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wizzdot · 4 months ago

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The Patron Saint of One Way Trips

Ch14

Description: we get taken to Mexico and thrust into the Action!! Let’s go find Hassan and meet Graves in the next chapter!! Whoop!!

*Laika's (Y/N's) POV*

I'm sitting in the meeting room, my leg bouncing up and down due to anxiety. I start chewing on my finger nails. Laswell's voice crackles over the computer. "Captain, good to speak again. I've spoken with Shepherd. He wants your team in Las Almas by tonight. They are to link up with the Mexican Special Forces. He is sending his own Shadow Team with Commander Graves. They have air support and any further assistance will be at your disposal. This is important, Captain. Lieutenant - I trust you will be able to get results. Don't let me down. I will send through further details as soon as I am off of this call. Thanks for your assistance once again. It is much appreciated" and with that, she signs off.

Everything seems to move in a blur from there on in. The next thing I know, I'm sat beside Johnny in a helicopter, the lieutenant standing near the pilot. I had packed my bags in a rush - I hope I had remembered everything but it was too late now.. we are already in the air. I had made sure to tie my hanky securely around my arm. It was tradition at this point. My lucky charm. Kyle joked that he felt the same way about his baseball cap.

I close my eyes and count for the rest of the journey, starting again at zero every time I lost my position. Johnny speaks with Ghost, who still hasn't looked at me. I was worried about this trip - how long would we all last together without John and Kyle. Would Ghost try and kill me before they join us? My hands start tapping on my thighs, nervously.

All of a sudden, there is a crash and jolt and within seconds, the side door of the helicopter opens revealing a concrete landing pad with three black jeeps parked waiting for our arrival. I freeze when I see him and tuck myself behind Johnny. I don't look up from the ground. Johnny and the Lieutenant stride ahead, down the ramp of the helicopter.

"Alejandro!" Johnny shouts, over the whirl of the blades.

"Sergeant MacTavish" - the Mexican Alpha replies - "Call me Soap.." Johnny greets, confidently and with respect, shaking his hand. Alejandro nods once.

"Lieutenant - Laswell says they call you Ghost?" - "Actually, I believe he prefers to be-" Johnny interrupts before Ghost snaps over the top of him -

"That'll do!" he barks loudly at Johnny. Johnny slams his mouth shut so quickly, like a child being scolded.

"And you - Garrick, is it?" oh shit..oh shit.. he's talking to me. He must have read the name on Kyle's hoodie. I'd forgotten to change before we had arrived! Stupid, stupid mutt!

The silence stretches on for too long and Johnny cuts in, answering for me as I just stare wide eyed at the dark haired Alpha. He is the one I'd almost shot when I was still with the Russians... Him and his omega.. the one that had died in that mission. I swear he looked at me. What if he recognises me?! Ghost narrows his eyes at my, obviously terrified, reaction.

"This is Laika - or Y/N.. I - I don't actually know what she prefers..." Johnny thinks aloud.

Alejandro squints his eyes at the strange interaction but then shrugs. "Welcome to the city of souls.." he says, turning to walk back to one of the black jeeps.

"I've never been to Mexico.." Johnny says - god, how was he so friendly and confident with everyone he has just met..?

I notice that Ghost is striding slowly behind me - probably keeping watch that I don't run off. He had clearly clocked my reaction to Alejandro when stepping out of the helicopter.

"This isn't Mexico.. This - is Las Almas.." The Alpha corrects Johnny.

Ghost then starts talking Lieutenant jargon - something about weapons and backup from Graves - Alejandro replies "my base is your base.."

"Good - now, where is Hassan..?" Ghost asks in that gruff, aggressive voice of his. I had gathered from the intel sent over from Kate, that Hassan is an Iranian terrorist who had been dealing American missiles with the Cartel. We had to catch Hassan who had outran the Mexican Special Forces - they needed to catch him before he crossed the border.

"At a safe house, holed up - it's about ten clicks from here - now, get in" he gestures to the jeep. Johnny walks around the back of the car to get in from the other side. Ghost nods for me to sit in the middle and then he squeezes his massive body in last. I still hadn't looked up.

"This is my second in command - Sergeant Major Rodolfo Parra" - I glance up to see the Omega. The one I thought was dead.. I tense up and gulp audibly, and Ghost looks at me again with a look of confusion. Even Johnny looks unsure.

"tengo miedo de los fantasmas.." Rodolfo murmurs to his Alpha. Alejandro smirks before turning to face us from his seat - "You know Spanish..?" Alejandro asks.

"No" Johnny replies on behalf of all of us - "you will.." Alejandro chuckles..

I don't say anything to correct the assumption that I don't know Spanish - I mean - I know very limited Spanish, but enough to get by.

I feel a bit of warmth towards Rodolfo in that moment. For, I was also afraid of Ghosts...

*Ghost's POV*

The girl is acting oddly - ever since we stepped foot off of that helicopter she has been skittish. I hope she isn't going to be a liability. Even Johnny is giving her weird looks, so it isn't just me picking up on the weird vibes from her. Not to mention that she fuckin' reeks of anxiety and fear again, not that anyone else seems to be able to smell her properly yet..

I get the feeling that she is contemplating fleeing. I remember Laswell mentioning that she might try to go back, if the Russians came for her... does that mean she is a flight risk? I wasn't sure. All I know is that I have to keep a close eye on her.. I stay behind her in case she tries to dart off. I can feel her hesitation when Alejandro tells us to get in the car.

Her scent is rolling off in waves of sour fear. I try not to touch her but it's near on impossible with all three of us squeezed in the back like this. My legs press up against hers, she is trying to shrink - or disappear. Rodolfo says something in Spanish that none of us understand. The two men were a bonded pair. Alpha and Omega. I can smell it on them...

Laika's (Y/N's) POV*

Rodolfo - or Rudy - as Alejandro calls him, drives us through the streets of Las Almas. Some of them look eerily familiar from my last visit here - I try not to remember. Thankfully my memories of those days are fuzzy, thanks to the high dosage of drugs I'd been on. A white pick up truck drives by with several men and guns loaded on the back. Johnny immediately alerts Alejandro of the threat.

"Hey, hey! Tranquilo! Easy, that's normal here.." the Alpha replies with a heavy accent. The Alphas then begin to discuss the Corruption of the Police and Army in Las Almas. Alejandro tells Johnny that the locals call them 'Los Vaqueros' - the cowboys..

I remain silent for the entire drive. We slow due to a traffic block up ahead. I look the the right and see two dead bodies laying in a pool of blood, covered in the flags of the Cartel. I feel sick, but try not to show any reaction, I had seen this before when I last visited Las Almas, I heard the locals say it was how the local crime gang 'marked their territory'.

Alejandro instructs Rudy to go around the traffic block. The road was being blocked by the Mexican Army who were in the pockets of this 'El Sin Nombre' Cartel leader.

The car pulls into a smaller hidden area - Alejandro steps out and slams the door. "The Cartel are hiding Hassan in the village across the river. Get ready - we leave in five, amigos". I swear he eyes me with suspicion.

*Alejandro's POV*

I hadn't been told that the Brits were bringing a girl with them. A strange, shy girl. She had little to no scent, I assume she uses blockers. She seems familiar. I wait until the car pulls up at our storehouse and whisper to Rudy "vagila a la chica" - he nods, agreeing to keep and eye on the Garrick girl.

*Laika's (Y/N's) POV*

I quickly strap on all of my holsters, belts and put the heavy tactical vest over my head, clipping it tightly around my waist - I hate it when it is loose, I find that it throws my aim off. I follow Johnny to the car with all the weapons John had sent over for us.

I see the familiar case of the sniper rifle with a small ticket of paper sticking out of the lid. I furrow my brows. Johnny throws me an assault rifle. This would be the gun I use most - I then spot a smaller gun that I recognize from my time in Russia - some sort of pistol. It's labelled as a TYR, I make a grab for it and holster it, feeling pleased that I'd found a gun that I'd at least be familiar with using.

"The Captain said you'd want this.." Ghost grumbles, handing me the case. I look between him and the case, unsure. "Take it.." he growls. I do as ordered and quickly take the case.

How the fuck was I supposed to carry this fucking beast of a sniper?! I quickly kneel to the ground and assemble the scope and sights, making sure I take enough ammo for all of the guns. I stare at the Rifle for a few seconds, pondering how to carry it. I attach a leather strap to it and sling it around my back so that it settles between the rear pockets of my tac-vest. I shrug my shoulders and jump and crouch a couple of times with all of my gear to test that I could still move unrestricted with everything. It wasn't perfect, but it'll work. The last thing I do, is tie my hanky around the strap on my outer thigh. I glance back to the boxes of weapons and at the last minute, take a knife. I don't like using knives - always trying to stay far enough away to not engage in close range scraps.

I feel utterly terrified but fall back from the cars and stand behind the two familiar Alphas. Johnny glances back to me and for the first time in ages, speaks to me.

"You alright, Lass..?" - I just nod. He sends a tight lipped smile my way before we load back into the car and drive to the village.

The drive is short lived - we arrive within a couple of minutes. Soldiers leap from the surrounding cars. I just copy. I'd never actually worked on a team before - let alone a trained military unit like this. I hope I don't majorly fuck this up. I sense someone staring at me. I follow my instincts and look around, meeting eyes with Rodolfo. He doesn't look away, just raises an eyebrow.

"Weapons hot, Vaqueros!" Alejandro shouts at his men.

"Where are they hiding Hassan?" Soap questions, "White two-story building, back of the town" Alejandro says before fist pumping his Omega and splitting up to infiltrate one of the entrances to the village. I follow behind Johnny and the Lieutenant, assault rifle raised with the hope that I wouldn't have to use it.

I overhear Johnny asking about civilians, thankfully Alejandro responds saying that they'd all left when the Cartel took the village as a hideout. At least no families would be caught up in the fray. I sigh in relief.

We round another corner when the pop of gun fire erupts. A couple of houses' doors open and armed men start firing at us. I immediately take cover - hiding behind a wall. I take three or four deep breaths before popping back up to check beyond the wall. As I break cover, a bullet whistles past my head. I gasp and duck back down. FUCK, Careful mutt - that was almost a bullet to the brain..

The main group of Vaqueros, Johnny and the Lieutenant push forward up the middle of the street. I stay back trying to think about how to help. I couldn't just cower in fear. PULL YOURSELF TOGETHER, MUTT!

I turn sharp left and flank the group. I make sure I keep pace but on the opposite side of the village. I follow the gun fire and somehow manage to skirt around the village undetected. I reach the white two-story house. A ladder is leaning against the wall, just underneath the window. That'll do!

I quietly climb the ladder and enter silently through the upper floor window. I slowly work my way around the house, it was heavily guarded. I shouldn't have arrived here alone but I felt like I had something to prove. I pull the knife from my thigh holster and stare at it, turning it slowly, watching how the light flashes off of the blade. I have to be quiet so I will have to use the knife. I shiver slightly but concentrate on the task. Get Hassan.

I silently slice my way to the final back room on the upper floor. Dropping three bodies and dragging them to the side.

I move toward the final guard, not making a sound. I throw a piece of fabric over his head and then wrestle him down to the ground, straddling him before slicing his throat. Just as I finish clearing the upper floor, a huge ruckus sounds from downstairs. SHIT, they're here! I quickly notice that I'd been very stupid. If they see me, already in the house, they'll shoot before they realise that I'm on their side. I make a rash decision and elect to leap from the shot out window, rejoining the back of the team from downstairs - hopefully they think that I've been there the whole time. I can only hope nobody has noticed my absence. Hassan isn't even in the fucking house..

I quietly slot between two Mexican soldiers that I don't recognise - they line me up and down quickly with their guns, my eyes widen before one of them speaks "es solo la chica del británico" - I don't quite understand but gather that it's something along the lines of 'British girl' so I assume they know I'm on their side.. I smile nervously and wave. They just look at me as if I'm crazy before moving forward with the others.

As we begin to move forward, I eye the bodies I'd left in my wake from just five minutes earlier. I cringe slightly at what I'd done. I hear the Lieutenant's voice bellow from up ahead. "No Hassan.. Negative on Hassan" - "They must have moved him.. recently" Alejandro speaks.

I finally step into the room that I had already been in, Johnny notices me first and strides over to me quickly "I didn't see you for a while there, Lass - thought you'd done a runner!" he jokes, slapping me twice on the arm. I huff a soft laugh and look at my feet, what he doesn't know, can't hurt him... "Y'alright though..?" he asks, eyes trailing down my body, checking for any marks. His eyes hesitate on my legs before moving back up to my eyes.

I quickly glance down to check my own state - my eyes settle on my knees. They were covered in dark red - where I'd straddled the last guard and knelt in his blood. I feel like I'm going to hurl but keep an even face on in front of Johnny. "Not mine.. just slipped when coming up the stairs.." I lie through my teeth. Johnny laughs and accepts the lie instantly. I feel awful... guilty..

All of a sudden, a loud roar of engines sound from outside. "Commander! The Army is rolling in!" one of the Vaqueros shout to Alejandro. He curses and growls angrily, Johnny, confused, says "we've got reinforcements" - "Negative, Soap - we engage, cover my men" - "what? you want us to engage the fuckin' Mexican Army..?" Johnny replies, completely shocked.

"No, these men are paid by the Cartel - they are helping the Cartel protect Hassan.."

We all take position at the windows. I consider using my sniper but decide it is still too close range for that. "Wait until my men are clear before engaging!" Alejandro shouts.

I watch several Army vehicles roll down the hill towards the house. We are substantially out numbered. A gun fires and then all hell breaks loose. Grenades and flash-bangs are thrown back and forwards - they have light machine guns firing up at us but we eventually manage to gain the upper hand. Alejandro's radio crackles - it's Rudy. "Alpha, we are clear" - "Copy, rally at the safe house!" he shouts back before ordering us to fall back.

A grenade comes flying through the window, thankfully blowing on the opposite side of the room. It still causes Johnny and I to get thrown. I hit the wall hard with my shoulder, but quickly recover, ignoring the pain shooting up and down my arm. I whimper as I regain my footing. "Quickly lass, they're going to flatten the place.. the window! Follow Alejandro and Ghost" he gasps between coughs, pushing me back towards the window. The same window I'd already jumped from. I can't stop coughing and my arm is slowing me down, not to mention the pain that fires from my shoulder every time that I raise my gun.

I glance back to Johnny who shouts "Faster!! The Army is right behind us" - "Fan out! We will lose them in the mountains!" Alejandro shouts over his shoulder.

I wince again when I raise my arm. Fuck! Think Laika Think! I turn a sharp left and once again, flank the main chase. The Mexican Army run past my position as I use the trees for cover. I cover Johnny with supporting fire, although I can tell he thinks it is the Army shooting at them.

"Fuck, they're on us!!" Johnny shouts, loud enough for me to hear from where I was trying to find a good spot to cover them from behind.

Alejandro's men turn and set up positions to fire back at the quickly advancing Army. I quickly swing my sniper rifle from my back to the front and watch through the scope. Aim, one - two - click.. HIT. I hit four men cleanly, remembering to aim two marks to the left on the scope to make up for my slightly off aim thanks to my old rifle. It seemed to be working. The Army seemed to be thinning quickly. I throw the rifle back over my shoulder and lift the assault rifle, ready to try and rejoin the group without getting hit by friendly fire.

Alejandro's men start to move towards the cliffs while the remaining members of the Army look to regroup before giving chase. I try to sprint down the hill but the terrain is difficult. I manage to catch up to about fifty meters behind the main group. "Laika!! Where is she?!" Johnny shouts - "move sergeant, she'll catch up!" The lieutenant barks back - yeah.. he probably hopes that I'd been shot down...

"We need extraction - we can't take on an entire army.." Ghost shouts to Alejandro. "Copy that - Call for Extraction, Rodriguez!" Alejandro agrees.

I finally manage to rejoin the others and slide beside Rodriguez, who is madly trying to contact the extraction team. "The mountains are blocking comms.. we need to move!" He shouts, panicked, as the Army catch back up and start shooting at us again.

I run beside Johnny and squeeze his hand quickly before slotting behind him. He glances and smiles - "Lass, you've got to stop disappearing on me" he chuckles.

Alejandro leads us to some precarious looking rocks and cliffs. "What's the plan?" Johnny asks as we regroup at the edge.

"There is a bridge at the river - extraction will be there.." Alejandro explains.

"CONTACT - RPG" Ghost growls as a huge boom explodes a few yards to our left. I jump backwards into Johnny's chest. "We need to get away from here.." I whimper

Alejandro suddenly breaks cover - "Fall back! This way.." He runs towards a huge cliff. "WE HAVE TO JUMP THAT?!" Johnny shouts.

I stop dead in my tracks - there is no way I will make that...

"Do or die, Hermano!" Alejandro shouts back, leaping and easily making the distance.

Ghost jumps next and makes the leap, so does Johnny.

My eyes dart from left to right. There is no other way out. I hear the crashing of the Army gaining on us. "FOR FUCK SAKE, GIRL - MOVE!" the Lieutenant bellows from the other side of the gap.

Johnny steps forward "Lass, jump! I'm here, I'll catch you! C'mon - you need to move.. NOW".

I scream and sprint toward the gap. I feel my toes teeter on the edge, trying to get as close as possible to the edge to give myself the best chance of making the distance. I push off and close my eyes, still screaming. I feel arms grab me. I wince in pain, flinching away as the pain blinds me - my injured arm was carrying mine, and all of my gear's, entire weight. But at least Johnny had caught me..

"Argh Put me down, put me down NOW JOHNNY" I scream. He pulls me to safety and then drops me suddenly to the ground. I try to scramble back to my feet to keep running, but I stumble slightly. He quickly reaches to my painful arm and I flinch away. His eyes widen, is that sadness or pain I can see in his expression..?

"Don't touch me - don't Johnny.." I pant, stressed and in pain.

I clamber to my feet and we keep running. Alejandro tells us to push forward. The Army are trying to surround us so we have to go through the middle of them to find the river.

What feels like hours of excruciating pain, finally comes to a head when we reach a cliff edge overhanging the river. We have fought our way through hundreds of Army troops and what? Now Alejandro expects us to jump from a cliff into a fast flowing river. I give up...

"Extraction ahead!" Johnny shouts, spotting the vehicles in the distance.

Alejandro leaps from the cliff confidently, clutching his gun tightly. I wince and whimper. The lieutenant obviously notices my hesitance and fear because he unceremoniously lifts and throws me from the cliff and into the water below. I scream the entire way down until I hit the water.

I splutter and inhale water, weighed down by my guns. I'm fucking drowning. I start splashing and convulsing. What I think is my final thought is ' I knew Ghost wanted to kill me' - all of a sudden, I'm scooped from the water and pulled to the surface, getting dragged down stream. It's him. The lieutenant. I manage to catch my breath, coughing heavily. My lungs on fire.

He pushes me towards Johnny and tells him to keep me near.

I feel like I cough the entire way to the bridge.

"Vehicles on the bridge" Johnny shouts in my ear. "FUCK" Alejandro sounded pissed off "They aren't ours!!!"

"Hold the position, we will wait for extraction here" Alejandro instructs "We can't do shit against all that armour!" Johnny growls.

I notice that the water is shallow enough to support my own body weight again. I lean against the rock in front of us and test my arm by raising my gun towards the bridge. I wince but the pain is bearable. Suddenly, an American voice speaks smoothly over the Lieutenant's radio "This is Shadow-1, engaging the bridge North of your position. Sit tight, danger is close!" - he sounds all too calm for the current situation, i think to myself.

"Who the hell is that?!" - "Commander Graves - Shadow Company, he's with us.." Ghost replies to Alejandro's angry question.

Then, as if from nowhere, several airstrikes hit the bridge, destroying it. Whoops and cheers sound over the Lieutenant's radio. "Good to see you boys!" The American jokes.

We run for the car parked on the river bank, all of us climbing in, absolutely soaking wet. I start shivering despite the moderate heat from the Las Almas sun.

"We have a possible hit on Hassan two clicks north of your position" The American sings through the radio, joyfully.

I roll my eyes, not mentally - or physically - prepared for another fire fight..

Here we go again, I guess...

#abo dynamics #john mctavish x reader #john price x reader #john soap mactavish #kyle garrick x reader #omega reader #poly 141 #simon riley x reader #task force x reader #kyle gaz garrick

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tinfoil-jones · 18 days ago

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For Your Own Good: Intermission

Askbox? Open

If you don't know what this post is about, "For Your Own Good" or tagged as "Early Amnesia AU" on tumblr is a dialogue-only Gravity Falls fanfiction I've been working on that kinda-sorta follows a Mystery Trio -esque timeline, where Ford doesn't build the portal. To sum it up, the whole fanfiction boils down to:

Researcher Ford: I told you I never wanted to see you again.

Mullet Stan: Dude, I don't know who you are or WTF you're talking about right now, but I'm leaving this town and never coming back. You are never seeing me again after this. I'm probably going to forget you in like five minutes.

Researcher Ford:

Researcher Ford: *immediately kidnaps him*

You can consider chapters 1-10 to be Act 1 of the fanfic, and I’m taking a break for at least a week, most likely longer. The chapters so far were already written out in advance, and so was a huge reveal, but I still need to tie things together.

Here’s some authors notes/extra stuff about it, some of it might have already been put in the AO3 before or after notes. These are in no particular order:

This takes place 10 years after Ford and Stan were separated, currently they are both 27 about to be 28. Fiddleford is slightly older than them, being in his early 30s.

Ford is unironically the only person who finds Stan’s really dumb jokes funny.

Ford is the one who displays the most behaviours that would be seen from Mabel and Dipper decades later. Like Dipper, he views washing clothes as a waste of time, and like Mabel he ate an entire tube of toothpaste (granted, it was on accident)

While Ford is the more likely of the two to display traits that later present in Mabel and Dipper, it still happens with Stan as well. Stan has a similar nervous-chewing habit that Dipper displays in the OG series, but his only comes out when he’s particularly anxious. In this case, it was because he had nicotine cravings.

The 'That motherfucker is ugly' line that Stan used on Ford can be considered extra ironic because of how much the Stan Twins look like their dad.

Bill Cipher was originally supposed to speak in Times New Bastard (which is Times New Roman except every 7th letter is jarringly sans serif, a meme from tumblr), but AO3 and tumblr don’t let you change the font.

Stan goes out of his way to avoid using Ford and Fiddlefords given names- but this isn’t because he doesn’t know what they are. In the few times he has used their names, it was a sign that he was being sincere.

If you want to wonder whether or not Fiddleford likes Stan back, consider the fact that he could have walked away at any point, and either washed his hands of the whole thing, or just outright reported Stanford to the authorities.

Bill is more like Discord from MLP - he’s just chaotic, often to the detriment of others, but he isn’t outright malicious (anymore), and he’s too busy SIMPING to cause any real harm. Basically, Bill is Fords patron for studying weirdness - he helps Ford in his research, but the cost that Ford pays is that Bill is able to possess him when he sleeps, and has unlimited access to his brain.

If Ford knew Rick Sanchez, why didn’t Rick see how similar Stan looked and put 2-and-2 together? Easy; Rick didn’t give a single shit about Ford, so he never committed his face or name to memory. Ford himself only remembered Rick because Rick was such a massive, egotistical asshole. If anything, Rick would think Ford is the lesser version of Stan.

Chapter 10 was the first concrete proof that the Stan we’ve been following likely is Stanley Pines and not some similar conman named Stan Malone. The last time Ford saw Stan would have either been when they were teens, so other than Stans commercials for his failed products there’s no way Ford would know what an adult Stan would even look like, and he’d have to use himself as a reference.

Stan has given some insight on his Thalassophobia (fear of the ocean / large bodies of water). In Chapter 10, he told Ford a number of things he escaped, including the trunk of a sinking car, and cement shoes. Cement shoes are either when you tie someone to a cinder block and throw them into a body of water, or when you literally incase their feet in cement, wait for it to dry, and then toss them into a body of water, so they’ll drown. Presumably, these are still things that would have happened to him even if he didn't lose his memories, so why would it give him a fear of the ocean now? Stan Pines in the OG still had a lot of positive memories associated with the ocean - he grew up on the coast, and had a lot of his hopes and dreams tied to the ocean. But without his childhood memories, he has no positive associations with it, only memories of times he almost drowned.

Ford himself is not a touchy guy. The reason he hugs Stan even though it isn’t reciprocated is because from his perspective, this is his twin brother who is in pain and has been suffering all by himself for a long time. And Stan - at least how Ford remembers him - had a very touch-based love language. Fords doing it because he thinks it’d comfort him.

Stan seems pretty calm and chill for someone who’s been kidnapped by a ‘stranger’. This isn’t because he’s an overall chill guy because of amnesia, no he’s super pissed and the second he knows he’s free he will let them know that with his words, and incredible violence. He’s remaining calm because he’s been imprisoned and kidnapped enough times to know that pitching a fit or lashing out at his captors won’t do him any favours.

Fiddleford is still married to Emma-May and they do have Tate. But it's one of those lavender marriages (they're both gay and mutually bearding each other)

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ange1sang · 6 months ago

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a little to the left

2.6k words, gallavich + brief appearance from liam

; canon compliant/post season 11, domestic gallavich, hurt/comfort, trauma, dissociation, vomiting, gentle mickey milkovich

Most days Ian doesn't notice them. The blanks, the disconnect in his mind, the gaps in his memory like potholes in a road filled with oil slick and rainwater. They've been there since his late adolescence, weaving their way into his consciousness and embedding themselves into the membranes that separate his brain from his skull, so that he's used to them. He doesn't have to notice them, not when he can get by just fine without acknowledging them. But that's only on most days.

Some days the blanks are deep and pitch black, tripping him up or even swallowing him whole. His mind becomes a black hole, everything in disarray and stretched, twisted, deformed until it's all unrecognisable. His childhood is a jumble of scenes from a movie watched on a drunken night, parts of it covered with lumpy, expired Wite-Out and others blotted with blood, smeared and dirty. The confusion makes his head pound and bile rise in his throat. For the longest time he didn't connect the two things. He's been having depressive episodes since he was seventeen, always accompanied by aches and nausea, and it was easy to lump the blanks and gaps in with everything else the depression brought on.

But he's older now, taking medication and watching his routine so that the depression rarely rears its ugly head anymore, yet the days of darkness, confusion and agony persist. They come when he least expects them, when he has a day full of errands to run with his brother or a day he's promised to spend babysitting his niece or nephew. He goes through the motions the way he's taught himself to do on even the hardest days, but it feels like wading through raw sewage in nothing but his boxers, grime and filth splattered against his thighs and clinging to the inside of his nose. He barely survives it, throwing up everything he eats, sometimes before he can reach a toilet bowl, and crawling into his bed deaf to the worried murmurs of his husband.

It takes him years of survival, white-knuckled and tense-jawed, before it begins to make even a little sense to him.

"Hey, Ian."

Liam's voice pulls Ian's attention from the comedy rerun he and a sleepy Mickey are watching on the TV. He looks to where his youngest brother is sitting at their kitchen table, school laptop illuminating his face and an old, chewed-up pen in his hand.

"What's up?" Ian asks, lifting a hand to run his fingers through Mickey's hair. His husband grunts softly, pressing his face down against Ian's shoulder. Liam takes a breath, hesitating before he speaks again.

"You know the club you worked at?" he asks. Ian feels Mickey tense against him, and has to stroke his thumb against his forehead to keep him from cussing at the kid.

"Yeah, what about it?" Ian asks, trying to keep his voice lighthearted. "You aren't thinking of getting a job there, are you?"

"No," Liam says quickly, grimacing at the suggestion. Ian feels something in his chest relax. "I'm writing a paper on CSA for my psych class - you think it'd be okay if I interview you? Interviews get us extra points."

"CSA?" Ian asks, raising an eyebrow. Liam hesitates again, looking sheepish and guilty all of a sudden.

"Childhood sexual assault," he clarifies after mulling it over for a long minute. The second the words leave his mouth Mickey lifts his head from Ian's shoulder and glares at the teen.

"Write a paper on those fuckin' drooling dogs or something, man," he says, which would be funny if it weren't for how his jaw clenches once the words have left his mouth. "Leave your family outta that shit, we got enough people lookin' at us like social experiments already."

"Right," Liam mumbles, but his eyes don't move from Ian, who feels his face stiffening like concrete. "Okay, sorry."

"Nah, it's fine," Ian whispers, his voice barely audible even though he tried to speak normally. He turns his head away from his brother, back to the TV. The blue light of the screen suddenly takes on a purple tinge, spotlights moving against the inside of Ian's eyelids and illuminating dark, dirty floors soiled with bodily fluids and pills that had been crushed beneath someone's shoe. His veins throb in his arms, skin suddenly too tight for his flesh, like he's waking up with a bad hangover, dry-mouthed and disoriented.

"Ian."

He feels his lips forming a frown on his face but they don't belong to him, invisible fingers pulling down the corners of his lips to turn him into a sad mime. Mickey's hand, warm and rough cups his cheek. He blinks and the dirty floor disappears, replaced with worried blue eyes and dark, furrowed brows.

"Hey. Baby."

"I'm fine," his reply comes, automatic and without thought, before he even thinks the words. Clearly, this does nothing to soothe Mickey, eyes darting around Ian's face. His thumb rubs Ian's temple, stroking the vein that feels like it's about to burst. "I'm... I'm fine."

Mickey draws in a sharp breath, looking like he's ready to scold him, but he doesn't say anything. He shoots Liam a brief but withering look, before leaning in to kiss Ian's forehead.

"Okay," he mumbles, and slumps back against the sofa, but not without guiding Ian's head to rest against his shoulder.

Ian's chest is tight and aching, but he's fine. He's totally fine.

When he wakes up the next morning it's to Mickey yelling from the kitchen.

"Ian! You want coffee?"

He stiffens in their bed, his husband's voice sounding foreign.

"Ian?"

No, it isn't his husband's voice. It's the name. Ian. He squeezes his eyes shut and tries to recall the last time he heard that name, but all his mind can offer are broken, fragmented memories of strangers whispering Curtis or Clayton or Benjamin in his ear, their breath hot against his skin. The familiarity of the names is soothing and torturous all at once, and before he knows what's happening his stomach is squeezing, pushing. He sits up but barely manages to lift his head from his pillow before a stream of weak, beige-green liquid pours from his mouth, puddling on the sheets and dripping down his chin. He stares at the pool of vomit, gears moving in his head like he's looking at an old friend.

"Hey, man, you want coffee or-"

Mickey's voice stops just as abruptly as his movements, the man standing in the bedroom doorway like a statue. Ian turns his head to look at him, the small movement dizzying, and feels that same squeeze in his stomach. This time he has the foresight to move his hands, catching the little mouthful of hot, caustic stomach acid in his palms.

"Ian, c'mon, don't do that," Mickey whispers, approaching slowly and taking hold of Ian's wrists. He allows himself to be manoeuvred, watching as the vomit sloshes from his palms and lands on the bed sheets. The name on Mickey's lips makes Ian's skin prickle, and he curls into himself. He's too big for it to really work, but he must have been small enough once. Must have been small enough to fold into himself like an ashen baby bird, all skin and bone and ruffled feathers. He tries to curl into himself further, trying to remember where the instinct comes from, but all he sees is a bottomless pit. Panic curls around his throat like barbed wire. "Come on, you gotta wash your hands. I can help you."

"No, I..." Ian mumbles, his own voice startling him. He stares down at his palms, feeling fabric against his skin. Expensive fabric, yarn woven into fine cotton with 2% spandex, fabric he's never been able to afford, not even on his wedding day, but that he must have touched at some point. Blearily, he looks at Mickey, meets his worried gaze through thick tears that refuse to pour down his cheeks even as he blinks over and over. His breath catches in his throat. "I don't feel right."

"That's okay. I got you," Mickey reassures him. Lips press against his forehead in a sweet kiss. "Come on, babe. It's okay."

Mickey takes his hands, not recoiling or frowning when the still-warm vomit touches his skin. He smiles, soft, small, scared, and helps the redhead stand up.

"You're fine. I got you," he repeats, and kisses the dense patch of freckles on Ian's shoulder. The touch is familiar, and this time the familiarity is comforting without also being nauseating. He holds on tight to Mickey until their hands are under the running water of their bathroom tap, and as soon as their palms are separated he finds himself leaning into the other man, curling up again, trying to make himself smaller. He can feel Mickey watching him, gauging his condition, taking in his expressions and reaction to every little touch. "You're okay, Ia- baby."

Ian looks up, looks at Mickey's wet lashes when he bites back the name on the tip of his tongue. He doesn't understand why or how, but Mickey always knows what to say and, more importantly, he always knows what not to say. He drags in a deep breath that doesn't really reach his lungs and drops his head so he can hide his face against Mickey's shoulder. Hiding. Even if he can't seem to think of much right now, he knows he's good at hiding.

"Sorry I threw up," he mumbles into Mickey's shoulder, which makes his husband chuckle.

"I've seen you puke before, man," Mickey says. "That fuckin' sushi Debbie made us all eat last year? Playing drinking games with Sandy?"

Ian recognises the memories like the face of a quiet classmate in a yearbook - he can place them in the right environment, but can't picture them doing anything, not even opening their mouth to say 'present' for attendance. He winces, the effort of trying to pull forth images he knows are there making him dizzy.

"C'mon," Mickey whispers, turning off the tap. "Let's get some breakfast in you. Pepto Bismol with your meds maybe."

"Wait," Ian pleads, not ready to open his eyes and face the world yet. Not when he can't remember his place in it. Again, Mickey takes it in his stride. He pulls Ian into a hug that's firm enough to ground him and gentle enough to remind him that Mickey loves him. The reminder is enough to ease the jelly feeling in his joints just a little, Mickey's thumb moving back and forth against his shoulder blade like it's all he's ever wanted to do, and Ian takes a deep breath. The just-woke-up smell on Mickey, a smell that he knows he's always loved, even if he's never been sure why.

"I love you, man," Mickey murmurs sincerely. Ian relaxes just a little more.

"I love you too."

The day goes by slowly, every bit of it like pulling teeth. He downs his medication and food Mickey gives him even though his stomach twists nervously with each swallow. They watch cartoons on the sofa and Mickey smokes through a pack of cigarettes before dinner, his eyes flicking back and forth between Ian and the TV so often that he must not be getting any of what's on the screen. The vigilance is comforting, a reminder that he really is sitting on their sofa and not just dreaming up the four walls around him, so he doesn't mention it to Mickey.

By the late afternoon he's falling asleep, tired just from keeping his eyes open and his food down. He lays his head on Mickey's lap, nose pressed into his husband's thigh and shuts his eyes when fingers immediately find their way to his hair, running through his curls and brushing stray hairs from his forehead.

"You wanna head to the clinic tomorrow, check your meds?" he asks.

"Maybe," is all Ian can muster the energy to say. Mickey hums, thumb rubbing his brow bone.

There's a long pause, long enough that Ian almost falls asleep, before Mickey speaks up again.

"You did good, Ian."

Ian. The name finally sounds familiar again. No bile rises at the sound of it and there's no ache in his chest as he tries to place it. Relief washes over him, icy and overwhelming, and pulls him under.

The next day he wakes feeling disoriented but not nauseous. His head is on Mickey's chest, his heartbeat steady and reliable where it thumps against his cheek. He takes a deep breath in and lifts a hand to trace a fingertip along the tattoo of his name on his husband's skin, his heart fluttering the same way it used to when they were kids and Mickey would show up at the corner store looking for him. His body feels like his own again, every organ, capillary and freckle back in its rightful place.

He makes coffee while Mickey sleeps in. He knows after a day like yesterday that Mickey must've been up half the night, watching him sleep as though his next breath might not come, and feels a little guilty at the thought. When he carries two mugs of coffee back to the bedroom and a pack of Oreos pinched between his teeth, Mickey is waiting for him, a smile on his lips.

"Morning, mister," he grumbles, voice sleep-rough in a way that makes Ian giddy. Ian drops the Oreos on the bed and leans in for a kiss, hungry for Mickey's touch more than anything else.

"Good morning," he replies, handing Mickey his mug and settling in next to him.

"You feelin' okay? Wanna hit the clinic after breakfast?" Mickey asks cautiously, watching Ian's expression for any telltale signs that he's hiding something.

"Nah, I'm... I'm okay," Ian mumbles, shrugging. "I don't know what was up yesterday, it was like everything was a few inches to the left or something. I couldn't remember shit."

He looks at Mickey and smiles at the crease between his worried brows.

"I'm okay now, Mick. Seriously."

Mickey grunts, frowning in a way that lets Ian know he's sorting his thoughts into words that make sense. They're halfway through their coffee before he's ready to speak, but Ian doesn't mind the waiting. He doesn't mind much when it comes to Mickey these days, at least not as much as he claims to.

"Y'know, Svetlana had days like that," he says, slow and unsure. "She'd get pukey and shit, couldn't hold a conversation... It was weird, 'cause she was always so fuckin' headstrong y'know? Seein' you like that..."– Mickey pauses, reaches out to cup Ian's cheek for a moment and rubs his thumb over the freckles on his temple. –"Maybe you should see a shrink, talk about the stuff that happened at the club."

Something clicks in Ian's head at the mention of Svetlana, all of the blanks, disconnects and gaps in his mind making a little more sense now.

"Yeah. Maybe," he sighs, and turns his head to press a kiss to Mickey's palm. "Thanks for not freaking out."

"Anytime," Mickey says with a small, worried smile. Just a couple of years ago Ian would've felt guilty for being the cause of his worry, but he understands it now. They're husbands. They're always going to worry about each other.

"I love you," he tells Mickey, which earns him one of those shiny-eyed smiles he adores with all his heart.

"Love you too, Red."

Maybe tomorrow he'll book himself an appointment at the clinic. Today though, all he wants to do is make up for the time he lost yesterday.

#shameless #gallavich #gallavich fic #shameless fic #shameless angst

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falling-star-cygnus · 4 months ago

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HI HIII HELLO!!! -> your request has been moved over here, and i sincerely hope you enjoy!!

and i really like these ideas!! so thank you ever so much for the request, dear anonymous

i toyed with an idea like this before in my head, but i couldn't quite figure out how to articulate it ~so~ hopefully this'll help me out with Nekomata's characterization more

Spending so much time in Hollows, it's easy to forget that Billy can be harmed by things that aren't Ethereals.

Badly harmed.

Nekomata hadn't been a member of the Cunning Hares' for long, hardly long enough to be allowed into the tightly knit circle shared between the two Demara's and the android, but it's almost like that didn't matter. Especially not to Billy.

Even before she was a member, it was like he had already decided she deserved his kindness. It was a sort of bright-eyed, literally, brand of naivete that infuriated her. How dare he be so nice to her? How dare he show such kindness to the thiren that was leading them to their deaths.

How dare he make her feel so guilty, when he- when the Hares'-

Except it wasn't really the Hares' that had killed Miguel in the end, was it?

It was PubSec. And every drop of guilt Nekomata had felt was well deserved.

"Nekomata-!"

Back in the present, nowhere near a Hollow this time, she remembers being bodily shoved aside. Remembers clearly the choked down sound of pain and the crunch of metal that happened all in the blink of an eye.

Billy stood tall in front of Nekomata, stance squared as the jaws of this- yellow mutilated construction vehicle clamped around his left arm. It shook with the effort of keeping the thing from throwing him around like a chew toy- but he didn't falter.

"Kitty- you okay?" the android calls over his shoulder, his voice tight with strain and worry, "I didn't push you too hard, did I?"

"M-Me? What about you-?"

At worst her palms were a bit scraped up from hitting the asphalt, but that was more a result of the thiren's instinctual flailing than his protective insert. And he was the one in the jaws of the beast! Literally!

Care about yourself first, dummy-! Nekomata thinks venomously, shooting up to her paws as the mechanical thingamajig nearly throws her new teammate to the ground. She doesn't know what she was planning on doing, exactly, but Billy takes the decision out of her hands anyway.

He lines up a shot, somewhere between the shoulder and the armpit, and fires!

The bullet pierces the joint in a clean arc, and removes the limb with a sharp 'ting!' and a 'thud!' as it hits the concrete! It's jaws- is it the jaws? It looks more like a hand now that Nekomata isn't fearing for her life- they don't release Billy's arm until he's been nearly dragged to the floor with it.

Foolishly, the thiren had been hoping that the crunch of metal she heard was the teeth breaking on the android's build.

It wasn't.

It most definitely wasn't.

The plates of the android's arm tear like butter under the drag- ripping his red sleeve to ribbons and causing sparks to fly in firework-esque bursts. Billy brings his other hand up to one of the deeply bit teeth and tries to wrench it out without causing more damage.

Nekomata leaps to help, finally shaken out of her stupor by a startled mip of pain that Billy looses when one of the clamps catches on some wiring.

"Wait- Nekomata, your hands-"

Ah- right, the scrapes. She'd honestly forgotten about them, her gloves had absorbed most of the damage, after all- even if they'd been torn to shreds in the process.

The android tries to gently guide her hands away by the wrists, but Nekomata bullies her way closer with a hiss.

A familiar rush of anger clouds her head. His damn- friendliness. Why couldn't he just be mean?

"Billy, your arm," the thiren snaps back, tails lashing to better show her infuriation, "What're you worrying about me for, huh!? Look at you!"

"Wh- huh? But I'm fine," he exclaims, like a liar, "This can be fixed no problem! You can't!"

"That's not the point, dummy!"

Seriously! Not! The! Point! Nekomata punctuates each thought with a bap to his fluffy hair. How dare he! How. Dare. He! How dare he imply his injuries mattered any less! The nerve!

...huh. It was surprisingly soft.

Before she even realizes what she's doing, her hand simply- ruffles it from side to side. The android sputters in confusion under her ministrations.

"Nekomata!?"

"Shut up!"

Billy shuts up.

The two stay there in silence for a few more minutes, and eventually the thiren moves back to help him free what's left of his arm. He doesn't push her away this time, even though he's clearly not happy with the agitation of her scrapes.

He could be missing a limb- and he's worried about her. Her, who hasn't even been a member of the Hares' a full three months!

Stupid, big hearted, stupid android.

"You know," Nekomata starts, even though she doesn't really know where she's going with this, she just wants him to get it already, "it doesn't matter that you can be put together again. It still happened."

Billy stills under her hands with a surprised little noise, but she just tightens her grip and barrels on.

"You'll still remember it happened."

The last clamp finally gets pulled free, but it snips right through a wire on it's way out, and the android bites back a yelp as he stumbles forward. Nekomata is quick to wrap her arms around his shoulders and hold tight- half to keep him upright and half to keep him close.

"So please," she begs, burying her face into his jacket collar, "Please don't pretend that it didn't."

She can feel him jolt in her impromptu hug, and for a terrifying moment she's scared he might pull away and brush it all off again, the thiren couldn't really stop him if he truly wanted to- but Billy just brings his arm up to hug Nekomata back.

His grip is so unbelievably soft- feeble.

"...okay." he says, not a promise but an acknowledgement, "okay."

#hnggggg i just want him to be gently loved tbh!#zzz #zzzero #zenless zone zero #zzz fanfic #zzz billy #billy kid #billy zzz #cunning hares #nekomiya mana #zzz nekomata #nekomata #found family #the ramblings of a fallen star

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aihoshiino · 17 days ago

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Now that the series is ending and we'll never hear a word from Hikaru ever again, I'm very curious to know what Aka would say to describe Hikai's entire dynamics like towards each other, feelings, thoughts etc...even from Takahashi I'd like to know what Aka specifically told her for that one payphone scene.

I know we all already have figured it out (using whatever brainpower left after this shit storm that the latest chapters have brought) and tried to stitch together a cohesive outline(?) to everything hikai related, but hearing the official people speaking on it always adds a nice bonus to everything.

Any thoughts on this? Do you think everything we mostly came up with upto now are all correct and Aka had the same ideas back then? (I say back then because clearly idk tf he did to Hikaru in the recent chapters, Onk ended back at 155 for me.)

Honestly I'm so keen to know how Akasaka described the HKAI dynamic to Takahashi but also just kind of wtf he said to her in general? I'm not sure when she would have been doing her recording for episode 1 but it would have been around the same general timeframe we were getting the first Hikaru lore drops and appearances in the manga, so Akasaka would've at least had a broad idea of who he was supposed to be as a character... But at the same time, the Kamiki we get is SO inconsistent on the page, I think I'm kind of just desperate for some confirmation of wtf even the authorial intent was in that regard because I can't make head or tails of where it all ended up.

I do think for HKAI's dynamic specifically he had a pretty clear image in his mind, though, because a lot of what the fandom predicted and how he was broadly characterized even prior to the Movie Arc getting into the specifics was pretty on point for what ended up being in the manga. Obviously some of the granular details were off, but his deification of Ai, his sense of longing towards her even after her death, the idea that he was trying to preserve her legacy and that the relationship they had was probably extremely codependent were all takes that the fandom largely agreed with on both sides of the language barrier, at least in the spaces I was in.

I do also remember specifically predicting that they broke up over the pregnancy which I still feel quite proud of calling LOL. I remember getting really in my head about it when the Movie Arc was ongoing because the chronology got so penised so having that concretely confirmed and WHY it caused their breakup was nice to chew on during that stretch.

I think the only thing we were wrong about is that the fandom tended to make him a little more, like... proactively possessive/yandere for her and that her death had been a sort of "if I can't have you, I have to kill you" vibe. But the Kamiki we actually got comes across as way more fragile and hollow and even passive in a way I think is really fascinating.

That said. I DO really like yandere freak Kamiki and I'm so glad people still draw it in fandom. Every time someone posts HKAI fanart where Kamiki is looking at her with a facial expression that is at the exact midpoint of "brainmeltingly horny" and "ravenously hungry" my HP gets maxed out <3

#oshi no ko #oshi no posting #onk spoilers #OnK asks

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overrgrown · 6 months ago

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stray my stand in thoughts in no particular order (e1-7 spoilers) ~

sorry it's long lmao I have a lot of jumbled thoughts that I need to yell about so this is me screaming into the void

Joe being used as a stand in by ming and tong is very telling

ming honestly doesn't act like a spoiled rich brat. he's occasionally entitled, but he's very polite to staff and he genuinely cares for his sister.

I don't think that ming wants to hurt his sister. he wants tong to choose him instead of his sister so that he can break her heart instead and then ming isn't to blame

idk if ming was ever trying to be subtle to Joe about what he was to him. he flat out told him he was a stand in (just didn't mention for who)

Joe getting a second chance at a maternity figure only to have her immediately fall into major trouble and then health issues has got to be triggering the fuck out of Joe rn

do we find out where Joe 2.0's spirit is at all? and what happened to OG Joe's body??

jfc poom is so pretty I can't focus

ik sol and ming are more than likely gonna become friends at some point but my messy ass would LOVE to see them be bitter bitches to the end with each other

where did ming get the chain....?

it's making me so fucking sad that Joe is falling back into his previous direct footsteps bc of his situation and its literally all he knows to do. same people, same habits, same mannerisms, same career, everything

he has an opportunity to completely rebrand and live his life without being under ming's thumb but he is consciously choosing to stay around him. why? what is so alluring about the person who used and emotionally cheated on you for who knows how long and then drunkenly called you the target of his actual affections????

Joe is not only too humble. I think he genuinely doesn't think he deserves better. this life is all he's ever known and he's never had the stones to try and improve himself and get his own life

his job is literally to be a nameless, faceless body double who does the work for a person who gets to take all the credit

(not that I'm shit talking real stunt doubles. y'all are the core of my fave action movies and ily)

but it says a lot about Joe's character and how passive he is usually and it's so interesting to me that he's the big risk taker when it comes to his stunts but he's too scared to make a move to improve his life or branch out on his own

those inconsiderate little bitches. you can't just add a character willy nilly to an already finished script. it'll throw off the whole movie and that's way more work for the writers

yo that hesitation at Joe not being able to break those mugs???? I felt it physically that was GOOD FUCKING ACTING

sol has never done anything wrong in his life he could murder someone in front of me in cold blood and I would help him cover it up

I would come out to sol i trust him with my party drink I'll go to war for him

damn bro how the hell did Joe get roped into being a stand in for HIMSELF that's some meta shit right there. like how is this not just self harm bc that's what it seems like to me

tharn? that's a new name. will we meet him?

ming's condo being green and gold like Joe's old house I am chewing on fucking concrete

OH THE MIRROR SWIPE THE HARSH REMINDER THAT HE IS IN ANOTHER BODY AND THAT HE IS USING THAT BODY AS A STAND IN FOR HIMSELF AND THAT HE NOT ONLY SOLD HIMSELF TO MING BUT HE SOLD JOE 2.0'S BODY GOD THAT WAS *chefs kiss*

is the backception here that ming is kissing Joe 2.0's back bc it reminds him of OG Joe or because it reminds him of Joe reminding him of tong hmmmmmmmmm either way: seek help babe you have a problem

the juicy juicy parallel of ming waking up to an empty pillow I'm gulping this shit down like water this is my life blood rn thank you for the delicious meal

i am not immune to the mesh shirt

AHA I THINK I JUST MET THARN

Update: I am correct

JOE'S ACCIDENT WAS A SUICIDE ATTEMPT?!?!?!?!? holy fuck bro

I thought I was going to hate ming a lot more when I started this bc I have a lot of manipulation trauma but I kind of.... get him

how old is tharn supposed to be bc he looks 16 and it's unsettling

I knew we couldn't trust that twink

YAS BABE YOU LOSE YOUR SHIT YOU YELL YOU GET MAD YOU TELL PEOPLE TO FUCK OFF YOU KICK THARN OUT OF YOUR ROOM DESERVE TO UNHINGE YOURSELF A BIT

ming is about to step off the edge I can feel it this man is about to overflow and drown everyone around him in his search for Joe

"tOng PlaYed tHe scENe hImsELF" oh so tong has always been a piece of shit got it

shut the fuck up why am I actually getting emotional over ming realizing that his Joe is the one in front of him and that it's been him all along

but on another note I am going to pound him into the cement for interrupting that shoot I hope the footage wasn't ruined by ming's emo ass

the back hug with the clear JOE though and comparing it to their first meeting?? stupendous no notes

up is going in a bubble I am kissing his forehead he acted the fuck outta that last scene MWAH

#my stand in #my stand in the series #ming x joe #joe x ming #up poompat #poom phuripan #sorry i had many things to say and no one else to yell to so on the public internet it is lmao

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plantsjustwannahavefun · 1 year ago

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Theories on how Izzy lost his leg

Okay so we're all very interested in Izzy's leg, obviously, but so far everyone else seems to assume it was caused by his toe getting infected. I don't buy it, though, for several reasons.

For one thing, I'm not a doctor but is this really how infections work? How would a toe infection spread so far and so quickly that they had to cut his entire lower leg off? Yes, we know Izzy isn't inclined to accept help or allow himself to appear weak or sick, but he's not stupid either. He's an experienced pirate, he must have seen enough amputation or deaths from infections to know what's at stake. He's much too practical to let it get this far without seeking medical help or at least getting it amputated sooner so that he only had to lose a foot and not his entire calf or even his knee (can't tell from those few frames in the trailer yet).

And besides, we already saw his foot get better at the end of S1, it seemed like several weeks had passed and he was walking just fine, wasn't even using his cane anymore. From what I know, if a wound gets infected, it typically happens within the first few days of an injury. In several weeks it would either have got infected already or healed enough not to be a problem anymore. For much of the S2 trailer Izzy is seen taking part in attacks, with his leg still whole, so it seems like he only lost his leg in the second half of the season. We don't yet know what sort of timeline the season follows, but it's safe to say it's going to take place over a period of at least 3 weeks. So that's several more weeks. That makes it even more unlikely for Izzy's toe to suddenly get infected towards the end of the season after all this time.

And secondly... it would just be a bit boring from the narrative perspective. Losing the toe was already punishment enough. Even if it had healed fully with no physical consequences at all, the whole experience of being woken up in the middle of the night to the pain of having it sheared off and then forced to chew and swallow it is was definitely traumatising enough not to be forgotten that quickly... This show doesn't shy away from graphic injury and violence, but it's never gratuitous. That's why that toe cutting scene was so powerful - it already stood out as one of the most seriously violent moments in the show. Adding more to it would only diminish its impact rather than strengthen it.

Now you might want to mention Lucius losing his finger, and the way it didn't happen immediately and went from a minor injury played for laughs to a serious infection with a significant time gap, but that's a very different case. There was a comedic contrast here, a very minor injury that happened in comical circumstances (Buttons accidentally biting Lucius's finger) unexpectedly turning into something serious. But Izzy losing his toe was taken seriously from the very start, there was nothing comical about it. There already was an expectation that it could turn into something worse... but it didn't. And Lucius having his finger cut off wasn't portrayed as a punishment, just bad luck, a realistic moment on a 17th century pirate ship. It led to a cute and significant moment between Lucius and Black Pete, but other than that it could have happened to anyone. And he only lost that one finger. If he got a finger bite and ended up losing his whole forearm, that would have been way too cruel and out of character for this show.

So, what's my take then, you ask? Well, I don't really have anything concrete. Except, we know that the real Blackbeard shot Izzy in the knee. I know OFMD isn't trying to be historically accurate, not when it comes to the characters at least, but they could still use that bit for inspiration. Maybe Ed does shoot at Izzy. Or maybe Ed tries to shoot at Stede, but Izzy gets in the way. Or maybe Stede does something really stupid and Izzy gets shot or injured trying to protect him - no really, think about it, they're practically glued at the hip in the trailer. They're having a friendly banter. They're gonna be friends. Getting himself injured while trying to protect Stede would be a major milestone in Izzy's redemption arc. It would even explain that bit in the trailer where an already peg-legged Izzy punched Stede in the gut. It wasn't a hateful punch, you could tell he wasn't really trying to hurt Stede. It looked more like punching your buddy out of anger when they did something really, really stupid that got both of you in trouble.

Honestly, I'm open to pretty much any theory, except the toe infection because it's boring af and makes no sense.

#izzy hands #ofmd #our flag means death #ofmd s2 #ofmd s2 spoilers

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sagescented · 20 days ago

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We sat out on the deck with Lily today for a bit and just enjoyed the cool weather. Meanwhile she ran around grabbing sticks and bringing them up onto the porch to chew on. I think we may need to get her some outdoor toys 🤣

She's been doing a lot better this week. The food aggression has died down significantly. She's no longer growling, and she hasn't snapped at us (even though she'd only snapped twice in the first place- once apiece). She's also calmed down even more about how much and how frequently she's eating; it doesn't seem like she feels like she needs to be eating constantly throughout the day anymore- and she's no longer finishing the big bowls we give her at every meal.

We weighed her again today with the home scale, and she's now 35 pounds- up from the barely 28lbs that she was when we took her to the Vet the week we adopted her. She's also already grown a lot. It's surprising; she's definitely on course to be a Large dog or larger (a Husky's final weight may be around 60 to 70 lbs, but a Great Pyrenees can top out around 130+ lbs. We're definitely not discounting the possibility that her growth is stunted by the underfeeding, and she's just behind for a 4 month old for her mix).

She's also only peed on the deck once this week- an accident when she went to say hi to my Brother in Law before going pee, and then not being able to hold it any longer. I still shoo'd her off the deck to finish, but it was reasonable. We've now taught her to use the bathroom before saying hi to anyone outdoors. And now she zooms off the deck immediately, does her business, and comes back. I think we've even managed to finally break her of going to the bathroom on the concrete around the pool 🙏

Learning to self-sooth has been a little bit harder for us to manage with her. She gets so bored so easily, even though we've provided her with plenty of toys with different textures and colors, functions, etc. A lot of the time she won't play with her toys unless you're right there on the floor with her. And even then, she doesn't necessarily want to play with you. It's like she just needs your presence there; we don't think she was really left alone ever by any of her Fosters- which makes it very difficult to teach her to just exist without necessarily requiring constant attention. She's getting better about it, though. It's just slower progress than we'd like in that realm. And until she manages it she needs constant monitoring and attention, so my schedule and routine remains completely out of whack.

Teaching her not to mouth the Cats has also been difficult. She's good with them. But she's so desperate for their attention and affection, and she particularly likes trying to nibble at their buts at the base of their tails on their backs- and at their back legs. Not usually painfully so, but a few times she's definitely gotten too excited and too rough and even Myra has turned around and bopped her squarely on the nose for it. She has finally stopped chasing them for the most part, though. So that part's a success at least!

We're considering doing professional group social training for her leash training and stuff, soon; probably as soon as the waiting period for her last Parvo / Distemper vax is over with, and we've got the basic commands done (we're still working on her name and better recall). She's really horrible about even tiny distractions ruining all listening ability, so we think it'd be good to do that kind of training in a group setting where other People / Dogs are present. Especially if we want her to be able to listen while we're out hiking and stuff. So that's next on the agenda.

Overall, though, we're so happy with her progress. She makes me miss Whisper so much sometimes. But I'm so in love with her; I'm glad we adopted her instead of waiting.

#Personal #2024 #Pets

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ambrosiagourmet · 8 months ago

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mx. glitz have you seen this. (@ atissi here) /post/744351681315291136/hadnt-seen-anyone-post-the-full-comic-about-laios

i feel like chewing on dry concrete. the toudens......

Post link: atissi.tumblr.com/post/744351681315291136/hadnt-seen-anyone-post-the-full-comic-about-laios

I haaave, and I honestly have like some very complicated feelings about this one, which is part of why I haven't talked about it here.....

In general I very much dislike the tendency for media (and culture at large, at least the culture I'm familiar with) to push reconciliation as the main, or sometimes ONLY happy ending for people estranged from their family. Which isn't exactly what this comic is doing, buuuut... it IS very in line with a sort of like "well you don't understand, your parents had complex reasons, you should forgive them, etc," especially when paired with the fact that it's noted in Falin's bio that she hopes Laios and her parents will reconcile.

With a little more space I've been more able to take this comic as something very anchored in Falin's perspective, rather than necessarily an objective declaration that the Touden Parents Were Right, Actually. Which also was a little hard, honestly, because A) I kind of like to imagine that in post-canon, Falin would be a little less likely to dismiss her own pain in favor of empathizing with others, and B) its kinda shitty to Laios to frame things this way, imo?

Or like... it's one thing for her to have a different perspective on her parents, but framing it as like a "Laios misunderstood" thing, especially in context of her explicitly wanting him to get back in contact with them... eugh. Girl, he is allowed to have his own feelings on the matter and make his own choices. Downplaying his trauma in order to empathize with your parents (who were ADULTS in this situation, while both you and your brother were kids) is not a neutral action.

ANYWAY that all being said... I do find it kind of believable that she might still be caught up in some messiness with all this. Navigating trauma and parents and estrangement is already hard enough on its own, and adding in a sibling - who has different needs and different coping mechanisms - doesn't make things any easier. I hope she can sit down with Laios at some point and actually talk things out.

Also I hope she can give herself a little more space to like. Acknowledge that some shit happened, even if she can empathize with her parents here?? Like... even if you can understand sympathetic reasons for them to have done what they did... they still did that. Her father still failed to communicate with her or Laios. Her mother still lowkey assaulted her. Reasons aren't the only things that matter, especially when it comes to a parent's treatment of their kid. The actions they took were still harmful, and I think that it's important for Falin to have space to acknowledge that. Honestly, if she's anything like me, its gonna hit her like a TRUCK someday, once she finally has the space and safety to sit down and work through things.

Above all else though, this comic definitely gets one thing EXTREMELY right in my book: Marcille is fucking ready to throw down with the Touden parents and give them the lecture of their lives, as is her friend-realizing-the-shit-her-friend's-parents-did given right. o7 Marcille, go with my blessing.

#ask #I'd also request that if anyone has like strongly different opinions than mine on the Touden parents #and like whether or not the sibs were abused/neglected #and whether Laios has ever right to go no contact #don't bring them to me! I'm not comfortable with or interested in debating that with people online #also: yeah. the touden siblings T.T

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lilenui · 6 months ago

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Hi! So I have a question regarding IBO. From what I’ve heard on the Internet, the show had a very troubled production. However, when attempting to research the production issues, I couldn’t find very much besides very basic generalizations. If it’s not too much to ask, could you either explain these issues from your own findings, or link to a place where they’re laid out please? If not, I completely understand; thank you for taking the time to read this question.

Hi anon! Hm, I'm not aware of any technical difficulties during the production so I'm assuming you're referring to the conflict between the series' composer Mari Okada and the series' director Tatsuyuki Nagai over their diverging views on the show's finale and Tekkadan in general. Unfortunately I cannot offer you anything more concrete besides what you've probably already read online.

The gist of it is that Okada wanted a happy end for everybody and she fought hard to salvage even as many lives of the protagonists as she did. Nagai was the opposite, he originally planned to kill the entire Tekkadan by dainsleif carpet bombing of their base, including Atra and Kudelia. Okada has stated that she's never seen him be so adamant about something in the entire history of their collaborations. The series finale has been rewritten many times (about five I think) and none of them were "happier" than what we got in the end. Okada expressed regret and sadness over the ending, while Nagai showed a level of harshness and indifference toward Tekkadan. He made numerous comments about their rotten, criminal nature centered around Mika and Orga in particular. Their end was supposed to be punishment for their crimes. In Kudelia's case it would've been guilt by association with mafia. Nagai was also opposed to the Mars independence movement gaining ground thanks to Tekkadan and McGillis' actions because his vision was of a nihilistic and stagnant world where such reforms are not feasible. Nagai had the executive producer in his corner who also supported the "maximum emotional damage" ending and total desturction of Tekkadan. However it needs to be stated that after a while Nagai has changed his position on the matter, and said he'd like to give Tekkadan a happy alternative ending "if the fans are willing to forgive him." No such plans have ever materialised though.

Huge diclaimer regarding everything above: I don't have access to any of the magazines where the interviews shedding light on the issue were being published (mostly Animage, Newtype and Great Mechanic G) and I've yet to muster the courage to read the interviews published in the books, so just like you I'm operating on third-grade quality of sources. I'm basically sourcing from impressions of other fans of those interviews. I don't want to plant false narratives in anyone's mind as a result of passing those along, so please take everything you've just read with a giant grain of salt! Maybe this will be the kick I needed to finally chew into the stuff I have available, so thank you for the question anon.

#ask #gundam iron blooded orphans #ibo

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landinrris · 7 months ago

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norrix prompt: preshow/prerace jitters, holding hands to calm each other down, soft kisses

Posting this entire snippet here rather than on ao3 since this is actually part of a larger thing I'm in the early stages of. Consider it a sneak preview of sorts (that happens near the end of the fic oops). In any case, Martin and Lando in the buildup to a race at some point later this season (think Austin). Lando has some healthy pre-race jitters and Martin is there to bring him back down a bit.

One thing that Martin doesn’t think he’s going to get over any time soon is just watching Lando prepare for a race. After he’s done floating around and greeting some of the guests McLaren has invited. After he’s eaten his ritualistic meal and shrugged on his fireproofs for the afternoon.

There’s probably a fairly obvious reason why he likes sitting back and watching Jon stretch and massage Lando. Maybe part of it is due to how Martin feels like he’s having an out-of-body experience in some ways. But he loves watching Lando laugh and sing along to his music. He loves watching how Lando slips into a meditative state at a certain point.

He also just loves chatting, Lando speaking with his normal cadence like he’s not being bent in half.

“What’re you gonna do if I win?” Lando pokes while Jon has one of his legs literally flat over his head. A fact that almost causes Martin to choke when he looks up from his phone.

“In reality or in my head?” Because they are different things right now. Plus, Martin hadn’t been able to be there for Lando’s first win— had missed it by a race— so he has a few ideas in mind now.

Lando hums, letting out a quiet grunt when Jon must stretch a less-than-loose muscle. “Go on, give me your ideal outcome, and I’ll tell you if it’s too out there.” He tips his head to the side enough to fully catch Martin’s eye. There’s a genuine glint that greets him— like Lando might very well agree to whatever Martin says. He can’t help but laugh to himself.

Martin flicks his gaze up to Jon.

“Mate, as long as it’s not about your literal sex life, I don’t care what the hell you two talk about while I’m here. You should know that by now,” Jon laughs.

In that case. “If you must know, I would sprint down to parc fermé with the team. And then I would kiss you in front of all the cameras. Everyone else gets to do it, why not us?”

Lando’s eyes somehow soften further. “Is this in a universe where we’re already out?”

Martin shakes his head. “No, it’s in this one. Just finally put the rumors to rest.”

“Well, who knows, maybe I’ll be so high on success that I’ll let you do it.” He tries to sound nonchalant, but Martin can tell Lando is actually thinking about it. He’d practically told Kym Illman to fuck off earlier, but here Lando is contemplating concretely outing them. Martin almost pushes himself out of his chair to crowd Lando against the table, Jon’s presence be damned.

“Guess you gotta win then.”

The part Martin doesn’t love as much about watching Lando get ready for a race is that he can tell when the nerves start to set in. Never too much but enough that means he’s aware of his mortality even as protected as they are. He watches as the twitch in Lando’s jaw gets a bit more defined, watches as he wipes his hands down the front of his suit more often, and swipes his hands around his neck and face while he thinks through his strategy. As the seconds tick by, Lando chews a bit more at his thumb.

They’re about to finally leave the hospitality building and cross over to the garage when Martin shoots his hand out to Lando’s shoulder to prevent him from following Jon so closely. Lando turns a questioning look on him but doesn’t pull away.

“Hang back for a second, yeah?”

He nods, Jon leaves, and then it’s just the two of them surrounded by temporary walls with a gradually growing din of noise just beyond.

“What’s up?” Lando asks first. Martin almost doesn’t hear him because he gets sidetracked watching Lando’s tongue dart to swipe at the corners of his mouth.

Martin shakes himself out of it because now is not the time. “I just wanted to make sure you’re okay. Take a second to breathe because I know you forget to in the buildup.”

Understanding dawns on Lando’s face, and he smiles softly. He steps closer, reaching up to pluck Martin’s hand off his arm and holds it for himself. “Thank you for the reminder. Believe it or not, I still get a bit more nervous with you around than I should. You’d think I’d get over it after two years.”

“What? Really? For what?”

Lando shrugs, looking sheepish. “I don’t know. At first, it was because you were so cool, you know? Knew my name… wanted to hang out with me... Then it was because I had a stupid crush, and now I think it’s because I don’t trust myself not to do something stupid.”

“Are you saying I’m no longer cool?” Martin asks in exchange for not unpacking all of that right now. Plus, Lando doesn’t have to know he harbors his own anxieties, particularly at the race starts.

“No, you’re actually very lame, if you must know.”

Martin scoffs and pulls Lando into as tight of a hug as he dares. He fits his hands across Lando’s shoulder blades and tucks his face into Lando’s neck like they so often do. Lando only takes a few seconds to respond in kind before he’s gripping Martin’s just as tightly. The warmth of Lando’s body is overwhelming as usual, the weight of his hands comforting as they rock back and forth for a few moments.

“You’ve got this,” Martin whispers fiercely into Lando’s skin. And I’ll still kiss you if you come second or third, if you want. I think either of those will also get a big reaction from people.”

Lando gently knocks his head sideways into Martin’s and chuckles. “Don’t tempt me or I might actually do it.”

“Oh, I’m counting on it.”

#writing tag #norrix #lando #maritn #ask

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practically-an-x-man · 8 months ago

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Prompt, if you'd like...

"How do I get down from here?"

"Scared of heights?"

"More afraid of falling, but yeah."

Okay, I think I've got something!! I've been wanting to start writing Kate and Gia, anyway...

(I did cut out the first line of the prompt but it worked better for the scene)

____ Bird's Eye View

Content Warnings: Depiction of heights Word Count: 1.5k

____

"Kate?"

"Hm?"

"You know my balance is shit, right?" She'd tried for humor, but humor didn't work so well when her voice wavered like a leaf in the breeze.

Gia took another hesitant step forward, curling the toes of her right foot into the concrete shelf below her as if she could cling to it like a gecko. Her left foot was much less helpful. Maybe if she had some flashy tech like she saw on TV...

No. She wouldn't go there. Flashy tech made her think of HYDRA, and that made the trembling worse. She'd stick with her safe, ordinary aluminum.

"You'll be fine. It's not as hard as it looks." Kate called back to her, already ten steps ahead, "And it's worth it, I promise."

She managed another step, forcing herself not to look down. She couldn't tell which was worse: the moment where she stepped with her right foot and all her weight was briefly put on her prosthetic, where she couldn't feel the security of the concrete below her, or the way she had to shift her hips to get her other leg caught up and momentarily lost the wall at her back.

This was, in no uncertain terms, a terrible fucking idea.

Gia shuffled along, trying to urge herself just a little faster so she could catch up with Kate ahead of her. Instead, the toe of her prosthetic caught the concrete funny - she wasn't sure if that was a rough patch on the ledge or just her own lack of kinesthesia - and her balance lurched.

The ground veered and loomed below her, apartment windows glinting like the eyes of wolves seen deep in the forest. Her breath caught in her throat, and she threw her weight back hard enough that her spine slammed into the wall behind her. Her heart thundered in her ears, so fast it made her a little dizzy.

Her fingers scraped at the wall behind her, about the only thing still holding her upright. This was why she didn't leave the house. This was why she especially didn't go climbing along the skyline a hundred feet up, with only one good leg and absolutely zero climbing skills, following a woman whose principal skill was getting herself into trouble...

Gia fixed her eyes on the sky, forcing a breath through her seizing lungs. It helped a little. The sky never really changed, she thought. It always looked the same distance away. She could almost pretend she was still on the ground.

"G? You okay?"

She shook her head, still clinging to the wall with everything she had.

"Scared of heights?" Kate's voice had grown a lot closer, but Gia couldn't bring herself to pull her eyes away from the clouds above her.

"More- more afraid of falling," she stammered, having to chew the words like a tough hunk of gristle just to get them past her throat, "But yeah."

And what would happen if you did fall, hm? a voice reminded her, way off in the back of her mind, You'd scare the shit out of Kate, yeah, but the clover would put you back together. It's not like this would kill you. HYDRA tested heights, remember? Wouldn't want another one of their little projects sinking to the bottom of a river.

But it would hurt, she told that voice, I could lose another limb. And how do you know it would put me back together the right way this time?

You're right, the voice ceded, It would hurt. But you've been through worse. Really, you should be worried about Kate. She wouldn't survive a fall like that if she slipped. You would.

Gia couldn't tell if that was meant to console her or not. It only really served to make things worse. Her mind had a very bad habit of doing that.

"Gia?" Kate asked from beside her, concern wavering her voice almost as much as Gia's own, "Hey, look at me."

"I'm good here."

"It's only like ten more steps. You can do it."

"Kate. I really, really don't think I can."

That drew a sigh from her, a tangle of frustration and concern, and then she found warm fingers coaxing her death-grip off the wall. Gia's eyes finally left the clouds, though it took a Herculean effort to find Kate's face instead of the dizzying landscape around her.

"Think of it this way, right?" Kate tried, offering her a shadow of a smile, "It's ten steps if you go forward, but twenty steps to get back. So it's easier to keep going."

"But then- then we have to get back." she pointed out, "Which makes it forty steps." Gia spared a second glance at the sky, its blue gradually deepening above her. "In the dark."

"There's an easier way down," Kate promised, giving her hand a gentle squeeze, "I promise. We just can't get up that way."

"How easy?"

"It's an elevator. So... 'stand and push buttons' easy." she said, "We just can't get up that way because of the bouncer in the lobby. But he's there to stop people from getting in, not getting out."

"I think they're called security guards."

"Same thing." Kate shot back, but there was the faintest glimmer of relief in her tone. She turned her head, surveying the concrete shelf ahead of her, then looked back at Gia. "Ten more steps, G. Then we're there. You can do it. I won't let you fall."

And how would she stop you? that traitorous corner of her mind chimed in, right on schedule, Either you fall alone or you pull her down with you. Which one's worse?

Or I just don't fall, she thought back, Or I make it ten more steps and see whatever Kate has for me on the other side.

It was about the closest she could ever come to telling that little voice to shut up, but it worked well enough for her to manage a nod and another step. Kate moved along with her, keeping a loose grip on her hand and matching the glacial pace she set.

One slow, careful step. One little kip of the other leg - an almost unconscious maneuver on solid ground, but terrifying at this height - to get her prosthetic caught up. Repeat ad nauseam.

She didn't know how long it took her, but the sky had darkened another two shades by the time she reached the end of the ledge. Kate stepped down first, hopping past a railing and onto a simple balcony below her.

"You can sit down and kinda shuffle forward - that's what I did the first couple times," Kate said, looking up at her, "Or step down and I'll catch you."

Sitting down was a lot of the same process walking was, these days: simple, next to unconscious, while she was in an ordinary environment, but much more of a challenge when standing on a thin concrete shelf far too many stories in the air. It involved shifting her balance, working around the rigidity of her prosthetic and the same lack of kinesthesia from a leg that wasn't there, and it wasn't always the most graceful maneuver.

Before she could talk herself out of it, Gia stepped off the platform. Kate's hands caught her waist just as she started to feel the pull of gravity, and then her feet were on the balcony below. Kate held on for an extra moment or two, making sure she was steady (though how could she be steady with a beautiful woman barely a foot away?) then released her with a quick step back.

"And we're here." she said, waving a hand at the balcony around them, "You did it."

Gia took a look around, simultaneously trying to will her heart to slow down. The balcony was both upscale and strangely desolate, like it was the penthouse of a millionaire who'd died before he could move in. There was a hot tub built into the far corner, or the bone-dry husk of what looked like a hot tub, but no other furniture in sight. The glass door into the building was broken, patched with duct tape and a black trash bag.

"We didn't just break into somebody's apartment, did we?"

"Nah, this place has been abandoned for like two years," Kate replied, utterly casual as she draped her arms over the balcony railing, "Don't know why they'd give up a view like that, though."

It was a spectacular view. Almost worth the terror of getting up here- almost. The sun had begun its descent below the horizon, wreathed in the silhouettes of skyscrapers and painting the sky in swathes of coral and gold. Far below, Gia could see cars and people bustling along - the view that had been so terrifying minutes before was now close to enrapturing, now that she had a railing to hold onto.

"What do you think?" Kate asked, with a not-so-subtle slide up to her side, "Worth it?"

"Worth it." Gia agreed, and summoned up the last few threads of her courage to lean her head onto Kate's shoulder. That, if not the view itself, made the whole struggle worth it. Mostly. "But don't make me do that again."

#my friends!!!#answered asks #my writing #my ocs #gia pantazis #oneshot #shortfic #tw heights #oc x canon #kate bishop

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sichore · 1 year ago

Text

(( @inky-da-dinky has a Murmaider Merfolk AU that's thoroughly consumed me the past day or two, so I filled out another prompt using that as the setting.

25. Write about your ship bathing or swimming together. ))

Jimi watches the slow movement of her feet kicking underwater, her soles unnaturally pale in the light, and sighs. “I still think this is all just a ploy for you to see my toes.”

She feels Pickles’ laughter vibrate up through the current to her legs and body, before he breaks the surface and she hears it. Funny, how different it feels through the water, like gentle drumming, compared to the light and jovial snickers he vocalizes.

“I'm not gonna lie, they are cute.” The cecaelian grins as he folds his arms at the water's edge, flashing that golden canine at the painter. “Yer just so adorable, I could eat ya up.”

“Ohhh, so that's it! You're gonna have me for dinner.”

“When ya put it that way…”

The twinkle in those seagrass eyes this time makes Jimi gulp, and she looks away, pulling the towel more tightly around her shoulders.

“How ya feeling?”

“... Pretty good, I guess. Everything's all warm.”

The molly was working as intended, then. Truthfully, Jimi didn't feel all that anxious anymore. The water was no longer cool, she actually didn't feel any kind of chill that necessitated the towel around her. It was just a really nice towel, each little loop of cotton feeling like cloudsilk against her skin. The water didn't feel wet so much as, like, a second, comforting skin from mid-calf down to feet, velvet and natural against her.

And everything's so vibrant. She can almost taste the glow of the lamps off the water, the colors of the paintings in progress across the wall, and Pickles himself. Crimson and salt and iron and something else that feels just right for her to grind beneath her teeth.

Jimi blinks. Okay, yeah. She's definitely high enough for this now.

“Good?” Pickles pushes off the edge, tentacles flowing beneath him like a slow-dancing blossom. He floats in front of Jimi, watching her expectantly. “Ready?”

Taking a deep breath, Jimi sits up straight, letting the towel drop from shoulders. She stops moving her feet, letting them drift, but makes no move otherwise. There's still a tiny bead of anxiety in her, tickling the back of her mind like a long-buried memory, and it's enough to make her chew her lip as she stares into the shallows of Pickles’ tank. “... This is still weird.”

“How come?”

“People like me don't swim, Pickles.”

At the cecaelian's confused quirk of his lips, Jimi gestures at herself. It takes a moment, but his mouth forms a little ‘o’ of understanding.

“Well, that's just sad.” That's putting it lightly, Jimi thinks, but judging by the way Pickles sways from side to side, he means it sincerely. “She really loves ya, you know. S'why I wanna do this for ya.”

“Who's ‘She’?” asks Jimi.

But Pickles doesn't respond, instead drifting closer to her, holding out his hands. “It's better if I show you. I won't let ya go, promise. Just one lap.”

There's just one last, long moment of hesitation. It's too late to back out now. Jimi's already here and in the appropriate swimwear, already braided her hair down for this, and if something goes wrong, hopefully, it'll be quick. At least she'll be too zooted to feel the suffocation.

Taking one last deep breath, she pushes off.

Her stomach drops as she leaves the concrete for the fluid depths, feeling like she's dropping into a warm vat of nothing. A strong tendril wraps around her waist, leaving her suspended and above water from the ribs up. Her flailing hands are grasped firmly with fingers that are damp and only slightly alien.

As promised, Pickles doesn't let her sink. Wrapped around her like a safety belt, the cecaelian smiles at her as Jimi otherwise floats in the water, her feet slowly, naturally kicking. She's halfway to swimming, for the first time in her life. No thrashing, no silent screams as she's pulled and dragged under.

There's no panic or dread in her heart, only a calm sense of… belonging.

“Holy shit,” Jimi murmurs, and Pickles laughs again.

“I know, right?” His eyes are nearly black from the ecstasy, but he's still with her, still has a pinprick of focus on the painter that makes her shiver.

Jimi glances down, hardly able to comprehend the grass and rocks below for the mass of crimson around her. All writhing and wonderful and… chewy. “Can I touch ‘em?”

“By all means!”

“Don't sound so eager,” Jimi finally laughs, just a bit.

Pickles releases one of her hands as another tentacle rises up, the flexible little tip curling and waving in a little ‘hello!’ for her. Jimi reaches out with curious fingers and it – he – wraps around and through them and she's not sure what she expected, but it’s certainly not this. Firm and slippery, velvety with just the slightest give beneath her fingertips as she travels down the length. There's the faintest hint of texture, like goosebumps, and the suction cups feel like strong little kisses against her palm, but otherwise…

“Feels like a dick,” Jimi blurts out, and Pickles throws his head back in raucous laughter.

“Well,” The scarlet-headed cecaelian drawls, once he settles down into a fit of giggles. “If you really wanna, later, we can…”

His words stay suspended in the air, like ripe fruit for the plucking. Jimi raises two dark brows at him and he lifts a pierced pair right back at her.

“How about… we stay focused here?” The painter says carefully, a smirk playing about her lips.

“Eyes on the prize?”

“Eyes on the prize.”

Yet they're only staring at each other. Pickles takes Jimi's hands in his own again and slowly eases up on the grip around her waist. Still holding her, but also allowing Jimi to start feeling the encompassing embrace of the water. And she feels it all, the microscopic brushes of millions of crystals of salt on her skin, the ghost sensation of reeds and weeds against her legs, the faint call of precious daughter, come home.

Pickles pushes off without warning and suddenly they're moving, soaring through the water.

Jimi falls forward and wraps her arms around his torso with a yelp of “Oh shit!” She feels the rumble of laughter in his chest as he wraps strong arms around her, and they swim as one.

Well, Pickles is doing the swimming, really, as Jimi holds on for dear life, but they feel like one. Like there's no difference between his skin and her swimsuit and the water that flows around and through them. Pickles leans back so she's nearly laid atop him, head and shoulders kept up and out of the pool while the rest of her is vertical like she's swimming herself. The tendril around her waist eventually unwinds, instead steadying her from beneath as they slowly swim around the surface of his tank.

It’s absurd that Jimi was ever afraid of this. There is no distinction between herself and the crimson cecaelian and the water and the echoes of the ocean where they all belong. Being held in his many arms, unwinding like an unspooled ribbon, all to sway entwined just as it was meant to be. Here, she’s not small, she’s not insignificant, scared and seclusive. In the waves, she’s grand, she is brilliant, and together they have the universe as their domain. Schools of stars scatter before them, reefs of planet falls tremble as they pass over them. Winding between chaos and cosmos, they roar. A pounding of carmine drums, their many hearts beating in tandem. Light flashes at the edge of creation and lucent bells ring in response – the glow of the eternal one, reborn and rejoined to the crimson beast, at last. – come home, come home, o darling daughter, luminous and lost – The brilliant colors dull as Jimi sputters, turning over to eject more water from her nose and mouth, salt stinging her sinuses and making her eyes water.

“Ope, easy there.”

Pickles lays at her side, blocking a good amount of the light. Her coughs subsiding, Jimi pushes herself up on her forearm. They’re back on ground, and the water feels miles away, even though Jimi could see it if she could peer over Pickles’ form. The pull is there, fading ache, soon replaced by a yearning as deep as it was bewildering.

“What… what?” She sits up, and a cloth is dropped around her, dabbing at face and body until Jimi waves her hands. “Oof, hey – thanks,” she sighs hoarsely, throat stinging, as she takes the towel from the attentive tentacles attempting to dry her. Even in shadow, Pickles’ eyes are radiant, his pupils once again that unidentifiable dark shape surrounded by seagrass irises. He looks at the painter with an unreadable expression, and even his normally restless arms are subdued and steady. “What happened?” Jimi finally manages to ask, once she’s rubbed the droplets from her body and wrapped the towel around herself once more. Pickles’ fingers tap against the concrete, a rapid, uneasy beat. “... You tried to dive,” he says quietly. She should be more startled than she is. Instead, Jimi looks to where the water is, her brown eyes going beyond the pool, beyond Mordhaus Aquarium – to the rivers and seas and Ocean beyond. There’s a song within her, wrapped tightly in a helix shell, and it’s silent. “Can we go back?” Jimi asks in a small voice. The wet slide of tendrils foretell of the twin slaps that sound against the ground. Pickles wraps his arms molded in the shape of man around Jimi, and feels so very human when he breathes deep of the air and exhales against her neck. “I’ll take you anywhere ya want,” he says in a shuddering, world-trembling voice. Jimi nods and holds him in return, feels the swirl of galaxies churning and settling within her. “Okay,” she says, and she swallows down that spark, the newborn sun alight with her after a long cycle of shadow. “Thank you.”

[Soft OTP Prompts]

#metalocalypse #pickles the drummer #jamila calabash #mtl oc #my writing #more of the myth/lore side of mtl stuff

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