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uvobreakmylegs · 4 months

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Lamp of the Body

first part of a fic long in the making based on some stuff @hypnoswrites and I were discussing about Chrollo :D

Chrollo x female!reader

Part 2

Warnings: mentions of accidents, injury, isolation, mentions of strangulation

Word count: 6.3k

You were struggling to breathe.

You couldn't see anything.

Your heart was pounding hard against the inside of your chest.

You were scared.

Scared of what? You weren't sure. All you knew was that the adrenaline was rushing through your system while you panicked. And what furthered that panic was the fact that you couldn't move. You were stuck, laying on your back and frozen in place while all of your senses told you that you were in danger.

Then you noticed the figure sitting next to you.

It was too dark to make them out, but you saw their general shape and the way they leaned over you.

Once they realized that you had seen them, they moved.

A hand reached out, turning your face towards them before caressing your cheek in slow motions. An act that should have been comforting, but instead the panic in you worsened and you began to cry.

The figure did nothing to comfort you; they only wiped away the tears that fell. Despite that action that to most would have indicated some amount of care, you didn't feel anything like that when their skin brushed against yours.

They didn't care.

In such a vulnerable state, you were at the mercy of such a person, one who had no concern over your distress.

As if you were simply a spectacle to them.

They wiped away another tear in a robotic manner, and still said nothing when those tears continued.

It didn't seem real.

That was your first thought when you woke up in the morning, your eyes going over details in the bedroom: the thin bits of light showing through the cracks in the blinds, the soft rug that lay on the floor that you had picked out when you'd first moved here, and the door to the walk-in closet that was currently closed. If it had been open you would've seen both your own and Chrollo's clothes hanging inside of it.

At the thought of Chrollo, you looked to the other side of the bed, finding that your boyfriend was still there beside you. You took in the sight of his face, how peaceful his expression was and the way his bangs partially covered the tattoo on his forehead, only allowing little bits of the design to be seen through the black locks. It looked as though he was still fast asleep based on the way his eyes remained closed and how steadily his chest rose and fell with each breath. As much as you felt compelled to scoot over closer and cuddle up against him, in the past your boyfriend had proven to be an incredibly light sleeper and you worried that the action might wake him up.

With all that Chrollo had done for you, the man deserved to get as much sleep as he wanted.

As quietly as you could, you got out of bed and made your way over to the bathroom, periodically looking back over to Chrollo and finding him to still be asleep each time you did. But as you looked back at him one last time before entering the bathroom, you were once again struck by how it still didn't feel completely real, that you were able to look at the image of your sleeping boyfriend.

That you were able to look at anything at all.

The lights came on when you flipped the switch, and instinct had you closing your eyes as they adjusted to the light. When it no longer hurt to have your eyes open, you made your way over to the sink, covering your mouth to yawn before you looked at yourself in the mirror. The gray eyes of your reflection stared back at you, briefly flitting about as you took in the messy state of your hair and wrinkled sleep clothes before you went back to staring at your eyes.

Maybe some might find it weird to be referring to them as being “yours” considering that they were definitely not the eyes you'd been born with and had come from an unknown donor, but seeing that they'd been placed inside your skull, it seemed silly to say otherwise.

Still, to think that just a few months ago you hadn't been able to see at all, your original eyes permanently damaged because of that car accident.

You'd lived that way for almost a year, and after getting used to the world being in total darkness with only the images in your memory to go off of, it didn't seem real that you were able to see again.

You brought a hand up to your cheek, watching as your reflection did the same and lightly brush beneath the area under and around your eye, your fingers briefly lingering on the small bits of scarring on your skin.

It didn't seem real, but clearly it was.

“Is everything alright?”

Hearing Chrollo's voice surprised you, and you looked over to find him entering the bathroom, smiling at you when you made eye contact.

“Yeah, I'm fine,” you answered, adding “sorry, I didn't mean to wake you.”

“You didn't,” he said, “I woke up on my own a moment ago.”

You were about to reply when another yawn came on that you couldn't suppress, and you covered your mouth with your hand.

His eyebrow raised as he asked “are you sure you don't need more sleep?”

“I'm fine,” you said, “I don't think I'd be able to sleep anymore, anyway.”

He nodded.

Then Chrollo walked up behind you, wrapping his arms around your form and holding you close to him. You reached up and grabbed at one of his hands, to which he responded by taking your hand in his and lightly squeezing.

“You came in to admire yourself, I see,” he said.

You laughed a little.

“Don't know if there's much to admire here at the moment,” you answered.

“I disagree,” he said, “there's quite a lot to admire about you.”

“Well, you're biased, so I don't know how much I can trust you on that,” you said.

He chuckled, taking the hand that he held and lifting it so he could place a kiss on your skin. As he did that your gaze went back to the mirror.

It was a nice image, you thought to yourself. You and your boyfriend, both of you with hair that needed to be brushed and looking rather disheveled after getting out of bed, standing together and holding one another in a moment of peaceful quiet.

A definite contrast to what life had been during the last nine months where the days had been filled with anxiety despite how hard you tried to adjust to a new way of living. Unsurprisingly, having one of your senses be unexpectedly taken away was a difficult thing to cope with.

Despite what had happened, you spent a relatively short amount of time in the hospital as Chrollo had been insistent on you returning home with him as soon as possible. You hadn't minded that too much. Even though you hadn't stayed there long, the loss of your eyesight had made your other senses get stronger. As such, you'd grown to truly hate the smell of hospitals, the feeling of needles poking into your skin and the never-ending beeping of the machines you'd be hooked up to.

Being in the comfort of your home while you recovered was preferable.

And hopefully it would be a while before you needed to go back for any doctor's appointment, though when you did, the staff at the hospital would definitely be surprised to find that you were able to see again.

Chrollo seemed to notice that your thoughts had drifted elsewhere as he asked “what is it, love?”

“Nothing too important, I guess,” you said, “just thinking about what'll happen if I ever end up back at that hospital. They'd be surprised if they saw me with how adamant they were that there wasn't anything that could be done for me.”

You looked back at him while asking “why wouldn't they have mentioned the guy in Padokea?”

“I don't know,” he answered, shrugging as he added “perhaps they were worried what might happen if they recommended an experimental surgery and then something went wrong.”

“What do you think could've gone wrong?”

“I'm sure there's a number of things, though I can't say what exactly they might be.”

“I thought you knew everything,” you said teasingly.

He smiled as he answered “I'm afraid I must concede that I only have a basic knowledge when it comes to the world of modern medicine. That's why I usually go to Machi if I have any questions.”

You hummed, looking back to the reflections in the mirror.

You could lose that. In a mere moment your eyesight could be taken away and your world would become dark again.

Remembering the way things had been caused the anxiety to swell inside of you, and this time you voiced your concerns.

“Things will stay this way, right?” you asked him, “nothing's going to happen where the eyes won't work out and I'll need to go back to not being able to see, right?”

Chrollo's hand went to rest on your shoulder and squeezed it reassuringly as he asked “is that what you're worried about?”

You nodded.

“It'd be sad to get back my eyesight and then have it taken away again,” you added.

Chrollo pulled you around so you were no longer facing the mirror. Then he leaned down and pressed a kiss against your lips before holding you against himself.

He spoke again.

“Everything will be fine, love,” he told you, “nothing's gone wrong since we came back, and if we were to call up that professional, he'd tell you that everything is fine.”

“You're sure he'd say that?” you asked.

“I'm sure.”

His hand was on your head stroking your hair. That alone was able to quell the anxiety that had begun to grow in your chest.

“After all,” he continued, “I promised that you'd be fine, didn't I?”

You nodded, remembering what he said to you almost a year ago.

You still remembered the way he'd grasped your hand and the feel of the fur that lined the cuffs of his coat sleeves brushing against your skin. You remembered the cast that your leg had been trapped in and the constant beeping of the monitors beside your bed. You remembered the darkness.

And you remembered how easily your spirits were lifted when Chrollo spoke to you.

“Everything will be fine, love. I promise you.”

At the time you thought he was only saying that so you would feel a bit better about your situation, that he was simply doing his best to be a supportive boyfriend as he navigated through the results of this accident with you. While the future may not have been completely bleak, it was without a doubt going to be different than what you could have ever imagined and you and Chrollo were going to need to find a new version of your “normal”.

At the time you never would have thought he'd find a way to make things go back to the way they'd been before the accident.

Yet he had.

And now you were here.

Still not completely recovered as the trauma that had come with being in such a nasty accident remained with you and would likely stay with you for a long time to come, but you were still in a much better place than you had been in the previous months.

And Chrollo had been by your side every step of the way.

He pulled away, cupping your cheek and moving your head up to look at him.

“Feeling better?” he asked.

You nodded.

“Yeah,” you answered, smiling after.

He kissed you again before saying “we may as well start getting ready for the day.”

He let you go after that, moving over to his side of the sink.

“Are you working today?” you asked.

“No, not today. My schedule is free.”

“Do we have anything planned?”

“Nothing in particular,” he answered, “although I suppose I should figure out something fast, otherwise you'll be insistent on watching horror movies all day.”

You pouted a little as you asked “what's wrong with that?”

“Ordinarily there would be nothing wrong with that. Unfortunately, you never seem to be able to pick any good movies,” he replied.

“Rude.”

“It's the truth, love.”

“Even if it is, you aren't supposed to say that.”

“So I'm supposed to lie to you?”

“When it comes to my taste in movies, yeah.”

“Interesting.”

There wasn't any malice behind either of your words during that bit of banter, and you couldn't help giggling a little bit after. Chrollo also had a soft smile on his face, though the somewhat distant gaze his gray eyes made it seem as though he was thinking about something.

His eyes…

… Huh. You hadn't really thought about it before.

“We almost match now,” you said.

“Hm?”

He glanced over to you, waiting for you to elaborate.

“Our eyes,” you explained, pointing to your own as you continued with “we almost have the same eye color now. It's off by just a few shades.”

Chrollo's hummed as he smiled again.

“So we do.”

Was that a dumb thing to point out? If it was he wouldn't say anything like that. And with the amount of time the two of you had been together, he was probably used to hearing such things from you. How a man like him wanted to be with someone like you, you would never know. But after the events of the past few months, you could say with one hundred percent certainty that he deeply cared about you.

Really, you didn't deserve him.

“I'll do whatever you want to do today, Chrollo,” you said, smiling at him again.

He smiled back at you as he said “I'll need to make sure I come up with something good, then.”

The accident happened when Chrollo was away on business, during one of his trips that he took every few months that lasted up to a few weeks on average. You never quite knew what those trips were about; Chrollo said he couldn't tell you and communication with him during those times was shoddy at best, so you didn't even have much to go off of to figure out on your own what he was doing. There was a constant curiosity burning in you about what he was doing exactly, but since he told you that you didn't need to know, you stopped pressing the issue.

If Chrollo said so, then you trusted him.

Not that your trust helped at all in how lonely those weeks would be while he was gone. With communication being almost non-existent while he was away and no one else around to hang out with or even really talk to, the feeling of isolation would take over fast. For that reason, you figured that things would be more interesting if you were to step out of your routine. That day you headed out to attend a convention that was taking place not too far from where you lived in the hopes you could browse around, perhaps make a few new friends, but mostly to do something different.

When you were on your way was when a careless driver slammed headfirst into the taxi you'd been riding in.

Your leg and collarbone had both been broken, and one of your wrists and a few of your ribs had been fractured. Terrible injuries, to be sure, but those were things that you could recover from.

The loss of your eyesight was a different story, and the doctor who'd treated your injuries had informed you that there was no way to bring that back.

Hearing that had been hard.

It was made harder still when your attempts to reach Chrollo failed.

Even after giving them his number, the hospital had been unable to contact Chrollo as every single call they made failed to go through. With you stuck in bed with all of your injuries and not having anyone else you could contact, it was a devastating few days.

But on the afternoon of your third day in the hospital he showed up unexpectedly, heading straight to your room and calling out to you once he saw you. Relief filled you in the moment where you heard his voice, but the gravity of the situation brought you back down not long after. His hands grasped yours, and you felt the fur that lined the cuffs of his coat brush against your skin as you tearfully told him that you couldn't see anymore.

It seemed to take him a moment to process that information as he remained silent at first.

After a few moments, he pulled your hand up to his mouth and placed a kiss to your skin.

And then he spoke again.

“Everything will be fine, love. I promise you.”

The words had been spoken with conviction.

And he was right.

Everything had seemingly gone back to the way it was before, and that fact in of itself was better than you could've hoped for.

It was hard to breathe, and you could feel the adrenaline pumping through you while you lay frozen in place. You couldn't move. No matter how many times your brain ordered your limbs to break free of their state of stasis, they wouldn't comply, and you were stuck, laying as though rigor mortis had set in.

The figure was there. Though you still couldn't see them clearly, you felt them watching you.

Why wouldn't they help you? Why did they only ever watch?

Your jaw refused to open so you could ask those questions, and you were left to harshly breathe through your nose while the figure continued to observe you.

The next morning, while you fought with the eggs that didn't want to be unstuck from the pan, a thought came to you.

“What sort of things does Kortopi like?” you asked, looking back to where Chrollo sat at the table.

“Kortopi? He likes books. He also enjoys making miniatures.”

“Miniatures?”

“Those sets you can get from hobby stores,” Chrollo clarified before adding, “what makes you ask?”

You turned back to the pan as you answered “I wanted to do something for him since he helped us out. I thought maybe I could get him something nice; like I could put together a basket of stuff he'd like as a way to say 'thank you'. Same with Pakunoda and Machi.”

You paused before adding “and Shalnark.”

“Why the hesitation in naming Shalnark?”

Of course he picked up on that.

“… I don't want to say anything bad about your friend,” you replied.

You glanced back to find that his eyebrow had raised slightly.

“Oh? What did he do?”

You were hesitant to answer, because while Shalnark had been rather intrusive when he'd been here with you, he had been helping you and Chrollo out. Still, you knew from past experiences that Chrollo wasn't going to let this go.

“…. Some of the questions he asked me were a little invasive,” you admitted, “and I think he might have been going through our stuff.”

Chrollo didn't seem surprised.

“Shalnark does have a bad habit of being a bit too nosy,” he said, “but I doubt he meant any actual harm in anything he said or did.”

“Why didn't you bring this up back then?” he then asked.

“He was doing us a favor,” you said, “and you said that I could trust him. Just… Maybe if he ever comes back, we should make sure you're around to keep him in line.”

You heard him let out a chuckle as you went back to your cooking.

“He usually listens to me, so that shouldn't be an issue,” Chrollo said, “and if you'd like, I can take care of getting him something.”

“Nah, I'll still get him a gift as thanks. It'd be rude if I didn't,” you said, “hopefully I won't need him or any of your other friends to babysit me again.”

The eggs managed to not be burned when you pushed them out of the pan and onto your plate, and after months of being out of practice when it came to cooking, it felt good that you'd managed to do that much.

“I still don't think you needed to call on them as much as you did,” you added, “I would've been fine on my own for a few hours those times you were gone.”

“It was better for you to have not needed them than be in a situation where you were having an emergency and couldn't get help,” he answered.

“I'm not sure how much trouble I could've gotten into on my own, honestly,” you said.

“You never know.”

“I guess. I feel bad for taking up their time like that, though.”

“They were happy to help,” he told you, “but I do think your idea of gifts as a way of thanking them is a good one.”

Setting the plate of eggs down at the table, you sat down as you asked “where are you heading out today?”

He was already dressed to go out, and he'd finished up his coffee just as you took your seat.

“Nowhere special. I just need to take care of a few things in relation to my last job,” he answered.

“How long will you be out?”

“Not long. I should be back after lunch.”

“So not long enough that I need someone to look after me,” you said.

He smiled as he said “not this time, no.”

A beat of silence passed, and though you suspected you knew what his response would be, you decided to make a request anyway.

“If I finish this really fast, can I come with you?” you asked.

Though his smile didn't falter, Chrollo shook his head.

“It's not the sort of trip where I can bring you along,” he said.

“Not even if I stay in the car while you go do whatever?”

“Do you really want to be stuck in a car for hours?”

“No,” you admitted, “but it'd be nice to get out for a little bit.”

He nodded while reaching over so he could grasp your hand.

“I know that you're feeling closed off from the rest of the world, love,” Chrollo said, “but I'd much rather you stay in here while you continue your recovery.”

“I feel fine, though. Better than I have in a while,” you replied, “I could start going out a little, right?”

“Perhaps. But not on a trip like this.”

“What then?”

“We can figure that out when I get back.”

He stood up then, and there was a sense of finality in the conversation as he pushed his chair back in place, though he kept his cheerful demeanor when he smiled at you again.

“No need to get up,” he said to you, “I'll see myself out. Don't stress yourself and stay inside.”

That last part was definitely tacked on because of what you'd said.

“Even if I feel fine?” you asked.

“Do it for me, love.”

He finished that off by placing a kiss to your forehead.

Well damn. How could you refuse when he asked you like that?

He smiled at you, and you smiled back at him. Everything was fine.

You were fine when he walked out of the room, gathering his things before making his way to the door. You were fine even when you heard the jingling of his keys and the sound of the door opening. You were fine when you called out one last “goodbye”, to which he responded in kind.

But the instant you heard the front door lock behind him and you could no longer hear his footsteps, your mood fell.

Life got lonely when Chrollo wasn't around. Largely due to how small your world had become as you were lacking when it came to other people you could be around. And while the accident had made things smaller, it had been getting to be that way even before the crash. Friends and family didn't contact you anymore and you didn't know anyone outside of Chrollo's social circle, of whom you very rarely saw. The most time you had spent with anyone aside from your boyfriend was a few hours at a time during those months of recovery when he got his friends to look after you when you were bedridden.

Did your old friends or any of your family even know about the crash?

You had no clue, but since Chrollo said you didn't need to worry about them, you didn't think about them most days.

Though it didn't help how the apartment felt incredibly empty whenever he was gone.

But it was okay.

It would be fine, you told yourself as you finished up your breakfast. Chrollo wouldn't be gone long. His lack of packing an overnight bag or getting one of his friends to stay with you was proof of that. He'd be back before the day was out and everything would be fine.

Everything would be fine as long as Chrollo was with you.

After all, he'd said so.You had your eyesight back.

Though it had taken a while to get to that point. Months of staying put in bed so as to not strain yourself, and then getting used to walking on your own again after your broken bones had healed up. Despite having no vision, muscle memory had kicked in when you were feeling well enough to walk without assistance, and you didn't have much issue navigating the layout of the apartment once your leg had fully healed.

That was when Chrollo came to you with a proposal.

The medical professionals told you there was nothing that could be done about your sight, yet Chrollo had found a way around it, telling you of an experimental new surgery being done somewhere within the Dentora Region of Padokea. Under normal circumstances, you might have been skeptical, and just hearing the word “experimental” made you nervous. But Chrollo managed to convince you to give it a shot. All it took was a single conversation and he had gotten you to agree.

You were glad that he did, otherwise you might not be here like this right now. Back to what your normal had been before the accident, at least for the most part. Being able to be on your own and not needing to worry if you were becoming a burden to your boyfriend. Going back to waiting for him to return from his work and eagerly greeting him when he walked in the door.

Chrollo had done a good job of keeping up a positive attitude while you recovered, but now you were feeling better mentally, his happiness seemed a bit more genuine.

Maybe at some point soon, you could start to go out again like you had before the accident.

That would be something to discuss once he was back.

You woke up in a cold sweat, breathing hard as you sat up in bed, your arms shaking as you struggled to support yourself.

Another nightmare. The same as the others where you couldn't move and someone sat by and stared at you. But this time had been different.

You could still feel their hands around your throat as your air was cut off completely.

A quick check by placing one of your hands to your neck confirmed that it had been a dream; no one was trying to choke the life out of you.

That only brought minimal relief, however. Even if it was only a nightmare, the images were still fresh in your mind, and it had left you shaken. The thought of being unable to fight back or even cry out while someone sat on top of you and tried to kill you was one that made you feel incredibly helpless.

And you were so, so tired of feeling helpless.

Glancing next to you, you were able to make out Chrollo's form on the bed. He was still asleep, otherwise he no doubt would've asked you what was wrong.

Maybe you should tell him.

They'd started weeks after getting back from Padokea, and the first few times you hadn't thought much of them. And even when they continued, you decided to keep it to yourself. They were simply been the result of stress, likely in relation to the accident, and that at some point they would stop on their own. You didn't want to bring it up because you didn't want to saddle him with anymore of your issues. After all, you weren't a child and Chrollo deserved better than for you to go crying to him whenever something mildly inconvenient happened.

If the nightmares had stopped quickly you wouldn't have considered talking to him.

But if anything, they were only increasing in frequency. Not only were they leaving you emotionally exhausted, but you felt that you were being drained physically as well. Your nights were becoming restless and you spent almost all of the next day tired as you tried to recuperate.

No wonder Chrollo didn't want you going out; he could easily see that you were tired and took that to mean that you still weren't well enough for the outside.

It still seemed strange that they would continue as long as they did, though. Especially when you were considerably less stressed than you'd been before the surgery. Why were they happening when things were going well?

… You didn't know. You just wanted them to stop so you wouldn't need to deal with them anymore.

For now just rest, you told yourself.

With that, you settled back down onto the bed, though your gaze went to Chrollo, still asleep and with his back turned to you. After a moment, you scooted over to be closer to him, resting against his back and placing a hand on his arm. Chrollo didn't wake.

A little unusual given how often he awoke to even the slightest of movement on the bed. He must have been more tired than usual. Part of you was sad because of that; it would've been nice to feel him hold you back, to give you some form of reassurance, even if it was one small piece of physical affection.

But waking him up would be selfish.

So you stayed still, not moving any further, keeping your hand on his arm and your face against his back while you took in his scent.

You can deal with this much on your own, you told yourself.

Just rest for now.

“How would you feel about moving?”

You looked up from where you sat on the couch over to where Chrollo stood on the other end of the room. Moments ago you'd both been reading separately, and he'd gotten up when his cellphone had gone off so he could take the call in another room. He had just come back in and that was the first thing he said, and it managed to catch you so off-guard that it took you a bit to process what he just said.

“Moving?” you repeated.

“Yes.”

“And go where?”

“Out of the city,” he said, “somewhere in the country. That would be nice, wouldn't it?”

“…. Huh.”

He seemed surprised at your reaction, as he asked “you don't want to?”

“I don't know,” you said, “I was really looking forward to walking around here again when it's okay for me to go out.”

Shutting your book and placing it to the side, you asked “where exactly are you thinking?”

“Somewhere near the mountains would be nice.”

“…. Wouldn't somewhere near the mountains be several hours away from here?”

“It would.”

“Won't that interfere with your job?”

He shrugged.

“Relocating won't effect me much,” he said, “my work already requires me to travel. Adding a few more hours to my trips is hardly a sacrifice.”

“Besides,” he added, “I think a new environment would be better for you, especially one that kept you away from the stresses outside here.”

That made sense. Everything he said made sense, as it always did.

But still.

“I really like it here, though,” you said, “there are specific places I haven't been to since the accident that I want to visit again, and I won't be able to do that if we move. Not easily, at least.”

“I understand, but you shouldn't be sacrificing your health just to see certain places again.”

“I'm not sacrificing anything.”

At that, Chrollo leaned against the door frame before he sighed.

“You haven't been doing well, love,” he told you.

You frowned.

“I thought I was doing pretty good, all things considered,” you said.

“You spend most of your days exhausted.”

“I'm not that exhausted.”

To that, Chrollo gave you a pointed look. One that clearly told you that he didn't believe you and you knew you couldn't continue to insist that he was wrong.

“Okay, maybe I'm not doing as great as I'd like, but I'm still getting used to things. It doesn't mean we need to completely leave the lives we have here,” you insisted.

Should you mention the nightmares, that those were probably part of the issue? No…. He might use those as another reason as to why what he was suggesting was the correct decision, and therefore, the decision that you needed to go with. Like most things when it came to your life.

Not that there were any bad decisions that Chrollo had forced on you, but you generally had little input on them as he expected you to go with what he wanted. Like the eyes. He had basically told you that it was happening and you had been in such a depressive state that you didn't offer much resistance.

But it was different now. You liked it here and you wanted to stay. Plus he'd had this place even before meeting you, and the thought of forcing him to move out of his longtime home made you feel guilty. Even if he was the one who wanted it.

“Moving somewhere else just feels like a really extreme reaction,” you continued.

“Trying to keep your health in mind is extreme?” he asked.

“…. Maybe just a little bit, this time.”

Your voice was a bit more hushed when you answered.

After a moment, he pushed himself off the door frame and began to walk towards where you sat.

Chrollo would get his way again. You could already tell: he was going to talk to you, explain all of the reasons as to why he was right and shoot down every argument you had until you were forced to agree that there was no point in doing it in anyway other than his. Then by the end of the week he'd have found some home away from here, if he didn't have his eye on something already, and you'd find yourself packing up everything before the end of the month.

You loved your boyfriend. You really did.

But you didn't want to leave your home.

Maybe you could find some sort of compromise, figure out something to say that would get him to back down temporarily.

So before he could speak, you asked “what if we just held off on that for a few months? Wait and see how I'm doing after a longer period and come back to the topic of moving?”

“It's been some time already and you haven't gotten better,” he countered.

Sitting down next to you, Chrollo reached out and took your hand in his.

“I understand why you don't want to leave,” he continued, “but we do need to consider what is best for you. And I think staying so close to where that crash happened is having a negative affect on you.”

Giving your hand a light squeeze, he asked “don't you agree?”

You surprised him again when you shook your head.

“I get what you're saying,” you then told him, “but I don't think I'm going to get anywhere if I keep running from my problems. Yeah, I'm tired, but I really want things to go back to how they were. I really want to move past what happened.”

“So I'd feel a lot better if I could at least try to tough it out for a little while longer,” you continued, adding “and maybe you're right, that a change in environment is better for me. So maybe in a few months, if we find that I'm still in the same place, we can look into leaving.”

You stayed quiet a moment before adding “if that sounds good to you.”

It didn't seem like he felt that way. Or did it? You couldn't quite read him at the moment, his expression rather stone-faced as he presumably thought over what you said.

At least he was taking your argument into consideration. At least that was something.

“Alright then, love.”

You sat up straighter when he said that and stayed quiet so he could continue with “we'll hold off on it and come back to this discussion at a later date. However, if it seems like you're getting worse, we will be looking into moving.”

You nodded.

He squeezed your hand again as he then asked “you will tell me if you aren't doing well, won't you?”

“Of course.”

Chrollo stared at you for a moment.

Then he finally conceded, pulling your hand up to his lips so he could kiss it.

You responded by placing a kiss on his cheek, which he couldn't help but smile at.

It wasn't good to lie to him. You knew that.

But you were going to get through your issues without bothering him.

You weren't going to burden him anymore.

#reader insert #yandere chrollo #chrollo x reader #chrollo lucilfer #hxh x reader #yandere x reader #yandere #yandere hunter x hunter

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thewertsearch · 15 days

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GG: aaaaa please dont tell anyone i told you about him! […] CA: settle dowwn jade youre radically underestimatin the amount of shit i dont givve about this […] CA: i got bigger ships to sink and soon wwhen im good and ready me and my luminous fuckin science stick havve got a date wwith jack noir

Seems like Eridan's planning to join Vriska.

Correction - he's planning to rejoin Vriska.

If he's trying to restart their kismesissitude, he's going to be sorely disappointed. Vriska is out of his league, and not just as a romantic partner. She's a god, and he's an angry kid with a wand who represents no threat whatsoever to Noir.

CA: wwhys this matter so hush hush anywway GG: he didnt want me to tell my friends who he really was […] GG: he was so nice, and it really did feel like i was talking to family, so i really dont think he was making it up

I think your intuition is correct, but that doesn't mean he's specifically your grandson. After all, 'family' is a term which can encompass all sorts of relationships.

GG: i couldnt help but try to imagine his parents… GG: and more interestingly……. GG: his grandfather :O

Even if he is your grandson, that doesn't necessarily mean he has a grandfather. As far as I can tell, there's no reason why the Veil's DNA-mixing machine couldn't merge the genes of two women.

For all we know, Pen-Pal could have four biological grandmothers!

CA: that gun i just gavve you is somethin of a hatchright to the kid CA: happy i could play a role in your dirty stinkin lineage GG: like an heirloom? i guess it could be GG: do you even have those? if you dont have parents how could you? CA: no wwe dont knoww our direct forebears and im pretty sure any attempt to seek out or evven inquire about the supplier of your genes wwould be a fine wway to get yourself killed

I didn't think a troll's genes had an individual supplier.

Based on the fact that their genetic material is combined in the Mother Grub, I've been assuming that each troll is created from a large number of 'parents', whose DNA is mixed in the Mother's stomach.

Obviously, our Sgrub trolls are going to be an exception to this rule, since the game presumably cloned them from twelve Guardians - but Eridan seems to be implying that all trolls have an individual parent.

This doesn't align at all with what we know about troll reproduction. There also seems to be a certain amount of secrecy surrounding this process, since Eridan thinks you'd be killed for looking into it. Is there some sort of conspiracy at play?

CA: but wwevve got our lore and it says wwe all got indivvidual ancestors wwho contribute to most of our genes abovve and beyond wwhat the grubs slurry does

Alright, that makes a little more sense. So trolls are derived from a large mixture of DNA, but they have one true 'parent' who contributes the lion's share of genetic data.

Maybe an embryonic troll starts off as a clone of this parent, and other trolls' genes are slowly spliced into it as it develops.

Again, for the Sgrub trolls, things are a little different. We have reason to believe they were cloned in sets of three, implying that each of them has three genetic donors. Perhaps, then, they each inherited the majority of their DNA from one of these trolls - their 'ancestor' - and only share a small number of genes with the other two.

These ancestors have been mentioned before - quite a while ago, now - and I think they may be the key to solving a major mystery of the Hivebent arc.

Namely, Aradia mentioned her ancestors, and seemed to believe she was following their orders. When Scratch's plans started to reveal themselves, I assumed that he was the one directing Aradia, and was only pretending to be these unseen forebears.

With this new revelation, however, I'm forced to reconsider my stance. What if the Voices were those of the ancestors?

What if Aradia was being instructed by the troll Guardians all along?

#homestuck liveblog #full liveblog #act 5.2 #s107 #3176

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bonefall · 7 months

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BB Brief: The 9 Lives System

Quickie thing to answer asks with. How does the 9 Lives system work in BB?

BASICS, PULSARS

At its simplest, when the previous leader dies, the deputy makes a pilgrimage to the Moonplace (Stone or Pool) and receives 9 entire lives from Starclan. Yes, NINE. The 10th, the one you started with, remains in the afterlife.

This is called your "Pulsar," a concept somewhat like a "soul." The difference is that only cats in the Clan Afterlife System get Pulsars, where all cats have souls. A leader's 9 deaths will slowly fill in that very faint pulsar, until their final death combines them with it.

Most Clan cats simply die and their soul immediately becomes a full, solid pulsar upon reaching the Afterlife. But this is about Leaders.

Until the MODERN ERA (BB!TBC, the "current day" in BB) the previous leader HAD to be dead before the deputy could receive a life.

Pinestar and Brokenstar were not dead, ergo, Sunstar and Nightstar could not receive their lives.

No lives until the previous leader is dead and their pulsar is filled. ALIVE? NO LIVES!

The Clan cats are currently, as we speak, inventing a ritual to strip an ousted leader of their lives without killing them. "Alive? No Lives!" was a rigid rule for most of Clan history, but will soon have an exception if the ritual is performed.

Lives can be for any reason the Patron sees fit, but most of them are wishes or advice on how they hope the new leader rules.

LIVES COME FROM CATS YOU HAVE A CONNECTION TO. You will never receive a life from a spirit you do not recognize, or are unfamiliar with. (Elder Bones doesn't do pointless fanservicey cameos in this house)

Only 9 and no more. No, you cannot "replenish" lives or get extras.

LIFE DENIAL AND THE DARK FOREST

You do not get a 9-life guaruntee. It's uncommon, but if you don't have enough cats who want to see you rule for a long time, you won't get all 9. Because of this, leaders are encouraged to keep the details of their ceremony secret.

StarClan may also choose to "delay" lives. Blackstar was only given one life freely, the rest he earned over many years of repeated pilgrimages and trials as penance for his role in TigerClan.

It was unprecedented for Tigerstar to be outright and utterly rejected by StarClan when he went to receive his own. Instead, he went to the Dark Forest to recieve lives, both from demons and rebellious angels. And a surprise.

You can receive a mix of Dark Forest and StarClan lives, but StarClan will almost certainly damn you for taking forbidden lives.

There are extreme situations where there may not be enough ancestors to give the full set-- Spiderstar of SkyClan only received 3 due to a terrible rat problem.

Cats outside of the Clan cat afterlife cannot bestow lives, as they only have a normal soul, not a pulsar.

A leader's pulsar can be sent to the Dark Forest while they're still alive. This results in nightmares and dreams of the Place of no Stars.

MIRACLES

StarClan's power is directly tied to its collective emotion. It's known best for its devastating fury with lightning-strike smites and covering the moon with clouds, but they can also perform acts of great love or sorrow.

One example of that was the resurrection of tigerHeartstar, after seeing her father announce to the heavens that his daughter is his deputy before plunging into the Moonpool with her body. As his lives drowned away, sinking further and further, StarClan was so inspired that it restarted the dead deputy's heart, using Rowanstar's last life to do so.

The flip side to this is that it is very possible for a life donor to give you a curse instead of a gift... though, it's almost unheard of, and most certainly only something that comes from the Dark Forest...

#better bones au #Spirituality overhauls #Clan culture #BB!Starclan #9 life ceremony #9 lives ceremony #Leader lives

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vide0-nasties · 10 months

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Going to be rambling insanely about Ghost and probably what his feelings on the monarchy would be, coming from one deeply damaged povo to another.

Anyway, specifically around the time the parasite in chief in her idiot hat (thanks Eccleston lub u) died and passed said idiot hat on, I was seeing a lot of (fun and gentle-ribbing, mind you!) posts about Ghost getting razzed about the queen croaking and maybe him being sad about it or something - I don’t really remember bc I have shit for brains and I just latch onto what bits my adhd will allow.

SO. I really don’t think Bruv Innit gave two shits about Liz buying the farm, bc he grew up working class in a working class town to a drug addicted, drug peddling dad, and a fairly nondescript mom who likely didn’t have a way to get her and her kids out of that shit situation (per ‘09 MW lore and some presumption). I imagine dude was dragged around a shitload of council estates and his dad’s friends’ shitty crash pads, no stability whatsoever, where food insecurity was a big ass forever-looming deal, mom had no idea if her 20 year old vauxhall was going to make it another trip to her minimum wage part time job, and school was forever on the back burner bc when it came to school supplies/trips vs eating and keeping the lights on. You can guess which one won.

If we’re also going with him being about 35-40ish, he would’ve been 10-12ish or so around Diana’s divorce and then her death. So, here’s this starving, horrendously abused kid, with his starving, horrendously abused mother and little brother, drowning in a system that is pretty much just letting them sink to the bottom, nothing is being done about the evil sperm donor that ruins everything for them, and he’s obliterated constantly by TV coverage and tabloids and radio DJs talking about this goddamned family’s stupid fucking drama. Charles cheated, Diana left, her poor boys in their fancy private schools with their endless wealth and glowing skin and brand new clothes that don’t stink of consignment shops are sad.

Sorrows - sorrows, prayers. 🫶

It’s a story he’s seen countless times, the only difference is money and coverage. And, realistically, the women in the stories he knows aren’t killed in car wrecks, they’re killed by their infuriated husbands who think they’re owed something catching up. Maybe that’s why his mom doesn’t leave the cocksucker that trapped her, she could’ve ended up another council house Diana that no one gave a shit about.

He grows up, becomes a butcher’s apprentice, joins the army. Straightens his brother out, makes sure his mom is set up nice, finally beats the shit out of his dad. And all the while, there looms the most fucking pointless, parasitic family in England: living off taxes taken from the public, god knows how much land and how many castles, even owning all the fucking swans on the island.

Relics, vampires, leeches.

But, you know, twenty years down the road, he’s pushing 40, his services to the country are done in the dark, the family he tried so badly to save were brutally cut down anyway, and when he goes to Tesco, the price of a fifth of piss Smirnoff is insane, and he’s still got Soap swimming in his head mid-rant bc his mam’s fucking knee replacement appeal has been denied for the third time and she can’t even walk anymore, Gaz is moving for the second time in a year bc he just can’t afford to live close to his parents even on his salary, meanwhile there was a stretch where it looked like Philip was surviving solely by being pumped full of virgin blood and straight stem cells.

So, yeah, if anything he probably said cheers when the news broke and cracked a couple extra jokes that day.

“What d’you call one dead Windsor? A good start.”

Edit: This is picking up some traction. @50cal-fullauto-astarion is my CoD blog if you like my Call of Bullshit stuff, this is my main and I don’t really go into CoD here

#simon ghost riley #modern warfare ii #ghost cod #call of duty #mw2 #ghost #I’m mentally ill and I love that he is also mentally ill and probably looks at the monarchy with disgust #if he can vote depending on whether he’s legally dead or not he voted no on brexit #some rando at base is like ‘how can you make a joke like that think about the children they lost their nan’#and he just goes ‘I’ll hunt those little shits for sport’

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avocado-writing · 7 months

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Kinktober 17

17. Dirty Talking, Pussy Eating/Blowjob, Breath Control

You’re working an event. One you organised, actually, a gala for a smaller museum relying on public funding. You like to be able to help the community as much as you can so you donated your efforts for free and organised a showing of some rarer artefacts for them. You’re doing what you do best: gliding effortlessly between sponsors, trying to wrack up more donors for the place, a winning smile plastered on your face. You don’t get to be two thousand years old without learning how to talk to people.

Your husbands are here, too. Dressed up properly. Well, as properly as you can get them - they’re in decent suits, at least. Aziraphale is making animated conversation with one of the partygoers about a book on display, and Crowley looks bored.

When Crowley looks bored, you know there’s going to be trouble.

You see, when the partygoer heads off, Crowley moves closer to Aziraphale. His lips are whispering something devilishly, a smile creeping across his face. The effect is immediate. Aziraphale goes bright red and has to start subtly adjusting his trousers. He says something sharply to the demon who chuckles.

Crowley snakes over to you while you’re getting yourself another glass of wine.

“Whatever you’re up to, stop it,” you say, lowly. Crowley hums and puts his chin in his hand, regarding you coolly behind his dark glasses.

“Me? Up to something? You wound me, my love.”

He waits until the bartender is turned and dips his head forward.

“I was just thinking about how I want to fuck you in that suit.”

You inhale sharply, glancing around to make sure nobody is listening, then shoot Crowley a dangerous look.

“Crowley…”

“What? You didn’t pick it because you knew it looked bad, did you?”

It is your favourite suit, to be fair. Navy blue and tight, it accentuates all of the best parts of your body. You know your bum looks spectacular in it.

“We are in public.”

Crowley waves his hand, and at once, everyone finds something interesting to look at away from the bar. He steps forward, caging you in with his hips. You feel the rub of his cock against your arse.

“Tell me you’re not thinking about it. About me pushing you over this bar, spreading your legs. You wouldn’t put up a fight would you? You’d love me fucking you where everyone can see.”

You press your thighs together, feel your face get hot.

“Rip those trousers off you, press my mouth between your legs like you deserve. I know you love my tongue, nightingale. I bet you’d love to be eaten here, wouldn’t you? Stake your claim over this little museum. You’d never be able to come here again without thinking about how many orgasms I gave you in the function room. You’d always need to press your luscious thighs together.”

“Crowley…” A plea.

“I know how needy you are. I bet, right now, I could sink my cock inside you up to the base, couldn’t I? Feel you dripping down me. You’d make a dreadful mess on the bar but somehow I think you wouldn’t really care. I think you just want to see me soaked in you.”

“Stop…” you don’t mean it.

“Fuck, you’re like velvet. I never get tired of having you.”

He wraps a hand lightly around your neck, and instead of telling him off, you find yourself keening into it. He runs his thumb along your pulse point, flicks his tongue out to lick the shell of your ear.

“Aziraphale’s waiting for us in the cloakroom. Are you coming?”

Yes, you rather are.

When the bartender finally turns back round with your sauvignon blanc, he’s surprised to see you utterly gone.

@bootlmoth @elleofdragons @angelic-anarchy27 @yeethaw13 @candlewitch-cryptic @kwyn-q @rat-that-writes @buryustogether @letthenightingalessingagain @ltlthetrifecta @angiestopit @purplefrog1sblog @wereallbrokenangels @angelspathway @clarina04 @belilwen @chaospossum @eightsdoctor @oo-delallymrcrow @silcosmoke @climbingivy97 @live-logs-and-proper @project-sad @just-a-beatlemaniac69 @imagination-phantom @anonymously35 @corgis04 @peytonpenguin37 @catlynharper @unabashedgentlemenpirate @wolfe-houler

@darktealrat @mxxny-lupin @willbedecided @detectiveapparatiagreen @shadowluna25 @kaylinelizabeth4004 @xquinn-bartonx @blue-bell22 @foolishprincipalitee @fandomawesomeness @eweweweewewe @latersgaters-steven @llamaproblem @night-affiliate @randompost18 @hunterispunk @jessica-laufeysdottir @uxcaran @bunnymallowo @jae-michael @jelly-terror @larkiesparkie

#aziraphale x reader x crowley #crowley x reader x aziraphale #Fic: the light the dark and the spaces inbetween #avo’s kt 23

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bwoahtastic · 6 months

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Okay random idea: a vampire couple (my heart says nico/jenson or nico/lewis) out hunting for a snack and coming along someone sleeping in an desserted building, which, isnt rare, but they realise this person (max) isn't older than maybe 15, 16 at most. Max realising they are vampires and sassing them cos well, he got nothing to lose and the vampires promptly decides they have a son now, cue chaos:

Max normally wouldn't wear colour but now defiantly wears bright colours just cos he knows it makes Nico grumpy as "it doesn't fit their aesthetic"

Max taking a (boy)friend home and going "these are my mum and dad, they are ancient, literally"

"No my parents aren't hot, they had work done"

Max back in school and nailing history cos well, his vamparents were literally alive through all this

Max eating garlic to piss them off

The vampires snuggling up to Max when it's cold outside because he is like a little furnace to them (touch deprived Maxy loves it)

"Dad you got blood all over the sink again"

If Max is ever afraid of someone, you bet his vamparents will scare them off

Max sunbathing in the yard while giggling cos his parents can't (he gets sunburned and learns his lesson)

The vampires having to learn to cook more for Max (they might eat but it's only for fun and flavor, not for sustenance, so now they have to make healthy food instead off just chicken nuggets)

Max (pointing at random bat): "is that family of ours?"

One of his parents getting sick after not being able to feed and Max desperately trying to get them to drink a little of his blood

Max flirting with a blood donor making a million jokes about 'sucking'

The vampires having a jumpscare when Max decides to adopt two cats

Just Max being their baby (tm) and this is the best time the vampires have had in centuries

#rambles #vamparents au

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milflewis · 4 months

Note

idk if i am understanding the prompt of title correctly but i will submit: 1) valewis + "travel song" or 2) dantteri + "people are fragile things"

Lewis hums something quiet and slow on their walk back to the Shatterdome. It reverberates through the Drift and settles around Valtteri’s shoulders.

He catches the edges of a memory spent handing Sebastian the wrong tools on purpose as the blond man swears at him, laughing, German music playing low on the radio behind them.

It took Valtteri a very long while to get used to how easy it is to drift with Lewis.

He always felt like a Titan — even before Nico died and he dragged their Jaeger back to shore alone. Something mythic and unstoppable. There was a certainty to Lewis Hamilton that sometimes felt like the stuff stories are made of.

Valtteri has never done particularly well at the thought of not measuring up. Worse when their pre-Drift potentially was so high.

Lewis feels tired. He always feel tired. His mind is calm and cool like a lake, and Valtteri lets himself sink into it.

"What's it like being in Lewis’s head?"

He signs off on his action report. "Boring, like you said."

"We both know that's a lie. I only said it to get a rise out of him." Daniel drums his heels against the desk, a rattling repeating pattern meant to burrow under the skin. "You forget I've known him before Nico died and he became all Solemn and Serious and Grieving Widow."

Valtteri considers that as he finishes the rest of the paperwork. His eyes ache faintly. "What was he like?"

Daniel takes the pile and sets it aside. "Don't you know?"

"I don't," he says, although he catches glimpses of it on occasion, in the way Lewis moves or how his mouth shapes certain words, the lingering traces of youth, of anger, of secretly believing you would never die. Sometimes, in the middle of a fight, when they are being pushed back, when debris is falling and there is barely any time to think, Lewis’s mouth curls and snarls, sharp and vicious and feral, and Valtteri can feel it in his gut, and he thinks that's you; that's what you've always been.

"And here I thought we'd moved past you lying to me." Daniel drums another beat against the desk, staccato and just off tempo enough to set Valtteri's teeth on edge. "He was a little shit. Still had the same smart mouth — him and Sebastian used to get up to so much trouble. Almost as much as what I’ve heard him and Nico did. He laughed more. All dream — that Lewis was.”

"And then Spain happened," Valtteri says.

"Life happened," Daniel corrects, and Valtteri doesn’t bother hiding his eye roll. "We all have our Spains."

Daniel takes the opportunity to sling his leg over Valtteri's lap, and Valtteri absently rubs his thumb over the knob of Daniel's ankle.

"Fuck off," Valtteri says, but he doesn’t mean it. Hasn’t meant it with Daniel for a while now. Valtteri presses his knuckles into the ball of Daniel's foot, keeping a firm hold on his ankle so he can't jerk away. "Is this going to be a problem for you?"

"Depends on whether you’re going to show this to Lewis or not.”

"He sees everything." He digs his knuckles in harder. "But he doesn’t poke around. I think he was embarrassed to see us kissing the last time we drifted."

"That's Lewis all over," Daniel says fondly. "Will flirt with anyone and anything if he thinks it will give him an advantage but is terrible with genuine feelings."

"Speak from experience?" he says. He doesn’t know what to do with this thing in his chest. He swallows.

"We were too young to be serious." Daniel’s gaze is steady and unflinching, as if Valtteri is a reporter or donor for Daniel to spin around and around and around, every hinge and crack and vulnerability mapped and laid bare for Daniel to do with as he pleased.

He shoves Daniel’s foot off his lap and stands so fast the edges of his vision darken. He needs sleep. He needs his fucking head back.

"Does this bother you?" Valtteri asks, hating himself for it. "Lewis being in my head?"

Daniel doesn't even have the decency to be surprised by the question. Valtteri hates him. "No, not in the way you mean."

"And how do I mean it?"

"You want to know if I'm upset that I will never know you like Lewis knows you."

He flinches. "Are you?"

"No. What you and Lewis have is not something I would ever want or ask for."

"I didn't ask for it. There is a war and they said jump,” he snaps, the fury so close to the surface that he is afraid his ribs will snap and it will come boiling out, and god help anyone caught in its path. "I don't want it."

He will not be able to hide this from Lewis when they drift next. He hasn’t been able to hide it from him in the first place.

Guilt coats the inside of his mouth, thick and sour. He swallows and swallows and swallows.

He tries to breathe.

"Hey," Daniel says, so close that Valtteri jerks back in surprise. "You all right?"

"Fine," he says, coming to the belated, and embarrassed, realization that Daniel has likely been speaking the entire time. "Got distracted. Sorry."

"Did you just apologise? Has Lewis lobotomised you?"

"That's not funny," he snaps, too quick and too sharp to play it off as a joke. He draws another breath, the sound of it rattling in his empty head.

"He hasn't done anything to me. He leaves shit alone, like I said."

"Have you lobotomised him?" Daniel says instead of what Valtteri is expecting, which is asking if Valtteri wants Lewis to do something to him.

"Not yet," he says, which only seems to worry Daniel more.

Slowly, as if Valtteri is a rookie on his first deployment and Daniel doesn’t want to spook him, Daniel drags fingertips up his jaw and over his cheek. His thumb traces the scar over his lip.

Holding himself still and quiet, Valtteri didn't protest when Daniel cups his face or when he touches their heads together, or when he says, soft and revenant, "You're a fucking disaster."

He laughs and kisses Daniel.

"You don't want in my head?" he asks.

"Yes," says Daniel. "You're a private man, Valtteri, and a hard one to read. I never know what you're thinking at any given moment."

"I will not say sorry - if that is what you are looking for."

"I'm not looking for anything," Daniel says, and Valtteri doesn't need a line to his head to read the sincerity there. "I won't take your privacy from you. When you do decide to share something with me, even if it's just your opinion on my life choices, it's because you chose to trust me, and I wouldn't give that up, not for anything."

"If it would end this war?"

He means it as a joke, but Daniel, who acts as if he takes nothing seriously, does not take it as one.

"No," he says, as if he had put great thought into it, "not even if it meant that."

"Shut up."

"Yes, sir," Daniel grins, pressing a kiss to Valtteri's neck before undoing his own pants zipper and, with a frankly ridiculous shimmy and hop, kicks them off. He isn't wearing underwear.

"Stop trying to distract me."

"I know you're lying because you once told me, and I quote, you liked me better when I'm naked."

"I would have to be a dick to say that."

Lewis stays smiling as the reporter asks his question, smug as ten fucking cats.

Valtteri’s stare sits heavy on his face. The reporter swallows thickly, eyes darting away.

“Well?” He asks again. “Do you think the fact that you yourself have said that you can be too stubborn led to the rift in your and Nico’s partnership, and therefore his death?”

Lewis’s eyes are distant.

At least, they didn’t ask about Michael again, Valtteri thinks. Or Fernando.

“Can I take this one?” Valtteri asks. The reporter frowns at him but Valtteri is looking at Lewis.

Lewis blinks at him. His eyelashes are ridiculously long. They’ve just come from drifting — having taken out a three alarm Kaiju, worn and tired and spilling over into each other’s heads.

Valtteri loathes sharing his mind with another person more than nearly everything else in the world, for all that he tries to keep that boxed away from Lewis. It is times like this that he almost doesn’t mind it.

Lewis raises an eyebrow at him, quietly amused.

Never let them see, Valtteri remembers his dad telling him, hands bruise tight on his shoulders — except — no. Not his dad. They are Anthony’s hands, and that’s the grey yellow tint that Lewis has on all his childhood memories.

Valtteri turns to the reporter. His dark hair is long around his ears and he is looking at Valtteri with thinly veiled contempt.

“Go fuck yourself,” Valtteri tells him calmly, and Lewis laughs, startled.

Valtteri feels his surprise skittering down his spine, followed quickly with smothered childlike delight.

Lewis’s face is soft for hours after. His mind even more so. He smiles to himself throughout the twenty-five minute dressing down General Wolff gives Valtteri.

"What's your favourite kind of ice cream?" Lewis asks as they make their way to the gym. It is stupid early and the corridors are empty and dark.

Lewis does this sometimes. Asking Valtteri questions about himself that he could just pick out of Valtteri's head as he wishes. It is more endearing than Valtteri likes.

He stomaches it only because he thinks Lewis is doing it more for his sake than for Valtteri's. Lewis, Valtteri had been pleased to find out, is only selfless up until a point. A relatively small one, all things considered.

"Mint," Valtteri answers.

Lewis pulls a face at him as he pushes the gym door open. There are deep circles under his eyes, like someone dug in their thumbs and pressed. "That's so gross, man. Why don't you just eat toothpaste?"

Valtteri laughs before realising it. It's loud in the quietly still room. The sound echoes off the bare metal walls.

"My second favourite is pistachio," he says, and Lewis sticks his tongue out in disgust, obvious even in the dark as he throws him a bamboo stick.

Valtteri clears his throat. "Did you tamper with the sim, Tsunoda?"

"Of course not, sir," Tsunoda says, offended. "That would be -"

"Against regulations?" Gasly says.

"- cheating. I don't cheat."

When Tsunoda tries to turn that offended look on Gasly, Gasly just tugs Tsunoda back where he wants him, which is close enough for Gasly to prop his chin on the top of Tsunoda’s head. Tsunoda, like with most things where Gasly is concerned, bears it with minimal complaint.

An ache opens under Valtteri’s breastbone. It has been a little over two weeks since he has last seen Lewis. Longer since they’ve drifted. They had been taken out of the rotation after Valtteri got injured, and sent across the world on Charm-The-Rich-Into-Giving-Their-Money-Even-Though-Don’t-They-Know-The-World-Is-Fucked-And-They’re-Living-In-It-Too missions and rented out to different Shatterdomes for pep talks and training seminars.

It has been the longest they’ve been apart since they were first paired up. Maybe Valtteri shouldn’t be surprised to be missing him but he is.

He hasn’t had someone to miss in a long time.

He’s even more surprised to find himself missing Daniel.

+1.

In the end, it’s just Lewis and Valtteri and the big wide yawn of the bottom of the sea.

“You are living,” Lewis tells him, mouth grim, and Valtteri tells him to fuck off and to stop telling him what to do.

Lewis laughs, which is as partly what Valtteri was going for, and doesn’t say it again, which is the other thing Valtteri was aiming for.

Valtteri wakes up coughing with Lewis beating on his chest. “Ow,” he says. He thinks Lewis might’ve broken a rib.

“I told you you’d live, man,” Lewis tells him, hands wet and cold on his cheeks, because he’s an asshole.

“I hate you,” Valtteri says, throat sore with sea water. He stares up at the cloudless sky. He can faintly hear the thrum of a MEDEVAC-HELO in the distance.

“Uhuh,” Lewis says, and he’s grinning. Even drenched and bleeding and backlit by the sun, he is beautiful. It’s fucked up, Valtteri decides.

“My ribs are sore,” Valtteri tells him.

“I told you to get out before I blew the bomb,” Lewis replies, unsympathetic. His fingers are gentle in Valtteri’s hair, and he drags his body behind Valtteri’s so they’re further in the ejection pod, propped up against his back, weight off his ribs.

Sebastian looks decades older when they step onto the tarmac of the Shatterdome, half stumbling out of the helicopter. Lewis walks towards him. His eyes are wet. It hits Valtteri in the stomach like a gunshot. "Hey."

Sebastian takes a step forward too. His next word is spoken so softly that Valtteri can only read his lips.

"Yeah?"

Lewis just shakes his head slightly and makes a sound that might be a laugh. “I really did want to make that promise to you.”

His shoulders shrug like he wants to hold out his arms.

And then Sebastian is running towards him, colliding into his chest and throwing his arms around his neck and burying his face against his shoulder. Lewis wraps one arm around his back and presses the other hand to the back of his head.

Lewis is crying into his hair and Sebastian’s crying, too, weeping against him with such force that Valtteri would think his heart was breaking if he didn't know the opposite to be true.

He feels a hand slide into his and he squeezes it tightly. Daniel squeezes back and looks at him with a watery smile. His face is a little blurry and it's only then that Valtteri realises he has tears in his eyes too.

“Lewis broke my ribs,” Valtteri tells him, and then kisses Daniel’s laugh off his mouth.

#these were perfect thank u! kinda combined the two for u . sorta #pacific rim au #valewis #dantteri #sewis #lo tag #little fics #niamh.asks

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frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe · 1 year

Text

i'm outta my head over you Pt. 5

prologue (Pt. 1) | Pt. 2 | Pt. 3 | Pt. 4 | AO3 | playlist

today's @steddie-week prompts: hurt/comfort and familiar

While he waits for Wayne to get home so he can confront him about the ‘Teddy’ thing, Eddie thinks back on everything Steve had added to this tape.

He remembers that first time he actually talked to Steve; he was well aware of his existence before the King had so graciously graced him and Gareth with his presence that day, but was that really the time Steve was talking about in his notes? It had to be, there weren’t any other times they talked until the spring break from Hell.

It was only ever burning jealousy for Nancy Wheeler before (and after) that first time. Bitter thoughts of ‘I’d be much better for you than her,’ when he’d spotted them kissing against Nancy’s locker.

“I was made for lovin’ you, baby..” Eddie mumble-sings to himself at the memory. That was weird.

Then Steve had gone and dropped his haughty King Steve persona, bullied out of it By Hargrove. He lost Wheeler to Byers, and somehow didn’t become more of an asshole?

Much like the KISS song from a second ago, Eddie sings “Disaster and disgrace, the King has lost his Crown..” without even thinking about it. The song yanked up from whatever recess of his mind holds onto ABBA songs.

Huh. Wait a minute…

Eddie hops up and starts shuffling through his and Wayne’s admittedly impressive record collection. KISS’s Dynasty album he needed was not too hard to find, but Voulez-Vous? That’s…gonna be harder. It’s gotta be around here somewhere though, ABBA is one of Wayne’s guilty pleasures.

Shit…he and Steve have much more in common than he thought…

Eddie moves onto thinking back over those couple weeks spent hiding out with Steve while he hunts. He’s got a few hours to kill.

-------

The days spent at Casa Harrington both felt like they’d crawled by at a snail's pace, and were over and behind him all too soon.

It was awkward in the beginning, but they quickly fell into a pattern.

Eddie was in the guest room on the main floor so he didn’t have to walk more than he needed to with the fresh graft wound on his leg, and Steve was on the couch in the living room (much to Eddie’s dismay).

“Steve, for the love of all that is unholy, PLEASE just sleep in your own bed? I’m perfectly fine down here, promise.”

“Not happenin’ Eds. My couch is super comfy anyway.”

Steve helps him to the bathroom whenever he needs it, and when he’s at work, Eddie uses those short trips to stretch his leg like his doctor said to.

Luckily for Eddie, the initial bandages on both his donor graft wound and his grafted wound (the biggest on one his left side) came off while he was still in the hospital, so he was able to shower and clean the areas with the mild soap Steve got for him.

Steve would help him over the lip of the tub after he got undressed (another time to slowly work on stretching the areas a bit), and take his towel from around the curtain once he was in.

Then he’d hover (every. time.), pretending that he had things to clean in the main floor bathroom until Eddie was done, and help him back out once a towel was around his waist.

The first couple days were the worst; Eddie had next to no energy at all for doing anything , but Steve is nothing if not a gracious host; so when he was led to the bathroom on the first day he needed a shower, Eddie found a small stool in the tub already, the usual bath mat outside the tub, plus some of those stick-on grippy things were stuck onto the floor of the tub and laid out in a path on the tile to where the sink was.

They were shaped like ducks.

“Ducks, huh?”

“Yep! ‘Rubber Duckie, you’re the one’ and all that. You like ‘em?” He sang (in a perfect imitation of Ernie), genuine as ever.

“Yeah Stevie, I love ‘em.” What else was he gonna say?

Steve had set him down on the closed lid of the toilet and started the water for him, aiming the shower head away from the curtain.

“Okay, let's get these bandages off, huh? Arms up!”

Eddie obliges, raising his arms up over his head as far as they could go for Steve to carefully pull his shirt over his head.

“Sit up straight for me.” He does, and Steve gently works the two large sections of gauze and tape across his torso off.

By time he’s done, Eddie’s shaking with the effort of holding himself up.

“Okay, okay, relax,” Steve coos, “I just have to get the one on your face now, then we’ll worry about your leg.”

Eddie nods, leaning his uninjured cheek into Steve’s large palm while he works the bandage off his other cheek and jaw.

Steve’s hands are so warm, he starts to fall asleep.

“Wake up, sunshine, gotta stand you up.” Steve says, the smile evident in his voice.

Eddie nods, keeping his eyes closed while Steve helps him up, and guides him to hold onto the towel bar.

“Okay, I’m going to take off your sweats, and then I’ll lift the leg of your shorts to take the bandage off. Is that okay, Eddie?”

Eddie nods, still tired.

“Eddie, please tell me what I’m going to do so I know you heard me.”

“Pants off, leg up.”

Wait.

“Wait, that sounded wrong.”

Steve just chuckles, “At least I know you were listening.”

He does exactly what he said he was going to do, and stands back up.

Oh no, now all that’s left is his boxers.

“OK, I’m going to put this over your shoulders and clip it in front,” of course he’s already got a plan for this. Eddie’s heart swells in his chest. “Then all you have to do is shimmy outta your shorts; you’ll still be covered up. Is that alright?”

“Yeah Stevie, sounds great.” Eddie chuckles, and Steve wraps a huge fluffy towel over him. “Where’d you get a giant towel?” he asks as it’s clipped around him with a just-as-giant claw clip.

Eddie feels Steve’s chuckle against his back and fights the urge to relax backward into his arms forever.

“It’s called a bath sheet. You can take some with you when you leave if you want.”

“Hm…A few will have my plasma all over ‘em.” Eddie rationalizes, getting another chuckle from the other man.

“Alright, smarty pants, you should be secure. When you’re ready, I’ll help you get over the edge of the tub so you can sit down on the stool.”

Eddie nods, and starts working his boxers down. Once off, he looks behind him for Steve.

If he wasn’t holding onto this rack for dear life, he’d probably keel over with how hard he laughs.

“What?” Steve feigns stupidity.

“Nice mask, Steve-o.” he’s wearing a leopard print eye mask, his hair sticking out goofily on the sides from where the elastic cinches above his ears.

“I can take it off if you wan–”

“No! Leave it!” Eddie laughs, grateful Steve can’t see how red his face is right now. “Can’t have ya getting a sneak peek of the goods.”

Steve shrugs, “I’ll just wait for the premiere, then. Now!” he brushes past that (and Eddie’s spluttering), “Let’s get you settled.”

He reaches forward for Eddie’s hand on the rack, dwarving it in his, and gently guides the two of them forward, his front to Eddie’s back as support. Damn, his legs are tired.

Steve reaches out ahead of them and blindly swipes for the shower curtain once, twice, catching it on the third swipe and sliding it open.

“Okay Eds, be very careful.”

Eddie steps slowly and carefully over the edge of the tub, realizing why Steve turned the showerhead earlier. The spot he’s stepping onto is still bone dry, much safer.

“Both feet are in, Cap’n. Hold this?” He swaps his hand in Steve’s for the corner of his towel. “Gonna take the clip off and you can take the towel.”

“Got it,” Steve says, and once he’s thrown the towel behind him: “Hand please?”

Eddie puts his hand back where it belongs, and lets himself be supported while he sinks down, slowly, onto the stool.

“I’m good Stevie, thank you.”

“‘Kay.”

He straightens, letting go of Eddie’s hand and snaps the curtain shut briefly, opening the other end to reach up for the showerhead.

“Ooh, fancy.” Eddie snarks when he catches the handheld head from Steve’s outstretched arm (it was almost too far to his left to grab).

“Shut up.” Steve chuckles and closes the curtain again, talking through it now. “The head should fit between the wall and the bar there, so you can put it down if you need to, the soap you should use is on the shelf on the left with a washcloth, and I snagged my mom’s curly-hair shampoo and conditioner,”

Eddie feels like he’s gonna cry.

“...Doc said not to let the water beat down on your wounds so make sure you keep the spray away, yell if you need me or when you’re done, okay? I’ll grab my blindfold and be here in two seconds flat.”

“Got it, thanks Steve.” Eddie manages through the lump in his throat.

“No problem Eddie."

Steve’s just as careful, gentle, respectful, on Eddie’s way out of the shower; blindfold on, he keeps his arms out for Eddie to lean on while he dries the majority of the water off himself, holding him steady while he pulls on a new pair of boxers.

“I’m taking the blindfold off now,” Steve says, then does, when he doesn’t hear any complaints from his friend. “You gotta stay standing for a little bit longer, okay? Gotta get your leg wrapped up first.”

Eddie nods, trying his best to hold back how heavy his breaths are coming with the constant exertion over the past half hour.

As soon as the last piece of tape is in place, Steve lowers him back onto the lid of the toilet.

“Here, drink this whole glass.” He says, handing Eddie a glass of water and the painkillers he needs.

By the time the water is gone, he’s air dried a bit more.

Steve carefully scrunches the water from Eddie’s hair, expertly twists it up into the claw clip, and drapes the towel over Eddie’s don’t slip and die bar.

He coaxes Eddie to sit up straight again with the promise of a Star Trek marathon in order to properly apply the prescribed cream and new bandages over the worst of his wounds (“Just a little bit longer sweetheart, you’re doing great!” he says proudly).

Steve ends with the one on his cheek, and once again, Eddie is drifting off; Steve lets him doze, leaned forward onto his stomach with his head turned slightly to get bandaged.

It’s like that every time. Even after Eddie gets stronger and can get in and out of the shower on his own, bitching at Steve in frustration for his damn hovering, he’s there, ready to help him when, by the end of his shower, he’s fully beat and sick to his stomach for being mean to his friend.

Every Tuesday and Thursday, they slowly load Eddie into the beemer, Eddie would suffer through physical therapy, and Steve was there to half-carry him back to the car (and there to order Eddie’s favorite flavor of ice cream for him when he inevitably zonks out in the front seat).

Steve’s always there.

-------

“You were made for lovin’ me..” Eddie sings, continuing his song-thought from before (though it’s marginally worse after recording the track to the B-side of Steve’s mixtape)

It’s the first song in response to Steve’s side.

“Buckley, you’re a genius.” he mutters to himself.

The front door squeaks open then, oh shit, is Wayne’s shift over already?

---

“…shut up..” he says, after agonizing through the memory of his and Steve’s first kiss. Knowing now that Steve had meant it, well, not actually, but actually wanted to have it be more of a deal… Yeah, Wayne and Robin are right. Doofus to Steve’s Dingus! Right here!

“You’ve at least got your shit together now, right? You got a plan?”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t worry about it,” he dismisses, “Speaking of, where’ve you hidden Voulez-Vous ?”

“S’that why all our albums’re out?” Wayne slumps down into his recliner with his mug (this time, it’s the Campbell’s Soup one).

“...I’ll put ‘em away, I promise.”

Wayne sighs, but reaches down the side of his chair nearest the wall with his free hand, and returns with the album in his hand.

“Aw what the hell, I never would’ve found that!”

“A man’s recliner pockets are a sacred place.”

“Ew..?”

“I’ll leave it here fer ya, you ain’t doin’ nothin’ with it now. You’re going to bed.” Wayne emphasizes the ‘you’re going to bed’ part.

“Fine, fine,” Eddie tosses his hands up, “I’ll worry about woo-ing my man in the morning.”

Wayne’s responding “Ew.” is both muffled and amplified by his mug.

He spends the early afternoon after waking up cleaning up his mess like he’d promised, packing away all the vinyl into their designated cabinets under their kitchen bar before pulling out Voulez-Vous .

As soon as he hits stop on recording The King Has Lost His Crown (seriously, the tape had just clicked to a stop), his front door bursts open.

“The hell??” Eddie shoots up from his spot on his bedroom floor to the front door.

Dustin and Will are on either side of Max, supporting her over the threshold..

“Is she okay? What are you all doing here? You shits are lucky I just stopped recording!” he fusses.

“We were bored at my place, so we came to visit. Now stop being a Steve and grab my chair from outside.” Max commands.

“Rude.” Eddie scoffs, but does as she demands. “Your throne, m’lady.”

The two boys lower her into the seat and wheel her back in line with the couch before collapsing down on it themselves.

“So what are you recording?” Dustin asks, pulling his feet up to sit cross-legged on the cushion.

“Uh…” Shit! “…It’s a party mixtape, a couple songs for each of ya.”

Will lights up “Can we hear?”

“What songs did you use for me?”

“Yeah, what about me? I’m assuming you got some Kate Bush.”

“Calm down! Calm down, it’s a surprise, okay?

“Whose did you just record?” Will asks, ever the calming presence.

“It was one of Steve’s obviously.”

Eddie blanches.

“How d’ya figure?” Dustin asks Max, incredulous. “You can’t just know these things.”

“He came out here with ABBA in his hand. Obviously that’s one of Steves”

He did? Eddie looks over at the kitchen counter; yep, there it is. Tossed haphazardly onto Wayne’s stack of old pay stubs.

“Ooh! Let us pick the other Steve song! Where’re your other records?” Will looks around, Max starts to move.

“Why should I let you? It was my idea!”

“Uh, we've known him longer. Duh”

“I think I’ve got things covered Dusty–”

“Damn you’ve got a lot of music” Max found their stash. “And it’s a lot of regular people music too, I thought you were a metalhead.”

“Careful, Snoopy, I most definitely am. But music is music, and music is good.”

Will and Dustin are already crowding around her chair to get to the vinyl. Well, there goes all the organizing he just did.

“What about this one?”, “No way, gotta use this!”, “He doesn’t even like them, though..”

Finally, Max stops the assault on his cabinets. “Wait, you guys, I've got it!”

Eddie sighs, giving up. “Whatcha got, Mayfield?”

Part 6 here!

EVERYONE SAY THANK YOU TO MY WONDERFUL HUSBAND WHO WILLINGLY PROVIDED HIS HANDWRITING FOR EDDIE!!! WE LOVE HIM FOR THAT!!!! ❤️

eddie calling max 'snoopy' may or may not come from my parents also calling me that when i was little and would snoop around the house looking for presents when it was close to my birthday

tag list cause y'all asked so nice to be tagged!: @hellomynameismoo, @messrs-weasley, and @manda-panda-monium

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elvensorceress · 3 months

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sunday sentences

tagged by @loserdiaz @monsterrae1 @eddiediazisascorpio @stagefoureddiediaz @spotsandsocks @wh0re-behavi0r @exhuastedpigeon @hippolotamus @wildlife4life @disasterbuckdiaz @messyhairdiaz @wikiangela @daffi-990 @diazsdimples who all wrote lovely things! that I will reblog as soon as I'm home from work 💕 tagging @eddiebabygirldiaz @tizniz @shortsighted-owl @theotherbuckley @spaceprincessem @911onabc @giddyupbuck @rogerzsteven @eddiescowboy @kitteneddiediaz @hoodie-buck @ronordmann and anyone else who wants to share 💕 something a little different this week. superangst ~20 years in the future I started for Kirby a million years ago. a little bit of context-- Buck proposed to his OC girlfriend (after hooking up with Eddie when Eddie told him not to marry her) and so Eddie took Chris and moved back to Texas. They haven't seen each other since then. Roughly 18 years.

None of this matters. It was so many years ago. It’s nothing. They are nothing. This conversation is decades too late, it’s pointless, and there’s nothing to offer anymore.

But he makes the mistake of looking too far in Buck’s direction. And Buck shakes his head as tears overflow again. He bends in half, covers his face with both hands, and sobs again.

It sounds even more broken this time around.

Too many losses. Too many fractures.

It’s not as if Eddie can blame it all on him. He never did, to be honest. It’s not Buck’s fault that he didn’t want Eddie. It hurt, it wrecked him, but what could he do? He couldn’t stay. He can’t say he fought for them either. What was there to fight for? Buck didn’t want him and Eddie couldn’t argue with that. It’s not Buck’s fault that Eddie can’t handle his own heart. It’s not Buck’s fault that Eddie runs as far as possible to avoid feeling anything else. Can Eddie say he was clear or direct or forthcoming about how he was hopelessly in love with him? No.

Eddie looks around the living area and then goes to the kitchen and checks the bathroom and he doesn’t have Kleenex or anything, but he does have some toilet paper and it’s softer than a paper towel or kitchen rag. He unrolls some and pours a glass of water on the way back through the kitchen and brings them both to Buck.

“Here,” Eddie hands them over, careful not to let their fingers touch, and then sits back in his spot on the sofa and sinks into the old cushions.

Buck sniffs, blows his nose, wipes his face. His voice is broken. Everything is broken. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I never— I never would’ve— I’m sorry.”

Eddie breathes once, twice. It’s all he can do. Keep breathing. He doesn’t want to keep breathing. Chris wants him to keep breathing. “It doesn’t matter. You don’t have anything to apologize for. I don’t blame you for not wanting me. I was just hurt. I’m not anything anymore. It’s all over now. Don’t worry about it.”

Buck makes a strangled, helpless noise. “I did. I wanted. God, losing you and Chris? It’s still— You know Amy divorced me about five years after we got married. She took the girls. Convinced the court I wasn’t a suitable father and I lost all custody rights. I never saw them grow up. They know some other guy as Dad. Not me. I never got to be their dad. Always the donor never the father.” He shakes his head at himself and sniffs again, wiping away tears and snot. “Losing you though. Losing Chris. It was worse.”

Jesus. Eddie can’t even imagine the horror of someone taking Chris from him.

Chris was taken from him. He’s gone. He’s never coming back. Eddie will never talk to him again or hear him laugh or see his incredible creations or have his hugs anymore. He’s gone.

“I’m sorry,” Eddie says, words rough and too dry and heavy in his throat. “For all of it. I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve any of that.”

“I did want you, Eddie.” Buck fixes him with deep, watery eyes that have always held him captive. “I always wanted you. I loved you more than anything.”

Eddie clenches his jaw and looks anywhere but at the man next to him. “Don’t. Just—” He has to breathe before his chest catches fire. “There’s no point. It’s over. Whatever happened, whatever was there, it isn’t there anymore. It’s gone. It’s been decades. We don’t even know each other now.”

Buck is quiet for a moment. He wipes his eyes, sniffs again, and Eddie sighs because he can finally let all of this go. And he can move on. He can end.

But then Buck opens his mouth, “If you think time or distance or a stupid fight or that literally anything could stop me from loving you—” He shakes his head and sounds so calm and steady, so far from the scattered pieces left in Eddie’s hands. “You’re wrong, Eddie. That’s all I can say.”

#buddie #buddie wip #jenwyn wip #fic: unimaginable #seven sentence sunday #911

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copperbadge · 2 years

Text

One of the interesting things about being medicated for ADHD for the first time after forty is the ongoing adjustment of coping mechanisms. The thing about medication is that it doesn’t render them unnecessary, it just takes a ton less energy to engage in them, and sometimes it means developing different ones.

I’ve used Google Tasks for probably about a decade now. Generally it’s just a list of the “big things” to do -- “do the dishes” “take out trash” “weekly donor screening” et cetera. I realize dishes and trash don’t seem like big things, and truthfully they aren’t, but they are “macro” in the sense that they are not detailed.

But now that I have more executive function, I can accomplish all of, say, taking out the trash, so I can no longer simply write “take out trash”. That will tell me to take out the kitchen trash, which is admittedly 90% of all the garbage I generate and the most important thing to actually accomplish. But I want to take out the kitchen trash, check the paper bin in the living room to see if it needs emptying, add the litterbox bag to the kitchen trash, see if the bathroom trash is full, and recycle the pile of boxes that I left by the door to remind me to recycle them and now they just live there. All of which I can do, thank you Adderall, but none of which I’m going to remember to do because I’m so focused on “taking out the trash”.

So now my google tasks is like “TRASH” and then on separate lines are kitchen, paper, bathroom, litter, boxes. And after every single action I do, like taking the bag physically out of the trash can, I check the list. Or I have DISHES which used to be enough because I really could only manage to do one thing -- put all the dishes in the sink, rinse the dishes in the sink and put them in the dishwasher, run the dishwasher, or empty the dishwasher. Now I can do it all! If I can remember to do it all. Which I can’t when I’m doing part one of any of them. So before I do any of them I list all of them in the Tasks.

The bananas of the detailed lists I make these days is surpassed only by the insanity of how short the lists end up at the end of the day, so it’s worth it. I have one list for “during the week” that is mostly work stuff, and one list for “weekend” that is usually personal stuff or optional stuff, and at the end of this week there were three items on my work list. The last time I had only three items on my work list was when I was creating that list a decade ago.

Meanwhile I have already checked eight things off the weekend list before noon, but primarily because it had items like “put a bandaid on your right foot” “take a shower” “Go to the second floor of Target first” “get a glass of water before sitting down”.

Doing November cleaning should be fascinating this year.

#sam has adhd #good news guys #I am adapting well to being at Target on meth #I'm getting a good grade in shopping #something it turns out is possible to achieve

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goldenhand9107 · 3 days

Text

so i've been thinking about long-term bucktommy stuff, and, im ride or die for this ship rn, i'm on this boat until it sinks. but i've been brainstorming about ways in which this series actually ends, more specifically how bucktommy ends.

i genuinely would be so down for them to be the endgame ship, even if it means we don't get to see Buck going on one-off dates with guys the same way he does with women (which i've kinda been plotbunnying abt in my head). but there's just no way to tell this far in advance, esp when we don't have the end of the show end in sight. so it's all just theories and speculation at this point.

but, i was wondering, yknow, if they do end with Buddie or even with Buck with someone else (or maybe he ends the show single! who knows!) I was thinking about ways which in which Tommy and Buck's relationship ends.

and i think the clearest answer is this: Tommy doesn't want kids.

we've know literally since the pilot that Buck has a soft spot for kids. for kids on calls, for his best friend's kid, hell, he's a donor dad. this has never been up for discussion and i think a lot of the fandom is in agreement that Buck should be a proper dad before the show ends. whatever that looks like, if it's just a step-up (pun intended) in co-parenting Chris or he has his own kid, via adoption or with a girl. anyway you look at it, by the end of the show, someone will need to have called Buck "dad". with how much they've built him up as loving kids, i'd be pretty upset if the show ends without that.

so, i'm wondering, like, if the plan isn't to have bucktommy endgame (again it's too soon to call one way or another, so this is just all hypothetical) then i think the clearest way to end their relationship as a late-series event would be that: Buck wants kids. Tommy doesn't.

it would definitely be a sucker punch, but i also think it would be interesting to explore how Buck handles this situation, where the relationship doesn't end because either person wants it too (Ali) or because his partners prioritized other things over Buck's feelings (Abby and Taylor) but because their outlook on life is simply different. it's a juxtaposition to all of his other relationships, and it would be an incredibly mature storyline to follow as Buck grapples with wanting to be with Tommy but knowing in his heart he couldn't live his life like that. it'd take a crazy amount of maturity on his end to go through this in a healthy manner, but i think a late-series Buck is developed enough to do that.

so, as much as it'd be heart-wrenching, if they don't go the bucktommy endgame for this show, this is a way in which i envision them ending their relationship. and don't get me wrong, i love the fics with Tommy being adorable with Jee or an OC adopted kid he has with Buck, and just overall loving kids as much as Buck, but we just don't know enough about his character yet to know properly if that is what his attitude is.

just some food for thought.

#i've been rewatching Supergirl and Maggie and Alex's breakup is what inspired this post #so even though it'd be sad af (just like it was in SG!) i think it'd be a interesting way for them to end things with bucktommy #also no one take this the wrong way #i love bucktommy so fucking much i'd be crushed if this is what they do #this is all just a theory folks #911 abc #911 show #911 #evan buck buckely #evan buckley #bucktommy #911 tommy #tommy kinard #kinley #tevan #buck x tommy

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jerzwriter · 6 months

Text

Caught in the Act

A ride to a charity function is just a ride to a charity function, right? Not when the couple in question is the insatiable Carricks. See how a misunderstanding led to a fun-filled escapade. 😉

Thank you to the incomparable @/artbyainna (IG) for capturing this as only she can! God, the look of horror on Casey's face juxtaposed with Tobia's proud little smirk! adfdjfdkfdj!!! I live for this and bow at the feet of my queen!❤️

Book: Open Heart (Post Series) Pairing: Tobias Carrick x F!MC (Casey MacTavish Carrick) Rating: Explicit - 18+ Words: 1,389 Warnings: NSFW, sexual content Summary: Above A/N: Participating in @choicesnovchallenge - Day 22 - Go for a Ride (indeed... lol)

The backseat of the stretch limo was peculiarly quiet. Tobias seated at one end of the long seat while Casey sat perched at the other, doing her best to keep her bare back from falling against the cool, black leather. Though their hands met in the middle, fingers lovingly intertwined, their eyes were focused out of their respective windows. For other couples, this all may be normal, but for them, it felt anything but.

Casey sighed softly, hoping the delicate sound would open a window. But Tobias was lost in his own thoughts and hadn't heard a thing, so the silence lingered. He squeezed her hand tightly as he exited his self-imposed fugue, eyes still focused on the window.

"All right, hon," he grumbled softly, "what did I do?"

Casey's neck flung in his direction, her furrowed brow speaking for itself. "Huh? Why do you think you've done something wrong?"

"You haven't said more than a couple words the whole drive. That's unlike you."

"Me? You haven't been chatty either, and look at you... you're still turned away from me... I thought I did something wrong."

"You?" he replied, finally looking her way. "You didn't do anything wrong."

Casey sighed again; this time, it was filled with relief. "I’m sorry if I haven’t been myself tonight. The truth is, I wish we didn’t have to go to this event.”

“You wish?” he chuckled. “Babe, do you think sucking up to a bunch of donors is what I want to do after a long week? Especially with you...” he paused, teeth sinking into his lip as his eyes slowly trailed her body. “With you looking like that.”

“Looking... looking like this?” She blurted. “You haven’t even looked at me since we left home!”

“Of course I haven’t! If I did, I’d be far too tempted to unravel the back of that dress, watch as it fell to your feet, and do what I really want to tonight... which is you... for hours and hours on end.”

His wife blushed, and the car filled with her delighted little giggles. “Well, that’s much better,” she said, patting his knee.

“So,” he smiled lecherously, “How ‘bout it? I can text Ma, tell her we had an emergency... then we can do... our thing.”

“I’d love to,” she said, her hand running down his cheek as she inched closer. “But this fundraiser is for a worthy cause...”

“Yeah,” he lamented. “Ma’s charity helps an awful lot of kids.”

“It does. And face it, we’re both charming as fuck... we’re good at separating rich folk from their money for a good cause... she needs us.”

His eyes gleamed in acknowledgment. “Damn right, she does.”

Resigned, Casey slunk back, no longer concerned about the goosebumps that erupted over her flesh as her warm skin pressed against the icy leather. “Well, let’s look at it this way. We can watch each other in action all night, just imagining what we’ll be doing after. All I’ll be thinking about is how I’m going to have my way with you once we’re back home.”

“Yeah, that sounds fun,” he concurred, fingers running through her hair until he gently grasped it at the nape of her neck. Now, her goosebumps had goosebumps. “Only one problem with that scenario.”

“Oh yeah, what’s that?”

“It means waiting hours to have you.”

“It would,” she teased. “So, what do you suggest?”

“I suggest this...”

Without another word, he tugged her in his direction. His lips eagerly fell upon hers as his tongue forced them open for a searing kiss. Her arms wrapped around the back of his neck, and a salacious groan rumbled through her, stoking his desire all the more. His lips pressed harder, a ravenous, breathless kiss as he unlatched his seatbelt.

“Come here,” he gasped, failing to catch his breath.

“There?” Casey asked with a raised brow, her smudged lipstick doing things he couldn't control. She tilted her head toward the front of the limo. “There is a driver there, you know?”

“Of course I do,” he teased. “Come here... live a little.”

“Tobias?” groaned playfully, but he sensed her trepidation.

“You know this isn’t a rental, right? It’s from my family’s fleet.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning that divider is truly soundproof... we have total privacy back here.”

Casey glanced at her gold filigree watch. “With no traffic, we should be at the museum in about fifteen minutes.”

“Right. Except there is always traffic in Boston, even if there’s not... I know you’re familiar with the quickie.”

“I am, but... it’s not my favorite way of....”

“Mine either,” he cut her off. “Look, we can still eyefuck all night, dreaming about later... but I might be able to separate rich pricks from their money more easily if I’m a bit... satiated.”

“Hmmm...” she giggled, “so the key to separating rich pricks from their money is satisfying your rich prick before we go in?”

“Baby,” he said, unfastening her seatbelt. “Don’t say go in and expect we’re not doing this.”

Casey hoped the divider was as secure as Tobias had said because a playful holler escaped her as he reached over and pulled her onto his lap. So deftly and with such force, she knew surrender was inescapable. She hissed as his tongue trailed along her skin, from atop her cleavage, up her neck, and settling at her chin. His eyes met hers, an impish grin on his lips. “So, we gonna do this?” he asked as if it were a question.

She had become skilled at removing a bow tie at record speeds, and his was already undone as her fingers made quick work of the buttons on his shirt, her hands eagerly running along the planes of his chest.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he breathed into her ear, his tongue darting out to trace its outer edge, his teeth gripping her lobe with a gruff tug, eliciting a wanton moan as Casey’s hips desperately gyrated against him.

“Undo your pants,” she ordered.

“Gladly,” he smiled as she hiked her skirt.

“We have to make this quick,” she gasped as he lined himself against her soaked center, both groaning in pleasure as she slowly sank down on him.

“Oh, my God...” she panted, his hands holding her waist in place as he thrust deeply inside her. “Oh my... God.”

She could feel the smile on his lips as his tongue trailed over her collarbone, never letting up the pace as red-hot passion left them both forgetting where they were. Tobias’s grunts were met with her unladylike moans. With each one that escaped her, he wanted her even more.

“Quick, you say? You don’t seem to be in much of a rush now.”

With a playful glare, she lifted her hips and slammed down against him as a punishment. One he accepted with delight as his head fell back.

“That’s it, baby,” he moaned. “That’s it, make me pay for being an ass.”

With a giggle, Casey happily complied when a loud click made her head turn in horror. She looked like she had spotted a ghost, but Tobias’s face morphed into a cocky grin.

“You ever hear of knocking first, buddy?" he admonished as their driver stood frozen in horror.

“Oh, I... I’m sorry... I thought you heard me announce that....” he diverted his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry’s nice and all,” Tobias began, “but if you want my forgiveness, close the door and let us finish here.”

Casey turned to him with widened eyes.

“What,” he mocked, “do you want to go inside in this condition?”

“Close the fucking door,” Casey demanded. A loud slam followed, and a grin stretched across Tobias’s face.

“Now, there’s the girl I married.”

“Less talking,” she breathed, her lips enveloping his as she moved quickly against him. “... and more action.”

“I’m all about action,” he chuckled, flipping her onto her back, kissing her long, shapely legs as he wrapped them around his neck. “Let’s finish the job,” he grunted, delighting in the way she unfurled as he thrust inside her. “Then we can go schmooze with smiles on our faces.”

“Ah, fucking for charity,” she panted, her giggles reaching an abrupt halt when he hit that sweet spot. Pleased with himself, he smirked over her.

“You were saying, dear?”

Casey reached behind his neck, gruffly pulling him into a kiss. “Shut up and fuck me, Carrick.”

“With pleasure,” he smiled... wondering if those words would one day grace their headstones.

~~~~~

I imagined they needed a few minutes to look fit for public consumption. But those smiles and their delicately rumpled clothes left little question in the minds of those who knew them best. After emptying donors' pockets, they left the party early... eager to utilize the limo once more before returning home to their little girl. Parenthood was not about to change these two. lol

Thanks for reading!

@choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics @openheartfanart

Tagging others separately.

#choices fanfic #choices fanart #open heart #choices open heart #open heart choices #open heart fanfic #open heart fanart #tobias carrick #tobias carrick x mc #tobias x casey #playchoices #playchoices fanfic #playchoices fanart #choices stories you play

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starsfic · 7 months

Text

Why PDA is Banned from Pigsy's Noodles

Summary:

Qi Xiaotian and Red Son have confessed to each other and are happily in love. Maybe a bit too happy, in Pigsy and Tang's opinions.

A cute request from @godsofthecatz, starring Spicynoodles being sappily in love and Freenoodles also being sappily in love while also embarrassing their darling son.

AO3

Ko-Fi

-_-

The Zhu family was not shy about showing affection.

Pigsy had watched his siblings and cousins exchange pet names and kisses with their romantic partners and his own parents giggling and kissing over a bowl of noodles. His grandfather had died before he had been born, but he had seen the pictures. His grandmother made up for it with cheek kisses, hair ruffles, and food.

That was fine. Pigsy enjoyed it. He was glad his family members were happy. It showed him how a happy couple acted and what to keep in mind for his relationship. He just didn’t feel like doing public displays of affection.

Tang was also reserved. Unless he was trying to be annoying or get food. Most of the time, they saved stuff beyond light pecks and hand-holding for the privacy of their apartment.

(Pigsy’s favorite had to be dancing in the kitchen as they waited for food to cook, softly exchanging kisses and laughs. Tang had the cutest fucking giggles.)

“My prince!”

“Hello, sunshine.”

However, their son was different.

Pigsy sighed as Xiaotian jumped over the counter to scoop up Red and twirl around, the Monkie Kid and the Demon Bull prince laughing merrily. “At least he’s happy,” Tang said as Red leaned down and planted a smooch on Xiaotian’s lips. He winced at the loud smacking noise. “Really happy.”

Pigsy nodded. In the mess of cleaning up after Azure’s attempted conquest and figuring out that Sun Wukong was technically his magic (sperm?) donor, Red Son had confessed to Qi Xiaotian. He had no idea why the prince had thought that was a good time. However, it didn’t seem to matter. Xiaotian had perked up like a delighted sunflower and had proceeded to be delighted for weeks now.

If only that delight didn’t come with almost obnoxiously loud makeout sessions, hands everywhere even when Xiaotian was trying to clean or, gods forbid, serve food, and the pet names.

Xiaotian carried Red over to their usual booth and set him down, leaning over to kiss his forehead. That didn’t seem to be enough for Red, gripping his head and guiding him down to plant another firm kiss on his lips. Pigsy turned to start chopping the peppers just to avoid the smacking lips, and when he turned back, Xiaotian was hovering at the window. He was going to ignore the smear of red lipstick across his lips. “Hi, Pigsy. Babydoll wants his-”

“Regular order, extra spicy?” Pigsy said. He knew the schedule by now. “And I’m guessing you want to take your lunch break again now?” It was only when Xiaotian nodded that the pet name hit. “Babydoll?”

“Yeah!” Xiaotian’s tail- wow that was weird to say- started to wag back and forth even as a sheepish smile twisted his mouth. “I mean, Red loves being called baby…”

“I didn’t need to know that.”

“And he’s as pretty as a doll!”

“Uh-huh.” Pigsy tried his best not to roll his eyes. Babydoll wasn’t the worst pet name in the world. But it had to be the cheesiest in the ones his son and his suitor exchanged. It was almost like a competition.

“Aw, come on!” Xiaotian whined, leaning forward with a pout. “Red and I aren’t that bad.”

Oops. “I know, kid.” Pigsy reached up and patted his hand. “I’m glad you have someone who makes you happy. That’s all I ever wanted for you.”

“I know.” Xiaotian pulled his hand away, his pout twisting into a teasing grin. “But at least we’re not as bad as you and Tang are.”

And with that, Xiaotian marched over to plant a kiss right on Red’s lips.

-_-

The words didn’t sink in until Pigsy was washing dishes after dinner.

Clatter. Water splashed over his front. Pigsy didn’t notice it, more focused on the absolute lie. “Did he say we were as bad as them?!”

Tang looked up from his book. “I thought you were just ignoring that!”

“He did say that?!”

“He did!” Tang shut his book and turned, a mocking laugh slipping through his teeth. “You rolled your eyes, and he saw it! Then he spat out that and…” Tang facepalmed. “I don’t know what he was thinking. He knows us!”

“I bet Red Son thinks that about us.” Pigsy threw his sponge down with a huff. “Have you seen Iron Fan and DBK? Total ice couple.”

“Now, now, let’s not think the worst of Xiaotian’s in-laws.” Tang folded his hands in his lap, looking prim and proper. “I also know what it’s like to sleep with a giant animal…” Pigsy huffed, feeling his face go hot. Ever since Zhu Bajie had taken over, it had been easier and easier to go into his true form. “And I have to keep my love for you contained all day so I don’t do something ridiculous. If I was in her place with a giant bull around all the time? I would go full Ice Queen…”

A lightbulb clicked on.

“What did you say?”

“I would go full Ice Queen?”

“No, no…” Pigsy turned his hand back. “Before that?”

“If I was in her place?”

“Before that.”

Tang raised a brow. “I have to keep my love for you contained…oh.” Tang’s smile stretched his face in a menacing gleam. Most would fear it. Pigsy nodded as delight shot up his spine, feeling his own evil smile twist his face. “Oh, I see what you’re thinking.” The scholar pulled himself off the couch and practically sashayed over, pushing himself into Pigsy’s arms. “I love when you have an evil plan.”

“I love you.” Just like what Red had done, Pigsy leaned over and planted a nice kiss on Tang’s lips. The instant he did, his partner laughed- the cute giggle that came with every affectionate touch, not the evil cackle from before. “And you have an adorable laugh.”

Peals of cute giggles were still escaping Tang. “Really?” he asked when they finally calmed.

“Really. I’m not just saying that to embarrass our son.” Pigsy kissed his cheek for another cute giggle. “You have the cutest fucking laugh.”

“Oh, stop it, my laugh isn’t that cute.” Tang pushed away, biting his lip to contain more of those cute giggles.

“No way,” Pigsy pulled him back and undid Tang’s scarf, exposing both his mating mark and his plain of unmarked skin. As he began to trail kisses down Tang’s neck, he could feel his partner shiver. “You tell me all the time how great my true form and all the other stuff is, you’re not gonna let me do the same?”

Tang whined as he pulled away. “We gotta plan how to do this.”

“And then we’re gonna makeout?” Hickies would help embarrass Xiaotian, but Pigsy also really wanted to kiss Tang some more. “I really wanna hear more of those giggles.”

“Absolutely…” Tang sighed. “With more giggling, since you like it so much.”

Pigsy fist-pumped. “Yes.”

Hopefully, they could actually make up a plan.

-_-

“...uh…are Tang and Pigsy…?”

“Ignore them.” Xiaotian’s face was muffled by the wood, faceplanted right in front of the nice tea set Red had gotten him a few weeks ago. “Please, just…ignore them. If we ignore them, they’ll quit it.” Long Xiaojiao raised a brow at her bestie’s condition. Knowing the scene in the kitchen, she was surprised he hadn’t climbed under the table.

Clear in the kitchen window, Tang and Pigsy were doing a dance between making out and actually cooking. At least, Pigsy was. Tang was more focused on trying to goose Pigsy or slip a hand into his shirt. Whimpers and moans of pet names drifted out.

“C’mon, Lovebug, I’m cooking~”

“You’re making me cook, Pugsy-Wugsy…”

Xiaojiao felt that brow raise more. “Lovebug? Pugsy-Wugsy?”

Xiaotian whined even louder.

“Eh, they’re not as bad as my parents.” Red sipped his cup of tea, ignoring the raised brows aimed at him. “I walked in on them having sex at the breakfast table.” His eyes grew distant and glazed, scarred with the trauma. “It took them several hours to realize I didn’t join them for breakfast.”

Xiaotian reached over with a trembling hand. Red gripped it tight. “I’m sorry that happened to you, Babydoll.”

“Eh,” Red blinked to let a smile form. “I’m just looking forward to when we can embarrass our children with what a loving relationship looks like.” He pulled Xiaotian’s hand up and pressed a kiss to the knuckles. “The same way your parents are doing to us.”

Xiaotian felt a flustered smile form, both at Red’s words and the kiss on his knuckles. “I’m lucky to have them show me what a loving relationship looks like, even if it gets a bit much.”

“Aww…”

The trio turned at Tang’s coo. He and Pigsy were hunched behind the counter, clearly staring at them. The moment the duo realized that they were being stared at, Tang snapped up and grabbed Pigsy into a frantic kiss. Pigsy yelped, his words muffled by Tang’s lips.

“Tang…Tang…Tang…the wok is on-!”

“You’re setting me on fire-”

“The wok is ON FIRE!” Pigsy shoved Tang away and sprinted out of view, probably to grab a fire extinguisher. “I’M MORE THAN HAPPY TO GIVE YOU ALL MY LOVE, BUT MOVE!”

As Tang screamed and ducked away from the white foam, Red sighed.

“Hopefully, with fewer explosions.”

#LMK #Monkie Kid #LEGO Monkie Kid #Spicynoodles #Spicynoodleshipping #Freenoodles #Freenoodleshipping #Pigsy #Tang #Qi Xiaotian #Long Xiaojiao #Red Son #cw: mentions of sex #cw: mentions of walking in on parents #my writing

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