#unsure about the others input is welcome
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Headcanon that Debbie Gallagher, Franny Gallagher, and Ian Gallagher are all low-key obsessed with Taylor Swift (but are all obsessed with different eras) and they went to the Eras tour together and Mickey went along ostensibly with reluctance but he secretly loved Midnights and when he's alone in the car he blasts Anti-Hero (although his favorite is Red because it makes him think of Ian)
#debbie's favorite is Love Story#unsure about the others input is welcome#ian gallagher#mickey milkovich#ian x mickey#debbie gallagher#franny gallagher#taylor swift#the eras tour#shameless tv
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Reblogging this for morning crowd to see. I'm definitely leaning towards making it, tho I'd still appreciate votes if you're interested so I know how many people to expect. It'd be an 18+ server (just bc allowing minors complicates so much with moderating & wouldn't be worth it for a small server) so! Let pls me know if you're interested 😌
ok i was thinking about how difficult it is to find active vashwood servers that arent terrible (such as allowing shit like plantcest around) and. i had the thought. of
what if i made my own vashwood server. primarily for my readers and/or tumblr followers, tho if other ppl were interested it could potentially be an open one too. sooooooo im making a post to ask if anyone would be interested in joining one lol. so!
depending on the interest on this i May Or May Not end up making this in the next few days. We'll See.
#speculation nation#unsure whether id wanna include an invite link on my fic or not lol#bc it is Loosely meant for readers. but also i dont want it to be Too big ykno#& by no means Has to be readers of my fic Only. general followers r also welcome#still not planning on posting it to main tag tho. too much variability that way 😬#i just want a nice lil space to be able to yell about this show (with a focus on vashwood just bc that would b a lot of it for me lol)#i do wanna have it be inclusive of other pairings tho. even 'conflicting' pairings like vashmeryl#bc i like stuff like that too! so long as people can be respectful about it.#minus the aforementioned plantcest tho bc Lmfao i do NOT. want that around thank you very much.#also while im still establishing it if anyone who's potentially interested has any input of what theyd want out of it#id love to hear it! u could reply to this post or send me an ask or smth.#& otherwise im gonna do my best to establish smth relatively orderly & pleasant for all involved. ideally.
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Heartbreaker
Roman Roy x Reader
summary: As your relationship with Roman grows more uncertain, you turn to the person who knows him best for advice.
Midway through the day, you spotted Gerri on her way out of the office and sprang up from your desk, jogging after her.
“Hey Gerri,” you said, “Could I buy you lunch today?”
��I’m flattered. What’s the occasion?”
“I need your input on something.”
She eyed you suspiciously.
“Is this business or personal?”
“Personal.”
“Fine. But you’re buying me a drink, too.”
Gerri took you to a high-end lunch spot downtown. You settled at a table near the window, picking up your menus. No prices. You swallowed. You had known this wouldn’t come cheap.
“What’s on your mind, Y/N?”
“It’s Roman.”
Gerri let out a subtle sigh, adjusting her glasses as she scanned the menu.
“I should have known,” she murmured.
“I’m completely at a loss.”
“Welcome to the club.”
“I mean, what can you tell me? Every time I ask him about his relationship history he starts mumbling and won’t make eye contact.”
“I don’t know much more than you,” she said. “There were a few girls that I know of. But as far as I know they never went anywhere, if you know what I mean.”
“I don’t.”
“Do I have to say it?”
“Yes, Gerri.”
“Well, then.” She cleared her throat. “As far as I know, they never… you know. Fucked.”
You sat back with a somewhat satisfied smirk on your face.
“Okay then,” you said.
“Don’t let that hearten you. In fact, it might be a reason for you to pack up and look elsewhere.”
Gerri sighed and rubbed her nose lightly.
“Roman is extremely complicated,” she went on. “You think you have him figured out, then he surprises you again. He’s chaotic, he’s unpredictable, he’s highly unstable—“
“Gerri,” you said, interrupting. “You’re saying all this like it should deter me.”
“If you were a sane human being, it would.”
“Let’s say I’m not. Let’s say I’m invested in seeing where this Roman trip takes me.”
She finally looked at you with something like mingled sympathy and admiration.
“Then I might be able to give you a few pointers.”
The drinks arrived. Gerri took a long sip before considering what she would say next.
“First, it might help if you told me what it is about Roman that interests you.”
You took a swig of your own drink before you responded.
“Let me just say that I didn’t choose to feel this way. I fully intended not to like Roman when I came to work for this company. Everything I heard made me dread meeting him. Even in our first few meetings, I was still determined not to like him. He was weirdly twitchy, he wouldn’t stop climbing on furniture. I thought he was a self-absorbed prick.”
“You weren’t wrong.”
“Right. But we both know there’s something underneath that.”
“Unfortunately, yes.”
“He’s a heartbreaker, Gerri.”
“I know.”
You put your head down on the table. The waiter arrived with your entrees, unsure where to put them until Gerri nudged you beneath the table. You shot up, composing yourself. Gerri leaned towards you.
“Listen, I know Roman. He’s tough. But I think he’ll open up to you.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Roman’s been looking in all the wrong places for love. I think his relationship with his dad shows that pretty clearly. He has an image in his mind of the kind of partner he should have. But that’s not the partner that he ultimately wants.”
“And what kind of partner does he want?”
“Maybe one who’s as broken as he is.”
You cracked a grin.
“I’m not sure whether to take that as a compliment or not,” you said.
“It’s meant as one. I know you’ve been through some tough times, but look where it’s brought you. Sometimes the most broken people end up being the strongest.”
She looked at you with that same admiring glint in her eye.
“When I first met you, I thought I saw a lot of myself in you.”
“Sorry, but there’s no way Gerri Kellman is a broken person.”
A small smile.
“You’d be surprised.”
You ate for a while in silence, thinking over each other’s words. Gerri finally glanced at her watch.
“We should be getting back soon.”
“Tell me what to do, Gerri. I’m lost when it comes to him.”
“My advice?” She dabbed at her lips with her napkin, took a sip of ice water. “Don’t give up on Roman.”
“Give me one good reason.”
She looked you straight in the eye. “Because,” she said, “Last week, he asked me to lunch to talk about you.”
Your heart leapt in your chest.
“You’re kidding me.”
She shook her head firmly.
“I thought he didn’t like me,” you said.
“Quite the opposite.”
“Holy fuck.”
Gerri shook her head, gathering her bag with a smile on her lips.
“That’s an understatement. You’re in for a wild ride, Y/N.”
You drove back to the office with her, riding in silence up the elevators. As you walked back towards the conference room, Roman strode out of his office, hands in pockets.
“Oh look,” he said, “It’s my two favorite people.”
He stopped in his tracks. You could see his mind backpedaling in real time.
“Sorry, did I say that? I meant my two favorite corporate thralls. Get back to the conference room where you belong. Why aren’t you on a call right now? Fuck you. Leave me alone.”
Gerri had a smirk on her lips. Neither of you budged. Finally, Roman hurried past you, running a hand through his hair, throwing obscenities into the air.
“See?” Gerri said. “He does like you.”
#succession#roman roy x reader#roman roy/reader#roman roy#gerri kellman#reader insert#taking a lil break from requests to do something indulgent#next i might do the flip side of this... roman's lunch with gerri
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Welcome to our little haven.
This is a cozy blog for some potentially not-so-cozy people.
This blog is run by the fictives of what we'll call "The Haven Keepers" collective for the sake of anonymity. This is a blog focused around being a safe space for problematic fictives (or factives), fictionkin, fictherians, hearthome havers, and any other fictionfolk. All are welcome here, regardless of their source actions, level of separation from their source, or their relationships. As long as you don't threaten the safety within our blog, you're welcome.
This blog is both for others to send in asks, and a safe space for us to talk about our own experiences with insys relationships and problematic sources as fictives. After seeing so much negativity around "proship" in the plural commmunity with absolutely no regard for how that might apply to fictives, we wanted to create this. That being said; dark topics will come up! Everything we can think of will be tagged, and there's no shame in asking us to tag something we missed. This blog is ultimately intended to be a positive space, so anything that could risk that for someone will be tagged.
The Haven Keepers
We intend to be 100% open about our source here. I am Kaeya, my source media is Genshin Impact. We have quite a few fictives who will want in on this, though I can't say who for sure so this section will be a bit barren for a while. We're bodily in our early 20's, trans, and auDHD. We have many nonhuman members so things like that will be posted here as well.
Charlie: it/it's, just a funny goopy guy. I've got bones. (That's a lie.)
Kaeya: he/him, idk what to put here he can change it.
Asks we do/don't accept.
Do:
As a side note, please know that you should specify if you want your ask posted with no response! We're happy to do that but we tend to feel it's safer to assume that someone wants input than to not give any and leave them feeling rejected. We also are happy if you want to send us multiple asks, or another after our response!
Source talk regardless of media
good faith questions about our experiences, system, sources, etc. We don't bite!
Properly warned dark/triggering content (ex. TW: [insert thing] with the content below it). If it's triggering to us, we won't be posting it, however.
Any thoughts about your experiences you don't want to post elsewhere.
properly warned and relatively mild NSFW. (Just don't go in depth, use your own discernment. If you're unsure, just say so at the beginning and we'll post it or we won't!
Vents + asking for advice
if you need to ask something to follow your own DNI, go ahead.
Dont:
For our comfort, any in-depth description of topics such as SA or SH are off the table. Mentions are perfectly okay if properly warned.
NSFW that is just literal smut at that point.
Blatant Anti-endo rants (asking questions in good faith is okay, fakeclaiming is not.)
Shipcourse of any kind. Duh.
Generally, if you're being an asshole to someone.... don't.
BYF/"DNI"
We don't have a set DNI for this blog, we believe that a safe space should be accessible to everyone regardless of their stances on whatever. So long as you play nice. This is the key here. We block freely. But, if you'd like to know our stances on things to follow your own DNI, then:
Systems of all origins are welcome, we don't give a single fuck I assure you.
This is a safe space for any queer label. Contradictory, niche, xenogenders and nepronouns- whatever your experience is. "MAPS" are not included in this.
We are a primarily nonhuman collective! Alterhumans of all kinds are safe here.
We don't support radqueer/transIDs but we won't stop you from interacting.
Dark topics will be talked about here. We feel the need to say this again. This is safe for people regardless of source actions or relationships with sourcemates. Yes, even that. Whatever "that" is when you think of it. If your relationship with your sourcemates is healthy now, or if you're not hurting people now, we don't give a shit how bad it was in your source.
If you judge anyone based off source, or don't want to interact with fictives from a specific source, don't bother.
Anon sign-offs:
- 🌀🪷 -🖤🏳️⚧️🐺 - 🥃🩹 -🐀🀄️ -🐰💚 -🔪🌟 -🕷️📺 -🌟
As a final note: If you think you know us from somewhere else, feel free to DM, otherwise no you don't shhhh.
#plural#plurality#plural system#pluralgang#actually plural#plural community#endo safe#pro endo#endo friendly#fictive#introject#factive#pluralpunk#fictionkin#fictkin#fictionfolk#proshipper safe#proshippers please interact#safe space blog#intro post#plural blog#multiplicity#problematic plural blog#problematic fictive culture#problematic introject#problematic fictive#problematic fictionkin#fictionfolk safe haven
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i'm aussie, so i'm watching How To Make Gravy which is a new angsty aussie christmas movie (and it's a lot of feels) and it's giving me bucktommy au inspo:
Buck is in prison. He's been there for a few months and is having a rough time - because of his looks, because of his size - and there's a particular group of guys who are giving him a hard time - leaving him with injuries, getting him thrown in solitary. Until one day, Bobby steps in before things get too out of hand.
Bobby is a fellow inmate but he runs the kitchen. He takes Buck there to patch him up - or maybe Chim is there and he does it. Bobby offers him a choice: get caught up in prison life shit, or take a job in the kitchen (and help them in the lead-up to Christmas) and work to keep out of trouble, keep on good behaviour, and look forward to getting out of there.
Buck doesn't accept at first, until another run-in (or promise of one) has him showing up at the kitchen where Bobby tells him he's welcome but also has to show up to a group meeting - usually held twice a week but in the lead-up to the holidays they're doing it every night. Buck is hesitant, doesn't want 'therapy', but ultimately agrees and is put to work after Bobby lays the ground rules and gives a brief intro where everyone meets their newest recruit.
NOTE: Bobby handpicked his kitchen crew, everyone there wants to stay out of trouble, is a diligent worker, works as a team, respects each other and the rules, and is working to be better for when they're released.
Also working in the kitchen is Tommy, who remarks to Bobby how he's 'letting trouble in' with Buck - to which Bobby says: "It takes a lot to ask for help, Tommy. You know that." And.. yeah, Tommy does know.
The meetings take place in the prison chapel with Father Brian - who is sort of a chaperone to the group, mostly just observing from the back and offering advice or input when need-be. Bobby leads the meetings, opening with what they have in common and how hard life on the inside is, but it's hard to fuckup in this room which is a safe place. He states his issues, a bit of personal history, open and honest. "That's how my story begins, but it doesn't have to define the person I am or will become." Then he poses questions, one by one asking who has experienced the same unfortunate circumstances - raised by absent or abusive parents, feeling unloved as a child, experienced homelessness, considered suicide - to step closer - they all do; proving they have more in common than they think, and that they're not alone.
The meeting continues while seated, Bobby talking and folks sharing. Tommy shares and then Bobby prompts Buck to share - Buck, who by the way goes by Evan in the kitchen and at the meetings. Buck is hesitant, unsure what to say. Chim suggests he talk about what makes him happy. Tommy tells him, patient and knowing, to just say whatever he feels.
Bobby asks about Buck's knack for cooking, and he admits that his brother taught him (when they were young), before he died. Bobby offers his condolences, and Buck, "It's not your fault.. It's my fault. He died from an illness I was made to cure but I wasn't enough (in the end). I failed my one job." NOTE: this happened years ago and wasn't what landed Buck in prison, it's just a pivotol moment from his youth. He might also mention the way his parents treated him after - like he didn't exist, like he wasn't enough. Buck tries to minimize his trauma but Bobby catches it, tells him he doesn't need to do that here, and notes how Buck deserved better.
Buck gets emotional - it's a lot to address, to dredge up, to talk about, to be vulnerable with strangers especially in prison - and then he gets angry. Bobby calms him, tells him he doesn't respect him any less for crying, and notes how difficult it is to share what he did, and how not many people are as brave especially at their first meeting. Bobby thanks Buck for sharing and they call it a night.
While packing away the chairs, Buck has a nice moment with Bobby, and then officially meets some of the guys: Tommy, Chim, Eli, Sal, Ravi, Eddie. He leaves the meeting feeling lighter than he has his entire stint thus far, a weight lifted in airing some of his trauma and not being rejected but instead seen, respected, welcomed, wanted, and know that he's not alone anymore.
#how to make gravy#bucktommy#fic fodder#evantommy#.txt#prison au#i was expecting a lighthearted feelgood movie but this is angsty and dramatic. there's steps towards healing etc. but it's a journey.#i'm only a third of the way in so idk what's gonna happen but it's building towards a happy ending. obvs it's a bit of character study#tevan kinkley firepilot
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talking in your sleep
w/c: 2k ish (i always forget to add word counts, my bad)
a/n: first time (technically second) that i’m writing for a non yj character. this is not a drill anymore and this time i will keep it posted instead of deleting it. I will divide this into two or three parts, depending on how it goes. the timeline takes place at season 3, so if you haven’t reached there yet or watched the show there might be some major spoiler elements. also, the title is named after talking in your sleep by talking heads. i thought it fit the vibe but i’m not too sure 😭 feedback is always welcome enjoy reading let’s goooo
also, at the time i have been posted this, it has been sitting in my google docs for a WHILEEEE it was time for me to drop it. this is not me just wanting to let it go, a second part will also be written! this is more of a build up before i can make things run wild
warnings: swearing, the characters as a whole but i did water it down and kept it purely implicit. still, if it smells and looks like a red flag turn the other way. cheating but in no way should this be condonable, ever. also gay. a few allusions to suggestive themes but nothing is said. although unlikely, minors dni. let me know if i missed anything!
it starts under the cut
She tried to look interested. Really, she did. But she couldn’t care less of Sherry’s new routine, or how she is planning on throwing a party with all the neighbours. While she unsurely murmured agreement, she went to kindly pack cookies to throw Sherry off, a failed plan. The woman in front of her just shook her head with a grimace.
“Lovey, you’re so adorable but that’s going to be a no for me. The party’s next week, bring your charming house husband if you can.”
Love barely has time to blink before she’s gone and she’s taking care of another client. That is what she gets for being courteous. Well, attempting should be the right word. She watches the woman wave to someone she presumes is her friend– who must probably be as insufferable as her– before breathing through her nose and carrying on with the rest of the customers. At breaktime, she texts Joe, asking him how his day is going. He replies shortly after, and she’d lie if she said the message didn’t make her day better at all. A grin breaks her face at the picture he sent, he’s cradling a sleepy Henry.
We miss you.
She can almost hear his voice, smooth and velvet, soothing any thoughts she can think of. She wishes the day would rush faster.
I’ll be back before you know it ;)
And she was. After small talk with customers, cleaning, closing up, she was here. With her family. She lets Henry sleepily hold her thumb, while talking about her day to Joe, who nods and listens, and offers his input when needed. He wasn’t much of a talker but a listener…but he was what she needed. Her other half. Her balance. She hates to get saccharine and does not want to be one of those cliché couples but she is certain that they are perfect for each other. Even better than Sherry and Cary who just seems to be a cover of a Vogue magazine more than anything else.
“There is no way we’re going to that event of hers. We’d probably be bored to death by the time we’re at her fence.”
“She’s…definitely a character.”
“Is that your way of saying she’s bitchy?”
She chuckles, her eyebrows furrowing. He turns the question in his head before smiling, nodding at Henry.
“Language. Besides, I wouldn’t want to call a woman that. Sherry’s just…well, she’s…Sherry. And her inviting you to a party after being disrespectful is, well, a Sherry thing to do.”
A pause at seeing Love’s raised eyebrow, an amused look breaking her face.
“Which says a lot.”
He completes, leaning over to press a gentle kiss on her forehead, worried he might have said something that she’d misinterpret. But she does not take it in any wrong way. She knows what he meant. And even then, she knows he’d always take her side. Just like she’d always take his.
“Do you want to go?”
“What? No way. Do you want to go?”
“No way.”
She looks at him carefully, assessing his every reaction. She knows Joe does not have any trouble refusing anything and he will softly be truthful if needed.
“You’re not saying that to make me happy, are you?”
“If someone’s making you uncomfortable then I don’t see why I would try to be in their circle.”
He kisses her nose, looking down at her lovingly. She looks up at him and cannot stop the smile from escaping her lips.
“Here, I’ll put Henry to bed then we can talk about all of Sherry's bi...snideness.”
“No, no, let’s do it together. Every second of me being alone is me trying not to imagine me strangling her.”
“We wouldn’t want that to happen.”
“No, we wouldn’t.”
A tight lipped smile from him, and a nod, before he carefully gets up with a dozing Henry, with Love walking with them until they reach their son’s room. They tuck him in and both wish him goodnight, with Love staying a couple of minutes, hardly believing this is now her life. Their life.
Even with the feel of Joe’s lips on hers as he presses her on the couch, smell of the soap he uses, his calloused yet gentle hands on her hips, the remnants of coffee that he took-
Wait.
Joe never drank coffee at this hour. Maybe he felt tired. After last year’s events, anyone would be. Right? And he did work considerably a lot, helping her with their new place, her workplace and of course, their child. And he didn’t have any friends nor did he need to visit anyone. So she didn’t question it. Not when he trails his kisses to her jaw, her neck, her shoulders, or not even after she sees how tightly his eyes are closed instead of being fluttered, like they usually always are.
After making all of today’s frustrations evaporate from her head, he cuddles her to his chest. The rhythm of his heartbeat, although still influenced by oxytocin, grounds her. She looks down at their intertwined fingers, a ring on each hand. Joe notices and kisses her again, this time gently and innocently.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m more than okay, Joe. I love you.”
And there’s nothing else he can say but the same. She presses kisses all over his face, his light stubble scratching her, laughing as he tickles her sides.
↠↠
Arguments and disagreements are bound to happen between a couple. But twistedly enough it’s healthy, depending on how it’s done. And the way Joe handled it, was definitely the opposite of the correct, supposed manner. He just stares with his hands in his pocket. If she knew any better, she’d say he’s just stalling to avoid this conversation. Henry is at his grandmother’s, and Love took an early day off, hoping that this peaceful afternoon weekend would mean being able to be with Joe for a couple of hours.
So why was he wearing a cap and backpack slung on his shoulder?
“It’s not that late for a jog, Love. Besides, the neighbourhood is safe and I can…”
A deep breath.
“I can handle myself.”
Oh, she knows he can. But that’s not what she’s afraid thinking of.
“Bullshit.”
She rolls her eyes, dropping to the couch and crossing her arms. He sighed exasperatedly, dropping the bag with a bit more force, which caused her to quickly lift her eyes to his. She recognises that look. He looked at her the same way when he admitted his real name. When he was in that box. When she told him she was pregnant.
Was it a look of regret, or desperation?
A long silence passes after this. She’s stewing, mulling over his words, his excuses. He is in jogging attire, yes, but since when did he exercise? Was it to get away from this new, routine life in a somewhat stuck up place? Or is it to impress someone?
“Are we going to talk?”
“I am talking.”
A minute cold, calculated minute passes without neither of them saying anything to each other.
“This…this isn’t going anywhere. Love, you have to believe me. There is no reason I’d be doing anything else. I told you I took up running two years ago before I met you, right?”
He moves closer to her, dropping down on his knees, trying to get her to meet his eyes. He hesitantly brings her hands to his chest.
“Love, I promise you.”
“Alright.”
A smile before she drops their hands, getting up from the couch and walking to their bedroom.
“Have fun on your jog, Joe. Don’t come home too late.”
He has this same look on his face. And she has no idea what to do about it. She brings one hand to his cheek before pulling him in for a rough kiss, one he reciprocates with. They pull apart breathlessly, and Love has to hold herself back from the juvenile idea of leaving a mark on his neck.
“Go, before I make you lose out on your health goals.”
“You’re the one that kissed me.”
He raises an eyebrow, pecking her one last time before getting up.
“I’ll be back. Then you can have me all you want.”
With a wave, Joe leaves, taking the smile of his wife as a good sign. Well, it is a good sign. And it’s going to have to do for him. He’d just have to prove that he only ever sees, cares and loves her. As he always did. Meanwhile leaving a trail of fresh scented aftershave and lotion in the air.
Is it normal for people to wear perfume before exercising?
She’d asked her friends if they were here. Or Forty. They’d probably give her advice without sugarcoating, and Forty would add a sprinkle of humour, in his usual habit. So she resorts to search engines. She scrolls through various articles but ends up finding nothing conclusive. Grabbing the phone in a vain effort to not squeeze it and magically destroy it, she decides that getting cooped up with Joe on her mind won’t be of any service if she wants to make their time alone work. A walk might do. Maybe that’s why he left. She understands that sometimes people do need time apart to avoid driving themselves completely insane. She just hopes she won’t meet any pesky neighbours. If she has to listen to stories of their relatives knowing a celebrity, some failed diet or unwanted beauty advice, she would just nod, smile politely and wave.
But like always, she does not always get what she wants. A bubbly Sherry spots her from her garden. She plugs in her earphones and hopes she would be ignored, but Sherry waves and signals for her to come closer.
Damn it.
“Hi, Love! Finally deciding to get out of the house, huh? You do deserve some fresh air. The stress of handling a business and a family can’t be good for that skin.”
This bitch.
She grins, almost too brightly, biting back a snide remark for the sake of children playing behind her and shrugs.
“Yeah, I almost want to go back home.”
An all too saccharine laugh escapes the woman’s lips, joined by a short one.
“You have a nice sense of humour. Basically Joe’s copy.”
She nudges the brunette, who just clears her throat and steps back.
“Thanks.”
Probably five seconds has passed, enough time for Love to come up with an excuse to leave–
“So, are you and your beau coming to the party?”
Oh, damn her.
“We’re thinking about it. Y’know we’ve been kind of adjusting to Madre Linda.”
“Aw, but what better way than to connect with us. I swear, you’ll have fun.”
Love scoffs and loses her nerves to drop a mocking remark before Sherry runs back to her children, guiding them away from the flowers.
“I see that you’re busy so I’ll let you be.”
“No, it’s no big deal-”
“Bye, Sherry.”
↠↠
She walks around the park, sitting down on the bench and looks at her surroundings. A couple sitting side by side on a towel, a bird seeming to build a nest up on one of the trees, and a person who’s jogging.
It almost makes her laugh, as if it’s the universe’s cruel intentions to remind her of her not-exactly-argument with Joe.The jogger stops for breath, checking her watch and smiles victoriously. She then stretches, oblivious to Love’s staring. It would be funny if Joe would be right there appearing at her side.
As she stares ahead brazenly, the woman notices her calculated gaze. Love drops her eyes the minute she feels the stranger’s eyes on hers next, pretending to go back to her book splayed on her lap.
She waits a couple of minutes for the woman to disappear, and almost wants to cry with how crazy Joe is making her. To think that anyone here could be with him, right now.
She misses how you smiled confusedly and went on back to your jog.
↠↠
Many hours later she comes back home after getting a text from Joe. He’s on the couch with a book in his hand with new clothes. She doesn’t even waste time speaking before she drops herself next to him and allows herself to be pulled closer. This.This is what she wants. Not constantly fearing him finding someone better than her even after what she did to bring this family together, or having to pay close attention to anyone who might be too close for it to be considered just “friendly”. They engage in conversation afterwards, with Joe helping Love with dinner and him looking at her whenever she’d speak. She also knows that look. The look of complete devotion, the physical manifestation of his vows. Those same eyes that she sometimes sees herself in. His entirety, him, makes her believe that they have a chance, a chance they can’t waste. He does everything to prove it. And waking up in the early morning with their bodies tangled was proof enough.
#lgbtq#bisexual#wlw#wlw post#wlw blog#wlw yearning#love quinn x reader#love quinn#love quinn you#love quinn goldberg#You#this is a build up#love quinn our true love#love quinn rights#sherry conrad im so sorry#love quinn defender#taissaswifelowkey
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Hey, could you explain the whole NPD devaluing to me? What causes it and what does it look like? (What thoughts do you have etc.)
I’m trying to figure out if that’s what’s going on with me.
finally answering this!! putting it under the cut because it got kind of long
(sidenote before we begin - I don't know if devaluing is the most commonly used term for this experience in the npd community, i know there have been some debates over which terms to use as some originated with people who believe in narc abuse, and I don't know if devaluing is one of them, I know discarding has been renamed but unsure if devaluing also has) (Other sidenote - when I say "you" in this post I mean it in the general sense)
So as I understand it, devaluing in NPD is similar to the concept of splitting in BPD. It comes from that sort of black-and-white thinking common in Cluster B personality disorders, and since a lot of NPD symptoms are based around "worth", such as self-worth, quite a common example of black-and-white thinking towards people in NPD could be something like:
"You are worth everything to me" vs. "You are worth nothing to me",
"You are above me" vs. "You are equal to me" vs. "You are beneath me".
Then the process of devaluing would be something like having Person Y be a close friend, valuing Person Y pretty highly in your eyes - and then Person Y does something you don't like (Most likely something that damages the ego in some way - as NPD is an ego-related disorder) and suddenly Person Y is not equal to you, why would you ever like Person Y, Person Y is worth nothing, etc. etc.
Many things could cause a person to become devalued, it really depends on the presentation of NPD/the relationship itself - for me I often find expressing an opinion I really don't agree with, doing something that affects me negatively, or annoying me often in general will probably trigger thoughts associated with devaluing.
I wouldn't say that devaluing is necessarily permanent - people can go up and down in the sort of hierarchy that I have of them, which would obviously be dependent on what they have done/why I started to devalue them.
Devaluing is sort of a defense mechanism - if someone has been devalued then their opinion is less likely to matter to you (Thoughts such as "why would I care about the opinion of a person so obviously beneath me") and then your ego can't get hurt by that person.
What devaluing looks like would probably be highly dependent on the specific presentation of NPD - whether the thoughts stay internalised, or become externalised through self-destructive behaviour, or are externalised through hostility towards whoever is being devalued.
Devaluing can also lead to what is called "discarding" or "Relationship burn-out", where perhaps the thoughts surrounding a person primarily become negative/you no longer see the person as worth your time/you find you aren't getting enough supply from a person, and you let the relationship go or distance yourself.
To finish up, I would say that obviously, viewing people in a hierarchy based on their worth, and having black-and-white thinking surrounding relationships with people is clearly not healthy, but I tend to focus more on controlling my reaction to those thoughts rather than controlling the thoughts themselves. (e.g. instead of straight away dropping contact with the person, taking some time to reflect on what happened - why did I devalue them, is it salvageable, am I overreacting etc.)
Anyway, I hope this helps you anon, and if anyone has anything else to say please do!! I am not an expert and any input/clarifications are welcome in replies or reblogs!!
#nyxie answers questions#actually npd#npd#npd safe#narcissistic personality disorder#actually narcissistic
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SVT Dino Love Reading
In relationships, Dino brings a lot of fun and adventure. He's eager to do a lot of things like go on exciting dates. He likes dates that are playful and that require some sort of stimulation. He also enjoys dates where it's just visiting a cool cafe and taking photos and chatting.
He can get bored pretty easily in relationships. He also can find himself in many situationships. He can also be unsure of his feelings for someone so he can waver back and forth.
His playfulness and flirtiness can often bring a lot of misunderstandings. Sometimes he has problems figuring out the boundaries and that can lead to some people thinking he is romantically interested in them. His friendliness can also cause people to misinterpret him.
When he's wanting to date someone, he will actively pursue them. He will ask them out on a date. He will crack a lot of jokes and basically show that he's interested in them. He'll like their photos on social media or he'll DM them. He might share his photos with them and let them know what he's up to. He likes having an active conversation with his crush.
Dino doesn't really like diving into deep topics when dating. He prefers avoiding talking about work or his fears/frustrations. He's quite closed off in terms of sharing his thoughts in a deeper sense. Sometimes his partner might feel like they can't really have a meaningful conversation with him and that they can only talk about more shallow topics like food they like/clothes they prefer.
Dino also might not be the most responsible partner. While he's a lot of fun and has a lot of spontaneity, he's not the best at keeping promises. He can sometimes forget key dates of the relationship and he can sometimes be late to dates. Sometimes it's due to work but he doesn't give a really good job of giving his partner the heads up that there's gonna be a delay in work, so his partner might end up waiting for hours for him.
This is a bit 18+, but sometimes he may not be very careful during sex. That can lead to accidents or possibly infections or him/his partner getting hurt. Perhaps some position doesn't work out and then someone sprains their back. Perhaps the food play went too far and the proper cleaning wasn't done properly so that leads to him getting some infection or his partner getting infected. It can even be like being too passionate in the moment and forgetting to wash his hands and somehow his partner is more sensitive/prone to infections and gets an infection from his fingers being inside them.
Dino is also quite positive, so he'll bring positive energy to the relationship. There'll be a lot of laughter. He is also quite welcoming and open to sharing his resources/network with his partners, so if his partner wanted his input or help for their career, he'd do his best to help out. If his partner happens to be in the same industry or similar, then he would be wiling to introduce them to others that he knows that could help his partner's career.
Dino is also pretty down to earth. He won't really judge his partner for their style/thoughts/beliefs. He likes "uniqueness" so if someone's too by the book or too "normal" he gets bored anyway. He likes listening to interesting stories from his partner. He's overall pretty cheerful. He might even be inspiring to his partner, sort of like being a muse.
#svt#seventeen#dino#kpop readings#love readings#love predictions#love reading#relationship readings#psychic readings#psychic predictions#psychic#psychic readers#psychic reading#kpop prediction#celebrity readings#celebrity predictions#pledis#hybe#hybe music#hybe entertainment#pledis entertainment#lee chan
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Well now you gotta let us know your thoughts on Hawk/Tim puppyplay
!!! love you anon, so much !!! here's Tim's lamb + some other items and photos
Is it a way for Hawk to take more control? yeah, a bit. But is it more so about Tim letting go and being more comfortable with himself? Abso-fuckin-lutely.
I project a little onto Tim, and I HC him being very unsure and over-conscious of his movements, like his physical bodily movements, he's over-aware of anyone's eyes on him to the point he thinks "Am I walking normal? what do I do with my hands? is this a weird way to stand?" It's super fun- I've settled on "Skip" being Tim's pup name :3
Also I'd like to say a super special THANK YOU to @lispenard-street for beta-reading this fic for me!!! Literally every piece of input you had was gold and the absolute correct thing to do, not to mention all the super kind words you had for me even though the draft was in shambles when you first saw it lmfao- So thank you, Gem💚
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Fetch
Hawk was consumed in drafting a small speech for a function Senator Smith had organized —something about acknowledging McCarthy's threat to the State Department but encouraging diplomacy— when Tim showed up on his doorstep looking like a kicked puppy. His boy promised that he would be quiet and that all he needed was to be somewhere safe while he felt this way. With a beat of hesitance, Hawk let him in, slightly worried no work would get done. Hawk really has no clue how telling a bunch of grown men and women to essentially stand down will do any good for the department, but he'd rather chop off his own hand than go against Senator Smith.
Tim’s head feels light and full of syrup-damp cotton. He’s quite familiar with this feeling, having been experiencing it for some years; the swirling, strangling, suffocating need to serve and submit. But it’s all different now, knowing that he has someone he can relinquish himself to. Knowing he can let his mind float away and still be safe regardless of whatever may happen around him.
His tongue is wet and heavy behind his teeth, forcing him to swallow the excess spit before it drips past his stress-chewed lips. A warm buzz tingles across every inch of his skin and radiates through his insides; the feeling settles somewhere in his hips and weakens his knees, joints threatening to buckle beneath his weight. The urge to sink to the floor right on Hawk’s doorstep nearly wins but he has just enough sense left in him to know that it would get the door shut in his face.
Instead, he takes a couple wobbly steps across the threshold and into the foyer before giving in to the downward pull and sinking to his knees on the hearth rug that poses as a welcome mat. Tim struggles with bumbling, pawing hands to strip himself of his clothes, only managing to shake out of his coat and claw at the already loose knot of his tie before he lets his hands drop to his lap in defeat. Head swimming, lungs unable to draw in enough air, he looks up to the man standing in front of him, asking —begging— for help with watery eyes, throat resistant to form any sound other than a pitiful whine.
Hawk smiles and gently peels away the layers of Tim’s human facade: tweed, cotton, tortoiseshell, and gold all in turn. Replacing it with leather and brass, unbinding his pup from responsibility and expectation, letting him be raw and sensitive here where Hawk can protect him—can be the soothing balm to all his scrapes and burns caused by the world.
With a finger hooked in the D-ring of Tim’s collar, Hawk leads his pup into the living room. A little bit of fussing over Tim’s blanket, a brief pitstop at his desk to fetch Tim’s little white lamb, and a soft yet firm command of “Down. Settle, Skip,” later; Hawk redirects his attention back to his speech —leaving his little pup to play at his feet— intent on making good progress tonight. So he's got a pencil in his hand and three sheets of paper —two already full of his scrawling, thankfully— on an old book in his lap. He's not sitting at his desk for this —his back hurts too damn much— but instead is reclining on the low couch on the opposite wall.
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Tim nudges his little white lamb into Hawk's lap, propping his chin on the older man's robe-covered knee, huffing and whining when his handler doesn't immediately look at him. The sweet noise catches Hawk's attention immediately, quickly switching his focus to Tim's pouting lips and glimmering eyes instead of the stark white pages.
Those big doe eyes shine with a playfulness that has Hawk's heart seized with warmth and affection for the young man.
He’s just a boy, Hawk marvels.
Tim had been quietly playing by himself on his rust orange tartan blanket at his handler's socked feet, manipulating the soft toy with his hands and rubbing his cheek against the fluff of its fur, nipping at the tiny ears and tail. But that gets boring after a while, and Hawk hasn’t so much as reached down to pet him in the last twenty minutes.
A break might do Hawk some good— his eyes are starting to sting anyway.
"Wanna play, huh?" Hawk sets the pencil and makeshift writing pad aside, picking up the small plush and shaking it in front of Tim's face. A laugh bubbles up from his chest as Tim presses his chest forward against Hawk's shin and snaps at the toy, teeth clacking together when a soft, felt hoof gets close to his nose. Maybe he'll catch it one day but today isn't that day.
"Get it, boy." With one last flick of the toy in Tim's face, Hawk tosses the cotton-stuffed lamb across the living room and into the kitchen hall; he had moved the chair that usually sits in the center of the room over, giving his pup room to play while he worked. Hawk is thinking of making this furniture configuration permanent, always allowing Tim to slip down to the floor and be 'Skip' with nothing in his way when his boy’s mind starts to shift and slide to one more canid.
This is a fairly new addition to their play, fetch. It still feels odd to crawl on the floor in nothing but his briefs and collar; bright sconces of the kitchen hall leaving him nowhere to hide. Tim feels a bit exposed, as though his most vulnerable parts are bared for Hawk to scrutinize from his comfortable perch. The skin of his face, chest, and back flush a rosy shade of pink knowing Hawk is watching him.
Hawk rakes his eyes down Tim's body, a ball of heat beginning to wind and coil low in his belly. With a slight readjustment of his robe and briefs, Hawk makes sure to conceal his growing erection, knowing that's not what his puppy needs right now.
Tim clambers his way across the living room, palms and knees softly thumping on the hardwood floor as he chases his lamb. The nickel tag clipped to his collar jingles with each plodding step. He's not going to humiliate himself by trying to trot after it —he knows he'll fall flat on his face— but he's learned that Hawk wants him to crawl instead of get up and walk. Dogs don't walk upright, Skip. Down, boy.
Once Tim reaches his beloved lamb, he dips down to grab it between blunt teeth. Jaws clamped down on the soft fabric, Tim shakes it side to side like a terrier with a rat or a Beagle with a rabbit: mauling it before bringing it back to his owner for a reward. His hair falls into his eyes as he does so, obscuring his glasses-less vision even more when he turns his attention to Hawk, panting softly, searching for that warm smile he's always trying to draw out of his handler. The one that lets Tim know he's doing good.
He gets it, a sharp show of teeth, the highest value reward Hawk could ever give.
"Bring it here, Skip. Come on." Hawk encourages, patting the top of his thigh to beckon his pup back to him. He loves when his boy turns into his pup, the thorns of defiance and questioning stripped away to sweet, silent submission. Hawk wouldn't change Tim's inquisitive mind and crashing emotions for anything, but it's nice not having to be on his toes, waiting to be thrown off-kilter by a question he hasn't allowed himself to think about.
Tim ducks his head as he crawls back to Hawk, still a bit too aware of the position his body is in. Hawk had said he likes the way Tim's shoulders flex and strain as he lumbers across the floor on all fours. The memory of Hawk growling those words in his ear while the older man's hands squeezed and kneaded the muscle in Tim's arms prompts Tim to pause once his hands hit the scratchy circular rug. He slides them forward to stretch out in front of himself, chest nearly brushing the floor, fingers clawing at the rug, intentionally tensing his shoulders to make the muscles ripple and cord beneath his skin. Arching his back like a dog who just woke up. His collar tightens around his throat as he does so, biting into his skin, leaving the faintest mark for later.
Satisfied with the shaky sigh and chuckle Hawk lets out, Tim straightens back up to finally bring the toy back to his handler, a little more confidence in his stride. His tag jingles a little louder now. Depositing the lamb in Hawk's open palm, Tim sits back on his haunches, ready to chase and retrieve the toy again, willing to bare himself for as long as Hawk will grant.
"Good boy, Skip." Hawk praises, free hand ruffling through Tim's hair, pausing to gently scratch behind his pup's ear the way Tim loves. "Always such a good puppy for me."
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Again thank you so SO much for beta-reading this for me, Gem, you're the best!!
#pup tim#pup skip#tim laughlin#hawkins fuller#hawk x tim#fellow travelers#puppyplay#buck builds#buck backtalks#again sorry mobile users that the time break is off center I do almost everything on desktop-
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For the number game
3, 5, 23?
There are 60 000 possibilities, but of course there are identical asks in less than a 100 cases, I focused very hard to find something random enough lol.
14 Days of Scoundress 2024 ♥ February 10th
The importance of optics
Some days, it seemed like everybody wanted a piece of Leia. That was how it had been for most of her life; a path first chosen for her, then chosen by her, with full knowledge of the implications. Her parents, her wonderful, caring, loving parents, had modelled for her the kind of boundaries she was allowed to have, the compromises she did not have to make—but even with that, hers was a life of service. And so everybody was bound to want a piece of her—it was up to Leia to decide how much she was willing to give.
On days even worse than that, it seemed like people not only wanted a piece of her, but to slice it up themselves, dissect it, and sell the scrap to the highest bidder. That was when her charity of the self hit the limit.
We commend you for the way you handle your private life, Your Highness, you are so discreet about matters of the heart, Your Highness, of course you’re more aware than anyone of the importance of optics in the success of the new government, Your Highness, we believe it would be most advantageous to continue to pursue discretion regarding your ‘relationship’ with Captain Solo, Your Highness, it’s simply a matter of keeping our bargaining options open and ensure the future of our people, Your Highness, I know your parents would have recognized the importance of that, and that you would do anything to honour their memory, Your Highness.
Oh, Threkin Horm had chosen the absolute worst day to say those words in that order to her face. Frankly, it would have pissed her off any time, but she might have been able to brush it off had she not been dealing with too much already—including Han’s recent and mercifully brief M.I.A. status—to also have to put up with this guy. Discretion! The main reason she and Han had been discreet was that they were still consistently being pulled apart by their respective duties, something she—and, clearly, Horm—had reason to believe would change soon.
While Leia had chosen to stay out of the politics of the diaspora, she didn’t like Horm’s swift ascent within the provisional Alderaanian Council. If he continued to believe he had any say in her life just by virtue of being a—grossly rich and powerful—survivor, then she would have to take matters into her own hands.
There had been a few possible answers to his request. Dressing him down had been the most tempting but, after taking a few seconds to consider it, Leia had decided a far more effective response would do. At the time, however, she’d thanked him for his input, and assured him that she took the importance of optics to heart.
And she did.
The campaign against the last major Imperial remnant, an annoying stone in the New Republic's shoe for the past several months, had been successful, and the provisional government was eager to welcome Han's team as heroes. In addition to the families, the press had been invited to wait for the arrival of the fleet back to Coruscant. Somehow, Threkin Horm was there as well, as Leia knew he would be. He had the uncanny ability to insert himself into almost any situation—only as long as it would report an advantage for him. What he could possibly gain from being there, Leia wasn’t sure. She suspected he just wanted the chance to monitor her closely, a reminder of their agreement.
All thoughts of Horm evaporated as soon as the Mon Remonda’s ramp lowered, and Han walked down with a swagger only Leia could recognize as a little tired. She waited with her breath trapped in her throat, her heart matching the beat of his steps as he continued forward, a little unsure of what to do with all the attention as the crowd applauded. Other soldiers began to appear behind him and, before the rest of the people waiting for their loved ones broke out of the crowd, Leia marched straight to Han.
He grinned when he spotted her, his posture relaxing at the familiar sight, and Leia could see the exact moment he realized she wasn’t stopping to say hello. Conscious of the cam droids at her back, she threw her arms around Han’s neck and kissed him, her feet leaving the ground as he caught her. Leia didn’t mean to give everyone a peep show, but it was hard to let go of Han, as weeks of worrying and yearning for him coalesced into their reunion. When she finally broke apart, she stood a moment with her forehead pressed against his, eyelashes fluttering against his cheek as she caught her breath.
‘Wow. Hi,’ Han said quietly, setting her gently back on her feet.
‘Hi.’
‘Did you miss me, or are you just usin’ me to get on the tabloids?’ He smirked at her as she held onto his arm, taking advantage of a few more seconds together while security began to herd the press into order for a brief conference.
‘Let's just say that somebody recently made me realize that I want the public to know about us. Unequivocally.’
Han’s eyes softened as he looked at her, and only her.
‘Good,’ he said, pressing a kiss into her temple.
Out of the corner of her eye, Leia spotted a red-faced Threkin Horm shooting daggers at them, but Leia couldn’t bring herself to care anymore—her point had been made.
******* Prompts:
3: hello
5: “…Wow.”
23: [butterfly] a light fluttering of eyelashes against the partner's skin
#asks#bookwormstarwarsfan#14daysofscoundress#hanleia#han x leia#han solo#leia organa#star wars fanfiction#ficlet#2024#rated T#period: post rotj#a bit late today but I did it!#got a little rambly there
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Of Imps and Assassins
Sejinus had, perhaps, told a little, tiny lie.
He was supposed to be making amends - and yet, he was hiding. No, not hiding... 'clearing his head', that was it: much more palatable a notion than the previous. From where he sat upon the gargantuan estate’s rooftops, sequestered between the stone slates and one of the many chimneys, he glanced out across the land that surrounded her home - his home, by association. Myriad buildings that lay interspersed along the canal’s expanse, with only the cathedral, the keep and the mage tower towering over the other buildings like their estate did. It was quiet this late at night, though that didn’t mean nothing was going - even from this far away, he’d catch the flicker of steel in an alleyway, or the gentle bobbing light of a city watchman’s lantern as he did the rounds. Beyond that, the trees of Elwynn - some extending high enough to stand visible over Stormwind’s exterior walls.
He knew what he was seeing was simply a trick of the mind - the mysterious mansion that housed the Penumbral Council and all their personnel existed beyond the boundaries of the mortal plane: and the mundane, to boot. Yet, it had projection lenses in many cities across Azeroth, to allow at least the perspective of normalcy from those who dared glance out of the windows... and that was a risk all its own, when the lenses were shifting and a glimpse of the twisting nether was on the cards.
He needed more time, in truth. This wasn’t about avoiding his responsibility - it was about making sure he was in the right state of mind to converse properly with Grimma, and right now, he absolutely wasn’t. Ever since he’d arrived, she’d made it her duty to challenge him: initially it had earned his respect, given how everyone else was so smitten with his legend that he was welcomed like a much-loved uncle visiting from a distant land, bearing gifts and tales of adventure. But not Grimma, no - his legend didn’t matter to her: she already knew who he was, after all, and she’d made it clear she’d been monitoring him ever since that fateful kill order had landed on his desk back at the Nest.
He remembered the dossier like he’d held it only yesterday, and with a quick tilt of his head and a closing of his eyes it sat within his hand once more, glimpsed through the lens of memory, in his mind’s eye. A flattering sketch of her, an extremely detailed itinerary of her daily movements, and a laundry list of reasons why she was dangerous - it was an extensive list, far longer than he’d expected it to be. But their fateful meeting was to be delayed with the cancellation of the contract… He wished he’d known then what he knows now, so he could’ve properly investigated who it’d come from. All he had were theories, now, and without any additional information they were strikingly unsatisfactory in their threadbareness.
He exhaled a long-held breath and opened his eyes, to be greeted with the glowing green eyes of Gibsy, who took a moment to take the situation in, before offering his input: “Correct me if I’m wrong, but is Grimma perhaps invisible at present?”
Sejinus sighed. He knew where this was going: “I wouldn’t know, Gibsy. Why?”
“Because I don’t see her up here. And yet, I recall the mistress sending you to talk to her specifically. Strange, isn’t it? How she isn’t up here, but you are.”
“Spare me, will you?”
“Or what, you’ll strangle me? Throw me from the roof? Ah yes, that’s what you need right now - another strike against her patience, that’ll really solve all your problems.”
Sejinus sighed again. The little bastard wasn't often right, but when he knew he was, he made the most of it - and that, in turn, made him insufferable. “No, I suppose it wouldn’t. It’s just a situation I’m a little unsure of how to solve... being in the wrong, having to make amends, you know.”
Gibsy arched a brow, doing his very best to stifle himself. “Tough, right? Facing a problem you can’t just stab in the head until it goes away.” The little imp added a few wild stabbing motions to sell the effect, followed by over-dramatically casting his arms wide, to sell the prospect.
“Exactly.” Sejinus said, actually agreeing with the imp for once - blissfully unaware that insight was meant to instead be a close-to-the-bone dig at his usual stab-happy conflict resolution practices. “Suppose there's no use delaying it: time to pay the piper. Thanks, Gibsy.”
Yet, as Sejinus rose, Gibsy cleared his throat - his hand outstretched. With a roll of his eyes, Sejinus planted a gold coin firmly in the imp’s grasp, and the tiny, evil creature poofed out of the sight - his little grin the final thing visible as the smoky remnants of his teleportation swirled in undulating coils, consumed him, then faded away to naught.
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The Bad Batch: Valkyrie
Episode 12: Pabu
*mir'sheb: "smartass", Mando'a *osi'kovid: "shithead", Mando'a
Specter sighed again, growing more and more impatient as she stared at Tech. Even Gonky honked, reminding them they were using his head as a table top.
“Are you going to move?” she muttered.
“I will,” said Tech, still considering his options, “I am just being careful and planning ahead.”
“Why? Scared you’ll lose against little ole me?” she teased.
“No, I just simply do not like the way you play,” he said, blunt as ever. Specter scoffed. After careful deliberation, Tech made his move on the board, only for Specter to quickly move her piece. “See? That! You’re doing it wrong!” “Am not, I’m doing it the way you taught me!” she argued.
“You should have gone back to defend yourself!”
“I did while taking your attacking piece and covering more territory!” Specter leaned back and crossed her arms, prepared to wait even longer for Tech to play his next turn. He huffed in response.
“If I had known you were going to be such a mir’sheb, I would have made you go in with the others. I’m sure you and Hunter could have gotten all-”
“Careful how you finish that sentence, osi’kovid,” she said in a low voice. “And watch your language, you know Gonky doesn’t like it.”
“I will if you watch yours,” he bit back.
“You’re such a-”
“Tech, we need a pickup,” Hunter said over the comm, stopping Specter from whatever name she was about to call Tech.
“On our way,” he replied, abandoning the game and their conversation to pick up the others from their mission.
“You know, Omega was pretty impressive back there,” Phee complimented, looking back at Omega and Wrecker in the hold.
“Her training’s paying off,” Hunter added. It was true; each of the remaining Batchers had their time with Omega to teach her their expertise.
“Oh, I know she’s got the whole soldier-thing down. But don’t you think she should learn some other skills?” Phee asked. Specter and Hunter glanced at each other.
“What other skills?” Tech wondered.
“Omega spends all her time with you four. She needs friends,” Phee explained. Specter opened her mouth to protest but the woman stopped her. “Ones her own age and who don’t share her genetic profile.” Specter closed her mouth.
“We never had such a thing. I do not see the issue,” said Tech.
“No kidding,” Phee mumbled. Specter snickered while Hunter shrugged.
“We’re receiving a transmission,” Tech announced. “It is from Cid.”
“Let’s hear it,” Hunter said, signaling for the group to gather. Tech brought up the message, Cid’s hologram stood in front of them and as usual, the Trandosshan looked grumpy.
“So, it’s been twenty rotations and no word. You better be dead because your absence has cost me a few scores. Remember our mutually beneficial arrangements, and how well we know one another, if you know what I mean. You’d do well to not assume I am just threatening you boys,” the message said. Tense silence filled the cockpit as they absorbed Cid’s message.
“You didn’t mention you cut ties with Cid,” Phee said.
“Our mutually beneficial arrangement wasn’t so beneficial,” Hunter explained.
“Mutually,” Specter added. Phee sighed and shook her head, but she was almost impressed at their tenacity.
“Figured that out, did you?” she took Hunter’s seat, “I’ve known Cid a long time. She’s a useful ally, but not someone you want to cross. Do you have a plan?”
“Heh, when do we ever?” Specter huffed before vaguely gesturing to the cockpit of the team. “You’re looking at it.” Phee hummed.
“In that case, you all are coming with me,” she stood up and walked over to Tech. “Head to these coordinates, brown eyes,” she said, inputting coordinates and patting his shoulder. Specter smirked watching them, but caught Hunter’s distant and unsure gaze; she took his hand, giving him a squeeze and a smile, assuring him that they’ll be alright.
“Welcome to Pabu, my home away from home,” Phee announced as they stepped out of the ship onto the landing platform. Specter, using one of Hunter’s spare bandanas, tied her hair back, letting the warm sun fill her face and a salted breeze fill her lungs. Phee led them towards a beautiful tree at the center of the platform, with a tall tower across the way. She continued to talk about the artifact and their importance to Pabu’s people, but Specter couldn’t help but be distracted by the relaxing environment. She heard the natural music of the wildlife and ocean waves; she smiled, spinning a little before listening to Phee again.
“After all, I am a liberator-”
“Liberator of ancient treasures,” a man finished her sentence. He appeared with a young girl by his side. He and Phee met with an embrace. “About time you showed your face around here.”
“Miss me, Shep?” Phee asked with a smile. Wrecker laughed and nudged Tech.
“You’ve got some competition,” he teased. Specter snickered behind her hand, watching Tech scowl with confusion in response.
“Aunty Phee!” the girl called, running to hug her legs. “What did you bring this time?” she asked. Phee kneeled down and held out the artifact she got. “Looks like one of a kind.”
“Good eye,” Phee complimented.
“That’s not all you brought, I see,” the man said, looking at the squad. Phee stood up and led him over to be introduced.
“This is Shep Hazard, Mayor of Pabu, and his daughter, Lyana. Shep, Lyana, meet Omega, Hunter, Specter, Wrecker, and Tech.” Shep shook each of their hands, welcoming them. Everything about the island was inviting, and the best part, Specter didn’t sense there was anything wrong; no Imperial spies or underlying, sinister, motivations to worry about.
“Phee’s never brought any friends here before,” Lyana said.
“Aww, maybe it’s because she doesn’t have any,” Specter teased, sending a wink in Phee’s direction
“Never? Not even Cid?” Omega wondered.
“Nope,” Phee answered for Lyana.
“So why bring us?” Hunter questioned.
“Makes you wonder, doesn’t it?” said Phee, cryptically.
“Then it’s settled. You’ll join us for dinner,” Shep announced, clasping his hands together.
“There’s no saying no to Shep’s famous feast. Lots of food, drink, and general merrymaking. You’ll probably hate it,” Phee said, pointing at Tech. “It’ll be great. Lead the way, Shep. I’ll catch up.” Specter eagerly took Hunter’s hand and followed the man, watching as the two girls raced ahead.
The further down they traveled, the more enchanted Specter became with the island. She stopped to look over the edge into the cerulean waters fading into the pale sand, meeting the houses and its people.
“Upper Pabu is the oldest part of the island. As we’ve grown over the years, we’ve expanded below the wall into Lower Pabu,” Shep explained as Hunter stepped up beside Specter. An elderly man slowly passed by, stopping by Shep.
“Hi, Shep,” he greeted.
“Hi, Mr. Eenta. How are Sari and Micha?” Shep asked, taking the man’s hand.
“They’re doing good. Thanks for asking, Shep.” The old man walked away with a smile.
“Do you know everyone here?” Wrecker asked, catching up.
“Of course! We’re all like family,” Shep said, leading the group further. Specter and Hunter stayed where they were, looking at the soothing horizon. His eyes shifted to her as the wind picked up her hair, ruffling a few strands and the scarf.
“Your hair looks nice like that,” he said.
“You think so?” she softly asked as he reached over and moved a strand away from her face.
“Yeah. Though I’ll want that bandana back,” he said with a smile. She smiled, smug-like, and turned away from him.
“It’s mine now. You have plenty of others,” she teased, trotting after the others. Hunter only smiled and shook his head.
“Come, come. Make yourselves at home,” Shep beckoned the group into his home. The Batch looked toward the sea once more.
“Not too shabby, is it?” Phee commented before going to help Shep in the kitchen. Hunter went up to Specter and hugged her from behind, resting his chin on her shoulder.
“Not bad indeed,” she muttered, placing her hands over his at her waist. He chuckled and kissed her cheek. Together they watched as a small, four-limbed creature chirped above Lyana and Omega; it scampered down to the floor, followed by a few of its friends, eager for attention. The girls knelt down to observe them.
“They’re called moon-yos,” Lyana explained, allowing one to climb onto her shoulders. “The elders say they’ve lived here since before Pabu was inhabited.” The creature crawled onto Omega’s shoulders and sniffed through her hair. The Omega giggled, her face lighting up with a joy Specter had nearly forgotten.
“I have not heard her laugh like that in some time,” Tech admitted.
Specter could recall a time back in the war, after a string of missions had bled the team dry, that she had finally, genuinely, laughed again; she had laughed at the pure ridiculousness of dancing in the rain while Kaminoans scolded her. She didn’t know it then, but seeing Hunter and Crosshair’s faces light up again at her returning joy motivated her spirit to always find some way to live. She worried for Omega, raising a child without any stability and safety was bound to lead to some damage, but at the same time, she could trust that the girl’s spirit was as strong as hers. Perhaps even stronger.
Specter couldn’t remember the last time she had such a filling and delicious meal, let alone a meal surrounded by her squad. They had talked almost endlessly about their exciting adventures and the mundane nuances of their lives, all the while Hunter tightly held her hand.
“You have your own boat?” Omega asked excitedly.
“Uh-huh! You wanna take it out and watch the sunset?” Lyana offered.
“Really?” Omega gasped.
“That sounds like a great idea, doesn’t it?” Phee hinted at Hunter and Specter.
“Can I go?” Omega asked them. Specter smiled at Hunter and nodded her head towards the girl.
“Have fun,” he said, allowing the girls to run off together. Wrecker groaned beside Specter.
“What’s with you? Don’t like raw fish?” she asked.
“What? No, I love the fish! I’m full. I am never full!” he explained.
“I will note the date and time to commemorate such a momentous occasion,” Tech said, actually grabbing his data pad and doing so. Shep came by with another bowl, filled with fruit.
“Hope you saved room for dessert,” he said. Wrecker gasped, eyes sparkling and mouth watering at the assortment.
“I love this place!” he cheered. Specter chuckled, taking notice of Hunter’s thumb running across her knuckles. She glanced over just as he brought her hand up to softly kiss it.
“What’s with you?” she asked quietly as the others continued their conversation. Hunter met her eyes and hummed in response. “You’re not usually this…” quiet. Affectionate, she wanted to say, but her fluttering heart stopped her.
“I was just thinking some things over,” he said in response.
“Hmm. Well, don’t think too hard, you might hurt yourself,” Specter teased, shifting her seat closer to Hunter and resting her head on his shoulder. He chuckled and kissed the top of her head.
Specter watched the sun slowly sink lower into the sky, still resting her head on Hunter’s shoulder. Phee and Tech were standing closely together at the edge of the terrace and Shep and Wrecker were finishing the last of the drinks. If she wasn’t careful, Specter was certain she would fall asleep. However, Hunter put his hand on her shoulder, pulling her up; she sat upright and let him stand up. He was sensing something. He looked out over the terrace.
“What’s wrong?” Phee asked. Specter stood up when she heard the low rumbling, making her way toward the others. The moon-yos were scampering away and chittering.
“Something’s coming,” Hunter said. “We need to-” he was interrupted by a louder rumble, shaking the island. Wrecker lost his footing and fell by the table, and Specter would have met the same fate if Tech hadn’t caught her.
“Thanks, vod,” she said as he helped her straighten up. “Is Omega okay?” she turned to Hunter who pulled out his comm.
“Omega, come in. Are you two okay?”
“We’re fine. We’re headed back to shore now,” she reported.
“Everyone all right?” Shep asked over the terrace. The nearby people gave their positive responses.
“Well, that was different,” Wrecker grunted as he went to stand up, rubbing his head.
“Uh, a small tremor. It’s nothing to worry about. Part of island life,” Shep explained.
“I don’t think it’s over yet,” Hunter grumbled. Specter made sure to hold on tighter as a stronger tremor shook the island; she heard screams and things crashing. “That was not a small tremor.”
“No, it was not,” Shep replied.
“Hunter, I believe this island is at risk for a significant sea surge,” Tech reported.
“How much risk?” he asked.
“Highly probable to imminent.”
“We haven’t had a sea surge in more than three decades,” Shep said. “If we were at risk, the early warning system would’ve activated. And-” a loud blaring horn interrupted him.
“I don’t like the sound of that,” Wrecker mumbled.
“Now you know how I feel when you do karaoke,” Specter teased, despite the present danger. Citizens scrambled to avoid falling debris and began to make their way up from the lower city. Specter handed Tech his binocs.
“The water has already begun receding,” he said, looking at the coast. “We must evacuate all of Lower Pabu.”
“Lyana and Omega, they’re on the water,” Shep remembered.
“I’ll grab our ship and get them. You four, move everyone in town to higher ground. Spec, run ahead,” Hunter ordered. She nodded and at full speed, ran to the top of the island toward the Marauder.
“Make way! Excuse me!” she announced, running through the upper town. Despite their panic, citizens cleared a path for her, right up to the ship. She powered it on, waiting for Hunter to catch up.
“Hunter, Specter, we’re in trouble. There’s a giant wave coming and we’re too far out. What do we do?” Omega came in over comms.
“Keep your locator on and head to shore. I’m on my way,” Hunter instructed. It was all he could do. He slowed to a stop, catching his breath and trying to find a path through the crowd. “Specter, I’m not going to make it up in time.”
“I figured as much, love. How about Plan 11?” she suggested.
“‘Double Hook and Ladder’? How is that gonna work?” Hunter questioned.
“By reaching out and hanging on.” Hunter looked up and saw the Marauder rounding the corner with a line waiting for him to grab. He smirked, turning in the opposite direction and running to match its speed before jumping out and grabbing the line.
“Omega, I’ve reached the ship. Hang tight!” he said.
“Hold on, I need to swing us around,” warned Specter. She picked up speed, minding her dangling passenger, heading to Omega and Lyana’s coordinates. The waters had pulled back so much, leaving nothing but the exposed sea bed in the wake of the gigantic wall of water. Specter grimaced at the sight, still speeding toward the girls.
“I see them! Drop the other line!” Hunter cried. Specter pushed a button and another line lowered, right next to Hunter. She slowed the ship just enough for Hunter to grab the girls and get them onto the rope, right before the wave crested and crashed into all of Lower Pabu. Specter retracted the lines and all three made it safely inside.
“Everyone okay?” she asked.
“We’re okay. Thank you, Specter,” said Omega, catching her breath. Hunter went and sat beside Specter in the co-pilot’s chair, looking to make sure the girls were alright as they leaned out on the platform, waving at the villagers as they passed. He sighed with relief and slouched back in the seat.
“Nice flying, cyare,” he complimented, turning to face her. She blushed and made their approach back to the landing zone.
“Now let’s hope everyone else is alright, too.”
Specter waved goodbye to a young boy as he trotted away with his reunited family; she had taken to the role of helping separated groups find each other among the thick crowds. After the sea surge, the inhabitants of Lower Pabu had gathered on the island’s top platform to regroup. Their homes were left completely decimated, leaving the remaining foundations to look like nothing but barnacles.
Someone tapped Specter’s leg: she looked down and saw a small girl, hiding behind her hair and almost regretting having the woman’s attention.
[I’m sorry. Do you know GSL?] the little girl carefully signed. Specter knelt down to the girl’s height with a warm smile.
[I do! How can I help you?] she replied. The girl suddenly wasn’t shy anymore, blowing her hair out of her face and animatedly signing with both the excitement of being understood, and the stress of needing help.
[I can’t find my parents! I felt the siren go off and saw everyone else running, and they said they would be right behind me so I ran—I’m a really fast runner—but now I can’t find them!] Specter gestured for the girl to take deep breaths, calming her down before she burst out into tears.
[Hey, I’m a fast runner too. Do you know what that means?] Specter asked, distracting the girl. She shook her head. [That means we’re brave too, because when you’re moving this fast in the world, someone’s gotta look out for the dangers ahead. Can you be brave with me?] The girl calmed down, letting her words resonate. Specter opened her arms to her, hugging the child and hoisting her up on her hip.
[What is your name?]
[Specter,] she spelled before demonstrating her name-sign.
[My name is Baelaan,] the girl introduced with a smile.
[That’s a beautiful name! Now let’s find your family.] Specter wove through the crowd, looking for anyone that looked like the girl, or waiting to see if she recognized anyone. Specter caught a glimpse of Wrecker, Omega, and Lyana sleeping on the trunk of the great tree in the center of the platform, glad they were getting the rest they could. The pair wandered to different clusters of people, but so far, no luck; Specter could tell Baelaan was growing more and more upset.
[Let’s go ask Shep if he’s seen them,] Specter suggested, readjusting the girl on her hip. Baelaan nodded, still frowning. They made their way to the mayor, where Hunter, Tech, and Phee were gathered—they all turned to face her. “Hey, sorry to interrupt, Shep, but she can’t find her parents.”
“Ah, little Miss Baelaan, don’t worry. I think I know where they are,” he said with a smile. Specter knelt and set the girl down, translating what Shep had said; Baelaan beamed and hugged her tight before taking Shep’s hand and trotting off with him to find her family. Tech and Phee smiled at each other before wandering off as well, leaving Hunter with Specter.
“So what’s the plan, Sarge?” she asked.
“We’re gonna stay and help rebuild the lower city,” he said, looking over the wall at the ruins.
“What happened to doing what’s right by Cid?” Specter asked, half teasing and half in genuine curiosity. Hunter brought her close by her waist.
“I need to do what’s right by my team,” explained Hunter. She could see that his choice to do that last mission for their former employer ate away at him, and that this chance to settle down and truly help others for once might resolve that guilt.
“You know… I never thought I could love the ocean again after Kamino,” she said, resting her head on his shoulder and looking out to the dangerously beautiful waters.
“I did promise you a proper beach, mesh’la,” he muttered, kissing her temple.
“Vor entye,” she whispered, thankful for him.
“Ratiin, cyar’ika.”
*cyare: beloved, Mando'a *mesh'la: beautiful, Mando'a *vor entye: thank you, Mando'a *ratiin, cyar'ika: always, sweetheart/darling, Mando'a
Sorry this came so late guys, things have honestly been so crazy and also Arcane season 2 has ripped me to shreds
#f!oc#star wars#star wars oc#tbb hunter#tbb hunter x oc#the bad batch#sw tbb#tbb crosshair#tbb oc#tbb tech#tbb omega#tbb phee
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Hey, I'm the one who went to their s/o's system and all that fun stuff.
My boyfriend only fronted to talk to our co host and then I didn't know what to do once I took front so I masked as him and said we're going to bed. Since then, he hasn't fronted.
When he does front again, I want to try and work things out between me and him but I'm unsure on what to do and/or say since I have trouble with apologizing and I only say 'i didn't mean to..' or 'dont mean to..'
Do you have any advice on how to figure this out? This is my first ever romantic relationship and I don't know what to do in these situations.
Welcome back anon. I'd like to apologize if our answer is a bit disjointed or doesn't make much sense. We are still sick and quite dissociated, but feel free to come ask us again anytime, or even reach out to us in our main blog's DMs. We will do our best to support you.
We definitely understand your struggles. Though it was in a very different context, we've also had to deal with alters harming others, even if they didn't mean to, or simply because they didn't know what else to do. We'll mostly approach this situation from a general in-sys point of view, rather than specifically a romantic relationship, but let us know if you'd rather have advice on how to speak to your partner.
We've rambled a lot, so our answer can be found under the read more.
First, I'm not sure how useful this reminder is but : an alter cannot die. An alter also cannot get hurt in the inner world. (Psychogenic pains are a different thing, of course, and are very real, however, as long as the body is safe, remember that so are all alters.) Your partner is safe.
Second, we are strong believers that an alter's actions in a system should be approached in context of what is happening inside the system, but also outside of it. Perhaps there is some stressor or trigger that was/is not noticed that could have led to this whole thing? Or perhaps some kind of event is happening in your inner world? Unfortunately, this often means having to do a lot of introspection, and it's not always easy (because of dissociation, amnesic barriers, etc).
However, keep in mind that your system, the entirety of it, was created to help all of you survive through traumatic events. You are a team. What happens in the inner world as a whole is often directly representative of what is happening in your present or past. You may want to try to reach out to your gatekeeper(s) and/or inner self helper(s) for their input on the situation. Having a different point of view from the same system is often very helpful!
Also, having trouble apologizing is not really the issue right now. As it seems you're actually quite stressed out over the situation and your boyfriend might also be. If you manage to communicate with him, perhaps you could try asking him his version of what happened.
Try approaching the issue as a team. If you are unable to apologize with words, you can most certainly apologize through actions.
While feeling guilty about it is a very normal reaction, but make sure that it doesn't hinder you on reaching what your goal should be : making sure this doesn't happen again. This might be difficult, but as long as you stick together, you will recover.
#system confession#cdd system#did osdd#osddid#dissociative identity disorder#did system#osdd system#traumagenic system#endo dni#anti endo
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wowowo i live !! aha i have.. totally not forgotten to post on here (i have)
but to make up for it! please, let me introduce you to a detroit become human au of welcome home that me and my friend are working on!
these are some of the reference sheets, barnaby and wally's i may end up redoing (barnaby because he looks really wonky because of his jacket in the official reference sheet for him..)
the others are still being worked on..! (julie is in the works as of the moment! i would get up to finish drawing her, but my kit is currently asleep on my stomach and i refuse to move haha!)
so..! as a little explaination on how this is!
W411Y (Wally) will be taking the place of RK800 (Connor) in this! He's as obvious, a prototype detective model, but he was designed based on Wally, his human predecessor, a few years after a tragic incident!
Barnaby will be taking place of Hank Anderson! he is the father to our lovely y/n and was close friends with the original Wally. He and Wally were very, very close friends!
Y/n, as stated, is the child of Barnaby, and was in the incident that led the original Wally to losing his life — they were quite close to Wally, as well, since Wally had always been there for Y/n whenever Barnaby wasn't there, or couldn't be there
JU113 (Julie) is a part of the rainbow series! her and Frank are very close friends with Y/n since children and were very close to Wally as well! (Wally was the reason why they got into all sorts of chaos /heavyjoke)
Home, will be taking the place of Amanda, Soren — an original character that was thought up, will be taking the place of Elijah Kamski, and will also be known to be Home's brother.
S4117 (Sally) will be taking the place of Markus! our lovely robo jesus.
Poppy will be taking the place of Rose, but she owns a daycare and currently is caring for JU113 and her siblings! (she also takes in deviants and helps them!)
There is a lot more to come for this au, and i am very excited about it, haha! there will be more that I will explain — I am just unsure of how to input it yet!
until then, please! enjoy!
#wally darling#wally fanart#welcome home wally#wh wally#welcome home fanart#welcome home#welcome home barnaby#sally starlet#eddie dear#welcome home dbh
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I'm adding image descriptions to some of my drawings today, and I'm kind of? Worried that I'm doing it wrong? But it's more fun then I thought it would be, I expected it to be painstaking but that isn't the case haha
i always have the hardest time adding IDs to things i drew myself, but ultimately i think even an ID thats missing something or other is better than no ID at all. if you get stuck i recommend just checking back on other people's IDed posts to see how they worded things, or if youre really unsure you can always mention in the post or tags that people are welcome to give input if something about your ID seems off. a lot of people who ID regularly are happy to help others join the cause! but again yeah i think any ID is better than no ID, and hey i'm happy youre getting started and having fun! :]
#phantommarigold#i was also worried when i started but then i remembered that i write.#describing stuff is my whole thing. so. cant be that hard
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-- ❝Wow- and I thought I had a flair for the dramatic.❞ Wade remarks as he enters the room and is met by an armor-clad Stryfe just sat- reading. It earns a sidewards glare from the former villain, his eyes narrowing. The helmet is silently plucked from the table and put back on, a barrier between the two of them that has Wade letting out a scoff. ❝Y'know, despite looking like one of the men of my dreams- I'm not about to jump you, last time was-❞ -- ❝Unpleasant.❞ Stryfe finishes for him, Wade crosses his arms and sits himself on the arm of the couch, taking note of how the clone leans away from him ever so slightly. Skittish guy apparently, despite how apparently formidable he is. Wade purses his lips beneath his mask, watching the man for a moment as he remains eerily still.
-- ❝Sooo- you serious about that armor?❞ -- ❝Ugh-❞ How many times is he going to have to hear that question? The sense of derision in the tone grating on his nerves almost as much as question itself. Despite all the change, welcome as though much of it might be, it feels SAFER like this. The armor a vestige of a time he felt in control, powerful, not struggling to balance who he is, who he wants to be and what others expect of him. His face screws up a moment and he doesn't turn to regard Wade, instead only watching from the corner of his eye. ❝I don't remember asking for your input, DOG.❞ Bites his tongue a moment too late to stop that one, that simmering frustration leading him to spit the insult like a bitter taste on his tongue. His shoulders tense, it might be best to just leave and- -- ❝I was gonna say you looked cool but fuck you too, I guess.❞ The mercenary chuckles, not taking the insult personally in the slightest- he's been called far worse. Stryfe's head turns and he pauses mid-step, Wade he knows that face well enough to catch the subtle confusion on the features he can make out. ❝I mean- bit Lord Of The Rings, ren faire-y for me but to each their own.❞ Though unsure if it's just a trick of the light, Wade is sure he sees a slight smirk on Stryfe's face as he continues his retreat from unwanted company. [Christmas present idea: Electric polisher? Might save him some time]
#[Sorry but redemption stryfe is very attached to his armor- this is my house and I make the rules here]#[Wade is trying his BEST here okay- and of course he'd think the fuckass armor is cool smh]#[Stryfe is just a hard man to get along with initially- it'll pass... eventually]#The House Is Noisy || IC Chatter#Classic Verse || I Need Noise#Classic Verse || Anything You Can Do#Sacred Verse || I Need Noise#Sacred Verse || Anything You Can Do
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