#i forgot she said my name and now i am emotional about it again | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

therealslimshakespeare · 8 months ago

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MotA Fanfiction: John Brady and first person/reader/insert no use of y/n.

18+: John Brady had me at “like you told me” five seconds before “son of a bitch that’s France” and now we’ve got seven kids and a mortgage. The following could be a very existential diary page about the first few months of that marriage.

But basically, John Brady makes me rabid: here have some purple prose smut about it mixed into an essay on happiness

My mother readied me for many things but not for this. I dig through the archives of her heavy advice, her off handed comments, her jubilant prognostications, all I keep so dutifully in my mind, and I search for some hint from her that she knew it could be like this. But I find nothing, it is all too weak or strong or wordy.

Did it not come in words?

Were her misty eyes when she settled the veil over my face the true meaning of it? Had I mistaken her emotion as a presentment of missing me when it was instead tremulous excitement for what was in store? Had she known when she wrapped me in white and insisted it fit me lovingly to my proportions that it was not tidiness and appreciation for good seams but instead, that holy knowledge of what more awaited me? That a wedding dress in its fit reflects what happens when the groom removes it?

She knew I had myself a good man. Did she suspect how well he’d fit me?

And I thought it was merely cloth, I had been too busy even for my own wedding. I was too busy loving him, the idea of him, of him being mine. Perhaps if we had met in peacetime, if he had courted me between his hours at the office and my semesters I would have looked forward to my wedding, planned each detail and worried over all manner of things that brides are said to care about.

But we had not; I’d no sooner loved him than he’d gone, and no sooner had death returned him on loan than I married him. I loved him and everyone else but me seemed to know what that meant as he kissed frosting from my wrist.

I had thought I’d known at the registry office, signing in ink my name, scrawling a practiced B that ended with a flourished Y.

Mrs. Brady.

I’d thought I’d known then. I had given the benign judge a saucy smile of the fully enlightened. I had no idea. To ask me if I was happy that day would have been a good joke, to ask me if I could be happier when we waved out a window chalked with news of our nuptials: it would have been more than half insulting.

I was happy. I thought I knew. And that night, what little doubt I had about the gaps in my theory, he filled. Love in its rawest form, breaking me apart, making a place for himself, I clung to his shoulders; this part my mother had told me of. She told me it got better; I can’t speak to that. He was pushing and petting and I endured until surrender turned to fascination and again to arousal by his rhythm, the concrete sense of his need, the clarity of his release. And still I was urging my sweet boy to take and take; it did not get better, it got sublime. I could not fault my mother for her faulty preparations, even though I think she knew -for her own sake I hope she knew. There are no words for it when two bodies become one, minds meld and he finds his way eased by your blood till he’s in so deep you think he’s probed at your heart. I don’t hear of people speaking about that part, and mother didn’t tell me, but I think they know.

I am quite forgiving of her that night, I thought I knew then, I assumed what she left unsaid, it was merely out for lack of vocabulary. Lying beside him, having tasted heaven, I am generous. She tried. I know.

He had put a pillow under my hips before he opened me, it tilted me kindly for his invasion and I wonder who told him of that. His innate desire to please had long ago led me to find he was good at kissing, and that he liked to kiss me everywhere. He was as delighted by the back of my knees as he was by my throat, and he forgot all reason when he tasted between my thighs, only his firm and unyielding hands on my hips gave a mottled clue he kept at such kissing for his own satisfaction as much as mine.

I know that I am happy then, on my wedding night, and next morning I am happier still. I might try at being cross with my own self, for sabotaging my arrival at absolute knowledge except that I cannot help but be giddy for it; he loves to kiss me, my boy, and he has a warm blush on his face in the sunlight, this first morning I’ve woken up beside him, and his hands are already busy with me. Mine grow busy with him and I know this is how we will spend our days, kissing with him inside me, and I am happy.

No one who encounters me in the coming weeks can doubt it. My parents whisper amongst themselves, his too, church members and fellow servicemen. My Johnny is not settled with a job and so we lodge at various places in the next two months, and soon each of our hosts knows it, too. It cannot be stifled beneath his quieting palm when he breaks me apart, thin walls and no place to call our own except the harbor of my body, that’s his home and he goes into it. Often and more vigorously each time until I associate happiness with the most alarming strength of exertion from the lithe length of him rolling against mine, noses to toes; I draw blood from his hand.

Even my boy is beginning to see: he makes me happy. He has the most melancholy eyes, my boy, I recalled them as being calm and observant before he went away. But he has observed too much though he never says so, and out of his army greens there is not a speck of baby blue left in them, they’re cold gray and the only time I see them sparkle are when I’ve made him laugh so hard a tear rolls down his creased cheeks. I am impatient with his happiness, I know it and I know I’m wrong for it, but I miss the sky blue of them and the way I didn’t used to have to guess at what roils beneath them.

If he can’t feel happiness as thoroughly as me, he at least presents with quiet confidence as he finds a peacetime footing, there is a job offer in Maryland and we take our first road-trip. He is full of plans and maps and well drawn schedules and I am full of 55 mph breezes up the nose, feet in his lap and face hung out the window merrily, there are endless rows of pines and the feel of bark against my back at the rest pavilion. More, more, more, I demand of him and he gives it, it’s happiness turned hungry, greedy, close to vicious. Happiness that needs topping off.

We fight that night before his interview. A silly thing, inconsequential, hotel room adding to the displaced feeling I have begun to feel after our adventure calmed into adult necessity. He is preoccupied with being excellent and I am preoccupied with happiness. Chiefly if I make him happy or not; this is the first night he has not been so undivided in his passion and I allow it to vex me. I am young and I am happy and I guard it jealously, thinking that holding it -gripping him- tight fistedly desperate about it, will keep it all the closer.

“I am doing this for us.” his tone cuts me, I have admired it slashing others but it has never been directed at me before. He is wiser than I am and a self proclaimed cynic. I think he is fighting me in my happy quest, but, “For us, I’m doing this for us.”

His fingers dig into my cheeks and it is assurance enough. I have to agree that even heaven must have some maintenance work intruding on the celestial revels from time to time.

By the time I stand on the bed and cinch his tie the next morning before his interview, I have never been more in love. I am happy, yes, but there is admiration for him there too, but I struggle with finding a place for it.

Love, it seems, multiplies and I remain fixated with happiness in its tidiest form. Like the moment we cut the cake. I ask him that night if he has ever felt that, felt it simple and tidy.

“I feel a million things about you.” he swears instead; his tone suggests it is the most devout compliment.

I pray for wisdom next Sunday. I can feel that there is more to happiness than I know and it unsettles me. Our fight has long been made up but those million things that Johnny thinks and knows of me haunt the little life I try to construct, they haunt it as badly as whatever plagues his dreams at night.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” he begs a hundred times to me night after thrashing night; he suggests the sofa, I won’t hear of it. The bruises his flailing limbs land on mine are no darker than those he makes in calculated romance. His dreams respond to the feeling of my hands on his belly, he wakes easily with it, I have something to wake for and it is not perfect or quiet or even gentle always, but I am in love and when he allows me, I feel powerful and needed, hands on his belly, a thin tickle of hair beneath my palm. “You’re an Angel.” he swears to me, lips warm and plush against mine, I am so in love.

My cycle stops soon after the interview trip. I wait until I am sure to tell him one night, we are sprawled across our bed gasping back breath and I tell him, simple and direct as he prefers. I had wanted him one last time before he thought of me as a madonna. It had not been so different, I had been preoccupied with the child but I had also found my peak, and he had grasped greedily at my breasts, my nipples knotting beneath his fingers and only a lingering soreness in them to remind me of my secret. With his seed dripping from me, redundant and warm, I tell him.

“A baby?” My husband’s eyes glow, he cups my face like I am holy, his lips thank me with kisses to my nose and eyelids, “We’re havin’ a baby?”

He is all preparedness now. Striding with purpose and when he kisses me he is kissing the mother of his child; he gets the job in Maryland. We tell my parents of our happy news before we go, it surprises no one and yet there are celebrations as if we waited a decade. My Johnny is pleased and his smile is fixed, but I remember him when I told him, the glow about him, the naked press of him to me, his kisses on my belly. These are things I wish I could tell my mother -these are things that make me happier. Even more than the child itself.

On the way back to Maryland, our car trip is sedate, I eat ginger candies to quell the nausea and Johnny contemplates an unspoken thing. When I contemplate at all I think of driving down here over a month ago and the feeling of bark behind me and his hips snapping into me. I wonder if our child was made in the pines -how very different a few weeks makes a trip. He has foregone smoking his pipe indoors out of consideration for my queasy stomach.

“There’s somebody out here I should see.” He answers me at the gas pump, knowing I can tell he is preoccupied.

One of his crew lives off this exit, it’s why he’s filling up when the tank is half full. Johnny says he should go see him, and where he goes I will too.

Waist gunner Timmons is missing both legs. Together he and Johnny speak of bonds and education, his new job and the likelihood of drought, tidbits about the other boys' peacetime business failures, they laugh without malice. They laugh at themselves too. When taking our leave Johnny tells him our news. It makes me blush and I don’t know why, I was proud of our making the child. I should be proud of our finished product. I see him slip a hefty dollared bill in the coat pocket of the garden cover by the door as we leave.

Johnny stops our car at the end of the long gravel drive and while it confuses me, I know he is in a turmoil. His fists suddenly slam against the steering wheel and his face goes red beneath its freckles.

“Baby?” I question him but then he is weeping, forehead pressed to his knuckles on the steering wheel, aggravating buzz of a fly against the windshield unheeded.

It’s ugly and hiccuping and half panicked, he can’t seem to stop though the angry set of his shoulders tells me he wishes to, and after helpless fluttering beside him, I undo my waist belt and slide over to his side, arm thrown over his shoulders, forcefully prying him from the wheel. He lays in my arms and weeps for what feels like hours, letting me hold him and swear to him and soothe him. I’ve never known him like this, he speaks of Whys and Who’s and What’s He Got Going For Him to Deserve So Much Good Luck.

I am his good luck, his lips tell me as they press to my belly, he has fully sagged into my lap in his misery. I am his good luck, me and the baby and the job in Maryland and it is the first time I’ve ever thought of happiness as guilt.

The first days in Maryland, I cannot say that he is happier but he looks at me more openly, the guarded set of his eyes is gone and something sheepish but trusting shimmers there instead. Still steel gray but I notice the flutter of lashes around them and the dusting of pink cheeks more often. We never speak about Timmon’s driveway but I come to realize with a jolt: he’s softer for having let me see one of his million parts. I know him better now and it shows in his loosened shoulders and his shy smiles, the almost joyous eagerness he has to begin life here.

We close on an offer on a house, brick with a little porch, a small front drive and boxy lawn but in back there is a tall whitewashed fence going round and garden beds that are empty and waiting. It’s a prize and we are both delighted and he swoops me up, light as a feather, and brings me over the threshold.

“You’ve been waiting to do that!” I realize, he didn’t do it on our wedding night at the hotel or any of our other lodgings.

“We’ve got ourselves a home.” he grins back and there is such relief in his face I wonder at how much concern he was harboring before.

I begin to watch my man the way he watches me, I think less and less of whether he is happy and more and more if he feels safe. It’s why I’ve made no move to couple since he has not, not since I told him of the baby. We have been traveling, then moving in our boxes and he has been feeling whatever it was he felt in Timmons driveway. Some modicum of selflessness takes up residence in my childish heart, allowing him to hold me and not demanding proof of happiness from him. He cradles my belly every night as we spoon and I can feel his lips quirking in smiles as he gently hums to our child.

I watch my husband like he first watched me, from the bandstand, boyish cheeks blown full and nimble fingers flying over brass keys, I knew I wanted him then before he did. I went after him fast and furious, unlike myself in the way I tenaciously kept our first halting conversations going, shocking myself with the way I fanned my skirts around his lap and let him play beneath them -he was better at that than talking and I obliged him ravenously. Told him he looked handsome in his uniform and he told me he’d like to marry me. He came back to me as promised, four years late, yet the happiness that his first glittery eyed glance sparked in me is something I crave now as if I have not dabbled in far more heady pursuits with him thus far. His child grows in my belly but I miss his blush when I first stared at him past his bunker behind his music stand.

He watched me first, I wanted him worse. His eyes were blue then.

I admit my petulance to my mother after a week at the new house. Not that I am so wanton as to be bereft after a ten day abstinence, but that I cannot seem to settle some gnawing resentment that has begun. Again, not over the coupling. I am not sure what it’s over. I love him more than ever, and yet, that first blush of blazing white happiness of our first few days has given way to a nurturing watchfulness, an almost heartbreaking sympathy, a self effacing desire for his joy that robs me of my own. I ask her for a remedy.

She tells me I loved the idea of him before, and now I love him. And love is not made of happiness alone. She tells me to talk to him. “If you don’t know what it is,” she says, “he may. He knows you.”

He loves a thousand million parts of me, he had said. And then I had scoffed, feeling so sure I was comprised of only one: happiness.

Amongst the other basic necessities of settling in, we do our best to scope out the town, having arrived on a Thursday we attended mass soon in the only Catholic Church to be found in the small place, we find the town’s rec hall more promising, I keep my eyes peeled for a music store. There is one in Millersville, I find it when I go to inspect a couch that caught my eye in the Hutzlers catalog.

I do not know if he needs reeds. He hasn’t played since he got back, he may have a stack of extras in some box. But the sentimentality fills me strongly, the memory of missing him and waiting for him and having no ability to reach him over there except by sending the packages. And each of his letters with their little sheepish addendum: please send more reeds.

I got up from dinner that night to give them to him. He had asked about my day and as if I had some horrid secret to cover I had choked on my descriptions of the couch until I had broken down and admitted there was more. I place the item beside his plate and he puts down his fork while I stand in suspense.

An innocuous plastic wrapped package of saxophone reeds was probably not what my Johnny was expecting but he lets out a cut off little laugh about it.

“Did you even need more?” I am weirdly in knots over it, fingers nervously bunching at my dress and he leaves off opening the package to slip his own into mine to prevent the tick.

“I did.” he murmurs warmly, pressing a kiss to my forearm that dangles beside him, “Thank you.”

“Is that why you’re not playing?”

He looks surprised. “I -just busy, I suppose?” he questions himself.

“I miss it.” vocalized at last, I realize just how much.

“Do you?” his lips curve in a smile against my arm and move across to my belly, the hot gusts of his affection damping my dress. “Well, if my sweetheart misses it…” his lips have moved so low along my dress I feel an ache where I am missing other things.

He cleans his instrument that night while sat at the table while I do the dishes, our clearing of it a joint endeavor. He fusses over the need to grease it and other things too technical to be questioned but I understand, it won’t be played tonight. But it’s good to see him at the familiar task, his affection and seriousness for his work both manifesting across his face.

The next day he goes with me to Hutzlers, his opinion on household furnishings having been impeccable thus far and far more decisive than my own. He humors my myriad of hypotheticals regarding comfort and staining and color schemes, hands shoved easily in his pockets and a gentle smile on his face, I know by look alone he is categorizing each of my expert arguments into tidy little categories that he will present to me again in fifteen minutes time when a decision must be made.

In the end we purchase a pale blue couch with roses imprinted tone on tone into the fabric. It was decided upon only after he had hauled me down to the cushions to see if it were a plausibly good place to kiss. I now wonder if we have gotten a blue couch instead of a peach one simply due to the fact it was further from the window and he felt free to dip me down over the arm for a brief half minute.

Either way, it is set in stone that our new couch will be blue and on the way to the cash register, he immovably halts at a counter displaying the most heart wrenchingly cute baby items.

“We have to get somethin’.” he sounds almost exasperated at the previous weeks’ oversight.

We leave with ten different things, not having agreed upon what gender our child will be and I am unable to argue that booties are always a sensible option for either sex, I also want to strangle the woman behind the counter whose over eager desire to help robs me of the unguarded delight Johnny was showing over the little things before she came up.

He is opening my car door and teasing me for being so mercurial when he himself turns mildly glum before a hard determination sets his jaw.

“What?” I question, half wondering if he sees some old acquaintance or is having some awful recollection. I can’t imagine what amongst this urban place and departmental hedonism could inspire it but, stranger associations have done so.

“It’s midway through September.” he mutters, keen eyes fixed at the store’s grand facade, hand still heavy on the window before closing my door.

“Yep.” I am at a loss.

“But the seasons are milder down here.” he is presenting a case of his own for something and all I can do is agree, Maryland is more temperate than New York.

“Your mother even gave me a book about the different zones.”

“Yeah.” he is pleased with my perceived understanding, face lighting up, “So it’ll stay warmer down here.”

“For longer.”

“Yeah.”

“Johnny? What?”

He seems to realize I’ve not understood what he keeps looking at so intensely across the parking lot. “I want to buy bushes and flowers but it’s September.” he admits.

An extravagance this late in the season, and my man is not extravagant. “They’re very pretty.” I settle for acknowledging, knowing this is something he must decide but he looks so torn I would do anything to smooth that creased brow.

“It would make the place more, I dunno,” he stares down at his hand on the still adjar car door and shrugs, “…homey?”

“Some things are perennial.” a little blossom of hope tinges my own voice, my mind had gotten away with me -if he is this invested while yet undecided, I cannot imagine what diligence he might display at husbandry were he to act on it. And there’s nothing I have grown to love more in all my watching than him at some diligence.

We don’t get them. But in the car on the ride back there is discussion that the place is only a fifteen minute drive. Which pertains to the delivery of our couch, and we must hurry back to have the front door opened and I wanted to sweep where it will be once more. The delivery boys thump the blue thing on our floorboards carefully and its large presence is exactly what Johnny was saying we needed -Hominess. Emphatic. Settled. Ours.

No sooner have they left with his kind tips in their pockets than he is pulling me down on it, a hungry imitation of his actions at the store with hands more risky and insistent. I have been missing him so badly I come apart easily from his finger’s ministrations between my legs, sidetracked in trying to pull off my panties and garter belt. When he sees me go, he takes mercy and lets up, a gentle swiping through his prized currency of sticky pleasure and I watch him bring those long fingers to his lips, sucking them clean.

“You taste different.” he admits with heavy lidded eyes, “Since…” he doesn’t finish his explanation of the change in my belly, the slight swollen pooch that is our child.

“Bad?” I ask with feminine panic at the very notion.

He is settled on his belly between my thighs, blue couch a plush landing beneath us both, “N’bad.” is emphatically mumbled against me and my legs kick out the buzz of his voice. By his vocal and insistent enjoyment of it, I cannot help but be assured. Not bad. I keen up at our ceiling as he wrings one and then two and then -he won’t stop and I am needy for it, enjoying the familiar span of his hand dominating my belly, only this time it is cupping my swollen womb. I settle in relief that the proof of my maternity beneath his palm does not deter him, or at least, distract. He hums into his messy work and noses at me where I am all lightning and pulsing need, his hips jerking down into our plush new addition each time I pull at his dark locks.

Different, he says of my taste, and wedges his face in deeper, his hips beginning to move with the movements of his face against my parts and I swear to him that he is good, that he is perfect, that I’ve missed him, that he is beautiful and that he should have gotten those flowers.

His corresponding laugh makes me gush onto his tongue and his humor turns into a moan that only prolonges my delicious agony. He pushes my legs wider so forcefully I think he would like to take them off entirely if he could, his face smothered in my heat.

“You have a job now.” I present a case of my own to him, about the flowers as I try to get on top of the feeling, it is too much and he is unrelenting and I try to grasp onto something that is not his rocking body and clever lips, “A very good job and a car and -and we have this house, a-nd a-a a very nice couch -aaah God!”

His grip on my hips is deathly as I list his accomplishments until he seems to seize and then sag, tongue grown listless at last as his lips part and a shuddering groan fans over my tacky thigh.

“And we deserve flowers.” I whisper hoarsely, petting the dark strands from out of his eyes.

He’s spent himself in his writhing, I can tell by the molten expression on his face when his eyes finally drag up to meet mine over the small swell of my stomach, and set off by our new couch, they are the sparkliest of baby blues.

I have never been more startled. Or pleased. I had forgotten to watch for it, and so it had returned of its own skittish volition. I cling to that glimmer of blue until his smile grows wider and his eyes flutter shut in exhaustion.

Happiness.

At the end that night, bathed and fed and having inspected our new assortment of infant wear and argued once more over the likely gender, he brings his instrument out of its case with the package of reeds in hand. He has been offered a part time job at the high school, teaching music. It would be a hobby, he protests against his own interest in it, it would take away from time with me and Little One.

“I could go, too.” I point out.

“You’d like that?” he is pleased, the lamp is too dim for me to discern if there is blue but his lashes flutter briskly and I kiss his cheek, it’s hot beneath my lips.

“I always love watching you play.”

Before he fits the reed to the mouthpiece he makes me close my lips around it, a red stain marking it after, much to his satisfaction.

“You’ll be teaching children!” I swat at him, utterly pleased despite my own remonstrance.

“And I am married.” he says as if it were a universal absolution for all things.

The clock strikes five fifteen the next evening and he is not back. I have a plentiful assortment of excuses to choose from to explain his variance from routine. Traffic, work, a waylaying colleague -he has only been at work a couple of weeks, it is absurd to expect a forever unchanging home time. By five forty I cannot pretend expectation of what may have occurred and so keep the meatloaf warm with its proper cozy and when there is a bustle at the front door, I sprint to it like he’s back home from the war again.

It’s well I opened the door myself, he was endeavoring to while juggling three large potted plants in his arms. There is dirt in his white collar and I let out a little whoop at his uncharacteristic impulsiveness, stepping aside to help him get them through to the back porch. It doesn’t even need discussing, the large sliding glass door gives a beautiful view of the backyard from the living room and it’s sheltering insures privacy and a deterrent from our children’s stray balls flying to the next lot. At least for a few years. And the plants will go in the empty beds at the perimeter.

It is a Friday, and we eat my tepid meatloaf in between his smooching apologies for having been tardy and garbled plans for where we will put each plant and how we will stagger them according to their eventual size. It was far more than the three pots he brought, the trunk and also the cab were full of fauna.

Our excitement next morning is idiotic, we manage to snicker at ourselves for being so domesticated that this inspires frenzy but the self awareness gets not further than that, I throw on my rattiest -and coolest- sundress and he his jeans and with only his white singlet, breakfast is inhaled while standing at the backdoor, last minute plotting being discussed between bites. And then we spend our entire Saturday at it.

Johnny digs the holes and carries the plants to their allotted places and only then allows me to gently labor in filling soil over the roots, we eat cold meatloaf and slug down ice tea under the afternoon heat, not even bothering to go inside. When I have no other job, I weed the beds in preparation, watching unreservedly the way his shoulders glisten in his hard work. I have caught him eying the neckline of my dress, the recent changes he has imposed on my body now ensuring it does not gap so much as bulge while I lean over and grasp the next offending dandelion. I know he is watching and he knows I am watching and we are happy at our work, tidy garden beds filling out and his tongue pressed to his top lip to catch a drop of sweat.

The sun is a glittering soft light through the western trees by the time we take stock.

“Nothin’ left to do but water them.” he has his arm over my shoulder, hand nearly brown with caked soil where it hangs against my smudged breast, his undershirt gone translucent from sweat, the oddest attraction to his underarm blooms in me as he huffs in satisfaction next to me. I press a kiss to the swell of his pec instead, he folds with a shocked giggle, he is ticklish.

“It’s very homey.” I pronounce, feeling indeed a bone deep satisfaction over our garden at our own house from our own hands. His elbow crooks further and he has my neck secure in the bend, golden hour light the prettiest thing in the world as he nuzzles our sweaty noses and slowly claims a kiss.

“Our kids are gonna get to play out here for years.” he seems to realize as he lays his head atop mine, his voice sounds so softly comforted I can feel my eyes smart with tears.

He can feel my nod beneath his chin. “And us.” I suggest.

“And us.” he agrees with a laugh, “I’m gonna mow.” He decides suddenly and he is giving me one more smooch before moving away, headed at a jog to the garage for his machine before the sun fully dips. Never one to leave a job slightly imperfect.

I water our new additions while he pushes the mower, strip after strip, along our back yard, closer and closer to complete perfection. I have little doubt that once he finishes this he may find yet another task and knowing we have done enough, I go inside as he finishes the last swaths and grab a tablecloth, an opened bottle of wine along with salami and a brick of cheese. I have these waiting for him on a cloth, laid upon his freshly shorn grass. He cuts the engine, I watch him as he heedlessly take off his soaked singlet and uses it to rub the grass from his eyes. He is beautiful, my boy, where tan skin blends to fair and a strong, lean back disappears into jeans. There are dimples on his back, right below that belt, I know them, I’ve traced them with my tongue.

“C’mon, we’ve done enough. Sit and look at how perfect it is.” I beckon and his face lights up at my little spread, sauntering over, undershirt still clasped in his hand.

“Im filthy.” he warns and runs his hand along his sweat sheened belly in a motion I find obscenely captivating.

I pat at the tablecloth, “So am I.” for my dress is soiled and I am sweaty and only my hands are really fit for food as I scrubbed them thoroughly.

He holds his own up to show their grimey palms yet sits himself beside me anyway, and I notice the callouses dotted along the pads of his hands. I want to kiss them, soil and all.

“Then I’ll feed you.” I reply to his unspoken question and bring a bite to his lips.

We toast each other with the wine, drinking from the bottle and we watch as dusk begins to throw her first veil over the golden light.

“I’m not nauseous anymore these days.” I report and he is sweetly relieved for me, I pull out the pipe I packed for him and hand it to him between salami rolls.

His eyebrow, mobile and ever so empathetic, asks if I am sure but I am, and I watch as the match recreates a golden glow on his face once more today as he lights up and I watch him with the most lazy feeling in the world as he watches our gardens go muted by dusk.

“We’ve really done it.” he observes, relief dripping in his voice, a long exhale tinges the air around me with sweet tobacco and I am reminded of courting, of chasing him down while trying to appear reserved. Of wanting him so badly I had little choice but to remain devoted. The smell of smoke in the street would stop me dead in my tracks, thinking of this young man an ocean away.

I think I know what he means but I need to be certain, and I find I am hungry to know everything, every bit of him. If his current happiness is placed in stark relief against some previous melancholy, I want to know that, too. “What have we done?” I ask teasingly, scooting nearer to him on the cloth and kissing at his shoulder. He smells of gasoline and grass and pipe smoke. And I taste salt when I lick my lips.

“We’ve got ourselves a home.” he grins so easily, my boy, and if it were earlier in the summer there might be fireflies out in the twilight. “And you’re not nauseous anymore.” he giggles.

I’ve wanted long enough these many weeks, when my lips trail from the meat of his shoulder to his beautiful neck, he cannot mistake my intentions.

“O-out here?” he stutters out, hissing at the end by my bite on his fragile throat, i place my hand on his jeans and palm at him. There is still nothing so thrilling to me than the feel of a man firming, the way he awakes to me and only me and at my least whim, even while his mouth is all stuttering questions and his eyes are startled shimmering pools. He is always surprised when I initiate, as if he can imagine his own desire being that needy but not my own, he is always surprised and I realize it may be the only one of the million parts he does not fully know of me: how badly I love him at all times. “N-now?” he is rocking denim clad hips into my palm and their fit has grown impossibly taut.

I have the zipper down, my hand meeting the sweat soaked crease of his thigh and wiry curls that are equally wet from his work, when I wrap my small fist around him, he is clammy and pulsing in my hand. It should be revolting, perhaps, with dirt and gasoline and sweat acting like a gritty lubricant, but nausea has been replaced by something else hungry and while he may have found comfort in having provided the necessary civilian checklist for our lives, I am a woman whose body he has forever altered with his child and I have never loved anything so much as watching him at work. I want to smell it, feel it, taste the gritty earth of the man who has renovated my very flesh.

“Yes, now,” I beg, giving him one last squeeze before I lay myself back, sundress riding up my thighs, “I want you to take me under our gardenia.”

He watches me raptly, boyish eyes fawn-like and batting lashes fluttering like moth wings in the dim light; he rises to his knees and stays there as I unbutton my soiled dress. There are twenty four buttons to the hem and I make theater of each until I am bare. More than he anticipated, for while at work I did enjoy the last bit of clement weather on all my parts.

He makes a pained noise of want at the sight, maybe he too loves the sheen of sweat that makes us both shimmer in the far off patio light, how it reflects off my swelling belly, breasts grown large enough my necklines are impossible to keep discreet. I stop him from tasting me with a foot to his clavicle, I love his mouth but I want to be taken. And he indulges me, shimmying between the parted scraps of my dress and laying himself against my body, denim rough and thrilling against my bare thighs, the slightest space between our bellies lest he crush me. I am hardly large enough for it to be a concern but I can see his fascination with it, his preoccupation, his hair hangs into his eyes as he stares down at where his desire parts my petals and I can feel the drag of him against me, sweat and unabashed want making a swamp of me.

I peak and thrash from the torture of his steady grind alone, and in a typical moment of firm implacability, I feel my husband press into me while I am yet writhing. He scoops the back of my knees into the crook of his elbows, leaning over me with mischief on his face as he folds me, “You started this.” he still has enough self possession to remind before he gives into the grip of my heat and begins to move in me, engaging work-sore muscles not yet fully fatigued.

If my novel new shape has created some preoccupation, if my symptoms and moods had once ruled me in earlier weeks, it is worth it now for the way my body goes alight beneath him, electric delight curling my toes and fuzzing my sternum at each thrust, I respond to him half possessed and he snickers like he knew of this before me. I swell until my sheath is so tight it makes us both keen from it, slippery to the point of cacophonous. I claw at his back and his shoulders don’t stand a chance at remaining unmarred as he stays unperturbed and sweetly vicious inside me, jamming himself deeper. When I begin to scream he lets down a leg and cups my neck, forcing my mouth against his own.

He tastes of wine. I hook my toe into the denim of his waistband and tug it further down, till I can fully see the pale swell of his backside and I think the motion tickles him as he giggles in his rhythm. I can register that the air has grown cool as the sun fully deserts us, leaving us to it with a final curtain call on the happiest day I’ve ever known.

The force of our endeavor has shoved me up the blanket until I am well and truly beneath the far branches of our gardenia. I tilt my head up and smell the blossoms’ heady scent, their leaves and white flowers blending into the canopy of nightly stars beginning to show. Johnny’s warm face is tucked, groaning, into my neck, our bodies so close as he begins to falter in his control that I cannot watch him. So I watch the blossoms above sway in my vision as his need rucks my body up and down beneath them for a few more desperate minutes. I turn my face and press a kiss to his temple, his hair damp with sweat and smelling so much of him I clench. I love you, so good, you’re so good to me, so deep, so deep, I love you- my mind is adrift and where he rocks inside me is all I know and I babble and beg and praise him for it.

His breath is a hot steam over my clavicle, dirty hands tenderly grasping at a swollen breasts, he bites at my lower lip to hush himself when the pleasure overtakes and I too go under one more time, legs drawing up again under the wracking delight and my modest man groans and pants the filthiest appreciations, for taking him, slippery beautiful thing, tightest little cunt, could spend all my days in you, milk me, that’s it milk me sweetheart, you like it when I make you?

What he babbles to me as he spurts is never something later to be answered, it is gibberish and rhetorical and yet I believe every word, treasure them when he rolls off and pants beside me, I will rehearse them in my mind when he is gone to work. I know this last set will have me ready down to my thighs long before five o’clock.

In the cold night air his hands are soothing the damage his forceful want has done, petting my trembling flank down like a horse after a race, it gives me zapping little after-quakes that make him hum into our kisses as his warm palm feels me twitch and clench and melt.

We should go inside soon -we both mumble it at the same time and barely have energy to laugh over it. We stay on the tablecloth, grass texturing our backs, his only movements are to roll me closer to him, pulling my gaping dress with me, and plucking a white starry blossom for behind my ear. After he has placed it he drops his head again, pillowed on my upper arm and I can feel his breath even out across my throat.

My mother did not tell me of this. I have asked others in the most discreet way I can summon, but they all just say they hope I’ll be happy, they’re sure I’ll be happy, he seems to make me happy, they themselves are happy.

It is likely only myself at fault, but now I think of happiness as a very desperate thing, tentative and elusive and ever watchful. I did not expect to find its most distilled essence in quiet things. There is nothing more to write as our happiness did indeed persist after we woke and rose and went to shower, chilly from our exposure, it went on after we had wrapped ourselves under the bedding and clutched at each other like twins. But what is there to relate of such happiness? It has no great drama, it is not so very vigilant unless it is to actively prevent sadness, and even that is welcome here when it must be passing by. Perhaps the poets, or the preachers, or my wise boy would tell me it’s joy I feel. Maybe that was what I was looking for all this time.

Maybe that is what feels so foreignly precious about lying on a blanket with his spend cooling between my legs, our shrubs like loyal sentinels dotting the fence line and my man gently snoring atop me after having created a life sworn to himself when he thought he might die. It is sobering to be integral to that dream, but it is also peaceful.

It is joy, I suppose. Or a sort of Garden Variety Happiness.

Here’s my widdle Brady Taglist, thanks to each of you for expressing such interest and always showing such love. This was a bit of a weird passion project and I’ve got no idea if it actually “worked” but it was the branching out my creative brain needed. So many of y’all are already nailing this Man so well, 🤨😏 I’ve been such a happy recipient of all yalls works. Scream at me. Lemme know. Xoxo

@luminouslywriting

@ktredshoes

@archival-hogwash

@gigisimsonmars

@steph-speaks

@ab4eva

@lilfreebee

@slowsweetlove

@xxanaduwrites

@blurredcolour

@venus-planetof-love

@pearlparty

@winniemaywebber

@sagesolsticewrites

@ginabaker1666

#masters of the air #mota #mota fanfic #mota imagine #mota spoilers #john brady x oc #john brady x reader #John Brady #John Brady imagine #mota smut #mota x reader #ladies who brady

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virtueking233 · 10 months ago

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Oh wow… I said I was going to try and post here more often and tell my theories but I completely forgot to… anyways, is it just me or am being delusional?

And I don’t know if I have talked about this on here before but does anyone notice how Weiss Nevermore summon is possibly greatly connected to Ruby and Weiss relationship?

Like… if you think about it for a moment and just analyze what the Nevermore possibly symbolize/represents (as a great deal of Weiss summons are allusions to something or share some sort of connection or mean something), you sort of just notice that Nevermore is practically directly linked to Ruby and Weiss relationship

(Which makes sense given that Weiss wasn’t really the one to have killed the Nevermore… it was Ruby who cut off its head)

And the way this Nevermore summon connects to Ruby and Weiss relationship symbolically is possibly through it representing Trust, belief, connection, understanding and Freedom (possibly)

(Which again, makes sense for the Freedom part due to how birds are symbolically used to represent freedom)

But the thing that made me think this and made me sort of notice this connection is when the Nevermore is first killed and the slow gradual attempts by Weiss at summoning the Nevermore until her first actual summoning against CC (also some stuff about what Winter said about summoning/the Schnee family semblance back in V3)

And the reasons these make me think of this… well, starting off with the Nevermore being killed

This part is rather simple since It’s the beginning piece of what creates and gives way for Weiss to be able to summon the Nevermore

In the beginning of the finale fight of the Emerald forest arc against both the Nevermore and the Scorpion (brain fart, forgot its name), both Ruby and Weiss sort of come to a small mutual understanding about each other and both chooses to accept and trust in the other

When Ruby comes up with a plan to kill the Nevermore, a plan that Weiss chooses to trust in and chooses to believe in Ruby (and Ruby chooses to trust in and believe in Weiss as well) being able to kill the Nevermore

And this belief in Ruby is quite easily proven true

Now moving on to the bit about Weiss attempts to summon the Nevermore till she truly does in the finale of V10

And before I fully go into depth on it, I would like to say some stuff about how during the atlas arc… Ruby and Weiss slowly got more and more distant from each other due to being too busy, having issues with some burdens, or possibly some miscommunication

And this is important because this is slightly reflected in Weiss first attempt to Summon the Nevermore in order to try and save Ruby… but yet she fails due to not being quick enough in summoning the Nevermore (and partially because of a Grimm attacking her before she could summon), because her connection and sort of understanding about Ruby has sort of… fades a bit due to distance

But this slightly changes come V9, after RWBY reunites

With how Weiss comes to learn and understand a bit about Ruby’s current emotional state and tries her best to help her a bit by trying to talk to her and get her to open up… but fails as Ruby doesn’t want to talk right now and chooses to focus on the task at hand

Something important to note is how Weiss not only understands that Ruby is hurting and something is bothering her… but Weiss also partially misunderstands when Ruby walks away when Weiss is trying to talk to her about Penny… that Ruby wants to be left alone for now and wants to get things handled first before she opens up

And Weiss (believing in that little misunderstanding since Ruby does want someone to support her or talk to her and help her) chooses to trust and believe that Ruby will talk to her and open up to her about what’s hurting her and will rely on her as well as coming to accept that Ruby needs some time

Leading to Weiss being able to almost fully summon the Nevermore but only being to summon the wings and use the wings

But not yet being able to manifest it yet

Until Ruby breaks and Weiss comes to understand and fully realize what was wrong with Ruby and what she needed most

Until the group arrives at Tree statue Ruby and Weiss comes to understand, trust and believe and accept that whoever or whatever comes out of that statue, will still be Ruby Rose

That whoever Ruby chooses to be and comes out as… Will always be Weiss’s partner, leader, and best friend to her

Which once Ruby comes back and once again… proves that belief true

Weiss is fully able to summon and conjure up the Nevermore to help in the fight against CC

But who knows… I could just be coming up with this is or looking a bit too deep… but what are all of you folks thoughts?

Also, I didn’t really get into the “Freedom” part about the whole Nevermore thing and might just make a part two to fully explore it

But to simplify it just to put it in here

The Nevermore represents Freedom because through Acceptance and Understanding, through trust and believing in one another

Ruby and Weiss manages to come together and learn to be free together

Free to choose who they want to become and who they wish to be

Free to follow their own path and define their own name

Free to find joy and love wherever it may be… to be free to find comfort and warmth in friends, family, and partner quite special

But again… what are your thoughts on it

#whiterose #rwby #ruby rose #ruby x weiss #weiss schnee #rwby analysis

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razorblade180 · 1 year ago

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Names

Furina:Aether, we need to have a very important conversation. Promise you’ll take this seriously.

Aether:….I know we’re both over 500 but I’m not in the mindset of a family besides finding my sister.

Furina:Not the conversation I wanted in the slightest! I just gained my freedom in case you forgot. I just wanted to discuss cute little names for one another.

Aether:*scrunches face*

Furina:What!? Why that face!?

Aether:Never really was a fun of that sort of thing.

Furina:Said the man who accepts titles like they’re going on sale.

Aether:You know…

Furina:I’m not calling you “Executioner”

Aether:Then what’s the point of any of this!? It’s so cool.

Furina:I told you to be serious!

Aether:May I ask what brought this on?

Furina:*red* I just…think they’re neat. It’s only natural that people who are close to one another to give names that show the affection.

Aether:….

Furina:Is this you silently judging me?

Aether:No I’m just fighting tooth decay. Your answer was unexpectedly sweet. Still, I’m not really good at these sort of things.

Furina:That’s because you’re an overthinking. Surely you’ve known me long enough to have something to describe my magnificence.

Aether:Furina if I’m being honest, if I had to compare you to anything it would either be those floppy ear bunnies that get angry sometimes, or an emotional kitten.

Furina:Please never say that second one again.

Aether:What’s wrong with kit- okay I see. Told you I suck at this! Why don’t you just go force and tell me what you have in mind.

Furina:…

Aether:You haven’t the slightest idea.

Furina:I thought maybe we could workshop or something!? Cut me some slack. I typically shorten names but yours feels weird. Plus that would be boring.

Aether:We’ll what do you typically want to call me?

Furina: What, besides “mine?”

Aether:….

Aether:You’re going to make kitten stick if you keep talking like that.

Furina:*red* Nooooo! Focus Aether! We don’t have to commit to anything right now. Just spitball.

Aether:Despite the fact you constantly smell like a pastry mixed with rose water, I’m not about to call you a long winded dessert or something as dull as cupcake.

Furina:First of all, my shampoo is daisies and not rose water. Second, I appreciate you noticed I smell nice. Third, cupcake is wonderful but taken by Clorinde.

Aether:Who calls her cupcake?

Furina:I’ve…said to much. Dismiss that from your memory.

Aether:…Tweetie. I like your singing. You’re like a free songbird.

Furina:That’s not a bad attempt.

Aether:It’s funny how nicely you said that while obviously rejecting that.

Furina:*smiles* I am a woman of many talents. We should probably call it here. No need to force these things. I only wanted to bring attention to it. Rest assured that I will put the utmost care in whatever my heart chooses.

Aether:Seriously, it could just be my name.

Furina:Awww, is someone embarrassed about this sorta thing? You are surprisingly introverted despite all of your achievements.

Aether:You’re one to talk.

Furina:Hehe, true enough. *hugs him* I suppose “Aether” is as glorious as any other name. I’ll admit that I personally enjoy how it sounds.

Aether:*flustered* I swear, where do you get your energy?

[Sometime later]

Navia:Have anything planned after this?

Furina:Not really. I should probably run through some lines after this tea party but I don’t actually feel up to it. Maybe a nap or-

Aether:*walks by*

Navia:Oh! Hi Aether!

Aether:*turns head* Hmm? Oh hi Navia. *looks at Furina*…..

Furina:??? What’s with the silent gaze? Is there something on my face?

Aether:*red* N-No. I was surprised to see you is all, Sugar Cube.

If a ghost were to sneeze right now, everyone would hear it. Navia’s eyes widened as she let out the smallest of gasps and saw Furina’s mind come to a screeching halt while her face became every color of red. The actress slowly put down her tea, stood up, and dragged Aether by the hand around the corner.

Furina:I’ll be right back Navia.

Navia:(Where is Clorinde and Charlotte when I need them!? I have to talk about this with someone!)

Aether:W-Was that bad?

Furina:*grabs scarf* No no no. It was simple, realistic even. Not to mention cute. However… you were absolutely right about the embarrassment. I don’t think my soul can handle that! Just call me Furina.

Aether:I wanted to do that from the start! I said that in front of people!

Furina:I’m sorry!! I thought I was strong about this but I was horribly wrong!!!!

#genshin impact #gi aether #gi furina #aerina #furina x aether #she tells him to say it in private

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corrodedseraphine · 7 months ago

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perfectly wrong | #5 you are not alone

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

chapter summary: Although you are annoyed by Steve's attitude, you feel safer with him than in your own home. Unexpectedly, a concerned Robin appears, which makes you decide to reveal the truth.

TW: mentions of: pregnancy, domestic violence, bruises, blood (let me know if I forgot about something!)

The story is also avaliable on ao3

previous chapter | masterlist | steve harrington masterlist | general masterlist

What can I say... It's been a while. I am sorry and thank you for still being here and reading this chapter.

The Harrington residence was huge and filled with luxury, but this could not mask the feeling of cold and emptiness you faced as soon as you entered. You didn't have much time to look around though, Steve immediately led you to one of the guest bedrooms saying that from now on this was your room.

"Here are your clothes for change." he said looking into the dresser. "Robin left her things here because she often stays overnight, I think she won't mind if you borrow something for tonight. Tomorrow we'll go and get your stuff."

"How do you imagine that Steve? I'm just going to walk in there, pack up and leave?"

"Exactly like that." he replied dryly.

"What if he won't let me?"

"We'll go when he's not home."

"It's not that simple…" his attitude irritated you.

"Of course it's simple. We go in, get our stuff and leave. Just like that." saying this he snapped his fingers.

"Steve-"

"I swear if I hear my name pronounced like that again I'll go crazy!" He didn't let you finish. "You can always go back there, but expect Hopper to be at your door later tonight.

"This is called blackmail!"

"I don't care!"

"You can't just make me stay here!"

"Watch me!" he looked you straight in the eyes. Aside from the irritation on his face, you could see something else. Something the sight of which was extremely rare and confusing. Worry.

After a moment of angry silence, he spoke up in a softer tone. "Are you hungry?"

"No." You answered.

"That's where the bathroom is, and you also know where the kitchen is. I'm going to sleep, and you do what you want." he said quickly and left closing the door.

With that, you were left alone in the big bedroom. Resigned, you walked over to the bed, and slowly sat on it, holding your stomach.

When did it all become so complicated?

There were many conflicting emotions in you, on the one hand, just a few days ago you were sure that getting rid of the baby would be the best decision, but now, when you almost lost it, you felt that you had to do everything to protect it. That's why deep down you felt grateful, for Steve's attitude. Here you were safe. Despite the fact that you considered each other enemies by his side you felt safer than in your own home.

Slowly, you felt your emotions leaving you and being replaced by fatigue. Wanting to take advantage of the comfort offered to you, you simply laid down wanting to fall asleep, hoping that at least in your dreams you will be able to feel calm for a while.

It's been more than a dozen hours since Steve left you alone in your room. He knew you needed a rest, which is why he didn't even knock on the door to check if you were okay, since he guessed you were probably asleep. That didn't change the fact that he still felt anxious and worried. The darkest scenarios came to his mind.

What if you lost consciousness? What if the bleeding occurs again and this time it's too late?

Every now and then he passed by the room listening, but all he was met with was deafening silence. Finally, unable to stand it, he quickly prepared some sandwiches, put them on a tray, and next to them the medicines they prescribed at the hospital. Using that as an excuse, he knocked on the door.

"y/n? can I come in?" he asked.

"Yeah." he heard from behind the door. Your sleepy voice was a relief to him.

When he opened the door, the sight of you in the big bed in his house made him feel a strange sting in his chest. However, it was not the sting of hatred that very often accompanied him when he saw you. This time it was something that made him feel…emotional.

"I brought you something to eat and medicine. Don't forget to drink water, it's important." He said and put the tray next to you on the bed.

"Thank you." you replied quietly.

"How are you feeling?" he asked. "Do you need anything?"

"How long did I sleep?" you asked.

"Several hours."

"Oh my God…"

"What?"

"I didn't go to work! Robin is going to kill me!" you abruptly jumped out of bed.

"Hey!" he grabbed your hand and stopped you before you reached the door. "Are you crazy? You're supposed to rest not work! Robin can handle it, I'm sure she's already come up with at least five excuses on how to cover for you from the manager."

"But-"

"No. No buts or what ifs, go back to bed and eat." he said before you had time to say anything.

"Who are you to tell me what to do?" you asked feeling irritated.

"Are you really going to argue now?" he crossed his arms over his chest without taking his eyes off you.

"I need money, Steve. To have money I have to work! Is that so hard to understand?"

Before he answered anything he looked at his watch and then at you. "It doesn't matter anymore anyway." he said.

"What?" you asked confused.

"Look behind you." He pointed to the clock on the wall. "Your shift ended fifteen minutes ago."

"Damn it!" you cursed and resignedly sat back down on the bed.

"Listen, if you don't want to do it for yourself… do it for the baby. Eat the sandwiches and take your medicine, in the living room I've put some clothes for you, and towels if you want to take a shower." He said and walked out of the room leaving the door open.

Only now did you realize how hungry you were. Looking at the food you once again felt like refusing his help and telling him that he could go to hell, that you could manage on your own. Unfortunately, deep in your heart you knew this would be a lie. With difficulty you had to admit that you were grateful for his care and help.

Pushing your stubbornness aside, you began to eat. Although they were simple ham and tomato sandwiches, they tasted incredibly good. You couldn't remember when was the last time someone prepared something for you to eat.

Just as you were finishing eating, a loud knock sounded at the door in the house, and a second later someone opened it and walked in.

"Steve!" shouted Robin. "Steve, this is important!"

"What are you doing here?" he asked.

"It's about y/n." you could hear nervousness in her voice.

Hearing your name, you walked closer to the door so that you could hear everything. Your first thought was that she came here to start complaining that you didn't show up for work and didn't even let her know. She had a right to be mad at you.

"She didn't come to work today."

"So?" Steve tried to pretend to be unconcerned about the situation.

"She didn't even let it be known that she wasn't coming!"

"So what?"

"Listen, I know you don't like her, but I'm really worried and I have no idea what to do about it. She's been behaving really weird lately. She's late for work, she locks herself in the bathroom during breaks, I've had a feeling for a long time that something was wrong, but today I got confirmation."

You felt your heart go up to the hail with every word she said. You really tried to hide everything from her, unfortunately it was Robin. Robin who will catch every detail and nothing can be hidden from her.

"Can you finally say what happened?"

"Travis came looking for her. He was drunk started a brawl and threatened that if he found her she would regret not being home when he returned. Fortunately, Mr. Munson was there and helped me get rid of him before he forcibly got into the back room. I'm telling you Steve, this man is unpredictable, what if he hurts her one day? What if he is already hurting her! What if all those bruises on her body are his fault?"

"Robin…"

"That's not all! Before we got rid of him he said something about the baby. About how she won't be able to raise a child on her own…"

"Ah, fuck."

"You think it's true, you think y/n is pregnant?"

Your heart was beating like crazy, almost drowning out the words that were coming from the other room. Each successive sentence from Robin sounded like a hammer blow, shattering your hopes of keeping everything a secret. You felt a cold shiver run down your back, and your hands began to tremble.

You had to face the truth. You couldn't expect Steve to lie to Robin and take responsibility for your secret. It was time to face the reality you had tried to ignore for so long.

Taking a deep breath you went into the living room holding your hand on your stomach, which very quickly turned into a fist clenching on your shirt. At the sight of you, Robin stood up as if she had been stunned, but Steve looked even more shocked by your appearance there. You opened your mouth to say anything however the only sound that came out of you was a pathetic whine. A second later you were already in your friend's arms crying like a baby.

"Oh my God, y/n, it will be all right. You are not alone."

All you could do was start crying even harder. There was a storm of emotions inside you, sadness, fear but also relief that the truth had come out.

Watching from the sidelines, Steve himself felt like he was about to cry. No matter how unpleasant the relationship between the two of you was, your situation and the sight of you in such a state was crushing his heart. He also tried to ignore the thought, somewhere in the back of his mind, that he wished he were in Robin's place right now. He would also like you to trust him enough to accept his presence and support in these hard times.

"Are you okay? Did he hurt you?" she asked when you had calmed down a bit.

"We need to talk," you said heading toward the couch.

Robin sat next to you, holding your hand while you slowly told everything that had happened. Steve sat across from you, uncertainly looking at both of you. Although his face was full of worry, you sensed something more in his gaze - something that suggested he understood you better now than ever before. However, every time your eyes met, you quickly looked away.

"Why didn't you tell me? We could have done something about it, found help." she said quietly. Her eyes became glassy with tears.

"I was so scared, Robin, I still am, I am so sorry."

"It's okay." she said and hugged you. "You're safe now. You will stay here with Steven and me. I still think you need to let Hopper know as soon as possible, but it's your decision…Remember that no matter what, I'm here for you."

"I can't stay here."

"You can and you will stay." interjected Steve. "That's not up for discussion."

"Steve-"

"Y/n, no." interrupted Robin. "You know very well that you're safer here. It wouldn't even occur to Travis to look for you here."

"Finally someone agrees with me!"

"I swear to God, Harrington, not now!" Robin roared. "Where are your house keys?" she turned to you in a softer tone.

"I don't have… we didn't lock the door."

"Shit."

"We're both free tomorrow, we'll go get your stuff. We'll wait until he's not home."

"I can't just run away from home!"

"Why not?"

"He'll be looking for me, he'll come to work, he won't give us any peace knowing that you're protecting me."

"I'm not afraid of him, I've fought worse monsters than him."

"Robin…"

"Can you please trust us?"

You could have trusted both of them with your life. Even Steve, who treated you as an enemy saved it more than once. You knew that the only harm he could do to you was in the verbal way. Although he was often hard and harsh on you, over the past few days he had shown that he was able and willing to help you, willing to protect you. Why, you had no idea however, you slowly felt tired of rejecting him over and over again. Robin, as always, was your rock, ready to stand up to anyone who might hurt you.

"Can you please trust us?" Robin repeated, her voice was soft but firm.

You remembered all the moments when Steve saved you, when, against all his faults, he stood by your side. You remembered Robin, always loyal, always ready to make sacrifices.

"I trust you. Both of you." you sighed.

"You are not alone." she whispered in response.

When Robin left, leaving you with a sense of relief, you decided to get some fresh air and go out into the garden. The sun was slowly going down towards the horizon, coloring the sky with shades of orange and pink. You sat down on a wooden bench, and Steve took the seat next to you, somewhat uncertainly. For a while you were both silent, immersed in the silence and beauty of the sunset. Finally, he broke the silence.

"I'm glad you told Robin the truth," he began, looking ahead. "You can't imagine how hard it would have been for me to lie to her."

You looked at him sideways, seeing the sincerity in his eyes. Did he really want to lie to her to protect you? "I know, I'm sorry I put you in this situation. It is all so…complicated."

He sighed, combing his hand through his hair. "You don't have to apologize. I understand why you didn't want to tell anyone. But now that Robin knows…it might be a little easier. We're in this together."

"Thank you."

"Just to make things clear… I don't hate you, okay? Let's start over, the more I think about it the more I get the feeling that all this hate between us was somehow one big misunderstanding, I don't even remember why it was all like that."

When you heard his proposal, you felt surprised. You did not expect such a turn of events, but at the same time you felt that this could be a chance for a new beginning. "Let's have a fresh start. It may not be easy, but I think we both need it." He added and extended his hand toward you, as if to seal your new agreement. After a moment of hesitation you took his hand, feeling the warmth and strength in his embrace.

When you got home you immediately went to bed. You felt your heart beating faster at the thought of what the future would bring. Your situation was complicated, and living life with Travis had left deep wounds in you. You didn't know if you would ever be able to completely free yourself from them.

Steve, on the other hand, the last thing he thought about before falling asleep was that he was glad that for the first time in a long time he wasn't falling asleep alone in that big house.

taglist: @i-me-mine @phantypurple @tlclick73 @sheisjoeschateau @hollandweather @lma1986 @scarletwitchwhore @freezaz123 @ihatepeanutss @joekeerysmoles

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rainbowchewynuggets · 9 months ago

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Hello, I'm still here!

I just moved again, and I wanted to share some stuff I made before I did.

So I was working on an idea for an episodic serial comic about a small polycule with mild super powers trying to live a quiet life together in an apartment in a small city--hanging out, running errands, going to work, and trying to duck the feds who want to take them away to be "studied". Just a cute slice of life thing with some spice to heighten the magic and preciousness of mundane life.

It woulda been called UNSUCOTH (Untitled Supernatural Comfort Throupple).

I didn't get far into making it, and I may never. I think I started it because I felt really sad and lost and missed my hometown. And now that I live there again, I don't really feel that motivated anymore. I just want to go outside all the time lol.

But here's the cast anyway because I love them, they're a part of me, and they may show up in later posts and projects regardless.

This is Chesah. They have psychic powers (largely Akira style, but they've always had a spiritual/emotional connection to the stars and are starting to think they can also talk to the dead). ((My notes also say they have acid blood? What??)) They work as a clerk/archivist in the filing room at a very outdated office. People leave them alone, so they get to use their powers to do their job and listen to music all day.

They are my inner goth who never got to come out.

This is Kanai. He can influence local temperature, air pressure, precipitation, plant life, animals, and kind of effectively the sun? A lowkey nature god, though he's too humble to claim the title. He splits part time as a line cook and a delivery cyclist. Really, he'd do any job where he gets to be in a group or meet new people.

He is the 90s beach dude I want to be.

And this is Briar. He's a shapeshifter who has used his powers to explore his gender and humanity, as well as extend his lifespan by hundreds of years. She does odd jobs--any relatively anonymous contract work she can get. It's safer that way of course, but he also enjoys trying new things and getting to blow in and out of people's lives like a phantasm (with the exception of Chesah and Kanai's lives--he loves them to death).

She is the metalhead I almost forgot I am.

------------

It's also worth mentioning that I had a funny little gender awakening after I started this.

Turns out I'm genderfluid! Yippee!

These three characters represent archetypes that have developed through my projects and hcs since I was 14. I always put a bit of myself into my ocs, but I put these three to paper and realized that they're much bigger chunks of me. All the stuff I'd been repressing all my life.

(Also, I should clarify that I'm a white redneck American. The ethnicities of the throupple obviously don't apply to me. They're based on other people I know or cultures I want to know more about.)

I especially looked at Briar and said to myself, "Oh, that guy really is just what I look like on the inside." So I named myself after him.

Can you do that? A reverse self-insert?

Still, all three of them have been my guides through this wacky, cool period of my life. I'm having all kinds of complicated feelings about it and am very slow in the process of exploring it as I put my new life together.

Look forward (maybe) to some kind of post about how agenderism, shapeshifting, and monster kinning factor into this. (Legitimately. I think it's really cool and I hope I can sort out my thoughts well enough to explain it.)

Anyway, thanks for reading.

Signed, BRIAR!!!

#ocs #my ocs #briar #kanai #chesah #unsucoth #projects #comics #comic ideas #genderfluid #gender awakening #coming out post ig

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anime-dreams · 8 months ago

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Idk man pt 2??? Jjk season 2 was traumatising (gege 😡) but sukuna was really hot

Anyways heres Shokos pov after ✨Gojoe✨ and 🗣️Geetoes🦶breakup (i love shoko omg shes so hot and shes savage)

I could barely recognise you after he left. Those blue eyes no longer held the familiar warmth and glow. Your mood swings were so sudden, your silence was so loud, i could not stand to be around you for too long anymore. But you know what i could not stand most? Seeing you, the supposed “strongest” wasting away, like a dimming star. What have you became? Unrecongisable.

I still keep in touch with Geto. I receive his letters twice a week, and the way he talked about you, it was like you hung stars in the sky. Each one of those letters never failed to mention your name, never failed to ask me to check up on you. And that day, i knocked softly on your door, with a bag full of your favourite snacks. You were crying. I heard it. You never cried, at least, not in front of me. But when you opened the door, you greeted me with a smile that did not reach your eyes. Why are you hiding your feelings from me? Have i also not been with you for the past 2 years? I reached out my hand to pat your back, to try to comfort you, and you flinched, taking a step back, as my hand came into contact with seemingly nothing. Oh yeah, i forgot. Your infinity has been on ever since he left. You took one more step back awkwardly, not meeting my eyes. I know that i can never replace him, but for you to act like im a complete stranger… was i not there? Your actions following his disappearance… it made me question myself if my place in your lives have ever been as meaningful as i had thought. Was i merely an afterthought in the story of our friendship? I didnt even remember how i felt, but i heard myself yell: “Can you suck it up and get the hell over him already?” and the already flickering light in your eyes went out, completely. Before i knew it, your amplification blue took away the whole ceiling and turned it into shambles. Those chipped pieces of wood and shattered pieces of glass held my gaze, as i saw, reflected in them, an image of us. Once strong, now cracked and split. It hurts, you know. Is this how it’s going to end?

We still talked, but every word you said, every smile you flashed at me, your eyes remained void. Every joke you cracked, every prank you pulled, hollowness echoed after them. I could do nothing but leave you to wallow in your misery. After all, im not him. I cant get you to open up to me like you do with him. You need to know when it’s necessary to let things go, simply for the reason that they are heavy. Deep down, i believe that you havent lost who you are, you’re just different, and that’s okay. But it was painful, to see you like that.

I stared at the image of you crouching over him, debating if i should disturb the moment. You said something, and he smiled, holding tightly onto his still bleeding shoulder. His lips moved, conveyed his last thoughts to you, then his arms slackened, and his head drooped. You remained there, saying nothing. Your blindfold was off, your shoulders were hunched, your jaw was clenched, and in those swirling shades of blue in your eyes, i could somehow only see emptiness. It wasent long before i had to step in. i was supposed to take care of his body’s disposal, after all. And before i could even touch him, you pushed me aside, with so much force that i almost fell. Your head turned, your eyes cast a piercing gaze at me, and those blue were no longer empty. In them, a whirlwind of emotions swirled, some of which i could not comprehend. How can i, anyway? When you never told me anything. I took that as my cue to leave.

You and him fit each other perfectly, like yin and yang. Then… where am I? To you and him, what have i been this whole time? In some other life, we are standing side by side, and laughing at the fact that in some other life, we are apart. Gojo, Geto, i really hope that we will meet again, that in another life, our paths will cross again, not as Gojo, Geto, or Shoko, but 3 strangers that become the best of friends. Maybe in another life, our fates won’t be sealed and our destinies won’t be so complicated. Maybe in that other life, I will no longer feel invisible.

(😭😭😭its so sad that shoko stuck by toru and sugu all those times and shes like, so damn invisible. 'theres always a duo in a trio' 😢 i love her so much)

Anyways thanks for making it here!! Im the type that only writes when i feel really emo or when im free (student life's really busy :() so im not really active here BUT i appreciate any constructive feedback/criticism if any so pls do comment and TYSMMM FOR MAKING IT HERE 😍

#shoko ieiri #jujutsu kaisen #jjk shoko #satosugu #gege when i catch you gege #kfc breakup #geto suguru #gojo satoru #what am i even doing #i cannot do this anymore #depressing shit

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half-truths-and-hyperbole-louk · 10 months ago

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Louk's Bad Batch rewatch part 29 !!!

we're in the second half of season 2 batchersss (was gonna say were in the end game now but I'll save that for tomorrow 😫)

The Bad Batch 2x09

her voice 🥲 she sounds so down it hurts

"sounds dangerous" *giggles* ilysm Wrecker 💕

Hunter sniffing dirt again hehe

Tech says "without Echo" and Omega immediately droops her head 😫

creeper peekin 👀

I love how Wrecker was carrying the case with one hand and Hunter needs two and keeps adjusting it 💪

Wrecker checking in on Omega 🤲

oop Omega dramatic sigh count 👀

Hunter lifting Omega up 🥺

"chain reaction, explosion got it 🙄" tbb dealing with teenage fett mood swings now

gentle hands 🤲

that is not your ship kid 👀

Hunter slams the highly dangerous explosives into the ground lmaooo

Hunter hearing the ship power up !!! his turns so fast and jumps over the stairs 🙌

the bickering batch

they're literally all so feral at each other rn 😮

Wrecker giving Omega water first 🥺

she's calling Echo for help 😭

Tech knows he disabled his comms... have they been chattin 👀

Hunter's senses on fire this ep 👌

Hunter pushing Omega in front of him and steering her out of the way 🙌

the Lion King ???

Tech: "protect the ipsium!" Wrecker: bruh 😑

the ipsium survived Hunter slamming it on the ground I'm sure it'll be fine

Wrecker: "why don't you carry it 😠" Tech: "fine" lolol

Tech is so strong omg he carried it like Wrecker 👀

Omega needs something to cover her face in this sandstorm 🥲 give her a helmet

THEY'RE SO SHITTY BOYS CALM DOWN !!!

Omega bby someone hug her !!!!! 😫😭

"what is your issue" 💔

how soft Hunter said her name 🥺🤲

Tech doesnt understand the emotional connection she has to everything but they probably all struggle to see that being soldiers, they're taught to let go of things, stay in the moment to be able to be the best they can, she's just a kid who wants her brother and her home back after just losing everything, I can completely understand both sides of this 🥲 I'm blabbing and it's not making sense anymore 🙃

"thats not the only mistake you need to fix" Hunter's dad mode applies to Tech now too

Tech: "but she said she wanted to be alone" 🥺

they're getting so much better at the whole dad/big brother thing 💕

Tech said her name so gently 😭

Omega and Tech having the same ideas 🥰

"I am fully aware you are capable of the task" 🥺

TECH BLINDLY FOLLOWING OMEGA WHEN SHE FALLS MY HEART

oop I forgot the 😫 Tech falls count: we're on 5 now

THE WAY HE GRABS HER IN THE WATER OML 😭 he was so desperate to save her

Hunter sensing they're in trouble 👀

Not only do I love Hunter's senses but I also love how aware they all are of him, like they all question him every time he pauses or looks off at something, they're all just so aware of each other 💕

Tech and Omega lying down out of the water 🤲

Tech emptying the water from his glasses !! 🥺

"we are alive" ~ bro I love how often he responds like this I can't wait to hear it again hehehe

Omega's wet droopy hair is getting so long 🥺

"the narrow crevasse" i love the way he talks he's so fancy 💅

Putting a bunch of quotes in bc they're iconic 💕

Omega: "everything is changing and you don't even care"

Tech: "I am not sure how I should care about change, it is a fundamental part of life"

Tech: "I am aware that you miss him, but we have to adapt and move on. That's what soldiers do."

Omega: "we're more than that. We're a family aren't we?"

Tech: "yes of course we are"

Omega: "why don't you act like it?"

Tech: "Echo chose a different path, as did Crosshair. I have to respect their decision. Even though it can be difficult to understand, we must carry on. I may process moments and thoughts differently, but it does not mean that I feel any less than you"

I have to put it all in bc this scene means so much to me 🥺🤲💕

Wrecker's scream and the big *fwosshhh* landing in the water vs Hunter's tiny *bloop*

Omega's wave 🫶

the way Hunter just tosses Tech's stuff out of the water and he's still holding Omega's bow is the difference between brother and dad

wet hair Hunter when 👀

Omega "see that wasn't so bad" Wrecker: 👍

Tech being almost as precise as Crosshair 💕

Tech and Omega looking at each other 👀🤲

Hunter noticing somethings different with Omega now after talking with Tech 🥺

CID 🔫 I want to hunt her for sport fr 😈

Omega quoting Tech 💕💕💕💕

oooohhhh this ep holds a special place in my heart fr

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doublejango · 2 months ago

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for @visage-of-hell because neither of us has any actual chill <3

Blitz was in a good mood. Sure, he was sore as fuck from getting his ass kicked by Millie, and neither his head nor his heart felt like it was screwed on right, but so fucking be it. That was just the way cookies rumbled, or whatever ominous shit cookies did when people weren't eating them. He was still alive and that was what really mattered--Infester demon be fucking damned. Wearing his favorite old black jeans--skintight, ripped in a few places--and a snug leather jacket, horns nicely oiled, claws clean and sharp, Blitz was in a delightful mood. Sometimes, being bruised as deeply as he was just felt good, in the most fucked up way possible--because it felt like a badge of honor. He'd survived. Death said hey, bitch, and Blitz survived. Again. And every fucking time, it was a victory.

And surviving Millie's fists? Now that was something to be proud of, because his friend was a force of nature, a woman to be absolutely reckoned with, a warrior to be feared because she was fearless. Millie had saved his life in that hotel--granted, by beating the shit out of him, but she was right. He could take it, and he did, proudly.

So, spirits high--especially because Moxxie had convinced him to return all of the crap he'd bought that hadn't been burned yet, and Moxxie was right about this financial shit--and body feeling like he was glowing, Blitz had his hands in his pockets as he strolled down to the alley he was going to meet Vizzy in. It absolutely wasn't going to be a date, of course. Just a nasty fuck in a darkened alleyway, up against the bricks, them both growling and being a little rough with each other. It would be a good time, just like it always was.

When he got there, Blitz realized he was early. No Viz. Well, fine by him. He leaned against the wall, one heel up, and just tilted his head back to look up at the sky.

Moments later, when he heard a growl, he grinned and turned to look--

But that wasn't Vizzy.

A man was coming down the alley towards him. Scrawny, familiar, just a silhouette, but someone that--

Blitz let out a single laugh when he realized it. "Roman, right? Infesty Fester Roman?"

The demon seethed, its form slowly growing, extra limbs and tentacles trailing out towards Blitz. "The name I used hardly matters now. I will no longer be limited by Earth's constraints. You, imp, will die... Now."

Tail starting to whip, grin dark, Blitz unzipped his jacket and stepped away from the wall. "Oh yeah? Listen, you're not the hot little number I'm waiting for here, but Daddy's got plenty of appetite to take any and all comers." He pulled a knife in each hand, grinning--and doing his best to keep up a strong mental and emotional front. Weakness was how that fucker had gotten into him before, because he was upset, because he wasn't handling his own trauma, his own emotions. This fucker had forced his way in and had his merry fucking way with Blitz's body and mind, and that? Wasn't happening again. So, not allowing himself to be afraid, he took up a ready stance--

And let himself back off a pace or two.

Rolando took the bait.

Furious, the thing moved closer. "Too foolish to run?"

"It's a dead-end alley, fucko, where am I gonna go? And hey," he glanced over Rolando's shoulder, but briefly as could be, eyes immediately flicking back to his face--he wasn't going to give away the position of the incredibly sexy Hellhound who had just appeared behind this bitch. "I can't really blame you for wanting another ride..."

"This ride," the higher demon seethed, "will be your last."

"Big talk from a widdle old man." Blitz lowered his head, ready for this. "Who just made his last mistake."

Rolando snickered. "Did I? I'm going to relish diving back into you. Tell me, imp, what did I do wrong, hm? Do you not like my fashion sense? Is that it?"

"Well, ya wore me, so your fashion sense is fine. You just forgot about one thing."

Rolando snorted. "Mildred isn't here."

"Nooo. No, Millie's not here. But," he grinned, baring all of his teeth in dark, delicious delight, "she is."

He had already texted Vizzy everything about this man the day before, when he first got home. They might not be dating, because they were pretending so fucking hard there were no feelings here, but Blitz knew it didn't matter: Vizzy didn't let anyone else prey on her fucking territory.

Confused, Rolando turned to look...

#helluva boss spoilers #visage of hell #vizions of demise #also gonna pop this on:#nsft

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angryshortstacks · 2 years ago

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Some Hugo x Wallace headcanons because I just finished Under the Whispering Door (spoilers obviously)

Hugo’s pet names for Wallace are honey or hun, sweetheart, love, and very occasionally babe but in like a jokey way

Wallace calls him dear, darling and love (Wallace is British in my head and this is critical to this point)

After Wallace’s resurrection he was just overwhelming emotion. When Hugo woke him up the first morning Wallace just curled into the pillow and said “oh god. I forgot how much I missed sleep.” When Hugo sets him down at the breakfast table and placed a hot scone in front of him (one’s he’s been smelling but never eating for weeks) he picks it up tentatively and takes a small bite. it tastes so good the butter melts on his tongue. it’s like that scene from spirited away where he’s just eating and crying. Hugo rubs his back and encourages him “it’s okay hon. Eat some more you’ll feel better,” and Wallace just shovels it in between sobs. Needless to say they impulsively decide to close the store for the day so Wallace can acclimate himself a little more.

On a more long term level he has trouble getting used to being alive again. He forgets to eat and doesn’t sleep well. And when Hugo does manage to get him to bed at a reasonable hour he has nightmares about having another heart attack and dying in the bed next to Hugo. And so he gets up and wanders the tea plants or sits with Nelson by the fire until Hugo eventually wakes up and stumbles out of bed all squinty and sleepy to bring him back to bed. Nelson keeps asking him why he’s not sleeping but Wallace shrugs it off or dodges the question. Eventually Hugo confronts him about it when Wallace is still up on the back porch at 4:00 am. Hugo, “Wallace seriously. Why don’t you ever want to sleep.” “I sleep” “not nearly enough” Hugo smoothes down Wallace’s hair “talk to me. I won’t be upset.” Wallace is quiet for a moment and then he says “I keep having nightmares about dying.” Hugo, “honey you went to the doctor your heart is fine-”. “I know it’s silly. I know but… I can’t help it. I just I’ve been given this second chance and I- I don’t want to squander it.” Hugo sits in his lap and leans his forehead against his “your not going to squander it. This is different. Your different.” Wallace nuzzles his head “I just didn’t consider it would be hard.” “Hey,” Hugo kisses his cheek then his temple “there’s no rush. It’s the same as it was before. We have nothing but time now.” Wallace drops his head against his shoulder, “you can’t be my boyfriend and my therapist.” Hugo chuckles “how about I just be your boyfriend who gives really good advice?” Hugo stands and takes his hands “you look tired. Cmon It’s bedtime.” And he pulls him up to stand and they go inside and Hugo spoons him to sleep.

Wallace price is the little spoon. I will take no criticism.

Hugo can lift Wallace up despite their height differences. He has thrown Wallace over his shoulder before when he wouldn’t come to bed.

Wallace has crows feet around his eyes when he smiles and Hugo always kisses them.

Wallace love to kiss the back of Hugo’s hand

one year after Nelson and Apollo cross, Wallace gets Hugo a dog for his birthday. He had mei take Hugo into town and when they arrived back home Wallace was sitting on the front porch with a dog between his legs wagging her tail. Hugo stopped dead in his tracks “Wallace why do you have a dog?” and Wallace just grinned “because she’s yours.” Hugo just burst into tears and sat on the porch for hours petting her and saying “she’s perfect. I love her.” He and Wallace decide to name her peppermint (pepper for short). She’s a rescue, some kind of terrier mix, and she’s a little skittish at first but within a couple months she greets every customer at the door with a grin and a wagging tail. She sleeps at the foot of their bed and when Hugo is anxious she pressed her head into his lap.

#under the whispering door #tj klune #hugo freeman #wallace price #queer books #books #reading #headcanon

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zundamind · 3 months ago

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wow, would you look at that! it's been a full ass year since you fucked me over! september 29th.... yeahh..... XD our fuck-you-versary! hi clifford!

in case you dont remember, the name piko might jog your mind. yeah thats me!! hellwo!! honestly you shouldve known better than to stick with your old username but hey props on you for changing it last minute! almost didnt find you for a second lolll!!

i wanted to drop in and say HEY! HELLO! HI! and give you some status updates :3

update one: i'm getting better!! no thanks to you, of course. and actually i should say we're getting better. yep! thats what happens when you suffer so bad your brain cant take suffering solo! XD

update two: while my mental health has been at an all time low ever since you fucking dropped me like a fucking ROCK, ive been getting over things lately! my clean streaks are now longer than a week! i no longer want to kms! im even making friends again!

update three: while both of the above statements are true, you still live in my mind rent free. i remember when i first stumbled across your blog a few months ago, i had a full on spiral! not anymore, though. i am STEEL, BABY! also you spinning in the mental microwave rent free is why i'm sending you this heartfelt ask!

man.... even when i try, i still find you somehow and its never intentional. like imagine scrolling the tptm tag only to be straight up jumpscared by your ex best friend's username! how embarrassing!

also i'm sorry but i have to say the reason(s) you left are sooo fucking stupid..... what, cus i was weird? come on. everyones a little weird. even a little deviantart weird. oh and because of some stupid opinions that shouldntve even mattered if you were actually a friend? get real, trey. what if i left your ass because you had a fuckin biting kink? that wouldve been funny actually. like making a sad callout post on twitter thats just "my friend left me because i wasnt vanilla enough!" XDDD

oh, and if you ever see your "stalker" again, assuming you're not thinking its me and that its actually your previous qpr or whatever the fuck, say hi! i find it funny as FUCK, since, you know, you were considering cyberstalking me at one point. and tell chaos i said hi too. i'd also mention mayu, but do you two even keep in touch anymore? probably not, considering the weird things she's done.

anyways thats the end of my relay. if you dont want these kinds of asks again, i suggest either turning asks off or just straight up deleting your tumblr and/or making another one that is NOT connected to any username youve used in the past, because in that case i'll just find your ass again lmaooo. remember! every year on this day will be the day i remind you that you are NOT allowed to stay sane X3

sincerely, your most hated, piko. (i hardly use my old blog anymore, so have fun finding my current blog! and do what you want with this ask, make a callout post, scream into the ethers, reply to it, idc.)

this should stay private but idc

i know what i did was wrong piko! i was 12-13.

dont take this as me excusing myself. i had horrible emotional regulation back then, ive healed from everything back there. you dont deserve to be called out because ur like. 14-15.

do not bring mayu or chaos into this,weve all healed and forgot abt you.

i overreacted bc of very worthless things because i was basically obsessed witj you, you were my fp, if you didnt know.

completely forgot you even existed, i havent been checking your profiles at all in months. you shouldnt either, please forget about me. you'll drive yourself crazy.,

if you think im going to "cancel" you, no im not. for your sake, please dont interact with me anymore. i apologize for how i acted over stupid things, but we were both young and idiotic. im also a system, i dont even remember half of the things you did bc of that.

move on. ive moved on, weve all moved on.

dont bother yourself with me, you dont need to.

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plutos134340 · 3 months ago

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hiii pluto :3 you wanna tell me about ur ocs sooo bad /nf (also is calling you pluto ok ?)

Ooooooh i feel like i wanna tell u about them soooo badly (and yes im ok with being called pluto, it technically isnt my name- that which is natalie, but i am chill with pluto as well)

Long text under the paragraph bc i dont feel like subjecting the random viewer to a long post:

Ok so some background for the way my aus work: i suck at making my own characters, but i can like give traits and personalities to existing characters that dont have much in canon, or just replacing a pre-existing characters personality, so thats what i do time and time again. Then i make random characters for funsies

First au concept and darias place in it: So basically i had made some cliche fnaf au where like none of the kids ever died- ig i wanted some happiness in life. And i then made Daria to go along with them and she was Henry's kid and an older sister to Charlie. They also had another younger brother but he is irrelevant. She is best friends with michael afton, and was also closest to fritz and jeremy (foxy and bonnie) She is like a random oc but does has a lot of my traits bc i found it easier to cope with myself through a character with fake friendships rather than actually think about myself and the people i know.

Traits (physical and personality-wise): She is white and has pale-ish skin, and shes got shoulder-length, curly, brown hair (like 2C); she is white, and she is pretty tall. She has hazel eyes (the green and brown being separate kind of hazel because i have that eye color and i like my eyes 💀). Shes queer, specifically being bisexual and ace-spec, and is a cis girl. She is pretty down-to-earth, and is mostly a realist. One thing that has stayed true throughout her many forms is that she often forms intimate relationships with people quickly but can end up starting fights with the same people quickly. Idk where that came from but thats her.

😰😰😰😰😰😰

And now the second au and all that jazz. I know you dont know much at all about cccc but basically there are these characters Heart, Mind and Soul, who are all technically personified parts of the singer's (chonny jash) brain. In this au they are all human and like half related to their original identities. They go by the names Juno, Keene and Atlas, respectively, with the collection of their names just coming from random sources in the songs (juno and atlas) and then i just picked a random name i saw for the last bc i didnt want to pick two similar names (it would have been Apollo if i did). Bc i love music oh so much, they are all basically in a band. I loooove cliche little tropes it just soothes my mind ig, idc how basic it is and its also just easier for me to imagine. Anywho, this brings Max and Lily into the picture, along with another girl i forgot originally bc i forgot that i created her (that being Terra). Terra is the creator of this band, and Max and Lily originally come from their school's regular band.

Max: He is mixed white/southeast asian, and has tan, freckled skin and short black hair. He is around 5'11. He has a pretty chill and kind personality, and can come off either quiet or loud/intense depending on where he is. He often pokes fun at people but never really crosses the line. In their little band he plays most woodwind instruments, mainly the saxophone. He is bisexual and a cis guy.

Lily (full name being Liliana): She is a Latina and is 5'2. She has long, wavy, black hair, tan skin, and dark brown eyes. She is very sweet and is very in-tune with her own and others' emotions, just overall very emotionally intelligent. She can be the life of the party and lively, but is often the first person to realize if someone else is having a bad time, but also wont jeopardize her own mental health in sake of someone else's just to please them. As said before she came from a general concert band before, and plays the trumpet and the flute mainly. She is straight and cis, but doesnt really put too much thought into her identity anyways.

Terra, who i somehow forgot when answering the ask: She is 5'11 as well, and is a Black woman. She has curly hair, which she keeps at around chin length, and it is black with dyed brown highlights. She was originally more reserved than the others, but has opened up to all of the group members and is pretty talkative. As mentioned before, she is the creator of this little band, and plays the drums. She is a trans girl.

Ok so yeah those are them. I kinda just picked a few categories (that being how they look and basic identity things, some personality stuff, and any sexual or gender orientations) to talk about for each and i hope i stuck to that setup well enough. The other three from the second one are like technically not ocs but i like hijacked their actual personalities and gave them new ones but i did not talk about them bc i do not need to ramble THAT much.

#regarding that last point #i could go on about the other three bc theyre the main ppl ofc #i just dont need to go on for too long #(but i can)#asks #🗣️#ocs #new tag woahhh

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volivolition · 9 months ago

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Ok, ok, rank all the skills from your favorite to least.

You can do this two ways:

* just a big tierlist with all of them (can also include the funky ones [limbic system, ancient reptilian brain and tie])

* or 4 tierlistes with all the types separated

(You can choose what you like more)

Good luck >:]c

OH THIS IS SO FUNNY BECAUSE IVE HAD THIS TIERLIST READY FOR A WEEK NOW HAKJSH <33

it must be said that i love all of them, even the ones on lower tiers. they're all so lovable in their own ways <33

limbic and reptilian brain are both in the blue tier after half light! and the tie would be in a space between yellow and green called "you are funny but im just not a tie kinda guy" hkjhg

EDIT: NOTES ON PLACEMENTS BELOW THE CUT!!

purple heart 💜 means ive got the gist down for their character study chapter in Swept Up (AKA i understand them a little better) and blue heart 💙 means i have a design for them. both of these boost them a bit hkjgh <3

Shivers, my city, my beloved of all time, La Revacholiere... what can't i say about her. she's everything actually. the world who loves you. the world can be saved. you can save her. Shivers!!! I adore you!!!!! 💜💙

EMPATHY!! My chosen signature skill! i have very high empathy and it is hell and empathy also struggles with that and imjgkjh hugs him. hugs him. you can be masc and sensitive and kind and loving, me handshake empathy. I love understanding people, i love you empathy you're so cool and im writing a whole ass fic about you. 💜💙

Volition. of course. if i said everything i loved about him we'd be here a LOOONG time. i love you "boring" skill, i love that you want to keep me alive, i love that you made a holy vow to keep harry alive, i love your poignant quotes and your silly quotes and everything you say ever and i love knights and protectors and imgnkjhf. YOU ARE WHY IT'S BEEN 0 DAYS WITHOUT ME CRYING OVER THE SKILLS!!!! dude you are so dear to me, i wish i could hug you, i am never going to be normal about you, there's a reason i named my blog after you hkjh 💜💙

Electrochemistry!! if he wasn't in besties, he would be in "You are so fucking funny" but i do adore him... im used to being called a "smol innocent uwu bean pure cinnamon roll aroace" YOU KNOW THE TYPE, and writing echem has let me write silly stupid pick up lines and inappropriate jokes that im constantly withholding. you are. so tragic funny, your lines make me laugh and then i'll sit and stare at a wall when i think about you too hard. i KNOW you can heal my guy im kissing you directly on the forehead 💜💙

Perception!!! HONESTLY perception could go into the besties category, i LOVE it, but i think friends suits it better. that's my senses and im very fond of it. guy who tells me what i see!! 💜💙

Esprit De Corps :]!! im very fond of getting to hear what the precinct is up to, and also what kim is thinking! Esprit is very community focused to me. 💜

Inland Empire! ohh my guy you say the darnedest things!! you're so interesting. used to be a skill i knew how to write for but like... i forgot?? somehow?? dude where'd you go come back??? i need to research him and write his character study so i can GET HIM AGAIN!! dude i love the words you say... 💙

Interfacing, THIS GUY!! love this guy. just a little tinkerer, prefers machines over people because he knows how they work. helps us get closer to kim! he's a sweetie... 💜💙

Reaction Speed! GUY JUST GOES FAST, catch what you miss, fast reflex fella!! reaction speed you're so fun, go swoosh for real...

Hand/Eye Coordination!! dude you are funny, i love that he just wants to throw things and catch things and shoot guns. very endeared by him hkjddh 💜💙

COMPOSURE YOU ARE INTEGRAL AND ALSO FUNNY. masking king and i LOVE characters who are really good at being the serious straightman of the group but are actually really silly and hide their emotions well, composure you are a queen and i love you. 💜💙

Drama!! ough. my liege, let's lie for fun. WHY?? WHAT?? YOU'RE SO FUNNY WHAT???? your whimsy is beautiful, ive always wanted to be a theater kid 💜

Savoir Faire!! you're SO COOL LITTLE GUY YOU'RE SO FUNNY AND SUAVE. i think you're so amusing savvy you're dear to me. DEAR TO ME!!!!

Pain Threshold! dude what is wrong with you (affectionate). thank you for helping me through pain, and your over-masochistic tendencies are extremely amusing to me. dude what is WRONG with you (endeared) 💜💙

Physical Instrument, THE COACH HIMSELF!! god dude, you almost went into the Threatening tier but no, no, you're too funny. i think you're so amusing, why do you SAY THINGS like that dude hkjgh. guy who wants us to jog and lift weights and hit things and is fucking hilarious about it?? i headcanon him as keeping most of the gym teacher memories, so he's good with kids... 💜

Suggestion!! dude you have some WILD ASS suggestions and i love you for it hkjhg

Encyclopedia is up here because of skillsposting i WILL NOT LIE, otherwise he'd be with the rest of the intellect skills hkjfh but also ency is so goddamn funny, i love your infodumps dude, i love that you just say random shit? the pop quiz and the contact mike... dude you're just. what!! (affectionate) i love the fucking shit you remember dude. sorry i just added 50 new words to swept up about him hkjhg 💜💙

Visual Calculus, this is my friend who can make cool light projections and i am FOND OF THEM, i think they're neat!!

Conceptualization, artiste extraordinaire, i ENJOY YOU!! i really like my design for xim, but im still working on her characterization. i love artists. i feel like she wants to see the beauty in things... i appreciate xer :] 💜💙

Logic, pretty neutral about this guy actually, but i do love a skill who tries to get everyone on track hskjsh 💜💙?

Rhetoric! im glad you help us talk good dude!! but you are so very argumentative and im bad at confrontation hkjdh i love communism though, you're so right for that 💜?💙?

Horrific Necktie! my guy please don't choke us and also you are a little too wild for me!! your suggestions are not what i want to do hakjhs but you're amusing and i like you.

Authority! dude, dude, i HATE confrontation nooooo hhkjh!!!! please don't make me exercise my position as a cop noOOOO!!! but i do love you though, you're in charge of some VERY important checks and you're very amusing.

HALF LIGHT ACTUALLY, we're switching her higher because i somehow forgot endurance is misogynistic and fascist?? hkgjh DIVERSITY WIN!! half light will kill everyone equally and we love him for this. like, i will not do your suggestions because i would rather not kill people, also you are very threatening and confrontational, but thank you for looking out for me?? i made a design for her and i think shes so interesting. shes very scared all the time and is not having a good time and i understand little one i get it :'] i will wrap you in blankets (you will burn them and thats okay) 💜💙

Endurance, my guy PLEASSEEEE get better ideology, but you're part of health gang squad and also want harry to live and you remind me of an older sibling who feels like he has to be the strong one while everyone else is weak, so you can stand in the way and protect the ones who can't take a blow. you will endure it... smiles sadly at him... 💙

Limbic System and Ancient Reptilian Brain!! i do love you, i promise, but the voice in my head that tells me i should sleep forever and never wake up has spoken to me for a long time and IM NOT LISTENING ANYMORE!!! we gotta live, little guys. there's a life worth living, worth waking up for. i know it's hard, little guys, but there's a future for us, i promise. also, lovely singing both of you!!

ough. in general i love all the skills. they all want what's best for harry but each of their definitions of "what's best for harry" skew wildly from "live a quiet, normal life" to "learn everything and infodump it to everyone" to "do every drug ever and then drink a whole bar's worth of liquor so you can get dopamine" to "go back to being a gym teacher!" to "FUCKING KILL EVERYONE YOU'RE NOT SAFE HERE" to "it's better in the dark isn't it? where you don't have to worry?" and im trying to understand all of their motives. i do love all of them. skills fan forever and ever <3333

OKAY THATS ALL THANKS FOR READING o7!!

#volta transmissions #hAHSKJH I HAD THIS. READY <33 i hope you are ready for an ask back because i wanna see your faves too <3!!!#volta do mar is actually up there with besties if we count her hkjhg i love you volta do mar... i have many thoughts about you.#kinetic dressage is with ''my friends'' if they count too. ough. kim skills :]!!#task: swept up #esprit: Red

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