#i literally did not do anything in 3 years it's not an exaggeration. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

tangerineastronaut · 8 days ago

Note

Hi! I saw you take requests.

May I request something with GOT7 Jackson Wang and best friend!reader, in which the reader starts developing feelings for him and start thinking he’s the one for her? <3

Friends, Just for Now | Jackson Wang (Part 1)

Part 2

The one where your best friend can't keep his secret anymore (and you're oblivious).

Pairing: Jackson Wang (GOT7) x Fem!Reader Genre: Fluff, BestFriend!Reader, idiots to lovers Requested: Yes w.c. 6.6k (oops) Warnings: Cheating (not between jackson and reader), lots of profanity, nicknames, namecalling, minor injury, reader wouldn't know love if it smacked her in the head, holy shit they're kind of annoying af A/N: this was so fun to write, love me a good idiots friends to lovers. I'm also cheesy af, feel free to call me out. Please excuse any errors there may be, I usually proofread after posting. ❣️The love I received on my yunho imagine has literally made me do happy dances, I haven't posted anything on tumblr in 8 years and you guys are just literally the best. I love you all so much! Requests: Open (link below)

Requests | WIPs Masterlists: BTS | ATEEZ | GOT7 | Stray Kids

🎧 FRI(END)S by V

“Come on, pie, I told you this was gonna happen. You never listen.”

Two things went through your mind, though you refused to lift your head from where it was tucked against your knees.

One, you hated that nickname. Pie. He thought it was so cute, and it probably would’ve died off had you not reacted to it the way you did. One missed smear of cherry on your nose 3 years ago and suddenly you’ve been christened. It was his favorite story to tell.

And two, Jackson Wang was going to get his shit rocked if he didn’t leave you alone.

“Fuck off,” you say bitterly, pulling further into yourself.

He was right. He had warned you.

You’d hoped Leejin was different, that the rumors were just exaggerated. Surely he didn’t cheat on every girlfriend…right?

“Wrong,” Jackson had laughed. “He’s a fucking dog, y/n.”

You’d rolled your eyes, and then Jackson said three words to you that had kind of hurt. Not kind of. A lot. They’d hurt a lot.

“You’re not special.”

Leejin was so nice, he was smart and funny and headed for a successful career with his family’s business (so what if his parents probably paid off the school to make sure those student conduct violations never stuck). You wanted to be special. Spent 4 months trying to be. It wasn't an eternity, but you tended to put your whole heart into everything, and it almost always ended up like this.

But Jackson’s words rang true, painfully so, when you received a text from an unknown number earlier today—screenshots of messages between Leejin and some girl, including explicit photos. The unnamed person had said nothing else; you wondered if it was the girl from the screenshots, but you didn’t reply. You simply texted Leejin to go fuck himself before blocking him on everything, running straight home to your apartment, praying that Jackson wasn’t there. He was, of course, as you split the rent. You hated the look on his face when you barged in, nose red and snotty from crying.

It wasn’t smug, it was just…"come on, pie, I told you this was gonna happen."

You heard him sigh now, no doubt running a hand through his hair. It was blonde; you’d made fun of him at the time he'd dyed it though begrudgingly had to admit it suited him. But he was going to be bald before he was 40 if he didn’t stop tugging at it when he was stressed.

“Hey. Hey, stop. I hate it when you cry, you know, makes my joints hurt or something,” he says, kneeling beside you.

The fuck…? What does that even—

But you were too upset to stop, so he muttered under his breath, poking at your head until you whipped it up to slap him away. He looked like such a boy, hugging his knees and giving you a pleading look. Fine. Bastard.

You sighed and uncurled yourself, your knees screaming from the pain of turning into a human rollie pollie for the last half hour. Jackson sighed as well, no doubt relieved that you weren’t ugly crying anymore.

He waited until your sniffles were a few minutes apart before moving, sitting criss cross on the floor. His brown eyes were soft, a rarity, truly, though you knew he was already formulating ways to tease you about this when it was more irritating than painful.

“Done?” he asks, more to comfort himself than you. You sniff and nod, wiping your nose on your sleeve. Well, his sleeve. He made a face, realizing that you were wearing one of his sweatshirts, but made the apparent decision to yell at you later.

“Don’t be mean to me,” you mumble, resting your cheek on your knee.

“When am I ever?”

“Jackson, I swear to fucking—”

“I didn’t say anything, pie.”

“If you don’t drop that god damned nickname, it was one time, one little bit of cherry filling, I don’t even like cherry pie, you’re so fucking annoying—”

It was his turn to interrupt, but he didn’t. He just watched you, an irritating twinkle of amusement in his eyes. You scoffed and tucked your face away again, wishing he’d stop looking at you like that. Or at all, really. If there was one thing you’d learned after being friends with him for so long…the asshat had some eyes on him. Had this way of using his gaze to set the mood, able to stop your arguments or rile you up with micro expressions like an olympic gold medalist of manipulation.

“Want some ramen?” he asks, tilting his head as though speaking to a kicked dog. You crinkle your nose without looking at him. “Want some cake? Some candy?”

“I want you to leave me alone,” you grumble.

“Want a bath?”

You sigh, refusing to humor him with an answer he already had. He snapped his fingers like he’d just solved the equation of the century, having the audacity to ruffle your hair as he stepped over you unnecessarily to get to the door. You could hear him down the hall, the sound of the bathroom cabinets opening and closing, the water running, hopefully set on hot like you liked.

“You're out of bath bombs,” he called. You frown.

“I’m not, they’re under the sink.”

“Why’d you move them? Next to your menstrual equipment, eww.”

That’s why. You felt sorry for whatever unfortunate woman Jackson decided to wife up—the man was addicted to hot baths and cotton candy bath bombs. You’d have to move them again though, now that he knew about your stash. Besides, you’d sent him to the shop more than a few times when you were cramping and out of pads (and chocolate); he would not be impeded by them.

Jackson was waiting for you by the time you dragged yourself to the small shared bathroom. He bowed dramatically, gesturing toward the tub which was steaming hot, as you liked—a meal’s gotta cook.

You mumble a thank you as he walks past, though he pauses in the doorway, eyes narrowed.

“Get naked, and give me my damn sweatshirt,” he says, pointing accusingly at you. You pout, immediately clutching your pearls.

“Is that why you never get laid? Jesus, would’ve thought you were smoother than that,” you huff. He impatiently tugs at your sleeve, rolling his eyes in that sassy way that always made you giggle and made him more irritated—a win win scenario.

“It’s a $30 shirt, not a snot rag…pie.”

“You’re a snot rag,” you mumble. You turn your back to him, crossing your arms at the hem and tugging it over your head. You were still in a bra thankfully, though still covered your chest as you tossed the material at him.

Jackson caught it smoothly, though he wasn’t even looking at the sweatshirt. You didn’t realize he was looking at you until you reached for the button of your jeans. His eyes weren’t lower than your lips, but he looked a little…off. You expected a joke about a food baby or maybe how pale you’ve gotten, but he says nothing.

“Hello?” you say, shaking your head. “Is that all? Want my pants too? Gonna do my laundry for a change?”

Jackson blinks like his brain finally returned to his skull. He bit the inside of his cheek, shaking his head and backing out of the doorway. Before he closed the door, however, his eyes leveled with yours, so intense it made your breath catch in your throat. Was he mad? Over a sweatshirt?

“Leejin is a fucking idiot,” he says before turning on his heel and heading down the hall.

You stare at the spot where he stood, even after he’s gone. The hell was his problem now?

By the time you’ve finished your glorious bath, you waltz into the living room like a princess. Jackson looks up from his place on the sofa, deadpanning and tossing his phone on the coffee table as he takes in the freshly purloined hoodie you're sporting.

“Gonna lock my closet,” he says, shaking his head. You beam at him, cutely crinkling your nose as you pad to the kitchen. You tug open the fridge, thinking maybe you could cook something simple for the two of you. It was kind of late to make anything grand, but you wanted more than ramen.

The empty shelves make your eye twitch.

“Seriously?” you huff, gesturing around. “Would it kill you to get groceries once?”

“You always complain when I do,” Jackson shrugs, flicking through netflix with the remote. “Got the wrong brand, got too many, didn’t get enough—”

“I always text you a detailed list, but whatever,” you grumble, low enough that it doesn’t provoke a response. “Since you’re a big man baby incapable of buying groceries, you can buy us something at the convenience store.”

“I am perfectly capable, thank you,” Jackson says, narrowing his eyes.

“Of what? Weaponized incompetence? I agree, get dressed,” you hum.

Ten minutes later, you’re walking side by side down to the convenience store. The apartment’s location was perfect—five minutes from campus one way, five to a 24 hour convenience store another. Perfect because you both had a habit of wanting to come home when you were drunk after a party, starved and craving foods that you’d regret the next day.

The doors chimed a welcome as they slid open, allowing you inside. You made a beeline for the sweets, Jackson went straight for the energy drinks.

You perused the aisle for a few minutes, making your choice and going to find your roommate. You rounded the corner and froze.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t possible to block someone in real life. So while you’d never see Leejin’s social media posts, it didn’t mean that you wouldn’t run into him on a saturday night at the convenience store near your apartment.

You feel a mix of emotions—anger, shame, disbelief among them. You knew it wasn’t impossible, it wasn’t even unlikely, as this store was one of only a few. But it felt so damn unfair that he’d happen to be here, hours after you found out about what he’d done.

“Is that all you’re getting?” Jackson snorts, frowning as he eyes your bag of chips. But he notices your stillness, following your gaze to see Leejin, casually chatting on the phone as he looks at the protein bars.

You expect him to snort, maybe make a comment just loud enough for the other to hear before pulling you away, but Jackson surges forward so quickly he nearly knocks you over. You grab his arm, both to steady him and stop him from…whatever the hell he’s doing.

“Where are you going?” you whisper, tugging him back with as much strength as you could muster.

“He broke your heart and I’m gonna break his fucking face.”

He moves again, this time dragging you along on the linoleum floor. Fortunately, Leejin is too preoccupied with his call to notice. The thought makes your stomach twist, briefly wondering who he’s talking to.

“You’re gonna get us kicked out, what’s the matter with you?” you hiss, trying to shake sense into him. Jackson yanks his arm away from you, dropping the energy drinks on the nearest shelf before storming off. You stare after him, mouth agape in disbelief.

You arrive home 15 minutes later, having hid near the bathrooms until Leejin had left. You’d bought (and paid for, irritatingly) your snacks and Jackson’s drinks, but when you shove into the apartment, it’s empty. Lights off, no sign of him. You worry for a few seconds—had he waited for you and bumped into Leejin instead? But you surely would’ve heard something outside. You opt to text him and choose to believe he’s being broody and walking through the streets like a sad music video.

> what the fuck? is your deal? Where are you??

You’re confused and groggy when someone taps at your cheek, not realizing you’d even fallen asleep on the couch. You rub at your eyes, squinting, processing the sight of Jackson standing over you, t-shirt stuck to his form, beads of sweat rolling down his cheeks.

You’ve had weird dreams about him before, ones that you’d rather never speak of again, and they usually start out like this. But this Jackson rolls his eyes in a way that sweet, sweet dream Jackson would never.

“Get up, jesus. Your back is going to hurt,” he says. You slowly sit up, realizing he’s right. Apparently not only had you fallen asleep on the couch, but you’d fallen asleep sitting up, sleeping in an unnatural slouched position.

“Ow…”

“Told you.”

“No it’s…hey,” you snap, waking up a bit more now that you remember that you’re actually pissed at him. “It’s your fucking fault, what happened to you? You just disappeared! I was worried!”

You’re surprised to see Jackson bristle. He’s not shaken easily, least of all by you, but he glances to the side and tugs at his t-shirt, separating it from his damp skin.

“Went to the gym. Figured I should cool off,” he says. You want to be pissed at him more, say something else, but your back hurts and you’re sleepy. Plus, you’re glad to see he’s alright. Mostly.

“Whatever,” you finally grumble, trying to stretch out your neck. “What time is it?”

“Dunno, around 2 a.m.,” he replies casually. “I’m gonna shower.”

“Great,” you huff. “You go shower. I’ll go roll over and die happy now that I know you’re alive.”

You stumble down the hall to your room, sighing at the sight of your unmade bed. What was the point if you were going to mess it up anyway? You hear Jackson follow shortly after, the bathroom door opening and closing. The shower starts, and you shuffle beneath the covers.

You wake up not long after, whining in protest as you’re jostled.

“It’s me,” Jackson says, rudely pushing you over. “Scoot.”

You wanted to shove him away, to point out that “scoot” should be said before you rob someone of their bed, but you can’t be bothered. Besides, once he settles next to you, you realize that he’s not wearing a shirt and he smells nice and clean.

Sleepy, groggy, annoyed, relieved, you curl against him like a bunny seeking warmth. You feel him stiffen, though you think little of it.

“What are you doing?” he asks, not sounding the least bit tired. You couldn’t say the same for yourself, unable to open your eyes as you reply.

“Mm. ‘s warm down here. Night night.”

You hear him sigh, then shuffle, and then he’s rolled over to face you, offering a human-made cocoon that you happily burrow into. He’s soft and warm and smells like his manly body wash—and your shampoo, damn it.

“Goodnight, y/n,” he says, soft enough to count but not enough for you to notice.

Waking up tangled with Jackson was, unfortunately (?), not all that unusual. When you were upset, you found your way to his bed, and despite his protests you knew he didn't actually mind. It went both ways—you'll die before you admit that you like it, if only because he's a human heater.

You still feel groggy, squinting and fumbling around for your phone. Such a task is difficult when there's deadweight slung over your waist, but you manage, bringing the device to your face.

10:43 a.m.

Oh good. You slept 8 hours—and half the day away, to your brain at least. You toss your phone down, debating whether or not you should just go back to sleep. You choose instead to roll over, addressing the sleeping shirtless man keeping you pinned to your bed.

Your camera roll was filled with photos just like this, because Jackson slept like a baby. Literally. Hands curled into fists, face relaxed, head tilted to the side. His blonde hair is mussed from sleeping with it wet last night, and you dodn't hesitate to run your fingers through it for no reason at all. It was soft and surprisingly thick, but you weren't about to dial back on the baldness theory.

Jackson stirred, though didn't wake up, shifting to lie on his back. Freed from your restraints, you sat up and had to cover your mouth to stifle a laugh.

Of course the curtains parted like that, of course he was sleeping like a prince now, sunlight arcing off of his jaw—it even highlighted his stubble in an annoyingly poetic way. What kind of gods were kind enough to give him of all people that face?

He really was kinda...pretty.

No, not kinda. Jackson Wang was beautiful. You were his best friend, but you weren't blind. Maybe you'd become a little numb to his charms, but you'd seen what he could do to people with just a look, even without malicious intent. He was charismatic on top of that, though you were the only one who got to see the side of him that wasn't.

The side that stole your shampoo and commandeered your bed, anyway.

So fine, you knew he was pretty. But he was kinda sorta extra pretty right now, and maybe you wanted to remember it later.

You shifted to grab your phone—a never-ending quest for material to bully each other over—but the movement apparently jostled him awake. You sheepishly smiled as he blinked a few times, using the heel of his palm to rub the blurriness away.

"Really?" he asked, voice rough, eyes leveling to the phone in your hand. "Fucking creep."

"You have like a thousand pictures of me sleeping," you point out, narrowing your eyes. Jackson nods, rolling over and hugging your waist, his head resting against your hip.

"That I do—you're cute when you drool all over yourself. I'm working on a collage."

"Asshole," you mutter, prying his arms off of you. You make an attempt to escape, but as expected, you're smoothly hauled back down.

"Where you going?"

"I need to pee, wanna come with?"

"It's early."

"It's almost 11."

"Yeah, early."

Jackson grunts before you can reply, practically placing you in a chokehold as he rolls over. You have no choice but to go with him, ending up flopped over his chest like a dead fish.

He says nothing for a moment, and you wonder if he's fallen back asleep. It's not difficult to squirm out of his grasp this time, though rather than allowing you to slide off, the apparently-awake-Jackson moves both hands to your hips.

Your stomach does that funny thing it sometimes does around him, like a little alarm that says 'hey! getting too close!' Listening to this alarm had prevented a lot of mistakes over the course of your friendship, mistakes like wanting to kiss him when you were tipsy, noticing the way he looked after a long workout, hair plastered to his forehead, the fuzziness you felt that time your heating pad broke, and his warm hands wound up on the lower half of your tummy to stave off the cramps.

Mistakes like that.

His eyes open again, and you do your best to look irritated.

"I'm sorry about last night," he says, suddenly unnaturally serious. "I was just trying to cool off, and my phone died, so I didn't see your text until after I got home."

You're not really sure how to respond—it was always strange when conversations got like this between you, regardless of the topic. It was so jarring, so far from the usual cracked out nonsense. You decided to nod, then shake your head, then nod again.

Jackson was a badass, most people knew as much. He was trained in martial arts and practically ate protein for every meal. But despite this, he wasn't typically an aggressive guy. You'd only ever seen him throw one punch—an ex of yours a couple years ago who threatened to post a nude photo of you. Needless to say, the guy deleted them, made difficult thanks to the blood smearing his screen as it dripped from his nose.

"It's fine, I get it," you say. "Just...why were you so mad at him? Did he do something to you?"

Jackson blinks up at you, shifting so that he's partially sitting up on his elbows.

"I told you, y/n," he says, shaking his head like you're an idiot. "He broke your heart, I was gonna break his face. You should've let me get one hit in at least."

"He didn't break my heart," you groan, rolling your eyes. "It wasn't that serious, you know that. We'd only been dating for 4 months."

"...I watched you cry for an hour because someone stepped on a worm—"

"—that's different. It's literally a living little creature, what if that's someone's girlfriend, hm? What if she asked her boyfriend 'would you still love me if I was a worm' and he said yes except now they can't live wormily ever after because she's smushed all because some horrible person can't be bothered to step aside for a worm?"

Jackson stared up at you, blinking slowly, looking 175% done with your shit.

"What the fuck is wormily ever after?"

You sigh, leaning forward until your head is on his bare shoulder. You have half a mind to bite him, though you resist. You will be civil—for now.

"I don't know," you mumble. "No early birds, no hot sidewalks?"

"I....you're so fucking weird."

"Lots of guys are dickheads, but you were ready to knock him out. Really, Jackson, was that all? Promise he didn't say something to you?" you ask, voice muffled against his warm skin. Just one lil munch. It'd be good payback for him scaring the hell out of you last night.

Jackson exhales, and there's suddenly a hand tugging at your tangled mess of bedhead until you're sitting up, looking down at him.

"I wanted to kick his ass for the same reason that I never bring anyone home," he says quietly. His eyes are serious, no sparkle of humor in them, and it makes your stomach twist. You didn't like it when Jackson got serious.

"What? Because of me?" you ask. "I don't care who you fuck as long as I don't have to cook them breakfast."

Mostly true—you were afraid of walking out of your bedroom one morning and running into a really pretty girl, someone with perfect grades and clear skin, who has the audacity to be beautiful and nice. Someone only Jackson deserves. But you leave that bit out and give him a half teasing smile.

Jackson doesn't return it. He grunts, moving his hand up to tug at his hair. You slip yours beneath his, mumbling for him to stop doing that.

"You really don't?" he finally asks, swallowing hard enough that you see his throat move.

"Don't what?"

"You don't care who I fuck?"

His question catches you off guard, though not as much as the fact that he still looks dead serious. This seems like something the two of you should be laughing over—not something to talk about whilst you're currently straddling your best friend in your bed, who happens to be naked from the waist up.

"I mean...no?" you say, shaking your head in confusion. "Should I?"

"I don't know, should you?"

Should you? What the hell was that supposed to mean? You didn't like riddles, and this felt like one. You'd tried to stay out of his business over the four years you've been friends, though come to think of it...you'd never met any of his girlfriends after the first six months. You'd assumed he was so busy with classes and his extracurriculars that there just wasn't much time for anything past shallow hookups.

But...you couldn't remember a single time that had occurred. He was home every night, never brought company over for that purpose.

"Jackson," you say quietly, palms resting on his chest. When the hell did he get so muscular? There was a noticable firmness beneath your fingers, and you briefly considered billing Leejin for your services in making sure he didn't get the shit beat out of him. "I feel like this is an inside joke and I'm out of the loop. You're upset? Why?"

"Why would I be?" he counters, irritatingly smooth. The hands on your hips squeeze once, like he's trying to talk to you in morse code. It's annoying.

"Quit," you mumble, biting your lower lip. "I'm trying. Stop being mean and just tell me."

He sighs, moving a hand to his face.

"If you don't already know, then it doesn't matter, alright?"

"Wh—"

You're cut off as he suddenly shifts from beneath you, leaving you tumbling to the sheets when he stands. Just like the last two times for some damn reason, he prepares to storm out of the room.

"Jackson, wait—shit."

You trip over the edge of your nightstand, catching yourself on your hands. Your lamp tumbles to the floor, thankfully not shattering on the carpet. Still, the ache brings tears to your eyes, and you bite the inside of your cheek as you sit down.

"How many times have I told you to push that against the wall!?" Jackson says, rushing over to you. You lean back against your bed, grimacing as you look at your knee. It's not the worst scrape you've ever gotten, but it is bleeding, and it burns.

"Hang on, pie." He leaves the room, and by the time he returns with the pack of bandaids and peroxide, you're covering your face with one hand and hugging your knee with the other.

"Hey, it's not so bad," he says, obviously in partial panic mode as he kneels in front of you and tugs at your ankle. He probably thought that's why you were in tears, but it was moreso the fact that he was being...just...weird, and you didn't like it.

You quietly sit there, hands over your eyes as he uses a cotton ball to dab at the blood. You don't even flinch, it doesn't burn—perks of having an MMA star for a roommate; he knew how to bandage a cut (a common occurence for your clumsy ass, unfortunately).

After a few minutes, he pats the side of your calf, and you finally uncover your eyes. There's a bandaid over the scrape now, and you let your knee fall to the side. Jackson is looking at you, and you nod.

"That's good, thanks," you mumble quietly.

"You sure?" he asks. You frown, nodding quickly. But his hand moves up to your cheek, cupping it as his thumb swipes below your eye.

Tears.

That alarm goes off inside of you, but Jackson doesn't move his hand, so you let it sit there and you feel your stomach tying itself into a knot. You're a little worried it's not gonna come undone.

"I wasn't crying because of that," you say, swallowing as you glance away shamefully. "I...I don't like this, Jackson. Feels weird. If I did something to make you mad, I wish you'd just tell me—"

"I'm not mad at you," he replies. You sniff, and finally his hand slips away, though only to rest on your uninjured knee. His fingers twitch, like he wants to do something but won't let himself. Slap you, maybe, for never listening to him and always ending up hurt because of it. You would, if you were him.

"You keep running away from me," you point out, a little surge of anger from last night returning. "You keep acting like I'm supposed to know everything you're thinking, and I don't, because you won't tell me stuff. I tell you stuff, the least you could do is text me a grocery list of what the fuck is going on inside of your brain, so I'm not sitting here thinking I'm gonna lose my best friend and roommate over something I don't even know that I've done. I'm sorry we ran into Leejin, it's not like I knew he was gonna be there. I'm sorry for thinking I was special in the first place and ending up where you said I'd be."

Jackson sighs and tilts his head, and you hate yourself for crying more. It wasn't a big deal, things were a little crazy after yesterday. You didn't even love Leejin, it had just...hurt? Your pride? No one wants to know they're less than a second choice. But Jackson had acted like Leejin was out for his blood, and every time he runs away, it feels like he's escaping you.

"You're not gonna lose me," he finally says, glancing down at the floor. "I just...I've got a lot of shit to work through, you know? It's not...it's not your fault though."

"Like what?" you ask, worry lining your brow. "If you'd just—is it money? Because we can figure out rent—"

"It's not money," he interrupts. "I promise, it's nothing like that."

"Then what?" You huff, a little more irritated than concerned. "Parents? Grades? Girl trouble?"

"Yeah," he nods, licking his lips. "That last bit."

"Girl trouble?" you ask, somewhat surprised. For some reason, the fact that he hadn't told you about a girl bothered you more than the idea that there was one at all. You shared everything with him; if he'd kept her a secret, it had to have been a little more serious.

"Do I know her?" you ask tentatively. Please say no, I don't want to go through a list of the hottest girls I know.

"Yeah," he replies. Fuck.

"Oh. How long have you been dating?"

"We're not."

"Then...?"

"She's an idiot."

"It's a mystery as to why you're single, really," you say, rolling your eyes. "So she's an idiot because she won't date you? Sounds kind of shallow on your end."

"She's an idiot because she keeps dating jackasses who don't give a shit about her. I don't give a damn if she ever chooses me or not," he says plainly. You frown.

"Maybe she's insecure?"

"She is. Very."

"Huh. Is she pretty?"

"Beautiful."

"Oh. Hm."

Well what the fuck were you supposed to say to that? Congratulations? Sorrows, sorrows, prayers?

"Okay..." you say after a beat. You were not good with advice, especially when it came to love, obviously. He didn't say love though. Infatuation, maybe. Still, you were not an expert. "So if she keeps dating jackasses and won't date you, why do you bother? Why not just forget about her?"

Jackson's eye twitches. You don't notice.

"Hard to forget someone you see every day, pie," he says. You scoff.

"Okay, I'm calling bullshit. I'm literally the only person you see every day."

"Mhm."

"Then you're lying?" you ask. Jackson deadpans.

"Please, for the love of god, never reproduce."

"Rude," you mutter. "Fine, so I know her, she's insecure, pretty, dates assholes, you allegedly see her everyday?"

"All of the above," he says. You frown, lips pursing as you rack your brain for answers, going through the hot insecure girls you know like a filing cabinet.

Wait.

Your eyes widen. Jackson's do the same, and then he smiles, like he's proud of you.

"Oh my god, is it Kim Sujin?" You ask, covering your mouth. "The girl with the—"

"Jesus fucking christ, y/n," he groans, running a hand through his hair. "Are you...you're fucking with me? That's what this is. You're not this dumb, right? Please say no. I feel like I'm in middle school right now, holy shit."

You open your mouth to argue, to insist he was being unfair (you didn't even like puzzles!) but he suddenly leans forward, palms cupping both of your cheeks. He pulls you toward him, nose inches from yours. You've been this close to him before, but you're suddenly dizzy now, a little out of it as you wonder if this is really happening to you—or if this is another sweaty-jackson-standing-over-me dream. Jackson, who has freckles on the tip of his nose and won't stop looking at you like that, the knot pulling tighter and tighter.

"Stop thinking before you hurt yourself. 'm gonna kiss you now, is that okay?" he asks.

Is that oka—?

"Kiss?" you mumble, swallowed up by those god damn pretty brown eyes. Jackson nods, head tilted, primed to kiss the cluelessness out of you, apparently. "Y-yeah, that's fine."

"It's gonna be...it's gonna be a lot, okay? Like not just a peck. You're fine with that?"

"Yep," you nod.

Jackson nods back. And then he kisses you.

He doesn't release your face, squishing your body between himself and the bed behind you. His lips press to yours, insistent and warm, though you can tell he's being cautious—if you wanted to push him away, you could. But you did not want to do that.

Because Jackson Wang was kissing you, and he's a really good kisser.

You briefly forget that you have hands, so when you remember, you waste no time in using them. One cups his jaw, feeling the edge of it press into your palm. The other fists his blonde hair, tugging it gently.

Jackson groans into your mouth, and that alarm in your belly turns into a fucking war drum. You feel the knot tighten and snap, and suddenly you're pushing him back, scrambling into his lap.

You kind of want more, kind of want to put your tongue in his mouth because he's warm and tastes good and you can only imagine how much better it would be, but he beats you to it. His tongue swipes over your lower lip and you eagerly open for him. He breathes in as soon as you do, and it feels like he's stealing your soul. Fuck it? He can have it?

It's messy, a tad bit desperate, definitely not the poetic kiss of rom coms, but you don't give a shit. It feels good, feels warm and right, like you've been kissing him in your head every day for the past 4 years.

By the time you manage to separate, you're trembling an embarassing amount. You'd blame the buzz on coffee if you'd had any, but you just hide your flushed cheeks and rest your forehead against his shoulder. You can tell that for once, Jackson's brain seems to also have short circuited, as it takes him a minute before he finally wraps his arms around you. You can hear his breath—as shaky as yours, thank god.

"Was that okay? Was it weird? Did I make you uncomfortable?" he asks, tilting back on one palm to look at you, his other arm secured around your waist. You sit up, shamelessly biting your lower lip, refusing to meet his eyes. He mistakes this for discomfort, all but shoving you out of his lap, hands flying to his hair.

"Fuck, I...I shouldn't have...I didn't mean to. I wasn't gonna...I'm so fucking sorry y/n, if you want me to move out—"

"You're gonna go bald," you mumble, a little blitzed out as you rest on your hands.

"Huh?"

"Nevermind. Stop freaking out, okay?" you offer, finally looking up at him. God he looks...scared. Hair messy, brown eyes wide. So unlike his usual cocky self that you're a little shaken, caught between wanting to protect him and wanting to kiss him again.

"I didn't make you uncomfortable, did I?" he asks softly. That alarm is now everywhere, setting off in your chest at his concerned tone. You shake your head.

"No. I'm okay," you reassure him. "A little irritated."

Jackson's head snaps up, worry on his face. You feel guilty, so you quickly clarify.

"You said I'm not special," you say quietly, looking away. "If you were talking about me just now...why did you tell me that?"

He looks confused, like he can't remember (of all the things he's said to bully you—while you kept a detailed record). But he seems to finally recall the conversation, rubbing his forehead as his lips spread into a smile.

"What's funny?" you puff.

"I meant to him, pie. You're not special to him. Not that you weren't special at all, or to...to me," he explains, looking part amused and part shy. You soften a bit, unable to help but pout.

"Then you should say that!" you say, gesturing at nothing. "You can't just go around telling people they aren't special."

"I don't make you feel special?" he asks, dipping his head to meet your eyes.

Well, yes, but that's not the point. You choose not to reply.

Just like most things when it comes to you, however, he already knows the answer. He looks a little too proud of himself as he reaches for your wrist, pulling you back into him. You're not quite in his lap, but you lean heavily against his side, your chin resting against his chest.

"What if we mess it up?" you ask, looking up at him. He frowns, not understanding. "Us. What if...what if we mess us up?"

"I don't see how we would," he laughs. "We're practically married."

"Gross. We are not."

"We split the bills, pie."

"Most roommates do."

"We cook together."

"Most roommates do."

"My mother loves you."

"Your mother loves everyone."

"Not true. And my father loves you."

You pause, then squint.

"Your father has good taste," you say. Jackson rolls his eyes. He looks a little conflicted, like he can't decide what's too much, what's too soon.

"I do," he says quietly.

You hate that, for once in your life, you know exactly what he's saying without him saying it. And god damn it, you feel your eyes burning.

"Don't...ugh," you whine, looking away from him. But he's not having it, taking your chin and tilting your face up. You're faced with glassy eyes that make you want to die.

You hated it when he cried. Maybe you make his joints hurt or whatever, but you've only seen Jackson cry twice, once when his family dog died, and another when he was drunk and had convinced himself you weren't his friend anymore. Both times, you'd never felt so helpless. The way you feel now.

"Y/n, I—"

"Please don't," you breathe quickly, swallowing down your tears. You immediately panic at the look on his face, like you've slapped him. But you tuck your hair behind your ear and shake your head.

"No, I-I mean, I know you do, and I...I'm pretty sure I do too. I just...I can't say it now, alright?" you explain. "I'm sorry, I just—you know me better than anyone. I don't...don't wanna fuck it up, you know? I don't wanna lose you, I'm so bad, so stupid when it comes to this—"

"Hey, hey, shh..." Jackson says, gently shaking your chin. "I'm not upset, okay? Just relieved, a little scared. I don't want to fuck this up either, yeah? I want...I want what we are today and I want it tomorrow, even if that means we stay just like this."

His thumb brushes your lower lip. God, you want to kiss him again.

"No rush, pie, okay? I'll wait for you, even if..." he sucks in air and looks away, as though the idea hurts to even consider. "...even if it's never for us."

You want to kiss him again. Would that even be appropriate? After what you just said? After the emotions threatening to disrupt the foundation of your life for the past four years?

"Can...can I kiss you again?" he asks softly. You swallow and nod.

"Please."

Part 2 is out now!

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despazito · 24 days ago

Note

what is type drifting in dogs and what does it have to do with the chow?

It's a contentious topic, type drifting refers to the general appearance of a breed changing over time.

I should clarify that it's disingenuous to assert that dogs inherently had better structure 100 years ago, we definitely know more medically and genetically about how dogs work now than we did back then. i'll sometimes see old photos of dogs whose heads i find very pleasing but the postcranial structure is an inharmonious mess (and it's not about what 'looks' right aesthetically, the way joints are arranged decides how efficiently a dog can move which can have some big impacts on working ability and quality of life). we can thank good breeders for smoothing out a lot of those imbalances in their dogs. You know when you see a funny shelter dog that has the proportions of 3 different animals cobbled together? It is the work of breeders that purebreds as a general rule don't have that structural funkiness going on.

Over the years the desired "type" of dogs within a breed becomes standardized (after all the word conformation literally derives from "to conform"), so the population settles for a desired direction to take their breed in. The controversy starts when for whatever reason, usually a variety of factors such as judge preference, breeder preference, whose kennel is bigger or more influential in a given area, etc... that you can see desirable physical appearance drift towards certain traits over others throughout the decades.

These changes can be structurally harmless, the roman nose of the bull terrier doesn't cause any dysfunction and boils down to personal preference of what folks think a perfect bull terrier should look like. Other changes can pose more harm, such as the preference for a french bulldog to have a completely flat face+meaty neck+wider skull+pinched nostrils together creates a dog much more prone to breathing issues.

As a trend though I do feel like a handful of breeds have drifted towards a cobbier build, reduced muzzle length, a more domed head shape, more skin, and more bone. which like, isn't inherently cruel or anything, but i think we should ask ourselves why some dogs are drifting that direction because there also isn't anything to be gained from it beyond aesthetic preference.

Chow chows have gotten quite a bit meatier and stockier, here's some top chows of 2024

youtube

compared to prized chows at the turn of the 20th century when they were still novel dogs to the west, there's definitely structural differences and the dogs just looked more moderate overall.

I think where folks get confused is that it's not so much saying that meatier chow are all diseased and should cease to exist, we can still have those chows (within moderation lol), it's the frustration people like me have that the old type champion dogs if shown today would not get praised as good looking chows even though they're still purebred chows and there's nothing wrong with them! I wish clubs were more flexible in this way and were more openminded on what a purebred should look like so long as the dogs are healthy. And i don't believe drawing a line in the sand to call it a different breed is the solution either because on average purebred populations are in need of more gene flow.

How this ties in to china is that chow chow originated in china. the meatier and western type chows can be found there but so can the more moderate old type that has become harder to source from a western breeder nowadays. When you search chow chow on chinese social media (i can't read mandarin but i've copy pasted various terms from chinese dog sources) you will find a more diverse range of dogs. there are dogs that look closer to the ancestral landrace songmao, more western-style dogs, and a wide spectrum of stuff in between (unfortunately extreme breeding happens over there too, i've seen dogs with CRAZY amounts of skin that are even more exaggerated than western type).

If you're like me and have a strong preference towards the old style of chow and the native songmao i think you can understand why we have some strong opinions on the direction that western lines went lol. I'm just absolutely in love with these guys that you can still find in china, I want to meet some so bad!!

(songmao dogs)

#you activated my trap card....

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octrainrider · 2 years ago

Text

no strings attached – genji shimada

NSFW!!! MINORS DNI!!!!

a/n: hello, first post on my new blog >:3 this note is gonna be long and ramble-y so feel free to skip it. to begin with, everything about this fic was unplanned. i never planned on my first post here being overwatch related, nor did i plan on it being porn, but here we are with overwatch porn. and then, i was only trying to write a short 1-2k word valentine's day smut, but it is 2 days after valentine's and this fic is 5.5k words long with layers like a cake. this is the first thing i've written for overwatch, and also the first smut i've written in 2 years, so i may be rusty. i hope you enjoy it anyway.

word count: 5.5k

tags/summary: porn with plot (kind of), mild angst?, idiots in love. you invite genji over, hoping that having sex with him would help you get over the annoying feelings you have for him. that doesn't happen for you.

warnings: no pronouns used for reader, female genitalia is vaguely described tho, unprotected sex

edited to add: this fic is now on my ao3 as well! thanks to @smol-dragon for reminding me :3

"damn it. fuck."

you lock your phone and squeeze your eyelids shut, forcing the screen out of your vision, and throw your head back against the pillow in frustration. this is so, so stupid, you tell yourself, and it is stupid, yet you can't let it go.

you were an adult– you shouldn't be having inner turmoil about how you wanted to have sex with someone. it wasn't anything you hadn't done before, but for some reason, it was suddenly impossible to navigate.

"damn you, genji," you mutter, slapping one of your hands against your forehead.

this was all his fault. you'd never felt the urge to have sex with a coworker, honestly, the thought had never even crossed your mind... or at least, that was true until you met genji. you ignored your attraction to the cyborg at first– sure, he was nice to look at and had an alluring air of danger about him, but he was no different from cassidy in that regard. you figured whatever attraction you had to him would quickly dissipate into nothing, as it did with the cowboy, but to your dismay, it only grew stronger.

at first, you found yourself admiring the intricacy of his cybernetic body parts, and then his combat style. then, you found yourself staring at him for much longer, entranced by his form and the way he spoke.

genji himself did absolutely nothing to alleviate you of your newly-contracted disease. in fact, it almost seemed that he intentionally made it worse. he'd jump to your aid in combat, ghost his fingers across you in passing, and you caught him casting you lingering glances, though you could never tell what thoughts were going on behind his actions.

you told yourself it was probably nothing, that you were being delusional and trying to convince yourself that your crush (if you could call it that) was reciprocated. you were almost successful in convincing yourself to let it go, but the interaction between the two of you today not only reignited your thoughts of him, but intensified them.

genji had been in one of the sparring ranges at headquarters, dutifully practicing his aim, though you didn't really think it was necessary. you were observing, over-exaggerating your interest in his technique as an excuse to be around him, and offhandedly made a comment about wishing you could use a sword.

"i'd be happy to teach you," genji had replied.

you jumped at the offer, but severely overestimated yourself in terms of your sword-wielding capabilities. it looked easy, but maybe that was just because you'd only ever seen genji do it, and he made it seem effortless. after failing miserably, you were ready to crawl into a hole and die of embarrassment, but genji seemed determined to teach you.

he'd walked up behind you, using one hand to correct your posture, and the other to guide your hands into the correct position along the sword's hilt. you were almost literally on fire underneath his touch, and it was suddenly very difficult to focus on what you were doing.

"i think this might be a waste of time," you'd commented, staring down intently at the sword in your hands so genji couldn't see how red your face was. "i'm afraid i may be a difficult person to teach."

"i'll gladly teach you about anything you want to learn," genji said, standing entirely too close to you with his hands on your shoulder and wrist. "no matter how difficult you may be."

(y/n.exe has stopped working.)

you stared back at him, wide-eyed, with every functional part of your brain failing you. fortunately for you, your phone rang, interrupting the uncomfortable sexual tension that had suddenly filled the room. mercy was calling, requesting your help with something 'important'. after pretending you were really sorry for leaving so abruptly, you practically ran out of the room, silently thanking the doctor for calling you at the best possible time and giving you a get-out-of-jail free card.

you sat through the tactical meeting with mercy and tracer, though you had absolutely no helpful feedback to offer. your mind was fixed on genji the entire time, and your skin still felt hot from where his hands had been. i really need to get laid, you thought, this is pathetic.

now, even though it was hours later, you were still in the same predicament. try as you might, your brain absolutely refused to focus on anything or anyone besides genji. your television had long since blurred into background noise, bits and pieces of some stupid rom-com becoming the soundtrack to your turmoil.

maybe i should just text him... you think, for the millionth time. it was easy, or at least, it should have been easy. finding someone to screw wasn't usually this difficult for you, and you usually didn't care one way or another, but the thought of genji rejecting you was terrifying. even worse was the thought of having to see him again afterwards.

your mind goes back to the sparring range, and you swallow harshly. 'desperate' was never a word you'd use to describe yourself before, but now... when it came to genji, it was kind of an understatement.

"fuck it," you say aloud, swallowing your pride and unlocking your phone.

- hey. are you busy?

he starts typing immediately. how scary.

- i am not. do you need something?

- kind of. i have... a question.

"i am such a fucking loser," you mutter as you watch genji's text bubble appear on the screen.

- what is it?

suddenly, you didn't want to ask anymore. maybe you could go out for drinks with cassidy instead of doing this. you stare blankly at the screen for a while.

- ???

- actually, nevermind. it's embarrassing.

- surely no worse than your attempt at swordsmanship?

- sorry, that was a joke.

- wow, okay. definitely not asking now :'(

- come on.

- okay. do you wanna...

- have sex? with me?

you watch in horror as he starts typing, then stops, then starts again.

- are you serious?

- that is entirely dependent on your answer.

- why... are you asking me?

- i don't know how to answer that.

- i'm definitely taking that as a no.

- i didn't say that.

- well, you didn't say yes either...

- i'm not sure i understand what you're getting at here

- not sure what you mean by that. i'm just asking to have sex

- for the record, i'm not expecting you to be my boyfriend or anything

- just a one time thing. no strings attached

- no strings attached? lol

- okay

okay? okay? what the hell was 'okay' supposed to mean?

- are you there?

- yes. an answer?

- if you're gonna say no i'd like to go ahead and get it over with so that i can go get drunk enough to forget my shame lmao

- that won't be necessary.

- the answer is yes. obviously

your heart almost stops beating for a second. surely this, too, was a joke.

- seriously? like... actually?

- ...

- yes?

- wow! unexpected.

- are you free? like... tonight, maybe?

- i'll be there. 20 minutes?

twenty minutes? was that enough time to prepare? you immediately scramble out of bed to your dresser, searching for something risqué to wear. you owned an obscene amount of lingerie, but for some reason, none of it seemed good enough for the occasion.

you knew enough about genji's past to know that he'd been with more than his fair share of people, and though you weren't inexperienced by any means, it had been a while– most of your time had been dedicated to overwatch lately. you were sure that the names and faces of genji's old lovers blurred together, and although you specifically said 'no strings attached', you wanted to make the best possible impression. even if you never slept together again, you wanted to be memorable, at the very least.

eventually, you realize you're running short on time and opt to put on your personal favorite set. it had never steered you wrong before. you quickly change into it and throw on an oversized hoodie with some random game logo on it– very basic, you noted, but you didn't want to look like you were trying too hard, although you definitely were.

after checking the time, you wander aimlessly around the house waiting for genji to arrive. you definitely weren't nervously pacing from room to room, overanalyzing every aspect of this situation– no, that is not at all what you were doing. before long, you hear a knock at the door. your anxiety spikes through the roof, but you do your best to get a hold of yourself as you walk to the foyer to let genji in.

when you open the door, you see genji, as expected, and he looks the same as always. there was nothing special about his outfit (because why would there be?) and you're very glad you didn't decide to wear something over-the-top. he's also wearing a mask, as usual, but you can actually see his eyes with this one.

"i like your shirt," he says casually. "good game."

you blink at him, having been completely lost in the crimson pools of his irises.

"oh, yeah, it is," you reply, nodding in affirmation. "um, come inside."

he laughs quietly as he steps through the doorway, and you furrow your brows at him in confusion, but decide to ignore it and move on. you lead genji through the house, mentally grasping for straws as to where to go from here. to be honest, you didn't think you'd get this far, so you're at a complete loss.

"sorry, i feel like this feels really weird. i don't usually... sleep with my coworkers," you explain as you reach the bedroom.

genji's eyes are fixed on you, and despite having a clear view of them, you still can't tell what he's thinking. it proves to be very anxiety-inducing.

"i didn't think you did," he says.

"thanks? i think?" you reply, unsure of how else to react. "i'm going to warn you that this might actually go really, really badly, because i haven't slept with anyone in a while, and you kind of make me really nervous, and i also don't–"

you're cut off by genji moving closer to you and moving his hand towards your face. the action causes your words to vanish and your train of thought to come to a screeching halt. you stare at him with wide eyes as he moves a stray strand of hair from your face and brushes it behind your ear.

"i make you nervous?" he asks, an amused tone to his question. "you? nervous?"

you can feel heat rush to your cheeks, and you're hyper-aware of his hand lingering near your face, but despite this you try your best to sound cool. "yeah, i know, it's pretty hard to believe! but it's true."

genji laughs. "you're funny."

"i am?"

"yeah," he replies. his dark eyes are sparkling a bit, and although you can't see it, you can tell that he's smiling beneath the mask.

you look away from his face, your gaze falling to his hand. it's still in the air, close enough to your cheek that you can feel the warmth, but not quite touching you. he seems... strangely hesitant to touch you, so you decide to take the initiative.

genji's eyes widen a bit as you reach out and cup his face, brushing your thumb across the sleek metal of his mask.

"are you planning to keep this on?" you ask.

genji freezes in place, visibly caught off guard by your question. "i–"

you giggle at his reaction. "hey, no pressure. it doesn't matter to me. i'll still think you're hot either way."

"i fear you'll change your mind about that," he mutters.

you frown, unsure of what to say. "there really isn't anything that could make me change my mind about you, genji. but seriously, do whatever you're comfortable with."

he makes a quiet noise in response, and you can see in his eyes that he's thinking carefully about what to do. after a few seconds of silence, he holds your wrist and moves it away with one hand, then carefully removes his mask with the other. you can't help but stare, not only because you're surprised that he actually chose to remove his mask, but because he's even better looking than you had imagined– scars and all.

he looks at you, eyes filled with uncertainty, and clearly a bit uncomfortable.

"you're staring. sorry to disappoint. i can put it back on, if you'd prefer..." he says quietly, as if he's ashamed. it's sad, enough so to distract you from your mission of keeping things clean and simple.

you shake your head and wrap your arms around his neck, staring up at him with a reassuring smile. "i'd prefer if you didn't, actually. i can't believe you didn't tell me you were so good-looking underneath that mask."

"i... don't think that's a term i'd use. not anymore, at least," he says, not meeting your gaze. "but i'm glad that you think so."

genji hesitantly puts his hands on your hips, his eyes fixed on the logo on your hoodie. he doesn't seem to know how to react to your compliments, but there's a shy smile on his face nonetheless.

"i mean, i thought you were hot enough before. it never occurred to me that you could manage to be even hotter," you tell him with a smirk.

he looks up at you, blushing profusely, and you're filled with a sense of satisfaction. "i, um, didn't realize you felt so strongly about me."

you look away, deciding to ignore that comment, and begin to trail one of your hands from his neck to his collarbone, then down his abdomen, which was unfortunately covered by his clothes.

"well, the mask is off. that's one thing down," you say, toying with the hem of his hoodie. "just a few more to go."

genji doesn't hesitate to reach down and tug off the hoodie, discarding it on the floor. he wasn't wearing a shirt underneath, and he also wasn't wearing his usual metal plating. his right arm and part of his right upper torso are still made of flesh, as well as most of his midsection. the left side of his body is cybernetic, but it ends just above his hips. you find yourself staring at the intricate and seamless fusion of metal and muscle, your attention focusing in on the sharp outline of his hip bones.

a question pops into your head, but you don't have the audacity to say it out loud– is his dick cybernetic? the thought had never occurred to you before, but you also had never seen just how much of him was still made of skin and bone. honestly, it didn't matter to you either way, but it was an interesting thought. guess i'll find out soon, you think.

genji is staring at you with a strange look on his face, and you're suddenly worried you may have said something out loud.

"something wrong?" he asks. "you look... confused."

"i do?" you ask, surprised. "i was just... curious. about the cybernetic stuff. i've never really seen it up close."

"i see."

you walk over to the bed and climb on top of it, beckoning genji over to you. he follows, but stands still beside you.

"come here," you say, reaching for his hand. "i want a closer look."

he smirks and nods, quickly climbing into the bed and positioning himself on his knees between your legs. you trace the outline of his abs, running your fingers along the border of skin and metal, taking in every detail, and then you realize that he's staring at you again.

"what?" you ask.

"you're overdressed," he says. "i want to look at you, too."

"oh," you pause, realizing that you were in fact still (mostly) fully clothed. "you can take the hoodie off."

genji's hands immediately move to pull at your top. you reposition yourself to make it easier, and you watch as he tosses it into the now-growing pile on the floor alongside his own jacket.

you can hear his breathing grow shallow, and you look back up at him nervously. he's staring down at you with wide, dark eyes, with his hands clenched into fists atop his thighs.

"damn," he breathes. "you're... really the most attractive person i've met."

it's not as though you had notably low self-esteem or anything, but genji's reaction was far more than you expected, and the attention makes you feel embarrassed.

"that definitely feels like flattery, but i'll let it slide," you reply. you're mostly teasing him, but you're also kind of serious– 'most attractive person i've met' is an extremely bold statement to make, especially coming from someone with a track record like genji's.

"flattery? you really think so?" genji asks, seeming to be genuinely taken aback by the accusation.

"mm, it doesn't really matter," you reply, desperate to cut this conversation off before it derails. come on, y/n do not get your feelings involved in this, damn it.

genji leans over you, propping himself up with one arm and lifting your chin with the other. he stares at you with an intimidating intensity, but you can't bring yourself look away from him.

"i'm not that kind of man anymore," he says, his tone serious. you look down at his lips, and before you can form a response, he kisses you.

the kiss is just as intense as the stare he'd been giving you, and it takes a moment for you to register that it's even happening. once you kiss him back, it grows into something more needy. his tongue finds its way into your mouth, and you try your hardest to suppress a whine. you reach to tangle your fingers in his hair and subtly pull his body closer to yours, while genji cups your face with his free hand, the cool metal a stark contrast to the heat radiating from your cheeks.

the kiss seems to go on forever, progressively becoming more sensual. you're so lost in the moment that you temporarily forget that you need to breathe. eventually, both of you pull away for air, lips slightly puffed, and eyes half-open, filled with desire.

you press one of your hands against genji's chest, the other still toying with his hair. he's slumped against you, now leaning against his elbow instead of his hand. your body is flush against his, and you can feel his hard-on pressing against you. you softly grind your hips against him, creating just enough friction to cause you both to inhale sharply.

genji looks down at you, his eyes slowly grazing over your body. he sits up, leaning back on his haunches, looking as though he was deep in thought.

"genji?"

your voice doesn't draw his attention back to your face, but he responds, brows still furrowed. "yeah?"

"touch me," you tell him, almost begging. "please."

he smirks. "sure."

he leans back over you, his face so close to yours that you can see every detail of the scars that paint his skin. the two of you stare into each others eyes, and he pushes your underwear aside without even glancing down. his human hand cups your face, and the metal one assumes its position between your legs.

the sensation of cool, smooth metal against your clit elicits a gasp from you, and genji seems hesitant. he draws his hand back, staring down at it with a forlorn expression.

"sorry," he says. "i... kind of forgot."

you reach for his wrist and pull his hand back to where it had been, shaking your head.

"no, it's fine. you don't need to apologize," you tell him. he still looks unsure, but he doesn't argue.

genji toys with your clit with expert precision, and as much as you enjoy it, your patience starts to wane. as if he can tell, he directs his attention elsewhere, carefully and almost hesitantly inserting two of his fingers into you. you whimper at the feeling, clenching around the unfamiliar texture. it's an entirely new feeling– putting metal there was never something you thought to do, nor did you ever really imagine what it would feel like– but it's good. it's obvious that genji is worried he'll hurt you, or that you won't like it, and you have what you hope will be an easy solution to his concerns.

you bite your lip, looking up at him with your best 'fuck me' eyes, and let go of the restraint you were trying to show. you didn't want to look desperate, but clearly he needed more reassurance that you wanted this– that you wanted him. a string of swear words, interrupted by panting and lewd noises, leaves your mouth, and you rut your hips against his hand, urging him to go deeper.

it seems to work. the dark look that was lingering on genji's face was replaced with a spark, and his movements become more free, no longer limited by the shackles of his insecurity. his well-earned confidence starts to shine through, and you smile in satisfaction, but only for a moment. with genji now seemingly returned to his former playboy glory, you find yourself unable to think straight, too busy writhing under his touch, crying out his name and clenching at the sheets.

"i could get used to hearing you say my name like that," genji comments, a teasing grin on his face.

oh god, please shut up, you think. it was almost as if he wanted you to fall in love with him or something, which was definitely not a part of your plan– in fact, it was the exact opposite of what you wanted.

"don't... say– fuck," you want to tell him not to say things like that, but you're overwhelmed with the feeling of your fast-approaching orgasm. what unfortunate timing. "gonna cum."

genji picks up the pace, unable to decide if he wants to look at your face or at his fingers as he pumps them in and out of you. you attempt to clench your thighs together, though genji's body blocks the action, and as you come undone, he decides the best thing for him to look at is your expression.

you squirm beneath genji, eyes squeezed shuts and knuckles turning white from the force with which you're grasping at your bedsheets. he watches carefully, taking in every minute detail of the way you look when you cum, while still fucking his fingers into you as you ride out the high of your orgasm. once you still, he slides his fingers out, the matte grey now slick and shiny. you open your eyes just in time to watch him pop his fingers in his mouth. he looks back at you through half-lidded eyes, a devious smirk on his face as he watches your already blown-out pupils widen at his actions. to add icing to the cake, he licks his lips, and suddenly you think 'wow, i'd let him do anything to me'.

"god," you mutter, shifting awkwardly. you were trying to rub your thighs together at the thoughts coursing through your mind, but genji was in the way.

you trail your eyes along his body, coming to a halt at the bulge in his joggers. you reach for the waistband of his pants, tugging them down to the middle of his thigh, but the position he was sitting in prevented you from getting them any further. genji climbs off of the mattress and yanks his pants and boxers off himself, then proceeds to do the same with your underwear. the intensity of the hunger between the two of you was so thick it was almost physical, and you can't pull your eyes away from him.

to your surprise, his dick was made of flesh. not that you had any complaints either way– it was just unexpected. you take a moment to admire him, then reach out to pull him back into the bed with you. genji resumes his position between your legs, lifting them up so that your knees are at your chest. the two of you both look down, watching in anticipation as he slides inside of you. he slowly pushes himself in farther, continuing until he bottoms out.

you both moan, almost in sync, at the sensation, and make eye contact again. genji positions his arms on either side of your head and touches his forehead to yours, staring into your eyes, as you dig your nails into his shoulder. one of your hands finds its way back to his hair, gently tugging at the spiky black tufts, keeping him as close to you as you could.

it doesn't take long for genji to find a good rhythm, his thrusts deep and and on the slower side. each movement coaxes noises out of you– his name, mostly, but a few mewls and downright pornographic-sounding moans as well. he kisses you again, lustful and passionate, and slides his hand into your hair to cradle your head. he pulls away, trailing kisses from your jawline to your collarbone, a few of which will surely leave some faint marks. you're not worried about that though– the only person who'd have the gall to comment on it was cassidy, anyways.

"you sound so pretty," he mumbles into your neck.

your breath catches in your throat at his words, and your grip on his hair tightens slightly. he sounded so so hot, it sent a shiver down your spine. "mm," is the only response you can manage.

one particular thrust hits perfectly, and you short-circuit, digging your nails deep into genji's shoulder and whimpering his name. he lifts his head to look you in the eye, his eyes honing in on your lips. his movement becomes more insistent, and he kisses you again, muffling your moans.

for the next few minutes, the only sounds in the room were that of your needy whines, genji's panting and occasional grunts, and the soft skin-on-skin contact. genji was surprisingly much more gentle than you'd anticipated, affection dripping from every action. it was enough to make you start to feel a bit of regret about the whole 'one time only' spiel, but you couldn't really focus on that when he was looking at you, and touching you, and fucking you the way he was.

with the stimulation of genji inside of you, and the way he was purring praise and sweet nothings into your ear in between the barrage of kisses, it didn't take long for you feel your climax coming up. from the way genji was beginning to become more shaky and haphazard in his movements, you could tell the same was true for him.

"genji," you whisper. "i'm gonna cum."

he hums in response, furrowing his brow. "me too."

a few seconds of silence pass, and then genji looks... lost. "uh, where should i...?"

"wherever you want," you say, not really thinking. 'inside' was the first thing that came to mind, but that felt weird to say. was it weird to ask your coworker cum inside you? yeah, probably, but it couldn't be any weirder than the fact that you were having such intimate, needy sex with your coworker in the first place, right?

genji slows down and looks at you with wide eyes. "what? no preference?"

"um, i mean," you cut yourself off, biting your lip to suppress a moan. "i was gonna say inside, but like... up to you."

"are you serious? you want me to..."

so it was weird, you think, instantly regretting that you spoke. "do whatever you want."

genji stops moving, and you let out a pitiful involuntary whine.

"i'm asking, what do you want?"

does he want me to spell it out for him? you wonder. fuck it.

"i... want you to cum in me, genji," you say, looking him in the eye with a serious expression. you ignore the fact that your cheeks are almost literally burning, and also opt to ignore the little voice in your head chastising you for being so awkward.

a choked noise escapes him, and his face turns pink. he promptly hides himself in the crook of your neck again. after a few more thrusts, you can feel the burning pleasure of your orgasm reaching its peak, prompting you to cling tightly to genji. he leans back to watch, and as you clench around him, he loses his composure as well. a soft chorus of each others' names and 'fuck' fills the room as genji fucks you through your orgasm, neither of you breaking eye contact. genji leans in for another kiss as he cums. this time is somehow even more passionate than the others, and you immediately miss him when he leans back and pulls out.

you almost let an 'i love you' slip out, but immediately realize how stupid that would be, and opt to just shut your mouth entirely instead. a silence falls over the room, with the both of you breathing heavily and casting shy glances at one another as if you didn't just have passionate, unprotected sex. genji moves first, sliding into the bed beside you and propping his head up on his hand.

this is definitely going beyond what this was supposed to be, you tell yourself, but really, you're not mad about it. sure, the plan was originally for you guys to have meaningless sex and then pretend it never happened, but that plan started to crumble almost as soon as he walked through your door. you were still worried that you were reading too far into it– maybe he was like this with everyone he slept with.

"can i... be honest with you?" he asks. you nervously look over at him, an overwhelming sense of dread filling your stomach.

"yeah, of course," you reply casually. acting calm and collected when you were pretty sure you were about to hear something you really didn't want to hear was a trait you'd quickly adapted as an overwatch agent, and damn, were you thankful for it right now.

"i... haven't been with anyone in a long time," he admits. "like... since the accident."

you stay quiet. you're unsure of what to say, and you can tell he's not done talking, anyway.

"i couldn't fathom anyone wanting to be with me, considering... you know," genji sighs and averts his eyes. "i've liked you for so long, but i didn't think you'd be interested in me at all. i'm... barely even human."

you're still quiet, trying your best to process what he's saying.

"oh, yeah, sorry. i know you said this was a one time thing, and that's fine. i just thought you should know that you treating me like a person... and making me feel wanted... it means a lot," he continues. "even if it was just sex, i enjoy being around you."

"i'm... really in over my head," you mutter, mostly to yourself. "this is really unexpected, honestly. like, all of it. everything."

genji's face falls, and you realize that you misspoke. he shifts uncomfortably and starts to sit up, obviously preparing to leave. you reach for his arm, wrapping your hand carefully around the metal.

"not unwelcome, just unexpected. i... didn't want to get feelings involved because i was sure they wouldn't be returned," you explain. "you seemed kind of unapproachable. i was taking a shot in the dark."

genji laughs a little. "i seem to give that impression. it's not really the case... or at least, not with you."

you gently pull him back to your side, holding his face in your hands and giving him a quick kiss. you can't find the words to convey the emotions you feel, so you hope that touch would suffice. he presses his forehead against yours and wraps an arm around your waist, and the two of you just lay there, basking in each others' presence. this was... an unplanned turn of events, but you were much happier with this outcome.

"hmm. so much for the whole 'no strings attached' thing, huh?" you say quietly. "looks like there's definitely strings. lots of them."

genji laughs again, and you find your heart skipping a beat at the look on his face. yeah, there were so many strings tethering this man to your heart. you wanted to tell yourself that weren't sure how exactly you ended up like this, but the moment you saw him take off his mask and show you his most well-kept secret, you knew there was much more than sexual attraction there, and that there was no going back.

"thank you," genji says, pulling you out of your trance. "for... overlooking my flaws, liking me as i am. you're truly the most beautiful person i know."

you smile at him, feeling your heart quite literally melt at the way he's looking at you.

"you're beautiful, genji," you tell him. and he was. the scars and metal that made up his body weren't flaws– they were a part of him, therefore they were beautiful, too. they weren't something you had to overlook to find him captivating, but you'd tell him all about that at another time.

#genji shimada x reader #overwatch x reader #genji x reader

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the-90s-music-colosseum · 1 year ago

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Round 5, Match 2

propaganda below the cut! (wall of text warning)

Selena:

"truly probably one of the most beautiful women to have ever walked this earth. voice of an angel, dazzling smile, looks like she smells good"

"if u don't vote selena ur mexicanphobic /j"

Brian Molko:

"Gender"

"IM GOING TO EAT HER. He is soooo beautiful and freakish and small and weird and girlfriend and tiny like a little princess bug fairy. Literally gorgeous she has to win"

"When he flipped over the table with the little limp wrist.... someone find the video"

"1998 woman of the year"

"Brian Molko is peak gender envy, gender bending and being yourself without caring about other people's opinion, on top of all that he is a great guitarist that writes amazing songs"

"Brian’s gonna win this. I think we all kinda know that."

"Tumblrinas would be nothing without Brian molko"

"Kills her kills her kills her kills her kills her kills him kills her. He's my everything <3"

"He came 10th in the list of hottest women sometimes in the 90s. Gender goals."

"No one in the world can sound so nasal and look so angelic....."

"don't you wish you had his gender"

"Single-handedly took my gender by the scruff of the neck and threw it in a washing machine at full speed. He talked about not expecting to "get away with" passing as a woman to the degree that he did when he started purposely presenting feminine. He talked about the importance to fuck with people's heads through his appearance and behaviour, the importance of ambiguity. About how being in the band allowed him to do stuff he couldn't have done otherwise, to exaggerate some of his traits. He had the fuck ass bob makeup nail polish dresses stuff down, but not in an overly sophisticated way, especially in the early career 90s days the vibe was more shabby punk rock chick. Also he fantasized about being in an all-girl band called Skirt and playing guitar and singing backing vocals in drag. According to a 1997 melody maker interview bandmate steve hewitt called him "the most confused woman he's ever known". And if you go down that rabbit hole there's just more of this. Lots of material to focus on if you like genderweird bisexual unclean libertines (song ref) who will just say Anything in interviews. It's fun."

"I've drawn him as saints and martyrs such as saint sebastian and joan of arc. Or all bloody lying in a wet alley after being thrown out of a club. Or unconscious on a snowy road. Or dying in a glue trap. Or shocked after seeing a dead body. Also as a nun and as rose mcgowan in the doom generation. This is because I'm normal."

"She's a sick little angel faced freak. My theythem girlboy queen. He reminds me of an ant. He's like 5 foot 4 or something. My goth girl boyfriend. <3"

#most attractive 90s musician #poll #polls #90s music #tournament #selena quintanilla #selena quintanilla perez #brian molko #placebo

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gaykarstaagforever · 2 years ago

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FREE ON YOUTUBE

...YouTube, I feel like your free animated movie recommendations have declined in quality a bit since the halcyon days of Osmosis Jones.

Yes, it is a blatant Kung Fu Panda knockoff, with an American voice cast that is clearly whoever was home at 11 am the week they called.

This is bad. Like, unfinished, I think I'm missing like half the movie, they forgot to resolve the main plot and it just stops, bad. There is a scene where the only character on screen suffers an animation error, and no one fixed it. The framerate of the movie drops every time the action picks up or the camera swings around too fast. Like...you made a computer-animated movie, and you don't have the hardware or time to do...you know...computer animation? The stones on the Chinese producers of this mess.

Not everything has to be Pixar or DreamWorks. CG is hard. I get it. But you gotta work to your strengths. In this case, the computers you are using can't even render the movie properly. Like...I don't know how you get around that. That's kind of a major issue.

Technical incompetence aside, this suffers from the usual bad CG animation problems of every character looking like they come from a different artistic universe, and most of the action is generic mocaping that doesn't take into account how any real bodies shaped like these bodies would move. And there are just things they didn't bother capturing. Like none of these dough monsters ever stands up on screen.

Shot composition is a disaster. Most scenes are a mob of creatures standing in a pack in an empty space, doing exaggerated facial reactions to someone else talking. It's like bad machinima made in the Skylanders games engine, except all of the character designs are way worse.

The plot, such as they attempted it, is supposed to be about a small, incompetent warrior who looks like Jackie Chan who gets transported to the mystical realm of Merryland by a magical jade necklace his grandfather gave him. There, he transforms into an anthropomorphic panda, for reasons that are never explained. There is a prophecy that a Panda Warrior is destined to save the realm, and our guy is apparently it, except there is a flashback to like a couple of years ago when the ultimate evil took over, and...there is ANOTHER Panda Warrior who was just there and sort of stopped it? But then didn't? Who the hell was that guy?!

Also the ultimate evil is one of the two sky-whales who guard the Dragon Ball (yes, literally) just turning evil because it absorbed too much power. Why did this happen? How are you going to stop it from happening again? Then that whale turns into a nine-headed snake after an evil mouse from the real world just...is there, and merges with the Whale. After the snake is defeated the mouse just crawls out of it and runs away, and no one says a damn thing.

Our panda warrior and his 7 legendary warrior friends kung fu fight the snake at least 3 different times, and never get close to stopping it. And the panda doesn't do anything special or lead them, he is just there, and then at the very end his necklace glows and that...helps? Somehow? The true hero here is, and I'm not joking, Jimmy Ginseng, a tiny ginseng man with an erhu who shows up whenever the warriors are losing, plays the erhu, the enemy gets soothed by the song, and then Jimmy gets tired and leaves. EVERY BATTLE ends like this, including the final one.

So...?

The panda has that cool green sword in the picture. And he does have it. It is just...a sword, thst someone randomly gives him. I think he ends up dropping it and it never comes up again.

Also all the warriors are animals, except for the one who is a talking tree stump...filled with lava. And he dies at the end by setting himself and the snake on fire. Because his master, a purple fox, told him to do that to save everyone. ...Except the SNAKE SURVIVED IT, and they had to fight it again, lose, and wait for Jimmy to show up.

The bull character also sacrifices himself, TWICE, to save everyone else, and both times that doesn't work, either.

The movie ends with Merryland being restored from the devastation of the snake...BEFORE the snake is defeated. It just...gets better, after they resuce an elf girl princess who does...something...? And then the regrown flowers shoot the snake with missiles of some kind. Which ALSO fails to defeat it.

The panda doesn't go home and become human again and nothing is explained. But during the credits there is a fight scene between the little human warrior and his general, in which they get drunk and wrestle and tons of fight animations repeat in a loop for 3 minutes. Is this part of the movie? Are these outtakes? What does this have to do with anything? If this is what happens after he got home, I don't know why or what it means.

...My guess is that the first panda warrior we see was supposed to be his grandfather, as a panda? That was probably the idea? But no one ever says that. The movie doesn't remember to explain that.

This was translated from Chinese. Perhaps the translation is terrible. Or they did a massive reedit of this for the US release. That could explain some of this. ...But then why didn't they cut out the glitch scene, or some of the shots with the bad framerate? There are literal 10 second sequences in this movie where there is no dialogue or music, just a camera sleeping over a scenery to ambient nature sounds. Who reedits a movie for the foreign market and cuts out vital plot scenes, but leaves in shit like that?

...Unless all those vital plot scenes had even worse technical problems. Jesus. That's a terrifying thought.

One positive here. While nearly all of the voice work is as boring and bored as you'd expect, the immortal Tom Kenny is good, with what very little he is given to do, here. The man is a professional.

And here is the weirdest thing: Rob Schneider is really good here as the panda man and Jimmy Ginseng. Like, shockingly good. Like, this is without exaggeration the best performances of this man's miserable life. He is funny, charming, nuanced, he feels like he is reacting properly during what were probably one-sided conversations recorded on different days in different places. It is shocking how good he is in this awful, stupid movie. My only guess is that he was somehow involved in bringing this over and it was going to serve as an audition piece to get him more voice work. In which case, like, fair enough, dude. You nailed it. He is genuinely very good in this very bad movie.

What an odd artifact from 2012. What a waste of time. Why did YouTube recommend this? What do any of us gain from being shown this? I am just flabbergasted.

You're on time out with these movie suggestions, Google.

Also there is a pig who flies who looks like this:

Those aren't ears, they are just gross misshapen tendrils that bob around as she moves. It's like someone was playing with a stretch tool and then...stopped.

I was gonna end with "Now let's have Jimmy Ginseng play us out," but I can only find this one bad picture of him, and it doesn't show his erhu:

Here is some nice erhu music from someone else. Something redeeming in this godforsaken post:

youtube

#the adventures of panda warrior #the adventures of jinbao #kung fu panda ko #2012 #movie review #free on YouTube

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cruesuffix · 20 days ago

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Wait what other things have they done to Mick? Like obviously Nikki throwing shit and ripping out his hair and the aggressive back patting but I haven't seen anything else? Sigh....the lore I have yet to uncover..

oh anon the lore… the lore is extensive I fear. here’s just a few ways the band has disrespected mick throughout the years… cause i don’t feel like these things should go overlooked tbh.

1. being aggressive towards mick:

as you can see most of this is nikki and tommy… mainly nikki actually. I would like to note: when nikki talks about his time rooming with mick during the shout/theatre of pain days, what he regrets to inform you is that nikki actually forced mick to sleep in the closet. it started when nikki threw a party in their hotel room and mick got annoyed enough to go fall asleep in the closet and then soon enough nikki declared that that was his bed and that that was where he was going to sleep. it got so bad that even doc had to make a choice of either getting a hotel room with one bed or two for them. of course he ended up just getting his own room, most likely after the hair pulling incident. anyways, mick talks about the band literally assaulting him after he got in his relationship with emi. funny thing to point out but, somewhere in the dirt he mentions that he might have slept with the other nasty habits girl donna… which means not only did he treat mick terribly during this time, but he was a hypocrite as well. and i think the band knew he did it too and never punished him like how they punished mick.

2. making gross jokes about his weight/ grossly exaggerated how he looked.

calling him a whale and making weirdly fatphobic comments about a man going through an addiction like that is… a choice. they’ve always had a problem with this though, as tommy has said some weird things about vince and his weight as well.

3. kicking mick out of the recording process of gen swine and replacing his track

I can’t add any more screenshots, so i’ll just take direct quotes from the book instead!

- “So for the first time in our careers, we started to turn against Mick, to think that he was actually the one holding us back because he thought that the blues and classic rock were the only genres of music that mattered.”

- “Mick was being brainwashed into believing that he had nothing to contribute to the band”

- “Oddly enough, a few days afterward the guys started calling me to come into the studio, saying they couldn’t get anything out of Mick and wondering if I could lay down some guitar tracks in the morning before Vince arrived. I did that for a few days until Mick called the studio one afternoon and asked, “Crab, what are you doing there?”

“I’m just playing some guitar,” I told him. And he went ballistic: evidently they hadn’t told him they were bringing me in to redo his tracks.”

as you can see, not only did they gaslight mick into believing he couldn’t contribute to the band anymore, they also replaced all his guitar tracks with corabi. so, (allegedly), you’re not hearing mick at all on that album, you’re hearing john corabi. both mick and john corroborate themselves on that statement.

4. constantly threatening to kick him out.

there’s at least a couple of instances of this. if you really want more evidence of this, I’ll make a separate post cause this is getting really long. all i’ll say is that from the years 1984-1987 the band has threatened to kick out mick and replace him with jake e lee and any other up and coming guitarist. the reason for this was because they thought mick was too old and not attractive enough. bob daisley had to tell them not to do it after they came to him for his opinion. this goes to show they didn’t actually care about how talented he was, like they constantly shoved in our faces the years after these occurrences. they wanted someone young and hot, and they probably felt mick was holding them back (he wasn’t).

so in conclusion, not only did the band rough house him, they also physically assaulted him, openly make fun of his appearance, and slowly kicked him out of his role in the band. it’s a contention between fans on whether or not he even played anything on their last two albums (new tattoo and sola). personally i do believe he managed to get his tone into new tattoo but with the way the band has been treating him the past few years, i don’t think he played a lick on sola. mind you, they’ve treated him like this for 40 years. four decades of this, alongside personal problems, health issues and just being older than them. im not making this to say they were just evil little bastards that never liked him. im saying this because i don’t like this narrative of people wondering why nikki abandoned him. how the guy who got his face tattooed could possibly turn around and shit on him. they’ve done this time and time again. all the gentle petting and loud praise was performative. sure, they’ve all had moments when they were extremely close to each other. that was in the past. they haven’t been close to each other since decade of decadence. that gentleness they portrayed in the resurrection of motley crue was just fear and guilt. i love these guys, which means i have to do the tough job of calling them out on their shit.

#mötley crüe #mick mars #reminder: he dealt with 40 years of that shit #these aren’t one time incidents… they happened all. the. time #there’s probably so much more we’ll never know cause no one wants to admit what they’ve done truly #also mentioning that mick once again almost quit during gen swine #and he’s said that album ruined his confidence #no one wants to call it as it is but this is the definition of physical; emotional; and mental abuse #sorry im being too woke but thats what it is #maybe im being too dramatic but oh well #lily of the asks

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general-ysines · 2 months ago

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im gonna shoot myself if i see one more person say in complete confidence that the hightiers were never held accountable for what they did, that john was punished too severely in comparison, or that the high tiers didnt grow as characters.

johns actions are much more extreme than the high tiers', except maybe arlo. isen, blyke, remi, and most other high tiers were more focused on their own lives than terrorizing weaker people. most of the high tiers' (basically all of them sans arlo) problems were naivete, not realizing the flaws in their system. while johns actions did serve the purpose of showing the high tiers what its like to be weak so that they can realize what is wrong with the hierarchy, johns violence was more extreme than his bullies' and lowkey he was terrorizing EVERYONE, even the people who never did anything to him. johns actions are more extreme, so he gets more extreme repurcussions.

unordinary fans look me in the eye and say that john, who had been terrorizing everyone for at least a month Minimum, shouldnt have to deal w people bsing terrified of him. girl use ur brains. people are scared of john bc he has proved himself unreasonable and cruel, while none of them had problems w arlo (bc arlos actions towards most of them were 1. almost 3 years ago, and 2. considered normal by their society bc as the leader of the school he is also considered the disciplinarian whenever students act up, not considering teachers. his beating up people was different than johns beating up people) and none of the other hightiers had done really anything. cecile isnt innocent btw but none of them had problems w her either bc the few interactions weve seen her have with the common student (juni) seemed friendly..basically the people had little reason to fear the other high tiers outside of their power but john had taken his time making himself a person to fear. fr he was trying to terrify them?? why are we prtending that its unreasonable for them to be scared of him can we please be serious

also johns legal punishment in new bostin and suspension in wellston were both reasonable bc he was regularly hospitalizing people and completely out of control. i dont think u guys realize how strong john is. whenever someone who is seriously described as godlike in power ("god" tier as a term is not that much of an exaggeration by regular human standards) starts going around and beating the shit out of everyone important in a show of power something has to be done. john was EXTREMELY dangerous. also "the punishment wasnt equal" is literally kind of the plot. johns mental spiral at wellston was supposed to expose the unfairness in the system and show how bullies and vicious people should not be able to get away with the things they do to weaker people. we dont think john is that strong bc we're surrounded by the strong in the story, but he is IMMENSELY powerful and should not have been left unchecked. (note, im not saying he deserved readjustment. there should have been a punishment for his literal several counts of felony assault but readjustment was literally psychological torture and he was a month into being 16.)

the hightiers were criticised and held accountable, either by themselves or others. arlo knows full well that he played apart in johns mental spiral and apologised multiple times. remi knows full well that she was naive and should have realized the problem sooner, then takes active steps to solve it and creates a safe space for people of different ranks. blyke literally apologised for shooting at john and had a whole arc of realizing low tier conditions during the x rei outings and trying to be nicer to john and low tiers. idk if isen apologised properly but it is also clear that he knows better than to do what hes done now. the safe house was literally their way of trying to fix their mistakes and be better going forward. aka taking accountability and then working towards being better people??? hello???

also saw somebody say that they acted like the royals had the "moral high ground"... as if they didnt. hello who were the ones actually fixing the problems. who were the ones with real solutions. john was the last in the cast to take accountability and work to be better. john was the schools resident terrorist ??? hospitalizer ??? FELON ??? he has literal FELONY ASSAULT charges fam. and LOTS of them. half his graduating class is actually crazy. since he was rank 427 or something when his ability hadnt come in yet, we can say that there were probably at least 100 people in each grade, since hs is 4 grades. a graduating class is a grade. john beat up 50 people not counting zirian and whoever else in different grades might have attended, not assuming the half the grade thing was an exaggeration. we also arent counting the charges he added at wellston itself. seriously this guy is an absolute menace and the royals were actually better than him morally i dont know why thid is a controversial take in the unordinary fandom. do i have to spell out why "guy with criminal charges for severely injuring 50+ people, probably sending them to the hospital considering he put HIGH TIER remi and blyke in the hospital, who has been terrorizing the school for a while at this point" is worse than "trio of individuals who were raised ignorant to their society's flaws realize the problem and take active steps to fix it, even being so kind as to eventually forgive the guy that put two of them in the hospital like a month prior"

the joker arc is as much johns mental spiral as it is the high tiers' character developments. if u somehow didnt realize that the characters were changing for the better then now u know why fhe english teacher wants you to analyze why the curtain is blue. media literacy come back the kids miss you

#not tagging this unordinary because i feel like ill get shot for this #lmao luigi killed the ceo now mario's killing the random unordinary blogger #please no i have a family (my cat)

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scribeofwinchesters · 11 months ago

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Secrets and Lies: Chapter 11 - Rope

Pairing: Sam x Reader

Word Count: 4,660

Summary: “You look at her like that again and I will make sure you die screaming."

Series Rating: Explicit/18+ TW: Rape/Non-con

Previous chapters:

One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Sevenandahalf Eight Nine Ten

A/N: Definitely recommend catching up or re-reading before this chapter since we have some callbacks to chapter 1 here. Thank you all for showing me so much support after being gone for so long <3 This might be my personal favorite chapter yet :) Most of it's been written for years but had lots of rewrites and edits as I worked through it and came back to it again and again during my hiatus, so if there's anything that doesn't connect or track, please DM me so I can fix it! I've reread it like eight times, though, so I think we're good... I hope you all like it and if my story makes you feel something, reblogs, comments, asks, etc are very welcome <3 as always, link to AO3 if you prefer.

Tag list: @lauraashley93 @stoneyggirl2 @tiggytaylor @park-simphwa

You yanked hard on the door and sure enough, the door drug across the jamb and you had to give it a second hard pull to get it fully open. As soon as it was free Dean was right there, gun pointed ahead of him as he let his eyes adjust before quickly clearing the area to the left and the right. Just as planned you were directly behind him, gripping your gun but keeping it pointed safely toward the ground.

The interior was completely dark except for rows and columns of sporadically blinking green and orange lights to the left. As Dean stepped in, you followed, remaining so close to him that you could literally feel your breath warming his neck. Dean should’ve known better than to exaggerate when telling you to do something that you didn’t want to do. He took another careful step inside and reached along the wall for a light switch.

As he did, there was suddenly a soft tumble of footsteps and Dean deftly reached behind him to grip your arm and pull you along with him as he ducked to the right, pressing you safely between him and the wall.

The shadowy form of a person was visible somewhere ahead of Dean, outlined by the blinking lights. It was wielding some kind of weapon that you couldn't make out in the darkness until it glinted in the light and you could see the flash of a long, sharp point. The figure darted into the darkness and from somewhere across the room you heard a deep, stifled scream.

Dean gripped his gun with both hands and aimed it at each corner of the room, hoping to catch sight of some kind of movement.

You shifted your handgun to one hand and silently pulled your silver blade from its holster and gripped it tightly. You scrapped it along the wall, using it’s extra length to find your mark. After a short moment it caught on the switch and the room was flooded with a dull, fluorescent haze; the bulbs flickered and buzzed faintly before steadying on.

Momentarily blinded by the sudden light, you narrowed your eyes and squinted as they adjusted.

You peeked around Dean as you sheathed your blade. Your stomach dropped.

There, in the middle of the room, was Sam. He was tied up in a chair, ropes tight around his wrists and ankles and mouth. He’d been stripped down to nothing but his boxers and socks and there was blood splattered on the ground beneath him. Sam had a black eye and a horrific mixture of blood and sweat dripped from his forehead. He had a handful of cuts and gashes across his chest. He caught sight of you and your eyes locked together. The marble pinged against your insides again as you saw Sam’s bloodshot eyes glisten with tears. Your heart caught in your throat and you could feel yourself forgetting to breathe.

Sam glanced to his left, drawing your eyes away from him.

You froze.

Standing in the dark corner, just a few steps away from Sam, was the last thing you expected to see...

It was...

you?

Not current you... but clean, moisturized, fresh-faced, hair-brushed-and-styled-with-the-perfect-flounce-you-could-never-quite-achieve-despite-many-frustrating-hours-spent-fussing-over-it… you.

It was fully dressed in clothes that looked like something you’d wear if you had time to put thought into your outfits, and to top it off, she was wearing Sam’s wellworn green jacket and a blue flannel and something about that made your stomach churn. It held a long, jagged blade comfortably in it’s outstretched arm as it grinned and you pulled yourself back behind Dean as you tried to catch your breath.

“ ‘Bout time you guys joined the party,” it said cheerfully and took a careful step toward Sam. It was bizarre hearing your voice come from another person… thing… it.

“That’s close enough,” Dean warned as he pointed his gun at the shifter.

“Oh, Dean,” it said as it suddenly dropped and rolled skillfully behind Sam. Dean fired his gun at the movement but missed the target, leaving a small smoking circle in the machinery. You jerked at the sudden sound and took a moment before taking in a deep, stabalizing breath.

“Come on, after the last few days, Dean, stuck at home with… me,” it smirked as it slowly crouched over Sam and held the jagged blade to Sam’s throat. “The sad, pathetic thing you rescued from purgatory,” she mocked with an exaggerated pout. “Listening to her whining, holding her as she cried, falling asleep on the couch as you held her… we both know you were dying to put a bullet in both of your heads just to get the pathetic misery to end.”

You studied the back of Dean’s head, imagining the furious expression flashing across his face.

The shifter pulled the edge of it’s blade through Sam’s sweat-slicked hair, causing the tip to graze against his check and scalp, just light enough to not break the skin. Sam flinched reflexivly and squeezed his eyes shut. The shifter sneered at Dean for a moment before catching your eyes as you peaked over Dean’s shoulder.

It smiled and narrowed its eyes at you as it licked it’s tongue across it’s teeth. “Looking a little rough there, sister. My brother got a few good hits in at least. Tell me, how far did he get before you noticed? One finger? Two? Balls deep?” It laughed.

“Stop it,” Dean seethed.

“Oh, sweetheart,” the shifter sneered as it pressed the blade ever so slightly against Sam’s throat, drawing beads of blood to the surface. Sam winced and you felt the rage building inside of you. It took every ounce of control you had to stay put.

You locked eyes with Sam as tears spilled from his wide, horror-filled eyes. The throbbing ache in your cheek was a painful reminder of earlier that night and you watched as his eyes drifted over it.

The shifter crouched down again and licked Sam’s ear while looking at you. “Am I doing it right?” it asked before brushing your… its fingers through Sam’s hair and jostling his head around simply for the sake of reminding you who was in charge.

“That’s what you asked the first time you put Sammy’s cock in your mouth, isn’t it?” it drawled right into his ear, its eyes still locked on you.

Your heart raced, and you squeezed your eyes shut as the throbbing ache in your cheek worsened from your rapid pulse. You rested a palm against Dean’s shoulder to steady yourself as you felt yourself losing balance. All you could think about was rage. But for Sam’s sake you couldn’t let its taunts get the better of you. That was easier said than done.

“You look at her like that again and I will make sure you die screaming,” Dean bellowed as he stepped fully in front of you, blocking you completely from the shifters view and sadly, from Sam. “Your brother went quick. Couple silver bullets and he was down. When I’m done with you you’ll be begging for a bullet, do you hear me?”

You heard a brief squelching sound and something heavy and wet spilled to the ground.

“I needed to catch up,” Sam sneered.

But it wasn’t Sam. It was the shifter, transformed now, into Sam.

“Mmmm, that’s some sweet, sweet pain and guilt, Sammy,” the shifter hummed. “Delicious..."

It pressed the knife further into Sam’s neck. Sam grimaced as the blood dribbled down his neck. All you could hear was Sam grunting in pain.

“Your gun,” it said.

Dean dropped the gun, letting it swing from his pointer finger as he spread his arms.

“Cut the crap. What do you want?” Dean asked.

“I told him not to go after you Winchester’s,” it spat. “But he insisted.”

“Refresh my memory, would ya? What did we do to you anyway? We haven’t hunted a shifter in years.”

You could hear Sam breathing rapidly as he tried and failed to catch his breath.

“Charisse.”

Dean hesitated. “Who the fuck is Charisse,” he asked under his breath.

“The witch… from the other day… my last hunt with Sam,” you whispered.

Dean gave you a small nod without breaking eye contact with the shifter.

“Since when do shifters and witches work together?” Dean asked.

“Please, Dean… we both know you don’t care,” the shifter replied.

Dean shrugged again. “Eh… normally you’d be right, I don’t really care what you monsters get up to when you’re not hurting people. But a witch and shifters working together? Well, that’s not something I’ve ever seen before.”

“Charisse was like a mother to us,” the shifter said as he stood, still holding the blade to Sam’s throat. “She fed us and took care of us and gave us advice about moving through the world as monsters that people like us never get. And in return we helped her… well, pay the bills…,”

“So you were thieves,” Dean said.

You silently crouched and glanced around Dean, desperate for a view. You caught sight of the shifter standing above Sam. The grip on its blade had loosened as it spoke. The top of Sam’s head reached just beneath the neck of the shifter but in Sam’s frame, with his broad shoulders, there was a clear shot; a small shot, but a clear one.

As you stood, hidden behind Dean, and his open jacket which added several inches to his frame, you took advantage of the cover to check that the safety on your gun was released.

“Don’t move,” you whispered so that only Dean could hear you.

“So mommy dearest bites the big one and your brother decides to get revenge,,” Dean vamped to keep the shifter distracted. “You both came to this town and got up to no good in order to draw out Sam. But brother got dead and now it all rests on your shoulders. Did I miss anything?” Dean asked, taunting the shifter.

As he spoke you slowly, carefully and silently turned so that your back was to Dean’s and aimed your gun forward, ignoring the throbbing in your cheek. You were going to have to move quickly or the shifter would get the drop and… and… well, that didn’t matter because it wasn’t going to happen. Your took a deep, steadying breath.

As the shifter began to reply you swiftly and carefully spun around on one foot, ready to aim your gun at the shifter’s head.

It looked and sounded every bit like Sam and if it weren’t for the fact that he was sitting right there that may have given you pause. You aimed and without a whisper of hesitation, fired off a single silver round into its head. It dropped the blade, sending it cascading across Sam’s front before clattering to the ground. The shifter stumbled backwards and Dean made a break for it, crossing the room in several long strides as you dropped your gun and sprinted to Sam.

Dean pinned the shifter down with his knee digging into its back as he pulled its arms behind its back and bound them tightly at the wrists. It was unnecessary, though, it was as dead as the one you’d left at the bunker.

“Nice shot,” Dean said as he examined the thing. For the second time in just a few hours Dean had to deal with the lifeless and bloodied body of his brother.

You stood over Sam and leaned over him, your fingers trembled with adrenaline as you fumbled with the knot on the rope between Sam’s lips.

“Y/n,” Sam whispered between his panicked breaths the second his mouth was free. You crouched down in front of him as you deftly cut the ropes off his wrists and ankles, hardly pulling your eyes away from his for more than half a second.

You looked him over as he stood carefully. In addition to the blackeye he was bruised on his thighs and abdomen and there were deep, red rashes around his wrists and ankles. Sam’s eyes hung on you but he wasn’t looking into your eyes. He was examining you, studying whatever it was that Dean saw in the car earlier that made him wince.

Without even thinking, you found yourself pulling your silver blade from your boot. “I’m… I’m sorry,” you said. “But I have to.”

He nodded and pulled his hand into a fist as he held his arm out. Sam watched your eyes as you swiped the blade across his arm, drawing out a thin trail of blood. He winced and inhaled sharply, all the while never peeling his eyes away from you.

You let out the breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. It was Sam. It was really Sam. You dropped your blade to the ground with a clatter.

While you wanted nothing more than to leap into his arms and wrap yourself around him, to cling to him, you were still unsure of everything. You stopped short of a hug and instead stood there like an idiot, frozen, as you stared up at him. You had to remind yourself to breathe, again. He stared down at you, holding your gaze now, before briefly glancing to the side of your face and back.

Dean picked up your gun and blade before giving the room a quick once-over. The electronic components, flashing green and orange, were kept to one side, opposite of the desk.

Sam caught your eyes lingering on the pile of rope and the blood spatters around the chair and pulled you to him. You wrapped your arms around his waist and inhaled deeply as he rested his chin on the top of your head. “I’m okay,” he whispered.

You felt your insides return as he held you. Your heart and lungs and thoughts all fell back into place, stopping the pinging marble in its tracks as the walls crumbled. The marble, with one last ping, lodged into your heart. You were whole again… mostly.

“God, Sam,” you said, fighting back your sobs. “I… I-”

He brushed his hands over your hair and tenderly shushed you. “I’m here,” he said softly.

“Is it dead?” Sam asked Dean, his tone hard as he continued stroking his palms carefully over you. You caught Dean giving Sam a small, silent nod as you pulled away, ready to not spend another second in this place. Dean handed you your gun and knife which you quickly put away.

Dean stood to the side of the door, ushering you and Sam out before flipping the light switch and pushing the door shut behind him.

Dean lead you all back to the Impala, his eyes scanned the area like clockwork as you all made a beeline for the car. You climbed into the front seat, the safety of the Impala enveloping you as you finally relaxed and your shoulders dropped. Dean quickly looked around as Sam climbed in the back. Dean started up the engine, it’s gentle rumble surely waking at least one person in the nearby houses.

In less than fifteen minutes Dean had you all back at the motel.

“We’re not going back to the bunker?” Sam asked.

Dean shook his head and glanced at Sam in the rearview mirror. “We need Cass to check the warding. It’s not safe.”

Sam looked at you and then back at Dean. “The… the bunker?”

Sam shut his eyes and took a deep breath. He wanted to know more but the hesitation from you and Dean to say more made him scared to ask. He slowly opened his eyes and his gaze fell upon you and you could see in the rearview mirror the tears glistening in his eyes again. You had never seen him look so vulnerable: half-naked, no weapon, fighting back tears. You wanted to kill the shifter all over again. You bit at the inside of your lip, worried that it might start to dawn on him what had happened. It’s not that you didn’t want him to know. You just weren’t ready to deal with it. And as long as Sam didn’t know, you could almost pretend that it hadn’t happened. Almost.

Dean nodded curtly as he cut the engine and climbed out of the car. Sam’s eyes narrowed as he stared distantly ahead.

“Stay here,” he said to Sam as you climbed out of the car, too. You raised an eyebrow to Dean. “I’ll be right back,” he added to Sam.

Dean, ever the over-protector, was now made even worse. He followed you to the door and once again, checked the entire place over.

“Dean,” you sighed.

“Not up for debate,” he said, repeating himself from earlier, his eyes still studying every inch of the room as he avoided your gaze.

“I’m not saying you can’t be protective but you’re not my security guard. There isn’t a monster in every closet,” you said.

His nostrils flared as he stood in the doorway, silent for a moment, before turning back to you. “What happened… tonight,” he inhaled deeply, “...will never happen again. I won’t let it,” he finished as he swallowed hard. “Not even for a single second will I let you go through something even remotely close to that ever again.”

You stood there in the middle of the room, too shattered and exhausted to argue with him. This was exactly what you had been trying to avoid that night all that time ago when Cass manipulated Sam’s memory.

“What are you gonna tell him?” you asked as you choked back your emotions.

“Enough to catch him up,” Dean said as he turned away and headed back to the Impala.

He left the motel door open and climbed back into the Impala. Sam watched you from the backseat. You locked eyes for a brief second as Dean twisted to face Sam and rested his arm on the backseat.

You stepped away from his line of sight, not prepared to handle what Sam’s reaction might be. As they talked, you kicked off your boots and jeans and slipped out of your flannel before climbing into the already unmade bed, leaving the fresh bed for Dean. You left half the bed for Sam, though you weren’t sure if he’d take it. Sure, he’d been emotional and comforted you, that still didn’t mean he’d forgiven you.

You cozied up under the blankets and shut your eyes, desperate to fall asleep, though you weren’t sure what you’d find when you got there. More importantly, however, if you were asleep then you didn’t have to talk with Sam. You inhaled deeply as you nestled your face into the pillow. It smelled faintly like Sam and the longing for him slowly began building back up inside of you. You felt a single tear slip down, leaving a wet circle on the fabric.

Dean’s booted stomps sounded as he crossed the threshold, followed by Sam’s silent, shoeless scuffles. You half wondered if he’d brought any other shoes with him but that was a problem for tomorrow. One of them flipped the lights off. Sam paused at the edge of the bed for a moment and you could hear him quietly breathing as he watched you. A beat passed before he continued to the bathroom and shut the door. Dean pulled the string on his bedside lamp, providing him with enough light so that he could walk about the room but not disturb you. Seconds later you heard the pipes squeak and water rushing as Sam turned on the shower.

You carefully opened one eye just a sliver and watched as Dean grabbed the ice bucket from the dinette table and left, this time pulling the door quietly shut behind him. He returned moments later. You listened as the locks clicked and Dean slid the chain lock into place. He sat in the dinette chair and peeled open one of the empty plastic bucket liners. He scooped ice into it and tied a knot at the top, sealing it closed. The chair quietly scraped across the floor as he stood up and pushed it back. You could feel his presence looming over you, blocking out the light of his lamp on the other side of the room.

“I know you’re not asleep,” he whispered.

You huffed and gently bit at your lip before opening your eyes. “What gave me away?”

“Scooch,” he said. You turned carefully and painfully onto your back and pushed yourself back just enough for him to sit beside you on the bed.

As the adrenaline began to wear off, the pain of the near suffocation you'd endured back at the bunker was beginning to set in. Your chest ached deep down to the bottom of your lungs and you kept your breath short to avoid the sharp, stabbing pain that came when you inhaled too deeply.

Dean lifted the ice bag and slowly pressed the bag against the right side of your face, eliciting a hiss from you as it stung your tender skin. You reached up and placed your hand over Dean’s who pulled his away, letting you take over. You held it there as he watched you.

“I’m gonna get the first aid kit,” he said as he stood back up.

“What for?” you asked.

“Um, your face,” Dean said as he wrinkled his brows.

“Is it that bad?” you asked as he squatted down to pull it from one of the side pockets of his bag.

“You haven’t looked?” he asked as he made his way back over to you and sat down. You shook your head slightly, the ice clinking along to each movement. He studied your expression before nodding. He kicked his boots off and leaned over. You let your hand fall as he pulled the ice bag back.

“Can’t see,” he muttered as he reached over and pulled the string of your bedside lamp, illuminating your side of the room. He straightened up and zipped open the first aid kit to pull several items out.

You glanced down and watched as Dean fussed over his tools. A little bottle of clear liquid caught your eye and inexplicably made your stomach drop.

“Not rubbing alcohol, Dean… please,” you said quietly, shocked at yourself as tears stung the corner of your eyes. You just couldn’t… hurt, anymore. Not tonight. You’d had enough.

“Don’t be a baby,” he said before catching your pained expression. “Sorry,” he whispered quickly. “It’s not alcohol,” he said, shaking the little bottle. “It’s like antiseptic or something.” He shrugged.

You took a deep breath and looked away. Dean took that as his sign to continue. “Can you sit up a little?” he asked.

You pushed yourself up and jutted your head forward. He held the washcloth beneath the cut.

“Look up,” he said. You did as he asked. He squeezed the bottle’s liquid across your cheek, into your cut, cleansing it. The washcloth caught most of the runoff, but some did escape and run down your neck, slicking it. He pulled the washcloth away and refolded it to get to a dry edge and dabbed it gently along your check. You stared at a random spot on the wall as he worked. He returned the bottle to the pouch and pulled out an ointment tube which he squeezed onto a cotton swab and swiped it across your cut as gently as he could manage.

“This is deep, y/n. I’m gonna have to stitch it in the morning,” he said as he pulled the wound tightly shut with two butterfly bandages. You grimaced at the thought.

“Done,” he said with a gentle smile as he returned everything to the kit and zipped it up.

The roar of the shower cut off and there was the familiar scrape of the shower hooks across the curtain rod as Sam exited the shower.

“Thanks,” you wheezed as you looked down and fiddled with your fingers.

Dean cleared his throat. “Can I… do you need anything?”

You shrugged as you locked eyes with him. “Water, I guess? And every breath hurts from when... And sleep, but… I’m also, I mean, I’m a little afraid… to sleep. Don’t know what I’ll…,” you trailed off.

Dean glanced away and seemed to think for a moment. He left your side only to quickly return with the stainless steel water jug and a plastic cup from the motel. He filled it with water and handed it to you. As you sipped the water he returned to the first aid kit and pulled out a small plastic bag with two large white pills in it. Dean handed them to you and you let them roll over in your palm as you tried to guess what they were.

“They’ll conk you out,” he explained. “And Sam and I will be right here the entire time. You don’t have to worry,” he assured you.

“I never worry about that,” you said, giving him a lopsided smile.

He frowned and took a deep breath. You wanted to tell him not to do that, that he had done everything he could and what happened wasn’t his fault, but you just didn’t have the energy. You swallowed the pills and finished the water. Dean refilled the cup and set it on the bedside table. You shifted onto your side, your injured cheek faced up, and got comfortable under the covers as Dean turned the lamp back off. He picked up the bag of ice and placed it gently back over your cheek.

You were just beginning to drift off when you heard the bathroom door open followed by the quiet footsteps of Sam making his way to his bag to rummage for clean clothes. He returned moments later and climbed into bed beside you. It was quiet for a moment but you could feel his presence as he leaned over you, examining your face in the pale light.

“Did I miss anything?” he whispered to Dean.

“Just bandaged her up a little,” Dean whispered from his bed. “And gave her the good stuff to help her sleep.”

“Maybe I should go to a pharmacy and get some real ice packs,” Sam thought aloud.

“It’s four in the morning. There’s nothing open for over a hundred miles,” Dean reminded him.

“I’m sure I could break into a doctor's office or something in this Podunk town,” Sam said. The bed creaked as he leaned back against his pillow.

“Okay, simmer down, John Dillinger,” Dean teased. “It wouldn’t make enough of a difference to be worth it. Gonna have to stitch it up in the morning regardless. What about you? You good?"

"Yeah," Sam whispered. "Nothing deeper than surface level."

You wanted to move, to curve to Sam, or ask him to hold you, but the drugs Dean gave you were strong and were quickly taking over every muscle in your body, including your tongue and lips, and thankfully your aching lungs.

“Get some sleep, Sammy,” Dean whispered. Dean’s bed creaked and you slipped your eyes open a crack to see him turning onto his side, squeezing his pillow against his face. He hadn’t even bothered to change out of his jeans and flannel. You couldn’t see it but knowing Dean the hand under his pillow was resting over his Colt. He reached over and turned off the bedside lamp.

Sam leaned over in the darkness and pressed his lips gently to your temple. You sighed as you fought tooth and nail against the drugs for more seconds with Sam, scared that in the morning, or when you were better, Sam would be gone again. Your body was so heavy you felt like you were going to sink into the mattress.

He pushed toward you, pressing his body carefully against yours and found your hand. He grasped it in his and with everything you had left, before giving into the heaviness and slipping under, you squeezed it, desperate to let him know you were there and aware and so grateful for every moment with him. He laced his fingers with yours and pulled your hand along with his to your heart, wrapping you in him like you were a gift and he was the bow.

The message had been received.

EDIT: Chapter 12

48 notes · View notes

kattythingz · 9 months ago

Note

I need Ed meeting Black Canary. She's a badass, she's emotionally intelligent, she can never meet Teacher or General Armstrong (he's still terrified of that particular team up), she's also the one in charge of his new the kids' training

So. I did what you asked, technically. The prompt... got away from me a little. For 2.7k.

Don't hate me too much haha

YJ x FMA Pt. 7

🧡 Pt. 1 💛 Pt. 2 🤍 Pt. 3 🩵 Pt. 4 💙 Pt. 5 🧡 Pt. 6 💛

Robin zetaed into the mission room that afternoon just in time to glimpse Kaldur hitting the training ground.

Robin’s eyebrows shot up as Kaldur gave an actual noise at the impact—a rarity in sparring, considering his literally tougher skin—and didn’t rise immediately. Ed walked the short distance toward Kaldur’s sitting-up form, dressed in his high-neck shirt from yesterday and clearly borrowed pants from Ling, extending a friendly grin and a hand to Kaldur.

Kaldur accepted both with a smile, and Ed hauled him up without a sweat.

“You still good?” he asked amusedly.

“I am only just starting,” Kaldur said, then chuckled. “Although, if all your tosses carry such force, then I think I might owe Ling an apology now for laughing at him yesterday.”

Ling exaggerated a gasp in the peanut gallery outside the training circle, a familiar red hoodie draped over his arm, and Ed let out a snort. “Nah, Ling had that one coming for weeks. Anyway, you took that impact pretty well, considering I’ve used the same force on a suit of armor for four years straight.” He eyed Kaldur curiously. “Is your skin tough, by any chance?”

Kaldur blinked at the easy, and accurate, assessment. “Yes, it is. Did you figure that out just from tossing me?”

“Well, not really,” Ed hummed. “Your skin’s got a bit of a shine to it in the right lighting. It reminded me a little of shark scales—which, I guess is pretty cliche, huh?”

He laughed at Kaldur’s politely deadpan expression, but it wasn’t from any place of mockery; Robin didn’t think anything about this guy was disingenuous. That, and Ling’s brighter eyes at the sound spoke really gross volumes.

“A little,” Kaldur admitted, “but I take no offense to that.”

“Cool, cool. Tell me if I ever do put my foot in my mouth, though, yeah? I don’t wanna go around pissing off the wrong guys and all.”

Ling choked on air out of nowhere, coughing frantically into his hand when Ed whipped toward him with narrowed eyes.

“You got something to say, babe?” Ed asked, and Ling sweat-dropped.

“O-Of course not. Just a bit of inhaled dust. As you were.”

Robin stifled his own laugh at the sight much better than Ling—unlike Wally, who hastily scrambled to slap a hand over his own escaped chortle. Robin stopped next to his best friend with a cheery elbow to his side, grinning when Wally released his silence upon impact. He shot Robin a glare, in tandem with Ed’s eyes darting to Wally as well.

Unfortunately, before Robin could witness a double murder, Kaldur cleared his throat, saying, “I have been meaning to ask, Ed.”

Ed humphed before turning to Kaldur, to Ling and Wally’s laughable relief. “What?”

He said it a little irately, but Robin was starting to think that was maybe the guy’s default setting and nothing to take personally. So, another Superboy, basically. They all had more than enough experience with that.

“You mentioned earlier before you grabbed me, ‘too low,’” Kaldur said. “But I was using the same angle that I usually do with Robin as my partner. Black Canary has already advised me on my technique there, and she would have told me if I was slipping in our previous training…”

He trailed off near the end, sounding uncharacteristically insecure, probably because he thought Black Canary was holding back some sort of disappointment in him.

Which was stupid, Robin thought, considering Kaldur was practically their best at hand-to-hand.

Ed must’ve realized something similar, either about Kaldur’s character or his skill, as he softened with a grin suddenly.

“It wasn’t your angle, technically,” Ed said. “It’s more, you didn’t put enough push into the strike. You mentioned sparring with Robin—I’m guessing he moves around a lot and never stays in one place?”

He glanced over at Robin as though for confirmation, a keen intelligence in that single look, and Robin hoped his startled nerves didn’t show at being mentalized so easily. He pulled a smirk before anyone could notice him wavering and said, “You got it!”

“Right.” Robin let out an imperceptible exhale when Ed dismissed him for Kaldur in the next breath. “So, your problem was exactly that. You kept expecting me to bounce out of the way, but I stood my ground every time, and it threw you off.”

Wally was definitely staring at Robin in his periphery, but he ignored him in favor of focusing on Kaldur’s reaction to the words. He furrowed his brow, considering, before his eyes widened.

“Oh, I see,” he said. “So, next time, I would need to anchor my strikes more?”

Ed chuckled. “A little more to it than that. It’s a matter of quicker adaptability, I think—”

“So, what’s with the impromptu lesson, anyway?” Robin leaned into Wally to whisper, while Ed imparted Black Canary-level advice onto Kaldur. “I didn’t realize you were so excited to get your ass handed to you outside of training.”

“Shut up, dude,” Wally whispered back, annoyed. “That is so not what happens. And, I’m not the one who suggested this. It was Artemis who asked; blame her.”

“Hey! Nobody forced you to watch,” Artemis retorted. “You can go back to losing at video games if you really want to. Some of us actually want to learn a thing or two.”

Artemis had a point, obviously, but… It was weird. That she’d prompted this.

Was Artemis gauging Ed too? Bruce had made it clear to Robin the other day that the League had little reason, for now, to be wary of Ed—but that was the thing. There was always a “for now” attached to these things until they had concrete assurance.

Robin was more into the hands-off approach, personally. Ed seemed like a fun guy, and Ling trusted him with his literal future in marriage, so Robin didn’t think there was anything shady to uncover about him, per se. But this was also the second time that same group of bad guys, led by the same head scientist, had gone and kidnapped someone from the same other world. And they didn’t even have a name for this organization yet. The circumstances warranted a smidgen of caution, at the very least.

That being said.

“Oh, oh! If Kaldur’s had his turn now, can I go next?”

Ed and Kaldur turned their heads to him, both frowning with their own suspicion and surprise respectively.

“I don’t trust that tone,” Ed said carefully, which caused Ling to snort.

Robin grinned, taking the compliment generously. “You mean you aren’t curious how our styles match up in a fight?”

Artemis made an interested noise next to him. “Actually, now that you mention it…”

“I’d be willing to bet on something like that!” Wally chimed in, munching on an energy bar. “Ten bucks says Rob loses for once.”

Ed’s eyes lit at the apparent challenge now. “For once?”

“Robin is the best among us in hand-to-hand combat, thus far,” Kaldur filled in for Ed. He eased out of position in favor of holding a contemplative hand to his chin. “It… would be interesting to witness the match-up. If you wouldn’t mind, that is, Ed.”

“Oh, yeah, sure, don’t bother asking me—”

“I don’t mind,” Ed interrupted Robin with an outright smirk, and Robin could already feel the action itching under his skin, begging to say bet. “But if you do—”

“You are so on!” Robin laughed before launching himself onto the training circle.

“Alright! Give us a show, wonder boy!” Wally cheered, which came in insulting tandem with Ling’s cheerier, “Remember he’s still a child, Ed!”

Kaldur gave Robin his own smirk as he passed, bidding him good luck before dropping between Megan and Superboy, and with only the entire team’s respect for him on the line, Robin wasted no time getting into stance.

“On three?” Ed said.

“Only if you need the countdown.”

Ed’s grin sharpened an edge, and that was all the warning Robin let linger before taking the first lunge.

He nearly took the first bruise too when the zeta tube speaker blared out of the blue.

Recognized: Black Canary, one-three.

Robin staggered on his recovery landing only because Ed pulled away so abruptly. Robin almost stared at that bizarre reaction, but the zeta tube announcing Batman’s arrival next gave him his own pause.

Black Canary and Batman strode in, the former raising an eyebrow at the sight of the busy training ground.

“I see you’ve already taken over my half of classes,” she said. “I haven’t even told the team yet.”

Robin had several questions already. Among them why Ed stuttered in response to the teasing, “Oh, no, this wasn’t—I haven’t taken over anything yet, this was just—”

“I’m kidding, Ed,” she stopped him with a laugh. Her smile softened when he straightened to meet her gaze when she was close enough. “I wouldn’t have minded if you did start today. As long as it gets the team training on time.”

“R-Right.” Ed’s cheeks went pink, and he rubbed the side of his neck. “Obviously. But I’ll still be sure to ask next time.”

Black Canary looked amused at that, and it took Robin a second to realize—

“If you say so.”

Ed was intimidated.

It was almost too insane to be true, and it reflected in all of Robin’s teammates when he shared a bewildered glance with them. Ed talked back at the Batman without batting an eye, but he held himself practically on his toes around Black Canary? Talk about doing things backward; that made zero sense.

It made perfect sense to Ling, at least, who gave a light-hearted greeting to Black Canary as he hopped onto the circle.

“I see you two have already met!” Ling said, and there was something in the subtle widening of his grin and in Ed’s hasty glare at him that Robin was so poking later.

“Woah, back up a second there,” Wally interjected, stumbling onto the circle too, prompting the rest of the team to follow. “What haven’t you told us yet? And what does Ed have to do with it?”

“Ed’s going to take over half your combat training starting after your next misson,” Batman made his voice known on that dramatic note. Robin was sure that was a smirk trying to tug Batman’s lips. “You’ll be splitting your time between him and Black Canary, to make the most of your training.”

“Really? That’s great!” Megan beamed, to Superboy’s noticeable disgruntlement. He crossed his arms and humphed. Although, he didn’t grumble like Robin expected. So that was probably a good sign for warming up to Ed.

Ling shared Megan’s excitement on a softer heat, expression nakedly fond as he said to Ed, “Yes, very great. And undoubtedly not your idea?”

“It was my idea, actually,” Ed snarked, turning his nose and earning goopier eyes from Ling for the motion. “It’s called equivalent exchange, not free-loading and mooching off other people’s resources.”

“Is that not the same thing twice?”

“The hell it is—!”

“Alright, settle down, everyone,” Black Canary said, coolly, though the laugh was well-hidden in her voice. “We didn’t come here just to give this news. Batman has a new mission for you. And a question for Ed.”

Everyone started at the words and, like a switch flipped, they turned their serious attention to Batman. Ed sobered too, saying, “For me?”

“Yes.” Batman pulled up an immediately familiar map on a holographic screen. Robin narrowed his eyes, already wondering—

“The Watchtower detected an immense power surge in the Bialyan Desert.” Batman zoomed in the map to the desert in question. “Spectral analysis revealed elements that are non-terrestrial in origin. However, given recent revelations with the team’s last mission, we now have reason to believe these signals might be otherworldly as well. We adjusted our readings with that in mind to align more with previous power surges of your variety”—he looked pointedly at Ed and Ling—“and came up with something like a pictionary.”

Ed caught on instantly. “A circle, you mean?!”

Batman nodded. “This is what it looks like.”

Robin wasn’t sure what he was looking at for a second. The circle resembled nothing of the one that had summoned Ed and Ling here. It was much simpler, with less tiny symbols scrawled between the circles and the triangle in the middle. Honestly, Robin’s first stupid thought had been—

“The Illuminati?” Wally choked out, laughing. “Are you serious?”

“The whatnow?” Megan said, in adorable tandem with Superboy’s confusion.

“The Illuminati! It’s—well, it’s a little hard to explain if you’re not even familiar with internet culture, but—”

“No.”

Everything stopped at Ed’s whisper, suddenly.

Robin whirled around with the rest of the team, and he was sure his eyes weren’t the only ones to widen at the stark horror contorting Ed’s features.

Ling’s own expression crumpled in comparison, bleeding concern in his call of, “Ed? What is it?”

“This is what your signals showed?” Ed bowled right over his fiance’s attempt at comfort, staggering forward. “This? Are you sure?”

“We triple-checked it,” Batman said, and the set line of his lips deepened when Ed paled. “I guess I don’t have to ask if it’s familiar. What does it mean?”

“It’s—”

Ed barely got out the word before swallowing it heavily. His hands were shaking, Robin noted with alarm, and his eyes looked like they couldn’t stray from the circle, no matter how hard his breathing shuddered.

He shook his head vehemently. “It doesn’t matter. Because this shouldn’t be here. Al and I made sure of it ourselves—”

“Ed, you’re not making any sense,” Ling intervened gently, taking one of Ed’s tremulous hands. Weary eyes darted to Ling, and finally settled a little. “Explain it to me, at least. What is that circle?”

The atmosphere pulled with Ed’s tentative inhale. And exhale.

Even Superboy was poised to react to… something, a rare concern pinching his brow when Ed sucked in a proper breath at last, if only to whisper.

“It’s a transmutation base. One of Tucker’s—the one he used to…”

Matching horror dawned on Ling. “Are you certain?”

“I think I’d remember that damn circle painted on his walls in red with Nina—!”

“Sunshine, take another breath. It’s alright.” Ed let out a jagged breath at Ling’s thumb soothing the back of his hand. He ducked his head, making a better effort to steady himself, and Ling released his own short sigh of relief. He glanced around the group with some pain before murmuring to Ed, “Do you want me to explain all that to them? Or can you?”

“No, I…” Inhale. Exhale. Ed raised his chin. “I can do it.”

He kept one hand in Ling’s as he twisted to face Batman. He carefully didn’t face the rest of the team, nor Black Canary, curiously. “That circle alone couldn’t have emitted that surge you were talking about. It’s less of a complete circle, and more of a tweaked base to implement into a larger reaction. And this one… has been tweaked to merge living things.”

Robin tensed at the weighty delivery. Ed hadn’t said it, but he didn’t need to. His seconds-ago reaction spelled it out: they were talking about humans here.

Batman shared the same thinking, as he intoned, “All living things?”

“Theoretically, yes.” Ed clenched his jaw. “Realistically, you’d probably only get concrete results with small animals. Like I said, it’s… stronger, as an amplifier.”

“I see.”

Batman pursed his lips. Minutely as always, but… more obvious than usual too. This wasn’t an easy implication to swallow for anyone.

Superboy was especially affected as he squeezed his fists, and Megan shot him a worried look. She didn’t risk comforting him yet, but Robin had a feeling she’d be trying to later.

“What does this mean for our mission, Batman?” Kaldur was the one to pose the question on the team’s minds.

“Nothing, for now,” Batman said. “Your mission remains to find out the source of whatever caused that power surge, whatever its nature. If it turns out our same mystery organization is involved, and in Bialya no less, we’ll consider the impacts then.”

The team put on their game faces and nodded, but Ed remained despondent in the corner of Robin’s vision, and Ling’s sympathetic eyes stayed on him too.

Robin pretended not to notice Black Canary setting a hand on Ed’s shoulder as the team got ready for their mission. And nobody asked what she’d whispered to him.

That had been spelled out too.

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#fullmetal alchemist #fma #young justice #edling #edward elric #ling yao #dick grayson #kaldur'ahm #wally west #dinah lance #bruce wayne #yj x fma #crossover #fanfiction #my fic #katmail #don't ask me where the angst came from #I swear this was gonna be silly. I swear #crystalizedirongoblin

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wchswift · 1 hour ago

Text

ଓ VALENTINE'S DAY WITH DEAN

pairing: dean winchester x reader

summary: dean pretends not to care about the holiday, but every year he makes sure to celebrate it with you.

word count: 700

note: this blurb was requested by @bettystonewell for headcanon from dean in valentine's day! I didn't like this one very much but I really hope you enjoy it <3 this is part of my 125 followers celebration! Join the celebration too!

── english isn't my first language :)

mdni 𖤐 18+

"Valentine’s Day is a scam, sweetheart."

Dean had grumbled those exact words this morning—coffee in one hand, mouth full of pancake—looking wholly unimpressed by the pink and red decorations plastered around the diner where you’d stopped for breakfast.

"Hallmark holiday. Just a bunch of overpriced flowers and bad chocolate. What's the point? I show you that I love you every day; I don't need a special day for that," he snorted, continuing his speech. "Valentine's Day is only beneficial for singles because it's a great day to hit on women at the bar."

You’d rolled your eyes, laughing, because honestly? You knew better. You knew Dean Winchester—knew that he could act all tough and indifferent, but at the end of the day, he was all heart when it came to you. He literally did this every year, and by the end of the day, he always pulled off the most romantic or cute gesture to show that he still cared and was still there for you.

Which is how you found yourself here, sitting in a booth at your favorite diner, a basket of greasy fries between you, REO Speedwagon playing on the jukebox.

You narrow your eyes at the man across from you. “You sure you don’t do Valentine’s Day?”

Dean shrugs, all casual-like, grabbing a fry and popping it into his mouth. “What? Can’t we just enjoy a nice dinner together? Just you and me? You know how much I love a greasy meal,” he says with an exaggerated wink that tells you he's full of it.

You just nod but can't help but notice the small, wrapped package he's trying—and failing—to hide beneath his jacket on the seat.

You scoff, crossing your arms. “Uh-huh. So, you just happened to take me to my favorite diner, with my favorite fries, let me pick all the songs, and—” With a pointed finger, you direct his attention to the little pink-wrapped gift. “—get me a gift?”

“It’s not a gift!” he protests, a hint of fluster breaking through his cool demeanor. “It’s just… something I’ve wanted to give you for a while, and it was in..." He stumbles over his words. "In my pocket,” he finishes, his voice low.

Biting your lip, you pull the little package toward you and carefully unwrap it, the delicate paper crinkling slightly under your fingers. Inside is a mixtape—classic Dean Winchester. And when you turn it over, your heart does a little stupid flip at the handwritten label.

I Love You Mix Tape

For My Lucky Charm.

It's so simple yet so meaningful.

You glance up at him, your chest tightening. “Dean… you big softie,” you tease, a playful smile tugging at your lips.

He lets out a snorted laugh, looking almost embarrassed, bringing his beer to his lips in a futile attempt to hide his reaction. “It's not anything grand,” he admits, his voice a bit sheepish. “I just thought I’d give you something you’d appreciate. I know it’s not much—definitely not a big, romantic gesture.”

The earnestness in his tone makes your heart swell a little more, softening the edges of the moment.

Setting the tape down, you slide out of your seat, and before he can react, you slip into the booth next to him, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“Shut up. It's perfect, Dean. Really. I love this—all of it.”

Dean huffs, but you can feel the way he relaxes under your touch, his arm immediately draping over your shoulders. “Damn it, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your temple. “You’re gonna make me start actually likin’ this stupid holiday.”

You tilt your head up, brushing your lips against his. “Oh, you love it. You’re just too stubborn to admit it.”

His fingers tighten on your waist, and the playful glint in his eyes turns darker, more intent. “Maybe. But you know what part of the holiday I do like?”

You swallow as his lips graze your jaw, his voice dipping lower. “What’s that?”

Dean grins against your skin. “The part where I take you back to the motel and spend the whole damn night reminding you how much you mean to me.”

And suddenly, Valentine’s Day doesn’t seem like such a scam after all.

𖤐 reblogs and feedback are appreciated! requests are also welcome, ty!

taglist: @lyarr24 @chevroletdean @cowboysandcigarettes @nochedie (if you want to be removed or added let me know <3)

#꣖ ີ ꣓ writes.#dean winchester #supernatural #dean winchester x reader #dean supernatural #dean winchester x fem reader #dean winchester drabble #jensen ackles #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester fic #supernatural dean #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester 🪽#100 followers #request 💌

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sirfrogsworth · 11 months ago

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This might sound like a weird question, but have you ever come across a camera with a Bird Watching setting? I have an Olympus SP-800UZ and one of the modes it comes programmed with is literally called that, for taking pictures of birds in the wild.

As someone whose special interest is birds, I love this setting and use it a LOT, but I've never been able to find another camera with a setting like it, and at some point I told myself I didn't want to replace the camera until I could find one with a similar setting.

The reason I ask is because I've been following for a while, and I've come to respect your opinions on photography.

I tried researching your camera and figuring out what exactly the bird watching mode does and even the official manual did not say. If I were to guess, it just sets the camera up with certain parameters that are usually ideal for photographing birds, but I don't think it does anything special that other cameras can't do. You would just have to set a different camera up to those parameters rather than the camera doing it for you.

If I were to guess, it probably enables a certain autofocus mode for small subjects and limits how slow the shutter speed can go so you don't get motion blur when very zoomed in.

However, I know exactly which features are important to get good bird photos, so as long as the camera has the following features, you don't really need a dedicated bird mode. Though if a camera has a "pet mode" it would probably work similarly to the bird mode you are used to.

Most important bird photography features...

Good autofocus

Good zoom range

Image stabilization (Either optical or sensor, not digital)

Autofocus has come a long way in the last few years. It's difficult to assess the autofocus from specifications alone, so you will probably need to rely on reviews to know if the camera locks in on subjects well. Some cameras have pet and wildlife autofocus features that can be very helpful in tracking smaller subjects like birds. So I would look out for any camera that has a pet autofocus mode or a review that says it locks onto smaller subjects well—even if they don't mention birds. If it can lock onto a chihuahua, it can usually do so with a bird too.

Birds and wildlife in general tend to get spooked easily and it is often difficult to get close without them running or flying away. So having a longer zoom range can really help you keep your distance and not startle your subject. I would say the minimum focal length for getting good bird shots is around 300mm (on a full frame camera). Some cameras only quantify their zoom by magnification (20x, 30x, 40x, etc.) and don't really say what that is in relation to. So focal length is a better metric to assess how zoomy a lens is. 10-35mm would be wide angle. 50mm is about like our eyes. 100mm is slightly telephoto. And 300mm and above would be very telephoto.

You may need to google the focal range equivalent to a full frame 35mm camera. So you would search "[camera model] 35mm equivalent focal range" to figure that out. And as long as it goes past 300mm, it might be a good candidate for birding.

When you have a camera that zooms in that far, any movement will be exaggerated—especially if you have naturally shaky hands. Not only can that introduce motion blur into your images, but it can make it very difficult to track your subject. Looking through the viewfinder will result in a wiggly mess and you won't know what you are pointing the camera at.

Image stabilization helps negate that exaggerated movement.

There are 3 kinds of stabilization. First is optical, which is built into the lens with a floating glass element. Then there is sensor stabilization (often called IBIS for "in-body image stabilization") which allows the sensor to shift and move to counteract any motion introduced by your hands. And the last form is digital stabilization which is done using the camera's software.

The first two are physical solutions that can adjust on the fly much like a chicken's head.

The digital solution is mostly just fancy image cropping. It zooms in a tiny bit on your image and then aligns a continuous crop to give the appearance of a stable image.

The lens and the sensor are still a jiggling mess, but this constant cropping allows you to see the illusion of a stable image in your viewfinder and in the videos you take. And while this is very helpful for tracking subjects and capturing video footage, it will not help you negate motion blur—which is why the other two methods are preferred for still photography.

Bigger cameras can often forego stabilization because the zoom lenses are bigger and heavier and don't shake as much and they let in a lot more light so you can raise your shutter speed to freeze motion. It's still nice to have, and if you have IBIS and optical stabilization combined on a big camera you can almost take pictures in the dark without camera shake, but all of those conveniences can get costly.

The camera you have now is called a "bridge" camera or a "superzoom". These are (relatively) inexpensive cameras that use a smaller smartphone-style sensor but with a more classic camera body surrounding it and a non-changeable lens. Small sensors have one big advantage where if you put a zoom lens in front of them, they can see from Alaska to Russia.

For instance, your camera has an 840mm equivalent lens. That is near telescopic.

For reference, this is what an 800mm lens looks like for a full frame professional camera.

It weighs 10 pounds and costs about $13,000.

Granted the image quality of that lens is in another universe compared to your superzoom, but if you are mostly interested in documenting the birds you are encountering, a superzoom is a neat tool to have. It's like digital binoculars.

So I guess the question is, do you just want to document your bird adventures or do you want to delve into artistic bird photography?

You can upgrade to a nicer superzoom and get some improved clarity and ease-of-use features, which is totally valid. You could even get a "premium" superzoom that can do artistic bird photography in ideal lighting conditions.

Or if you go with a more professional interchangeable lens camera system (ILC), you can achieve some stunning artistic photos like these...

Freezing a bird midflight while catching a fish is just not really feasible with a basic superzoom.

Let's talk about the advantages and disadvantages of a superzoom bridge camera as compared to a more professional ILC setup.

Superzoom Pros

No learning curve. These cameras are designed for novice photographers and have very good automatic functions. You can pretty much pull them out of the box and start taking pictures without knowing the fundamentals of photography.

Incredible zoominess. You can get amazing zoom power for a fraction of the price.

Budget friendly. The top of the line superzoom camera is still only about $1500 as compared to the top of the line mirrorless ILC (for wildlife) which is $6500 *without* a lens. And the lower to mid range superzooms are even more affordable, especially if you consider used options.

Superzoom Cons

Noisy images in low light. These cameras are mostly suited for bright sunny days. The small sensors and cheaper lenses do not capture very much light. In more challenging lighting situations you will tend to get very noisy images due to using a high ISO to compensate.

Inconsistent image quality. Under the best of circumstances, you can get some really beautiful photographs. But when you push the camera to its extremes, the image quality can start to deteriorate. Low light causes noise. The more you zoom in, the softer your images will get. Low megapixels limit your options to crop in on far away subjects—which is often an issue with wildlife.

Deep depth of field. A lot of bird photographers like using shallow depth of field to blur the background so the bird really stands out in the photo. Small sensors can have a very hard time blurring the background unless the subject is quite far away and you are zoomed all the way in. But when you are all the way zoomed in, the image can get soft and lack detail. So you trade image quality for a blurry background.

Lack of professional features and accessories. There are many advanced features that can make bird photography much easier. Some cameras have advanced motion tracking that can allow you to capture birds in flight. The latest generation can even track a tiny bird's eye. There are also accessories that are only made for ILCs. Like motion activated shutter triggers that will take a picture of a bird automatically if you set up a camera near a feeder. There are flashes that work at very long distances. You can get camouflage skins for your lenses so the birds can't see you. Stuff like that.

ILC Pros

Lower image noise. With a bigger sensor and better lenses you can shoot with a very low ISO in good light and get incredibly clean noise-less images.

Better high ISO performance. If you are in low light, you can increase the ISO and still get a very good image. The noise on an ILC is much less distracting and easier to deal with—especially with advanced noise reduction software.

Background blur is easy. Due to the much larger sensor and telephoto lenses, almost every telephoto image will have beautiful blurry backgrounds no matter how small the aperture is.

Sharper, faster lenses. The lenses are much sharper and let in a lot more light. The quality of the image does not decrease as you zoom in. And the sharp optics allow a lot of leeway for cropping. So even if a bird was super far away, you can crop the image after the fact and it will still be quite detailed.

More megapixels. A lot of bird photography needs to be cropped in due to subject distance. Having more megapixels allows for more cropping. (I know I keep talking about cropping, but it really is a huge aspect of most bird photography.)

Advanced autofocus. This is the big game changer, especially on the new mirrorless cameras. The latest Canon and Sony cameras have eye detect autofocus for animals. You can literally lock onto a bird's eye while it is in flight and get perfect focus. It's bonkers.

ILC Cons

Steep learning curve. A lot of people think they'll get a big ILC and immediately get better pictures than their smartphone. They are often disappointed when that isn't the case. You really need to learn the fundamentals of photography to get good photos out of an ILC (free course here). They do have automatic modes, but without learning about aperture, shutter speed, and ISO (the exposure triangle) and how to balance them and when to prioritize what, you might end up with *worse* photos than a smartphone.

Wildlife photography can get very expensive. Big lenses with a lot of zoom are some of the priciest available. There are some budget options, but you will have to sacrifice quite a bit of zoom and light-gathering capabilities. The quality of the photos is usually worth it, but you may have to learn how to get closer to birds to photograph them.

Heavy as heck. Superzooms are very light and portable. A wildlife ILC configuration is very unwieldy. The camera is heavier. The lens is long and heavy. Carrying all of that gear into the wilderness can be quite a hassle.

Some camera suggestions...

Superzoom Options

If I'm being honest, in the sub $300 range, I don't think you'll be able to drastically improve over what you already have. All of the cameras in this range are quite similar and while a few might have some features that are helpful, the image quality is going to be roughly the same.

You are probably going to need to spend at least $400-700 to get a meaningful upgrade from what you have.

The top-of-the-line superzoom would be the Sony RX10 Mark IV at $1100 used. You can get the previous model, the Mark III, for about $900 used. It's a wonderful camera and the image quality and features rival or even surpass some ILC options. If you don't have the time to learn an ILC system but want the best possible quality, this might be an option. But an ILC will still give you better results if you are willing to put in the time.

For more mid-tier superzooms, you might look into the Panasonic Lumix models. They use slightly larger sensors than most superzooms and are known for their lens optical quality along with their stabilization.

The FZ1000 is getting very old, but it is still a powerful camera at a good price. The only downside is the focusing system isn't as advanced as newer cameras. But it will be better than what you have and you can find one used for around $400.

The newer FZ1000 II or the FZ2500 would be great options that have more modern autofocus and a lot more bells and whistles. They are fairly similar and can both be found for around $650 used. They do great video as well.

These are not the only options, but they are ones I know of and models I have heard positive things about. If you want to see what else is out there I would google "bridge superzoom cameras" and then maybe add your price range as well. Read reviews and watch YouTube videos to get a sense of the cameras you are interested in. As long as the camera has decent autofocus, I don't think you need a specific bird feature—so I wouldn't limit yourself in that regard.

ILC Options

When trying to come up with a good bird photography setup for interchangeable lens cameras, there is basically an easy, medium, and hard mode depending on how much you spend.

As I mentioned, the top-of-the-line mirrorless cameras have autofocus tracking that can lock onto a bird's eye while in flight. They have both IBIS and lenses with optical stabilization. They have burst modes that let you take 30 photos per second. They have 50 megapixel sensors that allow you to crop to your heart's content and still have megapixels left over.

It's quite dreamy if you have the money.

But I'm guessing if you are coming from an Olympus bridge camera that is probably a bit more of an upgrade than you were thinking.

So if easy mode is not viable, let's talk about medium and hard mode.

If you still want the bird detecting autofocus, in body image stabilization, and a pretty zoomy lens, Canon has some newer mirrorless cameras that would take amazing artistic bird shots. It's still spendy, but not $9000 spendy.

The Canon R7 is a great APS-C mirrorless camera with IBIS that can be found used for about $1300. It has 32 megapixels and due to having a slightly smaller sensor, you even get some bonus zoom out of all your lenses at about 1.6x. It's still a much larger sensor than a superzoom, just not quite the size of the Alpha 1.

Alpha 1 is Full Frame. R7 is APS-C. And Superzooms don't get any bigger than the 1" sensor.

Pair the R7 with the RF 100-400mm lens ($600 used) with optical stabilization, and you would have a stellar bird photography setup for about $1900. (It would be a 160-640mm equivalent lens on the R7 due to the 1.6x crop factor.)

Which is probably still way more than you want to spend.

So we have the hard mode option.

No bird eye autofocus. No stabilization. You have to learn the fundamentals and practice in order to get good shots. However, wildlife photographers have been getting AMAZING photos with the gear I'm about to suggest. In fact, all of these photos were captured with the hard mode ILC combo.

The Canon 7D Mark II has been a beloved camera body for wildlife photography for many years. Many pros still use it to great effect to this day. It doesn't have bird autofocus, but it still has one of the best DSLR autofocus systems that was ever developed. It can even track moving subjects, it just doesn't know it is tracking a bird so it is more prone to error on occasion. It can be found used for $500-600.

The Canon 400mm F/5.6 telephoto lens is one of the most affordable lenses Canon ever made for wildlife. It is an old lens, but it is sharp and takes beautiful images. No stabilization, but it is big and heavy so that isn't a huge deal. You can also carry a monopod rest it on. And on the 7D II, it is the equivalent of a 640mm lens. It costs around $650 used, which is very inexpensive compared to other telephoto lenses.

So you are looking at around $1200 for the combo. But the photos you can achieve with these two items will blow pretty much any superzoom out of the water.

To sum up...

ILC photography is always going to have a steep learning curve and expensive barrier for entry, but you can achieve some truly stunning results.

Superzooms are getting better and some of the newer ones can still take excellent pictures of birds under the right circumstances. They are lightweight and hassle free and allow you to get incredible zooms for a low cost.

If you mostly take photos of stationary birds outside on bright sunny days, you will be fairly happy with a superzoom.

If you want to take photos during darker times like sunrise or sunset or in a dense forest... or if you want to take photos of birds mid-flight, you will probably have to get an ILC.

I hope that was helpful. I know I overdo these answers, but I try to help as many people as I can by giving a broad overview of the topic and the myriad ways to go about things.

#photography #long post

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