#suffs opening night | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

forever-rogue · 1 year

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okay i got one for you 👀 joel and reader dancing in their kitchen to old records and ellie seeing them and teasing them then they all dance together and spend the night in

AN | How about a little found family fluff?Enjoy ❤️

Pairing | Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Warnings | Language

Word Count | 2.4k

Masterlist | Joel, Main

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It wasn't often that you got some time alone with Joel. Sometimes it felt more you were passing ships in the night…or always surrounded by someone.

But this afternoon it happened to be just the two of you, not a single other person. It was almost too quiet. Which you’d complain about, if it hadn’t been for Joel’s soft snores sounding throughout the space. He was exhausted and you couldn’t blame him for taking advantage of a mid-afternoon nap on the rare occasion that it presented itself.

You were half tempted to join him in bed, but thought better of it, knowing that absolutely nothing would get down if both of you were napping. And there was always something to do.

You peeked in on him, smiling when you noticed how he starfished all over the bed…he always was a bed hog, even if he denied it. His hair was a mess, mouth open slightly but for once he looked relaxed and comfortable. It was a rare sight to see, but you loved it so much. Popping into the room, you brushed a few rogue locks of hair out of his face before pressing a kiss to his cheek. He made a small sound, but didn’t stir further.

You changed into some comfier clothes, sliding on a pair of shorts and an old shirt of Joel’s before padding into the kitchen to clean everything up. It wasn’t your favorite thing in the world, but you like the bit of normalcy it brought to life. Although you supposed that this, the current messy statement of the world, was normal now. It had been over twenty years and you’d stopped holding your breath for things to return to how they were. All you could do was make the best of it…Joel and Ellie helped a lot with that. You had no clue where you’d be without them.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

A few hours had passed and you’d gotten the space all neat and clean and were rummaging through the fridge for what to make for dinner.

That was until you felt a strong, familiar pair of arms wrap around your waist. You yelped softly as he pulled you against his warm body and laughed, causing the sound to reverberate through his chest.

“Joel!” you tried to make it sound like you were reprimanding him, but it felt flat and made him laugh even harder, “you’re a jerk! You could have given me a heart attack.”

“Relax,” he whispered in your ear, voice low and husky, causing a shiver to shoot down your spine. You made a small sound as you became more pliable in his grasp, feeling like putty as he pressed a kiss to your shoulder, “maybe you should be more careful - listen better. Never know what or who could sneak up on you.”

“There’s no one or anything I’m typically on the lookout for,” you turned around so you were facing him, a pout on your lips. Joel was tempted to kiss it away, “you don’t let me go outside very often.”

“That is for your-”

“Safety,” you mocked, but there was nothing but reverent fondness lacing your tone, “I know, you worrywart.”

His expression was hard as he studied in silence for a few moments and you wondered if you’d done something wrong. But before you could ask, his face softened and he leaned in to pepper kisses across your face, which only caused you to giggle, the feeling of his beard tickling your skin. You felt his hand brush against yours, and took his hand, threading your fingers through his, “Joel.”

“C’mon,” he tugged on your hand gently, and started to back up towards the bedroom. You didn’t move for a moment and instead shook your head, both of you knowing that it wouldn’t take much for you to comply with him, “baby. You’re killing me here.”

“Dramatic much?” you snorted in amusement but gave in, letting him tug you along, “what would you ever do without me, Joel Miller?”

“Suffer,” he sounded so sure that you shook your head in amusement, “you don’t want me to suffer, right?”

“I dunno…”

“Alright, alright,” he huffed, gently nudging you onto the bed, “that’s enough out of you.”

You made yourself comfortable on the soft sheets that still smelled like him, that were still warm from him. You sighed softly as you looked at him, squealing as he perched himself over you, caging you in between his arms as he dipped his head down to kiss you. Okay, this wasn’t too bad at all.

Joel kissed you until you were both soft smiled and wild eyed. You put your hand on his face, brushing your thumb over his cheek as you looked at him sweetly. It was almost too much for him to bear; to feel so safe and loved.

“What are you thinking?” he closed his eyes as he leaned into your touch, turning his face so he could press a kiss to your palm.

“Thinking about you should stay in bed with me-”

“What about - “

“It can wait,” he insisted quietly as you beamed at him. Honestly? You would never say no to him, “stay with me. Just for a little while…who knows when we’ll get the chance again?”

“Okay,” you pulled him back to your lips, “you’ve convinced me.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It was dusk by the time you’d stirred from slumber, still tangled up with Joel. You were curled into his body, his arm lazily draped over your waist and legs tangled together. A contented sigh escaped your lips as you stared outside the window at the pretty pinks and lavenders on the horizon. You cherished moments like these; the quiet, still ones that didn’t involve anything other than just being. It was a rarity these days.

“What are you thinking about?” he whispered, dragging his lips along your shoulder. You hadn’t even realized he was awake. You were about saying something deep and sweet but then your stomach rumbled loudly throughout the otherwise quiet room.

“Thinking about how hungry I am and how it’s time to make dinner,” you laughed, the sound going straight to his heart as you pulled out of his grip. You grabbed your (his) shirt off the floor and slipped it back on as he lightly groaned, frowning at you, “calm down - it’s not like you’ll never see me shirtless again!”

“But I’d enjoy it now…”

“The sooner you help me make dinner, the sooner we can get back to bed-”

He was at your side before you could even finish what you were saying, which just caused you to laugh. His hands found purchase on your hips as he steered you towards the small kitchen. But before you could get to cooking anything he stopped you for a moment, “I have something for you.”

“What?” you asked in surprise and he nodded eagerly, “Joel, you didn’t have to get me anything.”

“I know,” he trapezed towards the closet, digging through it for a few minutes before pulling something out and holding it up to you triumphantly, “ta da.”

You looked between him and the object he was holding for a few moments, heart constricted with affection. You felt the familiar sting of tears at the back of your eyes as you looked at the man you loved. Joel’s expression wavered for a moment, unsure of how to handle your reaction.

“Joel,” his name caught in your throat as you took a few steps closer, “a record player?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, his cheeks warming up at the tender look of affection on your face, “you mentioned that you’d always wanted one…”

“I mentioned that like once,” you exhaled softly as he set the player down on the table. You brushed your fingers along the top, admiring it with soft eyes, “a long time ago. You remembered.”

“I remember a lot,” he shrugged it off like it was no big deal, “and I like you a lot. So, here we are.”

“Just like, huh?”

“Well, you know,” he pulled you into a hug that you happily returned as you buried your face into his chest, breathing in the familiar scent of him, “like to an extreme. Love. I love you.”

“I love you too,” you pulled back and leaned up to kiss his cheek. You had tears in your eyes and he tenderly brushed them away with his thumb, “thank you.”

“Nothing to thank me for,” he insisted with a gentle bop to the tip of your nose, “now we can make good use of those vinyls you like to collect.”

“I knew they’d come in handy for a reason!”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The two of you were sitting around the table, finishing off the last bits of dinner, stuffed but happy. So happy. You practically couldn’t keep the grin off your face as the two of you talked about anything and everything that crossed your minds.

After a while, you grabbed the dirty dishes and cleared them off before putting them into the sink. Realistically, you probably should have washed and put them away, but you didn’t want to. Not tonight - that was a tomorrow problem.

You’d heard Joel get up, but what you hadn’t heard was him grabbing a record and setting it up on the player. Not until you heard soft music flowing freely into the room. You made a small sound of surprise before turning around to find him standing there with a smile on his face and holding his hand out to you. You laughed softly, a fresh wave of emotion washing over you as you took his hand.

“May I have this dance?” you bit your bottom lip between your teeth - a sight Joel was sure would kill him one - but nodded softly. How could you ever say not to him? You couldn’t. You’d known that for a long time.

“You may,” he took your smaller hand in his, the other hand settled on your waist as he started to sway with you to the music. He’d picked an older album, songs that were old when you were young, but that were soft and romantic. He might have been rough around the edges, but once you managed to break his walls down slowly, you realized he was a soft hearted, kind, gentle man. You were just glad he’d chosen you to give his heart to.

You pressed yourself to him, resting your chin on his shoulder. His arms might have been your favorite place in the world - everything just felt so right with him.

“You’re a real romantic,” you smiled sweetly at him and he didn’t even have it in his heart to tease you. Instead a deep rosy flush started to settle in his cheeks as he offered you a shy nod.

“It’s not like I can really take you on a date,” he sounded disappointed in that but you shook your head. Nothing really mattered, not when you had him, “so this while have to do for now.”

“Anything with you is perfect,” you insisted softly, “whether or not you believe it.”

“And I’m the romantic?” he tutted softly as you pretended to scowl at him, “baby.”

“Don’t ‘baby’ me,” you laughed, but neither of you loosened your grips. You would have been content to stay like this forever.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It was getting late into the evening and the two of you were still listening to music, but you’d switched to something more upbeat. You were dancing around like fools, eating dessert in between stolen kisses and sweet touches. You were having so much fun that you almost hadn’t heard the knock at the door.

You were about to open it when Ellie let herself in, her eyes widening in surprise at the two of you. You were both disheveled and bright eyed, drunk on laughter and kisses.

“Hey Ellie Bean,” you grinned and wrapped her into a hug before she could say anything else. She looked between both of you before reaching for a piece of chocolate and popping into her mouth, “what’s up, sweetheart?”

“Nothing much,” she made a small sound of excitement at seeing the record player. It might have been vintage to you, but to her, a girl born into this reality, it was a whole other world, “wanted to see what you two were up to. I had a feeling you’d stashed all the candy away when I couldn’t find it anymore!”

“Had to save it for a rainy day,” you grinned as you held out your hand to her. She looked at it with a raised eyebrow for a moment before shaking her head with a huff of laughter and taking it, “now that you’re here, you can dance with us!”

“It’s not a rainy day,” despite her best efforts, she couldn’t keep the smile off her face, “and you two have officially lost it!”

“Let loose kid,” Joel took her hands and swung around with her and your eyes lit up with happiness at the two of them. There was no one you loved more in the world than these two people - your family. She was laughing, a sound that suited her beautifully as the two of them danced around like fools, “it’s okay to have fun sometimes, you know.”

“Oh?” she looked at him with both eyebrows raised high, “you might want to keep that in mind too.”

“You both should,” you cut in and took one of each of their hands, “we all should!”

“Fine,” they both murmured at the same time, such a father and daughter duo.

You stopped for a moment, looking at both of them with a fervent intensity and feeling your heart swell happily. You gently took Ellie’s face in your hands before pressing a kiss to her forehead, “I love you, Ellie Bean.”

You turned to Joel before repeating the gesture, “and I love you too, Joel.”

“Fine, fine, fine,” she pretended to wave you off but you could see the smile on her face, “can we stop being sappy and get some more chocolate?”

“Only if you’re willing to fully commit to this dance party.”

“Deal,” both of them echoed as you looked between them in sheer amusement.

“I’m in,” Ellie grinned.

“I’m in,” Joel sighed, but it was a fond sound.

“Me too,” you promised them, “all in always.”

#joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller x fem!reader #joel miller imagine #joel miller one shot #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x reader #tlou

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madwomansapologist · 17 days

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━ ✧ unraveling you | chapter 1 - welcome to westview!

masterlist | pinterest board | spotify playlist | AO3

series synopsis: Trapped inside Westview, Agatha Harkness was reduced to Agnes. The noisy neighbor and nothing more than that. Until a meteor rain brought something strong to Westview. Something strong enough to help her, and maybe strong enough to free her. You. In a journey to save herself by teaching you the ways of magic, Agatha Harkness wants one thing only: to avenge herself.

Agnes woke up before the alarm, unsure if she even slept last night.

Standing in front of the bedside table, surrounded by shadows and whispers of familiar voices, cold water soaked her feet. It rained at midnight. She remembers it now. Soon Agnes will forget about it, but for now she remembers.

The analog glitched, its numbers changing again. Agnes tried to blink. It never works. Not before the right time. Rubbing bellow her sore eyes, Agnes felt the trace of tears. It wasn’t raining, a familiar voice whispered on her ears. If only she knew whom it belongs to. My tears flooded this cursed place.

Something trembled inside her mind. Hatred. Agnes didn’t knew she could name her feelings. Hatred, hatred, hatred. That made her laugh, but then the clock changed again. Time to wake up. The rebellion was gone just as quickly as it came.

She made her bed, without noticing that the pillowcase was left backwards. Agnes opened the curtains. It had stopped raining already. Something told her to dry the floor. It was an order, and she obeyed. What else could she do?

The kitchen was next on her assorted routine. Agnes made coffee, without any sweetener, althought she prefers tea. She drank it all in one gulp. It burned her tongue and throat.

She stared at the knifes on the counter top. It was impossible to not wonder. To not imagine a different path. An exit door. If only she were allowed to get near them. If only Agnes could grab one of them and just…

Agnes took her keys and stood before the main door. She smiled widely. As she walked outside, her hands waived automatically to her neighboors.

An empty puppet, something whispered in her ears. You lived far too long. Agnes agreed.

― Good morning, hot suff! ― Agnes purred, opening the fence. ― A good day to be good, am I right?

Sarah Proctor bumped her head against the car. It was too early for someone to be that noisy. She rolled her eyes and went back to taking her groceries out of the car, ignoring Agnes’ presence.

― Just drop the act ― Sarah murmured to herself.

Agnes passed by her, continuing her daily walk through town. After wandering around the center, her path ended at an isolated grove. She sat on a bench still damp from last night rain and gazed at the sky.

After an hour the watch on her hand bipped, allowing Agnes to go back home. Later that day, the clock on her kitchen’s wall gave her permission to eat. Another on the living room made her turn on the TV. Then off. One informed her of when to go to bed.

That morning, when the clock woke her up, Agnes threw it against the wall. It ricocheted, the metal colliding against the bricks, and slid under her bed. It kept on echoing inside her head.

When Agnes got out of bed, it stopped.

Agnes ate eggs with no salt and drank old, icy coffee.

― I am happy ― Agnes smiled, glaring at herself through a mirror on the kitchen’s wall. Lips ever so enchanting. Her cheeks burned. And so did her eyes. ― Don’t look at the knifes. You are happy.

Forced to walk out of that place ― she can’t call it home, no magic or spell can make Agnes call it home ―, Agnes felt the cold tears against her skin. More of a drizzle than a tempest, but uncomfortable still. Without an umbrella or warm clothes, Agnes continued her day.

Part of her wanted to know what month it was. It’s raining more often. Which season are they on? The other part knew that time meant little now. It lost its meaning when she stopped trying. She can’t remember how long ago that was.

She can’t remember most things now.

Gazing at the sky, all she could see were gray clouds. They moved slowly, the air changing their shapes as it continues to rain. Then, something passed right throught it. An blue line crossing the sky, leaving an trail of smoke behind. Dozens upon dozens of them fell from the sky, all ending the gray hanging over Westview.

Meteor rain.

It burned so brightly. The fire catching as they passed right throught the atmosphere seemed rosy from where Agnes stood, watching intensively the espectacle. The rain ceased, the clouds dissolving so the blue sky was visible.

It is beautiful. Agnes laughed. The world really is.

Agnes watched as they dissapeared in the sky. All meteors burned until they were barely tiny rocks. Once so powerfull, now reduced to nothing out of Earth’s nature. Except by one. It was bigger than the others, and it glistened red. It continued falling, crossing the sky with ease, as if its fate was to be a constant presence.

Her laugh ceased when Agnes realized it was too close.

Unable to move away, to say anything, Agnes was the witness of its destruction. It crashed into the trees of the grove, tearing everything on its way down. The wood turned into dust, the grass disappeared, the rainwater boiled. An endless moment of pure despair.

It was so beautiful.

A circle of fog expanded throught the grove with its impact. It covered everything there. Agnes coughed, trying to protect her face from the hot air.

Agnes tried to find her way towards the meteor. Ignoring the destruction, she focused on a pearly glow deep into the grove. Outlined by the trees, it glistened. Agnes just wanted to see it closer.

It has been so long since she last wanted something.

The pearly glow started to fade, and a woman’s silhouette appeared in the middle of it. It looked like she was walking on fire, then it suddenly was the opposite. She was brighter than anything else. The only thing shining in this whole world.

And she looked at Agnes, eyes burning in a white liquid light. A sign of strength. Of power and potential. Agnes was unaware that her own shined purple, overflowing with her magic.

The woman fell unconsious on the floor, leaving Agnes to figure out how to take her home.

― Welcome to Westview ― Agnes murmured to herself. ― Home is where you make it.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ⋆✦⋆ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The universe was fated to end in harmony.

All worlds crumbled together. Suns imploded in waves, disturbing the planets orbiting around it. Galaxies crashed against one another, satelites imploding and changing comets’ paths.

Colors that were once infinite, sounds that were once the only unavoidable event, all faded.

Nothing remains. No darkness, no vacuum, no space to be rebuilt. Nothing except them, ready to go and never look back. The job was finished. They turned out the lights, cleaned the mess. Now it’s time to leave and lock the door behind them.

― I can start it over ― you declared. ― Get it right this time. Do it right.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ⋆✦⋆ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The ceiling was molding. It was the first thing you’ve noticed. Not only was it visibly molding but you could smell it too. Those facts came accompanied by a doubt: who’s ceiling was that?

― Morning, beautiful ― a energetic voice startled you.

You moved your neck, now seeing the woman standing at the other side of the room. As you sat on the bed, back against the icy wall, your whole body throbbed.

― You’ve slept for quite sometime now ― she pointed out. A voice so full with energy, and yet her eyes were sore. She looked exhausted. ― Do you remember anything that happened?

You tried to think of what you did last. Of where you were. Nothing came to your mind. You are here now. There is no before. There is just this room, that tired woman and doubts you don’t have a way to answer.

― Who are you? ― You rubbed your face, trying to get your mind to work. Your heart vibrate inside your chest. ― What is happening?

Agnes saw that same light pooring through your eyes again. That pearly glow defying the rules of gravity. Little rays of energy came out of your fingers, and their intensity made the room vibrate.

Your magic was untamed.

Tempting.

― I know as much as you do ― Agnes sat down beside you. She reach out for you, stroking your back slowly. As if you were a beast chosing between attacking or running away. ― Breath in, breath out. There is no need for you to panic.

You tried to do as she said. Again and again, you tried to calm yourself. The energy on your eyes disappeared, the power gone, revealing tears about to escape.

Agnes wiped your cheek. The tear glistened, and Agnes saw it for what it was: a crystal. When her thumb brushed against it, the crystal penetrated her skin. She saw it disappearing on her finger, but felt nothing.

Keep her around, that voice told her. This time, it sounded different. Like it came from a different plane of existence, one that suddenly became closer to her own. Agnes recognizes it now. That voice was her own. Don’t let her go.

You did something to her. To Agatha Harkness. Not Agnes, not the noisy neighboor, not an middle age lady with something flirtatious to say. She is Agatha Harkness. You shattered something, and Agatha needs you to fully break it.

― There is something about you ― still, the words were pronounced by Agnes. That tooth-aching sweet tone, so fake and unhuman. ― Something impressive about you. Reminds me of someone I used to know.

― Used to?

Agnes opened her mouth, but the words she wanted didn’t made out of it. Agatha could think, but Agnes is the one that can act. And Agnes isn’t allowed to do as it pleases her.

― It’s fine ― you saw right throught her. She wanted to say something, but couldn’t. You felt it in your bones. ― If you can’t talk about it.

Can’t. Not don’t want. You said can’t.

The clock interrupting her line of thought once more. Time for another walk. Agnes kneeled down, getting it from under the bed. She glared at it, broken in pieces and still ticking.

That bitch can’t be simple, can she?

Agnes’ threw it out of the window.

― It’s that annoying?

― Honey, you don’t even know.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ⋆✦⋆ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The leaves levitated, dancing on the sky. From the questroom on the second floor you couldn’t see the ground. For you, the leaves were flying etternaly. A matter of perspective.

Your back burned. You were being watched. Turning around, you expect to see Agnes. The woman you meet a day prior. That funny, tired, noisy woman who took care of you when you needed it the most. Instead, by the open door of your room, tiny black eyes glared at you.

You kneeled down and waited for it to get closer. When it did, you stroked its ears. So soft against your palm, malleable and warm. A rabbit. You remember. That tiny animal is called a rabbit.

― Let’s buy something different for dinner ― Agnes entered the room, cleaning her hands with a towel. You smelled raw meat. And you don’t know how, but you knew she would rather starve than to eat that again. ― Put on some clothes.

You continued to scratch the rabbit’s ear.

― I’m already using clothes.

― You’re using a nightgown.

― And? ― It was a honest question. Agnes could tell. ― Is it wrong to wear that?

That naivety intrigues Agnes. She saw it on Wanda before. That need to pretend the world is somewhere simple than it is by turning yourself into someone easier to be. Something happened to you. Something that you rather forget than face.

No honest questions or sweet smiles will make Agnes forget you came with the meteors. That you smelled like magic and potential. You’re strong. Strong enough to recover from whatever stole your memories. All you need is time. Agnes will give you that.

And when you’re to pay for your debt, Agnes will chose what to take from you.

― He likes you ― Agnes said. She opened the wardrobe, looking for something you could use outside. ― Señor Scratchy, I mean. That’s no very common.

― I like him too ― you yawn. ― You could feel it, right Señor Scratchy?

Cute.

Agnes put some clothes on the bed and walked from the room, giving you time to change. After long enough for Agnes to get impatient, you appeared on the kitchen. In front of the main door, Agnes grabbed the keys.

― Do you remember anything else now? ― She unlooked the door, trying to look like she wasn’t giving to much thought to the subject.

It wasn’t the first time Agnes asked you that, but it was the first time you had something to say.

― Yes, I do!

― Oh ― Agnes smiled. ― And what is it?

― Señor Scratchy is a rabbit!

Agnes opened the main door, nodding to herself. That was on her, she admits it. She better lower her expectations. Althought, it is curious you know what a rabbit is. She wonders if maybe you hit your head after the meteor crashed. Perhaps it’s a medical case, not a magic one.

But her intuition says the contrary, and Agnes trusts it enough.

― Of course, sweetheart ― she murmured. ― A rabbit.

You weren’t paying attention on her. Wandering out of the house, you just observed the world. It was the first time you got out of the house. So many lights and colors, they all blend together to create new things. From that tiny window, all you could see were trees and the skies. But this…

― Wow ― you laughed. ― Oh my.

Agnes held you by the shoulders to make you walk towards the center. Instead of behaving, you just walked whenever you wanted to. A few times Agnes had to stop you from crashing against a car.

― Can you stop moving? ― Agnes hissed, following you. ― We were supposed to head…

― Morning, Agnes! ― A neighbor she don’t remember the name waived at her.

― Morning, sweetie!

When she turned back, you were gone. Agnes cursed, running towards you on the other side of the street. Agnes crossed the park’s entrance, but stopped trying to reach for you when she noticed what this place was. A graveyard.

She just wanted to buy pork.

Agnes made to where you stood, glaring at an old grave. It was molding, and part of it fell down. In silence, she observed it. The birthday was unkown. The death was a few years prior. What happened to them?

― What are those? ― You looked at her. ― That’s a weird place.

― They bury dead people here ― Agnes explained to you. ― And write some things about them on stone. Birthday, date of death, name, maybe a pretty sentence.

― Why?

― I’m not really sure ― she admitted. ― I guess it makes the living feel better.

― I don’t have a name ― was your response. You pointed at the grave, but Agnes kept on looking at you. ― I want that one.

Agnes laughed. A real, belly aching laugh.

― Stealing someone’s name, huh? ― Agnes nodded to herself. ― I don’t think they will miss it.

As you explored the cemetery, Agnes watched over you, testing your new name on her tongue.

GENERAL TAGLIST: @lovelyy-moonlight

UNRAVELING YOU TAGLIST: @harknessshi

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#madwomansapologist #marvel #marvel x reader #marvel imagine #marvel fanfic #marvel cinematic universe #mcu #mcu x reader #mcu imagine #agatha harkness #agatha harkness x reader #agatha harkness x female reader #agatha harkness x you #agatha harkness imagine #wandavision fic #wandavision fanfic #wandavision #avengers

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forgottenvice · 1 year

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Go Home

Another twitter thread

So I've been thinking of a #Moshang AU all day about SQH actually pressing the 'go home button' but when he returns to the modern world MBJ can still hear him when he calls, he just can't go there.

So while dealing with LGJ he gets thrown across the clearing, he calls for MBJ but the system decides this is the most convenient time to pop up and in his desperate flailing one of his hands lands on the 'go home' button.

MBJ shows up to find his uncle cursing empty air, and he demands to know where SQH went.

"Vanished into thin air." A feat not even a heavenly demon could achieve without aid. Even Mobei Jun's powers leave a trail of shadow and cold.

Mobei Jun nearly kills LGJ, his uncle is covered in SQHs blood, but there is no body to be found. Mobei Jun had heard him call, and he tears the clearing apart looking for his cultivator but there is no sign of the man. He is distraught, he is devastated, he is alone.

Meanwhile Shang Qinghua wakes up in the modern world feeling like he just licked a battery in a pile of cold noodle juice and a small fire from his laptop plugin burning up his wall.

He feels the years of An Ding training surge through him as he leaps to his feet and finds the small fire extinguisher in his cupboard and he puts the fire out, then the enormity of what just happened starts to sink in

"My king what have I done?"

He may have spent his first night sobbing MBJs name into his pillow, he wants to chalk it all up to a dream but he can't.

He's been writing that damn novel for years and never had a dream like that.

He's forced to return to a life he'd almost forgotten, he couldn't even remember what month it was let alone his passwords. Thank god he finished PIDW he wouldn't be able to write another word for that disaster.

He doesn't even know how to go back to it, his time in his own book feels like a dream but then he's looking at sales spreadsheets from his novel and he feels like he's back on An Ding.

Luckily finishing it meant physical copies were being published giving him a financial buffer.

He needed a new PC and a new apartment first, he started job hunting because he just wasn't sure if he could still write, not after everything.

He'd also developed a bit of a habit of calling out for MBJ when anything went wrong.

If he missed the bus?

"I was too slow my King."

He spilled his noodles (on a table far away from his new laptop)

"My King I'm such a Klutz"

Someone tried to bully him at his new office job?

"Save me from spreadsheets my King!"

Mobei Jun is SUFF ER ING.

At first he thought he was hearing things. The call was distant, Shang Qinghua had left him and he was hallucinating.

But it happened again, and again and finally he tried to follow it teleporting to SQH only to end up in the middle of the abyss, SQH nowhere to be found.

It is driving him mad, but he knows it's SQH calling for him.

He thinks back to SQHs threat, that MBJ would never be able to find him but he also assumed that was only the case if SQH didn't want to be found.

Why would he call out so often if he didn't want to be found?

Eventually SQHs constant cries drive him to approach Junshang's consort. He's so driven that perhaps he doesn't go about it in quite the right way.

"Where is he?" He shakes the cultivator's shoulders demanding answers, "He keeps calling for me but I can't find him. You know where he is don't you?"

before SQQ can open his mouth to answer LBH descends on MBJ in a fury.

The two fight for the first time since MBJs Ascension and it's closer than any of their contests before. MBJ needs SQH back and even Junshang's strength won't stand in his way.

Be fore either of them can do any real damage SQQ intervenes.

"I know where he is! and I *think* I know how to get there."

MBJ stops mid swing abandons the fight and kneels at the human's feet.

"Tell me, please."

SQQ collapses his fan and taps it against his chin.

"Binghe, give him Xin Mo."

"BUT SHIZUN! It will corrupt him!" They had been dual cultivating frequently to aid Binghe's resistance of the blade.

SQQ sighs and mutters under his breath,

"I can't believe I didn't notice how much of that bastard's favourite you are." He turns to Binghe. "It won't"

"But Shizun, how do you know?"

"This master just knows." he mutters again "and because it happened in chapter 669."

Chapter 669 was some dumb plot that had LBH stranded without his sword in a land beyond even his famous general's reach, after some adventure and two new wives MBJ appeared as a deus ex machina at a crucial plot point just to deliver Xin Mo back to the protagonists hands.

SQQ hadn't payed as much attention to that moment because LBH's wrath after getting the sword back was a real badass moment.

It wasn't until a little reflection (and another nitpicking forum goer pointing it out) that he realized MBJ never hesitated to hand the blade back, nor had he ever made an attempt at owning the sword.

Any other demon would have turned traitor in an instant.

Even SHL one of the protagonists wives was constantly trying to take the legendary sword from her husband.

But MBJ was immune.

Because he'd always been the author's favourite.

Binghe Begrudginly retrieves Xin Mo but before he hands it over SQQ gives MBJ a short lecture.

"This will likely only work if he's *actually* calling for you."

He jabs his fan into MBJs chest accusingly, "You are not to harm him, our world doesn't have cultivation. He'll be very fragile compared to demon strength."

Mobei Jun ignores the slight instead nodding gravely.

Binghe seems to catch his words, "Shizun what do you mean by your worl-"

SQQ cuts him off instead continuing his lecture.

"Your are to only bring him back if he wants to come back." MBJ nods again, If SQH wants to stay he will stay with him where ever the man has escaped to

He can't imagine why SQH might want to stay, he calls to MBJ daily if not more, without cultivation the place must truly be a hellscape.

Now he just has to wait for SQHs next call.

SQH gets home from a long day at work. He'd made the mistake of trawling the PIDW forums only to find a memorial post for Peerless Cucumber.

RIP bro at least you get to live out your domestic dreams with the protagonist now.

He's starting to feel doubtful of his whole experience with the system in his novel but hearing of Cucumber's death makes him hope it was, even if it does make his own situation a little more tragic.

But it wasn't like he and Mobei Jun were actually dating.

Thinking about MBJ lowered his mood and as he was putting his work bag away he managed to kick his new kitchen table hard stubbing his toe.

"Fuck! My King who put that there?!"

He hisses and pulls his foot up trying to relieve the pain.

Only to be knocked on his ass when a cool whirlwind of shadow laced with the scent of blood begins to swirl in the centre of his apartment.

The shadows coalesce into a familiar demonic form.

"Mobei Jun!"

Icy blue eyes snap their attention to him but there is something determined and cold in his gaze.

"Where is he?" The demon's voice is low and dangerous.

Fear creeps up SQHs spine when he realizes MBJ doesn't recognize him.

Which why would he? Airplane looks nothing like SQH, he had taken a few days to get used to the difference but there is no way for Mobei Jun to know that.

How did he even get to the real world, his teleportation was a bit OP but never like this.

Then Xin Mo is leveled at his throat.

Mobei Jun paced waiting for Shang Qinghua's call, the moment he registers the faint "my King." He was pouring his power through the sword surrounding himself in shadow to find his human.

The trip is strange, different from usual but he's sure he's on the right path.

He appears in a strange place, both familiar and bizarre. An oddly plain room cluttered in a manner that reminded him of SQHs office, despite the fact he barely recognized a single object.

He searches the room but Shang Qinghua is nowhere to be found.

There is however a man on the floor staring at him wide eyed.

"Where is he?" He expands his sense to find Shang Qinghua, to see him, to smell him, to hear him but there is nothing.

There is just the stranger. So he levels Xin Mo at the man.

"Where is Qinghua?"

The man trembles clearly afraid and Mobei Jun steps forward and his target scrambles back hitting a wall behind him, staring up and Mobei Jun with wide doe-like eyes.

Oddly Familiar eyes.

"Junshang?"

No that wasn't right, the demon emperor wasn't quite as stocky as this man, and his hair was cascading curls rather than short cut frizz. Still the man's feature's were unmistakably similar to Luo Binghe's.

Perhaps a relative?

But no SQQ had said there were no cultivators or demons here.

The question has the man shaking his head frantically his movements skittish and familiar but not like Luo Binghe, like someone else.

"Who are you?"

Shang Qinghua's thoughts are running a mile a minute. MBJ was confusing him with LBH?

Maybe he kind of sort of used LBH as a power fantasy but that changed way back in chapter 14 when he realized his gay xanxia novel was going to sell better as a papapa odyssey.

But MBJ had Xin Mo AND he was looking for Shang Qinghua, who was Airplane but wasn't Airplane. He debated the merits of revealing himself.

MBJ looked pissed, and they hadn't been on great terms before he left. On the other hand would MBJ even believe him if he told the truth?

And there was Xin Mo to deal with. How did MBJ get his hands on the mythical sword? Was it corrupting him? Worse what if it wasn't his MBJ.

His mind buzzes as he tries to think up a reasonable lie, so his lips start to move, because he needs to stall.

"M-m-my King?!"

Fuck.

MBJs eyes widen at the exclamation, old habits die hard apparently and it seems like those habits are going to get him killed

. He watches a wealth of emotion cross his King's usually stoic face and holds his breath wondering what emotion the roulette wheel will land on.

When Xin Mo moves he curls into himself preparing for the worst.

Only to be surprised by a clang. He peeks through his fingers only to see the OP blade thrown across the room sticking out of his drywall.

He doesn't see much however before Mobei Jun is invading his space.

There is something surreal about seeing the giant ice demon kneeling in front of him in his studio apartment, looking at him with a fragile sort of hope in his eyes.

"Qinghua?"

SQH slowly uncurls to stare wide eyed at the demon in front of him a cool hand settles on his cheek. Eyes as bright and deep as pools of water darting back and forth, searching with more emotion than he's ever seen.

SQH swallows thickly nodding with trepidation. He feels something in his gut twist, aching with the gentleness MBJs thumb strokes his cheek.

"The same freckles." And SQH chokes out a laugh. The one thing that gave him away is something he could never get rid of in either life.

He didn't think MBJ had ever even noticed. His laugh gives way to a sob, he's bursting with tears now that MBJ is here, for him.

"I never meant to leave my king!"

He's always been an ugly crier but MBJ doesn't seem to care, pulling him to his chest.

Which is SQHs dream spot, really he'd always wanted to sob into his king's bosom. So he does enthusiastically, while MBJ holds him just a little too tight.

He shakes, only to realize its MBJ making shuddering breaths.

They sit there on the floor wrapped in each other crying.

It isn't until they're cried out breathing into each other that SQH discovers a flaw to having an ice demon boyfriend.

He's frozen to MBJs chest

#Moshang #twitter thread #my writing #svsss #scum villian self saving system

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tgmcastupdates · 14 days

Text

Monica Barbaro attends the "Suffs" Broadway Opening Night at Music Box Theatre (04.18.24.)

Thank you to @fastfan for sending this to me ☺️

#monica barbaro

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pips-fics · 1 year

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ask: i have a request for one where han gets nauseous and sick while 3racha were recording and chan and changbin comfort him. thanks so much!

this is a submission for @monthofsick day 6!

tw: vomiting

worse at night ––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

recording had been going well all day - the group was cruising through songs for their next album at record speed. they were in such great shape that it looked like they might even be able to have their comeback early. to congratulate themselves and regain a bit of energy, the members of 3racha grabbed a bit to eat before returning to the studio around 9 pm to finish up some post-production work for a few hours.

as they walked back to the studio, changbin noticed that jisung had boxed up almost his entire meal. he’d known that the younger man had been enduring a headache all day, but he’d assumed it had gotten better as jisung had seemed in high spirits throughout the day. now he was notably dragging his feet.

changbin kept a close eye on him as they settled back in and was relieved when jisung regained a bit of color and pep after sitting down and having some water. changbin wrote it off as dehydration, which was alarmingly common for the youngest member of 3racha, and made sure to encourage him to drink more throughout the next hour and a half. by 11 o’clock, they were all tired and had drifted into their own little worlds, ironing out some lyrics and nitpicking each other’s edits. changbin was thinking about calling it when a quiet and unsteady voice broke the silence.

“hyung,” jisung’s voice wavered. changbin’s head whipped towards him, and chan’s did the same next to him. “i think i should go home.”

that much was evident even without it being vocalized. within 30 minutes, jisung had gone from looking like a guy with a moderately bad headache to sweating enough that the studio lights glistened off of the side of his washed-out face.

“what happened?” chan asked. jisung shrugged. the combination of flushed cheeks and heavily bagged eyes made him look both very young and much older than he really was. changbin couldn’t stop himself from placing his forehead on jisung’s head, just to confirm the near-surety that he had a fever

“i just started feeling worse the later it got.” he slumped forward on the desk in front of him, breaths coming deep and slow and erratic. changbin watched jisung’s hand drift to his stomach and made eye contact with chan. these were, unfortunately, not unfamiliar gestures to either of them.

“your stomach’s acting up?” chan asked, only to earn himself another shrug.

“jisungie, do you think you’re gonna throw up?” changbin was reaching for the trash can beside the desk even as jisung robotically shook his head. mere seconds later, he ducked his head under the desk with a heady belch that escalated into an aborted heave.

“fuuuuuuuck,” jisung groaned, reluctantly accepting the receptacle that changbin practically pushed into his hands. “i feel so sick all of a sudden, i don’t know urk!” he lurched over the trash can, only to expel air. “don’t know what happened.”

chan and changbin watched helplessly as jisung’s thin frame jolted forward with multiple aborted heaves, not knowing whether to offer a comforting touch or give him space.

“you guys can leave,” jisung choked out. “you don’t need to, uh…” his body drifted dizzily from side to side as if he was having trouble holding himself upright until chan placed two hands on his shoulders to steady him.

“don’t worry about us, sung, just focus on yourself for now, yeah?”

changbin nodded. “we’ll stick with you until you’re okay to head back home.”

for a moment, jisung’s face was open, vulnerable, and grateful. he leaned into chan’s side, and clutched changbin’s hand in a vice grip as his stomach gurgled ominously. for a moment, it was quiet and calm, and only the sounds of jisung’s labored breathing could be heard. changbin felt a pinprick of sharp malice towards the world for making his hardworking teammate suffer so intensely. then jisung’s back arched suddenly, an obvious reaction to his stomach muscles contracting, and a tentative heave brought up a small mouthful of puke splashing into the trashcan.

changbin’s own heart-rate kicked up as the stench of barf hit his nostrils. jisung’s hand squeezed tighter on his own and the sick man made a noise of disgust, or possibly regret. it was too late to go back now, though. the floodgates had been opened and, accompanied by a full-body shudder a massive amount of vomit gushed forth. jisung got no more than a whimper in before the second powerful rush, and by the third, his grip on changbin’s hand weakened while the older boy’s did the opposite, clenching tight as jisung was wrung out.

“breathe, sung,” changbin said. on jisung’s other side, chan brushed his hands through sweaty hair, but it didn’t seem to have the soothing effect he was going for as jisung continued to cough and sputter, lips dripping with rapidly accumulating spit.

“i can’t,” jisung gasped. “can’t breathe. make it stop.”

changbin wished desperately that he could. “soon, jisungie,” he said instead, but his words were drowned out by a gut-wrenching and drawn out belch. a dark stream of liquified stomach contents splattered against plastic.

“i want this to stop,” jisung whispered, voice rough from rawness. “i want to go home.”

“you’re doing so well, baby,” chan broke in, but jisung only shook his head, tears rolling down his face freely. changbin checked his temperature again and was unsurprised to find that the heat of jisung’s forehead had intensified. after two aborted heaves in quick succession, changbin offered a water bottle.

“you’ll feel worse if you get dehydrated.”

“too sick,” jisung choked out, jaw clamped tightly shut. changbin’s heart clenched.

“you gotta relax a bit, buddy,” chan brushed a gentle hand up and down jisung’s spine. his muscles unwound minutely and the retching tapered off. he looked like a rag doll, completely drained of energy. changbin’s arms opened wide, inviting a hug, and jisung leaned into his embrace. after a few moments changbin heard jisung’s breath slowing down and evening out.

“do you feel okay to head home now?” chan asked. the clock on the wall read 11:53 but changbin felt like they’d been stuck there in a room smelling of puke for days. he could only imagine how jisung was feeling.

“i’m so tired, hyung,” jisung mumbled. “wanna go home and sleep.”

changbin helped him to his feet. “let’s go home, then.”

——

here's a link to a very quick reader survey if you'd like to leave an anonymous comment instead of reblogging or replying (always very much appreciated!)

asks/requests are currently closed but the inbox is open if you'd like to send comments that way as well! you can also find this fic on AO3 :)

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runawaywhorses · 12 days

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Dylan Mulvaney at Suffs the Musical Opening Night in New York 04-18-2024

#dylan mulvaney #red carpet #celebrities

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thedo0zyslider · 1 year

Text

Know How This Ends

Jimmy Solidarity Angst - 2k words - TW For Suicide

A03 Link

"But you know how this ends, don't you?" Jimmy sees how much time he has left, and already knows the inevitable outcome

Jimmy groaned in pain, feeling the adrenaline start to wear off. Him and his fellow Bad Boys had been ambushed by some other reds, and Jimmy had gotten pretty badly injured. The trio had needed to flee, unwilling to lose anymore time Joel had pushed him into the front of the group, telling him to run back to the manor alone if he had to. Joel was usually merciless while on red life, but he was determined to keep Jimmy and Grian alive. The avians were the only people in the world who he showed mercy to, who were spared from his bloodshed in this life only.

And so, trusting Joel completely, Jimmy had ran. He had ran for what felt like and probably was hours, the other two falling behind him at some point. Their attackers had kept pace for a while, so Jimmy hadn’t stopped till he saw a building he knew was safe. And now here he was, at the beloved and tarnished Bread Bridge. He had to halt to a stop despite being out in the open, the full extent of his injuries catching up to him.

An arrow was lodged in his shoulder, and Jimmy was surprised he’d ran halfway across the world with it. Cuts from more arrows that had barely grazed him littered his limbs, stinging and still dripping blood. There was probably a bloody trail for enemies to follow, which would be bad if he cared. Jimmy had been hit with swords and axes as well, dried blood and even more cuts were on his face, one had just barely missed his eye and was almost dripping blood into it.

The biggest and worst wound was a long gash running down his side. It was quite the impressive injury, one of the worst ones he’d ever received. If it healed it would leave quite the cool scar, though Jimmy was sick of ganing scars from these games.

He put a hand to said wound, and felt his fingers become drenched in his own blood immediately. Ah, that’s not good. He thought, feeling the red liquid slip through his fingers and drip onto the soil below.

It was then Jimmy realized that if he didn’t eat, didn’t use a golden apple or something, he was going to bleed out. If he didn’t heal now this injury would kill him before his timer. Ah right, his timer. He wondered what that was at, and if he could spare another death. He wasn’t sure the Bad Boys had many golden apples left anymore.

He tugged at the locket around his neck that contained his timer, gently opening it.

Oh.

He only had a little less than an hour left to live.

It was in that moment that Jimmy felt his resolve crumble. He knew he had the least time on the server. Everyone was under eight hours, but he’d died the most and lost the more hours, even including time lost from Boogey kills. He’d spent several nights counting and counting everyone's time, scrolling through death messages and doing math in his head into the early hours in the morning. It had been some fruitless attempt to see if he wouldn’t die first. He would’ve even taken second. But Jimmy knew the numbers, and part of him had lost hope weeks ago.

Despite a red life’s natural bloodlust he didn’t even consider killing someone, or even trying too. He wasn’t Boogeyman, it wouldn’t give him another hour. He would get a measly thirty more minutes to live. Thirty more minutes to be hunted down by his severmates and killed first anyways. Jimmy knew he wasn’t good at fighting, the only kill he’d ever gotten he’d relied on lava to finish the victim off for him. If he did try and get a bit more time it was more likely he’d die then get anything out of it.

And maybe it was the blood loss, but he was tired. He was tried being doomed, or being cursed to die first. He was already the universe's laughing stock before this, and dying first in these death games just kept rubbing salt into the wound. Nothing about these life games were enjoyable, and it was an endless cycle of suffering from terrible start to terrible end. He was tired and he wanted to rest, Jimmy wanted to rest so badly.

Resting here would suck as well, until another Bad Boy died. Grian would probably go first. Both him and Joel were reckless when bloodthirsty, but when they teamed up Grian always went first. Joel needed an army or a trap to take him down, and sometimes all Grian needed was his own foolishness.

So Jimmy was going to die first again, and he’d probably go to some little afterlife and wait for Grian, who would offer no words of sympathy and would just act like nothing ever happened. He had done that in Last Life, and it was probably a coping mechanism, but still. And Jimmy would probably sit on some nice recreation of their base, washed of the blood and destruction and he would painstakingly wait for this game to end.

And he hadn’t minded that afterlife the first time, because it was the first game. He’d died in a battle, in an honorable way and a blaze of glory. And Jimmy hadn’t minded spending a few weeks..or however long he had in their flower valley. He loved their valley dearly. To this day it represented safety and comfort and home. And he had been missed, Scott’s grief has filled the whole world. His husband had built a grave for him, had avenged him, and Jimmy had been able to greet him when Scott died.

In Last Life it was okay. Dying first again hurt of course, but Mumbo had gone directly after him. So he had more time with Mumbo, and God how Jimmy missed that man now. And he eventually had more time with Impulse as well. And then the rest of the Southlanders had joined him, and he got to see his former husband take the victory he deserved. So Last Life had been okay, it had stung a bit but it had been okay.

The third time really hurt. He heard how Martyn and the rest of his quartet, even Scott, had cracked jokes about his death. And he’d been taken out by an enderman, a fucking enderman. Heh, it was still frustrating to this day, especially because he’d taken his poor soulmate down with him. Tango had been upset, even more upset than Jimmy himself, but they had been there, together. They had finally gotten a moment of peace in their ranch, even if it did have to end eventually.

And going to that little afterlife first for the fourth time in a row would suck. It would suck a lot, but Jimmy could barely bring himself to care. He was tired. He was tired of fearing for his life, of the constant injuries. He was tired of the constant tick tick tick of his timer.

So there Jimmy stood, on the edge of Bread Bridge, watching his timer slowly tick down. He slowly closed the locket, placing it where it normally rested under the neck of his shirt. In the background he heard a voice calling his name. His fellow, well soon to be former, teammates had caught up. It was Joel, ever loyal Joel, calling out his name. The noise was muffled to his ears, but if Jimmy strained to hear he would’ve heard how close Joel was, and Grian’s footsteps not far behind. He was going to miss the Bad Boys, even if he wasn’t that bad to begin with.

The Canary took one last glance at the Mansion. Their Manion, their manor. Bad Boy Manor that still stood tall, despite all the burn marks and holes in the structure. It was quite the resilient little building, wasn't it. He looked at The Clockers base next door, at the tower that raised into the sky. They were enemies this time, but Jimmy didn’t really feel any malice towards them, not really. Jimmy would probably be friends with one of them next time, when these games inevitably came around.

He looked at Froggie Tower, home to BigB and Pearl. His feud with them over that stupid frog came to his mind, and Jimmy didn’t have it in him to care anymore. It was a frog, and it would only mean something next time probably. The frog had died anyways, and he couldn’t even remember what any of them had called it. It was the blood loss again, probably. Besides, he loved BigB and Pearl far more than a frog, even if they had and would continue to stab and kill and betray each other.

And finally he looked at the bridge beneath his feet. He looked at the wheat he had spent hours planting, harvesting and defending. He looked at the flooded part of the bridge that hid the destroyed parts of the mansion. This bridge might be dangerous, might’ve been the stupidest thing they’d ever make in any life, but it was the Bad Boys baby. It was a labor of love. He was going to miss the bridge a lot in the end, which is why he was glad it was the last structure he saw.

He heard Joel scream his name one more time, sounding more desperate than ever before, and then he closed his eyes and was falling. He felt the air rush around him, and his small wings flail and flutter helpless against his back. There was a loud thunk, several cracking sounds, and Jimmy felt a sense of relief fall over him as everything faded to black for the fourth time.

SolidarityGaming hit the ground too hard.

___________________________________

“JIMMY!” Joel screamed, watching as his fellow Bad Boy fell off the side of their mansion. From behind him Grian just made a squawk of alarm.

There was a ding in his pocket, his communicator going off with a death message. But Joel didn’t need to see it, and he certainly didn’t need to see whatever messages his servermates sent after.

Neither of them knew how much time Jimmy had left, which was a tad worrying at this point. So he waited a few seconds, which turned into minutes, waiting for Jimmy to respawn and walk over saying he slipped off the edge, to prove to Joel’s brain that he didn’t jump, and that Joel was seeing things.

But Jimmy didn’t come back, and after five minutes of silence Grian decided to speak up. “Tim’s out first again.”

There was a slight undertone of amusement in his allies' voice. It unsettled him, how easily the admin accepted the information. He always seemed to act like deaths were nothing on red, and Joel wondered how. He knew he was the most bloodthirsty red on the server, but he at least felt something when someone died permanently. Grian had been like that in Last Life too, and he wondered what Third Life had done to that man.

“Yeah, but he jumped.” Joel said, unwilling to let Jimmy's passing be brushed off like that.

Grian didn’t respond, and Joel just heard the avian’s footsteps fade away to the other side of the base. He ended up just sitting there, looking at the last spot where his former ally had stood, and listened .

The birds had gone quiet again, like they always did when Jimmy died. It was only when Jimmy went though, never Grian, or anyone else. The birds would only stop to mourn one of the avians, and they had chosen Jimmy. That felt like the right choice to Joel, Jimmy would always deserve it more than Grian ever would. And sure, he loved both of them, they were some of his best friends, but Grian was always slightly off here. Jimmy stayed the same, no matter what life, no matter what server, he was always one hundred percent Jimmy .

And yeah Joel thought Grian was a bit off in these games, but that was his teammate. And God dammit if Joel wasn’t loyal he’d be no better than a rabid animal. He’d been loyal to Jimmy as well, probably more than Grian, but the former was dead now. So Joel would go with Grian. He would inevitably follow the avian to the other side of their base and follow him around the rest of the server like a guard dog. He would also avenge Jimmy, though no one had really been at fault, but he’d do it anyway for the principal of it all.

Joel made a mental note to make a grave for Jimmy, like the one in Third Life. Yeah, that would be poetic, wouldn’t it. But for now he was content to stand there, to listen to his surroundings, and ponder about Jimmy and how much like a dog he himself could be sometimes.

And when he did eventually move from his surroundings, when he left the canary’s final place of rest, the birds started to chirp again.

#ron.fic #ron.writing #jimmy solidarity #limited life jimmy #limited life smp #limited life #limited life joel #limited life grian #traffic life series #trafficblr #life series fanfic #tw suicide #cw suicide

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sillyname30 · 2 days

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April recap

What I predicted:

Bluesy's birthday

An Evening with Darren Criss by CUPB Cornell University Program Board

c2e2 Chicago

What we got:

Questlove game night

and that's what you really missed on Glee podcast

An Evening with Darren Criss by CUPB Cornell University Program Board

Suffs opening night

A little more alive (Nick Blaemire)

Scary Pockets

Justice League: Crisis on Infinite Earths – Part Two (totally forgot to put it in my preview)

c2e2

#darren criss #april recap

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na-page · 9 days

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Darren Criss | "Suffs" Broadway Opening Night at Music Box Theatre in New York City | April 18, 2024 | 📷 Brooke Bell

#suffs broadway opening night #darren criss #alex edelman #smile #profile #kiss #my edits #dailymenedit #mancandykings #flawlessgentlemen #flawlesscelebs #glamoroussource #mensource #dilfsource #dailycelebs

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d-criss-news · 13 days

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rachelbrosnahan: Bursting with pride for our gal @ rachsuss who, after 10 years (!!!) of relentless hard work, opened @suffsmusical on Broadway Thursday night. We laughed, we cried, we met the great @ malala. We were blown away by the entire team led by our pals @ shainataub, @ silverleigh, @ jenncolella and @ nikkimjames. It feels like a miracle when anything gets made at all, let alone makes it all the way. Feeling very lucky and inspired to have had a front row seat to this journey. Don’t miss it!

#darren criss #rachel brosnahan #gabby policano #rachel sussman #alex edelman #karlee fomalont #mia swier #suffs broadway opening night #instagram #april 2024

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ivywhowrites · 2 years

Note

Hi hello !! Please can you write Huntara with an autistic S/O? Like, Huntara probably doesn't know much about autism (what with being from the Horde and the Crimson Waste where disabilities aren't talked about), so she gets kinda confused when the reader stims, gets excited when talking about a specific topic, covers their ears when the bar gets too loud, etc, so the reader explains their autism to her?

Thank you so much and have a lovely day/night! :)

(Ofc!✨️ sorry it took me so long🥲)

Its autism

You sat in the bar by huntara,scooting away from her,you weren't in the mood to be touched.huntara was talking to some people and the bar got to loud and you covered your ears,moving in your chair slightly,huntara looked over at you,clearly confused,"hot suff?what's wrong?" She gave a silent warning to everyone,causing them to shut up,you uncovered your ears and looked up at huntara,huntara tapped your shoulder,you slapped it away "wanna go outside?"She asked you, You nodded,you and huntara exited the bar,you calmed down "please don't touch me right now." Huntara was caught if guard "what's wrong hot stuff?" She asked not touching you,you sighed and turned to her "do you know what autism is?" Huntara was confused "au- au what?" You looked into her eyes "autism." Huntara nodded "okay,I don't know what it is" you nodded "I don't know how to explain it,but I know the horde didn't teach you and the criminals don't teach you stuff." Huntara nodded "why didn't you tell me sooner,or atleast inform me about autism." You teared up "uhm.. I didn't see it important and since your leader it would be a bother to you since you have to rule the crimson waste." Huntara shook her head "I would listen to you,hot stuff. I'll try to be more open if you'd like that." You nodded "yeah. I'd like that."

#catra shera #glimmer #huntara #scorpia #she ra adora #she ra and the princesses of power #she ra pop #shera fanfic #shera x reader #huntara x reader

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athenagc94 · 2 years

Text

Written in Rose Quartz

Chapter 4 - Unsuur/Builder - Turquoise

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You can also keep up with it on my AO3 here.

~~~~

Robbie had no idea what possessed her to offer up her home to Unsuur while he recovered from his injuries. Her bedside manner left a lot to be desired, evidenced by, well, everything about her. He would honestly do better for himself if he stayed with someone like Vivi or someone from the Church of Light. Not to mention, she still had work to do with the bridge, so it's not like she had the time to entertain him.

But seeing his lower lip jut out in a small pout when Justice benched him made her want to speak up. He looked more than irritated—he looked sad—and that just wouldn’t fly with her. That expression looked strange on his face.

That being said, she barely had enough room for herself in her tiny ass workshop, let alone a second person. That was why she couldn’t afford to lose that stupid bet with Pablo. She needed that damn expansion and with the trusses turned in, she finally had the money to do it. Heidi planned to stop by soon to take a quick look ahead of breaking ground on the project.

Her reflection glared back at her as she put in the lapis lazuli earrings she won off Pablo. She almost chucked the box at his head when she picked them up after what she dubbed the mistake. And it was a mistake. Maybe one of the worst she’d ever made—which said a lot about how much she hated her choices that night. It’s not like she had the best track record for making good decisions.

Pablo’s shit eating grin made her blood boil. And his sing-songey, “You earned this, love,” made it even worse.

She would fight Pablo one day—be it in this life or in hell—because she was fairly certain they were both going to hell.

No amount of good vibrations from her citrine collection could save her from that. And these damn earrings better give her the foresight to solve the water crisis for all the grief she went through to get them.

She tied back her hair in a low bun at the nape of her neck, a few stray curls already coming loose from its confines. She sighed. Whatever. There wasn’t any point in trying to tame them. It might be time to finally take Pablo up on his offer to cut her hair—before he fought him in the pits of hell, of course.

She stepped out into the living area as Unsuur opened the door that led out of her room. It was more of a closet, really, but it served its purpose with just enough room for a single bed and a shelf that housed her crystal collection.

She insisted he take the bed. He tried to argue, but she wouldn’t hear it. It was a whole thing. He only conceded when she threatened to throw his ass over her shoulder and carry him there herself.

Like she said, stellar bedside manner.

He leaned heavily on the door jamb with one arm cradling his side. She still wasn’t used to seeing him dressed so casually in threadbare shirt and a pair of loose joggers that rode low on his hips. His hair looked like someone ran their fingers haphazardly through it—probably him, but it was a good look.

“Morning,” he yawned.

“Morning,” she parroted as she made a beeline for the kettle on the stove, “Coffee?”

“Yes, please.”

He eased himself into one of the mismatched chairs at her comically small dining table. His legs were so long that his knees were almost tucked behind his ears when he was sitting. She found the pieces abandoned behind the Blue Moon and thought why not. A quick hose down from her water supply (which may not be the best use of her reserve) and a fresh coat of paint had them looking almost like new.

It saved her the trouble of spending money at By the Stairs. Arvio could kiss her ass if he actually thought she was spending a cent on his overpriced furniture pieces.

An awkward silence settled between them as she prepared their coffee. She took hers black, but he preferred his with a splash of milk—information she had to pry from him when she saw the way he grimaced each time he took a sip. The poor bastard would have suffered through a few weeks of stale bean water if she let him. Just because she liked it, didn’t mean he had to.

His eyes followed her as she moved across the kitchen. “I like those earrings.”

She almost dropped the mug in her hands. “Oh, uh, thanks. They were a,” she grappled for the right word, “they were a gift.” A badge of dishonor was more accurate. Or a bad omen. A clear quartz cleanse might be in order before she wore them again.

“Oh.” He almost sounded disappointed. “From who?”

“Pablo. He found them in Walnut Groove.”

“Lapis lazuli, right?”

She glanced back at him, realizing that he was actually following the slight swing of her earrings with his eyes. She wasn’t sure why that disappointed her. “That’s right. They’re one of my favorite stones. It’s known as the—”

“Wisdom stone.”

Her lips parted in surprise. Unsuur liked rocks. She knew that. It was the only thing he shared about himself, but she never thought the symbolism side of it all would interest him. It seemed too…whimsical for someone as rigidly literal as him.

“That’s right.”

“I like diamonds.”

Robbie whistled. “Perfection. You’ve got expensive tastes.”

“Oh, well, not just diamonds,” he said quickly, “I like rubies, sapphires, and garnet too.” Courage, justice, and truth—how appropriate. “But I just like rocks in general.”

“Yeah, I gathered that much.”

His extensive rock collection took up one full wall of his house—actually, a shack was a more accurate term for it. She thought her workshop was cramped. A couch would have never fit in his home in the first place. He seemed pleased with the rocks she brought back with her. The first being a speckled granite with flecks of blue and gray and the second a deep orange stone layered with pale yellow. His ensuing smile made her feel like she passed a test.

“So, what are your plans for the day?”

“Am I allowed to have plans?” He shifted in his seat, wincing. “I thought Justice said I was on bed rest.”

“Well, I don’t think Justice is here to yell at you.” The corner of his mouth twitched up into an almost smile. “And you can have plans.” She placed a mug in front of him and took the seat opposite him. “Or did you plan to stay cooped up inside again with this mess?”

She motioned vaguely to the chaos around them. Chests lined the walls, overflowing with odds and ends—mostly half-assembled relics for Catori. She used them as paper weights, bookends, and simple furniture pieces. Anything that might give them a purpose while she searched for the missing pieces.

“Can I watch you work?”

His request was simple enough, but it still surprised her. The fact that he stayed inside these last few days led her to believe he only agreed to this arrangement to avoid being stuck at home by himself. She didn’t think he had any real interest in hanging out with her, but it looked like she misunderstood.

“It’s not all that exciting,” she assured him, “I’ll be pretty busy working on that machine that Qi commissioned to speed up bridge construction. I won’t really be in the mindset to do much talking if that’s what you’re hoping for.”

“That’s fine,” Unsuur said, “People say I blend into the background easily enough. You won’t even know I’m there.”

The weight of his stare suggested otherwise.

“You can do whatever you want. I’m not your mother. Or Justice. I don’t care.”

His eyes followed her every movement—monitoring and weighing every subtle change in her demeanor. It made it hard not to stare right back. And she was…staring, she meant. She never realized how sharp his cheekbones were. Or the squareness of his jaw. Then there were his eyes. They sparkled like obsidian. Her gaze fell to trace the seam of his lips and she wet her own with a quick pass of her tongue.

Was it getting hot in here, or was it just her?

She took a large gulp of her drink, blistering the roof of her mouth in the process, but it hardly registered. “So, tell me,” she croaked, “what’s the craziest shit you’ve done in the Civil Corps?”

He raised his mug to his lips and blew on it. “I once caught three mice in one afternoon.”

It was hard to tell if he was joking or not. “That’s it?”

He nodded. “And what about you? What’s the craziest thing you’ve done as a builder? I already know that you press random buttons and chase geeglers onto speeding railcars.”

She stared at him. Was that one a joke? His deadpan tone made it impossible to know.

As if sensing her unease, he cracked a small smile and clarified, “I’m teasing you.”

Relief washed over her. “Oh, well, in that case, I’m not sure if I have too many crazy builder stories. You already know the good ones, but I have a few stories from when I traveled across the Free Cities. I used to get into all kinds of trouble.”

“And you think that’s changed?”

She barked a laugh. He was funnier than he let on—more of a dry wit kind of guy. She could respect that. “Do you want to hear the story or not?”

“I do.”

“Alright, if you think you can handle it.” He motioned for her to speak. “So, this one time, when I was in Atara. I stumbled across this abandoned rickshaw filled with relic tech…”

***

Unsuur hated sitting still.

He would much rather be on patrol. Or looking for new rocks. Or picking sand fleas out of Captain’s coat—he wasn’t too picky.

The last few days had been torture for him—laying in bed, staring at the ceiling with nothing better to do with his time. It hurt too much to move outside of his meals with Robbie, but the pain was tolerable that morning and he felt like doing something with his day.

Robbie had grown more comfortable around him, which was progress. They no longer ate meals in tepid silence and he considered their conversation that morning a breakthrough in their relationship. It was nice to see her laughing and joking like she would with Pablo or Heidi. Per his request, she set him up in one of her comfier chairs on the front porch. It gave him a perfect view of the machines lining one side of the broken fence that circled her workshop.

The slightly crooked sign hanging off the awning bore the name: Robin’s Nest.

Was Robin her full name? He never thought to ask. People only ever called her Robbie or Robs around here. They had since she arrived.

He pursed his lips and said, “That fence won’t keep anything out.” She was opening herself up to all kinds of threats. He was constantly cutting off rocket roosters from walking right into her yard. A wild yakmel herd grazed right on the edge of her property and he knew firsthand how they could be during a sandstorm. “You should get it fixed.”

“I’m not looking to keep anything out.”

He grimaced. He didn’t understand her.

“How are you hanging in there?” Robin hauled a stack of bronze bars over to one of her machines and laid them out. A thin layer of sand clung to her sweat-slick skin. Her cheeks were red, the start of sunburn stretching across the bridge of her nose. She itched it irritably. “You look like you’re ready to start banging your head against the wall.”

“Is that an option?”

She snorted. “You’re just full of jokes today, aren’t you?”

“I tell plenty of jokes,” he deadpanned, “but no one ever laughs.”

The consistent click of bronze stopped. “I just did, didn’t I?”

“You’re the exception, I guess.” He fidgeted in his seat. He’d gotten used to the twinge in his side each time he breathed, moved, or thought too hard about it. “I just hate sitting still is all.”

“I’d offer to have you help me, but that would go against the whole resting aspect of this thing.” She fed bronze bars on one side of the machine and thin sheets of pliable metal came out the other side. It was like magic. Or science. They were one and the same to him.

Everyone else in his family lived and breathed science. Spoke the language fluently. All of them were esteemed Vega 5 Old World technology experts and then there was him—Unsuur—the disappointment, the failure.

He shoved those intrusive thoughts from his mind before they found a home. There was no place for them here. His attention drifted to her workbench where a small collection of rocks and precious stones littered its surface.

He perked up in his seat. That was right. “You collect rocks too, don’t you.”

“I guess.” She stood and brushed sand from the knees of her jeans. “I just grab what looks pretty. I don’t think too much about it.”

His gaze fell to a rough cut tiger's eye she strung on a gold chain. He motioned to it and said, “Like that orange one?”

“It’s a tiger’s eye,” she corrected, “People wear them to lessen fear and seek motivation from within.”

His lips curved. “I thought you didn’t think too much about it?”

She blew a stray curl from her eyes. Her hair was tied back in a low bun, but it had already come undone. “I don’t—I mean, I collect them for jewelry making purposes.”

It was a lot more than that. She kept a small collection in her bedroom. Most were on the shelf next to her bed, but she kept a few more on the exposed wood beams around the edge of her room. As if remembering that small fact, she muttered, “Crystals soothe me, I guess.”

“When did you start collecting them?”

“Oh, years ago when I still lived in Highwind with my family. A traveling ‘mystic’ came to town and she read fortunes for the children. She told me rocks would guide me through life like stepping stones across a river,” she scoffed, “which is a bonkers thing to say to a child, but I don’t know.” She shrugged. “I was young and impressionable and my little brain fixated on that fortune and I’ve been collecting them ever since…” She trailed off as if she wanted to say more.

His heart squeezed in his chest. That was surprisingly sentimental of her which seemed to go against her very nature. She was all hard edges and rough patches, like an uncut gem, but there was a softness under all that. “Which one is your favorite?”

Her brow creased. “What?”

“Of your collection? Which do you like best?”

She laughed, a little too loud and punctuated to be genuine. She crossed her arms and he saw the walls surrounding her shift and close with that one motion. As if she remembered who she was opening up to and stopped herself from divulging too much. “An impossible question. Next.”

“I like that one.” He motioned to the turquoise she set on a spool of copper wire. Its veined surface resembled fissures in ice. “I think it would stack nicely with the rest of my collection.”

She peered between him and the stone. “You like it?”

“That’s what I just said. Yeah.”

“One second.” She took the stone and turned away from him. He craned his neck to see what she was doing, but she kept her work hidden. He settled back in his chair with a pointed huff. Maybe taking up reading wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

“Ta-da!”

She spun around and presented him with her creation—the same turquoise rock with bolts and a curved piece of wire glued to its surface. Confusion furrowed his brow. Why did she ruin a perfectly good rock?

“What is it?”

“A pet rock, duh.”

“A pet…rock?”

“Yeah,” she smirked, “So, you don’t get lonely while I’m working.”

Unsuur studied it. The bolts and wire—was that supposed to be a face? “You know I think your company is more than enough, right?”

Her lips parted in surprise. That was the second time he’d gotten that look from her today. He was on a roll. “Well, I have to, uh, go scrounge up a few things from the scrapyard and I thought Uncertain, here, could keep you company while I was gone.” That splotchy red color crept back into her cheeks. “That’s all.”

He tilted his head. “Uncertain?”

“Yeah, that’s his—its name. Because, ya know, your name is Unsuur, so I thought it’d be funny if…” A vein visibly pulsed at her temple. If possible—her face had gotten even redder. “Forget I said anything. It was a stupid joke anyway.” She set the rock on the porch railing and hurried past him before he could stop her.

“I’ll be back. Don’t go anywhere or Justice will kill me.”

“But—”

She grabbed her pickhammer as she bolted around the corner. And, just like that, Unsuur was alone. His gaze fell back to the rock—Uncertain. Well, not completely alone. He picked up the turquoise and chuckled.

“Looks like it’s just you and me until she gets back.” Uncertain didn’t respond—not that he expected him to. The glue hadn’t fully dried and its smile became more of a mangled frown. His shoulders slumped. Yeah… He had that effect on people, but having a pet rock grimace at him was new. “Well, do you want to talk to me?”

Nothing. Why would he expect anything different?

He bobbed his head thoughtfully. But that wasn’t a no, per se.

“Alright, so I found the coolest rock while I was standing outside Paradise Lost. Lots of layers, perfect for stacking. You would have loved it…”

***

Robbie traced the grain in the wood overhead, unable to sleep even though she was exhausted. The rest of the afternoon went by in a flash, toting scrap between the yard and her workshop. Dinner had been a quiet affair, just her and Unsuur, seated at her mismatched dining set with bowls of steaming fried rice.

Well, her, Unsuur, and Uncertain…

He kept the turquoise stone at the table the whole time, occasionally asking it a question and pretending like it had responded—like that was a perfectly normal thing to do. She could hardly look at the damn thing without an embarrassed flush burning at the crown of her head.

A pet rock?! What was she thinking??

He had to be messing with her, right?

That had been some lame attempt to connect with him, but why would he need a pet rock? It didn’t do anything. It definitely wouldn’t cure how bored he was, that was for sure. Light, was she actually boring? Did he regret coming to stay here with her?

She scrubbed her face until her skin stung. The clock on the wall read well past midnight. Tomorrow would be rough if she didn’t drift off here soon. As much as she wanted to take the day off and catch up on some much needed sleep, Heidi reached out to say she planned to stop by in the morning and she made an appointment with Pablo in the afternoon.

Between that, she still had work to do. Qi sent another letter asking for a status report on his robot. A letter. Like he couldn’t just walk down to her shop and ask himself.

She groaned and buried her face in her pillow.

The work never ended.

“N-No, ugh.”

Robbie sat up on the old loveset. It was a piece of trash. Literally. She found it left out for trash, but it beat having to sleep on the floor. She strained her ears and listened, but only silence followed. That whimper definitely came from her bedroom though.

Kicking her blanket off, she crept up to the door and pressed her ear to the rough wood. Unsuur whimpered again—albeit quieter than the one that alerted her in the first place. Was he in pain? Was the medicine still working? She wasn’t really sure what she could do to help him, but she cracked the open and poked her head inside?

The lights were dimmed. The blankets and pillows on her single bed made a vaguely Unsuur-shaped mound.

“Unsuur?”

He whimpered again, rustling the blankets.

“Unsuur, are you okay? Do you need more medicine?” She padded over to the bed and squeezed into the small space between the bed and shelf. Worry lines creased his forehead as he flung the blankets off him. He was shirtless. A deep purplish bruise bled out from beneath the bandages wrapped around his middle, the edges turning the faintest shades of green and yellow. The planes of his chest were flat and well-toned from years in the Corps.

A frown toyed on his lips as he curled into a ball on his side, trembling. He looked so small, so scared—like a child. Robbie gasped.

He wasn’t in pain. He was having a nightmare.

She smoothed out his hair and cooed. “It’s okay. I’m here.”

He relaxed under her touch, the lines on his forehead smoothing. His hair, though a little damp, felt like silk beneath her fingers. She brushed her thumb over his temple, then down and around the apple of his cheek. He sighed contentedly and leaned into the touch until his cheek was cradled in her palm.

She chewed on the inside of her cheek.

Unsuur always seemed so sure of himself—ironically, enough. A quiet calm in the storm that was Sandrock and all its bullshit. Ever-present, dependable, a rock for others to lean on. Or at least, that’s how she saw it, but some of the more concerning things he said so casually about himself made her wonder if that was really the case.

People say I blend into the background.

No one ever laughs.

She brushed her thumb over his lower lip. Hers tingled as she recalled their kiss. Her travels kept her from making meaningful connections—only fleeting, one off relations that left her creeping out of a stranger's room at dawn. She never remembered their names. She never gave hers. It was easier to never get too attached—to anything or anyone.

Her hand fell from his face. He looked more settled than he had when she entered the room. Good. At least one of them would get a good night of sleep. She moved to leave before he realized she was there.

He reached for her in his sleep. Her expression softened as his fingers brushed against hers. He whimpered again.

“Unsuur?”

Nothing. It seemed along with liking rocks, he slept like one too. His fingers trailed up her palm until they closed around her wrist. She tugged lightly, but his grip tightened, almost insistent. Slept like a rock with a grip stronger than steel…

Another five minutes wouldn’t harm anyone. It’s not like she was anywhere close to falling asleep on her own anyway. If this is what Unsuur needed while he recovered, she could manage this much. She nudged him aside to make room for her—though there wasn’t too much room to give. The bars on her bed frame dug into her back as she found a comfortable spot.

Unsuur curled up in her lap like a sleeping kitten, his cheek pressed flat against her bare thigh. His skin was warm against her—scorching really.

She took a slow, measured breath through her nose and held it. He smelled vaguely of spice—cinnamon, maybe? Or perhaps that was what tanned leather smelled like. It was hard to place, but she liked it. Her fingers trailed through his hair, earning a content hum that someone might mistake for a purr.

One minute, maybe two, then she’d head back to the living room. That’s what she told herself as she leaned her head back and closed her eyes.

#my time at sandrock #mtas #mtas unsuur #mtas justice #mtas heidi #mtas builder #mtas fanfic

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