#less so with the ITS NOT YOUR FAULT that I have yelled in my brain since 3pm today | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

gyuswhore · 1 year ago

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the story of us ✦ j.w.w x reader

the story of us looks a lot like a tragedy now - the story of us

synopsis: So many walls that you can't break through; except you do.

wc: 2.1K

contains: best friends to lovers, angst, fluff, humour, happy ending, alcohol, arguments

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[a/n]: im exhausted, im loopy, im hungry, but i really wanted to post this so here you go my babies I'm sorry i haven't fed you in so long (ty @toruro for making sure i wasn't talking out of my ass in this ily)

[edit; 11/04/24]: grammar and spelling.

Jeon Wonwoo was nearing boiling point when he watched you push him away from yet another conversation.

He tried to understand, just like he always had. But it was proving near impossible at the five-month mark.

There were clear signs you exhibited when you needed space, for whatever reason, Wonwoo knew you would tell him when you recovered. So he gave you what you needed.

And yet, when he finds himself pushed away from what looks like a casual conversation between your mutual friends, he finds his mild annoyance grow into something hotter.

There’s a clench in his jaw as he tries not to squeeze the red cup in his hand with too much pressure, even when all the spiteful bit of his brain wants to do is to pour its pigmented contents all over your cream outfit. He manages to control himself, choosing to get up and exit the premises entirely. In complete silence, he refuses to acknowledge any yell of his name from passing acquaintances.

Jeon Wonwoo refused to respond to any of your advances after that.

Invitations to lunch were left on a jarring sent, the notification sitting in his log until he chooses to open it too late. His response was bare when you asked for help on some accounting concepts, pushing you over into Jihoon’s hands to fulfill your requirements. There’s a blatant shrug when you touch his shoulder, concerned, asking why his behaviour had become so distant in the past weeks; he responds with a mumble of, “just tired”.

The great divide happened a few days proceeding your birthday, one for which Wonwoo did nothing for but send you a quick message during the evening, never to see you throughout the extended day.

“I can’t believe you’re putting this on me!” you all but yell, eyes wide and expression exasperated at the situation.

“Are you blind? Or just plain stupid? Because I didn’t tolerate months of your shit attitude to have you say it isn’t your fault.” Wonwoo is breathing heavily, hands motioning towards your entire figure with equal disbelief.

“What attitude?” you emphasize. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know I couldn’t be upfront with my best friend.”

“There’s a difference between being in a mood and blatant disrespect. I’m tired of having to put up with your mood swings like it’s my responsibility to coddle you. When was the last time you genuinely asked me how I was doing?”

“All the time!”

“Yeah, after you realize there's nobody else to whine and wail to!”

“Wonwoo, you’re being ridiculous.”

“Fine. If I’m clearly so unhinged, I’ll leave you to your liking.”

The dwindled interactions, from messages to hellos, went from sparing to nonexistent — just like that.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t expect for you and Wonwoo to reconcile in the matter of a few days, if not a couple weeks.

But when the distance did nothing but grow larger, there was a settle of resentment in the pit of your stomach as you accepted the feud you were in.

A text was sent from your phone a couple days after the incident.

[You]: can we talk?

But when you see no sign of the grey Delivered on the end, you knew he had blocked you.

This was all nothing less than baffling to you for a number of reasons, starting with how you had never witnessed Wowoo acting this way.

Wonwoo had done nothing but reprimand you the rare chance you suggested blocking an apprehensive individual, something about not showing that you cared. His voice seemed redundant after a certain decibel, the rarest chance to witness him yell at a failed video game or a frustrating professor.

You know better, which is the only reason you’re ruling off paranormal possession.

The claims against you came as an afterthought, not, however, rendering them any less strange. There’s a part of you that pondered if your shield of annoyance blocked you from seeing the truth in his words and in your behaviour, finding yourself overwhelmed with emotions when the thought crossed your mind, tears of frustration immediately blurring your vision.

You did not understand, you could not. And when it all got too much, you allowed the hurt and confusion to turn into something more dangerous. You replaced it with anger, in the same place that once occupied a more delicate emotion.

There was an uproar in Wonwoo’s mind when he sees you walk into the lecture hall, unaware of your overlapping schedule in the new semester. He watches as your eyes pass over the moderately packed space, briefly glancing over where he sat; if you saw him, you did nothing to bring a reaction out of it. You take a seat a few rows up front, right in front of him where he’s able to see the back of your head for the next two hours — for the rest of the semester.

He wonders if it’s too late to switch classes.

“Wonwoo, I honestly think this is getting out of hand.” Jihoon munches on his cashews, leaning against bark of the tree they were both sat under.

“Did you want me to keep tending to her bullshit then?” he grumbles.

“That’s not what I’m saying, you know it’s not.”

“That’s what it sounds like.” Wonwoo’s retort is brisk.

Jihoon is suddenly snapping his fingers in his face at the reply, a flinch accompanies Wonwoo’s already sour expression.

“See! See how frustrating it is when somebody isn’t making sense?”

“How does this—”

“Wonwoo, did you try talking to her about how you felt, you know, without the screaming?”

Jihoon watches as Wonwoo’s expression clears out, his eyebrows unfurrowing and the scowl fading. He doesn’t speak, choosing to let the realization kick in.

“No.”

Jihoon sighs, taking another pause. “I’m not saying what she did wasn’t uncalled for, but you need to talk shit out before deciding you hate each other.”

“I don’t hate her.”

“Right, so can we wrap this up quickly and have you confess your undying love so we can all relax.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Heat crawls up Wonwoo’s cheeks.

“What? If you don’t hate her, it’s gotta be the opposite.”

Did Wonwoo like you? Yeah, he probably did. Did he ever let himself ponder upon it? No, because he was downright mortified of the mere thought. He finds himself a hypocrite to say it was to preserve your friendship, but he figures he’s fucked it up in a way that’s arguably worse.

Regardless, Wonwoo walks away from that conversation with two things: a stark realization, and an even starker admittance.

Everything was going wrong. At least that’s what it felt like when you hear the clang of your water bottle hit the pavement, rolling off into the oncoming traffic as you sprint to grab it. You nearly cause a vehicle pile-up, swallowing a couple profanities from braking drivers.

You’re stuffing the darn thing into your bag when you trip on a loose brick on the path, nearly landing on your face. The glare you send into the pavement costs you even more when a hard shoulder bumps into your side, sending you another couple steps back. You don’t bother to see who the perpetrator is, too preoccupied with your attempts to take in deeper breaths amid the blankness of your mind.

There are no hiccups after that, what you might owe your more conscious mind to. Stomping up the library steps, you thank nothingness for the air conditioning that meets your hot face, slowing down as you take in the crowd.

Scanning the room for an empty seat is harder than you’d anticipated, hoping the heat would keep students away from the building as you left to get work done. Approaching a table, you set down your bag with a huff, pulling the chair out to finally take the seat you’ve been needing for so long.

The universe seems to have other plans.

It’s almost funny the way you and Wonwoo make eye contact across the other table, the recognition sending a jolt through your stomach.

You’ve never moved so fast, pushing the chair back in with a screech that earns you a few looks, grabbing the handles of your bag as you turn around to leave the building you’d just entered.

No way you'd sit there. Not when he was around.

You're bounding down the steps when somebody passes you, murmuring something without slowing their stride.

“I’m leaving, you can go inside,” Wonwoo says, and the sound of his voice has you halting almost immediately.

Whipping your head around to search for the sound, you watch as he takes a turn at the end of the steps, slowly moving out of your vision.

There’s a swirl of something in your chest, and you realise in that moment how much you missed hearing his voice.

Chiding yourself, you blink back the water that wells up in your eyes, embarrassed at how quickly you were losing yourself.

But the damage was done. And you wanted to be reckless, regardless of how desperate it made you look. A split second decision is made in that moment, one that lightens the heavy feet that you’ve planted on the concrete.

You’re back to bounding down the steps, but this time with aim.

Taking the same turn you saw Wonwoo take, you break into a sprint as you see his figure move farther away. You keep running, continuing to bump into both objects and people, hurried "sorry"'s the only thing you choose to throw their way.

“Wonwoo!” Your voice comes out stronger than you’d intended, the sharpness having him turn around in search, eyes landing on your accelerating figure.

Both of you realize too late how fast you’re really going, the velocity taking you directly into his outstretched arms, hands grasping the sleeves of his shirt as you come to screeching stop directly into his chest.

You don’t have the time nor the patience to be embarrassed, pulling your face back to look directly into Wonwoo’s bewildered eyes to huff out your next words.

“Why did you block me?” you ask, voice gruff and slightly out of breath.

Wonwoo’s mouth opens and closes like a fish, words refusing to come out.

“Why are you so mad at me? Why are you being nice to me if you’re mad at me?” You don’t stop, the direct questions tumbling off your tongue in desperation.

You search his face for an answer when his mouth fails, but all you find is the remnants of shock yet to ebb away.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry for making you feel like you weren’t important, I’m sorry for taking your presence for granted, I’m sorry for hurting you, I’m sorry for…for… I don’t know! I’m just really sorry and I don't know how else to make this right.”

“I’m sorry, too,” you hear him say and you feel the moisture return to your eyes.

“Huh?”

“I should’ve…” he pauses, looking sheepish. “I should’ve talked to you before I, y’know, went off on you. I should’ve managed my feelings better, I’m sorry.”

You're silent for a few tantalizing moments before you raise your fists, and pound down on his chest with everything you have. You do it again, and then again, and again—

“What?- Ow!”

“When are you gonna stop bottling up your feelings for fucks sake, it’s landed you everywhere but good!” you say, nearly yelling.

Wonwoo whips his head around to see who’s listening, palm to mouth in attempts to silence you.

“I’m sorry! I know! I’m working on it,” he rambles, trying to get you to quit struggling. “Jihoon and I talked, that’s why I realised I was being dumb.”

“Are you gonna unblock me now or do I need to pay Jihoon to sit down with you again?”

Wonwoo’s eyebrows furrow. “You payed Jihoon to sit with me?”

“No, you idiot. But I should have because you can’t seem to figure out how to feel emotions.”

Wonwoo can’t help himself when he breaks out into a grin, letting out a breathy chuckle that has you asking “What?”.

He pulls you in, heart to heart in an embrace, holding you tight to make up for the weeks of no contact. He breathes in your scent and feels as though he hasn’t in years.

“I’m not gonna come running up to you the next time you decide you hate me,” you mumble into his shoulder, pouting slightly.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“No.” Wonwoo pulls away but keeps you in his arms, looking at you, “I love you. Like, the kind of stuff that makes you wanna live together forever. I love you.”

It’s your turn to gape like a fish.

“W-what?”

“You told me not to bottle up my feelings.”

“Yeah, but—wow, um.”

“Did I make another mistake?”

No! You wanted to scream. But you don’t. You instead lift your hands up to come around his face, cradling it. And you kissed him.

“I love you, too. Like the live together forever kind.”

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maryangelex · 8 months ago

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Please, please, please.

I am requesting an Ex!husband John price/ Fem!reader, where they divorce and he’s absolutely devastated by it, grovels and upset that he lost the love of his life, and then years later by circumstances are in force proximity with each other and have to deal with communicating all their grievances and then bam heated smut and pent up frustrations at each other, and then get back together.

Thank you so much and I really appreciate you! But it’s also okay if you skip my request :)

a/n: anon how could i possibly leave this delectable prompt unanswered!!?!?!?! i have literally been saving this one for almost last because i need to use 110% of my prune brain its so amazing. one thing about me is...im a whore for ex-husband!price *clutches pearls* im sorry for making ya wait, i hope you love it!!!

this is gonna be a long one!

c/w: ex-husband!price, make-up sex, forced proximity, quickie, against a wall, p in v, creampie, john price yearns for his pretty wife

It hadn't been easy, no divorce is easy, really. Much less when it was something you didn't really want to do, but more so saw yourself as needing to do. The nights without John had gotten too lonely, his side of the bed had gotten too cold. You thought the times he was back would make up for the times he wasn't. When John came back from deployment it felt like a coin toss: sometimes it was your honeymoon all over again, but other times he was cold and distant.

You had two kids in tow; two kids that needed their father. You were a wife that needed her husband just as much. You don't blame him for not being there of course. After all, you owed it all to him; all you ever wanted he got for you, he provided you a house to raise your children in, to grow old in. He gave you nothing but unconditional love. That's what made everything harder when you decided you couldn't do this anymore. You couldn't keep hoping he'd come home to be his normal self every time just to be met with the shell of the man you fell in love with.

You knew it wasn't his fault, you knew his line of work. But having to be alone the majority of the year plus having to still be alone when he was around had gotten to you, it had become too much. And John knew this. When you told him through sobs and wails that you couldn't do this anymore, that you felt hopeless and alone and like this was the only remedy, he understood. He had packed his things and left without a fuss, leaving you the house and renting an apartment barely a drive away. He tried to make it as simple as possible, arranging to stay with the kids every weekend and more if you needed time for yourself. His silence and compliance to separate felt like more of a dagger in your chest than the reason to separate to begin with. You wished he had fought for you, that he had yelled at you and argued with you to stay and fix this.

Little did you know that when he found himself in the empty single-bedroom apartment he rented himself he did nothing but cry like a neglected child for hours until his eyes stung and couldn't physically push out any more tears. John Price was a man made of stone and yet he found himself clutching his chest as he sobbed for his wife nearly every night and every lonesome morning. He kicked himself for not fighting for you, as well. He blamed himself for having to come to this in the first place, for leaving you alone and not knowing how to cope well enough to be the very best of himself when he came back from grueling missions. For not being able to look you in the eyes after losing a man, for not being able to open up to you and cry like this in front of you when he needed to let it out of his chest, for not making love to you like a tending husband should at his wife's every whim.

He felt like the consequences of choosing his career had finally caught up to him, and losing you was his penance.

The two of you finalized your divorce quietly and without struggle, feeling like it only drove the knife deeper into your chest. You settled on the kids seeing John every other weekend and he'd be more than welcome back home to be present as their father. Because that was the thing about John: he may have not seen himself as a good man (not good enough for you, for sure) but you both knew he was the best father your kids (and you) could ever ask for.

It's been a year since your divorce; John had been living in his separate flat whilst you and the kids stayed home. He'd come every week, and take the kids every other weekend. Now your oldest's birthday was a few days away and who were you to deprive him of coming? After he had been doing such a good job at not crossing your boundaries, at being a loving father and giving you every bit of warmth and kindness and love that he gave you when you were still together...the more you listed these things the more your heart ached and you doubted yourself. The more you realized you still loved him.

On the day of your kid's birthday, he made sure to get there extra early to help you set up the place. He bought the necessary supplies, picked up the cake from the bakery, and set up the chairs and balloons. Hell, you barely lifted a finger. And of course, he was more than happy to do everything and anything for you with that cheek-pulling smile of his. As the party went on and the house filled with guests and wild kids running about, you scrambled around the house to make sure no one needed anything. That's when John intervened.

"Everythin' alright, hon? Been runnin' round the house like mad," his voice was sweet like honey as he entered the garage, where you were taking out can after can of soda from the spare fridge and into the cooler with ice you brought with you. You didn't turn to look at him as you sighed in exasperation, but you could feel John just a few steps behind you.

"Just making sure everyone's got something to drink...the sodas've run out in the cooler outside and--"

"Everyone's havin' a good time, love," John cut off your rambling with a light chuckle, the rumbling of his voice making the hair on the back of your neck stand up. He interjected by taking the cooler from your hands "Let me get that for you," he said, lifting the heavy plastic for you. You sighed again and brought the back of your hand to rub your forehead. You finally looked up to meet his eyes, which were gazing at you with so much adoration it made your stomach twist.

"John..." you started, and he responded with a furrow of his brows and a silent question. "Please don't look at me like that."

"Like what?" he asked.

"Like you still love me," you blurted, and the beat your heart skipped let you know you physically regretted saying that, instantly.

John's lips pressed into a thin line as he paused for a moment in silence.

"I do still love you," he confessed. You shook your head in disbelief and scoffed.

"John, please, it's our kid's birthday," you dismissed as you turned on your heel and made your way to the door except-

Right, you now remembered why it was a rule in your house this past year to not close the garage door: the lock was busted. You gripped the knob firmly and gave it one, two, three harsh tugs, hoping to somehow force the door open. You banged the door with your fist in frustration, hoping maybe someone heard it on the other side but all you heard was the music playing on the other side.

"Let me have a go," John said, placing the cooler down and tugging just as harshly, even slamming his shoulder against it to see if it would budge, but nothing. You and John were trapped in your garage. You let out a groan and a quiet curse as you pinched the bridge of your nose with a hand on your hip.

John placed a hand on your bicep. They were cold from the ice but the squeeze and rubbing of his thumb on your skin was filled with warmth.

"S'alright, take a breather, hon," he said tenderly, "they'll miss us soon enough to come lookin' in here."

You nodded as you stepped away from his touch. You never stopped John from still using terms of endearment for you, it never felt like a big deal. You were frustrated from the party, the perfectionist in you wanting nothing but to give your kids the best party, and now you were locked up in the garage. To make matters worse, you were locked up in here with your ex-husband who just said he still loves you.

"I meant what I said, love," his voice was barely a whisper but it still brought you out of your thoughts.

"John..." you warned.

"No, I mean it," his tone rose, firmer this time, "I still fuckin' love you, baby."

"Well, it's too late for that now, isn't it? You're gonna make an effort now, John, a year later?"

John was silent, pleading blue eyes gazing at you, the muscles in his jaw tensing.

"You didn't fight for us, John. You didn't fight for me." your finger pointed to your chest firmly as you looked back at him with tear-filled eyes.

"I know, baby, I know," his voice shook in his throat, "I should've fought for us... I should've been a better husband to you, better dad for the kids I-- I should've just been there."

You were quiet as you choked on a quiet sob, the tears escaping down your cheeks.

"I haven't stopped loving you for a second, my only regret in life is not having fought harder for you, having let go of you so easily - fuck," you watched the tears prick his eyes as he stepped closer to you. His palm came to cup your cheek and his thumb wiped away the tear staining your cheeks.

"I failed you. I just...please, baby, I just want one more chance to be a better man for you... I just want my girl back." His tone was soft as if he was reciting a prayer kneeling at a pew. His other hand came to the other side of your face, tucking your hair behind your ear before it cupped your other cheek alike.

You sobbed and brought your hands up to his wrists, shaking your head lightly, knowing all you really wanted was to forgive him despite your denial.

His forehead pressed against you as he whispered once more, "Please, baby..."

"John..." you tried

The tip of his nose rubbed against yours, "Please," he repeated, "be my pretty wife again...be mine again, yeah?" His lips brushed against yours and his hands were firm on your cheeks. You sobbed one more time before his lips pressed against yours, slotting together like two pieces of a puzzle. And fuck, you melted as your lips met.

His lips against yours just felt so right; they were your husband's lips, after all. They were made for yours and yours were made for his, that's why you knew you were so perfect for each other. The way he kissed you made your chest break into a million pieces because you just missed him so much.

The hold on his wrists became limp and you didn't resist - you couldn't resist his kiss because you wanted it so desperately, you've wanted it for this entire past year.

Your mouth moved with his, lips clashing and caressing against each other, teeth clicking together with the force of your desperate kisses, your tongues hungrily pressing their way into each others' mouths. John's hand slid to the back of your head, fingers snaking into your hair and raking through your scalp. You hummed into his mouth at the feeling.

Your hands slid up his back, balling into fists over his shoulder blades and gripping the fabric of his shirt as if you'd lose him again if you didn't hold him firm enough. You held him impossibly close to you as he did the same, your bodies familiarly molded to each other.

You felt John step forward as he still kissed you, backing you up into the nearest wall and it made the heat in your core ignite like a bonfire. When you felt the cold wall against your body, you pried your mouth away from his to gasp a breath but it wasn't half a second later before he captured your lips again. His hands slid down the frame of your body, pawing at your chest and curves before eagerly bunching up the skirt of your dress around your hips. You scrambled to his belt, clumsily and hurriedly doing your best to unbuckle it and undo his pants.

He scoured under your dress to tug your underwear down your thighs with messy urgency. His lips sloppily and wetly trailed up and down your chest and neck before finding their way back to your mouth.

Your hand palmed his hardened length through his boxers and he groaned into your mouth. One of his hands took hold of yours and stuffed it in his boxers to stroke his aching cock as you both panted between kisses.

"All yours, darling," he groaned as he guided your hand stroking his cock, "forever fuckin' will be yours."

And you whined at his words, or maybe at the way his other hand snaked between your legs, fingers wetting themselves with the slick pooled between your folds before pressing into your hole. He pumped his fingers in and out, making you reminisce on how those thick digits have made you feel so good in the past.

You moaned his name like a prayer, pleading for him to fuck you because you needed him. You've needed him for a fucking year and couldn't wait a second longer.

John would give you anything and everything, he always has. So he wasted no time in removing his fingers from your pussy, coating his cock in the slick they collected, and using his other hand to hike your leg up around his waist.

You braced yourself against the wall and with your hands against his shoulders as he practically lifted you off your feet and insert his girthy, swollen cock inside of you. You moaned unabashedly at the way he split you open as he bottomed out.

"So perfect...my perfect wife," he breathed, "made just for me, baby." His fingers dug into the flesh of your thigh and you were sure it would bruise the same way your nails clawing through his shirt were sure to leave crescents on his skin.

John pumped his cock in and out of you slowly but firmly for a few strokes before picking up the pace. His rhythm was relentless as he fucked up into you, pistoning his hips and making your skin clap against each other.

You threw your head back as you whined and moaned at the feeling of the head of his cock bullying against your cervix. Thank god for the music outside.

John hiked up your other leg, wrapping both around his waist as he fucked you against the wall hard and needy. His eyes looked deep into your teary ones, not breaking away to not miss the gorgeous sight of his pretty wife getting fucked by him after so long. He moaned at just the look on your face, at the way your walls gripped him like a vice.

"Look at you... never lettin' go of somethin' so beautiful," he practically slurred, his rhythm becoming sloppy and desperate as he chased his high, and he knew you were close too.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and took his mouth into another starved kiss. Your hands tugged at the hair on the back of his head and you let him fuck you with the same longing and desire as the first time.

You chanted his name between breathy moans as you climbed up to your climax. John was a mumbling mess of endearments and sweet nothings as he kept thrusting hard and sloppy into your squelching pussy.

"I love you, John," you choked out through tears, not knowing if it was from the pleasure he was giving you or from the overwhelming emotion being with your husband again was making you feel.

"I fuckin' love you more, dove," he accentuated his words with thrusts until he felt your walls clamp around his length and watched as you wailed and sobbed out more moans, sending him into his own climax with just a few more pumps shortly after. You were sure you'd bear him a third child with the way his cum seeped out of you.

He rested his sweat-coated forehead against yours as you both panted. You were a flushed mess against the wall, limbs liquefied and throat raw. John slowly let you down with the utmost care in the world, gently holding you up on your feet like you were a delicate porcelain doll.

You held each other close as he peppered soft kisses on your face, the same way he'd always done after sex when you were married. John Price, always the gentleman.

You basked in the afterglow as you gazed at each other, love filling John's wide dark pupils. It was hard for you to hide the smile that tugged at your lips and it made John chuckle, thumb rubbing your cheek lovingly.

Then, you heard the rattling of the door and you quickly stood up straight and collected yourself up on your feet the best you could. Kyle, or Uncle Gaz as your kids coined him, and the other two men had burst through the lodged garage door.

"Oi, how long you two been locked here?" he questioned.

"Aye, we been callin' youse for half 'n hour," the Scott quipped behind him.

John scolded them for not acting quicker if they were so worried, and scowled at the way the younger two had shit-eating grins plastered on their faces. He dismissed them as he picked up the cooler, which was now more full of water than ice, and shot you a look.

You chided at his smirk with your bright red cheeks.

"This mean I can move back in?" he teased.

"We'll see, John" you fought back a smile.

#cod mw2 #call of duty mwii #cod fanfic #fanfic #john price #anon ask #anon request #thanks anon!#price mw2 #captain john price #captain price #price #price x reader

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xiexiecaptain · 2 years ago

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The biggest thing I've learned to help manage my ADHD in regards to getting things done is to Follow Those Impulses

(I'm not saying this will work for or is even a good strategy for everyone, but in my own situation it's helped me.)

I'm like allergic to consistency in schedule and cannot enforce one on myself so all it leads to is self-loathing and failure. Trust me, I've been attempting to will-power, shame-fuel my way through it since I was a preteen (I'm currently almost 30.) It does not work for me.

Obviously medication can give me a huge leg up on stuff. But beyond a certain point my brain is simply not wired for long-term sustained consistency.

As in many of my issues, I've found that working with myself gets better results than fighting myself.

When I follow those sudden impulses of interest and motivation, I get things done.

To the outside, I look absolutely haphazard. I'll pause a show I'm watching mid-sentence, stand up, and go empty the dishwasher because my mood/brain/chemicals *ping*ed that it was suddenly do-able and not a huge overwhelming task. Or I'll be putting away laundry and that *ping* will go off and I'll spend three hours re-organizing my closet.

To a neurotypical, this looks like distracted and disorganized behavior.

To me, it's following the way my brain naturally works in order to accomplish tasks.

My ADHD manifests in that I experience very small and unsustainable windows of motivation and interest. So when I feel that window crack open, doing the Thing right then (when the situation enables me to) can mean the Thing actually happens. Even if it's not the thing I'm "supposed" to be doing.

With a neurotypical in that situation, they might be putting away clothes and think: "Oh, I should organize my closet. I have time this weekend, I'll do it then," finish putting away their clothes, and then organize the closet when they had free time that weekend.

I used to try to do things that way too. Because it was how I was taught that "responsible, real people" did it, and had "finish one thing before you start another" drilled into my head. But I'm literally not wired to work that way. And I've been working on undoing that internalized ableism of believing one way of doing things is better and I need to change to adhere to it. I don't and shouldn't be expected to to my own detriment.

For me with the closet example, the weekend would come and I would spend 5 hours screaming at myself to stop working on whatever did have my interest in order to go organize the closet. Sometimes I might ended up doing it. More often, I would not be able get myself to do it even after all that. I would just sit there, yelling at myself, hating myself despite my brain literally not having the chemicals to initiate the activity (let alone follow through) and nothing would get done. Not even the thing I wanted to focus on instead.

The only thing I did accomplish was hating myself for not being able to do "simple" things like other people (read: neurotypicals.)

This is basically how I spent the majority of my schooling; doing simple tasks felt like running in sand. And I internalized all the messages that told me it was my own fault I couldn't run as fast and in as straight a line as those running on pavement.

The past few years, I've been trying to follow impulses more. And its honestly been really helpful.

I get more done even if it isn't a "consistent" amount or I can't always count on having a specific thing done by a certain date.

But the big thing is that I spend less time hating myself for not doing what I "should" be and more time actually doing things when I have the motivation for them. More shit happens, I'm undoing some of that self-loathing.

tl;dr: My advice for fellow adult ADHD-ers is:

Try to learn what your natural rhythms are and, where possible, try leaning into them. Without judgement, try working with your natural tendencies rather than battling them at every moment. See how it feels, see what you accomplish (and not just in the capitalistic "productivity" way--spending 3 hours hyperfocusing on researching the history of wheat germ counts!) See how your brain and body feel.

Your brain is wired different, let yourself operate different.

#adhd #add #neurodivergence #neurodiversity #adult adhd #adhd inattentive #adhd tips #adhd acceptance #original posts

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snootlestheangel · 11 months ago

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141 Headcanons

This is "the 141 as shelter dogs" cause that's the only thing on my mind the last 5 days. It's so rotting my brain so I have to share. If nothing makes sense feel free to ask questions. I'd love to explain in more detail about my job since I actually didn't know how much goes into a shelter.

Anyways this is just a little thing right now cause I'm tired and brain no work except when it comes to my work

Some things: bonded animals are harder to adopt because they need to remain together and people often don't want that responsibility.

There are waivers for animals. Typically dogs will have waivers that are for they have a bite history, cannot be around small children, cannot be around small animals like cats, cannot be with other dogs.

Ghost

He's a big Shepherd/Pyrenees mix that's known for being a bit difficult to handle. He came in because animal control took him from a really abusive home. He was terrified of everyone but used his teeth and big size to fight first.

Hes the entire staff's favorite though because they all know it's not his fault, its just the abuse he suffered all those years. The behavior team loves when they get to spend time working with him on leash training and desensitization.

He started improving cause they introduced him to playgroups (where he gets to finally meet other dogs and play with them). He spends most of the time hiding between the team lead of that particular playgroup (despite being like half her size). He does eventually come out of his shell a bit but he's still very reserved.

Gets called "handsome man" literally all day by staff. So many treats. Is actually the sweetest and prefers to sit and "keep watch" then anything else.

Is bonded with Soap. Has bite history waiver.

Price

Big shaggy looking older dog. Has the schnauzer beard so he definitely has some of that in his blood. Called "Captain" cause he just seems to be in charge. Just has that face of "I'm the boss" despite being a dog.

Gets overlooked a lot cause he's not the most attractive dog for people wanting to adopt. He's shaggy looking and a bit grumpy, he's also an older dog so he's overlooked a lot.

Was surrendered for biting the neighbor. It's not his fault, it's the neighbors but ya know. Dog bites person, dog gets taken. It's an unfortunate reality and often times either the owners don't want the dog back or can't get them back.

Soap

Aussie/border collie mix. Has a patch of brown on his head that makes it look like a mohawk. Has the brightest blue eyes and looks just as intelligent as he is.

Was dumped on the shelter's doorstep. He quickly ate his way through a delivery that had soap in it, hence where he got his name.

He became a favorite quickly, got adopted, but was returned in less than a week. The reason being he was "too jumpy". Yes. This is a real ass reason people return their adoptions.

He gets introduced to Ghost as a playmate. They think Ghost needs a more social, confident dog to be buddies with (nothing else is working). It goes great, the whole staff is shocked when they see Ghost play wrestle with this little maniac.

It goes so well, in fact, that Ghost gets more stressed when he's not out in the run with Soap. They end up putting the two together in a kennel that's technically a room. (Something called a real life room that enables higher stress dogs or dogs with buddies to stay visible for the public)

He likes to use Ghost's head to stand on his hind legs when it's food time. Likes to yell but one slap from Ghost and he'll stop.

Gaz

Puppy privilege. Isn't even technically a puppy anymore, he's just got the face and personality of one.

Has a big prey drive though. Was surrendered for killing a bunch of stray cats.

Literally described as sassy cause he'll "talk back" and gives side eyes all the time. Known by the dog walkers as a menace just cause he's strong despite his size, and will yank the leash out of your hand or pull your arm off when he sees anything interesting.

He's a "walk only" dog because he's also an escape artist. Can be in playgroups but needs the "rough and rowdy" one to keep him occupied so he doesn't try to escape.

Soap and Gaz both throw hands with the people trying to leash them for walks, to go on the runs (little spaces of concrete made for dogs to go to the bathroom and play), to go meet potential adopters. Price will politely stand there and let you leash him. Unless Ghost knows you, he will lower his head and let out a growl but doesn't do anything else.

#simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #captain john price #cod mw2 #call of duty #soap headcanons #ghost headcanons #gaz headcanons #price headcanons

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elacular-kink · 3 months ago

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Poly-techhic 1

So, this is the first (and currently only) entry in a non-fanfic universe for hiccup fiction. It's about four polyamorous women in college who are all dating each other, all complete disasters, and one of whom has a hiccup fetish. This story does have some hiccups in it, but it's mostly dedicated to introducing the four main characters and their dynamics.

TW: Anxiety, Self-deprecation, big autism energy, accidental misgendering, religious trauma

Kinks: Honestly, mainly just hiccups. And not the most hiccups ever. Also Teasing I guess.

"*HIUK!* Oof! Oh fuck, I–*HUK* fuck, that was waaaa–*UCK*–aaaay spicer than I *HUK-UP!* thought it'd be!"

"Oh! I'm so sorry, Maya, I should have thought of that! Do you need water?"

"Nah, na–*UCK*–ah, I'm good! *HUK-ULP* Oof, I got my soda."

"And also it's not your fault," I managed to force a few words out of my mouth. Across the table from me, my girlfriend Maya was currently gulping down her soda at a truly horrifying speed while her date, Kiran, fretted over her, flapping her hands anxiously. "You tried to warn her it was too hot, but her dumb ass decided to eat it anyway."

"Oh fu–*UCK* fuck you, dude! *HIC-OLP–urp!* Fuck, 'scuse me–*HEEP*. You know that Li–*HIP* Liv's, like, ninety per–*UCK*–percent of my imp–*HUP*–pulse control!" Maya thumped her chest and let out a larger burp, which didn't help her hiccups, because of course it didn't. She knew perfectly well that it wouldn't. "And you're su–*HUP*–pposed to be the oth–*URK* ten percent, Su–*HOOP* Susie! *HIC–bwoorp* So really this is y–*HURP* your fault! *eeuuurrp* fuck, 'scuse me again. *HULP!* Shit, I think I re–*HEEP* really got the hiccups. *HIUP!* Oof!"

"No fucking kidding." I hoped that I could keep my voice as flat and unimpressed as possible. I also hoped that I would spontaneously develop telepathy so that I could yell at Maya from across the table just by glaring at her, but the world sadly continued being free of superpowers for now. Even if it had worked, I doubted it'd make the grin she kept sneaking me any less shit-eating.

Maya Heffernan was a beautiful fucking nightmare of a human being. She was five foot four with a mane of curly red hair that would have gone all the way down to her ass if she straightened it, which she never did. Her skin was more orange-brown freckles than it was its shockingly pale base, and she was built like a tank, her thighs, arms, and trunk all visibly loaded with muscle and fat. Her bright blue eyes looked even bigger than they actually were through the magnification of her glasses, and the rare times she was seen without a smile were only marginally more terrifying than the common times she did wear one.

Right next to her, currently still not getting that this wasn't in any way her fault, was Kiran Mandal, an over six-foot goddess of a trans woman with a soft, fat, feminine body, dark skin, long black hair, and brown eyes that were always desperately, worriedly flickering around. Her hands would flap in response to most strong emotions, no matter how hard she tried to stop them from doing so. It was really fucking cute.

And across the table there was me. Susanna Butler. Four foot ten. Adopted from China. Tannish skin and short, straight black hair. Swathed in a black hoodie and desperately trying to prevent my stupid girlfriend from eating this poor woman alive while she was actively in the process of torturing me.

Absent from this shitshow was my best friend Olivia, who would have made it so that there were two girlfriends to keep a leash on Maya instead of just one. Without her, this whole operation was basically fucked. And it was particularly fucked now that Maya had given herself the hiccups, because that meant that I was gonna have to continue refereeing this date with a large part of my brain turned off. Or turned on, as the case may be.

Perhaps this required some explaining.

Olivia and I had met Maya last year when she barged into our freshman dorm and demanded we join her for Women's Rugby practice. Olivia decided to go and dragged me along with her, where we found out that Maya was, in fact, just a sophomore and not one of the higher-ranking members of this team. Despite this, she'd managed to bring in the most freshman prospects by far, the vast majority of whom lasted less than a single practice. Those who remained mostly did so because they were already athletes, but a few stayed because they discovered that Maya was actually fucking half of the team.

"Solo Poly". That was what Maya said she was. Granted, this was after she used the more widely understood label of "the classic slutty pansexual polyamorous stereotype." While I still didn't really get it, the gist of what that meant to her seemed to be that Maya was sort of open to making out with and/or fucking just about anyone while still maintaining a bubble of personal autonomy. However, she was also open to having closer, more consistent connections (albeit without any expectations of monogamy or enforced cohabitation on anyone's part), which is what she ended up developing with Olivia and me.

And so now, a year later, I was somehow still on the Women's Rugby team despite consistently getting my shit wrecked, Olivia and Maya were still there because they were actually good at it, and this poor freshman goddess Kiran had been wrenched into a managerial position because Maya noticed that I had a crush on her and decided the correct way to "help" me with that was by starting to date Kiran herself and then dragging me into it too.

It seemed she'd also decided that it wasn't too soon for her to start getting my stupid fucking hiccup fetish involved. Olivia's blunt, autistic ass and Maya's drunken flirtations had resulted in her finding out about it within months of meeting me. Weirdly, I think it was part of what ended up attracting her to Olivia and me as more serious partners. I was honestly really grateful for that, even if I wasn't good at showing it. But I was also unbelievably fucking screwed every single goddamn day because she was not afraid to torment me, and apparently not afraid to do so when on a date with another person either.

"But se–*HEEK*–seriously Kiki," Maya just had to give everyone she was interested in (which was most people) a stupid fucking nickname, and Kiran clearly still wasn't used to hers. "Susie's right. *HMK!* It's super not y–*HUP* your fault that I'm *HLP* a total dumbass."

"Yeah, don't try and take responsibility for the shit she does. You'll be cleaning up her messes forever." Maya stuck her tongue out at me and I flipped her off. Kiran looked worriedly between the two of us, though she'd at least stopped flapping.

"I sti–*IC!* still really liked it though! *HIULP!*" Maya was grinning and I braced myself for whatever the fuck would come out of her mouth next. "Totally wo–*URK* worth getting the hi–*ICCUP*–s for! Even tho–*UCK*–ough they're bouncing my gut and my b–*HOOP* boobs all over the pl---place. Thank god for sp–*HUP* sports bras, am I right? *HICCULP!*" Aaand there it was. Maya deliberately leaned back away from the table, giving me (and Kiran, presumably) a much better view of the rounded belly and boobs compressed under her rugby shirt. Despite their compression, all those round parts were, in fact, bouncing all over the place. I took a deep breath through my nose and thought as hard as I could about baseball. "But see? This–*IC!* is why I just brou–*UCK* brought you to the *HUP* cafeteria for this date. *HMK!* I'd need, like, a–*UCK* all the adderall to *HMK* be on my best be–*HUK*–havior in an act---tual restaurant."

"Don't let her lie to you," I grumbled. "...I mean, she's right, she can't behave like a grown-ass adult, but we're mainly here for my cheap, scruffy-looking ass."

"I-I don't mind!" Kiran had understandably been distracted by whatever the fuck Maya was doing, but the little smile that she got on her face when she said that made my heart just fucking burst. Even though she was visibly still anxious, I couldn't doubt that she meant that when she said it. "I-it's very rare for me to have been in establishments like this, and I've been a bit too nervous to try many times on my own, so this is...this is nice."

We didn't exactly know each other very well yet, since we were only a month or two into the school year, but Kiran was obviously from a super wealthy family. I didn't know quite what tax bracket they were in, but I was positive that it was infinitely higher than mine. The fact that she sincerely wanted to experience things like a college cafeteria was ridiculously endearing to me.

...of course, that also begged the question of what the hell she was doing at this school instead of some Ivy League place, especially considering she was studying some kind of supercomputer-type shit, but hey, if that meant I got to meet her, I couldn't complain.

"You're g–*OCK*–goddamn right this is *ICCUP* nice, Kiki," Maya sat back up and slung an arm over her shoulder. Even if I had the bravery to try something like that with Kiran, I doubted I actually could, given our height differences. Which was a shame, because, from the way she was blushing and wriggling, it seemed like she liked it. "I got a cu–*HOOP* cute girl here, I g---got Susie out of h–*URK*–her dorm room...what e–*ULK*–else could a lady poss–*HIP*–bly need?"

"A psychiatric intervention?" Maya pulled down her eyelid and stuck her tongue out at me, and I couldn't help but snort.

"Um, maybe some water?" Kiran said gently? "I think it could help with your case of the hiccups."

God was I glad I kept my hood up all the fucking time. It'd be suspicious as fuck to hide in it in response to that. Since it was already on, my face was already shadowed, so hopefully no one would notice how the H-word made me blush. Fuckin' Maya.

Fuckin' Maya continued to be fuckin' Maya when she sat up straighter and snapped her fingers. "Right! *HIP!* Good idea!" Kiran started to get up, but Maya pushed her back down. "Nonono–*HOP*–nonono, you stay he–*EEK*–ere. I'm a big gal, I'll g–*UP*–get my own water." There was no way she was actually gonna drink any water. No fucking way. And now my introverted ass was stuck alone with the beautiful girl while half my brain was still trying to listen for hiccups. Fan-fucking-tastic.

"I...I hope that this isn't awkward or anything." Well, now I wanted to slap myself. Of course Kiran thought it was her fault. And from the look on her face, she wanted to slap herself too just for saying that. "I mean, I—I-I know that you and Maya are sort of...dating? But I've also gone on a date with her, and I'm still kind of on a date with her but she brought you here too and—"

"Hey, it's fine, dude." I realized what just came out of my mouth and actually slapped myself this time. "Fuck, sorry. I call everyone dude." Kiran looked away and didn't say anything. I sighed and continued. "It's fine, Kiran. I don't really get how Maya works either most of the time. But I don't mind her being with other people, and I don't mind being around her while she does that. It's honestly kind of cute."

Kiran looked uncertainly down at me. "Cute?" I briefly considered the benefits of sewing my mouth shut.

Rather than vocalizing those thoughts, I sighed and leaned on one hand, wondering how stupid the massively oversized sleeves of my hoodie made that look. "Yeah. Maya's the kind of person to get stuff out of people. She brings things out that nobody expects. Puts 'em off their guard. It's kinda fun seeing people get all vulnerable with her." Kiran went back to avoiding eye contact in the normal way she did rather than in an anxious way. I folded my arms and slumped down into them, then blew my bangs out of my face. "Not so fucking fun when she does it to me, but I guess that's the price you gotta pay. Can't go out with a chaos agent and not expect some chaos."

"You are so–*HOK*–oooo right, Sus–*EEP!*" I turned to glare at Maya as she jogged back over, an empty cup in her hand. "Sorry, water did–*NKT*–n't work. Still got a se–*HEEK*–irous case of the *HIC-CUPS* here." That motherfucker. She did that on purpose. She did every bit of that on purpose.

"N-no need to be sorry, Maya." Kiran continued to be impossibly sweet. "It's not your fault that you have a case of the hiccups."

"Yes it is," I grumbled from where I was hiding my face in my arms.

"I mean yea–*UCK*, she's right, it kinda–*HUP* is." Well, at least she'd admit it. "Spicy and sod---da togeth–*HURK* are a hiccup nu–*HOOP*–uke for me. *HEEKUP!* You got an–*HEEP*–nything like that, Kik–*HEEK!*? Something that ma–*UCK* makes you hic-hic hi–*ILK*–cup as bad as *HMP* me?" Despite my years of churchgoing, God utterly failed to answer my prayers and smite Maya dead with a lightning bolt.

Kiran pursed her lips. She was genuinely thinking about that stupid question. God, she was so fucking cute. "I don't think so. Not off the top of my head." She looked at me before avoiding eye contact again, but that was normal for her. "What about you, Susan? Do you have any foods that trigger hiccups?"

"Nah." Thank fucking god for all of those theater summer camps and oration extracurriculars my mom forced me to do. "I've got Olivia. She does all my hiccuping for me." And thank fucking god that I'd retained enough from them to even get through the fucking word without stuttering. I'd definitely avoid it moving forward, though, no matter how awkwardly I'd have to phrase shit. I didn't trust myself to get through it twice.

"Oh yeah. *HMK* Liv gets the hiccups a-a–*UCK*–aaalllll the fucking time. *HIUP!* I'm pretty s---sure that Susie put some voo–*HOOP*–doo curse on her and a–*UC*–ctually transferred her hi–*IC*–cups over." Maya giggled and grinned like the fucking supervillain she was. "Somewh---where hidden away Su–*HOOP*–sie has a doll that l---looks just like Liv, and whenev–*URK*–er Susie'd get the–*HUP* the hiccups that doll starts bou–*UP*–b-bouncing and squeaking and stuff. *HMP!* Oof. That was a big one." Motherfucker.

"You want me to make a voodoo doll of your ass too, Maya?" I said. "You shed enough hair, I could definitely do it."

Maya laughed. "God, you're fucking ad---dorable, Susie." She reached over the table to muss my hair under my hood and I took a snap at her, trying to bite off her finger. Sadly, she continued to be some sort of sports demon while I continued to be short and angry, so she pulled away just fine. "Aren't I right Ki–*HEEK* Kiki? Isn't Susie fu–*UCK*–ing adorable?"

"A-aah!" Kiran sat bolt upright, and I could see her brown cheeks get even darker. "I—I, um! I just—"

"Chill, Kiran. I know there's no right answer here." I sat up and grabbed a bread roll from my half-eaten dinner and threw it at Maya's head. "And fuck you, Maya. Don't put people on the spot like that."

"Ugh," Maya rolled her eyes as she started eating the bread I'd pelted her with. "If I don't pu–*UK* put some people on the spot then---they'll never get up ont---to the spot themse–*UCK*–elves. Like you."

"Fuck the spot. I hate spots. Fuck all locations and every dog ever named 'Spot.'" Maya snorted and laughed, then half-choked on her bread. Good. Fuck her.

I just barely noticed that Kiran giggled too. That...that was way better than Maya getting her comeuppance. Way way better.

Kiran caught me looking at her. Fuck. She looked away rapidly. Fucking fuck. "I...I think I'll get up and get myself another drink." Fuck fuckity fuck fuck fuck. She walked off quickly and disappeared into the crowd. God fucking dammit.

"You're fu–*UCK*–ing welcome, Susi–*EEK*." I turned my glare towards Maya who was scowling performatively at me. "You are so---o lucky that you've got oo–*HOOP*–oodles of bad-boy charisma, or you'd nev–*URK* never get any girls."

"Have I ever told you you're going directly to hell?"

Her grin came back. "Awesome, I'll se–*HEEK* I'll see all my friends the–*URK*–ere! Especially yo–*HOUP*."

"Mmf. Got me on that one." I sighed and leaned against my hand again. "'Bad boy charisma' though? Don't bullshit me, Maya. I'm creeping her out. And I'm especially creeping her out thanks to you and your goddamn soda."

"Damn, what's it like *HUP* to be super wrong about everything? *HUKULP* Why do you thi–*IC*–ink you radiate this pe–*HUP*–ervy energy all the time? *HIULP* You don't. Is this some kind of we---eird catholic thing? 'Cause Li–*HUP* 'cause Liv isn't like this, she's norm–*MMP*–mal."

"Don't say that to her face, she'd be really offended." I squinted. "Also, aren't your ancestors Irish? Shouldn't you know if it's a catholic thing or not?"

"Bruh you think an---nyone was dumb enough to try and pu–*HUT* my ass in a church?"

"...got me there too."

"Look, your myst---sterious vibes are sexy, dude. Pe–*HEEP*–ople wonder where you a–*URK*–are whenever you're not around. Nobody kno–*HUK*–ows that you just play Mari–*OUP* Kart all day."

"You do and you're still fucking me."

"I mean yeah, but I'm spe–*UCK* special like that."

I huffed out a laugh. "Won't argue with you on that one. You are truly one of a kind, Heffernan. Thank god."

"Yeah, the wo–*URK*–orld couldn't handle two of me."

"Um, h-hello, girls. I'm back." I was surprised I hadn't seen or heard Kiran approaching us. For as gorgeously tall and fat as she was, she could be weirdly stealthy sometimes. She put two glasses of water down on the table, then held out a bread roll to me. "I, um, noticed you...lost your first one."

I snorted. "That's one way to put it. Thanks, Kiran. That's really sweet." She nodded rapidly and I started eating the roll that she'd got me. "You thirsty there?"

"Well, yes, but I also thought that maybe Maya could try drinking water again. It seems kind of dangerous, eating around all those hiccups."

God, she really was fucking sweet. What an angel. And just like an angel, she was also saving my ass. I smirked at Maya. "Well, May-May?" She glared at me, and I knew she hated that. "You're not gonna deny this water of life, are you? Haven't you watched that video about that one Robert Heinlein book with the sex cult? This is a sacred bond you're setting up here."

Maya glared more and huffed, and Kiran started flapping her hands nervously. "Um, you don't have to drink if you don't want to—"

"Nah, that'd be silly. *HMP* Not drinking a thing that a re---ally cute girl brought me? *HIUP* Fuck no." Maya took a first sip of water and I immediately knew I was saved. All it took was a little water and she and her goddamn hiccups would fuck the fuck off. "...shit, it worked this time!" She was good at acting like that was actually a surprise. If my legs could reach, I would have kicked her shins under the table. "Damn! Cute girl water really has some power! Thanks, Kiki!"

Maya hopped to her feet, and before Kiran knew what was happening, she'd stood on her toes and pressed a wet kiss to her cheek. A split-second later, Kiran squealed and hid her face in her hands. "Fuck, that's cute," I said, and I couldn't help but smile.

"Right, dude?" Maya smooched the hands Kiran was blocking her face with, getting another squeak out of her. "She's super blushy and shy! Kiki cured my hiccups, but I can't cure all those blushes she's got in her cheeks."

I rolled my eyes and used the opportunity of Kiran having her eyes covered to give Maya the finger. Maya returned one in kind. "Let the girl live, Heffernan. Sit down so she can recover." Despite the grouchy noises she made, Maya complied and sunk back into her seat. Kiran carefully, shakily returned to her own seat, folding her hands in her lap when she saw she was flapping them. "There you go, Kiran. Take a break from Hurricane Maya. You can chill for a minute." After a long moment of squirming and nervous noises, Kiran anxiously tilted to the side, then pressed a kiss as quickly as she could to Maya's cheek before pulling away. "Atta girl."

"Hell yeah, Kiki! Kiss the girl points!" Maya slapped her back and I wondered if I had imagined the popping vertebrae I heard. The noise Kiran made sounded more surprised than pained, so I wasn't too worried. "We'll graduate you to kissing girls' lips in no time, cutie!"

"Eh, what's the rush?" I said. "She may be some kind of genius, but she's still a freshman. She's got four years."

"I don't got four years, Susie! I only got two! And I wanna kiss this girl a lot!"

"You wanna kiss everyone a lot."

"I mean yeah, but her especially!" Maya pulled Kiran's hands away from her face. From the angle, I couldn't see Kiran's expression, but I could see Maya's. It was her other smile. Her soft one. Her warm one. The one she wore for me when we first got together. Damn. She really did want to kiss her especially. Not that I blamed her. "My emo-ass girlfriend is right though." I rolled my eyes, but with how soft her voice was, it felt pretty performative. "You've got time. You've got all the time in the world, Kiki. So kiss whatever girls wherever and whenever you like. I'd love it if one of them was me and one of the places was my lips. And I'd especially love it if the time was soon. But that's up to you." She pressed a kiss to the tip of Kiran's nose, then another to her forehead before letting her hands go and sitting down again. "God knows you'll be good at it, though. You've got super kissable lips." Kiran groaned and covered her face again.

The rest of dinner was relatively incident-free, as much as any meal with Maya could be. But I had a feeling she was planning some bullshit, and at the very end, I realized what it was. "Oh, shit! Just remembered I wanted to go to the gym today! Sorry, Kiki! Sorry, Susie! I gotta go pump my lats or some other muscles, I dunno what they're called." I didn't even get a chance to respond before she leaned down and kissed me on the lips, then popped up and smooched Kiran's cheek. "Bye, cuties!" And she was gone.

"...Somehow I keep forgetting how fast that bitch can move." I stared out into the mid-October dark that'd fallen. "You'd think I'd remember it better with how many times she's tackled me. Guess all those micro concussions are adding up." Kiran didn't say anything, and when I looked up at her, I saw that she was playing with her fingers. She was playing with her fingers in the desperate, uncomfortable way that told me she was doing everything she could not to flap. I'd gotten pretty good at reading autistic people thanks to Olivia. It wasn't one-to-one, but I'd noticed some commonalities, and I also thought I could make an educated guess as to what she was anxious about. "Hey. Kiran." She looked down at me, eyes wide, having flinched slightly at my voice. "Your off-campus place is a little way out from here, yeah?" She nodded. "You want me to walk with you there?"

"I—!" Her back straightened and she started actually flapping, not seeming to realize she was doing it. "I-I wouldn't want to impose or—"

"I'm offering 'cause I'm offering. And you can say no if you want." I shrugged. Hopefully she actually believed me when I said that. I realized after starting on this that I could come across as a creepy stalker.

"...no." Yeah, that made sense. She surprised me by grabbing my sleeve when I started to leave though. "N-no, I mean...I don't want to say no. I'd really appreciate it. If you walked with me."

God dammit. I was smiling like a fucking moron. I just knew I was. And now I'd have to thank Maya for ditching us. Fucking devious. "Alright. Let's get going then. I'll let you lead the way." As we started walking along the campus sidewalks (and Kiran studiously avoided unpaved desire paths carved into the grass), I noticed that she was rapidly rubbing her arms. Her short-sleeved dress had seemed a little off for the weather, now that I thought about it. "Hey. You okay?"

"O-oh, yes, I'm fine!" She tried to smile down at me. I could see goosebumps on her skin though. "I, um, I should have checked the weather report before leaving. That's absolutely my fault. I really need to—" Her voice stopped as I held out my hoodie to her. "...um?"

"It's zippable. It probably wouldn't be able to close over your chest, but you can wear it like a cape and keep your arms warm at least." She stared down at me and my hoodie and I sighed. "Come on, Kiran. Don't make me admit that I'm too short to put it on your shoulders."

"It's...it's yours though," she said softly.

"So? Why do you think I wear clothes two sizes too big? It's exactly for shit like this." As a matter of fact, it was actually because I insisted on not shopping in the kids' section and had to suffer the consequences, but it also happened to help with shit like this. And saying it that way sounded a lot cooler.

"Won't you be cold?"

"Nah." The wind was biting a little, but I shrugged. "I'm wearing jeans, so at least my ankles are toasty. You keep your upper half warm. I've got my lower half."

"Th...thank you, Susan." Kiran slowly took my jacket off of my arm and threw it over her shoulders. She definitely wouldn't be able to zip it, I'd been right about that, but having the dense, black fabric draped over her arms clearly helped. I smiled at her, then motioned for her to lead the way.

The first part of the walk was blessedly silent. Or awkwardly silent. I wasn't sure which. It wasn't raining right now, but it had previously, so the leaves were damp and pasted to the sidewalks. I tried to figure out in my head if I'd be able to catch and stabilize Kiran if she slipped on one of them, despite the answer obviously being "no". While I was trying to make the math math on that, though, my train of thought abruptly derailed with a "*HEEK!*" I turned way too fast and stared way too hard at Kiran, who had both hands over her mouth. She looked down at me and quickly closed her eyes. "I-I'm sorry, excuse me!"

"...'sfine." I just barely stopped myself from automatically adding "dude" to sound casual. "It's just a single."

"A single?" Fuck.

She'd pulled her hands away from her mouth and started walking again, so I kept walking with her, but I could feel her eyes on me. I kept my face turned away, pretty sure my cheeks were bright red, and I shrugged. "Like, just one. When you're friends with someone who h-hiccups like Olivia—" fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck "—you start having to classify shit. Get some fucking...phylums or something for them."

I heard her stifle a giggle, and my brain started being slightly less on fire. It still desperately drooled for one of those giggles to set off another hiccup though. God dammit. "Phyla. I see. That makes sense. Hiccup taxonomy." We kept walking and I kept thanking god for the cold because that was the only thing keeping my head from exploding. "You've been Olivia's friend for a long time, right?"

"Eh, yes and no. I mean yes, we were friends all through high school."

When I glanced back at her, she tilted her head. "I thought she said at some point that you met in preschool."

"We did, yeah. But then she went to public school and I stayed in catholic school. Fuck those little skirts, by the way. Never wearing a fucking skirt again. Not if I can help it. But, uh, I think that she thinks all those years in between didn't count or something, 'cause she just tried to pick right back up where we left off when I met her again. It was kinda awkward, but Olivia's super perceptive, and she was able to tell I actually did want to be friends." She was able to tell a lot of complicated things. I owed a whole lot to her and her ability to hear the words people weren't saying. And her openness. And her bluntness. And her everything. Goddamn, I owed her so much.

"...I'm a bit envious of her for that." I looked up and she met my eyes, then darted away and started flapping anxiously. "F-for her ability to understand people like that! N-not for her knowing you in high school or preschool. Um, n-not that I would have minded, of course! B-but it's probably not an appropriate thing to—"

"Chill, Kiran. Take a breath. You're fine." I took a deep breath to demonstrate, and after a second she nodded and followed along. "I get it. I'm jealous too. I dunno if I'm as perceptive as she is, but I definitely can't just...say shit the way she can."

"You can't?" She sounded surprised. "But you're so ru—...uh!"

I laughed. "Rude? Ruthless? Ruminating openly on ways to kill Maya? I mean, yeah, I can say all that mean shit. And I can tell people exactly what they can go and do with themselves. I'm really good at that. But saying stuff I actually want to say? Nah. Not unless I wrap it in seven or eight layers of irony first."

Kiran looked away in a different way from her normal avoiding eye contact. "...is there a way that I can tell?"

"Hm?"

"A way I can tell. When you're saying something ironically."

I frowned. "I dunno. I guess you could ask me...if you feel comfortable doing that." The way she shrunk in on herself told me she didn't. "...I'm not walking you home ironically, just for the record. Don't even know how I could do that. But I'm doing it 'cause I want to." I bit the inside of my lip and tried to force words out of my fucking face. "I'm doing it 'cause I...know that it sucks when Maya leaves you in the lurch." Dammit dammit dammit!

"Ah." She sounded...disappointed. God fucking dammit.

"...and 'cause I have fun talking to you." Fuck. Okay. Apparently, that was emotionally neutral enough for me to fucking say it. I still felt like I was going to explode though.

The feeling got worse when I felt her eyes weighing down on me. "You do? I..." she laughed softly, and when I sensed her turn away, I looked up and saw a sad smile on her face as she picked at her nails. "I've been told that I'm not much of a conversationalist. I either say too little or I monopolize everyone's time."

Oof. Yeah. I'd heard Olivia talk about struggling with that before too. That gave me a little knowledge of what to do though. "Well, I don't mind not talking. And it's not like I use any of my time wisely. So whichever way it swings, I'm fine with it."

"You are?"

She was looking somewhere to my left, but I knew I was in her peripheral. So I smiled. "Yeah. And if I'm ever not, I'll let you know. You've seen me with Maya, you know that if someone's annoying me I'm gonna tell 'em about it. 'Cause I'm not much of a conversationalist either. I use words like a serial killer uses upholstering equipment: incorrectly and with malice." Kiran let out a shocked laugh, then quickly covered her mouth. I chuckled.

God, she was so fucking cute.

We'd reached the house that she was staying at. I wondered why she was staying off-campus as a freshman. Was it for privacy? She was openly trans, but having a roommate might have still been awkward. I didn't get much more time to think about it as Kiran surprised me by draping my hoodie back over my shoulders. It was so much warmer from her. "Um, th...thank you for walking me home, Susan. I..." Her hands were flapping again. "I enjoy talking with you too, goodnight!" She spat all the words out in less than a second, then ducked through the door and slammed it behind her.

I just barely managed to keep myself from laughing. Laughing at that would be such a dickhead move, but...fuck. Instead, I zipped my hoodie back up, basking in how warm the body of it felt as I pulled out my phone and started walking back to the campus.

Susie Q(ueer): Date's done. Think I'll stop by the music hall before I head back though.

Olivia E. Jones: Mind if I join you? I'm at a 4 right now.

Susie Q(ueer): Pff. After what Maya did to me a four's fucking nothing.

Olivia E. Jones: I don't think that's how your thing actually works.

Susie Q(ueer): I think I'd know better than you about my own fetish.

Olivia E. Jones: Are we actually using the words now?

Susie Q(ueer): Fuck!

I quickly edited the message above, replacing "fetish" with "brain".

Susie Q(ueer): No! No, we are definitely not using the words now! Fuck, thanks for catching that.

Olivia E. Jones: I still think this is stupid.

Susie Q(ueer): I know. And I still owe you for doing it anyway.

Olivia E. Jones: Maya's going to break you down at some point. And then we can finally use words that actually mean what words mean instead of inventing some kind of dumb thieves' cant for only two people.

Susie Q(ueer): The terrifying thing is that you might be right.

Olivia E. Jones: I'm always right. I'll bring your guitar.

Susie Q(ueer): Thanks.

When I reached the music hall, Olivia was already there waiting for me. She was noodling with my guitar, and I was very happy to hear that she hadn't tried to tune or detune it and was just playing random notes instead. Olivia was tall and thin with very dark skin, and she kept her tightly coiled black hair just a little too long to be called a buzz cut. She glanced up at me when I walked in, her reading glasses hanging from a chain around her neck like she was some kind of librarian. Even after three years of her having them, I still wasn't used to it. "Hey Su---sanna. You look happy. *mmp*."

"Do I?" I touched my face. My mouth didn't feel like it was smiling.

"You look hap---py to me."

"Yeah, well you're psychic, so that doesn't count." I walked over and stole my guitar back, tuning it.

...that left her stomach covered by nothing but her long-sleeved turtleneck. It jolted out hard, and I was close enough to hear the thump in her chest. I blushed. That was okay though. Around Olivia, it was okay to blush.

I still tried not to stare though. "Anyway, you got any requests?"

"Something by Ta---Taylor Swift."

I groaned. "Ugh, why is my best friend such a basic bitch?"

"We can't all be c---cool enough to listen to ban---nds with names like...*hmp* Phallic Cymbal or...*hmp* Üümläüt."

"Love how you waited to make sure you didn't interrupt the names." I glanced at her. "Hey, you don't need to hold those in if you don't want to."

"I'm not, they're juh---just like this tod---day."

"Okay. Cool. Now let me figure out a song that's not about young love or new relationships or some heterosexual bullshit like that."

"Don't pre---pretend that you don't know ho---ow to play them already."

I sighed and put my guitar down, moving over to the piano bench instead. "Yeah yeah, call my bluff, why don't you. Here. Have a sad song about people who suck at relationships."

"Isn't that---also heteros---sexual bullshit?"

"Yeah, but at least it'll make you feel bad." I lifted my hands over the keyboard, then gawked as Olivia hopped up onto the instrument's closed lid. "Hey. Darla Dimple. Wanna get your butt off my piano?"

"It's not y---your piano." She pulled her legs up.

"Oh come the fu—at least don't put your shoes on it, christ." She paused and removed her sneakers, dropping them beside the piano before crossing her legs in just socks. "...yeah, walked into that one, I guess. Seriously, what the hell are you doing?"

Olivia maneuvered herself until she was facing me. She sat mostly straight, so I could see the way each hiccup made her belly punch out, her chest jump, her shoulders rock, and her head snap back. "You ne---need to get better at be---ing distracted while you play."

"Oh fuck off," I glared at her.

She shrugged. "You can't m---make me."

After a long moment, I sighed and started playing the goddamn Taylor Swift song. "Yeah. I can't. Lots of stuff I can't get rid of lately." Olivia, Maya...

But somehow I found myself hoping I'd get even more.

#hiccup kink #hiccups #hiccups kink #hiccup story #my writing #Poly-techhic #Eli's kink writing

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askinkiskarma · 1 year ago

Note

mim sneak peak soon ? 👀

hi bb, your ask singlehandedly made me start writing this chapter hahahaha, so here is everything i wrote for the last chapter of mim, and i hope you enjoy xx

“Are you sure, ma ‘ite? You know we wouldn’t force you into anything, but… please think it through. Eywa’s vision was clear, and it showed you two together. Eywa is never wrong, you know this.”

You thought about it, barely able to look into Mo’at's beautiful, sagacious eyes that always felt like they could see through you, through deception and conceit, and get to the soul of problem, the inner core of your amalgamation of conflicting, earth-shattering emotions, covered by a crust of barely-there composure, ready to erupt with any slight friction of the tectonic plates of your heart. You thought about last night, about his words, that still rang in your ears in a muffled cacophony of sounds you were trying your hardest to drown out, that you were scared would end up drowning you, instead.

“I loved you, Vi.I fucking loved you. You were everything to me. And you broke me.”

“Even the smallest similarity killed me, reminded me how much I hate you, how much I want to, how much I don't. I've wanted to hate you so much, I tried so hard, but you were in every dream, in every fantasy, you haunted me my whole life."

You thought about his actions, about what drove them, about how, at the end of the day, they were the same driving forces that you acted on. Hurt. Betrayal. Jealousy. Fear. You thought about your actions. How poison crept beneath your skin and pooled in your heart and pumped it through your whole bloodstream, until it was all there was, until it blinded you, and how he started this, but you continued it.

How his fault was indifference, and yours was madness that only he had the power to coax out of you. You thought about his parents, and how his dad was now your dad, and how hard you fought for hearing the magic words: “we couldn’t have done it without you, kid”. Those words, and the “you’re welcome” that followed, became as necessary to you as the air you breathe. It may have started, this need to gain Jake’s approval, as a way to get a rise out of Neteyam, your best attempt at getting him to lash out at you, scream and yell, anything but the horrible silence he ordained you with, but in time, it had less to do with the boy and more to do with you, with how his dad reminded you of your own, how the words of praise and admiration made the ones you were used to, that you’d never hear again echo through the your tent and through the forest, hidden in between the whistles and sonorous trills of birds, but never forgotten, not to you.

You thought about his specious assumptions, and your words, and how, despite what you spat at him last night, they weren’t the whole truth. You did tell Jake that you didn’t want to mate with him, but not out of a lack of love or desire. No, the thought of one day being one with the boy who shone light through the broken cracks of your soul every day after your parents died, the boy who himself shone brighter than any star or sun or galaxy out there in the vast unknown, the boy who challenged you, and annoyed you, and loved you, and got you… it made you happy. It made butterflies flutter in your stomach and tingle, it made a fuzzy feeling gather in your brain and haze your mind until it was full of nothing but misty reveries, of a life beyond your wildest dreams and fantasies, of night flights and battles won together, of family found and family kept.

You told Jake what you did because your dreams couldn’t happen while you were pushed to the side and made to undertake the duties of a Tsakarem, they couldn’t happen if you had to forsake your talents and an integral part of yourself. You thought that, by saying no, you could make your dad proud, you could make Jake proud… make him proud. You thought that by becoming the warrior you knew you could one day be, you could help him… take away some of the burden that you knew he was shouldering all by himself, that of the eldest son, the responsible child, the prodigy of the clan. More than anything, you wanted to be worthy of him and of his love. That’s why you said no.

But now, it was all wrong. Your love, your hate, your history and your future, everything you’ve done, everything you should have done. It was all wrong. O’i’en was right, you realised. You held onto this broken relationship, this hopeless promise of a mateship, not because you wanted revenge, but because you wanted him… in any way you could get him. Your undefeated stubbornness, and the war that left too many collateral victims for you to ever be able to sleep at night again, led to scars in your soul no one could ever fix, that you’d have to mend yourself in time, that you never could while in an arrangement you should have declined to begin with. It was finally time…

“I’m sure, ma Tsa’hik.”

…time to say goodbye to the child you knew - the one you were, the one he was, and the love that took too much of both of you, the one that turned to ashes in your mouth.

coming soon x

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shining-m00nlight · 10 months ago

Text

Nameless

Forgot to post this yesterday for the first day of the 2024 NedCatWeek!

While practicing archery Ned meets a mysterious little girl.

"Your Eddard Stark!" declared the girl that had snuck up behind him. Scaring him into releasing the arrow from the bow in his hand. The arrow flew through the air landing about three meters away from its intended target.

The girl who was at fault for Ned Stark's worst shot ever let out a small giggle: "You're not very good at that are you?"

The boy now turned around ready to tell the rude little girl that he was good and that it was all her fault for having distracted him but when he did the words got stuck in his throat. In all of his 10 years of living the boy had never seen such a beautiful girl. Of course he hadn't seen a lot of girls at his age but he was still certain there weren't any girls prettier anywhere in Westeros. Most of the ones he met so far had always been ikky to him.

The girl in front of him had red hair that fell in curls down to her waist, they looked a bit messy, probably from the strong winds up here in the Vale. Her blue eyes shined from the smile still playing over her lips. Despite him not being able to tell her what he thought about her words his face must have shown his dismay. The smile dropped from the girl's lips and instead she started to chew on her lower lip. For a moment they just stared at each other before the girl started speaking again.

"M'sorry. I didn't mean to insult your skills my lord… It's just that I think the arrow is supposed to hit the target and not the ground over there." she pointed at his lost arrow sticking mockingly in the

ground.

"I know that!" he yelled. The fact that she was this beautiful didn't make her words less hurtful, it made them worse. He had embarrassed himself in front of her in the first few seconds of meeting and her remark had made that abundantly clear. That made him angry at her and at himself.

It became obvious that yelling at her had been the wrong thing to do, he saw that tears shot into her eyes and she seemed to struggle with making sure they didn't fall.

She didn't lower her eyes though, she kept them on his face but when her lip started to quiver it was him that had to take his eyes off her in shame. His mother would be disappointed in him. Even though her words to him were quite rude he shouldn't have yelled at her. Yelling at a lady was wrong and making a lady cry by yelling at her was even worse.

"l am truly sorry my lady", he said at the same time as she muttered: "Please forgive me my Lord".

While both of them had been startled by the other speaking at the same time she started to speak again first. "You do not have to apologize to me my Lord. My remark was not courtions and I shouldn't have said it. I'm sure you are excellent at archerie when not surprised. I should have held my tongue until you made your shot. It is not surprising that you would be angry at being interrupted.”

"I'm not angry" Ned quickly lied, now even more embarrassing than before. He wondered how much more shame he could bring on himself before he would simply die of it: "and I shouldn't have yelled at you my lady. It is unforgivable. You were merely saying the truth, the arrow does

belong in the middle of the target. Though I would have hit it if I hadn't been surprised by your presents." He couldn't help but add the last words, less she thinks him an idiot.

Now the girl, he realized that he didn't even know her name, started to smile again and asked: "Will you show me then?"

"My lady?"

"Will you show me how you can shoot an arrow, hitting the target?"

Ned could have hit himself for not understanding immidialy. How was it possible that the girl was able to make his brain stop working with just a few simple words?

"If you wish it my Lady but might I ask for your name?"

Now the redhead was practically smirking

"You might, but I might not give it to you. How about you hit the middle of the target and in exchange I shall give you my name."

Ned looked at the target, at his bow and then at her. Without saying a word he grabbed another arrow. He was determined to show her that he was capable with the bow. He looked at the target, lifted the bow, aimed and shot. The arrow flew through the wire when the wind picked up and changed the arrows path. While the arrow still managed to scratch the outside of the target it didn't stick but flew a fear paces behind the target. Ned felt the disappointment sweep through him. He couldn't even hit one arrow to learn the Lady's name. He was such an idiot. Robert would call him a hopeless case and laugh at him. He turned back towards her expecting her to laugh at him, like she had before. To his surprise she didn't.

She looked to be in thought: "I think the wind changed when you made your shot. You had good aim before!”

Ned wondered if she was just telling him this to make up for having laughed at him.

“I guess, I have to stay nameless all the same. While the wind was to blame, the arrow did not hit the target where it was supposed to. I can't give you my name now, that would be against our agreement" she said and smiled at him. This time it was a kind smile. It encouraged him to continue the conversation.

"Mayhaps, the Lady would allow me to try again? Afterall we didn't say I had to hit it on the first try"

She opened her mouth to answer him, when she suddenly looked up. Ned followed her view and saw a Septa walking towards them waving.

“I am terribly sorry, my lord. But it seems I need to leave now. I am sure we will find some time for you to try again soon"

She said and quickly walked towards the Septa, who didn't look too happy. After a few steps she turned back to him and smiled at him.

"Good day, Eddard Stark!" she said, reminding Ned that she had known his name the whole time.

#nedcatweek2024 #cat x ned #game of thrones #asoiaf #catelyn stark #catelyn tully #ned stark #my fic #ao3fic

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panthera-tigris-venenata · 2 years ago

Text

The Badun detective agency in the 1920 mafia AU

For @hannahhook7744 I hope you enjoy!

There is a child at Jace's doorstep.

A fucking child, looking up at him with wide innocent eyes, like a fucking cherub. His hair a wild mess flung around by the chilly wind, and their ends were dyed blue.

(Who on earth lets a child dye its hair?)

Jace slowly blinks and looks down again: the boy is still here. Well.

„What do you want, kid?“ he asks, hoping that the child might want, well, directions back to his parents? That would be nice?

„My mom has three disembodied corpses in her basement,“ the boy states blankly, a picture of perfect innocence. His eyes are suddenly mildly unnerving, and it takes Jace's brain a moment to catch up on him.

„…What the fuck?“ he mutters more for himself than for the child, who takes it as an encouragement to repeat its words anyway.

So Jace draws a sharp breath and yells down the hall at his cousin: „Harry! Come here this instant! And bring your gun!“

You know, just in case-

Harry Badun runs to the door in truly record speed, the weapon safely pointed down. He looks disappointed when he sees only a child.

„Tell him what you told me,“ Jace sights towards the visitor.

„My mom has three disembodied corpses in her basement. They talk to me when I sleep.“

Ok.

That is a new info.

This is cool. Totally cool.

Harry tightens his grip on the weapon and looks around the street, then up the roofs, which, you know, always a good idea.

They are clear, though. It doesn't look as if anyone is gonna jump them, much less some psychotic woman. Those don't tend to be too quiet, and the Badun cousins would know.

Oh, and by the way. That silhouette against that balustrade over there? That is totally Reza. Snogging Jade. Harry owes Jace for this one.

Anyway. Right, the corpses.

„Come on, kid,“ he says, „Go inside and then tell us what you know, yeah?“

The kid's eyes shine as he steps inside and exclaims: „Do I get to be a detective too? I have always wanted to be a detective! I would be an awesome detective, since I know how do bodies look how long after death already!“

This is not a worrying statement at all. Not at all.

A shadow peels off the wall. Hermie. She was listening the whole time, of course she was.

„Dead bodies?“

„What exactly do you mean?!“

The kid answers and Jace bites back the irrational need to scream his lungs out. A vein at his temple pulses as the kid starts describing a rotting corpse with freakish accuracy to way too interested Hermie.

„Quiet! I need to concentrate!“ shouts Yzla from upstairs, „This is a delicate process!“

„Stop painting your pretty pictures for a moment,“ shouts Harry back, „This is a bloody murder case!“

„I'm trying to recreate Renoir here, you ignorant simpleton-“

„A what?“

Yzla screams incoherently and Jace interrupts the argument before it can truly begin:

„We also have a kid that might be in danger and knows absolutely too much.“

„…I'm coming. But if the paint dries and I won't be able to get back to it, it will be all your fault.“

Jace doesn't even acknowledge that as worthy of an answer.

„Jace?“ Hermie nudges him slightly, while the kid infodumps at slightly traumatized-looking Harry about the different types of gunshot wounds, „Should I get Reza too?“

„…Nah,“ decides Jace, „He is snogging Jade right now, and we wouldn't want to interrupt.“

Hermie nods curtly and turns over to Harry: „You owe me and Yzla a bottle of cognac,“ she says, and Jace whistles. His cousin is losing in the big, today.

The kid tugs at his sleeve: „So what about my mom's basement, Mr Detective?“ the kid asks and he really should ask who his mom is. Also, what is his name?

So he asks, and when the child answers, looking at him with impossibly wide eyes, he almost gets an aneurysm.

„I'm detective Hadie, sir,“ the child reports proudly. Harry and Hermie just shrug – they don't know what is happening either. Nor does Yzla, who just appeared at the top of the stairs, wearing nothing but a negligee, and didn't she say she was working?

Oh, well.

Jace clears his throat.

„Right, kid. Hadie. And who is your mother?“

„But you are detectives!“ the child protests, „You gotta know that, no?“

„…Sure. We know that. Absolutely. And the bodies? Wait, no,“ Jace catches himself. This will certainly be a conversation, so:

„Let's go to the saloon first, shall we?“

Even if the saloon is just a fancy name for a room with a dining table and the kitchen counter, as he and Harry can hardly afford anything else.

They do have enough chairs, though, even if they are rarely used and mostly ignored: Hermie sits on the table, swinging her legs idly in the air, and Yzla plops herself down Harry's lap, setting his weapon aside. Fucking menace, that girl.

Jace himself takes the chair next to them and the boy stays standing.

(If Reza wouldn't be too busy with his current hookup, he would just lean against the wall and try to look very cool and intimidating, and smoke his cigarettes. Jace could do with a cigarette himself. Or better yet, a drink. The cigarette smoke reminds himself and Harry a bit too much of Cruella.)

„Now, tell us what you know,“ Jace asks the kid and damn. That kid. Does not shut up. Ever.

By the first thirty minutes, Yzla gets up and opens a bottle of wine to pass around, not even bothering with the glasses.

By an hour, Hermie is playing with her favourite dagger a bit too much and Harry has reclaimed back his handgun.

By hour and half, Jace is very ready to bleach his brain, thank you very much.

Hadie slows for a moment and Jace immediately stops him: „I think that's quite enough for today, Hadie,“ he says, „Thank you. Would you just step behind that door real quick?“

The kid pouts at him.

„Ehm… Me and my detectives need to discuss the evidence you just presented to us. And decide the, ehm, next course of action.“

Hadie finally steps behind the door when all present adults – including Eddie, who showed up half-way through – point at them.

And there is not much of a discussion, not really.

„Tell me we are taking that kid to Uma,“ blurts out Yzla before he can even speak.

„We could keep him,“ propose Hermie and Harry at the same time, and, yeah, no. As if Harry didn’t know they are barely staying afloat as it is, never mind, you know, not remotely responsible enough to raise a child?

…Yeah, it says a lot when a child would be safer on the streets, under the protection of one of the wildest Auradon City gangs, than anywhere else.

„We are taking him to Uma,“ decides Jace, and Yzla sights in relief. Eddie motions for her to pass the wine.

„You can come back, kid!“ Jace raises his voice, „We have decided!“

„Yay!“ the tiny disaster runs back to the room, „Do I get to be a detective too? Will we solve the case of my mother’s basement? Track down the victims’ family?“

Actually…

Jace knows how to get the kid to cooperate and go to safety voluntarily now: He winks at his associates, as to signal the general „don’t question me, I’ve got this.“

„Sure we are, kid. But, you see, right now we are working on another serious case, and we need you to help us. Will you be our eyes on the streets, detective Hadie?“

„Yes! I will, Mr detective sir! When do I start?“

„As soon as we can get you to the location. Now, let’s not lose any more time: We will debrief you on the way.“

That will hopefully give Jace enough time to come up with decent backstory, so, yeah.

With a yawn, Yzla gets up and sets off to her atelier, also known as the attic, not bothering to say goodbye, and Harry sets off to find his metal boxer and emergency knife.

„Reza is gonna be so mad he missed this-“ Hermie giggles, „It’s gonna be so much fun!“

And then, the Badun detective agency escorts its newest member, or, more accurately, adoptee, to Uma.

They don’t have any idea how much trouble they are causing Uma in the long run.

#disney descendants #badun detective agency #the 1920 mafia au #it will likely get a second part #aka: pissed off Mal tries to find her troublemaking little brother #and Uma is not amused #Jace badun #harry badun #hadie descendants #yzla descendants #hermie bing #reza descendants

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obscureother · 25 days ago

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🌑 the obscure intro post. 🌑

Hello, this is the obscure other :0 i dont have an official name to go by, but ive been called ob or obscure before so those work fine, or other things you would refer to me through (one time someone called me ghost :0)

This is the blog i hide on from other people, so if you know or find other profiles i own, i request you not expose it for those reasons before im comfortable to. Like lots of bloggers, i dont want some of the people i know discovering the things i get into or like.

so this is just an f/o blog/journaling. . thing. I'm not entirely sure what content will be here, but it will be centered around f/os, self-shipping, and its just to give me a place to yell about the people that live in my/your brain rent-free and know they don’t exist but we pretend they do anyway for comfort reasons and serotonin, dopamine, uhh what other things feel good and ok??

some of it will be for you if I happen to think of something, other times it is for me to explode over my fixation f/os!!

youre also welcome to come talk about your f/os or introduce them to me!! i love hearing about other people's f/os of every kind, so i would love to hear or learn about yours.

This is a comfort blog to me, so there wont be any room for meanness or intended offenses here. Dont come to me with troublesome things or somehow twist/morph my content into something its not, we're just here to have a cool time with our fictional people, bro. . :((

For the f/ovember:

other obscure things below the drop :0

🌑

Obscure general information:

○ They/them ○ Ob is 21 yo. Minors welcome, just look for the tags you need to block for this blog. Know that some of you younger kiddies or goofy youngsters have energies i dont know how to respond to, so sorry if im a little awkward over things sometimes. Nothing is your fault, its only me lol. ○ College student, so ill be slow to respond. Forgive me, i dont ghost others on purpose. ○ Ob loves horror, spooky things, drawing, video games, other movies, dinosaurs, zoology, and old cars :0

🌑

Obscure blog content + information:

○ Nothing explicit/detailed will normally be posted. but: The worst there will be is just being hormonally silly from kind of "rrr ovaries go brr, chew on theM-" energy of f/os. Overall, there wont be NSFW on the obscure blog, just the occasional post or goofy thing that might be NSFW-related. Those will be tagged, so look for the obscure tag post below. ○ obscure.other is overly sheepish but loves inbox games/questions/etc. or tagging things so if you want to give those, those are very cool. Those are the coolest thing on tumblr, tho i dont havet the confidence to reblog them for the obscure blog. tho if you give me one, ill give you one too!! DMs, inbox, or tagging me on them is ok. ○ roleplay requests are open, tho college forces me to be selective sometimes or slow. I love roleplay, headcanons, etc. so if you want to of f/os (be it mine, yours, or if we both like one) or other things not f/o-related, that's cool too. ○ the obscure blog is ok for sharing f/os, but if you do, that's ok. Go here: 🌑 the obscure f/o list or if there is one you love and would still like to be friends, just let me know so you can be the only one to talk about them on our DMs. They have tags you can block for when I post of them or the obscure self-inserts. ○ For the obscure blog tags, here is your tag list: 🌑 the obscure blog tags ○ There will be off-topic stuff, but those are less common than selfshipping things so don’t worry. Following the obscure blog comes with the extra benefits of memes and other posts. 👌🏻 ○ There are villain obscure f/os. Know that I don't condone them, and that some have headcanons tweaked for certain things because of those extra bad f/os, so those extra bad things might not be relevant on the blog. Do not go giving trouble for that on the obscure blog, or it will be blocked or ignored. ○ Do not get this too involved in the discourse of other things. Don’t give the blog labels or talk about them on here. Know that I don't really care for things like incest, zoophilia, pedophilia, or prejudice of any sort. They’re gross and uncomfy for me to come across. Those who go for it or the content will only be blocked or ignored. That's all for that.

thx for checking out the obscure blog :0 buh-bye!!

#f/o community #selfship community #🌑 obscure notes 🔘#blog intro #pinned post #pinned intro #f/o blog #selfshipping blog

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nehswritesstuffs · 9 months ago

Note

questions for fic writers!! answer however many you'd like :)

2. Go to your AO3 “Works” page, to the sidebar with all the filters, and click the drop-down arrow for “Additional Tags.” What are your top 3-5 most used tags? Do you think they accurately represent your writing habits?

10. How do you decide what to write?

15. What's your favorite AU that you've written?

21. If you wrote a “missing scene” in Double Date from Hell, what would it be?

42. Have you ever received a comment that particularly stood out to you for whatever reason?

thank you!! <3 have a lovely week!!

I'll answer all of them! :D!

So this one is kinda interesting, because it's very different if you include all my works (207 thus far (soon 208) and I'm not done transferring everything from my FFN days) compared to my One Piece offerings, which is what you, my specific friend, are most familiar with. Under all stories my list is:

Prompt fic (117)

Fluff (says 55, toggles to 57)

Alternate Universe (says 41, toggles to 60)

Not Beta Read (37; the real tag is no beta we die like Roger: laughing at the chaos we've caused)

Angst (25, toggles to 33)

...but if we filter to only One Piece stories, we've got (aside from the specialized No Beta tag and designating what originally posted to FFN):

Alternate Universe (18)

Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence (10)

Crack (9)

Pre-Canon (6)

Alternate Canon (6, toggles to 11)

That's... a difference. The first list is pretty clear that I've done a lot of prompts with plenty of fluff, angst, and AUs. The second focuses in on those AUs. I do have a lot of non-searchable tags in the more recent offerings, which affects things. They're both pretty spot-on, though playing around with my filters brings surprising stuff in many of the categories.

10. How do you decide what to write?

I do not decide what I write. God decides what I write. Sometimes He leaves it to my brain. That's usually a disaster.

15. What's your favorite AU that you've written?

I love all my AUs what are you talking about...

If I had to pick one I think my favorite right now is a tie between little seagull, little seagull, where shall you go? and Adventures with the Denizens of 1000 Sunny Rd, just because they're both really fun for completely different reasons. One's just the Great Dilfening of Trafalgar Law in its varied forms and the other is Modern pseudo-Midwestern American AU w/Sunny as a sus af party house in rural suburbia that totally isn't based on my local metro area what are you talking about. Both torture Law though, and that's what counts. :D

42. Have you ever received a comment that particularly stood out to you for whatever reason?

A comment that stood out? Well, I think comments that stand out to me are usually the long ones, as well as the ones that end up in long-winded conversations and exchange of fandom squealing. While I've gotten some in recent years, I cannot express how it was very different back in the heyday of my years mainlining FFN. So, like, 2004-2010, I'll say. Those were really good days, and people loved commenting/reviewing! There were still lurkers, obviously, but there was way less commodification of fandom like we see now. It's definitely not a "fandom old yells at teens" thing because I know it's not necessarily fandom's fault for the shift and is instead the corporate end that has trained us (especially newer fans) to treat media and fandoms alike the same one would cheap paper towels, but that's not what fandom is, and oh would you look at that I strayed from the topic.

21. If you wrote a “missing scene” in Double Date from Hell, what would it be?

A missing scene from Double-Date From Hell? Well then, don't mind if I do...

“Ah, there’s your kid,” Bell-mère noted. She watched Law cross the street from the hospital to head into the restaurant a few cars ahead of them. At least he was in scrubs and a doctor’s coat, making it a little less likely he’d murder them. “Didn’t you teach the little shit not to jaywalk?” “Jaywalking is the least of our worries right now,” Cora replied, his eyes following his son as he disappeared into the restaurant. “What if they see right through us?” He worried his hands as he grew progressively more fidgety in the passenger seat. “They’ll be too off-guard to think that,” she replied. From her vantage point, she could see the kid walk to the back corner of the seating area and slide into a booth, face getting real close to someone with very orange hair—must’ve been Nami. “Come on—where’s your sense of humor? It was working great last night.” “Last night I wasn’t staring this down so concretely,” he frowned. “I don’t want my kid and his super-cute girlfriend to hate me now that they’ve both met me.” “If she hasn’t run for the hills yet, they’re fine.” Bell-mère winked and killed the engine. “C’mon, let’s get this party started, shall we?”

#gendervapor #gendervapor14 #meme replies #gen gets a mini scene bc I know they'll cry lol #and also a scene is not. like. a wholeass fic. as you know.#I've also not seen Arrested Development I need to but I'm proud I slapped together that meme like fr #also related to:#One Piece

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a-lile-angel · 1 year ago

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I’m sorry I wasn’t good enough to save you…

Canon Angel - (more) Angst

Oneshot

Summary - No job in the Survey Corps is easy, each having their own level of difficulty. But the impact of a certain position is rarely spoke about, the medics. Each day, the group of fifteen would see loss more than any others, caring for every group across the whole of the corporation. As head medic, it is Angel’s job to oversee and finalises all deaths, hiding how it slowly takes its toll.

Angel loved her job. The feeling of knowing she had saved lives through her day was something she would never give away, not to mention how proud she was of her team, battling all odds and losses to deliver their care to the utmost of their ability, each and every day. They all knew the other members of their group was going to struggle with the scenes they saw once in a while, and always made sure to comfort and help when those dark times came around, which always warmed Angel’s heart. But behind that pride was the dark feeling of stress, forever wondering how long it would be until one of the unit she adored came to interact with a bereaver who was less understanding of the difficulties they faced with each loss like she once had.

A flatline is rarely the fault of a medic, but rather the titan or accident that struck down the injured. But sometimes, there is simply nothing the support can do for the victim. As grim and hard it can be, there comes times when all the person bleeding into your uniform needs is to say their goodbyes and last messages, which the nurse will take in respect. That was a task Angel and her children often had to fulfil, seeing it as their duty.

The morning was a cloudy grey, icy wind whipping around her ankles, spreading numbness through her boots as she walked closer to the cracked oak door she was heading for. This was not her first or last apology of the day, each mission bought near hundreds of casualties, whose families all needed to be informed of, explaining what Angel was doing so far from her lodging. It took a while for the handle to be pulled inwards, framing a cranky looking woman. She stood a few inches taller than Angel, like many did, although she looked younger, more free and relaxed as she cocked an eyebrow at the intruder on her doorstep, displeased with how she was now standing in the winter air, sending her messy ginger hair every which way.

“Can I help you?” She questioned, crossing her exposed arms across her chest, looking at Angel expectantly. Taking the less than welcome hint the nurse cleared her throat, preparing her words and mind for the news she was about to deliver. “Hello Miss Uyio. I am Meredith Lile, I’m the head medic for The Survey Corps. I’m here to inform you that late last night, your husband, Alan Uyio, was stru-“ she didn’t even get to finish her apologetic speech, before a loud yell interrupted her, cutting through the silent morning like a gunshot “He’s not dead!!” The woman’s face had drained of colour, replaced by an expression of pure desperation “He better not be!!” Angel’s teeth sunk into her inner lip at the hostility building in the ginger’s voice which was so unlike her own. “I’m sorry, Miss Uyio… I understand how difficult this must be… but I assure you, he died by my side, I didn’t le-“ Once again, her words were cut short, as if by a blade. “So your to blame?! Your the reason my husband is dead!! You!!” Gradual tears were flowing down the poor woman’s face, accompanying her shakey breathing, growing hysterical. Angel was silent for a few moments, she really wanted to comfort the lady, but her words had cut deep, seemingly stopping her thoughts as if something had been plunged into the cogs of Angel’s brain. “I… I will come back later in the week, to discuss the events. Please take care… Ma’am…” Even though she had bowed in mournful apology and resided from the spot she could still hear the sobbing and screams through the air, each hitting the medic like a physical punch.

It was not until late that evening when Angel’s silent mask broke, sending tears flooding from her eyes, dripping off her cheeks as she clutched her face, quietening the small sobs escaping her pale lips. Guilt, overwhelming waves of guilt filled her senses, making it impossible to think of any other solution of possibility from the interaction. The crying went on relentlessly for an exhausting amount of time, finally confining the nurse to her bed. It was past midnight when the tears finally slowed to a halt, leaving the usually bright blue eyes a stinging red, wearily staring up at the sky. Contemplating what to admit into the night that might express her feelings. Finally, her words came in a small echo of a whisper, disappearing into the breeze with a whistle.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t good enough to save you…”

#Spotify #motivation from the clouds (w)

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thornfield13713 · 10 months ago

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Rosie: 1, 3, 6, 7, 10 (for the recommending question, what food would they recommend)

What’s the lie your character says most often?

"I'm fine," and variations thereupon. Rosie is not fine. Rosie has never been fine in her whole entire life. She's just also terrified of the consequences of not being fine, and lying to herself as much as anyone around her. She gets a bit better about this after Alfira dies, when it becomes clear that admitting her mental state is a matter of real urgency to everyone else's survival, but she's also terrified of being cast out of the group if she's just a bit too inconvenient to have around, and is also lying to herself about how on top of her urges she actually is...right up until she nearly kills Karlach and has to admit everything.

How often do they show their genuine emotions to others versus just the audience knowing?

Not very. She's...for most of the story, Rosie is trying so hard to be Little Miss Perfect Paladin, the ideal hero she feels she ought to be. There are moments when she shows more of herself - she's most emotionally open around Karlach and Astarion, the two people she feels most comfortable being herself around. Astarion more than Karlach, just because he's not really that invested in the front Rosie puts up, whereas Karlach does seem to like the 'idealistic paladin' front, which is- not false, but not all Rosie is, either. This changes over the course of the game, particularly after the near-killing of Karlach at Bhaal's urging in act 2, which is when the extent of just how utterly fucked-up her girlfriend is is made clear to Karlach. And then in act 3, Rosie is spiralling, but also feels like she sort of doesn't have the right to be because this whole mess was sort of her fault to begin with, so a lot of repression there. Once again, Astarion and Karlach get to see past it to some extent, but it's Jaheira and Minsc who get the brunt of her real emotions here.

And then she's free of Bhaal and really, really open about being absolutely giddy at getting to do good without the constant urge to kill people in the back of her brain. Like- it is almost more insufferable than the 'perfect paladin' front to have Rosie just 'I am going to PET CATS and be nice to street children and save lives and be the hero I always dreamed of as a little girl and MY DAD CAN'T STOP ME!' all the time. Everyone else is grimly anticipating the final battle, and Rosie is nearly bouncing around delighted at getting to do things like beat up Raphael and free all his debtors, or free the Gondians.

Then Gortash dies, and she's- she knows it's a victory. She knows he did unforgiveable things, but- so did she. Just not to these people. It's hard not to mourn, and she can't really do that openly. She's open about her grief and fear about Karlach's situation, but not about the part of her mourning the man who ruined her girlfriend's life, because it's not something she feels anyone will understand. She was the same about mourning Orin, because...victory and all, but...that was still her little sister.

What’s their favorite [insert anything] that they’ve never recommended to anyone before?

Halfling Everything Soup. Or 'Welcome Soup', as it's known. Rosie grew up in a halfling adoptive family, and halfling food is always her comfort food even if she doesn't know why. And nothing quite encapsulates the taste of her childhood like her father's homemade 'Everything Stew', which always had potatoes, neeps, and quite a lot of offal in it, in addition to whatever seasoning could be scrounged up. It was never the same twice, but still somehow manages to retain its associations for her.

The less heartwarming answer is 'roasted dwarf', which Rosie continues to crave even after being freed of Bhaal's influence, even if she is never, ever going to talk about it. Curse their dwarves and their delicious savoury flesh.

What would you (mun) yell in the middle of a crowd to find them? What would their best friend and/or romantic partner yell?

For what I would yell: "Help! Help! My kitten is stuck up a tree!" and just wait for her to come running at the chance to do a sickeningly wholesome minor good deed of the sort that make her absurdly happy.

Karlach would probably just shout her name, or alternatively bring up the possibility of making a halfling dish for supper that night and that would probably do it.

What fact do they excitedly tell everyone about at every opportunity?

Hmm...probably something medical. Rosie has got medical training, having worked in the infirmary of an Ilmatari cloister before joining her paladin order. I sort of like the idea of her being delighted by weird medical factoids, like that case of the woman with the four-centimetre-thick skull who suffered no apparent problems from it. She gets less cheerful when she has to think too deeply about how she probably knows these things, given she's aware of having carried out vivisections before, but the medical details themselves are always delightful to her.

#rosie fatrabbit #baldur's gate 3

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synthshenanigans · 8 months ago

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I wanted to give my ideas/interpretations into this cos i find yours very interesting :0

Tho mines on the opposite end with it a bit. [None of this is like, dissing your interp btw i just wanna also see how different ideas of Soul can be]

I agree that Soul doesn't like Heart & Mind, but that it's during most of TSE & The Bidding. I feel like they couldn't all ever be whole if any of them really hated the other or anything.

Most of his anger comes from the fact that throughout the first half of the album, Heart & Mind either push him to the side or only view him as a vessel or something to control. Which makes sense to be angry at the people that don't view you as your own person. Soul is especially hurt by it since he's all about the Self & Identity. “You must be so arrogant to think that either of you can control The Soul so wholly when to be one whole you can’t hold solely” rlly says that to me.

[This is from a different rant i was going on once but it also fits here]

And the only reason he ever wanted to kill either of them is when he starts to think that they're all never going to get better & he doesn't wanna be in this state of Cacophony anymore.

The entire stanza from “See how the brain plays around” to “Doctor I can't tell if I'm not me” is Soul admitting he has no idea what to do or how to fix this and it just keeps getting worse. And as he has that breakdown, Heart & Mind ignore him completely and still only care about proving the other wrong. Which is finally when Soul gives up completely and starts to think that there's no point to keep going anymore. [The line “Heart Mind Slay Soul” from Dream(OfC) also rlly shows how, although unintentionally, the two of them are pushing Soul too far and in turn killing him which gets him to the point of Tridential Regicide. Which the next lyric in Dream, “Blood falls Threefold” foreshadows]

The entire last three stanzas show how apathetic Souls become now & he more or less says that if we can't ever be whole then there's no point in us living. Which then goes into The Bidding. Soul gives the two one last chance to again state their problems & to have the other respond with some sorta feedback that isn't just them yelling an insult at the other [Even if the problem seems like an insult].

And when both of them still continue fighting, Souls lines are “Time is short, life even more yet you wage this silly war. Going twice, Going thrice. Guess this means we'll tie the rope today”. Him now having completely given up and, tho my interpretation, is likely about to die. Seeing that even when told that they have one last chance to live, Heart & Mind still refuse to fix anything.

Tho at that LAST SECOND do the two halves panic realizing how far everything's gotten do they finally talk about their problems properly, not fight back against the other, & actually sing in harmony.

I wish the album went into more of the fact that Souls' answer to everything was like…death. Which is not a good answer obviously. Tho it might just be due to the metaphor for the album & that Vol. 1 is mainly Heart & Mind centric [Soul technically wasn't a character still the upload of Two Wuv I believe so makes sense why he doesn't have as much as M&H. Sucks but it just happens when the story is actually made once almost half the album is out. Not CJs fault lol]. Tho its makes me very interested in what Vol. 2 could do since all characters & story will be brought into it fully now. But that's not happening till way way later.

Soul is a very interesting character to me tho & I like seeing others ideas of him, so I like yours a lot

Soul Hates Heart and Mind: A Message To The Chonny Jash Fandom (which dives into theory territory near the end)

Sorry guys, but I don’t see enough people talking about this, or enough fics that acknowledge this, so just in case I have to remind you:

You do remember that Soul… doesn’t like Heart or Mind, right?

No, seriously. He calls them parasites in The Soul Eclectic, is borderline forcing them to try and become Whole again (that one part of The Bidding), and he’s clearly only giving them the time of day because they’re the key to making him Whole: something that’s only important to him because it would basically kill them.

Not to mention, he also fucking sends death threats to them on a daily basis- death threats that he would absolutely carry out if doing so wouldn’t also kill him. Hell, at the end of The Soul Eclectic he plans to do it knowing it would also kill him.

If Heart’s problem is that he’s too emotional for his own good, and Mind’s is that he’s an arrogant jackass who bottles up all his emotions and judges people, then Soul’s is that he’s too obsessed with the past.

He doesn’t like what’s happened to his head, he wants things to go back to the way they used to, and he takes that anger out on Heart and Mind because it’s easy for him.

Hell, I’d say it’s not a bad theory that the only reason why Heart and Mind want to be Whole again is because Soul keeps telling them they have to.

And when Vol. 2 comes out… I think it’d be a pretty good plot twist that that obsession is what started the fighting in the first place.

So with that said… out of all three of them, who deserves it most? Who must pay the toll?

Not Heart, nor Mind, but the Soul.

#this also seems like a mini hate rant against heart & mind i swear its not lol #i wanna go into them more at some point but this was soul centric so just wanted to talk about how they affectted him by accident #im not good at explaining things well but i hope it all made sense #As much as I love Two Wuv [i love that song WAY too much i have like. 820 plays last i checked damn]#I wish there was another Soul song that more talked about him & how he thinks of and works with Heart & Mind more #TSE is rlly the only one that does that #He does have SpAAS & NMtK but they aren't as detailed as like Be Born & Just Apathy #Tho his two songs do have a lotta stuff you can get from them its just not as much as id like #again not CJs fault those two songs are literally the very first TH songs he did. no story/idea was there yet #Dream(OfC) tho.....ough thats a whole other Soul song & rant i could go on #anyways sorry for ranting sm OP i just love the complicated mess that is Soul #moss post #also the “who will pay the toll” line is very interesting for a much different reason since CJs answer to that was in future tense #as in one of them will play the toll in Vol. 2

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bowieandqueen11 · 2 years ago

Text

Movie Night / Umbrella Academy x Reader Imagine

Request: Hi Cee! I saw that you want a TUA request, and I managed to think of one. How about a movie night with Klaus (and maybe Ben)? That just sounds like a lot of fun to me. You can make it into either an imagine or headcanons, whatever works better for you.

Ahhh thank you so much my lovely @holymultiplefandomsbatman this sounds so cosy!!

Warning: very slight swearing, mentions of cigarettes and mentions of arson (Klaus being Klaus).

If you enjoy, PLEASE let me know and comment!!

(I do not own The Umbrella Academy or its characters, all rights go to creators. Gif credit goes to @nomatterifyoureblackorwhite.)

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°

You weren’t surprised to see smoke billowing out of the microwave?

Disappointed? Perhaps. Shocked? Not at all. You were even less amazed to see Klaus’ legs dangling out from over the counter, haphazardly balancing on the table as he used a dish cloth to try and whip away the smoke from the air. Sadly, he was not very successful, as the blaring screech and blips of the fire alarm sounding throughout the kitchen of the Academy quickly made apparent to you. The sound of Five’s groaning growl reverberating out of his room and down through the ceiling only made it all the more clearer.

‘Christ on a cracker... Ben, I thought I asked you to HELP.’

Ben is sitting on a kitchen stool next to a flailing Klaus. He’s nonchalantly sipping a glass of lemonade, and trying his hardest not to snicker as Klaus falls off the counter and teddy bear rolls onto the floor in an attempt to correct himself.

‘Why are you blaming me? It’s not my fault you have the brain of a peanut.’

Klaus looks incredibly disgruntled as his head pops up from behind the dining room table. His cheeks are covered in some kind of ashy soot, which he happily swells into a crystal cloud as he sneezes into Ben’s disgusted face. As Klaus hurls himself off the ground and tries to stop the shoulder of his shirt from smouldering by wildly hitting it with his ‘hello’ hand, Ben takes the opportunity to stop him from launching a barrage attack of talking.

‘I said I’d come to supervise, not to help. Maybe you should clear your ears out.’

‘Supervising is Y/n’s job, they’re the only one with a braincell in this house. Such a shame you were born without even one, Benny Boy.’ Klaus throws him a mock frown, shuffling forward on his knees to lean his arms on Ben’s lap and slap his kneecap.

‘That was a terrible comeback’, Ben snorts as he reaches past Klaus’ ears and tries to take the strangely popping, twisting and still expanding bag of popcorn out of the melting microwave to open it. When he’s greeted only by another outpouring of smoke and a hacking cough in response, he decides to drop it in the sink and douse it in water. They’d been lucky enough that Luther hadn’t already come stomping down the stairs to tell them to quit their racket, or that Diego hadn’t come in and yelled at them for setting the alarm off while he was trying to nap. He nearly jumps out of his skin when Klaus yells out and opens his arms wide, flailing.

‘Y/n! Where the hell have you been! How could you leave me alone with Ben?!’ He comes sprinting towards you, giving you only a few seconds to widen your eyes in shock, stumble backwards, and try to brace your arms to protect yourself before Klaus has leapt and is now straddling your waist in a bone crushing hug. He doesn’t care that the selection of movies you had snuck up and stolen from Allison’s rooms have all scattered to the floor, he’s too busy nestling his head into your neck and crushing all the air out of your lungs.

‘Klaus... for the love of- I’ve only been gone for fifteen minutes and you’ve already managed to burn down the house.’

He only dramatically kisses the top of your head before dropping his feet back down onto the floor. ‘Who cares, right? I mean, we all hate this house anyway, and dad’s dead’, he grins, holding his hand out beside him as if in a half shrug. ‘So I guess the house is ours to do with as we please!’ He does a ostentatious spin around you, the ruffles of his leather skirt flowing over your abdomen like the old tune of a long ago dream. He eventually stops to place a forearm on your shoulder, leaning in close so he can whisper into your ear with a high-pitched giggle. ‘I vote arson.’

‘And I vote that you both help me carry these snacks and soda bottles before I collapse’, Ben calls from where he’s half hidden behind the snack cabinet. You can barely make out his hoodie moving, shuffling what you can only guess is approximately five massive bottles into the brackets of his elbows.

‘You don’t get a vote - we’ve already established you don’t have a braincell.’ Klaus squats down on the floor beside you and helps you gather up the discs one again, bundling them into your arms as Ben yells out in mock insult.

‘Oh, quit your yapping and come on! If we don’t get into the living room now then Luther’s going to come down and start doing his evening yoga again’, he shivers, ‘and I do not want to be there for that again. Last time he roped me in, and the nightmares I’ve had about doing the downward double dog pose-’

You snort and hit him in the side, the brightest smile on Klaus’ face as he turns to you and laughs, his mirth filled with all the joy and love in the world. Ben comes staggering round to your other side, and you do your best to loop your arms round both of theirs, as they do in return, before you all set off through the door. I mean, you try - but mostly you all go sauntering towards it and then realise when Klaus bumps against the doorframe that three people going through at once is not going to work. Instead of doing the normal thing of letting the two of you go first, he decides to just jump onto your back and you have to give him a piggy back ride through the house before dumping him down onto the sofa.

Ben flops down on the cushion next to him, waiting for you to set up the small television set Grace had kindly got out from the locked cupboard and wheeled in for the three of you, before the two of them scoot sideways and leave you space to sit down between them. You’re sitting knee to knee for a while, dragging the lone blanket you found in your room down from the back of the settee to instead cover your laps. As the intro credits begin to roll, and the dim light of the slightly dinged and ancient T.V. blares into your eyes, Ben grabs a few cups and starts handing out drinks.

Klaus takes his with a flick of his hair, downing it all in one go as Ben looks on with a mix of resignation and absolute horror. When he’s finished, he tosses the mug onto the carpet and leans back against the armrest. To your own despair, as he does this he simultaneously swings his legs up so they’re lying over your own lap.

‘You know, I once had a boyfriend who looked exactly like Hugh Grant.’

‘As if’, Ben retorts as he opens a packet of gummy sweets and offers to the two of you. Klaus just grabs them from his fingers and dumps them into the ornate bowl Reginald Hargreeves had left on the living room table - the same precise one he had forbade any of the children from ever touching lest it loses its unspeakable value. Between the sugary cracks of the sweets, you could still make out the remnants of crater burns of cigarette butts.

Ben snuggles down against your shoulder, and you happily open up your arm to allow him to rest the back of his head against your cheek. The warmth of his body, and the way he lifts his hand to rub tenderly against the hand you’ve rested against his neck already fills you with a tenderness as warm as a sunned cat. Feeling left out, Klaus earns an irritated whine from the two of you as he suddenly tries to twist himself around. He looks like a bug trapped in a spider’s web, punching out and trapping himself in the blanket before he finally settles. He kicks his legs into the darkness over the edge of the sofa, choosing instead to shove the blanket onto Ben and rest his head on your lap, the curls tangling up your abdomen.

‘I did too’, he manages to mumble out as he shoves his face full of a handful of chips. ‘He was a terrible kisser, but he did make the most wonderful pineapple upside down cake.’

‘Okay, now I know you’re lying’, you state, reaching down to scrape your fingers over Klaus’ scalp. He twitches happily in your lap as you say, ‘I’ve never seen you eat fruit in your whole damn life.’

‘I’ll eat it if it’s in cake.’

‘Oh my god’, Ben despairs, sliding down further into your side whilst shaking his head, covering his eyes with with his hand.

‘What!? Mr. ‘I’ll only eat waffles for dinner’-’

‘Hey, waffles count as breakfast and dinner food. I’m in the right here. I’m valid.’

Klaus tries to throw a gummy work at Ben’s face, succeeding only at tossing it through the door way. He hits his target on the next go, though, and leaves Ben wiping his nose with the edge of his sleeve as he reaches out to grab more. Ben’s faster though, dipping his hand into the own packet of chewy sweets he dumped beside them and whirling them at Klaus’ head until Klaus has melodramatically fallen down onto the floor.

The night ends in its usual way, with Diego sauntering down the main stairwell and peeking through the hallway door to see what the heck all the noise is, holding a knife at the ready in case the Academy was being ransacked or burgled. He’s greeted by the sight of you standing on the living room table, arms pull to the brim of popcorn kernels. Ben has taken refuge under the table, his raven hair absolutely drenched with soda, as well as half the askew paintings and bookshelves behind him. Klaus has knocked the sofa onto its side, and has managed to falter in throwing his handful of gumballs over the top as he spots his other brother.

At first, Diego only sighs and puts his knife back away into his belt, preparing himself to turn and leave. When he feels a sweet hit the back of his head with a thunk... well, let’s just say that Five comes storming down to see what on earth is going on about ten minutes later, only to find you all in roughly the same positions... as well as Diego swinging from the chandelier with chip crumbs on his shirt.

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