#and second of all most of the time if you actually look with your eyeballs you’d see that it isnt the exact same piece of clothing at all

[chronic-invisibility]

It’s so weird to me how every time i start engaging in a new fandom and i see people who ship two of the characters/actors coming up with the wildest fan theories, like sometimes people are so blinded by the need to gush about their *uwu gayboys* that they lose the ability to observe physical objects and also be fucking normal about anything ever.

[strang3lov3]

Catnap

Joel interrupts your nap on his thighs. (1.5k)

Tags - dubcon, pervy!joel, blowjob, joel jorkin’ it just a little, manspreading, napping Fic help - @beefrobeefcal thank you for giving me your eyeballs! A/N - for @toxicanonymity’s Manspreading Olympics. I realize this has only a smidgeon of manspreading but I figure better some than none, right? That’s the general rule of thumb with manspreading anyway.

On Joel’s worn, overstuffed couch, you find your eyelids becoming heavy as the old movie plays on an old CRT TV; the screen looks fuzzy and the sound is tinny. Joel’s right next to you, and unlike you, intently watching the movie. He pays you no mind until he feels your head gently fall to the side, now resting on his shoulder. He looks down at you and feels your cold hands wrap around his thick forearms as you snuggle into his side. “Hey, you,” he whispers. “You fallin’ asleep on me?”

“Mm-mm,” you mumble, burying your face in his neck to shield your eyes from the light pouring in from the window. You inhale him, the sweat on his skin and the faint smell of his soap. The wiry, graying hairs of his beard scratch and tickle your forehead. “I’m not even tired.” 

“Oh, sure you aren’t,” Joel teases. He nudges you with his shoulder, “Why don’tcha lay down, kiddo. I know you need it.” 

“Mm-mm.” 

You’re speaking in just syllables now, low-effort hums and mumbles as your head becomes cloudy and Joel’s voice feels like it’s getting farther and farther away.

“Just a catnap,” he urges, speaking in a low and gentle tone, “Twenty minutes.”

Twenty minutes. You can do twenty minutes. An hour or more is too much, you’d be waking up even more tired than you are now. Ten minutes is too little, doesn’t give you enough time to actually drift off into sleep. Twenty minutes is perfect. “Okay.” 

“Hop off’a me for a second,” Joel gently pushes you in the opposite direction and gets up from the couch to adjust the blinds. He twists the rod until the blinds block out most of the light coming from outside, then sits back down at his place on the couch and pats his lap. “Lay down.”

You lay down and rest your head on Joel’s thick, meaty thighs, your face turned toward his soft belly, where you can see the trail of hairs traveling down his abdomen. You hadn’t noticed before that his jeans were undone. “Go to sleep, now,” he murmurs. He pulls an old crocheted blanket off of the armrest of the couch and lays it over your body, making sure it’s tucked over your shoulders and under your toes. Joel then snakes his hand beneath the blanket and tugs your shirt up your back to gently scratch your skin, lazily dragging his fingers up and down your spine. With his free hand, he turns down the volume of the TV. It’s not five minutes before you’re sleeping peacefully on his lap, curled up like a kitten. 

When the movie ends, Joel peers down at you. Your lips are plump and parted as you breathe steady, short breaths. You look so relaxed, so innocent and peaceful as you sleep. Joel can’t help but to stroke your cheek with the back of his hand, push some hair out of your eyes. He chuckles quietly when he notices that you’re drooling on him, soaking a little damp spot right onto the crotch of his jeans. Joel uses his thumb to swipe some of that spit away and fuck, there’s a lot. 

He finds himself staring at your lips, all wet and warm. He thinks about that warm, wet mouth of yours, how good your lips would feel wrapped around his cock. He sighs and palms his growing erection, massaging his member over his jeans. But it’s not enough, and Joel’s growing anxious to relieve himself. 

Delicately, cautiously, Joel reaches beneath his jeans and pulls his half-hard cock out, not-so accidentally brushing the head across your lips. He spits into his palm and begins to stroke himself, sliding his hand up and down his length. But it’s still not enough - he’s cramped, limited like this. What he really needs to do is spread his legs, give himself room to breathe, room to cup and gently squeeze his balls. He spreads his legs and he knows he should be careful not to wake you, but his mind quickly changes. At this point, that’s his intention. To wake you up, slide his cock down your throat. He strokes his cock, deliberately nudging your face with it. 

It works like a charm. You stir a little, brows knitting together before you wake up with slightly bloodshot eyes, staring in confusion as Joel touches himself. “Shoot, I didn’t mean to wake ya,” he lies. You sit up a little, Joel notices the indentations of his denim on your cheek. He rubs his thumb over the marks, soothing them. “M’sorry, kiddo.” 

Joel continues stroking his length as you watch. “Oh, fuck. Goddamn,” he curses, then presses his thick, blunt head against your lips, smearing his precome on them. “Open,” he tells you, making the decision for you. “You’re gonna take care of it.” 

He adjusts you a little, then pushes his cock harshly into your mouth so that you gag and sputter on it. “Ohh, I know,” he coos. “You’ll get used to it.”

Joel tangles his fingers in your hair, eyes rolling back into his skull as you take his length down your throat. He rocks his hips up and down, drawing in and out of your mouth. His cock has now stiffened to its fullest size, and you have to open your mouth wide to accommodate him. “Fuck, baby. That’s it, that’s it.” 

His cock pulses under your tongue as he rolls his hips, doing the majority of the work himself. He can see it on your face that you’re not entirely lucid, with your droopy, glassy eyes. He fucks your mouth all the same, head leaning back onto the couch, a little bit of sweat begins to gather on his tummy and on his forehead. You let out a quiet, sweet little moan for him. “Atta girl, baby. Make some noise for me,” he grunts. “Tell me how much you like my cock down your throat. S’it feel good, pretty girl?”

“Mm,” you hum, nodding your head as your eyes flutter shut. 

“Makin’ such a mess of me,” he murmurs. In your drowsy state, you’ve completely soaked him. Spit dribbles down your lips, down your chin, matting that thick patch of graying curls that surrounds his shaft. He fumbles around and reaches for one of your hands, then guides you to cup his balls gently. You squeeze them gingerly, rhythmically as he fucks your throat. 

Joel yanks the crocheted blanket off of your body and slides his hand down your back, then tugs your pants down your thighs, exposing your ass to the cool air. His hands are warm as he gropes fistfulls of your flesh in time with each of his thrusts. He feels your tongue traveling along his shaft, tracing up and down that swollen, pulsing vein that climbs the underside of his cock, causing him to gasp and bite down on his own moans. “Oh, fuck. You take it so good, kiddo.” 

He squeezes his eyes shut as he revels in the feeling of being enveloped in your heated mouth, absentmindedly pushing you down on his cock, then pulling you back up again. He’s losing his gentle touch as he approaches climax, but he can’t help it. Your mouth, your tongue. It’s all so velvety, so warm and inviting and wet. “Fuck, right there. Right there. Don’t move, sweetheart, just stay like that. I’m comin’.” 

His fingernails dig into your skin, dangerously close to your pussy as he rolls his hips at a quicker pace. You’re whining, crying softly as he fucks your mouth. With a few more shallow, quick thrusts, Joel feels that warm, sticky feeling in his gut. His balls tighten and his cock twitches between your lips and he lets out a deep and guttural groan, emptying himself down your throat. You swallow every drop of that salty, warm spend that he gives you, humming when he finally pulls out of your mouth. Joel’s chest heaves as he catches his breath, and you press a couple of kisses onto his heavy balls. “You’re a good girl, baby,” he praises. “You’re so good.” 

Joel notices a stray bead of his come sitting on your swollen lips, then collects it with his thumb and pushes it back into your mouth. He tucks himself back into his jeans, then helps you adjust to a comfortable position on his lap, similar to the one you rested in before. “There you go,” he mumbles. “That’s all better, hm?”

You lazily nod your head, “Mhm.” 

Joel pulls the blanket back over your body, just like he did before. “Alright, honey. Go back to sleep.” 

If you enjoyed, please reblog, send an ask, tell me your thoughts! Your kind words keep me motivated to write.

[flowersforbucky]

higher than heaven

bucky barnes x reader

summary: bucky's first time smoking 🍃 since the 40s. bucky finds you smoking alone one night, leading to two of you growing much closer.

warnings/tags: use of marijuana, language, brief use of alcohol, nightmares, ptsd, anxiety, pining and tension, heated kissing, friends to lovers, pretty fucking fluffy, no use of y/n, fem reader, 18+ only

author's note: no smut? gasp! everything else i've written for bucky has contained smut so bare with me, i just wanted to take a break for some fun and fluffy (but still tension-filled) toking.

a/n 2: bucky and reader smoke in this, but i wouldn't say that's the main focus of this fic, just something that brings them closer together. i tried not to focus too much on that aspect, and also tried not to give too vivid of descriptions of being stoned so hopefully readers who don't smoke 🍃 can still enjoy this fic for the fluff and feels. however, if this is a triggering topic for you in any way, please be careful and read at your own discretion 🖤

word count: 5.5k

my masterlist

The Avenger's compound truly has everything you could ever need. A state of the art gymnasium and training center, indoor and outdoor pools, beautifully maintained grounds with walking trails and lake access.

And, one of your favorite things, no shortage of secluded smoking spots.

Tonight's choice? The roof directly above the living quarters. This is likely the spot that you frequent the most, out of sheer convenience.

You keep a couple of extra folding chairs stashed in the stairwell, for the rare occasions that you can convince Natasha or Wanda to relax enough to join you.

Tonight, like most nights, you're by yourself. You don't mind - you enjoy this alone time. You usually come up here after missions to unwind before passing out in your bed.

It’s a chilly night, with temperatures finally dropping down into the low fifties as the early days of fall approach. You're bundled up in an oversized hoodie, sipping on oolong tea to warm you from the inside. In your left hand you clutch the warm mug, and with your right you pinch the tail-end of a burning joint between your thumb and index finger.

You've been up here long enough to have already burnt through one joint, and you now take slow, heady hits of a second as you wait for the meteor shower that's expected to begin over the northeastern United States any minute.

The creaking of the large metal door that leads to the roof startles you, causing you to break your gaze away from the stars littered above you in the New York sky. All the times you've come up here to watch the sunsets over the lake, no one has stumbled upon you. You're surprised by who emerges from the doorway a second later.

Bucky freezes in his tracks when he notices you sitting just a few yards in front of him.

“Oh, sorry,” he pauses, seemingly glancing around the roof to see if there's anyone else here with you. “I didn't expect - I didn't think anyone would be up here right now,” he stutters out.

“You're good,” you smile at him over your shoulder before turning your attention back to the sky. “Trying to get a good view of the meteors?”

“Yes, actually,” he says, surprised. You hear his boots scratching the pavement of the roof as he walks closer to you. You look up at him when he comes to a stop right next to where you're sitting.

“Well, you've come to the right place.” You gesture towards the scenery in front of you - the endless inky sky overlooking the lake next to the compound. “There's some extra chairs stashed in the stairwell, if you'd like one.”

“I didn't know that you smoke,” he says curiously, eyeballing the blazing joint still clutched between your fingers. He visibly sniffs a couple times, as if to confirm that he is indeed smelling what he thinks he is. He doesn't acknowledge your offer of a chair, instead choosing to sit directly on the cement, criss-crossing his legs at the ankles.

“Are you going to tell on me?” You ask as if what you're doing isn't perfectly legal and your friends don't already know.

“Your secret is safe with me,” he smirks up at you, eyes flicking between you and the joint.

“Want a hit?” You offer, extending your hand towards him. He hesitates, uncertainty blooming across his features.

“I haven't smoked since the forties,” he starts with an awkward laugh. He reaches up, carefully taking the joint from you and pinching it between his own two fingers and inspecting it. “I still remember the last joint I smoked before finding out that I had been drafted. If I had known it was going to be my last, I would've appreciated it a lot more.” There's a hint of nostalgia in his words.

You picture it - baby-faced Bucky, in his early twenties, with glossy blue eyes and a lazy, content smile. The thought makes your cheeks warm, and a small, sad smile spreads across your own face. That was a literal lifetime ago, and you didn't know if he had felt as carefree since then.

“Well,” you begin after a sip of your tea. “You're no longer property of the United States Army, or HYDRA, or any organization. So if you want to smoke, then smoke. And if not, that's okay, too, but give me my joint back because you're burning perfectly good weed right now.”

He chuckles at your scolding before bringing the joint up to his own lips and taking a slow, long puff. There's a sharp inhale before he erupts into a coughing fit, smoke billowing out in a cloud in front of him. You give him a few awkward pats on the back while he works through the burn that he is undoubtedly feeling in his esophagus.

“Damn, I've missed that,” he sighs once he has regained his composure. He holds the dwindling joint back up to you.

You shake your head. “Finish it off,” you insist. “I've already had one tonight. It’s all yours.”

You expect him to argue but to your surprise, he takes a second hit. And a third, and fourth, while you sit next to him in an amicable, comfortable silence. Soon, there's nothing left but a small roach that he stubs out against the cement next to where he sits.

“How're you feeling?” You ask, knowing that his tolerance has to be in the negatives if he hasn't smoked in over seventy years.

“If twenty-two year old Bucky knew that I was this stoned off half a joint, he'd never let me hear the end of it,” he says with an amused smile, propping back on the palms of his hands to stare up at you.

“Well, I think one-hundred and six year old Bucky is doing just fine for himself,” you muse. “Twenty-first century weed has got to be more potent than whatever dirt weed you were smoking in the forties, so cut yourself some sla–”

“I did not smoke dirt–”

“Look!” you exclaim, cutting him off as you point up at the sky. He goes quiet, following your gaze.

You both watch in awed silence as flashes of bright white-blues and purples begin to dash across the sky above you. At first, there's a bolt here and a bolt there - but before you know it, there's dozens - too many meteors to count, here and then gone in the blink of an eye. Where one disappears, another takes its place.

You lose track of how long the two you sit there, on the roof, under the shower of the shooting stars - and it has nothing to do with being stoned. They are just that mesmerizing.

“I think we’re supposed to make a wish,” you murmur after a long while, remembering the old legend about shooting stars. You watch the last few meteors as they burn out, and then the sky goes dark once more. When he doesn't respond, you glance down at where he sits to find that his eyes are closed.

You smile to yourself - you didn't actually plan on making a wish, and you definitely didn't expect him to. You figure that he is just humoring you, but you can't help but think how adorable it is nonetheless. You can't stop yourself from snorting a laugh, causing his eyes to snap open and up at you.

“What? Did you make your wish?” he demands, his tone serious.

You hum. A familiar, glowing warmth grows from your lips and down to your toes despite the chilly night air as you stare at him. You tell yourself it’s a physical effect of the marijuana.

“I think I’m good, actually.”

••••••

Every year, a different member of the Avengers chooses a charity to hold a gala in honor of.

Sam's choice last year, Homes For Our Troops, build specially adapted, custom homes for severely injured veterans. Natasha's choice the year before that, Children of the Night, is a non-profit organization dedicated to rescuing and rehabilitating children who have been victims of prostitution.

Always funded by the Stark Relief Foundation, always held in the most high-profile and illustrious venues that money can buy, and always filled to the brim with every philanthropist and major news reporter in the state of New York.

This year, for the first time, it was your turn to select a charity. You decided on Women For Women International - a noble and worthy cause that you are proud to raise awareness and donations for. However, now that three hours into the gala, you are fucking burnt out. From the moment that you and your teammates arrived at the venue, guests and reporters began forming lines for their chance at interviewing you or getting their picture taken with you. You feel like you’ve talked to every person in the building, except for the one person that you truly wanted to. Add in a ten minute long speech addressing five hundred plus guests, you are drained. Physically, mentally, and socially drained.

“You did incredible with your speech,” a soft voice says from behind you. “All that worrying for nothing.”

You're exhaling a sigh of relief at the familiar voice before you've finished turning around to meet his dimpled grin and deep blue eyes. You think he might just be as ready as you are to get out of here with the way he's already loosened his tie and unbuttoned the top button of his tux. His hair is tousled - though you haven't had a free moment to speak with him since the car ride over here with Sam and Steve, you have no doubt that he's ran his fingers through the short locks a few dozens times throughout the evening - a habit that flares up every time he's out of his element. With this being the first gala he's attended as an Avenger, and possibly the first gala he's ever attended, you're surprised he has any hair left.

“I wouldn't say for nothing,” you turn back to the bar in front of you and wave a singular finger to the bartender, signaling your desire for another drink. “I stuttered at least eight times, and lost my place on the page twice. I felt like I was going to puke shrimp cocktail and espresso martini all over the podium.”

You can see him grimace from your peripheral vision. He pulls out the barstool next to where you stand, and then takes a seat. You're pinned between the chair on the opposite side of you and his thigh, the cool silk of his pants tickling the bare skin of your leg where your dress cuts off just above mid-thigh. Close enough that you can feel warmth radiate from him and smell the essence of his piney aftershave. Subconsciously, you relax for the first time all evening.

“You are your own worst critic,” he reminds you, repeating the sentiment that he’s been saying to you for the last few weeks, anytime the gala or your speech would come up in conversation. “No one else noticed if you stuttered. They’re all too full of liquor, or too concerned with getting their photo op with Iron Man or The Hulk..” he trails off, glancing over his shoulder at where Tony and Bruce are both striking signature poses for some selfies with guests.

“And what about you? Have any of your fangirls begged you to take a picture with them?” You smirk at him as the bartender slides your martini across the countertop. You angle your body so that you’re now turned to face him, leaving practically no space between the two of you.

“More than I can count,” he exhales, and you force a laugh to not roll your eyes - not that you were surprised or that you could blame them for wanting their picture taken with him.

“Well, I’m glad that we were able to raise so much money,” you sigh into your drink. “But I would be lying if I said I’m also not glad that it’s over with. I’m ready to get these shoes off, submerge myself in a hot bath, and then sleep until tomorrow afternoon.”

“Always the introvert,” he murmurs, a sly grin appearing on his face. He carefully tugs the lapel of his jacket to the side and reaches his flesh hand inside, pulling out a tin of wintergreen Altoids. You look at him curiously as he gives the small container a shake. It makes no sound, seemingly empty of mints. You cock an eyebrow at him, about to ask him what the deal is, when a familiar, earthy scent wafts towards you.

“What’s in the tin, Buck?” you ask rhetorically, as if the odor isn’t a dead giveaway.

“Just a little something I’ve been saving for when I could finally get you alone tonight,” he shrugs, slipping the tin back inside the interior pocket of his jacket. Your heart skips a beat at the possibility that maybe he’d been wanting to talk to you, see you, spend time with you as much as you had him.

“I’m just happy to see that you finally have your own weed,” you tease, trying to polish off the remnants of your drink so that you can get the fuck out of here. “Now you can stop smoking all of mine.”

You’re just giving him a hard time, of course. You’d lost count of how many times the two of you have smoked together since the night of the meteor shower just two months ago, and you were more than happy to share your supply with him - he gives you a lopsided grin that tells you he knows you don’t actually mind.

“Hence why I have pre-rolled three joints just for you,” he quips back. “One for how much time and effort you put into this event, one for conquering your fear of public speaking, and one for how much of your weed you have let me smoke.”

Your cheeks warm at the thoughtful gesture. You swallow the last swig of the brown liquid and slide the glass back across the bar.

“What are we waiting for, then? Let’s go get a cab.”

Half an hour later, you and Bucky are in the backseat of the taxi that drives you away from bustling downtown Brooklyn and towards a park that Bucky had instructed the driver to take you to. You didn’t object, trusting that he knows this area of New York better than you do.

The driver comes to a stop next to a nearly desolate sidewalk that appears to lead to a waterfront walkway. Bucky hands the driver a handful of cash, tells him to keep the change, and hops out of the cab before extending a hand to you as you scoot across the seat to follow his exit. You mumble a quick thanks to the driver as he helps you onto the sidewalk and shuts the door behind you.

You pull your coat tighter around you, attempting to shield yourself from the chill of the November air. Fall is now in full swing in New York, and the short cocktail dress that you wore to the gala does little to protect you from the night air.

“Me and Steve used to come to this park all the time,” he tells you as he pulls the Altoids tin and a BIC lighter from his jacket. “I vividly remember having to break up a fight he got into just past that fountain when we were teenagers,” he motions towards a large granite fountain ahead of you, “when some asshole stole a kid's frisbee.”

You laugh as he passes you a joint and the lighter, able to picture the memory he describes clear as day. It's far from the first time he's told you about a time that he had to get pre-serum Steve out of trouble.

“I don’t doubt that for a second,” you mumble as you pinch the tail of the joint between your lips, inhaling as you hold the flame up to the opposite end. A wave of smoke instantly fills your esophagus and lungs with a familiar, comforting burn and you pass the blazing joint back to him. “He’d still do the exact same thing, too,” you add as you exhale the thick cloud of smoke that mixes with the cold air. “Only difference now is that he can handle any fight that he gets himself into.”

“Some things never change,” he says before bringing the paper up to his own lips. You follow as he guides you across a small grassy area and to the walkway that runs alongside the river. Truthfully, it’s too chilly to be on a park stroll at this hour in your current attire, but with Bucky’s body heat radiating from directly beside you and the buzz you feel from the weed, you’re surprisingly comfortable.

“One thing that has changed however,” he continues as you’re inhaling a second hit, “is how well I’ve started sleeping on the nights that we smoke together. On those nights, I don't wake up over a dozen times. Hardly ever even have nightmares anymore.”

Your skin tingles at his admission - a whole flight of butterflies erupting in the pit of your stomach that you push down. You know that he means this because of the weed, not because of you, but for some reason - maybe it's the way his arm keeps bumping against yours or the way the moonlight reflects in the pools of his blue eyes as he glances over at you - you let yourself believe, even for just a split second, that you're aiding in bringing him peace on those evenings spent together. On the roof above the living quarters right before bed, or at the edge of the lake's water when you stop after a late run to watch the sunset, or -

“I guess what I'm trying to say is that I'm grateful that I found you up on the roof the night of the meteor shower,” he continues when you don't respond, his voice now possessing a nervous edge. Your mouth suddenly feels dry - the worst cotton-mouth you've ever had times ten. “For more reasons than one.”

You both gradually slow until you've come to a complete stop in front of a boat dock. Between the martini you had before leaving the gala, the effects of the marijuana, and the way he's looking at you while standing so close, you think it's a miracle that you haven't tripped in these ridiculous chunky heels and fallen into the East River. You clear your throat, hoping that you don't sound like a lovestruck teenager when you speak.

“I'm really glad too, Bucky.”

••••••

You stare down at the picture displayed on your phone screen as you and Natasha take the elevator up to the compound's living quarters.

Rolled and ready for you to be home reads the text attached to the picture of the joint pinched between the thumb and index finger of his flesh hand that Bucky had sent you ten hours ago, before your flight from Arizona to New York was supposed to depart.

Our flight has been delayed due to a thunderstorm. No current ETA your reply reads with a frowny face emoji at the end.

Now, at 2:16 in the morning, you are finally back home hours later than originally expected.

You were sure that Bucky was asleep by this point, and you didn't blame him. You wished you were asleep right now, too. Natasha slept the entire plane ride back to New York.

You, on the other hand, may or may not have spent the plane ride reading back over recent text messages between you and Bucky and zooming in on the picture he had sent you because for some reason you really like his hands. Both of them.

You were acting like a goddamn fifteen year old.

“What are you grinning at?” Natasha's voice snaps you out of your trance. You quickly shove your phone into the pocket of your duffel bag.

“I'm not grinning,” you lie, but it's Natasha - of course she sees right through you.

“You were grinning,” she shrugs with a knowing smirk. “But it's okay. We'll chalk it up to sleep deprivation.”

“I am sleep deprived, actually. Someone snored the entire flight back home.”

“For someone who wasn't grinning you sure are being defensive right now,” she retorts with a shit-eating grin as the elevator dings and the door slides open. You roll your eyes as you both step out into the hallway that leads to the living quarters. You turn to the left, towards your bedroom, and she takes a right but then comes to a sudden stop, calling your name. You freeze, turning to look at her with a raised brow.

“For what it's worth, I think you should go for it. It's obvious to everyone around you two.” She looks at you expectantly.

“Get some rest, Nat,” you huff a small laugh under your breath, and try not to smile. She doesn't press the subject any further.

Before reaching your bedroom, you pause at the door to Bucky's room. You don't knock, but wait to see if you hear any movement from inside. All that you hear is a loud static from his white noise machine.

Although you expected him to be asleep at this hour, you couldn't help but feel a small pang of disappointment that you hadn't been able to get back earlier. You knew you would see him tomorrow (well, technically later today), but you hadn't gone this long - a mere three days - without seeing Bucky since the two of you had become close months ago.

You quietly make your way into your bedroom and toss your duffel bag onto the end of the bed before stripping off the dirty, sweaty tactical suit that you'd been wearing since the early hours of the previous morning.

In your bathroom, you turn the faucet handle to the hottest setting and watch as the small room fills with steam before stepping under the showerhead.

You think about what Natasha said as you scrub your body clean and let the harsh but satisfying stream of water relax your aching shoulder muscles.

You wanted to go for it. Goddamn, you wanted to go for it. Every time you are alone with him - whether he's helping you train with target practice, or you're paired up together for re-con, or you're just simply eating breakfast together in the common area - you want to go for it.

All you have to do is stare at his stupid, pretty pink lips for a split-second too long and you're thinking about going for it.

But for so many reasons, you don't.

Though your heart wants more, you love your friendship with him, too. And you would be devastated if you tried for more and it didn't work out and you lost that friendship altogether.

You also don't know if Bucky wants more. Natasha says that everyone around you sees it, but he's never directly said it. You know there's an undeniable chemistry, but what if you're the only one experiencing it?

You watch the last few suds of your body wash go down the drain and turn the shower off, deciding that it's too late and you're far too tired to be thinking about this right now.

You speed through your post-shower routine, desperate to feel the silk of your bedsheets against your clean, freshly moisturized skin as you drift off to sleep.

You're rolling some deodorant under your arms when a deep, loud cry thunders from somewhere outside of your room causing you to let out a shocked gasp. You drop the object in your hand immediately and it falls to the floor as you rush out of your bedroom, wearing only thin cotton shorts and a matching tank top.

As soon as you step into the hallway, you are able to identify where the screams are coming from. Pained, booming yells originate from behind the door directly across from your own.

Bucky’s room.

You don't hesitate to twist the doorknob, letting yourself and shutting the door behind you.

The pale orange glow of a small table lamp in the far corner of his bedroom illuminates the room enough for you to make sense of what is happening. The sight before you makes your heart sink to the floorboards.

He's asleep - his eyes pinched shut and his brows furrowed together in obvious agony. He's shirtless, and his skin looks pale and clammy with thick beads of sweat littered from his forehead to his torso.

There's a meek voice in the back of your mind that tries to remind you that you don't know what you're walking into, as you've never encountered Bucky while he's having a nightmare before but he looks so fucking pitiful that your only concern is alleviating him from whatever prison of torment his mind is currently trapped in.

You rush over to the side of the bed, nearly tripping on the comforter that he's apparently through to the floor in his sleep. Both of his hands form tight fists, his knuckles strained pale. He lets out another guttural yell that causes you to instinctively flinch away.

“Bucky,” you say, attempting to keep your voice from breaking. “Wake up, Bucky. You're having a nightmare.”

He gives no indication that he can hear you, his head thrashing violently and fists slamming down against his mattress as he makes a pitiful whimper.

“Bucky,” you repeat, leaning down to perch on the few inches of free space on the side of the bed. You reach out to place your hand on the flesh of his bicep, about to attempt to gently stir him awake, when he shoots straight up in his bed. You flinch again, but don't move from your position next to him, firming your grasp on his bicep in an effort to ground him. His blue eyes are as wide as saucers and his chest heaves as he takes in his surroundings.

“You're okay,” you assure him in a soft, uncertain voice, rubbing your thumb in circles against the skin of his flesh arm. “It was just a bad dream. Everything is–”

“I could have hurt you,” he interrupts you, his voice faltering on the last word. “I could have–”

“You didn't hurt me,” you interrupt him back. “You're okay, and I'm okay, too.” He nods, and you can tell he's trying to convince himself that the words you say are true.

You quickly glance around his room until you find what you're looking for. Strewn on the floor next to his bedside table, you see a black t-shirt. You reach over, picking it up. You hesitate for a moment before slowly extending the fabric to Bucky's face, where you delicately wipe away the thin layer of sweat that glistens on his forehead. He relaxes into the movement, his eyes closing until you pull away.

“I'm sorry that I woke you up,” he murmurs after a moment of heavy silence.

“You didn't wake me up,” you assure him quickly. He watches you with something akin to guilt across his features. “I had just gotten out of the shower. We didn't get home until half an hour ago.”

He glances down, noticing your attire. You suddenly feel naked in only the thin gray shorts and tank top. You awkwardly clear your throat, reaching to place the t-shirt on his bedside table when something catches your eye. Bucky follows your gaze to the joint laying on his bedside table.

“I tried to wait up for you,” he exhales a soft laugh. “Ended up passing out around midnight.” Your whole body warms at his admission. The idea that he tried to force himself to stay awake just so he could see you when you got home makes you feel dizzy despite the fact that you're sitting down.

“Do you want to now? To help you sleep?” you ask, gesturing towards the joint. You don't even care that it's three in the morning and that you're borderline delirious from lack of sleep.

He takes one of your hands in between his own and brings it closer to him, giving it a tight squeeze as he shakes his head.

“No, I know you're tired. But could you just..” He trails off, bringing your hand clutched between his up to his mouth to rest his lips against the skin of the back of your hand. It's not quite a kiss, but it sends goosebumps across your flesh nonetheless. You're holding your breath without realizing it. “Could you just lay with me for a while?”

You nod your head in agreement without even thinking about it. “Yeah - yeah, of course,” you answer, hoping that you don't sound too eager while simultaneously knowing that your voice has risen several octaves.

You lean over once again, grabbing his comforter off of the floor as Bucky scoots towards the middle of the king sized bed to give you room to crawl in beside him. He extends his flesh arm away from his body, a clear indication that he wants you to lay in the space between his arm and his chest. You lay down, tucking your head under his chin so that your cheek rests against the mildly clammy but soft skin of his chest. He helps you tug the thick blanket across your bodies before bringing his arm around your abdomen, pinning you to him.

Luckily, you’re far too tired, and he’s far too warm for you to overthink it.

“You smell really good,” he murmurs into your hair and you hope that his preternatural abilities don’t pick up on the way your heart skips a beat. “I probably smell like sweat.”

You hum a laugh against his chest, sniffing the skin next to your nose without thinking about it.

“You don’t smell like sweat. You smell just as good as you always do, somehow,” you assure him, reveling in his unique scent of vetiver and something citrusy.

You’re both quiet for a moment, sleep threatening to overtake you at any moment when he brings two metal fingers to the underside of your chin and gently tilts your face to look up at him. Your breath is trapped in your chest at the close proximity of your lips and his.

“Remember the night of the gala, when I told you that I’d started sleeping better and having less nightmares since we’d started smoking together before bed?”

You nod, not trusting your voice to answer verbally. He’s so fucking close, you can smell the spearmint of his toothpaste from when he’d brushed his teeth hours ago.

“That was true,” he continues, looking down at you with an indiscernible expression. “But what I’m now realizing is that I don’t think it has anything to do with the weed,” he pauses, a small smile forming across his face. “It’s just you.”

You can’t stop the smile that blooms in return, just as you can’t stop what you do next.

Closing the distance between your lips and his own, you kiss him as you’ve thought about doing for months now. You’re hesitant at first, worrying that you’ve crossed that line that you can never go back over - but then he’s moving his mouth with your own in a synchronicity sweeter than you could have dreamed.

His arms dart under the comforter, wrapping around your body and pulling you even tighter against him. You bring one of your hands to cup his face as he sweeps his tongue along the swell of your bottom lip. You open up for him, letting him inside your mouth as you move your hand from his jaw to his hair - lacing your fingers through the short brown locks as he explores your mouth. Your thigh hooks around his, and it takes everything in you to hold back - to not swing yourself over him and lay the full weight of your body flush against his.

He’s just had a nightmare, and it’s late, and you’re tired, and you don’t want to move this sweet, special thing that you have too quickly.

He pulls away, and you fight against whimpering at the loss of the sensation of his soft lips.

“The night of the meteor shower,” he starts, his voice strained and his pupils dilated. “You told me to make a wish, and I did. Now that it’s come true, I can tell you what it was I wished for,” he pauses, running his metal thumb across your kiss-swollen bottom lip as you look at him expectantly, waiting for him to go on. “I wished for as many moments like that as I could possibly get with you.”

Your heart swells in your chest. You're convinced that you're asleep because this is something straight out of your dreams. You remove your hand from his hair, placing it directly above his heart to make yourself believe this is real.

“Speaking of meteor showers,” you start as you trail the tips of your fingers over the defined planes of his chest. “There's supposed to be a cool show at the planetarium in Manhattan this weekend. Do you want to go with me?”

His answer is a soft smile before attaching his lips to yours once more.

thanks so much for reading! as always reblogs and comments are extremely appreciated. i hope you enjoyed 🩷

other recent works by me: love language • delirium • it's nice to have a friend

[vxnuslogy]

– jealous charms.

pairing: wise x gn!reader

premise: when jealous, wise had an interesting habit of trying to outdo whoever caught your attention. he needn't worry though, he'll still be your favorite forever.

– warnings: none

– author's note: another filler fic until i finish that one sunday fic that i've been marinating for 2 days now. | ~1.7k words.

“master, is it safe to conclude that you’re jealous of miss grace howards from belobog industries? you’ve been awfully engrossed in trying to replicate her creation for [name].”

a loud clatter echoed in the room as the pair of pliers in wise’s hand suddenly dropped to his work table. your head darts to wise’s hunched figure. his back was awfully straight and shoulders tensed as you raised an amused brow at him when he stood up from his seat and marched his way to fairy. muttering quiet curses as the bangboo on your lap tilted its head at him.

“is that why you’ve been glaring at her whenever we visit the construction site?” you questioned with a teasing tone. wise swiveled his head to your direction and narrowed his gentle eyes at you but you only let out an amused snort. he looked more like a wet cat than a big shot proxy with the way his cheeks burned red all the way to the tips of his ears. the color could probably rival the red tassel earring you gave him last year on chinese new years.

“firstly, i am not jealous–”

“i would beg to differ, master.”

“second!” wise turned to fairy, a hand to his hip while the other ran down his face, voice raising slightly as he tried to rid off the flustered tint on his cheeks. “if i were to be jealous of someone, it wouldn’t be grace.”

“will mister anton from belobog industries be the next candidate?” the ai quipped at him making the gray haired boy groan in frustration.

a laugh rippled from your chest as wise pouted and begrudgingly went back to his work station. but not before narrowing his eyes one last time at a glowing blue eyeball (?) that was fairy.

“aww wise it’s okay,” you gently place the bangboo down on the floor and make your way to wise. trying your hardest to take a peek at whatever he’s been working on. or at least get confirmation that he was actually making what you thought he was making. “everyone gets jealous sometimes.”

wise didn’t appreciate your teasing remark because he rolled his eyes at you and threw a piece of paper at your face. “seeing as though you’re not doing anything, do me a favor and pick up some more films for the store.”

it was your turn to pout. “jealousy doesn’t suit you at all, wise.”

with a sigh, you reluctantly left the room when he raised a brow at you with a smirk tugging at his lips. you hated how such a small quirk up of his lips melted all of your teasing. but then again, when it comes to anything related to wise you didn’t put up too much of a fight, no matter what it was.

– –

wise was not jealous. he repeatedly reminded himself of those words like a broken record. reciting it like a mantra in his head as he continued to bend and break the pieces of metal in front of him.

“master, now that the subject of your affection is gone, will you finally admit to being jealous?”

fairy’s words sent a shiver down his spine, silently thanking belle and you for going out to the arcade and prolonging your inevitable return even more. if either one of you heard fairy, he wouldn’t be able to live it down. a defeated sigh left his lips when he dropped his tools and buried his head in his arms.

“fairy, please just shut up.” wise’s voice was no more than a muffled plea as fairy continued to torment him.

“but all the data i’ve collected all share the same conclusion: you are jealous master.”

wise turned his head to their hdd system that glowed blue as fairy’s avatar floated. “okay so maybe i am a little jealous.” 

“but why, master?” wise felt an oncoming headache approach as fairy listed out the reason why he shouldn’t be jealous. “hollow raider [name] has made it clear on many occasions that they favor you the most. their sudden interest in miss grace howards cannot compare to their interest in you.”

wise knew that but it still didn’t feel right to him. with a groan he dropped his head back on the desk, his free hand coming to inspect the silver band he’s been working on for the past few weeks. “you’re making me feel stupid here, fairy.” an uncharacteristic pout graced his lips when he remembered how your eyes shined like bright diamonds when grace showed you her newest invention.

“it’ll help you in the hollows!” she had proudly proclaimed. and ever since that day, you’ve been wearing the bracelet that doubled as a tracker for both your health and your position to every mission you took on. wise felt the pricks of jealousy whenever you praised the older woman with a dazzling grin and an excited “it was very helpful!”

“i’m also helpful.” he muttered to no one in particular. 

“of course you are! you’re my proxy after all.”

wise felt his heart lurch out his chest as he hurried hid the band inside his hand when you appeared in the room. like a deer caught in headlights, he stiffly smiled at you. “w-when did you get back…?” he cooly asked, or at least he hoped it sounded cool enough for you to brush off whatever you heard.

with your hands behind your back, you stalked your way to his desk. “just a moment ago. belle is shelving all the new films now.” you lean in closer to wise’s space, trying for the second time to catch a glimpse at whatever it was he was working on. a tentative smile forming on your face when you ask him, “will you finally show me what you’re making? i won’t laugh, i promise.”

you certainly wouldn’t laugh, but you would tease him relentlessly. a final sigh escaped him as he leaned back on his seat and opened up the hand that hid his creation. “it’s… really nothing.” his voice was unusually timid when you walked over to his desk and took a peak. being in such close proximity with you has his poor heart and mind swimming. you wore perfume today and it was all wise could think about as you gingerly pick up the silver band.

“you need to give yourself more credit, wise.” 

this wasn’t good. if you continued to look at him like that he would surely melt into a puddle, and that would be incredibly embarrassing. a smile broke out from your face as you unclipped grace’s wristband and put wise’s creation on your wrist.

“does it have any functions?” wise has always enjoyed your curious nature. sure, it got you in trouble most of the time, but he found it incredibly endearing. he shook his head and opened up the closest drawer and pulled out a matching band several sizes smaller. “not any advanced ones, not yet at least.”

wise stood up from his seat and picked up the bangboo peacefully dozing off in one of the corners. taking its small arm gently, he slid the band over and glowed a soft white. the same thing happened to the one you wore and wise swore he felt his heart skip a few beats when you looked at him with big eyes filled with wonder.

“but it can accurately track your ether aptitude and send me an emergency message when you’re reaching your limit,” picking up the bangboo in his arms, wise made his way back to his desk and placed the little creature on it. “it’s still a work in progress, but i hope it’ll eventually be able to map out full hollows without much trouble.” 

your silence made wise nervous. you were never this quiet and he didn’t dare to look at you. that is until he felt a pair of arms wrap around his head and the scent of your perfume invading his senses. his breath started to quicken as you nuzzled your face into his hair, hands resting on his shoulders. wise felt his entire body tingle when your chuckle vibrated through his entire body and left a fuzzy feeling in his chest, a swarm of freed butterflies fluttering inside his stomach when you pulled away. warm hands holding both of his cheeks that were no doubt burning a bright red.

“did you make this for me?” wise didn’t like the way your eyes crinkled into amused crescents. “or did you just want to outstage miss grace?” he heard your laugh ring out when he turned his head to the side and murmured a soft maybe into your palm.

“god you’re so cute you know that?” a wide smile spread across your face as you smothered the boy into another hug. “don’t worry, no one could ever replace my proxy.”

wise wasn’t a physically affectionate person, not by a lot at least. but right now when he feels your laughter so close to his heart, he can’t help but wish to stay in your embrace. his arms slowly snaked to wrap around your waist and pull you closer, wanting to hug you like how your skin hugs the bones that make up your entirety. how lovely it must be to live inside your heart, to feel every beat pulsing through him as he listens to your heartbeat. slightly erratic but still calm, so unlike his that was beating so rapidly he feared it might escape his ribs and offer itself to you. 

“maybe i was a little jealous.” he didn’t know what urged him to say that but the laughter it stole from you made him smile like a fool. wise would stay jealous forever if you would hug him like this every time to assure him that he was still your favorite form of protection.

“thank you for always caring about me, wise.” there was such vulnerability in your voice that made wise tremble in your hold. all he could offer was a hum as he buried his head further into your chest making you chuckle. if only you knew the lengths he would go to just to keep you glued to his side, away from all harm and danger.

© vxnuslogy 2024. do not plagiarize, repost, or translate any of my works without my knowledge or consent in other platforms or websites.

[raz-writes-the-thing]

A Rather Short and Sharp Descent (Beetlejuice One-Shot)

Betelgeuse x AFAB!GN!Reader 18+ ONLY / requests are open

Summary: When you'd struck a deal with the demonic ghost, you'd not expected to fall for him. Perhaps less so, you hadn't expected to be tumbling quite down this path...

Fic Type: Smut (dumbification, daddy kink, slight degradation tw)

Everything Tag List: @winchxters  @calliopesdiary

Betelgeuse Tag List: (send an ask to be added to a tag list!)

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Had it been two hours or three? More? You can't remember- you can't even remember what time of the day it is. You can remember the magically altered sets of fingers and tongues that have thoroughly fucked you from the inside out, though.

It's not like he'd let you forget that, anyway.

“Aww, lookit that, dollface. Nothin’ in there, huh? Good. That’s the way ol’ Beej likes it. Doin’ a good job, babe.”

You tried to respond, but it just came out as a garbled moan.

"Yeah, that's it. Just a little fuckinnn mess for me, aintcha?"

Your brows pinched, mouth dropping open as his fingers felt like they pulsed inside you. They probably did, knowing him. Beej laughed above you, eyes glinting with sadistic pleasure. Oh, he was going to make you work for it.

"B-Beej," you drooled, and he pouted at you mockingly in response.

"Look atcha, tryin' to make sentences and everything. It'd be cute if it weren't so pathetic, huh?" Another second and his free hand swatted at your ass, the sting biting- not that you didn't love the pain. "Beej, Beej, Beej, huh? Yeah, you fuckin' love me an' my thick fuckin' cock, babe."

And you did. You couldn't wait for him to fuck you with it. That ache begging for him inside you was starting to make you antsy. Sure you had his physically altered fingers buried inside you, but it wasn’t the same. God, it would never be the same as having him leer over you, cock twitching from the inside. 

Truth be told, you weren’t even sure how you’d managed to get yourself into this situation in the first place. You’d found a flyer that had quite literally blown into your face on the street one day and said the name three times with such disbelief that you had all but died of a heart attack when the being belonging to said name appeared so suddenly and with a ridiculous amount of theatrics.

Then it was on to the business of making deals, of course. Betelgeuse had let you know in his round-a-bout way that he’d noticed you had a pesky little problem that needed fixing and he was more than happy to do the job. There was, of course, just the matter of payment, though. Sure, he could scare the absolute fuck out of your roommate until they fucked off into the sunset but not without payment. Nothing much, not your soul or anything. No, what Betelgeuse wanted from you was, of all things… a kiss. 

Naturally, you’d been suspicious that planting one (with tongue, as he had insisted) onto a demonic ghost with a penchant for absolute chaos wouldn’t come with any other side effects, such as selling your soul over or something. But a kiss? Just one kiss? Surely that wouldn’t be too bad. 

As it turns out, it didn’t have any side effects that you were expecting. Instead, it led you down a path with a rather short and sharp descent into the circles of Hell. Sin, specifically. Either way, it was a short path with many tongues, fingers and cocks to ease your way down. 

You didn’t even realise how fast you fell for him. Nor he for you, most likely. But soon enough he was around often enough that you couldn’t call it a fling any more. This was something different. You’d caught him sizing your ring finger the other night, actually. Eyeballing it, mostly, but you could tell what that eye meant. 

“‘Ey, babe- you in there? Or are y’too fucked dumb to respond anymore, huh?” 

You groaned, thoughts hazing in and out a little, though they were brought sharply into focus as he withdrew his fingers and stuck his rather long tongue out to lick them clean.

Seeing your hungry gaze, he offered them to you next—an offering you took up without an ounce of hesitation. Fuck, you tasted good. 

Those very same fingers slid from your mouth and down around your throat, brushing against the thrum of your pulse beneath your soft, thin skin. It would take almost nothing for him to kill you. But he wouldn’t. He was too fond of you- his favourite Flesh Bag as he called you. 

His eyes glinted above you, drinking in the sight of your spit-slick lips, red and swollen. Your throat pressed against his fingers, warmer than you’d expect for a dead man. Slowly, softly, he pushed you down onto your back, legs bent and spread wide for him to slot his hips between. 

Finally, finally, you were going to get what you needed. 

“Uh-uh, my precious little dummy, not yet. You think you deserve this cock? D’you really? Think hard on it now, hard as I know that is for your empty little brain.” 

“Y-yes,” you replied almost instantly, trying to roll your hips against him- trying to goad him into fucking you dumb just the way you like. Well. Dumber. 

“‘Y-yes’ what, babe?” 

Risking a glance at his expression, your mouth practically watered at the carnal look there. Dark, hungry. He wanted this just as much as you did. Needed it, even, perhaps. 

“Yes, daddy.” 

“That’s it. That’s fuckin’ it, babe. Fuckin daddy-o, that’s me.” 

You rolled your eyes, starting to come out of the haze a little now despite the slap of his cock against your clit. He was doing it to tease you, the fucker. 

“Beej, if you don’t hurry up and fuck me, I might go genuinely insane.” 

“Ladies and gents,” Betelgeuse snorted, talking to an invisible audience. “Can’t keep ‘em off me, eh? Desperate little thing. Cute though.” 

But despite the pleasure he usually got from torturing you from hours on end (you think as if he hadn’t just spent the last two to three hours fingerfucking you to oblivion), he gave in, softly rolling his hips against you- sinking inside so slowly you almost felt like yelling at him to just hurry up. 

“Ohh, fuck me,” you moaned, head dropping back against the pillows as he finally sunk completely inside you. The thing about Beej was that he was always able to alter any of his shapes to be exactly what you needed when you needed it. And today, he knew you wanted someone on the larger side. Not that you wouldn’t be happy with average, either, but sometimes there was just a need for something a little more specific. Beej knew that, too. 

“Alright, alright,” he huffed amusedly, punctuating the sentence with one of his very unique laughs. “Shut up for me a sec, babe,” he said, placing a hand over your mouth as he pulled back and slammed back against you. “Yeah, that’s it.” 

He set a punishing pace, eyes rolling quite literally into the back of his head with pleasure. While the object of torture had been you over the last few hours, there was some element of torture for him, too, not being able to sink balls deep into your tight little cunt and fuck you until he was sated. But not anymore. 

Slowly as he fucked you, his hand slipped from your mouth, allowing your pretty moans to escape into the heated air. Betelgeuse moaned, running his hand down your throat and down your side to grip at your hip. His fingers squeezed harshly into the soft muscle there, and you tilted your hips as best as you could to rock back against him. 

“Fuck, you’re tight,” Betelgeuse groaned, leaning down to shower sharp bites down your neck and shoulders. He always had been a biter. There was something about the contrast of the blood coming to the surface under the skin, the way those indents slowly softened into pretty bruises spreading across your skin like a grim meadow that drove him insane. “Not gonna last long, babe.” 

That was okay with you, you weren’t going to last long either. You hadn’t realised how fast you were approaching your orgasm- and the deadline skyrocketed closer as his hand disappeared between your legs where you were most sensitive. 

“God, fuck, Beej- I, fuck, like that, please,” you cried out, reaching out to encircle your arms around his shoulders. You pulled him down and over you. From an outside perspective, you were absolutely sure that he would look like a violent predator about to rip apart his prey. 

His hips fucked into you without mercy, fingers rubbing against your most sensitive area. Your mouth was open in a practically permanent ‘o’- something that Betelgeuse took full advantage of as his lips landed on yours. His tongue flicked at your lower lip and it was that in conjunction with the savage thrust of his hips and non-stop-just-right fingers that catapulted you right over that edge. 

With a cry you weren’t sure actually made any sound or not, you felt your pleasure bubble over like a boiling pot on a stove, spilling over the edges and roiling up your spine. You could feel your orgasm all the way in your toes and even in your scalp, you realised distantly. 

Oh, wait, no, that was Betelgeuse’s fingers knotted in your hair, pulling as he chased his own orgasm now, hips choppy yet brutal. Every thrust forced your orgasm out longer, tingles of pleasure shooting through your nerves even as you started to come down from it. 

“Oh, oh, yeah, that’s it, babe. Fuckin little toy for daddy, aintcha- yeah,” he rambled with pleasure, eyes screwed tight as he finally, finally came- 

You sagged into the bed as he slowly stopped thrusting, cock still inside you. With a grunt, he laid down on top of you, forcing a grunt out of you as he did so. Your hand raised lazily to rub at his back. 

“Fuck, Beej,” you panted, eyes drifting closed as the glow started to overtake you. “You’re going to ruin me.” 

Betelgeuse snorted playfully, already starting to recover. He had a freaky ability to be able to go, and go, and go- and then barely need rest afterwards. Perks of being dead, you supposed. 

“What, like I ain’t already?” 

Well, you couldn’t argue with that. 

[syoddeye]

down the hatch / twinkie talk

141 x f!reader | ~1.7k read parts one and two tags: flashback in italics, possibly bad french (sorry french-speaking people, i tried). thoughts about fucking. a/n: i am having a ball writing this goofy story. banner by @/cafekitsune.

you miss some things from the before times. a couple are obvious—fresh food and the internet—but then there are indulgences that haunt your dreams: monster munch, memes, those talking toilets with heated seats, and fresh nails.

then there’s the annoying things you oughta not miss, but you do. mouth breathers. drunk teenagers. the librarian with a one-sided beef over your overdue charges.

it hits like an errant frisbee to the face. what the annoying things have in common. people. yeesh. you miss people. 

but you aren’t sure if the fellas staring you down are the kind of people you miss. they confer, huddling in the kitchen. eight eyeballs glued to little ol’ you, on the floor and tied to a side table. back aching from slumping against the couch. no one’s offered water or one of your twinkies. pilferers. thieves. vagrants.

all this looking gives you ideas. 

first. they’re clearly all fucking. if the shower gargling wasn’t evidence enough, they’re touchy. two of mohawk’s fingers hook through the loop of scragglebeard’s belt. dry bones’s big arm holds ballcap close. and when dry bones presented you to the other three, he got two ass slaps out of it. (you can’t blame them. apocalypse be damned, the guy is keeping himself fed.)

second. scraggle is in charge. the pecking order is like one of those shape puzzles kids play with. you’d be an idiot baby to not figure it out.

third. they’re not afraid of you—why would they be—but they’re wary. it makes you wonder how many folks are upright above ground, and by extension, how many women. you’re not stupid. even if they’re together and experts in gland-to-gland combat, you’re alone in a bunker nobody else knows about. yet, it’s been hours, and they haven’t tried anything.

under different circumstances, you’d be interested. it’s not every day the universe serves up four hunky albeit stinky men. there’s no harm in indulging in fantasy, though, especially if they’re likely to kill you. get your jollies where you can and whatnot. so, you dip your head back and close your eyes, picturing a writhing tangle of limbs and a hole buffet.

some time later, the men break.

you crack an eye, and watch the four fan out, approaching as if you’re the elephant’s foot. scraggle drags the coffee table closer and sits. his ass barely misses the puzzle.

a hiss pushes violently from between your teeth. “watch it.”

his lip quirks beneath his mussed beard. for a moment, he simply assesses. his eyes linger briefly on the jorts, before dragging a breath in through his nose.

“bonjour mademoiselle. parlez-vous…english?”

it's the most god awful french. you think of muzzy. why he’s speaking to you in broken—

oh yeah.

“told ya i was gonna find ya.”

you chomped dry bones’s fingers with as much force as adrenaline could spare, momentarily freeing your mouth from the tyranny of his mean hand. “tu es un artichaut! artichaut!” 

“what the fuck is—” he swore, dodging more teeth as he wrestled you the ground. 

loud, clamoring footsteps announced the arrival of his bleary-eyed comrades. you got a look at their bewildered faces with your cheek pressed to the ground, screaming. “les nains! de jardin!” 

scraggle’s mouth hung open, eyes darting from yours to the man whose knee pressed into your shoulders. he nodded, and something struck your head. light switch, lights out.

they think you actually speak french. titters of laughter burst through your chapped lips. if panic-quoting film is enough to fool them, planning an escape will be no problem. still. maintaining the ruse long-term is not ideal. you chew your cheek, then shrug.

“yeah. i speak english."

scraggle’s eyes pinch. “then why french?”

“because i’ve watched ratatouille and amelie about a dozen times each since i got here.” you explain. “because it’s the language of love and i’m desperately in love with dry bones.”

mohawk snorts. scraggle shoots him a look over his shoulder.

“if i free you, are you going to be good?”

you bat your lashes. “what else could i be—wait, wait!” the jerk rises to his feet, lips pursed. “i’m joking, christ, did humor die with everybody else up there?”

scraggle sighs. awfully impatient for a man with nowhere else to be. “got a name?”

it takes a moment to find it. something itchy and uncomfortable sticks to the base of your throat. nobody’s said your name in months. you haven’t thought about it. it comes out more of a question than an answer.

annoyingly, scraggle repeats it, stupid easy. “are you alone? how long have you been down here?”

no point in lying. “yeah, i’m alone. it’s been three months, i think. since it happened. you gonna free me now?”

scraggle’s chin dips to his chest, studying you for a second time. the patheticness you’re trying to exude must work, because he jerks his head. “gaz, untie her.” 

ballcap—gaz, what a name—doesn’t hesitate, but his frown deepens with each step. he drops to a knee, guiding you to sit straighter to reach the cord. he doesn’t smell as bad as dry bones. probably because he got a quarter of a shower. 

“i know what you did. puzzle interloper.” you whisper into his ear.

to his credit, his nose only wrinkles.

scraggle scratches at his scalp under his hat as your bindings loosen. “did you build this place?”

“hilarious. no. technically it belonged to my neighbor. it’s mine now since he melted.”

“melted?” gaz pauses, pretty brown eyes blinking incredulously.

“yeah. you guys nearly stepped in him. he’s the hardened chunky stew outside the hatch.”

mohawk whistles, shaking his scruffy head. “thought that was sick.”

“and who was he?” scraggle asks, making room for gaz as the younger man stands.

“no idea. he told me once, the, uh, time we spoke.” you rub your wrists, thinking back to move-in day maybe six months ago. the absurdly large man openly stared and talked at you as you carried in boxes. didn’t offer to help. “i just called him ‘austria’. speaking of. do you have names? because i don’t think you’ll like the ones i made up.”

“oh, let’s hear them.”

“that’s not—”

“mohawk. scragglebeard. dry bones. you were ‘ballcap’ sixty seconds ago.”

“very creative.” mohawk sneers, though he looks more offended than anything.

“what the fuck is ‘dry bones’.”

“video game character. super mario, mario kart. skeletal-turtle creature.”

“quiet.” scraggle orders, glaring at you, obviously displeased with how you’ve sent his little interrogation careening off the rails. 

you drag an invisible zipper over your lips.

another long sigh. he points at each of the men, then himself. “gaz. ghost. soap. john.” 

you unzip. “what, too cool for an absurd nickname? or have you not earned one better than ‘scragglebeard’?”

for a second, you think you’ve signed your execution. sped the collapse. then your stomach grumbles loud enough to make four men wince, and that’s how you end up at the kitchen counter with a twinkie. scrag–john, gives you the short and sweet of the situation topside.

bombs. lots of them. thousands dead, possibly millions. difficult to know for sure with the dissolution or retreat of the powers at be and the general, violent distrust between survivors. long-distance communication is spotty. they’re military and emphasize that they’re special ops. you should’ve seen that coming. whatever 'special ops' means. but what raises your interest and your hackles is that they plan to use the bunker as a rendezvous point, if they can reach their friends in kastovia.

“ex-fucking-cuse me?”

“settle down.” john urges with arms crossed over his broad chest.

you jut a finger in his face, nearly touching his unkempt beard. “you broke into my home, my safe spot, and now you’re planting a flag. don’t tell me to settle down.”

“hen, i dinnae—”

“i don’t want to hear it.” you snap at soap, then reel back on john. “pull up stakes and move on.”

“mm, not gonna do that.” john lifts his chin to stare down the bridge of his nose. “first place we’ve come across with stable power. water. food.”

“don’t forget the sterling company.” ghost adds.

you want to hurl a pastry. a knife. a stick of dynamite. you couldn’t miss people, couldn’t want some around. not these dickhead invaders. john’s eyes say it all. underscore their intentions. they’re sticking around and digging in. potentially inviting more fucking soldier types underground.

all your plans to sneak out and lure them to their deaths or dismemberment eddy out of your head. you’ll need time to recalibrate and come up with a fresh strategy. sizing them up again, you chew your lip. 

gaz’s hand rests on a sidearm clipped to his belt. ghost and soap lean against one another, the former’s hand curled in the latter’s shirt like a leash. and john…

he smirks underneath his oily whiskers.

big, mean bastards. strongarming you into letting them stay. 

the fantasies of a fuck bunker dissolve. you’re definitely gonna kill them.

“fine.” you relent, ignoring the twinge of satisfaction from seeing four sets of shoulders relax. “but i have ground rules. conditions.”

john plucks a third twinkie from the box and offers it in an open palm.

“let’s hear them.”

~~

“it’s like bein’ back in th’ barracks.” soap grouses, twisting beneath the thin sheet. “it’s nae fair she gets the bigger bed.”

“it’s what was negotiated, and it’s only right to give a woman a private room.”

gaz scoffs, shucking off his shirt. “the same woman who spied on soap and me in the shower.”

“soap liked it.”

“i didnae like it, lt.”

“s’not what our old collection of tapes say.”

“the three of you, shut it, and keep your voices down.” john groans, sinking onto the edge of the firm bunk, scratching through the fur of his bare chest. “it’s either play nice now and hope she warms up, cooperates, or piss her off and live with what amounts to a rabid dog until—”

“until she needs puttin’ down.” ghost finishes, leaning against the bedroom door. still kitted out, adamant someone keeps an eye on their reluctant host.

“your words, not mine.”

“dog. more like a bloody badger. holed up underground, cushy little life. bad fuckin’ attitude.” gaz grumbles, punching the thin pillow into shape.

“four unshaved, dirty men with firearms broke into her home. did you expect her to throw a parade once we met?”

soap, propped on his side, traces a circle into the empty space beside him. “would have been nice.”

~~

next door, ear pressed to the ventilation shaft, your grin curls. grinch-like. play nice. you can do that. 

tramps. drifters. vagabonds. you will make them regret coming down the hatch.

[thatonepersonwhocantwrite]

Yandere Luke castellan x gender neutral reader

TRIGGER WARNINGS ⚠️ Kidnapping , sea sickness, cursing, isolation, dark themes, murder (not the reader), head bashing ( not the reader) , ripped out eyeballs ( again not the reader)

You can choose your godly parent but it can't be Hermes

If you click continue reading you have acknowledged you have read the warnings

You sat dejected on a corner of your small bed in the room you were locked in. The floor was constantly moving and it made you sick to your stomach. You had figured out you were on a boat by the smells and sounds. You hated it here , you hated the loneliness, you missed camp half blood the place you should be right now and most of all you hated him your captor Luke castellan. " At least Annabeth and Percy got away. " You muttered to yourself. " I miss the old Luke. Back when he wasn't a manipulative bitch. " You muttered to yourself although I guess he has always been manipulative........ Luke would never let you within 10 feet of another male or person he thought you tried to take you away from him even if said male or person was your half sibling. Actually really the only person Luke would let you talk to was Annabeth and Thalia's tree.

You sighed softly looking up at the ceiling. " I want to go home......" You muttered. " I really should’ve noticed the signs earlier. " You muttered remembering the gruesome sight of your dead ex partner a few years back. Your ex had their skull based multiple times and their eyes ripped out of their head. There was more to it than just those things but you preferred not to think about it right now. Someone let themselves into your room / prison. " Fuck off Castellan. " You said not bothering to look up at the person you knew exactly who it was. " That's no way to talk to the person who feds you . Is it?" Luke asked walking over to you he could see your eyes flicker in fear for a slight second only to be replaced by fight and sass. " Well you wouldn't need to feed me if you didn't trap me here against my fucking will." You replied glaring at him.

Luke grabbed your chin forcing your eyes to meet his and for a split second you thought you saw the old Luke. Without saying anything he walked out . You were once again left alone with your thoughts. ( Godley parent) if you can hear me please get me away from this lunatic. You thought silently to yourself as your stomach growled in hunger . " God's damn it Castellan. " You grumbled to yourself you'd just have to wait until he decided to bring you dinner.

[ghostfacesvalentine]

Maneater girlfriend - Multimuse x fem!reader

Pairing: Multimuse x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Some mentions of mvrder, not much honestly, some jealousy, but I think that’s it?

Type: Blerps

Request: N/A

Word Count: N/A

Prompt: The muses get maneater girlfriends, how they’d react/act about it.

Notes: Honestly, I know some of us may not always feel like it, but it’s fun to pretend. Just like miss Maddie Perez and my queen Rihanna said, even if you don’t feel like it just pretend. Love my maneater readers. Ps. this isn’t exclusively for fem readers, it can really be for anyone. kiss kiss.

I don’t really know what I was going for, I’m just trying to get my juices going, pls don’t hate. Will probably delete this one tbh

Jason Voorhees: Gets so starstruck around you. It’s actually super cute, he never fails to boost your confidence. No matter what you choose to wear, Jason will stare at you all the time in awe, which of course makes you feel like the prettiest person he’s ever seen. Especially when you decide to go all out, he just becomes a puddle. Jason would literally worship the ground you walk on, you definitely have him under your spell. If you want a fan for a boyfriend, Jason’s the one. The only con is that he’d probably forget to take pictures of you because he’s just daydreaming about his hot s/o.

Michael Myers: Honestly didn’t expect any less, but he is a tiny itsy bitsy threatened by your confidence. Depending on the status of your relationship, it could go one of two ways: He could be completely confident, obviously mopping the floor with the guts of the people who couldn’t keep their eyeballs to themselves, or he could be somewhat weary of the attention you get, no matter who it is. Michael definitely has one of the most toxic abandonment issues, but it’s not like you’d be able to get rid of him, he’d get rid of everyone around you before you could even think about skipping town. Michael would stare a little longer on the days you wear more revealing clothing, it’s your confidence that sells the whole look, he’s absolutely mesmerized by you.

Tiffany Valentine: All for it. Wouldn’t hesitate for a second to help you get into your outfit or finish up your makeup/hair. You’d catch her staring from time to time, which she’d laugh it off not expecting to be caught. I could see her getting jealous at times if it seems like someone has your attention and if they cross a line, a knife crosses their artery, no hesitation. Tiffany would absolutely take pictures of you and post you all over her social media, she wouldn’t mind the thirst comments you’d get, after all you were hers. Tiffany would definitely boost your confidence and you’d both become the ultimate deadliest hot couple.

Billy Loomis: Ok, controversial opinion, but Billy isn’t really used to having maneater girlies. He’s used to having cute, beautiful women, but no one willing to stare daggers into your eyes from across the room. He’s absolutely mesmerized, without knowing it, he’d do anything for you. Billy cannot keep his hands to himself, no matter what you’re wearing, or what you’re not wearing. He’s not the best at taking pictures of you, but you’re damn right he’d keep every picture of you he can get a hold of. Sure he can get jealous, but he also knows he has you wrapped around his finger and no one else.

Stu Macher: Everyone expects Stu to have the hottest girl in school, this is no exception. The way you don’t look away when you catch him staring at you is enough to make him fall in love. As much as I love Stu, I know he’s superficial, so if your looks caught his eye, he would do his best to make your relationship work. Even if it means he has to get the right angles when taking pictures of you. Stu would absolutely brag about you, first about how you look then about what you do or what your interests are. Just like Jason, unintentionally, Stu would worship the ground you walk on. 

Patrick Bateman: Ok honestly what else did you expect. Just like Stu, Patrick is superficial. He always wants to make sure he has the hottest/most confident person within 1000 miles. He’d never admit how he likes your lack of interest in impressing every person you meet. That’s probably the trick. Patrick will never forget the times you’d be approached by wealthy men, or simply attractive people that you just couldn’t care for. That would be one of Patrick’s biggest flexes. Of course he’d always want you to look your best, so he does his part in boosting your confidence through pictures, outfits and compliments. Patrick isn’t shy about showing you off.

Leatherface: Just like Jason, he’s stuck. He can’t believe someone like you is interested in him. You are the prettiest most beautiful creature he’s ever seen. Bubba would absolutely worship the floor you walk on. He’s at your beck and call. He’d do whatever he could to impress you, getting you flowers, learning to make your favorite meals, helping you around the house. He’d do anything to spend time with you and just stare at you. He absolutely loves having printed pictures of you, even if getting him a shirt with your face on it was a joke, he’d absolutely wear it without hesitation. To him, your face is a work of art that should be appreciated.

Billy Hargrove: Honestly, didn’t know what he was getting himself into until he realized how much attention you actually got when you’d clean up. At first he didn’t know how to handle it exactly. Of course, Billy would play it off, knowing if you would wander off, he wouldn’t waste his time. Still, that doesn’t mean he wasn’t completely infatuated with you. Your mannerisms are what kept his attention. He can’t describe it, but it’s definitely your aura that intoxicates him. The fact that others would consider you a “maneater” and that it was Billy Hargrove that pulled you? (I mean of course he did right?) he’d hesitate to admit that it boosted his ego a little bit, but he made sure others kept their hands to themselves. 

Steve Harrington: Steve would be a little more confident than the rest on this list I’d say. He knows you’re hot and he would remind you that all the time. “Well when I first saw you, I’m not gonna lie I thought you’d like, throw a drink at me and tell me to get lost. I don’t know how long I’ve been staring” Of course, being out if it got out of hand with others, Steve wouldn’t hesitate to step in, but otherwise, he’s of course constantly staring at you with a big dorky smile. He’d find any excuse to take pictures of you, even if you’re just relaxing. For sure he’d keep a picture of you in his car.

Bruce Wayne: An awkward little mess. Just the kind to stand there and look at you from afar. During the night, in his double life, he’d keep a tab on you. Of course if you went out frequently, it would only give him more of an excuse to try to bump into you. At first it’d be to just get a glimpse of you, later on to get to know you. Bruce was a billionaire, there must’ve been hundreds of models and wealthy women trying to tie him down and yet there you were not able to get more than a few sentences out of him. Eventually after he powered through to actually ask you out, he would do his best to make sure you were in the finest of clothing and enjoyed all kinds of luxuries. Even from time to time, you’d catch him staring from afar. Other times, you’d find magazines with you and him pictures laying about, but he’d never admit he just loved the way you would photograph.

Steve Rogers: Of course he was used to being among the most desired men to date, but that doesn’t mean at times he still seemed to fail at asking anyone out on a date. Especially you, who would just stare right through the men that would be entitled enough to think you were already interested in them. Eventually though, you managed to cross paths and who could really resist Steve’s charm? Just like the rest on this list, you’d catch him staring, but at times his gaze seems more sinister than the rest. Of course Steve would encourage you to dress whatever way you felt best in, but don’t put it past him to lay a hand over your ass in public when he’d feel the slightest bit of eyes on you.

Loki Laufeyson: His argument would be that he was a prince, of course he would have a maneater s/o, what else did anyone expect. Still, deep down there was a weary feeling of insecurity at times, especially growing under his brothers shadow. That’s when he’d become overly protective around you, when anyone else was present, but even more around his brother. Even if Thor swore to never lay but a finger on you unless you needed saving, Loki would be incredibly possessive. He’d never admit it, but you mesmerized him, he wasn’t shy about admiring you even at times when you’d catch him.

Spencer Reid: Kind of funny that you’d both fit the “nerd x maneater” trope, but I mean, of course you did. Just like Loki, there would be a tiny feeling of insecurity, but Spencer would trust you unless you gave him a reason not to. There would be a little bit more pressure on him to keep alert when you were out in public, even if you knew how to defend yourself. Spencer would love to take pictures of you and use them as bookmarks or keep them framed. He’d need a ton of reassurance and he’d be honest about it. I think he’d be the healthiest on this list about this trope, kinda cute. Would NOT be happy about the team suggesting to use you as bait though.

[mattnben-bennmatt]

Matt & Ben || John & Paul

Here’s a story. Matt Damon told it. But it’s not about Matt Damon. It’s about Bono. But it’s not really about Bono, either; it’s about Paul McCartney. But Damon heard it from Bono. One day, Bono flew into Liverpool. Paul was supposed to pick him up at the airport, and Bono was shocked when Paul picked him up at the airport alone, behind the wheel of his car. “Would you like to go on a little tour?” Paul said. Sure, Bono said, because Bono, you see, is a fan of Paul’s, in the same way that Damon is a fan of Bono’s. “Bono’s obsessed with the Beatles,” Damon said at the table in the lobby of the gated hotel in the little town in Germany. “He’s, like, a student of the Beatles. He’s read every book on the Beatles. He’s seen every bit of film. There’s nothing he doesn’t know. So when Paul stops and says 'That’s where it happened,’ Bono’s like, 'That’s where what happened?’ because he thinks he knows everything. And Paul says, 'That’s where the Beatles started. That’s where John gave me half his chocolate bar.’ And now Bono’s like, 'What chocolate bar? I’ve never heard of any chocolate bar.’ And Paul says, 'John had a chocolate bar, and he shared it with me. And he didn’t give me some of his chocolate bar. He didn’t give me a square of his chocolate bar. He didn’t give me a quarter of his chocolate bar. He gave me half of his chocolate bar. And that’s why the Beatles started right there.’ Isn’t that fantastic? It’s the most important story about the Beatles, and it’s in none of the books! And Paul tells it to Bono. Because he knows how much Bono loves the Beatles.”

— Matt Damon, interviewed by Tom Junod for Esquire (August 2013).

-

Ben Affleck and I actually had a joint bank account, and the bank account was money that we’d made doing local commercials, and we could only use it on trips to New York to audition […] If one kid had enough for a candy bar, then the candy bar was bought and split in half — that’s just the way it’s been.

— Matt Damon, interviewed by Piers Morgan for CNN (March 2011).

-

First of all, I think I should say that we pale by comparison to The Beatles. But my understanding of how [Lennon and McCartney] worked was that they would go off and work separately. Matt and I worked together in the same room most of the time, riffing off of one another’s ideas for scenes or certain lines of dialogue.

— Ben Affleck, interviewed for eDrive (February/March 1998).

-

Q: But you didn’t compose your stuff separately, as other accounts have said? JOHN: No, no, no. I said that, but I was lying. [Laughs.] By the time I said that, we were so sick of this idea of writing and singing together, especially me, that I started this thing about, “We never wrote together, we were never in the same room.” Which wasn’t true. We wrote a lot of stuff together, one-on-one, eyeball to eyeball.

— John Lennon, interviewed by David Sheff for Playboy (September 1980).

-

[Ben and I] have been bizarrely close for a long time. You know, I was watching Get Back—the Peter Jackson documentary—and at the end of that you see the Beatles playing on the roof in London and it says, “This is the last time that they ever played together, live.” And it made me so sad to think of; because you look at them and they’re so happy! And Ben and I, I called him and said, “Look man, we were talking about doing this and it’s been 25 years or something since Good Will Hunting. What are we doing? We both kind of hit the lottery! Why aren’t we working together more often?” And after my dad passed in 2017—and Ben was very, very close with him—it’s like it changed something in us, I think. You start to see the end game and to feel like, “I want to make every second count.” I don’t want to fritter away time anymore.

— Matt Damon, interviewed by Chris Wallace for CNN (July 2023).

-

I needed to make this post because way before the Matt & Ben brainrot had the chance to set in, John & Paul had already taken complete hold of my being. And even if this hold has gentled in recent years, they nevertheless rewired my neural circuits. And thus, everything now inevitably leads back to Lennon/McCartney. One day I'll make a (probably very tinhatty) post highlighting specific parallels between Matt & Ben and John & Paul. Today is not that day.

For now, I merely wanted to marvel at how it's not only me who inevitably sees same-sex friendships and creative partnerships through the Lennon/McCartney goggles, but, being Lennon/McCartney arguably one of the most famous same-sex friendships and creative partnerships in history, they influence how other friends who are also creative partners—such as Matt and Ben—see themselves.

For example, the Chocolate Bar story. First of all, I can't believe I only realized yesterday that one of my favorite bits of Beatles lore—a story so special Paul hasn't told it anywhere else—was made public by Matt Damon (which is kind of ironic, given how private and protective he is over his own friendship with Ben). But then, it made me re-evaluate one of Matt's quotes. You see, I thought Matt saying "If one kid had enough for a candy bar, then the candy bar was bought and split in half" about him and Ben was one of those crazy coincidences I could see thanks to my Lennon/McCartney vision. Rather, Matt seems instead to be directly referencing the Chocolate Bar story, even if only a handful of people would understand the reference at the time. By drawing this comparison, a candy bar is no longer just a candy bar. It represents the founding principles of generosity and equity on which a great partnership can be built. Like John and Paul before them, Matt and Ben chose to tie their fates together and share what they had so they could make it.

And as soon as they made it, the world started comparing them to Lennon/McCartney, as we can see by Ben's quote. And it's interesting to think how the generalized perception of Lennon/McCartney at the time might have influenced how they felt about the comparison. Imagine you and your best friend/writing partner just achieved your wildest dreams. But that also means the eyes of the world are now turned on you, and your very real friendship is being used as a marketing ploy and starting to be ravenously consumed by the public. Now imagine that people start comparing you to The Beatles, and the very famous songwriting partnership at its core, Lennon/McCartney: two friends who rocketed to the toppermost-of-the-poppermost, but who broke up very acrimoniously in less than a decade. The Beatle-People will know that they deeply loved each other throughout it all, but that was not the prevailing narrative until a few years ago, when Get Back came out. So no wonder Ben's first instinct was to go "RIP to John and Paul but Matt and I are different."

And then, Get Back comes out and it makes them realize that they both are and are not different. They are not different in the sense that the pressure of fame did affect their relationship. Not to the extent of John and Paul's, whose private troubles were made public. Whatever conflicts Matt and Ben might have had throughout the years, they gracefully kept it private, which allowed their relationship to naturally heal without the press poking at the wounds. However, I do believe the intensity of the public gaze made them shy away from collaborating again. They mention working on numerous projects throughout the years (particularly after their Oscar win with Good Will Hunting), but none of these saw the light of day. And even though they say they were working so much they did not have time to write, it's odd that it took them over two decades to even co-star in another movie again. I think that, much like John and Paul in the 70s, the pressure placed on an eventual reunion was so great—both in terms of living up to their past success and of inviting all that scrutiny again—that Matt and Ben opted to remain private friends, at the sake of their creative partnership. Which makes total sense, because, like John and Paul, there's no partnership without the friendship. But this sacrifice is tragic in its own way, because the creative partnership was a big part of their friendship. Acting, writing, directing—creating—was what drew them together in the first place! It's like asking them to amputate one of the fundamental components of their relationship.

Which is why I find the last quote so incredibly moving. While watching Get Back, Matt was not only reminded of the joy of creating with his best friend—he was confronted with the preciousness of it. Because this is where Matt and Ben are most different from John and Paul: Matt and Ben have been granted the luxury of time. Unlike John and Paul, Matt and Ben could get to their 50s and realize, "What are we doing? We both kind of hit the lottery! Why aren’t we working together more often?" They could realize that they didn't give a fuck about what anyone said or thought anymore. That being together doing something they loved was more important. And so, unlike Paul, Matt got to hear his wife say that writing with Ben was the most she'd seen him laugh in many years. And Ben, unlike John, got to feel that total happiness was seeing his children every day and working with his best friend, and that there's nothing more that he wants in life. In fact, working together on Air made them feel so profoundly accomplished and realized, that both Ben and Matt thought they were about to die, since they'd apparently reached the "mountain top".

And so, it is with great joy that I await what lies in store for Ben and Matt. They have just created their own studio, Artists Equity, and are slated to collaborate in some of its future projects. Nothing will ever replace John and Paul in my heart, and their love story is ongoing in its own way; oh, but how wonderful is it to be able to witness a creative partnership and friendship whose future is still ripe with possibility! And how poetic that the tragedy of John and Paul's story played a part in ensuring that?

[askinkiskarma]

Cruel Summer | Chapter II: Before It Sinks In

Pairings: Neteyam x (f)Human!Reader

Word Count: 5.5k words

Warnings/notes: angst, allusions to/mentions of smut, friends-with-benefits, mutual pining, 18+ minors DNI

Synopsis: After the Sully kids get attacked by the newly found Recombinant Soldiers, Jake makes the tough decision to leave the Omatikaya. Neteyam is forced to say goodbye to you, to your relationship and to the life he always dreamed about.

A/N: So I decided to split what was originally supposed to be one chapter into two, and this way I get to make good use of the amazing song that @karma-is-a-cat-purringinmylap was amazing enough to turn me on to, that just happened to work like a glove (the first non TS song in my works!!!)! I think I will try sticking to shorter chapters, as I feel 10k chapter might be a a bit overwhelming overall. Now, did this chapter make me cry several times? Yes. Will it make you cry? I'm hoping you will tell me soon ;)

enjoy besties ily xoxo

: ̗̀➛ listen to Before It Sinks In here : ̗̀➛ masterlist (x) : ̗̀➛ series masterlist (x)

Suspended in the air, I hear myself breathing

Hanging by a thread, my heart is barely beating

•☽────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────☾•

Neteyam watched as you ran towards the lake that he wanted so badly to show you, he was practically buzzing by the time he got to Hell’s Gate. He found this little spot accidentally a few days ago while on a hunt, and it’s been on his mind ever since, exuberant at the thought of you in it, at the thought of your face splitting in a wide smile and your eyes widening taking it all in. He thought of the little squeal you would make as you saw the waterfall and way you’d jump off his back immediately and make your way without thinking of your clothes, or the mask, or anything else. The scene unfolding in front of him was exactly the way he pictured it, a testament to how long you’ve been in each other’s lives, how well he knew every facet of your being, like you were just an extension of his own self, like you were a complicated poem he’s dedicated his whole life deciphering and could now recite by heart, could now dissect it and appreciate it endlessly, to its full potential. 

You didn’t look back as you just hurriedly made your way to the edge of the water, taking off pieces of clothing as you did, until you were in a lace thong and bra, that Neteyam has seen multiple times before. He could see it every day, every minute of the day, it could be tattooed on his eyeballs and it would still not stop the way his mouth instantly filled with saliva and his head felt dizzy from all the blood travelling downwards. You were the most beautiful woman he’s ever laid his eyes on. Actually, beautiful did nothing to describe you. Beautiful had nothing on you. Neteyam wished he was more articulate at times like this, he wishes he would have read all the hundreds of books residing in the big library in Hell’s Gate where you loved to spend your time, in order to find the proper word to describe you. In order to validate his postulation that there was, in fact, not a single word in all of the English language, or Na’vi, for that matter, to encapsulate what you meant to him, how he viewed you. 

A splashing noise is all he heard as you jumped quietly in the water, and he followed suit, a little concerned when you wouldn’t resurface, until it dawned on him you could breathe underwater with the mask on. When you did resurface, you were standing right underneath the waterfall, the biggest smile in the world plastered on your face, and Neteyam couldn’t help his own that blossomed like how the flowers in the morning bloom did, like how his love for you did. 

Neteyam couldn’t remember his life before this. Before tangled bodies and insurmountable pleasures. He couldn’t remember who he had been, what used to occupy his mind and thoughts, what feelings, middling and insignificant, used to plague him before your being took over everything, over every second of every day, over every dream and nightmare, over the past, present and future. Neteyam knew he fucked up. Knew that he lied to you that day, when he told you he wouldn’t fall in love with you. Because he did, he fell like from a distance so far removed he could no longer see the ground. And yet, Neteyam knew the ground was there, and that gravity was pushing him towards it, and that whilst the fall was freeing and exhilarating now, while now it felt like flying, once it ended, it would crush all his bones, and his spirit, and his soul. 

“This might be the best thing you’ve ever shown me!” You were screaming loudly, trying to be heard above the booming noise of the waterfall crashing down in deafening roars, and he laughed at how enthusiastic you seemed, how wild and free. You’ve always been like that, Neteyam mused. You kept to yourself in the labs, and in the village, around the scientists and other people, around his mother and the clan - but when you were around people you loved, people you were comfortable with, you were uninhibited and unconfined to expectations, and fears and limitations, at liberty to be yourself, to shine brighter than any star in the sky. 

“What are you doing over there, Teyam? You know I don’t like to be kept waiting!” 

He shook his head, but said nothing as he removed his cummerbund and knife belt and dove in the warm water, swimming until he reached you. As soon as he did, your arms and legs encircled him like they always tended to, automatically and without thought. 

You looked in his eyes, and the glimmer in it made Neteyam’s mind freeze and go blank, made his heart thump in his chest and sweat pool on his skin, that was promptly washed away by the undulating water. 

“I want to kiss you.” Neteyam couldn’t help the words coming out of his mouth, a confession and a plea all in one, a futile one in the face of untouchable facts, such as the fact being without your mask will kill you.

You smiled and placed a soft hand on his face, tracing his lips gently, and he shuddered under the touch. “I want to kiss you, too.” 

“Thank you, Teyam. This is beautiful.”

“I’m glad you like it, ma Vol. As soon as I saw it, I knew I had to bring you here. It was the only thing on my mind, the thought of you and m-“ Neteyam realised his mouth was running faster than his mind could keep up, a rare occurrence in his life, but fairly common in your presence. 

Your eyes were wide and full of surprise, and fear started creeping on your face, unannounced and unwelcome, although not completely unexpected. He shouldn’t have said that. Every time things got a little too… intimate between the two of you, any time either of you pushed the boundaries that you both established, boundaries that you needed to abide by above all, it took a while to fall back into step, to get things back to normal, to mutually forget and pretend it never happened. He didn’t want that to happen again. Things were going great for you two, and he didn’t want to lose any time with you, any time he could be loving you instead, any time he could be making you writhe underneath him, any time at all. 

“I - I just meant… you know… I -“ 

Your slender fingers found his lips again and at the small pressure you put on them, he stopped talking. Your eyes softened and your surprised expression melted into one of muted happiness, of unspoken affection, of forbidden feelings. 

“I know.” 

You spent hours swimming and giggling, splashing water at each other, enjoying how, when both submerged, the difference between you didn’t seem that extreme, the discrepancy in your bodies and your heights nothing that couldn’t be promptly overcome. You talked until your lungs were running out of breath and your voices hoarse, just catching up and discussing everything that’s been going on since you hadn’t seen each other. 

Right behind a waterfall stood a layered rock formation, which happened to allow for perfect positioning so that, when sat on it, your and Neteyam’s faces were at the same level. You smirked as you slipped your finger in the band of his loincloth and tugged at it until he took the hint and got closer to you. He didn’t have time to protest you taking off your mask recklessly and smashing your lips against his, a kiss so passionate and deep, it pushed any rational thought out of his mind and replaced it with desire and a tingling ache, one that he knew too well, one that seemed ever-present around you. 

“Vol..” he tried to speak against your lips, but you just shook your head and deepened the kiss, pushing your tongue past his lips until it met his, entangling in a suave dance until you were panting and heaving against him. He tsked annoyed at your foolhardiness, and watched patiently while you fastened to mask on yourself again and took deep, settling breaths. 

“You take my breath away… get it?” You laughed and then laughed some more at how unamused he was. “Come on, it’s funny.”

“You putting your life in danger foolishly is not funny to me.” 

You smirked and shrugged indifferently. “Well, not everyone gets my sophisticated sense of humour.” 

“God, I hate this mask.” 

Neteyam knew how much you hated it. He hated it, too. He’d give anything to be able to kiss you freely, to caress your face, to feel your lips and your soft skin, to see your eyes reflecting the colours of the nature surrounding you instead of a piece of glass doing it instead. Fortunately, Neteyam always knew how to cheer you up. 

“Vol…” he started, voice so low and soft it was almost purring. His long fingers traced your beautiful body, and each freckle adorning it, until he reached your panties, that he skilfully pulled down your thighs, until you were hanging on to them by an ankle. “Just because you can’t kiss my lips, doesn’t mean I can’t kiss yours.” 

Neteyam watched as your upper body leaned backwards until your back hit the rock wall, pushing your head back and closing your eyes in anticipation. Your hand found its way to his hair, that you grasped tightly and pushed him down, and he laughed at your already needy and disheveled demeanour. “You know, Teyam? You’re definitely the bestest friend a girl could ever ask for.” 

•☽────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────☾•

I haven't fallen yet, but I feel it comin'

Tell me would it be too much to ask, if you break it to me gently

“What?” Neteyam could hardly believe his ears, could hardly believe that the words coming out of his dad’s mouth were his current reality, and not a nightmare his mind concocted to make him ill, to keep him awake until his eyes started burning in his skull. 

“We are leaving. Tomorrow.”

Neteyam watched in pain as Tuk cried silently and immediately felt the pang of fraternal instincts kick in, urging him to pick her up and hold her close in his arms, let her cry it out in the crook of his neck. 

“But why, daddy? I don’t want to leave.” 

His dad’s stiff posture melted at his daughter’s words, that he could never resist. His eyes softened and he sighed, taking his mother’s hand in his. 

“Because we are in danger, baby girl. We now know the humans brought Avatars with them, that they brought the best soldiers back to life to hunt and kill me. And they will stop at nothing to do it, including hurting you.”

The only thought spiralling violently in Neteyam’s mind, as usual, was you. His heart was pounding aggressively in his chest, the increased heart rate making his ears hurt and his head dizzy. What did this mean? How would leave? Just the family? What about you and Spider? You were family to him, and to the rest of the Sullys. Maybe not to his mother, but even she would never want anything bad to happen to you. If you did come, would you make it in another clan? Would they ever accept two humans as one of their own? The Omatikaya barely did, and you have been part of their lives for 19 years. What if you didn’t come? He couldn’t leave you. He couldn’t lose you. What was he supposed to do? 

No. No, he couldn’t leave. He wouldn’t leave. He wouldn’t leave you, he promised you, he promised himself. No matter what would ever happen in this life or the next, Neteyam knew you were the only constant he cared about, the only person he wanted to take with him and keep for the rest of time. He would tell his father no. For the first time in his life, Neteyam would tell his father no. 

“Kids, I can’t risk putting you in danger. I can’t risk putting the Omatikaya in danger once more, leading them to war. I have too much to lose.” His eyes flickered to his mother, that was sobbing silently by his side, but tried to keep it together for her family and be brave, have a strong heart. 

“We have too much to lose. If we go, we can keep them safe. The clan…” His father looked intently at his kids, eyes focused on Kiri and Neteyam. “…The humans.” 

The humans… 

Leaving would protect the humans. Leaving would protect you. 

I'm waking the next day, without you beside me

And who I hold on to today, tomorrow will just be a memory

•☽────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────☾•

You and Neteyam’s friendship had a lot of boundaries, for good measure. It was necessary when you were doing things normally reserved for couples, or mates, when you were doing things to each other that no one else would approve of, or understand. One of the rules of the game was that you wouldn’t sleep together. You used to, when you were younger, but that was when your relationship was platonic, back when things were… normal. Now, you thought sleeping together and cuddling would be too intimate, too inappropriate, and it would lead to feelings, feelings you were trying to avoid, feelings which might get in the way of the harmless fun you were having, feelings which might make everything… complicated. It was all just fun. Just fun. 

That being said, as it turns out, you were both really bad at following your own self-imposed rules, and so it didn’t take too long for you to break them all. 

Deep, satisfied pants were all that could be heard in the big recreation centre that Neteyam knew by heart by now. It was dark, his freckles the only light that reflected in your eyes, the only light you needed. 

“Well, we’re definitely getting better at that.” you said with a small chuckle. That might have been the understatement of the century, but you didn’t want to scare him by telling him that if it was up to you, you’d have him tied in this room with a chain only loose enough so that he could do this 24/7, but just tight enough so he’d never leave. 

You were laying with your head on his chest, as you always seemed to after a long and exhausting session. You loved the feel of his smooth, muscular body, that, despite your size difference, was somehow the most comfortable pillow you’ve ever slept on. 

“I’m exhausted. I feel like you and Lo’ak forget sometimes that me and Spider aren’t Na’vi, and yet you work us like we are.”

“Stop complaining, Vol. I need you to be strong and agile, ok? I need to know you’re safe and that you can take care of yourself despite this tiny frail body you possess.”

You raised an eyebrow and scoffed annoyedly, mumbling mostly to yourself. 

“Didn’t see you complain about my ‘tiny, frail body’ 20 minutes ago when you were fu-“ 

“Stop, Vol. You know what I mean. The humans are going to be back at some point, we both know that. And you spend too much time in this place, with your experiments and your books and your shows. I know you don’t like being in the village, and I know that my mother and the villagers give you a hard time sometimes, but at least when we go tracking, or hunting, or practicing, I want you there. I need to know you’re safe, ok?” 

He stopped talking, and he sighed deeply, tightening his grip on your body. When he spoke again, his voice was barely above a whisper, laced with intense emotion. 

“I don’t know what I’d do if anything happened to you.” 

You nuzzled your face in his chest and mirrored his grip on you, smiling softly at his concern and his words, that ran shivers down your spine and fluttered butterfly wings in your stomach. 

“The worst thing that could ever happen to me is losing you, Teyam. Everything else, I will handle like the big girl I am.” 

He kissed the top of your head, and you stood like that for a while, enjoying the comfortable silence. The thought of this moment ending hurt you deeply, so much so, you couldn’t fathom it. So you decided not to. 

“Don’t go. You’re comfortable and I’m cold, and my room seems uninviting by comparison.” 

He chuckled imperceptibly. “You love your room, ma Vol. You’ve written songs about how much you love your bed.” 

“I love you, more.” 

He sighed once more, but pulled you closer and settled down for the night. “I love you most.” 

•☽────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────☾•

I would look back at all of this and wonder why I stayed in here

Just to watch you disappear

When Neteyam reached your room in the lab complex, his heart was in his throat and his knees were wobbly, and he was almost reminiscent of his Uniltaron and how the worm made him feel, like he wasn’t there anymore, not fully. Like he could see his body from outside itself, like his was mind watching everything unfold from a safe distance. His movements felt robotic and untethered, no thought outside of how was he supposed to do this? How was he supposed to leave you? How was he supposed to tell you that it’s over, that maybe you won’t lose him to another woman but you still will lose him nonetheless. Neteyam was trying to think which one was better. In a sea of two impossible choices, two unhappy endings, two roads reaching the same endpoint, which one was the lesser evil? And was there ever a third path? Was it ever possible, for you and him… a happy ending? 

He used to think so, used to hope so. Used to love the daydreams and nights picturing it, so clear and vivid in his mind, it was like it was all unfolding in front of his eyes. You, tall and blue, laughing like you always did, taking your Iknimaya. The two of you, riding from dusk til dawn, discovering secret coves and falling asleep on green moss, where he would be able to kiss you freely, where he would be able to link to your thoughts and feelings and know that this was it, his most formidable desire come alive. His family, your family, carefree and happy, full of kids' laughter and formidable first steps, full of joy and love, full of him and you. That's all he's ever wanted. A family with the woman he loved. Not the woman he was promised to, not whichever new one they'd have to find for him in the Metkayina, the woman he loved. The only one.

But now, as he was standing in this room, that he may never see again, listening to the shower that he knew you were currently in, the dream feels further away than it ever has, further each minute, until it was slowly fading from view, so dim and dwindling, until it was gone from his life, gone from his mind, forever. Until only hurt existed, only the gaping hole left behind by your absence, by all the shattered dreams and the shards of broken hearts, his own and the one he knew he'd break tonight.

The anxiety that burned every part of his body also made his tail jerk violently in every direction, and he was pulled out of his nightmare by the sound of trinkets getting thrown on the ground. 

“Shit.” 

Neteyam thought he’d have more time. Hoped that he could gather himself and his thoughts, hoped he would formulate a plan in the few minutes you would still be in the shower. He knew you would have heard it, so he knew he didn’t have that luxury anymore. He still didn’t know how he could ever make the words come out. How he could ever go through with this. 

As he kneeled on the floor to collect the broken vase that was now a fitting image of his soul, he heard the door to the bathroom open, but his eyes remained fixated on the task at hand, unable to look in your eyes, whose memory, whose incandescent beauty would haunt Neteyam for life. He tried to speak past the overbearing lump in his throat.

"Sorry. I wish I could control my tail better, but it's always an accident waiting to happen in these tight rooms."

The silence that befell the room was stifling and suffocating, and Neteyam felt the gaping hole enlarge, felt it taking over his entire chest, seeping into every ounce of his body, spreading like wildfire.

When you did speak, Neteyam almost wished you didn't. Because your voice did nothing to improve his condition, but worked as a perfect catalyst for further breakage, further pain. It was sad, and muted. It was disappointed. It was everything he never wanted your voice to be like when directed at him.

"Why are you here, Neteyam?"

"What do you mean why I am here? I can't be here?"

Neteyam spoke without thinking. He felt adrenaline taking over him, his body knowing he wouldn't be able to do this without the emboldenment given to him in this moment.

"You can, you just never are anymore."

“Vol… come on. You know it’s different now than it was in the village, in Hell’s gate. We’re going to get caught.”

“Yeah, well, we wouldn’t want to get caught. God forbid anybody knows you fuck me in your free time.” 

“Vol…”

Neteyam didn't understand why he was fighting you about something so trivial. It didn't matter. None of this mattered. None of this mattered, and yet, Neteyam felt compelled to speak his truth. No matter what form it came in.

“I know you’re upset about today. I’m sorry.”

“Why would I be upset about today? You did what you had to do. I mean, she’s going to be your mate soon, right? It’s her hands that should be healing you anyway, not mine. Those are going to scar, by the way.”

Neteyam hated to admit it, because he fancied himself a good person, a person who is respectful and caring and conscientious, but he couldn't have cared less about her if he tried. In fact, his engagement being broken might be the only silver lining in the sea of black dread. He only cared about you. In fact, the distance, and the tension, and the silence and the pain, it was too much. He needed to feel you. If this was his last day with you, he'd be damned if he spent it not feeling your body, and your warmth, not looking in your eyes.

You were so easy to manoeuvre on the bed, it would have been laughable under any other circumstances. Not tonight. When he got on top of you, and felt your bare thighs touching his, and your hand wrapped around his arm, and your eyes boring into his, he felt so much love it was overwhelming him, so sure, for the first time in his life, of that you were the only one he'd ever love, that he was irrevocably in love with you for the rest of time. So regretful of the time he could have spent loving you, and telling you, of the time he spent hiding, only to never get the chance of confessing, never get the chance to follow through on his promises.

“Stop. I know you are upset. I wish it could have been you. You know me, Vol. You know I wish it could have been you.” 

Your subtle head shaking made felt sharp bursts of pain shoot through him, like his queue was connected to an electrical socket.

“You should go, Neteyam. This isn’t right. You’re engaged to someone else. I watched her today, watched how worried she was about you, how desperate to help you, to take you away so it’s just the two of you. You’re going to mate with this girl any day now. There’s no room for me in your life anymore. Not like this, anyway.”

He sighed and got off from on top of you, no matter how loudly his mind was screaming otherwise. He wouldn't do anything you weren't comfortable with.

“The engagement is broken.” 

He wanted to stop. He could just stop and not say anything else. He could just end it there, and watch as your eyes widened in shock, then settled on a happy, relieved disposition that he saw so vividly in his mind's eye, it was almost as if was happening. He could just not go. He could stay, and love you, and make love to you, and keep you. It would be so easy. Nothing's ever been as easy as falling in love with you.

Leaving would protect the humans. Leaving would protect you. 

“Because I’m leaving. I’m leaving the Omatikaya, and so is my family.” 

Far beyond my reach is the future you promised

Now what I never even had, I have every reason to miss

"What did you just say?"

You heard him wrong. You must have heard him wrong. You wiped his tears off your face and sat up, feet dangling off the bed.

"Vol..."

"What did you say, Neteyam?"

You felt anger pick at you like you liked picking at your nails when anxiety took the better of you, and it hurt, and it burned, but anger was better than sadness, so you let it burn until you were ashes on the ground.

"My dad said we have to leave for the Metkayina clan. They're looking for him, trying to kill him. If we go, the clan will be safe. You will be safe."

"Are you kidding me right now? Please tell me it's one of those jokes like the ones Spider and Lo'ak love making that I don't get, but they find hilarious, for some reason. Please, Neteyam. Please."

You were begging, you realised. Outside of the intimacy of your bedroom and the cover of darkness, you never begged. You have never begged anyone for anything in your life. And there you were. Pathetic and weak. Begging a guy, the guy, to spare whatever was left of your heart with just a few words. All it took was a few words.

Neteyam wiped tears off his face and stood arrested in your room, arms limp by his side, like he couldn't move. Like you couldn't move.

"I'm not kidding, Vol. Trust me, I want nothing more than to be kidding. I want nothing more than for this to be a stupid, childish joke. But it's not. We are leaving tomorrow."

You were too stunned to speak, so you opted for the only other reaction your body seemed to be able to produce: laughter. You laughed. Loudly and obsessively, louder than you should have, louder than you ever have. It was so ridiculous, so ludicrous, it felt like the only appropriate reaction.

"This can't be real. This can't be happening."

Neteyam knelt by your side on the bed, and took your shoulders in his hands, urging you to look in his forlorn eyes, red and puffy, just like yours were.

“Vol, don’t you understand?! This is going to protect you. This way you get to be safe. I need to know that you are fucking safe, and if that means I go, then I go.” 

There it was again, the anger picking at your brain until it buried everything else, until it was the only thing.

“Oh, that is such bullshit! Stop acting like you would choose to stay regardless of your family’s choice, even if it kept me safe. You have never been able to choose for yourself, never done anything outside of what Jake ever said, what Neytiri said, what Mo’at said, no matter how bad a choice, no matter how much you didn’t want it. I’m supposed to believe that it would be different now why?"

“It would, Vol, because it’s you!” he shook you gently as he said that, eyes so intense, so serious - so truthful.

"So stay. Just fucking stay. Please."

“Even if I stay, I still have to mate with her, don’t you understand?”

You knew that he was right. There was no win for you. For either of you. This life was cruel, and it gave with one hand and took with both, always leaving you with less than what you started. You weren’t one to question the meaning of life or the fairness of the universe, but now, taking in the man you loved more than anything in the world, the man who you knew loved you, you wondered what was the point of it all? Why were you here? Was there really that much cruelty reserved just for you? Were you how humanity was paying for its horrible missteps on Pandora? Were you an experiment, a toy put on here just as a Voodoo doll for Eywa, and every time she pricked another needle in you, it would reflect back on Earth and on of the people banished back to it? It felt like that sometimes, and it definitively felt like that tonight.

"I can't believe this. I can't believe you."

It suddenly felt much like you exchanged moods in between you, his despondent, wretched one passed on to you and replaced with your anger, strong and unwieldy.

“God fucking damn it, Vol! Do you think I want any of this, do you think this is my choice, that this would ever be my choice?! I'm trying to protect you! I'm trying to make sure you are safe, that the clan is safe! What the hell do you want from me?!” 

He was angry and desperate, tears obvious in his eyes, as was the flush in his cheeks. Your eyes were leaking endless streams that you couldn’t push back, that you couldn’t remove from your cheeks in time before they were replenished, like they were begging to be seen and acknowledged, like the pain wouldn’t be denied - it wanted to be felt, and it didn’t care who it had to go through to do it. 

You felt emptiness envelop you like a shroud at the situation that settled in and had time to stew in your mind with each passing moment. It was over. All over. The dreaded ending, the wreck it would leave behind, it was greeting you like a warm friend, announcing its arrival. 

I'll just shut my eyes, forget that you were mine

How do you go from making one your home

And then just letting it all go

Your voice was numb and flat, quiet undulations with no emotion to give them any fluidity or any life. Your words were just a means to an end. 

“Nothing, Neteyam. I don’t want anything from you anymore.” 

You turned your back to him, unable to look at his skin on which traces of you still lingered, at his eyes in which you always saw the window to his soul, and your soul, the meaning of life and your future happiness encapsulated, his lips that traveled your body like a curious wanderer, finding Valhala in between your thighs, his hands which held your face and touched your hair, which pushed you closer to him or on him. A glance at any of these things and you would crumble, and you would shatter in a million pieces that no one knew well enough to put back together apart from him. You were a puzzle only he knew how to solve, and in his absence, you were all alone, and broken, left to mend your own cracks, knowing full well you’ll never be able to be put yourself back together quite the same way you were before. 

“Vol… please.”

“Leave, Neteyam. Just go. Just fucking go.”

Stay. Please. I love you. I’m so in love with you. Don’t leave me alone. I don’t want to be alone. I don’t want to lose you. Please. Please. Please. 

The sound of the door sliding closed behind Neteyam was the last thing you heard before he was out of your life, leaving everything you had behind.

So I breathe and let you go

How do I breathe and let you go?

Taglist: @liluvtojineteyam @pinkpantheris @netemoon @fanboyluvr @bananafruityawne @liluvtojineteyam @zaddyneteyamlovergirl @netemoon

[buttered-milky]

https://youtu.be/XqXZ0tJppok?si=kF5httv3agxyOzqe

Messmer can actually turns into a snake it's his original form, and he looks soo abused and neglected maybe because of the seal?

Eeeee okay so. The summon he uses a: appears to have more blood and/or burn wounds on it. and b: otherwise has most of its scales and doesn’t have the transparency effect I thought it had like the winged serpents!! Also there’s a bunch of eyeballs all over the place but we’ll get to those later.

Burn wounds are pretty straightforward and also interesting since they imply either the serpent fucked around and found out (Messmer burned it) or the serpent fucked around and found out (burned itself like an idiot, not surprising in the slightest for snakes since they miss prey strikes all the time and are, in my humble snake owner opinion, some of the dumbest creatures you’ll ever meet. Curious yes. But also. Idiots)

The snake Messmer turns into has much deeper wounds and scarring on it than just the summon of the abyssal serpent. This snake also appears to have a blind right eye (note for any reptile keepers who care: not the temporary blindness that comes with shedding). Its body is very misshapen and there are scales trying to protrude along the spine, and in several places where there don’t appear to be any wounds the scales are just…missing. This is as expected not good for snakes! They need those scales! I am honestly not quite sure how to interpret the overlapping layers of scales in some places. Like sometimes it looks like a shedding issue but also it seems like it’s the attempts of two souls trying to occupy one body? Also missing shed transparency effect! Idk what the hell was going on in my brain or if it was just lighting but I was sooooo fucking sure of the shed buildup. I was also really tired though and don’t care. The visual read was still fun. It can be a headcanon to me <3

So on those thoughts of it being two souls trying to occupy one body. What strikes me about this design is that some of the wounds look like bite scarring you’d see from live prey fighting your snake back. Again, this is a thing entirely avoidable with good husbandry (don’t live feed unless absolutely necessary). The scales to me still imply shedding has gone very wrong at some point. You’d expect to see shedding heal and scar over these wounds, but they’re all fresh. Very symbolic. You can’t heal violence by just pretending it doesn’t exist.

Ideally when a snake is wounded, you do routine care to help them with sheds and make sure the wound is clean. The scales will grow back and the wound will scar, but it will take several sheds and consistent work! You cannot, as Marika tried to do, just put a bandaid on it. You also can’t just lock a snake in a cage it will hurt itself trying to get out of (ie messmer himself) and expect that to go even remotely well.

Some of this feels like visual symbolism of self-hatred. Like I said, the base serpent looks like it’s gotten in a fight. With its host. Some of it also feels like visible neglect (ie the wounds not being healed, missing scales)

I’m gonna discuss the eyeballs bc I fuck w them immensely. First of all congrats Messmer on having an Eldritch Horror in ur body. Second of all, all these eyes appear to have lids. Actual snakes don’t. They have hard eye caps instead and cannot blink. Some of the eyes seem like they might not be able to blink, but the scales around them are still more closed than you’d expect? I fuck with it. Fits with Messmer’s blindness motif which maybe I’ll make a post on eventually. But in regards to the base serpent specifically, of course violence can afford to close its eyes and be blind to who it chooses to hurt. Violence is also something that, when committed, always seems to haunt you. Its gaze will always be there.

It’s interesting that Marika replaced Messmer’s eye to seal the serpent off, and so maybe it grew more eyes? That could be why the scales around them aren’t correct—they’re trying to protrude from the body. This occurs in both the summon and the physical snake form Messmer has. Repression of identity = Eldritch horrors? Sure I’ll take that fromsoft.

Final thing on the eyes. They’re red, not green. The winged serpents have green eyes, Elden Ring’s color of endurance. Super fitting! The abyssal serpent’s eyes are all red, the color of rot and death in this game. Red to me also feels primordial given its use in lightning by the dragons, but I digress. It’s pretty obvious why a base serpent would have base powers. This thing is old as fuck.

Okay. I’m sure you all thought the post was done but one last note on snake biology! So, snakes’ tongues retract into their mouth. When a snake opens their mouth you won’t see a forked tongue just curled up, hanging out. It’s in a little pocket for safe keeping :)

Neither of the base serpent’s forms appear to have the anatomy for this, since there are eyeballs replacing this anatomy. This is problematic for Messmer in a snake form specifically since he’s blind, and real snakes compensate for shitty vision by having an incredibly strong sense of smell. Messmer’s snake form also doesn’t have the heat pits that the abyssal serpent has. Heat pits are another part of snake anatomy, usually located below the nostrils, and are what they use to “see” heat and locate prey. In pythons (like the winged serpents) you’ll see multiple heat pits all in a row above the lip as opposed to the single very deep pit behind and below the nostrils in vipers. This single pit is what the base serpent (summon) has. Neither Messmer’s base serpent form nor his winged serpents have heat pits which is…interesting. It could be a modeling error but I don’t think so given base serpent has very clear heat pits.

My point is, Messmer is somehow even more blind than you’d expect from a snake. Maybe this makes sense given Messmer carries an internal fire, which would likely fuck with infrared? Still interesting nonetheless.

In summary: The base serpent alone (summon) seems overall in better shape than its other form (transformation). I think this is pretty straightforward symbolism—as a being on its own the serpent would probably be fine. It’s just that it uses Messmer as a host and this causes issues. Fuck around and find out I guess, base serpent.

And holy shit Messmer Cannot fucking see. Good luck with the seeing eye snakes babe because snakes notoriously have shit vision !

(Also just an aside both of the base serpent forms kind of have narrower faces than you’d see on a real snake? Like they’re more eel like to me. Anyways.)

[onyxbird]

OK, the idea of a soulmate au where you can't look anyone but your soulmate directly in the eyes was not done with me yet.

Leverage version:

Sophie knows all the tricks for faking full eye contact. For a third-party observer, it's nigh-impossible to tell that she's not quite achieving direct eye contact short of using cameras with very good eye-tracking software. Trying to fool a mark into thinking she's their soulmate via “eye contact” is tougher, but on a mark who hasn't met their own soulmate (and thus has never experienced true full eye contact), Sophie still has a pretty good success rate. Every member of the team has been drafted as her fake soulmate on a con at least once. Or, at least, Sophie has tried. Parker failed to pick up on any of the hints Sophie was able to drop without blowing their cover, so Sophie had to switch tactics. Hardison tried valiantly to hold the near-eye-contact, and they pulled off the job, but he was struggling and his resulting nervous blather did not help the illusion at all. Eliot picked up her cues and pulled off the illusion flawlessly… and hated every second of it. The first time they faked prolonged eye contact, he ducked away to Nate's bathroom the second they got in the door, and Sophie (slightly insulted) wondered if he was going to throw up. He didn't, just practically boiled his skin off in the hottest shower he could stand. Nate is by far Sophie's most frequent “soulmate” on the job… None of the rest of the team are entirely sure whether the eye contact is fake or not, and neither Nate nor Sophie is telling.

Parker has never had any interest in making eye contact, and was genuinely unaware that this was a serious thing people actually believe in. (Sure, people talk about finding their “soulmate” through eye contact, but people also talk about summoning Bloody Mary through the bathroom mirror. That doesn't mean it's real.) The first time she looked directly into Hardison's eyes was both accidental and jarring. She averted her eyes and assumed they would never mention this uncomfortable situation again. She was not expecting Hardison to suddenly want to have an intense, excited conversation that was clearly loaded with some meaning she wasn't picking up on, and she definitely wasn't expecting him to do so while trying to eagerly stare into her eyeballs. When Eliot happened to walk in, she latched onto him like a spooked cat, demanding he do something about Hardison; there was something wrong with him, like he's possessed or something; make him stop!

Eliot has habitually avoided even the possibility of eye contact with anyone since he was in high school. (He certainly wasn't trying to lock eyes with people even before that, but, well, he and Aimee had tried once, back when they were young and naive and thought maybe they were meant to be. They weren't.) In his line of work… it was better not to know. There was just no way that would end well. He doesn't have anything against other people finding their soulmates, though. Really. So he's not quite sure why there's such a bite to his words when he snaps at Hardison to knock it off—that “soulmates” is no excuse for trying to look someone in the eye when they don't like it. But he's sure he can feel a headache forming as he's stuck between Parker's “'Soulmates'! Ha! …Oh, come on. You're kidding, right? That's not real” from one side and Hardison's horrified “Oh my god, I'm sorry! Parker, I am so, so sorry—I was just so excited, you know? I didn't realize—” start of what was clearly going to be a long and heartfelt apology on the other.

Hardison thinks soulmates are very romantic, and he's always hoped, you know? He tries not to talk too openly about it—dreaming of finding your soulmate was deemed “girly” and “wussy” by the popular boys at his high school, and he had more than enough targets on his back for bullying as a kid without drawing attention this one. He's always kind of thought he'd probably never find his, if he even had one. He did so much of his socializing with like-minded people online, and you can't make eye contact—not real eye contact—over a webcam. There have been some near misses that made his heart flip (Hell, back during that first Dubenich job, when Eliot had taken out all the Pierson guards and then given him that smug little smirk, for an instant—just for an instant—Hardison had almost thought their eyes met directly. He must have imagined it, too caught up in the incredibly sexy and unexpected display of competence on display in front of him to avoid a split second of daydreaming about what it would feel like to look straight into those incredibly blue eyes. Anyway, it had never happened again, and after working together for so long, they surely would have looked each other in the eyes by now if it were possible.), but no dice. Until now. Parker, though… Even while apologizing (he should have realized to be more careful with Parker), Hardison could barely keep the absolutely giddy smile off his face. There had been no mistaking that, and god when people talked about “getting lost” in their soulmate's eyes… Wow, they weren't kidding!

Nate will expound at length about how the concept of “soulmates” and consequently the act of making eye contact have been exploited and commercialized for all of recorded history, the absence of any scientific evidence that the rare ability to make eye contact with another person actually correlates with any real measures of relationship compatibility rather than being a random biological quirk that has been superstitiously fetishized, and (if the person who brought it up isn't desperately trying to escape the conversation yet) whether the concept soulmates is compatible with Catholic theology. Very few people last long enough through his disparagement of the entire concept to notice that he has skirted around ever actually saying whether or not he's ever made direct eye contact with another person, and even fewer are willing to risk touching off another lengthy tirade to press him on the matter.

Thanks @soulmate-au-bargain-bin for the fun idea!

[strongheartneteyam]

I wish I could

Pairing: Neteyam Sully x female!curvy!human reader

CW: angst, risky pregnancy issues, fluff, fingering, masturbating (female receiving), breeding kink, pregnancy kink, size kink, exophilia (extraterrestrial kink), monsterfucker

GUYS I'M SO SORRY I TOOK SO LONG TO UPDATE THIS FIC some of you already know why but to the ones who dont: my life became so chaotic, all of a sudden, that I could barely log in here. I literally spent days without logging on tumblr. I had zero time and was always exhausted. But now my life is back at the tracks (thank you God 😭) - even though it's still pretty hectic - so I was able to find time and energy to write this chapter. Hope u like it 😘👀

Not fully proofread 🤡

Chapter 7

♡

You woke up in pure bliss. Many moons had passed now, your belly had gotten even bigger, your baby had grown. You're living two dreams at once. You were a mother and mated with the one person you've always loved. The owner of your every thought and your every girl-in-love-kind-of-sigh ever since you remember. You were carrying his child inside of you, you would often feel the little baby you both created together kicking your ribs. It brought tears to your eyes. You still don't know how it came to be, how a fully hybrid baby could actually be conceived. You know very well how Neteyam and you *created* the baby, but you have no idea how you actually were able to get pregnant. If it makes any sense. You laugh to yourself.

Things had been a little hard given that your pregnancy was a risky one (interspecies relationship things...) but if you don't count the fact you were feeling so fatigued, heavy and having a bit of trouble breathing from time to time, you had been great. Nothing too much, nothing that made your life quality decrease.

You stretched yourself and got up from your mat, walking towards the space inside your home where you and Neteyam kept the food, water, cooking utensils and such, as you were dying to eat breakfast. This pregnancy was making you so hungry most of the time. It's no surprise. You're carrying a half na'vi child in your human womb. Your fragile body needed way more nutrients than the usual.

You stopped for a second and look through the entrance of your house. You smiled at the view of the Pandoran nature out there, the birds singing, the green grass, the heavy tree branches. It filled your heart with a comforting, wholesome feeling you can't even put to words.

Everything seemed so perfect. Too perfect, actually...

You were eating a piece of the meat Neteyam had hunt for the both of you at dawn, just before he went to train with Jake. You had cooked it with some herbs and a little salt, that you would always ask some human acquaintances to bring to you from the lab, when you felt a horrible, almost unbearable feeling in your belly. "Ma Eywa, what is this?" You asked yourself, heartache and anxiety covering you. "Please Great Mother, don't let anything happen to my baby. Please." You were in the verge of tears when you started to feel weak and dizzy. Everything around you looked weird and distant. Finally, you were unconscious on the floor. Thank Eywa you were sitting, not standing. The fall would have been way worse.

➳

You opened your eyes and sunlight was scorching your eyeballs. It came from the door. You were still at your home with Neytiri and Dr Evelyn looking at you, one at each side of your aching body, while you were laying down in your mat. Neytiri was the Tsahìk and Dr Evelyn was taking care of you as a medical professional since you first found out you were pregnant.

"What happened?" You ask, head aching and confused

"Oh, thank you, Great Mother!" Neytiri exclaimed "You passed out, my dear. Kiri found you laying on the floor unconscious when she went to visit you to bring you some fruits and herbs she had collected this morning."

"I was so worried, (y/n). I was afraid something very bad would happen to you or the baby. Or both of you." Kiri had tears in her big eyes and her pretty face was still recovering from the shock. Seeing that made you feel a stab in your chest. She really, really cared about you and your baby. And of course, it was her brother's baby too. She was now not only your best friend but also your sister-in-law.

"Is everything okay with my baby?" You asked, fear taking over you

"We've checked how she's doing through an ultrasound and yes, she's okay." Dr Evelyn says in a calming voice

"...She?" You ask

"Yes, it's a girl." Neytiri says, smiling at you. "You and Neteyam will give us a babygirl as a grandchild." She was smiling, referring to herself and Jake, such an honest feeling of pure happiness could be seen in the na'vi woman's yellow eyes

You smiled, your eyes gleaming with tears. You were gonna have a babygirl. You were gonna give Neteyam a little daughter.

"And there's something that we wanna tell you. Your baby looks really different as she is a hybrid. She has mixed features in her face, na'vi and human. Her nose is like Neteyam's nose and so are her eyes, but the rest of her face is more human like. She also has long slender legs, like her father. But she's still a little smaller than common na'vi babies. She has four fingers and no stripes. And she has a queue. She will be able to make tsaheylu." Dr Evelyn said, smiling

"That's... incredible. My babygirl... She will be so beautiful... She seems to be more na'vi than human, though." You laugh a bit, imagining your daughter's cute little braid and her small tendrils. "But you guys did not tell me what happened. I mean, why did I pass out? I remember feeling a terrible pain in my belly. But the baby is okay, I didn't lose her, thank Eywa. But what was happening to my body?"

Neytiri started to say: "My son is na'vi, even though he has human blood in his veins too. As he impregnated you, his na'vi DNA helped form your placenta." You felt your face burn as your mother-in-law was saying that. She was just nonchalantly saying that her son impregnated you. You didn't know if you were just too shy, if the na'vi had a way more chill perspective about these things, even more than you already were aware of, or if it was because you were the one in the spotlight right now, but you were blushing a lot, your cheeks so rosy. "Your body did not know how to react to that, as you're human. Your placenta is being seen by your body as an invasive substance, to sum it up, because of Neteyam's DNA being so different from yours. So, your belly started to hurt. But Dr Evelyn and I have already taken care of this. You don't have to worry, darling. I prayed to Eywa. I performed a healing ritual on you. You'll be fine, Ma (y/n)."

"I gave you an injection that eased your pain until it went away and eventually you woke up. You're gonna take one of these shots everytime you start feeling pain in your belly, okay? We think it will happen a few more times. Take it as soon as the pain starts. The sooner, the less risky for you and the baby. It contains chemicals and Pandoran herbs that will help your body slowly understand that it's okay for your baby's placenta to be inside you and it will also help you feel less pain." Dr Evelyn advised, holding a small glass tube in her hand filled with a greenish liquid.

Suddenly, you heard heavy hard footsteps approaching. You breathed in relief when you saw it was Neteyam. His dark braids dancing in the air as he approached the entrance of the house he built for the both of you and your child.

"Neteyam!" You exclaimed

"Yawne..." he said, looking at you with loving eyes "Are you alright? Is our baby alright?" He sounded so worried "Lo'ak reached me and told me about what happened. I came as fast as I could but, you know, the forest is very big."

He walked towards you and when he got to where you were laying, he sat on his heels.

"Yes, our baby is alright. I'm okay too. And we're expecting a girl, by the way." You looked at him smiling wide, chest filled with a genuine feeling of joy and almost euphoria

"I give you my gratitude, Great Mother." Neteyam said a prayer to Eywa, smiling in relief "I can't believe it! We're gonna have a little girl." Tears of happiness were streaming down his beautiful face, running through his dark blue stripes

Everyone in the room looked at you and Neteyam smiling. Neytiri looked in a motherly way to the both of you, her fangs showing as she smiled. Kiri was smiling widely, her brows furrowed. Dr Evelyn was smiling but showing no teeth. Every person there looked happy for you two, na'vi, human or mixed.

But nobody was happier than Neteyam and you. He kissed your forehead while putting his big hand on your pregnant bump. You felt your girl kick, a pain coming through your ribcage. Neteyam felt it too. "She kicked. Our babygirl just kicked, my yawnetu. I felt her little kick." Neteyam smiled in awe, looking at you as you smiled back at him, your heart beating fast

Neteyam looked at his mother. They smiled at each other and she put her hand on his shoulder, then, looked at your belly, in an affectionate way

"Oh, my Eywa. I'm starting to really love the idea of becoming an aunt." Kiri said, still sitting a little further from everybody "Damn, so many tears in only one place." The Omatikaya young girl said, chuckling, as she sniffed because she never stopped crying since she found you needing her help. Thank Eywa her tears were now tears of delight

A big wholesome laugh could be heard in the room after Kiri said that, coming from everyone's throat.

➳

After everyone had left, it was only you and Neteyam at your home. Jake had freed him from his Olo'eyktan training for some hours so he could stay with you after what had happened. He would only go back later in the afternoon.

"Oh, yawntutsyìp... I thought I had lost you and our baby." Neteyam said, holding your face with both his huge hands

You put your hand over his, rubbed your face on his palm and then kissed it. "You always act so tenderly towards me, my love. You're my everything. And I love the way you care so deeply for our child. I can feel your love for her pouring out of you. You're so amazing." He smiled and leaned in for a kiss, which you were already planning on giving him

Your lips touched and he held your waist tightly. Both big hands on each side of your body. You felt a shiver coming down your spine. He kept kissing you, slowly but passionately. His velvety lips so warm, wetting your lips with his saliva, setting your whole body on fire as he gave you many pecks but then slid his tongue inside your mouth, breathing deep through his nose, making you moan for him. "I wanted to die just thinking about losing my mate and my child. I'm thankful you're here. I'm so thankful our baby is still safe inside your womb." His hands moved from your waist to the sides of your belly. Neteyam kept kissing you, but, in a softer way now. "Your baby bump feels so good in my hands." He kissed your lower lip, suckling ever so slightly on it, your lip between his upper and his bottom lip.

"Teyam. Sit me down on your lap, please." You said, a knot forming in your belly

Neteyam gave you a small dirty smile and sat on the mat. He grabbed your hand and led you to sit on his lap.

"Like this, yawntutsyìp?" He asked, looking deeply into your eyes. His big amber eyes were so enchanting, so ethereal...

"Yes, my mate."

Neteyam opened your legs slowly, his hand traveling up your thigh while he kissed you. When his hand reached your pussy, moving your panties to the side, underneath your skirt, you whimpered at his lips. "What? You like this, my love? You like the way I caress your small body? Specially when my hand touches your little pussy?" He was looking at you, eyes so hungry for your body

"You get wet so easily now that you're pregnant. And your pussy feels even tighter." Neteyam says while two of his long four fingers explored your folds slowly. You moaned, biting your bottom lip. "So tight for me." He cooed. Neteyam's thumb reached your clitoris and he started to stimulate it, rubbing circles.

"Ahnnhh... feels so good, Teyam."

"Yeah, my yawntutsyìp?" You hum in confirmation "I love your little cunt. Love this swollen belly so much. Ahhh, baby... It makes me so hard. Do you wanna touch me and feel how hard I am for you?" Neteyam asks, breathing heavily

"Yes, Teyam. Please."

☆•.°☆•.°☆

Sorry for leaving you guys hot and bothered and cutting the smut in half like this 😂 please, don't hate me 🤡😇

Your feedback is always much appreciated 🤍🤍🤍

Taglist:

@lik0

@live-laugh-neteyam

@sweetllamaparadise

@a-blog-name-2003

@cautionworks

@behindthearcane

@yeosxxx

@anxietydrogz

@destinylb

@thelxnelyworld

@ducks118

If I'm forgetting anyone now or have forgotten to tag anyone in the past chapters, please, comment below asking to be tagged. Also, anyone can ask to be tagged too 💙 ily bye

[aashiqeddiediaz]

Hi!

I was just wondering if you have a tutorial on how you created this effect in your gifset, it's something I'd like to try but have no idea where to start. Your set is so pretty! Any helps appreciated x

https://www.tumblr.com/tawaifeddiediaz/712911415428743168/ill-take-you-with-me-then-well-both-die-you?source=share

Hey Nonnie, thank you! This is super late, but I don't actually have the psd for this set anymore (I delete them as soon as I post them), so we're just gonna wing it with a gif I made the other day. I think this ask is about the text, but if it's anything else, just drop me another line and I'll get to it when I can!

I'm pretty sure I got this tutorial from the wonderful @eddiediaaz but I then turned it into Lazy Girl Hours :)) anywho, here we go!

We’ll be making this gif:

This tutorial assumes basic knowledge of gif-making, Photoshop, and coloring. I’ve only described the typography tutorial in this, but you can reach out if you have any questions.

Tutorial under the cut:

Couple things to note beforehand:

There is a lot of trial and error involved when doing any sort of effect, and this is no exception! You might have to play around with the colors and the settings before you find something that looks good and readable and that fits your set!

This text effect works better on big gifs (540px width).

For this, I find that a simple font works better than a fully-cursive one, but play around with what you like. The boxes may need some adjusting if you use a font with too many tall or tail letters (i.e. text where all the letters aren't on one uniform line - that's why capital letters work so well.)

Movement works really well with effects like these, but again, it depends on your gif + readability. If you have a blended gif, it may take a little more trial and error.

I work in frame animation for all my text effects, but this works just as well in timeline as well.

We’re going to start with this gif:

First, I like to put my text on the gif. You can obviously move this around later so don't worry too much about how it looks right now.

The dialogue is "Just don't feel it." "Feel" is one of those Big Words for this quote, so I'm going to emphasize it with cursive text.

I am using Moon for the sans serif text, and Santa Fe Spring for the cursive text. Keep both of these in white for now:

Next, we're going to use the rectangular marquee tool to draw our rectangles around the capital letters (we're not touching the cursive text right now). I just eyeball this, and then try to center it as much as possible.

(The rectangular marquee tool has a keyboard shortcut of M, and it's the second tool in that little toolbar on the left of most people's Photoshop.)

This is what that'll look like:

Next, we're going to go down to the icons at the bottom right of the layers panel and select the half-black half-white circle > Color Fill.... You should get a color dialogue box. Choose your color - I'm using #8d0000. Then, we're going to move that layer below the corresponding text layer, and set its blending mode to Difference. This is what that looks like (click the image for better quality):

I'm going to repeat that with the other two boxes as well, using the same color. The boxes will look different with the Difference blending mode because of the shadows underneath.

For example, the box with "it" looks like a solid red square because it's against a completely black background, while the other two have some blue shading to them since there are some highlights behind them.

This is what my gif looks like now:

Next, I like to go The Lazy Girl™ route and put all three color-fill layers into one group underneath all the text layers. This just lets me edit the drop shadow of all three of them at the same time.

Right-click the group and open up the Blending Options. In Drop Shadow, these are the settings I'm using. The drop shadow color is #0c6477:

(Note: uncheck "Use Global Light" especially if you're working in frame animation to make sure all the drop shadow has the same angle on all frames.)

This is what my gif looks like now:

Now that we've finished that, time to move on to the cursive text.

I usually match the cursive text to the palette of the rest of the text, and since the drop shadow is our "accent" color, so to speak, I'm going to use a lighter version of that color. I am also going to add a drop shadow for readability.

The color I used for the text is #acfffe and I actually ended up adding two drop shadows, just because I needed something subtle that doesn't overwhelm the text, especially since it's a delicate font. Here are the settings for both layers:

And here's what my gif looks like now:

Now, before we move on to the lines, just check the adjustment of all these text layers, see if there's anything you want to change. It's easier to change now than after the lines are added, since you'll most likely have to redraw them if you move the boxes after the fact.

To draw the lines, we're going to use the Line Tool. I just freehand all of this, and I try to go from center to center of the boxes when I can. It all depends on your angles.

My lines are 2px thick, but you can change these depending on your preference. Here's what mine look like right now:

We're going to do the same lazy hack that we did for the color fill, and put all three line layers into a group. Move this group below the text layer and the color fill layers. The reason for this is so that the lines look like they're coming seamlessly from the box, rather than from on top of them or something.

Then, set the group to opacity 50%. I like more subtle, simple looks in my gifs, so I don't like super high opacities.

And that's it! This is our final gif:

Some final notes:

Absolutely play around with the blending modes of the color fill layers for this effect. These two gifs are the exact same color we've been using, just two different blending modes. You can see how drastically different they look. The first one is Linear Dodge (Add) and the second one is Vivid Light:

It can change how your gif looks in a BIG way, so play around with it, see what you like, especially if you don't really like the "two toned" thing going on.

Sometimes, I also like playing with the width and height of the text in the font settings, making it shorter and wider, or making it taller and more compact. You can play with the letter spacing as well. The world is your oyster, etc etc.

One other thing I've started doing is erasing the lines with a big brush, just to fade them from his face a little, like this:

To do that, use a layer mask on the line layer folder, and a brush that's 0% hardness, and at least 200px big. For this gif, I also changed the opacity of the lines back to 100% so the fading effect is a little more pronounced:

(this gif isn't the best example for this, but oh well. Anywho, hope this helps, Nonnie! Let me know if you have any questions.

Enjoy!

[scientia-rex]

"cite your sources" NO! I don't get paid to be on here! You motherfuckers think you can interact with every Internet rando like an influencer who has to generate engagement. I don't! I don't particularly want engagement! Engagement is how I end up with entitled comments from people who don't follow me and are too lazy to lift their little dainty fingers to mouse over to Google and LOOK SOMETHING UP! You don't get to be a scientist by taking someone's word on it, and I don't demand you take mine, but you are not paying me enough money to be your Psych 301 TA! Hell, they didn't pay me enough money for that when I was a Psych 301 TA!

I get paid for being a doctor. I work 115% time. I make most of my money at my day job as a family doctor, and then I work part-time at the jail. I'm on call for the jail this weekend, actually. So my motivation for engaging with a bunch of nasty little fucks who want to bad-faith drain my time and energy by asking for shit you can just Google if you bother to think about keywords for 40 seconds? None! Zip! Zero!

I miss the days before I was a doctor in a small town, because I don't get to be anonymous anymore. I can't run to the store looking scrubby and buy something weird without knowing that person's cousin is going to see me in clinic next week and bring it up loudly. "OooooOOOOOooh Doc I heard you were at Bingo last week and you had a few margaritas!" It's like the dumbest form of celebrity. People find it titillating to learn details about me, so I've become much more intensely protective of my private life. Unfortunately, this has happened at the same time as I have begun accumulating the most absolutely fucking bananas stories that I must not share because they might contain identifiable details.

All I'm gonna say is, please don't put veterinary-grade ivermectin in your eyeballs.

[frodo-with-glasses]

More Reading Thoughts: A Long-Expected Party

There’s something so incredibly endearing about the slow, meandering beginning of LotR.

Even today—in a day and age when every author tries to grab you by the eyeballs in the first five words—Tolkien’s writing still has that gentle, irresistible draw that takes you by the hand and leads you slowly but surely into adventure. Something about a “birthday party of special magnificence” just appeals to all our inner children, I think; and the tiny mysteries, and the joy of a world of fantastical creatures living in peace and comfort, just adds to that. You want to go to Middle Earth, and you want to get lost in it. It’s like a lazy river at a water park; you wade in, get settled, and relax, and the next thing you know you’re far away from where you started.

All of that to say, Tolkien’s writing is goals and I aspire to be even a fraction of what this man was someday.

Anyway. To the bullet points!

Isn’t it hilarious how quick people are to begrudge one another their good fortune?? If Bilbo had been poor and died in a timely manner his neighbors would probably have liked him just fine, but he gets a lot of wealth and lives a long time and all the hobbits go >:-(

They’re not wrong to be suspicious, of course, but it’s still a biting social commentary. And very funny!

“As Mr. Baggins was generous with his money, most people were willing to forgive him his oddities and his good fortune.” 🤣

“You should come live with me so we can celebrate our birthday parties more comfortably together” belongs in the same category as C. S. Lewis’ “and they got so used to arguing that they married each other to keep doing it more conveniently”

“And suddenly, all the old people found that everyone actually WANTED to hear their rambling stories!”

GAFFER GAMGEE MY BELOVED

Hobbits are all so terribly prejudiced. What endearing morons.

Ooh, confirmation that Bilbo and Frodo look similar!

“There never was much to tell of him! … Till he was drownded.” “DROWNDED??”

I love that the only things we know about Drogo Baggins are that he was unremarkable and fat and married a strange woman

The Gaffer: “Thank goodness Mr. Bilbo saved young Mr. Frodo from those strange, dastardly Bucklanders…”

Meanwhile, Merry feels his eye Twitch and doesn’t know why 🤣

The spelling of jewels as “jools” is adorable for reasons I can’t describe

Tiny Gaffer Gamgee saw Bilbo come home from his Adventure!!

The Gaffer’s words are strangely prophetic. Sam did indeed land in trouble that was bigger than him—and thank goodness he did.

The Gaffer basically says here “if generosity is being strange, we could do with a lot more strangeness!” and honestly that’s a motto I want to live by

I love that Sam is most likely the one who started the rumor about the fireworks X-D

I wish we’d gotten to see the Dwarves visiting Bag End in the movies. It’s a shame they were cut. Imagine what cool costumes they could have had!

“G for grand!” and Gandalf’s smile. Ugh, my heart 🥹

Pity that September 22nd fell on a Friday this year. We were so close to it being a Thursday, like in the book! Oh well. Try again another year, I guess X-D

Are small business owners grumbling about your purchases from foreign parts?? Here’s an easy solution! Just BUY OUT THE STOCK OF EVERYONE FOR MILES AROUND IMMEDIATELY AFTERWARDS

Also the fact that the post offices are absolutely flooded 🤣 Bilbo, you madlad

“Old Gaffer Gamgee stopped even pretending to work on his garden” LOL

The brief paragraph of NOOO BAD WEATHER THE DAY BEFORE THE PARTY is honestly spectacular. It’s so nerve-wracking for just a second there—which is hilarious in light of the war and death and GIANT SPIDERS we’re going to read about. I think it has a flavor of Tolkien’s beliefs on eucatastrophe hidden in there—it’s not out of Bilbo’s own effort that the weather cleared up just in time for his party, it was just happy providence—but I’m too tired to write an essay about it right now.

“Half the Shire’s been invited…and the rest of them are turning up anyway!”

The hobbits who came through the gate again to get a second present 🤣🤣🤣

“The hobbit-children were so excited that for a while they almost forgot about eating.” That’s impressive!!

I love that some of the toys are dwarven-made. That’s such a cool detail that makes the world seem both fantastical (because dwarves!) and real (because you can Amazon order toys from them!) at the same time.

The names of the fireworks!! Especially the ones that are onomatopoeia, like “backarappers”! It just makes brain go ✨✨✨

Pfffft, yellow rain

There’s the express train reference!

Notable difference here: in the movies, the big dragon firework was set off ahead of schedule by Merry and Pippin, and all the hobbits freak out. In the book, the big dragon firework is set off right on time to signal supper, and all the hobbits freak out (but are immediately pacified by food).

Small detail I’d like to see in more fanfics: “Bilbo had been specializing in food for many years, and his table had a high reputation.” Yes, the idea of Bilbo and Frodo eating like the bachelors they are is hilarious, BUT! We have textual evidence to the contrary! I don’t know if this line means that Bilbo was a magnificent cook himself or simply hired magnificent cooks, but either way, it’s canon that the Bag End bachelors ate like kings!

“The feast was so incredible that everyone was incredibly full and took home leftovers and no one bought any new groceries for weeks. The good news is that Bilbo had bought out all the grocery stores anyway, so it was fine.”

Why is the detail about the golden buttons on Bilbo’s waistcoat so enchanting to me?? I really think this chapter just activates the Inner Child Mode in my brain, and suddenly even something as simple as shiny buttons becomes beautiful and magical. Also it’s just a lovely way to paint a vivid picture in my mind.

I’m so glad they kept so many of the jokes in Bilbo’s speech for the movies 🤣 “PROUDFEET!!”

And now here we see Tolkien, author of the fantasy epic that has defined the genre for a century and counting, unironically using caps lock. Folks, you can’t make this crap up.

The sneaky way Tolkien says Bilbo vanished before he mentions the flash of light is Very Good and hints at the fact that there’s something else at work here

Rory Brandybuck is the G.O.A.T.

“But at the same time he felt deeply troubled: he realized suddenly that he loved the old hobbit dearly.” Aww, Frodo…

Incredible that the debate between Bilbo and Gandalf over the Ring takes up almost four pages, but it doesn’t feel like it. Excellent suspense.

I wonder where Gandalf is going “to bed”. It doesn’t look like he’s staying in Bag End, so did he get a room at an inn somewhere? Is he sleeping in his cart??

Also it’s implied later in the book that Gandalf the White doesn’t sleep. Inconsistency?? A slight untruth?? Secret powerup to Gandalf the White that we’ve overlooked??

“The sun rose. The hobbits rose rather later.” Pffft

The SHADE in all the presents oh my WORD

Except for the ones for the poorer hobbits. Bilbo’s gift for the Gaffer is so simple in its contents, and yet so generous and thoughtful 🥹

MERRY MY LAD

MY FAVORITE HOBBIT (don’t tell the others)

How old would Merry have been here?? Like nineteen?? Incredible that he was already such a logistics guy that Frodo trusted him to keep an eye on the house while all the chaos is happening.

“Do you hear that, Merry? That was an insult, if you like.” “It was a compliment, and so, of course, not true.” HAHAHAHA DRAG HIM MERRY

“IF YOU DON’T LET ME IN, FRODO, I SHALL BLOW YOUR DOOR RIGHT DOWN YOUR HOLE AND OUT THROUGH THE HILL” 🤣🤣🤣

Frodo: “I’m so sorry, I thought you were Lobelia!” Gandalf: “Understandable, have a nice day”

“I would give them Bag End and everything else, if I could get Bilbo back and go off tramping in the country with him.” N’aww, Frodoooo 😭

“Look out for me, especially at unlikely times!” Therefore you also must be ready, for the Son of Man is coming at an hour you do not expect.…

“Frodo did not see him again for a long time.” Ooh, ominous.