didn't respond I was far too mortified. James sat up and stepped into the room.
"Look at me," he said softly. I met his gaze. His eyes glittered with mischief and desire.
"I'm not going to judge you, sweetheart. I see it all the time when I look at you. You are always so hot and bothered around me."
Hidden by the blanket, I couldn't help but apply a small bit of pressure to my clit. "I could hear you saying my name.." James whispered.
"How often to you masturbate to me, honey?" He continued, ghosting his fingers under my chin.
"E-Every single night," I admitted.
“That makes me so happy, sweetheart. Are you gonna quit playing games with me? Tell me what you want." He stated calmly, lifting the corner of the blanket to uncover my wet panties that cling to my body.
"Y-you.. James." I whined as his fingers brushed last the damp fabric.
"Don't call me that honey," he said under his breath, staring me down as his fingers toyed with me.
He shoved the blanket aside, kneeling in bed ahead of me, looking down at me. "Speak up, baby."
"If you don't say what I know you want to, then maybe I should just leave.." he taunted, setting his hands on my knees.
"Daddy, please!" I whined.
He grinned as I gave him what he wanted, his hands spreading my legs apart. I was terrified to do something like this with my stepdad, but It was all I wanted
I needed it. And I trusted him enough to let him have his way with me. A strong hand gripped me by the thigh, bringing me closer to the edge.
"I think about touching this pretty pussy all the time, Princess." He hummed.
The air grew thick between us as he leaned in closer. My chest heaving with rapid breaths, I nodded. "Yes, Daddy. Please!" I moaned. My eyes widened in surprise when he grabbed my ankle and dragged me toward him.
He grabbed my panties tugging them down my legs and illiciting a breathy gasp from me.
"You are so beautiful," he praised. "Thank you, Daddy," I whispered. "I have never seen anyone look as sexy as you do right now."
He said, his voice husky. "Your pussy is glistening. So perfect, just like I thought." He rubbed his thumb against my clit, making me cry out.
"Hmm. Maybe I should start here," he murmured, kissing my inner thigh.
"Is that okay?" He asked. I bit my lip, nodding.
"Whatever you want, Daddy." I breathed. His fingers skimmed over my legs, dipping into the valley of my hips. "Such a good girl for your daddy."
He cooed, kissing my lower stomach before licking his way down until his tongue was lapping up every drop of my juices. "Mmm..." He groaned.
"You taste delicious, little princess. "
He paused. Lifting his head, his Light blue eyes fixed on mine. The look on his face told me he meant every word.
This was one of the hottest things I'd ever witnessed. I loved it.
“Keep going, Angel. Your daddy wants you to cum so hard you can't walk tomorrow." My eyes rolled back as I came undone.
His tongue was ruthless. I felt him swallow every ounce of my orgasm down. I cried out as my body tightened, he licked me clean. I lay there, spent, my heart thumping wildly against my chest.
"Now it's your turn missy.." he leaned upright and towards me. "I want you to suck me off," he growled in my ear.
I could hardly wrap my head around the fact that my stepdad wanted me to suck his dick. I loved it.
James switched places with me, tugging off his shirt.
I admired his stalkish build, and the slightly faded tattoos that lay beneath the thin layer of silver hairs on his chest.
"Don't be shy, honey," he cooed, helping me undo his jeans and tug them down.
He kicked off his jeans, leaving him only in his boxer briefs. I could easily see the huge bulge that strained beneath the fabric. Fuck.
"Take 'em off baby, you're a big girl," he taunted, nudging his hips just slightly.
With a gulp, I reached for the waistband of his underwear, slowly tugging them down.
The moment they passed his ankles, I gasped. God, he was massive. He watched me, chuckling under his breath.
"What did I tell you, baby?" he asked with a smirk. I stared at his cock, licking my lips. I had never seen anything quite like it. My stepdad was seriously well endowed.
It looked so smooth and soft, the head swollen.
James eyed me as he gripped the base, waiting for me to put my mouth to use.
"Suck it, babe. Show me you mean it." I moved to straddle him, taking his cock into my hand. It was a bit thicker than I thought it would be, and it was longer too.
I had known he was hung, but seeing it first hand was crazy. There was so much of it to grasp onto. I hesitated before putting it in my mouth. No turning back now.
Gripping it firmly, I slid the length of it into my mouth. Fuck, it tasted so good. I got lost in the flavor. The vein running along the side of it was silky, yet rough. The tip was sensitive and made me salivate.
Leaning forward, I swallowed his length and let my tongue lick over the sensitive tip. "Fuck, princess," he grunted. "You're such a good girl." He murmured, petting my hair. A shiver ran through me at his words. "Such a dirty girl, sucking your stepdads cock."
He moaned. I bobbed up and down, loving how it felt in my mouth. I was able to fit a lot of it in. "So good," he breathed. The feel of him in my mouth caused me to get wetter. My clit throbbed, demanding attention.
If I had been standing, I would have fallen. I sucked harder, moving my head faster. I loved how my stepdad was using his free hand to play with my breasts, tweaking my nipples.
They were so sensitive. "Just like that, babe," he encouraged. I looked up, locking eyes with him.
His eyes were closed as he rocked into my mouth, driving deeper.
Ohhh, my god. I loved everything about it. How he felt in my mouth, the taste of him. James was truly the best. He was good at everything. In my eyes, there was nothing better.
"That's it princess, bouta make me cum..." he groaned.
I bobbed my head faster, letting my saliva drip down his length each time. James gripped the back of my head, shoving me down further as I gagged.
I didn't Protest this though, I wanted to do anything to make him cum.
"Right there, right there, fuck..." James panted, still forcing me down, I could feel him swelling in my mouth.
I moaned around his cock, holding it tightly in my throat. "That's it, baby," he grunted. "Swallow my cum, Princess." I could feel his balls tighten. He was close.
His hands were in my hair again, pulling me up. I kept his cock deep in my throat, milking him. His body shook. "Fuuuuck!" He shouted. He filled my mouth. He came so much. So much I started to gag, choking on his cum.
"Good girl, good girl, you're such a good girl," he babbled, petting my hair, stroking me until I stopped coughing. I milked him until he finished emptying himself down my throat.
"Daddy.." I whispered, my throat finally free as he pulled his dick out.
"I can see that look in your eye, baby. You want me to be inside you, honey?" He cooed, brushing his thumb over my cheek.
"Please, please daddy.." I begged, crawling into his lap.
"So eager, aren't you princess?" He smiled, giving his cock a few pumps.
I grabbed his face, locking my lips with his for the first time. It was an odd concept; kissing my stepdad, but it felt right. And so good.
He kissed me right back, tongue forcing its way into my mouth.
I groaned, opening wider to allow him access. My stepdad was so hot. I couldn't imagine being without him. I just wanted to be with him forever.
James broke the kiss, looking me in the eyes.
"How bad do you want daddy to fuck you?" He hissed soflty, my body suddenly filled with the sensation of him running the tip through my folds.
My breath caught in my throat. "Bad," I moaned.
"Very bad." He chuckled. "You better not scream too loud, princess. I don't want anyone to hear you."
I rocked my hips on the pressure of his cock. I was a little worried that he wouldn't fit inside me, I'd only had sex once or twice. Him on the other hand was extremely experienced, not to mention huge.
I didn't want to embarrass myself by not being able to take him. But I couldn't go any longer without feeling him inside me. I needed him. Desperately.
"Daddy, please.." I whimpered, my neck twitching.
He ran his hand up and down my spine, then trailed it down my ass, pushing my legs farther open. "Hmm, what's that baby?" He purred, sliding the tip inside me.
I squirmed at the sudden penetration, gripping his shoulders as I whined loudly. James' hands gripped my hips gently, holding me in place.
"Tell me what you want, baby," he urged. "I need to hear the words, princess. Don't make me stop." I looked up at him, meeting his stare.
"I want you, Daddy. I need you. Please."
I whimpered, wiggling my hips against his. He chuckled lowly. "Lord knows, I need you too, little one. I've wanted you for so long." He grinned as he slid his cock inside me in one powerful thrust.
The pain was intense, and I clawed at his shoulders. "Shh, baby. Just breathe. Feel your daddy inside you. Relax." He repeated as he held me still.
I was right, it stretched me a lot, but it was also the best feeling in the world.
James bounced me on his cock, thrusting up alongside. "Fuck! Daddy!" I cried out.
"Right there honey….. god, I think you're the tightest I've fucked." he groaned.
"Mmmm, that's right baby, ride that dick, just like that. Fuck, your wetness is driving me wild." He hissed, still pumping into me.
“Ooh, that's right... daddy, harder, fuck me harder, daddy." I bucked my hips.
He squeezed my thighs with large tattooed hands, gripping me tighter, ramming me into the mattress. I could barely keep up with him. I rode him until I couldn't anymore.
"Such a good girl," he growled as I collapsed, hardly having enough energy to keep riding him.
"Just relax while daddy fucks you."
He ordered. Ilaid my head on his chest, breathing heavily. I wasn't sure I could handle more. He held me up, still inside me, cradling me in his arms as he rammed into me.
"Yes, Daddy, yes, that's it..." I whined, my body getting used to him, and I became more flexible.
"Oooh, yes! Yes, yes!" I cried out. James's pace picked up.
I arched my back, causing him to push harder into me. I was soon screaming out his name, throwing my head back. "James!" I cried out, holding on for dear life as I was transported to another plane of existence.
He continued to thrust into me. I was so full, I thought I would burst. "Daddy, daddy, I'm going to cum again." I squealed.
“Cum all over daddy's cock, princess. Let it happen." He encouraged.
I cried out his name as my walls pulsated around him. "Ohhh, daddy!" I gasped. "Ohhh, fuck, I'm cumming too." James slammed into me, jerking his hips as he shot rope after rope of seed into me.
"That's it baby, cum on my cock. That's it." He growled. He continued to hold me, both of us breathing heavily. When he started to soften, we both dropped onto the bed, both of us exhausted.
I couldn't believe my own stepdad had just cum inside me. I loved it.
"You're gonna make me addicted to you, Princess." He murmured, rubbing up my back.
#metal#reqs open#metallica#request#smut#thrash metal#smutshot#james hetfield#james hetfield x reader#metallica x reader#james hetfield headcannons#james hetfield x you#james hetfield x oc#james hetfield fluff#james hetfield fic#james hetfield smut#james hetfield fanfiction#James hetfield imagines#metallica headcanons#metallica fluff#metallica smut#metallica fanfiction#heavy metal#metallica imagines#fanfic#fanfiction#oneshot#mustainegf
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Pretty. | Bolting Down Booths
logline; locking down chairs and a sweaty sleep deprived man (for now) (for the night) (platonically) (for now) (what?) (I didn't say anything).
series history, this is the third; First, Second
portion; 4.5k+
possible allergies; Negative self-talk (baby, Tony's mentally ill, get WITH it). We are once again, eatin' meat (beef!). Did I give the reader a curly girl routine? ....Perhaps...
pairing; Carmen 'Carmy' Berzatto & Fem Reader (No pronouns, but 'girl' is thrown around quite a bit.)
is this entire series just a love letter to me wanting to take care of this guy? maybe so. maybe so.
Lifesaver. Lifesaver. Lifesaver.
Alright, fuck, you need to put on something to listen to because the thought isn’t leaving and the cherry lifesaver swirling in your mouth is so ironic that it’s leaving a bitter taste.
It’s after hours at The Bear, just after midnight, and you’ve returned to a clinically cleaned restaurant, ‘Ah… Syd keeps it locked in.’ and you’re thankful that you’re alone because it means everyone’s getting their proper rest. However, it also means your intrusive thoughts are really drilling in tonight.
You drop your phone on one of the booth tables, blasting music at full volume. That’s better. Little more static to work with now. You measure each booth and table for the third time tonight, rechecking that the angles are exactly as Syd had asked. They’re still perfect. Alright, get a move on, it’s not gonna somehow get more correct than correct…
You slip yourself under the table, verifying that the bolts are the proper fit— Also for the third time today. Hey, what if Home Depot fucked you earlier?! It’s important to check! You’re definitely not unreasonably anxious right now! But your power drill is practically screaming to be used at this point, so you acquiesce.
You’re on the last bolt when you hear a click of the front door opening.
“Fuck!” It scares you so shitless you jump and knock the top of your head on the table. You lay down quickly, back pressed to the floor to get a look at the perp. You point your power drill menacingly toward the front door.
Oh.
“Fuck are you doing here?” You and Carmen manage to speak in perfect unison.
There’s a beat before you opt to go first.
“Bolting.” Still lying under the table. You raise your drill upward, revving it a few times.
He swallows, sniffs, and scratches his nose. “Thought you were doing that tomorrow?”
“Technically it is tomorrow.” He scoffs, so you continue. “No, uh, Nat asked if I could come in after hours so I’m not as much of an active tripping hazard.” You gesture to yourself on the floor.
“Smart.” He rubs his eyes. He looks red and pink all over.
“…Thought you were getting off early today?”
“I did.” He clears his throat when you make a face about it. “I—I uh, did leave early, I just, just thought I’d come in and uh… Do some work.”
He rubs the back of his neck, continuing after a beat. “I’m, I’m uh, I’m good— In, in the kitchen.”
You chew at your inner cheek, staring at a very clearly distressed Carmy. His eyes are lined red, hair is in disarray.
“…Did you do it?” Did you break up with your girlfriend?
“…Yeah. I-I did.”
You just nod, thoughtful, before slipping back under the table, finishing drilling in the last bolt. “If you need a palate tester, lemme know.”
“Heard.”
The moment is soft but then cut short by you scrambling to quiet your phone atop your table when a perfectly unfitting upbeat song starts to sing out at max volume. He hides his smile poorly as he heads into the kitchen.
It’s a nice hour or so, in the front of house. You drill each bolt efficiently, grounding each booth and table in their place permanently. Your tunes play at a much lower volume now, careful to not alert the lone chef in the back. The intrusive thoughts have vanished with Carmen around, even if distant. He might not consider himself a brightening presence, but to you, he certainly is a nice lamp.
You stand up finally, finished, doing a big stretch of your arms and a crack of your back. You notice Carmen looking at you through the glass. He looks away, then back again, raising a hand, motioning for you to come in. Looks like you finished right on time.
It smells fucking incredible in here. You’re once again trying to temper your reaction as you pass through the door, not wanting to stroke his ego, but he’s already clocked it. It’s okay, you clock his boyish smirk of pride before he hides it with his hand, so you’re even.
On the steel table, plated— On their one black plate, because he’s not over having to settle for less— Are three perfectly cubed and seared pieces of marbled meat, glazed mushrooms, and some round breaded things that you’re not quite sure about. All perfectly plated and decorated with greens, parsley, specifically.
You step next to him, staring at the plate intently, taking it in visually. “Well?”
He hums in a way that sounds like a laugh, arms crossed. He stares at his own plate just as intently. “Pan-seared Wagyu— Sirloin. Wild mushrooms, basted in the same fat. Hazelnut-potato croquettes—”
“What the fuck is that?”
He doesn’t miss a beat, he just smiles— In a way that looks actually kind of genuine. He likes to teach. “Seasoned mashed potatoes, basically. Breaded with bread crumbs and hazelnut, in this case, and fried. There’s a gruyere center, to this one.”
You don’t miss the fact that he’s not stuttering anymore. He’s right. He’s good in the kitchen. In all the ways that entails.
“Test?” He lifts a fork to you. You take it.
You lean forward, elbow on the table. You take polite, small cuts of each part of the meal initially, it feels bad to destroy what is an art piece.
But then he leans forward, head meeting your level, amusement lilting his voice. “You know it’s a compliment to eat?”
You huff, taking a larger piece of everything to get it all in one bite. Everything is so soft and lush that you don’t need a knife. Goddamn. You take your bite. Son of a bitch.
You thought fucking brisket was good?
“Oh my god.” You put your hand in front of your mouth as you chew, switching your gaze to him. “Carmen, oh my fucking god!”
“Yeah?” His glow is slowly coming back to him, like a flickering halo. “Don’t pull punches.”
“Fuckin’— So good! What is it, fire? Excellent? What’s the top one? I’m angry that it’s this good.”
“Angry is a new one.”
“I’m furious!” You laugh, “I always thought luxury dining was fuckin’ scam, I’m not gonna lie to you. But I— I took one bite and I’m incredibly full and— And, it’s just— It’s really really good, Carm—Chef. Gotta show it to Syd for the menu.”
He nods, smiling, finally, unhidden. “Thank you, Chef.”
He grabs the fork from you to try for himself, but before he can get to his own plate, you press the back of your hand to his chest, holding him back. “Uh, ah, can I do a thing, for you?”
He squints, curiously, putting his fork down. “…Yes?”
You grin, walking around the kitchen the second he affirms it. “Where’s your wine box?”
“Ah… By expo, over…” He points to it.
You pop it open, hand waving over each bottle for the right one you’re searching for. “I’ll pay for it.”
“S’fine.”
A young Pinot Grigio, you go with. Ripe, sweet, airy. You walk by him again, grazing your hand on the small of his back and placing the bottle in front of him. “Open, don’t pour.”
“Heard.” He roots away for the bottle opener.
“And get me a clean knife and cutting board!”
“Fuck are you doin?” He doesn’t complain, getting what you ask for, but he is quite curious.
You sort through the fruit pantry in Marcus’ section, grabbing the most perfect white peach you can— It wouldn’t be perfect by morning, he won’t mind. “I am an occasional bartender and poor man’s sommelier…”
You meet him back at his station, slicing the peach thinly with the knife he’s left for you. “So, when I’m given the chance to pair a meal, I try to.”
You halve the thin slices, then place a few in each glass Carmen’s so kindly set out for you— Tulip bowled cups. You whistle, “You know your shit…”
His eyes light up, just a bit. He shrugs, handing you the uncorked bottle when you reach for it. “My job.”
“You’re good at it.” You pour the wine, proper— No stops missed for Carmen. “Okay, okay, okay…”
You hand him his glass— The one you think you did a slightly better peach placement on. “Alright, now you can have the dish you worked hard on.”
With a small smile, he takes a generous bite of his dish, takes his time digesting it, then sips your wine. He tilts his head, surprised by how much of a liking he’s taking to it. “S’fire. Well worth it.”
You sip your own glass, smiling, you explain before he can ask you to. “Yeah? Good. Citrusy white to cut the fat of wagyu. Or something. Poor man’s sommelier, y’know.”
“Hm.” He sniffs, and you try not to light up when he writes down the wine pairing at the bottom of his drafted recipe card. “Better than me.”
There’s a comfortable silence before he speaks up again. “You gonna head out?”
You squint at him, head tilted. “Are you?”
Once you know one Berzatto, you’ve known them all. Their tells included.
“…Eventually, yeah.”
“You drive?”
“I take the L.”
“Are you on the red or blue line?”
He doesn’t answer. So, that tells you he’s not on the only two 24-hour lines.
“…I’ll take a transfer—”
“When were you planning on going?” You cross your arms; he can tell where this is going and he hates it. You’re foiling his plan.
“When I’m done.”
“Done what?”
“…Cleaning.”
“I’ll help you,” You pick up the cutting board and knife swiftly. “I’ll give you a ride home.”
“I need to get work done—Too.” He takes a while to reply, but when he does, he speaks with haste.
You pause, putting the cutting board down. Let’s do the math here.
He said he came in ‘early’ this morning, but ‘early’ probably meant overnight because of the Fridge Guy. He left early, sure, before the dinner rush— But only to experience his first breakup—If you can call it that. Then he’s come back at midnight again, after everyone else has left. The likelihood he’s slept since the night before his opening isn’t impossible, but if he did sleep, he slept here. And he definitely hasn’t showered. He’s likely been awake 40 hours.
You nod, picking up the board again, walking it to the sink. You stand over it in thought.
“What’s wrong with home, Carm?”
“It’s gonna hit, if I go home.”
He swallows, “Everything’s gonna hit, when I go home.”
Now that you can understand. You nod, scrubbing the cutting board clean. “When your brother died, I holed up at my parents’ for two weeks.”
You don’t turn off the sink, even after you're done cleaning, because if you do, you fear he will hear your tell-tale heartbeat. “When I came back, my plants were half dead and my fridge was a biohazard.”
He sniffs, he’s waiting for the shoe to drop, for you to tell him he has to go home, that it only gets worse if you wait it out, that he needs to find a better way to deal with this—
“You can hole up at mine.”
When he doesn’t reply, you turn your head to look at him. He’s very hard to read but it looks like he’s entertaining the idea. You add, for the sake of levity, “You need a fuckin’ shower, man.”
He smirks, though the amusement doesn’t meet his eyes. “When I shower all my fuckin’ hairs gonna fall out.” He piles his dirtied utensils and boards, sidling up to the sink next to you.
“You need rosemary water.” You grab a dish rag, switching over to dry for him.
“Does that shit actually work?” You both quickly ebb into the domestic flow of handing off dishes. He mumbles ‘left-most drawer’, ‘top-shelf, right side’, and so on whenever you’re confused about where they go once they’re dry.
“It does. I have also had the ‘am I balding?’ crisis. Believe it or not.”
He stares at your hairline so intently you put your hand in front of it, flustered. He finally flicks his gaze back to yours. “If you’re really worried, you can make it pretty easy—”
“I’ll stay over.”
You take a second to register, then nod happily.
“Good. Where’s the black plate go?”
Your apartment is surprising because it’s built on top of an H&R Block, the concrete stairs leading up to it are chipped to hell, and the front door has clearly been graffitied then painted over then graffitied then painted over then graf—
And yet, it is almost certainly one of the best-looking apartments he’s seen in Chicago— On the inside at least.
None of the furniture matches, but it’s nice, it’s eclectic. It’s heavily thrifted and upcycled from furniture you found on the side of the road. That’s the nice thing, about being a fixer—Nothing’s trash if you believe in yourself. You drop your keys in a handmade clay tray— That’s the other thing Carm notices, so much of this is you alone.
The place is a mess, there’s half-finished projects in the corner of every room, tools strewn in odd places. And it’s perfectly welcoming. Warm. In a literal sense, too, because there’s a humidifier going off on a timer in the living room to make what Carmen estimates are your forty thousand plants and cuttings happy.
This is a perfect apartment because you live in it.
Nothing can hit, in here.
He comes back to reality when you reach your hand out to him, there’s a coat hanger in your other hand. Oh. Jacket.
“Oh, fuck.” He peels off his jacket, handing it to you. “I uh, I left your Carhartt at work.”
“S’fine, if I was in a rush for it back, I would’ve asked.” You brush off easily, hanging up the jean jacket in your small coat closet. “Ah…”
Your apartment has a pretty open layout, but you point at everything regardless.
“There’s the kitchen…” It’s on the right at the entry, with an open archway— Which you’re in the middle of rounding the corners on with plywood.
“The living room…” Straight ahead, he can see the half of it that isn’t blocked by the kitchen. You’ve got big windows, with a fire escape. Suncatchers and more plants are hanging from the ceiling by it.
“To the left, down the hall— The only hall, bathrooms on the right and straight ahead is the bedroom, you can put your shit there.”
His brows furrow, you say the last part quickly, and he’s going to say something but you grab the black plate he’s brought and brush past him to the kitchen.
So, he just shrugs off his backpack, “Heard.” And heads down the hall. For now.
It feels odd to put this very fancy, very expensive one black plate on top of the rest of your own cheap dishware— But he insisted you take it, so, here it is.
You march down the hall, going to grab towels for him from your room, but stop short when you hear him in the bathroom, mumbling, “Fuck is this?”
You peek in, “Fuck is what?” You come in when he turns the bottle in his hand for you to look at. You stare at it for a solid few seconds, genuinely alarmed, you look at Carmen with wide eyes.
“Carmy, look me in my eyes and tell me you know what conditioner is.”
“I—I know what conditioner is, but what are all the words for?”
“All the words?”
“Like, strengthening, bonding, texture—”
“Carmen?!”
“Don’t say my name like that…”
“You have wavy hair, too, Bear!” You stare wide-eyed, mouth in an open-mouth smile because if you don’t laugh you’ll start screaming. You swipe away the hair in front of his face, holding the tress between your fingers to get an idea of texture. You’re too focused to clock the way he flinches— At the nickname and the touch.
“We’ve got like, the same hair texture! What the fuck are you using?”
He doesn’t answer, he opens his mouth but nothing comes out.
“Carmen…” You can make a pretty good guess. He bristles again. He has discovered does not like it when you say his name with any sort of animosity or disappointment.
“Carmen no… Two in One?”
“…Five in One.”
“Five in One?!” You clutch the sides of your head. “What are the Five?!”
He waves his hands in defense, “It’s—”
“Y’know what, don’t fuckin’ tell me, I don’t wanna know, I don’t need to know.” You cover your face and shake your head. “Just— I will get you clothes and a towel, wash—” You reach into your shower, grabbing your fruity body wash. “—Wash yourself with this, like a civilized person— And just don’t— Don’t touch your hair, I’ll take care of your hair after you shower.”
“You’ll take care—”
“You’ve lost your hair privileges; I will be taking up the arms.” You pinch the bridge of your nose, “I just—You need a tutorial, please.”
He holds the body wash in his hand, debating this fight or not, “I think five is—”
“Just fuckin’ say heard.”
“Heard.”
Despite everything, you both laugh. You tap the doorway on your way out, yelling to no one as you turn back down the hall. “Corner!” It’s worth it when he laughs again.
Ironically, the one shirt you know will fit him that you have is ‘The Berf’, so you grab that. Pants are a bit tougher, but with enough scrounging through your closet you find a long-forgotten pair of sweatpants your brother left here ages ago.
You approach the bathroom door, it’s still ajar, so you invite yourself in. He’s staring at your skincare products with a clinical fascination, stopping only to acknowledge your presence.
“Alright, alright.” You pop your pile of things down on the sink counter, handing each thing to him individually.
“New toothbrush.” Still packaged. It’s got your dentist’s address on the clear plastic. “Pyjamas. Towel, wash cloth— I think you’re good.”
When you turn your head to look at him, you catch the tail end of him staring— Again, his eye contact is so soft and also scary. And now that the sleep is catching up to him, he’s half-lidded and— Goddamn it he is very pretty, sonofabitch.
He straightens up, sniffing, nodding as a form of thanks, the likelihood he’s registered anything you’ve said isn’t likely— Which is fine, you are now too flustered to care. There’s a boy in your house and you’ve just discovered he’s pretty.
“I’m just gonna wash my face n’ grab a few things and I’ll be out of your way.”
You wash your hands; he unwraps his toothbrush. And without verbally checking in, you once again flow into a silent rhythm. You grab your toothbrush, dole out toothpaste on both of your brushes, and stare at yourselves and each other in the mirror, side by side as you brush.
You make a face, and while he doesn’t fuckin’ guffaw, he does smile, foam peeking through the corners of his mouth, and that’s enough for you.
You rinse— You try to be dainty about it but it’s not, because when has brushing your teeth ever been dignified?
You pump face cleanser into your palm, then nod to him to do the same. Good Carm, he listens. Like a mime tutorial, he follows your actions of foaming it in the hands and properly washing his face. There’s hope for this five in one boy yet.
You pile together your skincare and leave him to shower in peace. More importantly, leave to let yourself lose it in peace.
Oh my god there’s a pretty boy in your bathroom and it’s two in the morning. What the fuck were you thinking? You just invited him over without hesitation? You met him like barely two days ago! Oh my god! There’s a pretty boy in your bathroom! And it’s two! In the morning!
You need to kill the teenage girl in your head because she’s freaking you the fuck out. You were literally being so calm and chill and cool and cool and chill and calm— Oh my god you’re doing it again—
Everything is fine. He’s literally here because he’s experiencing a torrential downpour of awful. You invited him over because you’d invite anyone like that over. Pretty or not. Get your head in order.
You take a deep, mindful breath and exhale, returning to neutral as you meditatively go through your skincare routine and change into your nice pajamas— Y’know, the one modest matching set for when you have guests or go somewhere. Instead of the one usual incredibly stained oversized t-shirt.
You set up a chair by your kitchen sink, towel on the back for comfort. You were serious about the hair thing. Your scalp and his are curly girl sisters, you cannot leave them to die like this.
When he comes out, knots in his back undone, steam wafting, grime finally removed, he approaches you with much more energy, and leans against the doorway. You both speak at once.
“Weird to see you out of uniform.”
You snort; he flattens his mouth into a line to keep from smiling too hard (which, for Carmen, would really just mean smiling with his teeth). But really, it is weird. You’re both suddenly… People. You can see all his tattoos and his stupid gold chain...And he can see you.
You kick the chair with your foot, gesturing to it. “Sit, I’m washing your hair.”
You’re walking past him before he’s got the chance to deny, collecting proper products from the bathroom to use. Y’know. Not fucking five in one.
Once again, good Carm listens, sitting in the chair. Not without complaints, though. “Big fan of babying people?”
You wrap the towel behind his neck, tilting his head back into the sink. If you pretend, it’s like a salon. You hum in reply, blunt, “Yeah, I am.”
“I like to take care of people. In a way, it’s kind of my job.” You re-rinse his hair once the water is warm— Thank God your kitchen faucet is a sprayer.
“You’re good at it.” He’s too comfortable and lethargic to be aggro about this, so he’s just sweet and honest. It’s hard not to beam.
“I try.” You massage shampoo through his scalp, “I know I’m pushy about it, sometimes.”
He sighs, a breath of relief. When’s the last time someone else washed his hair? He’s been cutting his own for years, he cannot remember the last time. Had to have been before New York.
“Were you pushy with Mikey?” He’s not fully sure why he said that, and he’s waiting for you to make him regret asking it.
You just hum, nostalgically amused, “I think I got pushy because of Mikey.”
“Stopped hoping my friends would take care of themselves with the right tools and decided to just take care of them myself.” You rinse the bubbles from his hair. You’re happy to see his wavy pattern returning.
“A lot of work.”
“Not to me.”
You pump conditioner into your hand— And while he’d probably love for you to elaborate on that point, you have to pivot, “Alright, this part you actually should pay attention to— When you condition— Because you will be conditioning, from this point on.”
He just grunts in reply, but it sounds like enough of a yes to you.
“—When you do it, you’ll hang your head upside down and apply conditioner from the bottom— You gotta like, squeeze your hair in it—” You do the proper routine, squelching his hair, does he laugh at the sound? Yes. Yes, he does. “It’ll sound like that. And then rinse.”
You look at his peaceful, amused expression. His eyes closed. “Heard.”
“Are you retaining any of this?”
“I said heard, didn’t I?”
You just scoff, rinsing his hair. You teach him how to scrunch with the towel, but his eyes are so dazed during it you give the poor boy a break and don’t explain that what you’re putting in his hair is mousse. He might have an aneurysm if you use a ‘food word’ in relation to hair right now.
“Alright, alright, the exhaustion is setting in, let’s get you to bed before you start seeing spiders.” You take his arm and hoist him up. Everything is fine until this bozo tries walking to the living room while you’re trying to pull him down the hall. You once again, speak in sync.
“What’re you doing?”
“I’m taking the couch.”
He now realizes why you spoke so quickly about him putting his things away in your room instead of the living room. It’s like you just awoke every Italian ancestor in his bones because he is immediately alert.
“No, you’re not.”
That’s fine because he’s in your household, motherfucker. Your family tree is in the furniture.
“You’re the guest. You take the bed.”
“You’re the host. You take the bed.”
“I’m the one that invited you.”
“And what? You’re the girl.”
At a point, you are both speaking with your hands, words tumbling on top of each other's.
“Bitch—” “It’s just not right—” “I literally made you come over specifically to get proper rest—” “I will be haunted all night by my Nonna if you sleep on the couch—” “The couch is a pull-out, it’s comfortable!” “Then let me use it!” “No!”
This is going nowhere fast.
“My own grandmother takes the couch when I visit. She would throw me off my own balcony if I made a guest take the couch.” Is your hard stance.
And his, “My Nonno would stab me if I let a pretty girl sleep on a couch.”
Now this does immediately shut you the fuck up.
That doesn’t mean he’s won; he’s also shut the fuck up. A slip-up of mutually assured destruction.
You bite back your wheeze of shocked laughter, and you’re very thankful it’s two in the morning now because the moonlight through the window doesn’t entirely catch your reaction of being embarrassingly bashful in this moment. How did the teen girl in you survive? You were so sure you got her…
Your hands hang in the air for a moment, before you finally manage to say, “Either I take the couch—”
“No—”
“Or, it’s a double, so we share it.” You shrug, wringing your hands, “So whichever one you find the least sacrilege.”
God, there’s no simple way to make that not sound like you’re coming onto him, is there? You’re not, for the record. It’s just the fastest solution. You’ve shared beds before, it’s not a big deal— It’s actually only a big deal if you make it one, it’s actually very normal—Get this fucking teen out of here—!
“Fuckin’— Alright!” He huffs after thinking on it for some time, rubbing his forehead in some sort of anguish before marching down the hall.
When you don’t follow, he clicks his teeth. “C’mon, Tony.” His tone is languid and aggravated.
Ah, the sweet sound of a man who has had to compromise— But will be damned if he doesn’t get his part of said compromise. Also the sound of a man who really wishes he hadn't just said pretty girl.
You follow him to your room. Fuck it. Say the thing. You've been trying to keep a level social playing field with him anyway.
“Heard, pretty boy!"
two idiots realize the other one is pretty and nice and try to not acknowledge it (DIFFICULTY LEVEL: IMPOSSIBLE)
Would you believe me if I said I was trying to not do the 'one bed' trope? I really was! I'm not a huge trope guy! But writing it down I was like 'neither of these people would fucking fold'. The only other option would be for both of them to stare at each other in the hallway for 8 hours and come to no agreement. Did not plan Pretty Girl but thank god because it was the only thing that would get them out of that time loop.
It's always my favourite thing when a person who's been cavalier when it comes to boundaries suddenly finds their line (he's pretty) and is now immediately so hyphy. I hope you also messed with this.
Tell me your thoughts!! Favourite bits, lines, etc!! Feeds me!! (Oh, speaking of fed, shout out to Daniel NYC, I did steal their menu for this. I'll probably do it again because I am not a Michelin Star Chef.)
#carmen berzatto imagine#carmy berzatto#carmy x reader#carmen berzatto x reader#carmen x reader#carmen berzatto x you#carmen berzatto#carmy the bear#the bear fx#the bear x you#the bear fanfiction#the bear x reader#the bear
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After a whole night thinking about the end of Chayanne and Lullah’s canon stories, and also watching a ton of animatics for Philza’s s4 hardcore world, I’ve come to a conclusion.
If hardcore has taught me anything, it’s that all stories must come to an end eventually.
However, it will always be more worth it to engage with these grand stories than to never at all. They can’t last forever, but the memories and joy earned along the way are entirely worth it. They create something unforgettable to smile back on.
It’s something I’ve learned from watching Philza’s hc adventure and continuing to love Technoblade’s videos and character. I can’t help but smile and be filled with wonder every time I see a drawing or animation that ties all the small moments of past narratives together.
Especially with Philza’s journey through hardcore. Losing a world is fucking devastating, but it makes so many opportunities. Even though there is a genuine risk of losing his world every time he logs in, the cc still continues to create incredible structures and his character continues to explore.
Honestly, Lullah and Chay’s admins must understand this so much more than me for being able to let an adventure rest. The circumstances might not be the best, but I’m glad they were able to say goodbye. I’m so fucking glad that there were laughs and smiles and tears. The future is bright and there is so much room to build up from here because of the work they’ve done.
Yes, I might be a bit sad, but now I’m also filled with wonder about the future to come. The Death Family will always have a place in my heart, and I know that the fan content is only gonna pop off from here! A chapter closed but another opened.
So yeah, a thank you to two of the ultimate crows! Thanks for allowing the rest of us to tag along and enjoy something so wonderful <3
#gosh… this will have to do for now#I have so many words for all of the admins but this might be the most important for me rn#I was literally watching hardcore world animatics and I realized I had to make a post#I was just feeling a lot of feelings#many positive ones that I wanted to share#I suppose a more direct thank you to the characters Ama and Sun created will have to come later lol#qsmp#qsmp admins#qsmp chayanne#qsmp tallulah#qsmp philza#philza hardcore#philza#qsmp text post
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Chapter 2 of down the rabbit hole
Chapter one here
MDNI
Pairing: Walton Goggins x You
Rating: Not much for this, brief mention of SA, mention of alcohol.
Slow build like novel damn length okay, Very Fluffy, Pinch of Angst, Relationship Development, Hurt/Comfort, Older man/ Younger(30s) women, Alternative universe, fictional work (IDK WHY BUT I AM PUTTING IT) Probably more as I go.
Synopsis: Working in film as a make-up artist is hard enough, but then Walton Goggins requests you, well it's way too easy to fall down the rabbit hole.
Note: they are both single, all for fun.
WARNING I do not have this all written out, I do have it plotted out, but it may be a little slower for chapters to come out. Please bear with me. If you know a Beta to edit please send them to me.
*Before we get into things. Thank you 100x for all the love. It means the world to me*
Somehow four weeks have slipped by. As always, TV series runs like a machine on fire while driving through a snowstorm. Long days, and even longer nights. You wonder briefly why you chose a profession that meant you average four to five hours of sleep. But then Walton brings the whole trailer their favorite coffee and you just shrug the thought off. Working with the cast and crew was like being in one big dysfunctional family. One part hated each other, one part was fucking each other, and another part just held on for the ride. You liked to think you were in the last group, but sometimes when you caught Liz glowering at you, you wondered if maybe you were in the first group.
“Why does she hate me?” You ask Trevor as you try to eat lunch. Fish wasn’t your first choice but it’s what they had had.
“Who?” Trevor asks, munching on some strawberries, how the man ate as much as he did and remained tiny was amazing.
“Liz.” You sigh moving your fork around the plate.
“Liz hates everyone, don’t take it personally.” He grabbed a couple more pieces of fruit.
“Have you seen the way she looks at me? Like, why bring me onboard if she was just gonna avoid me like the plague?”
“She’s jealous of you.”
You turn and raise your eyebrows at him. “What are you talking about?”
Trevor lets out a snort and chomps down on some cheese. “Girl. Don’t play down your talents. You have worked your damn ass off to get here. One of the best makeup artists out there and Liz knows it. Why do you think Mr. Goggins likes you so much?”
You shrug and pick through your food, the fish was not sitting particularly well. “I am not better than anyone else.”
Trevor swats at you playfully, “Shut up. You can wrangle through asshole actors like no one else. You take zero shit from anyone and you get stuff done on time or before they are needed. You’ll be one of the most valued artists in town in no time.” He chuckles and pushes his own plate away. “Just make sure you bring me along with you.”
You grin back at him. Trevor had never jerked you around like most others. He was right, you did a good job and people appreciated your blatant lack of kiss assery. You fiddle with your fork for a moment before deciding that you had enough for the day.
***
It was Thursday, which meant the week was almost over. The end was in sight and your bed was calling your name. You’d probably sleep the weekend away and indulge in some overpriced Chinese food. Your thoughts about sweet and sour pork are broken when someone announces they are coming in. Liz walks in and looks you up and down. Dear god, that woman has a chip on her shoulder. She went and pulled out a couple of empty totes.
“It’s going to be you and Trevor tomorrow and the following week.” She says her lips pressed firmly together, as she talks she goes through drawers grabbing different products. “Walton is here doing some scenes, Laura will also be here but she shouldn’t be on camera. If she is, I've emailed you notes and pictures.”
You nod, not bothering to look at her as you continue to wash your brushes. Liz continued to add to her bin. “Sounds good.”
“Look, I know we haven’t been exactly- Friendly.” You turn to look at the woman, she is putting the lid on to the tote. Writing info on a sheet of paper on the top. “But, you do a good job. The director has been very happy with everything. “
“Thank you.” You reply, giving her a small smile. “I appreciate that Liz.”
Liz nods back at you and grabs the tote, waddling out the door. It’s probably the closest you’ve come to liking her. You sit there for a moment, taking in the compliment, maybe things are changing for the better.
***
Friday is here, and you decided to bring some timbits to celebrate the end of the week. The usually bustling studio lot was quiet. Construction and Set Dec had busied themselves with various other needs. It was refreshing to have a little quiet. You had even been able to park your car right beside the trailer. As much as you loved the absolute chaos that was a film set, the calm was a nice balm. You knew that before long you would miss the chaos, and it would be back with vengeance.
Laying things out you felt like you could breathe. You had put on some gothic country on the stero, something that only you and Trevor really enjoyed. Both of you had moved from rural areas to do your job. It was another reason why you enjoyed his company. Trevor had set himself up on the second workspace, the two of you spreading out a little while the boss was away.
“Hello. Lady and gentleman,” Walton’s voice shrill as he came up the stairs. The man was a never-ending ball of energy. You were positive you could do a month of night shooting and he still would come in chipper as if it was his first day.
“Hey Walt,” Trevor said with a grin, it was hard not to be happy around the man.
“Excited for the weekend?” You ask as you drape him with a cape, popping off his sunglasses and grabbing his other glasses off the counter. As he rereads some lines.
“I sure am. It feels like it’s been an extra long week.” He sighed, rubbing at his hazel eyes before grabbing a timbit. “These things are delicious, I am going to steal the whole box..”
You slap playfully at his hand.“Hey now! Make sure I get a few” He gives you a crooked smile and holds one up. You don’t hesitate to lean forward and let him feed it to you. He swallows and looks up at you, as the realization dawns on you as to what you just did.
“Well-Umm- Next week doesn’t look to bad,” Trevor pipes, shooting you a look, his voice squeaking slightly.
“This is true, just the three of us enjoying a few short days,” Walton says, you are desperately trying to move past what just happened as you grab a moisturizer and apply it gently. His eyes follow you.
“I can certainly say I will enjoy not having to drive all over the place.” You reply, trying not to let your cheeks flush. Reminding yourself sternly that you were a professional and for Pete’s sake you’d been working together for over a month now.
“You have the craziest eyes.” He whispers as the two of you look at each other. There is no way of hiding the fact your cheeks are burning. Trevor graciously comes over and starts to fuss with his hair.
“Thank you,” You reply, words caught in your throat. Turning to start packing your set bag, anything to hide the fact that you were bright red. You look up to see Trevor raising his eyebrows at you. You look away and finish things up before sending Walton off to set.
“What was that?” Trevor drawled as he slid into the chair, the look on his face made you want to crawl under the counter.
“What was what?” You try to dismiss things even if your face is on fire. What the hell had just happened?
“He just fed you a damn donut hole and you are blushing all over Goggins?” Trevor pushes fiddling with a comb, and you really want to throw something at him.
You freeze a bit and look up at him in the mirror. “Don’t do that.”
“Do what? See the fact that you two have been goggling over each other for the last four weeks. You just ate food out of his fingers. Wait what does he taste good?’
You do throw a powder puff at him. “You. You stop it. I don’t know what the hell I was doing. It just kind of happened.”
Yes, you had noticed the little things, but really the man was friendly with everyone. He had always been touchy-feely, but maybe there had been more that you had missed, including eating food out of his fingers. You remember him kissing you on the cheek yesterday morning before leaving. But there couldn’t be anything there, there was nothing there you repeated to yourself.
“Oh give me a break. He brings you coffee and touches, and kisses your cheek every day. The man has been fawning all over you.”
You bite your lip and turn to look at your colleague, ‘He does that with everyone, Trevor. He’s just friendly.”
You’re now madly stuffing stuff into your bag trying to get out of this newly warm trailer. Trevor snorts and puts his things into his bag. You wish he would drop it, but he was never good at leaving things alone.
“You keep telling yourself that, sweetheart,” He giggles in an imitation Southern drawl. The two of you hop out of the trailer. You aren’t sure whether to smack him or hug him, either way, there is a job to be done.
***
It was a textbook day, Walton had nailed almost everything. The man could act there was no doubt about that. The character was a belligerent drunk detective trying to solve a cold case. The script was dark, moody, and well horrible. You didn’t shy away from horror, but true crime always made your stomach flipflop. Your stomach also flipped as you watched Walton go from looking like he was gonna bite someone's head off, to all smiles and laughter.
You, Trevor, and Walton are walking back to the trailer together. It was actually sunny out, a rare moment for the Pacific Northwest. Costumes had been busy with some extras so you decided to start with him and finish with the others.
“So do you two have any plans for the weekend?” Walton asks, walking in between both of you.
“I think I might have a date on Saturday,” Trevor replied cheerfully.
“Oooh and who's the lucky fella?” Walton sing-songed.
Trevor looked flush for a moment, “Decon, from props actually.”
Walton chuckles elbowing Trevor “Well that sounds like an excellent Saturday. Man is gonna have some fun.”
Trevor shakes their head and rolls his eyes “He better show or I am going to have to send you both after him”
Walton bares his teeth and growls, which send everyone into a fit of giggles. Decon be aware, there was a madman coming for you. You thought as you get to the trailer opening the door.
“And what about you, little lady,” Walton drawls, that damn southern accent creeping in.
“Nothing special. Think sleep and Chinese food are calling my name.” You reply as everyone settles in. Really that would be the best way to end the weekend.
“Oh, Chinese food sounds amazing.” Trevor pipes in, turning on some tunes.
“Who needs sleep, it's not that important.” Walton chides as you get to work. “I was wondering if you both would like to come to a small bar not far from here. Transport can drive us there and back, a few of us are getting together for some drinks.”
You catch Trevor's gaze, a sly smile spreading across his face. “Oh, I would love that! Little get-together with our mess of a family.”
“What about you?” The lead asks, rubbing your arm. His hands are warm, you’re surprised to feel a few calluses on his fingers.
“Oh. Yeah sure. That would be good.” You give a small smile, trying not to let your mind wander too far. If you were honest, the prospect of getting together with a bunch of coworkers was low on your want list. But the look on Trevor's face tells you that you aren't allowed to say no. Your stomach clenches as the memory of a wrap party gone wrong rumbles past your mind. You push that down. It had been almost seven years since that happened, these were different people. People you knew and trusted.
“Fantastic, I am excited to have you both there,” Walton exclaims before closing his eyes to let you finish your job.
Once Walton is released to Costume, you and Trevor busy yourself with cleaning the trailer. Getting extras cleaned up and making sure everything is ready for the early morning come Monday. You can tell Trevor has been watching you but you can't make yourself say anything. Anxiety has pooled in your stomach like a cold stone and you are struggling to shake it.
“What's wrong?” Trevor asks bluntly sitting down in a free chair. You shake your head and keep your hands moving.
“Come on now. I've never seen you get this clammed up over an invitation to a party. To be fair I've actually never seen you go to a party–” Trevor’s words trail off realization washing over his face. “I know you like your peace, and quiet, but what is going on”
You collapse into the other chair with a deep sigh. Trying to find the words, you really didn't want to explain things too much. That said if there was anyone who'd understand it be Trevor.
“When I first got into the industry.” Your mouth feels so dry even at the thought of it. You grab your water bottle taking a swig.“I went to a wrap party. Got drunk and a guy from Sound took advantage of me. So I've never gone to one since.”
Trevor looks shocked, sadness creeping in at the words. “Hon.That is awful.”
“It happened almost a decade ago. It's fine. Just makes me nervous.” You let out a breath. You weren't going for sympathy, despite it being the worst night of your life, all you wanted was understanding.
Trevor comes over and gives you a big hug. You feel tears prickle in the corner of your eyes. As you let yourself sag against him. You were so thankful for this man, that he was understanding and seemed to care about you.
“Honey, nothing like that is gonna happen to you tonight. We'll go together and enjoy ourselves. And if any man or woman tries to hurt you I will beat them with my handbag” Trevor reassures you with a small smile. You both chuckle at the last statement
You sniffle a little, grabbing a tissue from the counter to dab at your eyes. “Thank you, Trevor”
He gives you a reassuring nod as you both get ready to go out. You were determined to make it a good night one way or another.
Maybe.. maybe.. I will post the next chapter tomorrow cause I am too excited not to share it. Likes, comments, and reblogs are so greatly appreciated. Y'all keep this northern person happy.
#walton goggins#fanfic#au#alternate universe#walton goggins x reader#walton goggins x you#fantasy#writer#creative writing
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heartstopper episode 6 thoughts
-queer people 🤝 pirates of the caribbean
-the amount of taradarcy we get this episode is everything to me
-also i love that alice has another cameo as one of the profile pictures that comments on tara's instagram post
-last remaining braincell jokes are such queer friend group jokes and i can't explain how or why
-darcy's as forgetful as i am, and im also an absolute lesbian. i need to start carrying anti homophobia cheese
-✨oh look, guess i'm gay now✨
-nellie just chilling on the blanket as nick and charlie be really gay: 👀
-nick's figuring out he's bi storyline is so refreshing, i feel like so many bi people felt so seen
-i need more of nick and tara being besties in season 2 i love them
-"oh my god we found another one" - my friend group getting bigger and gayer since lockdown
-i also love that this show understands that the token straight friend is a more accurate trope than the token queer friend, we gays flock together before we even realise
-the scene where nick tells charlie he told tara and darcy about them is honestly one of my favourite scenes, the staring beforehand, the way charlie's so proud of him, the hug!!! and the lighting is just so <333 this scene is so fucking pretty i love it
-can we appreciate that nick wears the same hoodie charlie borrowed on the snow date pretty much every time he goes to charlies house after that
-charlie's little happy dance <333
-an underappreciated moment is the smile on nick's face at darcys "we're such meddling gays i love it" message, he's just so happy to have other queer friends who understand him
-milkshake date scene my beloved
-nick's little "yeah!" and the way he smiles at charlie this mf is so in love
-the awkward silence when tao goes over to them 😭
-OKAY NICK TELLING ELLE IS ONE OF MY FAVOURITE SCENES. the way Charlie looks at him so proudly after nick says triple date, he knows what he's gonna say and he's just so happy, then nick's completely-in-love smile at charlie and elle's reaction and ugh their friend group is everything to me
-"aww i love you too!" not like that tao, ur so oblivious
-FUCK THE LESBOPHOBES IN THE ORCHESTRA I WANNA KICK THEIR SHINS IN
-how no one catches on when charlie's literally holding nick's hands teaching him to play the drums and they're right in the sunlight, they rly don't understand subtlety at all
-"i just like being with you" CUT TO CHARLIE EXPLAINING HIS DREAM GUY TO TORI IN EPISODE 1 AND LITERALLY SAYING SOMEONE WHO JUST LIKES BEING WITH HIM
-the taradarcy scene in the music room makes me cry, i love tara so goddamn much. it's also so refreshing to see lesbian characters call themselves lesbian and talk about the stigma around the word rather than just ignoring it
-flirting with her is also one of my fav soundtrack pieces!!
-**gets interrupted kissing girlfriend** "homophobia!!" this show got queer humour right
-was tao really so far behind he didn't see nick and charlie holding hands or is he really that dumb and oblivious
-NICK AND CHARLIE SMILING AT EACH OTHER RIGHT BEFORE THE CONCERT STARTS THEY'RE GONNA KILL ME
#this episode is my favourite#just all the characters and relationships are everything to me#also i was gonna continue this last night#but then i found my lipstick had melted and leaked in my tote bag#and gotten on my heartstopper volumes 2-4 books#so i cried and had a whole breakdown over it#anyway#heartstopper#heartstopper liveblog#heartstopper netflix#nick and charlie#tara and darcy#tao and elle
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"Laughing stock" can be their ship name ;)
OHHHHH GALAXY BRAIN thats so good omg. LaughingStock my beloved <3
#i KNEW there was a fitting name along those lines#my dumbass self was sitting there last night like 'something... stock... joke... nah theres nothing'#but you Got It ty ty#with the help of everyone we can get this name Approved and Widely Used & Accepted#because its stellar#either way im gonna be tagging my howdy/barnaby stuff with it#welcome home#scribble salad#rambles from the bog#welcome home puppet show#howdy pillar#barnaby b beagle#LaughingStock#edit: and no one will see the reblogged version where i lost my mind in the tags#over CONTINUALLY FUCKING UP THIS SKETCH#first i forgot his antennae that i Actively Reminded Myself To Draw while making this#then i updated the pic here but i accidentally erased a bit. and also the blushy effect is gone now so fuck me i guess#im incensed <3 purely off my rocker <3
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#surskit#now THIS guy. very underrated pokémon. the little blush? cute. the blue? cute. the spike on their head? cute. the whole concept of surskit#is cute. and there's this one video of like serena tossing out a surskit and then they just go “a” and it zooms out#and plays gen 8 encounter music and it's a very good video. if y'all've seen it before you know what i mean. for the rest of you#well i don't know what to tell you. i don't know much about this pokémon outside of that because i kinda started liking it when i saw that#video to be QUITE honest. i don't even know what type it is for sure—bug/water? and i sure as hell don't remember what they evolve into#yeah ok i was right. and they evolve into masquerain. not a ton of continuity colors and design wise but i like Get it. the whole bug thing#i suppose i just prefer pokémon that are visually traceable#but my paws are very cold typing this so i'm gonna wrap this up and take my meds. happy surskit day#and also happy pride month! i'm queueing this up on june 2nd. my power went completely out last night#which was awesome for pride month (lie). it was a very good time (lie)
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its crazy cuz u will be a teen that isnt ready to be a teen yet and be aware of how not long from now u will regret not enjoying the age you are and then you get older and sure enough exactly that happens and the cycle reoeats over and over forever but the trick is always at any age to just simply not care because life goes on with or without you
#i did slash am having yet another age crisis but ive also been through this already for the last 16 years of my life. so.#many ironic things have happened i ny life like ppl calling me ageist when *gestures* ive been arguing on adults behalf since i was a child#LOLbut it doesnt matter in the end and neither does me freaking out over oh nooo my body has naturally started to stop collagen production.#like oh no what the fuck am i gonna do *continues on as always*#anyway. hey. hows everybodies tuesday friday night going
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Snow
AN: Well it started storming here again and made me think Rain again and since the original thought had more to it I thought I might expand on the the world for those who are interested. I did make some decisions about the battle droids and Obi's home planet, Stewjon, that Im sure isn't canon but I don't really care, its my fic and I'll do with it as I want lol. Anyway if you like this let me know, and if you'd like me to do the rest of the story that I thought up let me know! Thanks for reading <3
Summary: Reader can't help but remember the first time they encountered snow.
WC: 3.1k
<<Rain
Night finally fell, and with it so did the sound of the blaster fire that had been ongoing all day. You'd always found yourself thankful that the Separatists were too stingy to give their battle droids infrared or night vision allowing you and your men to have reprieve if only for a few hours from the exhausting battles. On nights like this you thanked the force for it even more, the fighting had been near nonstop for the last few days and the marshy planet you were on was frozen near solid as it had entered its winter months, making the surface slick and hard to fight on. Your men were ready to drop from lack of good rest and you were tense and tired with headache pounding right between your eyes after what felt like a never ending day of fighting.
Dragging your feet back to your tent, you cursed the council for sending you to a place that was so cold, but immediately felt bad for the thought. The order was stretched thin with the war, more and more battles kept popping up and not enough of you to fight them. You were at war, you weren't meant to be comfortable, but you hated the cold, you always have. And you hated the fighting, not because you weren't good at it, you were a jedi you had to be, but because your heart was never in it. The disruption and chaos that rippled in the force from it felt like constant pin pricks all over your skin as so many things called out for your attention through it and always made you feel suffocated. As a padawan your training had been more focused on the gathering and protecting of information, studying and learning things about the galaxy not running around and fighting to keep the peace like the others. You found more reward in the archives than on distant planets or successful missions. But all of that was in the past, in a time of peace, now it was nothing but a distant dream in the midst of wartime for you.
Thoughts wandering into the nostalgia of past as you trudged along on the frozen muddy earth, you didn't quite register the feeling of a pin prick of iciness against the swell of your right cheek that faded nearly as quickly as it was felt as the cause melted against the heat of your cheek that burned against the cold. Subconsciously though, you felt a shiver at the feeling and pulled your hood closer to your face, just glad that the jedi order provided you with items that regulated your body heat nicely against the biting weather.
You paused in your path however, as that thought repeated in your mind, and your tired brain finally registered the frozen fluff falling around you, the ones meeting your face and melting, and the ones making their homes along the outside of your coat. You'd only experienced the snow a handful of times, and you never truly could figure out if you liked it. You disliked the cold, yes, but with snow- a bit like with the rain- the force quieted. Unlike the rain though with its full pause in quiet serenity akin to taking a deep breath after a long day, the snow seemed to cause the force to buzz just slightly, like the quiet static of a comm in between messages, nothing grating, but a soft background noise that swirled around you and made you take in the burning cold air and watching the plume of frozen breath disperse in the air as if to take your stress along with it.
You stood still and watched the flurries fall around you, almost languidly, and couldn’t help but smile, their unhurried pace bringing forth a welcoming calm after so many stressful days. In the low light of the camp with the haze brought on by the falling snow you found the memory of the first time you truly experienced snow surfacing.
You had been assigned to a simple mission: transport provisions to an older temple in the Mid Rim that was home to only a handful of Jedi Masters and to collect a crate of ancient texts to be looked over and restored at the temple on Coruscant. At the time you were still younger, only having completed your trials and becoming a jedi knight a few years prior, and this was the first longer mission that you’d been assigned. You weren’t the only one going on the mission however, as the council had heard rumors of pirates having been circling that area of the Mid Rim they saw that it may be more beneficial to send along help just in case there was a conflict. The help had been in the form of your closest friend and also recently knighted jedi- a year after you which you still teased him endlessly about, Obi-Wan Kenobi, and his young padawan, Anakin Skywalker, which you had been immensely happy about as you never really got to see either of the two very much- the council seeming keen on keeping young Skywalker out of the temple often, leading to him and Obi-Wan to rarely even have time for a simple chat.
The whole trip took the three of you roughly a week to complete, four of the days had been spent traveling to the planet and back to Coruscant after spending three days on the planet to unload the requested provisions, pack away the books and scrolls for the trip back, and to of course refuel. All in all the trip was easy, calm, and in Anakin’s words, “boring as kriff,” of which Obi-Wan chastised him for such foul language for a jedi learner, but you could only laugh at both Anakin’s antics and Obi-Wan’s resulting exasperation. You and Anakin did seem to be on the same page about one thing however, and that had been complaining over how cold the planet had been. The planet itself had been situated farthest from its system’s star, resulting in a freezing atmosphere and barren surface. The only hospitable places being those deep underground near natural hot springs from the depths of the planet’s core. You did find that you liked the planet in its quiet beauty, the nearly untouched blues and whites of frozen mountains were quite picturesque, as well as the surrounding silence through the force of few living creatures on the planet disrupted and created a studious calm, one you wished you could bottle up and take back to Coruscant for the days where the billions of life forms flowing so near each other in the force caused you to be distracted in your work and occasionally cause lasting migraines you still were working to control. But as nice as the silence and the landscape were, one thing overpowered any thoughts of staying, the constant feeling of never being warm enough, the tips of your fingers almost constantly being numb, the ever present need to wear thick clothes and a coat, the freezing cold that chilled you to your bones.
You found yourself jealous over Obi-Wan’s nonchalant state over the temperatures however. He walked around as if the cold didn’t bother him, even though the tips of his ears and nose were constantly a rosy pink color. You cursed him in your head and shot daggers at him anytime he teased you over your shivering state. Anakin however, your little hero, always stuck up for you and seemed to find ways to get back at Obi-Wan for all his teasing even if it meant harsher training sessions the for himself, of which truly wasn’t anything harsh, just longer periods of meditation typically, which little Anakin loathed.
Most of your days on the mission had been spent watching the back and forth between Obi-Wan and Anakin, recognizing just how like brothers the two of them acted. Your heart warmed at the sight even if something in the back of your mind kept echoing the melancholy of loneliness and the wanting to have someone close to you, wishing to care for and be cared by another however against the jedi ways it was. Even with the creeping loneliness, you continued watching the two, through meals, lessons, and even nights. You couldn’t help it, something about seeing Obi-Wan’s everlasting patience and care for the young boy stirred warmth in your heart. It was his gentleness, how he stooped to Anakin’s level to speak with him, how he praised even the smallest accomplishment in his training, in seeing him comfort Anakin from nightmares in the dead of night when he himself was still half asleep after being awoken. Everything was bringing back the soft affections you had for Obi-Wan as children that you had thought you had long since let go.
Those feelings came back quickly and so strongly that you had found yourself spending your nights sleeplessly wandering the ancient temple’s library, browsing the yellowing pages and letting the echoes of the past connected to the writing wrap around you in quiet mumbled and incomprehensible words through the force. But most nights as the quiet echoed around you louder than anything back on Coruscant, you couldn’t stop your mind from pushing its way back to thoughts of Obi-Wan. Since his knighting, he’d started to let his hair grow out, the ends curling against the tops of his ears and the back of his neck in soft waves, making your heart sing with want to rake your fingers through it, to hold it softly between your finger while those jewel colored eyes echoed back the affections you harbored for him. Your mind also wandered to neatly grown out facial hair he was letting curve around his jaw and hide the youngness of his face, to make him appear more mature and worthy of his status as a jedi knight and worthy enough to be training a padawan of his own, something you knew he still struggled with in the absence of the man he looked up to most, his late master, Qui Gon Jinn.
It was on the third and last night of your stay on the planet that found you wandering away from the scattered library and to the door of the temple, too lost in thought to really notice where your wanderings had led you until you found pause as the force started to light up in a soft static. Glancing out a carved window, for the first time you watched as snow lazily drifted towards the frozen ground, drifting in the slow wind and building up and layering on top of eachother blanketing the ice below. For the first time in several nights you found your thoughts blank, almost meditative in your paused state of just watching, observing the delicate dance of each falling flake.
You weren’t sure how long you stood there frozen like the rest of the planet, frozen in the moment in time, but you were eventually broken from your revelry by a whispered voice to your right.
“You know, if I didn’t know any better, I’d believe that this is the first time you’ve seen snow.”
Having not noticed his approach, too absorbed in the blank trance circling your mind and buzzing soft static of the force, you startled slightly turning to find amused blue depths watching you. Feeling a bit embarrassed you turned back to the window, replying in a similarly quiet tone that had an edge of wonder, “It is the first time I’ve seen snow.” Pausing you hummed before you continued as you could feel his gaze watching you questioningly, “Well, I guess not technically the first time I have seen snow, there was piles of the stuff on Ilum when I took the trip to retrieve a crystal for my saber, but…this….this I’ve never gotten the chance to witness.”
When you had turned back to glance at Obi-Wan his eyes had softened from amusement to an emotion you could not place as he studied your features for a moment before turning back to the window to watch the snow fall. You watched him watch the falling of the flakes for a few seconds before turning to watch again yourself, the quiet swirling between you both before Obi-Wan broke it once more.
“There’s not much I remember of my home planet, I am not even really sure that the few things I think I may remember are true…..but one of the things I think I remember is that there was snow. I remember flashes of running around in it, playing games with young friends- maybe even siblings- and a warm joy whenever I glanced out the window and saw the ground littered in white.”
The quiet admission caught you slightly off guard, making you look back to Obi-Wan catching a few seconds of a reminiscing thoughtfulness written on his face. Obi-Wan had never talked about his home world, never shared stories about it when you and the others gathered in circles as younglings and spoke of what little you could remember. For much of your younger days you’d just assumed that he’d been born on Coruscant and home wasn’t as out of reach as everyone else’s, until one night as padawans you’d both snuck from your rooms to the temple gardens and under the starry sky he’d pointed at one and told you that was his home.
Now though, your heart ached as he shared the memory he had obviously held so guarded for so long, opening himself to you in almost a deeper way than he ever had before. But before you could get too caught up in that thought he turned and smiled at you, saying, “Come on, you need the full first impression.”
Gently he led you out the door, pulling you along until you stood a hundred or so feet from the temple. Holding your hand out once you stopped, you huffed a quiet laugh as snow floated down and landed in your palm, melting on contact. Looking up, you see Obi-Wan’s fond gaze taking you in as you say, “It tickles almost when it lands on your skin and melts so quickly.”
Obi-Wan laughs at your almost childlike wonder and just watches as you continue to let the snowflakes wet your palm and as you lift your face to the sky watching them fall down towards you in twirling paths. You grinned as the snow dampened your face slowly, leaching heat from your chilling figure, taking joy in the fact that you could stand longer in this weather than rain without getting drenched.
When you finally turned back to Obi-Wan you found that he hadn’t moved his gaze from you, watching you with the same fond smile as if he didn’t want to miss a second of witnessing you experience something so simple for the first time and finding happiness in your own joy. From his own still watching, you could see unmelted fluffs of white decorating his honeyed hair and a few dotting his beard. He seemed to almost glow in the surrounding white and with the frozen drops decorating his appearance you think that you could easily mistaken him for deity, one who’s home was amongst the snow and ice as they fell and claimed him as theirs now. But what truly caught your attention however, was the few pieces of snow latched to his lashes, framing his bright, warm blue gaze in a contrasting ice.
You found yourself being drawn closer to him, and the closer you got the more you felt a tell-tale brush of warmth within the force that you only ever have felt when you were around Obi-Wan. The warmth was always paired with the soft emotion filled look in his gaze, the one you could never place, or never let yourself place in fear of what you might find it to be, but now as you inched closer you couldn’t let yourself be afraid of it as your heart thudded in your chest, as you felt your own warmth reaching out in the force meeting his and swirling together until each were indiscernible from the other in a way you felt it never would be again. As your the toes of your boots bumped into his own, your eyes danced between his own, letting your walls down, allowing your emotions to fill you as you finally let yourself see the mystery emotion affection finally as it swirled Obi-Wan’s gaze as he met your own eyes, refusing to look away for a second as, to wrapped in the bubble of warmth dancing around the two of you, separating you both from the world outside.
Softly and ever so slowly he raised a hand and rested it on your cheek, his palm warming the iciness as he whispered, his face inching closer as your own followed suit, “You’re freezing, darling, you need to get inside.”
A shaky breath left your lips as they brushed his own at the closeness as you replied, “Just a few more minutes ....please.”
It was as you remembering how your eyes fluttered shut and how Obi-Wan’s calloused hand smoothed against your cheek that you were pulled from your memory, the present flooding back into your awareness all at once as you felt a hand on your shoulder and a worried voice ask in a tone that seemed as if the question had been asked repeatedly already, “General, are you alright?”
Lowering your head from where it had been angled towards the sky, you forced a small smile to your face as you met your clone commander’s helmeted gaze. “I am fine, Pollux, just…just tired.”
“General you're shaking from the cold, how long have you been out here,” he asked as he started leading you towards your tent.
With a sigh and a shake of your head, as you trailed beside him, “Would you believe me if I said only for a few moments?”
“Not for a second, sir.”
You let out a small laugh, interrupted by a larger shiver, before saying, “Join me for a cup of tea, Pollux? I have the feeling we both could use the warmth….and I would rather like the company.”
As the two of you reached your tent, Pollux pulled off his helmet and nodded, fatigue echoing on his face, “That sounds lovely, though you must promise to rest afterwards.”
Smiling, you laugh softly again replying teasingly, your smile coming easier now, “Always worried about me and my health, Commander.”
As he entered the tent he shot back a quick, “Someone has to be, sir.”
Before you entered though, you glanced skyward once more, letting another snowflake leave an icy kiss on your cheek as the lingering warmth from the memory finally leaves you and you enter your tent.
#obi wan x reader#this one isnt necessarily angsty more so just melancholic/reminiscing of old fond memories#idk ik o said on the last one i was gonna leave it but i keep thinking/rereading rain so i had to continue or id go insane lol#id say im leaving it alone at this one but i probably wont#plus it feels as if i need a true ending for the story now#(which i do already have a plan for ig i just need to share/write it)#anyway i hope you liked this one too#also this is brought to you by me listening to the night we met on repeat#thanks for reading#also commander pollux is my clone oc and he shows up in alot of my thoughts#i love him hes one of the best :)
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got back from the most emotionally exhausting thanksgiving break of my life this morning n realized i have two papers due in the next two weeks - three if you count the late one i need to edit, format, and submit - as well as an oral exam, and then the week after that my poetry portfolio for the semester is due and the day after that i have my final written exam and then three to four days after that i drive back home (to my parents and their failing marriage) with a friend and then five days after that is christmas and four days after that i get top surgery and a week after that i have my post-op appointment and not two weeks after that i come back up to school to start my spring semester! and through all of this i have to like. eat meals and budget and exist in the presence of other people.
#also ! found out AT THANKSGIVING DINNER from my grandma that my grandpa has dementia !#so . it is going !#badly!#but!!!! i have poems to write for class !!!!!!!!#and then an essay to work on!#so i am tabling all of my stress and grief and exhaustion and overwhelm to do that studying! and i will continue to do so until i go home!#at which point i will be cohabitating with the primary source of my grief and exhaustion!#and also getting a MAJOR SURGERY#and the last time i got a major surgery my dad texted me in between bombarding my mother with texts and phone calls#to tell me that he was deleting and blocking her contact !#and then like The Week After That he was gonna walk out for a night .#so i am not counting on an easy recovery :)#BUT ANY . WAYS .#time to go write some poems .#speak
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there should be a whole science behind what counts as a jeff caused injury. because let's say i slipped on the pavement and fell (completely fictional scenario. definitely did not happen 10 minutes ago)
does it count as a jeff caused injury if i was listening to jeff's songs? i do get distracted when listening to him
what about if i was just thinking about him? then i'm definitely distracted but does it count as the cause?
if the first two don't count separately then what about if i was both listening and thinking about jeff? do they add up to a full cause?
#actually WAS i thinking about jeff??#i think it was more jeff-kimchay thoughts#does that count as a kimchay induced injury?#because i left comments on a couple of kimchay fics by the same author last night and they were super nice to me in the replies!!#they're lovely#and i would have followed them on tumblr already but i don't think they have a tumblr? just a twitter#and i COULD follow them on twitter#i have a fandom account#it's actually the only account i really use but whatever#but like#how does twitter work#because here i can just continue screaming at the author in the tags and that's it#but twitter doesn't have tags like tumblr does?? and i really hate the idea of quote tweeting#and is that even what people use quote tweeting for?#twitter confuses me and i don't want to learn#i'm just there to retweet fanart a couple of jeff photos every once in a while (i'm not gonna be unhinged on an app WHERE HE IS ON TOO)#i mean i am convinced he's also on tumblr but if he goes to the jeff satur side of tumblr that's on him and not on me#and also to save jeff photos and videos#wait where was i going with this?#oh yeah twitter confuses me and i don't know how to use it and i'm not willing to learn#jeff satur#tea's ramblings
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.
#look i have no idea where i stand on the idea of heaven (or indeed afterlives and whatnot)#as an agnostic person raised v v v lutheran#(aka my mom worked at our church and my first two jobs were w the church—first helping in the kitchen and then in the nursery w the babies)#(and i was also in the choir to sing and the bell choir playing the itty bitty handbells at the highest octaves)#(basically my siblings and i were at the church pretty much every day of the week)#BUT. TO CEASE WITH RAMBLING.#my eldest brother died eight years ago (we realized my older brother is now the age our eldest brother was when he died)#and it doesn’t really affect me much anymore. i still miss him but it’s not awful yknow?#you never stop missing them but it gets easier to live without them etc etc#however this morning i woke up w depression bc the brain chemistry said ‘ha fuck you’#but i remember i had a dream last night about my eldest brother and the only thing from that dream that i remember#is him hugging me. like a huge fucking bear hug like i haven’t had since he died.#and i have been a Mess all day as a result bc fucking hell thats what i needed#just a huge fucking bear hug from him#ANYWAY. i have two thousand words to cut from this edit letter due tomorrow so byeee gonna go continue to be a Mess
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feeling a lot more stable about everything, i decided to forego keeping a bandaid on because my fucking skin cannot take the adhesives for that long omg itches so bad around them
I have a plan in place to replace the bandaids should i require not needing to see my elbow again about it, but i also wanted to see for myself how bad it was.
BOY HOWDY do I bruise purty. That shit is dark where it's not already going greenyellow. looks like I put a sharpie in a chokehold and barely managed to wrangle it into submission like damn.
#i am probably going to have us put on a replacement bandage over the bruising because it's honestly yeah a little distressing to see#but i no longer feel like it's going to explode open and spurt blood everywhere if i'm not careful and that's important#this would be easier if we were like one solid continuous consciousness but unfortunately we're not#and for anyone who wasn't there during the cause of the Visible Injury having a visible injury suddenly be a lot worse#than what you were anticipating based on what the last person who looked at it remembers (let alone was just expecting in general)#(because lets face it i've not bruised this badly after a poke before. i think the closest was the IV for sedation before i got my#wisdom teeth taken out) and if you're maybe significantly younger than most of the rest of the soup in the bowl at the time it can y'know#freak a guy out a little which is what happened yesterday/last night#i'm glad i'm not navigating this without the context of being several opossums in a trenchcoat because that would be i think even more#distressing than it already has been. it keeps embarrassment for uncharacteristic freakouts to a minimum at least#gonna try and let it breathe for a bit and just kind of chill out with the elbow exposed a little to hopefully help#both with like acclimation to the sight and also maybe the cool air will help it feel better.#but also like i just cannot do that much bandage adhesive on my skin for that long it is so itchy around where i was wearing them augh#doesn't help my upper arm where my vaccines went look like i got bit by the worlds largest skeeter like damn#miecz posting#garrett posting
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my dream life is so weird its like an alternate reality version of my real life that im forced to go back to every night and most of the time it's worse than my real life
#my dreams are so weird to talk abt bc ive never met anyone who dreams like me#my dreams are literally like living my life but in an alternate reality where things are the same but slightly different#and things i dream abt in previous nights will come back up as continued 'storylines' in other nights#anyway last night i dreamt i was like extremely late to my therapy appointment so im gonna make sure im not late today in real life#its also rlly weird bc i will dream of my pets the night they pass away before i know it actually happened#it happened with rui it happened with kohane it happened with pepper and im pretty sure it happened with poppy too#its so fucking weird
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haate handling lots of cash. guy gave me a $100 bill for a ten dolar purchase & ik i did the change correctly but im like still mildly terrified i handed him an extra 20 or something -_-
#gonna have 2 triple check when i close tonight... bluhhhh.#txt#anyway HI how r we all. im so tireddd & grumpy u would not believe!#also apparently my unsettling dreams about being extrajudicially executed via shot to the back of the head last night continue to leave#their gross unsettling dream residue all over my day today... who would have guessed -_-
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this next period im gonna get soon is going to wreck me bc i’ve never cried so much over random things like i have this past week lol
#kai.rambles#i usually already get super emotional before my period but this week dude?!?!?#i’ve cried over food#cried over small situations#cried from seeing vids on tiktok of dogs just doing doggy things#alex’s recent fic has popped in and out of my head multiple times at the most inconvenient times and ive cried each time#if you see this pls know that i will go back to your page soon to read the being stuck in the tundra w/ kats one soon-#it’s just i feel im gonna cry again when i read it so im waiting a bit BUT I WILL READ IT I PROMISE 🥹#anyways ive cried over bkg still being dead but that’s normal at this point#even cried about my new comm last night bc it’s so pretty#where i live we have a lot of macaws flying around and they are very loyal to their partners and will sit on random places calling out to-#their lover so they can find eachother and continue flying together if one stays a little behind#and one did that right outside my window on one of the mango trees and it was so beautiful to see one so close that i also cried when i saw-#them reunite and fly off together :(((#long story short ive been a crybaby all week 🥲
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