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marcusrobertobaq · 7 months ago

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Cage said he had a specific number of script pages for each character in the game. Although I think may be an exaggeration it maybe a thing, where we had deeply written characters but in the end they became vague and lost context with time due to changes especially in Act 2 and Act 3. When u change one, u gotta go back and change everything about the other one - and with the size of the game it can create inconsistencies. But I assume the core still intact... To a certain point. Maybe it was all related to Sony just saying "no" to some shit too.

rA9 ain't a plot twist imo. In the game files rA9 is Markus, the chosen one, and we had a whole prophecy about the one who would raise and save Jericho, freeing the androids and leading a rebellion against humans. Quite a religious metaphor that still in the game, at least in terms of name. Idk if it was always the plot, tho. It's likely the first one was quite different, but still Markus leading revolution theme'd. But some mfs said rA9 is the player (which is true too), called the first one to wake up, the one that would set the androids free too (which is something we can do).

Well, from what I've seen myself it's related to Kamski. In the washed plot all this deviancy thing is like a "product", deviancy being almost like a virus kinda thing that can unlock this dormant "consciousness" all androids, probably got cuz they're Kamski's design after all, doesn't matter how many changes they made after Kamski left seems like they can never "fix" it. But CyberLife knew everything and is just trynna plant a puppet in there to control it if it succeed cuz they know shtf, almost like Markus may be related to Kamski in what feels like some sorta retribution cuz Kamski is "android supremacist" - a way of thinking quite similar to Carl's, I'd say, always talking about how humans are narrow minded, fragile and dumb. No coincidence Markus ended up with him.

Kamski wanted to create perfect beings and probably to replace humans in everything they're bad on, it just happen to get mixed in the capitalist system of technology with needs and requests. But I think in the end it was all...intentional? A test? What a better way of testing things when u got a "stupid" and easy to manipulate set of people not only on power but also the average ones? xD even if they went for him he would be expecting it to happen.

Deviancy boom happening ain't a coincidence either but I'll let u find it out.

He hoped a deviant would wake up (probably rA9) and finally get the androids together and lead 'em in a public rebellion against humans, and WIN - again proving how androids can evolve to more than simply machines and show how they're superior to humans. So in the end everything seems to be some sorta plan Kamski vs CyberLife had and we discover there's some fuckery going on in Connor's story. This plot still in the game but washed. The cut pieces and assumptions make too much of a sense instead of screaming incompatibility. There's also the doubt if Kamski is still affiliated to CyberLife after he left, even if a faction inside that actually agrees with his ideals and continue to do things for him. No one knows.

He can be pointed as CEO again in a rare ending and it's 100% sure another revolution will happen eventually. But no one knows who's CyberLife group, the higher-ups ain't got faces. Cuz at the same time they were desperate to fix the capitalist side of problems (purging all the defective generation of androids and put more resistant ones for future deals) they also got had that whole plan with Connor meaning they actually...expected the androids to raise and eventually win, almost like they're preserving an amount of deviants alive so they can get a puppet to control 'em: cuz we all know in gameplay if androids ain't being lead by 'em savior... They fail. So doesn't matter what happens CyberLife always wins as long as Markus and North are both dead cuz they can't be controlled and Markus is related to Kamski shit to some degree. They also didn't expect Connor to be told about the emergency exit and really escape, but who knows what other methods of establishing control back they got. Maybe they knew but couldn't do anything about it.

So that's it. Can be underwhelming to some people and that's why they went for a mystery thing. rA9 is the chosen one thing, like it became a myth/religious imagery from android "gen to gen" likely on purpose. Although idk if Kamski was always a thing, the religious ref was here from beginning it seems. Now, what rA9 means remain unknown. Can be a piece of corrupted byte, can be a project name, can be everything. In-game no one knows who's the first to wake up, some says it's Kara from 2012 video, I got my doubts for multiple reasons I won't focus on it right now.

Take everything with a grain of salt cuz were in assumptions room. I'd encourage u to search for things yourself.

I genuinely surprised that almost nobody talks about Kara and Alice in the dbh fandom

Like the fandom is still alive and Connor and Markus are getting a lot of attention, but when you compare with the characters from kara's story the difference is huge- I don't understand why's that ?

I know and understand that people love Connor bc he's got or smth and also bc of all the memes, and Markus is also a very good character, but I can't understand why Kara is being left out.

In dbh, Connor is rlly the one where you're playing a game and honestly investigating and making his instability go higher is a concept sooo cool and I enjoyed his story.

Markus is what I would call the main character since he has the most important choices, that can have consequences on the story of Connor and Kara. He's the plot line, let's be honest.

And Kara and Alice are the emotional part, they are the one who are the "victims" of Markus and Connor's choices. Their stories are the whole foundation of the hesitation you can have while taking big choices with the two others, at least that's what I experienced in my own game.

Also this is not at all an attack to the dbh fandom, I can understand how more appealing Connor and Markus are, since they are the whole gaming part of dbh, but I just think that Kara, Alice and Luther deserves more posts and art.

I'm going to post more about kara's whole storyline, I don't rlly care if ppl don't see my stuff, at least it's here for people that want it (also these are not going to be serious 💀)

#dbh

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actualbird · 3 years ago

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Oh god!

I really love the poly headcanons they are so sweet.... (or don't but that's part of it and i think the tot boys+MC deserve all the love the world has to give).

But, liking it or not, our 4 beloved boys are kinda complicated (that's what makes them perfect). Plus I never thought about how people get in poly relationships. So i was thinking, how do you think they all get into a polyrelationship together?

(I really have no idea of how that would happen)

hi, two anons!! im glad you guys liked my nxx team polycule stuff!! i'll answer these in one go, my "headcanon" (in quotes because i think this kinda turned into a character analysis/minific of sorts HAHA) being what first anon asked, How They Get Together.

heads up, wc of this is 1.9k words long so buckle up for a bit of a read jfsjdfkjbf

because first anon, youre right!!! the boys are stupendously complicated which i love so so much but canon has also shown us clearly that each of the boys' quirks and habits and tendencies causes a lot of (mostly played for laughs) friction. the bickering, the backhanded insults, the "im the best one here" preening contests. theyre all SOOOO RIDICULOUS and it is hilarious but yep! the boys r complex!! and that means this beautiful ship, imo, has a lot of phases to get to the actual romantic relationship bit.

how they get together, in my opinion, starts because of mc.

not in the sense that she matchmakes them all, but like.

phase 1 of the nxx team polycule is this:

through being in love with her (which we all know the boys 100% are), each of the boys come to terms with their own flaws and weaknesses. it's very apparent to me in all the story thus far that these boys are flawed as hell, it's very compelling but even more compelling to me is how all of them also do intense mental gymnastics to Not Confront Those Flaws. like, marius is a dickbag always teasing and toeing the line of insincerity, vyn is a controlling mf who always tries to sway situations to his benefit, artem is so repressed to the point that he has genuine trouble with emotions, luke is a self sacrificial bastard and also a huge hypocrite about how no, actually, hes the only one that should be hiding his pain and being dishonest, no dishonesty from other people!! in the beginning of the story, all the boys have their flaws and seem to have just kinda...not addressed how those flaws are harming them and the people around them.

and then mc rolls around and they all fall in love with her. and she sees those flaws and she doesnt let them slide. she challenges the boys in her own ways to see another side of the situation, to acknowledge what theyre doing. she doesnt want to get rid of flaws, thats impossible and also not cool. she just has this beautiful hope for like, all of humanity, that goodness can prevail with the right work. so when she sees her beloved nxx boys, she believes that for them as well.

which leads to phase 2 of the nxx team polycule:

the boys, more aware of themselves, become more aware of each other.

they werent Unaware of the others of course. it's just that they didnt like...truly connect on a personal level just yet. they saw the other teammembers with their emotional armor and flaws and saw a wall that wasnt worth looking past.

but after mc makes them realize that hey, flaws arent the end of the world actually, it's alright and the person behind them may just be worth it, the boys like. end up understanding the others. A LOT OF THIS BIT IS UNINTENTIONAL, ON THEIR PARTS KJDSBFS. like they stumble into understanding each other by accident, they didnt plan it, but over the course of nxx investigations, it's inevitable that they end up seeing the depths of the others. i delve into this a little bit in my fanfic "filler eps of the lost gold" where the boys are just going thru their actions and then trip over another boy's fears or desires and through that, gain a deeper understanding mutually.

and with understanding, sometimes, comes trust.

phase 3 of the nxx team polycule goes like this:

everybody in this team, whether they like it or not, whether they know it or not, has a heart that wants to give love so desperately.

marius lives in a world full of snakes so he cant have his heart on his sleeve for his own protection. vyn wants to be seen as perfect and the heart is inherently messy so he holds it back. artem for a very very long time was focused on work and success and achievement that he neglected his heart. and luke has been giving love all his life in a sense but in a way thats hidden.

all these tendencies that are brought upon their life circumstances results in this: they want to love honestly but they havent been able to do this

until mc. and all of them want to push back whatever fears or patterns their life has instilled in them because they see her and see somebody so unwaveringly good that all their hearts begin giving love to her to make her happy and to make themselves happy as well.

but heres the thing. the boys dont just see mc. by this point, they have connected and understood and come to trust each other as well, and the consequence of that is that They Can See Each Other Now Too, Truly.

and heres the thing. all of the boys are unwaveringly good as well.

one by one, each of the boys realize that what they feel for the other boys in the team starts to...change. yeah theyre all friends, they pick on each other a lot of the time, but the bedrock of the relationship is solid and strong now. but when marius is with luke, marius sees a light inside of luke so bright that he seems unaware that he gives off. when artem is with vyn, artem sees a goodness inside of vyn that hesitates to make itself obvious and known because vyn is scared of getting hurt thanks to it. all of them see the other and their goodness and, unbidden, their hearts want to give love to each other as well.

and because theyre all a bit stupid in their own way theyre like, huh, weird! wonder why this feeling is so familiar! and yet i cant seem to name it...and then they all independently compare these feeling with the feelings they have for mc, a feeling they do know the name of, and theyre like.

WAIT.

THESE FEELINGS ARE...VERY BASICALLY EXACTLY WHAT I FEEL FOR MC.

which only means one thing: theyve fallen in love with everybody else

marius: //goes to his studio to Think and sees that a bunch of his recent art actually had little crumbs of these feelings already, etched into the brushstrokes and scenes. has an emotional crisis about it

vyn: //records a 1 hour long entry in his audio diary to examine and gain control of his feelings but by the end of the hour all he knows is that he wants to hold these people and be held by them

artem: //quite literally just bluescreens, artem.exe has stopped working, sits at his study and slowly, slowly, thunks his head down onto his desk, valiantly trying to ignore the fast pulse of his heart

luke: //manically vents about it to peanut who, by virtue of being a bird, doesnt get it. just keeps talking at peanut to get a grasp of it all and then lies down on the floor, overwhelmed

mc, sitting in her apartment watching some netflix: ...why do i inexplicably feel as if something very, very important has just happened?

phase 4 of the nxx team polycule is basically:

pining: extreme difficulty level

because pining is already hard when ur pining for one person. what more for an additional 3 more people. and those additional 3 more people are pining back.

and all these boys are SOOOO OBVIOUS with their romantic feelings, in their own special way. the way they show their affection to mc starts to bleed into their interactions with the others and everybody can CLEARLY SEE WHAT IS GOING ON, LOL, but also all the boys are too chickenshit to confront it, because if they confront it, what will even happen??? being in love with each other, all of them, thats going to be such a complicated fucking relationship, holy shit. it's 2030, yeah, being a polyamorous group relationship isnt completely unheard of, but sue them, theyre scared.

but mc (who i forgot to mention already knows of the boys' romantic feelings for her, shes just hasnt made a move yet on any of them because SHES IN LOVE WITH ALL OF THEM AS WELL and shes been trying to figure out how the hell to make that work, she cant bear to choose just one of them, she'd be heartbroken over leaving the rest of them behind) sees that the nxx investigation team is now all pining for each other FULLY and she kinda wants to laugh when she realizes whats going on because like, what are the chances? that this would happen? that they all found each other and their feelings fell into just the right place for nobody to be left behind?

theyre all scared, she can tell. and she is as well, she wont lie.

but shes always had a belief that goodness can prevail with the right work.

and love is one of the greatest goods out there.

phase 5 of the nxx team polycule:

It's Time For Communication, Baby!!!!!

the exact scenes of how this happens is a bit vague to me. it could go two ways: mc going to each of the boys independently to talk about feelings, hers about everybodys and his about everybodys as well. OR they have a fucking meeting about it all together and artem literally schedules it in his google calendar, or something.

either way, they like, actually talk about this. starts casual, maybe over a chill date, maybe over dinner at a nice restaurant, maybe over a walk in the park as the sun is starting to set. but where ever it happens, the end result is the same: a heart is laid out bare and it is taken in gentle, grateful hands.

marius: OKAY, NOW THAT THE FEELINGS ARE OUT OF THE WAY, CAN I PLEASE KISS ONE OR ALL OF YOU, PLEASE, IVE BEEN WANTING TO KISS U GUYS FOR FOREVER

vyn, laughing fondly: has anybody ever told you patience is a virtue? we quite literally just talked it all out.

marius: //needy whining noises

artem, embarrassed: ive...never kissed anybody before

luke, embarrassed but trying to play it Cool: ....same here

mc: kissing is great, you two will love it!

marius: awesome, awesome, so is ANYBODY going to give me a go ahead or WHAT????

phase 6 of the nxx team polycule:

i dont want to say it's happily ever after, once they all get together. thats not really realistic.

they all have their quirks and tendencies and habits. and those will inevitable clash against each other. theyll have their arguments, theyll get upset, theyll sulk and be angry, sometimes. but also...

theyll see each other smile and feel like their love shining so brightly. theyll reach out for another's hand and be held in such a way that makes them think that their heart is in a safe place. theyll love each other and theyll put in the work to continue loving each other. because goodness will prevail.

and they all see each other as the most good people in the world.

so whatever happens, theyll get through it together.

#tears of themis #vyn richter #marius von hagen #tears of themis rosa #artem wing

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tveitsrouge · 3 years ago

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i cant stop thinking about it now. buddie kiss in the rain when.

I'm literally picturing the episode in my head right now listen:

by the time this actually happens, it's been a long time coming. the pining has been obvious to the audience, they've been shooting longing looks at each other for a good season at this point

maybe in the end of the previous episode they had some kind of long, emotional talk where they kinda sorta revealed a bit too much about their feelings, and now there's this odd tension between them because it feels like they're finally teetering on an edge they can't come back from, and they don't really know which way to step

so the episode opens with them arriving at the station, and it's a vaguely cloudy day. kinda gloomy, but not too bad

but as the episode progresses, we see this storm building, as this tension between buck and eddie does the same (it's a metaphor, you see)

sideways glances, longing looks, awkward conversations, u know what I'm talking about

and the sky slowly begins to darken with grey clouds as they go through their shift, dealing with a bunch of calls that have something to do with the weather I guess (they do like their themes)

and all throughout it, things are just weird between them

so by the end of the shift, Eddie's fed up with it, and he turns to buck once everyone else has left the station and he's like "what's up with us, man? what's going on?"

and buck just. sighs and says "you really don't know? come on, eddie." and starts walking out of the firehouse towards his car

of course, eddie follows him, cause he's stubborn as all hell, and won't let this go without a fight. he's like "what's the matter? what did I do?"

and by this point it's pouring, right? and eddie follows him right up to the threshold of the door, where buck stops and turns to him. "nothing, eddie. that's the problem. we both know there's something going on between us but neither of us are doing anything about it"

and Eddie's a bit stunned into silence cause like. we're actually saying this out loud now?

buck continues, like "I'm fed up with this. either we're going to do this, or we're not."

eddie remains silent for a beat longer (he's processing, okay, give him a break) so buck takes that as a rejection, and tries to be nonchalant about it like, whatever, fine, and shakes his head and starts out towards his car (into the rain. hehe)

and this is the point where Eddie's brain catches up with him, so he calls out the classic "buck, wait!" and buck turns back, but he can't find the right words to say so he figures actions will do instead, and he rushes out towards him in the downpour and BOOM. THE KISS. grabs him by both cheeks and kisses the life out of that man and whew my heart is beating fast just thinking about it

and of course they pull back with the absolute fondest smiles and bucks just like "is that a yes, then?" SCREAM.

but WAIT. NOT ONLY THAT... but this turns out to be no ordinary storm, no sir

this episode is the lead up to the TWO PART HURRICANE EPISODE that we want so bad, and so in the next couple of episodes they barely even have time to see each other and it's killing them

and THEN they get separated during a rescue and one of them gets into some trouble and we see the other trying to stay cool and collected but in fact they're dying inside because they had finally gotten what they wanted and now it feels like it's all slipping away too fast hoo boy the angst potential

but by the end of the two parter they're reunited and they go home together and boom. start of the canon secret relationship storyline

mic drop

anyway as you can see I haven't thought about this at all

#im insane #also obviously rain by ben platt is playing when they kiss #that's a must #asks #long post

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choptop-sawyer · 3 years ago

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Hi again 😎💫 im here to dig at ur brain again bcs i. M. Aaa sorry i just love ur stuff but. I have this kinda rly specific storyline type hc area and I'd love to hear any hcs you might get from it if its at all jr thing. But um I keep sometimes thinking back to the idea of kinda, vaguely growing up in the same area as the Sawyers, being childhood friends (and being stupid 2gether, running arount the countryside, ditching school & playing in corn fields) -

But then having to leave in your late teens to school / whatever (I mean 😎 my sappy ass also thinks abt mutual pining w Bobby but you know...... nearly unrelated.......)

Then, later on (Bobbys now Chop Top, Nubbins is..... dead I guess but also >:( maybe not, the family is up to being a mess etc) returning to town to take a break from work or whatever. N meeting up w the family again, i mean, oblivious to the bullshit they get up to but.... yk

This is a bit rambly i should probs have waited to sleep but I can't get the thought of returning to the Sawyer door wearing Bobbys tie dye sweatshirt that hr borrowed u years ago and all the impact of being a former family member bc u were also kind of an outsider or whatever but also the drama of leaving so uwu sksjd

This got so long. All i wanted to ask is: sawyer family headcanons for a childhood friend returning to town after being away for years. Rip.

THANK YOU FOR SENDING THIS god I love the image too of just standing in the doorway,, you're not home, you've changed a little bit, but you still fit into some of the old aspects you know so well they fit you and cover you.

Actually this is great because that fic that I swear exists has pretty much the same premise but!!! I can make this one less tragic than that one. 😎

(This is mostly Chop Top n you centric please don't mind)

Also this timeline is all fucky. I think that as soon as Chop came home from Vietnam the Sawyers had basically uprooted themselves and were living in North Texas because of the... Hardesty incident. But like can we pretend that that never happened they r still there in Newt? Just for this. (Hope you like it!)

Chop Top's Childhood Friend Returns

You don't think you would have turned out the way you did without the Sawyers.

They were the main element of your childhood, a mystery that you had to be a part of. A mystery, because they were closed off. Mistrustful. The sickness of small towns carried to the extreme, because they were mostly alone. The loneliness made them more miserable, the misery made them more isolated. A cycle, a legacy.

So it was a a miracle that you were even allowed to be apart of some of it, but you attribute that miracle to Bobby.

He seemed to think you were as much of mystery as what you thought the Sawyers were. Two kids looking through a small window into another world. But he liked that. He liked that you were something different, something new. From beyond that small world of loneliness that lived in the house.

You learned quickly that he had a desire for anything beyond that world. So he'd invite you out with him, when you were kids, to run free in the tall grass, when you got older, to drive with him to places unknown. He had a knack for finding these odd places, and he always brought you along with the music cranked up loud on the radio.

Bobby told you many times that he wanted to see the world. He had this lust for life that went beyond the restlessness of the young. He also said that he wanted to bring you along with him when he saw the world. You didn't ever mention how that always made your heart skip a beat when he said that.

Maybe you should have. But the past is the past and you can't change that.

You knew the other Sawyers too, but Bobby tended to avoid them sometimes. But occasionally, you got to hang out with them.

Nubbins was an enigma. You didn't think Nubbins was his real name. But that's the only one you heard from him, but the name situation was the least confusing thing. He was the most open person you knew. And yet you couldn't understand him, and decided at some point that you wouldn't ever. But he was fun. His energy was infectious, if he was filled with joy, you couldn't help but laugh with him too. That was Nubbins, so absent of any purposeful deceit that he was almost a mirror, you saw yourself around him, sometimes it was uncomfortable, but other times it was fun.

Bubba was the opposite. He seemed to be legitimately wary of you. Bobby once told you that Bubba didn't like to leave the house, ever. He stayed and did the chores. You wondered if he minded, being stuck with all the chores but Bobby said he didn't. It was comforting for him. Always having something set to do. You only saw him once. Nubbins had made him tag along when he needed him to hang some things from a tree. Bones from indeterminate animals, a clock with a nail through it. You don't think Nubbins actually needed Bubba to reach the branches (he climbed pretty well) but he just wanted his little brother to see his work. Bubba didn't make eye contact with you the entire time. He was wholly focused on his task of helping Nubbins. But he was gentle when he helped his brother, careful, and for that you liked him.

Drayton was... well. He was the one Bobby argued with the most. He was his brother, but with how much age between the two, it was almost hard to believe sometimes. Drayton was the one that everybody in Newt knew the most. People liked him well enough, but they said he was odd behind his back. He knew that. You don't think he trusted anything outside the insular world he and his family had existed in for years, and was at odds with Bobby because he didn't get why Bobby wanted anything to do with the world outside.

Oftentimes you would see Bobby after he and Drayton got into it. He'd be fuming, but he'd smile when he saw you. You'd leave with him whenever he came to you. These adventures were the most fun you had when you were there.

The other times you'd go off were when he'd convince you to skip school. Bobby never went himself. He didn't get the idea of all those kids sitting in classrooms for hours, doing nothing but writing and listening. Why do that when you can find things out for yourself? Get into some trouble? In his mind, he was saving you from a very boring thing.

You two knew the area around Newt well. The fields and the flat expanses were the best kind of playground. Your dreams were still set in them. A kind of sunshine filled melancholy.

Bobby told you things in the grass. His dreams yes, but his own thoughts. On music, on late night radio, on movies, on you. He perhaps thought of you as wonderful as voices on the radio, stars on the screen. He never told you that though. But your name was never far from his mouth when Bobby talked about the things he loved.

You and him loved each other as much as two kids who didn't know how to could. He was always on your mind now, with not much tangible objects to remember him with. A photograph taken by Nubbins, your faces blurred because you were laughing. A button, the pin on the back bent. A sweatshirt, which he tie dyed himself, and gave to you one night. The colors were faded. You never did get to return it.

The years away did nothing to lessen thoughts of him. No, they just blurred all together now, and the stream of the sunshine filled melancholy was almost endless. You needed a break. There was only one place you could think of that could help you with that.

So you came back. All things led back to this place eventually. Newt was dying, or dead. Didn't you see somewhere that when a ship went down, it took everything with it? You didn't want to stay for long. But you had to see all of them, you had to know that they were all not these strange figures you had dreamt up.

You went right to the house. You'd never actually been allowed inside, Bobby just always said something along the lines of 'Grandma and Grandpa are napping upstairs' or 'there's a mess' (never mind that he could care less usually about messes.) But you figured he had had a good reason. Maybe he was embarrassed.

When you knocked on the door, your heart was pounding. And that was all. Nothing happened, no indication that anyone was there. You waited, the sweatshirt was too hot but you didn't want to take it off.

Maybe you should come back another time. You were just about to turn around and leave when the door burst open, almost whacking you in the face. And there (you couldn't believe your eyes you couldn't this was a dream) he was.

Bobby had a hammer raised over his head, grinning, he was poised to swing it down, but then he saw you and he felt as if he was in a dream too.

It's been so long. He thought he made you up, a dream to carry him through misery, and you looked the part, even as you stood before him on the doorway. The light of the setting sun shone behind you, heat waves shimmered in the dusk, and you... you.

Facing each other, you stood, just staring. Over head the sky grew colorful, in the fields the grass whispered in the wind. Nothing had changed. Everything had changed. Bobby dropped the hammer and grabbed for your face, and he held it, fingers digging in so tight it hurt.

"H-hey you." He said, and fell to his knees, releasing your face. You numbly touched the marks his fingers left. Bobby still looked like a man who had seen a ghost.

You called his name, and his eyes looked lost, like he hadn't heard it in a long time. He looked up at you, and you could really get a good look at him. His face was leaner, he looked sickly and wiry, but his eyes were just as you remembered. You sank down to the porch to sit with him.

"Fuck... FUCK I didn't... I- I thought ya'd forgotten all about me... uh.. uhm. Fuck! I mean, r-really! Turnin' up out of the blue like you're some kinda... ghost or whatever... WHOA man... like, ya here to return m-my, my sweatshirt? You're wearin' it, you can keep it! You look better in it anyway... heh, fuck." He rambled on and on, hands tensing and twitching as if they were moving to touch you again, just to reaffirm your existence. Did he know how glad you were to see him? Did he know that you hadn't felt right for the longest time being away?

You forgot all about the sweatshirt, the hammer he had raised with a sadistic grin. You reached out and held one of his twitching hands, and he stilled and stopped talking. There was a peace now.

It didn't seem possible for your heart to feel this full. But it was. And by god, if this wasn't the best decision you made in your life to visit your old hometown, if only just for this moment.

Bobby stood, with your hand still in his, pulling you up. He smiled at you, and you knew you still loved him, and in your deepest heart, you knew he loved you too.

But this time around, maybe you and him could love each other right.

#tcm #texas chainsaw #chop top #chop top sawyer #chop top sawyer x reader #tcm 2 #texas chainsaw massacre #slashers #slasher x reader #my writing #chop top x reader #choptop sawyer

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stardustanddaffodils · 2 years ago

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HI STARDUST!!!! huge huge apologies for not responding earlier or messaging u at all for the past couple of days, school has kicked up and i am giving myself headaches abt college and whether i want to move out and leave my siblings behind but then also pave a different path for them than that which was set for me and also like. check out what a vague amount of independence is like yk, etc etc it's AWFUL times why'd we decide as a society to do this thing to teenagers

[assuming i did this right, IDs should be in alt text!]

no worries ! i apologize for not answering these, i forgor and then... school >.<

ahhh that is. ye. life is A Lot those r some Big Decisions wishing u the best of luck <3 if u ever need a rubber duck you know where to find me :) oh and i can give u my discord if you want :0

i was thinkin abt a book i read a while back, i will always right back, abt two pen pals in two different continents and their relationship over the years up until they finally meet up n its like. huh. internet friends rly are just modern pen pals kinda. huh

anyways thing. ye. i may post the full thing someday but also im probably just gonna always add to it so. we'll see :)

if we ever meet up, you'd take me to your old home. if we ever meet up, i'd take you to a park long left behind as i grew and moved forward. something about you feels like nostalgia and childhood and home and i'd love to share those places with you, laugh and share memories from before each other that somehow feel shared. maybe you could bring a guitar and i'd borrow a ukulele and we could sing the songs you've showed me and some that you've written. i feel like i've known you forever.

:D <3

we did ask my grandmother & she said she didnt remember and it wasnt important so. erm. but yes you r very right i do not have much to add but you r based and very correct and have very cool thoughts i am nodding enthusiastically

aw yay !!! :DDD interpretation of music/art in general is something that can be so personal.... but as an artist you do not usually. hear your audience's interpretation of your stuff or have a personal relationship with them which. yeah. hopefully its cool. i love how art can mean so many different things and also sometimes it doesnt mean anything sometimes its just. beautiful <3

KSHSF i give them a hard time but. yeah. my family is pretty awesome we are Doing Our Best and i love them <3

GOOD LUCK WITH THE COLLEGING.... thank you for the chai i love chai :D my mom made some earlier which was awesome i stole and finished her cup ksfjfj i am also giving you chai love u ink beloved :D

#ink tag #asks #soryasongsaa #WHEW okay. gonna tackle the rest of The Unanswered Asks.... later i have work to do #the unanswered asks.... thats like a horror movie name or smth LOL

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junova · 4 years ago

Text

↬ 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐞 | 𝐫. 𝐝𝐫𝐲𝐬𝐝𝐚𝐥𝐞

abstract — the one where ransom gets a taste of his own medicine, but you happen to be so much sweeter than he’s ever been.

pairing — ooc!ransom drysdale x fem!reader

wc — 4.1k+ im so sorry lmao

warnings — cheating (if u squint its very vague), angst, fluff, slight self deprecation, ransom is kinda nice idk, i want a soft!ransom drysdale now pls, this is also very messy so read at ur own risk!

[m blabs] — howdy howdy! first time ransom fic. woot woot! still kinda finding my voice w writing so i hope you like it! <333

His mouth set in a hard line as you continued to curl into his chest, the span of your confidence seemed to be wiped away with a nightmare from the past. Part of him was upset you hadn’t told him anything, the blind leading the blind, as you stepped foot into his family event. Seeing the last person you’d ever thought would be there.

Surely by now, he thought you would trust him but it was more than evident you still didn’t. You persisted on hiding everything from him, anything you were sure might tick him off.

Well, Ransom wasn’t necessarily known for biting his tongue. Although, in your presence, he was learning what to say and where to say it.

It really surprised him. Not one woman had been able to tame him, not since he’d be fucking everyone in sight. His desire was endless and not one single individual would be enough for his fill.

Then, he found you drunk and sobbing on the concrete, right outside of the bar he was exiting. To this day, he still couldn’t tell you why he stopped for you. He never really paid attention to anyone if it wasn’t to his own benefit. Ultimately, meeting you was, even if he wouldn’t realize it then.

You flinched from his touch when he patted your shoulder, gently asking if you were alright. If anyone asked him, Ransom would surely deny he felt you pull at the strings of his heart in an instant.

He just knew.

Maybe it’s why it took him so long to accept it, to believe in what he felt for you. Definitely not because you did nothing but be the most wonderful human he’d ever met. More had to do with him.

Ransom dropped you off the first night you met in your small apartment downtown, definitely on the rougher side where he thought his Rolex sporting his wrist may get stolen.

A cute little thing like you living in a neighborhood like this — didn’t make much sense to him. Then again, it certainly checked out with his privilege why he didn’t.

Truly, Ransom didn’t realize how fortunate he truly was. Of course being a trust fund brat gave him the ignorance to live in an unmatched state of bliss.

He still remembers the moment.

Watching as you fumbled with your keys, finding it more than difficult to open your front door. It was cute, with your tongue poking out between your lips in concentration. Now, he wondered how he’d forgotten why he’d gone to get hammered at the bar in the first place.

“Here, let me help.” New to Ransom, he offered a giving hand. Grabbing the key from your jittering fingertips before unlocking your door. He tried to hand you back your keys, but you pulled him so close, your chest touching his own. Dragging two rapid hearts through your apartment.

“You smell like him.” A dopey smile on your face lighting every dark sight of Ransom, not that you’d know it did. “I smell like who?”

“My ex-boyfriend.” Your hands cupping his cheek, but you were too drunk to realize how Ransom flinched from your touch.

He didn’t push you away either.

“But he definitely didn’t look this good.” Defying all laws of his own nature, Ransom let you stay in close proximity to him as you felt him up. Your hand resting on his chest, traveling lower stopping at his stomach. “Definitely didn’t feel this good.”

He watched as you sighed, your puffy eyes were only slightly swollen and the mascara was still staining your skin with the rest of the makeup you wore. If anyone had asked him, you’d looked like a wreck but he still found you alluring.

Ransom always liked his women looking more than fucked out, usually from gagging around his cock. Not crying over a broken heart. Nope. He definitely did not like dealing with a woman's sorrow.

“He never let me touch him though. Guess that should have tipped me off.” You let your hands travel back up, wounding themselves around his neck before they applied more pressure — pulling him into you.

Ransom found you pretty confident for not even knowing anything more than his first name and the car he drove you in. You were definitely craving attention and maybe he’d be more than happy to oblige but the little voice in his head Dr. Shoal told him to listen to was being a pestering, little bitch.

What did Ransom want?

Right now he wanted to drown himself in some sweet ass pussy. He knew you would give yourself easily to him, especially in your drunken state. Clinging onto him like he was a vine.

The smaller part of him, the better part, knew you were drunk out of your mind. Absolutely plastered, but you had to stand there looking like a goddess.

He didn’t really know why he was letting you touch him, maybe in hopes the deeper, darker side of him would win like it always did. Ransom knew better, even if he tried to hide it from everyone including himself.

He liked you. From the very first moment, he knew he’d have to get you. Whether it cost your own sanity or his, Ransom didn’t care.

It’s why he left you drunk and alone, safely tucked into the comfort of your sheets with his number left in your phone. Even taking the liberty of texting himself from it.

He could never be too careful. Letting you slip through his fingers was simply not an option.

Thanks to him, you didn’t forget about him.

The next morning your memory only held vague images of a handsome stranger helping you home, thankfully he seemed to be nothing more than a doting gentlemen. The first for you to ever come across.

Until later in the afternoon the following day, Ransom introduced himself and checked up on you, worming his presence into your life.

Then he kept talking to you everyday, surprising even himself in the matter. Truly, he couldn’t help it. Part of him loved how gently you spoke to him on the phone. No one ever talked to him with such a level of care.

He always warranted yelling, usually he was the one who stirred the pot. He enjoyed it, and thrived in a chaotic environment. It’s what he grew up in. Ransom was more than comfortable with his own family yelling and cursing him out until the sun came up. He did just the same.

So, whenever you sweetly asked him how he was, it threw him off guard.

Not a single soul even cared or bothered to ask him anything. Truth be told, Ransom was a sack of shit treating everyone like they were the gum beneath his shoe. It didn’t matter who talked to him — Ransom was simply more superior in every conceivable way.

He would succumb to not a single soul. Paving his own way through life, with only the money from his trust fund of course.

Then the two of you fell into each other and he could pinpoint the exact moment he did.

The weeks and months blended together. He couldn’t really tell you why he was still lingering around, while he got nothing in return. You did get him off once or twice, but he wasn’t fucking you like he really wanted to.

Maybe it was the innocence in your eyes pulling his soul into the very little good he still had left within him. Or maybe it was the way your thumb dragged over his cheek when you thought he was in slumber, blissfully unaware of your touch.

More importantly his favorite thing, the way you let him hold you when the two of you cuddled. Your arms wrapped tightly around his waist, bouncy cheeks pressed into whatever knit sweater he decided to wear that day.

It was all the little things, unknowingly making him fall in deep like he never had before.

Unwelcoming to him, his mother came barreling in one Sunday afternoon, while you slept in his arms. Even as Linda screamed his name, you never jolted, out like a log. Safe in the peace he kept you in.

Linda looked annoyed, irritated he even had company in the first place but not surprised. What truly shocked her was they both had clothes on. Not truly believing Ransom was capable of such a sinless interaction.

He knew what she wanted; he didn’t even have to move from his position to continue a private conversation. Not that it would get him off the couch, and out of your embrace in the first place.

“I said no. Don’t know why you bothered coming here.” Linda angrily sighed. “You should at least show up.”

Ransom didn’t notice, but subconsciously continued to run his fingertips up and down your spine. Linda did. She noticed that he didn’t even care she was judging him, but let you remain unbothered sleeping in her son’s embrace.

“It’s for Walt. You need to be there.” She stepped closer, hoping the increase in her volume would wake you. “I expect you to grace us with your wonderful presence as does the rest of the family.”

The sarcasm dripped, attempting to coax him out of the four walls he never seemed to leave. Not recently, anyhow.

“I already told you, I can’t.” Now Ransom was irritated and he really wished she would calm the fuck down. It was one day, one event. There would always be another, that much wasn’t lost on him. “I have plans. Send him my best.”

Assuming it was the rumbling of his chest when he spoke, you moved jolting yourself in his arms, before remaining still again. His heartbeat continues to soothe you.

“You have plans? What else could be more important than your family?” The louder Linda’s voice grew the more you stirred, pissing him off.

He really needed to change his locks.

Even if he had no intention of going, he needed his mother to leave. Really for your own sake — trying to save you from Linda giving you a cold shoulder followed with a third degree burn.

“Fine. I’ll go. Can you just leave?” She accepted Ransom’s submission, before looking at your figure. Sound asleep and clinging to her one and only, sinking your claws into him.

She really didn’t like the way Ransom was looking at you. Linda was positive he would never be able to care about someone other than himself, but here he was, holding you close to his chest.

Almost like his life depended on it.

“Who is she to you?” With a raised eyebrow, eyes narrowing to you before meeting back with Ransom’s cerulean blues.

“I don’t know yet.” Ransom paused looking down at you, so beautiful. Holding a light so pure, so radiant; he hoped no matter how cruel he could be, he’d never act like that towards you. “Maybe someone I don’t deserve, but want to be better for.”

His rough, calloused fingers drawing mindless patterns on the exposed skin of your waist. He didn’t know what Linda said next or when she left.

Time seemed to stand still, his confession hitting his chest fiercely. He let himself sit with it for a moment, before you woke up. Enjoying a moment where he didn’t have to deal with anything, he didn’t have to say a word.

He could just enjoy the moment without eyes judging him or you questioning why his eyes seemed to shine just a bit brighter whenever you were around.

It was the first of many. Moments where he felt small pieces of himself chipped away into your care. Planes of existences within him no one had ever scratched the surface of.

Much like right now as you cried into his chest, begging for mercy.

Because you were afraid. Terrified you had made the worst mistake, an unforgivable one. You lied about your past and to Ransom it felt like more than a betrayal. More accurately he felt a dagger in his heart placed strategically with your murderous hands.

He’d never felt such empathy and pain at once. Maybe he’d never been empathetic a day in his life at all.

Until now.

To make matters worse, he knew his entire family was watching the whole scene from the window. It wasn’t from worry or concern for either one of you. Mainly all of them enjoying pain being inflicted on Ransom.

Linda of course wallowing in her ego, he could practically see her bask in her own pride. Another thing she’d been right about checked off the list.

The rest of the family watched the two of you fight with shiteating grins permanently stamped on their face. They’d never seen Ransom care about anyone but you. To watch the relationship he held so close to his heart blow up so publicly, only fueled the fire to Ransom’s rage.

Except Harlan.

Even through his hot, beating anger Ransom was trying his best to comfort you. To calm you down even if you had been the one to be caught red handed. Harlan couldn’t believe it, someone Ransom seemed to care about more than himself.

More than any of his family. Not that Harlan was offended. Well, maybe a little, but more so he was thrilled his grandson finally found someone he had to grow up for. Someone he had to earn, not buy.

No bribes. No schemes. No games.

Just you.

“Hugh, please talk to me.” How could he? It’s not like he had much to say. Maybe he did, he just wasn’t sure how to get the words out without hurting you or himself.

“I know I lied and I fucked up, but please — we need to talk about it.” Soft hands reaching for his own, but he brushed them off, his hands snaked higher on your waist. “We should have talked about this the moment you met me.”

Dead silence is all you were met with as he walked the fine line of pushing you away, leaving you behind and pulling you closer than he ever had.

“You’re right. I should have told you the truth but can you blame me?” He met you with solemn eyes and his own heart beating rapidly. “Yes I can.” Ransom was trying to act cold and distant but the two windows to his soul told a different story.

“That’s fair.” Even as he was holding you, Ransom still felt like he was a galaxy away. He was withholding himself from you like a turtle retracting into their own protection. A year ago, before he met you, he knew he would have never even recognized it.

Now, you made it possible for him to be aware of just how much he had changed. He broke old habits of his own just to please you so when you disappointed him, this unreachable high standard he held you to, it shattered his sense of self.

“Did you still love him?” Ransom questioned you. “I did. At the time, he’s all I ever really knew. I thought that’s what love felt like. The only image of love I had was the one he gave me. So, I ran with him and it crushed me.”

Ransom had to pretend the words you were speaking didn’t split him into you two. The image of you falling in love with someone else was enough to make him wanna strangle your ex.

His friend.

“Then we just got into one really big blow out. Right in the bar in front of all of his friends I had met for the first time that night.” You reached for a chunk of his sweater, clenching the material in your hand, like you were trying to convince yourself to let the words fall from your mouth.

“He told me how much I’d been irritating him and I couldn’t help but notice every girl he flirted with and touched right in front of me.” You tested the waters, placing both of your hands over his chest, the beat of his heart calming you down.

“Then I just cracked. It was only one of the many fights we’d been having over the course of the past few months. Everyone single argument pushed me closer to the edge, until the last one actually did.” You sighed, watching as he frowned.

“I ended things that night, before getting thoroughly plastered and soon enough crying on the cement. Wasted and lonely out of my mind, until I met you.” You moved your hand from his heart, cupping his clean shaven face.

“You made me realize I never knew what love really meant or felt like.” This piqued Ransom’s interest.

You said love.

Could a tragedy bring out the words Ransom craved to hear more than anything in the world?

Maybe you cared about him, more than anyone ever showed him. But loved him? How could someone be as hateful as him be worthy of someone like you?

Even if you had broken his heart, he’d done far worse to more people than he could count. He wasn’t really in a place to judge but it didn’t change the fact it still hurt. A lot.

“Hugh.” You heard him gulp rather loudly. “Yes?” His tone came out as more of a question than a response.

The silence he gifted you was unsettling at the very least. “You've barely said a word.” He was surprised he didn’t scurry off in his beamer the second he saw the guilt reach your eyes.

He was surprised he hadn’t let his anger take over and let the rage he felt inside body take it all out on you.

He was surprised he somehow couldn’t inflict a single hateful word towards you, even as you sat with his heart in your hands.

In pure bliss of just how much you owned him.

“I hate it. This fucking corner you’ve back me into. Not to mention for the prying eyes of my entire family to watch the show.” The sharp tone he uses sensoring you. “You used me just to get back at him.”

“Like I was some pawn in your game and I really even shouldn’t be mad.” He paused, trying to choose his words as carefully as he can. “I’ve done the same thing to so many different women. Used them and threw them out at my earliest inconvenience.” To your surprise, even Ransom’s, a single tear left his eye showing you how much you really meant to him.

You hated yourself for letting it get to this point.

“But you? I could never even think about hurting you. I could never live with myself if I treated you like everyone else because you’re so much more than that to me.” The tears continued to roll. The dame Ransom kept shut his entire life, opened because of you and he just wanted to make it stop.

He would give anything — even you.

He just wanted to not feel like a piece of shit for once in his life. For a moment, he thought he might have a chance to be something more than the picture he portrayed in everyone’s mind. You showed him maybe it was more complex than it seemed.

“I just assumed I was that for you.” You sighed in frustration, softly wiping his tears away. “You are, though. You are more than that.”

“Then how could you be so okay with lying to me?” The crease between his eyebrows only created more of an indention as he felt the anger trying to escape out of him.

You let the tension get to you first.

“Because I-I was scared if I told you the truth, you’d never tell me.” You puzzled him once again. You softly reach up between his furrowed eyebrows, the pad of your thumb smoothing it out.

“Tell you what?” His mind was clouded with the possibilities of what he could have missed.

“I can’t spell this one out for you.” You were tired of being the one to do everything first. Even if your intentions weren’t free from fault once you realized who he was, your feelings for him were anything but.

“I don’t know what you want from me. You only let me fall for you because you knew how much it would hurt him.” He bit back, growing impatient and tired. “Any other time, I would have cared. Probably would have been more than happy to assist. But you made me-”

Then Ransom cut himself off, jumping out of the swing and away from you.

“I’m sorry. I can’t do this. I thought I could.” He literally sprinted to his beamer, but you chased him.

You were hell bent and just as crazy as he was. Maybe it’s why it worked for as long as it did.

“Hugh! Get back here.” You were running, thankful you’d gone for a more casual outfit today, the sneakers supporting your feet far better than the heels you’d usually wear.

Maybe if it was someone with a normal childhood upbringing you would have just cut your losses but this was someone who chose to be called Ransom.

This was someone who chose to run away from love and care because the only affectionate way he knew how to treat someone was to throw money at them.

This was someone who had the communication of a ten year old because that’s when his own mother didn’t bother to mess with him anymore before sending him off to boarding school.

This was someone who didn’t know how to love — and to be loved.

By the time you caught up to him his was digging for his keys, but he couldn’t fucking find them.

“Hugh Ransom Drysdale.” Your tone was sharp and he knew you meant business. “For once in your life, stop running away.”

“Why not? What good has it ever done for me to stay?” His back was facing you, his broad shoulders stilled with the rest of his body. Almost like he was ashamed of what he was hiding.

“I can’t speak for everyone else. I can’t speak for your mother or for Richard. For Harlan or for anyone else you thought might abandon you and really did.” You inched you way closer until you knew he felt how close you were to him.

“I can only speak for me.” Giving yourself, the final piece of you to a man who might run away from it.

You were so close he felt your breath on his back, and it made him tremble. He was shaking, terrified of it all. You didn’t let him be for long.

Intertwining your fingers with his, as he kept them at his sides, rubbing your thumb along the palm of his hand.

“I’m sorry for the way I hurt you. Lied to you. You never deserved it. Never.” You thought it would be easier if he didn’t have to look at you while pouring your heart out to him. A theory proved to be right as he gave your hand a squeeze.

“You’ve done nothing but treat me like a princess. You’ve done right by me, more than anyone else I’ve ever met in my life. It made me feel inadequate. My dark secret, always looming over us like a dark cloud of my own personal doing.”

“I’m sorry I haven’t done the proper thing by us and made you feel like I used you. You had every right to feel it because I did.” You took a deep breath, mustering up the courage to face whatever the future held for the two of you.

“I never expected to fall in love with a trust fund, playboy brat.” You felt him take a deep breath, like a breath he’d be holding all his life could finally be set free.

“I love you, Hugh.” The next thing you knew he had you pushed up against the car, lips hungrily attacking your own.

All forgiven because you love him. You actually were in love with him.

He couldn’t fathom it really because you’d been the first. To accept him just as he was. The first to refuse to call him Ransom because you like the way Hugh rolled off your tongue better.

You liked how he felt on your tongue, too.

The first to tell him Fran and Marta should call him Hugh because you wanted to be the only one who got to. The first woman to cook for him, willingly and not attached to the Thrombey payroll.

The first woman he had ever fallen in love with.

The first one he’d stick around and not run away for.

So, he kissed you. Hard. Softly whispering how much he loved you into the kiss, because maybe he wasn’t ready to say it outright. Loud and proud.

Yet, he felt it with every bone of his body — no longer lost in the blues.

taglist: @tonystankschild @parkastoria @tinylumpiaa @brattycherubwrites

#im so anxious to post this #bc i dont really love it but.......#here we go folks.#i rewrote it too many times sksksk 💀#not doing it again #ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale smut #ransom drysdale fluff #ransom drysdale fic #ransom drysdale one shot #ransom drysdale fanfiction #chris evans #chris evans x reader #m.writes

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the-eldritch-it-gay · 3 years ago

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I have a question that you totally don't have to answer if you don't want to, about DID. It's something I've considered as a possibility for me, even though I don't dissociate as much anymore. When you're just going about your life in the front, do your alters talk to you/each other? These days it feels more like my body is a house with like four people in it who just won't shut up.

It depends, really. I generally have amnesic barriers between the others, as in, I (Salamatullah/Ciarán) don't remember what happens fully when other folks are fronting. Sometimes I'll have vague recollections, but its more like remembering a dream rather than something I did with my own body. Sometimes there's less barrier, sometimes we're just "blurry", which is when we kinda don't know who we are lmao.

Overall, we don't really communicate directly much. Keeping something like a journal or using apps that allow us to leave notes for each other helps, sometimes the others will have a little knowledge of me and my thoughts. (example, I might be thinking about telling a friend something specific but then someone else switches to the front, they might be able to recall that I wanted to share something with a friend). There are times when I would say the others are close to the front, almost like a pre-switch state when I might get some vibes or talk to them. Or I can tell like, "oh X wouldn't like this" or "oh X is/would feel [blank] about what I'm doing right now". The alters themselves can communicate, I'm not entirely kept aprised of how and what they communicate, but I am aware of it (mainly via messages/videos/notes left by the others) But overall, there's not much direct communication with us, amnesic barriers pose difficulty to that and we're still working on better communications. though some systems get to the point where they communicate better, I'm not the only example of a system. Folks with OSDD can have less amnesia and less distinction between alters.

Aside from alters, though, I do have almost a running commentary in my brain of various people nearly 24/7. Where they're not alters, they're just people my brain conjures up for me to talk to and keep me company, but that's not related to my DID imo. I think that's more akin to maladaptive daydreaming or smth on my part. I also have yknow things like intrusive thoughts, hallucinations, and just Brain Scrambling due to various non DID mental health issues (not that I'm claiming that's your experience! I'm just sharing all of my experiences with brain people/voices/etc).

If you are considering if you might have a dissociative disorder, this masterpost (its a gdoc) has lots of resources including screening stuff, such as the DES (Dissociative Experiences Scale) which is a self-questionarre that measures your dissociative experiences. Which can be compared to the average score based on various disorders. And if you feel you can safely, I would recommend bringing up dissociation with a professional. That's not always possible or safe, I'm far too personally aware of that, but the little I've been able to discuss bits about dissociation with a professional has been helpful sometimes.

STONE ADDENDUM: Salam had this ready to post but now I’m here too so i (stone) thought I could idk say smth. uh. so like being a system is kinda like having roommates, where your brain/body is the apartment. but more of a situation where you and your roommates have like, completetely different schedules or w/e. so you communicate like via text and leaving notes around like “hey can you take out the trash when you get a chance” or “landlord (derogatory) called and said X”. and like. maybe u get a chance to talk briefly when like they’re coming home from work and ur just leaving. sometimes tho like, as an alter or w/e i can talk with the other folks esp cuz like, sometimes we front together and stuff. which i guess in the apartment metaphor is like a roomate inviting over a friend while ur out. but yeah amnesia is a bitch and kinda is a wall between us to keep like, idk all of us from talking at once or w/e.

#Eldritch IT Speaks #Eldritch IT Answers #stone.txt #do we have a system tag?#the primordial system #idk if we use that but there #idk if salam wanted to edit this more but i dont feel like i should edit it

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rosy-cheekx · 4 years ago

Note

Heard you were looking for prompts :) 1 of 2 - From favorite tropes: Blind date set up by mutual friends! And maybe combined with "I'm speechless you're so beautiful" from the fluff & kisses (and other stuff) prompts. Go wild with it!

This will go to AO3 soon, but it was a lot of fun to write and a nice distraction from any hypothetical realities the TMA fandom may be experiencing.

Double-Blind: 5K

Martin smelled like espresso. He wrinkled his nose and dusted his hands on his apron uselessly, as if doing so would rid himself of the months of coffee, cinnamon, and hazelnut baked into his skin. It wasn’t all that bad, he supposed, except what was the point in using cologne if it was going to be immediately overpowered?

The bell above the door jingled and Martin jumped, pulled from his thoughts on cologne and what he would like to smell like, given the opportunity. Sandalwood, maybe? Tobacco and vanilla? The musky-sweet smells are nice, they have a nice mix of feminine and masculine to them, almost—

“Ahem.” An exaggerated clearing of the throat, once again whisking him from his distractions. Martin locked eyes on the woman across the counter from him, grinning mischievously. “Welcome back to Earth, Martin.”

“Oh! Oh. It’s just you. Hi, Georgie.” Georgie Barker, a regular customer, moderately well-known podcast host, and most importantly, one of Martin’s favorite people to see at the tiny coffee shop he spent more time in than his own flat.

“Just me? Excuse me.” Georgie pouted and crossed her arms, coily hair bouncing around her face as she shook her head. “I’ll have you know you should be grateful to see me this fine afternoon, Martin Koffee Blackwood!”

Martin grinned and dropped the act. “I always am, Georgie. But I told you, there’s not a—”

“Like I said, you should be happy to see me.” Georgie barreled on. “I have good news.” She cocked her head and pondered the chalk-covered board behind the counter. “Two chai lattes, please. And make one of them extra spicy?”

Martin rang up the order and passed two cups down to Rosie, all the while checking the door surreptitiously, ensuring a little chat wouldn’t hold anyone up. “Okay? Spill.”

Georgie’s phone was in her hand, and she waved it at Martin like it contained the secrets of the universe. “D’you remember my roommate, Melanie?”

Martin nodded, pursing his lips. “Vaguely. I thought you guys were dating.” He raised his eyebrows, waiting for her to elaborate.

Georgie waved a hand dismissively, rolling her eyes. “Not the point. Anyways, she has a friend of a friend-“ Georgie frowned for a moment, “…of a friend who is looking to get back into dating. Mel says he’s short and nerdy and prickly until you get to know him. Apparently a real pain to work with according to the friend.” Georgie smirked and pulled a sticky note from her back pocket. “Thought maybe you’d want his number.”

Martin grimaced at the blue piece of paper as she smoothed it to the counter with a firm motion. “Wow, George. Really selling it.” It was his fault; they had bonded over being queer back in July when Martin had worn his gay and trans pride buttons and Georgie was proudly sporting her own pansexual patch firmly affixed to her laptop case. One lunch break discussing quirky exes later, their friendship had been sealed. Mentioning offhandedly that he was on dating apps and hating every minute of it seemed to have rooted itself in Georgie’s mind and had grown like weeds until she had taken it upon herself to become his personal wing woman.

“Do you even know his name?” Martin asked, regarding the string of numbers on the piece of paper in front of him.

Georgie blushed, shrugging apologetically. “Friend of a friend of a friend. Sorry mate. Melanie said he likes cats, documentaries, and-” she made air quotes with her fingers, “-being uptight.”

“Wow.” Martin chuckled in disbelief. “Really selling it here.”

Rosie sidled by Martin and set down Georgie’s lattes, who shrugged and picked them up after dropping a few coins in the tip jar. “You have his number. Just think about it, Blackwood. Melanie’s friend doesn’t spread the word about someone unless they’re something special.” She blew a kiss (clumsily, considering the cups requiring the attention of each of her hands) and made her way to the door.

“I just want you to be happy!” She called out as the January winds pulled her out the door and into the grey afternoon.

Martin chewed on his lip as he considered. January was always a tough month for him, and he had been feeling a little lonely recently. He really didn’t see anyone besides his coworkers, customers, and his mother. As much as he enjoyed his job, he wouldn’t call anyone there a romantic interest. He folded the sticky note and stuck it in his pocket as his next customer approached the counter. He did like cats, after all. Maybe that would be a good starting conversation.

Jonathan Sims groaned and shifted the stack of books in his hand as he inspected the knee-high table that was buried amongst the fiction books. He hated working the children’s section of the library. Although no food or drink was allowed, there always seemed to be crumbs everywhere. He was starting to wonder if children just manifested them. He made a mental note to come back with disinfectant wipes after putting the stack of child-suitable biographies away and turned, nearly walking straight into the chest of one Timothy Stoker.

“A-ah!” Jon jumped instinctively backward, clutching the books closer to his chest in an attempt to keep from dropping them. “Tim! Good lord, there’s really no need to be sneaking up on me like that.”

Tim grinned wryly and shrugged, taking half of the books from Jon’s arms. “Sorry boss, thought you heard me.” He gestured for Jon to lead the way through the half-sized bookshelves; an unnecessary act seeing as Tim worked the children’s library much more frequently than Jon did.

“I’m not your-” Jon sighed, deciding this wasn’t the hill he wanted to die on today. He made his way through the shelves, sliding books into their correct placements with practiced hands. “Do you need something?”

“Actually,” Tim checked a Dewey code and slid a book into a shelf a few rows down. “I don’t. But you do.”

Jon stared blankly, uncomprehending. Tim chuckled and gestured with a cock of his head towards the research section. “Melanie said she has a friend who has a friend she wants to set up on a date. And while normally, I’d jump at the chance-” he waved his left hand, the silver ring inset with tiny diamonds flashing in the fluorescents, “I’ve been wifed up and I don’t think my dear Sash would appreciate my going on a blind date with a stranger.”

Jon frowned, setting his stack of books down and eyeing Tim. “What, so I have to?”

Tim shook his head, a patient smile on his face. “No, no one is forcing you. I just think—well. It’s been a while since your last relationship and you’ve been a little…testy, recently.” The look on Tim’s face dared Jon to contradict. “Melanie says he’s apparently a really good guy, very kind and sweet and patient. I think his name is Melvin? I kinda tuned out after she wrote down the number she got from her friend.”

Jon scoffed, pushing his glasses up his face as if that would help him comprehend the absolute ridiculousness of what Tim was saying. “Y-You want me to go on a date with this guy, Melvin? Because I’ve been…grumpy? That doesn’t seem very kind to this mysterious date.”

Tim pursed his lips. “I just think you could benefit from seeing someone who doesn’t work here. I mean, we love you Jon, but god, you need to get a social life. I’m practically begging you.” Tim’s purse elongated into a pout, eyes going big and starry. Jon inwardly groaned. Tim was his oldest friend here at the library and he really never learned how to resist that face. Maybe he should ask Sasha.

“One date,” Jon promised. “I’ll do one date. And then you never set me up again.”

Tim grabbed the rest of the books Jon had set down and added them to his stack before whisking himself away down the aisles. “If we’re lucky, I’ll never have to!” He called down the aisles, grinning madly. Jon sighed and grabbed a small pink sticky note that had been stuck to the countertop, running his eyes over the numbers before slipping it into his pocket. He’ll call later.

Martin stared resolutely at the numbers on the blue sticky note, running his thumb over the curled edge of the paper, slightly stained from some sort of milk during the shift. Even his apron pockets weren’t foolproof. The underground was busy and he was jammed between an older woman who smelled weirdly like salmon and a man who seemed utterly too well-dressed to be on the tube. Elbows crammed into his side to keep from nudging anyone, he pulled out his phone and stared at the messaging app for what felt like several minutes. He typed the numbers into the message bar and watched his cursor blip in the body of the message.

Hey whats up?

No, that would be so weird.

Hiya, this is martin!

Georgie never said the man’s name, would this mysterious date know his?

Hey I think the alphabet is missing I and U together.

Gross. Just gross. Martin grimaced inwardly and chewed on his lip, thinking carefully before typing.

Hi! My name is martin. my friend gave me your number, hope thats okay. she said you were really nice and recommended we try a blind date. if this is too weird, I get ignoring it. but if youre game, I am! :)

As he finished typing, he heard the familiar robotic voice of the tube announcing his stop. Quickly, Martin shoved the phone in his pocket and carefully forced his way through the crowd and onto the platform, mind cast to what he had accessible for dinner.

----

It took Jon a few days, until Saturday, to remember to call the phone number they had been given. They could text, they supposed, but they always appreciated hearing someone’s intonation a little better. Especially a stranger, ugh, they shuddered at the idea of not being able to decipher the tone of this Melvin. It was half-past 11 when they decided to call, hoping this would be late enough in the morning to not wake him up.

The phone rang momentarily before a surprisingly feminine voice answered the phone. “Hello. This is Rosie. You’ve reached Swirl Café and Bakery.”

Well shit. This was not what Jon expected. They stumbled over their rehearsed speech, trying to scramble words together in a way that made sense. “Uh-sorry, I must have the wrong number. I-I was trying to speak to Melvin?”

“Mmm, sorry. No Melvin works here. We have a Martin, but he’s off the clock. Would you like to speak to our manager?” Rosie’s voice was clipped and courteous, but Jon could hear the bustle of voices in the background. It must be their weekend rush.

“Ah-uh, no, no thank you.” Jon shook their head into the phone, before remembering that did not translate aurally. “It’s alright. Thank you anyways.”

“Sorry, mate. Thanks for calling!” The dial tone droned on for a moment before Jon hung up, sighing and pressing the heels of their hands into their eyes. That was a waste. Melanie must have been playing them; Jon knew they generally didn’t get along, but they didn’t realize she would stoop so low. Honestly, shame on themself for getting excited about a date.

Later that evening, Jon was cooking and listening to music through the speaker that balanced precariously on a shelf next to their stove. The music was low, with a variety of orchestral instruments and sultry, smooth voices. Jon’s eyes were half closed as they stirred the curry in the pan in front of them, letting the music and heat of the kitchen entangle them in a sleepy feeling relaxing their whole body. As the cello in the song dipped low and resonant, Jon stood still, letting the music sweep them away—

They jumped as the ringer alerted them through the speaker that they had received a text, glaringly electronic compared to the rich notes of cello and viola that had been so rudely interrupted. Sleepy feeling gone as adrenaline washed through their body, Jon sighed and retrieved their phone, checking for the message.

An unknown number flicked across the screen:

Hi! my name is martin. my friend gave me your number, hope thats okay. she said you were really nice and recommended we try a blind date. if this is too weird, i get ignoring it. but if youre game, I am! :)

i meant to send this a few days ago but I never hit send. sorry ab that! rosie said someone called the café asking ab me and i assumed that was you bc i wasnt expecting anyone else and no one involved in the blind date thing ever asked for my mobile number.

if it wasn’t you, oops! either way it reminded me that i had never texted you. :)

Jon squinted at the screen as they read the messages a few times over. That was…a lot of words. So his name was Martin. It was certainly nicer than Melvin. Jon agonized over their words as they typed out a response.

Hello Martin. That was me who called the café…I hope it didn’t cause problems for you. Blind dates aren’t usually my thing, but my coworkers think I need to get out more. I’d be happy to meet you for dinner or coffee. Even if we don’t get along, we can say we’ve done it.

Unless, of course, you’re rather sick of coffee. I prefer tea anyways.

…not “done it” done it. Just. Had the blind date.

Jon winced at their follow up texts. God, that was embarrassing. Martin probably didn’t even take it that way until they bothered to clarify. They shook their head, warding away the growing anxiety in their chest and tucked their phone in their pocket as they turned their attention back to the simmering curry. Jon had embarrassed themselves enough for one night.

----

Martin chuckled at the texts that came through; one slow and the two follow-ups rapid. He could feel the awkwardness through the messages, desperately trying to give a good impression. He chuckled to himself as he set down his dinner plate.

dinner sounds perfect. but same about the tea! and about the coworkers tbh, my friends think im making friends with the espresso machine. which, i am, but only bc its good company haha.

btw i never got your name?

Martin’s phone was silent the rest of the night, as he plodded his way through a mediocre dinner and shower before settling into his armchair, desperate to work on his poetry. Words came slowly to him recently, thoughts about the world and darkness and the intersection of fall and winter. He really should up and move to somewhere warmer, he thought to himself, before laughing the notion away aloud. Yeah, right. He rolled his eyes and tried to focus on the poetry prompts book he had found at the charity shop. “Use noncolor words to describe a color.” Great. Martin settled back and tried to focus, but kept finding himself checking his phone impulsively, the foamed latte art he’d photographed, one of a cat he was particularly proud of, stared back at him judgmentally.

As he drew his evening to a close, Martin almost missed the buzz of his phone, now plugged in by his bed, as he brushed his teeth.

Congrats on the espresso machine. And my name is Jon. Anywhere you want to go for dinner?

________________________________________________________________

Jon hesitated, thumb hovering over the icon that would open a video chat with Tim. He didn’t want to come off nervous, but… he was.

Texting had been going well. Martin was good at keeping the conversation going and genuinely seemed to enjoy the long texts Jon had sent regarding his irritations with the research he was conducting as a part of his master’s in literature, asking him questions about details Jon had added for context. Martin was easy to talk to, too, he always seemed to have an opinion on subjects but always ones Jon was happy to hear, even if he was objectively wrong about spiders and oolong tea. Martin had sent an awkward text, letting Jon know he was trans and that if that was a dealbreaker he should tell him now, one Jon had blushed over and responded that he was nonbinary himself, and that it certainly wasn’t. The “okay fantastic! :))) remind me of your pronouns? he/him for me.” that followed it up had made Jon’s heart sing.

They had agreed to meet at an Italian place, equidistant between their flats and not too fancy. Martin had commented about getting ice cream after, but Jon wasn’t sure if he was joking or not, since it had also been a jab about Jon’s preference for rum raisin. Thus, he was staring at his wardrobe, paralyzed with indecision. Tim had offered to help, which Jon had initially rejected since he’s “not a child Tim, I’ve dated before. And I know how to dress myself.” But lord if he wasn’t wishing for someone to lay out his clothes and tell him to behave. He grimaced and jabbed the video chat button, bracing for the onslaught of teasing to come.

----

Martin adjusted his collar for what must have been the twelfth time, sucking on his lip as he waited at the reserved table. He hadn’t been there long, no more than five minutes, but his anxiety had been building up all day and a part of him was absolutely certain Jon wasn’t going to come. Neither of them knew what the other looked like; what if Jon saw him and had dipped out immediately? He was wearing mint green, as he had promised, so Jon would recognize him, and brought a bouquet of daisies, mostly because it felt weird not to bring anything, but he didn’t want to be too romantic. Not roses or anything. Besides, Jon said he liked daisies, said they reminded him of an old friend. Martin hoped it wasn’t too weird. He brushed his auburn curls out of the way of his eyes, part of him regretting not having gotten a haircut first, but he tucked those thoughts aside as he surveyed the restaurant from his vantage point.

He blinked in confusion as he watched long curls make their way towards him. Dark black hair, streaked with white, half bunned up in the back and rest left to hang loose, skimming purple-covered elbows. Martin wasn’t sure if they were wearing flowy grey pants or a skirt, but either way, the faint black pattern to them was stunning and Martin couldn’t help but watch the swoosh of the hemlines. As the person got closer, Martin realized they were tiny, stylized eyes.

“Ah-you’re Martin, right?” It took Martin a second to realize this absolutely beautiful person was talking to him.

“hmm—Oh! Yes! You must be Jon.” Martin stood, unsure whether he should shake Jon’s hand or hug him or? But Jon solved the problem himself by sitting, and so Martin did as well. “It’s nice to finally meet you…in person, that is,” he added, grinning shyly. “You look lovely, by the way.”

Jon blushed. “Ah, thank you. Y-You too. O-or handsome, whichever you prefer.” He sipped his water and fidgeted with his hands, eyes flicking around the room nervously before coming around to rest on Martin.

Martin shrugged. “A compliment is a compliment, they all work. Speaking of—what pronouns are you feeling today? I remember you saying it varies.”

Jon shook his head slightly. “I’m not going to pitch a fit either way, but ‘he’ is just fine.” It was nice to be asked. The library respected his pronouns, of course, but something about Martin going out of his way to make sure he was on the same page was… It made Jon’s heart thud deep in his chest.

They made small talk about the travel, the weather, Italian food preferences until the waiter came and relieved the tension. Martin felt his shoulders relax after they both ordered; it felt more real somehow.

“So,” Martin asked, sipping his water demurely, a smile tinged on his lips. “Melvin, huh?”

Jon choked on air for a moment. His mouth gaped open and shut again and Martin couldn’t help the grin overtook him. Jon’s embarrassment was sweet; his cheeks flushed and he bowed his head slightly. It was a lovely look on him. “For the record, that’s what I was told by my coworker, Tim.” Jon made air quotes with his fingers. “‘Melvin or something.’ Who was I to question your name?”

“Right, and I’m glad you respect names ‘n’ all. But Melvin?” Martin chuckled to himself, shaking his head. “I’m not the decimal system guy.”

“Nn-mmm,” Jon shook his head, nose wrinkled in a way Martin found particularly cute. “That’s Melville. Melville Dewey.” Jon emphasized, back straightening. “Distinctly different. I’m a librarian, actually.”

“Oh!” Martin blinked. “That makes sense. You work with Melanie, then, I assume?”

Jon grimaced again. “Unfortunately.”

“She’s not that bad!” Martin insisted. “I’ve met her once or twice and she’s been very polite.”

Jon rolled his eyes. “For someone who’s getting a degree in parapsychology, she seems very judgmental.”

“Oh? And what are you studying again?”

“English Lit-hey!”

Martin grinned behind his glass of water. “Just saying, I haven’t met an English Lit student who wasn’t obscenely pretentious.”

Jon faltered for a second and slumped his shoulders in defeat, though his voice still seemed to carry humor, albeit dry. “Unfortunately, I am no exception.”

“Well, I didn’t say I didn’t like it.”

Dinner arrived smoothly, shrimp scampi for Jon and eggplant parmesan for Martin. They ate slowly, chatting more about Jon’s graduate degree, Martin’s affinity for fiction and poetry, and their shared interest in tea.

“So, are you vegetarian?” Jon gestured to the eggplant on Martin’s plate. Martin wobbled his head slightly, not quite a negatory shake of the head.

“It’s complicated. My mother has—had—a sensitive stomach so we didn’t eat meat growing up. I think that turned me off the taste. And there’s something about the texture,” he shuddered. “Weirds me out.”

Jon’s eyes were sharp, boring holes into Martin’s in a way he should have found alarming, but instead found soothing. “Mine, too.” His tone—softer, almost reverent, clued Martin in: he wasn’t talking about being vegetarian.

Martin nodded, and gently placed a hand on Jon’s, the one that hovered near his drinking glass. “I’m sorry.”

They were quiet for a moment, Jon’s hand was small and warm under his, and Martin could feel a thin silver bracelet clinging to his wrist. Martin was amazed by how perfectly his fingers rested over Jon’s, how nice it must feel to hold hands with him on a walk or side by side against the world. Jon cleared his throat suddenly and reached for his glass, gulping down water while staring steadfastly at his plate.

Martin felt his own blush rise through his cheeks and pushed a stray noodle around his plate. “So, here’s a question,” he began, eager to clear the tension. “You said earlier your friend Tim gave you the number to Swirl, right? I don’t know a Tim. So how did he know me?”

Jon frowned, cocking his head. “Technically, I got the number from Tim but that was via Melanie. She said her roommate was friends with…well, friends with you.”

“Mmhmm, that makes sense. I know Georgie from the coffee shop.” He was about to continue when he saw absolutely paralyzed look on Jon’s face. “You…you alright?”

Jon was stock still, pausing the forkful of shrimp that was en route to his mouth. “Sorry, Melanie’s roommate is Georgie?”

Martin nodded slowly. “Yeah, Georgie Barker, that podcaster. She gets her an extra-spicy chai latte from Swirl most days and that’s about the most I know of the relationship. Why, you know her?”

Jon put the fork down, shrimp forgotten, and sighed, running his thumbs along the bridge of his nose, pushing his thin-rimmed glasses up to his eyebrows. “Y-yes, she’s kind of…my ex.”

It was Martin’s turn to freeze. “Sorry?”

“Mmm, yeah, we decided we were better as friends. It was back in Oxford. But I don’t exactly see her often much anymore.” Jon winced at his own words, as if he knew how bad they sounded.

Martin sat back in disbelief, chuckling to himself. “Y’know, she said you were a ‘friend of a friend of a friend.’ D’you think she even knew it was you?”

Jon cocked his head in thought. “I guess not. I mean, I think the whole library staff has been gunning for me to relieve some tension. I wouldn’t be surprised if they’ve been looking for a blind date for me for months now.”

Martin grinned, eyes sparkling. “Well, no matter. It was lucky for me.” Lucky again, was Martin, when he was rewarded with Jon’s warm blush.

----

The bill had been a painful affair, with both Jon and Martin vying for the privilege of paying. Martin struck a deal: he’d pay for the dinner, and Jon would pay for ice cream. Jon knew the differences would widely outweigh when it came to cost but he relented, and the self-satisfied smirk that blossomed over Jon’s face was payment enough.

Martin pointed out the ice cream parlor was a few blocks away and, though it was January, they decided to walk. The fresh snow on the ground glinted against the orange street lamps, and Jon laughed under his breath at the way Martin took great care to step on any unusually large clumps of snow, like he had a personal vendetta. When Jon’s chuckle had made it past the scarf he had wound round his neck and mouth, Martin had glanced over, embarrassed.

“I like the sound of it,” he mumbled, suddenly very meek for a man his stature. It was, regretfully, endearing. Martin was tall, but he was big too, and it was obvious underneath the layer of soft cashmere and chub, there was rigid muscle, and beneath that still, a gentle heart. Jon was struck by him, in more ways he had prepared himself for, and it felt second nature to slide his gloved hand into Martin’s and give it a solid squeeze of acknowledgement.

“Do you think it’s too cold to get ice cream?” Jon asked, watching a cloud of breath float by his lips.

Martin shrugged. “Technically? Yes. But who’s going to tell on us?” Jon swung their entwined hands a little. “Unless…you don’t want to?” Martin added, eyes locking on Jon’s before his head followed.

Jon shook his head. “No, I want to. I believe we have a debt to settle and I have a personal score involving rum raisin.” Martin beamed, clearly pleased, and Jon was certain the snow around him melted right off with the warmth of his smile. Jon leant into Martin’s side a little, and they continued in silence until they reached the ice cream parlor, the entrance to which glowed with pink and white LEDs.

Jon smugly ordered a scoop of rum raisin and was delighted to find Martin “didn’t hate it,” though he insisted his mint chip was better. That was genuinely the best Jon could hope for; not even Georgie in all her unusual tastes enjoyed his rum raisin sensibility. “My grandmother loved it when I was a kid,” he explained between bites, stirring the ice cream with his spoon. “It was the only flavor she kept around the house.”

“Not even vanilla?” Martin gasped in mock disbelief. “Any sensible person would say you’ve been tricked into enjoying it.” Jon chuckled and elbowed Martin mildly.

Jon found himself lingering over the bowl, realizing that the end of their dessert meant an end to the date. Martin seemed to be acting similarly, putting his spoon down between bites and taking more and more thoughtful swallows between their bouts of conversation.

“You-you took the tube here, right?” Jon asked, setting his finally-empty bowl off to the side. At Martin’s confirmation, Jon clenched his fist below the table. “Do you want to walk to the station together?”

Martin’s eyes lit up, nodding eagerly. “I had meant to ask, actually! I wanted to make sure you got there safe.” Jon winced at the blush that overtook his cheeks, though it was easy to blame it on the chill of the ice cream and the frigid night.

The walk to the tube was longer and the pair, heavily sated by pasta and dairy, were quiet, making soft comments about the snow or the odd remaining Christmas decorations, hands clasped tightly and shoulders pressing into the other. The fluorescents of the underground shone brightly, normally a beacon calling travelers home in the night, but to Jon it felt like a dreadful curse. He truly hadn’t expected to enjoy his evening with Martin so much, but they had just clicked. It felt like a shame to let it go.

Swiping their cards, Jon and Martin passed through their respective turnstiles and stood at the bisecting tunnels through which the various lines waited to take them home. They faced each other in silence, hands still interlocked, unsure of how to begin.

“If you’d like to,” Jon murmured, eyes shifting focus to Martin’s curls, plastered to his forehead from the snow; his collar, peeking through his coat; the way the shell of his ear seemed to have a nick missing (was it from a childhood accident? Just the way it was grown?). “I’d like to go out again.”

Martin squeezed Jon’s hand, and Jon’s eyes flitted back to Martin’s own; they were grey-blue and reminded Jon of his childhood sea. “Mmhmm, yeah.” Martin rolled his eyes at his own words and tried again. “Yes, Jon, I’d love that.” Martin moved to hug Jon, a gesture Jon eagerly accepted, relishing the warm arms encircling him and the feel of Martin’s chin resting on the crown of his head. As they pulled away, Martin’s eyes flitted across Jon’s face and the hand around his back moved, cautiously, to rest on the side of Jon’s neck.

“I…I don’t want to presume,” Martin said quietly, and Jon was distinctly aware of how empty, how big, the station was. “Is it okay if I kiss your cheek?”

Jon blinked rapidly, nodding wordlessly, before clearing his throat. “Ah, um, yes. Please.”

Martin’s smile was soft as he pressed his lips to the apex of Jon’s cheekbone, almost into his hairline. Jon was sure the blush that rose across his face this time certainly couldn’t be explained away by the snow, but he honestly wasn’t really sure he cared.

#tma #tma fanfic #the magnus archives #the magnus archives fanfic #fanfic to a tea #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #jmart #jonmartin #georgie barker #rosie zampano #tma rosie #tim stoker #meet cute #blind date au #this is my love letter to TMA #prompt answer #fanfic prompt

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fruitcoops · 4 years ago

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Hii, i love your work! Can I request an angst fic with prompts 38, 31 and 78. Like Logan and Leo get into a big fight and Logan says something bad (like I hate u and something like that) and Leo just leaves and maybe goes to Remus and Sirius. And then they make up idk, just a happy ending.

Thanksss❤️❤️🥺

Hello! I really enjoyed writing this ask because I haven’t written a lot of relationship-related angst yet, and I’m pretty happy with it. Credit for Sweater Weather goes to @lumosinlove!

TW for arguing in relationships

Prompt 31: “He’s not answering his phone.”

Prompt 38: “Don’t talk like that.”

Prompt 78: “What did you just say?”

It started with a book.

It wasn’t a particularly special book—on the contrary, it was a beat-up copy of A Tale of Two Cities that Leo had received as a birthday present years ago. He didn’t even like the book that much, but it was a rainy day and he hadn’t slept and he wanted something familiar to daydream through.

There was a heavy, irritated sigh from the kitchen. Leo glanced up at Finn, who was folding laundry, and frowned. “Lo, you okay?” Finn asked.

“Fine.”

“You don’t sound fine.”

“It’s just—it’s fine.”

Finn set a pair of socks down and ducked into the kitchen; Leo turned back to his book, but kept both ears pricked. “What’s wrong?” Finn’s voice was soft and concerned.

“I don’t know, I’m just upset,” Logan answered. Dishes clanked in the sink and Leo winced, silently hoping none of them would be chipped. “Just finish the laundry and we can go to bed.”

Something in his tone rubbed Leo the wrong way and he stood, joining Finn in the doorway. “Hey, don’t talk to him like that.”

“Like what?” Logan set a fork down with more force than strictly necessary.

“You’re being snappy and I don’t like it. Finn doesn’t, either.”

Finn turned to look at him reproachfully. “What’s your deal?”

“Well, I was kind of looking forward to a quiet evening where we could hang out and read, but I guess that’s not going to happen.”

Logan huffed. “Maybe if you pulled your weight around here we could have a quiet evening.”

“Excuse me?”

“Finn and I have been cleaning for the last hour while you read your stupid book—”

“Leave me out of this!”

“—and I’m getting tired of cleaning up after you.”

Leo’s eyebrows rose and he huffed out a laugh, hardly believing his ears. “I’m sorry, who’s the one that leaves wet towels on the floor every fucking time he showers? Oh, but pardon me for taking an hour and a half to read after not sleeping because somebody was kicking me last night.”

“Both of you, cut it out,” Finn tried, holding his hands out to placate them. Blood thundered in Leo’s ears—he had no idea why his temper was flaring so suddenly, but he wasn’t going to back off and let Logan win. “Logan, I can finish the dishes. Leo, take a deep breath.”

“You’re taking his side now?” Leo asked incredulously. “You always take his side.”

“I’m not taking sides, I’m just trying to figure out what the hell is going on with you two!”

“What do mean, he always takes my side?” Logan crossed his arms and leaned against the counter, quiet rage twisting his face.

“That’s what you do.” The words were coming out of him in a torrent—unstoppable and furious. “You two tag-team every time we get in a fight and suddenly I’m outnumbered.”

“Wha—tag team?” Finn shook his head in disbelief. “Leo, what the fuck are you talking about? I love you, Logan loves you, and you love us.”

If Leo hadn’t been so angry, he probably would have missed Logan muttering under his breath. Instead, he rounded on him, his fists clenching and unclenching. “What did you just say?” Logan glared and kept his mouth shut. “Logan, what did you just say?”

“Nothing you’ll care about,” he said coldly.

Leo shook his head and grabbed his keys off the kitchen counter. “Fuck off, Logan. Just fuck off.”

The slamming of the door behind him was not nearly satisfying enough to quell his nausea and the pounding in his head. He got in the car and turned off the radio with a hard jab to the CD port; the opening notes of one of Logan’s favorite songs from the road trip playlist made Leo’s eyes sting as he pulled out of the garage and headed down the road.

“What did I just do?” he asked the empty car. “Jesus, Leo, you just stormed out with no plan and left two angry boyfriends behind, and now you have nowhere to go and nothing to do and nobody to go home to—”

He pulled over, parked the car, and burst into tears. Leo hadn’t cried like that since his first night in Gryffindor, so far away from home and too afraid of waking Logan up with his sobs to do more than silently weep into his pillow. Logan had definitely heard anyway, because when he woke up the next morning there was a hot cup of coffee next to the door.

“I fucked up.” The steering wheel made his forehead itch. “I fucked up so bad, oh my god.”

You need to go somewhere, the reasonable voice in his head that sounded quite a bit like his dad chided. If you go back and apologize, they’ll take you back.

I can’t. It’s too soon and I’m still upset.

Then think. Who else cares enough to let you stay?

Leo sniffled and wiped at his tears with the sleeve of his sweater. No, not his sweater—Finn’s. It took him another five minutes to pull himself together enough to turn on his blinker and head out onto the road again, following the familiar path without even needing to check his phone. The December air made the dried tears on his cheeks extra cold as he walked up the driveway with his hands stuffed in his pockets, shivering in the cold. This was nothing like home.

He heard the doorbell ring through the house and stepped back a bit to admire the holiday lights in a rainbow of colors. They sparkled, a beacon against the night that made his heart clench. The door swung open a few moments later. “Hey, Leo, what’s…going on?” Remus trailed off.

“Hey,” he sniffled. “Uh, can I come in?”

“Yeah, yeah, of course.” Remus moved to the side so he could enter and he slipped his shoes off in silence, hoping against hope that he wouldn’t absolutely lose it right on the welcome mat. “Are you okay? Sorry, bad question. What happened?”

“We got in a fight,” Leo said miserably, keeping his eyes on the floor. “Logan and I. Finn got dragged into it and really it was my fault and I just kinda left.”

“Okay. Do you want a hug?”

He nodded without a word and Remus wrapped him tightly in his arms. He rubbed soothing circles on his back—Leo felt more tears slide down his face as he melted into the warm touch. “I’m sorry for not letting you know I’d be here.”

“Don’t worry about it, we’re always glad to see you. Can we move into the kitchen for a sec so you can drink some water?”

“Once a PT, always a PT,” Leo joked halfheartedly as he pulled away and scrubbed at his eyes. “Ugh.”

The kitchen was cheerful and simple, with dark red walls and white cupboards. He sat down at the island and put his chin on his forearms as Remus got him a glass of water and dampened some paper towels. “I don’t know where I put the tissues, sorry.”

“Thanks, Loops,” he said, wiping his face.

“Re, was someone at the door?” Sirius came around the corner and stopped in his tracks. “Hey, Leo.”

“Hey.”

He glanced at Remus, then set his empty bowl on the counter and leaned against the fridge. “What’s up?”

“Logan and I got in a fight.”

“With each other?”

“No, with the mailman,” he snapped, instantly regretting it. His lower lip wobbled; this was just how the fight had begun in the first place. “Sorry. Yeah, with each other. And Finn.”

“Where are they?”

“At h—home.” His voice cracked on the last word. “I left.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Remus asked carefully, sitting down next to him.

Leo’s shoulders slumped and he rested his temple on Remus’ shoulder. “It was so stupid.”

“Don’t talk like that, it was clearly important.”

“I was reading for an hour instead of helping them clean up because I was so fucking tired, and Logan was frustrated that I wasn’t helping. Finn tried to calm us both down, but I accused him of taking sides and then Logan mumbled something and wouldn’t tell me what he said.” It all blubbered out on a fresh wave of emotion and Remus handed him the paper towel again.

“That doesn’t sound stupid,” Sirius said in the gentlest voice Leo had ever heard him use.

“Really?”

“Really. It sounds like you let some things build up for too long, like a volcano.”

Leo sniffled. “You sound like my dad.”

“Is that a good thing?”

“I think so.” He straightened up again and took a long sip of water. “God, I feel awful.”

Remus squeezed his shoulder. “I’m not surprised. Have you eaten recently?”

“We were going to have dinner when Lo finished with the dishes. So, no.”

“You want a sandwich?”

“Yes, please.” To Leo’s surprise, Sirius pulled a block of cheese out of the fridge and bread out of the cupboard. “You cook?”

He and Remus made identical ‘ehhh’ noises. “Un peu,” Sirius laughed. “I burn soup, but grilled cheese is easy.”

“How the fuck do you burn soup?”

“You want to know the worst part?” He looked over his shoulder briefly. “It was canned soup.”

“What?”

“Mhm. I turned the heat on high because I thought it would cook faster.”

Leo’s tide of emotions molded into total confusion. “Why would you do that? The instructions are on the can.”

“Strangely enough, that’s what I told him,” Remus said wryly. “And still it’s happened twice.”

“You are so mean to me,” Sirius sighed as he turned the stove on. “I make you grilled cheese sandwiches and this is the thanks I get?”

“Sorry, love.”

“How do you do that?” Leo asked.

Remus turned back to him. “Do what?”

“Have this…” He gestured vaguely. “Perfect, amazing relationship. How?”

Sirius snorted and returned to his place by the fridge. “It’s not perfect.”

“But you’re so happy all the time.”

“Aren’t you?” Remus asked. “When you’re with your boys, aren’t you happy?”

“Yes,” he answered immediately. “They’re the best thing in the world.”

“Do you have a perfect relationship?”

“Uh, no.”

“There’s your answer.” Remus spread his hands. “Fights happen. Sometimes you can’t stand to even be in the same room as your person, or your people. Sometimes it feels like everything they do drives you crazy. But that doesn’t mean you stop loving them, and they don’t stop loving you.”

“The fight wasn’t about me reading,” Leo said quietly. Understanding was beginning to settle in. “And it wasn’t about Logan leaving towels all over or me not pulling my weight. I think we both just had bad days. Is that normal?”

“I hope so,” Sirius said. “Three months after we moved in together, Remus slept on the couch for a week because he hated the way I left toothpaste on the sink.”

“I wasn’t even angry about the toothpaste.” Remus got up to refill Leo’s water glass. “I was scared we were moving too fast and that everything would fall apart.”

“I was—I am—scared,” Leo confessed. “There’s just so much happening all the time. Finn and Logan…they’re my center point. My anchor.”

Sirius slid a perfect grilled cheese sandwich onto a plate and handed it to him. “Then you should tell them that.”

Just as he took his first bite, the doorbell rang. Remus frowned. “We’re popular tonight.”

After checking his phone quickly, Sirius wandered down the hall, and in his absence a large black dog came out of the living room to set her head on Leo’s thigh. “Hey, Hattie.” He scratched her behind the ears and tore off a piece of his sandwich to give her.

“Oh. Hello.” Sirius sounded surprised.

“Hey, Cap.”

Leo froze and Remus’ eyes widened. “Have you heard from Leo?” Finn asked. “He’s not answering his phone.”

“Because of the fight,” Sirius said.

Remus dropped his face into his hands. “Tact,” he muttered. “We’ve talked about this.”

“Uh, yeah, actually.” Leo could picture Finn’s face in his head, uneasy and worried. “So he’s talked to you?”

“He’s been in our kitchen for the last half hour.”

“What?” Logan’s voice cracked. “He’s—can we come in?”

“No shoes in the house.” There was a moment of rustling, then a staccato pattern of footsteps in the hall before Logan and Finn appeared in the entrance.

“Mon dieu.” Logan nearly collapsed against the doorframe when he saw Leo; his eyes were red-rimmed and he seemed to be a bit of a wreck. “I’m so sorry, Peanut.”

“We’ll be upstairs if you need anything,” Remus said, slipping out of the room with a final glance to Leo.

“My phone was off, sorry,” he said quietly, feeding Hattie another bit of bread. The pressurized fury from before was completely gone—he only felt regretful now, and utterly exhausted. “I’m also sorry for yelling. And accusing you. And for dragging you into it, Finn. Oh, and for leaving.”

“I’m sorry, too.” Logan took two tentative steps closer and Leo stood up, holding his arms out. Relief crashed over his face and he nearly tackled him in a hug. “I took out my bad day on you and as soon as you were gone I regretted it. Merde, Leo, I’m sorry.”

Extra warmth cocooned them both as Finn joined the hug. “I love you both so much,” Leo mumbled into Logan’s hair.

Logan snuggled closer. “I love you, too.”

“Me, three.”

They all laughed weakly at that, stepping back and sitting down at the island. Leo bit the inside of his lip. “So…things were said.”

“Things were said,” Logan agreed. “I didn’t mean what I said about cleaning up after you.”

“I know. I didn’t mean what I said about tag-teaming.” He winced at the memory. “That was flat-out mean and uncalled for. And Finn…” Finn looked up from petting Hattie. “I used you as leverage and that was horrible.”

“Same here,” Logan said guiltily.

“Yeah, let’s not do that again, okay?” Finn looked between them and raised his eyebrows as they both nodded. “I don’t take sides when I’m choosing between my boyfriends.”

“Leo…” Logan started and trailed off.

“Yeah, Lo?”

He struggled for the words for a moment, then took a deep breath. “Do you—do you want to know what I said in the kitchen?”

In the kitchen…Leo wracked his brain and tried to remember. They had been arguing, and then Logan muttered something he couldn’t hear. He was tempted to say yes. “No, I’m good.”

“Really?”

He shrugged. “We were both upset. Whatever it is, I don’t think you meant it, so it doesn’t matter now. We’ve fought enough tonight.”

“Should we head home, then?” Finn suggested, taking both their hands. “I’m pretty tired and hungry.”

“You could ask Cap to make you a grilled cheese,” Leo joked. “They’re damn good.”

“Cap can cook?” they chorused incredulously.

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masonscig · 3 years ago

Text

i like it when you sleep

pairing | mason x sofía

word count | 2.2k

warnings | mention of anxiety, and general murphy nightmares. shameless smut. minors dni

author’s note | had an idea last night and was possessed by some kinda writing gods so here u go! my prompt fill for day five of hot in wayhaven, temperature. this is set sometime in the future where they’re not official and not living together, but they’re a lot more comfortable w each other – idk what book they’re gonna get together so have this vague scene mwah (i have not proofread this so enjoy the mess) also THIS TITLE IS SO LAST MINUTE SJDFJKKDFJ bc of that one song by the 1975 with a full sentence title that is v them

•─────────────────•

She hasn’t had vivid dreams in a long time, and she’s not sure if she likes it that way or not.

Her dreams are just vague sensations with colors and shapes that never fully form, sometimes comforting ones that guide her through the night till she naturally wakes.

Other times, the creeping anxiety’s broken her into a cold sweat till she jumps awake, left with the distant feeling of Murphy’s fangs deep in her throat, her scar throbbing, the skin there hot.

Tonight’s one of those nights where she’s already woken up panting after outrunning something without a face or distinct features.

The room’s stifling already, but the air conditioning is on full blast. The old system isn’t nearly strong enough to cool down the apartment to her liking.

She shifts under the sheets again, trying to find a cool patch on the bed.

Can’t get comfortable. Can’t cool down. Can’t sleep.

She rolls onto her back, tracing lines from bump to bump on the popcorn ceiling. Her eyes are dried and each blink is scratchier than the last. Her lids are heavy, but her brain’s fighting sleep.

Mason’s next to her, arms folded behind his head, face gentle – his snores are soft and followed by sighs. He’s at his most peaceful like this.

Grabbing the cup of ice water from her nightstand, she takes a few refreshing gulps, tracing her fingers through the condensation on the outside of it, before tapping her cold fingertips to her cheeks.

There’s not much she can do besides lie there until her brain stops working overtime. Maybe then she’ll slip into the dreamless sleep she so desperately wants.

“Sofía?” He rasps groggily, his voice crackling.

It still gets her when he uses her name so casually.

“I can’t sleep,” she smiles weakly, making no move to curl up to his side.

“Didn’t you take some of that sleep shit before you laid down?” He asks, peering at her through a squinted eye, the other one squeezed shut.

It’s true she’s relied on sleep aids for a long time – but something about this summer’s made her immune to them. The drops she puts in the glass of water she chugs before bed are completely ineffective.

“I guess they just stopped working.”

Mason frowns, kicking the sheets off his legs. He’s wearing the soft shorts she bought him, the ones she picked because she knew the fabric wouldn’t make him want to claw his skin off.

“Did I wake you up?” She asks, rolling onto her side. She shakes her bangs away, brows furrowed.

He shrugs. “Not your fault. It doesn’t take much to get me up anyway.”

“It was the fucking water… I was drinking too loudly,” she murmurs, propping her head up with one hand. “I’m sorry.”

“Nah, I’ve got my fill. I’m rested.” A soft smile tugs at one side of his mouth. “Thanks for letting me crash here.”

“You’re always welcome here. You know that.”

He rolls his eyes. “I don’t say thanks often, and when I do it goes unnoticed.” He stretches, the taut muscle rolling beneath his freckled skin.

Her eyes widen. “Oh wow, you really did. Four leaf clover moment.”

He shifts so that he’s on his side, too, inches away from her. “Nothin’ lucky about me.”

“Now’s the part where you say ‘I’m lucky to know you, Sofía’,” she jokes, squishing his cheeks together with her free hand, his brow quirked while she’s tugging his jaw open and closed.

“That’s a given, sweetheart.”

Closing the gap between them with a grin, she presses a kiss to his parted lips, giggling when he darts his tongue out to lick her.

“You’re so annoying,” she laughs, trying to roll away from him, but he just wraps his arms around her, nuzzling his nose into her neck.

“Don’t I know it.”

They spoon for a little while (she’s not sure how long), the ceiling fan whirring above them, the grasshoppers chirping relentlessly outside of her window.

The sweat’s still coming, even more so now that she’s cuddled up to him.

She tries and fails to reach her phone that’s on the other side of the nightstand, so Mason leans forward to tap her dark screen. The time is in big bold letters at the top of the screen, and despite her reading it four or five times just to be sure, it doesn’t change.

“I’ve gotta be up in a couple hours anyways,” she sighs, fully planning on brewing a pot of coffee and inhaling it throughout the entire day. “Might as well get up and finish the book I was reading.”

“How many hours?” He asks against her neck, kissing the scar there to punctuate his question.

“Three, I think.”

“You can fit a good nap in right after,” he chuckles, still buried in the dark sea of her hair between them.

“After what?” She asks, but it comes out more of a sigh when he suckles and nips her shoulder.

“After I fuck you senseless.” Her stomach flutters, her thighs clenching. He doesn’t beat around the bush, that’s for sure.

“Mason, you don’t have to, really. I’m a big girl – I can handle being tired for a day.”

“You’ve gotta patrol tomorrow, right?” His lips are pressed against her ear now, and his hands are splaying across her stomach.

He’s right. Tina’s cousin is visiting from out of town, so she jumped at the chance to relieve her for the night. Should be a huge regret, honestly, but she can’t bring herself to feel that way.

She sucks in a breath when his fingers inch past the waistband of her shorts, past the elastic of her underwear, past the trimmed hair above her folds, settling there with a slow swirl of his middle finger.

“Yeah, I do,” she’s already panting like a fucking fool – she can’t help what he does to her, though.

No one’s touch has ever made her feel this way.

“Gotta be well rested to protect the town.”

“Mhmm,” she agrees, groaning low when he adds two more fingers and picks up speed, rubbing her off at a furious pace.

She should be embarrassed by how fast he makes her come, but considering orgasms with Bobby were few and far between, she’s greedy with them now.

Once she got a taste of being thoroughly fucked and pleasured, she became shameless in collecting them from Mason.

Sucking her earlobe into his mouth, he nibbles the soft skin with a soft pant of his own. Her hand’s on his cock already, palming him through the thin fabric.

He slows his hand, setting an agonizing pace this time, and she’s rolling her hips to try and climax, but it isn’t working.

“Mason, please –”

“Begging already? We haven’t even gotten to the good part yet,” he breathes into her ear, pulling his hand from her shorts and bringing it to his mouth, sucking his glistening fingers over her shoulder.

She whines, barely able to see his tongue dart in between his fingers from her peripheral. “I wanted to come –”

“Impatient ass. You will soon enough,” he smiles into her shoulder, kissing the freckled skin there this time.

She feels the warmth of his hand between her legs, and she’s expecting them to sink into her, but instead he’s hastily tugging her shorts and underwear to the side, hiking her leg in the air.

The fabric rips, and he’s got the audacity to chuckle like he didn’t just ruin her favorite pajama bottoms.

“Hey, those are my favorite –” she barely finishes her sentence when he teases her with his tip, running it up and down her heat.

His hand’s holding up her leg from the knee when he pushes into her.

The sweat rolls down the small of her back – the heat had become an afterthought the second he touched her cunt.

He circles his free arm around her waist, tugging her back till they’re skin to skin.

His hips begin to roll, stroking in and out rhythmically, and all she can do is lie there slack-jawed.

“Oh fuck, that’s so good.” She’s praising him in his favorite way – complimenting him through the pleasure – and that always excites and motivates him.

“Yeah? You like when I fuck you like this? Tell me,” he huffs shakily while he tries to keep his voice even.

She knows she’s got just as equal of a grip on him as he has on her. He’s begrudgingly admitted in the afterglow that he’s never fucked like this before, with both lust and affection intermingling.

“Yes, yes, please, just like that,” she chants, eyelids fluttering shut when his hips snap harder and harder, his arm tightening around her waist.

She digs her fingernails into his arm to anchor herself while he fucks her relentlessly, and he grunts into her ear when she starts bucking her hips, fucking him back.

Her sleeping shirt’s almost completely damp on the back, and it’s gross. Thankfully, they’re in sync, so he helps her slip it over her head, immediately cupping her tits and toying with her nipples.

He’s still fucking her like their lives depend on it, and he’s pressing hot, wet kisses to her back, shoulders, neck… and tweaking her nipples with an expert hand…

It’s too much, and she’s overstimulated, clenching around him. “Shit, oh my god –”

With a quick maneuver, he’s tugged her underneath him, flat on her stomach, and rolls his hips into her steadily.

She’s open mouthed moaning into the pillow and he’s hitting all the right spots with the new angle and she’s clenching her legs so she feels tighter –

He’s singing his praises above her, shifting till he’s on his elbows on top of her, not a breath of space between them. The cool surface of his crystal necklace skims her back, raising goosebumps on her arms.

He’s pressing the weight of his chest onto her back, sinking her further into the pillows.

He’s everywhere.

He’s all she can hear. All she can feel.

Any coherent thought of the long patrol and her uneasy dreams are long gone, and there’s him. Only him.

“You’re so good for me, sweetheart. Get your face out of that pillow. Let me hear you.” She’s already putty in his hands, nodding along to whatever he gravels in her ear, so she obliges.

The noises she’s making aren’t flattering in the slightest. They’re an awful mixture of whines and groans, the cadence of them matching the slap of his hips against her ass.

“Fuck,” he huffs as she raises her hips to meet him, lifting them barely an inch or two off the bed.

If her sounds are getting him off, then his are sending her into another realm.

There’s something practically indescribable about getting another person off without trying to. Mason’s probably felt this high a million times in his existence, but it’s new to her.

With a few swivels of her hips, she’s got him just as worked up as her, and he lets her know.

“God, you’re fuckin’ gorgeous – so fuckin’ tight around me. Your cunt’s perfect for me, Sofía, oh my god,” he pants into her hair, gathering it in one hand at the nape of her neck.

He gently tugs her head to the side so he can kiss her, her eyes are already fluttering shut, her mouth parted as she’s nearing her high.

“What do you need, sweetheart? Tell me,” he murmurs, still watching her profile while she concentrates on the orgasm on the horizon.

“Just – fuck me like that – a little harder – and talk to me –” she manages a few broken demands.

“You’re doing so well taking my cock like that – can’t wait to feel you squeeze around me when you come,” he pants, curling his hips so he’s deeper in her, and she all but cries out, slapping a hand over her mouth.

“No, no, let me hear you – wanna see your pretty lips when you say my name –” his hips are stuttering. He’s close.

Thankfully, she gets there first, calling out his name, clenching her thighs to ride it out while he still pumps in and out of her erratically. He’s not far behind her.

When he comes in her, he groans this whiny groan like he’s the one being fucked into oblivion.

He slides out of her gently before plopping onto the bed next to her, tugging her to his side.

“I don’t know if I’ll wake up in 2 hours like I’m supposed to,” she murmurs, eyes heavy and half lidded from getting her back blown out in the dead of night.

“So I did a good job then?” He smirks, pressing a kiss to her sweaty bangs.

“A perfect job. You should just recreate this every time,” she sighs, pressing a kiss to the skin nearest to her, right on his outer chest.

“You’re asking me to fuck you like that every night? Don’t know if I can recreate it perfectly, but I’m up for the challenge,” he laughs, running a palm down her side.

She can’t remember what she says after that, as she’s fallen asleep topless, sweaty, and in ripped pants almost instantly.

He stays – watches her as she sleeps this time. And he thinks that she’s the most peaceful he’s ever seen her.

#the wayhaven chronicles #twc #twc mason #twc detective #hotwayhavensummer #n*fw #my fic #mason x sofía #detective sofía olmos

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scrawnytreedemon · 3 years ago

Text

Shit I’ve Been Winding Up For A Long Time Now But Am Very Aware Will Probably Hold No Relevance Should I Actually Go Into This More--

This is about Bhunivelze.

You know, when I was chilling out, on my bed, that evening on that half term in early June, deciding to check up on ClementJ64′s FF retrospective because-- Hey! It’s been awhile, I wonder if he’s got around to doing the final bit of the FFXIII saga --You know, I was there, chilling, just for a laff. Just a laff.

The rest of that week was spent spiralling into a hyperfixation I absolutely did not anticipate in any way, shape, or form, because the way they introduced that character was “wwhdhfjjhHJDFJKHKJHW H A T??”

That retrospective and a good amount of wiki-scrounging is all I have as a basis for this. This is not a coherent character analysis-- Though I might tag it as that for ease of access. This is not, by any means, the thoughts of someone deeply familiar with FFXIII on the whole beyond plot synopses and overarching themes.

I don’t think I’m brave enough for that.

Reading the vast yet surface-deep lore on those wiki pages on my birthday while in a delirious state of mind was enough to make me somewhat nauseous.

Do you think I’m going to go through all of that in real time?

(Someday, someday.)

Ugh, I don’t know how to begin, but let us, I guess. I’d recommend you read this church-mime-demiurge’s FF Wiki page if you want the same level of base-knowledge I had, and maybe the aformentioned retrospective if you want the experience, because I don’t think I have the wherewithal to get into all of that from the bottom-up.

I am also, so, so fucking sorry for any remaining FFXIII fans in advance. There is like, a good chance I may be butchering the characterisation completely, so bear with me here.

With that... we begin?

Where do we even start with this guy?

How on earth to you begin to explain the absolute monolith you’ve constructed from crumbs of a Guy, some material no doubt spliced in from the Pale King, Sephiroth, y o u r o w n G o d O C and other characters, and the mountains of religious trauma you carry around at all times that is probably the only reason you’ve been able to latch on as hard as you did?

I’m going to try.

What gets me, in summary, about Bhunivelze is how he’s a prime example of how love and concern can become deadly forces if in the wrong hands. His first acquainting with human emotion was by deceiving and possessing Hope, reverting his body to a teenage state, and planning to live among humanity through him. He sees human sorrow and suffering, and decides that, to End This(because it must be ended, you see) he’s going to destroy all the souls of the deceased that make up the Chaos that’s been eating this world for the past five-hundred years so they all forget and Are Happy. :).

Capital G God here hasn’t been present for the vast part of human history because he’s hidden himself away from Everything due to paranoia from killing his own mother and throwing her body into the Cosmic Basement, THEN creating the beings that would come to create humanity and OTHER beings because he didn’t have the keys to the cosmic basement. And also he believes death is a thing because she’d’ve somehow cursed all things to pass(including him) out of Spite.

Which explains why he’s so fucking averse to it and anything to do with it.

Bhunivelze, to put it lightly, is Shit at stepping into others’ shoes and Getting their experiences-- All the FalCie in FFXIII are, but him especially. It’s clear(again, in the f u c k i n g JP--) that he makes attempts to sympathise with them and does what he can to help, but it’s with such a loftiness and a complete inability to Understand why anyone would want grief, The Worst Fucking Experience In Existence, and even less why they’d be willing to Go Up Against Him And HisThe New Perfect World just for it-- And what would it matter, anyway, forgetting their loved ones. It’s not like you can grieve lost memories, right?

Right.

It reminds me of when at the end of the story of Job in the Bible, where, after putting this man through hell on earth, God rewards Job by giving him ten new children to make up for the ones that he lost. I. And that’s fucked! Nothing can replace the sheer uniqueness of each individual person you loved so dearly! But if you were a nigh-omnipotent deity high and mighty, with a cursory, almost mechanical knowledge on the functionings of the human psyche, that would seem adequete; enough.

Bhunivelze is doing that on a cosmic level.

I now want to get onto the romance: that being, his affections for Lightning. I don’t know how much I’m going to say, but it’ll probably be alot. It’s something that hits very close to home.

There is this... thing, within certain branches of Christianity, perhaps even in those of various Abrahamic faiths, where God’s love is posited to be the love-- The ultimate, most-fulfilling, all-encompassing love you could ever imagine --Because, well, he is love, so the story goes, and so often the best way to convey that is through the imagery of...

Marriage.

Giving up yourself so completely, to serve, to be the Bride; to be bound by him for all eternity; and for there to be no higher bliss than this.

This angle is pushed on young girls and women the most; from the mere parallels to the woman’s role in marriage, all the way down to downright-horrifying ultra-Evangelical purity pacts. With men, God is your dad, your best bud and confidant, your boss, your king, your this, your that, and the ‘marriage‘ as it were is relegated to a sort of half-thought; a metaphor.

For me, God was an attempt at all that, and my arranged groom.

(It was almost incestuous; was incestuous, that my own Divine Father would reach for my hand in marriage.)

Bhunivelze experiences Emotions™ for the first time through Hope, experiences Hope’s sheer overwhelming admiration for Lighting(whether there were any baby-crush feelings mixed in, I can’t say), and promptly falls into a nigh-romantic obsession with Lightning, deciding that she will be Etro(his all-but daughter)’s replacement, will be his Goddess of Death to-be-- He even calls her as such, before the final boss-battle--

...In the JP.

What happened in localisation, probably due to a number of factors, all the way back in early 2014, was that everything emotionally challenging about Bhunivelze was scraped off, like it was extra fat, and tossed aside, leaving us with the bland, clichéd shell of a foe-god we’ve seen time and time again. And I mean everything. I mean his very love for humanity; the fact his ploy was, in his eyes, to save them. Because if they’d left that all on, then it would raise the question of even if there was such a seemingly pure, all-knowing, loving being hell-bent on setting things “straight,“ would they truly be unquestionable? Would we have the right to fight for our humanity in the face of the Creator of the Universe?

To reject a love so personal?

That’s what gets me about FFXIII’s tackling of God, no matter how hackneyed and poorly-executed. It’s personal.

It’s from a feminine experience.

I know that terming is... vague, and problematic, but the way Christianity and much of the video game industry handle femininity itself is weird and problematic, so as it stands, I’ll have to simplify it. Apologies.

What sets FFXIII’s Let’s Kill God™ plot aside from most JRPG Let’s Kill God™ plots is that with our protagonist being a woman, and one who is very in touch with her femininity alongside her sheer strength; often, in these stories, God is reduced to Yet Another Foe, expected or unexpected, and you are tasked with taking him down unquestioningly for the Good of Mankind-- You will fight God, because you are right to, and you will go man-to-man-to-however-many-men you decide to bring along for the bloodbath.

And that just, doesn’t speak to me.

Even as an Extian.

Especially as an Extian. And an AFAB one with a deeply complicated experience with my gender, at that.

Leaving Christianity was painful. Questioning God was painful. Coming to terms with the fact that I had been mentally, emotionally, and spiritually traumatised under the guise of All-Encompassing Love was so, so fucking painful. I had been taught since I was five years old to devote myself to him, spent my life desperate to feel something, anything, to stay connected because I just, I never could Feel It on a deeper level, never could Give Up Myself, all I was, couldn’t Die A Spiritual Death And Be Reborn As His Eager Vessel, thus deeming myself to be worthless and a broken vessel for years and years on end... And for all that to have been... Nothing.

Lightning is hollowed out, the shards of her dead sister ripped from her in-stasis, leaving her emotionally numb for the majority of the game, Bhunivelze sweeps it under the rug, pretends he’ll perform a miracle and return Serah to life in exchange for her compliance, then sends her on her way to do his work, all the while knowing he’s going to pull said-rug from under her and elevate her such dizzying heights in the aftermath--

That he’ll deny her humanity.

Sand down all the rough edges that make her her, and polish her up afterwards, gild her as he is gilded, make her a Goddess.

And he’ll do it all because he loves her.

You can’t fight God like you can everything else. To fight It is the fight Existence Itself; FFXIII even conveys that by making Bhunivelze’s model part of the arena; it’s baked into the fabric of the game, no matter how minute.

While Lightning Returns is far from perfect in its execution of this concept, and that in itself makes me wince, not even taking into account the horribly botched excuse for a localisation Bhunivelze endured, it speaks to me more than anything else I’ve seen so far.

And it’s helped uncover some things within me. Helped me untangle them, just a little more.

So, yeah. I have alot of Thoughts on Bhunivelze, I want to share them, and I’m kinda really sad I have no one but my currently-absent friend Vee to share them with. I could get into alot more, like his very Fucked relationship with familial bonds, and how Lightning’s role as saviour so deeply parallels the overwhelming panic and never-ending guilt of Evangelical proselytisation, but I think I’ll leave those for another time.

In short, Bhunivelze is the epitome of Divine Love gone deeply wrong; on all fronts.

And if all of that isn’t enough to intrigue you, then, in Vee’s words, Lightning and Velze are literally canon endgame Sefikura lmaOOOOOOOOOOOOOO--

#ffxiii #lightning returns #bhunivelze #analysis #scrawny speaks #scrawny rambles #this was written on and off over the course of a couple months #i know this will only get two notes #if even that #but fuck it i love this guy and i'm going to puke words for his sake #religion mention

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beelspillowpet · 4 years ago

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could i get some hcs of the brothers (how many is up to you!!) with an epileptic MC? like, they end up having absence and myoclonic seizures, and maybe hurt themselves a bit? sorry if this is too specific adjkd it just happened to me this morning and. i accidentally flung my spoon across the room while eating cereal 🙈 i also stabbed myself in the eye with my thumb but Eh

OMG Anon!!! I hope you’re okay!? Seizures are really serious and dangerous, I hope you’re recovering alright?! Sending you a bunch of hugs and head pats u-u In other somewhat unrelated news, I’m glad people are so comfortable coming to me with these sorts of HCs. Means I really am doing an impactful job in my research and writing these sorts of things comfort you. It also helps me learn a little more about people's everyday struggles. Here’s to hoping for a bright future for you all!

I tried to include more symptoms and types of seizures (?) in this post, but I don’t think I was able to touch on them all? Usually when I do HCs like this, I have something like an “interview” with the asker beforehand to make sure I’m getting their experience probably, and a better understanding of the disorders. I hope this is portrayed properly!!! ~

Lucifer

He’s lecturing you, but pauses for a moment to question your reasoning for making pacts with his brothers. He’s expecting you to answer, but you don’t. You simply daze off at him. You weren’t trying to piss him off, but you weren’t all there in the moment. Your hands twitched and your hand accidently shot up behind you, as if you were pulling your hand away from a snapping dog. He took that as a warning.

The second time it occurred was over dinner. It was just you and him, enjoying the meal you prepared for dinner and waited for him to arrive home for it. You had another epileptic seizure, and spaced out for longer than normal.

When you came to, Lucifer was out of his chair at your side, checking to make sure you were alright. He was a bit rattled to say the least, but when he waved his hand in front of your eyes and they followed, he started to relax a bit more. He questioned what just happened, but with the slot of time missing in your brain, you couldn’t completely answer him.

It’s when you start jerking your body about uncontrollably, as if something is possessing you to behave in such a manner than he finally looks into it. Admittedly, he should have done so sooner, this isn’t normal behavior after all. What he discovers is a bit upsetting, as there’s no “cure” or “fix” for it. He doesn’t bring it up to you- you’re probably sensitive about the topic. But he’s far more patient with you now, knowing that these seizures are just a part of your life.

Mammon

Oh what the fuck was that? Are ya’ good? You just kinda... slapped the fuck out of yourself there? Why’d you do that?

This pea-brain probably doesn’t pick up on too many symptoms at first. You’re just his weird, hopeless human. While that’s nice, a little more attention would be grateful.

“Hey Mammon, when did you dye your hair yellow?” “What’re ya talkin’ about? My hair is white.” “Huh, in this light it looks yellow. And did you get a tan?” He thinks you’re weird but it’s okay. It sort of offends you that he thinks this way, it’s not like you’re doing this on purpose. You genuinely thought he dyed his hair yellow- and that he darkened his skin.

There are also times when he uses the same cologne but something smells different about it. The whiplash of suddenly having one smell and then be overwhelmed by something entirely different, or have this random dizziness... well, at least Mammon is always there to catch you if you lose your balance. As much of an airhead as he is, he’s still a helpful and supportive one.

Leviathan

Your seizures scare the shit out of them. You have the worst ones with him because while in his room, the bright flashing lights are somehow worse. Brighter, even more than before, and before you know it you’re having an out of body experience, feeling your body twitch and tremor, but unable to stop it.

You can hear Leviathan freaking out in the distance, making sure you lay down flat and keep you from swallowing your own tongue. Despite having a panic attack after the fact, he’s relatively calm for the most part. He doesn’t have any real knowledge on these things yet, and he’s not sure if he’s prepared for it.

Other times you may just pace the floor as if thinking. You’re constantly rubbing your hands together, looking left and right erratically. Sometimes when you do this, you’re muttering nonsense, and other times, you’re silent. Leviathan isn’t sure which one is scarier.

He does research on why you behave this way sometimes. You don’t have them too often, but it’s happened at least three times and it’s scared him each time. When he discovers his solution, he tries to bring it up with you in a calm and quiet manner. Either that or he waits until next time because bringing it up unprompted can be awkward.

Satan

Oh. He knows what’s going on. He’s got doctor friends. He sort of just... asks. Just to be sure. Whether you tell him or not, he knows what’s really going on here. He won’t judge. Obviously not. You can’t control your behavior with those sorts of things.

He’s aware that seizures can kick up anywhere, so he watches you carefully. You could have one while walking down the steps and end up falling and hurting yourself. You could get one while preparing dinner and accidently stab yourself- or you can even get one while driving. He’s always prepared to take over for you when you need it.

There was one time you finally did come to him. To confide in him about your problems. It was silly, you thought. Why would he listen? Except he set aside his book, turned in his chair to you, and listened. He never interrupted, and only spoke when you were taking a moment to breathe through your tears.

He was there for you, and he would never try to upset you. He knows how scary these sorts of things can be. While he doesn’t struggle with the same issues, having depressive episodes are not lost on him. He would gladly welcome you into his arms for a hug, and make sure you’re at least safe in these awful times.

Asmodeus

You and Asmo were at the club when it happened. You’re dancing with each other one moment, and the next you’re on the floor convulsing. You were embarrassed once it was all over, but imagine how terrified Asmo was???

You come back to yourself still on the dirty floor of the club, but now people are surrounding you, all concerned. You see Asmodeus crying, not knowing what to do. He’s panicked, and he’s gently holding your hand, hoping you’re okay.

You two leave the club early, and in your guilt, explain to him what happened. Although you’re vague because you aren’t entirely sure of the details, he puts together enough to know it won’t be the last time that happens.

he clings to you afterwards, and doesn’t let go. Even if you involuntarily jerk and hit him by accident. He knows. He understands and he loves you, darling. You would never want to push him away, and he would never want you to go. Next time, he WILL do better for you.

Beelzebub

You two were playing sports together when he accidently tackled you too hard. You fell over and hit your head hard, causing you to fall into a shock-induced seizure.

He kneels there by your side crying. He knows what to do but every time he touches you, you jerk violently. As if you’re afraid of his touch, afraid of him making things worse. Still, he does his best to assist you, making sure you don’t swallow your tongue and that you don’t harm yourself any further.

Once it’s all over, he carries you to the benches and gives you food and water. He’s still crying a bit, not sure what he should do now. He probably calls Lucifer for help, and while waiting, just talks to you. Makes sure you’re still all there.

When he’s alone, he does a bit more research on seizures and comes across epilepsy. After going over what can cause the seizures, he’s riddled with even more guilt. You hit your head when he tackled you. He probably caused that seizure, didn’t he? From then on, he refuses to play sports with you. He could never forgive himself for putting you through that.

Belphegor

Of course it was a nap. What else would it be? You wake him up on accident when you kick your leg out too hard, knocking him off the bed. When he gets up to yell at you for doing that, he notices you aren’t really paying much attention to him. Instead you’re twitching your arms and legs, grunting and groaning at the pain in your limbs when you slap against the bedpost.

You’re blinking rapidly and your lips are moving, as if you’re trying to ask him for help. All that manages to come out is something similar to your lips smacking. Like Beel when he’s taste testing his dinner.

Once the seizure is over, Belphie is sitting you up slowly, petting your hand. He brings you into a hug as you tremble in his arms, whispering that its okay and that he’s here now.

He’d never experienced something so... unsettling in his life. He wonders if humans do this sometimes. Sometimes after... traumatic experiences. He cringes at the thought. Could he have caused this unintentionally? He didn’t think that the one time he snapped, he would leave you with irreversible damage. He tries to be diligent in helping you from there on, doing his thorough research and making sure you are taken care of in all ways possible should these continue, or get worse. To him, it’s more than a reason to redeem himself, it’s just doing what’s right.

#obey me #obey me swd #om!#om! swd #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor

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