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justaparsec94 · 23 hours ago

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Wounded

Summary: In the aftermath of Tantiss Hunter pays a visit to Pabu's resident healer to help him deal with his battle wounds.

Pairing: Hunter x fem!Reader

Word Count: 5,798

Author's Note: This is just pure, pointless fluff.

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In general, Hunter did whatever was within his power to avoid medbays and med droids. Truthfully, anything and everything medical-related. It was, in his mind, a likely byproduct of growing up in a laboratory and essentially spending most of his life being poked, prodded, and scanned. You name it it had likely happened to Hunter and his brothers. Once he had been released from Kamino he had adopted the mentality that there wasn’t anything some bacta spray and a self-applied bandage couldn’t fix. The only way someone would get him anywhere near a medbay was if he was unconscious and physically couldn’t have anything to say about it.

He learned rather quickly though, that the people of Pabu had a different outlook when it came to looking after oneself. They actually cared. Not only that, but they were careful about taking care of one another. No unnecessary scans or blood draws. Just basic sentient kindness. It was a foreign concept to him and despite knowing that no one on the island would intentionally hurt him or anyone for that matter, he still avoided their medical clinic at all cost.

A decision that he was questioning currently, as a stabbing pain shot through his side as he lifted the other end of a mattress. An involuntary groan left him and the end of the mattress dipped, his head swam as the pain reached an almost unbearable level. He tried to take a deep breath to clear his head but that only made the pain worse, his hands slipped off the mattress and the loud thump that resulted caused every pair of eyes in the house to turn his way.

“Hunter?” Omega asked, voice filled with concern.

At the same time, Phee placed the box she had been carrying down, “You ok there, Hunter?”

“Fine,” He managed to reply though it came out more of a wheeze. His skin was crawling at all the unwanted attention but it seemed the pain in his side wasn’t going to be ignored in that moment. No matter how much he wanted to pretend it was fine and continue on with the task at hand.

They’d only returned from Tantiss a few days prior, but each day had seemed busier than the last. Between getting the other clones and children settled, trying to coordinate with Rex, and moving into the house that Shep and Phee had given them there had barely been any time for Hunter to rest, despite that being what he really wanted most of all. They’d all sustained injuries on the mission, but Hunter had felt that as the least injured, he could take over doing everything his brothers shouldn’t be doing at the moment, like moving a mattress with Shep.

A scoff from the corner of the room drew his attention, Crosshair was sitting on a stool, his usual stony expression on his face and arms crossed over his chest. The lack of a hand was still jarring to Hunter and filled him with guilt each time.

“He’s just pretending he’s fine, like usual,” He said, tone filled with less malice than was typical for Crosshair, but still incredibly snide. They might have made a lot of strides but the two of them still had a long way to go in repairing their relationship.

“What’s wrong, Hunter?” Omega asked, putting down her own box and coming over to him. They didn’t have many possessions, especially since what they did have had gone up in flames or sunk to the bottom of the ocean with The Marauder, but Shep and Phee had very generously rounded up donations so that their new house would feel more like a home. It wasn’t much and it was mostly furniture but after a lifetime of having nothing, it meant a lot to them all.

“Nothing,” He said again, this time his voice came out stronger. The pain subsided somewhat now that he was no longer lifting a heavy object.

“You sure?” Wrecker asked, crowding into the space, “I can help Shep with this if yah need a break.” Wrecker was in even less shape than Hunter, he’d been so badly injured during the mission that it was a miracle he was even moving around only a few days later.

“I’m fine,” Hunter snapped, uncomfortable with all of the attention that was currently on him. He didn’t want or need them to worry about him.

“It’s his ribs,” Crosshair said cooly, which caused Hunter to curse internally. Nothing ever got past the sharpshooter.

“I’ll get AZI!” Omega said, turning quickly to make her way out of the small house but Hunter caught her gently by the arm.

“It’s fine, Omega,” he repeated as she looked up at him in confusion, “I don’t need AZI. It’s just a twinge.”

Crosshair scoffed in the corner again but Hunter pointedly ignored him as Omega continued to look at him with wide, concerned eyes. The expression was almost enough to make him actually consider seeking some form of medical treatment from the droid. Almost.

“Are you sure?” She asked.

“Positive,” Hunter said, letting go of her arm to pat her shoulder in what he hoped was a comforting way. She gave him another long, scrutinizing look that she seemed to have inherited directly from Crosshair before she picked up her box once more and carried it toward the room that would be her own. Wrecker gave Hunter a long, knowing look before he followed after her, keen to help her re-create the space she had lost on The Marauder.

“Why don’t you help me with this Phee?” Shep asked, clearly ignoring Hunter’s protests that he was actually fine and capable of moving furniture.

“Sure thing, take a break boys!” Phee said cheerfully. She gently pushed Hunter out of the way but turned to look at him before picking up his dropped end.

“If you’re so against seeing AZI, you should go see Y/N, I’m sure she could help you out,” Phee suggested with a look in her eyes that Hunter decidedly did not like the look of. Despite his best efforts, he felt his face flush at her suggestion. The last thing he wanted to do was have the most beautiful woman on the island know his problems.

You had been one of the first people outside of Shep, Lyana, and Phee that he’d met on the island. You were one of the island’s resident healers, unofficially, according to Phee to be the best. He’d met you in the aftermath of the tsunami, tending to those injured in the scramble to safety. The crowd had parted as he had been carrying supplies and it had been like one of those moments straight out of one of the horrible holo films Wrecker and Omega liked to watch. You had been all he’d been able to see. And then later when you’d asked him if he was injured with a warm smile and kind eyes he’d been instantly smitten, which up until that point had been a completely foreign feeling to him.

It wasn’t that he didn’t think you were capable, you were, even Tech had commented on more than one occasion how ‘proficient’ your skills as a healer were. But it seemed that any time you were around he was only able to say something stupid, or worse, nothing at all. He’d never been very good at dealing with emotions, his own or others, another byproduct of his upbringing, so his feelings for you, whatever they may be, were completely foreign to him. It seemed though, judging by the knowing smirk on Phee’s face that they were not unknown to her.

“Her bedside manner is a whole heck of a lot better than AZI’s,” Phee said lightly, eyes dancing with amusement, “She’s got some good tricks up her sleeve. I’m sure she’d be able to whip up something to give you some relief.”

Hunter was about to protest, brush it off as nothing once again but Phee stopped him, her expression turning serious as she placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, “Seriously, Hunter. You don’t need to suffer anymore.”

“It’s in his nature,” Crosshair chimed from his spot in the corner, “Always the martyr.”

“Look who's talking,” Hunter snapped, glaring over at his younger brother who only smirked back over at him, “But fine, I’ll go,” Mostly just to get them to stop bothering him.

“She’s not in clinic today so check over at her house,” Phee answered before she turned to help Shep carry the long-forgotten mattress, “She’s always happy to have people make a house call.”

Hunter wasn’t so sure about that but it seemed no one was going to let him keep pretending to be ok. He sighed, the pain in his side flaring and causing him to groan softly. Well, he thought as he made his way out of their small home, might as well get it over with sooner rather than later.

Your house was small but well-maintained and looked just like every other house on Pabu, with the exception of a variety of potted plants and flowers lining the front and doorway. Sea glass wind chimes hung beside the door and tinkled softly in the gentle breeze. He briefly wondered if Omega would like some for their house. Maybe potted flowers too? Did that count as decorating? He wondered as he reached up to softly knock on the front door.

There was no answer after a long, silent moment and with his heightened senses he couldn’t hear any movement within the house. He frowned, it looked like you weren’t home. He stared at the closed door for a moment, considering his options. He wasn’t sure if it would be better to just wait and risk looking like a creep or leave and try again later.

Before he could even make that decision he turned suddenly, picking up on another presence moments before a figure stepped around the side of the building. You stopped short at the sight of him, eyebrows shot up in surprise and he watched as your head tilted slightly as you took the sight of him in. He took the same moment to look at you, your hair was wet, piled onto your head messily and you were carrying a large board, like the ones he often saw people riding waves in the ocean on. He was pretty sure Tech had said it was called surfing.

Your momentary shock seemed to wear off and your gaze turned warm as it swept over him from head to toe. He felt your look like a physical weight against his body and he did his best to remain loose and not tense. His senses suddenly seemed to be heading towards overload for no reason he could discern. Maybe all that torture and the hit to the head had done more damage than he had thought.

“Hey, Hunter,” You greeted warmly before you turned and placed the board up against the house on a small stand he hadn’t noticed before. Oblivious to his internal struggles you turned back towards him, smile somehow even brighter than before, “To what do I owe this pleasant visit?”

“Uh…” He started then coughed, he could feel his face heating at his inability to speak like a normally functioning human being. He didn’t know what in the galaxy was wrong with him, “Phee sent me. She said you might be able to help me out… with some pain.”

A look of understanding dawned on your face and you nodded, suddenly all business, “Of course, come on in,” you gestured towards the front door before moving towards it. He followed after you, trying to keep a respectful distance.

“Don’t mind the mess,” You replied airly as he followed you further into the house, “I haven’t cleaned in a bit.”

Hunter couldn’t help but think this was the cleanest home he’d ever been in, it was warm, bright, and inviting. Exactly the type of place he hoped they could make out of their own for Omega’s sake. Most importantly, it didn’t smell like a dirty barrack, so that alone made it the nicest place he’d ever been.

He followed you into a little room that had been made up into what looked like an examination room rather than a bedroom. He paused at the threshold of the room as the same uncomfortable feeling he always got when it came to medical treatments crept up his neck.

“I’m sorry it’s not a state-of-the-art medbay, but it does the trick,” You said as you gestured towards the small padded examination table in the centre of the room. You turned back to look at him when he remained silent, slight concern visible in the depths of your eyes, “We can go up to the clinic if you’d be more comfortable with that, though.”

“No,” Hunter replied quickly, face flushing. Even though the medical clinic on Pabu was nothing like a medical facility on Kamino, he still had no desire to go to it.

“Alright,” You said with a soft nod, clearly noticing his discomfort but thankfully ignoring it, “What can I help you with, Hunter?”

Even to a relative stranger, it was hard for him to admit that he was suffering. His entire body ached worse than it ever had before, had since the moment he’d woken up in Hemlock’s lab. He’d taken a lot of bad hits in his years but the blast from the shuttle that had blown him off his feet and caused part of the roof to collapse on him had done a number. Everything still hurt, but his ribs hurt worst of all “It’s just my ribs. It’s uncomfortable but not too bad.”

You cocked an eyebrow at him, clearly seeing straight through his lie, “I’ll need you to take off your kit so I can take a better look,” You said as you eyed his armour.

Hunter cursed internally, he was now definitely regretting not putting on the clothes Shep had given him. He hadn’t felt comfortable removing his armour just yet, old habits died hard, he supposed but a simple tunic would have made this station a lot easier and less time-consuming.

You had turned away from him, likely to give him some sense of privacy as he went to work removing the top half of his armour and undersuit. He set his gear aside on the chair in the room neatly before he hauled himself up onto the table, stifling a groan at the pain that laced through him with the movement.

Hearing he was done you turned back around to look at him, approaching the table slowly as though not to spook him. He had to hand it to you, if you were surprised by his state you didn’t let it show. You were pure professionalism as you approached him, eyes taking in the mottling of his skin before your gaze met his. He felt himself tense slightly at your proximity, at this distance, he could see the exact colour of your eyes, and the usual incoherent thoughts he always seemed to get when you were around clouded his mind.

There was a small smirk on your face as you looked at him and your eyebrow was cocked once more at him as you spoke, “Not too bad, hmm?”

A small chuckle escaped him before he could stop it and he felt his neck warm once more at being called out, “Well, I’ve had worse…”

“I don’t doubt that,” You said softly, eyes were warm as you looked at him for a moment. You smelt like the sea combined with something warm and citrusy that he couldn’t name. It was wonderful and with such little distance between the two of you, it was difficult for him to focus on anything else.

He flinched slightly as your hand gently rested against his left side, pain but also something else entirely shot through him with your touch. He tried to focus on you as you spoke instead of the way his skin was tingling under your touch, “Take a deep breath for me.”

He did as he was told, wincing slightly at the pain it caused. You made a quiet humming noise before your hand moved around towards his back, “Deep breath again.”

You had him repeat that multiple times on each side before you stepped back to get a better look at his face, “Didn’t AZI give you bacta for this? I don’t need my medscanner to tell you’ve got broken ribs.”

He felt his face flush as he spoke, “I uh, told him to save it. We don’t have a lot and my brothers needed it more than I did.”

Instead of scorn or judgement though, the look you gave him was soft and full of understanding, “I’m sure we can get some more, there’s lots of people on this island who will likely need it at some point. You don’t have to suffer, Hunter.”

The uncomfortable feeling that had been following him around for days was crawling its way back up his throat. He wanted to tell you that he did, that after everything he had failed to do a bit of suffering was the least he deserved. The words almost made their way out before he stopped them and instead, he gave a half-hearted shrug that hurt his ribs, “It’s really not that bad.”

The look you gave him was so knowing that it made his skin crawl. It was like you could see the thoughts currently in his head, but you didn’t push, you simply sighed, “Alright, I know when to admit defeat,” You gave him a soft smile and your hand gently patted his knee once before you turned and made your way to the counter against one wall.

He watched you as you moved methodically, pulling things out of cupboards, and mixing things together. It didn’t take you long to do whatever it was you were doing and when you turned back around you had a small bag of powder in one hand and a jar of what looked like green paste in the other.

You smiled softly at what he knew was likely a look of skepticism on his face. He knew there was more than one way to heal injuries, that fancy medbays, droids, and bacta weren’t the only things in the galaxy with healing properties but a lifetime of Kaminoan treatment did make him wonder just how effective whatever you had would be.

“Like I said before, my first recommendation is actually to take the Bacta,” You said as you stopped in front of him once more, “But since I’m assuming that will not happen, you can try this instead.”

You held up the small bag of powder in your hand first, “Drink a tablespoon of this two times a day, morning and night. My professional tip is to add it to hot tea, it helps with the taste,” You then held up the jar, “And rub this on to your ribs two to three times a day. I’ve adjusted the doses a bit, I’m not exactly sure if it’ll have the same effects as normal given your faster-than-average clone metabolism, but I think it should give you some relief,” You set the bag of powder down beside him on the table as you opened the jar. She put a small amount of her fingers, gesturing towards his ribs with it to let your intentions known.

He nodded and then his breath caught at the tingling sensation that occurred as you rubbed the salve over his bruised torso, “And lastly, but most importantly, rest. No heavy lifting, no twisting, no saving civilians. Rest,” You said gently as your hand pulled away from him once the salve was completely rubbed in. He felt his eyes widen at the cooling sensation that suddenly spread beneath where you had applied the salve, it was the first bit of relief he had felt in days.

“Come back in a few days to see me, I’ll recheck them and if you’re still having pain we can maybe try something else,” You said as you replaced the lid on the salve and put it down beside the bag of powder.

“Thank you,” he said as he grabbed the top of his blacks and gently pulled it back on over his head. His ribs were still painful but the cooling sensation from the salve was helping a bit. Once it was in place he looked at you again, “What do I owe you?”

You looked momentarily surprised, “You don’t owe me anything Hunter.”

“I can’t just take this from you and you took the time to see me on your day off,” He protested as the uncomfortable feeling returned. They didn’t have any credits, what they had had from Omega and Crosshair’s gambling adventure had been on The Marauder. He was certain he could find some way to pay everyone back eventually though. He hadn’t quite figured that out yet, but he would.

You shook her head, “No, I don’t do this to make credits, Hunter. I do it to help others. And the lack of excitement on this island means pretty much every day is my day off,” Your gaze was soft and sincere as you looked at him, “Plus, Phee sent you so you automatically get the friends and family discount.”

He was still hesitant, it was hard to trust the generosity of others. Especially after having spent so long working for Cid and seeing how many in the galaxy operated, “What’s the friends and family discount?”

“Free,” You replied brightly, patting his knee once more before you retreated, cleaning up the supplies you had left on the counter. He watched you for a moment but when it was clear you would not be changing your mind he sighed and went about putting the top half of his armour back on.

Hunter was silent as you walked him back towards the front door, he didn’t know what to say, or really how to thank you for helping him but you didn’t seem to be bothered by his silence. You stopped at the door, turning towards him with another bright and warm smile on your face that made his heart rate pick up at an alarming rate.

“Take it easy, Hunter,” You said gently before your eyes narrowed playfully, “I mean it, rest.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He finally managed to say. Which only made his face flush more, because that was a dumb thing to say. He technically wasn’t a soldier talking to a civilian anymore, and ma’am just sounded old.

You chuckled softly but before he could do anything else to make a fool of himself he made his way out of your house, looking back once with a wave before he disappeared from sight. He sighed as he walked, now he just needed to figure out how to actually rest.

“New outfit! I like it,” You said with a bright smile as you pushed open your front door. For the second time that week Hunter had found himself standing outside of your house in the early morning only to have you appear moments later with a surfboard in hand.

“Uh, yeah,” Hunter replied because once again his brain didn’t seem to be able to keep up with the rest of him. He rubbed at the back of his neck as you shut the door behind him before turning to smile at him once more. It had been hard for him to shed his armour, even though he had to admit that no longer having hard plastoid rubbing against his side made a big difference to the pain in his ribs. The simple tunic and pants that Shep had given him felt odd, but he guessed that eventually he’d get used to it.

“A bit more practical for island life,” You said as you led him towards the medical room, “I could imagine it would be a bit more comfortable too.”

Hunter shrugged, “I was pretty used to the armour,”

You paused for a moment, seemingly considering his words, “Well, it looks good and your ribs probably thank you.”

He felt his face heat at the looks good comment. He wasn’t unused to attention, but coming from you it felt completely different. Other than a quick night here and there he’d never really had the chance to even think about beyond a simple attraction, never mind anything that even somewhat resembled a relationship. But now, on Pabu with no more battles to fight, the rest of his life stretched out before him, he would be lying if he hadn’t thought about more with greater frequency lately. If your smile had been filling his dreams lately, well, that he would keep to himself.

“How are they feeling?” You asked, clearly unaware of what your comment had done to him.

“Better,” Hunter replied, which this time, was not a lie, “You might be a miracle worker,” His ribs, while not fully healed, felt so much better than they had before. The salve and tea had done wonders, he almost felt normal again. Or at the very least like he could get back to carrying things.

You smiled at him but the sheepish nature of it had him raising his brow questioningly, “Well, I don’t know about miracle worker. It was probably the rest. I roped Omega, Shep, and Phee into making sure you took it easy.”

Their sudden increase in concern and pestering despite him denying any need for help suddenly made a lot more sense. He frowned at you, “I knew that was suspicious.”

You laughed which did something to him, “I’ll gladly take the credit though. Can I take a look?”

Still reeling from the sound of your laughter he nodded, pulling the tunic off quickly as his face heated once again. You were once again nothing but professional as you examined him, having him repeat the same deep breaths you had early in the week. Meanwhile, he had to count back from 100 to try and keep his mind off of the feeling of your hands on him.

As your hands ghosted over a particular spot on his ribs he couldn’t help but flinch, a quick hiss of air escaping his lips before he could stop it.

You froze, hand hovering over his skin as you looked up at him with concern. You were so close that he could see every fleck of colour in your eyes, could hear your heart beating, strong and steady in your chest. Your scent was nearly overwhelming, and he wanted desperately at that moment to close the distance between the two of you.

“Pain?” You asked, breaking him from his thoughts.

He shook his head, “Cold.”

“Sorry, it was a pretty chilly swim this morning,” You answered with a shy smile before you placed your hand back on him. He shivered at the contact while trying to remind himself that this was a professional setting and that kissing you would be decidedly unprofessional.

“It’s ok,” Hunter said, and then because apparently his mouth wasn’t on the same page as his mind, “I don’t mind, feels good actually.”

At this distance, he didn’t miss the way your cheeks flushed slightly or the way your heart rate picked up a notch. It was thrilling, he thought, to know he had at least some effect on you.

You continued your examination quietly for another moment before you stepped back. An impressed look on your face as you did so, “It’s really incredible how fast you guys heal. You look so much better.”

Another byproduct, with their advanced aging it meant their cells regenerated much faster than average. Quicker maturity and healing with the cost of half the lifespan.

“Do you still have some of the tea and salve left?” You asked as he pulled his shirt back on.

“Yeah, about half I would say,” Hunter replied, “It really did seem to make a difference.”

“They both contain a natural painkiller that we’re able to grow here on the island. It’s the main ingredient in bacta, actually," You answered, “I’d keep up with the tea and the salve for the rest of the week. And keep resting, it looks like you’ll be ok in a few days but take it easy. I don’t want you back here because you’ve re-injured yourself. Not that I mind your company, but I’d prefer these visits to be on a non-professional basis.”

Hunter sighed, not liking the idea of staying idle when there was still a lot to be done. He needed to help Rex, the other clones, and never mind the whole house situation. But he wasn’t so stubborn that he couldn’t listen to medical advice, especially not when it actually was making a difference. He followed after you out into your living room, resigned to his fate. His mind however was turning over your last comment, you actually liked his company. Which was, admittedly surprising since he couldn’t seem to string more than a few words together anytime he was around you.

He paused near your door, his gaze casting around your warm and bright space, a conversation he’d had with Omega earlier suddenly at the forefront of his mind, “Your home is very nicely decorated,” The words felt awkward coming out of his mouth and he instantly cringed. But if you thought he was weird you made no indication of it.

Instead, you simply smiled at him brightly, “Thank you.”

“Do you… have any tips? For, uh - decorating?” He asked, his voice stilted as his face began to heat up. He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly as he forged on, “Omega wants to decorate our home and uh… I don’t really know…how?”

Your gaze was so warm that it didn’t help the fluttering in his chest. Your look was completely judgment-free despite it being honestly a ridiculous question, “Well, I don’t really know if I have any tips… I just pick things that speak to me.”

He stared at you blankly, “Speak to you…”

You laughed, the sound once again making him feel as if he were having a mini-heart attack, “Sorry, I guess that does sound pretty silly, but here-” you said as you walked towards one of the tapestries you had hanging on the wall behind your couch. You looked at him for a moment with an easy smile before you gestured to it, “What do you see when you look at this?”

“Uh…” He started then stopped, looking between you and the tapestry, “Blue?”

You laughed again and he was surprised at the soft bark of laughter that escaped him too, it really was ridiculous, “Ok, maybe I started off with too hard of a question” You said, continuing with a soft chuckle. He watched you closely as you turned your head back to look at it, a wistful expression overtaking your face, “When I look at it, the colours remind me of the ocean. The very first time I saw it I had the same feeling I get when I look out at the sea and I decided I wanted to get that feeling even when I’m in my home.”

He looked back at the tapestry and its multiple shades of blues and whites woven together, it was quite nice. And the longer he looked at it he supposed he could see how the colours were similar to the ocean, “Oh, uh, yah.”

“Did you ever have posters up in your barracks or ship? Or see art or a picture that maybe you feel something?” You asked, amusement colouring your face.

A wave of embarrassment rushed through him, “Well yah, but uh - I don’t think that’s very appropriate for a house with a kid in it.” The scantily clad picture of Senator Amidala that had once adorned the nose of The Marauder before General Skywalker got wind of it was the first thing that came to mind.

You chuckled, “Ok, yes, maybe not like that. But obviously, there was something about those posters that you liked... some sort of feeling you got when you looked at them…”

“Arousal?” He teased before he could stop himself. He immediately felt embarrassed by his inability to keep his mouth shut but it seemed he didn’t need to worry about that.

Your head tipped back as you laughed and your hand came up to rest on his arm, as if to steady yourself while you did so. A small thrill rushed through him at the sound. It had been a long time since he had made someone other than Omega laugh like that.

“I walked right into that answer,” You said once your laughter had died down, “Let me correct myself, we’re looking for a different emotion.. happy, calm, peace, joy… something along those lines.”

“This all sounds a lot more difficult than I was expecting,” Hunter replied with a gruff chuckle.

You laughed again as you squeezed his bicep gently, “Try not to overthink it, when you know, you’ll know.”

“Sure…” He said, though what he wanted to say was that it all sounded like a load of poodoo to him.

Clearly, his skepticism was showing because you chuckled again as your hand moved from his arm, “How about this, every few months we host a market on the island where all the bakers, crafters, makers, artists, anyone and everyone get together to trade and sell their wears. It’s in a few weeks, how about we go, you bring Omega, and maybe the three of us can find some things that speak to you?”

“Ok,” Hunter agreed before he even fully processed what you had proposed.

“Great,” You said with another beaming smile, “It’s a date.”

Hunter felt everything inside of him freeze, his brain short-circuiting, “It’s a date,” He found himself repeating so quickly that embarrassment coloured his face.

Your answering smile was worth every painful moment he’d ever experienced in his short life as the two of you walked towards the front door. You leaned casually against the door frame once Hunter had passed through, arms crossed over your chest, expression warm, “Great. See you later, Hunter. And remember, take care of those ribs.”

He nodded, not trusting himself to say something else ridiculous before he left, giving you a quick wave over his shoulder as he headed back up the hill toward his own home.

He still might not like medical treatment or know anything about decorating. But he had a much better idea of what spoke to him. Now, he just had to figure out what one actually did on a real date.

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cryptids · 2 days ago

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I was just looking through those recently posted tf:one storyboards (crying sobbing throwing up about the megop rn) But I just have to say I do kind of wish they had kept this dialogue in the final movie, bc I've seen SO many people misunderstanding what Orion was trying to say in the scene where he's trying to stop D-16/Megatron from killing Sentinel, and I think this version phrases it better??

Like.... I can't even tell you how many people I've seen say that Orion was trying to protect Sentinel/sacrificing his life for Sentinel's, and then go on to accuse him of being everything from a "liberal" to a fascist apologist lmfao (🤡)

When to me it was clear he hated Sentinel and didn't give a fuck about whether this man lived or died, his concern was with trying to prevent his best friend and person he loves most in the world from committing a murder and going down a path that would turn him into the same kind of dictator.

imo, Orion was trying to say that they'd already won and killing Sentinel in this manner (a public execution without a trial) would set a harmful precedent for a new society. Which is true, what they'd be creating if they took Megatron's approach would be a society where order was maintained through fear and subjugation, and without any kind of fair justice system.

Killing Sentinel didn't achieve anything that would actually help anyone, bc like I already mentioned, they'd already won by then. They liberated the oppressed population and took Sentinel's power away, he no longer posed any threat. Megatron’s only motivation was revenge and he was making decisions out of anger and grief rather than thinking about what was best for everyone. He took the decision of what to do with Sentinel away from the people by taking it into his own hands without letting them have an opinion.

(Before anyone comes at me, I know the desire for revenge is understandable and justified, which is why we're able to empathise with him so much. But that doesn't mean it's always the right choice in every circumstance, especially for someone stepping into a position of power)

I think the line that really got people mixed up was Orion saying "don't be like Sentinel", bc people are so used to the "killing the villain makes you as bad as the villain" sentiment in every movie ever that they automatically assumed this movie was saying the same thing. But when you stop to take the context into consideration it would make a lot more sense if he meant "don't be the same kind of leader as Sentinel", which IS what he meant, it's just worded badly.

And it's the truth too?? we all know Megatron will become a genocidal dictator who will carry out so much of the same kind of oppression he originally fought against, that's like his whole tragedy as a villain. There's so many little ways tf:one shows us this happening at the end (like him branding the decepticons the way he was branded for example).

But anyway......... as much as I wish media didnt have to spoonfeed audiences so much, I think if Orion's argument had been spelled out a bit more unambiguously like this it might have spared me having to see so many bad takes online lmao 😭

Now that I'm done rambling about all of that please look at this wattpad boyfriend chest touch moment

#🐊#under a readmore bc its super long rambling snbdnsds #(tf:one related)#transformers #megop

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bemusedlybespectacled · 3 hours ago

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since @sketchy-scribs-n-doods asked why birth certificates are racist:

preface: read this post about eugenics so that I don't have to write that overview again.

anywho! the very very short version is that there was a guy named Walter Ashby Plecker (hereafter "the Plecker fucker") who was a doctor in Virginia in the late 1800s/early 1900s. like he was born right around when the Civil War ended and his family owned slaves, if you want to get an idea of the time and place we're talking about.

the Plecker fucker, along with a couple of his good buddies John Powell and Ernest Sevier Cox(1) from the Anglo-Saxon Club(2), wrote and lobbied for a law called the Racial Integrity Act (incidentally, one of the blueprints the Nazis used for their own laws), which did a couple of things:

it legally categorized every person into either "white" or "colored," with "white" being only people with a completely unbroken and provable white European heritage – with a teeny tiny exception for people who were less than 1/16th Native American that he was bullied into including(3) – and "colored" being literally everything else, with no specificity as to whether it meant Black or Asian or Native American or whatever;

it prohibited white people from marrying colored people (though notably not banning having sex with them: we're talking about a guy whose family owned slaves here, so you can do the math on that)

it allowed for the sterilization of certain undesirable people, such as the mentally ill; and, most importantly for our purpose:

it required all births and marriages to be registered in a big state-wide database, with the races of all parties listed.

and he also set himself up as the first guy in charge of that registry, so that it would be done exactly the way he wanted it.

prior to this, if you could get away with passing as white, you were (generally) treated as white. this was to prevent any white-passing mixed race people from marrying into white society (because their birth certificate records would show that their parents had nonwhite heritage), and eventually eliminate mixed race people, period.(4)

now, obviously birth certificates weren't in common use before this law, so at least the first wave of people affected by the law could still (in theory) lie about their ethnicity and establish themselves as white on their birth certificates, thus allowing them to continue marrying "real" white people.

not a problem! the Plecker fucker fancied himself a bit of a genealogist (meaning he thought everyone with the same last name was related, somehow), so he'd just go in and edit people's records to say "colored," invalidating their marriages in the process, and ordered all of the people under him to do the same. like, there's a letter he sent out to the county-level people that was like, "anyone with the last name Collins [yes, really] is actually mixed race, DO NOT LET THEM GET MARRIED TO WHITE PEOPLE, EDIT ALL THEIR RECORDS."(4)

outside of the obvious negative effects of the law in general not allowing interracial marriages (until it was overturned by Loving v. Virginia in 19-fucking-67) and sterilizing anyone disabled or "feebleminded," him going in and literally erasing Native heritage from records has prevented Virginian Native Americans from being able to claim federal tribal recognition, because it's all just "white" or "colored," which could mean anything nonwhite.

anyway, that's why birth certificates are racist. they were made up by a racist guy to do more racism. and then that racist guy got hit by a car and died.

I stg this is the short version. the longer version was idk how many pages before I melted into a depressed puddle of goo and almost flunked out of my senior year of college.

(1) Ernest Sevier Cox was a weird fucking dude in that he was really good friends with Marcus motherfucking Garvey, to the point that they attended each other's events, dedicated books to each other, and wrote each other a lot of letters even after Garvey was deported to Jamaica (and Cox personally tried to get Garvey released from jail when he was imprisoned for mail fraud). This was partly because white nationalism and black separatism accomplished the same ultimate goals (i.e. Black people leaving the US) from different angles, but I think they just also genuinely liked each other? For some reason??

(2) Basically the KKK but for genteel, refined, upper-class people instead of violent, disorderly peasants (yes, they legit disliked the KKK because it was a poor person thing). Also, I can't find it again, but at one point when I was researching all this in college, I was looking through old school newspapers and either William & Lee or William & Mary had a junior Anglo-Saxon Club, sort of like a Young Republicans, and one of their contributions to the student newspaper was a piece about how they definitely weren't racist and how dare they be accused of racism, they just didn't want blacks or whites mixing! How is that racist? (Yes, they used the word "racist," and I have no idea what their definition of racism was, if it wasn't what they were doing) Anyway, I think about that a lot.

(3) This is informally called the Pocahontas Exception, because a lot of really, really influential, prominent and rich Virginians actually took a lot of pride in claiming to be descended from Pocahontas and John Rolfe (even if they weren't), and without the exception, they'd all be classified as "colored." Plecker didn't want any exceptions at all (he was, at the very least, not a hypocrite about what he thought "white" meant), but given that some of the people the law would make "colored" would potentially be voting on the law, he had to include the exception or risk it not being passed at all.

(4) The reason I even got into this subject in the first place is that one of my family tree names is on that list and we're pretty sure they moved to Kentucky because of it, but it doesn't necessarily mean they're related to us OR that they were white-passing mixed-race people: they could well have been just plain white people who happened to have the same surname.

#personal #history #eugenics #birth certificates

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occasional-yan-stuff · 22 hours ago

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He was always there. Every time you went back, he was always there. You don't know what kept pulling you back to that abandoned old house down the road. Maybe it was the mystery of the place that enchanted you, maybe it was the strange beauty of all the old, worn-out surfaces, or maybe you just couldn't stand to abandon him.

The kids in your neighborhood said the house was haunted, but that couldn't have been right, could it? You were old enough to know that ghosts weren't real, and yet... he was always there. Always sitting at the grand piano in the ball room in that exact same position, always acting as though he hadn't seen you in years whether you'd only been gone for a few months or even just a few minutes.

"I thought I would never see you again!" flinging his arms around your neck with the exact same intonation every time, but ghosts weren't real. You knew ghosts weren't real.

Sometimes you'd catch him staring at a rectangle on the wall that was slightly less faded than the rest of the wall paper. Around the third time you saw him doing this you finally decided to ask.

"What are you looking at?"

"This is a painting of my mother," he responded. It wasn't, of course, but you decided not to push the question.

There were also times when you'd see him blow on the golden candelabra that sat on the little table by the window. The candles were melted to stumps and never had flame in them when he did this. When he did it the first time it resulted in a cloud of dust that he didn't seem to notice, and when you asked about it he simply took your hand and said "more romantic lighting, my dear." You asked him what he meant but all he did was smile at you as the two of you started dancing.

It always ended with dancing. The world- or possibly your mind- filled up with music that you could find the source of, and he took you, and he twirled you, and the hours fell away into nothing. By the end of it he always begged you to stay with him, pleading for you to remain in his home forever. It was a cute little game between the two of you... you think.

One night you actually did try to sleep in one of the old creaky beds in the mansion, but it was far too cold and the whole thing made you itchy and uncomfortable. You checked the other bed rooms but there was no sign of him. Finally, you returned to the ball room. Even at that ungodly hour he was still there, sitting at his piano. You called out his name and he turned around in surprise. "I thought I would never see you again!" And so the cycle repeated and the two of you danced the night away.

He never seemed to like it when you talked about your friends.

"We see each other so little, my dear," he'd say with crossed arms, "can you not lend a bit more attention to me instead?" The way he pretended to be grumpy always made you chuckle. He was pretending, wasn't he?

Each time he held you, he acted like it was the last time he ever would. He took in every part of you, your smell, the feeling of your skin, everything. There had even been a few times that he had licked your neck but he always denied it when you asked. When you were just getting to know him, he would always cry when you wouldn't kiss him.

"What has changed?" he would ask, "have I done something wrong?"

"What are you talking about?" you would respond, "we've never kissed before."

"Oh, how I hate when you play this game!" was all he would say in response. Always the same intonation. Always the same expression. Always the same.

You started going back more and more, longer and longer. You always felt tired after leaving the mansion. Fatigued, like waking up from a dream. Sometimes you would return home with wrinkles you didn't remember having or a band aid you could have sworn you never put on. Scrolling through your friends' social media pages, you'd see pictures with you in them. Pictures you didn't remember being taken.

every time you went back things seemed just a bit different. The candles grew taller and taller, the wall paper more vibrant, and a painting of a woman was placed on the wall. When did that get there? Every night was just the same. You danced, you kissed, you loved. It was paradise. He was paradise.

One night, after a particularly long visit, you returned home. You hadn't wanted to but you had a life outside the mansion... didn't you? You stepped back into your home and a man was there, a man you had never met. He wrapped his arms around your waist and kissed you.

"so, how was work?"

No. This was wrong. You pushed him off of you and rushed into the bathroom. Your eyes fell onto the mirror and you clapped your hand over your mouth. The person staring back at you was near unrecognizable. It was you, sort of, but at the same time not at all. You stared down at your shaking hands. Your left had a golden ring on one of its fingers. You hadn't put that there. You hadn't put that there! This was all wrong. All so very very wrong. Tears played at the corners of your eyes as you rushed out of the house and back down the road. The mansion was the only place you felt safe anymore. The mansion was the only place you were yourself anymore. You ran and you ran all the way to the ball room. Your breath was heavy and sweat glued your hair to the ball room.

"I never thought I would see you again!"

The night played out as it always did. You danced, you kissed, you loved. Just as always, he begged you to stay. This time you said yes.

#male yandere #yandere x reader #yandere #?#yandere drabble #soft yandere #started as me wanting to write a yan story #and then just became #a fun little bit of horror #still gonna post it to this blog #i hope you like it

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benchwarming · 3 days ago

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i meant to reflect a bit before the end of 2024 about the experience of quitting my job last summer, but then my holidays were disrupted by norovirus AND conjunctivitis 🤪 so i didn't get around to it. until now!

i quit my job in august. i'd been at a startup for 6.5 years and had no plans to leave, buuuut then we were acquired in '23 by a big multinational firm. i won't get into all the ways that our new parent company eroded what had been to that point a pretty good place for me to work, but man, it fuckin sucked.

i was admittedly sensitive to it because "toxic legacy corporation led by sociopaths and staffed by mediocre assholes" was exactly the environment i was escaping when i'd joined the startup. but having to kowtow to a new c-suite of boomer-brained idiots with no sense, strategy, or discipline at a company i never wanted to work for in the first place was excruciating. especially bc i then had to turn around and try to make the best of their idiocy for a team of people* looking to me for reassurance and motivation.

i've never quit a job without having my next one lined up. it took like a month to admit to myself i was serious about the idea. then another month to be convinced by friends and fam that i was allowed to quit. then a few business days to calculate how long my finances would hold up. then another month to figure out what would have to happen for me to actually go through with it.

but of course something did happen, and i did quit. it was very scary!!! and i felt so guilty leaving my team. but i was able to kick off some freelance copywriting work right away, and a freelance consulting project came my way after that, and more things popped up after that. and while i have a lot to learn yet about how to make freelancing a sustainable long-term career, i'm extremely confident that it's worth it to try, at least for a while, bc uhhhh i am. SO much happier?!

i don't think it hit me exactly how much work i was doing, or how hard i was pushing myself to stay on top of it all, until i didn't have to do it anymore. i'm still getting used to that honestly. for the first few weeks i'd jolt awake worrying i'd forgotten something on my to-do list or automatically pull up zoom bc i felt sure i had a meeting to attend.

in comparison to that garbage, freelancing has been easy breezy. but i don't mean easy like mindless, i just mean like - i'm able to dictate the terms and scope of the work, and as a result it doesn't feel like "stuff i have to do" so much as "stuff i'm working on." that may be a distinction without a difference for a lot of people but it's turned out to be a pretty big deal for me: if i gotta work to live (and right now i do), then getting to call the shots and fully own the results makes it easier to conceptualize the work as an opportunity (fun! interesting! good use of time!) rather than an obligation (annoying! inflexible! standing between me and fun stuff!). and after years of managing a team it's such a relief to be responsible only for myself again.

of course the other thing i had at that job was a good salary. and i won't lie, i really miss the money. but i think i can get my income back up in that ballpark by the end of 2025 if i play my cards right. and even if i don't, i know now that enduring corporate agonies for that kind of money is no longer a worthwhile tradeoff for me.

since quitting there have been moments where i've felt dumb for not realizing sooner that freelance would be a better fit at this point in my professional life than a staff job. but i went into 2024 knowing i needed to take some kind of step forward in my career, and i did, and i learned stuff about myself in the process, and now i hate being alive at least 25% less per day than i used to. and that's sort of the whole point of everything, right?**

*by december, 80% of our department would be laid off, and the few left over would be desperate to leave. a really unfortunate end to an incredible marketing organization.

**of course now my therapist is like "so since 2023 was your Living Situation year, and 2024 was your Career year, does that mean 2025 is going to be your Relationship year?" and ughghghfhfhgf. like she's right, but. ugh. but she's right! but UGHHH

#v sorry for the long post but i cant figure out how to add a read more on web???#bench thoughts

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monowritestoomuch · 3 hours ago

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How The Gator Boys Would React If They Found Out You Had Hanahaki(for them):

Notes: I’m like Hamilton. I write like I’m running out of time. I pretty much always am but that’s not the point. This is a big angst hour guys. I’m about to assault your eyes with an ocean of hurt/comfort. ehehehehehehehehehehehehehehehehe. Take a wild guess to who my favorite is. Enjoy!

Bodie:

Oh lordy lord you have hanahaki for this man?

You would probably have gotten it after you two bonded after he helped you with your leg, but have been conflicted due to the fact that you’re a hunter and that you’ve been taught all your life that people like Bodie are monsters.

With that being said, you believe that the two of you could never be together and he could never love you back because you two are just too different.

That’s when it develops.

You go out to do your business one night and you cough up a flower petal, and then another flower petal, and then another, until you’ve coughed up a whole flowerhead.

And you manage to hide it for a while, even hiding it from Timmy once you’d met him.

You’d dispose of the flowers in private, and if you felt the urge to cough up the flowers in front of Bodie or Timmy, you’d swallow them back down and pray that it stayed that way until you could procure some alone time.

Your genius(reckless) plan works for a while, that is, until Timmy gets captured.

You and Bodie end up travelling to the arena, and on the way it only gets worse. Maybe it was due to your guilt over Timmy, or feeling as if you’d betrayed Bodie, but you’d started to cough up blood.

You and Bodie had stopped for the night to set up camp on the way to Montell, the latter of you two starting a fire and making some gumbo for you two to share.

You excuse yourself to go do your business and go to a decently close, but far enough away tree, and start practically hurling your lungs.

Blood and flower petals drop from your lips and you struggle to breathe, wheezing and shaking behind the large oak tree you’d found.

You didn’t even know how long you’d been gone until Bodie came looking for you, concerned as to if you were okay.

That’s when he found you, keeled over on your knees, coughing up blood and flowers as you struggled to take in oxygen.

He would instantly run to your side, shouting “BUG!” in concerned shock.

He would scoop you up into his arms, holding your back against his chest.

I theorize that he would have a vivid idea of what hanahaki is, enough to decipher what was wrong with you.

Once you’d stopped retching and wheezing and were breathing slightly calmer, he would slowly turn you to face him. He would ask if it was what he thought it was.

You nodded hesitantly, unsure of how to hide it any longer than you’d already had.

And when you nodded, pure fear began to course through Bodie’s veins as if he had a dose of maliscythe.

He would ask who it was for, practically begging for you to tell him. He pleaded for you, who looked quite ill and sickly, to tell him because he couldn’t lose anybody else.

You didn’t even know whether it was worth it to tell him, whether he’d hate you or not love you back. You feared the worst as his pleading continued endlessly.

He asked who it was one final time, his voice practically a whisper, holding back tears from his eyes.

And when you said his name, his stomach dropped.

Thoughts would run rapidly throughout his head. All this time it had been him? You’d loved him?

“For how long?” he would ask.

“Since the day you patched up my leg and gave me a warm meal,” You’d respond, tears running down your face as blood splattered your lips.

Oh and those words would just about break Bodie’s heart. You’d loved him for how long without telling him?

“I love you too,” he would find himself blurting out, tears falling from his eyes.

And he meant it, he truly meant it.

“You do?” you’d ask, hope in your tone, even though it was shadowed with doubt.

He would look at your face, the tears running down it, and he’d wipe the blood from your lips.

And he would kiss you there. Just to confirm it. To make you understand that he cared enough, that he loved you.

And when your lips parted, you felt your airways clear, but no before you turned away from him, and hurled out a whole flower, coughing excess petals.

This would concern him, as he instantly went to aid you, still holding you in his arms.

But the color had returned to your cheeks, and you wiped your mouth with your sleeve before smiling at Bodie, and kissing him again.

This shocked him, but he kissed you back passionately.

Later, after making sure you were hanahaki free, he would tell you that you could always trust him and that he’d always be there for you.

(Bonus: When he gets injured and knocked out in the arena in Montell, you would instantly run to his side, almost pleading for him to wake up to the shock of Roldan and Timmy.)

Timmy:

You fell for him? The tiny one with mommy and daddy issues and a fuckton of trauma? Oh dear. . .

After meeting this little chaotic gator and thinking to yourself that ‘hey, he’s pretty cute,’ and then quickly catching feelings for him.

The more you got to know him, the more you fell head over heels for him.

That was when you remembered, ‘Right, I’m a hunter, he’d never love me back.’

A petal had fallen from your mouth after eating gumbo with Timmy and Bodie, and you knew who it was for.

And after you’d basically told Bodie (he’d figured out) that you were a hunter, it only got worse, as your guilt for having not told Timmy increased dramatically.

You’d kept coughing up the occasional petal, unbeknownst to Timmy, and it was only a petal,

Until Timmy had gotten captured.

The betrayal in his eyes and in his voice made your heart sink and those petals pushed up from your throat and you had to restrain the urge to cough them out and you practically begged for them to let him go.

It only got worse after Bodie found you, the guilt practically eating you alive.

And while you guys had been travelling to Montell, he’d found out and asked about it and who you had it for.

You admitted that you liked Timmy and all your guilt practically spilled out to him.

Bodie realized how bad it was getting and knew how important Timmy was to you too. And he promised to you that the two of you would do everything to get him back.

And once you’d finally found Timmy, he’d practically cursed you out and your heart sank as you tried to explain yourself.

And the more and more he spoke, the more nausea you felt. That was until you turned and hurled up flower petals, blood dripping from your lips as you wheezed.

Timmy, who had been practically raging, saw as the blood dripped from your lips as you collapsed right beside the cage.

You apologized as you wheezed, slowly explaining that you never wanted him to get captured and that you genuinely saw him as a friend.

He became concerned and tried to ask you if you were okay and was trying to reach through the cage to grab you as you felt nausea causing your head to spin.

You continued to apologize as you felt yourself cough up more petals.

Timmy remembers how Bodie had once told him a story of how one died from coughing up petals because of love.

Poor baby tries to figure out how to help you, grabbing you by the shoulders as blood dripped down your chin.

He asked who it was, who you loved. Even though he hadn’t fully forgiven you, he was concerned and couldn’t watch you cough up literal bloody petals and believe wholeheartedly that you were alright.

You wheezed out a desperate “you!” as you collapsed against the wall.

Timmy’s reaction wasn’t just one of horror, but of shock and despair. He remembered all the times Bodie had mocked him in light fun for being extra nice to you.

He asked how long you had loved him for, his hands shaking as he did.

And when you’d said since the day you’d first met, his heart dropped.

You sputtered more about how you thought he was cute and sweet and how you were sorry, over and over and over again, tears running down your cheeks.

He had thought you were cute, for a human, that is, when you’d first met. And he’d thought you two were friends until the day he’d been taken.

He was ultimately conflicted. His head told him that he was still angry, but his heart told him that he loved you.

You wiped the blood from your lips as you continued to try to explain and he just lost it.

He closed his eyes, pulling your face towards his, and kissing your lips through the call bars.

Your heart practically skipped a beat as he did, and you kissed back.

And once he’d pulled away, he blurted out how he loved you, okay?! How he thought you were cute and kind for a human, but felt betrayed when he thought you were to turn him in. But after you explained, although he was still cross with you, he loved you with his heart, and didn’t wish for you to hurt as you were.

You felt a pressure dislodge from your lungs and you turned away, hurling a fully bloomed nightshade flower, before collapsing against the stone walls.

Timmy tried to ask you if you were alright and you smiled, wiping your mouth with your sleeve. You told him that you loved him and that you feared for him and would’ve done anything to get him back.

And he hugged you through the bars, and you hugged back, pressing a kiss to his brow.

(Later, Bodie would find out that you were okay and all healed after admitting it to Timmy and Roland learned that he would soon have a child-in-law.)

Marco:

You fell for the flirty (probably british) croc boy. I don’t know how, I mean, I kind of do, but regardless, you fell for him.

You’d probably get it after episode 3.75 when you meet Marco for the first time and he helps you with your leg.

That night while falling asleep, you remembered the cute croc boy you’d encountered. You then remembered that you were a hunter, and that you could never be with him because of that. But you still love him enough for the hanahaki to fester.

You go out to do your business one night when you cough up spotted flower petals. You cover them up with dirt and go back inside, hoping no one will find them.

And no one does. You go about your days as usual with Timmy and Bodie, never seeing Marco.

And then Timmy gets captured, and it only gets worse from there.

While you and Bodie are travelling to Montell, those petals you were coughing up are accompanied by blood. And you’re careful so Bodie never finds out.

And after you leave Bodie and run into Marco, it just keeps getting worse.

You’re happy to see him, you are, but the guilt inside you curdles like spoiled milk.

He agrees to meet up with you later at the exit to the sewers, and you agree, hoping that the pounding of your heart in your chest is quiet enough so he can’t hear it.

Between those times, you throw up bloody flower petals, and even a whole flower as the guilt and shame spread through your body.

But you clean yourself up and make yourself presentable, you can’t fall now.

And meeting Marco at the exit to the sewers is easy, and so is coming up with a decent plan.

But when you two are about to head back in, you feel it. The unmistakable feeling of flowers push up your airway.

Marco asks if you’re alright, and if your leg is bothering you, but he receives no response.

It only takes a few mere seconds until you’re leaning on one of the walls and hurling out the petals, blood sticking to them like red maple syrup.

Marco immediately rushes to your side, Maria squawking wildly.

He would immediately recognize what was wrong, and what you had as you wheezed out petals and apologies.

He would ask who it was, his tone was almost pleading.

And after you looked at him, eyes watering full of tears and blood dripping down from your lips to the sewer floors, you would say the words.

“You, Marco.”

And his heart would drop.

You loved him?

“How long?” he would utter, his voice quiet.

“Since the day we first met,” You would say. “I’m sorry,” the apology would tumble desperately from your lips.

And if that didn’t split his heart in two, then I don’t know what would.

You’d loved him since you’d first met him? Since he’d wrapped your leg and joked with you.

And he’d seen you earlier that day, and you might’ve seemed a little pale, a little shaken, but he just thought that was because of everything that was happening and how terrible the arena was.

But no, you were sick. You were sick because you loved him.

You kept spouting apologies, wiping your mouth of blood and petals, meeting his eyes shamefully.

And what did he do? He grabbed your face and kissed your lips.

And you froze. He kissed you? Does that mean he really loved you?

And when you two broke from the kiss, he wrapped his arms around you, enveloping you in him as he apologized.

You asked him if that meant he loved you, shame running its course through your veins.

He would tell you that he does, and that he will. He would ask you why you didn’t tell him and you, you’d say it was because you didn’t think that he’d ever love you back.

He told you that was the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard.

You smiled, before turning away and coughing out a fully bloomed spotted flower, free of blood.

He made sure you were okay after that and you waited a few minutes in the embrace of the other before moving back through the sewers and back up to the arena.

(Bonus: And if Timmy saw you two holding hands, he wouldn’t say a thing.)

Taglist (again, let me know if you’d like to be added):

@rozeliyawashereyall @willowve01 @asmrbrainrot @kaiamtt @iistxrmyskyii @insignificant-anarchy@stxph-artist @aspenm00n @keyaartz @fangsshadow @piffany666 @dreamyshape @idontevenknow7878 @lunaritychuwolf @not-5-rats @littlesiren79 @castbracelet240 @rustycopper4use @strayharmony943 @proxdragon @tiefling-chaos @threeweekinsomnia @recated @wilderrorcard @diamondzoey @fennaboysenberry @lunnats @lightdragon789 @pinkcocopuff-aqualoid @astralbulldragon13 @ccstiles @puffin-smoke @fruity0salad @takashishihoin @headstrashdump @reefhastoomanyaccs @giasparadise @iloveflowers-3 @celestartz @alrischadoeshit @weltthejellyfish @itsargyle

#obsidian lantern gator boys #gator boys #obsidian lantern #the bug army #bug army #hanahaki #hanahaki disease #fanfic #fanfiction #headcannons

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maythevoidnotscreamback · 1 day ago

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This is AMAZING!! I love it! And it can make sense with what's already been done! It compliments it all. Thank you. (I should let you know that at some points the pronouns got mixed up and that the fourth paragraph regarding Zoi was interrupted by some of the end of Neph's and than repeated without the interruption as a fifth paragraph.) There's just one 'problem' I can see with what you've added and that's TK/Mamo himself.

In the 90s anime, Mamo is completely unaware he's TK until he gets hold of the orange crystal. But that can be worked with/around. One could have it could go that if he does have access to the GCs power, even if only to some while still dormant, it's as much a mystery to him as who he is outside the mask. He's going off instinct when helping heal Jad and Neph as TK.

Like, instead of the 'he's dead?!' bit when they fight against Jad he's the reason Mars is able to exorcise him with her flames, leaving him on the brink of death, and then keeps him from dying from the shock by healing his flesh back to normal; doing so severing Beryl's connection to him and leaving her with the impression he's dead. Luna, Mars and Mercury are even more distrusting of him and his motives because of what he's done while Moon is grateful that his actions kept Mars from becoming a murderess.

Neph is also on the brink of death, but J's activation jumpstarts his heart because she's grieving and not wanting to let him go when it happens, and TK's instincts do the rest in healing him. Jupiter is obviously on the fence about the tuxedo'd weirdo as an ally, the others (sans Moon) now of the opinion that he might very well be a sleeper agent maybe doing the same to the others, but since he saved Neph, even if he no longer remembered her anymore, she's willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. Moon too is grateful that one of her friends wouldn't have to lose her love; of the opinion that if they were Meant To Be, they'd work even with the memory loss. Just like regular people in real life and shows and books where amnesia coming between two people in love was a thing. It was their feelings that brought them together; it should be their choices to keep loving each other that keep them that way. Not just memories. After all, more can be made if given a chance.

That could also be a factor in why their memories didn't recover, it could be in parallel to Mamo's own lost childhood memories. He survived what killed his parents but lost his memories of everything beforehand. The SC might restore them but who really knows? The R Movie implies 'no' but then, it's not like we know just how much healing Mamo would've needed before he got those memories back since most of Usa's restorations with the SC happened shortly after the 'damage' was done. I mean, the monsters that were once human weren't monsters for long nor were the Senshi and Mamo dead long in turn but time was also implied to have reversed a bit due to their ages and thus could be what truly killed Usa at the Season Finale. Anyway! Because of TK's ignorance to practically everything, who he is while wearing the mask, who he is outside the mask, why he exists at all in relation to Moon, where his powers come from, he might start to doubt whether he's fit to protect SM. Such thinking could also be one of the reasons why he tries to distance himself from Moon after gaining the orange crystal.

And when interacting with Jad and Neph as Mamoru, before the orange crystal comes into his possession, there could also be a kinda passive thing in regards to the GC. Being around him, in parallel to the boys with their Ladies, is what starts bringing their powers to the fore. They also feel a connection to him as they do their Ladies, as the girls do Usa, but they're not too sure why or what it means; 'cause for some reason there wasn't any proper foreshadowing, none that I saw as a North American viewer I mean, regarding Endymion other than Mamo's dreams. And even then it wasn't obvious why, we only found out about the Prince of Earth being a thing when the SC came into being and Ren was revealed to reminisce their story over her dying lover's head. Anyway, when it comes to training with their powers after he gains the orange crystal it could go that it's more a business arrangement. He trusts only Moon, and even then he doesn't trust himself with her anymore despite not having the strength to stay away from her for long, but since the boys seem to be having similar issues to him, memory loss and sudden powers they didn't know they had, he makes out as though he's two different people. TK, who wants to help them with their powers while hopefully gaining an idea of how to use his own, and Mamo, who's just a regular guy with regular friends who give him more reasons to hang out in Odango's presence without feeling like a creep since they know her friends in turn.

Hell, when it comes to Zoi - it could go that Beryl thinks she killed him off when she didn't - he just escaped while still heavily injured and was able to lock onto the magical signature of his Lady who's coincedentally alone at the time it happens and that's how she's able to get hold of his SoulStone. 'Cause how else would she have gotten hold of it in your scenario? ;)

It could be during episode 43: Usagi Abandoned - The Falling out of the Senshi, the point where Moon's being choked out specifically, that the boys are snapped up in Moon's place by Oniwabandana, what with her cloning ability, because they aren't aware of the girls being nearby and try to help but, well... And that's how your scenario for V and Kunz can happen. ^_^ Kunz is then able to tell the girls where they need to go because he's the only one, other than Beryl, who knew the Dark Kingdom's exact location.

I most especially love the 'they all live on and are useful in the other arcs' part of your post. Especially when I can say that it can also compliment my "Story Idea" post regarding ChibiUsa/Small Lady if some things are finagled to make it work roughly the same. Thank you for adding to mine so well. You're great. ^_^

My outrage given voice: The Shittenou were done so dirty!

It's very damn annoying to me and I hate it! Why the hell were the Shittenou not given a chance for a 'normal' life like Usagi wished for in the 90's anime; especially with the implication of the time of the first season repeating for the second and thus meant that they hadn't been nabbed for Beryl's/Metallia's purposes? Or even in the manga/reboot rather than kept as the stones they became after their deaths?

Like, what thoughts went into that? Why were the various relationships of the Shittenou changed so drastically, and not just between each other but their Prince and their Love Interests too? Especially when Mamo got a, technically, third chance to be with Usa after the first season's finale. The girls themselves have other love interests, I know, but you'd think that they'd at least be given the option to see if they were still compatible and part (hopefully) amicably if they weren't, rather than just have the view that they'll never have love or even a family. And, no, I don't count the "Parallel" world of the manga because it seems that they're right proper clones of their mothers rather than their own persons with thoughts, feelings and dreams like Chibi is. Yes, she's annoying and a frickin' Obnoxious Brat, but at least with that we know she's not Usa's clone just with pink hair and red eyes.

I remember watching the show growing up and never, not once, thinking they used to be love interests of the Senshi during the SilMil. Just that they were at the front of the invading army once that episode aired. Not to mention how my perceptions were fucked with beforehand because two of the four were in a relationship with each other (after one of them had been 'gender-bent'. Just...why?!) and a third was romancing a side character that had disappeared after the one episode she was in during the third season. Hell, the only reason I found out Sen/Shi was a Thing was due to the internet a while after watching the 'last' (for the North America viewing audience) episode of the fourth season. That pissed me right the fuck off.

I believe that shouldn't have happened. They could've done so much foreshadowing, maybe even a bit of character development, about the tragedy that would've been the Shittenou being killed off as the season went on once the SilMil's Last Day came about.

Like, think about it.

With Jad's constant disguises and schemes, it could've been that Rei, being a trained Miko, always seemed to find and flirt with him, because he was cute no matter his disguises, and then get mad about it because why?! is it always him?! she does that with?! The fuck?! And Jad's just like, 'How the hell does she keep doing this?!' before putting together that she must be an informer to the Senshi with the way they always show up when she does so he tries to keep her distracted in one form or another so his youma can do its job because she's too passionate and fiery to want to hurt or drain despite getting in his way so much. Beryl actually kills him off after his showdown with the Senshi, not listening when he says how he knows who they are, instead of being iced for his constant failures. (I never did get why he was singled out like that.)

With Neph's civilian identity of Sanjoin Masato, instead of Naru being the 'victim' of his 'manipulations', Makoto could've been brought in earlier and get to experience being treated like the young woman she is despite how other guys were put off by her strength and stature and just discovered she could transform just as or after he died. He still dies to Zoi's schemes but it's because, due to being around his Lady so much more than Jad was with Rei, he's starting to question what once he hadn't, especially if some dormant memories he hadn't known about break loose from their shadowy bonds, and so Beryl made out that he was defecting or losing sight of their goals so she didn't have to get her hands dirty.

With Zoi, 'cause I found it real annoying that only he could extract the Nijizuishou when the Moon Wand could also track them down but not get them out, Ami could've used her palmtop to scan whatever residue might've been left on the Wand, to also help look for the Carriers as Zoi did the same with his own tracking crystal. It could go that, because she does take her duties as a Senshi seriously and she's not all about school/studying despite her grades and work ethic and she's gonna prove it, she might get in trouble for 'stalking' while Zoi's just wondering what this cute but annoying brat is doing following him where she could get hurt - the Great Demon he awoke might very well kill her! - when in all reality she's trying to get close to the Carrier but this jerk-wad with the beautiful blond waves, because those are not curls as far as I'm concerned, in a ponytail keeps getting in her way! Shenanigans are had where they try to outsmart, trick or distract each other to get to the Nijizuishou first without outing themselves or her comrades. Zoi's killed by Beryl because when Ren's revealed and Zoi takes that hit with the Ginzuishou it purified him and, like Mamo is later in the season, left weakened and considered 'delirious' by Beryl who doesn't care she'll lose another of 'her' Generals because it means she'll have enough energy to get Dymi onside and keep Kunz loyal to her and scared of the Moon Witch's power.

With Kunz, well... we all kinda-sorta saw how many times Minako seemed to fall into his traps meant to nab Usa, not to mention their own history while she was in London. And he's killed as in canon because he would not be tricked by the images and lies the Witches from the Sky tried to force into his head, an unintended side-effect of how the SilMil's Last Day was shown, especially regarding her (Venus), into betraying his Liege; completely unknowing that he, technically, already has!

#reblog #sailor moon #90s anime #usamamo #mamousa #serendymion #sen/shi #senshi/shitennou #reblog to spread the word

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141trash · 1 year ago

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rating: sfw (brief mentions of sex, but no graphic anything)

Captain John Price x Reader

AN: Somehow this ended up with very little actual Price in it, but I have plans and he will be more prominent. I just have word vomit rn and needed to get everything down

imagine having a one time fling with Price after your husband leaves you for another one because you just can't seem to get pregnant and he wants a family.

It was a good romp, he was a bit gruff, but was super sweet afterwards with the aftercare. he even stayed to buy you breakfast the next morning. Months later you've been focused on yourself, getting your life together and learning what it means to move on.

Only you've been feeling rather ill the last couple days. And then you remember you're late. Which isn't entirely unusual, sometimes you miss a period when you're stressed and the last couple months finding your feet have been stressful. Still you go to the doctors and its there you remember your night with Price, definitely can't remember if he used a condom or not, and you know you hadn't been on birth control since previously you'd been trying for a baby.

Oops you're pregnant.

The timeline fits that it's his and not your now ex-husband's and part of you is instantly hugely relieved about that.

You leave the doctor's office in a bit of a daze. It doesn't sink in until you're stumbling your way into the cafe you own/manage and you promptly dissolve into a fit of tears in the backroom, much to your teeny bopper part timer's utter horror.

Pregnant. You're fucking pregnant. You're elated, over the moon because you had always wanted kids. (yeah adoption's a thing, but in some places its really hard to adopt if you're single and you weren't ready for another relationship after the last trainwreck). You're also fucking terrified because holy shit you have no plan. Nothing is ready. You live in a tiny flat in the city with one bedroom because why would you need more than that?

Your friend appears in the back room as your mind is going a million miles a minute, turns out your part timer had panicked and called her. You breakdown again in her arms and tell her the news. She reminds you that you're not alone even though you're not in a relationship and that you will have all the support that you need.

With her help you start to prepare for the baby. Things move quickly, you're so busy getting things ready, searching for a larger flat, buying things, filling your head with every single bit of parenting knowledge you can get your head on. All your regular customers say that you're glowing, they've never seen you happier.

You've recorded every little thing since finding out you were pregnant. kept print outs of every scan. More than once you find yourself staring out the window, guiltily wondering about whether or not Price would have wanted to know. Not that you have any way of contacting him. You knew he was military, from the dog tags he'd had hanging around his neck, but not much more.

The first time you feel the baby kicking is when you're in the middle of a shift. Its the slow time of day so you're cleaning up the tables when you gasp suddenly. The girl behind the counter is by your side in an instant, babbling questions making sure you're okay. She's sweet and like your friend has been beside you since you found out.

"I'm fine Cally. The baby kicked." you announce, beaming brightly. She squeals and begs to be allowed to feel next time the baby kicks. Before you can do more the bell above the door dings and you both automatically turn, your customer service smiles back on. Only.

"John?" Your mouth drops open in surprise. Standing there looking oddly sheepish is the man you hadn't thought you'd ever see again. The man whose baby was currently kicking as if demanding your attention.

His eyes sweep over you appreciatively, though when he sees your obvious pregnancy he freezes. The shock of seeing him makes your legs weak. Cally lets out a panicked yelp when you knees buckle, but he's already darting forward, catching your arms gently and helping you to a seat.

"Careful there sweetheart." he says and god does that warm your chest. You remember the last time you heard him say that, it had been when you'd bumped into him in the bar.

"What are you doing here?" you ask breathlessly as Cally scurries off to get you a drink and he glances at you for permission before pulling a chair up next to you.

"Remembered you talking about your dream of opening a café. When i got back to town I spotted the name nd wondered if it was just a coincidence." he tells you, but you can see his eyes keep drifting towards your stomach. He's obviously trying to figure out if its his. But it takes a moment for you to respond because you can't believe that he remembered that. It'd been an offhanded comment you'd made while the two of you had been enjoying late night takeout before going at it another round.

Shaking yourself out of your thoughts you put a hand over his, biting your lip, "Listen. I. I don't want you to feel obligated or anything. I would have told you sooner only I didn't have any way to contact you."

"It's mine." he says for you. You nod, cursing inwardly when tears start to sting your eyes.

You take a deep breath to calm yourself.

"Like I said. I'm doing fine. I don't expect anything from you. I've got a plan. I'm looking for bigger flats."

He stares at you in silence, expression unreadable. You worry for a minute about what he's going to say. You've been prone to overthinking everything since becoming pregnant and now suddenly having the father of your child reappearing in your life. It's a lot.

John squeezes your hand gently halting the panic as you look back up at him.

"I would very much like to be able to meet the kid when they get here. If you'd let me." he tells you hesitantly, "Being in the Military I don't know how often I'd be able to be around, but if you let me I'd like to be in their life."

All of your emotions flood you like a tidal wave at his confession. You burst into tears, letting him pull you into a firm, but careful hug.

"Yes. Of course. I just didn't want you to feel like I was pressuring you. You have every right to know them too." You promise tearfully, smiling at him as he thumbs the tears from your cheeks.

He insists on exchanging numbers so he can contact you and in case you need anything. He won't always be able to answer, but he promises to do his best. Then he bashfully asks if you'll tell him about what's happened so far. Shyly you tell him you've written the entire experience and kept the scans.

He eventually leaves you to get back to work, but the copy of the ultrasound photos you kept in your wallet is tucked into his jacket pocket and he promised to meet you at your flat for dinner and to collect your pregnancy journal so he can catch up on everything.

#this ended up being way longer than i meant it to be #i have so many random ideas for this because damn i love me a price as a daddy fic #if i write more do you want it because if not i'll keep it to myself lol #cod x reader #john price x you #captain price x reader #price x reader #sah rambles

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blindmagdalena · 1 year ago

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A Transactional Relationship ( Homelander x Victoria Neuman )

18+ 2.7k mild coercion, transactional sex, blood/period, cunnilingus.

In exchange for aiding her in her political campaign, Homelander makes an outlandish request of Victoria. She attempts to dissuade him, but what's a little blood between two serial killers?

people have been asking me for a fic where Homie earns his red wings since i started writing him. i've done it. written for this prompt by @deliciouskeys! 🖤

Throughout Victoria’s life, she’s come to terms with a great number of what she would consider to be necessary evils, and there is no better example of this than being forced into doing business with Homelander.

Admittedly though, there is some satisfaction to be found in dropping in on him unannounced. It’s late enough in the evening that she doesn’t risk drawing undue attention to herself, and perhaps enough that she’ll catch Homelander entirely unawares.

As she waits at his door, part of her wonders if he’ll answer it in cute little American flag pajamas.

She could use a good laugh.

Victoria straightens up slightly when the door swings open. To her delight, Homelander does look properly caught off guard.

No pajamas, though. Too bad.

His brows are reaching for his hairline, his lips parted in bewilderment, though the curve of them melts slowly into an incredulous smile as he looks around her, confirming that she is, in fact, alone.

“If it isn’t my good friend Vicky Neuman,” he says, forearm braced in the doorway. “Don’t tell me Singer’s got you campaigning door to door for him.”

“Singer doesn’t know about this,” she says brusquely. They both know that. He just takes pleasure in making her out to be a lackey. “Are you going to let me in or not?”

His expression falters at that, gaze dipping to give her a once over. She’s not dressed any differently than usual, but he’s looking at her like she just broke out into a completely different language. After a beat, he turns sideways and extends his arm, gesturing her inside.

The door closes behind her with all the weight of an iron gate, and what greets her on the other side of it renders her momentarily speechless. The rich, dark walls of Homelander’s penthouse are decorated nearly floor to ceiling with replica paintings of various historical Americana. Historical figures–primarily presidents–spy her every step into the house while gaudy statues adorn every corner she rounds, all of them leering at her with hollow stone eyes.

She knows she wears her distaste plainly because Homelander is quick to say, “I didn’t have much say in the decor.”

“I don’t believe you,” she responds simply, giving the statue of Atlas a poke. It’s solid marble. Vought clearly spared no expense in Homelander’s eerie little superhuman terrarium. It reminds her of a themed fish tank.

God knows she’d much rather be on the outside of the glass, tapping at it just to see how he squirms.

“Rude,” he snorts, though he doesn’t press the matter. Caught him.

It’s obvious even in casual conversation that Homelander isn’t accustomed to being contradicted or corrected. He watches her with an unsettling sort of bemusement, and there are times where she gets the sense he says things just to see if she’ll refute him. She makes a point to keep it up.

“Please, sit,” he says, gesturing to a stiff looking sofa that has a very large American flag mural for a background. Of course it does.

“That’s not necessary, I’ll be quick,” she says, reaching into her bag.

“Ah, ah, ah. I insist. Sit. I won’t listen to a word you say until you do,” he says, causing her to look sharply back up at him. He’s smiling cordially, arms folded behind his back. No matter how garishly they dress him or how lightly they bleach his hair, there are moments when the predator lurking beneath cannot be disguised.

Her upper lip twitches, her initial satisfaction with whatever she thought she had accomplished–inconveniencing him?–disappearing in a flash. Of all the things in this world to despise, men and their insufferable little power trips sprinkled into every interaction certainly rank the highest. With an unfriendly smile, she sits and brandishes a thin ring binder from her bag, offering it to him.

“Don’t tell me it’s another senator,” he says, taking the binder from her. He begins flipping through. Despite his insistence that she sit, he remains looming over her. She leans back against the couch, disinterested in being face to face with that ridiculous codpiece of his.

“Nothing so exciting. More of a laundry list. Simple but tedious tasks. You can handle that, I’m sure,” she says, trying to keep too much of the venom on her tongue from permeating her words.

“I’m not your errand boy, Vicky,” he says, lacking any of her vitriol. He actually seems to be in a strangely pleasant mood. Still, she loathes how ugly he’s made her name with his snide use of that little nickname. His brows pinch as he reads. “Scholarships for Godolkin?”

“Pawns on a chess board,” she says vaguely. “Keep reading.”

He does. After a few more pages he scoffs out a half-laugh, closing the binder. “You want me to shmooze for you?” He asks, gesturing with it.

“An election is nothing but schmoozing. Your side is pro-supe, and we need that. Like I said: simple but tedious tasks. Nothing you aren’t already used to,” she says, crossing her legs.

Homelander looks down his nose at her, studying her while he absently taps the binder against his palm. “And… What do I get out of this little transaction?”

She really wishes he wouldn’t play coy. As if they haven’t established this already. “Quid pro quo,” she says, lifting her hands in an open gesture. “Tell me what it is you want. We negotiate from there.”

He gets a look to him that tells her that’s exactly what he wanted to hear. Casually, he tosses the binder onto the far end of the couch. “Alright,” he says, and to her confusion, he lowers himself into a kneel. She draws her legs more snugly to the couch, but it doesn’t stop him from putting a hand on her knee. “I want to taste you.”

His words are immediately followed by a piercing ring in her ears, like the blare of sirens. She stares numbly at him, replaying the words again and again in her mind until they begin to lose their meaning.

“Excuse me?”

“C’mon, Vicky. Don’t play dumb with me. You really think I believe you came here to ask me to run errands?” As he speaks, he pries her legs out of the tight cross she’d put them in. She fights it, but you wouldn’t know it by watching them. The machine press of his strength is so overwhelming, so utterly insurmountable, she’s briefly dumbstruck by the feel of it. “You know what I think? I think you like having me in your back pocket. I think you enjoy feeling like you can control me, showing up out of the blue for your petty little favors,” he says with a truly feline look of self-satisfaction, settling on his knees between her legs. “But y’know what else I think? I think… I can do so much more.”

“I don’t want more,” she says through her teeth, jaw clenched. She grips the armrest of the couch tight enough to make the wood beneath the leather groan. “I want what I’m asking of you. Or are you incapable of following a simple agreement?”

He laughs, kneading both of her knees through her pants. “I’m abiding by the agreement. You said I could have whatever I want.”

He really just hears what he wants to hear. She narrows her eyes. “Not once did I say that.

“Don’t be pedantic. You asked what I wanted. I want this,” he says, sliding his hands up her thighs, thumbs pressing firm lines along the inside of her legs. “Just this. Just a taste. Just until you come.”

She slaps her hands down on top of his, halting his hands at her midthighs. “If I say no?”

Despite the minimal hold she has on him, his hands stay still under hers. It gets under her skin the way he looks up from her hands on his, how pleased he looks with the whole situation. She despises feeling like the mouse in this game between them.

Those gaudy eagle epaulets bounce as he shrugs. “Then there’s no deal. Your loss, honestly,” he says, evidently content to leave his hands right where they are.

“You’re disgusting,” she says, no longer withholding the acrimony from her voice. He looks unaffected by it–no, not unaffected. Amused. She gives his hands a shove and they lift away so easily she almost forgets how heavy they felt a second ago, poised in the air like a sign of surrender. She snaps her legs tightly shut. “Besides, it’s a bloody mess down there.”

“Oh, please,” Homelander scoffs, lowering his hands to either side of the couch, caging her in. “Don’t tell me that you, of all people, are squeamish about blood. You’ve already put blood on my hands, congresswoman. What’s a little on my tongue?”

“There is something profoundly wrong with you,” she says, feeling claustrophobic with the way he’s bracketing her in.

“And yet you haven’t said no,” he points out, leaning closer, pressing her knees into his sternum. She puts a hand on his shoulder to halt him and a little thrill runs up her spine when it works. She feels as though she’s holding a tiger at bay with her bare hands. His nostrils flare, taking in some scent that curves his parted lips into a faint smile. “In fact, you’re actually getting off on this.”

She briefly considers making her move. Boom. One big surge. All that hot blood rushing to his skull with such speed and force that not even that thick neanderthal skull can stay in one piece. Or maybe it would be the only thing that remains and all his blood and brain matter would just go shooting out of every orifice like a macabre sprinkler.

Victoria swallows the thought like bile, clearing her throat. If it doesn’t work, she’d be dead faster than a drop of blood left his nose.

“Fine,” she says eventually, ignoring the way it seems to fill his chest with air to hear. “In exchange for everything in that binder. Everything. No half-assing. Full measures taken.”

She can’t afford to lose. She keeps that in mind as she unbuttons her pants.

“Rest assured, Vicky. I’ve never half-assed anything in my life,” Homelander purrs, taking hold of her slacks and underwear in one go, helping to slide them down her legs. He slips her heels off with them, setting them aside.

Meanwhile, she slips out of her jacket, tossing it over the arm of the couch. It feels too strange to be so dressed only from the waist up.

Looking back, it sincerely bewilders her to watch him take a moment to fold her slacks before he puts them down next to her neatly placed shoes.

There’s something freakishly clinical about him sometimes.

Turning, Homelander takes hold of her ankle, and slips her heel back on.

“What’re you doing?” She asks suspiciously.

He glances over at her, and for the first time, she doesn’t see arrogance or condescension in his expression. He looks a little sheepish, actually. “I like them,” he tells her simply, putting the other one back on as well.

Deciding to let it go, Victoria leans back against the couch. Homelander eagerly nestles back between her legs, spreading them. She reaches backwards in an arch, behind her head, and grips the back of the couch, tense and thrumming with a sickly kind of anticipation that makes her gut churn. She glances down at him, and to her dismay, she finds him just staring between her thighs, gloved fingers digging into her inner thighs where he’s keeping them spread.

“What? Do you even know what you’re–” looking for, she means to ask snidely, but the words turn into a hiss as he dips down and ruthlessly sucks her clit.

“Mmmmhm,” he hums. Even the sound of that is smug. The pull of his lips is indescribable, so relentless that it doesn’t feel human.

“Jesus Christ, Homelander,” she grits out, her other hand moving to grab a fistful of his–surprisingly soft–Barbie blond hair. “Softer. Your mouth feels like a goddamn Dyson,” says, giving his hair a harsh pull. It makes him moan. Embarrassingly, the combination of that noise and the way he instantly, obediently eases his mouth on her feels… good. Very good.

Initially, she’d resigned herself to closing her eyes and enduring him until the stimulation provided a bodily response that would satisfy him enough to stop. Instead, she watches him, taking in the sight of her hand balled up in his hair, his expression. His eyes are closed, head slightly tilted. He looks different like this, expression content. Downright blissful, even.

“Use your tongue,” she hears herself say, giving his hair another yank. Already she’s more of a participant than she told herself she would be, but if she’s going to do this, she may as well do as she pleases. He lets out a light grunt, flattening his tongue and nuzzling in against her, moving his head back and forth. It sends a spark of pleasure through her that makes her buck her hips, breaths coming in progressively more shallow huffs.

Lifting her leg, she catches her heel on his shoulder and jams it in, using it as leverage to grind up against his mouth while simultaneously pushing his head down. He’s so compliantly loose-limbed that she can almost believe she’s overpowering him. Using him. He makes an appreciative noise low in the back of his throat, holding her thighs tightly to either side of his head.

She can tell from the way he’s rocking that he’s thrusting his hips, but there’s nothing for him to move against. He’s putting his all into laving his tongue in aggressive patterns, matching her energy as she fucks herself harder and faster on his tongue. Insufferable as he may be, he eats pussy well enough that she can feel herself climbing steadily towards the edge of climax.

All she has to do is come, and then this is over.

She gives his hair a sharp upward pull, but aside from a moan, his pace doesn’t lessen. “Stop,” she growls with another pull, and this time he lets her lift him. She doesn’t know why, but she knows she has to see him. Look him in the eye.

Their eyes meet, and the state of him makes something in her stomach lurch. He’s a fucking mess, blood smeared on his mouth and chin, tongue dragging hungrily along the seam of his lips. He looks drunk on her, eyes hazy and blown so black she can hardly see the eerily bright blue of them.

Victoria swallows, her mouth dry and her heart pounding. She holds him there, but he doesn’t speak, doesn’t protest. He just watches her, wholly pliant and awaiting her next move. He’s so utterly beneath her at this moment, stupid for the taste of her cunt and eager to please. It’s so intoxicating that it would make her angry if it didn’t feel so good.

She shoves him back down on an upward thrust of her hips and he moans for her. That tongue of his is immediately back on her, swirling as he absolutely devours her, hungrier for her than ever. This time she skyrockets back up to the precipice, biting back strained little moans. She doesn’t want him to know just how good it feels; the fact she’s actually going to finish is bad enough.

She bites down on her tongue and comes hard, her whole body tensing up as she all but crushes his head between her thighs, arching her back. Maddeningly, he licks her through her orgasm, moving his tongue with the pulse of her body with inhuman precision. It makes the aftershocks last twice as long, which leaves her limp and panting on the couch, his face pressed firmly between her thighs while she savors the process of coming down with his tongue still tracing languid figure-eights on her pussy.

“Enough,” she says eventually, lazily pushing him back with the heel she has on his shoulder. He falls back onto his ass with a satisfying thump, his hair thoroughly mussed and his face a mess. He smiles so dreamily at her, you’d think he was the one who came. He licks his lips in a slow, purposeful display that should make her roll her eyes. Instead, her sensitive clit throbs as she follows the movement of his tongue.

Fuck, she thinks woozily.

This may just be the beginning of a problem.

#homelander x victoria #viclander #homelander x victoria neuman #homelander #homelander fanfiction #in true ME fashion #this ended up being way longer than i meant it to be #woooooooo my first viclander fic #i'm not sure if i'm happy with how i characterized her but #i did my best!#my writing

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iwritenarrativesandstuff · 7 months ago

Text

There's something in the differing emphasis that Brad and Hunter and Charles place on the phrase "good guy" that really affected me on my first watch and hit even harder on my second. I'm going to try and put it into words.

When Brad and Hunter say it, they say "we're good guys", as in, good at everything a guy "should" be good at - good at sports, popular with the ladies, on their way to a good university. But they turn out to be total shitheads. They don't care about being "good", they just care about their reputation, how they're perceived. It's status and power - they're good guys and they feel entitled to do whatever they want.

But when Charles, feeling betrayed by this reveal of their character, says he wanted them to be good guys, the emphasis is completely different. Charles wants to be a "good guy". He doesn't want to be a "bad guy".

The emphasis is on good, because that's really the crux of Charles' greatest fears, isn't it?

When Charles wants to be a good guy, he doesn't mean it the way Brad and Hunter do; that veneer of goodness that comes with popularity. He means that nothing he did was ever good enough for his dad. Doing the good thing and helping that kid his "friends" were beating up literally got him killed. Trying to stop Devlin only got him trapped in the loop, stuck until his friends freed him, only able to watch helplessly as a mother and her innocent children get slashed to death before his eyes.

And it's this helplessness that is the thing that truly sets him off at the end of episode 4.

It always struck me just how much of his breakdown there, for as much as he finally gives a voice to his own hurt at the injustice of his situation, was still about other people. Because he was secure-ish, at one point, when he was Edwin's partner and protector. He thought he did a good job at it anyways, but guess not, because something obviously happened with Edwin and he's not talking to him about it. And he likes to think he did good with solving cases, but Crystal is still hurting and haunted by a demon and nearly threw herself off a cliff earlier that day because she wants her parents so badly, and he's no closer to helping her solve that. And all of it, every single part of it, is a reflection of his own unresolved trauma; that he never "made it better" and he can't, so now he tries to be good enough for other people, but that isn't working anymore either, and now someone is threatening to take Edwin away, and even this final shocking act of anger and violence is still in service of protecting; of saving someone from the suffering he was never able to escape except by fucking dying.

His anger, really, stems from the injustice of it all, and the abuse of power by guys who can get away with it because they're guys, when they should've, could've, been good to others instead. It's a large part of why he projected so strongly onto Brad and Hunter - they did everything right, they were good guys who got screwed over, because even if everyone seems to love you, there's always that one person you can never please, right? Who will hurt you, no matter how good you are. When it's revealed that Brad and Hunter are far more like his bullies, like Devlin, like his dad, than he'd thought - controlling, intolerant, cruel to those who "step out of line" - Charles feels betrayed and horrified because he related to them... so what does that say about him?

But here's one major difference that Charles does not seem to recognize well. Charles has never had the power in these situations. He was the victim, and his being the victim is through no fault of his own, but the fault of those who decided to be cruel. It is certainly not contingent on how good he is. Being good in the eyes of people who want to hurt you will not stop them from hurting you.

When he lashes out at the Night Nurse, it's out of helplessness and rage. Once again, he's pitted against someone who holds more power than he does and is threatening harm, and he's just been bitterly, brutally reminded that a smile and a helping hand and a firm word never, ever worked to make it stop. There's only one other way he can think of to shift the balance of power, and he's finally livid enough to actually do it. This violence is a desperate attempt to finally overcome yet another force much greater than him, a transdimensional entity that has unjustly arrived to take his best friend to Hell. And Charles wins, he did it, he stopped her, at least for the moment. But at what cost, when he looks at his friends and can't tell whether they look more scared for him or of him? And can he blame them, when he's clearly scared of his own anger and how overwhelming it is now that it's been let out?

Because he tries so hard to be good and it's never good enough to stop the suffering. Because that anger rose to the surface so easily and maybe that means he's not good at all.

But of course, Charles once again misses something important here - there is a distinction in why that anger exists. His dad, Devlin, and Brad and Hunter get angry because their power over others makes them feel they have a right to punish when things don't go their way. Charles gets angry because he feels more helpless than he'd care to admit, and seeing cruelty inflicted onto others by those with power makes him want to cut them down to size.

And herein lies the second major difference. Charles... is a kind person, at heart. He's genuine. He really does likes helping out, he likes making people happy, he doesn't turn people away who need help, he's friendly and protective. The scene where Edwin pulls him out of his fear that he's somehow bad even though he really doesn't want to be, is outright one of my favourite scenes for what it brings to both of their characters. Edwin knows exactly what to say. While it's always good to check your behaviour, to apologize and take accountability - because no one can be good all the time, and even the most well-intentioned of us will mess up sometimes - Edwin is right.

"Bad guys do not worry about being bad guys."

#storyrambles #hope this made sense. ended up being a lot longer than i meant it to whew.#anyways. charles you mean so much to me :')#dead boy detectives #charles rowland #dbda meta #I FORGOT MY BELOVED ANALYSIS TAG ->#call me ace detective the way i am ace. and also a detective.

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sweetcloverheart · 3 days ago

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While I don't disagree with your criticism, I feel it isn't taking into account that Marinette's anger toward Paris in the story is portrayed as "understandable but bad" since this fic is a deconstruction/playing Saltinette for horror, as the point is that Marinette blaming the citizens is meant to show that she (or at least the version of her pre-giving up guardianship) has gone off the deep end. Like her letters had her blaming people for getting Akumatized over the smallest things, even when the reasons were understandable/not their full fault (like Kagami and her parents). While the fic is sympathetic to what pushed her to this point, it also makes itself pretty clear that she's obvious not being rational in her anger nor should be considered such.

(Got a little rambling after this point)

And even then, the story also explains that the issue wasn't that the citizens (understandably) relied on her; it's that she felt they took her presence as Ladybug and her powers for granted, and as such refused to make actionable changes that would have eased the burden because, well - why would they need to? So long as Maribug has the Miracle Cure, anything bad that happens (either because of Hawkmoth or their own impulses) gets undone, so why do anything about their own issues or find ways to avoid Hawkmoth's influence? Andre can continue indulging Chloe's tantrums and do nothing to help prevent the birth of more Akumas, citizens can continue giving into their anger over the exact same problems and making magical contracts with the man responsible for half their issues, and everyone can keep expecting Marinette to clean up whatever messes they caused, whether she was in or out of the mask. Sure, not all of them likely believed this or felt/acted that way, and pre-amnesia Maribug could very well be exaggerating circumstances to keep her work from being undone (she did lie about the Princess Justice incident), but she clearly felt there were just too few to justify enduring any longer, especially if it took two full years for her to have a complete mental breakdown. The situation seems more a commentary about how the status quo repeats issues for the sake of placing the burden of maintaining itself on Marinette (since the ladybug miraculous is required to solve anything and everything in the show) and makes it come off like no one is learning anything from their akumatizations than the citizens "deserving" punishment for daring to need a hero because some billionaire decided being a magical terrorist and using their emotions to make villains was a better use of his time than therapy or helping his grieving son - or at least that's how I interpreted it.

Plus the Marinette in this fic is uncritically supposed to be the bad guy here (sympathetic due to her mental state and events, yes, but the bad guy all the same); Her giving Lila the Ladybug earrings is bad. Her abandoning the citizens to the new Hawkmoth and Lilabug's selfish whims is bad. The fact that they're in a timeline barrelling towards Lila becoming mayor and creating a loyal cult is bad. Her lacking sympathy in their plight is bad. Her blaming folks for being taken advantage of during moments of emotional vulnerability is bad. Her tricking Luka into getting her the Black Cat ring and having a plan in place to unreality him and remake him into her "perfect loyal boyfriend" if her does ultimately betray her is bad. Nearly everything happening in the fic is meant to be seen as bad, because this version of Marinette is so broken/damaged from her time a Ladybug (as the issues just kept repeating themselves, like a endlessly spinning wheel) that she is determined to have her "happy ending" one way or another, even if it means building on the backs of the people she once swore to protect and helping her enemy harm more people. This is a villain origin story, a tale of petty revenge gone wrong. This version is what Saltinette actually is when you strip away all the justification bias and self-righteous catharsis - a damaged but ultimately selfish girl who's willing to do whatever it takes to get hers and achieve "justice" for all the "wrongs" done upon her, consequences be damned, and we're all here to see the inevitable 12 car pile up it causes (or at least I am).

(That being said, I do think someone made a much kinder/fairer version of this story where Marinette gives the earrings to someone more responsible and things get better for everyone that's also pretty good.)

(If it isn't too much trouble) Tell me the juicy details on why you hate TwoLetters!Saltinette!

Well, after daring to read The Karma of Lies, I learned my lesson and opted to stay away from salt as much as possible, especially since the stories were from the same author. So I only read the last chapter of Two Letters, just once. But just that last chapter, and the bits and pieces I’ve heard and read from other sites, has painted a clear enough picture that I still have a good idea what it is I hate about her.

Aside from the usual behaviors she exhibits in fanfic (her hypocrisy in complaining about getting akumatized because of Lila while not doing anything substanial to fix the situation herself, ruining lives of her former friends over what’s really no more than petty high school drama, etc.), this girl, out of some warped mindset, decides to give her earrings and her heroine position over to a girl who she KNOWS is a lying, self-absorbed sociopath who will most definitely abuse the powers for her own selfish gain at the expense of others… to punish the public? I mean, at least on some level, I can understand why she wants to see her friends punished, but the whole fvckjng city?! She’s going to leave them at the mercy of someone she knows will not protect them and instead hurt them badly, and for what? Because she’s resentful of them depending on her? Well, of course they’re dependent on her, they’re living in a time when they’re in danger of literally being turned into monsters just for having emotions! I get hating that they seem to pressure her, but they have a perfectly valid reason to be pressuring her to help them when she is literally the only thing saving the, from a magical madman. I’m pretty sure common curtesy takes a backseat to rational fears.

#Clover Rants Miraculously #Theory Talk

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dragonanon · 11 months ago

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can you do a chapter based on your Death!Reader and God!Brother hcs where Death wakes up from her sleep and goes to Heaven to check up on her brother's children and everyone is obviously terrified of her?

Hmmm…I’m not typically one to do requests because the urge to write is so sporadic and random for me. BUT I have been thinking about the initial confrontation in Heaven for a while now, so here are some head cannons for that. >w>

——

- It’s a typical perfect day in Heaven…Until it isn’t. Having seen what had become of your realm and learning Heaven was to blame for it, you’re on your way to rip someone a new asshole.

- Screams erupt from the Angels as the ground begins to shake and the bright sky darkens. Sera and Emily rush out just in time to join the Angels in watching in abject terror as a massive pool of darkness forms on the ground, and from it slowly rises a menacing figure.

- The figure is massive, and it only continues to rise until even the tallest building barely reaches its hips. Its six long horns twist and arch toward the sky, only making the figure appear even taller. Upon reaching its full height, the figure spreads its six mighty wings, each one sporting a menacingly sharp claw and all as shrouded in darkness as the rest of the figure.

- As its wings blot out the sun further, the figure opens its many blazing white eyes; two where you’d normally expect to see eyes, a third in the center of its forehead, and dozens more scattered across its wings and body.

- Sera lost all color as soon as she saw the figure rising, and somehow lost even MORE color when the figure opened all of its eyes. She looks like she shit herself, and Emily is panicking, trying desperately to get Sera to tell her what’s going on; she’s never seen the older Seraph look so terrified.

- With this unimaginably imposing figure now looming over Heaven, Adam decides this is the PERFECT time to attack, having been dumb enough to think this was a Demon attacking Heaven.

- The exorcists fly up towards the figure, ready to attack. This only angers the figure further however, and with a rumble that shakes the ground itself, the figure merely flaps its wings; creating a gust of wind so powerful it knocks all the exorcists back onto the ground.

- It’s at this point Sera FINALLY snaps out of it, rushing to Adam in mad panic and damn nearly strangling him while telling him to call off the exorcists. Which he does, albeit with some reluctance.

- This doesn’t stop him from asking Sera what gives, and her response is “Adam you absolute fucking fool, that is DEATH!”

- Now it’s Adam’s turn to look like he shit himself. “Death? As in, “the big man himself’s younger sister” Death?? As in, “the baddest bitch you’ve EVER seen, but can kill ANYTHING by just touching it” Death??? THAT fucking Death????” Ignoring that last statement, Sera’s frantic nodding in confirmation confirms to Adam that he has indeed fucked up. Big time. Adam then proceeds to lose all color in his face and practically cowers behind Sera as she cautiously approaches you, mentally preparing herself to be reaped on the spot.

- Back to your perspective however, you’re fucking PISSED. So pissed that you don’t even notice or stop to think that most of Heaven’s inhabitants likely have NO CLUE who you are, and are likely legitimately fearing for their lives. Meanwhile for all the older Angels and Angelic beings who’ve been alive long enough to have known you before you went to sleep, like Sera, they’re all still very much afraid, but it’s more in line with the “oh shit mom’s home early and she saw the mess we made in the kitchen, she’s gonna kill us!” kind of fear.

- The fact that they sent exorcists at you makes you even angrier. Like for starters, how fucking weak do they think you are that you could be stopped by just some low level Angelic beings with pointy sticks?? And then the audacity to even attack you to begin with, like THEY weren’t the ones who fucked up and you’re just some kind of strange intruder needing to be slain?? The INDIGNITY of it all!

- Your voice booms throughout Heaven, making even the ground tremble at the sheer intensity of it. “WHO DID IT?” You’re met with only silence, so you ask again with more force. “MY REALM IS A COMPLETE MESS WITH MILLIONS OF DISPLACED SOULS RIGHT NOW. SO AGAIN I ASK, WHICH ONE OF YOU FLAT FOOT CHILDREN DID THIS?!”

- Sera replies, voice trembling slightly. “Are…Are you talking about the exterminations? “IF THAT IS WHAT YOU’RE CALLING THIS MOCKERY OF MY WORK, THEN YES.” Sera looks visibly confused and concerned. “But…That SHOULDN’T be possible!…The exterminations KILL the Sinners; their souls should be gone, not stuck in Limbo! There has to be some kind of mistake here!”

- Hearing this, you can’t help but let out a brief but harsh cackle, making the ground jolt from the abruptness. “DEAR YOU HONESTLY THINK A SOUL COULD BE SO EASY TO DESTROY? A SOUL IS A POWERFUL THING FOR A REASON CHILD, IF THEY WERE SO EASILY DESTROYED THEN NONE OF YOU WOULD BE STANDING HERE BEFORE ME NOW!…SO ONCE AGAIN, WHO. DID. THIS?! AND SO HELP ME, IF I HAVE TO ASK AGAIN THERE WILL BE CONSEQUENCES.”

- Whilst Sera is dumbfounded by this revelation, Adam sees a golden opportunity to save his ass and points at Sera. “I-It was her! Yeah it was all fucking HER idea! I-I tried to tell her it was stupid, b-but she just REALLY wanted to go down and kill those bast- Demons! Yeah she REALLY wanted to kill all those poor Demons, can ya fucking believe this shit?!”

- Before Sera can defend herself, the darkness seems to intensify, and she can just FEEL every one of your eyes glaring daggers into her. “SERA…YOU SIGNED OFF ON THIS?? YOU SHOULD BE ASHAMED OF YOURSELF, I EXPECTED SO MUCH BETTER FROM YOU! I LEFT EXPLICIT INSTRUCTIONS FOR HEAVEN AND HELL TO WORK TOGETHER TO SORT SOULS FOR THIS VERY REASON! AND NOW BECAUSE OF THESE BARBARIC “EXTERMINATIONS”, YOU’VE COMPLETELY DESTROYED THE BALANCE I WORKED SO HARD TO CREATE AND MAINTAIN. I HOPE YOU’RE PROUD OF YOURSELF, BECAUSE I’M CERTAINLY NOT!”

- It’s a strange and mildly amusing sight to see the head seraph get scolded like a misbehaving child by this massive dark entity. But here we are anyway!

- At one point during the tongue lashing you’re giving to your niece, Emily buts in and asks for an explanation for what’s going on; having not heard Sera’s previous explanation to Adam apparently.

- Your temper flares for a brief moment, and you just about launched into another lecture at the little shit who DARED interrupt you. But upon seeing Emily, you softened considerably, seeing that she was young and TRULY didn’t understand what was happening.

- “AH…I APOLOGIZE DEAR, BUT I DON’T THINK I RECOGNIZE YOU…COME CLOSER LITTLE ONE SO I CAN SEE YOU.” You slowly crouch down and lower your hand, offering Emily to climb onto it. Emily is hesitant, obviously a bit scared of you. But Sera encourages her to go to you, she knows that you won’t hurt Emily and it’s high time she meets her aunt anyway.

- With the small seraph in hand, you stand back up to your full height and bring her closer to your face. Now FINALLY able to see her properly, you speak. “YOU’RE FAIRLY YOUNG FOR A SERAPH…YOU MUST’VE BEEN BORN DURING MY SLUMBER, AND IN THAT CASE I APOLOGIZE THIS HAD TO BE OUR FIRST MEETING. TELL ME, WHAT IS YOUR NAME CHILD?”

- Her voice trembling slightly, Emily tells you her name and then asks who you are and asks if you’re a seraph like her and Sera. The innocent question gets a genuine laugh out of you, and despite it shaking the ground it’s a lovely sound. “OH CHILD, I AM FAR FROM BEING A SERAPH. THOUGH I CAN SEE WHY YOU WOULD THINK THAT. YOU WERE ALL MADE IN MY IMAGE AFTER ALL.”

- Seeing the visible confusion on Emily’s face, you elaborated. “LONG AGO, YOUR FATHER WANTED TO SHOW HIS APPRECIATION OF ME. SO FOR HIS FIRST SENTIENT CREATIONS, THE SERAPHIM, HE BASED THEM ALL ON ME.” Emily looks surprised, and follows up by asking how you know God.

- You give another genuine laugh at her question. “SWEETY I’M HIS YOUNGER SISTER, I AM “DEATH”, THE GODDESS OF WELL…DEATH. BUT YOU CAN CALL ME “D” OR “AUNT D”, MOST OF YOUR SIBLINGS DO.” Emily’s mind is blown “Wait! YOU’RE aunt D?! Sera told me all kinds of stories about you before you went to sleep, like the time you got into an argument with Father over his invention of the “Snuggie”. I never thought I’d get to meet you!”

- “IT WAS LITERALLY JUST A BATHROBE YOU WORE BACKWARDS, AND I STILL CAN’T BELIEVE HE THOUGHT THAT WAS AT ALL CLEVER.” You huff, feeling amusement and mild irritation at that memory.

- “SPEAKING OF YOUR FATHER, WHERE IS HE?” Sera speaks up, having managed to recollect herself, and explains that no one has seen or heard a word from God since before you went to sleep.

- The irritated snarl that leaves your throat sounds like thunder and shakes the ground, making everyone tremble with fear. “THAT LAZY BASTARD HAD ONE FUCKING JOB, WATCH HIS DAMN KIDS, AND HE COULDN’T EVEN DO THAT?! NO WONDER THIS ALL HAPPENED THEN, HE LEFT YOU ALL UNSUPERVISED!”

- Bending over, you carefully set Emily down before standing back up. “I HATE TO CUT MY INTRODUCTION SHORT, BUT APPARENTLY I NEED TO GO AND HAVE A LITTLE CHAT WITH YOUR FATHER.” You stare pointedly at Sera and continue. “DON’T THINK THIS MEANS YOU’RE ENTIRELY OFF THE HOOK EITHER. WHILE YES, YOUR FATHER’S ABSENCE IS MOSTLY TO BLAME FOR THIS DEBACLE, YOU ALSO KNOW BETTER THAN TO DO SUCH TERRIBLE THINGS. WE WILL BE DISCUSSING THIS MORE ONCE I FINISH WITH YOUR FATHER, AND IF I COME BACK AND FIND OUT YOU HELD ANY MORE OF THESE “EXTERMINATIONS” I WILL TURN YOU INTO A HOLLOW! DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR?” Looking at the ground, Sera nods and says “Yes Auntie D…”

- Satisfied with that response, you bid everyone farewell and slowly melt back into the ground, completely disappearing. Once you’re gone, the sunlight is back and it’s as if you were never there.

- Now the seraphim have to soothe the murmuring crowd while Sera starts attempting to get in contact with Lucifer to let him know that ��Hey Aunt D found out about the exterminations and is NOT happy about it. She just got done yelling at me, and now she’s on her way to go read Father the riot act. Just warning you now because once she’s done with him, you’re probably gonna be next.”

- Lucifer receives the message and is now frantically trying to create peace offerings in hopes they’ll make you more amicable, while also preemptively planning his own funeral in case the peace offerings don’t work.

- Meanwhile in God’s palace, God is currently relaxing in an elaborate hot tub and watching American football on an absurdly large TV whilst drinking wine like it’s water. He’s pretty drunk and having a grand time yelling at the TV.

- His fun is interrupted through by you literally kicking in the door and storming in, you’ve shrunken down to your smaller size so all your features are actually visible now and not covered in darkness as you glare at your older brother with an intensity that could peel paint.

- God startled momentarily before seeing it’s you and giving you a dopey smile. He’s also in his smaller form, so that makes things slightly easier for you. “Ohhh heeeyyy Death!…You startled me thereee…It’zzzz beeen awhillle, huh?” You scoff at his slurred speech, in disbelief that he could be so drunk right now.

- “Yes, it HAS been awhile. Good to see that you still choose to spend your days getting completely wasted instead of tending to your children.” You answer tersely, and God rolls his eyes. “Zzstill the saaame old ssstuck up bitch…Tha kidzz are fahine Deee! Yyyoou should cohme haave ah drink wib meee.”

- You ignore God’s offer for a drink and cut right to the chase. “No, your kids are NOT fine! When was the last time you checked in on them?! Do you even know what they’re up to right now??!” God dismissively waves his hand and chugs more wine. “I juzzt checked on thhhem ah couple decades aghooo..They’rrre prohably makinnn neeewh liffe.”

- “God that is a load of shit, and you know it! I was JUST down in Heaven, and the seraphim told me that you haven’t seen or spoken to ANY of them since I left to take my nap eons ago! And furthermore, while you’ve been in here drinking the day away, your children have COMPLETELY destroyed the balance we created! They’ve been mass slaughtering Demons annually for millennia now, and Limbo is a complete disaster right now because of this!” Hearing this, God looks down at his bottle of whine, embarrassed, and mumbles an awkward “oh”.

- Silence hangs heavy in the air for a moment before God clears his throat and says. “Zzsooo…You’rrree NNOT gooing to drink wiff me?” At this you snap and snatch the wine bottle from God and chuck it at the TV, smashing the bottle and the TV. God shouts in anger but before he can ask you wtf that was for, you just lay into him. Calling him a deadbeat and pathetic excuse of a deity.

- “How can you just sit in here day after day, while your CHILDREN are out there causing such mayhem! Do you not love your children all??!” God is shouting back at you, his anger having sobered him up some so he’s not slurring as much. “How DARE you accuse me of not loving my children! I would giive ANYTHING for them and you know that!”

- “Then fucking ACT like it!! Don’t just sit in here and rot your mind with booze and TV!” God growls. “I don’t need you to tell meee how to handle my children! Why do you even care?! It’zzz not like they’re yours anyway!”

- “I care because they are part of MY family, and I want my family to be safe and happy, something that you couldn’t give less of a shit about apparently!” God throws his hands up at this point “Well what do you want from me Death, go hhhold their handz?! My children are ALL capable of thinking and being on their own, they don’t NEED me to do shit for them!”

- “That doesn’t mean that they don’t still need you there emotionally! But with the way you act maybe it’s best you ARE never there! After all, what use could any of them get from your pathetic drunk ass!!” This clearly struck a nerve as God points back at the door you came in through and roars at you to get the fuck out of his house. Growling, you give a harsh “Fine!” and tell him he can sit and be a drunk deadbeat all he wants because you’re done with him and his shit, and he’s NEVER to contact you again unless it’s in regards to his children or business.

- You stomp out of God’s palace and return to Limbo, wanting to start working on getting things cleaned up and cool off some before you go check on things in Hell.

- Once you’re gone though, God slumps his shoulders and hangs his head. With your venomous words echoing his head, he summons another bottle of wine and begins chugging it while he trudges into his bedchambers.

- He flops down onto the bed and picks up a framed photo and slowly brings it closer to his face. It’s an old photo, one taken shortly after God created the first few seraphim. You and God are both standing next to each other, arms around each other’s shoulders and leaning in close while the first seraphim all stand in between the two of you. Everyone is absolutely beaming, and God looks especially happy; so proud of his creations.

- Tears drop onto the photo as God remembers how things used to be back then, back when he was actually NEEDED by those around him and wasn’t just some brand figure who’s only job is to smile and wave. Even as he slowly sets the photo down, tears continue to fall and he holds his head in his hands. “…I’m sorry I’m so damn useless…Hopefully you’ll forgive me someday…Not that I deserve it though…I’m…so fucking sorry…” No one is there to hear God’s sobs, and eventually he passes out. He’d rather be dreaming of happier times anyway.

#damn this ended up being WAY longer than i intended #and with a bit of angst no less!#god isn’t a bad guy he’s just SUPER depressed and suffering an existential crisis #basically after creating the angelic beings he didn’t really have to do anything anymore #because the angels were able to create and think on their own #so there isn’t really anything for god to do now because the angels can do it themselves #with so much time on his hands he started questioning his existence and what he was even meant to do #he feels completely useless because he truly believes that if he isn’t constantly creating things then he has no purpose #he deals with this by holing up in his palace and drinking himself silly and getting high #he has not told you this primarily because he doesn’t know how #he’s much like his son lucifer in that he’s not great at discussing his feelings #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x death! reader #death reader #i like to imagine the seraphim have a group chat and sera just posts in it like ‘aunt d found out about the exorcisms. we’re all dead.’#and it starts blowing up with everyone freaking out and trying to figure out wtf they’re gonna do #lucifer is preparing for the ass whooping you’re gonna give him

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designernishiki · 1 year ago

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it’s kinda funny to me how that dumb scene in kiwami 1 of majima getting shot and left for dead in the harbor was basically just added as a half-assed way to explain majima not being around for a bit of the plot, but they accidentally(?) just made it seem like start of a chain reaction where majima ended up feeling slighted and heartbroken after being abandoned like that and then lashed out about it via smashing a big truck into the building kiryu was in. and yeah that isn’t inherently a romantic thing as-is but then they go and add the part where majima grabs a hostess and performatively hits on her as in-kiryu’s-face as possible, she says she’s already in love with someone, and majima lets her go immediately, no questions asked, making a big fucking point of it just to say see THAT kiryu? I appreciate when people are HONEST about their FEELINGS. people who won’t just BACKSTAB someone who CARES about them to save themselves. is that so crazy kiryu?? huh??? anyway make it up to me get down here and fight me right fucking now

#I think on another level he was sorta saying like ‘hey kiryu. you’re making it extremely clear that you don’t trust me and my intentions #and I’ve been trying to show you- over and over again- that I’d do just about anything for you and your safety #but I can’t just let my mask fall off in front of everyone- I need to keep up the unpredictable morally grey wildcard act for both my sake #AND yours. because disguising my helping you as crazy random violent outbursts and weird stalker behavior #is the only way I CAN help you. do you think it would go over well with shimano or literally anyone else if I was outright helping you out #of the kindness of my heart and fondness for you? stop being so fucking dense and look past the crazy wacky nonsense for a second and #maybe you’ll realize that all I do at the end of the day- really- is help you and put my own life and reputation on the line for you.#I am an honest guy when it comes to my real values and when I told you I wouldn’t let anyone kill you unelss it was myself- I meant it.#I’ve taken a knife and a bullet for you now. can you REALLY not see through the act yet? am I REALLY that unpredictable when you think about #it?’#that was a longer explanation than i intended but. it was difficult to put into words #I basically feel like it could be read as him implying kiryu shouldn’t backstab the people who put themselves on the line to help him #and/or pointing out that he’s never actually done kiryu dirty and has stuck to his word protecting him in the ways he can #trying to say yeah all this is a crazy act and all but when it comes down to it you Can trust me #it really makes sense when you think about it that he’d have to help kiryu/show affection towards kiryu in unpredictable convoluted ways #at that point in time because. I mean. there’s a reason he was the only person who showed up to welcome kiryu when he got out of prison #and that’s because A) he sticks to his word and his loyalty to people he cares about and B) no one else had the balls or the batshit insane #mask to wear to ward off anyone asking real questions like majima did. because ANYONE associating themselves with the supposed #patriarch-killer was a HUGE NO-NO at the time. someone important showing up for kiryu and welcoming him back outright could’ve caused #all-out warfare probably. except majima. because majima was dedicated and smart enough to use his widely-feared wildcard persona #(that everyone tended to view as incapable of having any Real agenda to worry about) to his And kiryu’s advantage #does that make sense??? I feel like it makes a lot of sense if you get it to click in your head #kazumaji #majima #kiryu #yakuza #kiwami 1 #yk1 #rambling

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camels-pen · 1 year ago

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warning: eating disorders/food issues

"Something wrong with it?"

Usopp startled and snapped his head to the side. His nose jabbed Sanji's eye and they both hissed. Usopp jerked away to rub the tip of his nose.

"Fuck, I forgot about that," Sanji grumbled. There was a contrasting, fond smile on his face as rubbed his eye. "Anyway, the food?"

"What about it?"

"What's wrong with it?"

Usopp turned his gaze back to his plate. Plenty of pork chops piled high- at Luffy's request for a meat-filled dinner- and mashed potatoes with green beans on the side. His mouth salivated again just staring at it.

"Nothing," he said. "Just taking my time."

He could feel Sanji's unimpressed stare. "You've been 'taking your time' through the whole dinner. Everyone's already finished and left. The moss ball even finished the dishes, and we both know how he likes to dawdle."

Despite himself, Usopp giggled quietly. When it was his turn to do dishes, Zoro always took his time, waiting for Sanji to get frustrated with his speed and leave him to finish it alone. It was the perfect strategy to steal booze when Sanji wasn't looking, but it seemed Usopp had unknowingly thwarted his first sake stealing attempt after their reunion.

As if reading his mind, Sanji said, "I let him steal that alcohol, you know. I'm not that stupid." He huffed, voice sounding like he was pouting as he added, "It's the only damn way I can keep an eye on his shitty drinking habits. He'd constantly drink us dry otherwise, that damn mossheaded bastard."

Usopp giggled again and made the mistake of glancing up at him. Sanji was staring across the room at the kitchen, probably the place he'd put all the good booze. He'd confided in Usopp, once, that he had two hiding places for drinking alcohol: one, more obvious place, by the fridge for the cheap stuff, and another, hidden somewhere he wouldn't say, for all the more expensive and high quality stuff. He'd confidently crowed, on more than one occasion, that despite the cheap stuff always going missing, he'd never lost a drop of anything else. He always looked so smug saying that, and well, Usopp now knew why.

But then his eye- the left one now, and despite looking right at it, the change had still caught him off guard more than once- turned to Usopp and Usopp clammed up. Sanji stared at him, his eyebrow- this one curled on the opposite side, closer to his nose bridge than his ear- raised high on his forehead. "If you're well enough to laugh at Zoro, it can't be that bad."

Usopp gulped. Looked away. "I'm not sick," he said quietly. "The food looks great, Sanji, really. Eating is just..." He trailed off. Neither of them spoke for a long moment, only the sounds of their distant crewmates enjoying the sight of their descent to the ocean's floor filling the galley.

Sanji's arm slowly, hesitantly, laid on the back of his chair- Sanji didn't used to hesitate, but, he supposed, things had changed. He settled himself in the chair next to Usopp, rather than continue to lean over him, and said softly, "Eating is just...?"

Usopp stared at the grain on the table, studying the lines and deviations with an intense and sudden fascination.

"Usopp."

"It's hard," he mumbled.

Another silence, this one less expecting and more confused. Awkward.

"You ate fine at breakfast...?" Sanji said, voice lilting up at the end, almost in question.

Usopp snorted. 'Ate fine' was a kinder way of putting it. Usopp had demolished breakfast, nearly rivaling Luffy with how much and how quickly he ate. The usual sense of desperation had dimmed slightly, now that he was with his crew, but it was still there, dictating his eating habits. He would've felt more ashamed if he hadn't seen Luffy, Franky, and Brook eating in the exact same disgusting manner. Instead, he felt right at home.

He had wondered, privately, if something similar had happened to them. Had tossed around the idea of asking them about it. Then he would think back to how they used to eat, before. How it was exactly the same. How they had all basically cried that they'd so dearly missed Sanji's cooking. He couldn't blame them, he nearly sobbed over Sanji's pancakes- and then did sob over his hashbrowns.

"The island got hungry at dawn," he started. Stopped. Stared at the little vase of daisies at the centre of the table that Robin had gathered from her garden- now shared with Usopp. "It would close up. Then open. After, everything was... safe. For a little while."

He gulped again, cringing at his dry throat. He stared at the glass of water, a little wet stain under it. Luffy had bumped his glass earlier when he stole a few chops off of Usopp's pile.

Usopp didn't reach for it.

"You know, I was expecting grand stories of your heroics when you finally talked about where you were." Usopp shrunk in his seat. "No- no, come on I didn't mean it like that. I was just trying to make a joke."

"You should leave the jokes to the experts." Usopp's lip quirked. "Even Brook's better than you."

Out of the corner of his eye, Sanji scowled. "Brook wouldn't know a good joke if it kicked him upside the head."

Usopp giggled again, relaxing. "Admit it, you missed his skull jokes."

Sanji huffed. "...Maybe a little."

In the background, they could hear Zoro talking about taking a swim followed by a familiar thud and Nami yelling at him. They both giggled this time, leaning into each other.

"God, I missed everyone. I missed-" Sanji cut himself off and Usopp turned to look at him. There was a wobble to his lips and his visible eye stared intently at him. Usopp would almost say Sanji looked longing- yearning, even- if he didn't know better.

"I know," he said. "I missed everyone too." Sanji's eyes pinched a little at the corners, but Usopp didn't know why. He didn't linger on it long though, what with Sanji's smile as he pressed his temple to Usopp's for a moment. Usopp's heart would've beat wildly two years ago, but now all he felt was warm and content.

Sanji hummed in agreement and pulled away. Patting his pockets, likely for a cigarette. Usopp pulled the one tucked behind his ear, admiring the feel of soft blond hair a moment too long before handing it to him. Sanji chuckled and accepted it with a quiet thanks.

He lit it and sat back in his chair, relaxing with the first inhale. "Back to the important stuff." Usopp would argue all of that was important stuff. "You only felt safe to eat breakfast?"

Usopp shook his head. Then tilted it side to side. "No- well, sort of. It was never really safe, but..." He rolled the words around his mouth, feeling out the right ones while discarding others. "It was... easier. To eat a lot in the morning. Gather food later in the day. Then sleep when I got hungry closer to sunset."

Sanji blew out a puff of smoke. "You didn't have anyone to watch your back while you were eating?"

"I did." Usopp nodded, a sense of pride filling him as he puffed out his chest. "Heracles'n was a great friend and teacher! We took turns watching out for each other and, well, he's the reason I survived that island in the first place." He flexed one of his biceps. "He also helped me get a whole lot stronger!"

Sanji pursed his lips around his cigarette. "But you didn't eat dinner. Or lunch." Today nor in nearly two years, though Sanji likely meant the latter.

Usopp deflated, arm settling back down in his lap. "We couldn't stop moving until sunset. By then it was better to sleep and eat heap loads in the morning rather than risk dinner and not getting enough rest." He sighed. "Heracles'n was always telling me to eat more berries and fruit throughout the day, but..."

Sanji stared at him. "You had this-island-is-too-scary-so-I-can't-eat-anything-itis?"

Usopp scowled. "I'd like to see you keep up an appetite when you're constantly running and hiding from giant-"

Sanji used his arm to tug Usopp closer, so their sides were pressed together. He pressed his nose to Usopp's hair. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

"What for?" Usopp whispered back.

Sanji didn't answer, his breaths warming Usopp's head. The galley had grown silent when he finally spoke, the others having found quieter activities or retired to their rooms.

"If I was stronger then- or quicker-"

"Sanji," Usopp said. "There's no way you would've been able to beat Kuma, back then."

Sanji shook his head. "I know, but maybe we could've been sent somewhere together."

There was a bittersweet, choking feeling in the back of Usopp's throat. A burning in his eyes. "You wouldn't have liked it there," he said, laying his head on Sanji's shoulder. "You would've hated it, actually."

"But I would've been with you."

Usopp laughed, the sound wet and brittle. "I wouldn't wish that island on anyone, Sanji, but least of all you. I'm not worth-"

A hand cupped his face, cutting him off as he was turned to face Sanji. His nose was bent, pressing against Sanji's cheek. "You worth a lot, Usopp. You're worth it to-" Sanji's cheeks dusted pink all of a sudden and he looked away. "You're worth a lot. And it would've been nice if I could have watched your back. Made sure you were eating well."

At a loss for words, Usopp turned back to the table, staring at his plate. The mashed potatoes were surely cold and hard by now and he was fairly certain a thick pork chop wouldn't stay down.

The green beans, maybe. Those could work.

He picked one up. His stomach rumbled. He lifted it to his mouth.

His hands shook.

He gulped again. Stared at his hand intensely.

Sanji's hand covered his own. A sudden, terrible spike of anxiety overwhelmed him and he held his breath, hoping Sanji wasn't going to just force him to eat it. He hated wasting food after all and it was already in Usopp's hand and Usopp himself just needed to quit cowering and just eat it already-

Sanji pulled his hand away from his mouth. The tension left Usopp in a rush. Shame took up where anxiety had left, but he forced himself to meet Sanji's eye. He knew what came next.

Before Sanji could say anything, Usopp blurted, "There was food. On the island. Not just fruits and berries and whatever game we could hunt. Pre-cooked food, I mean." Sanji's brow furrowed, but Usopp continued on. "There were these plants- and rivers- that had cake and burgers and ramen and- well, you get the idea. And the closer you got to the centre of the island, the more tasty the food got." He gulped. Coughed a little. Sanji reached for his glass, but Usopp grabbed his wrist in a tight hold. If he didn't get it all out now, he never would.

"I didn't meet Heracles'n immediately. I was on my own at first and- and I didn't completely trust him at first either." He laughed, the sound as self-deprecating as it felt. "The centre of the island, that's where its mouth is."

Sanji's eyebrow furrowed further. "So when you said the island 'got hungry'..."

Usopp nodded. "It was a trap to lure in prey." Quietly, he added, "Like me."

Sanji gasped, his eyes darting down, and wow, Usopp really should've re-thought the whole 'show off his new muscles by going shirtless' plan. He pulled away from Sanji, and pulled up the waist of his pants. "Staring at my stretch marks isn't going to change anything, y'know."

Sheepishly, Sanji said, "Sorry- sorry, I should know better." He held out his arms, with a sad little pout. "Come back?"

Usopp held out for a few moments, glaring at him, but he sighed and eventually gave in. "I hate you," he mumbled into Sanji's shoulder. Sanji patted his back in response.

The two of them sat there in silence once more. Usopp savoured the contact between them, like he had always dreamed of on Boin.

"You had to train yourself to avoid delicious looking foods, then," Sanji said quietly. Usopp nodded. "That makes sense. But then, breakfast?"

A new wave of shame, far heavier than the last. He dug his forehead into Sanji's shoulder. "I don't want to talk about it."

He didn't know how to explain how he had become some kind of wild animal during meals and he didn't want to explain. Heracles'n was already one person too many and earlier, the entire crew had seen him. His heart beat hard and fast in his chest at the reminder, a belated rush of fear to make up for his single minded focus at breakfast.

"Then I won't ask," Sanji said. "You should tell Chopper though-"

Usopp grimaced. "Eventually, but..."

Sanji sighed, pressing his cheek to Usopp's hair. "Okay, but can I make you something? Just a snack or tea or...?"

Usopp huffed. "Sanji-"

"I know, I know! But letting you go to bed hungry is..."

"Hard," Usopp finished for him, pulling away. "I know."

He wasn't going anywhere before Sanji fed him, of that he was sure, but it made Usopp's stomach queasy just thinking about all the snacks Sanji used to make before they were separated.

Some of it must have shown on his face too, since Sanji was already holding up his hands and starting to look even more concerned. "It doesn't have to be anything special. I could just peel a tangerine for you or slice up some apples or juice some pears- I mean oranges! Why would anyone juice pears- oh, hm, I should check that sometime; remind me to write it down. Oh and maybe I could steep a really bitter tea, so you don't have to worry about drinking too much because I know you hate bitter things-"

And Usopp couldn't help himself. He laughed.

Sanji deflated, his brow furrowed in confusion, or maybe it was concern. Usopp didn't know, he was too busy laughing at the absurdity of Sanji being so anxious and speaking every rambling thought. It was adorable and Usopp couldn't help but reach up and squish Sanji's cheeks.

"I lo-" Sanji's eye widened and suddenly, Usopp didn't feel brave enough. "Lost my notebook. We'll have to use one of yours."

"O-Oh, yeah, sure." Sanji nodded, voice slightly muffled by his squished cheeks. He stared at Usopp, his eye asking another question.

Usopp looked away, his eyes landing on the fruit bowl on the bar counter. There were apples, bananas, and pears. He pulled his hands away. "...Nami will be mad at you." he said quietly, weakly.

Sanji sighed, a shaky, relieved little thing. He wrapped his arms around Usopp's middle, crushing him to his chest. "I think she'll forgive me," he said.

Boldly, Usopp added, "What if you made coffee?" The only coffee in the pantry was a fancy jar brought along from a Revolutionary base near a village that prided themselves on their harvest.

Sanji chuckled. "Robin would forgive me too."

Usopp hummed. "You seem awfully confident."

"I am," he said, pulling away completely, his chair squeaking against the floorboards as he stood. Sanji held out a hand, a smile on his lips. "If you don't believe me, let me show you."

And right here, Usopp could've chosen to laugh it off. Said something about not wanting to face Nami's wrath, much less Robin's. Fled the galley completely with an excuse or three and sleep in his workshop while ignoring any and all feelings of guilt. It would've been easy.

But he'd already accepted it. Acknowledged the inevitable consequences instead of turning down those anxious suggestions. How could he do anything else, in the face of such genuine care and concern? To leave now would just hurt them both and the last thing Usopp wanted to do was hurt Sanji.

And, well, he trusted Sanji, to do what he couldn't. Planned to trust him with his heart, at some point.

Trusting him with his stomach, in comparison, was as easy as breathing.

So, Usopp placed a steady hand in Sanji's own, a small, teasing smile on his face, and said, "Lead the way."

#one piece #sanuso #sanji #usopp #meant to be pre-relationship but can be read however #nemo the writing ho #side note: dear god this ended up way longer than intended #had a nice time writing them being gay though 💚#gotta remember to put this on ao3 later #belated tag i forgot to add but this was inspired by redriotinggg's post the other day #i was POSSESSED with the need to write after reading it lmao

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