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puhpandas · 8 months

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You Stress Me Out

(4,135 words)

Gregory shows up at Evan's house during a storm with a wood carving knife stuck in his stomach. It may not be that bad of a wound, but that doesn't mean having a knife sticking out of you is any less scary. Or that Evan will freak out any less.

warnings: blood, mentions of a fistfight, an unsafe home environment, stitches, and of course, a blade being stuck inside flesh

Evans incredibly on edge right now. Which, nothing new here. But this time, it's less of his normal state and more of a genuine, rational kind of edge.

First off; a storm is on it's way. Not only does a storm mean that outside is a no-go, meaning that Evan is trapped inside his house with no way to leave, but hes absolutely terrified of thunder.

Which is why as soon as he'd heard about the bad weather, when his fathers back was turned and Michael had been focusing on something other than messing with him, he'd snuck to the kitchen, grabbed all the snacks and water he could need, and took them to his hidden stash in his bedroom.

This way, he didnt have to leave his room. And he could do his old trick of blocking the door leading from the shortest route to his room with his dresser, which could give him enough time to shut Michael out if he decides to persist on the other side.

Unlockable doors. The bane of Evan's existence.

The other reason hes on edge isnt because of himself, even though his body is locked up and sense, waiting for the thunder to start booming outside and send him flying off of his bed from how hard he flinches. Its because of Gregory.

Evan's brows furrow from his place on his bed, curtains drawn, but just open enough to see the rain start so he can brace himself. He takes one look at the gray clouds and white sky and frowns deeply.

Evan knows all about his friends... situation. Honestly, after being friends for almost a year, you'd think he would have known sooner, but nope. Evan had just been giving Gregory the benefit of the doubt too much. when Gregory'd refuse to let Evan go to his house, he'd assume he had parents like his, who he didnt want Gregory to have to see either, which was why he had been asking. When Gregory would have new bruises and cuts and rips in his clothing the next time Evan would see him, he would deliberately choose not to pry, or wonder, because he would think maybe it was worse than he thought.

But Evan had figured it out eventually, and he'd understood why Gregory kept it from him so long. Evan wouldnt want Gregory to see him differently for being a certain way.

But like Gregory, Evan had made it clear he didnt. He understands, really. Like he understands that with the knowledge comes the worry.

Evan knows Gregory doesnt always have stable shelter. The city and it's people arent so kind to homeless people like Gregory, even when hes outside and theres about to be a hurricane. Which is why Evan is hoping, wishing, praying that Gregory will come to Evan, this time.

It's why he's reading a book, sitting on his bed next to his window instead of on his phone like usual. Evan's on edge because he cant stop thinking about what would happen to Gregory if he didn't come, and if he does, will Evan hear him to let him in.

Evans room is on the ground floor, which makes it very easy for Gregory to come and go as he pleases (also for Evan to make an escape when he needs to. It's not rare for Evan to ditch his room to flee to the city with Cassidy, sometimes).

Evan's eyes trail over the words on the pages, but he isnt taking them in. He huffs, letting the book drop to his lap, and tries to ignore how cold-but-on-fire his stomach feels. He can't focus. Not when Gregory's supposed to trust Evan enough to come to him when he needs help and he hasnt yet.

Evan only waits a while longer, foot tapping on the side of his comforter and fingers drumming. When the first few thick drops of water land on his window, he goes for his phone.

Gregory said to never call him unless it's important. But right now, with how much Evan's stomach swims with nausea over uncertainty about Gregory's safety, Evan thinks this is important enough.

Evan only has enough time to enter his fifteen digit pin and tap the phone app before the sound hes been waiting for rings out by his window.

Evan can feel his shoulders drop when the familiar jingle of a Fazbear song is knocked on his window. He smiles, hurrying over to his window and almost ripping the curtains off the wall with how fast he opens them.

When Evan reaches to open the window, Gregory's there, if not a bit weary, if his half lidded eyes and the cut on his cheekbone are any indication, but Evan doesnt worry too much. Just unclicking the locks on his window and helping Gregory step inside when its apparent he needs help.

He has a hand clutching at his stomach, which is worrying, but Gregory looks like hes okay. Not about to die, which is what Evan's thoughts always end up going to, so he thinks that's a good thing.

Evan shuts the window and locks it just as the rain starts to drop harder, and he shuts the curtains, sending a glance at his door (the one not covered up with a dresser) out of paranoia. When his father doesnt burst in and send Gregory away like Evan's imagining, he turns his attention back to Gregory.

Hes huffing, like he cant catch his breath, which makes Evan furrow his brows. Gregory's bent over, like when you have a stomach cramp and try to curl in on yourself as much as possible. If Evan looks hard enough, he can see the inklings of bruises on Gregory's knuckles.

Evan frowns. Okay, probably a fight, but it wouldnt be the first time he would have to pull out the first aid kit.

"Gregory." Evan catches his attention. Gregory's eyes dart up to him, and he offers a shaky smile. "Hey. You had me worried sick."

"Me too." Gregory says, but it sounds strained. He still has that hand pressed firmly over a spot on his stomach, and when he looks pained, Evan guides him over to his bed, letting him sit down. "I know you don't like thunder and stuff. A-And you'd be stuck with Michael.

Evan crosses his arms, trying to look stern but coming off as incredibly worried instead. "Gregory. You're acting weird." He points out. "Listen, I know you're hurt. You know I've seen you get into fights before. Can you just tell me what's wrong?"

Gregory, suspiciously, looks away, focused on one of Evan's toys hes had since he was younger that he never bothered to put away. "Um. I-I dont think this is like those times, though."

Well. If Gregory can be this difficult, he cant be feeling too bad. Doesnt do anything for the anxiety digging a hole in Evan's stomach, though. "No matter what it is, you need help, okay? I wont judge. Just let me patch you up."

Gregory doesnt respond for a moment, then, "Promise not to freak out."

"What?"

"Promise not to wig out." Gregory meets his eyes, looking pained. "This is gonna make you freak. I know it. Just... try to stay calm. It's not that bad, I swear."

"Just show me already!" Evan presses, getting jittery from nerves. "You saying that is already making me freak out!"

"Okay! Jeez." Gregory huffs, and takes a deep breath. "Just dont look at it too hard."

"Gregory!" Evan yells.

"Okay, okay!" Gregory says placatingly. He doesnt say anything else, just takes his hand off of his stomach like ripping off a bandaid.

Evan's eyes blow wide, and his legs turn cold. "Oh my god."

"There it is." Gregory sighs.

"Gregory." Evan says, just above a whisper, because he cant manage anything louder at that moment. He stares at Gregory's stomach, feeling a pit in his own stomach when he cant tear his eyes away. "Gregory!"

"I told you you'd freak out." Gregory mutters, like he doesnt have a literal knife sticking out of his flesh.

"Why would I not freak out?!" Evan whisper yells, because wow he does not need his father or Michael to walk in right now. He gestures wildly, trying to put all of his emotions I into the single movement. "You have a knife in you!"

Despite what Gregory said not to do, Evan looks hard at it anyway. It isnt super deep; it's one of those really tiny pocket knives, like what you would use to carve wood with. He can still see some of the blade sticking out, which means the inch and a half long blade isnt plundged very deep.

"I know." Gregory says. "Can you help me get it out?"

Evan gapes. "Help you--" He giggles maniacally. "Gregory, if I pull it out, I'll have no clue how to make it so you wont bleed out."

"Well," Gregory glances away. "I cant really go to the hospital, and I cant just leave it in." He says. "You're my best bet. Besides, I promise it isnt that bad. It could have been way worse. I dont need a hospital."

Wow. No pressure, or anything. Evan implodes, shaking his hands out and doing laps around the room. "I'm gonna have to pull a knife out of you."

"Okay. Stay calm, remember?" Gregory repeats, and when Evan's facing Gregory's direction again after another lap, he can see him wincing. "Look, I know you're wigging out, but I really dont want this knife to me stuck inside me anymore."

"I would assume so!" Evan hisses, coming to a stop in the middle of his room and wringing his hands through his sweater sleeves. "Gregory--"

"Okay, listen." Gregory sounds strained, and Evan takes a moment to pause, worry taking ahold of his stomach like a giant hand and squeezing. "You have a phone, don't you? I need you to Google what to do, and pull this stupid knife out of my stomach."

Evan gets queasy just thinking about it. "Gregory."

"I know." He says. "But, look. I'm not gonna be awake much longer, since I pretty much ran from the city to here while I was bleeding, and the guy who attacked me had already beat me up a bit before stabbing me."

Evan's heart seizes at that. He returns to Gregory's side, sitting down with him. "But, isnt it not good if you're unconscious--"

"I dont know." He interrupts, eyes squeezed shut. "Look, I'm feeling kinda woozy, so I dont know how much longer I have left, but I'll try to stay awake."

Evan frowns. "You're acting like you're gonna die or something." He jokes, but his hand shake at the thought. "...Okay. Come here."

Gregory perks up, sitting up with great effort and putting an arm around Evan's neck when he gestures to. "We're doing this?"

"Yeah." Evan says shakily. He supports Gregory as he leads him lay down, pressed up against the wall, where if the door opened, hed be hidden behind it. Evan grabs a few of the towels he hides in his room to always have a clean one, -since he can never rely on laundry being done in his house-, and lays them under Gregory to soak up any blood. His father would kill Evan if he got the carpet stained with blood.

Evan grabs the first aid kit he always has hidden under his bed, and clicks it open, settling on his knees in front of Gregory's slack form on the floor with hovering hands as he glances at each of the kits contends uncertainly.

He grabs his phone, fingers trembling and pressing all the wrong buttons. Gregorys harsh breathing doesnt help.

"How did this even happen?" Evan asks as he desperately types in 'how to pull a wood carving knife out of your stomach at home' into the search bar. "Like-- I know you get into fights sometimes, but this?"

"Okay okay." Gregory coughs a bit. "Ill tell you. So, you know how it's about to storm?"

Evan glances at the crack through the curtains just enough to see the dark gray clouds swirling. "Yeah."

"So, I wasnt at my usual spot, but it was really close to starting to pour. And getting sick is like, the worst case scenario." Gregory says while Evan reads the random article he found at the speed of light. "So, I had to find some other place closer to where I was to wait out the storm, because I couldnt travel that far in the rain."

Evan pauses in reading, frowning and looking at Gregory's face. "You know you can always come here, right?"

Gregory frowns, looking away. "Yeah, but..." He trails off. "Its not fair to dump my problems on you like that."

Evan scoffs, breathing out a light chuckle. "Like you didnt dump your problems on me right now. And even then, I dont mind. I would much rather you come to me then be in pain somewhere else. Okay?"

Evan doesnt look at Gregory's face, too busy looking down at the article he has pulled up on his phone in his trembling hand, but he can tell hes smiling.

"Also, don't act like you don't make my problems your own, too. Im allowed to do the same as well, you know."

"Okay, okay." Gregory huffs. "I get it. I'll come to you right away next time. Happy?"

"Yes." Evan says, and he really is. Knowing that Gregory is sure to come to Evan when the weather gets bad, or something happens that makes the city unsafe, Evan will be able to sleep soundly knowing Gregory will either be safe with him, or he will be if need be. "You never finished telling me how you ended up with a pocket knife stuck in you, though."

"Right." Gregory chuckles. "So, I find this kind of hidden away spot, right? And I'm thinking I got really lucky, and set my stuff down. But then this other older kid shows up, and its obvious hes like me. But he gets really mad that I'm in his spot and starts yelling at me to get out."

"Jerk." Evan says, pulling the things he needs out of the first aid kit. "You should help eachother out, not fight. I'm sure he could have lended you some space."

"I'm sure you would have." Gregory chuckles. "But anyway, I'm packing up my stuff to leave, because this guy hurting me is a bigger concern than the weather at this point, and I dont want to mess with him."

Evan nods along, and goes to begin, but pauses when the first step is to take out the knife. Nausea curls in his gut, and he winces, glancing at Gregory.

"Hey." He cuts Gregory off in his story, and tries to look as apologetic as possible. "I, um. Have to take the knife out."

Gregory's eyes blow wide, and he frowns. "Oh."

Evan fidgets, having no idea how to make this better for Gregory. "Do you want me to count to three, or...?"

"Just do it." Gregory puts that steely exterior on. "I can handle it. Just do what you need to do."

Evan feels awful; this must suck for Gregory. Even if the knife is small and not very deep, having something sharp ripped out of your flesh cant be fun. "If you're sure."

He props himself on his knees, getting as close to Gregory as possible, and wraps a hand firmly around the small handle of the wood carving knife.

He can see it in Gregory's eyes. Neither of them want to do this.

"Keep telling your story." Evan says softly. Maybe itll distract Gregory from it, even a little bit. And Evan, as well. He can already feel bile working it's way up his throat at the thought.

Gregory nods minutely, jaw locked and tense. He breathes out a bit. "...Kay. So, I'm trying to tell him that I'll leave if he let's me get my stuff, but hes really impatient, and when I dont leave right away, he tries to scare me away faster by beating me."

Evan winces, pointedly twisting his neck away from the knife, as he tightens his grip, anticipation sending lightning through his veins. "That explains the bruises." He says shakily.

Gregory pauses, waiting for something that doesn't come. "...Yeah. He uh, he got me pretty good... but he didnt leave unscathed either. But, I think I got it worse."

"Definitely." Evan agrees ghastily, his stomach rolling when he feels the cold handle of the knife pressing idents in his skin. "Keep going."

Gregory gives him a look, but continues. "...So when I start fighting back, even though I'm smaller, he took that as a bad thing, apparently, and wanted me gone so he didnt get hurt. So what does he do?"

Evan doesn't respond, just squeezing his eyes shut, biting his tongue, and ripping off the bandaid.

Evan rips the knife out with a quick flick of his shoulder, and gags when it makes a fleeting metal-on-flesh sound as its removed. Gregory lurches lightly next to him, making a garbled, suprised sound, and when it's over, just lays flat on the floor.

"G-God." Gregory coughs, stuttering. "Okay, that wasnt that bad. I guess."

"I'm sorry." Evan frets, flinching and dropping the knife on the towel when some of Gregory's blood drips down his fingers. "I'm sorry, Gregory."

"You didnt do it." Gregory chuckles, his face white as a sheet. He brings up an arm to clutch at a spot just above the wound on his chest. "Jesus."

"I'll fix you up." Evan says softly, setting a hand on Gregory's own and taking it away just as quickly when he rushes to go wash his hands. "Okay? It might hurt, but you'll be okay. I'll make sure of it."

"...Kay." Is all Gregory says, and Evan rushes faster when he just let's his head fall against the floor.

When Evan comes back, he all but dives onto the floor, grabbing the things he layed out on the carpet and beginning. "Gregory, hey!"

"What?" Gregory asks, and Evan sinks in relief when hes still awake. He rolls up Gregory's shirt, inspecting the wound, and he finds it looks more like just a deep cut than anything. "I know you're trying to stay awake, but I'm probably gonna have to find a way to close this cut, so you might want to go ahead and go to sleep."

Gregory pales. "Like, stitches?"

"Probably." Evan shudders. A wave of sickness washes over his body when he realizes hes probably gonna have to find a needle and thread, and stitch Gregory's flesh closed, even if the cut is only an inch or so long. "Better safe than sorry. And I really dont think having a wood carving knife stabbed into you, even if it wasnt that deep, is okay to just put a bandaid over."

"...Alright." Gregory sighs, and his head rolls against the floor, his body relaxing. "I don't want to be awake for that."

"Me neither." Evan huffs, and Gregory breathes the air of a laugh through his nose. "But I think you'll be okay. Just sleep, and you'll be patched up when you wake up."

Gregory sighs a deep sigh, and Evan thinks it sounds like deep relief just settled. "Okay. Thank you, Evan."

"Of course." Evan replies, and when Gregory shuts his eyes and no doubt falls asleep pretty quick, Evan glances around his room, and realizes hes gonna have to go on a scavenger hunt for a needle and thread.

He sighs, hoping and wishing that he wont run into his father or Michael when he has to venture out of the safety of his room, but he relaxes at the moment, taking in a deep breath and reaching for some supplies.

First, he has to clean the wound.

🐻

When Gregory creaks his eyes open, it's not to Evan's carpeted floor like he had expected. Well, he is on the floor, he finds when he finally takes in his surroundings. But he isnt laying down completely. Some pillows and blankets have been posed and laid around him, like a nest, and Evan is sitting next to him in the middle, scrolling and watching something on his phone.

Gregory twists his neck and puts pressure in his arm, trying to prop himself up. He yawns, and Evan startles, taking out the crappy Walmart earbuds he'd bought. "Gregory!"

"Hi." Gregory groans, feeling the effects of his fistfight and intense sprint take hold, his body groaning and aching with soreness at his movement. He feels warm; which is something he wasnt expecting when he'd initially thought he'd spend the span of the storm outside in it. "Ugh."

Evan shuts his phone off lays it and his earbuds on the blanket, twisting his torso and shimmying in his spot laying against a pillow against the wall and legs covered with a throw blanket to face him. "You probably dont feel too good."

"Like crap." Gregory agrees. When he shifts again, back and head cushioned against two pillows without cases on them, he can feel the sore sort of throbbing pain of whatever stitches Evan had sewn in him. He wrinkles his nose at the thought, feeling guilty on Evan's behalf. "But... the stitches feel secure. I'm sorry you had to do that, it must have sucked really hard."

"It did." Evan shudders, but chuckles at the same time. "You know, I had to go in my Moms room to get the needle and thread and steal the pills from my Dad."

Gregory quirks a brow. "What pills?" He asks at the same time Evan hands him a small bottle of Advil. "Oh."

Evan hands him some snacks, too. A water bottle and some crackers. He smiles softly and takes them, taking two Advil with a swig of the water bottle. "You did all that for me?" Gregory asks, voice small. "...I know you hate your Dad, and your parents would get mad at you if they saw you snooping."

"I know." Evan says, fidgeting with one of the blankets and laying his head on the pillow propped against the wall. "But I wanted you to feel better more than I was scared of my parents."

Theres a short stretch of silence after that, only the harsh rain and wind against the house being heard. Gregory stays silent, turning over Evan's words in his head.

His eyes burn slightly, but he pushes it down with precise practice. "Thank you" Is all he can find in him to say. Theres too many feelings, too many emotions he has to put them into words.

But Evan knows him, and Gregory knows he understands when he nods, and smiles that small, kind smile that just screams 'and I'd do it again'. "Of course." Evan insists, and looks away for a moment. "I want you to trust me, okay? I want to show you that if you come to me because you need help, I'll be here, and I wont discount you, or-- or shrug you off."

Gregory doesn't smile, but he feels warmth spread through his chest at that. Gregory knows Evan, so he knows exactly why he would want Gregory to feel that way. He knows exactly why Evan holds himself to that, even though Gregorys confident a lot of it has to do with just the kindness in Evan's own heart.

"I-I know." Gregory whispers. "I came here because I do trust you. I came here because I know that."

It's really hard for Gregory to say that, and he knows Evan understands, because he doesnt comment, just nods, relief sagging his shoulders.

Theres a short burst of silence for a moment, the two of them just soaking up the atmosphere of being warm and comfortable, despite the circumstances.

"You're staying here, by the way." Evan's voice rips him out of his thoughts suddenly, and Gregory snaps to attention to see Evan looking at him sternly, but worriedly. "I know you're gonna try to say something stupid about how you're fine to go back into the rain. You arent going anywhere near the city, alright? I don't care if the storm lasts a week. I'll find a way to hide you so Michael or my father dont find you, okay?"

Gregory snorts at Evan's intense voice, but his heart bursts all the same. "Okay, Evan. I promise."

"Good." Evan sounds appeased. He twists his body, reaching for something, and grabs his phone, putting one earbud in and giving Gregory the other. He opens YouTube, handing the phone to Gregory. "You can pick. Honor of the patient."

Gregory grins, giggling. "Thanks, Doctor Evan."

ao3 link

#it was less that the wound was actually bad #and more that theyre 13 and the wound in question is technically a stab wound and that sounds super bad on paper #so theyre seeing it worse than it may be because its scary #lso having something stabbed in you that isnt supposed to be there #will make you woozy and almost pass out so that just adds to the scary factor for them #i hope some of the details i put in hammered in how uncomfortable evan is in his own home. but since becoming friends with gregory #(lets say a year so theyre both 13 here)#hes grown a bit more of a backbone alongside just getting older #so hes actually doing things that might get him in trouble #like hiding food and towels in his room and blocking the door with furniture #when before he would be too scared to do any of that and just let the torment happen #written with medical inaccuracies (probably) tagged #pandas writes #oneshot #ficlet #flashlight duo #gregory and evan #the aftons #evan #gregory #fnaf gregory #evan afton #flashlight duo modern au #au #blood warning #stabbing mention #blood and injury #mention of child neglect #vomit mention #flashlight duo oneshots

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sollucets · 8 months

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wrote a whole long post that didn't make sense because i'm a fic writer not a meta writer and the point comes down to this: sand and ray are both Such Bad Liars

they have honest faces. nobody, in-universe or in the audience, is ever really fooled when they pretend things are other than they are.

when sand is hurt you can tell, it's in every line of his body. ray is expressive and straightforward but hides his hurt a little better, not because he's better at lying but because the hurt hardly ever goes away.

ray can see sand freezing up and looking upset when he's called a friend or not prioritized, he can see the lie, but it doesn't matter compared to what sand's actually saying and what it'll mean if it's (not) true. he's gotten a lesson recently about pushing. and sand, i think, can see ray caring but he can't imagine it could be enough, that he could matter the most or be a priority. when ray calls sand a whore it's the only lie he told that night and sand knows it

when they hurt each other sand lies and pulls away and ray can tell, and similarly ray lies and pulls away and sand can tell, and theyre stuck in limbo because of it. awful. hate it. 10000 more just like it please

#again as always there are other layers #ray pulls back out of self-loathing (less of me will always be better for the other person) and a sort of clumsy kindness and fear #sand lies out of wounded pride and longing for something he can only get through pretending and out of self-preservation and out of fear #sand is sometimes so honest it hurts (and when he is you can see ray falling in real time)#and ray lies too now and again to try to keep people from seeing just how bad it's got #also to be clear this applies to sand's girlboss gaslight manipulation moment too #like he's better at it than regular lying because he's had time to prepare but ray still sees straight through it #just bc ray ends up telling mew anyway doesn't mean he can't see sand's ulterior motives from a mile off #this is very melodramatic of me i know but like. this is how i have to get my shit out they are rotating in my brain 24/7 #i am actually also writing fic in another tab as we speak im literally overflowing constantly thinking about them #rowan chatter #re: only friends

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thedreadvampy · 7 months

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legitimately insane how to some people, "we should wipe out this ethnic group that we've violently constrained to a ghetto because they're just genetically more violent and dangerous" is a reasonable and justifiable statement but it's Nazi Rhetoric to say something like, "it's bad that Israeli civilians are being killed but acknowledging that as tragic includes acknowledging that the almost daily state-sanctioned murder of civilians by the Israeli government is also tragic and unacceptable"

btw guys speaking of Nazi shit - can we check in, alongside what's been done to Palestinians in the last 75 years, what's the Israeli government's take on the Azerbaijani government's newest round of ethnic cleansing of Armenians? oh are the Israeli government's actions maybe not determined by Jewish identity, but by a commitment to colonial supremacy which puts them on the same page as other violently genocidal states like Azerbaijan, the US, and the UK? god can you Even Imagine?

(framing speaking against Israeli war crimes as inherently antisemitic requires understanding the Israeli state as representing all Jewish people, when it doesn't even represent all Israelis.

framing Israeli war crimes as synonymous with Jewish identity is pretty fucked up if we're being honest. I don't think that controlling water and power and movement for a captive population and shooting children dead for throwing stones is an inherent value of Judaism, any more than I think the torture carried out at Guantanamo Bay is an inherent value of Christianity - in both cases they're atrocities carried out by a far right genocidal government using religious identity as a shield.

Calling statements like "Israel is committing genocide against the people it's displaced" inherently antisemitic is doing more to further the idea that all Jewish people are associated with Israel than saying "the Israeli government is doing war crimes," which is a statement of fact about a country that exists and does war crimes. Is criticism of Israel as a nation often used as cover for antisemitism? Absolutely. Does that mean the Israeli government isn't doing literal war crimes repeatedly, on record, while talking publicly about scrubbing an ethnic group off the map? Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh well in the last 48 hours they've definitely cut off water and power to almost 600,000 civilians and allegedly used white phosphorus against civilians so in an extremely factual and unambiguous way yeah man those are Literal War Crimes whoever does them.)

#red said #sorry man saying 'it's bad to do genocide and war crimes' doesn't actually mean 'I'm happy when Jewish people die'#it means 'there is a context to Palestinian militants attacking Israelis which involves Palestinians being killed wounded or imprisoned #very nearly every day by the Israeli state and settlers. so no you can't treat a Palestinian attack on Israel as an unprecedented tragedy #without also recognising that Israeli forces have repeatedly visited attacks of similar magnitude on Palestine which is ALSO tragic #as well as the regular state-sanctioned murder of over 200 Palestinians in the 9 months BEFORE the Palestinian attack on Saturday #It means 'Palestinian lives don't matter less than Israeli lives' not 'Israeli lives don't matter'#this week is literally the FIRST TIME SINCE RECORDS BEGAN that more Israeli lives have been lost than Palestinian #bc for every year since 2000 orders of magnitude more palestinians than Israelis have been killed in this war #you don't get to say 'it's only bad when X ethnic group is killed it's GOOD to kill Y ethnic group' then accuse OTHERS of genocide apologis #it is legitimately a tragedy for Israeli civilians to be killed and wounded en masse. the people are not the nation.#but it's not less of a tragedy for Palestinians to have been killed and wounded en masse week after week for decades.#and when peaceful protest gets you shot and bombed and acting against the military gets you shot and bombed #and just existing doing nothing at all gets you shot and bombed. living near someone accused of terrorism. looking for your fucking cat.#when you're getting shot and bombed daily whatever you do. it's not surprising that sometimes people move to violence against civilians.#because as people from Gaza have said. better to die fighting for survival than die on your knees waiting.#which like. I'm not making a moral judgement one way or the other bc i am intrinsically disgusted by mass killing. as we all should be.#and this might be the movement which liberates Palestine and it might be the excuse which allows Israel to finish Palestine #and either way hundreds of people are dead on both sides and however you slice it that's a fucking tragedy #but we cannot. treat it as if Hamas' strike began the violence. and ignore the 200+ Palestinians killed by the IDF this year beforehand #Palestinian lives matter as much as Israeli lives. 700 Israeli citizens dead is a tragedy. 600 Palestinians dead is a tragedy.#and if you lay out the numbers from this weekend alone you can pretend that Israelis are getting decimated by Palestine.#but to do that you have to ignore the facts that for every 1 Israeli killed in the past decade 3 Palestinians die.#and that Israeli deaths happen in occasional outbursts of violence while Palestinian deaths happen every week #whether or not Hamas or any other Palestinian faction initiates violence

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sketchingstars03 · 9 months

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Hey guys I’m really upset about the latest Splatfest if you couldn’t tell! /sarcasm

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void-botanist · 2 months

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Thade Adventures: Parkour

OCs: Thade Orech-Pabat, Caladea Ores-Pabat, and Pirianus Orech-Pabat

Words: 500

Content warnings: heights, getting kinda made fun of in front of your crush

Taglist: @vacantgodling

“Do you think it’s possible to parkour all the way down to the ground floor from here?” Thade said, leaning against the railing at the edge of the open space that cut all the way down to said ground floor.

“Maybe,” Caladea said, barely looking up from her phone.

He grinned. “You think I should try?”

She looked up for real. “No, you can’t parkour.”

“I can totally parkour,” he said, pushing himself up on his arms so that his hips rested against the top of the railing. He brought one sandaled foot up between his hands—he wasn’t going to go further than crouching on the rail, because he couldn’t parkour, but his foot slipped out from under him and his arms betrayed him and he found himself bent double over the railing, clinging to the slats, his feet barely skimming the carpet. The fourth floor suddenly looked very high up.

“Okay, I take it back,” he said. “Can you help me?” If he’d been with anyone but Caladea, they probably would have left him there to think about his actions for a while, but she came over right away to haul him back up by his pants waistband. Which would have worked if he hadn’t chosen this moment to be wearing sweatpants. Instead of helping, she just pulled down his pants, and he suspected also his boxer briefs.

“Oh no, I’m sorry,” she said like it was an accident, but she was also giggling.

“Callie, you better not be filming this.”

“I’m not.” Giggle giggle. She must be, because she certainly wasn’t helping him. He kicked his legs a little bit and felt a cold rush of fear as he shifted forward on the rail. Well, this was fine. He could just work his way back up the slats with his hands, and he would eventually slide back onto the floor. It wouldn’t be easy, but it would be faster. He’d hardly started when he felt familiar rough-edged hands on his hips and he was ungraciously pulled back upright. As his blood stopped pooling in his head, he beheld Pirianus standing there, frowning as always. That is, until Caladea showed him something on her phone, and he cracked a tiny blue-edged smile.

“Thanks,” Thade said with zero gratitude, pulling up his stupid sweatpants. Before he could escape these two chucklefucks, though, Caladea turned her phone on him, and he was met with a photo of himself stranded over the rail, his panicked face looking through the slats, and his hairy asscrack surrounded by ironic hearts and sparkles. Across the top was the word PARKOUR flanked with party poppers and flames.

“Great, thank you,” he said with a fake smile. It should have been funny. He should have been laughing—he could take a joke at his expense any day of the week—but instead he felt his cheeks burning. “I’ll get that put on my calling cards.”

He didn’t look at her or Pirianus as he walked away.

#it WAS an accident however. this did not stop her from taking the opportunity #this one actually made me feel kinda bad for him. because yeah normally he would laugh it off and be fine #in fact if Caladea had managed to get him back up onto the floor he would have been howling about that picture #“no put a clown emoji on my face. yes I promise not to fake parkour again” (this is a lie but it will be less dangerous next time)#that's really what she intended. Caladea is not a mean-spirited person #and shouldn't he have been able to see Pirianus's little smile and be fine anyway? but he knows Pirianus doesn't actually like him #and this otherwise hilarious situation is pouring piles of salt in that wound #so anyway I think Thade has spent most of the last thirteen years pining after someone who will not let him in in the slightest #so he laughs it off and is “fine” with it but this is going to be an absolute powder keg when Kiatcarmen dies #(on that note do you think their theme song is Total Eclipse of the Heart)#Marcus's polycule: tearful heartfelt reunion #Minaya's polycule: trying to hold it together through the funeral and coronation #Kiatcarmen's polycule: just two guys. fighting in the hallway. their husband and wife are ignoring them #(Marcus's polycule is betting on whether they're going to wrestle each other in the hallway tbh)#c: Thade #c: Caladea #c: Pirianus #wip: iecunem #rose writ #thade adventures #rose brambles

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prettyboysdontlookatexplosions · 1 year

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my birthday present to myself was having my eyebrow piercing reopened and getting my first haircut in like three and a half years and i am VERY pleased with the results

#i actually thought i was gonna have to get the eyebrow repierced bc i took it out like.... a decade ago???#but the guy looked at it and said he'd probably be able to fit a piece of jewelry in it as-is and iit turned out he was right #which was nice bc it wound up cheaper than expected and also while not a painless procedure hurt much less than a fresh piercing lmao #and while it's a little sore if i bump into it it also hurts much less now than a fresh piercing would the day after #he said apparently eyebrows are sort of notorious for this which is very delightful to me as like #a glimpse of the things that get a big Oh You Know in a world i know nothing about #also the last haircut i got was like upsettingly bad #and i was so excited to go get it fixed when i went on spring break in march 2020......#anyway. but we're here now!

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borom1r · 5 months

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I need an essay prompt. I need to write essays again. 5-8 pages double spaced mla format. oooooooooo I have words in my brain and no acceptable outleeeeeeeeeeeeeet

#I FEEL SO BAD #it’s actually so fucking funny how it wound up that like #my mother is the only person who I like. give absolutely zero shit how she perceives me AND couldn’t care less abt her opinion so if she #makes fun of me it’s literally whatever. she gave me the tiniest opening and I literally ranted for like 10 minutes about Rohanese

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pepprs · 1 year

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i wish i’d kept pushing the point (<- vagueposting). im so tired i’m hitting a wall. but why is the answer to feeling bottomlessly lonely just to love myself and be loved by myself? isn’t that only more loneliness?

#purrs #i know being by myself is not aloneness. but like seriously are you actually serious that there is no one coming to save me? that I have to #walk around with this giant gaping wound forever and no one will be able yo close it? i need total nurturance and comfort badly and to have #any less than total is.. well i don’t want to say it’s as bad as having none at all because obviously it’s not true. but it’s still bad. it #makes it harder to ask for more when you already have some and have reached the limit of what you can ask for. i just feel bottomlessly #lonely. i know things will get better. but what i really need is a long hug and a good cry in someone’s arms. not isolating myself in a #cabin for a week (though i know i desperately need that too). like we’re human beings and we can do that for each other so why don’t we? why #can’t we fix each other? why can’t we be nurturing like that and fill the voids for people who have them. and i know it’s rich coming from m #me bc iam skittish like a horse around emotions and also that it’s pitifully expected from me bc i am reading too much into normal experien #nces most people have. but how am i supposed to just accept that i didn’t get the love i needed (even if im romanticizing m*therlove lmao) a #and then move on as if that’s fine? how can i just snap my fingers and be an autonomous adult when ive spent years accruing psychological #damage with the most limited kind of cushioning? when every second brings with it a potential jab to my River of Pain nerve? idk.#i was deeply violently depressed abt this stuff earlier this week but tonight im just quietly sad. i want the stability and certainty of #(unconditional) love. i want my whole future safe and warm and now or at least the ability to trust it will exist which is also called hope.#i don’t want to be alone and wretched anymore.

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penname-artist · 1 year

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#TLDR this is an add-on post to my previous reblog #because there was something I wanted to clarify in it that I forgot to #probably because I slept in until eleven again and have no idea what month it is anymore #but I digress!#I don't actually completely hate the characters I listed - not nearly the way that I did before #See all those thing I listed weren't just 'generally ruined by bad fandom' characters those are all previous triggers of mine #previous #as in they no longer affect me the way they used to and I've worked very hard to reconstruct my concepts of them away from trauma #Cabbie in PARTICULAR here because that guy went from me wanting nothing to do with him at ALL #to being another trauma-bearing character I have to write out in order to work out complicated emotions in my brain #and later additions surrounding the character have given me reason to enjoy him more fully and with less pressure that I used to feel #the same goes to all characters to varying degrees #though the reasons behind that may be separate #and the processes in which I learned to be alright with them again are mildly varied #There are still some tender places and wounds I'm treating softly #and sometimes not just for my sake but for friends' sakes too - people who were there and people who feel somewhat similarly #but the reason isn't relevant anymore #things just happen #and I'm getting closer every day to better managing the weight that things happening left behind #which circles back to the first statement that no - I don't 'hate' the characters anymore #people ruined them for me once before and I dug my heels in and changed the story #for my own sake #that's about the most you can do y'know?#anyways this was long

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vampacidic · 2 years

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ohoho. ohohohoho (via)

#local body horror guy when blorbo canonically faces The Horrors #kaoru deserves to commit ego death and cannibalize someone. as a treat #i am going to do Very Bad Things to her #sage talks #actually i have a lot of body horror thoughts for kaoru...#she's self centered about her appearance at the beginning of ! .... but now she's much less interested in that #but i think she'd be disgusted watching her body transform... limbs falling off permanent wounds etc. diehard habits #but at the same time she feels herself stop caring and yknow. want to Bite Bite Maim Destroy #ok that's enough for the public to see. nobody else needs to see my evil thoughts

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aeide-thea · 2 years

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seeing multiple ends of a discourse football on my dash, reblogged by good well-intentioned people who i respect and think highly of and whose values i'm pretty sure have a great deal of overlap, and just thinking abt a post i saw recently that i'm p sure is still wending its way thru my queue, abt tumblr/socmed discussions as border skirmishes intended to underscore division, rather than as consensus-building...

#this is not the discourse football in question but i'm also thinking again abt the yennefer discourse in witcher fandom #where like. there ended up being this really binary hardcore divide #between yennefer stans and ppl who had any reservations abt her #and if you belonged to the latter group you often got told it was Definitely You Being Racist #which just. then and now struck me as a much less helpful line of discussion #than saying something like 'it's rough to be someone who cares about/identifies with women of color in this (read: every) fandom...#...bc they get written off for being less than perfectly pleasant and compliant much more quickly than white male characters do'#'and while no one has to love yennefer‚ and there are reasons to find fault with her other than racism...#...it sucks that it's impossible to be a fan of hers and seek out content related to her without seeing people bashing her over and over'#'and maybe we as a fandom could brainstorm about how to create an environment that rubs a little less salt in people's wounds'#'because you don't have to be irredeemably racist to be perpetuating patterns that people have understandably been sensitized to'#'and presumably we'd all like to avoid wounding our fellow fans in those ways‚ rather than writing them off as oversensitive?'#like. that's a long-winded set of tags & i don't mean to‚ like‚ retroactively tone-police people who got too upset to frame things carefully #but i just do think like. things don't have to be Inarguably Inherently Bad to wound people who've seen similar patterns before #and ultimately it's worth saying‚ look‚ this feels different to me but i value you and your presence in my community and i want to listen #rather than being like 'i know i don't mean this the way you're saying i mean it‚ so i'm going to write you off as absurd & over-aggressive'#if you're serious abt building relationships and coalitions you have to actually hear people out about their perspective #and not just say 'your stance sounds ridiculous to me from my perspective‚ which i refuse to step outside of'#anyway these tags make this sound as though this is just abt Fandom which i don't actually think it is at all #just that that was an issue i could raise without getting into the specifics of the current football #but like. ultimately this is about valuing and respecting other people and being willing to hear them out and enter into their perspective #which is frankly fucking hard and i've failed at it plenty of times myself!#theory #interpersonal #also i guess #Fannish Ethical Concerns #given the tag spiral

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neganium · 20 days

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I need more drawing pads. Like, plural. I absolutely hate running out of drawing paper...

I have enough money for like, one, maybe two, depending on the size of them. But I want pads of a decent (tho not excessive) size, and I want a lot of them... I don't have quite enough to buy certain ones in bulk like I'd like, bc for some reason that's expensive.

Really, I need to get back to drawing on the computer, but that's such an unpleasant experience for me lately; drawing with pencil and paper is just barely more tolerable wrt the desk situation. Also, depending, I could maybe save up for a scanner, with how much some of these bulk packages go for... and how cheap the particular scanner is. hh.

I also really need a new desk. But I have to be conscious of a few things, even assuming I had the money; there's a limit to what I can do presently, wrt to space, and also how the room is currently (i.e. sinking floors is a big issue). My mom wants smth lightweight and easy to move; something somewhat temporary, you know? Whereas I want something... idk, bigger. at least taking up more lateral space than she'd probably like it to... tho again, space is an issue, especially considering the furniture I already have in here. Really, what I'd like to do is just transplant into a different space; start from scratch, as it were. But, you know, rent is a thing; we're paying for far more than this house is worth as it is. But hell if I wouldn't like for us to jump ship out of this slowly sinking, moldering dump someday...

#''hey neg how's it going'' baby it's going. pretty much. is what I'm saying here #sorry I think I must be having another bad day lol #past few days have kind of sucked actually. I could probably make it suck a little less #by taking care of myself at least a little bit; but the longer it goes the less you want to yannow? and the worse you end up feelin for it #also at this point it's kind of like putting a bandaid on a gaping wound; it doesn't treat the root of the issue #idek what exactly that is; but I can bet that the financial situation contributes heavily to it

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flangore · 4 months

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❥ scarlet plumes

feat.: Valentino/f!reader

warnings: nsfw content, noncon, physical + psychological abuse, unhealthy relationships, violence, drugging, rough sex, choking, punishments, manipulation, Valentino is his own warning

You were not the type to get into trouble.

Being confrontational, at least attempting to have things go your way through protests and complaints, had never seemed worth it; not when the one you were up against was Valentino, who always got what he wanted in the end, one way or another.

All too often, you had seen the way he punished disobedient whores; all too often, you had watched the way they were still limping days after, bruises blooming on skin if they had been lucky, bullet wounds trying to heal, oozing blood, if they had been less so.

There was no reason to willingly go through the struggle of disobeying when simply giving in, caving to Val's wishes and orders, was so much easier.

When Valentino told you to bend over, you did so readily, spreading your thighs apart in offering; when Valentino ordered you down onto your knees, you went obediently, lips dropping open, praying he wasn't in a bad mood, unpredictable as his sudden bursts of anger often made him.

You were not the type to get into trouble, and yet you currently found yourself on the floor, crumpled in front of Valentino's boots, cheek warm and stinging.

“Now, why don't you tell me what happened, baby?” His tone was a low coo, almost gentle enough to soothe your sobs. “You've never acted out like this before. What happened to my well-behaved girl, hm?”

In your defense, it really hadn't been your fault — you hadn't meant to do it.

Your night shift had been supposed to be a simple session for a well-known client, consisting of some lap dancing and a blow job; that was what he had paid for, at least. Your surprise when he had begun ripping your skimpy panties off you, forcing your legs apart, hands greedy, mouth drooling, high on some drug, was therefore understandable in your eyes; as was the way you, in your shock, had lashed out, claws scratching at his chest in order to push him off you. A split second later, the side of your face had ached with pain, his flat palm having met your cheek before he had stormed out of the room, screaming and spitting.

Valentino had been with you after barely any time at all.

“I didn't—”, you choked out, voice trembling, “I didn't mean to do it, sir, I swear, he just startled me, and, I mean, he didn't pay for more, he wanted to —, he wanted to—”

One hand of his cupped your cheek, golden claw gently tracing over your jaw. Even with him crouched down in front of you, he seemed ridiculously tall. “Hey—, relax, sweetheart.” At an exhale, red smoke coiled around you, assaulting your senses. Instinctively, your raised shoulders fell as tension bled from your muscles. “I get it. I understand.”

With how utterly merciless Valentino was known to be, it took a few moments for you to actually understand the meaning of his words. Even then, you barely dared to let go of the dreadful fear curled in your stomach. “You do?”

“Of course I do”, he said, eyes half-lidded behind heart-shaped glasses. His voice was soft enough to cause more tears, now of relief, to drip down your cheeks. “You know, I was really surprised when that patron came up to me, demanding to have you fired, if not killed for your disobedience. You're usually such an obedient girl — I was wondering what actually happened. Good job for being honest with me.”

Hope bloomed in your chest, your eyes widening. Streaks of mascara and eyeshadow, black and colourful, ran down your wet cheeks. “So you're not upset with me?”

“Upset with you? Of course not, amorcito. You were scared, that's alright. It happens, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Your breath hitched in a stifled sob, lips, the gloss now smudged, curling up into a pitiful mockery of a smile. “Yeah. Thank you, Val.”

This could have gone much worse. Your hands were still shaking, anxiety thrumming underneath your skin, and yet Valentino didn't even seem particularly upset. Some higher being — whether that was Lucifer or God, you didn't really care — must have blessed you, somehow.

“Of course, baby.” The moment Valentino stood once more, he towered over you, his shadow swallowing you up. “Now, follow me, yeah?”

Your legs struggled to support your weight, knees feeling weak as you trailed behind him through corridors you didn't recognise. Your steps were unsure, the heels, ridiculously high, only adding to your troubles. You have half a mind to stop yourself from asking where you're going.

It's entirely unnecessary, either way.

You arrive but a moment later, the noise of a heavy door falling shut causing you to flinch; where Valentino was in front of you just a second ago, he was now behind you, a looming presence at your back.

It was a studio; not the fancy kind actual stars like Angel Dust filmed in, but a smaller one, the light bulb flickering, the sheets on the bed stained. Voxtech cameras were pointed at the mattress.

“Val—?”

“Bend over, baby.”

“You said you're not angry with me.” The words tumbled out of your mouth without your permission, a panicked high-pitched tone. “You said you're not—”

“And I'm not, as long as you hurry the fuck up and do what I tell you to.” His voice was sharp. Instinctively, you obeyed, bending over the edge of the bed, nausea churning in your stomach. “See, that guy you were a bitch to was a regular. Good money. I gotta show him you're sorry, sweetheart. You understand that, right?”

For a moment, you didn't get a word out, throat tight as tears spilled past your lashes. Eventually, you managed a shaky; “Yes, Valentino.”

“There we go. Knew you'd get why I have to do this.”

Large hands settled on your thighs, the touch making you flinch; his claws, all too sharp, teased at your skin, leaving faint scratch marks, before they prodded at your folds.

This, by now, should have been routine. It was; and yet, the idea of this being a punishment had you tensing, muscles locking up while Valentino thrust one claw into you, only to grunt, irritated.

“Ungrateful bitch”, he spat, one hand settling on your lower back, pinning you to the bed while another fumbled with his belt, metal clinking. “That's what I get for tryin' to be nice and preparing you — tightest cunt I've ever seen. Loosen the fuck up or deal with it.”

“I'm sorry.” Your voice shook, though the threat of violence, of pain, didn't help with relaxing in the slightest. Instead, you instinctively clenched around the digit, only to whimper when he yanked it back out.

“Sure doesn't seem like it.”

The fat head of his cock, pierced, the metal cold, pressed against you, then pushed inside; you were unable to stop yourself from letting out a pitiful noise, sounding more like a wounded animal than a practiced porn star.

Valentino didn't seem to mind it one bit.

Your vision blackened out for a moment when he bottomed out inside of you, the pain agonising. For a moment, you were certain he was tearing you from the inside out. His hips slapped against your plush ones, building up a steady rhythm; one set of his hands grabbed onto your hips, claws digging into your skin, using his grip for leverage to pull you back against him

“Some wetness would help us out here, y'know”, Valentino mumbled, complaining, bitching, like this was your fault. It probably was.

The only response you were able to come up with was a choked out sob, a dull ache steadily present in your abdomen, only interrupted by sharp stabbing pain whenever Valentino's tip hit an impossibly deep spot inside of you.

This couldn't have possibly gotten worse — or so you thought, tears dripping down your face, your claws ripping the sheets as you scrambled for purchase, only for it to get so much more agonising when, all of a sudden, his hand closed around your throat, squeezing.

You weren't able to breathe.

Instinctively, you clenched around him, thighs shaking. If he wasn't still holding you up, you would have collapsed.

“Fuck, you're so damn tight.” Valentino groaned, low and raspy. His tongue lapped at your neck, leaving trails of pink saliva to drip down your shoulders, your chest. “We could've had such a pleasant time together, baby, if only you hadn't been such a disobedient slut. Hate that you're making me do this.”

His pace was unforgiving, the metal of his belt buckle hitting your hip with every other thrust, surely leaving bruises. Not that it mattered — Valentino did provide you with full coverage makeup, after all.

Out of the corner of your eye, you focused on the red dots of the many cameras, blinking, recording. By now, numbness spread through you, a small blessing. You weren't certain just how long it went on; only that, eventually, Valentino came with a groan, filling you up, making you whimper.

When his grip on your throat loosened for a split second, allowing you to suck a burning breath into your lungs, it felt like Heaven.

“Use your words, baby. Talk to me.”

“Val, 'm sorry—”

“Yeah?”

“I'm sorry”, you repeated, the words barely audible through sobs, “I'm sorry, Val, I'm sorry—”

Suddenly, his hand, still on your throat, yanked your head up, his lips clashing against yours; the very moment you opened your mouth, pliant with submission, with exhaustion, smoke flooded it, you choking on it.

Your mind felt muddled, mouth dry even as saliva trickled out of your lips, jaw slack.

Faintly, you were able to feel his cum drip out of your cunt and down your thighs, sticky.

“Now”, Valentino said, voice a sultry purr, “Why don't you wait here, I'll send you your client and you apologise properly to him?”

Mind filled with scarlet plumes, you barely knew what you were agreeing to, nodding mindlessly. “Yes, Valentino.”

“That's what I like to hear. Good girl.”

When multiple pairs of footsteps echoed through the room, you, even in your hazy state, had the bad feeling that you were going to be having a long night.

i won't lie i didn't proofread this yet.. tomorrow... ALSO FIRST POST YIPPEEE

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the-scottish-costume-guy · 2 years

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I’ve seen multiple people genuinely asking whats wrong with playing their music on a speaker/their phone in public rather than through headphones. While it baffles me that you can’t reason it out I’m taking it in good faith that you genuinely don’t know - so here’s a list of reasons you shouldn’t:

- It sounds bad. It doesnt matter if people like the song, you might be close enough to your phone speaker for it to sound largely as intended, but everyone else is getting a distorted mess.

- Unwanted noise is extra stimulation in the already overpowering public space. Yes this is particularly bad for neurodivergent people but I actually want to acknowledge that this effects Everyone. Everyone has a stimulation threshold and unwanted music easily pushes people closer to it.

- Its distracting/disruptive. People want to focus on their own conversations, listen to their own music through their earbuds, or just be alone with their thoughts. Your music is intruding.

- Differing taste. This one is less significant but people around you just dont always like the same music you do. In extreme cases they might actively hate a song you’re playing.

- People have the right to as close to silence as they can get. If they’re in a shop playing obnoxious music they can leave, they can change the radio in their car, they can skip the song on their playlist. They have no control over what you are putting on and in bus situations they can’t get away from you.

- Any other number of reasons; Maybe your music is offensive, maybe its uncensored and there are children about, maybe someone just got horrible news and your perky feelgood song feels like salt in the wound, maybe someone’s sick or hungover or in pain and your music feels like a drill to the skull.

You might think your music is good, it might make you smile after a hard day. Nobody is saying dont listen at all, just put in earphones. To everyone around you its the equivilent of a drunk guy singing loudly and off key at the back of the bus. Maybe it makes some people smile to think he’s having a good time, maybe some people are scared his lack of boundaries will mean he could act out, maybe some people wish he would just shut up.

EDIT: I've turned off reblogs because we have a mix of people taking things in bad faith or others picking fights. This post isn't that deep lads.

#playing music in public #music #public places #public space #idk

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mingtinys · 1 month

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" i will never be too mad to take care of you "

pairing : yoon jeonghan x gn!reader

"13 ways to say "i love you" with seventeen"

warnings : language , descriptions of a wound , blood

word count : 0.5 k

a/n : last minute i actually decided to flip jeonghan's and joshua's prompt , we'll see if i regret it

Your eyes follow Jeonghan carefully, tracking his movements throughout the kitchen. Waiting for him to say something. Anything. But he doesn't, he simply continues to mull about his business. Completely ignoring your presence and the tension that hangs heavily in the air as a result of your recent argument.

It wasn't the biggest fight you've ever had, but it was surely up there. In the heat of it, you said some things you didn't mean, things that seemed to hit Jeonghan in just the right spot to set him off. You felt bad at first. The moment tears began to gather in his eyes and his face dropped you felt the urge to apologize. But then he opened his mouth and shot some choice words back at you in a way that hit just as hard. All thoughts of talking it out ceased then and there, and so ensued the ongoing silence between you two.

Even just his lingering presence as you try to prepare dinner has you on edge. So much so, that you focus all your attention on what he's doing and what he could be thinking rather than the onion you're chopping up. With your mind split, it only takes a few seconds before you feel the knife slice into your hand. It clatters to the ground as you cry out and cradle your injured hand.

"Ah– shit!"

Jeonghan is at your side in half a second, maybe less. Reaching out to take hold of your hand so he can examine it. "What happened?" His voice is urgent, but his grip is gentle as he hovers over the bleeding wound.

"Ow– I'm fine, it's fine—"

"No, you're not. Just take a seat, I'll be back in a second." He's gone and back in under a minute, the first aid kit from the upstairs bathroom tucked under his arm. You sit in the nearest chair and Jeonghan kneels in front, delicately taking your hand into his palm.

It stays silent as he cleans around the cut and begins to tenderly wrap the fluffy white gauze around your hand. "It looks pretty deep. I think it'd be best if we go to the emergency room and have it looked at, I can drive."

"Why?" The word slips out before you can stop it.

Jeonghan gives you a funny look. "Um, because you might need stitches?"

"No. I meant why do you care?" Tears brim at your lashes and you can feel the tidal wave of pent-up emotions ready to crash down. "I said some really awful things. You should be mad right now, not helping me—"

"Woah woah woah, hey," He soothes. His palm softly cups your face while the other rests on your knee, squeezing it. "I will never be too mad to take care of you." The sincerity in his sparkling gaze never falters.

"I'm really sorry, Jeonghan. I promise I didn't mean what I said."

"I know," he smiles, rising to his feet to press a chaste kiss on your forehead. "I'm sorry as well. We can talk about it once you're better."

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luveline · 26 days

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hellooo I have a request for Spencer x bombshell! reader (I'm not sure if you've done this before and if you have I apologise!!) but like they're on a case and one of them gets pretty badly hurt somehow & then the other is really worried about them & stuff and then I'm not sure (I think this could be good but not the way that I have spoken about it and so I'm very very sorry!!)

u r so awesome don’t worry!!

cw canon typical violence and injury

Everything is crisp and quiet at the precipice of the stakeout. You adjust your gun where it’s poised over the roof of an SUV away from a moving officer’s body. The negotiator adjusts the megaphone at their thigh nervously, waiting for Hotch’s go ahead. You’re all waiting for it. A hand raised, sending you in, hostage recovered, a long case coming to a short close.

“Don’t forget your leg,” Spencer says to you under his breath.

“Trust me, babe, I can’t forget it,” you say back, glancing quickly at him to your left. He’s facing forward, trained on the window where you’d last seen the unsub. The distance between you both and the danger is small, less than three feet of space. You and Spencer don’t have a clear shot, the agent’s behind you better equipped and better trained, but you can make do in a pinch.

“Hurting?” he whispers.

“Half as bad as it was yesterday.”

“I have a bad feeling.”

“Yeah?” You follow Hotch’s hand. The negotiation begins. You and Spencer don’t talk again.

The unsub is sour, the victim terrified. When the screaming inside begins in earnest, the FBI rolls inside, confident in taking down the unsub, if a little worried about the victims wellbeing. You and Spencer sweep in less than ten inches away from each other, unafraid, and you don’t see the sledgehammer until it’s hitting you in the jaw, spraying blood like dark ink over Spencer’s pale cheek.

—

“I don’t care if that’s what you recommend.” A drag of a soft touch somewhere on your skin. “Sincerely. I want a second opinion.”

“It’s a mandibular fracture, we have a suitable follow up procedure.”

“I understand, but I’m doing what she’d want me to do. When she wakes up, she’ll say the same thing, and so there’s no point in starting the paperwork for a procedure she won’t agree to.”

“I doubt her cosmetic preferences will outweigh functionality.”

It’s Spencer’s voice, Spencer’s hand on your leg. He’s reaching back to hold you as he defends you. “Respectfully, you don’t know her. I don’t want to talk about it anymore. She needs peace and quiet.”

The doctor harrumphs but leaves. Quiet is restored, and for a while you doze, the only thing at your attention Spencer’s hand where it climbs. He takes your hand. You know his fingers well where they twine between yours.

A few hours pass by in sluggish slee, the bed elevated to an uncomfortable sitting position.

“Hey?” he asks, fingertips to the hill of your shoulder. “Are you waking up?”

You can’t make your mouth form words. Your eyes flash open in shock.

“Hey, don’t panic. I’m sorry, I’m going to explain, but please don’t panic.”

You wait.

Spencer stands in a rumpled shirt, hair in his eyes, glasses slipping down his nose. “Your jaw is broken, fractured, actually, pretty badly. You’ve had so much pain relief over the last few hours I’m surprised you can even open your eyes, and it’s good you’re struggling to move your mouth because it would only hurt anyways.” He claps your arm gently. “I’m sorry. I’m not going anywhere though, okay? I’m right here.”

That’s not what scares you; you know Spencer’s gonna stay. It’s not a question.

Your hand strays up to your face.

“It’s not bad,” he swears, and perhaps lies.

“Spence,” you manage, a croak that aches and lisps at once.

“It’s okay,” he says, leaning down. “Please don’t get upset.”

You blink tearfully. You don’t remember what happened, just the flash of pain and now Spencer looking down at you like you’re wounded. He sits carefully on the side of your bed and grabs you by the waist, two hands on your sides and arms resting on your stomach, like a hug that hasn’t crept forward.

“You won’t like the bruise,” he says apologetically.

“Bad?” you whisper.

“It’s all the way up to your eye. He also chipped two of your teeth… I’m so sorry, angel. It was my fault.” He thumbs your ribs. “I’ll fix everything. I already talked to your dentist, and tonight they’re coming back to talk about your plastics because the blow split your skin, okay? But you're mostly fixed already.”

“‘M I… still pretty?” you ask.

“Still the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen,” he says, not half as shyly as he’d usually would.

You cry panicked, dribbly tears. He rubs shapes into your sides and swears again that it’ll all be okay, and it’s not that you don’t believe him, it’s just that it’s really starting to hurt.

“Had a bad feeling,” he says, wiping your tears as gently as he can before they can wet the bandaging on your jaw.

“Did you get him for me?” you ask.

Morgan clears his throat from the doorway to announce his arrival, a coffee cup in hand, pastry bag hanging between his pinky and marriage finger. He sounds like he’s about to laugh, “Did you, lover boy?” He beams at you. “I’ve never seen him pistol whip someone before. You would’ve loved it.”

You groan in agony. Missing out on seeing that is almost as bad as breaking your jaw.

“I’ll recreate it for you,” Spencer promises.

“And now it’s time for him to eat,” Morgan says, putting the pastry bag on the bed, “and get some sleep. He hasn’t slept in the two days you’ve been in here.”

“I had important stuff to take care of,” he says, rubbing your side. “While you couldn’t do it yourself.”

“Sleep,” you insist through your achy mouth.

Spencer’s eyes go soft and sad. “I will.”

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