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try-set-me-on-fire · 5 months ago

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Fuck It Friday It’s Saturday what if i try to just write a whole fic right here in a tumblr post

Okay Brick from the future here after i have indeed written a fic right here in a tumblr post, warning for some homophobia (described past high school experiences from Eddie). Based on this post. Have not reread it at all before hitting post so good luck hopefully it’s more or less cohesive

Was tagged in fuck it Friday by uh somebody probably but i can’t find it in my notes. Tagging — oh it’s like 11 o clock, so this can be for seven sentence Sunday? — @bigfootsmom @iinryer @shitouttabuck @chronicowboy @eddiebabygirldiaz @queerdiazs @butchdiaz @homerforsure

The music is turned down low now, because it’s late, and even though the sprawling backyard of the ranch house is far, far away from any neighbors the event coordinators were still firm about a noise curfew and it would be a shame for such a lovely wedding to end with a visit from some of Athena’s coworkers. Most of the lights in the house are off or dimmed — beds and couches littered with the young and the old and the drunk — so the only lights out here are the strings of fairy lights and little jars with bulbs in the lid that remind Buck of sneaking out to the park with Maddie to catch lightning bugs back in Pennsylvania. The murky light and the quiet make everything feel soft as Buck stands on the porch, bare feet on creaky wood. He’s not sure where his shoes got off to, removed at some point when the dancing had started to pinch his heels. His throat burns a little from all the talking — and maybe that last vodka sour — and his eyes sort of itch from all the crying earlier. (Eddie had frowned at him, three of his fingers pressed into his elbow, as Buck had wept through the ceremony. A clear are you okay? And Buck had only nodded, because talking would have been rude, and despite everything that might make it seem otherwise, he really was.) He thinks Eddie might be the only person left here that he knows, the rest of the 118 departing in the last hour or two, though he’s not sure where he is, either. Maybe the same place as his shoes.

“Buck.”

Not with his shoes, then. Buck watches as Eddie stumbles towards him across the lawn from wherever he’d been. Dancing, maybe. He’s sweaty, his cheeks are cheerfully pink and he’s grinning with all his teeth showing. Buck steps down into the grass to meet him. “Hey, Eds.”

“Hello,” Eddie says, soft and pleased. He looks all over Buck’s face, over his now disheveled suit with the jacket hanging on the railing behind him and down at his missing shoes. Eddie frowns at that. “Your feet’ll get cold.”

Buck wiggles his toes in the dewy lawn. “I’ll be okay.” When he looks back up Eddie has an expression on his face that he can’t quite read but has been frequently present, lately. And then there’s a laugh across the yard, and both turn to look. Tommy. Loud, and full of that kind of breathless, disbelieving joy that- well, Buck hadn’t really heard from him before recently.

“I don’t-” Eddie stops, and Buck watches out of the corner of his eye as he shakes his head, looks up at Buck. “How are you just okay with this?”

Buck tilts his head almost sideways as he turns back to look at him. “It’s true love, man. How could I be upset with that?”

Eddie doesn’t roll his eyes, but Buck can tell he wants to. “I don’t even know- if that even exists. You gotta- you work on it. Or… I don’t know. He just saw this fucking guy across a crowded bar, and, what, fucking bam, Cupid’s arrow?”

“There’s a little more history than that,” Buck protests, even though, yeah, that is kind of what happened. They’d been at a club over in WeHo and Tommy had stopped frozen-dead in his tracks on the way from the dance floor to the bar, staring with some combination of awe-fear-grief-anger-longing all over his face at some guy, around Tommy’s age or maybe a little older, sandwiched between two big jock types all grinding on each other, one of them sucking an impressive hickey onto his shoulder next to the strap of his tastefully tight tank top. Tommy had stumbled closer like a man bewitched, and had gasped out “Sal?” In a way that had made Buck think, Ah. Time’s up. He’d lingered a respectful distance back as the two of them had an intense little conversation, though the club was loud enough he probably wouldn’t have heard much if he’d come closer. And he went home with Tommy that night and sat on his bed as he’d paced around his little bedroom and talked about years shitty jokes and stupid, over performed masculinity, and wanting, and “-the last I heard he was fucking married, I’ve met Sandra, he has two kids-”, and when Tommy got a phone call the next day — an invitation to lunch, to talk — he’d looked at Buck and said “I’m so sorry- I’m so sorry, but I-” and Buck had kissed his cheek and said “Go.” And, now, not even quite three months later, a wedding. The whole 118 had been invited, and had gone mostly in solidarity to Buck, and everybody had been making a lot of meaningful eye contact over their drinks as he’d elbowed them to quit it.

“Dance with me.”

“What?” Buck blinks back to the present, feet in the grass, Eddie warm and close next to him.

“Dance with me, Buckley,” Eddie sighs, dramatic, petulant, a smile shining through his put upon attitude. He’s been cutting it up all night, spinning Karen around and around, dancing with Sal’s mostly cordial ex-wife and sisters and aunts and cousins. He even took Tommy for a turn at one point, while Buck had busied himself with downing whatever was in the glass Ravi handed him so he wouldn’t have to look at either of their faces.

“I’ll step on your toes,” Buck warns, turning fully towards him and vaguely holding up his hands for Eddie to do whatever it is that needs to happen to make the dancing start.

Eddie snorts, moves one of Buck’s hands to his shoulder and holds the other, and taps his shiny dress shoe very gently into Buck’s big toe. “Do your worst.”

Buck, historically, by any metric you care to measure by, is a terrible dancer. Bobby, who himself only manages the old man party shuffle, has looked on his lack of rhythm in abject despair. Eddie, though, Eddie can dance, and he does it so well it makes his dancing partner’s look good, too. They move through the grass halfway competently, movements kind-of smooth. Buck only feels polished leather under his feet once or twice. “You’re real good at this.”

Eddie nods as he pulls Buck into a little spin. “Took lessons, back in high school.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Mhm.” He’s staring at Buck’s shoulder. “Sophia had lessons I had to drive her to, one of the instructors mentioned classes for older kids.” He shrugs. “Seemed fun.”

“In high school?” Something about the question makes Eddie’s shoulders get a little tight, but he nods. “And you played baseball? Damn, I never knew how anybody could have multiple extra curriculars, I barely made every football practice as it is.”

Eddie shrugs again, eyes still fixed on rumpled cotton. “I liked it.” Step, step, step, spin. “Took Shannon a few times, but she didn’t really like the structure of it, just wanted to get to the dancing part.” A little smile. “You bet I gave her shit when she got a leg cramp line dancing one time. Shoulda stretched.”

Buck laughs. “Did you stretch before coming here?”

“Yeah.”

Buck laughs harder, throwing his head back. They’re far enough out of the city that there are stars in the sky, and he gets distracted looking up at them for a moment, finding any constellation he knows. When he looks back down Eddie’s staring at his shoulder again.

“I could dance because of the baseball,” he says, quiet. “Because… Shannon, and I played sports, and I… you know.” He looks up at Buck, eyes dark away from any bright light. “I could laugh it off. When people said it was gay. Because I wasn’t.”

“Oh,” Buck says. He doesn’t know what else to say, about the reminders of what high school was like in the aughts, or about the past tense. He thinks maybe he should apologize, but Eddie keeps talking.

“Not in like a- I wasn’t tortured about it. I didn’t even think about it. It was- that’s not- it wasn’t even a possibility.” His palm sweats against Buck’s and his other hand burning against his side, and still they keep dancing, never losing the beat of the song. “One time… Aaron Dewitt called me a… you know. And everybody just started laughing, because, like. Man. That’s Eddie, he was just making out with his girlfriend under the bleachers, what the fuck are you on about.” He smiles, all wrong, and the way his voice gets lighter isn’t very light at all. “All those guys were begging me for moves before senior prom.”

“Eddie-”

“Buck!” Tommy stumbles in from the side, not even waiting for Eddie to retreat so his arm ends up awkwardly trapped between them as he plasters himself to Buck, hands on either his side of his face. He’s had a lot of champagne tonight, as Buck thinks is his right, and it’s made him unsteady on his feet in a way he knows most other drinks don’t. It’s the sugar, he’d said once. Goes right to my head. “Buck.”

“Hi,” Buck laughs a little, smelling the drink on his breath. “Hey, Tommy.”

“I love you,” Tommy says, sincere and eyes watering. “Thank you for coming. Thank you for- for everything. I didn’t- I never thought I’d get to have this.”

Buck thinks that he’s practically glowing, has been all night, getting even more supernova bright every time his now-husband touches his arm or side or back or anywhere and smiles a private little smile at him. “I’m really glad you do, Tommy. Love you, too.”

Tommy kisses his cheek, a little slobbery. “We’re gonna leave now, but I just wanted to say bye. I hope you had a good time. Sorry for- or- thank you-”

“I had a wonderful time,” Buck says, releasing Tommy from drunkenly trying to find an end to that sentence. They’ve had some version of this conversation several times already, Tommy always guilty and happy in dizzying little circles, and Buck hopes he can bury the guilt in the soft dirt they’re standing on and go on to live with just the happiness. “Have a great night.”

“Yeah,” Tommy says, laughing and nodding. “Yeah. Bye, Buck.”

“Bye, Tommy.”

They watch him hurry back across the yard, falling into Sal’s arms with the easy confidence of someone who knows without a doubt that he’ll be caught. Eddie’s arm is still across Buck’s chest where it had been stuck.

“I know you’ve said you’re fine with it-”

“About a thousand times, yeah, to you and everybody else we know-”

“Come on, man.” Eddie shifts his arm a little, up, so he can grab and shake Buck’s shoulder. The angle they’re standing at has caught the light, and Eddie’s eyes are gold again. “It’s me. Are you okay with this?

Buck thinks about high school, and all the things he didn’t think about either right up until Tommy Kinard kissed him in the kitchen. He thinks about Hen’s sky high eyebrows when she heard the news, and her and Chimney’s stories about the bad old days and the kind of person Sal seemed to be. He thinks about change, and how much it can happen to a person and how quickly, and how you just have to trust, sometimes, that people have grown and learned. He thinks about Eddie, and things that are impossible, and dancing, and- he laughs, sudden and loud enough that Eddie startles, because, fuck. This is exactly how it happened in the club, too. Seeing someone you know like the back of your hand in a new light and- bam.

When the laughter calms in his throat, Buck looks down at Eddie. “Really, I swear I’m fine with it. I had a really nice time with Tommy. He was… kind, and safe, and patient. I really liked him- I really like him. I hope I keep getting, you know, Christmas cards or whatever. I’m really happy he got his romcom ending. I mean- I kind of wish it was with a guy who doesn’t seem so much like an asshole-” Buck grins as Eddie snorts, “-but, uh, Hen says judging your exes taste in men is, like, a gay right of passage or something, so.”

Eddie nods once, twice, and then his eyes get a little wide, the way they do when he’s being brave. “So then, what does it mean if I’m judging Tommy for you?”

“He’s your friend, too,” Buck protests past the way his heart is thudding in his chest, because Tommy deserves defending here, probably. He kicks softly at Eddie’s shin. “You came to the wedding, don’t-”

“You’re not my ex,” Eddie says. He steps backward, and again, and they’re dancing again. “So. Still a right of passage?”

Buck’s palms are sweating, now. “You’ve never liked my taste in women, either.”

Eddie makes an unconvincing noise of denial. “I… thought…”

“Yeah?” Buck raises an eyebrow, and Eddie’s face twitches with how hard he’s trying not to grin.

“That… Ali… was fine.”

Buck cackles, and Eddie pulls him in closer and laughs into his collarbone. “You were so judgy when she dumped me, are you kidding, your fucking stink face every time-”

“You’re not my ex,” Eddie says again, loud, getting them back on track, standing upright but not moving any further away. They’re pressed together chest to knee. “Buck.”

“Yeah?”

They spin in a slow circle. “I’m pretty good at dancing, and- probably not so good at baseball anymore, but- well I dunno, maybe. We could go to a batting cage sometime. Anyway.” Spin and spin. “I guess I… do think about it, now. I think about- and there were a lot of things I thought were impossible, and weren’t, really. And- and I’m not in high school, and…” They slow, and stop, and Buck thinks Eddie’s hands and eyes are, probably, the warmest things on the whole entire planet. “We could go home and I could wait till tomorrow to ask you to lunch to talk about things, but we’re both already here.”

Buck laughs, and wonders if anyone listening to him would hear a kind of breathless, disbelieving joy. “You wanna take me to lunch?”

“Mhm. I was thinking we could get sandwiches.”

Buck laughs, and laughs, almost falling over with it, but that’s fine. He knows Eddie will catch him.

#buddie #buck x tommy #my writing #eddie diaz #evan buckley #tommy kinard #sal whatever his last name is

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dirtychocolatechai · 6 months ago

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It’d come through comms, a new bounty, with a big payout. The hail Mary your group had been looking for. So who cared that the mark was the fucking Boogeyman of the Wasteland?

A fucking Ghoul that some of the chicken-shit members of the group told ghost stories about in the flickering glow of the lantern at night. You didn’t believe it, yeah, you’d come up against some nasty characters before in your time in the Wasteland. Hell once or twice a mark had been a Ghoul.

But you’d taken them down with little struggle, turned in the needed proof, got paid and moved on. This would be a cakewalk, and those caps would buy you the future of luxury you were owed in this shitshow of a world.

You’d been so fucking sure of yourself, even when he’d toyed with you all. Mocking your group, chuckling to himself with a jovial taunt, “didn’t realize they’d send such a mediocre group of hicks after little ol’ me.”

That comment had stung, and you’d been a bit too trigger happy, you’d let him get in your head. It’d cost you everything.

He took you all out with militant precision, the first few he’d shot in the head, grinning with wicked delight as brain matter splattered on the decrepit walls of the warehouse you’d cornered him in.

Or break a limb with violent glee, when someone forgoed guns to close combat, he’d smashed Kade’s face in with the heel of his palm. You’d at least gotten him in the shoulder, a bit of sadistic exhilaration filled you at his pained grimace, a miniscule victory in a heaping shit-pile of loss.

It became too much, and a once cohesive group turned tail and started to run. But you’d poked a creature that now demanded blood, in recompense for his mild annoyance.

You tried to calm them over comms, get them to regroup, to put their faith back in you. But one by one static would greet your repeated calls for a fall in. A solid group of twenty, slowly, methodically picked off. Your heartbeat, pitter-pattering in a growing staccato of panic.

Stumbling through the corridors, checking every channel, eyes flickering with growing unease as shadows cornered you in. Hoping, pleading, someone would answer you, instead of the grainy crackle of static.

“Marcus, Marcus come in–”

“I think you know by now, little lady, that the meatsack formally known as, Marcus was it? Is not gonna answer you,” like a bucket of ice water in your veins. His voice drawls over the channel. “Now why don’t you be a darling and come out, make this quick?”

You rip the comm out of your ear with a panicked hitch of breath, crouched in a forgotten corner on the second floor. You’d hoped to make a break for it, but like a great cosmic joke. The Boogeyman’s already there.

Blocking your only safe exit down, and it’s either get past him, or a broken leg out of the second-story window. You take your chances, firing at the Ghoul, and making a dash for it when his head jolts down to avoid the bullet.

He laughs, easily catching you and throwing you against the wall. Knocking the wind out of your lungs, yanking the gun from your hand and tossing it to some distant part of the room you have no hope of reaching. The Ghoul moves with lazy confidence. Even as red bleeds openly from the wound in his shoulder, the only wound on him.

“So this is the little bitch that got me?”

He hums, pressing you into the wall with his body, you gasp attempting to wriggle away from him, but he’s trapped you against the concrete wall, and himself. His breath is vile, smelling of meat, and rot.

The heat coming off of him is overwhelming, you thrash, shriek, buck. It’s no use, his hands grab at the grimy fabric of your shirt. Pulling you snug against him, as he hunches over you. The brim of his hat bumping your forehead, as he tilts his head with a mocking pout.

“I think you owe me, for causing such a ruckus–”

“Then kill me!” You bare your teeth, a feral attempt at causing him some unease. He smirks, those shadowed brown eyes shining wickedly in the dim space. Taking in your wild snarl, lingering on your lips, his tongue wetting his own. The appendage, pink and slick as it swipes along the swell of his bottom lip. From this close you understand why they call them ghouls, the way there are some…traces of humanity left in his face, but it’s hard to find it with the crater that serves for where a nose used to sit. The rough patchwork of his skin, some of it scars, but most of it looks like a piece of meat left out in the desert sun too long. It makes you grimace and wriggle away from him.

“Oh that’d be too easy, and hearing that pretty little voice of yours over the comms, something tells me this whole operation was your stupid idea,” you jolt, pressing against the wall, like it will give, and get you some space from the creature holding you captive against himself. “After all you put a hole in me, I should only be a gentleman and return the favor–”

You manage one last feat of stupidity, launching your head forward. Forehead crashing against his chin, he lets go, with a pained grunt, for a moment. It’s all you need to scramble out of his grasp, he recovers, slotting a foot between yours, you fall, and he’s on you.

He takes your hands first, with painful yanks, he forces them behind your back. As your shriek, thrash, shout. But you’re weak compared to him, pathetically weak. He ties your wrists, the rope coarse and painful as it rubs exposed flesh raw. Restricting blood flow, your fingers already tingling. He grunts, settling himself between your splayed legs grasping the rope at your wrists. Keeping you against the floor.

Hunching over your body, he huffs, now he’s pissed, you’re dead–you know you’re dead, but how he’s going to do it terrifies you.

“Now–now you’ve gone and done something stupid girl,” he pants, gloved fingers flexing around your bonds. His chest crushing you painfully down into the floor. Every breath you heave sends a cloud of radiated dust into the air. “I was just gonna stab you, maybe shoot a leg, but now…no I see you gotta learn a real lesson about fucking with the wrong characters around here.”

His voice drops, the raspy southern drawl morphing to a raging snarl into your ear. Your body is tired, muscles aching, your head pounding. The skin split where his teeth connected to your forehead. A warm trickle of blood trickles down the curve of your cheek.

“Please–” before pride had stopped you from begging, but now it’s your last option and pride be damned. His head falls back with a smokey laugh, yanking your bound hands he presses the apex of your thighs against him. The laugh dies with a groan, and a new fear curls itself into your chest.

He’s hard, beneath the grind of your ratty jeans, and his tattered pants, you feel him, solid and throbbing between your legs. Pressing against your covered cunt.

“Begging ain’t gonna get you out of this, but it’ll certainly make it more entertaining.”

He moves quickly, releasing you for a second, to grasp the back pockets of your pants. A quick grunt and a yank, cheap-deteriorated fabric rips, following the seam, he splits your pants at the crotch.

“Well, look at that, going commando to a fight?”

You hear the glee in his voice, your feet scramble for purchase, to kick out at the creature settled between your legs. But the angle’s awkward and you can’t land a hit to save your life. Only managing to tire yourself out faster.

The coarse touch of leather splits your folds, your body jolts, freezing you in place. One hand is back around your wrists, keeping you in place. He hums appreciatively.

“Well, I’ll give you this sweetheart, got the prettiest pussy I’ve seen in years,” as he speaks, his finger drags lazily up and down your folds. Watching as the folds part easily against the touch of his finger. A trace of slick glistens on his fingertip, not nearly enough for what he has planned but, not his problem. His finger teases lower to find your clit, he cackles as you buck in surprise.

The touches send sparks of pleasure up your spine, warmth pools unwillingly in your stomach. He hums, impatient, as the finger leaves you. Biting your lip to stop the whine that bubbles up your throat. The pain distracts for a moment, till the hush of a zipper brings about one last attempt to get away. Your legs give another weak kick to dislodge him.

His fingers tighten around your bonds, he growls, “You’re not going anywhere, but by all means–squirm to your little heart’s content,” that’s the only warning you get, before the head of his cock aligns with you. “Feel free to scream.”

A sudden thrust and his cock is filling you. The pain blooms beneath your skin, taking your breath for a moment, he’s too big, too thick. The stretch of him burns your unprepared cunt, the metallic taste of blood dances on your tongue.

Distantly you realize you’ve bitten your lip, the pain does nothing to stop the ragged scream that punches out of your lungs. The Ghoul pauses for a horrid moment, head falling back as he groans.

“Fuck, tighter then I thought you’d be,” but that’s all he says before starting a brutal pace. Using your bound wrists as an anchor he fucks into you with reckless abandon. Uncaring of your pain, he grunts with effort. Chasing his pleasure with ferocious gusto. You try to ignore the simmering warmth still in your belly, even as it grows. As the head of his cock grinds deep in your cunt, in places no one has been able to touch. The texture of his skin is strange and coarse against your gummy walls. Stroking against your cunt the roughness of his skin tinglings against nerve endings.

You struggle, and squirm, to get away, the toes of your boots scrap and scuff against the ground. You shake your head, trying to ignore how your cunt molds easily to him, clamping around him. Accepts the abusive treatment of his shaft, the wet slaps growing louder the longer he fucks in and out of you. The heat of his cock almost too much, like it’ll burn you up from the inside out.

His breath is growled pants, his cock throbs inside of you, the sweet clench of your cunt around him, has him letting out a breathless laugh. Enjoying that every thrust forces some noise out of you, a whimper, a yelp, but he hears it, the tone changes. The subtle shift from pain to pleasure. He feels it too, you’re getting wetter with every punishing thrust, he glances down. To where his cock splits you open, the shin of your slick clear in his vision. With every seesaw motion, his cock shines with more and more slick, the way your cunt walls twitch around him. How the wet sounds of his cock splitting you open fill the empty room. The puffy redness of your pretty pussy lips as his shaft parts them again and again.

He licks his lips, enjoying the view of your folds, stretch around his shaft, it’d been too long since he’d enjoyed a good fuck. Your pussy molds to him like a dream, makes him pant with delirious pleasure as you clench, and flutter around him. Slick gushing around him and on him with every thrust.

It mortifies you, how eagerly your body accepts the punishment, how your clit throbs with every thrust, you yelp when he grinds just right and the teeth of his zipper scrape against the neglected little bud. Making you jolt, and your cunt flow again.

The way your fingers, numb and turning red from lack of blood flow, flicker with movement when he presses deeper into you, how they clench when the head of his cock grinds against the ring of your cervix. He takes time to press his thrusts deeper, feeling the give of your walls as they quiver around him.

“Well–hah–I’ll be,” he grunts as you tense and your cunt ripples around him, “damned, look at this.” His fingers dip down and swirl in the mess of slick and precum. You jolt at the rough texture of leather caressing your folds, dipping lower to stroke impatiently at your clit where most of the wetness has gathered.

The touch of fingers disappears, and he leans over your, his too hot chest burns against your back, those fingers appear in your eyesight. You hear the grin in his voice.

“Look at how wet the little bitch is getting for me,” he mocks, you scream, struggling again. It’s all bravado at this point, and it gives him another horrid idea, shoving his fingers into your open mouth. You gag, as they press on your tongue. The mixture salty along your tastebuds, mixing with the coppery tang of blood, but he grins sadistically feeling your cunt throb around him.

“Be a good girl and clean those.”

The change of position has him thrusting at a new angle, the head of his cock dragging against a place in your cunt that makes you tense. The friction becomes too much as slick pools beneath your hips, his own keep their punishing pace. The glide of his thrusts ensures he pounds deep into you, grinding and pressing himself into you. He pants into the shell of your ear, feeling the sudden spill of slick around his cock. He growls.

“Don’t think you’re gonna last much longer at this rate,” he pants, all you can manage back is a gagged moan around his invading digits. He’s right, the pleasure has outpaced the pain, your clit throbs, neglected, in time with your heartbeat. Your cunt stuffed full, leaks eagerly around his abusive pace.

Your mind is cotton-filled and delirious at this point, it’s too much, you gnaw on the glove-covered fingers in your mouth. The Ghoul doesn’t care that you’re just adding drool to the mixture on his fingers.

No you feel too good, it’s been too fucking long and he’s going to milk this for all it’s worth. Shifting his legs he forces your right leg up, splaying you open even more. Stretching you, you moan at the sensation, which he answers with a groan.

You’re close, and he feels it, in the throb of your cunt, clutching onto his cock like a vice.

“Just remember darling,” he pants into the shell of your ear with a self-satisfied smirk. Giving the skin a mean nip, growling as your cunt pulses around him at the pain. “The cock that’s makin’ you cream like a bitch in heat.”

He’s pulling himself back up, removing his fingers from your mouth, slapping his palm to the floor. You wince at the clap of it, he ups his pace, slamming into you. His cock rams into your depths with hard, wet slaps, every thrust forces a noise from your. As the position forces your cheek into the dust covered floor.

He growls above you, the friction builds, his cock bumps painfully against your cervix as he fucks into you. Focusing on short, deliberate, grinding trusts. You gasp, as pleasure coils its horrid way through you. As slick gathers and drips with wet plops onto the floor, soaking your destroyed jeans. The grind of his zipper, catching your clit again and again, sends you over. With a sudden mind numbing pulse. You cum with a high-pitched shriek fingers twitching as you squirm beneath the onslaught of pleasure.

Horror fills you at the splash of wetness that leaks from between your legs as he continues to fuck you through your orgasm. Overstimulating, frayed nerves you keen, “Stop–stop–p–please.”

Your pleas are ignored as the Ghoul huffs above you chasing his own high, and the way his cock throbs inside of you, you know he’s close. But he makes no move to pull out, and you’re pleas’ become panicked begging.

“Don’t–not inside–wait!” He claps his hand over your mouth, pressing deep into you, with a sudden gasp he’s filling you. The heat of his release makes you scream against his palm. He jolts a few times, grinding himself deep into your cunt groan. The twitch of his cock, the grind of his zipper against your clit. You whine, weak, and overstimulated. He pulls another small jitter of a climax from you, and has your cunt quivering weakly around him. Milking the last few dribbles of cum from him.

He pants above you, and then he pulls out, with a wet squick of noise. You shiver as slick and cum leak from your fucked out hole. The Ghoul stands, tucking himself away with a click of his tongue. He stands over your form, you glance up at him, his leather-like lips pulled into a shit-eating grin. Mind still a muddled, fucked mess. Muscles twitch, with every movement another gush of cum drips down your pulsing clit. You hope he makes your death quick, but you should know better by now. The Wasteland is never that kind.

“Think I’m gonna keep you a bit longer, that hole of your’s is gonna keep me satisfied for a bit longer.”

ricky! when i catch you ricky!

#cooper howard x you #cooper howard x reader #the ghoul x reader #the ghoul x you #you know who you are

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spywhitney · 5 months ago

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Spoilers for season 3 of the bear:

The few sydcarmy-esque moments and my thoughts on S3.

☠️ When there's a flashback to a quick kiss between Carmy and Claire (with the word EMERGENCY on an ambulance blurred in the background), it cuts to Carmy saying I'm sorry to Sydney. This stood out to me.

☠️ The flashback to the best meal Syd ever had was red- this reminded me of the "Sydney's donut" made by Marcus. (Someone on Reddit pointed out this connects back to Syd's risotto in S1; in S3 Carmy made the excuse of a fennel allergy to make the dish he wanted to, both instances they went against the grain had big impacts).

☠️ In Legacy Carmy told Syd she looked nice (first compliment on her appearance, so yay?).

☠️ When Carmy invites Syd to the funeral of Ever. Most intense eye contact with them this season imo. He's staring at her a lot and she keeps looking down and clearly wanting to know why he wants her there or whatever.

☠️ Carmy touches the small of Sydney's back in Forever.

S3 thoughts:

"Richie what the fūck is this?" No, but seriously wtf was this season?

-Characterisations less honed in, more dim

-Chemistry was dialled back?!?!

-No, or arguably less development on Claire

-Lack of plot direction or cohesion at times

-Unsophisticated use of flashbacks

-Too much time spent on the Faks

-Comedy was meh

-Not enough time spent on scenes or plot points I felt were pivitol

-Carmy saying Claire is peace and tweaking out because of her despite the severe lack of emotional intimacy written for her or the relationship

-Still no time spent delving deeper into Sydney.

Idk what happened. 😭 (At least in terms of shipping neither side has really won. We've all lost atp lol).

#the bear #sydcarmy #sydney adamu #carmen berzatto #sydney x carmy #the bear fx #carmy x sydney #richie jerimovich #carmy berzatto #claire the bear #chefs kiss

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ambisweetiepie · 10 months ago

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Love Live SIF2

Don't mind me while i rant about Love Live.

I'm so annoyed!!!

I already knew I wasn't going to enjoy SIF2 as much as All Stars, because I had downloaded the japanese version to try it out.

Now that the global version is here, I was able to link my all stars and SIF account. SIF2 is only going to be around until May, but it's supposed to be available afterwards as basically just a gallery for the cards you got. You won't be able to play it at that point.

So I linked my old accounts, and they give a nice gallery for your old SIF cards, but nothing for All Stars??? Just give you some gatcha tickets??? You couldn't at least give me a gallery for my All Stars cards that I loved and cherished?????? You were able to do it for SIF, so why weren't you able to do it for All Stars???

Also! I know All Stars' game play wasn't for everyone. It relied on having good cards rather than having skill. You could play and switch between teams while not actually doing the rhythm game part. I really liked that!!! Even with the rythym game, there was a lot to keep track of (swapping teams, your SP gauge) but as a result they only made you tap left or right sides of the screen for the rythym game.

This was great for me because I can't actually play SIF's dumb rhythm game layout. It has nine buttons all over the screen. It hurts my hands if I try to do it much. It may have been more playable when the game first came out, because phone screens were smaller at the time. None of the buttons were a reach. But screens have gotten bigger and so there's no comfortable way to hold my phone and reach each button. They could've changed things to be like other rhythm games. Bandori, Proseka, and D4DJ all have the tapping section at the bottom. They've all managed to implement gameplay in that that still makes it fun and engaging.

More complaints:

When chatting, the text from the person you're chatting with goes by very fast. There's no way to adjust the speed of this. Once they're done talking and it's your turn to reply, everything other than the reply screen is dimmed out. So you have to struggle to finish reading what they just said.

My BIGGEST PET PEEVE OF THE GAME is that when picking out songs, they give you 8 seconds of song audio. So while you're deciding, and picking out your team, it's replaying over and over and it's so obnoxious. The only way to turn this off is to turn ALL background music for the entire game off. I'm not asking much, I think LLAS had it be like 15 seconds? Just a little longer makes the loop a little less annoying.

Small annoyance, is they tried to improve the mouth movements while talking to make all sorts of different shapes? This was unnecessary, and more immersion breaking than the simple open/close mouth movements they had previously.

Also, the old card art. I understand you don't want to have to start from scratch for cards, but including the old art means a few things: 1) You're asking people to try again for cards they already got in the past 2) A lot of that artwork is OLD OLD. And it makes things look less cohesive, and cheap. 3) When adding Nijigasaki to SIF, they never bothered to draw regular cards for them, instead just using their in game sprites from the visual novel sections. This also looks cheap. Other games have done the same thing (Like Obey Me) and it looks cheap and lazy there too.

I really liked everything about All Stars. It really improved a lot from SIF, but was different enough to warrant keeping both around.

They could have just had SIF2 be a replacement for SIF. If they're going to keep everything around from SIF (playstyle, cards, etc), that would've been acceptable. They've improved they UI by a lot and added features SIF didn't have. I stand by what I said from the "it's rude that people have to re-earn cards they already had" but other than that, it more or less seems an improved version of SIF. If they had let SIF players transfer their accounts over, and not closed down All Stars, I don't think they would've gotten near as much backlash as they did. Since All Stars was such a different game, and had those nice 3D graphics, it can't be considered a replacement the way it can be for SIF.

I like the texting with girls feature, even though it has issues. I like the "Daily Life of School Idol" feature, it's a cute alternative to the normal visual novel style and has nice illustrations.

All of that being said, some of my complaints are things that could be fixed. The game didn't have to close down. It's so disappointing to play a game knowing I'll only have until May. While they've mentioned this publicly, they haven't mentioned it in-game. I feel like it's important for anyone who plays to know that we're already months away from EOS. I don't want people spending big money in a game without knowing that it's not going to be around for much longer.

All of this being said, even though I'm upset, I don't want it to go. It fills that love live shaped hole in my heart. It's not the same having a PNG of Kanata tell me hello, compared to the 3D version of her saying hello, slightly being able to interact with her. But it's something. I don't even know for certain if they plan on making a new mobile game at this point.

#Love Live #SIF2

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casualarsonist · 2 months ago

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Elite: Dangerous Retrospective Review

Years ago I wrote a fond review of an infant Elite: Dangerous - a game that captured my imagination even while it bored me. But it could only have been a matter of weeks after I wrote it that I stopped playing for the first time. Since then I've returned again and again - five or six separate times - started a new game, and saw what the galaxy had to offer. I bought both DLCs looking for that spark of magic to reignite, but it never did. My returning playtimes got shorter and shorter as I got older, my existential dread increased, and my thoughts more wholly turned to the feeling of a clock ticking down the remaining hours of my time on this planet. Since that first review the myth of 'endlessly evolving' live service games proved itself beyond argument to be a pathetic low-effort grift designed to minimise the cost of effort and creativity in exchange for a self-perpetuating trickle of money from victims of the sunk-cost fallacy. Frontier abandoned development on consoles a few years ago, and one day they'll turn off the servers for good and all the thousands and millions of dollars poured by players into cosmetics will be rendered meaningless in a nanosecond. ED as it exists now is in many ways identical to the game it was back then. And yet, while the DLCs feel bird-boned hollow I honestly can't recommend getting the base game on its own. It was bare then, and it's bare now. The wonder of touching down on planets in the DLC is a dim spark in the infinite emptiness of space, and while I can't justify their price for the content the DLCs provide, I don't believe the game retains its value without them. I understand if that seems like a raw deal.

Adding a launcher to the game that adds played time while the game is downloading extra content is pure villainy. It effectively means you shouldn't buy the game if you can't part with the money you're spending, because you're not likely to get it back.

In terms of the game's theorietical scope and mission, I think it's unsurpassed. You simply won't find another piece of media like this. No Man's Sky does the '400 billion planets' thing too, but it doesn't aim to make them scientifically cohesive with our actual real-life galaxy. It doesn't aim to recreate the feeling of travelling in our real universe. If you're looking for an emulation of the feeling of exploring the true-to-life vast and haunting strangeness of space, then you won't find a more immersive game than this. That said, immersion by design often refuses to concede to choices that would make a game more conventionally 'fun'. This is true with Elite Dangerous. Space is big, and space is empty. Space travel, even at impossible speeds, is long and tedious. You'll find plenty of philosophical debates about the value of changing the travel mechanic and its overall effect on the game, but at the end of the day this is what it is.

The biggest issue is that the larger you make your gameworld, the harder it is to fill it. And if your gameworld is intended to be a persistent space for everyone, it becomes impossible to make it meaningfully persistent for *anyone*. Players affect the galaxy in the same way a single janitor affects a multinational company. The story is an abstraction happening everywhere and nowhere. You'll read a lot about political struggles but never encounter anyone of note first-hand. Your attempts to extend the influence of a faction ultimately amount to a bit more in the bank and a line going up in a small region. The main impact of the Thargoid conflict is that you might accidentally stumble into a Thargoid controlled system and lose your ship in seconds to a single enemy. Shooting pirates, mining rocks, trading, and 'travelling' vast distances while you do something else on your phone for a few minutes is really, honestly, all this game has to offer in any concrete way, outside of the times you walk the surface of a moonbase. You won't be making any significant differences to your corner of the galaxy. Your ability to suspend your own sense of disbelief and play in the sandbox for a while is all you're going to have to carry you through. I find that easier to do on some replays given how life-like and immersive the game looks and feels. But the harder you're made to work for small gains, the more it hurts to lose them, and having your bank account halved because you didn't have the right gun attached when you zipped into an alien system because the obtuse map is hard to read has a far more devastating effect on a player here than in a game in which concessions to fun have been made.

I think it's very important to keep in mind the scope and limitations of Elite Dangerous before you pay for it. It really is the most intensely immersive space sim on the market. There's nothing like it from that perspective. It's quite a profound experience in some ways. But it's a win and a loss. This, like all games similar to it released in the last 10 years, is an experiment that has in some ways succeeded, and in other ways cratered. Making this game a 'live service' was a huge mistake - continued upkeep means the need for a constant revenue source, while the player-base diminishes because they've failed to imbue the game with an inherent motivating factor. There aren't any dedicated hubs of human activity, so you'll rarely see anyone. And if you come across a station with other players there, the biggest impact they're likely to have is that they take up a parking spot and you have to wait until they leave. I just play on Solo now. If you play alone anyway the experience is the same.

The game's unguided sense of progression diminishes its target audience - it requires players with lots of imagination and lots of free time, and a particular tolerance for stretches of monotony. And even if you're one of those people, the central gameplay loop is 'do menial task and save for bigger ship', until you've got the biggest ship you care to pilot. And then what? By that point you'll have tasted everything the game has to offer, so I suppose you're supposed to just tread water forever? So we've arrived at a point where, with the two DLCs, the game can honestly be described as a truly remarkable experience in the same sentence as its eulogy is being read. Frontier has spent the last eight years working on minor polish and two DLCs that offer rather rudimentary interaction with the gameworld, as well as increasingly aggressive monetisation of visual assets. If the performance hits of the Odyssey DLC haven't been fully ironed out in the time since it's release, I can't see them releasing any extensive improvements to the game beyond the bare-minimum upkeep patches. This is likely all the ED you're going to get. Broadly speaking it has the capacity to be an impactful experience, but it's 106,000 light years wide and an inch deep. 4/10

#elite #dangerous #space #video game #review #frontier #milky way

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androids-musings · 2 years ago

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Android 16's Niece: Chapter 3.5

Summary: This takes place right after chapter 3 when the group makes it out of the snowy mountains. Saki wakes up alone in the Lucky Foods van, and 17 and 18 start getting a better idea of how deep Saki's fear of Goku runs.

This piece is written in first-person.

Characters: Saki (OC), Android 17, Android 18, Android 16, Goku(kinda?)

Word Count: 2.2k

A/N: This was an idea that I wanted to put somewhere, but couldn't fit into the main story in a cohesive way by the time the idea got to me. Enjoy!

Read the main story here.

I woke up with a yawn that made my jaw pop and sat up to stretch the stiffness out of my muscles. Despite the hellish cold that froze me to my bones in the snowy mountains, I managed to fall asleep somehow. In hindsight, that might have been a bad idea. I heard somewhere that it’s dangerous to sleep in situations where hypothermia was a threat. Oji 16 didn’t stop me from falling asleep, though, so it must have been alright to do so.

“17, what time is it?” I asked, rubbing my eyes. No reply came. “17?”

I turned my bleary gaze to the front to find the driver seat and passenger seat empty. Dim lamplight shone through the windows, cutting through the darkness in the van. Was it nighttime already? How long was I asleep? On top of that, the van was off. Are we parked somewhere?

“Oji 16, do you know where 17 and 18 went?”

I looked to where Oji 16 usually sat and found that spot was empty. If Oji is gone too, then we must have stopped to get gas. Oji 16 electrically bypassed the last gas station we stopped at so we could fill up the van’s tank without having to make a scene with the station clerk. Well, we still made a scene by stealing a few snacks and water bottles, but that wasn’t the important part. 17 must have asked Oji 16 to bypass this gas station too.

Speaking of snacks, my stash in the corner of the van was starting to get low. I should see if I could restock it before we hit the road again. I rearranged my blankets to lay neatly on the floor and gathered up all of the empty drink bottles and snack wrappers in a bag to throw away. I then made my way to the rear doors of the van and popped them open.

“Hey, 17, do I have time to make a snack run before we–”

I stopped short upon seeing that the van was not parked at a gas station. It was parked on the side of an empty road that was in desperate need of maintenance. A single, flickering streetlamp hovered above me, providing a single circle of light around the van before fading into pitch-black darkness. The moon and stars were absent from the sky, but I couldn’t see a trace of cloud cover. I peered out as far as I could into the darkness.

“17?” I called. No answer. “18? Oji?”

Still no answer. Maybe they were farther out than they could hear me? I cupped my hands around my mouth and called louder for them. No reply came. The silence that rang back from the inky darkness made my stomach knot over itself. How could a night ever be this silent? I couldn’t even hear crickets chirping or the flickering lamp buzzing with electricity. It felt like my ears were clogged.

I looked around once more before I climbed back into the van and shut the doors on the suffocating darkness. I dropped the bag in an empty corner and sat on the freshly-fixed blankets. 17, 18, and Oji 16 weren’t answering me, and there was no way I was going to try and look for them in the dark. I was more likely to get lost on my own than I was to find them, especially since they had no energy signal for me to follow.

I sighed and flopped down to lie on my side. The anxious knot in my stomach wasn’t going away. Where could they have gone? And why would they not wake me up to go with them or at least tell me what they were doing? There’s no way Oji 16 would agree to leave me on my own, right? Did something happen?

No, wondering about what might have happened won’t do me any good. I’d only make myself needlessly anxious doing that. At least, that was how 17 worded it. 17 told me that I worried too much and needed to stop overthinking things before I worried myself into an early grave. While I understood he meant well in saying that, I wasn’t sure if I should follow his advice. I stayed alive this long because I thought about different things, different situations, and different outcomes. Would it really be a good idea to stop now?

Heavy footsteps echoed in my ears. I shot up from the blankets and scrambled over to the windows on the rear doors. Was it Oji 16? He was the only one large enough to make footsteps that loud.

Actually, these footsteps were incredibly loud. I swore I could hear them as clearly as though I were outside, but that shouldn’t be possible even with the driver's window broken. Can Oji 16 walk that loudly? I waited at the window as the footsteps became louder despite the sense of unease settling in my stomach. I was just overthinking things again. The footsteps had to be Oji 16. Who else would be wandering in the middle of nowhere at night?

A humanoid figure emerged from the shadows and stopped at the edge of the lamplight. They were too far away for the light to reveal their features, but that didn’t stop their glowing red eyes from cutting through the darkness. My blood turned to ice in my veins and my skin prickled with cold. He found me.

Goku found me.

The van lurched, throwing me backward onto the steel floor. My eyes immediately turned back to the windows where Goku’s shadowy figure loomed, glaring down at me. The metal doors crumpled like tissue paper around the handles with an ear-piercing screech. I forced my shaking limbs to move and scrambled to my feet to make a break for the driver’s window. The risk of getting cut by glass didn’t even pass my mind. All that mattered was that I needed to escape.

The van jerked backward as Goku ripped the doors off its hinges. I stumbled from the sudden movement and fell against the center console. Goku’s murderous glare glinted back at me through the rearview mirror as he flung the doors into the darkness. I heaved myself over the console, reaching for the driver’s window just as a hand closed around my ankle.

My body became weightless as the van’s interior blurred past my vision and gave way to pitch black. Goku’s shadowy form appeared over me the second my back hit the cracked asphalt. He clamped a hand around my throat to pin me in place as he raised his other hand behind him to charge a Ki ball. Adrenaline shot through my veins. I lashed out against Goku, clawing at his arm and kicking whatever part of him my legs could reach, but Goku didn’t even make a sound.

Goku made the Ki ball in his hands glow brighter, further blotting out his already undiscernible features. I summoned my Ki in hopes of increasing my strength enough to escape, but every surge of energy went dead before I could channel it.

“O-oji,” I choked out. “Oji! 17, 18–!”

Goku’s grip on my neck tightened, turning my words into a strangled gurgle. My eyes watered as Goku held the Ki ball directly in front of my face.

“One less Gero in this world,” he said, and fired the Ki ball.

My eyes shot open. My heart pounded through my chest and in my ears as I gasped for breath that wouldn’t catch. Voices echoed around me, but their words were too slurred for me to understand what they were saying.

I was in the van again. Sunlight glared through the windows and the stench of gasoline filled my nose. I forced my shaking arms to move and pushed myself up from the floor to get a better look at my surroundings. Oji 16 sat across from me, reaching toward me with his brow scrunched in worry. 18 sat in the passenger’s seat behind me. She glanced back at me a few times as she spoke to 17, whose head was poking through her window to see what was going on. My eyes kept flicking around in search of Goku, but he was nowhere to be seen.

Oji 16’s mouth moved. “Saki,” he said. I could barely hear him over the thudding pulse in my ears. “Saki, it is alright. You are safe.”

Adrenaline shot through my limbs when the back doors clicked. I dove to Oji 16, curling into the crook of his elbow. I waited for the groan of wrenching steel to tear through my ears again, but what came instead was a gentle creak followed by light footsteps.

“She’s going to pass out again like this,” came 17’s muffled voice. “Saki, it’s me. Look at me if you can hear me.”

I forced my grip around Oji 16’s arm to loosen and twisted around to meet 17’s gaze. He was kneeling to meet me at eye level.

“Good. Now, you need to calm down and stop hyperventilating. Give me your hand.”

17 held his hand toward me. I uncurled an arm from Oji 16’s and placed my shaking hand into 17’s waiting palm. It took all the willpower I could muster to not grab him in a death grip.

“Alright. When I lift your hand, I want you to breathe in. When I lower it, I want you to breathe out. Just follow what I do. Breathe in.”

I sucked in as much air as my spasming lungs would allow me to as 17 lifted my hand. His shoulders lifted as he breathed in alongside me.

“Breathe out.” Air hissed out of 17’s throat as he lowered my hand. My lungs emptied to follow. “Breathe in, and out.”

I followed 17’s instructions as best as I could with the short breaths that my body was forcing me to take. 17 didn’t stop to scold me for not following perfectly. Instead, he patiently worked with me until, little by little, my breaths deepened, my senses returned, and the thudding heartbeat in my ears faded. The corner of 17’s mouth lifted when my breathing finally returned to normal.

“There we go,” he said, releasing my hand. “All better.”

I wouldn’t say I was “all better,” but I wasn’t about to say that out loud. I at least felt better than I was just a few minutes ago. I let go of Oji 16’s arm and moved to sit beside him. The cold metal of the van against my back helped to keep me grounded.

“Thank you, 17,” I murmured.

“What happened?” 18 asked. “You were thrashing around in your sleep. Did you have a nightmare?”

I nodded and curled further into Oji 16’s side. “I had another nightmare about Goku. He found me and killed me.” I brought a hand to my throat. It still stung where the phantom’s hand gripped me. “I was alone, and no one came when I called.”

“Another nightmare?” 17 repeated. He shifted to settle fully on the van’s floor. “Do you have them often?”

“For as long as I can remember,” I answered. “They’re different each time, but they all end the same. I guess that’s what happens when you’re repeatedly told that there’s someone out there who’ll kill you over your last name at a young age!”

I laughed weakly, trying to brush off the dull mood I created. 17 and 18 didn’t laugh with me. A sour feeling filled my stomach, and I let my forced smile slip away. I didn’t mean to dump all of this on them. It felt unfair to do so when we’ve only known each other for a single day. I opened my mouth to tell them they could ignore everything I said, but 17 beat me to it.

“Well, you won’t have to worry about that for much longer,” 17 said. “By the time this month ends, Goku will be long dead and you’ll have one less worry on your plate.”

I blinked at 17 as my mind rushed to process what he just said. The corners of my mouth lifted and a breathy laugh – a genuine one this time – left my throat.

“Is that a promise?” I asked.

17 grinned. “It sure is. So we’d better get moving. The sooner we get back on the road, the sooner we’ll find Goku.”

17 drummed his hands on the floor, braced them against the metal, and leapt to his feet. He headed back through the back doors of the van to shut them properly before making his way around to the driver’s seat. 18 twisted in her seat and laid on it to make the back of it tilt toward me and Oji 16.

“Are you gonna be okay, Saki?” 18 asked. “You’ll have to face Goku eventually if you stick around with us.”

A fresh wave of anxiety churned in my stomach. I swallowed and stomped the feeling down before it could rise up too far.

“It’ll be fine,” I said, though I was talking more to myself than to 18. “As long as I’m not facing him alone, it’ll be fine.”

18 hummed. It sounded like she wanted to ask something else, but no other questions came from her. The van’s engine roared to life, and we continued on our journey.

#fanfic #fanfiction #dragon ball oc #dragon ball z oc #bonus content

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niralmylasaravanan · 2 years ago

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ORANGE ORANGE ORANGE

August 28 2022

When I was fifteen there was a fire in the hotel I was staying in. It was a cheap hotel, scratchy sheets and linoleum flooring. My mother clasped her arms around me when the alarm rang. Her eyes welled with tears as she pushed me up from the bed. In the minute after I got dressed I picked up my favorite pair of pants--jeans so tight they looked painted on in the dark. With one hand I clutched them to my chest and held my father’s cold fingers with the other. Outside it was three in the morning and the sky was smoked with orange and I was terrified that I would die that night, that some terrible thing was going to happen and I would get swept up in the flames. How fitting for me: a girl made of fire with water in her veins. Of course I would vaporize in a shard of a second.

My first college party I wore a coral salwar masquerading as a mini dress. My hair was done up in braided space buns. I was beautiful and radiant and having the kind of fun that only comes with new people and the intoxication of freedom. Within the first hour I was crossed. I smoked a blunt with three boys who I had never met before, freshman too but older looking, as if they were more adult than I am. I drank pure vodka and strawberry energy drinks. A white girl climbed onto the roof and took her top off. She scintillated in the dim porch lights and I wanted to bring her down from that high heaven and rest my lips on hers. Because I could never be that way. I could never do a thing like that. I do not have it in me. Blood tingling, neurons firing out of sync, lungs smoky, I kissed five people. I called my childhood boyfriend three times and told him I loved him, even after all this time. I threw up neon pink glitter over the carpet of someone’s bedroom. I laid on the couch with my dress wrapped around my waist. I was nameless, erotic, religious. I went up to Parker and hugged him, holding my arms tightly around his neck, head tucked under his chin. The morning after I did not remember what happened, rewatching the night and recalling it now only because of the photos, videos, voice recordings. I have become who I always hid inside myself: the cool girl, the fun girl, the slut girl, the got so drunk she had a breakdown on someone’s bed girl, the begs you to fuck her girl, the choke her until she cannot breathe girl, the bullet in the dark girl. I do not know where I end and the fantasy begins.

Intoxicatedly I realized that people do not like me for who I am. They love the life I lead, the drugs and the parties and that constant edge they get by standing beside me as I burn down discos. I am not a person to them but rather a high that they are chasing, thinking, “I cannot be her so I will fuck her instead, fuck her hard and dirty and sleazy, and make her beg for it, so at least then I will have the upper hand over someone as ephemeral as her.” I do not love myself as much as the people who love me. I eat eat eat their affection because I am starved for it, need the adoration of others to feel real and touchable and worthy.

I do not know how to come to a cohesive end to this essay. My best friend told me that I get attached to the first sign of affection because I have never had it, so every time it comes I am so afraid of losing it before I even have a chance to touch it. I have done this so many times but I am unable to stop. I fear that I will never be able to.

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conradreinhart · 2 years ago

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“no, yeah he’s okay,” the reassurance in his voice was anything but so. was he? not in the slightest. the entire movie of his past flashed like broken, poignant images that were stark stages of a crumbling marriage that he was desperate to keep alive. its heartbeat was now at a leisure pace. a wide chance of falling away, slipping through the cracks yet he was so naive that there was a probable solution. his countenance as shallow and even-keeled as a total juxtaposition to his insides that intertwined within themselves so tightly wound, he nearly made himself sick. he attempted to choke down the bile that arose his throat like a flair of lava itching to erupt into it’s exit. three years he had spent with absolute control — when it was warranted — and responsibility that fell like a paper weight on his shoulders. so much so that it began to deteriorate his being every second of the day. every decision that was made upon was for the tender, irreverent two and a half year old whom was — up until this point — conrad’s very reason of existing. spindles of a once bright future now dimmed in the glare of a dark, desolate future.

how could an individual who was simply not his wife bring him such comfort? such peace? the moment the door was revealed with the woman from behind it, his wavered, hyper sulked breaths soon smoothed over into deep, conscious inhales. aware of the exact beat he made eye contact with her, his stature would slump, along with the hearty exterior he was anguished to conceal for solely him alone. it was as if his spirit were hovering over his physical body, an astral projection of himself that was detached from his inner self. of course it was impolite to not request entrance into an abode that didn’t belong to him, but the more time he spent standing outside looking in, the more he felt himself slipping into rugged ground that was quicksand, soon swallowing him whole. feverishly, he paced to the furniture of a nearby room he wasn’t quite sure he was really in. finally collapsing his entire body balled together, wound tight as if he about to launch into the air at a moment’s notice.

“i shouldn’t…” a visceral grip of his snow while knuckles on the armrest, interrupting himself in his train of thought as if he had more syllables to emit into the atmosphere. “i didn’t know where else to go, i’m just horrible. a horrible person. why did i tell her to leave? i love her so much..” it was the tail end of the sentence that he was in the midst of believing as the truth. maybe if he repeated it a handful more times then it would actually form as honesty. “i’m such an awful dad i can barely keep my family together and it’s all my fault. he’s going to resent me, i know it,” each word now a spar to equate in a full cohesive string of complete thought. dark orbs swayed from every angle of his surroundings, before squeezing them shut. maybe if he shut out the rest of the world, all of the problems wouldn’t matter. they would suddenly be resolved and all of the concern and pent up trepidation would be a war of the past.

murky caramel orbs fluttered open, with an immediate pang of defeat coursing through every vein in his body. those same eyes squinted up at the welcoming — or lack thereof — as the sunlight flooded behind the cave of the curtains. warm, cozy and fulfilling. however, the space that used to be taken up beside him was now vacant. and yet, the aroma of a foreign body spray that didn’t belong to him folded in to clash with the air as it evaporated from above. there was a certain angle of loneliness that couldn’t be helped. as the gold band that wrapped around to hug the knuckle of his ring finger, it was a constant reminder of empty promises. vows broken the mere moment they were spoken. no truth, no honesty, no security. after two years of misplaced regret, all points culminated to an end. an end that was said to have been a long time coming. one that conrad reinhart had hoped helplessly would never be. there was an urgent cry echoing from the nearby bedroom, as both feet clambered onto the hardwood floor and seemingly raced to be by the two year-old’s side. “hey, buddy. i’m here, daddy’s right here,” the words were a temporary bandaid of what the little boy was searching for. his mother, of course. underneath very ill-tempered tantrum that most two year-olds experienced, there was the same problem that he couldn’t quite shake. at times it almost felt as though he were a single parent, and although he ultimately wasn’t about to take for granted the extra time that murphy spent with him, carmen was equally missing out on the toddler’s youth.

the time? was two forty-five. the raven haired dancer had just witnessed his wife slithering into the back door, as quiet as she may have been, it was conrad who attended to the baby monitor in one hand and a fist balled up to turn on the light fixture in the other. tonight, of all nights, he wasn’t amused with playing her games. “where have you been all night?” was easily the most asked question when assessed with a situation like this. truthfully the man didn’t expect an answer to withstand the results of a polygraph test. the evidence was clear as the day was long. her make-up was smudged, lipstick bleeding from one cheek to the other. her once smooth, luscious golden locks now frizzy, pieces of curls knotted and combed at as if she were building a nest atop of her head. her alarmed stumbling was paired with the distinct shaking of her head. any stalling to collect an appropriate lie that her husband was already well prepared for. “get out of the house, i don’t want murphy to see you like this. i don’t want him to see you at all. we can talk when you’re sober,” he affirmed, though wavering cracks muffed through his tone as an underlying depth of panic. distrust. gut-wrenching agony. and that was the end.

or so he thought. cradling his son into his hip, there were moments that flickered into his subconscious that each time he looked into murphy’s eyes, he was reminded of carmen. the carmen he knew of long before the grocery list of betrayal had started. it was easy to place the blame on himself. it was what he always did. they had gotten married too young, they were practically children themselves. it was the only option the reinhart family felt suited them all. in their close community, people talked. and so with whatever duty it was that conrad was displaying for his family, he had convinced himself that whatever this was, was love. it had to be. there was no other way. all couples met their fair share of polarizing issues. what did he know if they couldn’t find an angle of normalcy again? it was as if his heart lived outside of his own body, in the form of murphy. his saving grace. as any father would do, conrad hoped that staying in this circumstance would mean he would have two eligible parents. in case while most others didn’t. and as he then parted from the house that early morning as his mother agreed to occupy his son for the time being, he needed closure. or clarity. or whatever it was that he strove for to find any sort of reassurance for the future.

it had began as an innocent plea for help. or so he thought. with his feet doted at the edge of the door of someone who he was sure would find his presence at her home off putting. at the very least. but as he racked his fist over to knock on the frame, the muscle in his chest quickly paced, thudding in overwhelming anxiety and terror over it all. should he even be here? where were his priorities aligned when he could make no sense of it all? each second that melted away, was more cause for confusion. what a tangled web it was, that left him with no choice but to find the solace he was in desperation of.

#there is salvation in the form of your grace.

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starr-fall-knight-rise · 4 years ago

Text

HASO, “In the Ambience.”

Had a conversation on discord last night where I became aware that I left Sunny and Adam’s interactions at a place where it was sort of nervous and awkward. So thank you DZ for talking that through with me.

I am not really well versed in writing relationships, and I didn’t want it to overshadow the rest of my writing, so I pulled back from it, but I think I pulled back too hard. So if you care about the Sunny/Adam dynamic, I wrote a story this morning to acknowledge that. Hope you like it, and I hope you all have a great day.

She got up in the dark, with only the dim ambience of soft blue lighting to accompany her. She stretched all four arms, and rolled her neck. It struck her as mildly interesting in that moment, how something so small could connect them to humans, The thought was fleeting as she took another step forward to kneel down on the floor. There, in a little alcove in the wall, she had set a volcanic rock from Anin, dried moss, and other paraphernalia from her home world. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath resting her hands together.

Praise and respect to the spirits of Anin. Praise the fathers and mothers of war gone to their rest below the moss and the earth. Praise their spirits that watch from the sky and peer through the ether down upon us.

She continued the slow mantra in the style of Prayer learned from Naktan and pulled her concentration to her core ignoring anything and everything around her. A deep state of meditation overtook her. She would never have done this if she thought there were any chance that she was in danger, but below she knew Earth glowed like a sphere before their orbiting ship. There was no worry of invasion.

She thought she heard something at one point, but chose to ignore it as she continued her mantra.

Eventually, and after an unknown amount of minutes, she stood and turned slowly to find-

She stopped, and crossed her arms over her chest.

“What are you doing.”

Adam burrowed his way further down into her blankets nuzzling his head up against her pillow, “So warm, and comfy!”

She tried not to smile, “You dumbass.”

He pulled the blankets tighter around himself, “You know, I did come here to talk to you, but I actually really am comfortable, so come back in two hours.”

“I-”

He closed his eyes and pretended to snore loudly.

She rolled her eyes as she watched him theatrically pretend to sleep. She looked around mildly for a moment before picking up another pillow and glancing at the door. She casually walked over, dropped the pillow on his head and then held it down as if she intended to smother him.

That got him up and moving.

Before long the two of them were grappling for the upper hand, him trying to put her in a choke hold, and her using her lower arms to pinch him.

He yelped, “Ouch! Pinching is illegal.”

“SIssy.”

He clamped his legs around her lower arms pinning them in place. SHe struggled for a minute and then went limp.

SHe could feel his smug smile, “I win, I beat the saint of Anin. Everyone bow at my feet.”

“You say that, but if this were a real fight, you’re the one with a self destruct button.”

“Self-destruct button…?”

“Meaning if this were a real fight, I would have punched you in the balls.”

“Please don’t”

Finally he let her go, leaving the two of them to lay on her bed, sheets scattered on the floor around them, and her pillows in disarray. Adam put his hands behind his head and sighed.

She glanced over at him, “I don’t suppose you came to just hang out. Here on Admiral-ly business?”

He groaned pulling one of her pillows over his face, “Please smother me for real this time.”

SHe leaned up on one of her elbows, “Why?”

“I don’t wanna be an adult anymore,” She tilted her head to the side watching in amusement as he attempted to throw a childlike tantrum, but only really had the energy to kick his feet once, “It’s boring and lame and they wont let me wear heelies to important meetings…. Children don’t have to pay taxes.”

She laughed, pulling the pillow from his face, “Adam you are many things, but ‘adult’ is not one of them.”

He grinned slightly, “True enough.” He sighed again and rested his head back against the pillows, “I just want to get back to what we are supposed to be doing, exploring the universe and making cool alien friends.” He threw up his hands in frustration, “But Suddenly I find myself embroiled in stupid annoying politics that I don’[t understand, being used by people who are, lets face it, WAY smarter than me, constantly finding myself getting manipulated.”

She huffed, “They aren’t smarter than you Adam, they’re just manipulative, and you aren't.”

He sighed, “Fair enough.” Then he looked at her, bright green eyes reflecting the soft ambient blue light, “I just, I miss this, I miss us, I miss hanging out and doing stupid shit, and all of the things I could do when I wasn’t so important and this operation was smaller.”

She smiled rather sadly reaching one hand over for his, lacing the four of her fingers through the five of his, “Well someone has to do the hard things, who better than you.”

He glanced over at her raising an eyebrow, “Or you, miss saint”

She rolled her eyes again, “Can’t seem to get you off of that. I’m still the same person I used to be.”

“But with power.”

She elbowed him gently and he grinned, “But really, I am proud and impressed and…. Let's be honest super super smug that ‘I’ know you personally.”

“I know, I am pretty terrific.”

The two of them laughed for a minute before settling down again. He glanced over to her little shrine on the wall, “What were you doing just then?”

She looked up at the ceiling, following the lines of metal and rivets with her eyes, “Praying to the spirits of Anin.”

Embarrassed, he shifted, “I didn’t know you were….. Well I didn’t think you were all that religious?”

SHe shrugged, “Don’t feel bad, it’s sort of a new thing. Back before all this, it was sort of just stories to me. Like I believed it because that was what everyone believed, but I didn’t really accept it, or feel it the way I do now. After everything with my mother, it was hard to feel connected to something I felt I wasn’t a part of….. But then after visiting my mother, after becoming a saint for a religion I never really followed…. Well it started to make more sense. It feels real now in a way that it never did.” She turned to look at him, finding him watching her, the UV blue stripes in his skin glowing blue.

“I believe in the spirits of Anin more than I ever have.”

He smiled at her and squeezed her hand, “I’m glad to hear it.”

They lapsed into silence for a long moment staring up at the ceiling before, inevitably he broke it, “So this makes you like, space Moses.”

She frowned and turned to look at him, “What is a Moses?”

He grinned, “A guy from one of the Earth Religions. You know guy follows god’s directions to lead his people away from slavery, climbs a moutain, recieves the word of god, comes down to give it to the people, that sort of thing.”

Sunny tilted her head slightly to the side, “Are you religious?”

He paused, frowning, “I…. well I…. don’t really know. My family has been some flavor of Christian for a long time.”

“Christian?”

“Uh yeah, The general idea is that there is one all powerful deity who created everything. He has rules and laws that you are supposed to follow, The general tenants of this specific religion mostly boil down to, love everyone and don’t be a dick, which humans are notoriously bad at. You sin you go to hell, a very bad place after you die, and if you are a good person you go to heaven. Problem is everyone is a sinner and breaks the rules, so really no one was going to get into heaven.”

“That sounds bleak….”

“Well that's where the other stuff comes in. Basically this all powerful deity sent down his son in human form to live a perfect life, so when he was martyred he took on the sins of all of humanity and paid for them in the greatest act of mercy to open the gate for the rest of us into heaven.”

Sunny shifted as he tilted to the side to lay in the crook of her arms, “Of course that is just one religion among tons on earth, we aren’t really as cohesive in our beliefs as Drev are….. As for me…. I’m not really sure.”

She tilted her head to the side, cheek resting against his hair, “After seeing space, I become more and more convinced of some….. Thing that created everything, but beyond that it's sort of a tossup.”

She ran one hand through his hair, course but still soft somehow.

“You know my name comes from that religion.”

She turned her head to look at him, “Oh.”

“Adam was the first man.”

“WHat do you mean.:”

Adam shrugged, “He was supposedly the first man that god created, from the dust of the earth…. I think?”

She gave him a sidelong glance, “Look, and you get to be the first idiot in space.”

He snorted and poked her in the ribs.

“There were PLENTY of idiots in space before me, believe you me.”

“Mmm I don’t know, you are pretty dumb.”

He laughed, grabbing a pillow and hitting her with it. She rolled over so she was lying on top of him and then went limp.

He struggled, “Get your big ass off me.”

“Oh no, I have been attacked by a sudden acute case of the, my spine doesn't work anymore disease.”

“If you don’t move, you’ll suddenly find yourself with a case of fist in your face disease.”

She laughed and rolled off him, making su7re the hard parts of her carapace were sticking down for maximum discomfort.

He grunted.

They returned to lying down next to each other in the half darkness. Sunny reached over and turned on some quiet music in the background as the two of them sat and talked, and laughed.

“I can’t wait to get back to deep space.” He closed his eyes and hummed softly at the thought, “Just the crew and the darkness and nothing ahead of us but an endless frontier.”

Surprisingly, she found the thought to be more than a little comforting, and closed her eyes thinking about the vast reaches of blackness and the endless spinning galaxies.

“And while we are out we can drop Conn into a pulsar.”

He snorted,

“That billowy bastard would survive and you know it.”

She huffed, “Still though, if I have to hear one more smug lecture how he has a child with you, I’m gonna wring his scrawny neck.”

He grinned teeth flashing blue in the light, “Is someone;.... Jealous?”

Sunny laughed, almost tipping him off the bed and onto the floor with her mirth, “Yes Adam, I am totally jealous, really I am. I mean who wouldn’t want to have a child with YOU, big dumb, dork. Really the perfect place to put my superior genes.”

“Superior genes, says someone who can’t reach the top shelf.”

She kicked him foot clanging off his prosthetic, “I am a foot taller than you.”

He placed his hand next to his ear, “What was that, I can’t hear you over how short you are.”

Sunny shook her head, “At least I have binocular vision and both my knees.”

“And weird neck nostrils, don’t forget about those.”

“Oh yes so I can house them on my face like you and your bigass nose.”

“Low blow, low blow.”

“There are…. Lower things…. I could make fun of.”

He snorted, “Can’t make fun of it if you’ve never seen it. You on the other hand, walking around in the nude.”

“You’re welcome. Who wouldn’t love.” Sse gestured to herself, “This.”

“Mmm yes,.... chitin , very sexy.”

“I am a gift to the universe, and should be appreciated by everyone.” He brushed a hand through his hair, “Well I find that real gifts are gift wrapped, so jot that down.”

“Oh yeah, like a prank gift when you put something lame in a box for something cool.”

He frowned at her, “You wound me,. My feelings are so very very hurt. I might even cry.”

“I drink human tears.”

“That, that’s really gross.��

She laughed and then they lapsed into silence. She could hear him breathing quietly next to her in the darkness, his chest rising and falling under the ambient blue light. She looked across the room to where her saint armor was hanging in it’s climate controlled case illuminated to a pearly sheen.

“Adam.”

“Yeah.”

“You know I’m just kidding about calling you dumb riught.”

“Yeah I know.”

“I’m proud of what you’ve been doing.”

Adam turned to look at her rather incredulous, “Me, of what? I haven’t been doing shit.”

“So we are just going to ignore you overthrowing a maniacal politician while simultaneously piloting a 2,000 year old spacecraft?”

“That was more Conn and Eris than it was me,”

“It was your idea.”

“Lets not forget Admiral Kelly.”

Sunny pulled him closer, “I am sorry, I will not be accepting anything other than you acknowledging that you did a good job.”

“Screw you.”

“You’d like that wouldn’t you.”

He sighed, “You’ve been talking to Ramirez WAY too much.”

She was only slightly smug as she rested her head back against the pillow, “I really should get up and train.”

“We should.”

Neither of them movies.

“Alternatively we could just…. Lay here…. All day and do… nothing .”

She looked up at the ceiling for a long moment and pretended to be in deep contemplation before “Well it’s official, you have convinced me. You and your silver tongue.”

“I am a master negotiator.”

He shifted position putting one arm behind his head, “Think about it, by this time tomorrow we will be back to space exploring and doing what we should have been doing all along. I can’t wait.”

“That makes two of us.”

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caswellprmanager · 3 years ago

Text

suspended

read it on ao3!

Summary: Ricky is afraid of heights. Nobody knows this.

Notes: This is purely a vent fic in response to 2x10 bc I have pent up feelings that I make Ricky feel instead. Richard Bowen bb I'm so sorry 😩 Anw don't read if you haven't watched the latest ep as there are major spoilers!

Warnings: Mentions of injuries

---

Ricky isn't the most open person – that part he's sure everybody is aware of – and he kind of likes it that way.

Every time Ricky has laid his heart out for anyone, pain follows not too long after. As much as people love to tell him that getting hurt is just a part of life, it does not mean he has to just let it get past him like it was nothing. He's a teenager. He has intense emotions and raging hormones. Shouldn't he be allowed to be upset?

No, apparently.

Because according to everyone else, he's not allowed to be upset that his parents split up. He's not allowed to be upset after breaking up with his girlfriend. He's not allowed to be upset at literally anything because the show must go on, right?

They don't say it out loud. They wouldn't dare. But Ricky feels it deep down that they just want him to get his act together before opening night. They don't know how to help him and he understands that but... it would be nice if they tried.

No one has really tried to get to know him on a deeper level. Sure, he can say that Big Red is his best friend and that Nini is the only other person who gets him but... there are parts of him that he hasn't told either of them. Not for lack of trying – he's tried several times to open up more after all. But being completely vulnerable is still entirely new territory for him.

And one of the things he's never told anyone – not even Big Red and Nini – is that he's terrified of heights.

There was one time when he was a kid, he liked to climb trees like a monkey. And as a kid, his curiosity on how high he could climb got the best of him. One thing led to another and then he found himself crying to his mom about a broken arm and a bruised hip.

Ever since then, he's been afraid of heights.

He tampered it down when Miss Jenn suggested that Troy be suspended in midair for Getcha Head in the Game. She was so excited for it and Ricky was still very much the new kid in the club – so he couldn't say anything. And Miss Jenn has been lovely to him, letting him go home when he wasn't emotionally or mentally at school or rehearsals.

So Ricky just let himself be strapped to the harness and sing his heart out — until he saw his mom with Todd in the audience.

Then, the harness seemed to suffocate him, squeezing at his ribcage despite it being not that tight. Suddenly, the ground beneath him seemed a million feet away and that if the rope broke he'd be fucking dead on impact. Suddenly, the air was thinner, his head was spinning, and he was trying to tell EJ with his eyes that he needs to get down or he's going to die.

There were other things to worry about during the show so he never really did get to bring that up afterwards. Eventually, Ricky forgot about the whole thing after blissfully being back with Nini officially.

Life was fantastic.

Then life suddenly... was not.

The second break-up was hard enough, even if he was the one to initiate it. Now, they're only one day close to doing tech rehearsals and they don't have anything cohesive. Miss Jenn looked like she was about to have an aneurysm, Carlos basically had one hand holding a clipboard and another hand on 911 speed dial, and everyone else visibly cringes every time Ricky speaks his lines.

So yeah. Not a very good time right now. Ricky wants to disappear completely.

And then... they had to suggest that they, once again, suspend him in midair during the transformation. This is essentially Ricky's worst fucking nightmare.

But he wasn't part of the viral intagram clapback against North High, wasn't even there for more than half of act two back in HSM, and everyone just isn't in the mood for any complaints Ricky might have... Even if it's about a fear that brings up one of the worst memories of his childhood. And Ricky desparately still wants to be considered as part of the team.

Yeah. No. It isn't a big deal. Not at all.

Just strap on the harness and wait for the nightmare to be over, right?

Wrong.

Everything seemed to happen in slow motion — the snapping of the rope, the screams from his castmates, the sound of hurried footsteps only seconds too late before Ricky lands on the floor with a sickening crunch. Big Red is the first one by his side, followed by EJ, both of whom instruct everyone to stand back and call some medical help. He vaguely hears Nini speak on the phone with someone but the sharp pain that is coming from somewhere on his body intensifies with each movement.

Ricky can't even see straight and the searing pain of what is most definitely a few broken bones is so intense that he can't help screaming when EJ tries to move him.

"FUCK!" He screams when EJ attempts to move his leg. Well that one is definitely broken... Is it supposed to bend like that? Both Big Red and EJ put their hands up, signaling to everyone else not to touch Ricky.

Ricky tries to move his arm and cries out again. It isn't as bed as his leg but it's at the very least sprained. Big Red reassures him that someone is on their way to bring him to the hospital but Ricky can barely focus on his voice.

The next time Ricky is conscious enough to comprehend what's happening around him, he hears arguing from the other side of... wherever he is. He sits up, blinking rapidly in order to adjust to the dim lighting, and realizes with dread that he's actually in the hospital.

"Ricky! You're awake!" Big Red's voice comes from his left and he sees the rest of the gang follow him at his declaration. Ricky's skin crawls ever so slightly at seeing all of their worries faces. He doesn't need pity or guilt right now.

God he just wants to be alone.

But does he really?

"You broke your leg and sprained your wrist in two places." Nini said to him – the first full sentence she's said to him directly since the break-up – and Ricky doesn't know what to do with that. There's a ringing in his ears and he can't get it to stop.

Then everyone else started talking, taking turns about how worried they were before the doctor told them the news. He could barely even make out their words as they sound muffled in his head. He wants to say he's okay. He wants to say that everything will be fine and that he'll be back onstage in no time.

But the reality is that none of this has ever been fine for him.

"I'm afraid of heights."

His voice was soft, restrained, and thick with tears he'd rather not shed in front of all these people. But even just the sound of his voice right now stopped the rest of them mid-sentence. They process this new information with mouths gaping and eyes widened in more white hot guilt.

"You never told me that." Nini says first, almost accusatoy and a little sad. Ricky scoffs and leans back to bury the side of his face in his pillow.

"You never asked." Ricky replied simply and the weight of his words fell on the rest of the group.

You never asked.

They never asked if he was okay with the harness.

They never asked if he was okay even with all that pressure as the lead.

They never asked if he was okay with any of it.

Maybe he can argue that he never spoke up but the damage has been done and all Ricky wants to do now is sleep for a long time.

"I'm afraid of heights." He says again, allowing a few tears to fall down his face at the admission, not even trying to see any of his friends' reactions. "Can you all leave me alone please?"

He doesn't start sobbing until the last person leaves the room.

Ricky isn't the most open person – that part he's sure everybody is aware of – and he kind of likes it that way. He's not always the first to reach out.

But it doesn't mean that it doesn't hurt just as much when no one does the same for him.

#ricky bowen #hsmtmts #hsmtmts spoilers #cloud's writing now #hsmtmts 2x10 #i just have a lot of feelings #i was supposed to make ricky pop off but i simply believe ricky is tired #he needs a long nap

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modern-vellichor · 4 years ago

Note

Helloo :) I hope it's okay to request an imagine 🙈 maybe a bucky one where you're both in love with each other but didn't talk about it. Then maybe at the party (at the beginning of age of ultron) you both spend a great and fun time together until ultron breaks in and the fight begins. You get hit and hurt terribly and Bucky freaks out when he sees your broken body. Then he stays by your bedside until you wake up and you both finally confess your feelings. Later then he cares for you and all fluff ❤️ I hope it's okay

hey there! I would just like to say: I have seen most of the marvel films. I was a child of marvel, but I cannot remember anything that happens before like Ragnarok so I’m sorry :) I did rewatch the scenes and i took some lines directly from them so spoiler alert ig. it also took me a fat minute to realise that Bucky isn’t in the scene lol but enjoy doll xx Warnings; graphic description of injury, blood, Bucky fluff :), minor age of Ultron spoilers soz

The dress hugged your form perfectly. It glittered in the dim light of the party. You had found home next to Bucky. He kept a hand loosely on the small of your back, and you leaned into his side. A sparkling smile graced your features for the duration of the party.

You loved Bucky with your whole heart, as a friend and more. You wanted him to grab your hips and pull you in for a searing kiss. You wanted to feel his teeth against your skin. you wanted your touch to roam the vast expanse of his chest.

You had a wonderful evening. You spent the night attached to Bucky’s hip. You danced and laughed and drank. You were drunk on each other’s presence. The night began to quiet down and you settled next to Maria. Bucky on your other side. Your smile was wiped from your face as you brought your attention away from Bucky and to Maria. A deep frown suddenly landed on your features. Bucky watched as you listened, whispering for Maria.

You heard a metallic thunk, and then mechanic whirring. You pulled a gun from a holster on your thigh, silently cocking the gun and turning the safety off. You were ready to attack. The thuds and the whirring grew louder, you stood up, alerting the team of your anxiousness. They saw the gun hidden behind your back and readied themselves.

The disembodied robot rounded the corner, your breath caught in your throat. It was mumbling cohesively under its breath. You studied the beast, worry growing as you assessed the situation, and it didn’t look good.

“No,” it grumbled. You took a defensive step forward, it was small as you tried to quell your shaking. “How could you be worthy?” Your eyes widened and you opened your mouth to respond, but stopped yourself. Perhaps it was a simple malfunction. “You’re all killers.” It pointed at the group, but its wired finger lands on you, it lingers. It stays on your person, almost as if the thing had a grudge against you.

Steve and Stark mumbled quietly behind you, but it was frantic. Words fell from your lips before you could stop them. “Its justified, is it not?” It gazed upon you with a broken smile, it ignored your question. Maybe it was a malfunction, a simple prototype acting up. It didn’t respond to you, it wasn’t coherent.

“Sorry, I was asleep,” it said. It turned its head away from you, as if in thought. Was it confused? “Or, I was a dream.” It shook its head. Parts of it were missing. Wires were exposed in all its joints, the voice box was breaking. Fluid dripped from its arm as it swung about. Surely, it was about to fall apart. One bullet in the right place and this would all be over.

“I had to kill the other guy, he was a good guy” it said, hunched over. It acted like it was in pain.

“Who?” You asked. It ignored you once again, but when Steve spoke to it, it responded. It stood up, towering over you as you gripped the handle of your gun even harder. You took another small step forward. You were looking for a weak spot.

“Ultron,” Bruce mumbled.

“In the flesh,” it confirmed. An idea dawned upon you, you scrambled away from the being, desperate to put as much space between you and it as possible. It laughed at your feeble attempt to flee, unaware of the plan being formulated. It finally addressed you.

“Scared, little one?”

“Not of you,” you said coolly, a small smirk on your lips. Maria stood up, and so did Bucky,

“You should be.”

Suddenly, two other robots came flying through the drywall. You launched your attack. You used the couch, using its projectile to fling you towards the bot. Ultron grunted as you landed on its back, your thighs tightened around the makeshift neck. You began to frantically cut any wires you could, but it was no use. It grabbed you with one hand and flung you across the room. You hit the wall, crumpling to the ground in a pathetic manner.

Bucky shouted for you, but you ignored him. You grabbed your gun from where it lay a few feet away from you. You began to shoot at Ultron, but it seemed invincible. You continued to launch your attack. You tried to escape, tried to find a control panel, or an override button. But one of Ultron’s sidekicks kicked you square in the chest, sending you stumbling backwards.

Bucky called out for you, tried to help you, but it was to no avail. You were immersed in the fight, there was no distracting you now.

No matter how many hits you took, you never stayed on the ground for long, Blood was soaking your dress and dripping from your face. It was matting in your hair and dripping into your mouth. You walked with a limp and your breath came wheezing out, your chest was heavy. You didn’t relent in your ruthless attack on the enemy.

Some of the team ran, others were flung from the building. But you stayed and fought. While Tony had gotten his hands on one, Thor had stunned another. It lay on the floor. You quickly jumped into action, removing plates and fumbling with wires as you tried to rewrite its code in such a small time frame. But the light in its eyes sparked again and it flung you off its back. With the help of Steve and Thor, you successfully managed to ‘kill’ it. You were probably going to use it for parts.

Three robots had fallen, and you were injured the worst. You weren’t superhuman, and you weren’t a god. You had been the first to launch yourself at Ultron without any protection, you had been the only one to get near Ultron. The other bots had thrown you around like a ragdoll, but you were stubborn and refused to give up the fight.

“That was dramatic,” Ultron wheezed. He paced back and forth. He gazed at you as you stalked slowly towards him. “You don’t know when to stop, that’ll get you killed.” He stated nonchalantly to you, but you ignored him. He continued his monologue. “I’m sorry, I know you mean well, you just didn’t think it through... There’s only one path to peace,” he grunted, discarding the body of one of his own, it sparked on the ground. Thor threw his hammer at the villain, he hit him square in the chest. Ultron fell apart as if he were nothing.

You breathed a sigh of relief and collapsed. You fell onto ground covered in shards of glass that tore open your skin. Shards of metal and live wires sparked dangerously close to you. You panted as you let out a strained and pained groan. Bucky was quick to your side, helping you off the floor. Your vision was going, you had lost a lot of blood and your veins were still oozing.

“Hey, Bucky,” you grinned, your voice breaking as your eyes began to shut.

“Yes, doll?” He asked, frantically trying to keep you awake as he dragged you away from the scene, with Steve’s help.

“I think its time for bed.”

Bucky opposes your proposal, but Bruce insists that sleep is the best thing for you right now. And Steve says that Bruce can be trusted, and that Bruce knows what he’s doing. So Bucky allows you to slip into a deep slumber while he slumps into a chair next to your bed.

You woke up after a few hours. Your body was stiff and bruised but the bleeding had stopped and Bruce had reset your ribs.

“Good morning, soldier,” you smiled at Bucky as he crawled gently into bed next to you.

“Good morning,” he mumbled back, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “You’re an idiot.”

“We won, didn’t we?”

“You nearly died.”

“So, what? I signed up for this, you’re gonna break a couple ribs fighting killer robots. Haven’t you ever seen terminator?”

“What would I do without you?” He scolds. “You were just prepared to leave me? Without a proper goodbye?”

“You would have moved on,” you scoff, attempting to roll away, but his grip on you tightened and you winced. “Its not like we’re married, Barnes.”

“What if I want to marry you?” He interrogated. He raised his voice, and you lost yours completely.

“Do you want to marry me?” You asked slowly, gazing into his tired eyes.

“Not yet, i mean. I’d like to-”

You cut him off by pulling him into a heated kiss. He was gentle with you, wary of your broken body, but sparks flew, and you weren’t worried about anything else.

#age of ultron #Bucky Barnes #Bucky angst #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky fluff #bucky fic #The Avengers #marvel fic

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pizzarollsareokayiguess · 4 years ago

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Far too much (Kuvira x Fem!Reader)

This is part 2 to Close enough? And I’m so thankful for all the people that interacted with my first written work!! So here’s this, I had so much fun writing it! If you guys wanna see somethin more specific or have ideas, send ‘em my way! Love you!!

WC: 5200 (almost 2x my last one!) TW: none that i’m aware of, lemme know though <3

You felt as stupid as a raccoon-toad.

When the avatar came to collect you to travel back to Zaofu, you were excited because you were going back home, even if you were being punished for your crimes. Unfortunately, Suyin had extended the invitation to the other individuals who were also from Zaofu. It seemed that she was sentimental and decided that every one needed a second chance.

So you were stuck with a bunch of people that you were not entirely fond of, especially when they heard of what happened to Kuvira. After that, you could just feel the glares they sent your way, which was annoying because that’s all they did. They just stared and would raise their stupid eyebrows. Why couldn’t they just get over it and shove it? It didn’t help that your injury still required attendance by healers and physical therapy. So even if you wanted to avoid all attention, it was a little pointless when they said you could only apply yourself for a couple of hours before resting.

There was a constant dull throb in your side, no matter the number of healers. Sometimes it would chill out but when you were awake for too long or when you skipped a meal, it would come back and stiffen your back. It was a constant battle and there were some times that you just wished that Kuvira double tapped you. It could've saved a lot of emotional and physical turmoil.

So, back to the situation on hand. You and several others were on a train that would stop in the heart of the Metal Clan. After that, each person would be sent to a camp that was ran by a horse faced individual who lacked the sympathy of a real person. You were told to call him General Zheng, if you ever saw him, and after that he left to go talk to the head of the guard. You and the others were hustled into a medical looking outlet, and each person was given a platinum band around each left ankle.

“It’s to make sure you don’t leave and to make sure you obey. Can’t have you running around like hen-ducks, right?”

ugh.

It had been several days since you had arrived in Zaofu. By then, everyone had been stationed with their community service and you started to get used to the schedule given. General Zhen said since you had to serve the community as your punishment, you could choose your schedule, basically saying, “How long do you really wanna do this?”. You could remain under order until your sentence was done or you could rush it out and leave it early. As early as you could anyway with a 25 year sentence. You decided to go with the latter; even with your injury, you thought that you could cut it by a year or two which sounded pretty minimal but you’d take anything at this point. At 10am you would wake up and eat then head towards the outskirts of the ring. There, you would begin to bend the metal together to create cohesive pieces for other workers to make into the plates that would create the dome. Others were tasked with mining the actual ore, and they were even paid for that, but you had to create the joints for them. Sitting and concentrating for about 8 hours a day would cause you to slouch and then you’d get yelled at by the healers. Who were scarier than a guy on cactus juice. You’d visit the healers once a week and they would see if your scar had healed or if it was infected. After seeing them, you would head over to the park where they held physical therapy outside. It was really nice to see all of nature while an old lady calmly coaxes you into the tree pose. Gaining balance was the hardest because your brain was trying to compensate for the strain in your side. You also kinda wanted to punch the lady because that’s is as far as I go stop pushing me areyoutuchingmerightnowareyouserious.

Needless to say, it was nice to go back to the plain gray walls of your (holding cell) room and just breathe quietly by yourself.

Then you got used to your routine which was a mistake because then something had to go and mess it up. And who else would it be if not for the very person who put you here?

Madam Jilpa was going to be the death of you. That near death experience you had? Insignificant to the pain that this woman was gracing you with. You wanted to strangle her. She was super nice about your wound, saying how it was healing well and then she manhandled you into a position to “stretch your muscles, you’re awfully sore, my dear.” You rolled your shoulders and exhaled as you left the park. Ever since you came back, people avoided you like the plague and it made the anklet a little more tighter each time. Doesn’t help that it was platinum so it just seemed that it was mocking you every time you caught a glimpse of it. Stupid thing. Stupid city. Stupid community service. Stupid- who is that?

You were strolling through the main street of the city, heading to the store when you saw her. Kuvira. The devil herself. Was I thinking about her? Is that why she’s here? Oh god, she can’t see me, what do i do? Where am I gonna hide? You panicked and slid into the nearest shop, which happened to be a tea shop. Luckily there was a line so you didn’t look too odd. Unluckily, the shop had big glass windows. So as much as you could see her, she could possibly see you? Maybe? You dipped next to the door and peeked out, wondering why Kuvira would be away from the estate. Then you saw the entire Beifong family, whelp. That answers your question. No better way to survey someone than surround them with powerful earthbenders. As your eyes glazed over their faces, you saw Bataar Jr. and Kuvira at the back of the pack. You couldn’t tell if they were talking but they looked like they were standing next to each other, and the evil voice in your head wouldn’t stop talking about how they looked. Together.

Not wanting to add mental therapy to your list of visitation rights, you decided to exit the tea shop and go back the way you came. Back to your plain gray room. Because who needs closure when you have, uh, gray pillows and plain bagels?

…

After that train wreck, it didn’t stop.

Suyin (it felt wrong to call her Su) had talked to the General and they made a plan to talk to each of the prisoners. To really decide if they are evil or not. You could make that decision with the way that these people would play Pai Sho, some of them were just cruel and malicious and a better punishment would be to shove em in the boiling rock.

Unfortunately you were on that list of visits and it was 3 days from now. They even accepted letters from family members. So that you could read how disappointed they are, one more time. But! It was written so it had sentimental value. You felt nauseous when you saw your name scrawled on the letter. Better now than later, it would seem.

Y/n,

I remember the day you were born. You were a screaming ball of anger and you wouldn’t stop crying until you were placed on my chest. Then you shushed and swooned. I knew then and there that I would love you till the day I die and every day after. And it seems that even now, I feel the same way. But, I know now that some paths are a little crowded and you lost your way. I’m sorry I wasn’t there to help you find the light in this dim world, but I just wanted you to know that you are my light. And that is all that matters. When you first left, I was left with irreplaceable pain because in a way, you had left me. But you were just touching the ground and spreading your fingers. You thought you knew best and I’m proud of you for sticking with it. But now that you see the end of this journey, you must stick with the repercussions. That is what it means to find the light and settle with it. You face your decisions and lay with the judgements. I’m glad that you came back to Zaofu. Hopefully, one day, I’ll be able to see your beautiful face again.

Love always,

Mom and Dad

A chip had left your shoulder. Thank the spirits. You could feel the wetness on your cheeks from the compassion from your parents. Perhaps they were right.

Bracing yourself with these words of encouragement, you faced Suyin with strong shoulders and a flinch in your side (cause, honestly, the tea isn’t that good at keeping the pain down).

…

When you were growing up, your parents had tried everything to stop you from sneaking out of the house. They tried metal bars, they tried positive reinforcements, they tried every parental trick in the book. They couldn’t keep you from whatever entranced you from the house. The only person who ever humored you and whoever treated you with some semblance of respect was Kuvira, or ‘Vee, when you were kids. Granted, she also had a rocky relationship but what’s a pot and what’s a kettle? When your parents finally noticed where you were going when you left, they talked to Su about it. If they couldn’t keep you down, they’ll just make sure that nothing bad happens. Because of that, you would spend many hours on the Beifong estate, surrounding yourself with other earthbenders and playing games with the other kids. As you grew, you started to notice how Opal would talk about the cute boy in her class or how Wing and Wei would blush when the dance recitals were held. But, as you got older, all you could think about was how pretty ‘Vee’s eyes were. How green they were, and how much they sparkled when she talked about how she finally joined the guard. How the tank tops she wore outlined her shoulders. You never noticed that when other people were looking outside, that you had found your view right in front of you. Su noticed of course, being the romantic that she was, she got so excited whenever her children were talking about love. Su knew you well, and when Kuvira left Zaofu, she had a feeling that you would leave with her. She had tried so hard to understand you, but she was so angry. Angry at Bataar Jr, angry at Kuvira, angry about everything, that she forgot that you got the short end of the stick too.

So she was nervous too when she invited you over.

…

The door had opened by then even when you hoped that it would remain shut for a little while longer. A guard had escorted you from your quarters into the matriarch’s afternoon room and she was seated near a window that looked to the sprawling estate of the Metal Clan. She looked up at you and smiled softly, and even from the doorway, you could tell that she had gotten older. Maybe not physically, but her eyes were a little wiser and a little more battle worn.

You had settled into the opposite chair, with some grace that you managed to muster, and she had offered you tea. It smelled of lemon and blueberries and you couldn’t help but relax. You couldn’t help it, seeing Su as a mother figure made you wistful of all the memories you shared. With those came remorse and you immediately felt guilty.

“Thank you for allowing me to come back to Zaofu, Su-Suyin, I am eternally grateful that you have allowed me back after what I did,” you said. After your stutter, it seemed your words came in a rush, unable to be held back.

“I wanted to apologize for leaving in the first place. I didn’t realise that I was blind to all the hurt that occurred when this thing started and I should’ve noticed when the first person that was wounded was you. I thought that I knew what I was doing when I left because I thought Ku-” you inhaled sharply, “I thought she would be the answer. It was wrong of me to place such big standards on her without thinking of the consequences. I know now that I followed her out of personal feeling, and not logic. I will forever be humbled by the events that happened and I just hope that you may forgive me. I am incredibly regretful of turning my back on you Su, I wish my eyes had stayed open a little longer.”

You were a little choked up and you finally pulled your eyes away from your tea cup to look at Su, finding her eyes already on you. Tears were pooling in her eyes and she was softly smiling.

Laughing softly, she speaks.

“You don’t speak often but when you do, you speak,” she sighs and looks outside again.

“I must admit that the most heartbreaking thing was watching Kuvira walk out because i knew that if she left, you would too. It's been that way since you were children. Little younglings running across the estate, throwing rocks and giggling to yourselves. I knew when she left that you would go. You follow the ones you love, you want them in your lives so you do what you must. I understand the feeling well.”

She looks at you and stands from her seat, walking around the table and kneeling at your side.

Softly, she places her hands on yours and squeezes.

“When I saw you on the floor, my mind ran a thousand miles. But until your testimony before your trial, I never imagined. The Kuvira that you love exists, but the Kuvira you followed are not the same. I’m sorry that I didn’t get the chance to warn you. People change right before your very eyes and it’s hard to adapt. I love you as if you were my own, Y/n, and I forgive you. As a parent, I am disappointed but that’s to be expected.”

Smiling you lurched forward and squished her against yourself. It didn’t take you long to become a little touch-starved from being in prison but man, hugging Su felt like landing on cotton and honey. Squeezing your shoulders, Su pulls back.

“Y/n, I’m telling you now what I had to tell myself. The right people get second chances. Currently, Kuvira and Bataar Jr are working with Korra and her friends to stop the remaining forces of the United army. They are good people, and I believe that they can do good things. But it’s up to them. You must wait for them to come to you. This isn’t in your hands now. If they want to change, they must do it themselves. That is my advice to you: good people will come around, they just need time.”

She gave you one last hug and released you. Stepping back she smiled, her eyes finally matching.

“I don’t want to take up all of your day, so I’ll let you go for now.”

You said your goodbyes with Su and the guard escorted you off of the estate.

It didn’t hit you until then that you didn’t flinch everytime she said Kuvira. Taking what Su and your parents said, you lifted your shoulders and promised yourself that you would change your days. You would begin the days with a smile and you would end the days with satisfaction.

…

Days had passed by then and your mood had only gotten better. Physical therapy was going better, your side had stopped constantly throbbing and was starting to scar over. Blues and yellows surrounded the tissue but you were able to go up stairs without passing out! Checking the integrity of the metal plates was what filled your afternoons but those passed by too. Soon, the petals of the metal clan were slowly starting to form and the construction was almost complete.

One day, when you were coming back from your shift, you had heard that Kuvira had returned. Something about brainwashing and how Asami was kidnapped? It sounded crazy to you but when you thought about it, there was this one doctor who wanted to control a person's thinking. Luckily, ‘Vee thought it was too barbaric and the idea was shelved. Korra was able to put a stop to it and her friends were returned back to normal with both charges returning back to Zaofu. It seemed that that test had proved to the rest of the Beifong family that they had taken a step towards fixing their past and wanting to grasp their future. You were happy that they decided to redeem themselves. It made sleep a little easier knowing that your ‘Vira was still in there.

Your brain wasn’t helpful though. As successful physical therapy was, it never helped the nightmares. It didn’t help the murmurs of your brain and the self deprecating remarks. It was exhausting. (How come she gets a happy ending? Wasn’t I supposed to be a part of it? I thought she loved me? I thought-) Yeah, well, you thought a lot of things. Just eat your toast and inspect that metal. Spirits sake.

…

Flowers were delivered to you.

Lilacs. Their fragile petals and purple centers called to you and you froze looking at them. They were placed in your quarters along with mail from your parents. You weren’t allowed to send mail yet but you could still receive them. But flowers?

Listen, as an earthbender and a metalbender, you have grown to know the planet pretty well. From the flimsy sand to the swollen stone beneath you, you feel the breath of the earth in your bones.

But that doesn’t mean you know a single thing about flowers. You know that they are pretty and that roses can be yellow in certain parts of the continent but lilacs? Pretty, purple, dainty, flowers? Confusion couldn’t even begin to explain the words you were feeling. Don’t flowers have meanings too? You have never received flowers before, you had convinced everyone around you that you would rather punch a boulder than receive flowers. And yet here they are.

It seems as if they are staring at you. Glaring at you. Laughing at you. (Who calls themselves an earthbender but can’t tell the difference in flowers? How stupid of-)

Snapping yourself from your stupor you spin around and walk right into the door jam.

Son of a flying-

…

You corner Hahn later on that night. Word in the prison yard says that when he was a free man, he was a farmer who lived next to a guy who happened to be a gardner of flowers. Which flowers didn’t matter but the fact that you kind of knew someone that had knowledge of flowers seemed like a win.

You plopped yourself on the seat in front of him and stared into his aged eyes. He had dark spotted skin from his field days and the wrinkles around his eyes suggested that he knew many things. A trustworthy source. (Your only source)

“Do you know anything about flowers Hahn?”

“Why do you want to know?”

“I got two days worth of desert that has your name on it if you tell me a thing or two.” Interest peaked, he leaned forward.

“I have a reputation kid, I ain’t just gonn’ blab about flowers to anyone. I don’t wann’ seem like a flim, ya know?”

“I ain’t gonna talk, I’ll even slide another honey cake in there.”

He thinks for a moment or two before nodding. You slide him the desert from today and he places it into his pocket. Leaning forward, you can smell sunshine and grass from him.

“What do you know about this?”

You had gently picked a single bud from your bouquet to show him. You weren’t positive if they were lilacs but they were purple and how many flowers were actually purple?

Humming for a moment, he responds. “. . .Syringa, if I remember correctly. Sold like hot cakes. There’s about several different kinds. This one here is just the smaller kind. If you tryna woo a lass, you call ‘em Lilacs. They got a strong scent though, so careful on the nose.”

Nodding, you ask, “does it have meaning?”

He shrugs, handing the bud back to you. “ Well, it could mean a lot of things. In the younger years, you’d give it to your lass to remind ‘em of your love. Like, a new beginning of love, remindin’ them of a new stage.”

He then looks you in the eye and glares. “Not a word about this hog wash or I’m stealing your pillow.”

You laugh, “you have my lips sealed, H.”

…

You hadn’t received any more bouquets and your pillows remained intact. New love? Who in the world could that be? You kept your eyes peeled for lurkers when you were on breaks and besides the common glare, nobody else seemed to be paying attention. So where did they come from? You had formed a vase with clay in order to keep your flowers and you were a little tickled to find that they lit up the room. Hmph.

…

Kuvira was two seconds away from suffocating herself. When did it get so hard to be a good person?

The amount of guilt that lifted from her shoulders from the trial was impalpable and she felt almost as confident as 4 years ago. The Beifongs were friendly and she was able to join and attend multiple events and she was slowly learning how to be a mentally stable person. She had started seeing someone in the city and once every two weeks they would take her apart and put her back together. She was getting used to it. Slowly.

But, spirits, did she miss you.

Something would happen during the day and she would turn to see you, see how your eyebrows would raise and how you would stifle your laughter behind your hands. And then she’d turn and you wouldn’t be there. It was total whiplash, and she wasn’t used to it just yet. Dr. Moko had yet to ask about the elephant-rhino in the room and Kuvira was waiting for the day where she would ask, “why did you attempt two murders, both of which were individuals you cared about?”

What a loaded question. Kuvira wondered how she got stuck with house arrest and not prison.

On one hand, it's an easy question. She thought she was doing a good thing. Bataar Jr. happened to be in the same place as the avatar and most of the resistance when she fired the spirit weapon and at the time it seemed like a good idea. (Not a good defense, she’s glad this question wasn’t raised during her trial). On the other hand. . .

Her soul would wither when she thought about. . .the. . kiss.

She felt that she was ignited and smothered at the same time. When she felt you melt into her arms, it was intoxicating. Your smell had surrounded her and you felt good in her hands. How she wanted to stay there forever. She wished that she could have stayed there forever. But the voice in her head was blood thirsty and on a victory roll and couldn’t be stopped. It was no excuse but the pain that Kuvira felt when she saw you slowly bleed out in her arms was so much that she zoned out and went on autopilot.

In one of the sessions she has with Dr. Moko, she mentions the voice with high reluctance. Dr. Moko says that the instinctual desires in her subconscious had risen to the challenge and took over, blocking out rational and emotional thought. This discussion had encompassed several sessions and because of that, Kuvira was able to gain control and become a little more independent with her thoughts. It gave her a sense of control, knowing that the Beifong family could trust her again, knowing that Korra wasn’t wrong when she said that they were alike. She had hope and all the split ends of her misdeeds were tying themselves together. But y/n. . .

You plagued her mind like a wine-stained carpet. So naturally, she (subtly) asks Su what happened after Korra stopped the spirit vine weapon. Su fills her in on the hospital visits, the trial, the physical therapy, the letters, everything.

That week Kuvira stomps into Dr. Moko’s office and says, “I need to talk about y/n.”

And so she does.

She sends you flowers.

Flowers?! She doesn’t have a flower bone in her body, why in the world did she pick out flowers? She even had a mind to pick out a specific type, lilacs: new love. She wanted to ask the florist for a bouquet that would convey “I’m sorry that I stabbed you, I am becoming a mentally stable person and I really wanna kiss you again and you are really pretty.”

Kuvira figures that lilacs are good enough.

. . .

It had been about two weeks since you received the flowers. They had started to wilt and you couldn’t help but get sad. You still had not figured out who sent them but a tiny part of you hoped that maybe she sent them. That she still thought of you while she’s learning how to be herself. It was selfish of you to think so, but you couldn’t help it. Kuvira was a major part of your life and to be without her made your heart ache. But you made do. After all, you still had 24 years of community service. . . you sigh. That doesn’t make it better.

You’re walking towards the park to take part in your therapy session. Several other people had come and gone and it was nice to see people learning how to overcome their struggles. You were growing stronger every day. Madam said that soon, you would be able to fully do the physical side of bending again. You could spar soon! You were starting to get antsy with all the chill meditation that Madam Jilpa was having you do. The bruising was gone on your side and you could extend your arms fully without twinges or aches.

You step onto familiar green grass and take off your shoes. Feeling the earth beneath your feet helped ground you when trying new therapy techniques that had you worried that your legs would suddenly give out on you. After placing your shoes next to your bag you look up and see your teacher and several others. There were more people today than usual which was odd. You couldn’t remember if there was a sudden climb of injuries in the last week but alas, more people meant less one-on-one time from the old lady herself. You walk over to a spot of grass and plop down, stretching your legs out in front of you. Planning on doing basic stretches you exhale-

“Need a partner?”

-and immediately inhale. You open your eyes and swirl around looking at the individual. Kuvira stands there relaxed, if not a little stiff, and is looking at you with her hands behind her back. The naive voice in your head screams in victory and you nod your head, still silent. Kuvira sits next to you and out of panic, you look around seeing everyone else doing the buddy system. Some were wearing the same clothing patterns as Kuvira meaning that they came over as a group. Meaning this wasn’t accidental. Meaning this was planned. Meaning this was the worst day of your entire life. Perhaps you should just run away and become a no name in the wilds, because then you’d be able to cope with the situation instead of just stewing in silence.

Kuvira places her knees together and leans forward, stretching her head towards her legs as she exhales. Knowing that Madam Jilpa would swat you, you slowly do the same. After you scootch further away, of course.

It’s painfully awkward. As Madam Jilpa begins, others join in with soft whispers and mutters of conversation. But the bubble that surrounds you is so tense that it doesn’t help the panic spasms that start to creep up your spine.

After coming back up from a lateral position, your eyes roam and they meet Kuvira’s. She’s looking at you fully, and not even Madam’s loud “Next!” breaks her attention. She’s looking at you and she stops her exercise to face you completely. Her eyes lower and she looks at your right side where your shirt had bunched up showing the scar tissue. Shocked, you pull your shirt down and shuffle a little farther away.

She speaks so softly you probably wouldn’t have heard her had you not been so attuned with her whole being.

“I’m sorry.”

You inhale and nod, bracing your attention forward and copying Madam’s next movement.

You try incredibly hard to ignore her stare for the rest of the session but it’s so heavy and so thick. At some point, Madam introduces a new position and spirits does it pull a muscle that you didn’t realise you had. It starts with your back on the ground, which is easy enough, and then you lift your hips and turn to the side. Keeping your shoulders to the ground, your head turns the opposite way. You flinch when it strains the muscles in your side. Your legs begin to quiver when a hand settles over your knee and brings your legs away from the ground, making the stretch more shallow. Your eyes see Kuvira as she holds your legs.

“Don’t do it too deep, you’ll sprain something. Start here.”

Following that, she lowers your legs again but into a place that doesn’t make you flinch in pain.

You missed her touch, you realise. You missed how softly she would hold you. Your eyes start to water when you realise how fucked up this is. She is right there in front of you, and all you can think about is how betrayed you felt. You never got the closure you needed from her and it’s being revealed as she helps you stretch. You’re silently crying while she places your legs down and helps you into a seated position.

“I should have visited you some time ago. I wanted to apologize to you, for wounding you and for leaving you alone when all you did was trust me. I misplaced your trust and I will forever be in your debt for doing so. I am incredibly sorry y/n,” she says as she looks into your eyes.

You sniffle as she grabs your hands. Squeezing them, you respond.

“Thank you, ‘Vee.”

And when you smile, the future seems a whole lot brighter.

#Kuvira #Kuvira x reader #Kuvira imagines #LOK imagines #legend of korra #LOK #I am a lesbian herald #my writing #new!

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mollymauk-teafleak · 3 years ago

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Noise

It was the ever incredible and wonderful @minky-for-short's birthday yesterday so I wrote her this fic! Thanks for being such a good friend and also for coming up with this brilliant Artist AU for Thanatos and Zagreus!

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Please consider leaving a comment on Ao3 if you liked this!

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Thanatos wasn’t used to coming home to a quiet house.

When he was younger, he’d always walked in from school or training classes to the racket of a house full of his siblings. There would always be someone yelling, someone arguing, something crashing to the floor, a handful of brothers and sisters sprinting past. And something inside him would sink under the weight of it.

Even for the size of the house of Nyx, there were very few quiet places, driving Than up onto the roof if he actually wanted some peace after a long day. But then there would be Zagreus, on the good days, sitting beside him and telling some story to cheer him up when he could see Than was tired and getting run down. He was there waving his hands in the air, gesturing wildly as he walked across the spine of the rooftop, eyes bright and wild and full. There was all the life and joy inside him bursting out as noise the way, later in life, it would burst out in his art.

Was it any wonder Than had fallen in love with him? He was the only kind of noise that had filled him up rather than worn him down.

And then he’d moved out but you’d really be surprised how much noise Sleep Incarnate could make when it was just the two of you sharing a cramped dorm room. And when your boyfriend was over half the time, bumping his elbows on everything and playing his guitar very badly as you tried to study, making you laugh, or sketching you as you typed an essay and throwing balls of paper at you when you moved and changed the light.

And you’d smile and you’d realise this was the man you were going to marry.

Now they had their brownstone, perfectly placed between Thanatos’ office and Zag’s studio and there was more noise contained in those walls than the mansion and that little dorm room combined. At first it was music, bright, cheesy music blasting as they unpacked all of those boxes and fit their two lives together for good. It was Zag singing in the shower on a morning, it was Than clattering pots and pans as he recreated his favourite recipes of his mothers, pared down for just the two of them. It was Cerberus barking at the birds on the fire escape or whining and kicking in his sleep, sprawled out across the sofa Than had definitely asked he not be allowed on.

And then Theodora happened. When neither of them had been looking, their bright, beautiful baby girl had come into their lives with one green eye and one gold one and all of her daddy’s spark and her papa’s brains and if Than had thought his life was noisy before, he was a fool.

But his life felt fuller than it ever had.

So when Thanatos walked through the door that evening, he immediately froze, overwhelmed with the sensation that something was very wrong. Because his house was silent.

Frowning, he hung his keys on the hook and shrugged out the heavy black coat he’d been sweating in for the last few days of warm weather. He’d had meetings with potential clients all over the place today and it felt like each one had required at least a block’s worth of walking. Of course he could just have taken the heavy thing off, as Zag often suggested, but he didn’t feel quite right without it. But drowning in sweat or not, he’d sold three of his husband's paintings today and he really felt like it warranted at least a welcome home kiss from said husband, followed by his daughter hauling herself onto her wobbly little baby legs, begging him to pick her up. And any other day, he’d have that wall of noise washing over him, loud and comforting and familiar.

So where were they?

The living room was eerily silent too, Theo’s toys lying in boneless patience for the next time she came along to play with them, the radio normally permanently tuned to Zag’s favourite station voiceless. Than frowned, the sense of disquiet getting a firmer grip on him as he passed through into the kitchen. The pots from breakfast were still in the sink, the dregs of Than’s coffee he’d hurriedly downed on the way to his office now ice cold sludge in the bottom of his favourite mug. Normally he’d be coming home to Zag attempting to cook dinner, it was his job to calmly survey the knife edge of disaster it was balancing on and diplomatically extract his husband from the stove so he could turn it into something edible. It was the thought that counted. But there wasn’t so much as a pot of tea brewing, the normally warm and raucous room cold and still.

Than’s frown deepened and he looked for a note, something to explain they’d gone to the store or the park, Zag often scrawled something on the back of an invitation to the latest gallery showing or letter asking for him to submit some work and stuck it onto the fridge. Thanatos had rescued commission requests worth thousands from the front of their fridge before, still valuable even with a request for eggs and milk scribbled on the back.

But he couldn’t see anything. The fridge only held a now week old reassurance that Zag had picked Theo up from his parents’ and taken her to get ice cream. Not much comfort to Thanatos, his heartbeat now increasing significantly.

Zagreus never left him worrying like this, he knew his husband's anxiety was only ever waiting for the slightest little nudge to topple over into overdrive. Hands starting to tremble now, he groped for his phone in his pocket, unsure whether to first dial Zag, his mother or the National Guard.

Fortunately, he didn’t have to work that out because just as he was about to yank his phone free, he heard a noise from behind the back door, something muffled coming from their tiny little walled garden. Laughter. Two kinds of laughter and he knew both of them well.

Relief settling over him, Than tried not to look like he’d been panicking that much as he pushed the door back and walked into the golden late afternoon sunlight. Their little yard wasn’t much, just a square of concrete tiles, but the borders were overflowing with greenery and flowers in sheer defiance to the lack of soil, all thanks to Than’s mother in law. In was in the sparse shades of these towering grasses and flowering vines that Zag and Theo were giggling. They were both grinning the same crooked grin, both pairs of eyes alight with that same joy.

And they were both covered in paint.

“Good evening,” Than found himself smiling too, before he even really knew why, “And what are we up to exactly?”

If Than was still a little miffed at his lack of a welcome home, it was quickly made up for when both his husband and daughter gave unison cries of delight and rushed towards him.

“Than!”

“Papa!”

Than laughed, bracing himself so he wasn’t completely knocked off his feet by their hugs, wrapping his arms around them. He accepted a lingering kiss from Zag before Theo loudly interrupted it with a retching noise, tugging on the bottom of his coat and demanding his attention.

“You gross!” she declared loudly, “Daddies gross!”

“Oh are we now?” Than chuckled, scooping her up and covering her pudgy little face in kisses until she squealed, “Is this gross?”

“No but your shirt might be going that way,” Zag grimaced apologetically, noticing the paint smearing from Theo onto her papa, “Sorry.”

Than glanced down, eyebrows raising, “Ah. And why exactly is my daughter covered in paint? I know a small amount is normal but this rather looks like she’s been rolling in it.”

Zag’s face brightened, “You’re not far off! I had this incredible idea, you see…”

“One that involved an awful lot of mess?” Than’s smile quirked fondly.

“All my best ideas do,” Zag winked over his shoulder before stepping to one side so Than could see the large roll of paper spread out across the ground.

Already it was filled with multicoloured smears and a few handprints, some footprints too, a cacophony of shape and colour. There were a few in different palettes hanging and drying on the back wall in the sun.

“You see, little Teddy’s going to be my new collaborator!” Zag spread his arms grandly over their work, “She starts them off and she can use whatever she feels like, just really moves with the energy of it all, y’know? Then I come in and tie it all together! She’s a phenomenal abstract artist!”

Than looked over the paintings they’d made together. Part of why he was such a good art dealer and such a good agent for Zagreus was that he found more to love in his work than anyone and he was good at making others see it too as he sold it to them. His love for the man spilled into the art, in the shapes and colours and textures he saw the person he’d loved since he was a kid. It was like Zag’s art spoke a language Thanatos was fluent in.

And looking at this art, the art Zag and their daughter had made together, it took his breath away. It was familiar and it was new all at once, it was bright and joyful as the two of them clashed and flowed together in the paint. If he looked long enough he could start to see what was Theo simply having fun splashing around in the colourful stuff she saw her daddy getting to play with all day and what was Zag fondly stitching her marks into something cohesive, something musical and formed.

And in it Thanatos could see his family. He could see noise.

“What do you think?” Zag’s eager smile had started to dim, his eyes getting a little anxious as he searched his husband’s face, tumbling into a nervous ramble, “I will clean her up, I promise, I put her in clothes she doesn’t love love, y��know? I will get the stains out, I swear and I can wash your shirt too if you want? I’ll use the special stuff that works really good, I mean, you might have to show me how but if there’s instructions I’ll just read those...”

Than took a step closer, careful not to damage the painting, reaching over and putting a hand on his shoulder. As it always did, the touch alone was enough to calm Zag, his nervous stumbling coming to a stop, turning into a self conscious smile.

“Zag, it’s beautiful,” Than murmured gently, moving the hand to brush his cheek affectionately. Fortunately, Theo didn’t deem this unacceptably gross, just pressing her face to Than’s neck and nuzzling contentedly, “It’s really, really beautiful.”

Zag beamed, tilting his head hopefully, “Beautiful enough that you wanna help us make another one?”

Than smiled back, already maneuvering Theo so he could shrug out of his work jacket and let it fall to the floor, Theo giggling and squirming with excitement as she helped him push his sleeves up.

“Well, I’m not a phenomenal abstract artist like you two but it does look like fun…”

The works from this new series would go across the country, thanks to Thanatos. He really was a good agent.

They didn’t sell them, Zag didn’t want them to be sold for money after the initial exhibition. Instead they were donated to art schools and children’s hospital wards and after school clubs. But the one that all three of them had done together, the one with the two sets of bigger handprints in varying shades of red and purple and the flurry of tinier ones, the smudges and smears and bright splashes of eye watering colour, that one stayed firmly where it belonged, hanging in their living room. Over time they would take it down and add to it, especially when they had two more sets of tiny handprints to add to it.

And around it, their house would never, ever be quiet.

#hades #thanzag #artist au #modern au #just some cute #for a real wonderful lady who I love a lot #happy birthday!!

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turinn · 4 years ago

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A Night Out

Mammon x GN!Reader

Summary: Mammon discovers a club holding a night to celebrate human culture, and decides maybe his human could use a little of that. Fluff, alcohol consumption, cuddling, Satan being a bastard at the end. A/N: This is my first Obey Me fic!! I’ll admit, I don’t know Mammon that well as he’s not one of my best boys, and I’m not even sure where the idea for this came from. It just popped into my mind, and I’m not one to turn down inspiration. I can’t make promises for characterisation, but I tried my best! Also I know literally nothing about nightclubs I just made shit up sorry.

"Hey, MC!! Open up will ya?" You groaned, pulling yourself out of bed. Mammon better have a damn good reason for nearly knocking your door down at... okay it was only 8PM, but still! Sometimes you just wanted an early night. You probably should've learned by now that that was far too much to ask in this house. You paid no mind to the fact that you were in your pyjamas, or the fact that they weren't the most modest of clothes. It was a warm night, so it didn't even register in your mind that you would be showing Mammon far more than he bargained for when you tugged the door open and glared at him. "What is it, Mammon? I don't have any money." His cheeks tinted pink at the sight of you, but the last comment brought his composure back just fine. "Why d'ya have to assume I'm after money? I'm here to do something nice and ya throw it in my face!" You rolled your eyes at his theatrics, though your interest was piqued. "It's a fair assumption, isn't it? Anyway, what do you want, then? I was about to sleep." "At 8PM? Laaaaame. Listen, when ya hear what I have to say, ya won't be worrying about sleep!" Mammon grinned at you, taking a few seconds to realise that your silence was an indicator for him to continue. "There's this club having some kind of event- ain't the kind of place I'd usually be seen dead in but apparently theres some kind a' market for human culture here, an' they're capitalising on it. Figured ya might be interested." His grin only got wider, he looked so proud of himself for thinking this up. Truth be told, it did interest you, if only to find out what exactly demons trying to hold an event based on 'human culture' looked like. Considering the sheer size and diversity of humanity and it's culture, creating anything both inclusive and cohesive sounded borderline impossible. You nodded, shutting the door and reappearing a few minutes later fully dressed. Mammons cheeks seemed to get even pinker, though he would never acknowledge it. Your club attire was vastly different from your casual wear, and he had not been expecting you to look so good. "Coming...?" The question seemed to bring his brain back into his body, causing him to realise you'd walked past him and were waiting at the top of the stairs.

The walk there was pleasant, warm evenings in the devildom were often quite nice, and spending time with Mammon when he wasn't scheming or trying to scam someone was something you'd grown to enjoy. Hopefully, things would stay that way.

The club in question was tucked away down an alley, honestly a little skeevy-looking, and you couldn't help but think that if Lucifer saw Mammon bring you here you'd be greeting him hanging upside down the next morning. Luckily for both of you, it was just the two of you. Before long you had a drink in your hand, though you couldn't identify it just from looking. A quick sip told you it was your favourite, and you briefly wondered how Mammon knew what drink you tended to go for when you went to clubs back home.

Honestly, you had to give the club its due. They seemed dedicated to making sure your senses weren't too thoroughly abused- the lights were bright enough to see while dim enough to keep the atmosphere and the colours changed often, but they weren't harsh at all and the music was loud but not deafening- and indeed to the theme. While most nightclubs around the world had similarities, the club had seemingly gone out of its way to at least represent some different cultures. All of them would be near impossible, but you hadn't been anticipating much of an attempt at all. The songs played varied in both language and genre, while keeping the upbeat tempo generally expected in a club; the drinks menu, which was extensive, offered an almost flooringly wide range. Given you'd been expecting some trussed up version of a generic western nightclub- something no different to any place in London you'd pay out your ears to get into only to leave an hour later because the music was shit, or some drunkard had tried to steal your phone- this was rather impressive. You grinned at Mammon as a song you knew and loved came on, and dragged him out to dance with you. With the drink not yet kicking in, you weren't as bold as you could be, and stood a few feet away from him, singing along quietly while you danced. Mammon really, really wanted to dance with you properly. His hands on your hips, you smiling at him, preferably leading to your lips on his a little later on- but admitting that? That he wanted to dance with a human? That that was his entire reason for even bringing you here? Never. He had a reputation to uphold! He was in luck, though. A few drinks in and another song you absolutely adored and you were all over him. Or at least, thats how he’d tell the story in future. In truth, you'd simply stepped close enough to him that he got the hint and put his hands on your waist, hoping the lighting was low enough that you wouldn't notice his blush. From this close, the grin on your face was even more brilliant, your laughter and occasional gentle singing reaching his ears easier, and... well, he thought everything about you was beautiful. Not that you'd ever hear it from him.

As the night wound down and the alcohol started to make you more sleepy than anything else, you hooked your hand in his and dragged him home. Your cheeks were still red from the drinks and exertion when you stepped into the light of the House of Lamentation, and the notes of tiredness he could spot in your eyes somehow added to your overall cuteness. Kissing you was pretty much the only thing on his mind as you turned to him and thanked him for the evening, but before he could make his move you'd turned back and headed up the stairs, hand still in his. He noted it was his room you made a beeline for, not yours, and the two of you collapsed onto his bed in unison- which made the fact that you somehow ended up lying on top of him super odd, but he wasn't about to complain. "I had a really good time tonight. Thank you, Mammon." "'Course ya did, you were with me." Your soft giggle was the sweetest sound he'd ever heard. "Hey... this was a date, right?" Sincerity and hope filled your eyes as you waited for an answer, and his heart clenched. Did you want this to be a date? "I mean... if that's what ya wanna think then sure, it was a date." That blinding grin graced your features once again and you pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, doing the same to his other when he didn't pull away. His eyes darted around the room, looking anywhere but you as he flushed, and it wasn't until he made eye contact with you again a few moments later that you finally planted one on his lips. Were this some corny romcom, he might've said he felt like he'd somehow ended up back in the celestial realm (he'd never admit he was thinking it), for all the joy that filled him when you did so. He stuttered for a moment when you pulled back, but you gave him no time to begin boasting to save face before you settled into his arms and let sleep overtake you. Mammown as more than happy to join you, a soft smile gracing his features. His human was so cute.

Waking up the next morning, his D.D.D had blown up with notifications from the House of Lamentation group chat. Just his luck that the reason for such activity happened to be a picture of the two of you sleeping that Satan had snapped earlier. He'd have to have words with his little brother about respecting boundaries and learning to knock. (The hypocrisy of such a lecture was lost on him.)

#♣writing #🌙. by me #obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me x mc #obey me x reader #mammon x reader #mammom x mc #obey me mammon #mammon obey me

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