#<- that one's a little. up to interpretation but i think the whole panic of caretaker touching whumpee's nech counts | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

python333 · 8 months ago

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glass half-full, or half-empty? — python333

— — — —

synopsis you're trapped in a coffin, then you're not, then you're questioning your whole life- basically, buried alive trope meets found family and meets age regression and they all have a super messed up baby that has the occasional good quality.

relationships caretaker! price, caretaker! gaz & little! reader (gender-neutral).

characters cap. price, gaz, others briefly mentioned.

word count 8.0k

warnings reader was buried alive, implied drugging, implied panic attack, sooo much disorientation in the first section it's crazy, british slang that only kind of makes sense, second person pov [you/yours/yourself], usage of both c/n [code name/call sign] and y/n [your name], wayyyy too long.

note hey!! sorry for disappearing!!! please accept this offering as an apology!!! I've finally gotten back the motivation for writing what i actually wanna write, so now i'm back to writing fics!! enjoy this new and improved interpretation of age regression!

Someone’s ribs are encasing your own.

Well, not really, but it feels that way. Though your torso is clothed, as is the rest of your body, the defined bones of the skeleton beneath you poke and dig into your skin the same way it would if you were naked. The rotted wood around you creaks and sand falls onto your frontside from above, where the lid of your coffin is kept together solely by hopes and dreams.

Only an hour ago, you blacked out. Fighting enemy soldiers whose fighting techniques you aren’t familiar with is hard enough, especially when they happen to keep bleach and rubbing alcohol in the same place they’re fighting you in. The two mixed together, poured and soaked into a rag that was later pressed to your face, created a substance that knocked you out. You know the name of it. You know it. But you can’t think of it, because remembering is too hard, and the wood surrounding you is too suffocating.

Your limited air is becoming more and more apparent. There’s no light, no noise—well, unless you count the subtle static playing in your broken earpiece—basically, it’s sensory deprivation hell and you’ve committed one too many sins according to those enemy soldiers.

Your whole body is sore. You don’t know if those soldiers messed with you after you passed out, or if this is just the result of fighting them for a few consecutive minutes, but whatever happened caused a strange weakness to invade and overtake your body. The oligarchy in your body created by this soreness left you unable to move properly, save for the occasional twitch of your skin or the ability to move your fingers freely.

But fingers are useless when your wrists are bound. Maybe they aren’t physically bound to the floor of the coffin, but the invisible ropes made of the misuse of cleaning materials seemed to be enough to keep them down. It was irritating, and the mental ropeburn created pins and needles from your wrist to your elbow that only made you even more uncomfortable.

The static continues. It’s cold. Cold, quiet, and God, how did I even get here? What time is it? What day is it? Your uniform isn’t enough to keep you warm. The tactical gear only makes your body heavier, not in the comfortable way that it feels when you’re heavy with sleep and ready to rest, but in the out-of-body way that makes you feel both like you’re floating and being pulled down like an anchor at the same time. You recall vaguely algor mortis, the stage of death where your body begins a gradual decline into an inhumanly cold state.

Why you’re recalling it, you don’t— actually, no, you do know. The cold. That’s why. You’re cold. You’re cold. Don’t forget it. It seems hard to forget feelings, to forget the present, but you’ll find that it’s like breathing; inhale, you know that you’re cold, exhale, wait… you’re cold? How do you know? How can you feel? Inhale, you can feel things because you’re human, because you’re alive, exhale, you’re alive?

Are you alive? Have you made it this far? What have you done? Not much, honestly. Or, not much that you can remember. Though there’s an overwhelming amount of hopelessness clouding your mind, you can still make out a few moments that play like a shitty wedding slideshow at your distant relative’s wedding who you didn’t know existed until a few hours before the event. The time that you told Ghost a joke that made him laugh. That other time that you told Ghost a joke that made him laugh. Or, no, wait, was that Price?

That time that you chased after Soap while he had your unlocked phone, which, by the way, was a very normal response to that and was very valid. Yes, it was necessary for you to tackle him, even Gaz agreed with you on that. Ghost just enjoyed seeing Soap get tackled, for some very dark very strange reason that you would rather not think about too hard—assuming that you can even think any harder than a brick right now. Price, of course, disapprovingly shook his head and seemed to mentally weigh what the effect of a leash on the three of you would grant.

Static-static-static-stat— “H—o?”

You almost sit up, but your head bumps on the top of the coffin, and you groan. Oops. Thought a little bit too much there.

You’re immediately dizzy and it feels like all the blood has rushed out of your head, but you still manage to stay conscious and try to figure out how to respond to whoever’s talking.

“H—lo?” They ask again. You tilt your head ever-so-slightly so that the button on your earpiece can get pressed, and you almost start crying when you hear the small click and beep emit from the earpiece, signaling that it’s now on.

“Hello?” Your voice is hoarse and it hurts to talk but you couldn’t care less. You have an opportunity to get out. You’re desperate to get out—or, at least, you should be.

For the strangest reason, despite the claustrophobic environment you’ve been forced into, despite the sores that you know are forming along your stiffened spine from the rough wood you’re lying on, you feel comfortable in the most uncomfortable way. The fact that your memory is fuzzy and your movements are limited to twitching and stretching makes you uneasy, but at the same time, the absence of your typical nonstop stream of incomprehensible thoughts and feelings strangely lets you… relax. The lack of thinking, only lying down and staring up, puts you in a mindset that you don’t think is so bad.

The situation is awful, but for whatever reason, the results of it are— are… oh God, what’s the word? It’s on the tip of your tongue, you swear, and now you’re thinking, well, shit, maybe this isn’t the best mindset. The void that grows in your head was nice maybe a minute ago, but now you’re forgetting words and yeah, no, I don’t like this, but at least you aren’t constantly second-guessing yourself. You aren’t contradicting every other thought you have, there aren’t mental wars waging in your mind that keep you unfocused and almost lightheaded, you aren’t arguing with yourself on how you truly feel. You just feel. And hell, you fuckin’ forget what you were even feeling just a few seconds ago. Thoughts come and go, nothing more than fleeting, and a part of you wishes that there was something for them to latch onto because being absent-minded feels a little too empty but your usual mind feels too full.

You wish your mind was like that— that problem, with the glass, the… the glass… the one where everyone argues on something about it. Something about it. What do they argue about? What glass? There’s a glass, a drinking glass, that everyone argues about, and whatever side you’re on dictates how you think— what the fuck? What is that problem? God, if only you had a working phone right now to look it up.

Oh, shit, yeah, the earpiece. There’s someone talking. Only just now have you actually acknowledged their words. They sound muffled and far-away, not at all like there’s a small microphone shoved into your ear that plays directly into it.

“Private?” It’s crackly and still full of static, the sound is drowning in it, “Pr— a— —u there?”

“... Huh?” You question dumbly, sounding more confused than you ever have before. There’s a ringing building up in your ears, and the person on the other end—who is talking?―is talking again.

“Ar— —ou ther—?” They ask again, sounding… worried? Concerned? Wait, shit, those are the same thing. Damn you and your lack of a mental thesaurus. Wait, no, if you… if you use the same meaning in two different words… would that not— whatever. You don’t even care anymore. This ‘mindset’ doesn’t feel very nice anymore. You’ve been conscious for too long, you’ve started questioning yourself again, but in the worst way possible; usually, you can actually think properly when you question yourself. Now, you’re questioning your own knowledge without actually thinking about your questions first, so instead of the usual hellish loop of what does this mean? Why did I say this? What else could I have said?, you’re now stuck in the purgatory of, what was that word? What can I say? What did I just think? What? Huh?

“Yeah… genius…” You manage to scoff, despite the heaviness of your tongue and the cotton in your mouth and mind, “Where else… would I be?”

“Oh m— God,” The person on the other end breathes out, “Do y— kno— who you’re t—king to?”

You shrug—well, you move your shoulders the tiniest bit up and back down—even though they can’t see you.

“Priva—?” They ask again, like a broken record, making you groan without you even realizing it, “G—z. Sergea—t Ga—ck? Y’remember?”

“G’z,” You mutter, trying to sound out the syllables, “Giz… G— oh, shoot… Gaz? Sarge?”

“Yeah,” Gaz laughs, a little clearer now, “Sarge, sure. Y— doin— —kay?”

“Uh-huh,” You exhale, a little relieved that it’s just Gaz, “Hi.”

“Hi,” Gaz sounds like he’s smiling, it’s audible in his voice, “Y’wanna t—l me where y—u ar—?”

“Uhh…” You look around the coffin with limited head movements, “I dunno, probably… probably a, uh… one a’ those grave things. Coff— coffin. In one of those. In a grave thing. Maybe. Wha’ are those called? The things?”

You sound dazed even to yourself, and mentally chastise yourself for the usage of grave things, even though you had no better words to describe it. You swear, you know the word. It starts with an “s”, you think, there’s a whole movie with it in the title by some guy named Steve-something. It has graves, coffins, the other thing that’s a coffin but not, graves, dead stuff, all that… hm. All that swing? All that… all that jazz, right, all that jazz. Wow, go ahead and clap yourself on the back for that one— oh, that’s right, you can’t, because you’re stuck in a fucking coffin.

What a day.

“You’re in a cof—n?” Gaz asks, shocked.

“Uh-huh.”

“Underg—nd?”

“Where else?” You deadpan, even though, for whatever reason, your instincts scream at you to be a little bit nicer. For that reason only, you tack on, “Respec— …respectfully.”

“Jesus,” Gaz lets out a shaky breath, his voice growing a little more faint, as are you, “Wh—e do y— rem—ber being last?”

“I don’t…” You mumble, eyelids growing heavy, threatening to droop down and meet the waterline of your eyes.

“Don’t… what?” Gaz asks, sounding almost… scared?

“Rember— rem’m… remember,” You reply, “Woof. That was… a toughie.”

“Oh my God, th—’re lo—ng it,” Gaz whispers to himself, or maybe to someone else, “Private. Do y— know at all w— you m—ght be?”

“Uhh…”

“D—” This time, you know this is Gaz cutting himself off, because he gasps right after he begins talking and starts a whole new statement, “Is your tr—ker on?”

“My wha’?”

“Tracker, the— the th—ng, it’s a—ched to y—r earp—ce,” Jesus, how much can this thing cut out?

“I don’t… what the— what are you tryna say to me?” You ask, for some reason… censoring yourself? What? Why… huh? You don’t censor yourself, you’re not five. Well, at least, you don’t think you are, not right now. Wait, when are you five? What are you saying? Or, thinking— what are you thinking?

“The— Captain,” Gaz calls out to someone else, “The t—!”

“Tra’ker,” You mumble to yourself, “Huh. I have one a’those?”

“[c/n],” Gaz says into his earpiece, the sound suddenly louder than before, making you jump and almost hit your head on the ceiling of the coffin, “Are you h—rt?”

“I don’ think so,” You respond, looking down at the shadows casted over your body, “Can’t tell.”

Gaz lets out some kind of pained noise and you feel your eyelids growing heavier. Your lungs hurt. Your lungs hurt? Oh, shoot, your lungs hurt. Gaz should probably know that.

“Actu’ly,” You take back, sounding almost intoxicated, feeling like you’re breathing through a straw, “My chest hurts.”

Close enough.

“Your chest?” Gaz questions, the static slowly but surely clearing up, “Your lu—gs?”

“Uh-huh,” You confirm. Your breathing was already a little shallow, but now its turning labored, and it feels like there’s rocks in your lungs, more and more appearing from God knows where, weighing down and taking up so much space in your lungs that the oxygen you breathe in must search for refuge within the cracks and crevices in between the stones.

Exhale, and the carbon dioxide that leaves you seems to find a way to invite more rocks into your lungs. Inhale, and there’s less and less room, exhale, there should be more room, but instead the room— inhale, there’s no room, try to inhale again, you can’t— inhale, breathe, breathe, gasp, hold your breath, don’t exhale-don’t exhaledon’texhale—

“[c/n]!” Gaz shouting your name startles you and forces you to exhale, a low whine coming out with it, making Gaz shut up. There’s a warm liquid dripping in trails down your cheeks, reaching your jaw and chin, the feeling of it sending waves of discomfort through your body and straight to your brain.

You desperately try to breathe in, try to inhale anything, even if it’s the sand falling from the ceiling or the carbon dioxide that you’ve tried so hard to keep inside.

“[c/n],” Gaz repeats your name, in a different tone this time, something more soft, something that resonates and echoes in your empty yet full mind, “We’re close, we— almo—t there, you s—l with me?”

You continue to struggle with your breathing. Exhale, exhale, inh— exhale, inhale, ex— ex— exhale, in— in— Jesus fucking Christ, just inha— in— in—

“I can hear you,” Gaz says, uncannily clear, he must be at least… at least something klicks within the radius of… of me… of me? Where am I? “You’re gonna be okay, okay? You’re gonna be fine. I need you to stop panicking, okay? I know that— th—t sounds easy to me, because I’m not in a coffin, but if you keep breathing like that, you’re gonna make it worse for yourself.”

You finally inhale, but it feels so wrong, like hearing crunches while chewing what should be soft food. You gasp. You’re choking? What’s that other word for choking? Starts with a “c”, right? Wait, no, that’s choking. Dang it.

Gaz is yelling in your ears, and it almost sounds like he’s actually there, but the wooden walls encasing you and this stupid, very smelly skeleton underneath you tell a different story. You cough. You cough again. And again. And now you’re just forcing the bad air out of your lungs, which is great and all, but now there’s no air in your lungs, which you would like to argue is far worse but you can’t argue because you can’t think and you can’t think because you’re in some coffin with a stupid— what did you even want to argue, again?

There’s yelling. There’s commanding. There’s footsteps, heavy ones, ones that come from combat boots and men in tactical gear, the same gear that weighs you down like an anchor, that keeps you glued to this skeleton, who’s ribs encase your own.

Or, at least, it feels like they are. Even though you’re wearing tactical gear, it still feels the same way it would if you were naked. The annoyingly present bones of the skeleton dig and poke into your skin, and there’s sand falling from between the planks of rotten wood above you, where the ceiling of the coffin is held together solely by hopes and dreams.

An hour or two or three ago, you blacked out. You think you did, at least. You think you might black out again. Fighting enemy soldiers who fight with techniques you aren’t familiar with is hard enough, but fighting the invisible forces that prevent you from breathing in good air is even harder, because they don’t fight with guns or knives or fists; they fight with rocks that they shove into your lungs and vines that they tie around your already-tight throat.

There’s no light, but there’s sound. Sounds that would be useful if you could think. You don’t remember thinking. You don’t remember remembering.

But you’ll always remember this skeleton beneath you, who’s ribs encase your own.

Or, at least, it feels like they are. The tactical gear you’re wearing does you no good, serving as the only barrier—the most useless barrier ever—between you and this skeleton and this coffin and the sand that's begun pooling around you. The skeleton, who’s ribs are— why are you repeating yourself?

Gaz is yelling in your ear. Someone else is— someone else is there? Someone else is there. Talking, yelling, screaming, commanding, running, searching, above you— above you? Above you. While you exhale, gasp, exhale, choke, gasp, gasp, try to breath, fail, exhale, exhale, there’s men above you digging, digging and lifting weight off of you, you think. There’s more sand coming through. The loss of pressure must be making it looser.

Are you thinking? Are you feeling? Can you remember? What is there to remember? There’s an incomprehensible jumble of thoughts in your mind, and you think, trying to control your thoughts, I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t know.

It’s getting easier and harder to breathe. You can’t. You can… wait, no, you can’t.

You can keep your eyes open— you can keep them open, you can k—

“—eep your eyes open, Private,” Gaz begs you, pleads for you, his voice far but close, loud yet quiet, “C’mon, keep ‘em open, stay awak—”

—e, stay awake, stay awake, no, no, no, no—

—

You wake up to a stark white ceiling and some kind of electric beeping. Your head is clearer, fortunately, but still not clear enough to immediately remember what exactly happened. You remember a coffin, a skeleton, suffocating, talking to Gaz, and that’s about it. You shiver. A skeleton. You can still feel the phantom feeling of its ribs hugging your body, something you think your captors might’ve done to make you feel even more uncomfortable.

While you’re thinking about the skeleton, you don’t notice the sliding of a curtain and the footsteps that grow exponentially louder and closer to you.

“G’morning,” Gaz says, making you jump up and sit up instinctively, before you promptly lie right back down. Gaz snickers at you, and you turn your surprisingly sore neck to glare at him.

“Y—” You cough, furrowing your eyebrows as you bring an unstable and floppy hand to slap around your face, finding an oxygen mask nestled right on your nose and mouth. You take a few breaths, the task uncannily easy now, “You can knock that off. No laughing at the injured.”

“Oh, I’m not laughing at the injured,” Gaz clarifies, sitting down at a plastic chair he’s pulled up beside your bed, “I’m getting ready to yell at the injured soldier who gave me a heart attack about five hours ago after suffocating in a coffin buried six feet under in some cemetery in Derbyshire.”

“Derbyshire…” You muse, “What’s that? Or, where’s that?”

“‘bout forty klicks from Sheffield,” Gaz hums, before seeing your blank stare, and sighing tiredly, “The one with the cute houses and the pudding.”

“Ohhh,” You nod, now understanding, before joking, “At least I got buried there instead of, like, the bluejay one.”

“The bluejay one?” Gaz asks, confused, before pausing and asking you incredulously, “Jaywick?”

“Yeah, that one,” You hum. Gaz blinks at you, before groaning.

“Is this how you felt when I thought Las Vegas was in California?”

“Probably,” You grin at him, “It might be closer to when you thought NYC was the capital of New York.”

“If it’s not the capital, then why is it named after the city?” Gaz asks, exasperated. You shrug.

“Doesn’t change the fact that the capital’s Albany.” The room is silent for a little bit. The beeping, which you’ve now identified as a heart monitor, is loud. Your heart’s beating is fast and feels like it’s going to beat out of your chest. Gaz looks down at his chest, fidgeting with his hands, wringing them.

“I, uh,” You start, making Gaz look at you again, “When I was in the coffin…” The mere mention of it makes Gaz’s gaze sharpen and his hands still.

“It was hard to breathe, and also really hard to think,” Gaz nods along, “But I was still thinking, I guess, and I wasn’t thinking too hard. Like, jellyfish type shit, y’know? Like no thoughts, but also thoughts, but like…”

Gaz raises an eyebrow at you, and you try to explain it better, “Do you remember back in like, ele— when you were five or six and you like, just got a conscious and you’re thinking but also not?”

Gaz’s face relaxes and he nods wordlessly. You continue, “That’s how I felt.”

“I’m sorry,” Gaz frowns, putting a gentle hand on the metal bar on the bed you lie on, “That must’ve been… weird.”

“No, no, I liked it,” Gaz’s face goes right back to confusion, “It was nice. Which is weird. But I didn’t feel weird. I felt, like, really calm in that sense, for the few minutes that I wasn’t panicking.”

“You… liked it?” Gaz asks skeptically. You nod.

“Yeah.”

“How?”

“It was just…” You try to find the words to describe it, “I don’t know. I didn’t have control over it, which really bothered me. I felt, like, small, for some reason— like my mind is shrinking but my body is still the same, y’know? So it was really…”

After a few moments of you trying to find the word you needed, Gaz offers, “Disproportionate?”

“Yeah, that,” You nod quickly, “It was disproportionate and sucked, and it was obviously really scary, but I wasn’t processing stuff like I usually do. Which was great.”

“That sounds…” Gaz wrinkles up his nose, “... awful, but okay.”

“I think a lot,” When Gaz raises an eyebrow at you, you weakly slap at his knee and continue, “And earlier, when I was in that coffin, I wasn’t thinking. Everything was just going in and out just like that. It would’ve been nice to keep some of those thoughts, yeah, but when I can properly think like I am now, I keep too many thoughts and it’s like— it clutters up, and it just lingers for way too long.”

A small flash of understanding crosses Gaz’s expression. “So, you liked not thinking too much, because you already overthink too much, and being in the coffin and high on something happened to both help and not help with that?”

“Yeah, basically,” You hum, before realizing, “That’s way simpler than what I said. Huh.”

“That’s that overthinking,” Gaz muses, to which you respond with a frown.

“I’m not saying I wanna be all claustrophobic like that again,” You clarify, because you still see doubt on Gaz’s face, “But I liked thinking like that. The non-thinking-thinking. I think it would help with my stress and stuff.”

Another flash of understanding crosses Gaz’s expression, except this time, there’s a hint of something else in there. Realization? Curiosity? You’re none the wiser to it, getting a little more confused yourself.

“Oh.” Gaz’s slight frown disappears, the upturning of the corners of his lips now visible, “Okay. I get that. I actually think I know what’s happening.”

“You do?” You ask, confused.

“I gotta confirm it with the captain, though,” You’re more confused. It’s visible, you guess, because Gaz laughs at your expression.

“Don’t worry, it’s not bad,” He clarifies, still grinning, “I just have some suspicions. Y’mind if I let Price know what y’said?”

“... Sure?” You hesitantly say, to which Gaz responds by standing up and starting to speed-walk away from your bed, making you snort.

“I’ll be back in a bit!” Gaz calls out over his shoulder. You sigh and turn so that your whole back is on the mattress of the bed.

You were being honest, but at the cost of Gaz apparently “knowing what’s happening”, which is… disturbing, coming from Gaz, who you’ve affectionately titled a “D1 bird-brain”.

But whatever. It’s true, anyway, how you felt. It was uncomfortable, but it was somehow so much better than how you usually are. Or, well, not so much better, but at times when you’re overthinking or overwhelmed, you wish you could just turn off your brain, or something. Okay, maybe not turn it off, but turn off certain parts. You like thinking, and you do it all the time, but doing it all the time for you is like a full-time job on top of your already full-time job of being a part of the 141.

You don’t even make sense to yourself, but that’s okay. You make sense to Gaz, apparently, and possibly Price as well.

Speaking of—

“Hey,” Price greets you, his usual quokka-smile gracing his lips, Gaz following in right after him with the most smug look you’ve ever seen. What a bastard.

“What did you do?” You immediately ask Gaz, who only shakes his head and looks away, amused, making you a little annoyed. Price seems to know what you’re talking about as well, judging by the way his smile grows a tiny bit. I hate inside jokes. Only I’m allowed to have those with people.

“He told me what you told him,” Price hums, before sitting down into the chair previously occupied by Gaz, “And I have an idea you might like.”

“... Okay,” You look at him suspiciously.

“When I was still in the SAS—”

“Oh, so around the same time as the Trojan War?”

“Shut it, you.”

“Sure, Captain.”

Price sighs, exasperated, while Gaz snickers at his unamused look. Price, ever-so determined to explain this to you, proceeds, “Back when I was in the SAS, there was this other lieutenant who happened to be a good few years younger than me. Too young, in my opinion—”

“Look at yourself,” Gaz interrupts him.

“Bugger off,” Price sneers, “I’m tellin’ a story.”

Gaz puts his hands up in a surrendering gesture, “Keep your hair on, Captain, jus’ pointin’ out that you were younger than them when you first joined the army.”

You blink at the two. “I think that’s the first time that I’ve heard British slang that I can actually understand.”

Price takes a deep breath, “However, it wasn’t up to me to decide if or when they joined. So, I got to know them a little better, and found out that the stress they got after assignments was so bad that they had this coping mechanism that they had thought to be fairly strange. I asked them what it was, and because we’d known each other for ‘round a year now, and I was to be moved to a different unit, they told me that they didn’t really know the name of it exactly but what they did was they would sit down in their jammies, ones that reminded them of their childhood, watch some cartoons, all that and some more. And I asked them how that helped them, because back then, I was a dense little shit who couldn’t think for more than two seconds, and they said that it let them think the same way that they did when they were a kid.”

You blink at him. “So the idea is… ?”

“Maybe you two are related,” Gaz muses, “And the denseness is hereditary.”

Price groans, “Put a fuckin’ sock in it, Kyle.”

You gasp scandalously, before comically whispering, “First name after telling him to shut up? You’re just gonna let that slide, Gaz?”

“I’ll shove a sock up your—”

“My idea,” Price interrupts the two of you, preventing what could’ve been a fifteen-minute long spat, “is that you do that. You throw on your jammies—”

“Jammies,” You repeat incredulously.

“―you watch some cartoons, play with stuffies—”

“We have stuffies?” You interrupt Price again, who pauses this time.

“We should, yeah,” He nods, “There’s a bin of ‘em around here somewhere, for emergencies.”

You furrow your eyebrows, “Emergencies?”

He looks at you pointedly, “Emergencies.”

You blink at him. Blink, bl— “Oh, fuck off, I don’t need stuffies. I don’t think any of this would help me. I’m not five.”

“Yeah, but you wanna be, don’t you?” Gaz questions you, voice a little less joking, though it still has a little humor in it— a safety blanket, basically, in case you take his words the wrong way.

You stay silent. Price speaks up, “Tell you what; we’ll come back tomorrow, just me ‘nd Gaz, and you can let us know what you think of the idea. If y’like it, I’ll get you whatever you need to help you out. If you still don’t like it, you don’t like it, and we’ll figure somethin’ else out, alright?”

You sigh, “Alright.”

Price smiles at you and gets up to clap you on the shoulder, “Get some rest, soldier, up the wooden hill and off to Bedfordshire with you.”

“What the hell?” You immediately question, looking at Price like he’s gone mad, “Up the—”

“Don’t listen to him, he’s bad British representation,” Gaz hurriedly says, getting up and pushing Price lightly out of the room, talking to him in a theatrical whisper-yell, “You’re introducing them to sayings they’re not yet prepared for! Nobody says that to anyone above the age of twelve, Captain!”

Price simply laughs and lets Gaz push him away from your bed, not bothering to push aside the curtains obscuring the view of you as he pushes him out of the medbay entirely.

You blink at the swaying curtains.

“English people,” You mumble to yourself, turning over onto your side, “God damn English people. I’m never grouping Soap in with them ever again.”

—

True to his word, Price walks in with Gaz the next morning.

Price sits down next to you.

“G’morning,” He greets you softly, chuckling at the disgruntled look on your face, “Woke up on the wrong side of the bed?”

“Woke up and thought I was six feet under for a second,” You mutter, making the smile on Price’s face falter.

“Sorry,” Price apologizes, reaching out a slow hand—so that you can move at any second—to grasp your own hand and squeeze it gently, “Y’good now?”

“Mhm,” You hum, nodding, your gaze shifting to Gaz, who looks as disgruntled as yourself. You snort and ask him, “Are you good?”

“Someone,” Gaz snarks, glaring daggers at Price, “Woke me up two hours before my alarm so that he could force me to search for supplies with him.”

“I wonder who that could’ve been,” Price hums, ignoring the way Gaz shakes his head disapprovingly, “Anywho, have you given any thought to the idea?”

“The idea?” You question, before quickly realizing, “Oh, right, yeah, the idea.”

Price looks at you both expectantly and patiently, while Gaz forces himself to pull his glare away from Price and put his gaze on you, observing your expressions and response.

“Uhh…” You look at Price with hesitation, and he looks back at you without a trace of pressure in his eyes, making you sigh, “I’ll try it, but no guarantees that it’s gonna work.”

“Thank fuck,” Gaz groans, “My hard work hasn’t gone to was— ow!”

Gaz takes hurried steps back after Price stomped down hard on his foot, and the latter simply smiles at you at your response.

“Great,” He gets up, dusting off his army-green shirt and pushing his chair back, “D’you reckon you’re good to get out of bed now?”

“Probably,” You shrug, testing the waters by pushing yourself up into a sitting position. You wince at your still-sore back and your stiff legs, but otherwise feel okay, okay enough to feel confident in your ability to actually stand—though, you suspect you may need to grab onto something for extra support.

Oh well. You’re sick of this bed already, and if you can stand, you’re gonna stand.

Price sees this, however, and is quick to hold his arm out for you to grab onto as you swing your legs over the bed railing and hop off the mattress way too fast, making yourself dizzy in the process. You feel his concerned eyes burning holes into the top of your head as you try and succeed in regaining your footing, keeping a firm grip on his forearm in the process. Thank God for Captain Price and his too-muscly arms.

“You alright?” Price asks, to which you respond with an affirmative nod.

“Fine,” You hum, taking a deep breath before tentatively letting go of Price’s arm. He frowns, but doesn’t protest. Gaz looks at him questioningly, and Price shakes his head, nonverbally communicating to the sergeant that it’s nothing to get worried over.

Gaz decides to lead all of you out of the medbay, with you following after him and Price right behind you. You occasionally lose your footing, slipping on nothing, but you never fall, and even if you were about you, Price would catch you. You know he would. He’s been watching you like a hawk, hands twitching every time your footing is lost. But instead of begging for you to just take his arm, for fuck’s sake, he walks up so that he’s right next to you and starts talking.

“So…” He starts, making you look over at him, “Y’want me to go over the plan?”

“The plan?” You ask, raising an eyebrow, “Sure.”

“You get changed into your pajamas, we get on the bed, cuddle a lil’, you get a stuffie, we see what happens and then see what to do from there,” Price explains simply, “Any problems with that?”

“No, sounds good,” You hum. It sounds fucking fantastic, you think, but he doesn’t need to know that.

“Good,” Price smiles down at you, before saying, “You remind me of them.” You tilt your head to the side a bit, “The lieutenant?”

Price nods, “Yeah. Really sweet person. Had a whole collection of stuffies and blankets.”

You smile, “Sounds nice. They just keep all those in their quarters?”

“Yeah.” You both fall into silence again, comfortable silence, and soon enough, the three of you reach your sleeping quarters.

You all walk in. Well, except for Gaz, who is stopped by Price at the door. You turn around to question them, but Price stops you before you can even open your mouth.

“You just go get dressed,” He says, nodding over to the drawers in the corner of your room, “We’ll be outside. Just knock when you’re done.”

Skeptically, you look between the two, before you nod and close the door, leaving you inside your room alone. You try not to give too much thought to it, trying yet failing to ignore every thought that crosses your mind, busying yourself by choosing pajamas.

Soon enough, you’re dressed in your favorite pajamas—fluffy pants and a loose t-shirt, as well as just-as-fluffy slippers to replace your boots—and knocking at the door to signal to Price that you’re done. He opens the door, and Gaz is nowhere in sight, but you choose not to ask about it. Instead, you step to the side so that Price can walk in and sit on your bed, closing the door behind him.

On the bed already is a fluffy blanket—it must’ve been set up earlier, considering that Gaz was apparently woken up at around four in the morning to get everything ready.

You sit down on the bed next to your Captain, your fluffy pajama pants and loose t-shirt already making you feel relaxed, as well as your fuzzy slippers. You don’t really wear this outside of going to sleep, but after wearing a medical gown for the past twenty-four hours, you’re more than happy to make one small change in your routine. Price smiles down at you, one arm hovering around your back questioningly, before you nod and let him fully wrap it around you and pull you into his side. You’re already pretty tired, despite the fact that you got a full night’s worth of sleep, so the pajamas are honestly pretty fitting.

You sigh, turning your head slightly so that your cheek is pressed to his chest. Gaz walks in just seconds later, your gaze immediately moving to him as he sits down on the bed right next to you, sandwiching you in between him and Price. In any other situation, this would make you feel claustrophobic, but it feels oddly… comfortable right now. You notice the stuffed animal in Gaz’s hands—a small, round, fluffy cow with a black and white coloring pattern—and look at him questioningly.

“That s’posed t’be for me?” You ask, strangely drawn to the small stuffie. Gaz seems to see your fascination with the stuffed animal and smiles softly at you, a weird sight, considering that the two of you are having kerfuffles every three seconds at the very least.

“Uh-huh,” Gaz nods, offering it to you, smiling even wider when you gingerly grab it, “Y’like it?”

“It’s cute,” You mumble, looking it over in your hands, rubbing your thumb against its soft fur and black beady eyes. You know what you want to do with it. You want to hug it close to your chest, like you used to oh-so many years ago, back before you had to force yourself to stop sleeping with stuffed animals out of fear that you would need them in order to sleep forever. It only partially worked; you never slept with another stuffie again, but instead found yourself waking up with a bunched up part of your blanket or your pillow in your arms, pulling tight to your chest.

You really wanna hug it. You missed stuffed animals. You miss stuffed animals, present tense. You miss their soft fur and the baby pink of their ears, the polyester trapped safely inside the confines of the felt and fluff, the sweetness and child-like wonder that you lost with them.

Both Price and Gaz sense the conflict in your mind.

“Hey,” Price softly rubs your arm with his thumb, with gentle circles and too many yet just enough callouses, “You’re thinking a lil’ bit too much there. You wanna hug the stuffie, go ahead and hug it.”

It’s easy, you think, so easy to just… think, but let go of my thoughts when I have him to ground me.

You hug the stuffed animal, pulling it close to your chest and wrapping your arms around it, your limbs too long for what you’re trying to do but doubt and stress in your mind slowly growing small enough to compensate for the lack of a smaller body. It’s frustrating, yes, but Price’s arm around your body and Gaz’s hand that cautiously rests on your shoulder makes your body feel the tiniest bit smaller, and it makes your mind the tiniest bit cloudier.

“There y’go,” Gaz coos, his voice a type of soft you didn’t even know was possible from him. Price only chuckles, and you should feel annoyed because they sound like they’re teasing you, like they’re a part of an inside joke that you’re not, but they’re not. They’re here right now, Price’s arm is around you and Gaz’s hand is on your shoulder and they’re speaking so softly and— and you’re letting your thoughts go.

They’re coming and going, some staying longer than others, but they never pile up, never clutter up like a messy desk or a disorganized folder. They’re neat and held up by mental thumbtacks, pinned to the corkboard of your cerebral cortex, sometimes melting into the beige board and other times staying, but never getting to the point where the thoughts are stacking on top of each other or where there’s no more room for anymore thumbtacks.

It’s something you never thought you’d be able to experience, but here you are, experiencing it, breathing it in like oxygen. Like an open field, bright and clear, with your Captain’s or your Sergeant’s arms—wrapped in blood and flesh, not stripped down to the bone, not poking and prodding at you—around you and keeping you grounded. Your very own anchorage; the perfectly crafted bumps and dips in their arms that fit around you like puzzle pieces when they pull you towards either one of them, as if your Creator knew that you would find refuge in them, as if They knew that you would know how perfect it is.

Because it is. It’s perfect, in the way that a salmon knowing its birthplace despite swimming so many miles away is. In the way that homeostasis works; your body finding equilibrium, that perfect balance between your internal systems and outside forces. In the way that the stuffed cow in your arms seems to seep through your chest and go straight to your heart and soul.

You don’t realize that you’ve zoned out until Price lightly shakes you.

“Y’alright, darling?” He asks, concerned, his gruff voice more gravelly than usual. You blink and look over at him, and you’re sweet again. Sweet and loved, and loving to love. Or, at least, you think you’re loved. You might be a tad bit delusional, but there’s something in Price’s eyes, some kind of light that reflects pink and green hues, some kind of nurturing-feeling that doesn’t go away when he blinks.

“Uh-huh,” You nod, the way your head moves up and down almost like a bobblehead figure, “All… sunshine ‘nd rainbows over here.”

Price breathes out a small laugh and Gaz raises an eyebrow at you.

“Yeah? All sunshine and rainbows?” Gaz teases you, “Are you sure there’s anythin’ happenin’ up in your noggin?”

You pout and lightly swing your leg at him to kick his calf, and although you’re only wearing slippers and are kicking about as hard as a pillow, Gaz makes a show of pretending to get seriously injured by it. He gasps dramatically and brings his knee up to his chest, hugging his calf to his torso and rubbing at the spot you kicked. He pouts right back at you, immature and theatrical, and you giggle—fucking giggle—at his antics. Gaz can’t help but let up the act, grinning as soon as your laugh sounds out, the noise music to his ears.

“You havin’ a laugh while I’ve gotten hurt?” He antagonizes you, voice light and fluffy, “Brat.”

“Noo,” You deny, voice growing just slightly higher-pitched, your movements a little less controlled by yourself, “I’m never a brat.”

“You sure?” Gaz raises an eyebrow at you, letting his leg down, “I think you’re lying, duckie.”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Yuh-huh.”

“Nuh-uh.”

“I cannot believe you’re both still annoying, even when they’re bein’ little,” Price sighs exasperatedly, making both you and Gaz laugh, your laughter more bubbly and light while his is knowing and proud.

“Lil’ kids aren’t an exception to my teasing, Captain,” Gaz snickers, reaching over to ruffle your hair while you squeal quietly and lean back into Price to hide away from your attacker’s hand. Price snorts and pulls you a little closer to him.

“All little ones, or just this one?” Price nods down at you. Gaz hums, thinking.

“Ah, just this one,” Gaz grins, making Price sigh. The latter brings his other arm around and turns so that he can pull you to him with both arms, while Gaz suddenly frowns.

“You’re hoarding them,” Gaz whines, while Price only raises an eyebrow at him. You feel oddly joyful at the thought of Gaz also wanting a share of your attention, or at least some of your physical affection.

“Shoulda gotten here faster than me, mate,” Price simply hums. He sounds so smug, voice full of smarm and expression knowing, because he’s more than aware of the fact that Gaz quite literally could not possibly get here faster than Price had.

“You made me get the supplies!” Gaz argues, though softer than he usually does, being more mindful of your newfound mindset, you assume.

“Ehh, you could’ve refused it.” Price says, blatantly lying as he does, watching in amusement as Gaz gapes at him.

“What?”

You like the attention, but what you like even more is the conversation Price and Gaz start up afterwards. They don’t take their attention off of you, no, not one bit, but they aren’t talking directly towards you, you’re just existing and it’s amazing.

Price begins asking Gaz about something, probably his reports, and Gaz responds positively, you presume. Price is talking calmly and slowly and Gaz is nodding along, his hand making its way to your own, his fingers interlocking with yours and squeezing your hand every now and then. Your pajamas feel awfully comfortable now. What did Price call them yesterday? Jammies? Usually, you’re an avid hater of English slang, but you can’t help but feel a little warmer just thinking about the word jammies.

You can feel your eyes going half-lidded, and you can hear someone chuckling. Probably Gaz. He likes laughing at you, but it’s never in a mean way. Maybe that’s why you feel so comfortable with the laughter. It reminds you of an older sibling, someone who’s basically programmed to tease and make fun of you, but still likes you. Or, at least, is expected to still like you. You enjoy the idea of a chosen older sibling more than a biological one, funnily enough, because the expectation of liking someone is so different from actually developing a liking to someone. With the expectation, there’s almost no choice; there’s still a chance of them not liking you, but it’s expected of them to like you, so they’re gonna try anyway, and it makes it feel less authentic, less real—but with choosing, they choose you to have that bond with them, they choose to treat you the way they do, not because it’s expected of them from birth, but because they see something in you that draws them to you.

Gaz is that person. That older brother that chose you to tease, to play fight with, to argue with, to laugh with, to hold hands with—he chose you. And because of that, his laughter is acceptable, and his teasing is never taken to heart.

Your eyelids get a little heavier, and someone’s gently tilting your head so that it’s resting more comfortably against their chest. Probably Price. He likes physical touch, unsurprisingly, and shows it as much as you allow him to. He particularly likes to loosely wrap a hand around one of your wrists with his thumb resting over your veins, gently pressing inward to feel the beating of your heart. Why he does it, you don’t know. Maybe he likes the reassurance of your living. Maybe he likes how it grounds him, how it reminds him that you’re a tangible being with a beating heart and a working mind. how it might let him know that you’re real and here with him.

Or maybe it’s something deeper, maybe it goes back to that other lieutenant, maybe it goes back even further to when he was sixteen and had just joined the British military. Whatever it is, you accept it wholeheartedly, because when he does it, it reminds you as well that he’s alive and searching for proof of you being alive as well. Because you believe that living people will always search for other living beings, or at least you know that you always will, because the feeling of brittle bones and the sight of dead bodies haunts you in ways that you never thought possible.

Your eyelids droop down completely.

“I feel like I should say good night, but it’s barely no—” You think that’s Gaz.

“Shut it and let them sleep, for Christ’s sake.” That’s probably Price.

“I’m just saying—” Definitely Gaz.

“I’ll staple your mouth shut so y’stop sayin’ anything, how about that, y’muppet?” Definitely Price.

#cod #cod hcs #hcs #task force 141 #tf141 #kyle gaz garrick #captain john price #john price #price #gaz #platonic task force 141 #i love them guys #age regression YIPPEE #no beta we die like soap #sorry #python333 #i'm done with tags bro #too tired for this #too tired for tags

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tinytinyblogs · 5 months ago

Text

Are you defying me, darling?

The more you distance yourself, the closer they might become. Take it slow if you're unsure.

⚠️ yandere theme, unhealthy obsession, and a lot more⚠️

Hyung line, Maknae line

stray kids masterlist

Your insights and reactions make these posts come alive. Love reblogs, comments, and all the good vibes welcome ✨

Han

The words tore out of you, a torrent of pent-up frustration. You screamed at Han, demanding he just leave you alone. The air crackled with the raw emotion, and for a horrifying moment, he did freeze. His eyes, usually holding a gentle warmth, were wide and vacant, a reflection of the shattered world you hadn't meant to create. Here's the thing: Han craved control. He wasn't some villain, not in the traditional sense. He just wanted his perfect world, one where everything unfolded like a meticulously planned story with a happily-ever-after starring you both. But your outburst, that desperate plea for space, had ripped a hole in the tapestry of his delusion. This wasn't part of the script. The unease that had always simmered beneath the surface, a constant low hum whenever things deviated from his ideal, flared into a roaring inferno. He spent the night tossing and turning, the echo of your words carving a canyon in his sanity. He couldn't lose you. He wouldn't. But to keep you, he concluded, the "soft" Han wouldn't suffice. The next day, the man who stood before you was a chilling stranger. The gentle affection in his eyes was replaced by a steely glint.

He wasn't asking anymore. Demands, laced with a terrifying desperation, spilled from his lips. He became a constant, suffocating presence. He wouldn't let you out of his sight, wouldn't tolerate an argument, wouldn't even acknowledge the dawning fear in your eyes. This wasn't the love you craved, it was a twisted obsession, a warped interpretation of your outburst as a sign of weakness, a need for him to become the 'monster' he believed he needed to be to keep you by his side. His voice dropped to a sinister whisper as he stared into your eyes, a predator sizing up its prey. "Look at me, darling," he commanded, the term dripping with mockery. He paused, letting the silence tighten its grip around you. "This whole charade? It's under my control. You have no say in it." His hand reached up, a single finger gently tracing your jawline, sending a jolt of fear through you. "Don't even think about defying me again. Leaving isn't an option. Ever. Get that through that pretty little head of yours. Now." His voice hardened with a barely contained rage. "Because next time, darling, the scream will stay trapped inside."

Felix

He sighed, a sound that seemed to scrape against your nerves. "Look," he started, his voice deceptively calm, "I might have let the first thing slide. Maybe even the second. But this? This is pushing it, love." A thin smile played on his lips, but it never reached his eyes. They remained cold, devoid of the warmth you were used to. Disappointment gnawed at you. You'd always thought him different, the one person you could rely on to be gentle, understanding. Now, faced with his steely gaze and the way he kept inching closer, you realized how wrong you'd been. "Being the good guy all the time," he continued, his voice low and dangerous, "it gets old, doesn't it?" He stopped just a hair's breadth away, towering over you. Your back hit the wall with a thud, the trapped feeling mirroring the growing panic in your chest. "Especially," he leaned in further, his breath hot against your ear, "when the person you're being good for doesn't seem to appreciate it." A single finger grazed your cheek, sending shivers down your spine. "You made a mistake, love," he murmured, his voice a silken threat. "Let's hope you learn from it."

Looking into his eyes, you saw a storm brewing within. A storm you never knew existed, a monster you never wanted to see unleashed. Tears welled in your eyes, blurring the terrifying image before you. You'd never seen him like this – his voice, usually warm and melodic, was a low growl, his hands, normally gentle, were clenched into fists. This wasn't the Felix you knew. This was a stranger, fueled by a rage so potent, it choked the air from the room. The weight of your mistake settled on your shoulders like a physical burden. You hadn't meant to push him, to awaken this monstrous side. But the damage was done. His anger, a white-hot inferno, was directed solely at you. His words, usually laced with playful teasing, became barbed weapons. He lashed out, not physically, but his every utterance felt like a blow, tearing down the foundation of your trust. He paced the room, a caged animal seeking an escape that wasn't there. Each movement seemed to shake the room, each breath a gust of wind that threatened to extinguish the fragile flame of hope flickering within you. The lingering ache of bruises, the sting of dried tears - these were the haunting echoes of a moment you swore to never relieve.

Seungmin

The air crackled with a sudden tension you hadn't anticipated. A single, sharp laugh escaped Seungmin's lips, devoid of any humor. "No," he spat, his voice laced with ice. "Don't even think about it." The playful glint in his eyes had vanished, replaced by a cold fury that sent shivers down your spine. How dare you? You, his darling, to utter such a word – 'leave'? The audacity of it burned in his gaze. Respect was paramount to Seungmin, and your flippant demand was a blatant insult. "Jerk?" he echoed, the word dripping with dangerous venom. "That's a cute term for someone who forgets their place." He took a menacing step closer, his towering frame casting a dark shadow over you. "Don't mistake my kindness for weakness, darling." His voice dipped to a low growl, sending a primal jolt of fear through you. "There are things I can do," he continued, his words slow and deliberate, "things you wouldn't even dare to imagine. And you, my love," he leaned in, his breath hot against your ear, "will learn exactly what happens when you disrespect me." A cruel smile played on his lips, a terrifying reminder of the power he held over you. This wasn't the Seungmin you knew, the charming and attentive boyfriend.

This was a predator, baring his fangs, and you were caught firmly in his sights. The playful facade had shattered, revealing a darkness you could only begin to comprehend. Suddenly, he tilted his head, a gesture that sent a fresh wave of panic through you. "Perhaps," he began, his voice low and silken, "a little reminder is in order." He took another step closer, the space between you shrinking with each calculated move. Your back hit the wall with a thud, the trapped feeling mirroring the growing terror in your chest. He reached out, a single finger tracing the delicate skin of your wrist. "Let's see," he murmured, his voice sending shivers down your spine, "how long it takes you to change your tune once you understand the consequences." A sharp sting echoed through the room as his fingernail dug into your flesh, drawing a gasp and a tear. It wasn't the pain, though it was agonizing, that made you flinch. It was the cold emptiness in his eyes, devoid of the love or concern you were used to. This single, calculated act shattered your resistance. Tears streamed down your face, hot and uncontrolled. "Seungmin, please," you choked out, your voice thick with fear and regret. "I didn't mean it, I..." His finger remained in place, a cruel smile playing on his lips. "Didn't mean what, darling?" he taunted, tilting his head to listen. "Speak clearly. I wouldn't want any misunderstandings."

Jeongin

Jeongin wasn't known for his temper, but the way his smile stretched a little too wide, a little too manic, sent a jolt of terror through you. You'd never seen him like this – his eyes, usually sparkling with mischief, now held a glint of chilling obsession. "Obsessed?" he echoed your words, his voice a sickeningly sweet drawl. "Perhaps that's a bit dramatic, wouldn't you say?" He took a menacing step closer, the air around him crackling with a dark energy you'd never felt before. "But let's get one thing straight," he continued, his voice dropping to a low growl. "That little outburst of yours? It wasn't cute. Not. One. Bit." He circled you like a predator stalking its prey, his smile morphing into a grotesque parody of amusement. "You see, darling," he leaned in, his breath hot against your ear, "I find your defiance… intriguing. A challenge, even." A dangerous glint flickered in his eyes. "You think you can scream at me, tell me what to do? Think again." He straightened, his smile widening as he threw his head back and let out a chilling laugh. The sound echoed through the room, devoid of any warmth or joy, sending shivers down your spine. "This," he gestured around wildly, "isn't ending, sweetheart. This is just the beginning."

Jeongin straightened fully, the manic glint in his eyes replaced by a chilling calmness. His hand dipped into his pocket, emerging with a glint of silver – a small pocket knife, its blade catching the light with a predatory gleam. The playful facade had vanished completely. In its place stood a stranger, a predator with a dangerous glint in his eye. The air grew thick with a suffocating silence, broken only by the shallow rasp of your breath. "Since you seem to have forgotten your place," he said, his voice devoid of emotion, a chilling monotone that sent shivers down your spine, "perhaps a little reminder is in order." He took another deliberate step closer, the knife held loosely in his hand, the tip pointed demonstratively at the floor. You backed away instinctively, the wall stopping your retreat. Jeongin didn't seem fazed. He circled you slowly, the knife a constant, menacing presence. His gaze flickered from your face down to your trembling hands, a cruel smile playing on his lips. "You will learn," he continued, his voice low and menacing, "exactly what happens when you defy me." The playful pet names and teasing had been replaced by a cold, calculated cruelty. This wasn't the Jeongin you knew, the playful boy who made you laugh. This was a monster you'd unwittingly unleashed with your harsh words.

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whateverisbeautiful · 4 months ago

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♥️Reveling in Richonne - TOWL

#25: The Irresistible (1.03)

gif cred: @figmentof

Now this moment features another top-ranked Richonne kiss and the word of the day when talking about this Richonne scene behind a tree is 'CHEMISTRY' ❤️‍🔥...

We get to see Michonne inside a helicopter for the first time which is cool as she flies with Rick, Pearl, and others to the Cascadia base. Pearl, who just seems fully bought into the CRM ways, is trying to make Michonne feel like she should be so honored to be a part of this since she’s only a consignee.

Rick is sitting quietly in the helicopter and I’m sure he feels like he’s just been having some terrible, horrible, no good, very bad days every day that Michonne has been mad at him. Even tho first and foremost she’s mad at the situation they’re both in. But him a little too lol.

gif cred: @nerd4music

Michonne again being an A with perceptive questions says, “There’s nothing out here. What’s it protecting?” And Pearl answers, “The security of the Civic Republic, expanded resources, intel operations along the West Coast, the future.”

Then when they arrive at their destination, Michonne is slaying in the CRM soldier uniform. 🔥 Like she serves in every outfit. 👏🏽

Pearl passionately goes over the mission with Rick by her side and again I love Michonne’s stance in this - she looks like she’s the one they should be taking orders from. 😋

Rick looks over at Pearl and Michonne looks directly at Rick. I love how she’s not even trying to be super subtle staring at him like 🤨.

gif cred: @perryabbott

Michonne was giving full wife stare-downs and clearly had lots of thoughts going through her head as she expressively blinked and looked away.

As she says later, she saw Rick here standing at attention as a soldier to this army and she knows this isn’t him and that he’s imprisoned here.

I also notice Rick doesn’t really look at Michonne in this scene and it’s probably a smart move. Because if he had looked at her those fellow soldiers would be like - now why is Grimes looking at Consignee Bethune like he wants to consume her more than the delts do?? 🤔

gif cred: @andy-clutterbuck

Pearl is trying her best to seem like an alpha leader but she's dtm and not really selling it. She talks about the importance of what they’re about to do and the stakes saying that if they’re unsuccessful the plan gets set back and then she yells, “Do we allow the plan to get set back!?”

Rick and the soldiers respond, “No ma’am” and Michonne has me cracking up at her response to Rick saying “no ma’am.” 😂 She’s looking directly at Rick like now I know you lying lol.

gif cred: @perryabbott

But honestly, while I know there was some interpreting this as her getting the ick from Rick, I think this look has a lot more to do with her disdain toward the CRM. I feel like she’s thinking something along the lines of 'CRM, you did a real number on my baby and I promise you I’m going to undo it.'

And again similar to Rick in previous scenes, Michonne is not subtle with these stares at him lol. But I love it. She’s looking at him like 'Mr. RJ’s Dad if we don’t get up out of here by tomorrow it’s gonna be an issue because I’ve had it with this place and I’m ready for us to go home yesterday.' #DirectQuoteFromHerMind. 😌

And I’d be remiss if I didn’t note that Rick looks fine yet again in this scene lol. ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

gif cred: @andy-clutterbuck

Rick asks, “Who has the ball, ma’am?” and Pearl says with overconfidence, “I do.” And again Michonne’s whole stance and look is serving, honey. Goddess through and through. 👑

Pearl goes on to address Michonne, and Thorne's energy is just giving forced. She wants Michonne to be intimidated so bad but it ain’t happening. And Michonne is ready to match Pearl’s energy right down to their facial expressions.

Pearl tells Michonne to stay in formation and handle cleanup and no-kills off the line. Michonne just nods and Pearl tells Michonne not to panic if she gets lost because she can just hit the PRB and a helicopter will come get her. And even before seeing the upcoming scene, I was like why do I have a feeling Michonne will be the only one not panicking on this excursion lol. 🙂

gif cred: @perryabbott

So then they cut to them in the middle of the walker takedown and Michonne is about to walk forward and help (and it low-key feels like she starts walking forward cuz Rick is ahead and those magnets are always going to be pulling her in his direction. 🧲). But Pearl tells Michonne to stay back for no-kills.

gif cred: @perryabbott

I was like Pearl, this is basically like you’re keeping an all-star on the bench by keeping Michonne back. Like Michonne and Rick could probably handle all of this just the two of them. But Pearl is adamant and about as stubborn as that R-DIM that won’t budge.

Speaking of - Pearl is struggling to get this R-DIM moving, y’all. I honestly could not take much more secondhand embarrassment for the lady. 🫣 Rick tries to offer a solution but Pearl turns it down and says they should’ve given the last spot to a soldier instead of Michonne. Wrong again, Pearl.

So Michonne watches, looking all determined, and she knows she can handle this so like a true Get Things Done Grimes she gets it done. 👌🏽

gif cred: @taiturner

Michonne starts pushing the R-DIM forward and Pearl tells her to stand down almost strictly because I’m sure she’s going to be embarrassed if Michonne pulls this off. But Michonne is already off to the races as she pushes the R-DIM.

And Michonne seems to feel like she’s back in her element doing this. See, It's not the R-DIM, It's not the Pearl, It's just that Chonne's that girl. 🎶💁🏽‍♀️

Then when it gets a bit harder to push she looks over and sees Rick by her side coming to help and y’all they’re just the best. 🥹

I love that Rick sees her doing this and joins and says, “Let’s go,” helping her rather than reprimanding her. He knows she’s breaking protocol but when it comes to following Pearl’s orders or following Michonne’s lead, well, his wife is his choice every time.

And seeing Richonne back in action taking down walkers was a lovely sight. It was giving TWD 7.09 when they were in cars mowing down that horde of walkers in sync.

All these years later and they are still that well-oiled machine even during a rough spot in the relationship. And if Michonne felt like she was in her element before, they both really feel in their element taking this on together. It’s the way it should be. 😌

So they get the R-DIM to where it needs to be and Rick turns it on. he tells Michonne, “Come on” as Rick reaches for her hand so they can run for safety. I love that he wants to hold her hand as he leads them somewhere safe and that she does take his hand. 🥰

I feel like amid their fight, they both were longing for some indicator that they’re still in this together and this handhold felt like that. Of course, Richonne + hands are always a great moment. 😌

And then next, TOWL gives us my favorite moment in episode 3.

The R-DIM alarm rings and then Rick and Michonne make it to what many have rightfully deemed the boneless tree. 😋 And I love the little detail of Rick making sure Michonne was able to take cover behind the tree before him. And that they hold hands the whole way. Just the cutest. 🥰

gif cred: @nat111love

The R-DIM sets off an explosion and Michonne and Rick immediately take cover in each other's arms and again I’m beyond here for it. I love that they both just instinctually grab each other. No matter how upset they are, they’ll always love and protect each other.

gif cred: @nat111love

So they have this moment all up close and personal and because it is a scientific fact that these two are magnets & that adrenaline rushes are always particularly arousing for them, there was no way Rick and Michonne were going to be that much in each other's personal space and not do what they do next.

Like you think those magnets within them care that there are CRM soldiers nearby? No.🤭🧲

gif cred: @nat111love

So still holding onto each other, they have this moment of looking intimately into each other's eyes, once again communicating without words, and y’all the best way to describe the way they look at each other is ‘longing’ - like that deep longing for each other in every way was written loud and clear on both their faces.

gif cred: @nat111love

Rick looks at her, then right at her lips, then back in her eyes and within a second he leans in and they’re right back to making out. I’m too here for it and I love this kiss. ❤️‍🔥 This was definitely their hungriest kiss thus far.

gif cred: @nat111love

I love how Rick sorta lifts up from the ground like he’s floating on air when he first kisses her. He really does kiss her like he’s still living in a dream.

I love how passionate they always are when they kiss. Even with Rick feeling like he needs to send her away, he cannot resist showing how he really feels as they kiss - and what he really feels is that he wants to be with her entirely and in every way.

I feel like they both needed this moment of reconnection so much after being at odds. This kiss communicated clearly that before they’re mad, they’re madly in love.

gif cred: @nat111love

And then the second half of this kiss is when I was looking at Richonne like...oh y’all would go all the way right now if you could. 👀

Like I think one of the only things that stopped them from having this escalate was just the fact that those CRM uniforms are so layered lol. Because it wasn’t the fact that CRM soldiers were within walking distance. Richonne didn’t give a damn about that. I’m telling you it was just the layers of clothing and gear holding them back. 😂

gif cred: @nat111love

But being for real, these two really are wild because they weren’t even trying to align with the bark of that boneless tree to at least shield themselves a little better during this kiss. But hey, when they’re in their Richonne bubble like this, everything else goes out the window, so it makes sense.

But yeah the second half of that steamy kiss had them hot and bothered the way they were both moaning in sync and grabbing each other as close as they could. When Michonne pulled his hair Rick looked like he was about ready to get on top of her right then and there.

(Side note: What’s cute too is I noticed in their season 6 canon kiss that the first time Michonne ever puts her hands in Rick’s curls she’s almost hesitant to do it at first and then she just goes for it. And now it’s her favorite thing. 😊)

It’s been years and years since either of them has been physically intimate and this kiss right here lets you know they’re both very eager for opening that door up with each other again. Like it needs to happen expeditiously at this point cuz they’re ready.

gif cred: @fishalthor

I love that something that’s always been true is Rick and Michonne are irresistible to each other. And truly no one does ravenous passion like Richonne. ❤️‍🔥

So I just adore this kiss for being a passionate moment of the two making their desire and love for each other so evident after not really talking much this ep. I almost forgot that in this episode Michonne hadn’t actually uttered a word to Rick until this scene. And her first words to him are perfectly delivered. 🤩

As they manage to pull away from the kiss, still completely unconcerned about being caught, they have this great passionate moment where they just stare right into each other's eyes and it truly feels like Rick is being hypnotized by Michonne as she smiles at him. #Enchanted😍

gif cred: @nat111love

I love the way Michonne smiles right after the kiss and I really love that Rick is always so helplessly mesmerized by her. He knows he’s going to have to push her away soon but at this moment he can’t even peel his eyes away. Because I really think in moments when he gets lost in her that's when he finds himself. 👌🏽

And (jumping a bit ahead) that’s why it’s crazy he'll even attempt to claim that everything they had is broken because anytime they get close enough, it sure does look like everything they have is perfectly intact.

Like these two stayed operating like a madly in love married couple even during the near eight years apart from each other. Even during that time, they were still more loyally married than some married couples who see each other every day.

And Michonne knows from that kiss that her Rick is still in there. The man who kissed her is the Rick who wants with everything in him to break out of this place and go home with her.

gif cred: @figmentof

So she smiles and all encouragingly and seductively whispers, “Come on.” So good and perfectly delivered. 👏🏽😊 And yet again we see the utterly enchanting effect Michonne has on Rick as he looks at her.

gif cred: @nat111love

Rick seems dizzy and breathless from this whole exchange as he faintly says, “They’ll find us. They will.” It’s clear he’s still so overcome with fear and a lot of that is because he knows how hopeful he used to be about breaking free from this place but every time he tried to escape they found him.

Like this isn’t the guy from the TWD series finale who got caught by the CRM and smiled. This is the guy whose been so beaten down by this place that he believes there’s nowhere he can run anymore. 😥

gif cred: @nat111love

Michonne is still hopeful tho as she reassures him, “We’ll make it so they can’t.” It's super sweet to see them holding each other close and swaying in sync while they talk. And I love that Michonne believes in them so much that she’s like even if we don’t have all the answers yet, you and I are capable of figuring it out along the way home.

Plus, if Michonne thinks they can escape and not get caught then that's good enough reason to believe they can because she’s always right. It's just gospel. 💁🏽‍♀️ The way I see it, the only way the CRM would find them is if they keep having these loud moanversations near the public lol, otherwise the two of them can pull off any escape plan they make together. 😋

gif cred: @nat111love

But Rick is not willing to risk it and try to break away right now so he hesitantly says, “Not like this.” I know one of his least favorite things is having to turn down Michonne’s request and as he looks at her you can see it in his whole demeanor that he hates having to essentially tell her no.

Even the way he says it, it’s him trying to say no without having to outright say it, suggesting maybe there’s another way to escape just 'not like this,' even tho deep down he believes there's no way out for him.

gif cred: @nat111love

Michonne is super saddened by this. She knows this fear-based response isn’t like her Rick.

And then I love that they do their signature forehead touch, even tho it’s a sad one. 🥲 This moment further emphasized that even when feeling defeated and disappointed, they still want to be connected.

And y’all, to me Rick and Michonne doing this forehead touch out in the open was actually more wild than the kiss lol.🤭

Because if they were caught kissing they'd still have some major explaining to do but they could maybe play it off like they just really have the hots for each other after meeting in those woods. But this forehead touch says no these two have history and have a deeply committed relationship rooted in serious love.

gif cred: @nat111love

So if Richonne had been caught like this their jig would have been up cuz they would have had those CRM soldiers looking over like...

I always feel so sad when I see Michonne looking in Rick’s eyes during this moment and searching for her Rick who seems to fade in and out ever since she’s reunited with him. Like the back and forth between Sergeant Major Grimes and the fleeting moments with her Rick has got to be hard on her.

But I love the way she lightly nudges his nose cuz again it’s just giving magnets and idk that intimate movement just always feels like such a soulmates thing to me. 🥹 Like she's trying to reach the Rick that's buried inside cuz she knows he's in there somewhere.

gif cred: @nat111love

Rick looks at Michonne and from his expression, it's clear that while it deeply saddens him, he will put himself through the pain of parting from her if it means getting her back home safely to their daughter.

I think too in this moment as they lean their heads together Michonne is realizing just how much she’s going to have to fight to get them both home on her own since Rick isn’t ready to take the risk and break out yet.

Similar to what Rick had been doing up to this point, Michonne is now gonna have to take matters into her own hands for the sake of her family...and oh, she’ll do exactly that in these final moments of episode 3. 😅

gif cred: @nat111love

But as far as this enthralling scene 'behind' the tree, this was another one of those scenes where they were knocking the epic love story they promised out of the park. 🙌🏽 Their chemistry is truly elite. 😍 And I adore this kiss and this romantic moment that was just brimming with emotion and irresistible passion between Richonne.

Throughout this episode, Michonne had been trying to keep her crazy at bay but now as the episode concludes and Rick proceeds to pull a crazy card of his own, she's gonna have to unleash that unhinged side of herself. And the final moments of episode 3 remind us exactly why they say Richonne has some 'crazy love.' 😝👌🏽

#richonne #towl #reveling in richonne #1.03 #RIR (25)#the ones who live #twd towl #michonne grimes #rick grimes #rick x michonne #twol #michonne #rick and michonne #twd: the ones who live #twd #richonnefandom

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nevertheless-moving · 10 months ago

Text

STORMLIGHT ARCHIVE AU MASTERLIST

List will be updated with links if/when AUs develop For my Star Wars AU Masterlist: Please See Here As always, people are more than welcome to play with any of these ideas! just please link back to me so I can see! Seriously if you want to write stuff in any form with ideas from any of these aus I will love you forever! 1 to 20: Words of Radiance AUS 21 to 30: Non Words of Radiance AUs (note: these might also be WOR AUs) 31 to 40: Post Winds and Truth Wild Speculation (that may or may not also be a WOR AU)

1 to 20 Words of Radiance AUS

2. High oath Hesina willshaper aus. This is actually many many AUs because the "Mom??" Reveal is great in all contexts. Concept, WOK Era Outline, Brief Fanfic, Art , Early WOR Outline

3. Renarin asks Kaladin for help with radiant stuff during WOR. Secret training. Everyone thinks they're fucking. Chapter 1 and Outline/Meta

4. Elhokar drunk orders kaladin to bedchambers, begs for help keeping away nighmare creatures. Kaladin nearly kills him before scary spren realization, then goes into serious radiant mode when syl gets concerned. Everyone thinks they're fucking. [Note: I might be too easily entertained by this trope]. Kaladin is deeply pained by this but also has people saving thing and really doesnt want to reveal the radiance to the whole camp. Earlier third oath. Eventual fucking optional.

5. Crack. AUs 3, 4, and 9 at same time so people just think Kaladin is the Kholin Rhysadium. Bridge 4 offers government overthrow if he's being pressured. kaladin assures them that's not it. Now people keep trying to high five him. Kaladin with head in hands while Moash snarks over his shoulder "you know when i said fuck the lighteyed i didn't —" Kaladin definitely asexual in this one.

6. Hesina and lirin come to shattered planes, shocked/thrilled/emotional to find kaladin. Bridge 4 desperately trying to get approval of [bugs bunny meme our] parents. Lirin reluctantly adopting renarin who wants to learn about healing now for some reason. Blackthorn surgeon mutual loathing/ jealousy son swap hilarity. Lirin is having a time.

7. Kaladin wasn’t on guard duty the night of szeth arrival. Still warned by syl about assassin, but has to dead sprint while glowing to get across camp fast enough, soft reveal to anyone outside. Only barely figures out wall running on the way over to crash in window just in time. Szeth freaks out and runs away after very short, mildly anticlimactic interaction. And now Kaladin has to deal with Everyone.

8. Kaladin further along in powers during initial szeth fight. Battle of champions degrading to slap fight when they run out of stormlight and get stuck on the plains. Concept/ Ask, Funny Severed Leg

9. Manufactured rumors about adolin/kaladin. Everyone thinks they're fucking. Effective political mudslinging for most of WOR. Shallan plays up things about her relationship with Jasnah to be a more appealing beard.

10. Kaladin has a meltdown in prison, breaks out of his cell. Just a little bit more stormlight...Shouts of alarm. Aaah glowing Assassin in white! Kaladin panics more. Adolin handles the situation like a champ. Kaladin maybe briefly kidnaps him.

11. Nale goes after kaladin instead of lift. Ohhh so many thoughts for parallels.

12. Syl immediately dive bombs pattern when kaladin and shallan meet. Really early radiant reveal but just to each other. Kaladin does not trust her but doesn't want to reveal his own status so just watches her super intensely...since she's also constantly watching him too, yes, this gets misinterpreted, but she actually picks up on and avoids that interpretation. See au 3 through 5 but more discreet. Veil is the one dragging him from the barracks for late night 'training sessions' [these are actually training sessions but veil flirts outrageously with kaladin when anyone's in earshot] so people are more focused on Veil/Kaladin.

13. Adolin, suspicious after the Assassin in White fight, was secretly following kaladin at night. Sees him step off a ledge into a chasm (I just reread the section and was like?! You glanced over your shoulder once?!). Adolin spends the whole night stewing in regret, anger, grief, guilt (I was there. I could have yelled. Should have done something. I didn't realize...I didn't know. I didn't know anything). Next morning Kaladin is on guard duty and adolin flips his shit, suddenly remembering that the whole reason he was suspicious of this guy was because he inexplicably survived a several hundred foot drop.

14. Kaladin barely manages to hold it together just long enough to out himself as radiant right after prison. Part One, Part two

15. Kaladin does NOT hold it together after getting arrested.

16. Kaladin swears third oath early. Next few weeks involve a lot of hiding glowing bridgeman squire antics and gaslighting people about kaladin's intermittently light eyes.

17. In the initial confrontation with Szeth, Kaladin pushes a bit harder about the radiants being back, Szeth spirals a bit more, crashing realization that he isn't truthless...

17a. Earlier radiant reveal: szeth surrenders the honor blade and then immediately collapses into the ground. Kaladin drags him and the blade upstairs. Has to reveal himself now because 1) kaladin what the fuck how and 2) the assassin is mumbling about radiants. 17b. Szeth commits suicide by cop Radiant. Kaladin takes honorblade, collapses. When he wakes up hes injured, surrounded by lighteyes and a handful of his men. Intense panic attack about dooming them all by winning a shardblade, maybe a full ptsd flashback because Very Specific Shardblade Winning Trauma. Crazy two nickles moment. Downside: cries a lot in front of people he'd rather not have cried in front of. Upside: Dalinar believes him about Amaram now. Public windrunner powers, but obscured Radiant reveal because glowing assassin sword is very clearly granting magic powers. Weird interactions of honorblade bond and nahel bond. Lot of interesting fallout from Dalinar having his very own Mystical Assassin now.

18. Kaladin sends Syl to spy on the 'horneater princess', one sided radiant discovery. When she sends pattern to spy on bridgeboy, he somehow notices. Shallan does not handle it well.

19. Something something people put together all the impossible stuff Kaladin's done with all the impossible stuff the Blackthorn did as a youth, combined with one of bridge four drunkenly talking about their best theories for the Captains 'mysterious backstory,' combined with Dalinar literally calling Kaladin son and seemingly overnight the warcamps are convinced that Kaladin is Dalinar's bastard child.

20. (COLLABORATIVE with @gnecrognomicon) Instead of being thrown in prison, Elhokar orders Kaladin be strung up for the Stormfather's judgement. Part One, Part Two

21 to 30 Non Words of Radiance AUs

22. Way of kings au where the beggars of alethkar are rounded up for the war effort. Jezrian, of course, ends up on bridge four.

23. Kaladin time travel au to way of kings only the transition is a bit like a spren going from the cognitive to material realm, so he's not all there. Heartwarming bridge four bonding slightly to the left - sure the mans crazy but he looks so disappointed when we don't help with the injured, and he shares his food like an idiot. How does someone seven foot tall and stronger than a chull make axehound pup eyes. We're not following him though. He's not our lead - holy heralds balls is he glowing?? Bit more of a symbol than a friend, but a symbol that you take turns holding at night because he has really bad nightmares and also hes clingy. Eventual 'oh shit he's a messed up herald' conclusion.

24. COLLABORATIVE / stone soup with @sweetteaanddragons : adolin and kaladin time travel to way of kings. Kaldin brooding about how to escape AND save all his men AND the world until adolin barges in and buys everyone.

'Thank the almighty,' Kaladin thought with almost painful relief, watching Adolin argue haughtily with a growing swarm of Thadeus's lighteyes. 'I never thought I'd actually appreciate having a rich friend.' He would, of course, rather die than admit this. "I had it handled," he growled, when the two finally managed to speak inconspicuously, each weaving amongst a thousand confused former bridgeman, speaking quietly with several, until they were able to meet in the middle with reasonable subtlety, all things considered. "That's great, Kal," Adolin said cheerfully, clearly not buying a word. "Say, how would you feel about doing some, you know..." He waved a hand, earning a raised eyebrow from Kaladin. "Glowy stuff for my Father," his voice dropped from a subtle hush to a slightly conspicuous whisper. "So he doesn't disinherit me. I did not have permission for this." Both pairs of eyes flicked to the side, the Blackthorn's towering figure approaching like a Stormwall. "Uh. Sooner rather than later perhaps."

26. Oathbringer/row au. Adolin doesn’t kill sadeus. Mostly just excuse to dunk on Sadeus for trading one (1) shardblade for mythical warrior who can make his own shardblade. oh look more of your former slaves are glowing now. and THEY make shardblades too!

27A. Elhokar and Kaladin time travel from Elhokar's death in oathbringer to way of kings. Part one, Part Two

27B. Elhokar solo time travels back from Oathbringer death to Way of Kings

28. Moash tells kaladin about beef with elokhar early. This derails the entire plot of the series.

31 to 40 Post Winds and Truth Wild Speculation

31. Szeth kaladin crack pity fuck time travel au words of radiance. Bridge four roasts the shit out of kaladin. Kaladin is doing everything in his power to avoid implying "knowledge of future" which makes the timeline of their relationship deeply confusing. (Part One) (Part Two)

32. Szeth kaladin time travel au post book 5, they get their memories back in the high storm right before canon first meeting. Szeth halfheartedly attempting a confused assassination. Kaladin suddenly has shardplate and no scars. It's a whole thing.

33. Kaladin time travel back to wor, book 5 gone wrong. Deeply terrifying from outsider pov. Captain of the Kholin guard, bridgefour leader, is suddenly Full fourth oath windrunner talking about how humans are the voidbringers, they actually need to support the parshendi in bringing one last controlled desolation, and then kill the heralds and also god. Don't worry not our god. Different god. Our god is already dead. If someone else travels back with him then it swings around to a lil bit funny.

34. Post winds and truth, pre sunlit man, crossover with the twilight of mistborn era 2 (i think the cosmere timeline could make sense but if not, oh well). Kaladin gets a boon from his god(s). Requests to learn more about mental health. Has to go to another planet to do so, because mental health research on Roshar sucks. Scadrial's god seems (relatively) friendly and their planet has developed antidepressants AND wellness seminars. Shenanigans with Very Old Wax and the gang.

35. Jasnah, Dalinar, and Renarin (surviving Kholin Radiants) travel from End of World to right after Gavilar's death. Crack. Outline

All of the above (plus other fandoms if you keep scrolling back) will be tagged with 'my au' The above, plus my canon stormlight and other cosmere meta, technically canon compliant fanfic drabbles, or other things that i've written but don't fit in an au will be tagged 'nevertheless cosmere'

#Stormlight archive #My au #Kaladin stormblessed #Stormlight fanfic #words of radiance #Nevertheless writing #stormlight au #way of kings #oathbringer #rhythm of war #cosmere #nevertheless cosmere

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angelsdean · 21 days ago

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wait what did jared and jensen say at dencon 2021? i wasn’t on tumblr then and even now i can’t always keep up with everything 🫠

There was a Destiel question which i believe was directed at JUST Jensen abt how meaningful the confession was to the fan and seeing that representation. I forget the specifics of the actual question, but then Jared just started responding before Jensen could say anything. And it was just pure word vomiting abt how spn was abt more than sexuality and I believe he compared Cas saying i love you to Jared telling his children he loves them ??? and you could tell the whole time Jensen was like. going into a panic of "oh shit i need to stop this man from speaking" like you could literally see it on his face. And then Jensen finally got to cut in and he was stumbling over his words and saying how cas's love for dean went BEYOND the romantic (which imo encompasses the romantic AND MORE) and saying that since Cas is a cosmic being his love basically isn't confined by what humans can comprehend and can't be easily defined in human terms, that it "superseded" human concepts of sexual and romantic love (which again to me reads at it is even MORE than just those things).

And then some fans took this to mean that he was trying to "ungay" it or minimize Cas's love for Dean by saying it's cosmic and beyond human comprehension. Like to me what he was saying is that Cas's love is SO great that there just aren't words in human language to properly define that love!!! Yet somehow because it came after Jared's word vomit, Jensen's response got lumped in with that.

Also Jensen used the term "open to interpretation" during that response when he's framing what HIS interpretation is, and this fandom honestly has a horrible knee-jerk reaction to that phrase and automatically thinks it's negative or invalidating when literally it's a GOOD THING for media to be open to interpretation. As someone who literally got their degree in literature one of the first things you learn is that....all media is open to interpretation. And it just comes down to how well you can argue / support your interpretation with canon. And the thing about media being open to interpretation is....it means YOUR interpretation is valid too. Jensen saying this was not him saying "Castiel's for dean love is debatable" it was more "Castiel's love can mean whatever you want it to." That absolutely validates destiel. And it's a very positive statement imo, especially followed by him saying he thinks Cas's love supersedes all known language we have to describe love. Like hello???

Also the sheer hypocrisy of people acting like this was a "hashtag offensive destiel invalidating moment" to say this when I cannot count the amount of times I've seen fellow destiel shippers describe Cas's love for Dean and vice versa as akin to WORSHIP and describe their profound bond and their cosmic narrative defying love as this great powerful force. Of course that kind of love is going to go beyond human language!!! That's so fucking romantic wtf. And the fact that he said all this in front of a predominantly JayTwo / w*ncest audience ??? HUGE. And I'll always be a little salty abt people throwing Jensen under the bus after that con and making a whole big stink about his response. EYE think it was fine, given the circumstances. Great, even. Which is unfortch an unpop opinion in some destiel circles lol.

Anyways this got so long but here's a link to a gifset of his response. I can't find Jared's word vom bc i think we all just chose to delete it from our minds lol.

#replies #dencon 21

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betmagic · 1 year ago

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Random Headcanons

This time about Ace and his narcolepsy.

I’m no expert and while there’s probably a proper name for his sleep attacks , I’ve always called them drops in my head .

I’ve noticed that his narcolepsy never acts up during fights or dangerous/ serious situations.

In albasta he drops before smoker shows up. As for buggy … well comparative wise buggy isn’t much of threat to ace power wise.

So My headcanon is that Ace’s narcolepsy only acts up when he’s safe and is a very accurate indicator for when things are safe.

Why? Ace grew up exploring what’s probably one the most dangerous Forrest’s in the east blue( like the gaint animals are what you normally see in the grandline) and fighting adults in place like grey terminal. So maybe his bodies survival instincts developed as an unconscious self-defense mechanism that wards off his narcolepsy until it’s deemed safe. Even when he’s eating he stays awake and alert.—- because eating can induces a narcoleptic attack/ drop ,( yes I did do some research and it’s when he’s eating that we see Ace actually drops in the anime)

As to How the body knows when it’s safe or not , probably an unconscious use of observation haki. Again ace is basically a feral jungle child I wouldn’t be surprised if he unlocked a little bit of haki while in survival mode. If unlocked conquers haki at ten it might not be far of stretch he unconsciously unlocked and used observation haki.

It doesn’t take long for he’s brothers , specifically Sabo, to notice. He starts using it to gauge situations or whether they’re in the clear or not. Like after hunting a tiger or stealing from a bunch of thugs.

Sabo calls it the drop gauge.

The drop gauge is effective enough that his brothers (and later his crew) trust it implicitly.

Seriously they could be captured or and held at gun point by someone like a yanko ,warlord, or admiral but if Ace drops they instantly relax.

because if it’s safe enough that Ace dropped it probably means that whatever the situation is isn’t dangerous so there’s not a lot a lot to worry about.(and usually means that they can get out of the situation easily).

( whether or not ace aware that he’s used as a gauge is up to interpretation)

:::::::::::::::::::::

Bonus Scene: The spades also use the drop gauge especially for after a big fight or a rough storm, everyone keeps their guard up until Ace drops , meaning they’re in the clear , then they can relax.

Spade pirates just finished raiding a marine base or rival pirate crew.

Despite being over an hour since they’ve seen any enemies and probably a safe distance away The whole crew are on alert. Weapons ready and everyone is in position to defend or to get the ship ready to make a quick getaway.

Deuce who’s going over a map with A newer member of the crew.

Deuce: We can head towards this island here if they catch up us.

New crew members: um deuce do we really need to make another escape route? think we can relax now.

Deuce glancing at their captain ,who was talking with skull: no not yet.

Newer crew member: But it’s been an hour already and we haven’t seen anything. I think we’re pretty safe now.

Deuce, knowing that the other more senior members were keeping subtle eye on their captain turns back to the map in his hands:Not until the captain shows us it’s safe. Until then stay vigilant and be ready for anything.

And few minutes later is when the captain ‘shows’ it’s safe.

Ace drops mid conversation, skull catching him before he face plants on the deck.

None of the crew panic when their captain suddenly slumps over ,They’re all to used to the logia suddenly dropping out of nowhere, that they’d normally continue with what they were doing like nothing happened. Unless it it was after a battle.

Anytime Ace drops after a fight he’s always properly checked over.(there have been false drops before like when ace lost to much blood or that one time he got poisoned).

Deuce a little concerned ( because his captains an idiot who doesn’t tell him when he’s injured until he passes out from his wounds) :Well?

Skull looks up after evaluating the logia , who’s already starting to snore, giving the first mate a thumps up.

Deuce smiles and turns back to the rest of the crew. They were all waiting, had been the moment bone and ace stopped talking. they all look in direction waiting for the verdict.

Deuce:Alright captain dropped we’re all clear!

There’s a cheer as the crew finally relaxes.some even start making they’re way to retrieve the booze they managed to steal along with lots treasure.

Ace wakes up: Why is everyone Cheering?

If i got something wrong about narcolepsy and how it works please let me know.

#BETMAGIC #one piece #portgas d ace #headcanon #asl brothers #spade pirates #Sabo #monkey d. luffy #drop gauge #narcolepsy

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battlemaiden13 · 5 months ago

Note

Hello lovely! I just thought I'd ask how the yandere boys would react to an S/O would willing stays in the house with everyone. As in the boys come home to find the front door wide open or something and that S/O is just chilling and is like "Why would I leave? I like it here." (My little broke ass being like "How else am I supposed to live in this economy if I am not the pet of some weirdos. lol)

Sans -He thinks this reaction is so interesting. He was probably the one who left the door open. He knew you couldn’t get far if you did decide to leave and he wanted to see what you would do. This was the last thing he expected but, hey, since he now knows you're not a flight risk you’ll probably be granted a whole lot more freedom.

Papyrus -Honestly he’s thrilled. It was an accident that the door was left open but the fact that you didn’t even try to leave has him grinning. He feels like a celebration is in order although that still feels off to you. Why celebrate you not wanting to leave? You may have just accidentally cemented yourself into the family.

Red -The panic that ran through him when he got home to see the door unlocked was insane only for it to be instantly quelled when you're just casually hanging out as if nothing unusual is happening. The sudden change in his emotions is such a shock to his system that he ends up laughing for a while. Deep down he’s thrilled and takes you not running away to mean that you want to stay here with him. He seemed to become more chill after this.

Edge -He was already planning how to hunt you down and bring you back when he walked into the house only to pause upon seeing you. When he heard your answer he was stunned for a moment before just sort of accepting it and moving on. Nothing really changes after this but you do notice the door is left unlocked a lot more often nowadays.

Blue -He’s pouting? Just ever so slightly. You didn’t get him crazed or anything like that but a part of him did think it might have been fun to chase you down and drag you back. You do get the sense that this is probably the best outcome with Blue as he’s not throwing a tantrum but he is clearly a bit annoyed.

Orange - Of course you’d stay. He hasn’t given you a reason not to want to stay. Obviously the others probably have but he personally hasn’t. He’d be more suspicious if you choose to run away because that means you know something you shouldn’t have and that would have ended badly for you.

Berry -He sort of just expects you not to run away. He puts on a whole show about how well trained he has you for not just leaving, bragging about it to the others in the house who are all rather sick of it. He of course didn’t train you at all to do this but you feel like shutting his little fantasy down may end badly for you.

Syrup -He’s soul feels uncomfortably warm after hearing this. He basically interprets what you said to mean you like being here with him even though that’s not what you said. Syrup becomes very clingy and cuddly after this. After all, to him you basically just admitted that you like him.

#Undertale #undertale Imagines #undertale sans #undertale papyrus #underfell #underfell papyrus #underfell sans #underswap #underswap sans #underswap papyrus #swapfell #swapfell sans #swapfell papyrus #yandere #yandere skeletons #toxic relationship

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marvelfanfn2187a113 · 10 months ago

Text

The Same Page Part 8

Sherlock and Mycroft & little sister!reader

A/N: thanks for your patience while I went through a supernatural obsession (it’s still going btw). Chapter 8 is here! It’s a little short, but hopefully you won’t have to wait as long for the next chapter

A/N 2: by the way guys, I specified the reader’s name in chapter one as 17, but I think I’ll edit it out so that the age can be up to interpretation. I think a younger teen might fit the story better.

Mycroft was practically shaking with anger the whole way back to his house. You stayed silent, too scared and exhausted by the day to want to interrupt his anger.

“Where do you want to go?” Mycroft asked as he pulled into his driveway.

“The living room,” you said, as it was still too early for you to try to sleep.

Mycroft carried you to the couch. He didn’t even ask if you needed his help, he was just determined to give it.

…

“Myc?”

Mycroft turned to look at you after he’d set you down on the couch.

“What is it?”

“Are you and Sherlock…” you swallowed. “Are you gonna fight over custody?”

Mycroft stiffened. He hadn’t realized how much of his and Sherlock’s conversation you’d overheard.

“I don’t want you to worry about that,” he insisted. “I…I don’t know what’s going to happen,” he added honestly. “But I do know that there will be no repeats of today. No one is ever going to leave you alone like that, ok?”

You nodded, your hand subconsciously seeking out Mycroft’s. He took your frail hand in his and squeezed it.

“I’m so sorry,” he sighed. “I never wanted this to happen.”

You looked down at your lap.

“Me neither.”

…

“He didn’t listen to a word I said! Not that I should have expected him to.”

“Sherlock—“

“I mean it’s Mycroft, he hasn’t listened to anyone since—“

“Sherlock—“

“But we made an agreement, that we would do what’s best for our sister, and now he’s threatened to bring a custody battle into this and—“

“Sherlock!”

Sherlock stopped suddenly at John’s outburst.

“What?”

“Sherlock, you don’t get it. You think that just because you’re back, things will go back to exactly what they were.” John shook his head. “Well I was here, too, watching your sister for two years. I may not have been as involved as Mycroft, but I know enough. You treated her as though she was the same girl who left, but she’s not.”

“So you’re taking Mycroft’s side?”

“You left her alone, Sherlock. After telling Mycroft not to pick up his phone no matter what. She had a panic attack, she had to call Greg to get her. Mrs. Hudson was out. What do you think would have happened if Greg was on a case, and couldn’t pick up the phone?”

“So just as I said, you’re on his side.”

John groaned. “Sherlock, it isn’t about sides. I’m saying you two don’t have to fight over custody, you just have to agree about what’s best for Y/N.”

“But how can we? Mycroft—“

“We can start by actually talking it out.”

The men turned to see Mycroft himself standing in the doorway.

“What are you doing here?” Sherlock asked. “Don’t tell me you left Y/N alone.”

“Of course not,” Mycroft sighed. “She’s downstairs with Mrs. Hudson.”

“I think I’ll leave you two to talk,” John said, slipping past Mycroft and heading downstairs.

“So.” Sherlock sighed. “What now?”

“I don’t know,” Mycroft said honestly. “I don’t trust you with her, and you don’t trust her with me. But a custody battle would…”

“It would destroy her,” Sherlock finished. “It would destroy all of us.”

“We have to agree on this, Sherlock. It’s too important.”

“Says the one who threatened me with a custody battle.”

Mycroft had come to make peace, but his brother’s stubbornness was stirring his own.

“Because you want to drag her back to Baker Street only to neglect her!”

“Drag her?” Sherlock scoffed. “She wanted to live with me, don’t you remember? She chose me over you.”

“That was then,” Mycroft’s voice was quieter, but no less dangerous. ��But perhaps things have changed.”

“And you want to take that risk?”

“Do you want to take the risk that a court would choose you?”

This brought Sherlock up short.

“You can’t just—“

“You both are fools.”

The arrival of Mrs. Hudson startled both Holmes’ brothers.

“Mrs. Hudson—“

“Honestly, Sherlock, I expect better from you. I expect better from both of you.”

“I thought you were downstairs with—“

“John is with your sister. I thought it more important to be up here.”

“Why?”

“So I can tell you both what absolute fools you’ve been. Here you are, fighting over what’s best for Y/N and where she should live, when you’ve forgotten the most important part.”

“And that would be?” Mycroft questioned.

“Asking her!”

…

You figured you had Mrs. Hudson to thank for your current predicament. Your brothers had brought you up to 221B, and now you were sitting on Sherlock’s couch, your brothers standing in front of you. Mycroft had finally asked you the question that you’d been dreading since Sherlock’s return.

“Where do you want to live?”

But that wasn’t it. It wasn’t just a question of Baker Street or Mycroft’s house. You had to pick a brother. Sherlock or Mycroft.

When you’d first had to make this decision, it had been so easy. You grew up with Sherlock, you knew him, he knew you, and the two of you coexisted quite well. But now…

You didn’t know Sherlock, not like before. It had been so long, and you had changed so much, that you weren’t sure if it could ever be like it was. And now, you’d gotten to know Mycroft better than ever, and the two of you had gotten used to having the other around. You didn’t want to stop that. But…

Baker Street felt like home. As much as you’d settled into Mycroft’s place, it didn’t feel the same. But you also didn’t think life would ever feel comfortable again without both of your brothers.

Sherlock or Mycroft. Sherlock or Mycroft. Sherlock or…

You found the familiar parasite of anxiety settle into your chest as you tried to imagine life without either one of them. It grew until your chest physically started to hurt, your eyes blurring as your lungs constricted and breathing became not only hard, but painful.

…

“Where do you want to live?”

As soon as Mycroft asked the question, he regretted it. Sherlock seemed to be impatiently awaiting your answer, but Mycroft immediately recognized the glazed look in your eyes, the slight irregularity of your breathing.

He didn’t do anything at first; this was just an early stage of your anxiety, sometimes you managed to snap yourself out of it, and sometimes you only panicked more if he tried to assist you in this stage.

But when your breathing became labored and your eyes filled with tears, Mycroft didn’t hesitate. He brushed past a concerned Sherlock and put his hands on your knees.

“Hey, look at me, I’m right here.”

Your glazed eyes seemed to focus on him, and you brought your hands down to grip his.

“That’s it, just breathe,” he soothed. “I’m right here, we’re not going anywhere.”

Sherlock noted that Mycroft included him by saying we. Then he saw the hand that you were reaching out for him. He took it, but didn’t say a word; he still didn’t know what to say or do in this situation.

He noticed that you leaned almost unconsciously towards Mycroft, and soon enough your panic subsided.

“I don’t know,” you whispered.

“Shh, that’s ok,” Mycroft said. “I don’t want you to worry about it.”

“Mycroft—“

Mycroft waved off Sherlock’s interruption.

“I think you should get some rest, alright? When you wake up, you can get some dinner.”

You nodded wearily, and Mycroft helped you lay down on Sherlock’s couch. Within minutes you were asleep.

“I’m taking her back to my house.” Mycroft decided.

“What?” Sherlock stiffened. “Mycroft, no decision has been made for—“

“Now now, calm down, brother mine. She’s had a long week, I just think it would be best if she rested in a place she was most comfortable. This isn’t indicative of a decision about where she’ll live.”

“What makes you think she won’t be most comfortable here?” Sherlock countered.

Mycroft sighed.

“Because that’s where she’s spent the last two years, it’s familiar. Honestly, Sherlock, we can’t start picking fights over the smallest of things. I just want to take her home for some rest and food, that’s it.”

“So you’re asking me to pick my battles?” Sherlock asked.

Mycroft ran a hand over his face.

“I’m asking you not to declare war.”

Taglist:

@navs-bhat , @isabellavere, @chaoticglitterkitten, @peachycupotea, @justforrose, @severussimp

#mycroft x sister #mycroft x you #mycroft imagine #mycroft x reader #mycroft fanfic #sherlock and mycroft #mycroft #mycroft bbc #sherlock reader insert #sherlockbbc #sherlock bbc #sherlock x reader #sherlock fanfic #sherlock fandom #sherlock holmes

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sapphicdib · 3 months ago

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i wantchu to know my only experience with iterator shpping to this point has been Pebbles/Suns (i guess. whats even the name for that one? idk). But you have opened my eyes here. Lilypad is just so compelling in a way thats hard to describe. Adds so much depth to the whole Hunter Slag Keys thing!

You have just activated an unskippable cutscene LOL

Suns/Pebbles is called sunstone, which I think is very cute ^-^ Most rw ship names are pretty cute tbh :3

ANYWAYS. YES. Lilypad is so so so good…I really like it because Sig seems to actually be a little more emotionally vulnerable with Moon than she does Suns, implying they were closer than Sig and Suns are. Not to mention, Sig barely mentions Pebbles (or acts pretty standoffish) when he does mention Pebbs.

These are two messages it sends to Moon, but it seems to imply he’s sent more, considering “it’s me again” and the fact that there are more than one we are shown. They could have only made one just to show he was worried, but the devs chose to put more than one, just to drive the point home. It shows a panic that Sig is unwilling to reveal to Suns.

And then we have this.

Sig is basically telling Pebbles he hopes he wallows in regret for this. While Sig does express her general disdain for Pebbles’ attitude with Suns, he still makes a point to be understanding, saying “I think a lot of us were like that in the beginning.” Meanwhile, in this broadcast, none of that empathy is present. She is angry, to a point he refuses to reveal to Suns.

I believe that Sig’s biggest fear is being alone. He describes their situation as being “locked up in a box”, and comes up with the idea to use slugcats as messengers in an attempt to make sure when the comms systems degrade, something everyone else seems to have just accepted as a grim inevitability. So it’s pretty understandable Sig would be pissed at the person who took away one of the few remaining friends she had left. If you wanna read my other massive essay that goes more in depth to this point, here it is!

The fact that you can find the green overseer in outer expanse and subterranean during the Hunter, Monk, Survivor, and Gourmand campaigns is also shows how desperate she was to help Moon. If it was only around during the Hunter campaign, okay sure, that’s probably just him looking for her, checking if she made it to the void sea. However, the fact that it stays, likely long after she knows Hunter’s time is up, means he’s probably searching for any sign of activity from Moon. Still waiting and wondering if her plan was all in vain. The reason I think it doesn’t appear during Rivulet is because of the destruction of OE and just…age. Unfortunately, Sig might just not have the ability to send an overseer that far.

Lastly, the pearl he gives to Moon. This seems to contradict my first point, doesn’t this seem like he’s hiding her emotions behind humor again? Well, my interpretation of this is that: Moon just woke up from what is essentially a fucking coma. Giving her a message that’s like “OH MY GOD I WAS SO WORRIED ABOUT YOU AHHHHHH” would probably not be helpful to someone who is likely in a ton of pain, disoriented, and scared. She knows not to overwhelm Moon right now.

And…yeah. Sig seems to hold a lot of genuine adoration for Moon, and looks up to her kindness. I think his jokiness stems from him wanting to emulate Moon’s uplifting nature. He cares about her a lot and also I just love doomed yuri LMAO. SIG AND MOON LESBIANS FOREVER AND EVER.

#rw lilypad #rain world #rain world downpour #no significant harassment #rw nsh #rw looks to the moon #rw shipping #dibz rambles #el wiwipad #letters #THANKS FOR LETTING ME YELL ABOUT THIS WOOOO #rw

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midweekblues · 11 months ago

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Finally, after a slow night at work and much ruminating, I hereby present my own True-Detective-Night-Country world-famous ramble stew. Tipping my non-existent hat to one Mr @rhavewellyarnbag

Something something Sedna of the many names, Arnarquagsag, Nerivik, Nuliajuk, the one who would not marry, the wife of all.

What's you name, girl?

Navarro, Eve, Angie, Evangeline, Missy, your mother never told you your real name (the one of the Real People) and some think you have forgotten it.

Sedna of the many names many stories Arctic wide, Alaska to Greenland, many stories and in all of them she lives under the sea, in all of them she ends up there because of her father.

Her mother? sometimes a shaman (voices. episodes.) sometimes entirely absent from the narrative (died in chilbirth), sometimes a background character following her husband.

Her father? oh, he always throws her in the sea, sometimes in a panic, sometimes in a rage. She would not marry the man he told her to.

Why?

Well, is that the right question?

She would not marry the man he told her to, because she was already married to her dog who was a man, a shapeshifter, so they kept it in secret.

So many secrets here... do we trust Qavviq the dog-man, the home-brewer? or is he gonna die a terrible death?

i dunno, man. Annie keeping it secret. Danvers keeping it secret. But Everyone here knows.

Sedna whose fingers were cut went she went overboard and she tried to hold on to her father's kayak. Sometimes her whole hands, bit by bit.

So many fathers here, too. Hank, raised by an animal to act like an animal. His son trying to be better than him. The son's son drawing the woman with no hands, no fingers, spooking his father.

What is it with white people getting spooked about other people's religion? Not me, i was raised catholic. A lady with no fingers is no big deal. But maybe i mean white-white. Not opening that particular can of worms right now.

Oh and of course Travis. Fucking Travis Cohle. And his little interpretive dance. That was a man drowning. Or several. Didn't Lund cough up some filthy water when he woke up corpsicled? Cause of death: Spooketh. But also maybe drowned.

The lady under the sea, the lady with no fingers, cannot untangle her hair. Her hair traps the marine animals and she gets agitated and there is storm and famine. Her hair under the sea, her hair maybe like the sea, and who hasn't dyed their hair sea-blue, sea-green, when they missed so much? i have. Wear the monster's face, wear her hair, whatever you can manage.

The lady with the sea-hair beautifully painted on the door to the warehouse where the people gather. And the people are pissed.

Something in the water, and no one seems to be asking questions. Not even the wrong ones. Tsalal is the mine is the thing under the ice, now she's awake and y'all done fucked up.

The lady with no fingers that lives under the sea gets pissed off sometimes. Main thing driving her mad is greed and ungratefulness, apparently.Those who take more than they need and those who do not honor their prey. The seals have souls, and so do the whales and the walruses. Those are Sedna’s children, not exactly like children, born from her chopped fingers like Eve from Adam’s rib.

Sedna (90377 Sedna) is also a dwarf planet hanging around Ceres. This season feels like the Belt. As oppresive as S1 made Louisiana look (humid, hot, that heavy heavy sky) this creeps me out more. What's worse, air thick with miasma or no air at all? Women walking out to the dark, a tiny circle of light and then the vast nothing. Very cosmic horror. Also i miss Naomi Nagata and i miss Camina Drummer. Funny that Danvers' kid was named Holden. But i digress.

You know how scientists are, naming stuff after goddesses. Pieces of rock, sometimes lifeforms. She's awake alright.

Who are you, girl? Eve? An angel? I am reminded too that Evangelion means Good News. Are you catholic, Navarro? Was your father catholic? What did he drink?

Something in the water, something in the ice. Crabs are bottom feeders, aren't they? How fucked up is an ecosystem where the carrion-eaters die off? Maybe stuff isn't dying at the rate it should. Caribou spook relatively easy, but maybe they know something we don't, too. Micro earthquakes and magnetic fields and shit. Guess we’ll find out.

#td:nc #true detective night country #sedna #nuliajuk #mimi rambles

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icannotbetrustedalone · 7 months ago

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Happy birthday over a drink

Billy Russo x Fem!Reader

Hello, here's a little something for @becauseicantthinkwritings, a very happy birthday to you ! I still kept it tamed (i think), I hope you'll like ! (also posting this way later than anticipated, I had a terrible day, hope yours was better) Obviously reader is mostly based on you, I still kept it pretty vague though

For context, this based on The Red String Club, a video game, set in a cyberpunk world with a barman able to enhance specific emotions through his drinks

Warning ; 18+ , alcohol, allusion to sex, could be interpreted as CNC or non-consensual by some but reader defenitly has agency over herself, she's just into it

No double check we die as men

---------

It was pouring and you wanted to cry. You had missed the bus and now you were stuck on foot. The feeling of your clothes sticking to your skin made you want to tear your whole being. All of this was just the cherry on top of the shitty cake that was your week, all you wanted was to be left alone, your boss being enough of an annoyance on its own. Your plan was just to buy yourself a treat, a little gift perhaps, watch your show under a warm blanket and try out that new toy, but it seems fate chose otherwise. When the rain got stronger you ran to get to a dryer place, free from the drop of water hammering your cheeks, which led you in front of a shop with an awning. Breathing deeply to catch your breath, in hope of stopping the feeling of burn in your throat from the sudden sprint and savoring not hearing the rain directly in your ears. You blinked a couple of times, getting out the water bordering your prosthetic eyes and turn to look at the front shop. It was nothing out of the ordinary, selling glasses and cups, some teapot and carafes, what caught your eyes however was the multitude of ads on the front glass, all directing to local shops, tattoos, cakes, knitting, arts and crafts... One caught your eye in particular: The Blackbird Club, a bar, with a promise of delicious cocktails. Perfect. If you couldn’t follow your initial plan at least you could get wasted, it wasn’t too far either. As you took a photo to be sure to not forget, the world seems to approve, with the rain slowing down.

You walked for a couple of minutes, having to go through small paths, you think you might be lost and panic but as you are losing hope of a sweet drink you see it: a building you would qualify as... vintage? It was almost comical, so small compared to the modern building surrounding it that from here, and with the cloudy rain, seem to touch the skin. Speaking of, the rain could not touch you here, The Blackbird was put far from the world, hidden away, so low, yet, the neon of the big sign provided you a form of peace, you couldn’t even hear the sounds of the huffs and puffs and hustles of the big town, a protective bubble.

You walked up to the front door, but frown when it doesn’t open on its own. You look at the photo on your phone, it says it should be open, so you grab the door handle and push, it was indeed not close. Vintage. Right. It made you feel dumb because not all doors were automatic as a matteroffactyourowndoorsathomewere- you sigh, you were just trying to justify yourself now.

Entering the bar the first thing you notice is the emptiness, and that made you frown, was it REALLY close after all? Then why was the door open? You decided to close it behind you anyway and took a couple of cautious steps further inside. A piano was against the wall by the entrance, many tables and chairs were around the room, a big room at that, the actual bar was in the middle, with stools around it. You scanned the place, more tech than the naked eye could see, but way less than any place you go to nowadays, it was refreshing.

“Hum.. Hello?”, you weren’t sure you were supposed to be here, debating whether you should go back home or not, a sound made you jump and a moment later a man came from a door at the back of the room, damn, he was hot. Dark hair, dark eyes, athletic built, wearing a white shirt with rolled up sleeves, making you feel like a Victorian man seeing ankles for the first time, strong forearms too. He gave you the most charming smile you have ever seen before going to the bar, he was limping you noticed. “Good evening miss, how may I help you?”

You took a small breath in, more nervous than you thought and decided to take a stool, looking down at your phone, “Oh, hum, I saw an ad for your bar and I thought I should try it out.” You gave him a small teasing smile, leaning slightly, “Are your cocktails as good as you say they are?” He does not flatter, leaning as well to get closer, “I like to think they’re even better”. You take your lip between your lips and back away, looking at the board showcasing the many choices to conceal the effect he had on you, you realize wouldn’t mind having him as a distraction, at all. He does see it of course, and take a glass to clean to not push you too much, “Tell me, what’s the occasion?”

“It’s my birthday”, you smiled at him. “I see, and what’s the plan for tonight?” Your shoulders drop “Get wasted hopefully, black out until tomorrow morning, rest for the weekend, and go back to work on monday” you let out a heavy sigh, looking up, doing your best saving you from the embarrassment of crying in front of a stranger, feeling the stress of the week wanting to slip away through the tears, shit, you hated this, “I had the most terrible week and my boss suck, I fucked my thumb and now I have to get it fixed up, that dumb prosthetic hurts of course” you mumble the rest under your breath. You straighten your back looking back down at him. “So I hope your concoction are up for the challenge”

He gave you a sympathic look, “Ow love, I’m sorry to hear this, what if we started by taking a look at that thumb? I might be able to help”. You gave him a long look, scanning him, you couldn’t see any upgrades on him, “It’s kind of you but are you sure ?”

He laughs lowly, “Believe me, I have many talents”, he winked at you with a knowing smile. Your only responses to that are to shake your head, unbelievable, and to show him your hand. He carefully takes it in his own, a focus look on his face, touching and feeling around. While he is busy on your hand, you take the time to observe him more thoroughly, you notice a tiny scar on his chin, small eye bags, you wonder if he gets enough sleep. Your mind doesn’t have the time to go far, your brought back by a sharp pain in your hand, making you hiss.

“Sorry, love” passing his hands on your wrist, trying to south the pain, “I think I know what is wrong now, you’re okay with me fixing it?” at your nod he looks in a drawer and gets some tools, you observe him work, grimacing at the little pain here and there, you have to admit you were not expecting a barman to be able to so easily fix a prosthetic, there is no hesitation, going with a tool after another, like a dance, skillful hands. You laugh slightly when he put a splint on you. “Isn’t it going to far?”

“No, no moving that thumb of yours until you need to go back to work, gotta let it rest, understood miss?”, he was not letting your hand go, caressing it with his thumb, looking into your eyes. They are so dark, you could see yourself in them, “Yes sir” you responded with a low voice. You did catch his eyes going over your lips before straightening his back, you felt a bit smug about it. “What about a couple of drinks on the house? As a happy birthday and as a reward for behaving so well?” Your breath caught in your throat, you liked his voice and wanted to hear him say some sweet things in your ears, you felt a bit pathetic, getting wet after only ten minutes in the presence of that man, you blame it on not being fucked properly for the last couple of months. “That would be very kind of you, though I’m not sure it’s a good business model, and you already saved me with my-” he puts his hand up to stop your rambling “Anything for a beautiful lady, now, what would you want?” You look at the board once more and actually pay attention this time, you see many names you recognize and many you don’t, “What would you recommend?”

At your words you felt the air changing, as if you had pronounced the most important words you had ever spoken, “I have a special drink, giving quite the experience, going at the deepest of your being and pulling out your true emotions” You frowned “It’s not drug is it?” He burst out laughing “NO! No, of course not, only the finest alcohol here love” Your shoulders relax “Alright then” You might second guess yourself if such a pretty smile was not asking.

------------

Time stops, Billy takes a deep breath, feeling the power, he has been doing it for so many years now, and he had got use to the feeling, but he never loved it any less. Falling upon this bar might have been Billy’s greatest blessing, he might not have been able to follow his initial dream but now he was able to access so many things, turning into an information broker, he knew all the dirty little and big secrets of the upper world, the aristocrats eating in his hands, without even needing to take a step out, all coming to him on his own, the bar pulling strings to get him what he wanted, and sometimes what he needed.

He looked at you, now that you couldn’t shy away from his eyes. Such a beauty, he wondered what the club had in mind bringing you here, he sure was not the one behind it, he still had an idea, smirking to himself.

Focusing, he looked inside of you, not having an upgrade did not mean he did not have any enhancement. Visualizing, the first couple feeling and emotions on his way pains him for you; big, lot of tiredness, from the stress, of work and life; slightly smaller, frustration and anger, he huffs when he feels you wanting to punch your boss; and very present, sadness too. He wants to reach out to you, reassure you, that everything would be alright, he could recognize a bit of him in you; big too, pain that tumb of yours must have been no joke. He shivers to the last time he point out pain in someone, their face as they beg for mercy, he shooks his head and refocuse. He is reassured seeing joy, not as imposing but resilient, what a brave girl you were.

He looks further, and his jaw dropped. During his time here, Billy have met many people, almost all the people he had dug into had lust in a way or another, being a good-looking man helped him quite a lot, it was fascinating to see all the information someone was willing to give for a chance to sleep with him when he made them a horny mess. But YOU. He had never met someone with a lust so prominent as yours, he wondered how you could conceal of this, he had noticed your interest in him, but you must be absolutely soaked. He smiles; this was going to be fun.

Time goes back to its natural flow, now that Billy knows where to go. You did not notice anything, looking as cute as ever.

----------

Billy goes on to grab his ingredients “Tell me, love, what do you do for a living” A bright smile on your face, it warms his heart, “Oh well, I work at the hospital, I’m the one in charge of fixing the machines, cleaning them up, all of that” He hums, “An important job I see, is it what those eyes are for? And the hand?” You nod, “Exactly, thank you SO much again for my thumb, you really helped me, I would have gotten into trouble”. After a second you answered his puzzled face, “It’s just not the first time they have to fix me up, I can’t afford any upgrade, so I’m stuck with this one, and I don’t really always give it the care it needs so..” He shakes his head, making little disapproving sounds, handing you the finish drink, “I hope you’ll take better care; it’d be a shame to have a missing limb, huh?”

You look at the drink in your hand, dark red, swirly, drinking a mouthful. You hum, feeling the liquid traveling down your throat. “I guess I’ll just have to come back here for you to fix me again, huh?” He snickers, “Any day, love”

You’re feeling warm, like a fire traveling through you, dividing itself to explore and not leave a single spec of you unexplored, “Can I ask you a question?” “Is it about my leg?” You retract, realizing how much your initial question was inappropriate, what was wrong with you, no you cannot ask a stranger if he can bend you over the counter and pound into- you shook your head, “Y-Yeah, but you d-” “I got hurt on my third season, my body couldn’t take any modifications so.. I was forced to stopped, luckily I found this place. I took care of it, and it took care of me” You smiled, “I’m happy you found your way” after an instant you realized, not from imagining yourself screaming his name from the deepest of your core, nono, “I don’t even know your name“ “How rude of me, I am Billy Russo, pleasure to meet you love” You introduce yourself, and made small conversation, seeping on your drink along the way.

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Billy was impressed on your ability to stay put together, he was expecting you to either be begging on your knees for him or rush home as fast as you could to take care of it yourself. He saw your iris change shapes and colors, looking now like tiny pink-redish hearts, how cute. You were quite entertaining, and of good conversation too, he wouldn’t mind for you to come back, regardless on how the night will end.

You did slowly fell yourself go into madness however and was trying very hard not to grind against the stool, you fell on just crossing and un-crossing your legs in hope of satiating yourself. After you hundredth time doing so Billy decided to at intervene “A problem love?”. He looked ravishing, and you don’t think you could.. Well think. “Please”. He laughs lowly, making you let out a pitiful sound, “If you want something you’ll have to ask, love”. That does not help your needy brain, so you took his one of his hands and guide it to your lips, taking two fingers in, sucking on them slowly. He follows your guidance and move his finger further down your mouth, doing little movements that make you groan. “Would you look at that, do I have a good girl at hand?”. You nod hastily, you wanted him to take you in any way, but he just stood there, he wanted you to ask properly, and he was a patient man, not showing any indication of giving you anything. Getting frustrated you put his fingers away, maybe a bit harshly, “Please just fuck me, I need it so bad”. He let out a devilish chuckle, “There you go, love”

This was going to be a fun night.

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I wanted to write more and then was like mmmh maybe it's inappropriate to write a fanfic on a real person getting fucked, so I stopped there

Hope it was to your liking !

#billy russo x reader #billy russo #billy russo x female reader #my writings #billy russo x you #happy birthday over a drink

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