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sillygooseassociation · 2 years ago

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Okay, imagine thinking that Jason is going to be away for Christmas and not bothering to decorate because it's not the same without him 🥲 but he manages to get the time off and surprises you by having the place decorated when you come home from work and getting cozy by the fireplace [wink wink nudge nudge ya know what I'm sayin? 😘] woooooweee yes

jason felt like such a piece of shit when he told you he wouldn't be making it home in time for your first christmas as a married couple. it was out of his control of course, he was in LA finishing up the last details of the season three trailer, how was he supposed to know the entire country would be shut down thanks to snow storms? but seeing the heartbreak on your face - even though you tried to hide it - when he told you he wouldn't be home in time for christmas? he hated himself for making you feel that way.

it worked out in terms of the kids, they were spending the day with olivia and then would be with you and jason on the 26th, so at least their holiday wasn't ruined. you told him it was okay, that it wasn't a big deal, but he knows that isn't the truth. milestones are so important to the both of you and here he was, missing your first christmas as husband and wife.

sure, you had the christmas tree up, but you hadn't decorated, you were waiting for jason to come home, but after finding out that he wouldn't be home until at least the 26th, the christmas spirit left you entirely. you wrapped the kids' presents of course and you knew you would need to decorate the tree before they came over, but it would wait. you would wait until the last possible moment, putting off the emotional feeling of spending your favorite time of year alone.

when you woke up on the 25th, you kinda sulked around the house, though you would never admit it. you got dressed, putting on some leggings, one of jason's sweaters, and a coat before leaving the house, heading down the street to a deli you loved, thankful that it was still open on the holiday so you could get a bagel. you passed the time by walking a couple blocks around the city, enjoying the snow on the ground and some of the lights, but your mood quickly turned sour again when seeing all the couples and families walking around. on a day all about love and giving to those in your life, your husband was across the country and the two most important kids in your life were elsewhere.

you headed back to your place, planning on drowning your sorrows in wine, ice cream, and sad movies, a plan you realize is eerily similar to ted's in season two of jason's show. you're so out of it, you don't notice the car parked in front of your brownstone, or that your door was unlocked despite you always making sure to fasten the deadbolt. it's not until you hear christmas music coming from the house sound system that you realize something is off. what the fuck kind of murderer puts on a soundtrack for killing and how did they get access to your bluetooth?

you pick up daisy's small plastic shovel, discarded next to the door after your snowman building from last week, holding it up, ready to strike, as you carefully walk to the living room. just as you turn the corner, you walk into someone's chest and scream, "PLEASE DON'T KILL ME." your eyes are closed tightly, awaiting the stab to your gut or hands choking you out, only to open your eyes after two familiar hands are placed on your shoulders, "jason?"

your husband looks at you with wide eyes, his brows furrowed as his mouth gapes open in a mix of shock and confusion, "what the fuck, babe?" you instantly drop the shovel, practically jumping into his arms as you wrap yours around his neck, burrowing your face into his shoulder, "oh my god, thank god its you, i thought i was gonna get murdered on christmas." jason chuckles lowly as he wraps his arms around your waist, holding you tightly, "well, i would prefer you to not get murdered any day, but you're right, christmas would be especially terrible."

you pull away, giving him a soft eye roll before meeting him for a kiss, a reunion that soon turns hot, your week-and-a-half separation and its consequences both seemingly hitting you at the same moment. jason's tongue smoothly slips into your mouth, exploring one of his favorite places as you tug at the hair at the nape of his neck, bringing a groan from deep in jason's chest. he turns the two of you around, walking you back until you feel yourself being pushed onto the couch, jason then sorta straddling you, his left leg resting on the cushion while his right foot stays on the ground, maintaining his balance.

jason quickly moves down to your neck, licking and nipping at different spots along your throat, sucking deeply at the base of your neck, sure to leave a mark. you whine and whiter under his grasp before a thought hits you, wait, the fuck, "wait, jas, how are you here?" the brunette pulls away, his long hair messy with a few pieces falling down to where they almost cover his eyes, "geez, not exactly the welcome home i was expecting."

again, you roll your eyes at him, "no you shithead, i mean how did you get here? i thought all the flights coming to new york were canceled?" he nods while dipping his head back down, continuing his attack where he left off, biting at your collarbones, "mhm". you let out a whimper, appreciating how he was distracting you from your train of thought, but still wanting answers to your confusion, "okay, so then how are you here? la to new york must be a what, thirty-five, thirty..."

with a small groan, jason lifts his head back up to look at you, obviously perturbed that he was once again having to stop his exploration of your body, "forty hours. plus stops, but just for gas. don't drink the yellow gatorade bottles in the outside garbage bin." your mouth drops open, "wait, what? jas, you only told me about the cancelation like, two days ago, that leaves-" jason cuts you off as he works his sweatshirt up your torso and off your body, thanking every god above when he sees that you're wearing nothing underneath, "that leaves two hours for figuring out a rental car and getting on the road, the rest for gas station stops and a thirty-minute nap in nebraska."

before you can respond, jason leans back down to suck on your erect nipple, an action that causes you to moan and wiggle your legs, the latter of which kicked jason's right leg slightly and caused him to lose his balance, then falling off of the couch. having been holding onto your hips, jason took you with him, your body landing on his as his back slams onto the floor, "ah, fuck." jason winces as you softly giggle, not laughing at his pain but more so the situation, "too much on your back, old man?"

jason's reaction to your comment is more heated than his reaction to his body hitting the hardwood, "i swear to god, y/n, you will regret that." you lift your head up, wanting to egg him on, knowing both of you would enjoy any punishment that you would receive for that comment, but your attention is caught by the tree in the corner, "i'd like to see - did you decorate the tree?" jason tosses his head back, well as much as he can, as he groans, "i started, i was thinking we'd continue after i have hot christmas sex with my wife, but that isn't going to happen if someone doesn't shut up."

you giggle, moving so that you are straddling him, his erection against your clothed core, and then lean down to kiss him sweetly, "i'm sorry baby." you kiss him once more, pulling away just enough to speak softly, "merry christmas, mr. sudeikis." jason smiles softly, leaning up to kiss you, "merry christmas, mrs. sudeikis." a gasp and giggle leave your mouth as positions quickly flip, your naked back meeting the cool hardwood as jason hovers above you, a smirk on his face, "now, where were we?"

#1.3k #quick christmas blurb!#similar prompt to last night's but different and with jason instead of ted #one more holiday prompt tomorrow #for new years eve!#jason sudeikis #jason sudeikis fanfiction #jason sudeikis fanfic #jason sudeikis fic #jason sudeikis x reader #blurb #tedssweaters blurb

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katyobsesses · 3 years ago

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Katy my darling <3 I have a very fun ask for you!! What method of arts do each glee characters prefer and what is their favorite thing to create?

oooooo this is a fun ask!

I'm gonna do S2 New Directions for now, but may add S3-6 ND or other characters later 💛 (warning... this is LONG)

Artie: Film. 100% film. He loves using visual media to tell a story, he also really gets into the sound design side too when he learns it in College. He loves making music videos and after Uni that's mostly what he does. He also directs a lot of movie musicals and musical TV shows. Basically he loves making visual media for songs.

Blaine: Performing - mostly singing. He also love writing songs, which we never see in the show but I can imagine him learning about songwriting in NYU and loving it as a way to express his feelings. it's like a step up from using someone else's words to express them.

Brittany: Obviously dancing! I like to think that after marrying Santana she either goes to college for Dance, or maybe owns a dance studio/goes on tour with Mercedes a lot (with Santana as a guest singer) She really loves teaching little kids how to dance, she knows how to interact with them on their level and the kids love her.

Finn: Singing? I honestly can't think about what he likes. Like singing is the closest thing. He sings in the shower a lot and obviously he loves singing on stage. But he's not that much of an art person outside of that. He likes consuming it but not making it.

Kurt: Sewing, obviously, as well as sketching clothes. He loves making accessories for friends - scrunchies for the girls, bow ties for Blaine, a dog bandana for Sam's golden retriver (because you know he gets one) etc. - but he also loves designing and making costumes for small productions. Maybe he volunteers/works with a small theatre troop and makes & designs all of the costumes while also performing.

Mercedes: Mercedes likes making cards for everyone for Christmas and Birthdays. It started because she'd forgotten to buy a card for someone but had some card and pretty pens on hand and it spiralled from there. She now owns a fancy die pressing kit and lots of card toppers and pretty glitter pens and washi tape and all of that. She has a small kit she brings on all of her tours, it helps relax her after a show - making cards for the crew as a thank you/maybe selling some for charity because she makes so much? When she finally gets back together with Sam they both work together to make Christmas cards from them with cute pictures of themselves in terrible christmas jumpers and their golden retriver in a Kurt made bandana and later their kids in matching outfits.

Mike: Like Brittany he's a dancer first and formost. That's his art. He later goes on to be a professional on Dancing With The Stars where he reconnects with Matt on set (maybe they even get together in the end and the DWTS fans love their relationship and their jokingly competative instagram stories) He loves creating a story with only movement and music. Mike also really likes doodling.

Puck: Photography. I don't know why but I see Puck loving to take pictures of places he visits in his travels. He also scrapbooks but only Quinn knows that - he has a whole scrapbook of pictures of Beth that Shelby sends them and later makes them for all of his other kids too, and he has, like, travel journals and scrapbooks of roadtrips he's been on. Basically he's a Bullet Journal guy. He really likes washi tape and pretty papers and stickers and what-not. He will never admit this.

Quinn: Quinn's a writer. In my head she goes on to write a book that's losely based on her high-school years and it becomes a best seller and is later adapted into a Netflix series directed by Artie. I just like the idea! Maybe Rachel plays, like, the Miss Pillsbury character... or Terri! Or maybe Shelby? I dunno one of the adult characters.

Rachel: Obviously her art of choice is performing. It's singing and acting and standing on a stage or a set and making the words in her script her own. Also scrapbooking/moodboard making.

Santana: Santana likes knitting. She won't admit it but she likes knitting little plushies for Brittany, her favourite is a little bi flag coloured bunny. She makes knitted plushies and blankets for all of her friends when they have kids but she never tells them she made them - everyone knows though, they're too perfect for the couple/person (a cat in a scarf or a toy poodle in a bow tie for Klaine, a teddy adorned with gold stars for St. Berry etc. etc.)

Sam: This could be an essay for me (and kinda is opps). Sam is the Art nerd of the group and tries every type of art he possibly can. Macaroni art, illustration, digital art, traditional art, crafts, pumpkin carving, glass blowing, handlettering, graphic design, knitting, crochet, rag rugs, sewing, card making, pyrography, etc. He will try everything he can in terms of visual art. He doesn't, however, write because dyslexia, and he can't wrap him mind around, like editing and film stuff - he does try though because why not. He also really likes songwriting and music arranging.

All of this i'm trying to do as close to canon as i can but going off of canon let's say Sam goes to Parsons for illustration because he's so good at art, he stays with Mercedes in her brownstone and they never break up, after graduating he becomes a comic book illustrator (which i believe is literally a minor at Parsons, so let's say he does a Major in Fine Art/Illustration with a Minor in Comic illustration) and illustrates a run of Young Avengers comics and becomes a fan favourite artist.

In canon, however, he loves teaching the new generation of New Directions but he misses art because he doesn't have that much time anymore (because being the teacher of the new directions is a full time job, apparently, judging by the lack of adult friends or hobbies Will has lol) he loves loves loves arranging music, however, and that becomes the type of art he does the most. He does doodle a lot during faculty meeting (also he does a music teaching certification during his first few years of coaching the nNDs) and goes all out with pumpkin carving at Halloween, and loves decorating his apartment and the choir room at Christmas. He loves doing sets for the musical (and has a lot of fun staging it too) and helps out with the decorations for Prom.

Basically Sam loves to be creative in any way he can. He loves making things, whatever they may be.

Tina: Tina writes fanfiction and draws fanart. She's a nerd 100%, she watched Supernatural, she was a SuperWhoLockian, she loves Merlin, she's loves Twilight but more ironically than, say, Mercedes, and prefers books like Morganville Vampires or PC Cast's series that I've forgotten the name of. She loves the Hunger Games and Firefly and Star Trek and Star Wars. She definately has a tumblr. She mostly writes all sorts of fanfiction and is a huge name in the Supernatural fandom. Only Sam and Blaine know about all of this becuase they found one of her Star Wars fanfictions and in an authors note she said something that they recognised - idk she ranted about Santana or Rachel or something.

This was so much fun omg, thank you for the ask Myle 💛

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harryspet · 5 years ago

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sweet sister | peter parker

[Warnings] dark peter parker x innocent reader, reader is extremely innocent, manipulation, male/female masturbation, somnophilia, stepcest, hj, vaginal sex but not really?

A/N: This is based off a request I got for a innocent reader where Peter teachers her about sex. Reader is 18 and Peter is around 21. DARK THEMES SO READ AT YOUR OWN RISK

In which you’re May and Happy’s foster kid and Peter takes advantage of your innocence.

Like, reblog and let me know what you think!

word count: 2.9k

You came home from school like it was a normal day. Walking up the steps to your family’s brownstone, clad in your school uniform, and loud music blaring in your headphones, “May!” You shouted too loudly, walking down the hallway towards the kitchen, “Did my package come?”

You stopped in your tracks as you saw three figures standing in the living room. Happy, May, and … some kid you didn’t know. Your eyebrows raised in confusion at the young man standing with your foster parents.

“Y/N, this is my son Peter!” May smiled, trying not to be awkward. She approached you, urging you forward. Now you recognized him and your eyes widened because of how easily you missed it. He was in all the photos on the mantle but, now, he looked a bit older.

You were not what Peter expected, at all. By May’s description of you, he thought you might be a middle schooler. His eyes trailed over you, the way you filled out your uniform … Peter snapped out of it, moving forward to hold out his hand to you.

“Hi, I’m-” Interrupting him and surprising him at the same time, you went in for a hug. Peter hesitated for a moment before hugging you back. You noticed he had a strong grip.

“She’s a hugger,” You heard May whisper.

You pulled away and offered your hand for him to shake. He took it, smiling, but still a little confused by the long greeting, “I’m Y/N. You look just like May! I mean, you’re very pretty like her.” Happy always went on about how pretty May was and you always agreed.

You watched as his cheeks reddened. Was it something you said? ''Thank you very much, I haven’t heard that one before.”

You looked back at May who seemed to improve the interaction. You smiled, worrying that you had made him nervous, “Peter finally has a break from his busy schedule to come see us. He’ll be here with us for at least a week. May and I thought this would be a good time for you two to get to know each other.”

May had taken you in two years ago but this was the first time you were officially meeting Peter. He was always halfway around the world fighting crime and could only stop at May’s work every once and awhile. You never thought you’d ever have a full family like all the people on the television did.

“That sounds like a lot of fun,” You heard Peter say and your heart did a little backflip. Your very own big brother. “What’s this about a package?”

“Oh,” Your face fell, “Uhm, they’re just books.”

Peter gave you a look of inquiry, stuffing his hands into his pockets, “You like to read? What kind of books?”

You opened your mouth to make up some excuse but Happy interrupted you, “I put your package on your bed, sweetheart. Why don’t you show Peter his new room?” Right, you had taken Peter’s old room.

“Okay!” You perked back up, glad the subject of books was over, “Follow me, big brother!”

That was easy, Peter thought. She didn’t seem to give a second thought about accepting him which was endearing but scared Peter to a certain extent. How trusting was she exactly? May had warned him that she was a little eccentric … and a little emotional.

Peter tried to keep his focus up as he followed you up the stairs. A part of him was a little let down that you were wearing shorts beneath your plaid skirt.

“May says you have like a sixth sense. And that you can sense when danger is near. She talks about you a lot, you know? You call it a Peter tingle, right? I thought that was a really cute name but I’m not supposed to bring it up around you apparently-” You were rambling, as usual, and had passed your bedroom but you noticed that Peter wasn’t following you anymore.

“You made it pink,” You heard Peter say as he peeked into your room. He adjusted the black backpack on his shoulder and you couldn’t help but notice his muscles. He was like the boys you read about in your books but … he was technically your stepbrother.

You walked toward him, “May said I could decorate it how I wanted. Do you hate it? You hate it, don’t you? I’m really sorry. It’s just that it’s my favorite color and-”

“No way, I like it!” He quickly assured you, not wanting to see what happened when you finally ran out of air. Peter walked inside and you followed him. There was no twin bed anymore but a regular-sized bed with a white canopy.

There was a pile of stuffed animals in the corner that Peter noted, “You have a lot of stuffed animals …”

“Those are the ones they give you in family court,” You explained to him before pointing over to your bed, “I keep the ones Happy and May give me on the bed, those are my favorite.”

“I see,” You spoke so casually about being in family court that it made Peter wonder what your story was. There were at least ten stuffed animals there, “Which one’s your favorite?”

You liked that question, smiling wide, as you walked over to your bed. Peter watched you carefully as you bent over to grab a gray penguin, “I like penguins a lot. My first Christmas here, May got me this and a penguin puzzle. I’ve done it a million times now but we could put it together if you wanted.”

“I can’t imagine anything better, Y/N.”

You were going to be very fun to get to know, Peter thought.

The family had gone out to dinner that night and had been the rest of the evening putting together a hundred piece, penguin puzzle. It was one of the best days of your life and, as you expected, having a family was wonderful. Having Peter was just an extra bonus. You wished he didn’t have to leave.

The next day, as you walked down the steps that lead from your school, you didn’t expect to find Peter waiting for you. You ran up to him and hugged him, of course, and you savored the moment when his strong arms were around you. Some girls you didn’t know gasped and practically swooned as they watched you two.

“I have strict orders to take you straight home so you can start right away on your homework,” You frowned until Peter continued, “But I think we should stop for ice cream.”

You were practically bouncing with excitement as Peter grabbed your hand and lead you down the street.

At the small parlor, you licked at a cone of chocolate ice cream while Peter stuck his spoon into his ice cream sundae. Peter’s eyes wandered over to your mouth, imagining your wrap your lips around his-

“You never said what you liked to read, Y/N.”

You blushed, your nose wrinkling, as the embarrassment filled you, “It’s silly … you don’t want to hear about it.”

“I do,” Peter insisted, “I won’t tell anyone, don’t worry.”

You took a breath, “They’re … they’re romance novels. It’s a series one of my friends at school told me about. She thinks I’m too … too babyish. Apparently, there are scenes in it ... “

“Scenes like what?” You blushed even more.

“Bad scenes,” you whispered and Peter pretended to think the subject was taboo, “She wants me to learn about … dirty stuff. These guys are taking us to prom and she wants … she wants us to have our ‘first times’ together. I don’t even know what that means! But I can’t tell her that or she’ll think I’m even weirder than I already am to her.”

Buried treasure. Peter had stumbled upon pure gold.

“Y/N, you’re talking about sex?” Peter narrowed his eyes at you.

“Sex?” You spoke the word like it was completely foreign on your tongue, “I think that’s it. Sounds gross, right?”

Peter couldn’t help but chuckle, “It’s kinda gross if you think about it too deeply but it’s not meant to be gross. It’s not as scary as you think. It’s quite beautiful, actually.”

Her eyes went wide, “You’ve done it a bunch, haven’t you?”

Peter shrugged, “A few times but only with special people. If the guy who’s taking you to prom isn’t special then you definitely shouldn’t give him your first time.” Peter would have to do some research on this guy and make sure he didn’t even think about coming near her.

You looked solemnly at your melting ice cream, “I must be a total weirdo then …”

“You’re not, Y/N, trust me. Eighteen is still young.”

You leaned forward, whispering, “I haven’t even kissed anyone, Peter. People do that in middle school.”

Peter leaned forward next, entrancing you with his eyes, “Do you really want to get some experience? Because … I could help you. I’m probably better than those trashy books.”

You raised an eyebrow, “Do brothers and sisters normally talk about stuff like this?”

“Don’t you want to be friends too?” You instantly nodded, “Then I can help you out, as a brother and a friend. But if you want to read your books-”

“No, no, you can teach me!”

And you easily stepped into his trap.

That night, Peter slipped out of his room clad in his pajamas. Your door slowly creaked open and you sat up in your bed. You rubbed the tired from your eyes as Peter peaked in, “My room is freezing … and I can hear Happy snoring through the walls.”

You pulled back your comforter, patting the spot next to you, “You can sleep in here with me,” Peter entered all the way before slowly shutting the door.

“Really? I can sleep on the floor …”

You shook your head, “It’ll be like a sleepover.”

Peter moved in the darkness, climbing in beside you. You pulled the covers over him and you both lay down. Peter watched as you turned over before tiredly murmuring, “Goodnight, Peter.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

Peter waited a good hour before moving closer to you. In a slow movement, he had pressed himself against you, taking in the scent of your hair, as he admired the lines of your body. It was a risk but he touched your waist, his hands trailing over to your stomach. He felt the soft skin of your back as well before reaching into his pants.

He touched himself to the thought of you and he almost panicked as you moved. You turned to your other side, not facing him. Watching your sleeping face sent Peter over the edge and he muffled his grunts with a pillow.

He wasn’t in your bed when you awoke the next morning.

Happy had surprised May with a romantic dinner that night so Peter and you were left alone that evening. You were brushing your teeth in your jack and jill bathroom when Peter walked in suddenly. You looked over to see him only wearing a pair of basketball shorts.

You blushed, looking back at the mirror before spitting out the foam in your mouth. He stalked closer to you and you noticed something different in the look in his eyes, “I was thinking something, Y/N, about what you told me at the ice cream shop.”

You put away your toothbrush, turning off the sink before wiping your mouth with a hand towel, “I thought you had forgotten …”

Peter smirked, “Far from it, actually. I was thinking about how you said you want more experience. With kissing boys and things like that, right?”

You nodded slowly, growing nervous.

“I think the first thing you should learn is how to pleasure yourself before you learn about pleasuring someone else,” He held your hand, rubbing soothing circles into your palm.

“Pleasure?”

Peter nodded, “Sex is all about pleasure,” Peter held your hand it slowly brought it against his crotch. You felt something hard and flinched away, “It’s okay, don’t worry.”

It was such a weird feeling. Only recently had you learned that boys and girls even had different parts.

“Right here is where guys can feel pleasure,” Then Peter reached out to touch you. Through the fabric of pajama pants, you could feel his fingers brush against your folds, “This is where girl’s feel pleasure. Let me show you.”

He assured you that everything was going to be okay as he slid down your shorts. Before you could step out of them, Peter swiftly lifted you onto the counter and you yelped at the sudden movement.

He took your hand and pressed your fingers against your crotch. He tried to guide you as best as he could, standing between your spread legs, “Oh my stars …” You breathed out, savoring the foreign new feeling. You wanted to run away from it and run to it at the same time. You looked at Peter with frightened eyes as he slowly moved his hands away.

“That’s it, good girl, keep rubbing,” He praised you, loving the sight of you discovering your own body. You kept going, rubbing circles over that sensitive area through your light pink panties. You leaned back, lifting a leg on the counter, so you could get a better angle.

“Is this good Peter?”

“You’re doing great, Y/N. Doesn’t that feel good?”

You nodded, practically whimpering. You looked at Peter differently than before, you didn’t see the boy you saw before. You thought about how handsome he was and how sweet he’s been to you all week. You felt the wetness growing beneath your legs and you blushed as you look down, “Peter, I-I think I’m peeing …”

Peter gave you an amused smile, “That just means that you like it, Y/N. That you’re aroused,” Peter grabbed your hand and moved it away from your crotch. You found yourself missing the feeling and you watched as he slid off his pants and underwear. The sight of his manhood felt foreign but aroused you at the same time.

Peter slowly palmed his manhood as he leaned into you. You practically froze as his lips touched yours. He didn’t even have to speak because as he slowly left soft pecks on your lips, you started to lean back into him. Your hands touched his neck as you started to move your lips against his. You liked it … No, you loved it, “Your lips feel squishy,” You gushed and Peter laughed, turning his head as the kiss became more passionate.

You let your leg fall back over the counter and, as it did, Peter slowly slid off your underwear. Then suddenly, he lifted you. You wrapped your legs around him as he carried you into your room. He sat on your bed, leading you to straddle him.

“I want to try something,” Peter said before pecking your lips again.

You were all in.

He laid back on your bed, and you sat on his legs, “Touch my cock,” You thought the word was silly but you could tell what he meant. It felt harder than you expected and as you gripped it on your hand, a guttural moan exploded from Peter, “Spit on it.”

“Peter-”

“It’s okay, it’ll feel better that way,” He tried to assure you and you hesitated before pulling your hair back. The trail of spit fell onto his member and you felt gross for a moment until you saw his reaction.

That sound he was making you even wetter.

Peter grabbed your legs, pulling you up more until your private parts were positioned right over his, “I want you to rub yourself against me, can you do that?” Peter asked. With all his fantasies coming true, he wasn’t sure how long he’d last.

You nodded. You held onto Peter’s chest as you slowly dragged your private parts against his. His cock was pressed against his stomach and your lips moved up and down his length. You felt it then. That pleasure and his pleasure mixing. You kept going, starting to feel something building up in your core.

You bit down on your lips, liking the feeling of when his tip rubbed against your sensitive bulb. Your wetness acting as even more lubrication, you thought you were making quite the mess but Peter didn’t seem to mind.

You moved faster, Peter’s groans encouraging you and your curiosity of that thing building up inside you kept you going. Your toes curled as you got the feeling of a waterfall rushing off a cliff. Your mind went blank for a moment and your body shook as that damn finally broke.

You moaned, riding out the feeling and that's' when you felt Peter convulsing. You felt his cock twitch as white spilled from the tip of his member and onto his stomach. Peter’s head rested all the way back and you couldn’t help but smile as you realized that you had both reached your tipping points.

“Well, was that it? Did I do sex?”

“Sort of,” Peter said, completely out of breath. The eagerness in your eyes wasn’t something he expected, “You have a lot more to learn, Y/N.”

“Then can we do it again, Peter?”

Hope you enjoyed this! Feel free to check out my masterlist for more Peter fics! There is a short sequel to this!

PART TWO

#dark peter #peter parker x reader #dark peter parker #dark!peter #stepbrother #stepsister #mcu smut #marvel smut #mcu x reader #mcu #dark marvel #oneshot #peter one shot #tom holland #tom holland x reader #au #peter parker au #ariana grande

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bionerd2point0 · 4 years ago

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Congrats on reaching 100 followers! 🎉

For the promptathon: How about a Tim sickfic?

Thank you lovely!! I was a bit lost on what to do for this at first, and then I realized - I've already technically written one! XD for those who are in RoR, this isn't new, but I figured this was a good place to post it!!

Tim frowned down at his phone, trying to ignore the pulsing behind his eyes as he typed.

T: when you get here, can we just go home? Feeling kinda shitty

J: sure! Coming down with something?

T: bad headache + upset stomach

J: gotcha. Hang in there babe

Tim heaved a sigh and dropped his phone onto his desk. He felt like shit in more ways than one. He knew Jason had been looking forward to this date, but he just really wasn't feeling well.

By the time Jason pulled up to the parking garage to pick him up, Tim was feeling significantly worse and was seriously debating triggering his gag reflex just so it would end.

He resisted, barely, if only because he much preferred his own bathroom.

Jason asked him quiet questions on the way to Tim's apartment, and Tim answered with an assortment of grunts, hyper aware of the plastic trash bag by his knee and grateful that Jason was the one picking him up from work. Heavens knew he was the best driver in the family by a landslide.

Jason pulled into the driveway of Tim's brownstone, and Tim didn't even wait for him to park behind booking it into the house.

Twenty minutes later he was hunched over the bathroom sink, teary, snotty, and missing everything he'd eaten in the last week.

Jason appeared as if summoned, crawling out from wherever he'd been hiding while Tim threw up half his GI tract.

"C'mon, babybird. Let's get you in bed."

Tim was absolutely capable of walking by himself—he was! But Jason was big and strong and easy to lean against as they tackled the long flight of stairs together.

It wasn't until they reached the threshold of his room that he remembered the state it was in. That being the state of mass chaos.

He spent exactly three seconds imagining himself trying to parkour his way over the boxes of winter clothes in a mad dash to the bathroom, then turned to Jason.

"Could you grab me one of the little trash cans? Just in case."

A complicated series of emotions crossed Jason's face before he settled on determination. "You have a guest room?"

Tim nodded because oh. That was a much better idea.

Jason let him brush his teeth and change into fuzzy pajamas Tim didn't know he owned but probably came from Dick, then shuffled him into the guest room.

He practically pushed Tim onto the bed, then immediately stripped off the comforter and brought in an armload of blankets from... Somewhere. Tim could figure that out later.

It wasn't until Jason started crawling into the other side of the bed with a glass of ginger beer that Tim started paying closer attention.

"No, no. I'm sick," he protested weakly.

Jason ignored him and pressed the straw against his lips. "You threw up because you have a migraine, not because you're sick. This room is fucking cold, and we both know you can't regulate body temperature worth shit, so hush up and let me cuddle you."

And if Tim fell asleep thinking about the spare key living in his sock drawer, well. Jason would find out soon enough.

#jason todd #tim drake #jaytim #bio writes #sickfic #headaches #fluff #Promptathon

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philip-seville-archive · 3 years ago

Text

You’re My Number One || Tap

Summary: Tad comforts Pip post Phinnip beach fight and it inspires a teeny tiny talk about the future.

@i-am-obnoxious

Pip Seville

It did not take long to find Tad-- though they had not been dating long, naturally his boyfriend would not be far from the beach. And indeed, there he was, wading in the water, doing...something. Pip didn't care actually, he just needed to vent hardcore and that was exactly what a boyfriend was for.

"Oh my god, Tad, you will not believe the weird fucking conversation I just had with Phineas!" he launched right into it, kicking off his sandals so he could let the edges of the water roll over his toes. "UGH he's like so fucking infuriating I could scream right now!"

Samwise Theodore Tad Fiske

Tad had mostly been splashing around in the water, yeah. He didn't go far in, mostly cause people were still weird about some Jaws situation or whatever. He wasn't that worried though. Shark attacks were like super rare and stuff.

His head jerked up as Pip came rushing over, eyes wide as he moved closer to his boyfriend, arms up. "Woah woah babe. Your vibes are like off the chart." He reached out to tug Pip in for a hug. "You wanna like breathe for a sec my d- babe? It's like a big puff in and out. It's seriously...super good when like the vibes of the universe are off balance."

Pip Seville

Pip appreciated the hug. Tad was warm and his clothes always had this lingering scent of chlorine from his swim practices, which Pip always found relaxing, like...Tad's aura was a spa or something.

He did not, however, appreciate being told to breathe.

"I know how to breathe," huffed Pip a bit impatiently. "I don't need to breathe, I need to rant. Out of nowhere, he just started attacking my life choices. Actually--it wasn't out of nowhere, I remember now. It was exactly right after I complimented him. How messed up is that? And he was like, oh going to NYC is so selfish and you're abandoning all your friends. Like what the fuck?"

Samwise Theodore Tad Fiske

Woah. The vibes were way harsh for his babe, which was seriously not chill. It made Tad's vibes like the sea on a stormy day. He didn't want his babe to be upset and stuff. Though he also...didn't quite get why Phineas would harsh Pip's vibes like this.

"So like...." Tad looked like he was struggling to process a difficult math problem. A lot of computing was going on and it took him a moment to try to connect. So Phineas didn't like NYC. Or he didn't vibe with Pip going because Pip was awesome and who would want Pip to leave? That'd be sad vibes sure...

But why would Phineas get all ragey vibes? Unless he was like Tad, and totally vibed with how super mega foxy and awesome Pip was. "Woahhhhhh.....Phineas totally likes you babe."

Pip Seville

Pip did not need much to comfort him, so he liked to think. A soothing hand on the back. A shoulder to cry on, if crying was necessary. A promise to commit murder against the one who wronged him. Tad could even have said 'Dude, that sucks," and Pip would have nodded vigorously, feeling seen.

He was not expecting whatever the HELL just came out of Tad's mouth.

"What?!" Pip blurted, loud. "Wh-- no. No, aw, you're-- that's actually kind of sweet, I think, I don't know, because I marvel at how your brain works but-- no, trust me he definitely does not. This is not Mindy-Danny energy, this is more like..." what pop culture reference would Tad understand best? "Golem and Frodo. We both are very passionate about similar things, and would bite off each other's fingers to get said thing. Phineas is just trying to get under my skin."

Samwise Theodore Tad Fiske

"Aww but babe it's like...I get it kinda cause I'd be super sad to see you go but like...you're gonna be a rockstar and like sing and make everyone go woahhhh...." He squeezed Pip lightly. "But like that's your dream and stuff. Me I'd vibe in NYC and stuff. Y'know? Like...there are probably waves there somewhere..." He was pretty sure there was an ocean on that side of the states.

"But maybe Phineas gets like ragey instead of sad longingness vibes or something." He shrugged his shoulders. "I didn't say it made sense to be ragey vibes you know? But like...you're hot stuff babe."

Pip Seville

This was the most confusing, surreal pep talk that he'd ever had. And it was... turning him on?

Please see it from Pip's perspective: the moon behind Tad, as Tad held his hand and said all the right things and then some. That he was talented and destined for greatness, that Tad understood his dream, that Tad-- wait, he'd vibe in NYC? Wait, like...with Pip? As well? Together? At the same time? In the beautiful-ugly brownstone of Pip's wildest fantasies, where they'd host dinner parties and share a closet and he'd give Tad shoulder massages?!

You're hot stuff babe, said Tad, but it might as well have been a marriage proposal.

Wait. He was angry. Angry, not-- confused-overwhelmed-horny. Wow, having a boyfriend was a form of mind control, huh.

"I--" Pip was blushing deeply and stuttering now. "I...I really don't think he likes me but... so you're totally okay with me going to NYU?" was what he finally managed to get out of his mouth. Wow, he had forbid himself from talking about this until at least October, when early applications happened. Wtf Tad Fiske.

Samwise Theodore Tad Fiske

Maybe Pip didn't see how Tad saw things, at least about Phineas' weird crush energy. But Tad wasn't a super cool star in the making and stuff. Pip like sparkled dudes. He had sparkle lights around him. Every time he saw him, Tad felt even more of the gooey good vibes. It was impossible not to.

"I mean you were like totally planning it before we even started dating right babe? Would be kinda chaos energy vibes to be all mad about it." Which really didn't fit in with Tad's vibes at all. And anyway, New York seemed dope. Even if New Yorkers had this weird anti-LA vibe that LA people just...did not have. Whatever man. Tad vibed wherever he went.

Tad shrugged his shoulders. "If it makes you happy babe like yeah. Long distance people have vibed before. But like...I don't really feel the college vibe for me anyway so like...if we were still together and stuff I could go wherever. Open a hot dog stand...heard the hot dogs are seriously sick there, or like go pro surfer...woah imagine..."

Pip Seville

Okay, some of the NYC fantasies were dashed, drifting further and further with every word that Tad said and so Pip really had to stop him speaking. This was precisely why he had not wanted to talk about the big U word (uni) before October. For one, maybe he and Tad would break up! And another, why worry about it!

Why worry about the fact that Tad didn't want to go to college!

Why worry about the fact that Tad's dreams apparently amounted to open a hot dog stand.

One freak-out at a time please and-- wasn't it way sweeter to focus on the whole, Tad wanting to come to NYC for him and also his very open and generous statement about how getting mad at Pip was clearly crazy people behavior?

And so Pip just-- kissed Tad to stop him from imagining hot dog stands. And also to calm himself down-- kissing was infinitely better than breathing, so he leaned into Tad, let his arms wrap around his neck for just a few more moments before pulling away. "Thank you for being you," he said sincerely.

...Though he'd leave the parts of Tad that stressed him out for another time.

Samwise Theodore Tad Fiske

Pip kissed him and fireworks went off in Tad's head. It was awesome as always, and his arms drew Pip a little closer to him as they kissed. Man but no vibe was better than kissing Pip he was sure about it.

A smile spread across his face. "You're welcome babe. Thanks for being the best babe," he added, leaning in to kiss his nose. "My brain is all swirly every time you kiss me." He laughed. "What were we talking about?"

Pip Seville

Pip's brain also went swirly when he kissed Tad-- swirly like paint colours running down a canvas, all his usual worries drenched in rainbow so he didn't, well, worry at all. He emerged with fluttering eyes and the world a little kinder. So that weird fight with Phineas... it didn't seem like THAT big a deal. They'd probably just forget about it. Cuz like, fighting was what they did, right? Pip would pretend it never happened and he was sure Phineas would be happy to do the same thing; he hated actually talking about anything real.

Pip shrugged. "Oh nothing. Just Phineas being a dick to me. I don't care though, because his opinion doesn't matter to me. Yours does though. And you support me, because that's what you do when you care about someone." Pip grinned and kissed Tad's cheek.

Samwise Theodore Tad Fiske

"Oh yeah." Tad had kind of stopped caring about Phineas as soon as Pip kissed him. Sure, did he still think the dude had weird crush vibes? Yeah, but whatever. Pip was kissing Tad and stuff not him so it was all good.

"Yeah babe. I've got your back." He grinned, reaching up with one hand to stroke Pip's cheek. "You're like...my number one."

Pip Seville

You're like...my number one.

And Second Gen Legend BoA's song "Number One" burst through Pip's head, giving him the energy and confidence to do a drop-split in this second if he wanted. He wasn't going to because he'd mess up his trousers, but that's where he was emotionally.

And he decided then and there. He was going to help Tad. Yes. It was his job, because Tad was also his number one, and so he would clear a path to uni for Tad-- preferably to a school in an NYC area code! But hey, community colleges were great too!

He squeezed Tad's hand, his eyes wide and bright. "You're mine too. I--" LOVE YOU SO MUCH I THINK WE SHOULD RUN AWAY TOGETHER WOULD YOU LIKE TO ADOPT A LITTLE GAY DOG WITH ME

"--am so glad you're my boyfriend." Whew, crisis averted. "C'mon, let's like, go play flip cup or something."

#tap #para #big emos about tap #just that kind of couple where u should not be together for fifteen hundred practical very important reasons and yet #yet u r with them anyway #tad hurts me a lot !

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whump-town · 4 years ago

Note

Fic idea for your consideration: somewhat non-cannon because I think Emily owned property before she bought that brownstone... but what if that brownstone is her first purchase and she feels kinda weird buying it without a partner the way she thought her first home purchase would be. Cue Hotch making her feel better about it.

[I’m fairly certain that I understood your idea but if I didn’t just let me know :)]

“Penny for your thoughts?”

It’s ten o’clock at night and the bullpen is cast in darkness aside from Emily Prentiss’s desk lamp. So, rightfully, she thought she was alone. That is until her stupidly tall unit chief comes stalking into the bullpen. Making no noise.

“We need to get you a collar,” she says with a shake of her head. Her heart is racing, pounding against the palm she presses to her sternum. “Jeez,” she grunts, letting her hand fall back down to her desk. “Don’t sneak up on me like that!” she chides with no real heat.

More surprising than Hotch’s ability to sneak up on her is the smile he cracks. “I’m sure Sergio has one that I can borrow,” he says far too matter-of-factly considering what it is that he’s suggesting.

Emily blanches at him, more than a little surprised. “Did you-- Did you just make a joke?” She chuckles dryly. He’s such a strange man. In the same breath that she feels off about his joke, she feels like she’s just seen a special feature film. Hotch’s jokes come so rarely and far between, often so dry that they crack and go unnoticed, that she’s afraid she’ll never see it again. So does she reward the behavior or tell him how odd it is to hear him crack a joke?

“Are you done here,” he asks, stepping up to her desk. He lifts the cover of her case, giving it an approving nod. “There’s a sandwich place downtown, I was gonna stop and catch a late dinner.”

Again, it’s ten o’clock at night. “What kind of sandwich shop is open at ten on a Saturday night?” However, after spending her week eating crappy food from vending machines it’s sounding pretty good. He’s convinced her and he hasn’t even laid out his best argument.

Admittedly, he really doesn’t feel like dining alone.

Hotch takes her inquiry as a yes because that’s, essentially, what it is. “It mostly gets cadets and a few college students,” he admits. It wasn’t around when he was a part of either of those groups but he can still appreciate a good late-night sandwich. Especially, with the way, he forgets to take breaks. “I would understand if you’d rather go home though. It’s late and the kids at the shop have a tendency to be pretty nosey.”

Emily rises to her feet with an eye-roll. “Hotch, I didn’t die and come back from the dead to abide by societal standards on when I should eat my meals.” She smiles when he hands her bag to her. He can be a bit uptight but he’s a gentleman and she can appreciate that. “Besides,” she adds, “I’ve never said no to a sandwich in my life. I’m not going to start now.”

He lets himself laugh with her. Not all that long ago, he almost lost her. He wants to enjoy her company just as much as he wants to get to the bottom of whatever’s bothering her. And he plans to do just that. “I can drive,” he offers, knowing that she drove to work too. He’s really just buying time… time with her that he’s afraid is coming to an end.

Emily blows a breath out her mouth, slow but steady. She’s heavily considering it.

“I’ll pick you up in the morning,” he offers, “and we can stop for coffee.”

She snaps her finger, “sold!” She motions in front of her, comically allowing him to lead the way.

While she’d hoped that a sandwich and some small talk would deter her spiraling thoughts.

It doesn’t.

She just sits in his car and thinks about the family he had. Haley and Jack. His marriage wasn’t the world’s happiest but Haley and Hotch loved one another. He had someone to come home to. That’s more than she can say she ever had.

These thoughts plague her past the car ride and she finds that he’s mumbled something to her multiple times now and she’s been too far gone to notice.

As they take their seats at the diner, opposing sides of a booth, Hotch sighs. “What did I tell you?” He means, of course, the two other groups in the shop. One of the kids is definitely a cadet, there’s something spectacularly star struck about the grin on the young woman’s face. It’s hard to tell, which one of them is causing said reaction.

While her name may be the stuff of urban legend, his comes with his tricky career. Cadets are taught about the woman who infiltrated a unit renowned for studying human behavior. The only person to ever have her name and face placed on the wall of the fallen and taken down. While they teach his name alongside George Foyet-- the gift that keeps on giving. Cadets know, in intimate detail, what Foyet did to Hotch.

He’s a lesson.

She’s a legend.

“So,” Hotch brushes his hands off. He’d torn into his own sandwich while her own had garnered only a little bit of her attention. She can’t stop thinking about the cadets and the students watching them. There seems to be a median of reactions and she knows that has to do with their attire, their jobs, and their names.

“Buyers regret,” he recalls, frowning as his fingers work to undo his tie. To her shock, she sits and watches as SSA Aaron Hotchner is torn apart leaving only Aaron with slightly tousled hair and loosened collar. “Dave thinks you’re planning on leaving. Morgan knows you’re stalling. Reid’s... He’s certain you’ll ask for reassignment.”

Reassignment?

She shakes her head. Profilers, man, they suck.

Hotch sighs, leaning forward and placing his elbows on the table. “I think they’re probably right,” he surmises.

Emily winces. Now, she can’t lie to him. She pops a french fry in her mouth, buying herself time but looking incredibly guilty in doing so. “It’s about the brownstone,” she admits, playing with another fry so that she doesn’t have to look at him. “I just… It feels wrong, you know?”

He wishes he understood. He wants to offer her that comfort but he doesn’t understand. Her emotions, everything concerning her lately, has been pulled away. She’s guarded, even to him and JJ, and he can’t say he blames her. “I’m afraid I don’t,” he replies. “I’m willing to try, though, if you’re willing to explain.”

Emily keeps her eyes lowered to the table, unable to meet his eyes knowing that they’re going to be burning with compassion. To think there was once a point in their lives that they hated the simple sight of one another. Only to end up here.

The only thing holding them together these days.

“I’m almost forty years old,” she admits sheepishly, rubbing at her cheek. She knows that he’s not a misogynist. So he’s not going to think it’s silly or childish that she planned out her wedding before she was even ten and thought she had her life planned out.

Yet, when she meets his eyes all she can think about is that he probably had plans for forty-five too.

Probably thought he’d still be married to his high-school sweetheart with three or four kids. Things wouldn’t be perfect but he’d have a family too. He’d have more to come home to than his dead ex-wife’s sister and his son. Not that he ever complains.

Now he’s raising an eyebrow at her, waiting for her to fill him in. Informing him of her age isn’t connecting the dots and he’s starting to think he’s missed something. Her birthday isn’t for a few more months. So, he knows that’s not it.

“I thought I would have a family,” she whispers, grimacing when she blushes. “I thought I would be married and I’d have kids.” She’s afraid to see his reaction to her words. To her surprise, the corners of his mouth have fallen into a deep frown. His eyes have moved to the table but he’s not mad. He’s not even upset, he’s just thinking.

She sucks in a breath, fumbling to amend whatever she’s said to throw him for a loop. “I mean, it’s kind of selfish--”

“It isn’t.” His voice is deep, thick with the emotion he means to punch into the statement. “It’s not selfish to want a family, Emily.” He manages a small smile her way but his eyes are still pulled down by the weight of the topic at hand. Reaching up he rubs at his jaw, shaking his head as he thinks of something to say. “What does that have to do with the brownstone though?”

She grimaces. She was kind of hoping he’d put that together by himself and spare her the explanation. Clearing her throat and pulling her hands under the table to hide any tells he might see she manages. “I’ve never bought a home before,” she glances up for his immediate reaction before dropping her eyes back down. “I always… I just let myself down, Hotch. I just bought my first house but I don’t even have a partner to move into it with.”

He can see her tears swelling up in her eyes so he reaches across the table, resting his palm upright on the table for her to take. She looks up at him and then down at his hand and back at him again. He raises an eyebrow, silently waiting for her to take it.

Hesitantly, she places her hand over his.

“Emily,” he says softly. “There’s no right way to do any of this.” He motions vaguely around them, meaning not just her brownstone problem but life in general. He gives her hand a soft squeeze. “If it did, I imagine…” his immediate thought goes to Haley. If things had gone down as he planned… Well, things wouldn’t be as they are now. He shakes his head clear of that thought. “Things wouldn’t the same,” he decides. “We probably wouldn’t be a sandwich shop at eleven o’clock at night, that’s for sure.”

Emily nods her head. Good point. She’d be at home with a husband and kids to spend the night with. Not hanging out with her boss-- who doubles as one of her few friends-- and the only person waiting for her being a spoiled cat. “Rossi would probably still have his handful of divorces though,” she says with a shrug.

Hotch chuckles, “oh yeah.”

Pulling back to their respective sides of the table, Hotch turns his attention back to his food. He’s starving and he looks up to find Emily’s going back to own food as well.

“I can-- I can put together IKEA furniture,” he offers lamely, after a moment. “I mean, I put together Jack’s crib and toddler bed…” Not to mention the half-dozen times he’s had to move over the last decade. He’s assembled his share of furniture.

She laughs as his weak offer to help but appreciates it none-the-less. “Morgan already promised he’d do that,” she tells him. She’s smiling but his shoulder’s drop a little as his only chance to help is kindly brushed away. Quickly, she adds, “but you and Jack can come by and I can bastardize one of Dave’s recipes to better suit the tastebuds of a five-year-old?”

He smiles, nodding. “I’ll bring wine and promise not to tell Dave you messed with one of his recipes.”

Emily rolls her eyes. Dave loves her but he might also beat her if he were to find out she regularly adds and takes things out of his recipes. She smiles at Hotch, already excited to have Jack over. “It’s a date then.”

He nods his head, a date indeed.

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afewmarvelousthoughts · 5 years ago

Text

Only For A Moment Ch. 44

Master: @afewmarvelousthoughtsadmin

Pairing: Bucky X Reader

Summary: For most of your life you’d been able to keep your abilities a secret, that is until Hydra got wind of you. After years of being in their clutches, you break out when The Avengers expose SHIELD/Hydra. Since then, you’ve been on the run. Things are going as well as you could hope when you see a familiar face… Could the Winter Soldier really be in Bucharest too?

Warnings: Non-violent character death, feels

A/N: Who doesn’t want to peek into Bucky’s journals? I know I do--especially after the reader gave him fresh ones for Christmas 😘

Thanks to @wonderlandmind4 for convincing me that this wasn’t a stupid idea.

Tags are open!

Bucky’s Journal - Love

For once I can’t sleep and it’s not because of something horrible. I’m just happy.

It’s been a year since she slept in my bed that first night and never left. A whole year.

Never thought this could happen, didn’t even think about love or happiness when I decided to keep living—to fight back. Too hard to think about those kinds of things because they seemed so impossible. But here she is, still in my bed, sound asleep and happy. Or at least I hope she’s happy. I think she is.

This morning I made her breakfast, like the first morning we spent together. Y/N hadn’t realized the day, didn’t expect her to. I wrote in another journal the date so I’d remember (like I do everything haha). She had that smile on her face that scrunches her eyes, and her hair was all over the place from sleep. She was radiant--she’d roll her eyes if she knew I wrote that. It’s true though.

I suspected it for a long while but now I think I really know that I’ve never felt this way for someone before. Sure there were dames I liked, I remember some of ‘em. Good women, a few I even wondered about marrying--wouldda made Ma happy to see that. But none of ‘em came close to Y/N. Maybe it’s everything we’ve been through but I just don’t think it’s only that. There’s a spark in her. She’s different.

And goddamn she’s mine.

Bucky’s Journal - Present

Mr. G has been on the up and up. Says the fall always makes him feel like a new man even if it makes his bones ache. Wonder if I’ll ever be an old man with achy bones.

Y/N watched the shop and he and I went for a stroll in the park close by. He had his little motorized scooter, even though he hates the thing said he’d feel bad not using it after his daughter got it for him.

Told me in his old age he’s realized something he wished he knew when he was young, I’ll try to get it down just as he said it.

“Life is just a series of brief moments, happiness, joy, pain. We look at everything like a big portrait but it’s the moments that matter, in the end. We only have each thing for a moment. I wish I’d known that. I would have paid closer attention to the good moments and let the bad ones rest.”

He looked so tired after that, like the bad ones were winning out in the battle for his attention. I wanted to tell him I knew, understood what it was like to have so many bad ones that it’s hard to focus on the good but he thinks I’m young enough to be his grandson. Seems strange to say I understood.

But he’s right. All these journals all this time spent just trying to catch even a fraction of a moment I’d forgotten. Piecing myself back together with them, bringing myself back to life with nothing but moments. I know how valuable they are, but the bad ones they matter too, can’t let them rest.

Bucky’s Journal - Future

I wonder what our future could be. It’s hard to imagine too far ahead. Just not knowing what may be right around the next corner. It makes it hard. But she wanted me to think about the future when she gave me this. Maybe she meant just mine but there isn’t a future for me without her in it.

I just wish I could get an idea of what that would look like?

If this was 1945 I know exactly what I’d want. I’d marry this woman in a heartbeat. Take her dancing, maybe at that real swell place in Harlem--bet that’s long gone. Go to the pictures with Steve and Peggy—they would have been good together if they had a chance. (Hope he’s found someone.) Maybe try to get us a brownstone, always wanted one. Fill it with a couple of babies. A little girl with all her momma’s moxie and those bouncy curls—a little girl with enough backbone to make her aunt Jo proud and me worried.

But that doesn’t matter. Can’t have what doesn’t exist.

When I think about the future now all I see is uncertainty. Only thing I know I want is her to be safe and happy—no matter what that means.. I’m thinking the first step is to move on from here. Been here too long, longer than I planned. I just don’t know how to tell her, don’t want her to feel like she’s losing another home.

Bucky’s Journal - Love

I fell in love with her again today. Is that possible?

She was baking (scones and biscuits, they’re some of the best things I’ve ever eaten I swear) wearing nothing but one of my tees—it had flower dusted on it but she didn’t care. Her headphones were in, listening to something she clearly liked a lot 'cause she was bouncing around the kitchen, curls spinning, body floating up from time to time, mouth moving to the lyrics, just smiling. That spark, my god it was just brighter than I’ve ever seen it. I think this must’ve been what she was like before—bold and confident and happy.

I almost got up and grabbed her, wanted to kiss her so bad but I just couldn’t. My mouth was dry and my right palm felt sweaty. Felt like a nervous kid just gawking at her. So I just let the moment play on until she noticed me. Took a while thankfully, she was so caught up.

When she kissed me she tasted like coffee and some of the dark chocolate chips she’d snuck while baking. She almost always tastes like coffee. Fuck, I love it.

This is one of those good moments. There are so many with her. But the more I have the more I know that a million moments won’t be enough.

Bucky’s Journal - Future

I finally told her.

Almost a year and a half in one place is too long. For now anyway. One day, hopefully, we can find a place to stay. To make a home.

I laid out that the longer we stay the easier it is for someone to identify us—didn’t say I really just meant me. Even with her record I have no doubt there are more people sniffing for me than her.

She’s reluctant to leave Mr. G. He’s back to his old self pretty much though. They have his condition stable and his kids are checking in more often. I haven’t met them, best to not, but she says they’re good people. Makes sense given who raised ‘em.

Ultimately, though she said home was where I was, she didn’t care where we went. I don’t know how I became such a lucky bastard.

I’ll figure out where will be best, safest. Or safer anyway.

Bucky’s Journal - Present

This woman. This incredible woman.

I’m sure she’s sick of me by now but I can’t stop telling her how goddamn amazing she is.

Yesterday we were heading back from the market and this piece of shit left arm just went ape shit. Couldn’t move it beyond weird twitching it was doin’ on its own and the pain. Fuck I thought I was gonna die, truly, thought it would stop my heart. Dropped everything I was carrying and doubled over.

If she was panicked I never noticed. It’s kinda fuzzy but she got me behind a building away from people and used her gift to try to figure out what was happening. I know I didn’t make it easy judging by how torn up my shirt and hoodie were, must’ve clawed at them—done that in the past I remember, tried to claw the damn thing off. But she found something loose that seemed off, shoved her belt between my teeth for me to bite down on and fixed it. Just like that.

Nearly passed out. Honestly not sure how she got me home exactly but when my head cleared she was wrapping my shoulder in hot towels—the muscles still hurt from the tension but would be worse if not for her.

I don’t know what I did right to deserve this one. But I’m grateful.

Y/N’s First Journal Entry

Bucky suggested I start this, said writing helps for the things you can’t find the words for. Maybe he’s right. I haven’t had a journal since I was 17. Keeping one when I was with mom was too risky and even after I didn’t want to write down things, it was like writing it made it real. And I just didn’t see the point.

Still feels like writing this down will make it too real. But I just can’t--I don’t want it to be real ya know? I can’t say this out loud either though ‘cuz if I do I think that’ll do me in, I’ll break and idk if I’ll get it back together. I can’t do that. I need to be solid for Mr. G for Buck too.

He’s dying. Mr. Goldstein that is. Fuck. It just… I’m just tired of losing people. I know he’s lived a long full life but I’m selfish I’m not ready and I just. Can’t.

This isn’t helping.

Bucky’s Journal - Present

She begged me for more time. She didn’t have to. I feel bad that she thinks she did. Leaving now wouldn’t be right, not after everything Mr. G has done for us both. Wouldn’t even dream of it.

She’s looking after the shop, I’ve been spending most days there too. Sure she thinks it’s just to be close to her which is nice but I think we both feel closer to him there. I try to avoid the hospital, don’t want too much face to face with his kids—too risky—but I’ve made it by a few times. He’s still him but he seems… smaller maybe?

I feel guilty. Hearing about his kids from Y/N and just seeing him. Kinda glad I didn’t have to watch my own Ma and Pa go but that means the girls went through this without me and I — well I just never thought about it. Should have.

New Years was last week. It wasn’t a happy one but we were together—sometimes that’s all we can hope for.

Thought I knew what the future would be but now… just can’t tell.

Y/N’s Journal

He’s gone.

He knew it would be soon and asked Bucky and I to come by. He said he didn’t want us to be there at the end but wanted to remind us to take care of one another and that we’d made this last stretch a damn good one. Said this wasn’t goodbye, in fact he said he wouldn’t hear it. He’d see us later.

He’ll never know. I hate that he’ll never know. Not who I really am not what he’s done for me for both of us all this time. I hate it. I hate that he’s not going to come in here today with a pretzel and coffee not gonna sit on his stool with Victor. Hate that he’s gone.

I don’t even know why I’m writing this. Other than my mouth just doesn’t want to work.

Feel like we’re both just stuck in our grief. Not withdrawing though. No. Just hard to put this into words. Out loud.

I suppose I should be grateful, happy this sweet old man took two weird people in without question. Not a damn word when I went from looking like a boy to clearly presenting more as a woman. Never cared. Just cared that we were ok.

I am grateful.

I just wasn’t ready.

His kids are closing the shop. Makes sense. They’ll take care of Victor too because we said we couldn’t. This is my last day in this shop.

I’m so tired of losing people.

But I’ve got Bucky. He makes me wonder if there isn’t some kind of god out there, maybe trying to make up for shitting the bed by giving me him—giving us each other. I know he’s hurting too but he seems so unshakable. I’m lucky to get to love him. I just have to focus on that right now. We have a future to look forward to and a promise to keep to Mr. Goldstein—to take care of one another.

That’s a promise I swear I will never break.

Tag List:

@bluegirlusa1 @l0kisbitch @tazzi-baby @disagreetoagree @woodyandbuzz20-01 @mooniightbucky @saundrasays @breezy1415 @alyssaj23 @mywinterwolf @wonderlandmind4 @fairislesheets @anamcg317 @buckaroo-barnes @jazztherebel @peachthatdrinkslemonade @regulusirius @auskitty @babyimp1967 @katecolleen @handplucked @stevehesaidabadlanguageword @darkdragonphoenix @issanitydead @thestorydetective @buckysstar @wintersoldierswhore @greyeyedsmile14 @watchoutforfrostbite @for-the-love-of-the-fandom @jewelofwinter @siriuslycloudy2 @hardygal69 @marvelousmeggi @jdoenson @gamorazenn @wildmoonflower @cutie1365 @demonlover87 @winterboobearsworld @this-kitten-is-smitten

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x enhanced!reader #bucky feels #bucky's journals

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bigtittyhimmler-blog · 5 years ago

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Who Goes Nazi? Brooklyn Edition

If you’re anything like me, a twenty-something Twitter leftist with an advanced degree in the humanities, you hate absolutely everyone around you and badly want to kill them. You live in a brownstone playground of Timorese food and adult coloring books, and you want to suicide bomb the L train but leave a note blaming it on manspreading or whatever, so people don’t think you’re one of “those” random mass murderers (the bad kind). You hate having to tell people at parties that you “work in content,” and you hate the fact that they all also work in content. You hate that they all make content for outlets that are slightly cooler and more prestigious than the outlets you make content for. You hate that none of them have even fucked you for like thirteen months. You hate that you can’t even hate them for the ways in which they’re different to you, because there aren’t any. But fear not! There’s one thing you’ve got that nobody else does: you know that you’re definitely, 100% Not A Nazi.

But what about them? Imagine if the Nazis took over America and it was suddenly cool and prestigious to be a Nazi, and there were trendy Nazis on the TV the whole time, and they once again sold soap with slogans like “Dove: The White Pride Soap for Hating QTBIPOC and Not Amplifying Their Voices.” But also don’t imagine, because that’s exactly what’s happening.

This game was invented by Dorothy Thompson in her classic 1941 Harpers essay Who Goes Nazi?, in which she presciently pointed out that intellectuals are definitely more Nazi than aristocrats, but not nearly as Nazi as union leaders. But she set her essay at some dinner party in the Hamptons or wherever, and last time I went out there I went swimming in the sea and a wave hit me and I lost my bikini top and a bunch of bros in boat shoes started laughing and pointing at me in a way that despite my white privilege I still feel was somehow like imbued with racism, and then afterwards I just stayed inside for three weeks writing content and ordering groceries online, so the setting needs to be updated. Let’s look at your group DM. Which of these Twitter creatives who live in Brooklyn would go along with it and become a Nazi? (All of them.) And who never, ever would? (Me.)

Mr A isn’t actually in your group DM, and you’ve never encountered anyone like him irl, but you literally can’t stop talking about him, so he gets included anyway. Mr A is a short ugly loser, and he’s already a Nazi. He doesn’t even live in Brooklyn, he lives in his mother’s basement, and eats chicken tenders, and he doesn’t get laid, but in a different way to the way you don’t get laid, which has to do with patriarchy. Mr A is a Pizzagate. Mr A is a Gamergate. Mr A is a segregationist. Mr A opposes the reforms of the Emperor Diocletian (284-305). Mr A won’t shut up about the superiority of a “free silver” bimetallic monetary system over gold specie, and keeps on talking about the “gold shills” in a way that doesn’t really make sense until you realize that your own name is Goldschmidt, and yeah, he doesn’t really care about expansionary monetary policy at all, he’s talking about the Jews, and specifically you. Mr A is basically a pathetic worm whose life sucks and nobody likes him, but also he represents the whole of the repressive forces of society and he’s at the top of the social hierarchy. Everyone you’ve ever met is actually Mr A, wearing various masks. He is the source of all your problems. He must be killed, and once we kill him, we need to find more people like him to be the source of any problems we have left over.

Mr B is in your group DM, but you also have a separate group DM with everyone else except Mr B in it. He keeps trying so hard to be nice, and says stuff like “so how is everyone’s day today” with a smiley emoji, and when you’re talking to him you get this airless feeling like you’re about to suffocate in his treacly good-natured presence. Every time you see Mr B at a party you’re afraid that he’s going to blurt out that he loves you, but you can’t keep your distance too much because he’s so clearly autistic, and you don’t want to be ableist. Anyway once in the group DM he said that while he obviously thought divining for water with Y-shaped copper rods was good and important and valid, he didn’t understand what it had to do with socialism. That made everything better, because clearly he’s a Nazi. The whole group DM expended hours of emotional labor educating him about how dowsing is part of LGBTQ+ culture and how his dismissive bro-y attitude was reactionary and gross, and eventually he posted a video of himself crying and begging for forgiveness and promising to do better, because you guys were the only friends he had. This was classic white fragility, but in the end you let him stay. You just have the other DM now, where you make fun of him and it’s ok, because if the Nazis came and he had license to start being cruel and sadistic to other people, he’d definitely do it.

Ms C is one of those women who doesn’t like other women, and you know this about her because you can’t fucking stand the bitch. Plus she says stuff that’s really not ok, even though it costs nothing to have empathy and be kind. You’ve personally heard her use the D-word, the H-slur, and the L-pejorative, all while laughing and holding a glass of white wine by the stem, like she doesn’t need to consider the harm this does to others, just because she’s “funny” and “an artist.” She’s the Cool Chick. She makes nude self-portraits (the bad, skinny kind), and she’d throw you under the bus in a second for male attention and approval. She’d definitely go Nazi. But the worst thing about her is that she has the impudence to be bisexual and Asian, which makes it really hard to call her out. But then you realized that all Asian people are collectively responsible for the long history of anti-Blackness and misogynoir in their communities, and you’re thinking of holding her collectively responsible for the Rape of Nanking too, once you’re certain she’s a sushi Asian and not the dim sum kind.

Ms D’s boyfriend works in finance, or like accountancy or something, or I think I heard he was a musician? Maybe a drummer or possibly he used to bartend at a place where they had live music. Anyway they definitely have vanilla cishet sex in the missionary position and you can’t stop thinking about it, his body, her body, naked, moving, breathing, together, almost silent, tender, disgusting. She says she’s a socialist but doesn’t devote every minute of her waking life to getting mad about people online. This means she’s just vaguely following a trend, and if the trend were being a Nazi (which it is), she’d be a Nazi (which she therefore is). You can’t imagine yourself actually hitting her but it’d definitely be punching up to maybe poison her food?

Mr E used to be a comrade, but then he did a tweet that got 38.6k RT’s and now he’s moved to Los Angeles to spend his whole time in writers’ rooms. Last you heard he was pitching an animated show for adults about a snail with borderline personality disorder. It hasn’t even been greenlit yet, but you’re already thinking about all the ways in which it will be a missed opportunity and do harm and perpetuate tropes. Mr E will definitely turn out to have been a Nazi, and then you can start an anonymous petition to get the show cancelled so he has to move back to New York. Once he’s back you can send him a long email about how much it sucks his career burned out and how (even though you won’t say it in public) sometimes people do actually take the social-justice thing too far. That way he’ll be a comrade again, which is good, because we believe in rehabilitating people who have a genuine change of heart.

Mr F probably thinks he’s better than you. He’s a union organizer. So are you (you added “#Unionize” to your Twitter name), but his union stuff involves workers who aren’t in tech, content, or grad school, and he probably thinks that makes him more in touch with “the real workers,” who he probably thinks are just a bunch of cis white males in a factory, who are probably all racist and probably have thick, heavy dicks that intrude on your mind in a kinda #MeToo way a lot of the time. He talks about class, and you agree that class is important because you’re not a lib (you support Bernie, you just want him to Do Better). But from the way he says it you’re certain he doesn’t acknowledge all he/him lesbians as part of the working class. He’s trying to save a tiny sector of the workers from a necessary and important socio-economic shift that will impoverish them and make their lives worse, and that’s what being a Nazi is. This is why his union needs to stop dragging their heels, change all of their rules and priorities, and let you get him fired.

Ms G (me) will never go Nazi, because she is beautiful and kind and pure, and has all the good opinions instead of the bad ones. Because of this she’s allowed to do things that other people can’t do. She can totally fail to understand what having an authoritarian personality actually means, and construct a version of the Who Goes Nazi? essay in which the people who go Nazi are just people who are already right wing, having confused politics with personality, probably because she herself has no personality other than her politics. She can minimize, ignore, or even encourage the infliction of actual suffering when it happens to the wrong kind of people. She can write that “nothing that terrible has really happened” since the publication of Mark Fisher’s Exiting the Vampire Castle, even though Mark Fisher himself is mysteriously not around to appreciate that fact. She can do some shit with threatening to leak an unedited draft that I don’t even want to go into. She knows that the Nazis don’t come promising hatred but promising to be your friend, but it’s ok because she doesn’t really have any friends, just mufos. She’s doing great. She’s building a better, kinder world. She will never, ever be the Nazis.

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imacrowcawcaw · 5 years ago

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@oblvions @shes-outta-sight @lazingonsunday @karrotkate @satans-helper thank you all for the tags 💗💕

A buttload of info about me:

Last thing I read: "Lovers" by @satans-helper 😍😍😍

Favorite Book: The Merry Adventures of Robin Hood by Howard Pyle

Favorite Movie: Beetlegeuse

Dream Date: Imagine this: a nice, plush couch, covered in down pillows and fluffy blankets. There is a fire in the brick fireplace, the wood smoke combines with the scent of Nag Champa incense and the homemade treats that cover the low table next to the couch. There are brownies, bread rolls, cheeses, bowls of fruit, dipping sauces, cakes, sandwiches - a whole feast of my favorite foods. My partner and I would cuddle up on that couch, listening to my favorite symphonies on the record player in the corner and talking for hours. This isn't really a first date thing, more like an established relationshil date, but god I'd love to just spend an afternoon surrounded with my favorite things and my favorite person.

Do I have a crush?: Not really. There are people I find very very attractive (a friend, Sam Kiszka, Duff Mckagan in his 20s, Lucy Lui) but nobody that I'm actually romantically and sexually into.

Hobbies: Swimming, observing nature, browsing Pinterest, daydreaming, writing, reading, making art, singing, listening to music, love to cook

My favorite time of day: late afternoon, right before the sun sets. I'm usually free to do what I like, the temperature starts to drop, I can watch the sun... it's nice

If I could choose what I looked like, anything, what would it be?: I want tattoos, and more piercings, I'd love to change my hair color again - it's been natural for awhile but I think I want either burgundy or bright blue. WINGS! I kind of want giant, strong fairy wings, and maybe glowing eyes, a forked tongue, and tattoos that move and change (kinda like Maui lol)

Am I romantic?: Yeah, I'd say I am. I love to treat people, friends and significant others, but I'd be especially affectionate and romantic for a partner. I'm constantly buying gifts and things that remind me of them, cooking for them, planning dates and buying tickets for things I know they like, quietly taking care of stuff I know they need to do, cuddling, complimenting... I love to shower my partner in affection 24/7

My favorite kind of weather: Late Autumn, generally. About 55ºF, cloudy but not raining, windy

What do I like to talk about?: Lol I talk a whole lot and I've probably talked about everything at some point. One of my close friends and I particularly love to debate religion, mythology, magic, history, and the intersections of those. We also regularly plan heists and crimes lmao

My turn-ons: Long eyelashes, pouty lips, dirty hands (motor oil, paint, flour, etc), sarcasm, seeing someone get excited about something, compassion, casual physical affection

My turn-offs: Nastiness without a reason, knees (I just think knees look weird idk), Trump supporters, 100% pessimism (I understand being depressed or doubtful or being generally a pessimist, but if you adamantly refuse to see anything in a good light and try to ruin it for others f u c k y o u)

If I got a tattoo, what would it be and where?: ohhh I want tattoos so bad but I'm saving up and I'm not certain about some yet.... but I know that I'm getting a tree of life matching with my mom, I want mushrooms, pine trees, lavender, wildflowers (all for personal reasons). I'd also like to make maybe a charm bracelet of sorts with little charms for my favorite bands, books, movies, and other peices of media. I know that interests change and I might not like something in 30 years, but I see my life in periods of interests and I want to catalogue the things that shaped me

My pets: I have 3 cats - Pumpkin Pie, Lady, and Sweetheart

My dream job: I just want to live a free life doing what I want. I want to grow my own food for the most part, and raise animals, and paint, and write, and play music, and go on random adventures, go antiquing, decorate my home from my travels, learn without expectations - I don't want to exchange a fulfilling life for financial security from some mundane modern job.

My dream place to live: Secluded, in the forests of Oregon (or maybe Pennsylvania idk) on the bottom third of a mountain, on my own little farm

My dream vacation: I just wanna go explore historical landmarks and buildings

My dream house: A beautiful historical house -- like an 1870s American farmhouse, or a craftsman cottage, or a Victorian painted Lady, or maybe a New York brownstone -- filled with antiques and records and books and artifacts that I've collected. I LOVE antiques so much, everything would be of fine craftsmanship, it would be lavish and inviting and packed with interesting items at every turn (I want my house to be a curios shop lol) I also want a big ass kitchen and nice woodwork, I literally get horny over original built ins

My piercings: Sadly, I only have my standard ear piercings right now, but I think I'll get more soon. A nose ring, eye brow bar (yes I know that's so 2000s but I like them), probably 4 more on each ear, navel, nipples

If I had kids, what would I name them?: I love older, interesting names, so - Euphemia, Hartford, Monroe, Malory, Louise (me lol), August, Fredrick

My worst traits: I'm incredibly stubborn; I love talking to people but I'm awkward; lazy and don't care; I'm a bit of a collector/hoarder; I bottle up any anger or sadness I feel so I don't inconvenience others

My best traits: I love to give and help; I try to make people comfortable around me/in my home; I have excellent taste; I appreciate quality, culture, and creativity; I have many interesting interests that I'm eager to share and learn more about; I'm very creative

My worst fear: a painful death - I'm not afraid of dying, even though I'd rather not, I just don't want it to hurt

What do I want to eat right now?: Well, considering that I just ate my first bit of solid food in 3 days and immediately had to run to the bathroom... nothing

My favorite vacation memory: *blushes* my first kiss AND nearly my first time (we went like halfway): making out with this dude, son of my mom's friend, at my family cabin

My favorite city: I really don't know. Timber, OR, let's say

My favorite social media platform: Tumblr or Pinterest (does that count?)

My favorite article of clothing: My leather motorcycle jacket. I can't actually ride a motorcycle (trying to remedy that because *sexy*) but I got it a few years ago and it makes me feel so fucking badass. It's heavy, about 15 pounds of good quality leather, has lots of secret pockets in the lining and some cool looking zippers and studs, but nothing crazy. It's hella warm and comfy, I wear it everyday it's cold enough to

Do I play any sports?: pfft no. I like to swim, and I'm interested in baseball and tennis, but I suck at them and also I just don't like team sports

My favorite meal: What I order when I go to Buffalo Bills - a pesto/feta/mozzarella/Italian sausage/basil/tomato/garlic pizza, with homemade potato chips and chunky blue cheese dressing for dipping. If I had room, I'd finish with Marionberry cheesecake pie from Sherri's (but I am incredibly sick and have no faith in getting better enough so I feel like I'll never be able to eat like this again)

What am I excited for?: The winter holidays! I'm atheist, so Christmas is all about the personal stuff and non religious family traditions for me. I love the decorations, the music, seeing my family, baking, giving and receiving presents, it's all just so fun

What am I not excited for?: Cleaning my room, it really really needs it though. Also just continuing to live like this. I'm not suicidal, I'm just in a lot of pain constantly and I don't know what to do

When was the last time I cried?: an hour or so ago, I'm in loads of pain right now

What is something I hate about the world?: There's too much to choose from

What is something I love about the world?: children and nature

My favorite scents: vanilla, lavender, pine, Nag Champa incense, BBQ meat, pizza with basil, rosemary, my Dad's cologne

Cats or dogs?: kitties 💗

What kind of sleeper am I?: A weird one lol. I can't lay on my stomach for more than 15 minutes without it making me incredibly nauseous for the rest of the day, but it's also my favorite way to sleep cause its comfy somehow... I can't lay on my back without a pillow either, 30 seconds in and the nerves pinch so bad I'm screaming. I snore, and I sleep deep, but it takes a long time to fall asleep and usually only beeping or banging noises wake me up??? Like I said, I sleep weird

How long would I survive in a zombie apocalypse?: I really don't know. I have some skills and the drive to learn to fight, but I am currently, as I'm sure y'all can tell, very sick and I don't think I'd be able to live with so much movement and so little medicine

Am I trusting?: Generally, I probably trust too much but I'm not gonna stop

What fictional characters do I identify with?: there are many I like but none I identify with

My most common labels: Mom friend, butch, that weird fat chick (doesn't bother me tho), the well behaved daughter, old soul

My life's anthem: I really am not sure if this is a good anthem song but I love it so so much... Take Me In Your Arms (Rock Me A Little While) by Kim Weston - you see where I get my love of long titles lol

Problems I'm dealing with: my health and whatever painful sickness is wrecking me, figuring out what to do with my life, saving money, getting my anxiety under control, getting the house to actually heat up because I'm cold as fuck

How can someone win me over?: let me express my interests and feelings, show kindness, be funny

What is something people don't know about me?: Idk

Not tagging anyone, this took over an hour

#personal #about me #tag game

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operativesurprise · 5 years ago

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Dreams I’ve had recently enough to find with a quick scroll on my fb wall

was dreaming about a cave last night. With lots of shallow pools of water along the floor. I feel like if I'd seen the layout from above it would have looked like paisleys. There was a creature there tending the pools. Sweeping detritus away, skimming the surfaces of the water. It took moss that was growing too thick in some places and put it into bare areas, and it was very gentle with the little frogs and salamanders living on the walls.

There was the sound of bats and the dripping and echo of water, and a low hum in the background, but the creature itself made no sound. You heard the bristles of it's broom, and the soft shift of stones it touched, but no footsteps, no breathing, no nothing but a soft chiming noise as it looked in each pool.

The waters all glowed, some white, some pale blue, others pulsed through light pink to deep magenta. The whole dream had this aura of calmness, of being content. It was like being in a giant zen garden but dial the peace up even more. I'm not really sure where -I- was in the dream. My POV was kinda hovering over the figure as it tended to the pools, but I'm fairly certain I wasn't the figure itself. I was like, 6 inches up and to the left.

_____

I've been trying to sketch an image I had in a dream last night and it's just not setting up right. It was like. Honestly it was like the first few seconds of the Adventure Time intro animation - that super fast 'drone camera' POV that swoops down through trees and stuff and focuses in on a character with their back to the camera and then they turn and look?

I was swooping through this orchard of blooming apple trees - and I took note bc for some reason I was surprised they weren't pear and peach trees like 'they were supposed to be'.

But as the camera/I got closer to this feminine figure standing under the branches and the flowers and these really almost black-green leaves in this rich green velvet textured dress (it's totally the dress that's on the original golden book cover of Ella Enchanted), with big free fall bouncy waves of BLOND hair, they turn and instead of it being that kinda anime "turn and wink/smile" and the camera goes to the next, she turned around and it was a dead eyed marionette.

My camera POV just slammed to a halt with the freeze frame of this... entity (which I 'knew' in my dream was The Druid) (Even though this wasn't really an MJ dream) looking up and over their shoulder at me, like they'd become aware of the camera and were looking straight at ME. The branches with the flowers and the leaves above it framed it really close and I couldn't see much other than the scribbly ovals of it's eyes. Then the colors all got desaturated except for the apple blossoms.

And then that dream was over.

___

Vivid dreams last night about being on house hunters. With Lithrick as the realtor.

Also had a very ominous dream about standing in a misty open field, feeling the sawgrass scrape my bare arms and shins, staring up into the grey sky while sharp winged birds with broken bodies 'flew' through the air. It looked like how a washcloth you are swirling in a tub of water looked. There was no sound for that one but I could feel the rain on my face as I looked up.

Then I was dreaming about being on the beach in Belize with the chitons and baby hermit crabs and the breeze and I was watching the sunrise.

___

I've been having zombie nightmares since Sunday. Sunday and Monday were taking place in the shopping mall (which is a relatively new venue for my dreams), Sunday being the Beginning of the outbreak (and star trek themed) and Monday mostly about life starting up in the 'colony' of this gigantic shopping mall.

But last night I dreamed about the collapse of the colony and then survival in the forest.

There was a man in a wheelchair who had arrived at the shopping mall with his mother - both of whom were injured but not infected. We let them in and the mother succumbed to her injuries shortly after.

This left the man in the wheelchair distraught and he would wheel around the open plaza in the center of the mall mumbling. It was not concerning - until other weird things began to happen.

Like how one of the dorm areas had mysteriously become locked, how some people were going missing (presumably they left to try and find their families), and how some older people were getting injuries in the night - explained away by "well, old people have delicate skin and maybe they bumped themselves".

But then the man in the wheelchair wheeled up to the mezzanine and shouted for attention. And then he collapsed, and clouds of mosquitos erupted from his wounds and began to attack people.

Flash forward to a weird mix of irl and larp characters living in the woods behind my house in an abandoned homestead - I had gone from dying by mosquito to being Sano and a group of us avoiding Velociraptors in the long grass as we made our way back to the relative safety of this bombed out building husk.

But then The Rattler Gang came - horribly tattooed and violent and they ransacked through the homestead and were almost into our barricaded room when not-quite-Malaki and sorta-Allison with an ancestor spirit wig on saved us.

The dream ended with us all in a cave explaining to a horrified Morgrym that "see what happens when you're late?"

It was so weird bc as the dreams progressed and became more MJ and less Real World but with Zombies the zombies became less of an issue (I mean, repel undead is a thing)

___

Last night I dreamed about Ridge Road being a swamp instead of a road. The fields on either side were the same, but the road itself was a Louisiana/Florida/Bayou/Swamp thing with hot, moist air, dragon flies, grasses, alligators, everything you could want (though the water was clear as day).

And I was walking along the broken up boards that served as this sorta river trail following the path of the road. Slats were missing in places and it was a distinctive walnut color, and it was rickety and I could smell the heat of it like being on a dock in the summer time.

And as I was walking along I knew I was heading toward Harris Hill farm but instead of the farm it was the Pirate Tavern bar that I dream about fairly often.

(as I'm thinking about it, it kinda has the air of a setting in a Curse of Monkey Island game crossed against Diablo II)

But before I can get into the tavern there was a crowd of tourists wading through the water nearby. Like, the most stereotypical hawaiian shirt white-sunscreen-on-nose and flyfishing capped tourists you could imagine. And they were lost looking for their fan boat but I didn't know where it was - but I also didn't want them to find the Pirate Tavern bc it's a secret and my co-owner Matt Sch would be mad if we had to relocate AGAIN bc non-pirates had found us.

And in my dream I am DISTINCTLY aware that LAST TIME there were also VAMPIRES there, but Skye Collins had bought out their half of that Pirate-Vampire Tavern to own it outright as JUST a Vampire Tavern so this time I went into business with Matt. Not Lithrick, Matt.

And I was -upset- in my dream until I 'remembered' that I hadn't skipped out on Skye and the Vampirate Tavern, I'd just opened another location with a different partner after reaching an amicable business deal. We still traded aligator blood grog for peat moss from the other location to serve a certain cocktail with at THIS one.

___

Had a dream last night that I was diving on a whale fall. But either I was minuscule or the whale was super gigantic bc the rib bones were these looming spires like I was watching a stroll under redwood trees through a low fisheye lense.

Thinking about it I can totally piece out the different dives that meshed to make this dream up.

The stalactites from the Blue Hole, The gelatinous muck on the bottom in the St. Lawrence The cold from the Brownstone Quarry

___

If we want to talk about a fever dream... last night I had a dream about being trapped on a volcanic island while the whole chain of volcanoes were erupting.

The evacuation was happening but I went back to the house for the animals and got stuck there. And other neighbors who couldn't get out in time were coming over with their pets and supplies.

I was watching the lightning and the ash fall outside when I saw three red colored golden retrievers but I could only get two of them to come inside and I spent the rest of the dream upset and trying to find the third one. I found other animals trying to hide from the ash and storm, but I woke up before finding that 3rd golden.

The lava flows were coming down the mountain too.

___

Dream time. So. A classical vampire and an actual bat demon are out on the town looking for something to do when they come across a nail parlor.

What a great idea, they think! We'll get manipedis and then do brunch over at IKEA.

But when they go into the nail parlor there is far too much religious imagery to be comfortable and the demon doesn't want to stay anymore so they go back outside all sad.

Vampire suggests they just kill and eat the occupants of the nail parlor and find something else to do with their day off.

Demon agrees to the plan but they have this 'thing' where when the two of them murder a bunch of people they leave a haiku written in the blood on the wall.

They begin to argue because they both have different accents and can't decide on the syllable count for a certain word.

___

So there's a string of tall, skinny houses in Litchfield after 'The Church' that usually feature in any nightmares I tend to have. Last night did not disappoint.

The lineup was this:

🏚🏠🏡🏠 An empty house, My house, the neighbor's house, and then for some reason my grandmother's house.

And we had gone next door to the neighbor's house for dinner, even though we knew it was dangerous to be outside of our house after dark. But as we gathered in their entryway the spotlights on the rest of the neighborhood started turning on and we knew we had stayed too late.

"They" were out there. You were safe in the daylight, you were safe at night as long as you didn't open your doors. BUT now it was night. And we had to get home.

So we slip out the door and we can hear the neighborhood using birdcalls to communicate the 'all clear'. As we are going down this overgrown embankment toward our house we see it.

One of them.

And then we hear someone sound the alarm, a series of owl hoots. It distracts the thing for a moment and we think we could slip away but it turns and starts trying to get into our house so we run to the empty one next door and JUST barely make it.

Dream me's mother and little sister make it into the screened in porch just ahead of me and I fall in and turn and only just get the door closed in time when It attacks.

It was a zombie. Or a ghoul. Or something. a woman with a bloody face and terrible teeth and honestly it looked like Reagan from the Exorcist and she launched herself against the screen door which I'm trying to keep closed.

I know she can't get in the door but then she makes this horrible noise and says,

"You won't be safe for long. We're getting stronger,"

And the door is almost coming off its hinges but I -know- as long as I keep the door closed at night we are safe and then she laughs and presses her face to the screen and says,

"I'll just get in tomorrow morning. Before you're awake. Because, really, what difference does the sun or stars make? I'll get in tomorrow,"

And then I woke up.

____

My dream last night was so complicated I can barely keep it straight.

I was some grizzled, older ex-con dude pulled out of my soft retirement as a school bus driver because a child genius was being used as the catalyst for the robot war apocalypse by his wealthy mother's greedy board of directors.

And somehow I had a time machine that I was gonna use to bring the kid back to the beginning of all the issues and he was gonna start sabotaging the dangerous inventions so he could just be a regular child genius instead of responsible for global-scale mass murder.

At one point I had thrown the kid's manifesto at him but he hadn't actually read it bc it was too big and there were no pictures but also bad language and he asked me what "twat" meant and the kid was horrified that they would use that kind of language. Like he was ambivalent about the murders but bad language was crossing a line.

And as part of my "wait. He's just a kid I can help him instead of kill him" epiphany for some reason I looked out the time machine window and saw my old motorcycle which was painted in blue tiedye pattern and that memory moved me enough to offer to help the kid.

So the kid grabbed his froggy backpack and offered to give me all of his science fair winnings (which was like. Hundreds of thousands of dollars and two telephoto camera lenses for some reason. And a green and purple feather boa) but I just took enough to buy a new motorcycle and told him to hide it from his past mother so they're not suspicious.

___

Okay subconscious, doing laundry with the elves of mirkwood is NOT becoming a reoccurring dream. Three times is enough. Stop now. ____

I was an undercover secret agent posing as the nanny to a royal family's children. The children had a pool party for the oldest's birthday, and I was in charge of the yacht rides in the aquarium tank. Halfway through the dream, Pirates attacked with large assault rifles, trolls, and fire elementals. I managed to save some of the children, but then Katina was healing the ones that had been injured when a Shadow quick deathbed them and I had to resort to Improv comedy to keep the remaining kids from screaming as their friends turned to ghosts around us. None of the adults would listen to me that the attack had been planned, they were convinced that it was random, and despite the fact that I had a way to turn back time and catch the one woman who had started the fight they refused to do anything but complain that dinner had been delayed.

#me #personal #dreams #why do I have such weird dreams #why do i remember ALL OF MY DREAMS #I very rarely forget dreams when I wake up

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samscns-blog · 5 years ago

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* 𝖎𝖋 ur ready to two step into some absolute BULLSHIT tomfoolery , ya girl 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 is ready for u with my lil firecrotch son , 𝖘𝖆𝖒𝖘𝖔𝖓 . strong silent type , ABSOLUTE buffoon , barely keeping it together so hopefully by the time we’re done w him he’s still in something resembling one piece :’) all my love to u and u cute asses ! i’m so excited to get this all poppin !

⋆ ╰ another year at hollingsworth , another year of the big six rivalry . i hear that SAMSON MAILOTO is ensuring SIGMA ALPHA NU gets a solid pledge class and stays at the top of the ranks . oh , you’re not familiar with HIM ? SAM is the KJ APA look alike from THE BRONX , NEW YORK . a part of PC ‘16 , he is majoring in KINESIOLOGY and has plans to ENTER THE MMA AND ESCAPE FROM THE PUBLIC EYE after undergrad . it makes sense they pledged their house , their PHLEGMATIC & SOLICITOUS attributes make them perfect matches . however , their TREPIDATIOUS & AUSTERE attributes keep their name alive on greek rank . if you don’t catch them dancing to BLEACH - BROCKHAMPTON at a fraternity band party this year , you’ll be sure to catch them nursing their morning hangover at THE SNU HOUSE . cheers to another wild semester !

⋆ ╰ 𝑺 𝑻 𝑨 𝑻 𝑰 𝑺 𝑻 𝑰 𝑪 𝑺 .

𝒇𝒖𝒍𝒍 𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒆 : samson ioaleki mailoto

𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 : sam , sammy

𝒃𝒊𝒓𝒕𝒉𝒅𝒂𝒕𝒆 / 𝒂𝒈𝒆 : february 4 , twenty

𝒛𝒐𝒅𝒊𝒂𝒄 : aquarius

𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒕𝒚 / 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒏𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒔 : cismale identifying with he / him / his pronouns

𝒐𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 : heteroflexible and pansexual ; he’s never actively considered himself as lgbtq+ but has also never given it much thought ddjdjdjdkjdk

𝒐𝒄𝒄𝒖𝒑𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 : kinesiology major at hu , aspiring welterweight mma fighter , us olympic representitive for men’s boxing in the 2020 olympics

𝒉𝒐𝒈𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒔 𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒔𝒆 : gryffindor

𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒕𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒊𝒏𝒔𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒆𝒅 𝒃𝒚 : eliot alder from mr robot , kylo ren from the new star wars series , detective elliot stabler from law and order svu , steve rogers from the mcu

𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒊𝒕𝒔 : - trepidatious , austere , apprehensive , hesitant , antisocial , hostile , bellicose .

+ phlegmatic , solicitous , benevolent , rational , stalwart , loyal , reliable , optimistic .

𝑃𝐼𝑁𝑇𝐸𝑅𝐸𝑆𝑇 located here !

⋆ ╰ 𝑨 𝑵 𝑻 𝑬 𝑪 𝑬 𝑫 𝑬 𝑵 𝑻 .

bullet points for the win bc who has time for all the tomfoolery i could spew from my ass !

sammy’s mom was a housekeeper in upper manhattan for some fancy dancy homes who needed their gold toilet seat covers sanitized 3x a day , u know the type 🙄

samson grew up in a run down apartment in a small samoan community in the bronx and has always been a lil antisocial weirdo since those warm dark eyes came into the light . he rlly minded his own business n wasn’t really curious about literally anything besides running and wrestling w his cousins . his mom struggled to keep him fed and housed and dressed and worked relentless hours but never left sam needing anything , a literal fucking legend of a woman and he’s proud to carry her last name !

sammy always felt the weight of never wanting to be an extra burden to his mother and learned to really be self-sufficient , likely explaining his satisfaction with being so alone

he vaguely remembers the night his life changed in middle school , the hushed strained whisper from the living room , he’s your god damned son too , think about him for once in your fucking life . it hit like a fucking train once the story picked up , 5 time nfl superbowl champ father to secret love child . think arnold schwarznegger’s secret son level scandal ! suddenly his shithead of a dead is trying to salvage his image , fighting for split custody arrangements , telling the press how much in child support he payed , anything to save his ass

this is the first time samson remembers being fueled by rage in his life , as a relatively well-tempered child , the injustice of having this near-stranger try to be a “ DAD ” to him while shitting all over his mother’s name made his fucking blood boil and becomes a theme for his future

he spends the next chapters of his life going to the fancy private schools in new york his dad picks for him and tearing his tie off on the ratty bus ride into the bronx to go home to his mom . he hates having to haul ass back and forth , wishing he could stay with the only family he’s actually given a shit about , but bears it for the sake of not causing his mom any more torment . his father is as awful as could be imagined , and samson hates every second of existing with him , the snarky little comments at school and in the ritzy wealthy circles that make him feel more of a black sheep than he ever asked to be

this becomes the root of his anxiety , bearing the weight of the world’s expectations on his young shoulders and repressing his own needs and desires as a result . he goes into every sport imaginable , his father’s DNA being increasingly difficult to deny , but finds a particular talent with fighting and takes on as many fighting styles as he’s able to master

turning 18 should mean freedom for sam , but nothing is ever as simple as he could ask in his life . in order to keep the child support payments that admittedly help keep his mother afloat , his father asks one more thing of samson : hold off on his pro mma dreams for just a little longer in order to attend his alma matter , hollingsworth university , as a publicity move and then he’ll be out of sam’s life in every way except financially . with the dream of completing college like his mom always aspired for him , sam agreed and went on to appease the man one last time , joining his former fraternity to sweeten the deal ( and secure a lovely brownstone in his childhood neighborhood signed in his mother’s name ) and is a year out from graduating and letting mma be the only reason his name would ever appear in the tabloids .

⋆ ╰ 𝑨 𝑵 𝑨 𝑳 𝒀 𝑺 𝑰 𝑺 .

personality wise , i describe sam as the stupid bitch w big npc energy , if u want him to talk u gotta talk to him first and even then he might just give u that hostile stare and just .. . . remain silent KSDFSDF

he’s about as NOT a people person as physically possible , would really be content just sticking to his inner circle for like the rest of his life without concern . he seems like this rude stand-offish dick but the truth is he’s PAINFULLY SHY and has a p severe case of generalized anxiety disorder so interactions ? w new ppl ? are a HARD pass

did i mention he’s on steriods bc that def adds to his anxiety and hostility ! lmao ! he started juicing in high school when his dad kept pressuring him for football and how he was “ twice your size ” at that age , n he HATES the dude but he’s also lowkey insecure abt his lack of a father figure so ? used daddy’s money to start his first cycle and pay off to test clean and now he’s been hooked on and off . he’s currently starting a new cycle to bulk up for the new season and prep for the 2020 olympics but swears he wont be on them forever :/

they make him SUPER aggressive when set off , it’s a decent thing that sam’s so monotone and shy that he’s also pretty laid back and kinda hard to rile up . he really doesn’t take much personally and won’t do a huge “ chest pumped bro lets do this ” show bc he ? thinks all those guys who do that are tools LMAO but find the right button to push n he’ll become the very thing he despises !

if u can get past the literal awkward silence and resting bitch face , sammy is actually really well known for being just a generally decent guy . the perception is often that he’s a dick bc he think’s he’s better than a lot of ppl , but the truth is he’s just too nervous to start conversations n most ppl assume its an ego thing vs a “ i’m about to piss myself thinking abt all the ways this convo can go wrong so i’ll just not talk and glare @ u instead ” thing

if he had his shit together he would definitely qualify as a dad type , but since he doesn’t , he won’t SSHSHSHSH but he’s really just a softie deep down , he has a stupid as HELL sense of humor and is really objective and level headed . the gryffindor in him is DEEPLY loyal , like to the death , but he’s got lots of hufflepuff in the sense that he’s really willing to get his hands dirty to help those in need . u need help moving ? someone to keep u company while u babysit ? feel nervous walking alone after class at night ? sammy might leave u on read if u text him bc he’s a Dumb Bitch like that but he’ll show up on the dot , hands in pockets , exactly where u asked him to be ready to do what u asked him to do . the mans is a super hard worker

he def still feels kinda weird at uni ? he’s p smart but some of the classes unrelated to athletics and anatomy have given him a REALLY tough time ( dance appreciation for his fine arts credit almost tanked his gpa LMAO ) and he’s not top of his class or anything but ppl still try to talk to him bc of the whole “ famous dad , future olympian ” thing , which he can pick up from a mile a way and makes him super uncomfortable . even being in a frat w a bunch of old money rich boys makes him DEF feel like the odd one out , and he’s just counting down the days until he’s OUT OF HERE

in conclusion : i love u all . lets suffer together . :~)

#rank:intro #love u all sm :' (#i'll have emmy's done tomorrow i hope !

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lickstynine · 6 years ago

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Oily Jace and the Smol Greasy Bitch (part 1)

A/N: Since @sickandvomiting and I are in love with our 50′s AU of Jace and Elizabeth, and equally in love with brutal whump, we decided to write the story of how Greaser Jace got his scars. I had to change the origin, since a car wreck that severe would’ve just straight-up killed him back then. Anyway, this was really fun to write, so I hope y’all enjoy reading it. Coordinating illustration(s) to come.

Jace felt like he’d been walking for about ten hours, though it had really only been about thirty minutes. Normally his long legs could’ve taken him from the bar to Elizabeth’s place in ten or fifteen, but it was hard to walk quickly when he was actively losing blood. When he’d first stood up, it had been a struggle to ignore the searing pain of several deep cuts. Now he was so lightheaded, the pain was negligible, but his ability to stand was quickly fading. It felt like he’d been trudging through miles of concrete jungle. He was about to give up and lay down in an alley to accept his fate when a familiar sight wobbled before his eyes. Just down the road, Elizabeth’s dilapidated brownstone was visible under a flickering streetlight, its telltale patches of moss and missing brick mercifully familiar.

Jace sighed in relief, sending a fresh jolt of pain through several cuts and some probably-cracked ribs. It stung fiercely, but it woke him up a bit, and he forced himself to keep walking, cursing and fumbling as he scaled the rusty fire escape. His right wrist screamed when he grabbed onto the railing, but he didn’t let go. Just two flights of creaky old stairs, and he’d be safe. By the time he reached Elizabeth’s window, he was one stiff wind away from toppling right back down the fire escape. He leaned heavily on the rail, using his good hand to rap on the glass.

“Ey! Doll face! You up?” Even in this state, Jace knew well enough to whisper. If he woke up Elizabeth’s neighbors, or god forbid, her parents, they’d both be dead.

Momentarily the curtains were drawn back to reveal Elizabeth’s face behind the glass. The grin she wore at the surprise of seeing him quickly faded, however, as she got full sight of him. Blood streamed down his face, neck, and chest, staining his white t-shirt a dark brownish red.

“Jace, what the fuck!!” she hissed, opening the creaky window as quietly as she could. “What happened? Who did this to you?” She tugged on his arm, trying to pull him into the room, but pulled away when he winced sharply.

“I… I can clue you. Kinda.” Jace climbed in the window himself, hissing, wincing, and groaning and eventually just landing face first on the ground. “Shit…”

Elizabeth jumped at the sound, and her hands momentarily flitted to his back before she stood back up and peeked out her door. Good, the hallway was clear. They hadn’t heard.

“Better get to explaining there, honey,” she whispered, closing the door as quietly as possible. She fluttered back to him and helped him to sit upright. “Thank god the floor is wood,” she muttered when she saw the bloodstain left on the scuffed floorboards.

“Sorry.” Jace tried to grin sheepishly, but it was more of a grimace. “I wasn't even tryin’ to start shit this time.”

She gave him a skeptical look.

“I wasn't!” Jace cried, “I was at the bar with the guys, and there were a couple punks hangin’ out nearby... hollerin' at the bartender and just bein' assholes. Leo and Donny had to bail early, so it was just me and Aaron there the rest of the night. It's gettin' late, we're about to head out, and we hear a ruckus over on the far side of the bar. It's those punks from before. They're all over this kitten, they clearly wanna neck 'er and she is not havin’ it.” He paused, waiting for a reaction from Elizabeth. She scrunched her nose distastefully, and he continued.

“So I go over there. I tell 'em to back off unless they wanna knuckle sandwich. Aaron cut out soon as I started talkin'. You know him, he's such a wet rag with that shit. Too scared of gettin' in trouble. But anyway, so I'm tellin' these punks to leave the girl alone, they tell me to get bent and go back to grabbin' at 'er.” Again, Jace paused, and Elizabeth scoffed obligingly.

“So I yanked the closer guy offa her and decked him, and his friend lets go'a the girl to help 'im. At first I was creamin' 'em, like those two were half dead, and then outta the woodwork, like five more guys pop up to help the bastards. But I don't wanna just bail, cause what are they gonna do to that girl if I turn tail like Aaron. So I'm just tryin' to keep my head above water, and one of these nosebleeds breaks a goddamn bottle an' comes at me with it. Nearly cut my fuckin' head off before I kicked it outta his hand. Dunno what I woulda done if the bartender hadn't threatened to call the cops. Jackasses ran off, but it was already past close, so I had to cut out, too. I didn't even see where that girl got off to… I just hope those creeps didn't find her."

Elizabeth just hummed in response, at a loss for words. As he’d been speaking, she had started wiping the blood off his face and neck with a washcloth and the water from her hot water bottle. She paused and met his eyes, and cupped the uninjured side of his face with her hand.

“I’m so sorry that happened, sugar,” she said, wiping a streak of blood and sweat from his cheek with her thumb. “But hey, we match now!” She flashed him a concerned smile, and was pleased when he momentarily grinned back, though the expression quickly morphed into a grimace.

Jace shrugged, his face immediately screwing up in painful regret. “I mean… it was the right thing to do… I think. Maybe I shoulda just butted out...” He sighed, and his good hand flew to his ribs, which were aching much worse than earlier. Any last dregs of adrenaline were long gone by now, and he could feel the edges of the cuts on his chest tugging with every breath. “I'm gonna hafta borrow a shirt from Donny or somethin’... If I come home in this, Mom's gonna flip her lid.”

“Hey, no, it wasn’t your fault. People are just… like that,” she said, resuming her work on his wounds. “I would offer you one of my dad’s shirts, but it would be like me trying to wear a baby onesie,” she added with a chuckle. After a moment, she stopped again. She could see deep down into the whitish yellow viscera in some of the cuts, and while the bleeding was slowing, it wasn’t slowing as quickly as she’d like.

“You should really get to a hospital, Jace,” she murmured. “All I’ve got here is iodine, alcohol, and Rawleigh’s.”

“That should be fine.” Jace shrugged, as if he had a bad paper cut and not a couple pints of blood soaking his shirt.

“It won-” she started loudly, but caught herself and lowered her voice to a whisper again. “It won’t be fine! I can’t take care of this by myself, you need a doctor!”

Jace sighed. “How do you want me to get there, Liz? Aaron picked me up today.”

“I dunno, we could flag down a taxi or something? I don’t have any money though, and I don’t think I can very well ask my parents,” she trailed off. “Besides, I doubt any cab would take us with you lookin’ like this.”

“Yeah, I got money, but…” Jace sighed. He was wracking his brain, trying to figure out who he might be able to call. At first, his vacant gaze seemed thoughtful, but then his eyelids fluttered and he slumped forward against Elizabeth.

“Shit, shit, shit,” she hissed, tapping his face. “Jace, c’mon baby, wake up.” When he didn’t respond, she held his head against the crook of her neck and stroked his hair, swallowing down the newfound panic that was crawling into her throat. “Shit!”

She pushed Jace back against the wall as gently as she could, though his head lolled back and hit the drywall with a hollow thump. She muttered an apology despite the fact that he couldn’t hear it, and stood as quietly as she could, afraid the thud had woken her parents. She listened for a moment, head cocked toward the door—nothing except her mom’s muffled snoring from down the hall.

She made her way to their living room, dancing around the creaky floorboards in a routine that was now muscle memory from repetition. She dialed the number as quietly as she could, wincing every time to rotary dial reset with a click and a metallic ring. When the operator picked up, she gave the number to Jace’s home, and silently hoped upon hope that it would be his dad answering, and not his mom.

The phone rang a few times, and Elizabeth practically collapsed with relief when Vody’s deep voice and clipped accent came through the receiver.

“Hyello? Who this?” He didn't sound angry, luckily, but he was definitely confused. Phone calls at three in the morning rarely meant good news.

“Mr. Romanovich! It’s Elizabeth. Please come to my house, it’s important. Jace is here. Please help.” The words came tumbling out in a rush, accompanied by sudden tears and a choked sob, and she found herself hanging up the phone before he could even open his mouth to respond.

Vody stood over the phone for a moment, dumbfounded as it buzzed in his ear. He could only imagine what Jace had gotten into, but he supposed now wasn't the time to worry about it. Not bothering to throw on real clothes, he simply grabbed his car keys and stepped into the boots he'd left by the front door. It wasn't cold out this time of year, and even if it had been, New York winter was about as cool as a Siberian summer. Despite being clad in only his boxers and a tank top, he strolled shamelessly out to his car, climbing in and gunning it down the road.

The streets weren't as busy this time of night, and it didn't take long for Vody to pull up in front of Elizabeth's brownstone. He parked out front and hurried up to the door, hesitant to actually knock at this hour.

Luckily, the door swung open as soon as he reached the landing; Elizabeth had been listening for him. She held a finger up to her lips and pointed to his feet, and for a moment Vody caught a glint of tears on her cheeks in the dimly lit doorway. He took off his clunky boots and she guided him deftly through the hallway, showing him how to avoid the noisy floorboards. They miraculously made it to her room with minimal sound. There, Jace had slid down the wall and was slumped sideways onto the ground, seemingly lifeless. Elizabeth clamped a hand over her mouth when she reflexively gasped, and after dashing over to him and taking a moment to compose herself, she turned to Vody.

“Please help. He’s hurt bad.”

Vody sighed quietly. He wasn't exactly fazed - he'd seen people in much sorrier states during the war - but that didn't mean he wanted to see his son torn up and bleeding to death. He didn't bother asking questions yet, crouching down to scoop Jace off the ground as carefully as possible. Jace groaned slightly, his eyelids flickering, but he slumped over against Vody's chest as soon as he was picked up. Vody stood up easily, not at all bothered by the weight. Elizabeth hurried to open the door for him, and they crept out to the car in fearful silence.

Once Jace was placed carefully into the passenger seat, Vody climbed back into the driver's, starting the car while Elizabeth hopped into the back. He finally broke the silence, as there was a rather important question to be asked.

“You know where nearest hospital is?”

“Yeah.” She supplied him with the location and the quickest way she knew to get there, and once again fell silent. Her eye was fixed on Jace, and she reached up to squeeze his shoulder. After a few moments she spoke again, this time more quietly.

“I should have called you sooner. I’m sorry. I waited too long.” A sob caught in her throat and she bit it back, squeezing her eyes shut in an attempt to stem the flow of tears. Nonetheless, they rolled down her face and she ducked out of sight, ashamed of both her inaction which led to this situation, and the way she was currently handling it.

“Hey. You okay. You not nurse. Not trained to take care of hurt people. Freak out is normal. You try to help. That what matter. We go to hospital now. Will be okay.” Vody reached one of his long arms back to gently pat her shoulder.

“You cold?” He asked tactfully, having been trying not to stare at her very thin nightie for a while now. “Should be blanket somewhere in back.”

“Yeah, thanks,” she said with a sniffle, pulling the worn fleece around her shoulders. “The hospital is right up here,” she added as they turned onto the correct street.

Vody went quiet again as they pulled up in front of the emergency room. He parked right there, rushing around to pick up Jace and carry him inside. The poor nurse at the desk looked horrified, hastily paging the doctor on call. It wasn't long before a stretcher appeared, nurses pushing it and a doctor hurrying alongside. Vody set Jace on the stretcher as carefully as possible, following along without waiting for an invitation as they wheeled off down the hall. He gestured for Elizabeth to come with, fully ready to fight anyone that tried to stop them.

She tagged along behind him, jogging to keep up with their quick pace. She pulled the blanket tighter around her, feeling exposed in the public hallway. She didn’t even bother to gather the ends of it off the floor, instead letting it trail behind her like a sad cape. When they arrived at the room, the nurses stopped both of them, one laying a gentle but firm hand on Vody’s chest.

“You can both stay here and watch, but you have to give us room to work,” she explained. “There’s a waiting area down the hall, too,” she added, though it was more of a suggestion than an additional detail.

“We’re staying. We’ll stay out of your way,” Elizabeth stated.

Vody nodded firmly. He wasn't going anywhere until he knew Jace would be okay. He leaned on the wall, sighing quietly as he watched nurses frantically slice away Jace's clothes and work to staunch the wounds that were still trickling blood. When the doctor got to work, Vody finally looked down at Elizabeth.

“What happened?” His voice was softer and more subdued than Elizabeth had ever heard, the mischievous twinkle long gone from his eye.

“Some punks gave him a beating when he tried to help out a girl they were harassing,” she said, her gaze never leaving Jace. There was so much blood. She reached blindly for Vody’s hand, and ended up latching onto his arm with trembling fingers. He put an arm around her, strong and sturdy. There was a long sigh followed by silence as he pondered his response. He didn't want to say Jace should've left the girl to be harassed, but he couldn't think of a better solution either. It was just a shit situation. He sighed again, low and heavy.

“Am trying to decide if I should call his mother. Obviously, will tell her either way, but... Don't know if better to go home and talk later, or call now.”

“Jace wouldn’t want her to worry,” Elizabeth replied. “He didn’t want you to worry either,” she added after a second.

Despite the gravity of the situation, Vody snorted. “He seriously think he just going to come home and pretend he fine?” He shook his head. “Too much like me.”

Elizabeth found herself chuckling along with him. “I think he really believed he could just waltz in and no one would notice a thing. He’s a real dipstick sometimes…”

Vody nodded, a smile flickering on his face. It faded quickly, and he ran a hand through his hair with a sigh. “Have cigarettes in car. I go get. You stay, watch him.”

As he turned to leave, Elizabeth caught his hand and he paused.

“He’s gonna be okay, Mr. Romanovich.” She gave his hand a squeeze. “He always is. He has to be.”

Vody forced a smile for her. “He have you. That help.” He trudged off down the hall, ignoring the strange look he got from a passing nurse.

As promised, he returned a few minutes later with a lighter and a pack of cigarettes in hand, one already lit in his mouth. He held them out to Elizabeth without a word. She took one and allowed him to light it for her as she puffed, blowing a small cloud of smoke against the glass of the ICU room wall. The scene seemed to drag on for far too long, with an alarming amount of blood and sharp tools. Easily the most gruesome was an incision the doctor made between two ribs, inserting a tube to drain blood from the chest cavity. Even Vody grimaced at the sight. Between him and Elizabeth, the pack of cigarettes was quickly depleting.

Eventually, the doctor came out to talk to them. He explained that they had patched up all the cuts, but they wanted to keep an eye on Jace for a while, since some of the wounds were deep, with one having nicked his small intestine, and another puncturing his left lung. They were going to take him for x-rays now that he wasn't going to bleed out on the radiologist, and do further repairs once they knew for sure what was broken. Vody nodded along, listening closely but at a loss for words.

“Thank you, Doctor,” Elizabeth replied in his stead. As he left, she turned to Vody and grabbed his large palm. “Hear that? He’s gonna be okay.”

Vody sighed, nodding half-heartedly. “Da.” He leaned against the wall, slowly sinking down until he was sitting on the floor. It honestly looked a bit ridiculous - a giant man, smudged with blood, wearing work boots and heart-print boxers, sitting on the pristine hospital tile. He had told himself he was going to be calm. He was the father here, he had to be responsible and take care of things. At the same time, it took all his self-control to stay quiet and composed. He felt like an idiot. A failure. A fuck-up. Had he raised Jace to be too much like himself? Should he have been keeping a closer eye on his son? How the fuck did this even happen? He sighed deeply, and it wobbled as he choked down a sob.

“Mr. Romanovich?” Elizabeth questioned, hearing the slight tremble in his breath. She laid her hand on his shoulder hesitantly, unsure of what to do.

“Hm?” Vody didn't dare to look up; he felt pathetic. He was sitting on the floor crying, being comforted by a little girl. The hallway was far too silent to miss his sniffles, and his face burned red with embarrassment.

Without a word, Elizabeth stepped into the now empty ICU room and rooted around for a bit before discovering a cache of blankets. She brought one out and draped it around Vody’s shoulders before sliding down to the floor next to him and resting the side of her head against his arm. Sniffling quietly, he patted her hair in silent gratitude.

“He’s okay,” she whispered. It felt as though any sound in the quiet hall would break the thin barrier keeping their emotions at bay, and she closed her eyes as the words dissipated against the white walls.

Vody kept a sturdy arm around Elizabeth, awake and alert as much as he didn't want to be. He was too on edge to even consider spacing out - it felt like if he blinked, he might open his eye to a doctor leading them down to the morgue. Of course, that wasn't the case, and after a while, a nurse came to talk to them. She explained that they'd found several breaks, but luckily, none were compounded. They'd had to put screws into Jace's wrist, since he'd fucked up the alignment of the bones pretty badly (likely trying to climb the fire escape), and they wanted to keep a close eye on his ribs, to make sure they didn't interfere with the healing of his lung. Despite this seemingly endless list of awful news, she assured them that Jace was expected to recover completely; he would just need care and rest for a while.

“He’s stable now, I can take you to his room if you like?”

Vody nodded, scrambling to his feet and helping Elizabeth up as well. He hurried after the nurse as she guided them to a simple patient room. Jace was sprawled out on the bed, his lanky legs mere inches from drooping off the edge. His wrist was wrapped heavily in plaster and bandages, and his arms and torso were covered in fresh stitches, including particularly nasty gashes across his left pectoral and below his navel. The tube was still in his chest, and he was attached to a delightful assortment of monitors to track his vitals. The entire right side of his face was covered in bandages, with a long line of stitches and a patchwork of bruises on the other cheek.

Vody couldn't help cringing at the sight. Somehow this was almost worse than the gorey mess earlier. Maybe because he could no longer tell himself it was just the blood everywhere that made it seem so bad, or maybe because he'd never seen Jace look so weak and vulnerable. It felt wrong, and Vody couldn't help feeling responsible. He moved to sit on the edge of the bed, but hesitated, not wanting to jostle Jace or mess up any of the equipment.

Elizabeth had no such anxieties, and rushed to his side. She brushed a strand of hair off the exposed side of his face, fingers tracing along his brow, then down his jawline. They lingered momentarily on his lips, and she smiled sadly when she felt his warm breath on them. It reminded her that he would be okay. Jace stirred slightly at her touch, letting out a soft groan. Vody perked up at once, watching them closely.

“Jace?” she whispered. “You awake?”

Jace's eyelids fluttered, and he squinted against the bright hospital lights. His vision was hazy, but the massive mane of dark curls hovering over him was unmistakable. “Hey, doll face… how goes it?”

“Oh, just peachy,” she replied with a chuckle that ended in a stifled sob. Tears began rolling soundlessly down her cheeks as she took his face in both hands and planted a kiss on his forehead. “Welcome back to the land of the living,” she added, voice thick with emotion.

“Didn't miss it as much as I thought I would. Shit hurts.” Jace was trying to be light-hearted, but even faking a smile made him grimace. He patted the mattress beside him with his good hand. “C'mere, there's space for your skinny little ass.” That brought a more genuine smirk out of him, followed by a grunt of pain. Every movement seemed to hurt, even just talking. “Christ alive, they got any drugs in this quack shack or do I just get to sit here suffering?”

“You’re already on enough to send any of us normal folk to cloud nine,” she said, hesitating and shooting a glance in Vody’s direction. “But you’re a pretty big cat too, so you can probably handle some more. I’ll go get the nurse, leave you two alone for a moment.” With a quick pivot, she scampered away, leaving the room in a breathless silence as Jace’s good eye focused slowly on his father.

“Shit.” Even as he'd realized he was in the hospital, Jace had still naively hoped his parents hadn't found out. He was clearly panicked, stumbling over his words as he tried to explain himself. “Okay so, ya see, the thing is-”

Vody cut him off. “Hush. Miss Lizbeth told me everything. You think I'm mad at you, Jason?” He was almost laughing as he said it.

“Well… kinda?” Jace admitted. He didn't even have a good reason for why. He'd just assumed that going out, being rowdy, and getting into trouble meant his parents would be pissed.

“Did you start fight?” Vody asked plainly.

“Not really… I mean… I threw the first punch, but I was just tryna get those creeps offa that poor girl!” Jace tried to sit up, naturally getting animated as he defended himself. He promptly fell back on the pillows with a grimace.

“Then why would I be mad?”

Jace paused, looking up at his father for a moment as he thought. “...I dunno.”

Now Vody couldn't help laughing. “Too much my son, you are…” He plunked down on the foot of the bed, patting Jace's knee gently. “I not mad at you. Was worried, of course. But I not mad. Your mother…” Vody sighed, knowing Serafina likely wouldn't be happy about Jace getting in a fight, even one most people would consider justified. “I will talk to your mother.”

Jace cringed. “Do you have to tell Mom?”

Vody snorted. “Well, yes. How am I explain broken hand and stitches face?”

“...right. Good point.” Jace sighed. He really didn't want to have to talk to Serafina, even if Vody talked to her first. He got distracted from his worries when Elizabeth walked back in with a nurse, who approached Jace with another syringe and inserted it into his IV tube.

“Just a little more morphine. We don’t want to go overboard,” the nurse said with a small smile, which Elizabeth returned as the nurse left the room.

Jace visibly relaxed as the meds hit his system, and Elizabeth found herself laughing. “Naturally, you beat up some goons, get totaled, and end up high as a kite on the good stuff.” She took his hand in hers, careful to avoid the bandages and stitching. “Fucking beatnik.” She raised an eyebrow when he smirked at her, no longer wincing at the movement.

“Look,” he grinned, “this wasn't how I planned to spend my Friday night. The beat life chose me.”

“It's Saturday morning. Has been for while now.” Vody chimed in.

“Shit, is it?” Jace looked at his wrist as if he ever wore a watch.

“Da. Sun came up hour ago.” Vody confirmed.

“Ah, shit…” Jace smiled apologetically at Elizabeth. “Sorry baby. Normally, I try to make our all-nighters a little more fun.”

“Jace!” Elizabeth hissed through clenched teeth and leaned in conspiratorially. “Your father is in here with us, shut up!” She flashed Vody a sheepish smile and clamped a hand as gently as she could over Jace’s mouth when he started to speak again.

Vody just chuckled. “Your secret safe with me. He not get habits from his mother.” He sighed. “Who I probably need go talk to. Wish luck.”

“Slay the dragon!” Jace encouraged, muffled by Elizabeth's hand, who flashed Vody another apologetic grin.

As soon as Vody left the room, Elizabeth whirled on him in mock outrage.

“You knucklehead! Sayin’ shit like that in front of the old man,” she muttered, climbing up onto the bed with him. “You really are the most, aren’t ya?”

“Baby, I'm more than the most.” Jace grinned, slinging his less-damaged arm around her. “Like your nightgown, by the way. Meant to tell ya earlier, but I was busy… y'know… bleedin’ out.” He laughed, drowning in far too much morphine to be worried about his mortality.

She curled into his chest with a snort, tactfully avoiding his more grievous wounds, and gently kissed his collarbone before laying her head down and falling silent, listening to the steady beat of his heart and feeling the gentle rise and fall of his breath.

“You really scared us, you know,” she said finally. “Us meaning him too. He was terrified.”

Jace snorted derisively. “You're pullin' my leg. I've never seen Dad scared.”

“Really, babe. Like, really really.”

Jace furrowed his brows, seeming to be in serious thought for possibly the first time ever. He didn't say anything for a while, then quietly ventured, “How bad do I look?”

“Like how I imagine someone might look after a tiger attack. Which is to say, pretty damn bad.” She fell silent for a moment, then quietly added “Scary bad, honestly.” Her hand trailed slowly along the edge of his bandages, mapping out the new tracks it would have to follow.

Jace cringed. She hadn't even tried to sugarcoat it - it was too bad to bother. He'd been considering asking for a mirror, but now he was honestly afraid. “Oh… shit.” As stupid as it was, he couldn't help being more worried about his appearance than his health. Cuts would recover. Good looks… not so much.

Elizabeth lifted her head to face him, and found his eyes darting down to assess the damage for himself, slight panic beginning to show in his face when he saw exactly how many injuries there were, their centers stained a deep browning red.

“Hey, don’t do that. Not yet,” she said, lifting his chin with two fingers and tilting it toward her face. “Not yet…” She smiled sadly when his good eye finally focused on hers, and she kissed his brow. Jace tried to force a smile, but it didn't stick. He wasn't sure if it was the stress or the drugs, but he was struggling to focus. Thoughts were spinning around like a whirlwind in his head, and the bed no longer felt steady beneath him. He squeezed his eyes shut with a tense sigh.

“You’re okay, baby,” Elizabeth said, rearranging herself so that his head could rest on her chest instead. “I’ve got you.” She carded a hand slowly through his hair. The nurses had washed the blood and product out of it to get him cleaned up before the surgery, and it was soft under her hand.

“Just sleep. We’ll deal with whatever comes up tomorrow. For now, just sleep.” She continued her gentle ministrations, and when his good eye remained wide open, head spinning with endless possibilities, each less desirable than the last, she started humming. Gently, sweetly. A stupid little song that they’d heard in a jukebox when they first met. After a while, his eyes fluttered shut as the morphine made the thoughts indecipherable and he stopped trying to think, and stopped trying not to think. Instead, he just let himself be, and feel Elizabeth’s hands in his hair, the warmth of her body, and sound of her voice. And eventually, he was lulled into a deep but peaceless sleep.

#whump #injury #blood #broken bones #angst #tw violence #tw hospital #jace #astor-romanovich #elizabeth #vody #sickandvomiting #collab

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drivingsideways · 5 years ago

Note

for the fandom meme questions, if you're still taking them: F, G, W, and Y. (you don't have to do all of them, just whichever ones you wanna answer)

I answered most of those here, so gonna do the remaining one

W - 5 favorite ships and 5 kinks you like best for said ships

OH NO WHERE TO START HOW TO PICK THIS IS TERRIBLE

I am such a multi-shipper at heart, i ship everyone/everything so picking a few is AGONIZING.

under the cut ‘cause uh, i got carried away. No particular order of fave, and mostly restricted to ships from the last few years

Miranda Barlow/James Flint/Thomas Hamilton (Black Sails) - OT3 of PAIN omg, the fact that they barely had a chance to be together, and so much of their story as a trio is basically one or the other NOT BEING THERE AND THE REMAINING TWO BEING DEVASTATED AND WANDERING AROUND THE WORLD LOST WITHOUT THEIR MISSING THIRD. UGHHHH. I yell a lot about James/Miranda here but internally I yell a lot about Thomas/Miranda pre and post James and James/Thomas without Miranda and basically every time I see their faces I’m *crying *, and honestly, my only kink for them is to literally be in the same room and the same time, like, my needs here are very basic.

Dean/Castiel (SPN): I know, I know. Everybody and their grandmom ships these two, AS THEY SHOULD. I gave up on the show a long time ago, but every now and then a gifset crosses my dash and I’M UNDONE BY THEIR FACES WHEN THEY LOOK AT EACH OTHER WHEN THE OTHER IS NOT WATCHING (THERE’S A REASON SEASON 6 IS WHEN I REALLY STARTED SHIPPING THEM) AND I’M LIKE IT’S BEEN 15 YEARS AND SEVERAL RESURRECTIONS PLEASE KISS NOW. Hmm, kinks for this ship- lbr, fandom has written Every Possible Kink for this ship, and I’m happy to roll with most of it, but anything with true-form/eldritch horror Cas and a very human, very mortal Dean is probably THE BEST. Well, that and OMG ARE THEY HOLDING HANDS OMG OMG OMG (I can’t help it, I’m a marshmallow)

Superbat (DCEU) : I’ll be honest, I didn’t give a fuck about Batman until Ben Affleck ran onto the screen with with his fucking three piece suits and Emotional Trauma and Weird Psychosexual Dreams and I couldn’t believe the pit of shame I’d let myself fall into, but BvS was Something (yes, amidst a whole lot of Objectively Bad Somethings, yes I’m looking at you Jesse Eisenberg) anyways, i closed the tab where the movie had been playing, opened another tab for AO3 and fell straight into one of @susiecarter‘s fics, specifically THIS AMAZING FAKE DATING POST BvS ONE and it was basically over for me. This subset of Superbat fandom has some amazing writers and artists so honestly it wasn’t really even my fault, i just wallowed in all the hard work being done by someone else. PINING! CONTROL ISSUES! Emotionally Traumatized Man with a Death Wish meets literal Ray of Sunshine who can ALSO actually kill him with his little finger and has FEELINGS HE CAN”T IDENTIFY MUCH LESS TALK ABOUT. I love pining (is that a kink?) and like this is the otp where one half is/was literally dead while the other is dead inside AND IT WAS ALL TOO MUCH FOR ME. I REGRET NOTHING. Seriously, this version of an older, weary Batman meeting a young(ish) Superman who’s still trying to figure out how to be Superman, with both of them having control issues while being absolute rubbish at communication is perfect for a lot of d/s stuff but like my bulletproof kink in this ship is probably them...talking about their feelings? YEAH.

Joan/Sherlock (Elementary) : OH NO MY SUPER HAPPY CANON PLATONIC SOULMATES THEY ARE EVERYTHING I’VE EVER WANTED AND NEVER IMAGINED I’D GET TO SEE ON AN ACTUAL SHOW AND THEY’RE SUPER GREAT AND I LOVE HOW THEY ARE LIKE RIDE OR DIE FOR EACH OTHER AND THE WAY SHERLOCK ADORES HER AND THE WAY SHE’LL LOOK OUT FOR HIM AND TELL HIM COLD HARD TRUTHS BUT ALWAYS WITH KINDNESS WHY ARE THEY SO PERFECT WHY IS THIS SHOW ENDING AND HOLY HELL UNDYING KINK IS SHERLOCK SAYING ‘I’D MAKE ADJUSTMENTS FOR YOU’ AND JOAN’S FACE WHEN HE SAYS THAT THIS SHOW HAD BETTER END WITH JOAN ADOPTING A BABY AND LIVING IN THEIR BROWNSTONE WITH CLYDE AND THEIR BEES AND DOING DETECTIVE THINGS

*deep breath *

and current fave

Ning Yi/ Xin Zi Yan (The Rise of Phoenixes) : Ok, look, I basically ship Ning Yi/everyone and mostly Ning Yi/ happiness, homicidal woobie that he is, BUT the show just like WENT THERE with these two. Xin Zi Yan is Ning Yi’s mentor/friend/ally in the fight for his life within his batshit insane royal family and he is a cold, ruthless fuck who can hold grudges FOREVER and they flirt with each other (the show is particularly unsubtle about the flirting) and lie to each other and protect each other and STICK THE KNIFE INTO EACH OTHER AT THE SOFTEST POINTS BECAUSE THEY KNOW HOW TO. Like their fights are EPIC, blood on the floor everywhere and I’m like YES YES but also NOW FUCK. Like, canon just gave me this intense, competitive, kinda unhealthy dynamic and I’m like they’d be so bad for each other, BECAUSE LOL WHAT ARE BOUNDARIES XIN ZI YAN YOU CONTROL FREAK AND NING YI YOU ARE ONE ABYSS OF NEED THAT YOU TRY TO HIDE BEHIND YOUR NONCHALANCE AND MURDER BUT YOU CAN’T HIDE FOREVER OMG I LOVE THEM A LOT LET ME WRITE 100K ABOUT THEM BEING THE ABSOLUTE WORST FOR EACH OTHER AND THE WORLD, SO I DID. Did someone say rarepair hell? I’m literally writing the only fic there is for them that’s how much i love them (its such a rarepair that the tag isn’t even searchable on AO3 yet). Uh, as for kinks for these two I CAN’T BECAUSE I’M NOT READY FOR THE MORTIFICATION OF BEING KNOWN.

#lembeau #meme stuff #yelling mostly

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morethanonepage · 6 years ago

Note

thoughts on Keanu Reeves Constantine?

y’know this is an interesting question bc i actually have a lot of….if not affection for the movie, at least respect for some of the adaptation choices made. Like the most common line in re: film!Constantine is that it’s a good movie but it’s not a good Hellblazer movie and in a sense that’s right, it’s not – but it’s interesting. A noble failure, definitely.

What I think it hinges on is that it’s an American setting so they went full blown American with it – which is a mistake in my mind bc the point of Hellblazer is that it’s a quintessentially English story, and that’s why every run with an American writer in the comics is meh for me – but in the sense of “American AU Constantine” I think there were some really interesting/clever choices made.

Like starting with their John – Keanu is all wrong for original brand Constantine. His John is broody, he’s brunet, he’s Good At Magic. And comics!John is the opposite of all those things. And while comics!John can be broody, the important thing is the comics themselves tend to undercut that – there’s a lot of kind of snarky takes about John being in a sulk for whatever reason, some of it even from John himself. You get very little of that in the movie, and the movie itself is very TAKE THIS MAN’S PAIN SERIOUSLY about it, so. BUT in a sense that loner self flagellating thing is an American Male Archetype the way comic John has a very English & self deprecating sense of humor, so: ok, I can kinda see it, more as a translation (to American audiences) than an adaptation.

[READ MORE BC OMG WHY DID I CARE SO MUCH???]

They make John Catholic in the movie, which is another kind of interesting choice – in the comics he’s not anything specifically though I would imagine he would’ve been raised Church of England as likely as anything else. But they kind of commit to John’s Catholicism in the movie, most likely because it has more ~mysticism~ (and the association with exorcism in general) behind it. But it also kind of sets John up as An Other, because it’s the religion of a lot of the second class immigrants (like, the Irish initially, then Latinx Americans, etc). White Catholics have a bit of a different rep, but given that the film is set in LA in the late 20th century, for me it set up more of those associations than anything else. It’s also so much more about the SUFFERING and the MARTYRDOM and the REDEMPTION NARRATIVE, which is not so much a thing in the comics (where John often does/tries to do good things but usually NOT for the explicit purpose of ~cleansing his soul~, so it’s kind of notable/interesting that both American-based adaptations [TV and Movie] focus on that a lot more. It’s may also make more sense as an arc for the medium but y’know) but IS notably a big thing in the movie.

And the thing about John, even in the comics, is that he’s an Other but Normal Passing – with comics he presents in a very Proper English Man (which is why it’s SO IMPORTANT for me that he starts off on his adventures with his shirt properly done up and his tie right, and then as the day/his bullshit unfurls he gets sloppier) way, he’s white, he’s blond, he’s handsome etc, but he’s also a bisexual mess/working class disaster mage with a progressive bent, and in the movie he’s kind of a traditional American anti hero but also has his own stuff going on. It’s not as well executed as it could be – there’s not a lot of subversion in the film version, which is kind of the point of John – but at least you get hints of his potential sexuality and they go into his mental health issues (suicide attempt, etc) and his smoking, etc.

So John is an interesting translation – not perfect, but interesting. I would even argue that he’s the weakest point in the movie as a translation-not-adaptation (tho lol baby bear Chas Kramer is up there), bc he’s very basic supernatural protagonist with no flourish. Which is not the case for the rest of the film, which COMMITS to the genre it is and does it honestly very well.

For instance I love their conception of Ravenscar, the mental hospital John has A Bad History with – in the comics it’s got an old, spooky, mad house aesthetic from the 19th century, which fits the comics and John’s history and vibe really well. The movie version goes what I feel is a very modern American direction with it: one of the 20th century industrial monsters, a huge grey building, with the fear of mental health coming from that very specific post-war fear of anything ABNORMAL (including sexuality but y’know).

The setting of LA is great – a couple of (American) comic writers have given John’s arcs there, probably for the irony of CITY OF ANGELS etc, but I think it’s a really interesting choice/contrast to everything London (where John’s mostly based in comics, tho he does sometimes roam the countryside fucking things up) represents: superficial, modern, bright days, beauty, opulence vs the grey gritty grunginess of John’s London life, etc. So for that to be movie!John’s homebase is kinda neat, frankly, esp because of the cases John gets to work on there. The set design is also great – very colorful, very willing to pull in the florescent glare of a modern city, with the Latinx Catholic touches on the streets (look the votive candles and shrines are SUCH an easy go to for ~creepy urban flavor~ and it’s probably at least a little problematic for this film featuring some other really questionable racial choices I will get to later, but) in general it LOOKS great. Their conception of hell is also fascinating and very well executed imo.

I also think there’s ONE (1) thing I think the movie does better than the tv show: the setting is WAY more dug into the working class/legit poverty of LA behind the shiny surface Hollywood stuff. The show really only hit that point in the New Orleans ep and even then….didn’t fully commit to it, but it’s SUCH a key part of the comic universe. Like Chas himself (in the show) is pitch perfect but in the ep about his family they’re LIVING IN A BROOKLYN BROWNSTONE which, real talk, is worth millions of dollars. Literally millions. On a cab driver’s salary???? Ridic. Still mad about it w/e w/e. Baby Bear Chas Kramer with his shitty cab and probably shitty apartment, following John around like a stunned duckling, is way more comics canon accurate, probably.

Rachel Weiz’s character has a lot of potential – they make her Catholic too, to have some sort of connection with John, which is eh, and they also make her a twin, whose sister kills herself at Ravenscar. Given how much John’s early backstory issue are focused around HIM being a twin (whose birth killed both his mother and his (theoretically stronger) brother) that could’ve been a cool thing to allude to, but they don’t touch on it. And Angela (ANOTHER ANGEL THING) is p cool as a character – she’s unconvinced about the ~spooky shit~ stuff until she sees evidence of it, and then believes it, as a normal average human likely would. She’s brave, she asks questions, etc. She’s not just Love Interest tho there’s a bit of that. And anyway I love Rachel Weiz generally, she’s great, could’ve had more to do though.

Tilda Swinton shows up a lot in the gifs and it was a cool choice to cast her as Gabriel – they play up the androgyny and make her less obvious of a dick than comics Gabriel is (though she ends up being…probably more of one, or at least more effective). I think their Lucifer is good too – oily and weird and creepily gentle at times. He also doesn’t get a lot to do, but he doesn’t need to – he doesn’t in the comics, usually, either.

BUT the racial stuff – the supernatural macguffin that’s supposed to bring about the end of the world is found IN A MEXICAN DESERT and then SMUGGLED OVER THE BORDER to LA to bring about the end of the world, like, who wrote this, Donald J. Trump?? – is generally #bad. But this is something it shares with the show (GOD THOSE MEXICO EPS, I LEGIT ALMOST QUIT THE SHOW BC OF IT), tho at least they had an actual Mexican actress to temper that nonsense. NO SUCH LUCK from the movie – just lots of creepy zombish brown people trying to bring around an apocalypse, super cool.

And not only is meh as a metaphor, to impute such a conservative metaphor into a the Hellblazer Verse, with its infamous/classic DEMON YUPPIES FROM HELL and in general tips toward the progressive/pro immigrant ethos, is BAFFLING to me. I mean maybe more in tune with American sentiments about everything, which I have argued above is an interesting choice, but still, boooo.

Also the fact that John quits smoking at the end of the movie is such Hollywood garbage it almost outweighs the positives. I mostly imagine he and Angela date for like a month, he’s such a bitch when going through withdrawal that she dumps his ass, and then he goes back to smoking/sulking around LA doing bad exorcisms. That’s the real John Constantine, babey!!!

#oh god i scrolled up and saw much i wrote this is nonsense #more than you or anyone else should ever know about my feelings about constantine (2005)#constantine #hellblazer #waverly-earp

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