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jooniperbonsai · 1 year ago

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Thanks For The Sub | ksj (Teaser)

Pairing: Camboy!Seokjin x Gamer!Reader (afab)

Rating: 18+

Teaser length: 2378

Chapter One length: 11-14k

Release date: Fri. January 19, 2024.

Genre: Smut, fluff, angst, camboy au, gamer au, comedy, crack, slow burn (?), coworkers/boss/friends to lovers, an exploration of adults in their late 20s/early 30s

Summary: After a clip of you sucking at video games goes viral, you've become somewhat famous, with thousands of subscribers now tuning in each week to see you play. Overnight, you've gone from a sexually frustrated grad student who reads smut in her room to a gamer girl (or rather, a not-gamer girl). This would have been the perfect job, except it was never the job you wanted. Desperate for money to pay for grad school, you bounce between your new gig and working at a local restaurant to pay the bills, where your hot coworker-now-boss Seokjin plays many of the lead roles in your sexual fantasies.

Seokjin, two years post losing his fiancé and job within the same day, is tired of the rut he's dug himself into and wants to start over. Now 30 years old, he's stuck managing his family's restaurant where he harbors an insanely inappropriate crush on you on top of carrying one hell of a secret: Seokjin is also known as Jin, a successful gay-for-pay camboy on the streaming site Worldwide Handsome.

When the stress of the upcoming semester and the pressure to stream becomes more than you can handle, you seek out some much-needed stress relief online, only to discover a man who looks a little too much like your boss is staring right back at you.

Warnings for Chapter One: Swearing, cheating (not between main characters), big age gap between lesser characters that can be uncomfy, sex work, gay sex work when the worker is actually not gay (but everyone is chill about it), feelings of shame and guilt, feelings of failure/depression, the existential crisis of your late-20s/30s that we all seem to go through, off-handed references to kpop culture including fanfics because I'm a clown and need to call us out sometimes, silly literary tropes, references to pregnancy, boss-employee power dynamics, allusions to queer BTS members or relationships, cameos of au Seventeen Members (Wonwoo and y/n are besties). NSFW sex stuff: big dick Seokjin (of course), f/m masturbation, dirty talk, sex toys, kink exploration, uh a lot cum (sorry), I mention the omegaverse as a joke, a sparkly pink dildo, seokjin has a massive collection of toys and he intends to use them, seokjin and reader are constantly horny, reader is kind of inexperienced, implied exhibitionism, implied voyeurism, implied public sex.

a/n: hello! i haven't written fanfic in years! I've been wanting to get back into it for a long time but I also work full time and am working on a poetry manuscript so this never manifested! This fic is inspired by a combination of fics from the lovely writing community on here, with a lot of inspiration coming from "tip 143 (for ∞ seconds of love)" by minilouvre on ao3. I feel like the camboy/person trope is so fun to explore and I wanted to try my own take on it with our Seokjin, who doesn't seem to get as many fics written about him but absolutely deserves it. I also wanted to create space for a fic that explores the weird transition of late 20s-30s that both BTS and I (and maybe many of you) have experienced in the last few years. I hope you enjoy!

xo - h

The alarm on your phone chimes, pulling you from the book in your lap. You’d been reading all afternoon, the sun now taking its final bow before plunging the world into darkness. Soon you’ll have to turn the lights on, then it will be time for work. On your only day off.

You groan, stretching your neck as you allow yourself to come back to reality.

To some, it would be hard to call your job “work”. Many people dream of being professional game streamers. Who wouldn’t want to be paid to sit online, play games, and talk to people?

You don’t. That’s the problem.

Your ascent into gaming stardom was a fluke. About 9 months ago, you were in between semesters for your grad program and looking for ways to unwind. Your oldest friend, Wonwoo, was a pretty successful streamer who often hosted game nights to play with his viewers and friends.

You frequently watched his streams, letting his soft voice be the perfect background noise as you studied and formulated the next lesson plan or behavioral assessment. You’d known Wonwoo for what felt like forever at this point, being his first subscriber, first moderator, and first kiss (not in that order). But your middle school kiss outside of the convenience store never led to anything more than that, as desperately as you’d wanted it to.

Once he moved across the country, you let your crush die with the distance. The years turned faster and your twenties were spinning by with the revolving door of lovers you’d watch him pine over, cry over, and in one case, almost marry. Streaming then became one of your main forms of connection, and your role as his moderator tied some part of you to him out of loyalty. To imagine him as anything other than a friend now feels ridiculous.

But that loyalty you have is also to a fault. When Wonwoo’s usual streaming friends bailed one night during a tournament, you subbed in…for a game you didn’t even know how to play.

And to make matters worse, this was a game that required talking to each other on-stream, which meant you not only sucked major ass at this game, but Wonwoo’s 700 viewers that day were also subjected to your constant frustrated squeaks, swears, and embarrassed maws as you tried to key-smash your way to victory but ended up throwing the entire team’s game with your incompetence.

Wonwoo wasn’t mad, though many others were. He knew what he was getting into when he agreed, and his streams operated with very few rules: no hate, no spam, and we are in this to have fun. And he did have fun. By the time the first round was over, he and most of the chat were losing it over your commentary.

As he wiped tears from eyes and took in a breath, he read his comments. “‘Damn, I never heard a chick threaten someone with a plunger like that before’. Yeah, I’ll give it to you, Y/N, you got really creative with your insults in that. Hey, PartyShitty thanks for the sub! ‘I can’t BREATHE’, yeah I’m still trying to get it together. W00000000000000000ziiiiii–damn that’s a lot of zeros in that username–thanks for the 5000 points! ‘Is she hot’ uh, I mean, I don’t—

“Oh shit, LetsGetIt15, thank you for gifting twenty subs! ‘Please, Y/N, start your own channel. I’ll be the first subscriber.’ Actually, no, I’ll be. But really, that's not a bad idea.”

Wonwoo navigated the rest of his stream with ease that night, but after it was over, he called you to try to convince you to start your own channel.

“It could help with school at least! Or you could get that special edition of that one book you like with the dragons or the blue alien porn stars or whatever it is.”

“They’re neither of those things, they’re actually–”

“Whatever they are! The book that has people fucking nonstop and some plot. You know, the special edition cover that you keep talking about in your close friend story that you won’t buy?” Wonwoo said. “The point is, if you start streaming you could finally buy it and then stop talking about it and I won’t need to see sections about how hot you think their alien or fairytale or demon whatever cocks are.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his exasperation. “That won’t stop with me getting that book, just so you know. And if it bothers you so much, I can take you out of the close friend story. I didn’t even know you looked at my stories that much.” You didn’t know he still used Instagram at all actually. He very rarely posted. He mostly lived on his Discord channel talking about games with his subscribers or other friends.

Regardless, it was nice to know that he was trying to be aware of your interests, even if it was incredibly embarrassing. Although the copious amount of smut you read wasn’t something you always wanted to broadcast to the public, you’d still made some friends from online book communities over the last few years and enjoyed keeping them in the loop of your reading list.

Also, Wonwoo had a point. Streaming could help paying some of your school expenses…or get you more books. You told him you’d think about it, and while you weren’t completely in love with the idea of streaming, it did provide you with some steady income until you landed your job at the restaurant.

After that conversation, you haven’t discussed smut or cocks since, and you’re honestly relieved, not because Wonwoo is hard to talk to about things, but because you are. Which is why streaming always feels a little uncomfortable and your position ironic, because you can barely have conversations successfully unless you really know the person to ramble about your interests to, or you can occasionally eke by with small talk.

But streaming requires the spotlight being on you in some way at all times. It’s your face that is fixed to the corner of the screen, monitoring your every reaction. It’s your voice that echoes into the mic and responds to your chat. Sure, you have mods and some streamers don’t interact with their chat at all, but you don’t want to be like that. You’ve been on the other side before, and know that most people are just lonely and looking for connection. .

From the moment you decided to do this, you were aware that because you were now a “gamer girl” you would be subjected to the three extremes of the comment section: chronic oversharers who tell strangers all their personal baggage perhaps in the hope that you will assume some role of therapist to them, people coming to insult your gaming (which is the point so that can’t impact you) or physical appearance, or sexually explicit comments.

Over the months, you’ve seen many things flitting by on the screen, deleted in haste by your trusty mod squad, but it doesn’t stop the fact that you still see them.

Those things you can handle. They are impersonal and a direct copy-paste of the same thing.

But when people compliment you? That makes you want to bury yourself under your covers and never come out. Because the compliments are always personal and touching a part of you that is authentic.

The people in your chat want to know you. They want to know what kind of music you like, your favorite foods and books. They ask if you have a boyfriend or girlfriend or partner, compliment your hair or the shirt you’re wearing or your gaming setup. It feels intimate. Almost like you could find these people and touch them and let them know you.

But they can’t. Because the only thing that drew them to you, the part where you’re this funny, positive gamer chick who sucks at video games but is down for whatever, isn’t real.

Spring Day Streams Y/N is a persona. You don’t stream because you’re her. You stream because you have to be her in order to survive.

And now she’s taking up more time. Last month’s streams landed you Streamer of the Month, which thanks to the exposure, brought dozens of new subscribers and thousands of points, and that helped take care of some of your expenses for the new semester. Some. You’re still behind on your credit card bill.

Also, more people means more expectations for streaming. So you’ve kicked up your streaming schedule from twice weekly to three times a week, with you occasionally hopping onto Wonwoo’s channel even if you aren’t streaming to mod.

When you aren’t glued to your computer, you’re usually at the restaurant, in a cramped kitchen where you do the prep work, often alongside him, your sexy coworker-but-now-boss, Seokjin.

The man you are quietly obsessed with. You can’t think about Kim Seokjin without thinking about all the positions you want him to fuck you in.

Which is also why you’ve been devouring books lately. When you’re home, you throw all your energy into the escapism they provide, especially ones where you can get yourself off to whatever fantasy Seokjin effortlessly slips into.

For every hot mob boss, corrupt CEO, longterm best friend, dragon-rider, fairy, demon, alien, ghost, or hockey playing love interest you can find, Seokjin is sure to fill the role. A hot merman looking for someone to help him grow legs and something else? Seokjin. A Grinch who inherits his family’s Christmas tree farm and discovers how much he loves to ho ho ho? Seokjin. A god who tears apart the underworld to find his lost lover, and then during the reunion fucks her on the throne of Satan while she wears the crown? All Seokjin.

Unfortunately, his transition from co worker to boss has made your fantasies all the more dirty.

It’s been incredibly difficult for you to handle the fact that any flirtation you two previously shared in the months before he was your boss can no longer continue. But it’s also incredibly hot.

Fantasies of him eating you out on the counter have been replaced with the fantasy of him shoving you in the back office and fucking you on the desk while wearing one of those perfect-fitting dress shirts he often parades around in.

And when he rolls up the sleeves to help in the kitchen? Fuck, it’s humiliating how wet you get.

The entire thing is pathetic really. He’s just standing there half the time, lecturing everyone on proper kitchen hygiene and ensuring one of the cooks doesn’t use expired seasonings for his eomma’s secret sauce.

And you’re standing next to him clenching your thighs together because when you’re this close, you can just make out the freshness of his cologne and feel the heat of his body close to yours.

When someone fucks up, he has a tendency to take over, chopping with unmatched precision and self assurance, trying to keep his voice even and usually failing as everything builds in intensity until he’s accidentally speaking at a million miles an hour and lecturing until his face turns red.

If someone were to pass by the shop, they’d probably mistake his shouting for anger, but you’ve come to understand Seokjin is just passionate about things. Usually when he comes down from his tangent, he’s embarrassed and apologizes, and not long after the entire staff is laughing along with him as he cracks a joke at himself for his inability to tone it down.

Which to you makes him even hotter. Seokjin is able to see his faults and work with them, not against them. He holds himself accountable. He’s nothing like the haughty men you’ve gone on brief dinners with after downloading dating apps for the hundredth time while you’re drunk. He’s actually funny, knowing the right way to use humor and tell jokes, never at someone else’s expense, and definitely without being disgustingly crude.

All those clowns you suffered through drinks with always made comments and digs at other women or referenced their cock like they were setting up some goofy scene from porn and you would find it hilarious and endearing.

Seokjin isn’t like that at all. He probably refers to his dick as a penis and would blush to high heavens if he knew how horny you are for him. He’s unwound you, and he has no clue. Maybe if it hadn’t been literal years since you’ve last had sex you could tone it down.

With working all the time and going to school, it’s already been hard to even go on singular dates here and there. And since the prospects were frankly awful, sex is just something that has had to go onto the back burner for a bit, but you seemed to scorch the fucking pan by forgetting to turn the heat off and now you are burning and hungry.

With a final sigh, you put the book down, annoyed that you didn’t have time to finish it today or at least get to a good part where you could insert yourself into the role of the palace servant and Seokjin as the Prince. Based on the reviews, there’s sure to be a hot sex scene coming up involving using a sword in a particular way that has piqued your curiosity.

In a moment of depravity earlier, you’d snaked one hand down the front of your panties to rub a few damp fingers around your clit to take the edge off.

You check the time on your phone, already aware that you don’t have time to cum before streaming. You already hit the snooze button twice. The spicy stuff will have to wait.

Defeated, you stand up, turning on the lights in your apartment as the sun finally fades away and the dark creeps in. You eat a bowl of cereal while doing your makeup, what little of it you want to put on. Finally, you fire up your PC, trying to ignore the irritation you’re already experiencing from being so high strung and unsatisfied.

The second this stream is over, you’re going to make sure you cum until you pass out. Until then, it’s time for work.

#seokjin smut #bts smut #jin smut #kim seokjin #seokjin x reader #bangtan #bts seokjin

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softboywriting · 4 years ago

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Meet The Parents | Billy Russo

Summary: You introduce Billy to your parents and it doesn’t go as well as you hope. [Billy Russo x F!Reader] [Assistant!Reader Trope] [Alternate Timeline - Castle family not mentioned/never happened] [Fluff] [Problematic Parents/Divorced] [Parents Fighting] [Language] [Flirting] [Flashback/Nightmare]

Word Count: 3.8k

A/N: This is a follow up to my first fic Little Moments but can be read separately as a stand alone story. I may be doing several in a series with these two.

---

The office is quiet, and has been for the whole day. Billy has been out at a client meeting since you got in. Anvil is becoming quite popular in the private military market, having taken on three new contracts in the last two weeks. You're proud of Billy, he works hard to win over his clients and offer top of the line service. As the primary contact for all contracts and placements, you've gotten busy too. More business means more expenses, and more employees to keep track of. You don't mind, it keeps you active and engaged. There is nothing more you hate than just sitting around staring at the wall or watching cat videos for the billionth time.

"Hey sweetheart."

You glance up from your work and see Billy closing the office door behind him. He's dressed up, black and grey patterned silk shirt, expensive black suit, the tailored jacket over his arm. He looks positively delicious if you do say so. Those shirts are the best thing you ever convinced him to wear.

"Hey yourself. How'd the meeting go?"

"Shitty." He sneers and tosses his jacket on his office chair. He begins unbuttoning the sleeves of his shirt to roll them up to his elbows. "The guy brought his daughter."

"Okay? What does she have to do with anything?"

Billy raises his eyebrows in an 'are you shitting me' expression. "His daughter is a model. Not naturally talented mind you, paid for by her daddy. Clearly he thought havin' her there would sway me into acceptin' the number he offered for the contract you wrote up. Like he's doing me a favor."

You stand and walk around the desk, eyes going up and down his chest. "You didn't do anything did you?"

"What kinda man do you think I am?" Billy walks you back against your desk, pinning you in with his hands on the top behind you. He drops his head to yours and stares at you with those dark endless eyes. "You think I'd fuck around?"

"I know you won't, you're too gone for me." You run your hands up his back and he arches against you. "Did she try?"

"She tried. Even sat on my lap."

"In front of her dad?"

"Mmmhmm." Billy drops his face to your neck and mouths at your skin. "I don't mind a little show and tell but even I got boundaries. Parental peepshows are off limits."

You laugh softly and he brings one hand against your lower back up to pull you against him. "Take it easy. You know the rules. No relationship stuff while I'm on the clock."

He groans, pulling his head back to look at you. "I need to touch you though. I don't want her lingering on me."

"I know." You step out of his hold and he lets his hand drag across your back as you escape his grasp. "Just another hour okay? I've gotta wrap a few things up."

Billy pulls his tie loose and unbuttons the top of his shirt. "Why did I ever make these rules?" He sinks down in his chair and spreads his legs, lolling his head against the back. He really is such a tempting little tease. How could you resist a man like that? Truth be told it's hard.

You take a seat behind your desk and focus your eyes on the invoices on screen. "You made them because you want Anvil to remain professional and not a playground."

"Bullshit."

"Your bullshit."

Billy bites his lip and gives you that look. The one that says he isn't to be messed with, that he's gonna get what he wants no matter what. And oh it's so tempting to get up and go sit on his lap in that chair. It's always been a fantasy of yours. One you haven't gotten to full fill due to his rules. He's really only cockblocking himself.

"C'mere."

"No, Billy."

"C'mon, be bad. Break my rules."

"No! You're such a jerk!" You laugh and he chuckles playfully. "We have dinner with my parents after this anyway. I'm not breaking your rules and getting all messy before we go see my parents. You hear? Parents."

"Always such a good girl."

"You like it."

"Damn right I do." He pushes up out of his chair and crosses the office to cradle your head and press a chaste kiss to your temple. "I'm gonna go home and get ready. Anything you want me to lay out for you? I think you've got a few things at the apartment."

"The blue dress. I picked it up from the cleaners last week with a few suits. It should be in your closet."

"The one I bought you a while back for the client dinner?"

"Yeah."

"Isn't that a little revealing for a parents dinner?"

You raise your eyebrows and he narrows his eyes.

"You're a monster." He presses his lips to your ear. "If you keep teasing me I'll have to put you in your place."

"I guess I'm a glutton for punishment."

"Oh sweetheart, you have no idea what you're askin' for." Billy kisses your cheek and steps away. "Playin' with fire will get you burned."

You smile innocently. "See you later."

"You're terrible." He goes to the door and stops, looking back once more. "But I love you."

"Love you too Billy."

"Ugh," he groans, slapping a hand over his chest. "Say it again."

"Love you?" You giggle and he acts even more dramatic, pretending to swoon against the door. "What are you doing?"

"Being you."

"Wh- you son of a bitch! Get out!" You throw your squishy stress ball at him and he cackles as he runs from the office. What a child.

_____________________

"Oh, this is your boyfriend?" Your mother asks in actual surprise. As if you weren't meant to have a man that looks like Billy Russo. Truth be told you had never dated anyone half as attractive, not to you anyways. "He's so...well dressed."

Billy takes your mom's hand and kisses it politely. "We're all well dressed here ma'am. You look lovely too."

"Thank you." She flushes and giggles.

Billy gives a warm smile and tugs you closer. His hand on your back is radiating heat, its comforting. He knows you're tense. This dinner will be a strain on your nerves and he had been warned how difficult your parents can be.

"Your father should be here soon. I told him not to be late." Mom says huffily, eyeing the doors to the restaurant. You've met up with her outside and you're currently waiting for your dad to arrive. Your parents have been split for ten years and it's been hard, but not as hard as it would have been if they had divorced when you were still a young child. Well, you like to think that anyways. They waited, held on to their shit until you were graduated and old enough to understand that some people don't remain in love.

Billy leans in and presses his lips to your ear. "Are your parents going to fight? This place is very nice, I don't want to cause a scene."

"It'll be fine. They can hold it together for a few hours. I hope. Just don't mention their personal lives. It's a sore spot for mom. Dad isn't single anymore."

"Gotcha."

"Sorry I'm late." You turn and see your dad walking towards you. "Some asshole parked his Rolls Royce just on the line and I hardly squeezed into the only spot open beside it."

Mom scoffs and rolls her eyes. She bites her tongue but you know what she would say. Some comments about his truck being too damn big and a gas guzzler.

Dad puts his hand out for Billy. "You must be the lucky guy!"

Billy takes it and smiles a beautiful, toothy, shit eating grin. "Billy Russo, the asshole who parked his Rolls Royce a bit close to the line."

The way Dad's face turns pale and then red with embarrassment makes the whole evening worthwhile up until then. "That's yours?"

"One hundred percent. Bought and paid for."

"That's a beautiful piece of machinery. Expensive."

Billy leans his head on yours. "I only go for the best."

"Well you know I-"

"Oh shut up already, let's go inside." Mom says and grabs your dad's arm. "Always babbling on about shit when we've got things to do."

"Y'know what-" the conversation fades as your parents head into the restaurant. You're glad. It is bound to be petty anyways. Always was with them. Bickering children they should be called.

"Relax." Billy says in your ear, hand traveling up and down your side. "I can win over your parents for one night."

"You could charm anyone into anything and I've seen as much. You're a silver tongued sn-"

Billy catches your jaw in a light hold and presses a kiss to your lips. Your hand slides up into his hair and he grins into the kiss. "Easy now. We've not even gotten seated yet."

"Your fault."

"Usually is."

____________________

You stare at yourself in the reflection of the bathroom mirror. Dinner wasn't going so great and you had barely made it through an appetizer and drinks.

Your parents couldn't stop arguing, Billy was trying his best to charm them but apparently they're uncharmable, and you were left to play referee for your parents against each other or them against you and Billy.

It is a whole mess and you want to just leave, just walk out say fuck everything and go to Billy's apartment and go to bed. You haven't even had a chance to tease Billy like you were planning, hell, you've barely gotten a word in that wasn't defending him or fielding your parents insults they continuously hurdled over the table at one another.

The door rattles on your left and you clear your throat. "Occupied!" You shout and it stops.

It's a single use bathroom, not a multi-stall type set up. So the person outside would just have to wait until you were done having your crisis. Maybe not so fair to them but you'll be damned if you won't let yourself have a moment.

The handle turns and you back into the sink as the door opens. To your surprise it is Billy, not some worker with a key. "What the-"

"Your parents are insufferable. How the hell did you grow up with them? I mean I was in a group home and a few of the adults weren't great but holy shit they weren't my parents."

"I'm sorry."

Billy closes the door and shakes his head, taking your hands in his. "Don't be sorry for their actions. Never apologize for anyone but yourself."

"I knew this would happen. I just thought that maybe...I don't know...maybe they'd be different. Maybe they'd be proud of me, of you, so they would get along for two fucking hours."

"Sweetheart, you're nearly thirty, you're still seeking your parents approval?"

You laugh joylessly and bite the inside of your cheek. "You don't understand. You can't understand."

Billy brings your forehead to his lips and he rubs your back. He's always so affectionate with you, careful to hold and to love you like a man who never received it himself so he wants to make sure those he loves receives it tenfold.

"I understand seeking approval, but there is nothing you need approval for. You're an adult with a good job, a place to stay, an outstanding boyfriend with his own company. I'd say you're doin' alright honey."

You let out an actual little laugh, and he does too, bumping his nose against yours. "You're so full of yourself."

"You like that?" He bumps again, eyes on yours. "I said it to get you to giggle."

"You know it's a little true."

His lips meet yours in a warm tender kiss. "Confidence is sexy."

"It is."

"I could tell your parents there's a work emergency." He slides his hands over your ass and pulls you flush against him. "A real pain in the ass employee is causin' trouble."

You smile into his lips and he smiles back. "Oh yeah?"

"Mmhmm."

He chuckles softly and cradles your head to his chest. "You can't choose how your family acts. Remember that. It's up to you to decide how you act, and if you want to deal with them."

"I know."

"Do you?" He runs a hand over your hair, tangling his fingers in the strands briefly.. "I know it's different for you, I can distance myself easier since I didn't grow up with proper parents. Maybe I'm cold, or indifferent but-"

"Stop." You dig your fingers into his side and he falls quiet. "Don't compare your childhood to mine. It's not fair. I don't want you to begin resenting me because-"

Billy gives you a look that is all warning and it silences you instantly. "I would never resent you for having parents and growing up like a normal kid should. I ended up in a shit situation and that is no one's fault but my own mother's. She is the only person I will ever resent." He softens, leaning in and kissing your nose. "Do you wanna ditch or go try to make something of this dinner?"

You swallow harshly and look at the door. Ditching would be easy, but the repercussions would be insufferable. Your mom would never stop calling about it, your dad would hold it over your head forever. It would be more of a disaster to leave than it would be to stay. No matter how valid the reason.

"We'll stay. I can try and redirect the conversation."

"That's my girl." He pats your cheek. "Proud of you."

"T-thanks."

Billy takes your hand and interlocks your fingers with his. "I'll take care of it. I can get them to shut up."

"If you can get a word in."

"I have my ways. Don't worry."

You cut him a look as you exit the bathroom and head for the table. "What are you-"

"Don't worry." He presses against your ear and guides you down to sit at the table.

Your parents are still bickering.

"Hey!" Billy says firmly with his hands on the table, not a yell, but enough to get his point across and the attention of your parents but not many others.

"Yes?" Mom asks surprisingly quietly.

Billy smiles and it's all venom, beautiful venom. You know this look, these eyes, that deadly grin. He isn't fucking around and the way he can express that so physically subtly astounds you. "The arguing is going to stop. The petty comments are going to stop. We're going to sit here and have conversations like adults, or you can leave and your daughter and I will have a nice dinner."

"Wh-" Dad starts but doesn't get any further.

"I am not goin' to repeat myself." Billy stands up straight and raises his eyebrows, daring your parents to say another word. The tension is thick, you can hardly breathe. Never did you think you'd have to witness Billy being like this with your parents of all people.

You grab a roll from the basket at the center of the table and pick at it. "How's work been, Dad?"

Dad clears his throat. "Good, busy. People always need an electrician for something. I did a school the other day, new classroom."

Billy sits beside you and lays his hand on your leg, thumb stroking your skin gently. He leans in and whispers "I told you don't worry." He turns his attention back to your parents. "So you're an electrician? Contractor?"

"Yeah, I work for Mundun Electric. Union job, pays well."

"And you?" Billy looks to your mom.

"I'm a medical receptionist. Clarke Center Hospital."

Billy smiles. "That's incredible. You're both hardworking people it seems, I see where she gets her work ethic. She's incredible, the best I've hired for Anvil."

You chew your lip and look down, flushed. "You're just being nice."

"I'm serious." He holds your hand up and kisses your knuckles. "I admire your dedication and the hard work you've put into making Anvil a success. Without you, I don't know where I'd be. Probably buried in paperwork."

"So you work for Billy? That's how you met?" Mom asks and you nod.

Dad raises his eyebrows.

"Dad, don't start."

Billy cuts a glare at your dad. "Don't start what?"

"Nothing." Dad says nonchalantly, eyes going to somewhere else in the room. "I just think inter-workplace relationships are never a good idea."

You squeeze Billy's hand and he just smiles oh so sweetly. "Dad, it's fine. Billy and I are both professionals. If things don't work out we'll make it work for the sake of the company."

"He'll fire you and you'll be looking for a job yet again." Mom pipes up, rolling her eyes. "See, things like this are why you can't hold a career."

"Mom!"

"Alright." Billy says firmly. "We're done here. Ma'am, sir, with all due respect you can both go fuck yourselves."

"Excuse me!?" Dad bellows and your mom looks flustered at the use of language. "You have no right-!"

"Actually I do." Billy stands and guides you to stand with him. "I'm going to love and care about your daughter the way she should be. You two are self absorbed monsters who should have never had a child, let alone forced the one you had to live through a loveless marriage. The fact that you cannot manage to sit here and have dinner with her and myself, which mind you has left quite a first impression, is sad and disappointing."

You grab his hand and you're shaking. You don't even know what to say. It's like Billy is telling them everything you've wanted to for your whole life.

"C'mon sweetheart." He puts his arm around you and guides you out of the restaurant. You know there are people staring but it's fine. It's over now.

"I'm s-"

"Uh uh." Billy puts his finger to your lips. "No apologies. Here." He shrugs his suit jacket off and puts it around your shoulders.

"Thanks."

"You wanna get out of here before your parents come out. Go get some burgers or something?"

You can't help the little smile that tugs at the corner of your mouth. "Pete's Diner?"

"Anywhere you like." He takes your hand and walks you toward the parking area. "Fuck this fancy bullshit anyway. I never understood the food they serve."

"Me neither. A hamburger and fries with a big ole pickle is good enough for me."

Billy opens the passenger door for you. "You're a girl after my heart y'know that?"

"I think I already have it."

He leans in and kisses your forehead. "That's for damn sure."

_____________________

Midnight you wake up crying. A nightmare, a reoccurring one as it would be. Though it is more of a twisted memory than a nightmare in actuality.

You are always around seven or eight years old, it's nighttime, you've been in bed for an hour and still not asleep. Downstairs your parents are awake, their disembodied voices float through the old floors. Their voices grow louder, shouting, screaming at each other. A glass shatters and you crawl under the bed. Footsteps come closer in the hall, heavy and slow.

The dream shifts. You're not a child but an adult. Under the bed is smaller now, the footsteps grow louder. The door opens and you scream when your foot is grabbed and you wake up crying.

"What's wrong?" Billy asks, sitting up in bed abruptly and turning on the light, hand instinctively going for the nightstand where you know a weapon is stored.

You had stayed the night, both of you decided it was best to stay together while you decompress from your tragic meet the parents dinner. Didn't matter in the end though. The nightmare still came.

"Just a bad dream. I'm going to get some water." You push back the blankets and plant your feet on the cold floor. It's a nice shock to the system, reminding you this is reality.

Billy's arm snakes around your waist. "Care to share with the class?"

"It's nothing. Just a nonsense dream about old crap."

"Your parents?"

"Yeah. Um, just a dream." You yawn and pat his hand on top of your stomach. "I need water."

"Grab me a bottle?"

"Sure."

You end up in the kitchen, looking out at the New York skyline. His place is so beautiful. It's luxurious, and you can't get used to it. You lean on the island and sip a bottle of cold water from the fridge. You don't think you belong here.

Then the dream comes creeping back in. Rationally you know that dream is never going to become a reality. Not with Billy around.

"Hey."

You look back to see Billy walking in with his sleep pants low on his hips. He scrubs a hand over his face before meeting you at the island.

"Sorry, I just got caught up in the view."

"It s'okay." His arms wrap around you and he presses his face to your neck. "I love you." He whispers softly into your skin.

"Are you alright?"

"Mmm."

You thread a hand into his hair and scratch at his scalp. It elicits a hum that's nearly a purr against your back. "Do you ever feel like you don't deserve this? Like everyday you can't comprehend that you're loved."

"I didn't think I could fall in love before I met you, yeah. I'm familiar."

"Oh."

"Wasn't expecting that?" He chuckles, flexing his fingers against your tummy.

You shake your head and he kisses along your jaw. "Billy, stop," you giggle as his short beard tickles your skin.

"No way." He starts walking you back away from the island counter and toward the bedroom. "I've got a disease and if I don't kiss you all the time I'll definitely succumb to it."

The two of you tumble onto the bed and he straddles your hips, mouthing at your neck and chest relentlessly.

"It's three in the morning. We need to go back to sleep."

Billy hums and settles on top of you, nose in your hair. "Sleep is for the weak."

"Then I'm weak." You trail a hand up his back, fingers flitting over his shoulder blade. His skin is so soft, so warm. "Thank you by the way."

"For what?"

"Being here when I had a nightmare."

"Of course." Billy pets your hair, stroking it down against the pillow. "I've suffered my share of them alone. I'm glad you were here so you weren't."

"Me too."

"Go to sleep." He kisses your cheek and rolls off to the side. His arm curls around you and pulls you close. "Love you."

"Love you too."

_____________________

*****Note: none of my works should be posted anywhere outside of my linked accounts. I do not give permission to repost with or without credit to my accounts. Please notify me of any reposted works.*****

Header image by delicate-venus

Thank you so much for reading, please reblog to support content creators. -A

#billy russo #the punisher series #the punisher #the punisher netflix #billy russo x reader #ben barnes characters #the punisher fic #billy russo fic #billy russo fanfic

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wumblr · 4 years ago

Link

posting the full article under the cut because it’s “subscriber exclusive” but the thing i specifically wanted to take issue with is this

Wheeler acknowledged in a recent interview that his and the county’s focus for years has been about the “long-term strategies of getting people into housing.”

this is a lie. he threatened, to county chair deborah kafoury, to defund housing programs, as an ultimatum or bargaining chip, after his handling of protests over the summer turned into a national public relations disaster... this endangered his mayoral re-election so much, he had to spend more from his trust fund on his campaign than any of his actual contributors had

Homeless sweep at Laurelhurst Park By Shane Dixon Kavanaugh | The Oregonian/OregonLive

When city officials cleared a sprawling homeless encampment at Southeast Portland’s Laurelhurst Park in November, they offered the 100 people living there a safe place indoors to sleep.

Most declined shelter at Mt. Scott Community Center, opting instead to remain in the streets.

Scott M., 50, was one of about two dozen to give the shelter a try.

He ditched the refurbished bicycle parts and assorted camping gear he sometimes sold to earn a few extra dollars, as well as his large tent.

“I gave up everything to go there,” said Scott, who provided only the first initial of his last name.

Scott lasted about two weeks at the shelter, he said, during which time he was twice expelled for multiple infractions such as having a broken piece of drug paraphernalia under his bed and not adequately cleaning up a common space.

He left and joined a growing group living outside Sunnyside Environmental School, many of them former residents of the Laurelhurst encampment seven blocks away.

Portland Mayor Ted Wheeler opposes such camps and has intensified the city’s efforts to break them up following a sudden pivot he made four months ago. Homeless sweep at Laurelhurst Park

Portland mayor says homeless camp sweeps are a ‘humane response,’ key to his strategy

In September, as polls suggested his reelection bid was on shaky ground, Wheeler announced a re-write of his homelessness priorities and threatened to pull money from the years-long joint effort with Multnomah County to get homeless or near-homeless residents into permanent affordable housing, sometimes with wrap-around mental health care or other social services.

His new mandate: Create far more beds in temporary shelters — and fast — to get people camping outdoors under roofs and behind walls. Members of the public want “a humane solution to the folks camped outside on our streets. And I agree with them,” he said.

But for Scott, his stay at Mt. Scott, one of the city’s newly opened indoor sleeping options, didn’t feel humane. He is better off in the Sunnyside homeless camp, he said.

Sure, Scott would love an apartment of his own. But during his 10 years on the street, he said, no one has shown him a pathway to that. Camping, he said, is his best option.

And he’s not alone. City outreach workers told the four dozen or so campers hunkered down at Sunnyside this week to pack up and leave and offered them spots in a shelter.

Most say they’re heading back to Laurelhurst instead.

“I’ve been like a rat on a wheel this whole time,” Scott said.

‘WE NEED A FEMA-LIKE RESPONSE’

That reality complicates Wheeler’s drive to dramatically reduce street homelessness. He has touted the shelter-and-sweep at Laurelhurst as a model he aims to replicate across the city.

But many experiencing homelessness and their advocates believe the mayor is just trying to sweep them out of view with a shallow solution. And the numbers show it’s not working.

Only 26, or about a quarter, of the Laurelhurst campers set foot in a shelter after they were cleared from the park, figures from the Joint Office of Homeless Services show. Just one-fifth of those at Sunnyside expressed interest in going to one, according to city officials.

Wheeler acknowledged in a recent interview with The Oregonian/OregonLive that his and the county’s focus for years has been about the “long-term strategies of getting people into housing.”

But he said the conspicuous prevalence of those braving the elements nightly, and the livability issues they engender, prompted his change in tactic.

“We need a FEMA-like response to the emergency on the streets right now,” he said. “We need to get as many people off the sidewalks as quickly and as humanely as possible.”

That forceful, urgent demand is not brand new for the mayor. Old Town Chinatown in the time of coronavirus pandemic

Portland mayor threatens to pull city from county-partnered homeless efforts; county chair calls it ‘outrageous’

Wheeler launched his first City Hall run in 2015 with a pledge to provide a safe place to sleep for every person living on Portland’s streets by his second year in office, calling the task a “moral imperative.”

But as mayor, he walked back that promise, acknowledging the homelessness crisis had more complex causes than simply a lack of indoor cots to sleep on – ones that needed more expensive, harder-to-build solutions including subsidized housing, vastly expanded mental health and addiction services and ongoing case management for those toughest to house.

Meanwhile, Portland’s homeless population grew under his watch.

According to the most recent one-night tally from February 2019, 2,037 people slept outside in Multnomah County — more than a 20% increase from two years prior.

An additional 1,459 were sleeping in emergency shelters.

During his tough reelection battle last fall, as business leaders and some neighborhood groups who supported his campaign grew increasingly vocal about the sight of more people inhabiting sidewalks, parks and public right of ways, Wheeler renewed his focus on sweeping campers off the street.

“That’s where we need to put our resources, that’s where the problem is, and overwhelmingly, this is what we’re hearing from the public that they want us to address,” Wheeler told The Oregonian/OregonLive at the time.

The Joint Office of Homeless Services proceeded to open several new shelter spaces by the end of the year, including in the Mt. Scott and Charles Jordan community centers as well as the former Greyhound bus station downtown.

Other spaces designed to temporarily house the homeless, such as a tiny-home village in St. Johns and a former Rite Aid pharmacy in the Arbor Lodge neighborhood, will open later this year.

STREET ENCAMPMENTS REMAIN

City and county officials are currently operating 1,330 24-hour, year-round emergency shelter beds for adults, families, youths and domestic violence survivors, with an additional 275 beds for the winter, said Denis Theriault, a spokesman for the homeless services office.

The sites include a mix of traditional congregant shelters, outdoor villages and city-run campsites outfitted with weatherized pods that contain beds, heat and electricity.

Street encampments, however, remain an enduring fiber in the fabric of the city. They dot downtown blocks, crop up beneath bridges and run along parks and transit thoroughfares.

Portland residents in the last week reported 240 active campsites citywide, according to figures provided by the city’s Homelessness and Urban Camping Impact Reduction Program. Homelessness in Lents

Multnomah County sees 20% more people sleeping outside in latest homeless count

A recent count by city staff found 44 encampments with eight or more tents and other makeshift dwellings — making them eligible for removal under city rules — and 25 had eight or more vehicles with people living inside them, said Heather Hafer, a spokeswoman for the program.

Among those large encampments was the one at Sunnyside, which swelled to about 50 people. Amid reports of open drug use, nearby housed people’s complaints and what the city judged to be inadequate hygiene and social distancing, the city began clearing it out this week.

Hafer said outreach workers had referred eight campers to shelters or the Hooper Detoxification Stabilization Center. City and county officials could not say how many ultimately showed up at one.

‘A FAILED POLICY’

Scott Rupp, 58, who had relocated to Sunnyside after being displaced from Laurelhurst, said he declined multiple offers to stay in a shelter because he was told that staff could not guarantee they’d be able assist him with his mental health disorders or help him find permanent housing.

Rupp, a Portland native, said he’s been homeless since 1994 and that his wife of more than three decades died while they were living on the streets together in 2019.

But he added that the lack of privacy, the sometimes stringent rules and the limits on personal possessions at most shelters always made them a poor fit for him.

“You have to live out of a plastic bag,” he said. “That’s not the way I want to live.”

Instead, Rupp said, he planned to join some of the other people who had already returned to Laurelhurst Park.

“To me, this feels like a slow-motion movie of a failed policy,” said John Mayer, the director of Beacon PDX, a homeless service organization that’s worked closely with those camped at Sunnyside and Laurelhurst. “We were doing this exact same thing six weeks ago.” Portland Mayor Ted Wheeler’s urgent mandate to get homeless campers to ‘humane’ indoor shelters isn’t working

Scott Rupp, 58, relocated to a homeless encampment outside Sunnyside Environmental School in Southeast Portland after being displaced from nearby Laurelhurst Park.

“To live with the idea that your one modicum of stability is always under threat is such a drain on the psyche,” Mayer said. “Without stability, we’re never going to see progress on an individual level.”

Portland business officials aren’t uniformly fans of the way Wheeler’s change in tactics is playing out.

Pamela Pelett, the owner of City Liquidators in Portland’s Central Eastside, said she knows most of the people living in tents outside her Southeast Third Avenue furniture store by name and offers them food and other help when she can.

But the unsanitary conditions of the camps, coupled with fights and other troubling behavior, has strained business and left some of her employees concerned for their personal safety, she said.

“There’s a real health issue going on,” Pelett said. “I’d like to see the city find a reasonable solution that actually works, but I’m not hopeful. There are folks who don’t want to be anywhere but on the street.”

‘I’M GOING TO DIE OUT HERE’

Meanwhile, the city of Portland plans to continue pushing for more alternatives. The mayor and commissioners will decide this spring whether to make permanent changes to municipal codes and regulations to allow large indoor and outdoor shelters in all parts of the city.

City and county officials also plan to seek formal proposals soon from community organizations and the public for several alternative shelter and safe parking pilot programs, Theriault said.

But even with eased zoning restrictions and a willingness to rethink shelter spaces, finding places suitable to house people remains difficult and time-consuming, he said.

They can also come with a steep price tag. Portland’s three emergency outdoor shelters, which provide just 100 beds, currently cost about $175,000 a month for staffing, utilities and food for residents, city and county officials said.

The city spent about another $1 million to build 19 tiny homes and a large communal space at the site of soon-to-open St. Johns Village. Portland's new homeless navigation team

Metro homeless services tax measure passes: Oregon election results

“We need to have an honest conversation with our community about what role shelters should play and whether shelters are appropriate solutions for everyone currently unhoused,” said Andy Miller, the executive director for Human Solutions, a non-profit that develops affordable housing and provides emergency shelter and assistance to homeless families. “It is an expensive intervention and not a good fit for everyone – especially shelters with a lot of rules and little privacy.”

Part of the challenge, Miller said, has arisen from larger systemic failures and federal disinvestment that increased how long people have to stay in shelters. The affordable housing crunch and lack of money available for rent assistance have made transitioning to permanent housing a more elusive option.

“I think there’s a mistaken narrative that if we build enough shelter beds, we can get everyone off the sidewalk and no one will have to experience the negative impacts of urban camping but that is just not accurate,” he said. “Further, doing so would lock up resources that are desperately needed to move people already in shelter out of shelter into permanent housing.

“Are you going to spend the next million to add shelter beds? Or spend it to get people in existing shelter beds into a real home?”

Advocates, as well as city and county officials, do see an historic opportunity to get more people off the streets and into permanent housing in the next few years.

In May, Portland-area residents approved a new tax to fund homeless services that is expected to raise $250 million a year for Multnomah, Washington and Clackamas counties.

Much of the funding, which will start to become available this summer, must be dedicated to support those who are deemed chronically homeless.

Rupp said he hopes that the help he needs to become housed comes soon.

“Otherwise, I’m going to die out here in the streets, just like my wife,” he said.

-- Shane Dixon Kavanaugh

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grace-lost-in-space · 4 years ago

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Therapy - “What a Dum-Dum”

With anxious hands, I clutch the letter to my professor which my therapist asked me to write last week. I did it. I was brave—or at least that is what people often call me. The dictionary defines B-R-A-V-E as: ready to face and endure danger or pain; showing courage. Courage? There is that word again, creeping up from the pits of my stomach into the back of my throat. I can almost say it, but not quite. My entire life has been spent preparing to endure danger or pain—it is what I do best. I am best defined by that very sentence. Perhaps my mom should have been more creative in naming me.

I take a deep breath before using all of my energy to open the door to the lobby of my therapist’s office. Doing so forces my body to immediately retaliate with a loud wheeze. When people tell me to “take a deep breath”, they often forget that I have asthma and a dangerously low BMI, so this so-called simple therapeutic technique wreaks havoc on my body but, like the rule-follower that I am, I do it anyway. The door lets out a loud squeal as I concentrate all of my weight on pulling it open. A kind of foreshadowing, perhaps, of what is about to take place.

“Hi, Grace. I’ll let Legs know you’re here.” I hear from behind the reception desk. Ms. Rita recites the exact same line every Monday and Wednesday. I smile—although, I have no idea if it is visible through my mask. I respond by waving politely because I have not truly spoken in 11 months. Through the dizziness which insists on accompanying me to each and every appointment, I make my way to my usual chair and I sit. I begin counting soon after and I get to 137 before my therapist arrives in the entryway and says “Grace.” After one year together, I still only know her by her shoes and her voice. As I stand unsteadily, I wonder about this trend with social workers wearing riding boots. Is this an unwritten rule of their ethical code? Is there some sort of advertisement during NASW conferences? “Invest in THESE fine leather boots and you won’t BELIEVE how much progress YOUR clients will make! Order now for $10 off. You may qualify for an additional discount if you have feathered hair. Offer not available in Alaska and Hawaii.” I make a mental note that I must research this more and find an answer because it is a common theme of every social worker who has walked into and out of my life. Cue “these boots are made for walkin’…” lyrics. I stop myself before it gets too cheesy.

I walk slowly behind her and after what feels like an hour, I make my way into her dimly lit office and find solace in my usual black leather chair. Although it squeaks, it has been faithful for the past twelve months and it has seen me through many meltdowns, remaining sturdy as I hide behind it. Like clockwork, it squeaks as I sit down and I decide to give it grace since, after all, it has been the most consistent thing in my life for the past year. My feeding tube pump begins to beep, signaling a low battery, so I take out my charger and begrudgingly plug myself into the nearest outlet. “So, Grace,” she starts “how are you? Did you write the letter to Dr. W?” I respond by shoving the now crinkled papers into her lap, happy to rid myself of the trauma that haunts the wide-ruled pages.

Legs and I sit in silence (see what I did there?) as she reads the letter which took me three days to write. I look to my right, at the dusty mahogany brown bookshelf which is adorned with a mixture of exactly 42 stuffed animals, toys, and action figures—my doing, of course. There was a day where an exhausted Legs decided it would be best for me to organize the shelves rather than doing any sort of processing—so I did just that and, in doing so, ruined a perfectly good pair of fishnet tights. But, I digress.

After what feels like a less than sufficient amount of time to read this trauma-filled nightmare of a letter, she hands it back to me and says “Okay. Here you go. You can do whatever you want with it.” I look at her god-awful work boots as if I am looking into her eyes and I express obvious confusion. In true selective mutism fashion, I remain silent but my facial expression speaks volumes. I hastily shove the letter back at her and write on my note pad “you keep it.” I wait. What am I waiting for? That is a great question and one which Legs is also clearly eager to know the answer to. “So, how is pumping going?” She asks. Again, I glare at the hideous riding boots, wholly confused. Did I just spend three days writing this letter and disclosing mounds of trauma for her to read it and hand it back to me with no intention of processing it? Yes. Yes, I did.

I look back to the bookshelf and re-count each and every item which remains beautifully organized if I do say so myself. I follow the rules again and force a deep breath before writing “Why did he do it? Why did he pick me? Why did he do this to me?” Almost immediately, she shoots back with “because it made him happy. He liked it.” I decide instantly that another deep breath is necessary and I question my insanity because surely no therapist would say what she just said to me. I remain still—a defense mechanism which I have learned is often useless. Continued silence looms over both of us like the beginning of a funnel cloud—eerily still but preparing to invoke chaos—until she asks “Why do you read Harry Potter books and watch the movies?” More silence. I begin to question how those boots do not yet have holes in them from my hazel laser pointers. She finally answers her own question, as my pen remains frozen in my hand. “Because you like it. It makes you happy.”

My mouth gapes open which, thankfully, is hidden behind my Peppa Pig mask. I glance over to my right at the wall from which my feeding tube pump is getting its power. I realize that in order to run, I will first have to unplug myself which would surely be anticlimactic if I were to be so unlucky as to tangle the cord or trip over it. Unplugging yourself from the wall and leaving a therapy session seems simple enough but when you are accident prone and have a history of falling into bushes and rolling down hills, you learn to be cautious and question everything. I look around the room. No bushes. No hills. Only me and Legs and those atrocious riding boots. I stare down at my platform converse shoes. I wonder to myself why I choose to wear these shoes each week. These shoes are not optimal for running and I am a runner, or at least I am categorized as such in dusty medical charts which exist somewhere in what I imagine to be a damp basement of a two-star hospital. I make a mental note to never wear platform shoes to therapy again.

As I continue with my silent existential crisis, Legs takes an early exit ramp and asks about the sucker from our last session—the one she handed me on my way out the door during my last session. “Did you practice eating the sucker?” She asks. I nod and smile, with tears beginning to form in my eyes. When I cry, my eyes turn from hazel to green. It is an easy task to recognize when I have been crying. I wonder if Legs has noticed this. She turns slightly to her right and reaches into her candy dish which sits on another dusty brown table. She grabs a pineapple flavored sucker and holds it up in front of my face. “Here” she insists. Pineapple? Are there creatures that enjoy pineapple flavored Dum-Dums? And, furthermore, why are they called Dum-Dums? Who chose that name? Who thought, “Aha! We shall call these…Dum-Dums”? Again, I digress.

“You don’t want to be weird, right? You told me you don’t want to be called weird. It would be normal to eat a sucker. Normal people eat suckers.” Enticed by the idea of being called “normal,” (a rare occurrence in my world), I oblige. After 27 seconds, I manage to unwrap the sucker and put it against my lips. “Just eat it.” She says. Once again, I glare at The Boots. I manage to put the sucker—in all its sugary, pineapple glory—in my mouth and leave it there for exactly three seconds before the sensation becomes too much to handle. I smile as a steady stream of warm tears flows down my cheeks. I consider this progress, since it is the longest I have ever been able to keep a sucker in my mouth. My smile grows wider as I recognize this small victory and I feel truly proud of myself.

“Eh…that was…okay…I guess. But it wasn’t a good job. You could just eat it but you won’t. When you eat the whole thing, that will be a good job.” She says. I immediately break into a full fledged sob and I wonder just how green my eyes must be at this point. I sob, and I sob, and I sob. It feels as though the tears are endless. My Peppa mask is now heavy from absorbing tears and snot. This must be attractive.

And, at that moment, I manage to stutter over a word. “L_____.” If you are new to this circus, L is my previous therapist and a fellow boot-wearing social worker. “What?” Legs asks, obviously confused.

My sobs grow louder. My brain wants to tell her that she is acting like L but my mouth refuses to function properly. I manage a hurried glance at my pump charger and I consider making a now-or-never break for it. I somehow sputter three words like a lemon on a used car lot. “Please…be…nice.” I say. It takes exactly 14.5 seconds for me to vocalize these three words but, again, it is progress.

“I can’t understand what you’re saying but you are doing a good job with your words” Legs promises.

Still sobbing, I try again. “L______.” I stutter on the L but it comes out clearly.

“What?” She asks.

“Mean” I say, choking back tears.

“Did you say mean?” She asks.

I nod for “yes.”

“Well, I’ve got another patient, so I guess—“ she starts.

I interrupt her by yanking my pump charger out of the wall. I do so without proper planning and I let out a loud cry. I am not typically a loud crier. I am quite proficient in the art of “quiet tears.” Enduring many, many nights of various people hurting me has taught me to improve upon this skill. I try my very best to stop drowning in my own tears. I can feel it happening the same way it happened with L.

And I run. And I run. And I run.

Because I AM good at something: running.

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thanksjro · 4 years ago

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Robots in Disguise (2012), #1-22- A Recap, For Reference Purposes

Before we begin with “Dark Cybertron”, a lightning round style recap on the 22 issues that took place in the sister series to MTMTE, Robots in Disguise; just so we know what’s up with all the folks who didn’t hitch a ride on the Lost Light.

Here’s the Story So Far, since it’s been a minute.

Now for the nitty gritty.

Cybertron is a literal hellscape, as established in The Death of Optimus Prime, the very flora of the planet trying to murder anything that comes within a few miles of the surface. This has caused a massive economic slump in the tourist trap towns, who surely will not survive without the summertime revenue. Truly, life is cruel and not worth living.

Bumblebee narrates, as we show off all the weirdoes who live on Cybertron now. Bumblebee tries to greet a new batch of arrivals, as Metalhawk actively attempts to make him look like Satan incarnate, because all the NAILs have gone full ACAB at this point.

A robot who looks like he’s wearing a beanie commits vandalism and is then subjected to violence via Decepti-cop.

This is more or less the flavor for RID as a whole. You have been warned.

Prowl breaks someone’s hand just because he can. Blurr is made to arrest someone for disturbing the peace, even though he’s, like, basically the only guy on the Autobots who isn’t a cop. Bumblebee doesn’t believe in democracy.

Ratbat is the leader of the Decepticons, even though Soundwave is right friggin’ there. We establish that the military state is in full swing. Prowl commits a microaggression against a Senator. Ratbat gets pissy about his guys going out to beat people up, not because it violates his moral sensibilities, but because it benefits the Autobots.

Probably that you’re killing people by remote control, in as horrified a tone as he could manage, because that’s FUCKING EVIL. Seems pretty straightforward to me.

Prowl says to cancel the memorial for the Lost Light, because he thinks the Decepticons are up to something. Which they are.

Everyone hates the Autobots. Like, everyone.

Ironhide runs away from a murderous hedge and smashes into a wall. Prowl has a talk with a mysterious individual about his feelings during a romantic sunset.

Metalhawk releases hat guy from prison. He and Bumblebee have a little chat, during which he tries to gaslight the little guy. Bumblebee explodes Horri-Bull’s head in front of at least 30 people.

Except he actually didn’t, because the chips don’t actually work. T’was a ruse! Starscream enters the narrative. Ratbat used to be an actual person and not just a bat. Sideswipe wants to shoot someone. Bumblebee tasers a man unprovoked; guess he’s picked up a little paranoia from that time he got shot.

Starscream calls Prowl ugly, then spills the beans on Ratbat’s plan to kill Bumblebee at the memorial, solely because he thinks Ratbat is an idiot. Needlenose and Skywarp beat up a NAIL to work through their emotions.

Bumblebee shows a snuff film to hundreds of people at the memorial. Skywarp tries to frame a NAIL for murder, but Prowl says nuts to that idea, through the power of dramatic irony.

Long Haul tells a fib. Bumblebee and Metalhawk agree to work together. Ratbat gets turned into chunky salsa by Arcee, who will use the excuse of self-defense if questioned. Starscream pulls some fucking bullshit and third-wheels the agreement between Bumblebee and Metalhawk.

Ratbat’s death is played off as a suicide. Blurr is still a cop. Starscream is helpful. There’s a guy who looks like a frog, and I don’t care for what his eyes are doing.

Frog guy explodes, because nature is a cruel mistress.

Wheeljack has a hell of a time trying to answer the phone in the middle of an economic debate. Prowl is paranoid. Starscream handles the housing crisis. Wheeljack visits the hospital and causes a scene. Another explosion happens, killing dozens, including this guy:

You will be missed, Tiddytron.

Wheeljack realizes that the moon is trying to kill everyone, so he shoots missiles at the problem. The Aerialbots fuck off into the wilderness.

The Decepticons get some perks now that Starscream’s a government employee. Starscream destroys the military state through the power of talking over people. Prowl and his cronies investigate a murder at the trash factory.

Bombshell is arrested for thought crime, and spills the beans on the I/D chips not working. Prowl has Dirge on a chain for some reason, and it ends up causing nothing but trouble. Blurr runs every red light in the city to make a citizen’s arrest, and gets his ass kicked by a bunch of construction workers. Prowl has a complex about Spike Witwicky.

Prowl fixes the I/D chip issue and things go poorly for the construction workers. Blurr gets upset about having his ass kicked by construction workers. Prowl is very paranoid, even as he has a borderline pinup panel devoted to his weird robot bellybutton and positively ridiculous cinched waist. I begin to worry about how much I’m learning about Andrew Griffith’s tastes.

The poetry shark shows up.

Arcee reveals a little bit about herself, and I shed a tear as I shake my fist in the general direction of England, cursing Simon Furman’s name.

Metalhawk brings Sky-Byte to a literal trashcan fire to meet his buddies, and they all rag on the Autobots for a while.

Ironhide goes joyriding and finds Sky-Byte Oh Yorick-ing a Sweep’s head. Turns out they have a history. Blurr reveals his dream to own a bar. Metalhawk brings up the fact that setting up a group of folks to have their heads explode if they step out of line is some dystopian bullshit.

Sky-Byte meets up with his old buddy Swindle, and gets the skinny on the bullshit that’s being pulled on this brand-new Cybertron. Everything goes to shit very quickly. Streetwise gets set on fire. Prowl needs to stop. Ironhide commits violence against the general populace, then advocates for the removal of the I/D chips.

Blurr opens a bar, and it’s dinosaur-friendly. Prowl commits property damage on a table, because he’s tablephobic. Ironhide reveals the future.

Shockwave sends an entire race of Big Birds to their frozen demise. Orion Friggin’ Pax comes back into the narrative, in the middle of his giant fuck-off-from-responsibility space adventure. Wheelie and Garnak are here, which is cool, I guess. Jhiaxus yells a bunch, and Orion decides to go to Big Bird planet.

It’s farkin’ cold in here.

Orion and Hardhead talk about Rodimus’ tumultuous relationship with death. Shockwave is the only person in the universe who understands quantum mechanics. Monstructor wakes up from his cryo-sleep. Wheelie and Garnak are grievously wounded, and the patch job seems less than medically sound, since we’ve just put a screw into Garnak’s orbital socket to hold his eye-patch in place. Orion walks into a trap, knowingly and willingly.

Wheeljack does some espionage, even though Mirage is right friggin’ there. Turmoil swings by Cybertron to say hello- the Decepticon, not the emotional state. Drift is outed as a war criminal- well, more so than originally thought. Turmoil has a time machine.

Sky-Byte and Jazz team up for slam poetry night. Blurr tells Metalhawk a story. Wheeljack’s espionage adventure goes poorly. Turmoil gets trapped in a hamster ball. Wheeljack and Metalhawk get trapped in a hamster ball.

The Dinobots and Ironhide go on a camping trip. Starscream craves democracy. Skylynx is a glorified taxi. Slag hasn’t changed his name yet, despite half of the people working for IDW being from the UK. Swoop breaks down IDW Phase Two to its bare essentials.

Prowl sits on someone’s desk, because he doesn’t respect tables. Slag’s face is on fire all the time, and it’s sort of distracting. Swindle bothers Shockwave. Ironhide is attacked by the Dinobots.

Bumblebee sits outside and has some Night Thoughts. Cybertron wants everyone to stick together, and God help you if you don’t. Bumblebee is beginning to develop a complex. Blurr is upset with himself. Ravage and the Reflectors go on an adventure. The time machine isn’t actually a time machine. The time machine disappears.

Ironhide finds the Aerialbots, who have been combinered by the horrors of new Cybertron. Everyone yells at Bumblebee.

We get a taste of Old World Cybertronian propaganda, where everyone talks in the third person, as is tradition. Starscream gets curvier every issue. Again, I begin to worry about how much I’m learning about Andrew Griffith’s tastes.

Blurr causes an explosion in the wilderness looking for Ironhide, much to Starscream’s delight. There is a Titan under the ground, and its very existence is making reality shit the bed. Tailgate’s lies in MTMTE are so extensive, red herrings have leaked into the sister series.

Nova Prime commissioned Monstructor, and Omega Supreme hated it so much he punched it in the face.

Starscream invites a bunch of friends over to see the Titan. Brainstorm is used as a scale for end-of-the-world scenarios. Starscream is revealed to be chosen by the gods.

The Reflectors visit a planet and shit gets weird very quickly. Wheelie is about to have a goddamned stress-induced aneurysm, not that Orion particularly cares. Time nonsense is established. Wheelie-speak becomes plot-relevant. Livio Ramondelli subjects me to his nightmares’ nightmares.

Starscream gets interviewed on national television. Starscream owns a hat that makes him look like a Gundam. Omega Supreme explodes. Metalhawk flip-flops between who he’s defending like a fish on the dock. Starscream yells at Shockwave for being an instigator. Prowl and Starscream make a deal.

Arcee stabs a cat in the throat. IDW settles the debate- at least for their own continuity- and says RIRFIB. Prowl takes a fireball to the face to convince people he’s on the up-and-up. Arcee is smarter than Starscream. This asshole shows back up.

Bumblebee really, really wants to kill Megatron, but politics demand he be taken in as a POW. The fellas construct a conspiracy theory. Starscream tries to lead his peers, but it goes poorly. Not a single medical professional of Cybertronian descent actually keeps track of their patients. Maccadam’s gets several light fixtures ruined by Arcee. Wheeljack gets called a tool. Prowl shows up in his hot new body, decked out with enough weaponry to annihilate a small country and a gun that’s as big as he is.

Starscream gives Megatron a piece of his mind. The Decepticons are rioting in the streets. Prowl shows Wheeljack his toys. Arcee plays her trump card. Bumblebee tries his hand at negotiation.

Bumblebee learns a valuable lesson about leadership. Politics are hell. Megatron is released from prison. Democracy finally gets its day. Megatron enters the Black Room with his whole ass hanging out. Pretty much every Decepticon you thought was dead isn’t actually dead.

Metalhawk gets a taste of how 24/7 news has ruined everything. Prowl is revealed to be the mastermind behind all the bullshit that’s been going on the last few months, and he’s been working with Megatron. Swindle gets run over by a train. Wheeljack’s head is turned into a memory by Prowl. The crazy-making signal out in the wilderness was made by Megatron. Megatron walks in in his hot new bod, carrying his old one like his new bride. And what a pretty bride it is.

We get a literal talking heads sequence explaining just how exactly Megatron survived the events of “Chaos” and why Combiners are the bees’ knees. Prowl isn’t Prowl, but actually being controlled by Bombshell.

Dang, wonder who could have caused that, CHROMEDOME.

Prowl is released from his mind-control, and immediately plays the blame game with Bumblebee. The Constructicons and Prowl have a thing going, and show it off, much to Bumblebee’s horror.

Circuit gets given Fixit’s dialogue for some reason, and I can’t tell if this was an issue on the art side or the script side. Devastator wrecks shop. Megatron laughs at Starscream for being a loser, then crushes Bumblebee’s head like a grape. Ironhide finally shows up to the party, and he brought a veggie platter.

Jazz tries to warn the medical staff about the Combiner coming their way, but no one ever listens to Jazz. Prowl has a crisis of self. Jazz breaks up the two-man act. Megatron let Bumblebee keep his cane, proving that even heartless monsters can respect the Disabilities Act.

Ironhide and the Dinobots save the day. Superion and Devestator get into a fistfight. Prowl reaffirms his complex over Spike Witwicky. Bumblebee says some halfway transphobic shit, and I shed a tear as I shake my fist in the general direction of England, cursing Simon Furman’s name. Arcee switches sides again and stabs Bombshell in the face. Prowl takes a nap. The tides turn.

Ironhide resists Frenzy’s sonic attack through the sheer power of gumption. Skywarp says fuck this and gets out of dodge. Devastator becomes a real boy.

Bumblebee WILL kill Megatron. Arcee makes it weird. Ironhide helps Prowl figure out his life. Bumblebee never learns. Metalhawk saves his BFF, and gets his arm shot off for his troubles. Starscream uses Metalhawk’s fuck-you-level long arm to kill a man.

Swindle carries a dude twice his size to safety with one of his arms off. Needlenose gets his just desserts. Devastator rips off his head to escape his crippling self-doubt. The Constructicons are having a hell of a day.

You said it, Hook.

Wheeljack saves the day from beyond the grave, that clever man. Metalhawk is killed by politics. Hat Guy tries to fight Bumblebee, and gets mad that he doesn’t remember his name. They’ve spoken to each other maybe once.

Metalhawk is made into a playing chip by Starscream, and also a speech writer from beyond the pale. Starscream tells everyone to get naked or fuck off, then takes off his top. All the Autobots and Decepticons who don’t want to get naked fuck off into the wilderness.

The Dark Cybertron “Prelude" issues kick in.

Shockwave and Dreadwing fly through the photorealistic sky to get to where the Titan is.

Listen here you little shit-

Shockwave shoots Dreadwing to test a theory, because ethics are for nerds.

Back when Shockwave was a hot guy with feelings, Jhiaxus was dealing with the Monstructor thing, then fucked off into space. Shockwave took the opportunity to be better than his teacher in every way, as is tradition. Proteus threw a whole-ass person across the room, because classism. Shockwave revealed himself to be a budding ecoterrorist. Shockwave joined a terrorist organization to further his own goals. Orion Pax tried to appeal to Shockwave’s softer side. Megatron killed the Senate. Shockwave replaced his shitty claws with a gun. Shockwave shot Dai Atlas in the legs and can’t explain why.

Dreadwing comes back to life, thanks to the power of Shockwave’s 14th ore.

Bumblebee has the Big Sad about Starscream being King of Iacon. Arcee doesn’t know what emotional turmoil feels like. Metalhawk’s lifeless body lays in the sun for several hours. Prowl is propositioned by the Constructicons. Arcee tells Prowl’s darkest secret, and it kills Bumblebee. Swoop is having a great time.

Arcee knows about Bumblebee being Hasbro’s golden boy. Prowl uses his manners, but only when no one can hear him. Arcee and the Constructicons get into a fight, with more flaming swords getting involved than you might expect. Slag offers to buy Arcee a drink.

Bumblebee gets a hot new body. Arcee gives herself a stick-and-poke tattoo. In a few hours, the sun will rise.

Pal, you are way ahead of schedule.

Shockwave makes a dramatic entrance.

Waspinator tells a story about the time he killed a servant of God and met death. Orion and pals visit Gorlam Prime. The Dead Universe comes into the narrative again. Wheelie has his arm blown off to keep from getting disintegrated, but he shrugs it off, because life is always awful for Wheelie.

Waspinator gets chased through the desert by Monstructor. Orion Pax acts like a dumbass. A Titan is revealed. Monstructor rides on the time-travel ship like it’s a horsey. Waspinator controls a Titan and makes it teleport. Orion plays fourth-dimensional chess, and reveals that his personal ship is named after his best friend.

Starscream talks to a corpse. Blurr tells Starscream to fuck off. A very good boy enters the narrative. The paparazzi ruin Starscream’s attempt to get underlings to do what he wants. A literal rat enters the narrative.

Starscream talks to Megatron, and I genuinely don’t have the words to explain what exactly is going on with that guy. Starscream takes a gander into the very good boy’s toolbox. The very good boy lays it on thick. Starscream destroys a man’s reputation.

Starscream breaks into Rattrap’s apartment. Rattrap becomes a government employee. Starscream talks to Wheeljack, who isn’t dead.

Soundwave has a flashback to when the Decepticons surrendered after the Chaos event, confirming that Ratbat was universally hated. Soundwave has robo-synesthesia. Shockwave is the perfect Cybertronian- Soudwave hates him for it.

Shockwave calls his teacher. Ravage judges Soundwave. The Decepticons reminisce on the time they resorted to cannibalism. Soundwave thinks mourning is for dumb babies and tells everyone to shut up because he’s big man on campus now.

Nobody deserves it more than you, babe.

The infighting begins, because no Decepticon has the ability to be halfway decent to each other, and they won’t learn that skill for a good while. Needlenose throws Blitzwing across a field and admits to having feelings. Soundwave is abandoned by the Decepticon forces.

Soundwave talks to himself in the Crystal City, then gets his ass kicked by Dreadwing.

In the past, Shockwave calls Bombshell a loser and outdoes him.

Soundwave kills Dreadwing. Shockwave hides in the shadows like a weirdo. Soundwave is done trusting Shockwave. Soundwave grabs Shockwave by the boob and yells at him. Soundwave is a hopeful guy.

In the past, Soundwave stole Ratbat’s brain and put it in a cassette, proving that space-Communism only works on paper.

Soundwave punches Shockwave in the head. Shockwave assumes Soundwave is alone, despite knowing he can contain many small men inside him.

Shockwave explodes a cat. Soundwave fires missiles at Shockwave and hits him in the tit. Shockwave would fuck Microsoft Excel if he could. Frenzy is just happy to be here- no, I didn’t mix them up, the colorist did.

Ravage is a grown-ass man. Soundwave’s synesthesia used to be a lot worse. Shockwave sends Soundwave and pals home. The Titan and Waspinator show up.

Soundwave has a face. Ravage and all the other cassettes are emotional support animals, who are also fully sapient.

Shockwave’s gonna fuck everything up.

And THAT, dear children, is the entirety of Robots in Disguise, up to issue #22. We’re all caught up and ready.

#transformers #rid #exrid #recap #maccadam #Hannzreads #text post #long post

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nano--raptor · 5 years ago

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A Good Job

Pairing: Paramedic!Bucky x Reader

Word count: 1k

Warnings: SADS, feelings and reflecting on stress, trauma, anxiety etc. Some fluff, but general heaviness.

A/N: A bit of a reflection here, I’m sorry! Written for @the-ss-horniest-book-club 24 Hour Surprise Drabble Challenge: Quarantine Heroes

It’s a crazy world right now, be gentle with yourself. There is a lot going on, and a lot on all of our minds. Stay strong and hold on, you’re all doing great! Thankfully we’re all in it together ❤️

A thousand thank-yous to all the healthcare workers out there. Nurses, paramedics: I hold you dear to my heart, being both a part of my family, and also having literally saved the lives of members of my family. Thank you.

Life was stressful these days. Even though your life hadn’t been immediately affected, no one you knew personally was sick and you were still able to work from home, but state of emergency, more bad news every day, and uncertainty of the whole situation was mentally draining, to say the least. It was definitely wearing on you.

You decided to try and pamper yourself and relax this evening so you drew a bubble bath and lit some candles, hoping to soak away your anxieties. But once you’d settled in, your mind kept wandering back to all the stories you’d heard and the questions and fears you had.

It was too much.

Try as you might you couldn’t calm your mind. Your thoughts shifted to your boyfriend, Bucky, who should be home from his shift soon, as long as there were no emergencies. He was a paramedic, and your heart ached for the things he saw and dealt with on the job. You didn’t know how he did it, how he could handle it, and usually he would smile and say he was fine, but sometimes you could see the despair written on his face, remembering the traumas he’d responded to.

You were too empathetic, and once you imagined yourself in his shoes, or in the shoes of nurses and healthcare workers who were dealing with the crisis first-hand day after day, you felt tears well up in your eyes. It wasn’t long before you were full-on crying, the weight of the stress you’d been feeling for the last while all pouring out at once.

You didn’t hear the door open when Bucky got home, but he heard you. The sound of your crying broke his heart, and he gently tapped on the bathroom door, opening it to check on you.

“Babe?” He called out to you gently, trying not to startle you, but he couldn’t keep the smile from his face at the first glance of you. Hair in a messy bun, candles, bubble bath, and what you would call your ugly-crying face. He wanted so badly to scoop you up in his arms and comfort you in that moment. It hurt and warmed his heart at the same time.

Once you saw him, however, it was like your guard came down and you started crying harder.

“Bucky, I’m sad!” you sobbed and he had to bite back a chuckle. “I’m overwhelmed!”

“Shh, it’s okay baby,” Bucky soothed, crouching down next to the tub, tucking a wet, stray piece of hair behind your ear. “It’s okay! I’m okay, everything’s gonna be alright.” You nodded your head and sniffled, hiccuping, but he didn’t look convinced. Bucky smiled softly and then stood up, whipping his shirt off over his head.

“That’s it,” he stated, stripping off his pants and underwear in one go, and pulling his socks off. He stood there, gloriously naked, and jerked his chin at you to shove over. Normally you’d be all over him at this point, unable to keep your hands off that beautifully sculpted body, but right now you were sad and just wanted to curl up and let it all go. You drew your legs up closer to yourself and he stepped into the tub with you. It was squishy, but it was comforting, and neither of you wanted to be alone right now.

The bubbles poofed up higher as Bucky sat down and put his legs on either side of you. He took one of yours in his hands and gently massaged your foot. A small smile formed on your lips and he smiled back. You chatted briefly about your concerns, asked him how his day had been, and then fell into a comfortable silence. You loved how he was so easy to talk to, so strong, yet so calm and gentle. You were thankful that’d he’d chosen the career path that he had - he was perfect for it.

Bucky slowly massaged one of your feet, then moved to the other, falling back into his own thoughts. He’d seen all kinds of things on the job, car accidents, stabbings, people getting sick in their homes, heart attacks. The pandemic had brought a whole new world of challenges, and a lot of the calls were responding to people with respiratory problems. The look of fear in their eyes haunted him. He’d done a lot of training to separate his work from personal life, but in times of crisis it was hard to forget. Especially when he had a caring heart and did everything he could for people when he was on call.

Before he realised what had happened, Bucky’s chest was tight and he felt tears slip from his eyes and run down his cheeks. He squeezed your foot gently to pull you from your thoughts and your eyes flicked to his. If he was more of a betting man, he’d wager that both your hearts were breaking in that moment, seeing the tears of the other. He didn’t let it show often, but it all had been tiring as hell lately. He tried his best for every call he went on, and it broke his heart when there was nothing he could do. But he’d keep going, keep trying, keep serving the community, saving lives when he could, holding hands and trying to just be there for people.

Seeing tears on Bucky’s face broke your heart, and you needed to be closer to him. You moved towards him, trying to get into his lap without splashing too much over the side of the tub. Bucky scooped you into his arms and you reached up to cup his face, wiping away the tears.

“Bucky,” you whispered. “You are amazing. You’re doing a good job,” he blinked back more tears and he bit his lip, trying to keep a hold on his feelings, but failing miserably. He took in a shuddering breath and then pulled you into a crushing hug. Your heart broke again as you felt his shoulders shaking with silent sobs, finally letting it all out.

You sat for quite a while, holding each other, just letting go. The stress, the fears, the anxieties. Tomorrow you’d have to pick back up and brush yourselves off. Keep going. But for today, today you could both let your guard down and take comfort in the arms of each other.

-----

Tags ❤️ @sfreeborn @jobean12-blog @crushedbyhyperbole @mannatgalhotra @bubbabarnes @buckysthing @marvelgirl7 @ikaris-whore @aesthetical-bucky

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes x reader #paramedic!bucky #tw: pandemic #tw: paramedic #anxiety #fluff #drabble #general sadness #tw: anxiety #my writing #hbc 24 hour surprise drabble challenge #quarantine heroes #tw: crying

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surveys-at-your-service · 3 years ago

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Survey #421

“hunted by hundreds and never to be caught / descent to wander, bring terror and take 'em all beyond”

Which do you prefer, donut holes, jelly filled donuts or normal donuts? Normal donuts. When you get old, are you going to make a will? I mean probably. Ever made your own definition for something on Urban Dictionary? No. What do you call your grandparents? "Grammy" and "Grampa." Do you like weddings? Not especially because I'm a bitter fuck. Do you want to live in a dorm in college? I never wanted to, so I never did. Have you ever had your tonsils taken out? No. Are you single/taken/crushing/confused? Single/confused. Is your best friend single? Yes. Is your first real best friend still there for you? I mean we have one another on Facebook, but that's the extent of it. Do you still care for your first love? Very much. I hope he's doing okay since his mother passed. What color is your blanket? Navy with black swirls. Are you listening to music right now? Yes. I am obseeeeeessed with Alissa White-Gluz's cover of Powerwolf's "Demons Are a Girl's Best Friend." Have you ever felt as if you lost your one true love? I feel like that all the time. But I should add that I don't believe there is JUST ONE person designed for you. There are way, way too many people on this earth to have just a single, perfect match. Which do you like better: Bowser, Mario, Luigi, or Princess Peach? Well I mean I always picked Luigi in Mario Kart, so I got a bias, ha ha. How many tattoos do you have? Six. Plenty, PLENTY more to come, though. Would you ever consider getting a mohawk? No. What do you like to do most in your free time? Do random shit on the computer. What’s your work title? Unemployed. Do you pay rent? I don't. What was the reason behind the last time you wore a bandage? I cut my finger opening up a cup of yogurt. Yes, I'm serious. What music artist have you listened to a lot lately? Powerwolf, lately. And Motionless In White. Who is taller, you or your best friend? Me. When was the first time you ever listened to your favorite music artist? Well, as a little kid, Mom would play some Ozzy in the car occasionally, and I actually loved "Perry Mason" so much that I would ask for her to play it. Growing up I'd obviously heard "Crazy Train" through random things, but I never truly listened to him until I got into middle school and went through my mother's CD case, discovering new music as I got into rock and metal. Do/did your siblings cause trouble? Nah, not really. If your siblings are old enough, what do they do for work? I honestly don't remember my half-siblings' positions, but my immediate younger sister is a children's social worker, and my older sis is a mammographer. Have you ever been jealous of your siblings? Jealous, no. Envious, extremely. They know what the hell they're doing with their lives and making shit happen. Do you still live with your parent/s or do you live alone/with a partner? I live with my mother. What feeling do you have the most difficulty in expressing? Jealousy. How do you think you would handle yourself in a crisis situation? Freeze up and probably die lol. Does any particular season make you happier than others? Why/why not? Yes, autumn. It's not hot as fuck, the air always feels so fresh to me, and I love the many colors of fall. It's just... chill. Can you adapt to change easily? Any examples? FUCK. NO. Do you see yourself as worthy of love? Why/why not? This answer can change from "yes, because I'm a good human" to "fuck no because I'm worthless" in 0.5 seconds. Do you think you are competitive? Do you really dislike losing? Not in general, but I can be in some areas. What would you be famous for? Fuck if I know. If you had to, would you rather dye your hair red or black? Red. I loved my hair when it actually took red dye well. What do you typically do on Easter Day? Go to my older sister's house. Have you ever viewed the moon through a telescope? No. Do you normally finish one book before starting another? Always. If you were given the chance to be immortal, would you take it? Heeeeeell no. Would you pierce your nipples for $100? Almost certainly yes; I mean that's $100 for something I can just take out if I don't like it. Have you ever dated someone who had a child? No. Would you ever consider adoption? Even if I wanted a child, no. I know I would need either the blood connection or for the child to be my partner's that I truly love. Do you tend to go for guys/girls with certain eye/hair colors? No, I really don't care how you look on the outside. Do you know anyone who plays guitar? Yes. Do you live within an hour of the ocean? More like two hours. What are you currently sitting/laying on? My bed. Have you ever dated a friend of one of your siblings? No. Did you have an imaginary friend as a child? An imaginary wolf, yeah. Which parent do you look most like? My mom, I think. Ever failed a test? Yes. That's all I did in algebra during my last college attempt. Do you have any friends who are famous? No. Your most recent ex breaks down and tells you they love you, what do you do? Well I know she loves me as a friend, but idk if she still does romantically, but either way, I'd tell her I love her too and ask if I can do anything for her. You and your last ex: who should hate who? Neither of us. We have a perfectly fine relationship. Do you believe you pick who you fall in love with? Definitely not. Last thing you ate? I had a peanut butter sandwich for breakfast. Are you obsessed with someone? *discreetly eyes Markiplier* If you had to write a brief message on a dollar bill that many people would eventually see as the currency circulates, what message would you write? I'd have to think longer on this, but definitely something about not putting so much worth into the money and not allowing greed to rule the individual. What serves as the greatest motivation for you in your daily life? The hope for a happy, prosperous future. If you were a multimillionaire, what do you believe you would be doing at this very moment? Well, it's morning and this is my prime time to really just chill and do my first scope of the Internet, so I'd probably be in a beautiful house in the woods of the mountains by a beautiful waterfall. I'd have the windows down to listen to nature, make sure via AC if necessary that it's cool... Damn, that sounds nice. If you could have a cookie jar full of anything you wanted, except money or cookies, what would it be full of? Hm. Perhaps a very motivational quote that I'd draw each day, kind of like fortune cookies, but actually good and applicable, ha ha. If someone were looking for you in a bookstore, in what section would they be most likely to find you? YA or fiction. If your ex came up to you and asked you to take them back, what would you say? Anyone but Jason or Sara would be an automatic "no." Jason would have to really prove himself. Sara, I'd be willing, but would ask her if that's what she really wants given our positions right now. Do you think Ke$ha is annoying? I don't know anything about her personally. I actually liked her music back in the day, even when I was all about metal. Last time you were hit on? No idea. Do you ever write in pencil any more? I always do if I have that option. I don't like that you can't erase with a pen. If you HAD to get a piercing (not ears) what would you get? At this current time, my right nostril again. What do you wish you had more knowledge about? Politics. Would you ever get someone's name tattooed on you? Noooo. Do you have a lot of scars? Yes. I scar very easily. Have you ever had stitches? Twice. Have you ever dealt with a divorce or parents fighting or any kind of abuse at home? Before my parents divorced, there was a lot of fighting. Do you remember the person you first kissed? Of course I do. Have you ever kissed someone you weren’t dating? No. Who was the last person you fell asleep with? Sara. Have you ever listened to music you hated just to fit in? "Hated," no. I just tried to get into bands that I just couldn't, but didn't hate. Ever been called babe? Yeah. What is your favorite Pop-Tart flavor? Chocolate sundae. Have you ever made your parents cry? Yeah, sadly. Do you wear glasses? Yeah. And yet I'm still blind with 'em. Have you ever made out with somebody on a bed? Yeah. Are you tan? Most definitely not. How did you meet the last person you texted? She kinda like, gave birth to me. Next big event? My nephew's fifth birthday. Ugh, how is he getting that old. Do you think you have to be skinny in order to be beautiful? Fuck off, no. There are some gorgeous/attractive plus-sized people. Have you ever made out on a couch? Yes. Has the last person you kissed ever seen you cry? Oh god, she witnessed me sob once. Would you ever get gauged ears? I want very small gauges in my bottom earlobe piercings. What is your favorite sushi? Ew. Have you ever been in a school talent show? What for? Noooo sir. What were you like at 17? Oh god... so sad and yet so happily, madly in love at the same time. I both love and hate that era. Tell us about your worst date. Haven't really had a bad one. I had one with Tyler that was an adventure that most would consider awful (flat tire, had to walk in the whipping wind), but I had fun, ha ha. What should be illegal that isn’t already? I dunno. What’s the song you most wish you had written? Probably John Lennon's "Imagine." What is the worst break up you have experienced? Y'ALL KNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOW. Do your parents wish you were more successful? Oh, I am CERTAIN they do. They'd never admit it, I'm sure, but I know I'm disappointing. I had so much promise in school. Has a significant other called you unattractive before? WOW, no. Has a significant other ever called you by the wrong name? omg no Have you ever caught someone doing something bad? Cheating on their bf, yes. Has a dentist ever screwed up on anything when working on you? No, I don't think so. What is the worst birthday you have ever had? My 16th. I felt very, very unloved. I don't even like going into it. Have you ever been spit on by a llama? No. Have you ever locked yourself out of your car/house? The house, yes. With my elderly dog with arthritis, in the middle of winter after a good snow. I was freezing, sitting on the front porch and eventually crying. My phone was inside so I couldn't reach my mom, who was at work. As night came, I finally broke and went down the street knocking on my neighbors' doors, and probably the worst fucking one opened. With a gun in his hand. He was apparently an ex-sheriff, and he clearly didn't trust me. He was kind enough to let Teddy, who was incontinent and marked territory, inside (thank fuck he didn't pee in the guy's house), and he gave me a jacket, but Christ, we played 20 goddamn questions to see if I was legit, I'm assuming. I was beyond thankful when Mom finally got there when I used his phone to call her. And as it turned out? The door wasn't even fucking locked, our old dog just jammed the hell outta it by jumping. I was so, so pissed.

#survey #surveys #random questions #lyrics: ''beast of gévaudan'' by powerwolf

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the-currian · 5 years ago

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Imagine person A of your OTP grabbing onto person B’s hand because they are scared while walking through a haunted house. --

Sakyo had to give credit where credit was due – the haunted house was done fairly well. They certainly pulled out all the stops, from the darkness casting eerie shadows, to the high quality sound effects, to the realistic-looking props – certainly nothing that would scare him, but would be quite scary to someone that is easily spooked.

“Aieeeeeeee!” a screech comes from his left side.

Sakyo sighs.

‘Speaking of…’

“Would you shut your mouth?” he says, turning to face the source of the loud scream. “We’ve only been here for a few minutes. It’s not even that scary.”

“But – but Sakyooooo!” Izumi wails. “I could’ve sworn that something touched me!”

‘Of all the people I could’ve ended up with here, it just had to be her.’ Sakyo laments, thinking back to the stupid contest that the company decided to have.

“Alright, let’s get this company-wide team building event underway!” Izumi addresses the group of men in front of her. “I’ll let the Spring troupe take over for today’s activities. Sakuya?”

“Yes, Director!” the bubbly boy responds, making his way next to Izumi. “Given that today’s part of the team building will take place at an amusement park, we decided to devise challenges based on the attractions that this place has to offer. To start off, we’re going to be pairing up–“

“I’m going with the Director.” Masumi automatically states, heading straight for Izumi, only to be accosted by Citron.

“Not too hasty, Masumi!” Citron says, keeping Masumi in his place (“It’s ‘Not so fast.’” Itaru quietly corrects.). “Tsuzuru already came up with a plan.”

At this, Tsuzuru goes to the front, holding a plastic baggy full of paper strips. “Everyone’s going to pick out one strip of paper. On each paper is a number. Whoever’s number matches yours will be your pair for the day.”

Everyone picked a strip of paper, and quickly went to find their partners.

“Sakyo! What’s your number? I got seven.” Izumi says, walking up to him.

“Just my luck. Looks like you’re with me for today.” he replies dryly.

Izumi looks as if she is about to make a snarky comment back but is interrupted by Sakuya clapping his hands to get everyone’s attention.

“Alright, everyone! Now that we’ve all paired up, our first challenge will be the haunted house maze! Each pair will take turns being timed. Whoever gets out the fastest wins!”

Sighing, Sakyo reminds himself that this is indeed a contest, and he’d hate to lose to some of the punks in the troupe (BANRI) who would no doubt lord any loss over him for the rest of the team building. With that in mind he takes it upon himself to remind his partner as well.

“Oi. Pull it together; it’s nothing. The workers aren’t allowed to touch us. Heck, this isn’t even an actual haunted place.” he reprimands Izumi. “Just think of it as an etude; pretend it’s practice for a horror-themed play. Now let’s get a move on.”

“Y-yeah! You’re totally right! We got this!” she replies, giving an unconvincing smile.

Sakyo rolls his eyes.

As they carefully trudge forward, Izumi continues to squeal at the cheap antics of the haunted house that frighten her, unconsciously huddling closer to Sakyo every time.

‘It’s actually kind of cute.’ he thinks. His brain then catches up to his thoughts before a smile can fully form on his lips. ‘No. Nope. We are not going to follow that train of thought.’

He casts a perfunctory glance at his wristwatch and blanches. ‘Crap…we’re taking longer than I thought.’

He looks back at Izumi, who seems to be putting on a brave face. Coming to a decision, Sakyo drags a hand down his face and sighs.

“E-eh?” Izumi intones, staring at the outstretched hand before her. Her eyes follow the length of the arm to see Sakyo determinedly looking anywhere but at her, the tips of his ears tinged red.

“You’re slowing us down.” he offers as an explanation. “If it makes you feel better and helps us get outta here faster, then just hold my hand.”

She blinks at him, eyes wide. Seconds pass, and feeling a bit awkward, Sakyo slowly draws his hand back.

“If you don’t want to, just say so.” he barks at her, embarrassed. “We’re wasting enough time as it is, so let’s–“

He’s interrupted by a sudden warmth enveloping his hand, pulling him closer to Izumi.

“No no no! It’s just – I, uh…” Izumi frantically stutters, cheeks red. She takes a deep breath to calm herself, bowing her head. “…Thank you.”

Sakyo feels his cheeks warm, and hastily clears his throat. “Let’s go then.”

They continue to make their way through the maze at a significantly lower volume – thank god – and in no time, combining both their smarts (along with a few glares from Sakyo towards the haunted house’s actors), they spot what appears to be the end of the haunted house.

“Finally.” Sakyo says, turning to Izumi. “Let’s just hope we got a better time than the others.”

“Yep!” Izumi replies in a much more bubbly tone than earlier, squeezing his hand (and no his heart did not just flutter over such an innocent gesture from such a kid, thank you very much).

Oblivious to the older man’s inner crisis, Izumi beams at him. “Now we can put all this nonsense be–“

“Behind you?” A creepy voice groans.

Izumi immediately freezes, chancing a glance back at the voice only to be met with red beady eyes staring back at her. Blood dripped from the creatures face, coating sharp black teeth. A rotting hand reached out to her face as the figure cooed, “Aren’t you gonna stay and play with us some more, sweetheart?”

Sakyo is only able to give the actor a glimpse of a murderous glare before Izumi lets out the most ear-splitting shriek that Sakyo has ever heard (and he has heard a lot, given his profession), her grip on Sakyo’s hand suddenly feeling more bone-crushing than comforting as she hightails it out of there, dragging Sakyo along with a monstrous speed and strength he did not think possible for her to possess, adrenaline be damned.

The rest of the haunted house quickly passes as a blur, and Sakyo finds himself abruptly crashing into Izumi as she stops, nearly bowling her over.

“Director?!” several concerned voices call out as various members of the Mankai company flock to the duo.

“Ahahaha. I’m fine, I’m fine!” Izumi says with what she hopes is a reassuring smile on her face, rubbing her neck in embarrassment with her free hand. “Just got a bit immersed in the experience, I guess. No harm done!”

“Great, now that that’s over…” Sakyo drawls. “Can you keep your death grip to yourself?”

This draws the attention of the company members, whose eyes all zero in on the two’s intertwined hands.

“S-sorry!” Izumi yelps, drawing her hand back. Masumi, along with some of the other company members, immediately start coddling her, drawing her away from Sakyo.

Sakyo suddenly feels multiple pairs of eyes boring holes into him.

“Dad, what exactly happened in there?” Taichi intones, a suspicious look on his face.

“Tch.” Sakyo scoffs in reply, glaring at the rest of the troupe members that kept inquisitive eyes on him. “The kid couldn’t handle it.”

Figuring that’s all they’d be able to get out of him, they turn their attention back to their director.

As the group heads over to the next attraction, Sakyo slinks to the back of the group, keeping his head down as he fights down a blush, remembering the feeling of Izumi’s hand in his.

#a3!#a3! actor training game #a3! act! addict! actors!#a3! sakyo #sakyo furuichi #a3! izumi #izumi tachibana #izumi x sakyo #a3! scenarios #omg i can't remember the last time i had this much fun writing

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prorevenge · 5 years ago

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Abusive boss "acidentally" picks on his own boss and pays the ultimate price.

As I sit in a bar, enjoying my coffee, a story pops into my mind from 10 years ago of how I put a jerk down to the ground for venting his frustrations over to his subbordinates.

Let us begin with the back story, which is quite long, but necessary for you to get a feeling of what was going on at the time. It was just months before the financial crisis and I was working for the tech department in a very large company. It was quite a large department in which we handled electronics.

That department stood out from most of the company, as it was receiving a bit of a different treatment. The company thought if they create an extremely pleasant working environment there, they could get away with paying those stationed there with considerably lesser wages than they could be eligible for.

And it was also a "meritocracy". Your rank and station was based on what you were capable of, not how long were you in the company. I say that because just after two years, I was running the whole department! The reason for that was that because aside from being a computer technician, i also had skills in electrotechnics, electronics, programming and online advertising, which the company realized and put me in charge of the whole bunch. However before you question the validity of this story, you should know that while I had the rank, I made only marginally more money than the rest of the department, the only plus was the rank, and that I had half the working hours of the rest of the department. My only job was to make sure that everybody was at their best while doing their job and paperwork, along with comms and coordinating with the rest of the company.

I felt it was important that you knew the entire story because now I want to introduce you to Dick (fake name). Dick was a hard worker, but a sick, evil, miserable bastard who was at the company for over 6 years but couldn't get any higher up the ladder other than shift supervisor for the machinery boys because all he knew how to do. He was 2 ranks below me. Dick was an utter Dick. He constantly picked on his subbordinates, berating them, yelling at them, picking on the "coffee boy" (it was the rookie, bringing coffee was an initation ritual), essentially Dick being in charge of you was a very unpleasant experience.

At the time I didn't know this was going on, Dick was not in the group I ascended over and I dealt with that group over his superior. I didn't know was going on because I had my hands full with running the whole thing from an office halfway across the company building (big building).

Before we continue, you should know that my country has a law against workplace abuse called "bossing", in which, if there has been emotional harm inflicted, the person who performed bossing could even face jail time, and the company in question could pay massive fines.

To continue, suddenly I reveived an email from my superior, telling me there was an incident regarding Dick and that I have been scheduled for disciplinary action. Apparently there was a coffee girl in his group which he utterly destroyed to the point where she had a nervous breakdown, and as a department administrator I received huge flak for "not sustaining a pleasant working environment", which was department policy so that people wouldn't complain so much about the subpar pay they are getting.

Dick got me in so much trouble that I had to spend a week of constant damage control with my own superior. In the end, I was ordered to take appropriate action against Dick to prove that I was still "the man for the job".

Dick got me in a lot of trouble. Dick was going to pay. There was just one problem- there was no evidence against Dick. So I was going to have to be sneaky. I send a message to Dicks superior, notifying him that that they will be getting a replacement coffee boy from another group tomorrow... ME! I was going undercover to stick it to dick.

There is a saying: you see a guy in a suit and tie and you think he's successful, until you realize he's working for a man in jeans and and polo shirt. This hold true as dick is a suit and tie guy while I wear jeans and a polo shirt to work.

Its the day of revenge. I take no special preparations other than a hidden recording device, and I even wear the aforementioned outfit. I arrive at work and ask two security guards to go with me to wait just outside Dick's work area. I purposely wait until I am 5 minutes late, then enter the work area with Dick's people, greet everyone and go straight for the coffee pot. Dick notices my tardiness and starts ranting:

DICK: Coffee boy! What the hell do you think you're doing? Come late on your first day? Get your ass moving and serve everybody!

ME: Yes sir!

I serve coffee to everybody, but one of the techs recognizes me. I pour some coffee in his pot and tell him to say nothing because I am recording Dick. At that time Dick was across the room, insulting another employee for misplacing his tools.

After I finish serving coffee I go to "my" workplace and start working. I intentionally fumble at my work, as a rookie would, in order to get Dicks attention. It works and Dick notices me and races right towards me.

DICK: What the hell do you think you're doing boy? What is this mess you made? You are completely useless! I cannot use you for anything! I should send you to mop the floors and you will even screw that up!

I turn towards Dick, put my hands at my hips and lean fowards, going in dicks face. Dick presses his second and third finger against his thumb and starts to wave it my face:

DICK: Don't you get uppity on me boy, I am your boss, I know the administrator and I can get your ass on the street in 5 minutes! Do you want to go home? ANSWER ME!

ME: I am the administrator. SECURITY!

Both guards arrive, going to into full badass mode, grabbing hold of their mace pockets with one hand and fists clenched in the other. I swear, Dick immediately dropped a couple of spoon fulls into his pants.

GUARD: Yes, mr. OP?

ME: Escort mr. Dick to my office immediately for (I lean right into his face) SEVERE disciplinary action.

GUARD: mr. Dick, come with us.

Later in my office, Dick was sat down, and listened to the audio recording of the incident, as well as I made him read out loud an extract of the labor law concerning "bossing", then I go full cold turkey on his ass:

ME: mr. Dick, you have been caught severely abusing your employees, which is not only against department policy, but is also a criminal offense, punishable by jail time in certain circumstamces. Do you have anything to say in your defense?

Sweating, shaking, stuttering: DICK: I would, I, but I, I am...

ME: It's what I thought. Let me tell you what is going to happen. I have ebought evidence to pin the breakdown of coffee girl on you, which means that I have the power to send you to jail. (Not sure if true, I was bluffing). So your disciplinary action is going to be as follows. Firstly, you are to be demoted for at least a period of two months. Your previous group was lacking a coffee boy, I think you would be perfect for the job. Secondly. You are going to love it. Thirdly, your are going to send flowers and a letter of apology to the girl you broke down. But if you: #1, try to quit within the time allotted for your punishment, and #2, so much as look as your former subbordinates in a way they wouldn't like it and #3, not do your work with utmost distinction, I will send this evidence to the authoroties and use every scrap of power I have in this company to send you to a jail so bad that when you come out of it, you will be wearing diapers for the rest of your life, HAVE I MADE MYSELF CLEAR?

Utterly pale and defeated Dick: yes, mr OP.

To add insult to injury, I inform his group of Dick's demotion. I told them that he has absolutely no authority over them anymore, and that he is going to serve them coffee until a time I see fit to rejoin them, but only as a serviceman equal in rank to the group. Dick was also forced to clean out his office in front of the group, as the coffee boy wasn't even entitled to his own cubicle, let alone a desk.

Is this nuclear revenge? I disagree. I feel that he got exactly what he deserved. He is now going to have to lick the boots those he treated so badly before. I am but no means an angel, after all, I did fail to notice the abuse that was going on umderneath me, but to fair, nobody was brave enough to stand up to Dick in fear of losing their jobs due to the crisis looming overhead.

(source) story by (/u/-BigBadBeef-)

#prorevenge #by /u/-BigBadBeef-#pro revenge #revenge stories #pro revenge stories #pro #revenge #last10

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conelly · 4 years ago

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( luke hemmings, twenty-two, cismale, he/him ) did you see BYRON CONELLY walking down main street earlier? you know who i’m talking about, they’re a DECKHAND. everybody in town says that they’re SANGUINE & NONJUDGEMENTAL, but have a tendency to be IMPRESSIONABLE & VOLATILE too. BYRON has been in town for ONE AND A BIT years. c'mon, they’re always requesting SWEET CAROLINE by NEIL DIAMOND at karaoke nights. well, i’m sure you’ll see them soon! ( ooc: sunny, 22, she/her, est )

hi thanks for tuning in, SUNNY here to tell you all a lil bit about westmere’s very own new nd improved favorite loser below. sorry for this summary being all over the place, it’s kinda how my brain works heh which is kinda perfect bc byron will for SURE be all over the place too ( u can rly tell at a certain point i was like ok i give up + i’m posting mf ). let me know if u have any questions about ‘em and most importantly, lmk if you would like to plot a lil connect or sumn 😙

@westmerestarters

FAMBAM + BACKGROUND

born 14 years after the elder conelly ( wanted brother connect !!! ) entered this word to two parents who didn’t seem to read the job description, it was clear that byron wasn’t planned. and down the line, he’d soon realize through the tumultuous household he was brought up in - perhaps never even wanted.

byron’s parents had one constant - and that was fighting. over anything, all the time. there just wasn’t any love between the two and they stayed together for whatever meaningless reasons until byron hit middle school. ( there might’ve been a super short lull in toxicity once byron was born, but it had to be short as his first memories are nothing shy of toxic. ) it was a messy separation ( they never paid the full legal fees for a full divorce ) - his father moving to the coast of nj & his mother moving to a smaller apartment nearby her own mother ( which, due to the negative relationship among his mother + grandmother, also called for more tension ). he’d often be dropped off @ his grandmother’s house for baby-sitting or when he was ‘ becoming too much to handle. ’ eventually his grandmother moved into his cousin’s house ( MONROE ) and although grateful he made a practically new brother, similar tendencies of feeling unwanted occurred when byron noticed their grandmother praising and coddling and favoriting monroe just a bit more.

( his mother was a struggling addict ( and had been her whole life ), but the loneliness, newfound pressures and whatever excuse she was able to name caused her drinking to spiral worse than byron remembered ( even at his young age ) before. )

( his father was rarely in his life, but when he was, he was THE coolest. always played good cop in any situation regarding his mother, despite choosing not to have an active role in byron’s life. byron looked up to him like no other. when he WAS around, he taught byron how to surf, skateboard, play sports, they’d play video games, they’d eat junk food - honestly anything that byron wanted to do. his dad was an adrenaline junkie and created the stepping stones for byron to be one too. he was a marine biologist & pretty successful at that. passionate, intelligent, but seemingly finding his newfound life a lot better than his previous - which is why he never wanted byron to stay too long, the boy reminded him of her, of the past. )

( his older brother moved out of the house when byron was just a lil kid, they’re not very close and don’t have much in common ... or so it seems. he lives in nyc and they only talk here and there on holidays. he was never a huge part of his life, but it does bum him out to think what could’ve been / could be. )

TO GET THE GIST

due to never receiving the attention he craved from his family members, he made up for it tenfold in school. he was always talking to everyone, loud, boisterous, gregarious, life of the party; he wanted people to like him and they did. he become a total people pleaser, molding himself to make sure everyone was content and stayed around. impressionable, adaptable. he felt less this way towards adults and had a bit of a rebellious phase, hanging with the wrong crowd & getting into things he probably wouldn’t do otherwise. old habits die hard and he still tries his best to make everyone crack a smile, to remember him - since he believes he won’t be remembered for much else.

after he just barely skated by in high school ( his grades were never as good as his cousin’s and never lived up to his father’s expectations ), byron felt a bit lost. a lot of people had plans, were heading off to college - but already under the assumption he couldn’t reach any expectation in that realm ( a lil self fulfilling prophecy am i right pals ), he stayed in town - caring for his mother who hardly had anything together, his uncle who got sick very quickly & passed, spending time with his grandmother, while he himself fell into a rut. most of his days meant he drove out towards his dad’s place ( dad hardly there now, out and about with his new family ), surfing, smoking, and grabbing some cash doing odd jobs any way he could. he lost any purpose he once had ( but yall would never know it bc who wants to be in someone’s life who’s a buzzkill ? all smiles, baby, all smiles. )

IN WESTMERE

when his cousin offered the opportunity to travel cross-country in his van, byron had nothing to lose. always adventurous in spirit, he immediately said yes - deciding to ignore that ‘obligation,’ that feeling to make sure they were a-ok that he felt towards his parents. he needed an out and this was it.

after landing in the small connecticut town for the night, the two fell for it - especially since when they got there along the water, it was a summer night + everything landed into place. they decided to stay there a bit longer ... and that eventually turned into more than a year. still antsy to keep traveling and to move around, byron has been ready to head out ... but stays for a few reasons - and them all being people ( bc lbh the surf is not even on point here ok )

his current job is a deckhand ( on a bunch of boats, ppl prob hired him as word of mouth got around that he knew what he was doing ). prob got that knowledge from being by his dad’s on the water when younger ( he’s ... obsessed with the water ) ! and also he’s just a quick learner ok ( ps: if your charrie has a boat pls let’s make somethin happen )

TO KNOW [ headcanons + more ]

his fav karaoke song is sweet caroline bc he knows everyone will be able to sing nd party along. he does it for the ppl, ppl.

he never saw too many baby / kid pics of himself which was kind of a bummer bc he really only remembers negative times - somehow they overpowered ( i bet lil byron was cute as fuck too fml )

he’s super into drugs, hallucinogenics, honestly you name it. it started off w/ him being impressionable, then bored, and now he just enjoys it. despite his mother’s addiction running through his blood, he still continues to do his thang.

longboards around town so watch your toes

uses 🤙🤙 all the time and not ironically

has an existential crisis on the daily about purpose but keeps that to himself most times

WANTED CONNECTIONS

someone pls give me a sugar mama idc how we plot it out they don’t have to hook up they can idk idc i just want someone giving him money or expensive things it can be so much fun ok ,, pool boy ? idk sign me up

pls if your muse has a boat, let him be the deckhand ok it will also be so fun and potentially angsty if he fucks something up

a fling 100% - even multiple ? idc listen he is currently sharing a tiny VAN with his COUSIN he needs a place - like an actual bed - to crash on at night

can he save someone who was potentially drowning pls??? he used to be a lifeguard, it can be a cool/fun thread to write out

omg off of that can he teach someone how to swim

look if anyone is into marine bio, can they somehow know byron’s father ?? i feel like that could make room for a cool plot

also i have an older brother connect on the w/c’s page lmk lmk

give me a good influence that will somehow have him open up + tell him that it’s weird to be so sunshiny all the time. maybe someone who witnesses him at his worst + stays, ya know ??

a bad influence plot where y/c takes this impressionable young lad and puts him through the ringer tbh ( srrsly he’d do a lot for ppl, so ask him to do something illegal for them it’ll be fun )

party pals, smoking pals, on the water 24/7 pals,

co-worker, other ppl that work on the water ( fishermen?? more deckhands?? captains??)

gimmie someone he accidentally bumped into while longboarding ( he’s a large human it might’ve done damage ok )

i want and need enemies ok i know he’s chill as fuck and wants everyone to like him but there’s always a way to find enemies >:o. anything angsty for REAL.

unrequited thing? where he led someone on?? i’m sure he does this constantly

don’t ruin the friendship thing omg plsssss always so fun

look i’m open for it ALL. every plot u have in mind so lay it on me

#westmereintro #TW ADDICTION #nd ... i think that's it

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fatestemptress · 5 years ago

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Overwhelming Alternatives - Part 1 of 3

Summary: Jensen Ackles loves women. The way they smell. The way they taste. The way their hips sway when they walk away from him, looking back with that knowing look in their eyes. Hell, he can’t even look at one of his best friends, Y/N, without picturing her naked.

So can someone please explain to him why he’s fantasizing about his co-worker Jared Padalecki?

Created for @spnkinkbingo

Square Filled: Sexuality Crisis

Warnings: Smut. Lots and lots of smut. Masturbation. Porn watching. MMF. 18+ only!

Pairings: Jensen Ackles x Jared Padalecki; Eventually Jensen x Y/N X Jared

Word Count On this Chapter: 5,300 or so

A/N: Hiiiiii! Its been sooo long and I have missed so many wonderful fics out there. I am dying to catch up! I’ve had this fic sitting in my drafts and it’s finally ready to post. This will eventually be a threesome, so if that’s not your thing please be forewarned. The other two chapters of this will fill some of my other kink bingo squares.

Please note, this is unbeta’d. Any and all grammatical errors are mine. (And I’m sure there are PLENTY. :))

"Fuck Jen! Hold still would ya'?!"

"I'm trying but your big sausage fingers keep pinching me!"

Jensen Ackles could practically hear the smirk coming from behind him as his co-star and best friend Jared Padalecki rubbed at the fake blood caught under the collar of his shirt behind his neck.

And he desperately hoped one of his favorite people in the world couldn't feel the shudder of his body as his fingers dipped into the sensitive top part of his spine. The tingles quickly spread out into the wide set of his shoulders and down into his fingertips making them itch with the need to reach behind him and grab Jared by the hip and bring his full body against his back.

FUCK.

He needed to stop this nonsense. He wasn't gay. He didn't like guys. In fact, he LOVED women. The way they smelled. They way they tasted. They way they whined into his ear when he was balls deep with their ankles around his neck.

Annnnnnnd he needed to stop that freight train of thought as his already half hard dick started filling out into a full blown, humiliating, hard on, in front of the remaining crew on set.

"Allright, allright Jay. The rest'll come out when I get in the shower back in my trailer. I just didn't want it dripping down my back."

And damned if that didn't just bring unwanted (cause they were UNWANTED...right?) images of something alot more pleasant and alot more white dripping down his back........

Jared let out a high pitched laugh as he playfully massaged his fingers into Jensen's neck, "Wasn't it nice and warm though, Jen?"

With a deep clearing of his throat, side eye and a conspicuous adjustment of his jeans, Jensen reached for his jacket and slung it on, "I won't even dignify that with an answer. So uh, I'll see you in a little while? We still on for Madden?"

Jared flipped his hair out of his eyes as he also reached for his coat, seemingly oblivious to his friends discomfort,"Yeah, sure thing. Gotta shower and then I'll meet you at your trailer in about an hour."

With a quick fist pound and a wave to the few people on set, Jensen and Jared parted ways as they made their way to their respective trailers. It had been a long day with an early 4:00 AM call but production issues had them calling it quits at 5:00 PM.

But despite the hectic schedule, two and a half seasons into the show "Supernatural", Jensen was still pumped to come to work everyday. It definitely helped that everyone on set truly did get along and it was a blessing that he and his co-star had gotten so close, so fast.

What didn't help was the increasing drive to see Jared's cock that had somehow, someway meandered into his every waking moment. A drive that he had never, not once, had from another man. And he had been hit on pretty frequently over his career being an actor and having, what he'd been told, were the sweetest dick-sucking lips some of them had ever seen.

But regardless of all that, the only thing he had wanted to eat was a nice, wet pussy. He loved that shit. Savored it. And never, not once, had he ever tried to replace it with a dick.

Until Jared.

Jensen sighed in frustration as he dressed in a pair of black sweats, sans underwear, and a white t-shirt, after his long, hot shower, where he had deliberately denied himself even a quick, rub and tug.

He wasn't gay dammit. And he wasn't going to start giving into these dark emotions that had been slowly increasing over the past two and half years.

Fucking Jared.

And his big shoulders.

And solid abs.

And his goofy hair.

And his fucking dimples.

And those ridiculous yellow-green eyes.....

.....that practically sparkled at him whenever he laughed at some sarcastic comment Jensen threw his way.

Fuck but he needed to get laid.

And fast.

It had been three long months since he last sunk his dick into a warm willing body and that had been from a one night stand at a random bar in Downtown Vancouver. Despite the success of the show, they were still relatively unknown enough that it was easy to go out without getting bombarded by fans. But both of them were still careful with who they took home.

Crazy sometimes wore a pretty face and a hot body.

Just as Jensen had settled into his deep, fluffy couch with the remote in his hand, his phone rang and a sweet smile and sexy eyes looked up at him from the picture on his cell.

With a smile of his own, Jensen picked up the phone, "Hey Gorgeous. Whats doin'?"

"Hey, Ackles," Y/N chirped into his ear, "What's cookin'?"

Y/N Y/L/N was the Production Coordinator on the show and sometimes Jensen thought her job was the hardest of them all, practically running the ship behind the scenes, managing all the Production Assistants and dealing with all the whining that comes with it. Even though they had a good crew, people were still human and lord knows they needed someone to bitch to when they felt they weren't being appreciated. But Y/N handled it all with grace and a firm hand. She was respected by everyone on set and, if Jensen was being honest with himself, everyone, male and females included, were already half in love with her.

Jensen was lucky to call her one of his closest friends......and if he sometimes pictured her naked, well, it was only natural. She was beautiful, intelligent and sarcastic as hell and he was by no means a saint.

"Waitin' on Jared to finish conditioning his hair. He's gonna come over and get his ass kicked in Madden."

Y/N let out a husky laugh in his ear and Jensen shifted as his dick twitched at the sexy sound. Maybe he should have considered underwear.

"So another two hours then?" She deadpanned.

"Nah. I think deep conditioning was yesterday. He should be here soon."

"Ha! Okay," Y/N let out a slight sigh in his ear and it sounded almost melancholy.

"Hey, whats wrong? You okay?"

"Yeah....I mean....yeah I'm fine. It's just....I broke up with Chad."

Jensen's ears perked up at the name of Y/N's, now, ex-boyfriend, "Wow, I'm, uh, really sorry to hear that, Honey."

Y/N let out a snort, "No, you're fucking not. I know you hated him. You made it pretty clear every time you saw him."

With a chuckle, Jensen shrugged, "You're right. I did fucking hate him. He didn't deserve you. He was a jerk who was starting to become a possessive asshole. And his name was Chad. It's almost a pre-requisite that douche bags are named Chad. But, uh, why did you finally see the light?"

There was silence on the other end for a a bit before she answered, "He, um, tried to tell me that I was getting too close to you and Jared and that I needed to stop being friends with you outside of work. So I told him to fuck off and take a hike."

Jensen let out a snort of his own, "That's my girl," At the continued silence, he cleared his throat slightly, "Are you okay? I mean, listen, even though I hated the guy, I'm not the one who's gotta be with him. You know I'll support you no matter what and I don't want to be the reason you're not with someone that you maybe....love-"

"Yeah, no. There wasn't any love there," She quickly interrupted before heaving another sigh, "I was just....I dunno...lonely I guess? The hours we work are brutal and he was, you know, around. Whatever, what's done is done and honestly no ones gonna tell me I cant hang with my two favorite pain in the asses."

Jensen didn't acknowledge the thrill that ran through him at her words. He was just gonna ignore the hum of content that made him smile. She was his friend, (hot, sexy, beautiful friend), "Do you wanna come over and hang with us? Take your mind off of things?"

"Thanks. I may take you up on that later on tonight. I'll text you."

"I still got a bottle of Stoli Razz here from last time if you're interested in getting obliterated."

"Ahhh, Ackles. You always know just what I need. Talk soon."

With a smile and a goodbye, Jensen ended the call. Since he'd started talking to Y/N on a more personal level about a year ago, she had been with Jerk-off-Chad. And despite his sexual attraction to her, he'd always kept her in his off limits category. Even without her having a boyfriend, he didn't want to jeopardize what they had. He respected her way too much for that.

So then why did he have a sudden vision of her on her back while he licked between her legs?

Fuuuuck he realllly needed to get laid.

First Jared and now Y/N.

Both people he loved and cared for deeply as friends. And his perverted mind was making them into sexual conquests.

Maybe a quick rub and tug was just what the doctor ordered.

With a quick glance at the time, Jensen realized he still had a good twenty minutes before he could expect Jared to knock on his trailer door. Plenty of time to relieve some of the ache his too full balls were giving him.

He quickly pulled his lap top over from its resting place on the side table next to his couch and brought up one of his favorite porn sites. (Yes, he had favorites and if you asked him he'd tell you he had his go-to videos categorized and in corresponding folders. Fuck anyone's opinion. He was twenty-eight, almost twenty-nine with no steady girlfriend. His hand rarely left his dick when he was alone.)

In a rush, he picked a random video that looked good and pressed play before placing it back on the side table with the screen facing him. A deep moan drifted from the speakers as he saw a girl kneeling in front of a huge dick before she swallowed it down in one gulp, lovingly rubbing the balls underneath. Another loud moan drifted from the speakers.

Shit. Way too loud. No need to have one of the crew walk by his trailer and have a story to tell the others tomorrow morning.

Quickly, Jensen reached over for his ear buds and plugged them in before setting his phone to vibrate and placing it next to him so he could feel it. Jared would text before he came over. He always did.

Reaching down, Jensen wrapped a hand over the slowly rising bulge in his sweatpants and bit his lip. He caressed the head through his pants and was glad the pants were black. Wet spots on the crotch of grey pants were never a good look.

And the close ups of the chick's wet pussy and spit slicked swollen mouth were making his cock start doing a steady drip-drip.

He pulled his shirt up over the flat panes of his stomach before squeezing his cock and adjusting it so it lay underneath the band of his pants, the swollen head peaking out of the top as he brought his thumb around the wetness, coating it before letting out a moan of his own. He liked to tease himself. Draw it out a little bit before the end result.

"Fuck baby," Big-dick guy said on a gasp from his place on a brown couch, "Suck it. Yeah...just like that."

The blue eyed blond on her knees let out a whine before releasing the cock with a pop, "So big," She said as she rapidly stroked him from root to tip, "I don't think I can suck this all by myself."

"Mmmm," Big-dick hummed with a dirty grin, "Lucky for us we got some help."

Well,shit. He had picked a threesome video without even knowing it. Two chicks sucking on one dick? Every. Guys. Fantasy. Bring it on.

The camera panned back into the guys lap as the blonde licked up the side of his cock and a shaggy dark haired head bent down and took the guys balls into his mouth.

Well that was a shorter hair-cut than he was expecting on a chick....

The blonde reached down and grabbed the head of hair and brought the lips of the other person to hers, tongues dangling in the air, "Hey baby..." She said on a breath, before bringing the tip of the big dick to her partners mouth and tapping it against the pursed lips surrounded by a five o'clock shadow-

Wait.

What?

Five O'clock shadow?

And to his surprise and wide eyed gaze, he watched as the dude on screen sucked down the cock in front of him with a deep growl, his shaggy hair being moved out of the way by the blonde as she waited her turn.

And instead of his dick deflating into nothing, he let out a noise he would later deny to himself as he ripped his cock out of his sweats and started rapidly stroking his dick as the guy on screen let out slutty noises and tongued down the other dudes dick before sloppily kissing the blonde with the cock in between their lips.

"Fuck, I love this dick," The guy gasped, "Want it all the time."

The blonde giggled and the camera panned to where she was running her finger around his puckered hole, "You want it here baby?"

And as the guy on his knees let out a groan, threw his head back and made his dark hair flutter around his face, Jensen let out the slightest of squeaks as he pulled roughly on his rock hard cock and he felt the pull in his balls become an onslaught of come,"Fuuuuuuuck!"

Sticky white liquid shot out of his cock and onto his stomach as he quickly realized that the reason he came so hard and so long was cause the guy on the screen was a look alike of the guy currently standing with his mouth open at his doorway.

"Jared!"

Shit.

With another squeak, Jensen slammed the laptop shut, ripped his ear buds out and quickly stuffed himself back into his sweatpants before standing up on shaky legs.

Jared blinked at him wide eyed and pink cheeked as he closed his mouth and swallowed hard, closing the trailer door softly behind him, "Uhhhh, Dude, you ever, uh, consider locking your door, if you're gonna jerk the chicken?"

"Dude, you ever consider fucking calling first before you just come over? Or maybe knocking on the fucking door?"

"I DID knock on the fucking door but you obviously had your dirty movie on too loud. AND I TEXTED before I came, like I always do!"

Jensen gave him an incredulous look, "No. You didn't," He shot out as he grabbed up his phone from the couch, "I would have felt the.....oh," Jensen gave him a sheepish glance, "Looks like I put it on silent not vibrate."

Jared's lips twitched into what could have been a smile, "Uh huh," Jared casually pushed passed Jensen's stiff form and plopped himself on the abandoned couch. He spread his arms across the back of it as he glanced up at Jensen through his lashes, "Sooooo, if I hadn't gotten here when I did, would that have been the, uh, next thing you would have pulled out?"

Jensen's eyebrows drew together in confusion, as his humiliation continued to burn through him, "Pulled what out?"

Jared bit his bottom lip, obviously trying not to laugh out loud, "Never mind. Man, its fine. Stop looking at me like you wanna crawl into a hole. We ALL fucking do it. Hell, I jerked off twice in the shower before coming here."

Ignoring the pull of desire in his belly at Jared's words, Jensen groaned out loud and threw himself down onto the other end of the couch and rubbed his hands over his face, "So fucking embarrassing," He muttered into his fingers, refusing to look over at Jared.

A small squeaking sound, slid through the air and sounds of heavy breathing filled the awkward space.

"Yeah baby, just like that. Fuck me with your fingers."

Jensen's head shot up as Jared let out a deep belly laugh and stared at Jensen's re-opened laptop at the kneeling guy on the screen getting his pink hole finger fucked by the blonde chick next to him as he sucked and licked the cock in front of him.

"DUUUUUDE, this is some kinky shit."

"What the fu-? Jay! Why would you turn that back on?!" Jensen threw himself over Jared's lap, ignoring the loud laughter falling out Jared's mouth and frantically pressed buttons until it stopped playing and slammed the laptop shut once again. He whipped his head to the side and glared at the wide grin inches from his face, "You're an asshole, you know that?"

Jared winked at Jensen as he shifted his hips underneath him, poking Jensen in the stomach with something, "You're taking this way too seriously, Man."

Jensen looked down into the small space between him and Jay before slowly leaning back into his own spot on the couch. He couldn't have felt what he thought he did....did he?

With a clearing of his throat, he swallowed and sat back as he ran his hands through his hair, "This is fucking embarrassing!" He repeated.

Shrugging, Jared leaned his head into the back of the couch and rolled his head so it was next to Jensen's, "Soooooo, does this mean....I mean...are you...gay?"

Jensen's eyes widened in alarm as his heart started pounding frantically, "NO! I'm not fucking gay, Jay! Did you not see the chick in the movie? I didn't realize until it was too late that the guy was going to be...involved like that."

Jared sent a sympathetic look at Jensen's panicked gaze, "You know Jen, it's okay if you are. I'm not judging. Like, at all-"

"Jesus, Jared! I'm telling you I'm not-"

"-cause I've swung both ways before soooo.."

"-gay.....what?"

Jensen blinked stupidly at Jared's soft smile and felt like he might pass out from sheer terror mixed with immediate curiosity.

Jared sat up and placed his elbows on his knees before lacing his fingers together, "I'm...I mean I guess...you could call me...bisexual," He shrugged before running his fingers through his hair and Jensen could see a slight tremble despite Jared's calm tone.

"Have you...um...had...you know.."

Another dazzling smile was sent Jensen's way, "Have I ever fucked a guy before?" At Jensen's nod, Jared shrugged, "Yep. Both catcher and pitcher."

"Jesus."

"What? You know if you cant talk about gay sex, you shouldn't be doing gay sex." He said with a mock serious look.

"Yeah, yeah. Well, I'm not. Doing it. I mean. With guys. And lately, not with girls either," Jensen ran a hand against the back of his neck, "Maybe that's the problem. I'm backed up to the point where my brain is floating in sperm and stupidity."

Jared laughed again before placing a hand against the back of Jensen's neck and squeezing it, "Jen, again, not judging. But, uh, coming that hard? Usually signifies that shit is turning you on. And then some."

Jensen gaped at Jared, "How fucking long were you standing there?"

"Long enough to wonder if you were gonna provide a cigarette after the show."

"Dude."

With another squeeze to his neck, Jared smirked, "What can I say, it was seriously hot."

Jensen's poor heart started pounding at an even faster clip, "You...you thought that was hot?"

Jared's smirk dropped and a look that Jensen had never seen before took it's place, "Come on, Man. Have you seen yourself in the mirror? Can you really blame me for thinking that way about you?"

Jensen swallowed. Hard. "What....what way?"

Jared licked his bottom lip and bit it, "How curious are you about this? I don't want to go down a road with you and you wake up the next morning and decide you cant work with me or you don't want to be friends. I value our friendship, Man. Truly. It would kill me not to-."

"Yeah," Jensen interrupted with a soft smile, "It would kill me too."

With a smile of his own, Jared let go of Jensen's neck and sat back, "Sooo, you wanna finish watching the movie?"

Was it possible for stomachs to dip right outta your body? Cause that's what was happening to Jensen's.

"I-uh, I mean, if you, uh, wanna, I mean..."

Taking pity on Jensen's stuttering, Jared reached under the side table and pulled out the bottle of Glenfiddich whiskey he knew was stored there, "Drink first?"

"Fuck yeah."

:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~~:~:~

The first two shots burned on the way down. By the time they were both nursing the third drink, Jensen was feeling the edges of his anxiety start to float away and Jared was sitting closer to him on the couch.

They talked a little more about Jared and his previous male conquests. ("They were pretty. And hot. I have a hard time saying no to pretty and hot.")

And they spoke of how he may not advertise his sexuality but he wasn't ashamed of it either. ("Pussy and dick both make me come. Soooo, why not?")

By the time they reached the point where Jensen felt brave enough to let Jay turn on the laptop, he was sporting some chub thinking of his best friend in these compromising positions.

And if Jay's gaze was any indication, it was very noticeable.

Fucking sweatpants.

Clearing his throat, Jared pressed play and placed it on the couch in between them.

"Suck that cock. Fuck yeah. So fucking hot." The blonde said as she continued to finger fuck the dark haired guys ass before quickly adding a second finger. The blonde slapped one of the guys ass cheeks with her free hand before using the same hand to separate them, "Look how pretty. Can't wait for you to take that monster up in here. Gonna make you eat my pussy while you take it."

Jensen's head was swimming as a deep pulse of lust shot into his stomach and straight to his dick. His mind was quickly replacing the images on screen with him being the one sitting on the couch, running his hand through Jared's hair as he sucked his cock with major enthusiasm.

Fuck, could he really be this hard, this fast?

Sending a surreptitious glance toward Jared, Jensen took another sip of his drink and adjusted himself on the couch, trying to sit in such a way that his wood wasn't so obvious.

He was terribly unsuccessful.

Especially considering he had looked into Jared's lap and saw a massive boner laying against the side of his leg, plainly visible in the track pants he was wearing.

This time, Jensen had to bite his lip to keep in the moan that threatened to fly out of his throat.

"You, uh, you okay?"

Jensen's head shot up at Jared's deep baritone and he swallowed at the look of lust making Jared's eyes darken, "I, uh, maybe this wasn't such a good idea..." He said as he placed his drink on the table next to him.

Jared looked down at the tent in Jensen's sweats, before raising an eyebrow, "You sure about that, Jen?"

At that moment, the dark haired guy on screen let out a loud moan and both of their heads swiveled back to the screen just in time to see him take Big-Dicks cock in his ass. He swiveled his hip and pushed against Big-Dick before licking up the blondes thigh in front of him, plunging his tongue in her pussy.

"Fuck...." Jared let out before he reached down and squeezed his dick through his pants, "That's fucking hot."

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Watching Jared touch himself through his pants was gonna make Jensen blow his wad straight across the room. The throbbing in his sweats was becoming unbearable and mixed with the whiskey in his system, he was ready to say fuck it and whip his dick out.

"Deeper.." The guy on screen begged in between long licks to the blondes pussy, "Deeper, Man. Yeah, just like that."

Big-Dick obliged and he adjusted himself to give the guy long, hard, deep strokes as his partner let out a groan and lay his head on the blondes thigh; his hard cock swinging between his legs with the pounding he was happily taking.

"You like that baby?" The blonde cooed as she ran her fingers through his hair, "Feels good right?"

"Oh my God," Jensen couldn't help but let out softly as he felt his dick dribble out pre-cum into his pants.

Jared looked up into Jensen's face and shuddered out a breath, "Dude, I'm so fucking horny right now that if I don't take out my dick, its gonna explode in my pants."

Jensen shut his eyes at the shot of want that streaked down his spine, "Shit, Jay. You're gonna kill me."

"Is that a yes?"

What to do? Lord knew he was so far gone the room was spinning. Though the whiskey could've had a hand in that as well.

Instead of answering, Jensen reached into his pants and pulled out his throbbing cock and immediately started stroking it from root to tip. He was so worked up, his hips involuntarily canted into his grip and he let out a groan and dropped his head onto the back of the sofa letting it loll to the side, facing Jared.

Jensen watched as Jared's eyes widened at the sight in front of him and he started letting out gasping breaths before reaching into his underwear, pulling out his cock (Big-fucking-cock. Want-it-in-his-mouth-cock) as he pulled down his pants with the other hand. Jay's eyes rolled into the back of his head as he leaned back against the sofa, inches away from Jensen's gasping mouth.

"Fuck..." Jensen whispered as he felt Jared's rapid breaths against his lips. Immediately, he licked his lower lip trying in vain to catch the taste of his best friend and swallow it down. He opened his eyes into slits and peered right into yellow-green orbs as he let out a low moan when his cock jerked in his hand.

He was so fucking close....

Jared let out a deep groan in tandem with Jensen, his mouth hanging slightly open as his hand reached down and played with his sack, "Jen....God...the things I wanna do to you..."

Those thick lips were so close to his own, he could practically feel them opening up and taking everything he had to give. He licked his lips, hoping his tongue would graze against Jared's but instead he felt an answering lick against the tip of his tongue as Jared tentatively rubbed it against his.

"Again...." Jensen groaned, "Please....again."

A sound of complete surrender left Jared's throat as he closed the small distance between their mouths and immediately wrapped his tongue around Jensen's before sucking Jensen's bottom lip into his mouth.

A bomb went through Jensen's torso and immediately erupted out of his dick as he came so hard his eyes crossed and he moaned long and loud into Jared's mouth causing the other man to moan in return. Come arched through the air and landed right on his t-shirt as he closed his mouth over Jared's and kissed him with deep strokes of his tongue.

"Oh God, oh FUCK!"

The loud scream from the laptop caused both men to separate and look down in time to see the dark haired guy on screen on his back getting plowed by Big-Dick as the blonde sucked down his cock.

"I'm gonna come!" He yelled into the air, "I'm gonna come."

As the blonde lifted her face out of the way, he shot up and onto his chest with loud grunts as the guy who had been fucking him pulled out and helped the blonde lap up the come on his chest.

A low groan came from Jared, "Ugggghhh, Jen. Shiiiiit."

Jensen looked to the side just in time to see Jared rip up his T-shirt just as his red tipped dick erupted onto his now exposed stomach.

It was by far one of the hottest fucking things he had ever seen in his life.

As both men leaned back letting out low gasps, Jensen waited for the awkwardness to settle in. But nothing happened. He blinked up at the ceiling of the trailer and tried to trudge up something of the fear that he felt earlier but instead he just felt....content.

"You okay, Jen?"

Jensen turned his head to meet Jared's slightly panicked eyes.

Jared gulped as Jensen didn't immediately answer, "I mean...are we okay?"

Taking in that strong jawline and those beautiful eyes, Jensen smiled, "Yeah. Yeah, Jay. We're good."

Letting out a sigh of relief, Jared closed the laptop between them and placed it on the table before closing the small distance between their bodies. As Jensen felt the heat radiating off of Jared's body bleed into own, he let his eyes slide down to the curve of Jared's lips and couldn't help but bring his mouth to his and press a soft kiss against them. He felt Jared smile before the taller man deepened the kiss and slid one of those massive hands of his across Jensen's t-shirt covered stomach. With a groan into Jensen's mouth. he squeezed at the side of Jensen's waist before meandering his fingers up his chest towards his neck before suddenly stopping and looking down at his hand.

"What's wrong?" Jensen on a breath.

Biting his lip, Jared brought up his shiny fingers, "Dude, you either have a talent for shooting long distance or you really were backed up,"

Jensen's eyes widened, "Is that my-"

"Come? Yep," Jared opened his mouth and inserted his fingers before sucking them deep and releasing them with a pop and a smirk, "Still warm too."

Another dip in his belly as Jensen tried to decide how he felt about watching his best friend lick his come off his fingers. When said friend, winked at him and bit his bottom lip, Jensen decided he was abso-fucking-lutley okay with it, "Fuck. You're gonna kill me."

Jared hummed deep in his throat and leaned his head in to kiss Jensen again when a loud knock sounded at the door.

"Yo! Open up the door! You two fools better not have drank all the alcohol."

Shit! Y/N!

With panicky eyes and fumbling hands righting clothes, Jensen cleared his throat and quickly made it to the door after looking back to make sure Jared was decent.

"Hey!" Y/N said with a bright smile when the door opened, "Sorry I took so long. Crisis with Christy happened. Again!" Y/N said referring to one of the PA's on staff as she made her way around Jensen and to his small kitchenette, "But I brought pizza!" She lifted the box in her hands before placing it on the table, "Hope you guys are hungry."

Jared and Jensen shared a heavy look before Jared answered, "Yeah, I'd say we worked up a pretty decent appetite today."

Y/N looked around the trailer and took a deep breath, swinging around making the short skirt she had on flounce in the air, "It smells like bad decisions in here, Ackles. You really need to clean up after you bang random chick number sixty-nine."

Jared let out a high pitched laugh as Jensen pursed his lips at his friend, "I did not bang any..chick in here. Thank you very much."

Y/N shrugged off her jacket and placed it on the back of a chair before plopping down next to Jared on the couch, "Then you need to figure out which sock is lying around and still hiding the evidence of your last....activities."

"Y/N!"

"Just sayin'."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~**~**~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~~**~

Tagging some peeps that may be interested. Let me know if its not your thing and you’d rather not be tagged.

@thoughtslikeaminefield @maddiepants @coffee-obsessed-writer @pisces-cutie @idreamofplaid @tumbler-tidbits @glassjacket @boondoctorwho @spnkinkbingo

#j2 #j squared #jensen x jared #jensen x y/n #jensen x y/n x jared #supernatural #supernaturalsmut #spinkinkbingo #pining #mutual pining #sexuality crisis

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purkinje-effect · 5 years ago

Text

The Anatomy of Melancholy, 59

Table of Contents. Second Instar, Chapter 26. Go to previous. Go to next. TW: Body horror, nightmare sequence, unreality, incongruous chronology. Self-absorbed.

Lol, we haven’t had a flashback episode yet in Second Instar, have we? Have fun, ‘cause ‘Choly’s not. In the future this becomes another installment in ‘Choly’s Rexford Press Originals. (:

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As he muddled through prescription fulfillment, Carey looked over his shoulder yet again. He saw the customer he anticipated finally entered the drugstore, and hastily finished up his current order. The thirty-some man he’d called earlier that morning had dusty blond side-parted hair, and stood as short as Carey, but seemed more sawed off than grown that way. Owing to the nature of the medication, as the head chemist, only he could take the customer. He pulled the pencil box size prescription carton from the cage, and confirmed it did in fact indicate it was for ‘Sal Mendez.’ He watched Angel busying itself in the front end straightening aisles, and waited until Sal was next in line before hopping onto the other register to wave him over. Mentally unable to set down the box on the counter, he kept it in both hands.

“Apologies, again, Mister Mendez, how it took weeks to get this filled. Calmex is one of the most rationed chems in the country at the moment.”

“I know. I know. But it. I talked to my doc.” Sal frowned to himself, and repeatedly smoothed at his short sleeve silk button down shirt as he eyed the various hard candies at the front counter at length. He eventually looked up at his chemist with a crumpled resignation. “The Milque wasn’t cutting it. You... you sure you don’t need it more? You look peaked, Doc.”

Carey glanced down, at the lab coat tossed over his favorite ochre jumpsuit, the cobalt scarf tucked like a cravat into his collar, and his navy oxfords. He lingered on the unfamiliar braces on both wrists and both ankles, but readily dismissed their explanation as unimportant. What mattered was that he didn’t look the part of his vocation, and a head chemist had to command reassurance and reliability. It was one thing to be haggard, but another altogether if he looked it. Well, that just wouldn’t do! He thought to what Hawthorne could usually put his hands on pretty quick, and weighed his choices against what he thought Sal might find most useful. With a big, wide grin, he straightened and patted at the Milquetoast display on the counter.

“Milquetoast is completely and totally safe. Fantastic for insomnia, shakes and nerves, headaches, nausea, you name it. But... I wouldn’t recommend using it alongside this prescription. Or with alcohol, were you to have access to any.” He leaned in and turned off his customer service voice, to discuss the consultation more privately. “I’ll see what I can do about getting you some Day Tripper, if you can water me down. I’ll even take moonshine at this point, Sal. Between you and me, I thought I was done having this war effort kill me inside-out.”

Sal’s jaw dropped a moment before he, too, leaned in with a nervous smile.

“For you, Mister Carey, I will find you something very nice. Really, though. Should I be worried? To take this? My doctor said it’s tranquilizer. She explained it all to me, but that was weeks ago...”

“Alan!”

Gretchen Nordstern didn’t seem all that gangling from where she sat on the far counter in a Peter Pan collar tea dress with the confidence to match a pair of trousers, chewing a lit cigarillo and taking notes against her lap with the phone receiver wedged between her shoulder and cheek. Her low, dark bun wore a colorful crocheted snood.

“You’ve spent half an hour with that client.” She didn’t have to look up to impose, waving him off with her free hand. “Let Mary and Trudy handle front end already.”

Carey hemmed a spell, unsure how that could be true. But he didn’t want to question his boss. He stared off in her direction as he addressed Sal.

“I, I’m sorry, Mister Mendez. I’ve got others to see to. If you’ve any questions...”

When he turned to his customer, he trailed off. Sal had vanished.

Gretchen shoved into his hands a letterhead with a handful of scripts. He stuttered, glancing it over. Med-X. Clarimentin. Immunoluxe. His eyes glazed over the usual orders until he encountered the words Psycho (Cyclomorphine Chloride). His heart hiccuped, and his eyes briefly lost focus.

“Wh-- Gretchen, please. Please. Please tell me this is some kind of-- How did this-- How did-- It’s on the--” He cleared his throat and whet his lips, but it didn’t help. He shakily pointed to the line on her invoice. “How is this on the market, ma’am.”

“Don’t be such a worrywort. It’s government approved. It underwent rigorous testing before it hit the market. What could possibly be wrong with the stuff!”

He couldn’t argue without breaching military confidentiality. Walden Drugs had to make ends meet somehow, right? And if whoever was getting the Psycho had a prescription for it, at the very least they’d be taking it under a physician’s supervision. He knew the dwindling prescription numbers didn’t mean people weren’t getting sick or injured less often: it meant more people were dying. Between the malcontent of the Canadian annexation, the endless crisis against the Chinese causing the deepest economic depression the country had ever suffered, and the mounting volume of riots taking place on home soil, the United States teetered on a second Civil War. And yet, these factors didn’t explicate in his mind why people had begun to drop like flies as of late.

Usually hear from Jacob by now.

He frowned as he dialed the Lexington branch to call in the Psycho prescription order, and got to completing the invoice Gretchen had given him. He and Jacob had planned that morning to have lunch together at the malt shop. He decided to go check on him and Sal. He hung up his lab coat in the mudroom, and waved to his coworkers to let the two ladies know he’d be stepping out.

“Angel, I’m going on break.”

“Right along, then, Sir!”

The Mister Handy followed at his side.

He popped his head into the small bed and breakfast across the way, wedged between the Wright’s Inn at the corner opposite the drugstore, and the bookstore further down. When he didn’t see Sal, he approached the check-in and asked after him of the young attendant in a chignon and sheath dress. She indicated no one had seen him since the morning. He declined her offer to take a message for him, shook his head, thanked her, and left.

It sat uneasy with him, but he chalked it up to still feeling awful about the local call for cyclomorphine. Nothing that he wanted as far away from him as possible ever stayed very far away for long.

Once a Pick-R-Up passed, he jaywalked with Angel to the hardware store at the corner. Only a few customers loitered, some genuinely lost without advice from an employee, others genuinely considering unattended theft. He got to the foot of the employees-only stairwell, but stopped short of scaling it. His gut quivered.

“Angel, be a dear. Pop up and see if you can find Jacob.”

“Certainly!” It came back quickly. “Not a soul on the roof, Sir.”

He frowned and gestured that they leave. His leg felt tight and stiff, but he shrugged it off.

Hm. Was I limping earlier? No, I’ve had this limp a long time already.

On his way back down the street, Carey glanced in the windows of the malt shop. Jacob wasn’t there either, nor Sal. Jacob’s car was still parked outside the hardware store. The repairman was disinclined to go anywhere on foot all that much if he could avoid it, so Carey doubted his roommate had gone home for lunch without saying anything about it. He gave up on the idea of malt shop food, as he preferred to share it. Instead, he sat down across the street from the drugstore, on the Wright’s Inn’s spacious porch, with a Nuka Cherry from their vending machine and an order of three arancini from Piretti’s Bakery. Sometimes the texture of the rice balls reminded him of ezhiki, and he got a bit homesick.

I should just stick to Melancholia. There’s only one flavor of toska to it.

He noticed the construction sounds in front of the municipal plutonium well had ceased. He glanced up with his mouth full to see there were no workers in the street. He supposed it was their lunchtime, too. When he finished eating, he required Angel’s help to stand again.

Am I starting to feel my age, or am I just that full?

He returned to work. Once he had on his coat again and come back out to the front end, he saw some kids poorly picking the lock on the adult care case. He side-eyed Angel, who handed him the keys. Spinning the wrist coil on a finger, he strolled up with confidence that belied his limp.

“Hey there, gentlemen! Looking to buy some No-Gesta today, I see. A fine choice in preventative care!”

The boys sputtered in embarrassment at being caught trying to shoplift. Angel simply hovered behind them to cut off their back escape route out of the drugstore, while Carey withdrew an entire case of product. They followed the veteran in service uniform speechlessly to the counter. The older one scrambled through his pockets along the way, desperate to figure out if he even had enough to buy what they’d intended to steal.

“I’ll tell you what!” the chemist announced--in his stress of recognizing he’d put on the wrong white coat, a little too loudly--though they seemed largely alone all the same. “They’re usually fifteen dollars each, but if you buy six, I’ll give ‘em to you for seventy-five.”

“Gee, that’s awful generous of you,” the older one started, urging the younger one to play along, so as to curb the possibility Carey might call the police on them. “Bruce, you wanna go in on this with me fifty-fifty?”

“Only if that’s the only thing-- never mind. Lemme count how much I got.” He produced a fistful of wadded papers Carey could tell weren’t money. “I’ve got twenty-eight bucks. What about you, Jeb?”

“Thirteen. Awful.”

Carey smiled with a twisted, cool benevolence as he set two out of the case and nudged what was left toward the boys.

“How about just four, then. Hm?” He wagged an eyebrow and held out his upturned palm expectantly. They uncertainly exchanged all their cash for the prophylactic kits with entendred packaging which resembled an exclamation point but reminded of something else entirely. He tucked them into a paper bag and folded it off lackadaisically, then handed it to them. “Off you are, then!”

Mary walked up soon after he shooed off the boys. The older squared, thick woman, in a pencil dress and cardigan, held a hand to her mouth to hush herself, aghast.

“You sold No-Gesta to some high schoolers?”

“You’d rather they have stolen it?” He shrugged at her. “Age means nothing whether someone needs that sort of care. They’ll copulate, whether or not they can get things like No-Gesta--and wouldn’t you rather they did so safely?” He tucked the vaguely paper-like wad into the register, and his glasses dipped off his nose, caught from falling by his eyeglass chain. “Besides, a sale’s a sale, and customers get scarce.”

Why haven’t I been more worried where everybody’s gotten off to?

He looked out to find Jacob’s car had been left, abandoned and askew, run up onto the sidewalk. Like it was, morning of the bombs. The cognitive disconnect insisted he had no idea what he could have meant. He slipped his glasses back in place.

“Hey, Angel...” He cleared his throat. “Have you-- Have you seen Jacob?”

“What a silly question, Sir! Just look down!”

He did, and succumbed to fever, short breath, and sweats. His legs writhed, granular, tumescent, and grotesque, more like a filariasis than the countless bodies he knew comprised them. The tightness and swelling paralyzed him from the waist down, and kept him upright in substitute of bones or any meaningful ligature. He identified Duchesne among the clumped, corpuscular rivulets, and choked up.

He looked up. Gretchen, Mary, and Trudy were nowhere to be seen.

He didn’t have to look down again to understand he’d soaked them up as well. He dry heaved, to no effect. Desperate to reach help from someone, anyone, he tried to walk to the phone at the other end of the counter, only to fall after a single step. And he continued falling, into himself, having become an infinite labyrinth of flesh, a Klein bottle of grief.

Concord’s empty because I subsumed everyone. He cried, slipping through narrow, trembling corridors of sopping tissue. I’m the sole survivor of Vault 111 because I stole survival opportunity from them all. I stole this from my customers and coworkers. From my neighbors. From Jacob. Everyone gave their lives, so I could keep living.

And for what!

Go to Next »»»

#fallout 4 #fallout 4 fanfic #fo4 #fo4 fanfic #sole survivor #the anatomy of melancholy #melancholy #angel #mister handy #concord #nightmare sequence #body horror #flashback

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dearlazerbunny · 5 years ago

Text

Lie to Me (Ch. 14 of 28)

Pairings: Loki x Reader

Genre/Ratings: M eventually (aiming for a slow burn here); warnings for kidnapping and subsequent anxiety/PTSD (will be marked before every chapter)

Words: 2,700

Summary: If you had to guess what the captured, traitor, trickster god Loki Laufeyson wanted or needed at this moment, a babysitter would be far, far down on the list. (Set after the events of Avengers 1.)

SHOUTOUT TO @molmcb and @jessiejunebug, who are now happily living in my closet amongst my cosplays and stuffed animals

Requested Tags: @deraniel, @iamverity, @yasnooshka24, @wegingerangelica, @themusingsofmany, @dark-night-sky-99, @tarynkauai, @stuffandstuff-stuff, @angelicshinigami, @my-current-fandom-is, @geekysimmerthings

Another vague email, another secret meeting. Par for the course you suppose. You brace yourself to walk into another room full of superheroes, but thankfully when you push open the door there’s just two relatively standard-stock agents in black suits, albeit with incredibly stony faces. The man gestures for you to sit, and you do so at the head of the table, so the pair are flanking you on either side.

“Hello.” You set your stuff down. “Can I help you?”

The female on your right, wearing her hair in a severe bun, raises a perfectly groomed eyebrow at you. “Do you know why you’re here, agent?”

“No, you guys didn’t exactly put it in the subject line,” you joke, but are met with nothing but glares. Yikes. Tough crowd. “Am I… did I do something?”

“Not precisely.” The man sitting on your left hand side pulls out a few unassuming folders and sets them across from you. “My name is Sitwell. We recently received a few… interesting reports, from Agent Barton.”

Oh, crap. This can’t be good. “I see. What about?”

“How long have you been assigned to Loki, Y/N?”

“Um-” you count back the months in your mind. “It’s been a while. Eight months? Nine?”

“And what would you say your relationship to the prisoner is?”

You can’t help but wince a little at how he says the word prisoner. “Friendly, I guess. I mean, you talk to someone every day for almost a year, you get used to them, I suppose.”

The man- Sitwell- nods. “Agent Barton expressed similar sentiments. While it appears your assignment has been going smoothly, there have been concerns regarding your ability to maintain… neutrality.”

You bristle. “What does that mean?”

He slides a folder towards you, flipping it open. “You were in D.C. for the Incident, correct?” You nod. “I’d like for you to take a look at some photos.”

The first photo, in horrifically excellent quality, is a skyscraper crumpled to ruin, its steel bones twisted and mangled into a fatal position. The street before it is upended, with concrete shattered everywhere.

You know what these pictures are from. You’ve seen the news. The city workers pushing rubble from one place to the next. The memorial reels commemorating the funerals of those caught in the crossfire that day.

Despite trying to brace yourself, your stomach twists at the images of carnage marring New York’s proudest city. You aren’t heartless, you can imagine the anxiety that permeates the alleyways. Once, it was the city that never sleeps. Then someone finally put its lights out.

“If you’ll flip to the last photo, please.” A picture of an incredibly unassuming man greets you. Receding hairline, watery blue eyes, same professional yet nondescript suit everyone wears around SHIELD. You squint at the headshot. His tie has a subtle design on it- do they really make neckties with Captain America’s shield on it?

Apparently you asked that last question out loud, because Sitwell gives you what you assume is the closest you’ll get to a smile from him. “They do, though I believe he had this one specially made.” He sobers. “Did you know Phil Coulson, agent?”

Oh. So this is the agent everyone’s had on the tip of their tongue. Apparently he was a legend around here- Fury’s right-hand man, both the Black Widow and Hawkeye’s handler, not to mention all the fantastical rumors of his own exploits. It’s something of an initiation process, scaring the interns with stories of how he battled his way out of a secret underground HYDRA base and escaped the Amazon with nothing but a Dasani water bottle and a popsicle stick. “No. I mean, I know of him. Everyone does. But he was gone before I transferred.”

Sitwell nods. “Phil Coulson was a very special man. Unfailing loyalty, a sharp eye, and a knack for keeping us all out of trouble.” He pauses. “He was one of my best friends.” You’d known that even before he had told you, just based on the admiration and grief in the agent’s voice. “He was also one of the most personal tragedies to result from the Manhattan Crisis.”

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you.” He nods elegantly, graciously. “There are, of course, dozens of other agents who ended up in the crossfire. Not to mention the civilian count.”

“Why are you showing me this?” You ask tiredly, even though you already know the answer.

“We thought it prudent to remind you who we have in that cell, and why.” The folder is closed; the pictures of a devastated city fade back into history. “Loki Laufeyson is not your friend, agent Y/L/N, nor is he someone to be reformed, rehabilitated, or empathized with.” His words are crisp and incredibly cold; hailstones biting at your cheeks in December. “He is an inter-dimensional war criminal with hundreds of innocent lives hanging over his head. He is a murderer, a manipulator, and a liar. He speared Coulson through the chest and left him to bleed out on the floor. Do not forget that,” he adds gently.

You open your mouth to say- something. To defend him, or yourself, or both. But nothing comes. Sitwell and his friend rise from their seats and tuck cream folders neatly under their arms. “Thank you for your time, agent.” When the door closes behind them, you’re still sitting blankly, imagining Phil Coulson staring blankly at you with just a hint of a smile in his blue eyes.

XXX

“Copper for your thoughts, darling?”

You smile wearily at Loki, head propped on your hand. “It’d be a waste of a penny; I’m not thinking anything in particular.”

“Mmm, I do not believe so. It’d be nothing compared to your attention. But beyond that, something is clearly wrong.” He gestures to you, at your shoulders that are clearly slumped and your fingers twisting anxiously. “Tell me about it?”

You sigh and force yourself to stop fidgeting. “I was called into a meeting. It wasn’t very fun.”

He hums noncommittally, clearly waiting for you to elaborate.

Everything in you hesitates. You don’t want to go there. You really don’t. In the beginning, you told yourself you wouldn’t because it wasn’t your job; later, it didn’t really seem to matter. But if you’re being honest, it’s been digging at the back of your brain for a while now. Every so often you’d be laughing with him and then suddenly stop and think to yourself, this is the man who tried to take over the world. Loki is a tricky, temperamental bastard with a lot of issues, but world domination always seemed a bit… much? You can’t reconcile the carnage downtown with the man sitting across from you. And yet…

“Promise you won’t get mad?”

Loki tilts his head, worried. “I suppose. Is everything alright?”

“… why’d you do it?”

He doesn’t ask what you’re referring to.

For a minute the both of you just look at each other. Your gaze isn’t accusatory, it isn’t angry or demanding- simply confused, and a little sad. Loki, similarity, doesn’t react with heat or deflection or any of his hundreds of other tools of the trade. He looks sad, too, and considers you with a heaviness that’s tangible all the way across the room. “You don’t have to say anything. I just-” you drop head in your hands, as though it’s suddenly too much to hold it up. “If I’m being honest, I’ve been trying to wrap my brain around it for a long time. And then they showed me these pictures, and I guess an agent you, um… stabbed… and it- doesn’t make sense.” You can see your own reflection mirrored over Loki in the glass, just slightly superimposing your features on his own. “I like to think that I know you. I want to think that I know you. But everyone keeps trying to convince me that you’re not the person I think I know.”

You shake your head and laugh a little at yourself with a weary tone. “I’m sorry. I’m probably not making any sense.”

“You always speak intelligently, Witling. I admire you for that.” He laces his hands in front of him, as he does when he wants to keep himself still. “It is… complicated. And incredibly ugly.” He glances at you. “I would not wish to burden you with the story.”

“I’ve got nothing but time.” You smile a little at him, though it’s tinged with melancholy. “And I think we’ve established I’ve got a decent perspective on ugly stories.”

You feel his green eyes on you- such a familiar feeling, even though now it makes you shift anxiously in your seat. “I suppose you deserve to know. You are one of the few who have shown me any grace for my actions.” In a graceful movement, he criss-crosses his long legs in front of him, and lets his elbows rest on his knees. “You know of the events in New Mexico?”

“More or less.”

“It was, in essence, a desperate scheme to win the affections of my father. To prove my worthiness in the eyes of someone who had never seen me as such.” Loki is excellent at hiding his feelings when he wants to, but by now you can see through all the façades he throws up to protect himself. “I had discovered my heritage in… less than ideal circumstances. I believed Thor’s downfall was my chance to claim everything I’d ever yearned for, only to realize those dreams were never possible to begin with. My anger was- immense.” Something in his voice cracks. “I was mourning so many different lives. My childhood, my Aesir form, my father’s son and an heir to Asgard. Everything I had ever known was simply an illusion waiting to be shattered.” He grimaces. “I did not handle it well.”

You don’t think your chest has ever hurt this much. “I don’t think anyone would, Loki. You can’t blame yourself for feeling angry.”

“What has anger every gained us,” he says softly, as though he’s quoting some wise scholar.

You don’t know what to say to that.

“I pleaded with my father over the broken Bifrost,” he says, “asking him if he could ever truly love me the way any child craves. And he denied me that simple need once and for all.”

“Loki-”

He shakes his head. “Thor was holding me aloft over the abyss. He would have pulled me to safety, I am sure of it. But instead- I let go.”

In your entire life, you don’t think you’ve ever heard anyone sound so broken as he does in this moment. It makes you physically ache, and you want to take his grief and shoulder it yourself so he might have a spare moment of peace; let your thumb rub away the lines etched in his face until they smooth into something happier.

“When Thanos found me, I did not have the strength or heart to resist.”

Your eyebrows furrow. “Who is-”

“Don’t,” Loki warns. “Please. He is…” he mumbles a few things under his breath, but in languages you can’t understand. “He is a titan that has risen from the depths intent on his own ideas of perfection. His cruelty is outshone only by his ambition.” You can’t hold back a small noise of dismay when you notice his fingers are trembling. “I could not have fallen into his power at a more opportune time.”

“I will not claim to be wholly innocent. I am not. When he offered me dominion over Thor’s beloved Earth, I did not stay my hand from the weapon he gave me. But only after I received it did I realize his true intentions.” He takes a shaky breath, and presses his spine to the wall behind him, like he needs the support. “Casualties the likes of which you could not imagine. Violence, brutally meted without hesitation. The entire galaxy balanced in the palm of his hand. I tried to run- but I was weak, and now he had a grip on my very being.” The smile he gives is mirthless, haunted. “I am not easily broken. But they did so… effortlessly.”

By now you’ve drawn your knees up to your chest and wrapped your arms around them, curling in on yourself as tight as you can manage. It’s like the room has dropped in temperature, slowly freezing your blood from the inside out. “What did…” you trail off, your voice thin enough to crack the most fragile sheet of ice. “Do I want to know?”

“I would not tell you even if you did.” You roughly wipe away a tear with the heel of your hand. “But the heat was immeasurable, and the scars were thoroughly and deliberately gifted.”

You wince reflexively. “How do you torture a frost giant,” you murmur, trying to push all kinds of horrific images out of your mind.

He nods briefly. “Precisely. All the while the infinity stone was working its power. I can resist thrall more than most, but not completely.”

“You mentioned an infinity stone before.”

“The mind stone is one of them. It is housed in the scepter Thanos gave me; the one I brought to Midgard during the invasion.”

Pieces are coming together one by one, into a warped and twisted sort of understanding. “That scepter- you used it to brainwash Barton, and everyone else.”

“Yes.”

“And it was also… controlling you?”

“Not so completely. I could resist in certain moments.”

“No, but- Loki.” You sit forward, trying to understand what he’s telling you. “It was controlling you. You were being controlled. Just like Barton. Just like all the others.”

“One could say.”

“Loki! This means- it means it wasn’t your fault!” You’re a strange mix of hopefulness, wrath, depression, and enlightenment. “Does SHIELD know this? Do the Avengers?”

“No,” he says fiercely, and he pins you with that gaze of his. “And you will not tell them.”

That stops you short. “Why-?”

“Because I am guilty no matter the circumstances, darling.” His voice is gentle, like he’s trying to let you down easy. “I did not refuse Thanos’ offer.”

“You had just fallen through space and time after your entire identity was stolen from you,” you retort. “Even if the latter hadn’t happened, would you have physically been able to resist after your fall? Enough to escape?”

“I- do not know.”

“Loki.” You sit back and rub your eyes. “This changes everything.”

“It doesn’t.”

“It does! If Barton isn’t being held responsible for what he did when he wasn’t in control of his body then you sure as hell shouldn’t be!”

“Witling-”

“When Fury knows he’ll have to-”

“He will not know! And you-” he looks at you firmly, “will not tell him. Anyone. Promise me, Witling.”

“But why? Loki, you could clear your name-”

“He is the most dangerous thing in the galaxy,” he hisses, “and he will be coming back.” When your eyes widen, Loki closes his own and takes a deep breath to steady himself. “I fear it more than Ragnarok,” he says simply. “I would not bring any more destruction to this world than I already have. At least for now.”

You’re ready to argue, ready to fight with him tooth and nail until he realizes just how not at fault he actually is for this whole catastrophe- but you can’t bring yourself to do it. Not when he’s shivering and vulnerable and minutes away from tipping into a headspace you know would be hell to drag him out of.

“Okay.” He looks at you. “I- I don’t agree with it. But I trust you. I won’t tell anyone, I promise.”

“Thank you.”

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. “Thank you for telling me.”

Loki nods, his face exhausted and drawn. “In here, I would trust you before I trust myself.”

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