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psychedelic-ink · 1 year

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𝑰 𝑵𝑬𝑬𝑫 𝒀𝑶𝑼 𝑻𝑶 𝑻𝑬𝑳𝑳 𝑴𝑬 𝑻𝑯𝑨𝑻 𝑰'𝑴 𝑮𝑶𝑶𝑫

pairing: tommy miller x fem!reader

genre: smut, soft enemies to lovers, minors dni

word count: 3.4k

summary: when you met him the first time him and his brother was your captor, months later he becomes yours, and quickly after that he become a resident of Jackson. You've already forgiven him for his past, but he's not happy with how eager you are to excuse what he's done.

warnings: tommy having a hero complex, tommy lashing out, piv sex, time skips, oral (giving & receiving)

a/n: the format I've written this in is inspired by @littlemisspascal 's getting lost is being found joel fic, which I highly recommend by the way it was amazing, one of my favorite things ever 💜

The world went to shit, well joke on the world, your life was already shit long before outbreak day.

It wasn’t for a lack of trying. Nothing just seemed to work out for you. But then all hell broke loose and suddenly it felt like you were off the hook, that you could be someone else, someone you always wanted to be. Someone that you knew you were. Before all this, you were just hurt, felt broken, but still smiled and went about your day. You tried to be good. Tried to be nice. For the most part, you like to think that you succeeded.

You became a guide. Somewhat similar to Charon, if you spared yourself the thought but instead of guiding the dead to Hades, you guided the living away from it. Things went smooth for the most part, you helped people where they needed to go, killed infected, shot down those who shot first. It was the oddest type of freedom that you felt.

But life had other plans, and life loved to point its middle finger right into your face.

It’s a dad and his two kids this time, you were helping them get to the nearest QZ. You cut the fence, helped them through, you knew hunters were lurking nearby, people who survived on killing and stealing—vultures.

You feel a tight grip on your neck and you’re being violently pulled back. The kids look back at you with horror lingering in their eyes, the dad eager to pull them away. With a deep breath, you manage to force out a smile.

“Go!” you shout. “You’re almost there!”

And they run, they run as fast as they can.

“Fuck!” you hear one of them say, a deep souther drawl heavy in your ear. “Shit, they got away. They had good weapons on them too.”

“At least we got the one,” the man that holds you answers. “Let’s go back, see what this one has.”

“Let me the fuck go!” you struggle, attempting to elbow him in the stomach. “You fucking assholes. They were fucking kids.”

Finally one comes into view, he’s broad—broad enough to stun you into silence. The fear of death lurks around your heart, sucking you into a black pit of realizing that this might be it. He has a glare that could kill, a hooked nose, and, most importantly, a gun. This man, you notice, this man would kill you in a heartbeat. He gives you one last once-over before tilting his head to the other holding you down.

“Knock her out, Tommy.”

ii.

It’s late. Far too late for anyone to be awake. The embers of the crackling fire had died down, only specks of golden orange shimmering between the ash. You’ve learned the names of your captors; Tommy and Joel. Brothers, you assumed, they didn’t really have to spell it out for it to be obvious.

You’re not sure why you’re still alive. You remember Joel muttering something about using you as bait, or to learn more about the routes that you seemed to know. Tommy had agreed.

In another life, another time, you would’ve deemed the men attractive. Especially Tommy. He had a boyish charm to him, longer hair compared to his brother (those poor dark locks had definitely seen better days), and mussed unkempt facial hair indicating that they’d been at this for a long time. You understand, to a degree, why someone might choose this to survive. Some people just didn’t know what else to do. Some people simply enjoyed it; the power, the freedom, the giddiness of not having a system to say no.

From what you understand, these two just had no idea what else to do. Too far off to reach a QZ, or they simply don’t trust FEDRA, whatever it is they seem to have made a life for themselves neither of them looked happy to be in.

Your eyes fall to where Joel is sleeping, Tommy’s on watch, which makes you somewhat hopeful, you don’t have the strength to piss off Joel—Tommy you can take a chance with, he seemed softer. Softer like a rose, pricking you if you’re too lax and not careful enough.

You’ve been captured before, and due to that, it doesn’t take long for you to free yourself from the hard ropes they tied you in. You hold your breath as you move away from the camp, careful not to step on any branches or rubble. You see Tommy ahead, he’s looking at you, the moonlight reflecting in his eyes. You expect him to shoot, to chase after you.

He continues to stare as you disappear into the night.

ii.

You see a lot of dead bodies by the riverbed. Some infected, some not. You think about turning around, walking back to where you came from but before you can make a decision you’re surrounded. Your hands rise instantly, not wanting to cause trouble. Multiple rifles are pointed directly at you, and you notice a cute black dog but you have an inkling you won’t be feeling the same in a couple of minutes.

“I’m not here to cause trouble,” you say, the cold seeping through your jacket. “Just lost. I’m not infected.”

“Naive for you to think we’ll believe you,” one of the horsemen answers. “You mind if we test that out?”

You didn’t mind, but even if you did, you doubt you have any say in the matter. The dog comes forward, ears pressed against his skull, and you instinctively reach out your hand. You can’t really feel the wetness of his nose, but you can imagine it as he presses into your gloved palm. A moment later he starts wagging his tail.

A horse, along with its rider, steps up and everyone looks nervously at the equestrian. You straighten yourself and notice that even the dog pulls away, the energy she has demands respect, and oozes power. You swallow, looking up at her with both amusement and fear.

"You can come with us," she says, and without hesitation, one of the men helps you up onto the horse they're riding. Your hands fumble nervously as you grab onto the horse's shoulders, trying to steady yourself.

You’re not dead yet so you must be doing something right.

iv.

You trudge through the biting snow, your skin prickles with cold and the relentless flakes melt as soon as they touch your skin. You shudder. The cold is almost unbearable, but everyone has to pull their weight, no exceptions. Narrowing your eyes,, you spot a lone figure struggling in the snow. The way he moves is sluggish and ungainly, like a snail inching its way along a path.

With a sharp whistle, you signal to your companions to follow. They circle around the body with hesitation; it’s a man, a man that is somewhat familiar to you. The stranger groans and turns to his back, chest heaving heavily, you notice the tremble of his lips, the redness of his nose. You even notice the build-up of snow in his hair.

You know him. You have no idea how he ended up all the way here, but you know him. Getting off the horse, you shake your head. You don't know him, not really. You only know his name and what he represents.

Ian approaches, his eyes questioning as he asks, "What should we do? Should we leave him?"

“I know him,” you say, a hint of amusement in your voice due to the irony. “Let’s take him in. I’ll talk to Maria.”

His eyes flutter open, a brief expression of confusion appearing on his features. You can’t help but lean over a bit, hands placed on your hips.

“You’re not dead yet. Don’t worry.”

But as soon as the words leave your lips, Tommy loses consciousness.

He’s alone at the bar. He’s always alone.

Initially, Maria was reluctant to let Tommy stay, but for some reason, you vouched for him. You deeply believe that everyone deserves a second chance. A slightly foolish, maybe even childish, thought on your part but you can’t help it. In his eyes you only see parts of a broken man, his belief in the world shattered and gone with the wind.

Tommy struggles with socializing. He says hi and good morning but that’s pretty much all anyone can get out of him. You’re the only one who knows he has a brother, what he’s done. He’s especially annoyed when you’re around, which you think is a little bit unfair but you digress. He does what he’s told and handy with most things—which is lucky for you, you would hear a handful if he couldn’t do anything.

You want to talk to him, you have ever since you first saw him again. Hoping that this time it’ll be different, you sit near him not next to him. There are two empty seats between you two.

“Hi,” you greet him, he doesn’t look at you. In fact, he doesn’t acknowledge you at all. “How are you?”

No answer.

“You’re not having any issues right? You know, heating, water pressure, all that jazz.”

You’re not surprised at the least when he gets up and leave, not a word uttered. He pushes past the crowd and disappears through the door, into the cold. Unlike other times, this is the first instance where anger simmers hot in your gut. You’ve been nothing but patient. But not tonight. He’s going to talk to you whether he likes it or not.

With anger in your steps, you storm out. Luckily, he’s not far. You find him staring up at the undecorated Christmas tree. Normally, you would find it a somber sight, but you’re too frustrated to think about how good he looks with snow falling around him.

“Tommy!” you yell out, and he flinches, head snapping to you with wide eyes. “What the hell is your deal?”

“My deal?” he answers, voice eerily smooth and calm. “I should be fuckin’ asking you that.”

You’re standing an inch from him, the cold biting into your skin. “My deal? I’ve been nothing but nice to you. Wouldn’t wanna play that card but may I remind you that you’re fucking alive because of me? You could at least not be an asshole.”

“Sure you wanna go that route sweetheart? Because I could easily say the same thing for you.”

That night—the night that you escaped, so he did see you. All this time you convinced yourself that it was your eyes playing tricks in the dark. You shake your head, wanting to dislodge the moment from your mind.

“That still doesn’t answer my question,” you hiss. “Why are you avoiding me? I just want to talk.”

“Just leave me the fuck alone. You shouldn’t want to talk to me— someone like you… It ain’t normal. I should’ve died that night. I didn’t ask you to fuckin’ save me.”

You’re taken aback by the silent rage but refuse to show him the effect he has. The only indication that his words had any kind of result is when you take a step back, allowing him some semblance of space.

“You’re right, you didn’t,” you say softly, slowly. His gaze bores into you. “But I did. And you’re here. I didn’t save you that night to just make a point of who’s the better person. As you said, you allowed me to go that night—thank you by the way—but what are you going to do, just not talk to me? Ignore me? I don’t think that’s fair for either of us.”

You stand frozen as Tommy takes a step closer, his breath hot against your skin.

"What do you want from me?" he growls, his voice low and threatening.

You try to take a step back but he follows, closing the gap between you. You can feel the heat emanating from his body, a stark contrast to the frigid air around you. His lips curl into a slight sneer, and you can't help but feel a slight twinge of fear.

"You're always so nice, aren't you?" he says, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "But what do you really want? You want me to be your little pet? Fixing me up like some broken toy. Well, newsflash, sweetheart, I'm not broken. I'm just fine the way I am."

"That’s not—" you say, your voice barely above a whisper. "That wasn’t my intention at all. The world is shit, I just didn’t want to add to it."

Tommy scoffs, his eyes glinting with anger. "But you did by keeping me alive. I did horrible things, things you can’t even imagine. So don't pretend like you understand me, because you don't."

“I know the shit you did Tommy. I was almost one of your victims, remember?”

His eyes drop to the ground, the fire in his eyes finally fading. He takes a quick step back, shoulder slumped, he shakes his head.

“I remember. There ain’t a day I don’t remember the shit I’ve done—we’ve done with my brother.”

Tommy gives you one last look before walking away, “I don’t need your pity.”

Half an hour later, you’re still standing there under the snow, completely alone.

vi.

It’s a dance almost. You find different ways for Tommy to communicate with you. You unlock his anger, his disappointment, his need to be good—the hero, if you will. But to be fair, you can’t take all the credit. It was mostly due to him, you got too close, and he got too frustrated. It was a brief moment of lips touching, then it quickly turned into a desperate ask for submission. You were eager to give, he hated that. Hated that you could when he couldn’t.

You know that there’s a high chance of other things lingering below the surface, things that he probably hadn’t dared to address himself.

In the privacy of your bedroom, you’re on your knees for him. Sucking on the tip of his cock eagerly as he stands upright, his hands are firsts that are stuck to his sides. This isn’t the first time, it isn’t the last. By the way salty precum coats your tongue, you know he’s enjoying himself. He has to be, if he wasn’t this wouldn’t be happening.

You figure that he enjoys fighting against it until he breaks. When he surrenders himself to it, to the pleasure, to the primal need to take, he pins you down and fucks you with everything he has. All his frustration seeps into you, each stroke deeper than the next. You enjoy that he’s rough, you enjoy feeling the lingering sting on your skin long after he leaves.

Looking up, you swallow him further down. He’s not overly thick but long, the dark curls at the base trimmed but still looking untouched. Tommy thrusts forward, the head of his cock brushing the back of your throat. Your nostrils flare as your lungs convulse with the need to cough, he notices but doesn’t pull back. Instead, you feel two hands cradling the back of your neck, pulling you further down his length, making you take him whole.

Your eyes go wide and squeeze shut right after. You feel him throbbing in your throat and you swallow, again and again, which prompts him to drag his cock out slightly only to bury himself back into your throat. Your jaw aches, spit dripping down the corners of your lips as you flatten your tongue over the underside of his cock. A faint growl echoes from the back of his throat, you swallow again, he fucks your mouth as he would your wet cunt. Tears flood your lashline, you can barely breathe. Your throat tightens around him.

“Fuck, don’t close your eyes,” he grunts, the dark curls at the base tickling your nose. “Look at me. Look at me like you always do.”

The Look, is something that you still don’t quite understand. He says it often, telling you to look at him the way that you do, but you emphasize nothing special when you do end up looking at him. It’s just your normal gaze. He only asks for it when he’s inside you.

You slowly open your eyes, your lashes wet and stuck together. His thumb smooths over the patch of skin right under your eye, his chest stutters, muscles growing taut under your gaze.

Ironically, he closes his eyes and lifts his head as if staring at the ceiling. He doesn’t utter another word after that, your lips raw from the way he thrust forward. You feel the twitch of his cock, thick ropes sliding down your throat. You never tire of the taste of him. Not sweet, not bitter. You enjoy the brief moment he forgets where he is, that soft noise escaping his lips, the juvenile way his thighs shake—those are the things that make you ache for the taste of him. You’re an addict.

But so is he.

vii.

Your palms press into the smooth surface of the bar counter. Tommy lurks behind you, cock pressing inside, fingers making dents into your warm skin. It’s late into the night, you’re not sure of the exact time but you know it’s late. His one hand slips between your legs, he feels how wet you are, how needy you get for him. He presses a finger to your clit, the pads of the digits moving in deft circles.

A sharp moan parts your lips, back arching as he pounds into you, the sound of skin against skin loud, yet not enough to pierce the sound of the snowstorm outside. A dose of pleasure buzzes through your veins, electricity crackling across your skin as you feel his length press deep inside. His fingers grasp your throat, pulling you up until his lips tickle your ear. He heaves, his warm breath fanning your skin.

“Tell me I’m a good person,” he chokes out. “Please.”

“You’re good,” you answer slightly out of breath. You touch his neck, the position slightly straining but worth it when he holds you tighter. “Such a good man—and I mean that.”

Your eyes widen with shock when he slides his tongue into your mouth. Tommy doesn’t kiss you often, if at all, but it lights a fire under your stomach. It burns you from the inside out, the smoke of it making your mind spin. Your eyes flutter close and you take a deep breath, he grinds his hips, your insides pulsing around him.

“I don’t care even if you’re lyin’—”

He releases you and you stumble forward, hands finding purchase on the bar counter once more. But you can’t hold your position for long, not with the way he’s hammering into you, reducing you into a babbling mess. Your hands slide, your upper body completely falling over. Tommy doesn’t pause, he doesn’t even slow down. He presses you further into the surface.

“Because I know that you are.”

Tommy suddenly pulls out, a sharp gasp rips from your throat, your cunt clenching around nothing. Before you can protest, however, he turns you over and pushes you. He kneels between your legs, lips finding the tender folds of your pussy.

Your head falls back when he licks into you eagerly, tasting himself and your arousal. His groans vibrate against you, your thighs threaten to close, the meat of them pressing into both sides of his face.

His lips press against your clit, suckling and teasing it in a way that drives you wild. His tongue moves in circles as he pushes two fingers, curling them and applying pressure. Without a second thought, you fingers thread his hair, tugging him closer. Arousal pools between your legs.

Your breathing becomes labored and your body starts to shake. Your eyes roll back as your entire body shakes. Your hips buck against him as he continues to bring you over the edge, your cries of pleasure echoing off the walls of the bar.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, you collapse against the bar counter, your body still shaking from the intensity of the orgasm. You can feel your skin tingling, your heart pounding and your head spinning. Tommy stands, a hint of pride lingering in his dark eyes. You continue to breathe and watch as he fists himself, the tip of his cock a shade darker when he comes thick ropes over your stomach. You hiss at the heat, the feeling of having a part of him staining you.

Tommy pulls up his pants, and you notice as you get dressed, he’s avoiding your gaze. You’re too satisfied to care. He licks his lips, which you found was a nervous habit he has and offers you his arm. You hadn’t expected it, but indulge in the gesture by taking it.

“Let’s get out of here before someone sees us.”

#tommy miller x reader #tommy miller x you #tommy miller x f!reader #hbo the last of us #the last of us hbo #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction

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x-birdsong-x · 6 months

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overly specific house dog au headcanons? spill some?

I can try and fit in one post everyone I've settled completely on so far, and also be obnoxious about dog breeds. fun

I've also bothered @greghatecrimes with a lot of these so very big thanks to them for helping me settle on breeds for everyone <3

It's when I've settled on a "base breed" with dogs that sometimes things just go crazy and go from there

Start with the most overly unnecessarily detailed one here you go:

Adams is the oddest most fantasy mixed breed of ALL fucking time her parents are one Belgian Tervuren and one Borzoi x Ibizan Hound and she appeared so much Tervuren that it’s just possible to miss that she’s got any sighthound(s) in her.

She’s very pointy and very leggy but she is very long-furred and that's where the mistakes come from. She moves mostly with the gaits of her sighthound sides which the others find is an easy way to make her bristle. She’s prancing across the room and Chase says you move like a sighthound and she says no I don’t (yes she does)

Park is a Silken Windsprite:

Probably struggles in snow and sometimes has to jump and jump to get through it when it's really deep but Adams mumbles that it’s cute and that's Fight invitation. Park brings up that Adams gets snowballs stuck on her and that it takes hours to melt out of her fur. ("Fuck you!" - "Do it yourself!") It's probably fair to say she has some little dog syndrome.

Chase is an Australian Shepherd. House probably used to make comments about he and Cameron both being Merle:

Cameron is a Border Collie:

Probably does the Collie Crouch sometimes. Absolutely does the Collie Stare, and that would come into House's "you can't actually pierce me with your eyes" moments.

Foreman is a Central Asian Shepherd:

For a slight visual similarity to how I imagine post-Lockdown Angst Cameron might feel meeting Masters, Masters is a Nova Scotia Duck Tolling Retriever:

Probably has what I call in the groomers "Smart Breed Anxiety" along with her autism swag. Dogs who listen to and seem to understand every word you say and if you're telling someone or another pet off for anything, they assume they're the one you're talking to and give all their guilty looks. Also using my Bluebear as reference with that visual.

Thirteen is a Utonagan!!! No other visual!!! Have such a canine visual of The Dig it's insane.

Wilson of course took Golden Retriever:

House is a Scottish Deerhound, mixed with what? He doesn't know. Wants to know. Very easy to miss that he's a cross:

(Little Rachel rode on his back for a bit once.)

Speaking of, Rachel is a little pupper Sheltie (Natalie) x English Shepherd (Simon) but she barely shows any Shep traits when it comes to looks:

Rachel's a mini-me of her mama, Cuddy took Rough Collie:

Kutner is a Springer Spaniel x Large Münsterländer, leaning more looks-wise toward the latter and leaning energy-level toward the former:

Taub is a Beagle, Chihuahuas are just too small for one of the main characters in my little visual I'm afraid:

Rachel is a long-haired Dachshund, and Ruby is a show-type English Cocker Spaniel, so Sophie and Sophia are those crosses respectively.

Amber takes (Red) Husky:

She's quite thick-coated but she definitely doesn't fall under "Woolly Husky" coat type.

Red (Irish) Setter Stacy:

Dominika... So This dog is obviously a Belgian Malinois maybe crossed with something fluffier, but she looks exactly like this:

#Added Taub 24/11/23 #Added Foreman 22/12/23 #Added Dominika 28/01/24 god isn't that dog gorgeous #I'm a big dog person clearly sorry. Dog breeds get extended more than Cat-ified picks in my head #im blorbo-ing Adams. don't know why. spinning her in a microwave.#House #House MD #what's the other tag the fandom uses this fandom intimidates me it's active #hatecrimes md #hate crimes md #i don't. remember which one i see most often

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xxrainshadowsxx · 9 months

Text

Interpersonal Chapter 5

Fancy events, a brief introduction of the sister (who might be my favorite character), and an ending I think you'll be very happy with.

The next evening, you're in your hotel room putting the final touches on your makeup for the gala. You hadn't seen much of Mr. Onceler since the plane-you'd suffered a silent taxi ride to the hotel and he'd shown you to your room, but beyond that, you'd been left to your own devices.

And that suits you just fine. You have no idea what you could even say to Mr. Onceler now that you have two highly embarrassing moments between the two of you, and this second one was much, much worse than the first.

However, you were both going to truly have to pretend neither of those events had ever occurred tonight. You were far too nervous about the company you were going to be keeping to not have his support.

You were at least mostly satisfied with the way you looked though. You doubted you'd be the most glamorous person at the gala, but you were also a far cry from the business professional you wore to work (and an even farther cry from the sweats you wore at home).

At seven on the dot, there's a knock at your hotel door. Mr. Onceler is nothing if not punctual. You stand and walk over to answer, putting the last of your small but pretty diamond earrings in your lobes as you do so.

You open the door and blink a few times; you almost don't recognize him. He's traded his green suit for a smart black and white one, and he's even abandoned his usual sunglasses and hat. The oddest thing about him, however, is his expression.

His mouth is stuck open; he's totally slack-jawed. His eyes are roaming your body up and down like he can't find a place to land them. "Is this okay? Do I need to change?" you ask, suddenly self-conscious. You think you look okay-you're in a midnight blue sheath with a slit up your right leg and no back to speak of. It had been a gift from your sister for graduation, but you'd never had a reason to wear it until now.

"No," he chokes out, his voice rather higher-pitched than normal. He clears his throat. "No, no, you're good. More than good… you look great… I mean, you'll fit right in." His cheeks are dusted with a light pink, and you can't help but feel highly amused by how flustered he is. "Is it warm up here?" he asks suddenly. "It feels really warm up here."

"I feel fine… but you're wearing a jacket and I'm not," you shrug, deciding at the last minute to take pity on him and not tease him mercilessly. "I do need your opinion on something though. I was planning on wearing my thneed like a scarf. You think that'll work?"

"Um, yeah. Yeah, that should look good," he mumbles. You nod a thanks, and start putting on the purple thneed, wearing it in a long scarf like you'd often seen him wear himself. "Sorry I'm so out of sorts, I've just… never seen you with your hair down before," he attempts to explain.

Really? That was the excuse he was going to use? He wasn't technically wrong; you had always worn your hair in a ponytail around him before, and now it was curled and unbound, but that wasn't near enough to elicit that type of reaction from him.

"Anyway! We should go," he announces. "I have a car waiting for us downstairs." You take a deep breath, then follow him down the hall to the elevator. "Hey, chin up," he encourages as you step into the elevator shaft. "Don't worry. It can't be any worse than flying, can it?"

You let out a short, bark-like laugh. "No, it can't," you admit ruefully. "I'll still need a bit of help to make sure I don't embarrass myself or you though."

He waves his hand as the elevator opens to the ground floor. "I told you, just stick by me all night, you'll be fine. In no time, you'll be a pro at these." That wasn't as comforting as he probably meant it, but you don't say anything and allow him to lead you to the car, which thankfully isn't a limo this time.

The ride there is both agonizingly long and far too short. It's being held at a museum of some sort, but there's no room to park the car; the outside of the venue is littered with people and even paparazzi.

"You've got this," he murmurs before stepping out of the car and offers you his hand to help you out the door as well. With one more breath to steel yourself, you take his hand and are thrust into the limelight.

The first thing you're aware of is the flashing lights as the cameras go mad when they realize someone else has arrived. There's a cacophony of voices, though you're not able to make out any individual words.

Mr. Onceler tucks your arm firmly inside his own as he leads you over to the throng. "Just smile and bear it. This part will be over soon," he says directly into your ear as you turn toward the paparazzi. You do your best to fix a charming but reserved smile on your face, since you're sure some of these pictures are going to end up in the tabloids tomorrow, even if he releases a statement saying you aren't together.

But that might not even be enough. You see a few of the journalists put their heads together, and you're sure they're talking about you. Great. Just what you needed was a scandal to add to your not-so-appropriate behavior.

Thankfully, he keeps his promise. After a couple minutes, he steers the two of you away from the press. The cameras don't stop clicking, but he doesn't pay them any mind, and you force yourself to follow his example.

He starts introducing you to an impossibly large number of people. Their names flee your mind the second you hear them. There aren't too many questions asked-Mr. Onceler always makes sure to tell people you're his PA-but you do get a few odd looks here and there. You're beginning to wonder if it's an anomaly for people to bring their staff as their plus-ones.

"Mr. Onceler! Mr. Onceler!" A journalist plants herself in front of the two of you, looking like she has no intention of letting you leave until she gets at least a short interview in. Mr. Onceler obliges her, but gives very short answers as she asks about the company at first. Then she gets to the inevitable question, presumably the reason she wanted to talk to him in the first place. "And who's your date this evening?"

"This is my PA. She very graciously agreed to accompany me tonight," he replies. Out of everything this evening, this answer of his throws you off worse than anything else so far. Although he clarified your position, he didn't deny that you were his date. You almost question him, but decide at the last minute it's probably better to keep your mouth shut until you're out of earshot from the press; anything you say could easily be twisted and end up in the papers.

"Anyway, if you'll excuse us, I believe the doors have just been opened, so we really should be making our way inside," he says, expertly finagling you out of the situation. He's not even lying either; people are indeed beginning to move into the museum. "I hate it when they make me give interviews," he grumbles as you move along with the rest of the throng.

"You could have warned me about the amount of paparazzi that were going to be here," you whisper back. "You do realize that they all think we're dating, right? And that this is going to cause a huge scandal?"

He merely scoffs at that. "We're not doing anything wrong," he insists. "I've clarified you're my PA, and we're not doing anything indecent. If the tabloids want to try and make a mess of things, that'll be the easiest thing my PR team has ever had to clean up."

You're not completely convinced, but you don't really want to argue with him tonight. You wouldn't have time anyway; he seems to spot someone and starts steering you in the opposite direction. "I want you to meet Vivienne Woods. She's the lovely lady responsible for the wonderful party tonight," he says while leading you to a woman who looks to be in her forties and who's clearly had the money to age like a fine wine.

Vivienne Woods was a name you actually recognize. She's one of the most well known fashion designers in the world (which probably explained why Mr. Onceler was laying on the charm so thickly). Though she mostly worked in bridal, she did dabble in other areas of women's fashion as well.

"Oh, Oncie, stop, you're too nice," she laughs. You wonder if she noticed the slight wince your boss gave when she called him 'Oncie.' "Although I don't believe I've met your lovely companion here?"

You wait for him to introduce you again, but after a slight pause you realize that's not going to happen. You hastily give your name and explain your connection to Mr. Onceler. As you do so, Vivienne eyes your dress. "Is this one of mine?" she asks.

There's not a chance in hell your sister would have been able to afford a Vivienne Woods dress. But that probably isn't the best idea to point out. "I'm not sure," you say cautiously. "My sister bought it for me as a gift, so I'm afraid I didn't see any tags."

"Doesn't she look lovely though?" Mr. Onceler steps in. "Whoever designed it, you can't deny she wears it spectacularly."

"Oh… of course not," Vivienne says, clearly caught off guard.

"Well, we won't take up any more of your time. I'm certain you're a popular woman this evening," he laughs. "Hopefully we'll run into you later." He steers you away and finally his smile drops into a grimace. "Miserable old bat," he mumbles.

You look up at him in surprise. "Could've fooled me," you murmur. "I was convinced you actually liked her. You seemed sincere enough."

"Good, that means I'm doing my job well," he sighs. "The only reason I'm here at all is because she wants to use trufulla in one of her dress designs. Obviously the use of trufulla by anyone outside the company has to be heavily monitored, so I have to keep her happy so she'll only use it in ways we agreed on and I don't have to deal with another lawsuit on my hands." He sighs again. "And don't get fooled by this party either. The only reason she puts it on is so she can get complimented on how great she is."

You quirk an eyebrow at him. "Are you trying to pretend that flattery doesn't work on you, too?"

He finally gives you a smirk. "Okay, yes, but at least I admit that." He glances down at you with a curious look on his face. "You handled her well though. She doesn't respect anyone who doesn't speak for themselves."

"So that's why you had me talk to her. I was wondering," you say. "I'm glad you think I did well. Inside I was freaking out trying not to say the wrong thing."

"Don't worry, no one could tell," he grins. His eyes flicker to the side for a moment. "Come dance with me?" he asks abruptly.

"What?"

"Come dance with me," he repeats a little more forcefully this time. You're completely unperturbed, but you allow him to lead you to a small dance floor where a live band is playing classical music without complaint.

He takes one of your hands and snakes the other around you to place it on the small of your back, while you rest your free hand just above his elbow. He leads you in a slow waltz for a few moments before you pluck up the courage to ask him the question that's been bugging at you all night.

"So, why am I here?" you murmur very quietly so no one but him would hear it. "I mean, did you really need your PA to come with you to something this fancy? I feel like I'm more of a hindrance than a help."

He was silent for a long while. "Do you really want the truth?" he asks in a low tone.

"I wouldn't have posited the question if I didn't."

"I wanted you to come for purely selfish reasons. I hate going to these things… but more than anything, I hate going to them alone. I figured if you were here, you might make things a little less lonely," he admits.

You swallow heavily. "And have I managed to fulfill that particular request sir?" you whisper.

"Exceptionally well," he breathes. The room is still filled with people, but at that moment, you're only aware of just the two of you, lost in your own little world together.

You were so lost, in fact, you thought you just might let him kiss you if he tried. The mood was certainly there, the tension between you just about to snap…

And then all of the sudden, with zero warning, there's people in the room again. You're not sure how or why, but both of you look away from each other at the same time. "I think I owe you a drink, don't I?" he says to try and cover up the lost moment.

You take hold of the lifeline offered. "Yes, you do. As many drinks as I want, actually," you remind him. The two of you resume the party, perfectly poised for the rest of the evening, but you can't help but wish that the two of you were allowed that little bubble of perfection of being alone, even if it was only for a minute.

Right before you're set to leave, you get a call. You're in the middle of packing your makeup, but pause when you see it's from your sister. You can always make time for her. "Hey, Rora, what's up?" you ask as you answer.

"You tell me," she giggles. "I have to say, I was a little surprised when I went to the grocery store this morning and found an article in a magazine about how my baby sister of all people is dating her mega-billionaire boss. How come you didn't tell me?"

You groan and flop down on the bed. Great. That meant that along with your tarnished reputation, Mr. Onceler would have to deal with a lawsuit which was bound to put him in a bad mood, and you'd have to bear the brunt of it. "I'm not dating him!" you exclaim, already exasperated by the amount of people you'd have to say that to. "If I was dating him, which I'd never do because of my job, just putting that out there, you'd be the first to know. All the journalists just think things because they saw us at that stupid party together-"

"Relax, I'm just teasing," she says, and even over the phone you see her signature wicked grin. "I know you're the last person in the world to do anything remotely scandalous. And to be fair, the article did add the caveat that you never actually confirmed you were dating. It just said you never denied it either."

"I told him he should have," you grumble. "I told him people were going to think we were a couple. But getting that man to do anything sensible is like pulling teeth."

"Oh," Aurora says interestedly. "So if you had it your way, you would be a couple then."

"What? No!" you squeak. "Honestly, where could you possibly get that idea from anything I said about him?"

"You forget who you're talking to," she says smugly. "I know you better than anyone else, remember? But if I needed any further proof, your instant denial did the trick. You would've laughed at me if I was wrong."

You can't even refute her. She's got you nailed, and any further objections would just be more proof in her mind that you wanted to date your boss. You don't want to date him… you've just occasionally wanted him to kiss you. Totally different.

Fortunately, you're spared from answering. Unfortunately, it's because your boss has knocked on the door. "I have to go, Rora," you say with a huff as you open the door to let him in. "The rest of my day is doomed to be spent in a flying metal death machine."

"Okay… ooh! Maybe you can cuddle with him if you get scared-" You hang up quickly before Mr. Onceler can accidentally catch any of her words. He does give you an odd look, but you assume it's from the mess of your items still strewn over the bed.

"Sorry. That was my sister. She occasionally gets in these moods where she delights in being a menace, so she was teasing me about something and distracted me. I'll be done with packing in a moment," you mumble.

"Oh… must have been some teasing," he notes. "Your face is really red."

You curse your sister to the deepest depths of hell where she belongs.

The takeoff is predictably awful, but at least this time he doesn't blindfold you with his tie; he's found a plain white cloth somewhere that he uses instead. He also doesn't whisper in your fucking ear this time, and while you kind of miss it, at least it doesn't put confusing thoughts in your head that you shouldn't be having.

This trip is much more laid back. Instead of being stupid and agreeing to sleep in the same bed as him, you've simply agreed to watch a couple movies together. You'd even done the responsible and nixed any rom-coms. You're instead watching some popular superhero movie that's just come out. You don't really understand the plot, but the mindless action is good for turning your brain off.

You're existing in comfortable camaraderie when the plane suddenly hits a giant bout of turbulence. Turbulence that's so bad you literally fly out of your seat. There's nothing in the world that could've stopped the extremely loud shriek that comes out of your mouth. Not even landing in his lap a moment later.

He jumps when you land on him, but recovers quicker than you do. You're trembling like mad, but he wraps his arms around you comfortingly. "Hey, hey, we're safe. You're safe. I've got you," he murmurs as he strokes your hair slowly and methodically. Without meaning to, you lean into his touch. You know it's not the smartest thing to do, especially not with the article Aurora told you about floating around, but on the other hand, it's not like there's anyone up here to see you.

Whatever the reasons against it, you can't bring yourself to move off his lap, and he makes no attempt to have you move either. You're just staring into each other's eyes, creating a moment very much like the one you'd had a few nights ago at the gala. And unlike that time, there's no one around to break this moment. And it seems neither of you is all too keen on breaking it yourselves.

In fact, he's moved his hand now so that he's holding the back of your head instead of stroking your hair. His fingers are woven into your tresses, but he's definitely holding your head firmly in place.

And without giving you any chance to think yourself out of it, he lunges forward, pressing his lips firmly on yours. And you're kissing him back before you can remind yourself of the ramifications of doing so.

With a low groan, he moves his free hand to the back of your neck as his tongue impatiently swipes along your lower lip. You instantly grant him access to the wet cavern of your mouth.

You bring your own hand up to rest on the side of his face. He leans into your touch just as easily as you leaned into his. You crane your neck at a different angle, trying to get impossibly closer to him.

You only pull back when you're in need of air. He rests his forehead against yours as you both catch your breath. "I had to do that at least once," he confesses in a low tone before pulling away, gently prying you off his lap. Before you can protest, he stands up and announces, "It looks like we've landed. We're just pulling into the terminal now." You glance out the window, and to your amazement you find he's right. You were so lost in his kiss, you hadn't even noticed the plane landing.

You don't say anything as he gathers his suitcase together. You have no idea what to say. It shouldn't have happened? You wanted more? The two sides are at war within you.

Eventually, he decides for you. Right before he's allowed off the plane he turns towards you and says, "Another thing for our never speak of it again agreement?" Without waiting for an answer, he turns and disembarks, leaving you more confused than you've ever been in your entire life.

#fanfiction #onceler fanfiction #onceler x reader #the lorax #the onceler #onceler #also on ao3

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jerzwriter · 11 months

Note

Bringing you some more headcanons! Honestly these are so fun! Kudos to whoever came up with this game!

I'd like to think Ethan would be a helicopter parent; but not in this overly bossy way, rather like super duper overprotective to the point where Kaycee would have to yank Emma away from him when they send her off to college.

Kaycee played some sport (?) in school, idk she gives me soccer girl vibes or maybe the FC does? Idk lmfao.

Tobias would've taken up odd jobs in high school and college. Like the oddest of jobs. I'd like to think he might have had a short-lived career as a magician, although that might be too crackheady.

Casey is a massive coffee mug collector.

Tobias is the "Don't tell Mom, but I've got a huge tub of icecream" parent towards his kids.

Ethan in Emma's parent-teacher conference would be at least, a little intimidating. I feel like he's the type of parent to get super defensive over his kid and would question why certain things are the way they are.

I might actually go to jail for this but.. mayybe Casey might've had a little crush on Jackie/Aurora? It is probably a one-time thing but has she ever had one?

Ethan collects different blends of coffee as a hobby and has a huge stack of it in his shelf and nearly scares Kaycee to the Moon when she sees like, fifty boxes of varying flavours just stacked up against and Ethan's like "Oh that's my coffee cabinet" and Kaycee s like "Your coffee WHAT?!"

OMG Mads these are amazing! Let's look at them:

Helicopter parent Ethan. OMFG YES! This fic (Candyland) is one of my faves - because it's a contrast of E/K and T/C parenting styles. As you can see, Ethan thinks his little girl is perfect, and when she's less than, Kaycee has to talk him off the ledge because he's convinced this means she's destined for a life of crime. 😂😂😂 I believe Kaycee could have been a helicopter parent, but when she saw how Ethan was, she was like, "Nah. Emma needs one sane parent." You hit the nail on the head with this one.

Kaycee & Sports: Kaycee enjoys sports, but she was more of a spectator. However, she was an excellent figure skater. She was scouted to go pro, but it was a far too expensive undertaking for her parents to commit to.

Tobias's Odd Jobs: If my Tobias wasn't a trust-fund baby, I could see this. But my Tobias was a trust-fund baby, so I don't see him working at all in high school and not much in college. In college, it would probably be jobs/internships related to his career only. (But if not, yep. I see it. Like a clown at kid parties lmao)

Casey Mug Collector: I can see this... in general, she doesn't like a lot of clutter, but I can see this. It probably drives Tobias a little nuts, because he doesn't like clutter either. Of course, he ends up buying her most of them, so he can't complain. lol

Tobias "Don't tell Mom": LMAO OMG I see it. Now, on major issues, they agreed to always, always present a united front, and they do. But on things like this, 100%. Casey: "Honey, I'm working late tonight. Can you handle dinner?" T: "Of course, baby." C: "And don't let our little demons convince you to order pizza!" Hours later T: "Come on, we have to get the pizza boxes out of here or your mom will kick my ass." (PS Sammy outs him the second Casey walks in the door. lol) I love this!

Ethan's Parent-Child Conference: YES! YES! A thousand times, YES!

Casey's Crushes: I can totally see this (you have a get-out-of-jail-free card lmao), but this is how I'd see it. Casey and Jackie hit it off really well when they meet, and Jackie has that spunky/sarcasm Casey loves. She has a crush on her, and she is considering telling her (a little leery because they're roommates/friends and doesn't want it to be awkward), but then Jackie goes into that brief asshole stage in Book 1, and that puts the whole crush on ice for Casey. As far as Aurora, I can see Kaycee being the one with the crush on Aurora. Kaycee and Aurora would actually be a great match. So I can see Kaycee nursing a little crush, but not one she'd act on, as she's already with Ethan in my HC.

Ethan's Coffee Collection: FOR SURE! And I think he has a Scotch collection too! lol

These were great! Thanks, Mads!

#hc asks #ethan ramsey #ethan x kaycee #tobias carrick #tobias x casey #asks answered #inlocusmads

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lovemesomesurveys · 2 years

Text

How are you doing today? It's only 5:20AM, but so far my nagging cough Is acting up which isn't fun.

What day of the week is it? It's Sunday.

What's something you used to believe in that you don't anymore? So much has changed within just the past 6 years, things I never saw coming or was prepared for and not in a good way. So many setbacks. There was a time I thought I'd actually do something with my life, but now… it's hard to see past all this.

What do you admire most in a person? Motivated, ambitious, driven type people.

What's your favorite dinosaur? I don't have one.

Do you believe in reincarnation? If so, what would you like to be reincarnated as? No.

What are 3 scents that you like? The ocean/beachy air, coffee, garlic.

Do you ever use the grounding technique 54321? I've tried it a few times before.

What's the silliest thing you've gotten injured from? I know there's several incidents, but of course I can't think of any at the moment.

What's the weirdest food combination you enjoy? The first one I always think of is eggs and ranch. shrug

Where would you relocate if you were forced to leave your place of residence? Uhh. I have no idea.

Do you play any instruments? No.

What is an unpopular opinion you have? Sushi is disgusting.

Have you ever done a crazy dare? Nope.

What's your favorite type of cheese or cheese substitute? I loveee cheese. Various types.

What are things you still enjoy from your childhood? Some of the same music, shows, movies, foods… I really, really miss that time of my life.

What smells better.. fresh baked bread or fresh brewed coffee? Aw, both are lovely but I gotta stick with my pal coffee.

What's the oddest text you've received recently? I actually received some sexual spam texts a few weeks ago like wtf?

What's something you believe everyone should have? Of course ideally it'd be our necessities

What's the first thing you do once you get home from a trip? I'm the person who unpacks as soon as I get home.

What has been the worst kitchen mishap you've made? Starting a small oven fire.

Do you know how your parents met? Yeah, they were coworkers at the time.

Do you believe love is blind? It can be.

If you could get away with it, what crime would you commit? I don't want to commit any crimes.

If you owned a restaurant, what would you serve? Nah.

Have you ever met a president? Nope.

What food tastes better than its appearance to you? Probably how mashed potatoes end up looking up on my plate cause I put so much gravy, so it ends up just looking like a glob of brown stuff lol.

Do you actively post on social media? Tumblr is the one I actively and consistently post on, both my personal and this one.

What was your favorite childhood book? I loved Nancy Drew, Goosebumps, The Babysitter's Club, Sweet Valley High, Judy Blume books, Beverly Clearly books…. how young are we talking? If younger, then books like Little Critter, Arthur, Barenstein Bears…

Do you ever experience intrusive thoughts? I think everyone does.

What do you consider to be the smartest animal? Apparently, Octopus are.

What movies make you laugh the most? Hmm. I don't know.

What's a product you use everyday that you wish you could get a lifetime supply of? Currently, there's several medical products I have to use and unfortunately my mom has to pay out of pocket for a lot of them and I feel bad because shit is expensive and quickly adds up.

What's the best name you've heard a pet named? shrug

What always makes your day better? It's been rough, ya'll…

Would you rather have multiple hobbies or 1 true passion? I like having different things to choose from to do for hobbies, but having a passion is entirely different to me. I haven't felt passionate about anything in a long time. :/

Coffee or tea? Coffee. It still trips me out that I don't drink it everyday like I used to for so long.

Do you listen to podcasts? Which ones? No.

Would you say you're good at saving money? I can be, but man I'm such a sucker for Boxlunch and Hot Topic sales. They consistently have really good sales, plus they have their Lunch money/Hot Cash.

Have you ever ridden in the front of a roller coaster? Yeah. The only roller coasters I do is the Big Thunder Mountain Railroad and the Cars roller coasters at Disneyland.

Would you rather have free massages for a year or facials? Meh.

When was the last time you've had an adrenaline rush? I don't even remember.

Have you ever used a whole chapstick? Honestly… I don't think so.

Has anyone ever given you a gag gift? Yeah.

#personal #text #survey #surveys

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timeaftertime-chriscornellfanfic · 4 years

Text

Chapter 4 - Disappearing One

Toronto Ontario Canada, January 31 1972

Andi

"But John this is crazy... there's got to be some way to explain this,"

"Cathy, just relax. Andrea's fine see? She's in her playpen, no harm done,"

"But I swear she wasn't there a second ago,"

The sound of my mother's voice filled with worry, echo throughout the living room as my father desperately tries to explain just where I've been for the last 8 minutes. If there was a way that I could explain with actual words, since I can't quite make out full sentences yet, I would just tell my mother that I was only just upstairs but 1 year before this current time.

Yes, I know it probably sounds crazy, and completely confusing so allow me to explain.

Ever since I can remember, which is pretty far back mind you, I've somehow been able to slip through time. I still can't quite put my finger on what actually causes me to do so but it's usually only for just a few minutes. As I got older, the length of time that I would slip increased from just a few minutes, hours to eventually days and weeks, even years.

Now I know what you're thinking... "How does one slip through time?"

It should be easy to explain the process but really, unless you've experienced it yourself it's hard to explain just exactly what happens. At first it feels like the most euphoric sensation you can think of. Like you're purely at peace with yourself, like nothing else in the world means anything anymore. Then it changes to nausea and dizziness like you just drank a 40 of Jack Daniels so fast it could make your head spin. Then, just like that, everything goes black and suddenly I'm somewhere else, naked and alone, trying to find clothes, shelter anything to protect myself.

When I was younger and I would time slip, most of the time I would just end up somewhere else in the house only it could be either 30 minutes before, or as far back as actually seeing my mother pregnant with me.

Yes I have gone back in time and met myself before. It's not a regular occurrence mind you, but It's pretty much how I taught myself to pick locks when I needed to and find the right places to hide if I so happened to end up in the middle of a sticky situation. Most of the time I was alright though. Most people, when they see a naked girl on the street, they try to help as much as they can rather than the opposite so for that I'm thankful.

Now I know most people would think "Well how the hell does that happen? What about the grandfather effect, the butterfly effect and all the other effects of nature that rule against the fact that you can go back in time?"

Well to tell you the truth, I don't know. It's not something I can explain. I can only say that I've only ever been able to travel as far back within my own life time. I can't go back and see the amazing symphonies that Beethoven wrote nor, go back as far to stop World War 2.

Meeting a your future self is something that's amazing and strange at the same time. Every time it would happen, my younger self always knew it was my older self. My older self knew not to tell my younger self about the future, but gave me useful tools like lock picking so that I could protect myself. I was very careful at not disrupting anything that could alter my future for the worse. And... like I said, it was very few and far between that I met up with myself anyways.

"Cathy, I think you're just imagining it,"

"John, I know what I saw. I set Andrea in her playpen turned around to grab her bottle and when I turned back she was gone,"

My father then walks over to me, his boots thudding against the hardwood floor. He picks me up, brushing a few curls out of my face while I smile at him and he places a kiss on my little forehead. Leaning into him, I giggle, resting my head on his shoulder, my little fingers playing with the shaggy curls of his dark golden hair that rest just at his shoulders, and that familiar smell of Aqua Velva after shave filling my nostrils with delight.

"What were you up to baby girl?"

His deep voice vibrates through my little frame and all I could manage was a giggle.

"Daaaady," I manage with my little voice and he chuckles placing another kiss on my forehead.

I think for the most part, my father was in denial of the whole thing. I know it frightened him to no end at the fact that his only daughter disappears for moments at a time, with no explanation and no reasoning and then re-appears as if nothing had ever taken place.

He sets me back down in my playpen and I continue on with playing with my little stuffies without a care in the world.

"John, I think we should take her to see Dr. Fresno... maybe he can figure out what going on,"

"Cathy, she's still so young, she's only 2 years old, I don't even know if a neurologist is going to even see anything wrong,"

"Are you kidding? John, it's been happening more frequent than you realize... but wait, you're hardly ever here with us so it makes sense why you're in such denial over it,"

Oh the inevitable arguing. They argue over everything and it always seems that my father is the one to blame. My mother always bringing up the fact that he was never home, that he was always on the road travelling with his band Steel Gates - a sort of Black Sabbath/MC5 hybrid- playing bars and clubs never bringing in any real money. I for one love my father's music. It's so real and the way he can play, I swear he was like the next Tony Iommi.

"Ok well, I gotta head out here and meet the guys at The Edge... are you meeting me later on?" My father says walking away from me and towards my mother, who just stands there with her arms crossed.

"No, I have Andrea to look after,"

"I told you, you can bring her... you know she loves it when she's around the band,"

She just stands there and glances back at me with her arms still crossed, reluctant to even say goodbye to him, even if it's just for a few hours.

With that, he hesitates for a moment, as I laugh and giggle playing with my little furry friends, then leans in to place a kiss on my mother's temple though she still doesn't look at him. He then turns and grabs his leather jacket, slipping it on as his boots thud against the hardwood floor.

"Ok, well I'll be home later on tonight," His voice deep as he heads out the door, leaving my mother watching me as I play.

******

Toronto Ontario Canada, June 13 1976

"Ok sweetie, now place your fingers here, here and... here,"

"Like this daddy?" I ask looking at the fret board of my amber burst VOS guitar with a white pick guard, my dark little curls falling in my face.

"Uh huh, now strum,"

I scrunch up my face as I try to hold the strings down with my fingers, my father sitting across from me with his own Cherry Burst Gibson SG across his lap, reaching over and helping me place my fingers where they should be. I start to strum and the oddest sound emits from the amp but once I'm able to adjust my fingers perfectly, the beautiful distortion bellows through the amp.

"Yea... alright now put them all together... like this," My father smiles as he starts to play the three chords in succession like he showed me and I follow along with him as we play together.

I had been learning to play guitar from my father for the last few months since we discovered that music seems to calm the time slip episodes down. My mother insisted that we see Dr. Fresno to see just what exactly is causing the time slips and though my father reluctantly agreed to, he did eventually see that it was a good thing that I was seen by a neurologist.

I've been diagnosed with a neurological disorder - time displacency -not an actually medical term I know but there's never been a case quite like mine before. After some testing, Dr. Fresno discovered that it's a relation to epilepsy but is also triggered by a multitude of emotions, especially if I feel stressed or anxious. It can happen either consciously or subconsciously and when it does, a seizure will take place inside my brain at the exact moment, somehow causing a time slip. At first, the doctor did prescribe medication - the type that helps with epileptic seizures - but that was no use. I was still time slipping. Possibly even worse than before.

Nothing seemed to really work until one day I was in my father's studio - I was 5 years old at the time -and I walked up to Cherry Burst Gibson SG, and started to play with the strings while it sat on the stand. I've always loved his Cherry Burst Gibson and when he noticed just how attached I became to that guitar, he got me one of my own for my 6th birthday - well not a Gibson but it looked exactly like one - so that I could practice with him. He was amazed at how quickly I was learning Chords and strumming for only being 6 years old.

"...ok now change... good... now D...." He smiles as he watches me keep up with him though I keep my eyes glued to my fingers making sure I was changing to the right chord properly. Then he starts to improvise on his own, playing a little solo part while I continue to strum and I look up at him and laugh.

"Wait daddy wait... I wanna do that," I giggle and he smiles at me.

"Alright sweetie go ahead..." He chuckles and I attempt to try to improvise but everything sounds completely out of tune. I scrunch my face up again and stop but my father continues to urge me on.

"I'm not really good at that," I say and he chuckles a little.

"Andrea it's alright... just keep going, you'll get it," He smiles at me. We continue to play, with him teaching me some more and after a little while I hear my mother come down the stairs.

"Andrea, your lunch is ready," She calls and I set my guitar down back on it's stand beside me.

"You coming with me daddy?" I ask.

"No sweetie, you go on ahead, I've got to work on some stuff down here," He says sweetly as he sets his guitar back down on it's stand.

"Ok... um... can I come back down when I'm done?" I ask.

"Of course you can sweetie, you know that," He chuckles and pulls me into him and starts tickling me. I begin to laugh and squeal as he laughs as well, then eventually letting me go but not before placing a kiss on the top of my head.

"I love you daddy,"

"I love you too baby,"

*****

Toronto Ontario Canada, May 15 1985

"Damn it John, I can't do this with you anymore! I told you this is it! You need to leave!"

"Babe - "

"Don't 'Babe' me. It's done! It's over now just get the hell outta here!"

It was the middle of the night and I wake from my sleep hearing voices coming from downstairs. I push the covers off me and quietly get out of bed, rubbing my eyes to rid the sleep as my dark curls fall down around me. Once I reach the hallway, I can hear my mother screaming at my father from the front door. As much as you think you get used to hearing your parents fight, you never really do. This time though, it was different.

"Cathy just hear me out ok? It was nothing, it meant nothing - "

"No! Don't fucking touch me! I want you outta here! Just get the fuck outta here!"

I quietly sit myself down on the top of the staircase as I listen to their fight. Even though I was still half asleep, I could feel this strange feeling deep inside my chest. I could hear my father pleading with my mother but she was not giving in. There were so many times before when they fought, that I just brushed it off, not letting it affect me. They were never terribly mean to each other, such as calling each other names or anything from what I remember, but this time like I said, was different. My mom was just letting it all out calling him everything that you could think of and it makes me wonder just what he did to make her so angry. If he did anything at all.

The strange feeling in my chest grew as he continued to plead with her but she still wouldn't give in. Moments later I hear the front door slam and my mother quietly crying. She then appears at the bottom of the stairs and as she takes a few steps she sees me sitting at the top.

"Andrea, what... what are you doing?" She asks looking away wiping away a tear. I say nothing as she looks back up at me.

"I'm sorry you... heard all that... I didn't mean to - "

"Don't mom, just don't," I say trying to hold my tears back, though I'm not sure why I'm feeling like I need to cry in the first place.

"Andrea - "

She starts but I rise from the stairs and turn to make my way back to my room.

"Andrea honey..." She says as I hear her voice breaking while she attempts to hold back her tears.

"Don't! Just leave me alone," I say, still not recognizing my own voice, hearing myself begin to cry as I hear my mother following behind me. I've never felt like this after they've argued. I've always been able to push the feeling away. Shoving it down into the pit of my stomach and only release it when I play my guitar that my father gave me. This time it's different. I can feel my chest tighten and it feels like I can't breathe.

"Andrea - "

"Go away!" I exclaim and slam my bedroom door leaving her outside in the hallway. As much as I try to will this feeling away, I can feel it growing.

Why? What is this? Why does this hurt so much?

As I feel my heart begin to pick up pace, I close my eyes, standing in the middle of my dark bedroom surrounded with posters of Black Sabbath, Aerosmith, Ramones, and Motorhead, I start to feel euphoric, almost like an adrenaline rush, then completely at peace, then suddenly I feel dizzy and nauseous, like I'm about to vomit.

"Oh god," I exhale and suddenly there's a quick flash of light and everything goes completely black.

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#chriscornellfanfiction #chris cornell #fanfiction #grungefanfiction #grunge #grungefanfics #soundgarden fanfiction #soundgarden #temple of the dog #time after time #time travel #also on ao3 #also on wattpad #sciencefiction #fantasy #alternate universe #my story

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l1ana · 6 years

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Imagine you and Spiderman being like Adrien and Bridget from ML

Summary: Incase y'all don't know wtf this prompt is— Basically it's [Name] with a crazy crush on Peter but he's either totally oblivious to it, un-purposefully ignore her, or is focusing on another girl. Meanwhile, he -as both spiderman and peter- completely falls in love with her hero alter ego albeit she shows no interest in Spiderman whatsoever. I got this idea after watching a bit of the Miraculous Ladybug original concept video and just had a sort of breakthrough. Anyways, on with the story.

———

“Hey, Peter...” You scrambled to navigate through the sea of fellow classmen, desperate to catch up to your object of interest. He just wasn't hearing you, and that deeply plummeted your mood. Before you knew it, he was gone— Disappearing into the crowd probably never to be seen again until lunch classes.

Peter Parker, biggest geek in highschool. Always bullied, always harassed in ways you thought were impossible. He seemed like the type to keep his head low and live an honest normal life, but little did anyone have clue on about his contrasting alter ego— Spiderman. As said hero of Queens, Peter could do everything he couldn't do as an average teenager. Who knew red and blue spandex was the key to becoming famous?

You sighed as thoughts of Peter bubbled into your head and revolved without signs of stopping. His nerdish and oh-so dorky quirks were the center of your attention aside from his baby face. Not to admit it, but you were in love with the charmer like a mad puppy. But the thing is— He never took notice of you. Hell, he probably doesn't even know that you exist. The only time you two ever met gazes was during class switches, before school, in the middle of lunch, or after school. Other than that, you were a ghost pretty much.

Today was no different from the rest; besides there being the fact that a pair of tickets were in your left hands hold. They crumpled up when your grip increased tenfold, tears threatening to pour down your eyes. ‘This is so unfair.’ You thought to yourself. ‘Why is it that whenever I try to start something with him... Fate just doesn't allow it?’ Your heart fell heavy into your chest. People would call you callow or petty for thinking what you did, but the thing of the matter is that your crush has been the same since elementary school years and continued from there. There was no doubt in your mind that Peter Parker was the one for you.

But, then again, he doesn't even know who you are.

Thankfully, you had a way to change that.

“Hey, Peter!” This morning, you wasted no time in dashing and shoving anyone who dared to get in your way out of eyesight and tracked the chocolate haired boy to a more secluded part of the hallways. The both of you were panting a bit, tired from all of the post-exercise. “P-Peter... Parker...” You breathed out, hands on your knees. “I am... I'm...” Before you could continue on and let him know who you were, the bell rang. Whoopdy-effing-doo. Oh how you wanted to pummel your bad luck into a pulp. “Sorry, I gotta go... Maybe later?” He cringed a bit, aware of how inconsiderate he was being towards you.

With those words left in his wake on your mind, he hurried off to his next class. It took some moments to pass by until a more than visible red hue formed on your face in a horitonzal fashion. Your pair of hands raised to slap your cheeks and squish them in multiple different ways, meanwhile you wore the most lovesick expression you swore you could make without seeming like you were on drugs.

‘Maybe later, he said..’ You recited his words in your head over and over like a song. Small yelps and cheers of joy escaped your lips as the thought didn't cease to fade away. Step one to getting acknowledged was complete. Now if only you could—

“[Name], there's a robbery down at the city bank.” A robotisized voice rang through your left ear. You sighed heavily. “Uggghh. That's not my problem, Stein. Let the police handle it.” Your hand waved through the air. “It seems to be another one of Electro's heists.” “.... UGGGGHHH.” Getting to the city and back would put your last two periods to waste no doubt and you'd also lose a chance to go out and establish a bond with the apple of your eye. But after hearing that Electro was involved, you found that there was no other choice but to go out and do this. Besides, the cops wouldn't stand a chance against him.

‘I'm sorry Peter, you'll have to talk to me sometime later.’ You silently apologized to your crush in your mind, hoping that he would telepathically get your message. Afterwards, you ran into the nearest bathroom and then was seen jumping out the window into the street, except your attire had changed completely. Instead of being dressed down in the usual ‘[Name] wear’, a skin-tight bodysuit overtook you, a half of a face mask covering your face whilst a horn headband was slapped atop of your shimmering hair.

You hopped and skipped from building to building, the voice in your left earring continuing to speak. “There seems to be several hostages under his clutches. He seems to be anticipating the arrival of somebody... My bet is on you, [Name].” He hypothesized. “Oh put a damn sock in it.” You huffed.

After a few more leaps into the air, you skidded off the edge of a shop building and landed directly in the open circle of crowding people. They had instantly moved out of your way at your arrival, going into a state of indistinctive chattering. “I-It's Queen!” A man exclaimed, noticing you right away as you began to talk to a nearby police officer to get the scoop on what's going on.

Queen— Your alter ego hero self, affiliated with the avengers as a late bloomer type. Your powers consisted of shifting into anything solid along with a side of light generation from your hands. The shifting part of your ability allowed you to increase the speed of your cells, making your body seem as though it were gas, and slipping through solids without a problem. The other part is self-explanatory. To be quite frank, Queen was a alias that your supporting fans had made and you just went along with it, that name eventually sticking to you like glue and becoming your permanent hero name. Funny thing, really, cuz you were the Queen of Queens New York.

“I see,” You nodded at the information the cop divulged with you. “Thank you. Now please, stand back, it may get too hectic alright?” At your words the cop nodded, giving orders to back the people who crowded the front of the bank up. You jumped onto the top of the building, holding your breath and phasing through the roof. It took naught but a few seconds later for you to be landing perfectly on your feet, an all-too familiar laugh echoing from far away. The floors were wet. Oh how you've been through this song and dance one too many times before. “Stein, I need a heat signature scan all around if you don't mind.” You whispered into your earpiece.

“7 of them, each of them with their pulses fulctuating at rapid speeds.” The AI spoke. “He must've already pulled a stunt on them before the police arrived.” The first priority before moving on to Electro was to evacuate the premises of any remaininf victims. And that's exactly what you did. It was hard since most of them were all in different and difficult to reach places of the bank but the number was instantly knocked down to one left.

You scratched your head and thought aloud. “Where's the last one at...?”

“You mean, this body right here?” A menacing cackle interrupted, you turning your direction to whence it came from only to witness Electro standing a few feet away from you, hostage in a chokehold on his left arm. In the other arm was the occasional sack of cash that you were sure he wouldn't get away with. Your eyes rolled, unintentionally getting a glimpse of a familiar spandex wearing hero. He was new and all. Round of applause everyone, for the one and only Spiderman.

When he saw that you were staring directly at him, he waved, then making various hand motions that you somehow in god understood. Basically he was going to shoot a string of web at the hostage and hoist them up, stealing them from Electros grip and giving you chance to take the preemptive and just go wild— But also take caution into not destroying the place.

As Electro went on and on with his planned monologue, Spiderman used the chance for when his eyes were closed to not only shoot some web in his face as a stunning effect, but also managed to snag the hostage in one fell swoop. Two birds with one stone— Neat. “What is this substance on my face!?” Electro screamed, trying to claw it off but to no avail. You laughed at this scene. For some reason, Spiderman had the oddest feeling that he had recognized your voice from somewhere. After the fit of chuckles faded, you made sure to give your target such a hard two-piece, that Spiderman swore he saw some teeth flew out of his mouth.

‘Whoa...’ Was the only thing that crossed his mind. Despite your petite figure, you were strong enough to knock a grown man unconscious with just one slug? “You can take it from here, Spider-guy. I've got better things to do besides turning him in. You can do that on my behalf, right?” You yawned, making your way towards the south exit, away from the mob. “O-of course, miss Queen!” He hopped off the ceiling and landed to the ground, ensuring to web the now knocked out cold ‘threat’ up real good and give the police to bust in finally. Once they did, he trailed right after where he saw you leave, only to catch you flipping and twirling in the air with such haste.

Even behind the mask anyone could see the smile forming as his eyes lit up just from seeing you. Needless to say here, but he was all over you. A complete and utter fanboy who joined the wave after witnessing some viral videos of you committing deeds that he would usually perform.

“H-hey, wait up!” He called after you, tailing the direction you went. “Huh?” Feeling that call be directed to you, your head clocked round to see the same spiderboy from before, flipping onto a pipe in front of you. “Oh, you again.” Your expression deflated a slight bit at his presence. “What is it?” You asked, hoping to get him out of your hair quickly. “Oh, well, I-I, uhm...” He stammered over his words, taking in the beauty of yourself in whole as something to beheld. “Queen, your last period is almost closing. Be sure to wrap this up quickly.” Stein reminded you, causing a shrill screech to release from your parted lips. “CRAAAAPPP!!!!” You instantly turned your back towards Peter and took off without another word, disappearing into the city.

Spiderman just stood there, processing what had just transpired. This was rare. Well, him getting all tounge tied while underneath the mask he called Spiderman. Seemed like your charismatic charms overpowered his. Not like that wasn't to be expected — You were pretty cute if he'd have to agree with your thousands of rowdied fanboys and girls. Jeesh, he felt himself falling head over heels for you instantly.

“I'm here!” You exhaled, busting the door to your last period classroom. There was no reason for you to give a damn about all the eyes laid on you when you performed such an action. After all, “[Name] Stark. Just on time before the bell rings.” You were the daughter of the most famous idol in all of New York, so school imaging meant nothing.

As soon as the bell rang, you were in the hallways being swamped with the rest of your classmates. In the middle of all the traffic, a shoulder bumped into yours. “H-hey, what the hell—” Turns out, it was the absolute love of your life once again— Walking out of your eyesight and never to be seen again until tomorrow morning.

‘Dammit. I still had time and couldn't give him the tickets.’ You mentally pouted with that curse.

———

Idfk if y'all want me to tag y'all in pt.2, but I'm making a part.2 just for your information

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ill-be-istj-if-no-one-else-is · 6 years

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Hi there!! I've been taking a career paths course at uni and my professor says I'm one of the oddest individuals he's met cuz I'm an ENFP with a STRONG CIS (RIASEC dealio where mine is organizing, investigating, and peopling) I've been googling more about ENFP and found a few of your stuffs so hey! I has a Tumblr now XD is my combo weird?!

So I’m not familiar with RIASEC (aka Holland Codes) but upon checking it out it looks faintly familiar and I think I had to take it in high school but not college. However I found an online version here so I took it to see what it appears to test though I know it might not be the official licensed version. I also checked Wikipedia for a description of the results. To sum it up for anyone not familiar, the test asks you how much you’d like to do certain things that could be elements of jobs, and then ranks you along six codes that describe aspects of jobs. They are:

Realistic: practical and concrete jobs, working with your hands. Usually like the outdoors. Probably correlates with Se the best.

Investigative: likes scholarly, scientific, and technical tasks that involve observation and analysis. This was my highest score; I suspect it’s higher among thinkers.

Artistic: like to work with ideas, abstractions, and concepts; creative types. The specific description of ideas/abstractions/concepts makes me lean towards the intuitive types but I think a creative sensor is likely to get this on the test, because the test itself checks more for ‘would you like to compose a song’ and not the cognition.

Social: like tasks that involve socializing, helping others, and teaching. I actually got this as my third score (just a touch higher than realistic) and I think it’s because I enjoy giving advice and teaching and answered yes to a lot of those questions. As a result my opinion on this is that the social questions, at least on the version of the test I took, might not give you the full picture. I like these things but I like them in the specific case where I am the authority. I would be terrible in cases where I’m the mediator or the diplomat. A better test (which the real RIASEC may be; if it’s what I think it is, the version I took in high school was like three times as long though it still asked what do you want to do rather than how do you think) would probably find that this score is higher among feelers.

Entrepreneurial: outgoing, persuasive, dynamic. Kind of the classic business leader vibe. I think this is by far going to go to the extroverts but it will be a mixed bag either way (ie, you’ll get a sample of all the extroverts, and not all extroverts of a certain type will get it).

Conventional: like practical tasks, structure, organizing, etc. Unsurprisingly my second-highest score by a hair (just beat out by Investigative). Definitely high among Si and Te users.

Did you take a test to find you were ENFP, or study? Because if you took a test...throw it out and study the functions and don’t assume you’re an ENFP. If you studied it’s a bit more complicated.

Investigative and social both fit ENFP fine. Social definitely does, and while I think investigative will be higher among thinkers I don’t by any means think it’s limited to them. I know ENFPs who are scientists and researchers and would would score very high on this. The one that gets me is conventional and specifically as your highest score. ENFPs tend to prefer less structured environments and while they respect the rules when they make sense, they aren’t as a rule interested in being the organizer or the detail-oriented one. Most of the ENFPs I know who would have Investigative and Social would have either Entrepreneurial or Artistic as their third result.

Without knowing where you came up with ENFP it’s hard to say more but this is a weird combination and if conventional were your third highest result I’d say it was a fluke but if that’s your highest I’d look critically at either your type or whether you answered the RIASEC honestly.

#mbti #riasec #holland codes #other personality tests #Anon ask #answered asks

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