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r0tting-rat · 1 month ago

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DCA PROMPTOBER 2024

Why do I keep writing suggestive stuff? What has gotten into me this October? I doubt y'all mind tho

Day 7 - Glitter Glue

Pairing: Sun x Reader Warning: Suggestive, again. Words: 2500+ Summary: Being a janitor is a hard job, and it becomes even harder when your friend is an animatronic like Sun

-Janitor!- a voice called you with haste, sounding anxious as it echoed through the empty halls of the pizzaplex. You stopped moving and stood on the spot, listening from where the steps were advancing from. Did that guy come from the direction of the Raceway? If so, you were going to pretend like you hadn’t heard him and stay where you were, crouched under one of the tables in the atrium.

As a janitor, you did all the jobs the bot couldn’t do, which meant you didn’t have to clean those infinite and greasy floors but were instead forced to peel out bubblegums from under tables and desks. The tablecloth covered you enough, so all you had to do was wait and hope he would give up and leave, then you would just have to keep avoiding him until your turn ended, which meant a mere 15 minutes of sneaking around.

-Janitor? I’ve seen your cart, are you around here?- the guard called again from somewhere on your right. You had no intention to clean off the barf of another little brat! How stupid their parents could be, letting them feast off that greasy pizza until they were popping and then allowing them to jump into the karts like it wouldn’t cause them to throw up absolutely everywhere! How dumb.

The steps came to a stop exactly on your right.

-The Daycare Attendant had an accident.-

Those words caught you by surprise, and in the hurry of getting out from under the table you hit your head. Cursing, you crawled out, massaging your head.

-An accident, you said?- you asked, and the guard began to grin. You had the sudden urge to grab your broom from the cart and deep-clean that smile off his face.

The last time you had seen Sun he had prepared a surprise for you. He had blindfolded you and guided you to a party room near the daycare, to celebrate the one-month anniversary of your friendship. The memory made your heart beat faster and your cheek grow warm. That simple act had proven to you how thoughtful and kind the robot could be, how much every word you spoke mattered to him, how much he valued you as a friend, as a confidant, as…

-What kind of accident? Is he alright?- you questioned again, maybe more roughly than you firstly intended.

-Nothing a good cleaning wouldn’t fix,- replied the guard, who was looking between you and the table, probably wondering exactly what you had been doing there, -You up for it?-

He asked that like you could hop out and say; “It looks like fun, but no, thank you!” You sighed and closed your eyes, reminding yourself that you were doing that for your friend—no, best friend. You felt guilty for not visiting him for an entire week, but you had been terribly busy and none of your assigned tasks had been in the Daycare area, so it’s not like you had much of a choice.

-Alright,- you nodded, -Where is he?-

☆

Sun was covered, covered, in glitter glue. It was on his face, on his hands, on his forearms, on his chest, and most importantly in his joints. The robot was sitting in the middle of the daycare, on the cushioned floor, patiently waiting for you, and at first you thought he was just doing an amazing job at keeping still for the first time in his life, but as soon as he greeted you and the guard you understood the problem.

-Oh, Friends! You’re here!- His blank stare focused on you, without even giving the other human a glance. -Star, I’m so happy to see you!-

-Happy to see you too, Sun,- you smiled, but it quickly turned into a frown. His voice was as chirpy and his smile was as big as ever, but nothing else moved. You inspected him more closely, noticing the blue glittered glue covering his body in a thick and gooey layer. -How… How did this even happen?- you asked, more surprised than concerned.

-Oh, you know, kiddos!- Sun laughed, and his fingers began to twitch, -Mister Guard here told me not to move, to avoid getting the glue inside my internal components and all of that.-

So that explained his stillness. Well, removing all that glue was going to take a lot of time, but at least you knew it would have been easy. It wasn’t the first time you had to clean glue off Sun, and management had given you a specific type of soap for such accidents. You just needed to spray it on Sun, wash away with a wet cloth and repeat until everything was off.

You had 10 minutes to do all of that. With a sigh, you resigned yourself to the idea you were going to be locked in for the night. It wouldn’t have been the first time in your life, and usually everything went fine, but you couldn’t say you were joyous at the idea.

-Let’s just get this over with,- you said, walking towards your cart.

-Oh, thank you so much!- said the man that had been standing beside you the entire time, -I didn’t know if I was supposed to call Parts & Service and I was a little hesitant, because, you know…-

-Yes, yes, they would have blamed you for not supervising him better,- you nodded, grabbing the soap, a cloth and a bucket, -Go fill this with water for me, will you?-

The guard nodded, grabbed the bucket and hurried for the bathroom. He probably just wanted to go home as soon as possible, and honestly you could understand him perfectly. You looked back down at Sun, who had the guiltiest expression ever on his face.

-You should stop letting kids mistreat you like this,- you told him sternly, and the robot looked at his feet.

-I know, I know, but they just look so funny when I let them draw on my skin!- Sun whined.

-This isn’t crayon though, Sun. This is glue, it could damage your wires very badly!- You felt like a parent scolding their child for misbehaving at school, and honestly? Sometimes Sun needed a good scolding, even if his sad eyes made your heart ache. No, you had to stay strong, he couldn’t…! Shit, you were growing a soft spot for that guy, a very soft one at that. Soon enough the guard came back with the water bucket, leaving it at your feet, right in front of Sun, and as soon as he left you sat beside your best friend.

-You know the routine already, gimme.-

Sun gave you one of his arms and you put it on your lap, careful to not push more glue into the joints in his elbow and wrist, and you began to clean. Gently and meticulously, you started with his fingers, peeling off the glue that had already dried and then spraying the soap on his palm. When you did, Sun giggled and twitched.

-S-Sorry, it tickles!- he apologized, still laughing. You ignored the sound and kept on working. The giggles multiplied when you passed the cloth over Sun’s forearm, specifically in the dip of his elbow. Every time he apologized, but the more he tried to keep his laughter in the more he shook.

-Sun, stop moving!- you told him, and his entire frame trembled.

-Sorry, sorry! So sorry, Star! I can’t help myself.- It was clear the animatronic was doing his best, and you weren’t mad, you actually could barely contain a smile yourself. -I missed you a lot, you know, Friend?-

-I missed you too.- Your smile widened, and you moved to the other arm. -It’s nice spending time with you alone once more.-

You heard his internal cooling fans kicking on and you wondered if everything was fine with his components. The glue wasn’t covering a vent, was it?

-I really like to be alone with you, Star,- his words had become a little more than a whisper, -I never liked it when janitors cleaned me, in the past, but if you do it… it kinda feels nice.-

A shiver ran up your back and something in your brain began screaming at you to change the subject. Sun’s eyes were too intense, you couldn’t stand his gaze anymore, you needed to distract him.

-So, can I see what the kids made today?- you asked, trying to ignore the pressure in your stomach, but at your question Sun gave you a perplexed look.

-Today we didn’t do arts & craft, we set up a puppet show,- he replied, and your brows furrowed in confusion.

-Then why are you covered in glitter glue?- Your question must have caught him off guard, because his fans whirred louder and his eyes widened. Immediately, you understood, and you sighed. -Sun…-

-S-Sorry, I must have gotten confused!- he tried to lie, but you knew everything already, -I tripped a-and fell on a veeery big box of glitter glue. I-It exploded, and everything was sooo covered in glue that I…!-

-Sun,- you interrupted him, -Don’t lie to me, please.-

Immediately, the animatronic closed his mouth, and his shoulders dropped. He looked like a dying flower, with his retracted rays and slouched posture. His eyes didn’t even have the courage to look at you.

-Did you do this to yourself so you could see me?- you asked, and Sun deflated even more, like a balloon, -I’m not angry, I promise, I’m just… I’m tired Sun, and now it’s too late to go home.-

-Sorry, Starlight,- he murmured, faceplate tilted down, -I didn’t know what to do.-

You looked at the cloth you were holding in your hand, and then back at the sad robot in front of you.

-If you want to make it up to me, then all you have to do is be a good host for the night, okay?- you said, bopping his nose with the cloth, -Pamper me all night with pillows and blankets and I might just forgive you straight away.-

As soon as you spoke those words, Sun’s rays began to spin and his smile opened in his usual wide grin.

-Yes! Yes, I will give you everything you need, you won’t have to do a thing!- he rejoyced, -We’re gonna have the best slumber party ever, with plushies, stories, Fizzie Faz a-and...-

-Okay, okay, now slow down,- you stopped him from beginning one of his usual rants, -You need to be all clean and polished before we get to any of that, okay? Be good and stay still now.-

As you asked, Sun became a statue, unmoving to the point of it becoming weird. You weren’t used to such a sight, the stillness made him look more… artificial, synthetic, inhuman. It gave you a feeling of coldness you weren’t used to, something you had never felt with the ever so warm Sun, it made you uneasy and nervous. An idiotic part of you wanted to ask him to move just a little so you could know he was still alive, still him.

You decided the best course was actually to keep him talking.

-Tell me if I accidentally hurt you, okay?- you asked when you were done with his other arm and you moved to his face. Your cloth traced the swirls of his cheeks and the line of his lips, eyes losing themselves in the smooth and rosy tint they had, wandering to the small freckles-like craters adorning his face and the curve of his nose.

-You would never be able to hurt me, Star,- giggled Sun, like you had said the silliest thing ever, -You are far too delicate to do anything but a scratch on me.-

-I know,- you replied, -But I still think it’s better to make sure nothing bad ever happens.-

Some of his rays were also covered in a glittery layer, so you went to pick at the corners to pull it away, but the moment you did Sun shuddered.

-C-Careful, dear!- One of his hands came to rest on your hip, and you jumped. When had you leaned so close to him? -I can feel it if you touch my rays.-

-Sorry!- you were quick to apologize, leaning away, red in the face, -I didn’t mean…!-

-It’s fine, just be gentle.- Was his warning, soft and kind as ever. Why were you feeling so hot? Why was his hand scorching your skin? Why was his every word a waterfall of emotions in your guts?

You did quick work of his rays, refusing to indulge too long on them, but you quickly realized what a big problem the next part was going to be for you when you looked down. His chest. He had gotten glitter glue even there.

-I should leave you to clean this all by yourself,- you murmured, making Sun laugh.

-Like you would ever trust me around your cleaning cart!- he said, and you rolled your eyes. He was right, but that didn’t mean he deserved to be. The faster you got the job done the sooner you could go to sleep, so with renewed vigor with a tad of shame sprinkled on top you began to work on Sun’s chest.

The entire time you scrubbed, peeled and rinsed you refused to look up at Sun’s face, ignoring his occasional little gasps when the cloth got stuck on the seam of his chest cavity, pretending like you couldn’t feel his body overheating under your ministrations. All the while, you had to remind yourself that everything was platonic, everything was platonic, everything was perfectly platonic, you didn’t have a crush on a robot, every single fucking thing was fucking platonic, even if Sun stared at you with much more love that you had ever seen in your life.

-Done!- you screamed when you finally finished cleaning Sun, springing back up to your feet despite the complaints coming from your knees. -What do we do now? D-Do you need help picking up toys, putting crayons back in their boxes? I can do that! Oh, should we play a game of cards? Are you up for a…- Your nervous rambling was cut off by the robot standing to his full height, looming over you and casting your entire body into the shadows. His white eyes were fixed on you, focused, and he wasn’t smiling anymore.

-Starlight?- he asked, bring your hand up to rest under your chin. He tilted your face up with just a finger, and despite your better judgment you put up no resistance. You looked up, into his unblinking eyes, and gulped.

-Y-Yes, Sun?-

The robot waited a second before answering, and you knew your mind wasn’t ready for what was about to come. Your eyes drifted to his lips, then back to his eyes.

-Close your eyes,- said Sun, and you did. You listened to him immediately, closing them, shivering as soon as you felt his hand leave your chin. You waited, head still tilted up, and waited. The fire burning in your stomach was going to grill you from the inside out, you knew it. -Now… start counting.-

Your brows furrowed.

-Counting…?-

-To 30. Let’s play hide and seek.-

Fuck. Fuck.

-...Okay.-

#im sorry #no im not #fnaf #fnaf daycare attendant #fnaf security breach #fnaf sun #dca fandom #fnaf dca #sun x y/n #sun x reader #dca sun #fnaf drabble #fnaf sb #dca x y/n #dca x reader #suggestive #rat's drabbles

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traumatizedartist · 19 days ago

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*AHEM*

My murder drones au headcannons (the one with actual digital art)

These 👇

Anyways yknow the drill at this point, look under the cut for the headcannons

TW FOR SUICIDE ATTEMPT IN THE HEADCANNONS (I'll have it be in red so you can skip past it if it makes you uncomfortable)

Uzi- Autistic, clearly

She has daddy issues but not nearly as bad as in canon(Khan doesn't leave her for dead in this au she "sacrifices herself") she's still super emo. She has a more scene style. Her, Lizzy and Doll are actually kinda close, they become even closer(become friends) after the series ends, cuz, yknow, Uzi saved the world? Anyways, she's dating N, and she doesn't care that he killed her mom(I mean she does but it only affected them for like, a year, so I guess a long time, they actually broke up cuz of it but they were both fuckin miserable and Nori slapped some sence into her cuz she saw how N looked before killing her and he looked so guilty ((wow the run on sentence go crazy))) So yeah they're the dictionary definition of a great not toxic couple

N- very sweet, very loving good boy. He has PTSD, obviously. It's like, really bad tho. Nightmares every night level bad, and that's how him and this aus Khan bond. They trauma bond, yay!! He's very in touch with his emotions, and he's a bit of a push over. He's a very big people pleaser and has a lot of trouble placing boundaries. Uzi helps him with that when they start dating, so that he doesn't get hurt all the time

V- once you crack her shell, she's a very shy and sweet person, not like her personality back at the manor, but like a mix of her current canon personality and manor. C PTSD, she remembered more than N about the manor before Uzi unlocked those memories. She also has nightmares a lot but Lizzy and Doll help her with them. Nothing cuddles and wholesome movies can't fix. At least for a little bit.

J- bless this girls lonely heart. She's still greiving Tessa(she's alive in Uzis mind just no one knows yet) she ends up breaking down after her and N get into a mother fight after he tries to be there for her for the like, 10000th time. When she comes back to the bunker with N, everyone, understandably, is very suspicious of her. But when she does get there, for the first few months, she's just a husk of her old self. Shes quite and agrees to do anything because she just doesn't care anymore, the moment she starts to truly feel at home is, ironically, during her rock bottom

TW FOR SUICIDE ATTEMPT

V is the one that finds her, she had gotten worried when she noticed all the uneaten oil in front of Js room. When she comes in she sees J with her rifle to her head.

TW OVER

V tackles her and starts interrogating her, asking why and is very worried. J, seeing this, just breaks, she begins to bawl her eyes out, crying about how much she misses Tessa, how she was the love of her life and can't live without her, how she wants to be with her, how she can't take it anymore. V and J spend the next 3 to 4 hours crying together. V had texted N telling him what happened and to get his ass over there now. So, of course he does,when he gets there he sees them hugging and J crying and he joins them, bringing the oil so when Js done crying she can eat. She had been starving herself toAnd this is when J truly sees how much people care about her, which, in turn, makes her cry even harder. When she's done crying N feeds her the oil and they cuddle together for a while. She's a lot better now but she's in for a very big surprise

Cyn- that's right baby! Cyns alive! Because I felt so SO bad for her that I had to have her live in my au. She still talks the same, but she's very sweet and innocent, her and Uzi have an older/younger sister relationship. Her and N reunite in the cutest way, they're both crying and hugging super tight. V and J are tearing up as well. I have more headcannons about her on my drawing of her lol so wait for that lol

Tessa- I don't have a lot of headcannons for Tessa, so just go to the hashtag Died and got over it and take pretty much all the headcannons of Tessa from there and that's how it is here pretty much lol(I'll find the @ I promise)

Thad- he's a straight ally and single(looking at you @rory-multifandom-mess) he's Lizzy's younger twin brother and his personality is pretty much the same. He's friends with the wrong people. He's a very big sweetheart. He's a Femininominon. A green flag icon. The best football player on his team(he isn't a dick about it tho) I don't have anything else for him but I do have a drawing for him so you'll have to wait on that as well lol. Srry

Lizzy- Thads older twin. She's dating V and Doll(you can't stop me) she became friends with Uzi after the show ended. She's a Y2K girlie. She is also very sweet when you tear down the asshole popular girl walls. She's quite traumatized from the show and sometimes has nightmares about it. She doesn't tell anyone but people found out(*cough cough* V and Doll *cough cough*)

Doll- she's dating V and Lizzy, she was never revengeful of V, as her dad survived the attack(so did her mom but literally no one knows that yet) she's still very blunt and has a flat affect, she also doesn't show her emotions a lot, but from the unfinished comic I already posted, when V and Lizzy get back to the bunker after the canon ends she breaks down. She thought they were dead. Uzi and her are cousins(not really but their dads are best friends so they view each other as cousins) I don't even have a last name for her yet so you'll have to wait(again) for the drawing to see more headcannons of her)

Khan- WOOO WE'VE HIT THE JACKPOT BABY! Autistic. He's half DD in my au(and he has the solver with the back hand things that we see nori having at the beginning of episode 7 I think, either 7 or 6 idk) idk how hes part DD yet, my thoughts are either forbidden love or cabin fever failed experiment. I'll probably make a poll of that, see which ones you all like the most. He's very insecure about his body, he used to get bullied back in high school because, no matter which choice I make, he gets to experience high school(with the cabin fever experiment he went missing for like, a year, and then escaped, he tried to get nori and yeva but they told him to go or he'd get killed, so he left, he still has a lot of pent up guilt from that) he's also a trans man(YIPPIE) but he's also curvy, hence the insecurity. He's a good dad and actually helped with the fight with the AS(he fought j as a distraction and effectively got his ass beat((Lizzy laughed at him, he also laughed, he's a dumbass))) so he had to recover from that, also, in my au, him, the teacher(I'm naming him Lewis) and nori are dating, so when Lewis is hanging for his fucking life Khan flies down and saves him lol. Also, he does get to reunite with nori, as everything that happened to her in the show happens in my au, but them reuniting happens differently, through Uzi(yay)

Guh, I've ran out of ideas so when I get more(and the motivation to write more) I'll reblog this post with more headcannons, hope y'all like this lol

#murder drones v #murder drones #murder drones au #khan doorman #nori doorman #serial designation j #serial designation n #serial destination v #murder drones doll #murder drones lizzy #murder drones thad #murder drones teacher(Lewis)#murder drones teacher #tessa james elliot #murder drones cyn #murder drones uzi #uzi doorman #murder drones headcanons

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grippingbeskar · 2 years ago

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the right way to do it

johnny ‘soap’ mctavish x fem!reader

warnings— explicit content 18+ minors dni (nothin crazy, if you’ve read any of my fics you’ll be fine, just classic dirty talk and fuckin’, tiny bit of voyerism tho. whoops. generally soft tho, what can i say? i love soft and sweet stuff okay! let me be.) no fucking plot really. established (sort of) relationship. soap my baby boy being sexy.

a/n— i guarantee this is fucking terrible, but then again it’s fucking call of duty fan fiction. like, what the fuck. who writes that?? (oh. oh. i do now, apparently. kill me!) hope ya like it anyways!

“Stop it.” You use your knee to bash into the side of Soaps’ leg under the table, and he flinches so hard his chair drags along the ground with a loud squeak. He looks at you, his jaw open, shocked. Dramatic to the end. “You’re going to get us caught.”

Soaps hand retreats from your thigh, a smug grin on his face as he slides his chair back next to you, closer this time. The heat of his body is pressed against the line of yours, from his broad shoulders all the way down to where your matching combat boots touch on the floor. You can feel him laugh against you when you squirm in your chair, knowing he’s smiling even though he’s turned his head back to the front of the room. Smug bastard.

He knows just how easy you are to mess with.

After a while, when everyone’s attention has gone back to the droning meeting some of the Captains’ declared mandatory, Soap turns back to you, head flopping to the side and his eyebrows raised.

“You look flustered, hen. What’s gotcha all hot and bothered?” He grins lazily, the kind where it only lights up half his face, and you want to slap him. Dumb smile.

“Stop it.”

“You started it.” He retorts, reaching out for you again under the table.

“No, I didn’t!” Your eyes widen, pouting like a child. He was right, of course. You did start it, you just didn’t expect him to try and finish it in the middle of a meeting. “Johnny, this isn’t the time—“

“Ohh, I think it’s just the right time. Just like you thought playin’ with me like that at breakfast was the right time.” Your cheeks heat at the memory, how quickly he’d lost his ability to speak when you pressed up against him from behind and snuck your hands down his pants. He’d only just had the mind to moan your name before you disappeared, leaving him high and dry in the entrance to the mess hall.

You feel him again, deft fingers pulling you from your thoughts and looping into the pocket of your pants. You knew it was wrong— there were so many people in this room, and you should be paying attention, but all the fight just rushes out of you as soon as you feel him soothe circles onto your thigh, the thin barrier of material all that separates him from you.

“Hm. No come back f’me now? Cause this mornin’ you were allllll talk, but now—“ You feel him slide his hand out of your pocket, slowly so no one picks up on his movements. Then, he’s dipping it down further, curling his fingers around the meat of your thigh, hand dangerously high up. If you moved even an inch, took a breath too deep, he’d be… “Now, you gone all quiet on me.”

Voices start talking around you, but you can’t hear them anymore. Your heartbeat is too loud in your ears, and the only thing you tune into is his voice; lower and closer now. His chair creaks as he leans, the pressure on your thigh harder as he grips you to balance.

“C’mon. You know how much I love to hear your pretty little noises. Let me make ya’ feel good, love.” You can hear the smile in his voice. He was such an asshole, and he knew it. He knew he had you right there.

You shiver, and your feet move without your help. Just an inch to the side, you give him space between your legs to let his hand rise a little higher. It doesn’t matter that he’s got a shit eating grin, or how many eyes are potentially on you both right now, how many people are in this room— you have no fight when it comes to him.

“Yeah. There you are, love. You wan’ it that bad, don’t ya’? You’d let me give it to ya right here.” He whispers, words brushing against the shell of his ear. You think he must of chosen a pair of seats in the back just for this reason. “T’s alright. I’m not mean like you. I’ll give ya anything ya want.”

You turn your head to him sharply, giving him a pointed look. ‘Not mean’. He was a dick. A complete, total utter asshole—

“Shit, Johnny.” You curse as the strong line of his hand presses right up against your heat. Your hands fly from beside you, fingernails digging into his forearm, doing a pathetic attempt at pushing him away. “Wait…wait. We can’t—“

“Mhmm. Same thing I said this mornin’.” You squeeze your eyes shut, biting down on your bottom lip to stop from making any sounds. “You remember what you said t’me?”

His hand moves slowly, testing how much you wanted him to stop. He knew if you really wanted to, you could push him away easily. It’s almost sad how little you resist him, and your hips chase his movement of the aching drag up and down. It’s not enough, but for where you are right now, it’s far too fucking much.

“You two paying attention back there?” A booming voice calls from the front of the room, and Soap stops moving his hand. Your eyes open, and before you can squeak out a reply, he’s saving your ass.

“Of course, Captain. Always love our chats, you know that.” He says happily, saluting casually with his free hand, the other still between your legs. A few laughs muffle through the room, and it’s enough that the Captain goes back to reciting whatever was written on the board behind him. Soap leans back down to you. “Careful. You’ll get us caught.”

You roll your eyes, and he takes the chance of your short lived seclusion to press a chaste kiss to your neck. You gasp, eyes flying open.

“I asked you a question.”

“What are you…” You say, air struggling to get into your lungs with short, punched inhales. “Fuck, you gotta stop. We can’t do this here.”

“This morning. I told you to stop, and you said… ‘aw, but you look so pretty like this’. That’s what ya said.” You bite back a groan, remembering exactly that moment. How hard he was when your fingers brushed over his pants, how desperate he sounded. Okay… it was a bitchy move. But that was you and Soap. You teased each other. Surely he wouldn’t take it this far, though. “So mean to me. After I treat you so good last night too, aye?”

The lights dim around you, the Captains’ up the front starting to sit around the dull white background they’ve dropped. You know it means some boring report that’s been sent in, and it means a solid twenty minutes of your life you’ll never get back while some dude yells at you through a projector. Usually you dread this part. But right now, you are fucking antsy. Excited.

“Sh-shut up. You’re just as bad as me—fuck.” He’s not just touching you now— no, his hands, warm and strong, are splaying on the skin of your tummy and sliding down past the buttons of your military pants. He doesn’t waste time, dipping into your underwear and finding you soaked, a little ‘tsk’ coming from him in a heavy accent when he swirls his fingers softly around your clit.

“You okay, baby? You look a little out of it…” You manage to make eye contact with him, and the fucker is chastising you. A fake sympathetic smile is on his face, puppy dog eyes like he’s speaking to a child. “Don’t worry, I’ll give ya’ what you fuckin’ want. Right here, in front of all the boys. So dirty.”

“Soap.” You choke out, the pads of his fingers setting a slow, easy rhythm that has you nearly vibrating off the chair.

“Don’t call us that. What’s my name, baby?” He hums, shuffling his chair so close it’s clanking against yours now. “C’mon. Who’s makin’ you feel this fuckin’ good right now?”

“God— you, Johnny. You fucking prick.” You whisper, the low lights of the room hiding your fidgeting figure as the video continues to play on the projector at the front. “Come on, please…I can’t—“

“Shh. You’re okay, sweetheart. Nice and slow, aye?” His nose brushes along your cheek, and your shoulders sag. “Cause ya’ look so pretty. Just f’me.”

You all but sink into it, your body slumping into his chest as he keeps that same, stupidly slow pace. Heat licks up your stomach, staying low and making you start to sweat all over. You hear Soap hum, and feel his lips against your jaw, the touch hardly there but scorching none the less.

His teeth nip at the skin he kissed, and you squeak at the harsh touch, soon covered by kisses much more sure of themselves than the first. With the darkness of the room, he must feel more confident, because his free hand angles your head down, and his mouth claims yours.

While his hand circles between your legs, light and gentle, his mouth is harsh and fast. Johnny kisses you like he’s trying to overwhelm you. It’s always desperate and begging, even when he’s controlling you like this. It’s like if he doesn’t kiss you hard and fast, something real will show, and he’s scared of it.

While you’ve never labelled what the hell this… thing is, when he kisses you like this it’s clear he’s hiding something. You’re the same, so you happily take it. Whatever it is between you, it’s stupid and reckless, and it’s better to not be vulnerable. Being on the same team, throwing yourselves into war after war, taking bullets for each other like it’s a sport— you shouldn’t care this much about each other. It was stupid. It’s why it was easier for you both to pretend you were just using each other as an outlet.

It was just sex. Just a release.

“Fuck, Johnny.“ You whimper in his mouth, and he muffles the sound as he pulls you closer, locking your lips to his. “Please.”

“Please what, love? Huh? You want it faster?” He smiles on your lips, hands picking up the pace just slightly. “S’greedy, in front of everyone.”

Your body feels heavy. The hand holding his forearm, the one supposed to be putting up resistance has instead moulded to an encouraging spectator, slowly tracing the inside of his wrist. Your chest heaves, nearly making you wheeze every breath, and when your eyes flutter open, seeing his face painted in a glowing blue and green from the film lights, your legs nearly shake at the sight.

“Please get me out of here, okay? You win. Y-you… Jesus Christ, you win.” He grins. The audacity of this fucking guy, to grin in your face, blatantly admitting he just wanted to beat you today. Win this weeks battle with who was more whipped for who. He’s mentally marking it on a board, and you know he’ll throw it back in your face when you try to push him away again, but you let him have it.

Maybe you want him to have more ammunition next time you’re faced with the consequences of a bad mission. Where Soap needs to be surrounded, reminded he’s not alone after a long ride in the desert, you need to be alone. Want to be alone. You want to rot in your room, blinds drawn and covers over your head, a distant belief that if you sit there long enough you’ll just melt into the mattress and fade away.

He’s the only one that can pull you out. Even if it takes him just holding you in the dark, cold silence, or letting you yell at him that you don’t want him around, don’t need him bothering you— he takes it. He won’t break, not when it comes to you. He coaxes you out with the memory of how much you’re lying to yourself. How bad you do need him.

He’ll use this one next time for sure. How you dragged him out of a meeting, claiming something about a ‘medical emergency’ just so he could take you back to your room and fuck you.

You don’t mind. You think you might like it when he does.

He secretly does too. For all his bravado, the only person he wants to be around after a mission is you. As annoying as you are, and dramatic and fucking stubborn, he still toes his way to your room every time, sneaks his way under your covers, and hides out with you until everyone else is asleep. You think he needs the company of someone, when he really just needs you.

Your nails are digging into his shoulder, dragging him by the uniform down a hallway and around the corner to your room. You only get about halfway before he’s slamming you into the wall, all teeth and tongue as he claims your mouth and runs his hands over your body. He doesn’t even touch your skin, just grazes over the thick layers of clothes, but he’s still got you arching into his touch so you press against his chest. He nips your lower lip and smacks you lightly on the arse, giving you the chance to jump up into his arms.

He takes you in stride, everything about him confident and smooth. Even the things he doesn’t expect, he lets it come like easy, gentle waves. It’s almost impossible to catch him off guard— the first time you kissed him he acted like he played you all along.

When your back hits the softness of your bed, you open your eyes. You don’t remember moving this far, or locking the door behind you, but you know Johnnys’ got you. He always has you covered. Takes care of it so you don’t have to think.

“Take your fucking shirt off.” You grumble, clawing at the buttons of his top. He laughs, head buried in the crook of your neck where you know he’s leaving bruises and marks.

“So mean. Don’t even know how to act right when your under me.” The words sound like they should be threatening, or at the very least sarcastic, but he just sounds… happy. You can hear the smile in his voice, and when he pulls his head back up, he’s delirious almost. Pupils blown out, breathless laughter kissing your cheeks as he shuffles over the top of you. “You’re gorgeous like this. You know that?”

You scoff, rolling your eyes, not able to look up at him. He’s better at this— the feelings. Even though neither of you can look each other in the eye to pay a compliment outside these moments, right here he’s the opposite. Always calling you pretty, looking at you with those happy eyes, betraying all the words the two of you throw at each other when your mad.

“Shirt, Johnny.”

“Hmm. You wanna see me?”

“Yeah. Hate it when you don’t let me see you. I… want to touch you.” It’s a small confession, spurred on by his compliment, and it seems to throw him off just a bit.

“Yeah?” You nod, your hands gently skimming along the strong line of his jaw. Pfft, you were gorgeous— he… he was fucking gorgeous. “What are you thinkin’ about right now?”

“How nice you are to look at.”

“Think that’s the first nice thing you said to me today.”

“I called you pretty this morning.” You remind him, a small smile from him making your earlier anger start to melt into something soft and gooey.

“You did.”

“Meant it too.” He rolls his eyes this time, and you keep your hands on his face.

“Bet you say that to all the boys.” He blows out a dramatic sigh, head tilting to the side. He’s trying to play it off. Play it into something funny and not real. Not true. You shake your head at him, eyebrows drawn together. The confidence in your fuzzy brain will disappear in a second, but you grab hold of it enough to get the next few words out.

“Never. No one but you, Johnny. I don’t want anyone else but you.” He blinks, stopping his movement for a second. Where he usually starts laughing, calls you greedy, maybe calls you a few dirty names, instead he pauses, scrunches his face together, and lets out a breath like you’ve punched him in the chest. “John?”

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he leans down, hovering his mouth over yours just for a second. You feel a warm palm cup your burning cheek, and he locks his eyes on you. The few seconds he holds there feel like eternity. Everything moves in slow motion, his stare freezing your heart inside you.

It’s heavy. Loaded with something dangerous. Something illegal. Something you can’t have.

Then, he leans down and kisses you.

He’s done it a hundred times, but this is… it’s just different. It’s so, so soft. His hand holds you to the bed, keeping you still, keeping you malleable for him. His lips connect, only for a few seconds, kissing you like you’ll cut him if he moves too quick. When he does press closer, you feel him sigh— the forearm of his free arm drops next to your head, like the weight of him was too much.

You don’t remember your eyes closing. It must of been too much to look at him when he’s touching you so gently. Like he really cared. Wanted to care.

It’s over too soon. You find yourself leaning up, chasing the softness of his mouth, the taste of his tongue. His hand keeps you down, and he never looks away as he uses the other to rip his shirt over his head. The soft clang of his dog tags tangle under his chin, and draw your attention lower, to his chest.

You don’t know if you’ve told him how attracted to him you are. You know he knows— he’d have to by now. You wouldn’t have gotten with him at first if you weren’t. It’s why this whole thing started. It was just physical at first, but then he started talking, started staying longer after, and now it was fucking overwhelming. Everything about him was more and more alluring, and your hands reached out before you could stop them. You smile at the way he lets you explore. That he remembers what you said, and lets you indulge.

Your fingertips brushed their way over his stomach, and he nearly shivered under the soft touch. He was staring at you, watching your every move as you traced languid lines over and up his chest. He was breathing hard, and when your fingers twisted in the long chain of his tags, he nearly stopped completely. You yanked him back down, hovering him over you, as one of his hands comes back to brace near your head.

Wordless stills, he snakes his arm down between your bodies and pulls at the hem of your shirt. You obey the silent command, never breaking eye contact as you tug your jacket and shirt off in one go. Suddenly, you feel something you’ve never felt with him before.

You’re vulnerable.

Usually, it’s all fight. The two of you are either so mad at each other that you spend the entire time trying to win, trying to get a higher score, or you’re both so frustrated that you hardly even look each other in the eye. This is… heavy.

He leans down again, his eyes shutting tightly before he kisses you. You hum, unable to not smile underneath him as he kisses you with that same gentle affection, and your hands thread up behind his neck into the short crop of his hair, tugging him down closer. Skin meets skin, warmth blooming in your chest as he slides up your body to fit his hips between your legs. His mouth melts into yours, groaning as you tug his hair a little bit harder.

He says your name, the sound curling around your throat and choking out a strangled whimper, and then he grinds his hips slow and heavy into you, your mind going a bit blank.

“Shit. What are we… what are you doing? Hurry the fu…fuck. Fuck.” Your eyes roll back with another slow roll of his hips, and he laughs breathlessly.

“Shh. Just go with it.” He does it again, leaving a wet trail of kisses under your jaw and down to his favourite spot on your neck. He’s taking his time, tasting your skin like it’s something to be savoured. “T’s nice, isn’t it? Feels good.”

“Yeah…f-feels good.” You mumble, hiding your face in the pillows as he tugs your pants down, throwing them somewhere behind him.

He doesn’t treat himself as nice, ripping at his own pants and ridding them as quick as possible. Then he’s sinking back over you, letting you feel just how much he likes it like this. When you wrap your arms around him again and kiss him, he’s warm and safe, and you let him sweep you up into it.

He slides his hand down slow, fingers hardly grazing your clit and going past, and you know he’s fucking with you on purpose. You whine his name, and he laughs— the familiarity of the sound making you a little more confident. You bite his lower lip a bit harder than you should, and he groans.

“Don’t fucking tease me, Mactavish.” You whine pitifully, and he shakes his head.

“Not teasin, princess. Enjoyin’ it.” He draws out the words, each of them twirled in his strong accent that somehow makes you even dizzier than before.

“You didn’t enjoy it before?” You pout, and this time he laughs a little harder. Before he answers, one of his fingers slide up, and then easily slip inside of you, curling slowly so you arch of the bed.

“Yer aff yeir heid.” He mumbles, kissing you quickly like he’s trying to shut off that thought. “Just like takin’ my time with ya. Get to see more of you. You’re beautiful.”

Your chest is heavy, and you can’t focus, pleasure lighting up every nerve in your body. You feel him against your inner thigh, hard and warm, and every slight movement has him panting into your mouth. You know he’s built up from this morning, how you left him waiting and didn’t even look back. You feel bad. Horrible.

How could you leave him there? How could you leave him anywhere now, when he was looking at you like this? Like you held answers he’d been searching for all his life, right in your eyes?

It’s never been this slow. God— it fucking hurts, that’s how slow it’s moving. His fingers curl inside of you, no rush, hitting just the right spot in a way that would have you cumming in his hand if he just sped up a little. This way, he keeps you on edge, right on the precipice— hoping he lets you fall into it. You’re at his mercy, but from the feeling of him, he’s at yours, too.

“Johnny— that’s feels so good. You’re so g-good, please.” You wheeze out, feeling waves of blinding heat surging low in your tummy. He kisses you again, and you could finish just from this. The sweetness of his mouth, how his words drip like honey over your cheek, how careful he is. How loving.

“You’re okay, bonnie. You just keep ya eyes on me. I’ll take care of everythin’ else.” Your eyebrows furrow, eyes trying to focus as you feel your muscles tighten. His thumb presses lightly on your clit; soft circles drawing you into another embarrassing whine of his name. “Come on. Show me how good ya are f’me.”

“Jesus— fuck!” It feels different. You can hardly see, hardly hear anything but his low, soothing voice in your ear, telling you how sexy you are, how tight you feel around his fingers. You want to tell him to… to keep going, or stop, both— something. You want to say something, but all that comes out is his name.

Johnny. Johnny. Johnny—

You can’t control it. Pleasure blinds you— it’s cliche but it’s all you can describe it as. Your toes curl, and your fingers scrape down his back to try and find a way to ground yourself. You try to muffle your sounds, but Soap keeps your head forward with a hand on your jaw. So he can watch your face when you cum from his fingers.

“That’s it, gorgeous. Fuckin’ hell—“ You hear his voice groan in your ear, and the pleasure makes your legs shake. You’re vaguely aware that his hand slows, lazily playing with your clit as you ride out your high, but mainly you watch as he comes back into focus. You watch his eyes— pupils dilated, looking at you in awe. “You sound so pretty when you come. Fuckin’ gorgeous girl.”

Seriously— you think you’ve only seen him look like that when something blows up in front of him. Sort of mystified and obsessed.

You’re gasping for air as he moves you, flipping you over and shuffling you up the bed. You lose track of him, the haze of pleasure dumbing you down to only the most basic of movements, but then he’s there again, and you reach out.

He takes your hands, kissing your palms before pulling you to him, legs parting on instinct as he draws you into his lap. He’s leant himself against the headboard, and at some point taken off his boxers, but now, when your legs give out and you lean your weight on him, you both gasp at the feeling. His cock is hard, pressing against your wet heat, and he’s nearly shivering in anticipation. One of his hands paw at your hips, pulling you closer so your pussy drags along his length, and the other cups your cheek.

Time stops again, just for a second. His eyes pull you in, and you blink a few times to focus. His thumb traces your bottom lip. He says something you don’t understand under his breath, muttering in a heavy accent.

“Johnny…” You whisper, your heart racing.

“Yeah, love.”

“What are you doing to me?” You could cry, you were so under his spell right now. If he wanted to, this could be the ultimate win. He could shatter you with a few mean words— but for some reason, you didn’t think he would.

“You know what I’m doin’. What this is. Don’t you, love?” His thumb catches your chin, pulling you into one of those soft kisses he’s been hiding from you, and it’s so classic of him you nearly laugh.

Everything he does, he does in stride. With confidence. Even this— a changing of a reliable tide, a shift in your relationship into a strange and unpredictable horizon, he handles like he’s always known it was coming. Like it was inevitable. You couldn’t of been more lost right now, but if he knew, if he could guide you, you’d be okay.

“That alright?” He whispers lowly, dipping his head to catch your eyes.

“Course. Yeah. Yeah— I want…” You swallow hard. Fear and insecurity creep up your throat and tighten it. “I want you. Really bad.”

It takes him a second, and then he grins. “I know, love. Can feel ya on me—“

“Not like— not just like that.” His head tilts, smiling incredulously at you, but he must be able to tell. You can’t say what you’re feeling right now, but what you were doing was enough. Extending an olive branch, and he was going to fucking snatch it out of your hands and consume every inch.

“You’re so sweet. I want ya too, okay? Don’t look so fuckin’ nervous.”

“M’not nervous.” You mumble it. It could not be less convincing. He was still smiling. “Stop looking at me like that and I won’t be.”

“Like what?” He’s got a dopey, lazy look on him, so you shift your hips, and his confidence shakes as you drag your clit across the sensitive head of his leaking cock. “Shit—“

“You okay, Johnny?” You whisper and he nods furiously. He’s the one squeezing his eyes shut now, and you kiss the crease in his forhead before you raise your hips and start to sink down on him, keening at the catch of his head at your entrance. “Oh, god—“

It feels right. Whatever the fuck you two were doing before— it wasn’t as good as this. The whispers of each others names, the feeling of heat splitting it’s way up your spine, how he holds you so close you think you might explode under the pressure. This was the right way to do it.

“Fuck. Fuckin— slow, baby. I’m gonna fuckin’ finish if ya don’t go—“ He chokes out another harsh exhale, sounding winded. He’s holding your hips so hard he’ll leave bruises, and you moan at the thought of it. “Fucking tight as fuck.”

“Relax.” You coo in his ear, trying to distract the both of you from the stretch of him slowly filling you.

Even though he’s had you countless times, you still struggle to take him like this— and he clearly does too. It’s a favourite for both of you for this reason. You both crave the little bit of pain, something that reminds you where you are. What you’re doing. Mainly who you’re doing it with. It might have been subconscious before, but now… there’s nothing that could deny who was breaking you apart.

He says your name over and over as he starts fucking up into you, and you feel him so deep like this. He controls you easily, the muscles in his arms and chest straining with how hard every thrust of his hips snaps against yours. You nearly sob when he goes faster, familiar brutality mixed with the soft way he’s watching your eyes has your mind swimming in the pleasure he drives into you.

Your head falls back, and he wraps an arm around your lower back, holding you to him. Both of you grind into the way he has you, him still fucking you at a pace that practically strips you bare. You can’t hide anything from him here— not with your foreheads stuck together, bodies pressed in every way they can, Johnnys hands pawing at your ass, your tits, anything they can find that gets a new sound out of you.

“Feels so good.” You sigh, your entire body at his mercy as he slams himself up off the bed. It’s still slow, slow enough that he can keep your eyes locked on him, but fuck— he’s so hard with it, you know you’ll feel him for days. “So good. Fuck. More—“

“Shit, I know baby.” He kisses you, teeth clashing as you try to keep up with the way he moves. Your body melts when he kisses you, moulding against him and letting him use you.

You want him to use you. You want him to take all the things you know he wants, but you’re too scared to admit you can give to him. Nothing about the life you live is safe, or guaranteed, but whatever you have here is grounding, and it’s enough. More than enough— but you just can’t say it.

You roll your hips again, and you hear his low moans turn breathy and soft. He’s close. You can feel it. He’s been worked up all day because of you, and you don’t want him to wait again. You want him to take it.

“Fuck, baby I’m gonna—“

“I know. Keep going, wanna feel it.” You nearly sob, and Soap looks at your broken features and kisses them away.

Your world rotates as he flips you on your back, your hands pulled from his hair as his rough fingertips hold your wrists down. He pins them above your head, sounds spilling from him that have sparks flying in your chest. That’s the thing that makes this so fucking different. It’s not even the sounds— it’s who’s making them. Who’s doing it to you.

It’s him.

It’s all about him.

He spreads you wide, his free hand grabbing your calf and pushing it down so he can fuck you deeper. He looms over you, holding you down with his body weight, and the last thing you see is his head turn, pressing a kiss to the inside of your knee, and then he says your name as you fall into bliss.

Everything locks and releases in tandem, your body somehow tight and loose at the same time. You arch off the bed, Soaps arms wrapping you close as you feel warmth spread across your stomach. His breath is hot as he rides out his high, head tucked into your neck, and he grounds you as pleasure seeks its way through the cloud of your brain.

“T’s too good. You’re fuckin— shit. Shit, baby.” He talks through it, knowing you love the sound of his voice, and he doesn’t even need to touch you to help you ride it out. Waves of searing bliss drown you in the feeling he’s giving you, and when he finally starts to slow, you just say his name again, hearing him echo it back to you. “Yeah. That’s fuckin’ right. Me.”

After a while, things get a little less fuzzy, and you can feel his hand leave your wrists. Your hands come down on their own volition, threading through his hair. You feel his head tilt a little, leaning into the soft touch of your hand, so you keep going, letting your fingertips dance along his scalp. It’s doing the same thing for you that it is for him— giving you something to focus on while your heart slows.

His hair is unfairly soft. It should be straw dry and breaking off with the shitty 3-in-1 shampoo, conditioner and body wash he uses. You tried it once, and it made your pony tail move in one direction for a week. But his is like… feather soft. So easy to comb through, you could spend hours like this.

“I like that.” He says after a while. He’s not pinning you anymore, half moved to the side with an arm and a leg thrown over you. His head was still hidden, buried so close that when he talks, his lips brush against your collarbone.

“How is your hair so soft?” You mumble, more to yourself, your hands no longer shaking from adrenaline and pleasure. “Not fair.”

“Natural beauty n’ all.” He says, and you can feel the dumb smirk he has on his face. You twirl your fingers in his hair and pull lightly, and he fakes a yelp. “Owwww.”

“Such a drama queen.” You roll your eyes, and he groans emphatically as he hauls himself up and over to hang above you. His eyebrows are raised, and he’s smiling.

Maybe his smile isn’t so dumb.

“We’re gonna be in shit for missin’ that meeting, you know.” He says, leaning down to kiss your forehead. “Hope you got a good excuse.”

“I don’t even care.” You sigh, a little delirious in the come down from such a high. He laughs, all bright and happy, and you smile back at him. “I’m just glad we’re… you know. Here.”

He stares at you for a second, for what feels like the millionth time today, but then he leans down and kisses you again. Even though it had happened so many times, you don’t think there’d be a time you’d get tired of it. Not the looks, not the kisses, or any of it. Even though everything was on the line, you’d give it all up, lose all the battles, if it meant this.

“Yeah. Me too.” He grins. Your heart skips.

His smile is definitely not dumb.

#john soap mactavish #john soap mctavish x you #john soap mctavish x reader #soap x reader #soap x y/n #soap x you #john mactavish x you #john mactavish x y/n #soap cod #soap smut #john soap mactavish smut #cod smut

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pjmxtra · 1 year ago

Text

I want more time with you…ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

જ⁀➴ pairing: idol boyfriend! Ni-ki x gn!reader

જ⁀➴ synopsis: Dating an idol is harder then you thought it would be.

જ⁀➴ genre: fluff, angst (?)

જ⁀➴ notes: TWO POSTS IN ONE DAY?!???!!!?? NEVER HAPPENING AGAIN PLS Once again it’s all over the place but it’s readable :) i hope !! pls request !!

The soft rustle of tree leaves brushing against each other and the piitter padder of the rain didn’t help in your situation. The feeling of longing in your chest was at its peck. You knew dating Riki was gonna have little to no time spent together. You where 99% willing to go through that just to be with him but that 1% is kicking in.

All you needed right now was him. It was bad day from the start. You had woken up late and got scolded by your manager at work. While working you had messed up an order and had gotten yelled at by a costumer. At this point you a hundred percent believed the world was against you today.

You shuffled through your bag and pulled out your phone. Opening the Camera app and begin to take pictures of everything you saw. Whenever you went out you always found something to send him. Whether it be the food you has ordered or how pretty a flower looked. Sending him pictures always made it seem like he was right there with you.

Pulling up his contact then picking the photos you found the prettiest and hitting send. You shut off your phone knowing he wouldn’t be able to answer since his schedule was so busy. Yet you still anticipated the little buzz from your phone.

Slowly walking through the crowded sidewalks, rapped up in one of his jackets. Umbrellas overtaking the sky as people passed. You couldn’t help but think about him even more.

How it would be so romantic if he was here and you two had to share an umbrella. Crapped under it as you found warmth in his arms. As you made it to the front of your apartment you let out a tired sigh. Yet another day without him in this sad sad place.

Opening the door as you had a million times, the familiar scent of home washed over. As you walked around the apartment your mind wondered to memories you had made here with him. Remembering all the movie nights you guys had and all the arts and crafts you “forced” him to do. Deep down you knew how much he loved them.

Making your way to small kitchen your eyes landed on mug. Not just any mug tho one that you and Ni-ki had gotten together on your 2nd date. You had once again dragged him along some fun adventure. Letting out a little laugh you couldn’t help but think that pottery wasn’t his strong suit. The clay was lumpy and slanted. Still, it was the best gift you had ever received.

A soft buzz interrupted your train of though. The bright light of your phone illuminated your face as you read the message.

“It’s so pretty. Just like you 🫶🏻 - Ni-ki boy”

You let out a laugh at how cheesy he was. Blushing at the comment. It reminded you of the first time he really called you beautiful. Yeah he has said you look beautiful on the first date and so on, but there was one moment you knew he really meant it from the bottom of his heart.

You remember it like yesterday. The gentle blow of the wind washed over you both. It was the evening after dating for a month or so. It wasn’t a special day or anything just wanting to be each others presence. Sitting on a park bench as you both watched the kids and dogs run around having the time of their life.

Your hands intertwined as you sat close to each other. The sun kissed you so perfectly. Riki felt his heart jump from his chest at the sight. Cheeks heating up as he’s hands started to get clammy. It was so cheesy and romantic it felt like it came straight out of a drama.

He let a sigh escape past his lips. Unintentionally grabbing your attention away from the others. You tilted you head towards him letting a smile paint your features. How could he be so lucky to have such a beautiful girlfriend? He was truly amazed that he had you as his. He stared into you eyes as he let the words slip out of his mouth with ease.

“You are so beautiful”

Silence washed over the two. Not an awkward one. You took a couple of seconds to compose yourself. You are quite used to having someone to call you such sweet names. You tried to play it off by shoving him a little bit.

“Duh I know” You teased. Ni-ik let out one of his well known laughs. You couldn’t help but laugh along with him. His laugh was just as contagious as his pretty smile. Letting the moment sink in you wished you could stay here forever. With him. Just you two and no one else. That’s all you needed.

You let out a sigh as you remembered the fond memory. Soon the silence became overwhelming. You had always been an emotional person so remembering these memories did not help what so ever. Your water line fighting tears back as they threatened to fall. A knock at the door rang through the room.

Jumping a little at the sudden sound. Making your was slowly to the door, whipping your tears on the way. Swinging the door open gently it soon revealed your one and only boyfriend. He was covered from head to toe just in case not to get recognized. You stood there in shock since you didn’t expect him to come over.

“Ni-ki?” You hushed out moving to the side to allow him in. As he came in he pulled down is mask and cap. Revealing his highlighted hair.

“Hi baby” he said closing the door behind him before pulling you into a long, crushing hug. His familiar smell over coming all senses. Holding him back tightly the water works began to turn. Slowly tears started to fall on his coat. He felt you shacking and pulled back. Finally being able to see your shining eyes gloss over with tears.

“Hey, hey what’s wrong?” He asked, is a worried tone as he tried his best to whip your tears. You couldn’t stop the tears from falling. It was all to much. You didn’t realize how much you needed him. You had always pushed this feeling away because you knew you had to be strong about this relationship. Yet you couldn’t hind how you felt from him.

“I..” your own sobs making it hard to let a single word out. He was quick to pull you back into a gentle hug. This time letting you have some space to breathe. He softly rubbed the small of you back and let his hand run through your hair. Trying to help you calm down.

Soon your cry’s stopped. All that was left where dried tears and small hiccups.

“I want more time with you.. riki” you kept your head down hands still holding him. Afraid that if you let go all you’ll have left of him where memories.

“Aw baby, you know we have all the time in world.” he spoke trying to make you feel at ease. You looked into his eyes for the first time in a while. Getting emotional once again. “I’m scared… i’m scared i won’t have enough memories of us.” you sighed “I know getting into a relationship with you I would have to sacrifice seeing you ever once in a while.. but i just want more time with you. Before we know it this could be our last” thoughts of not having enough moments and adventures with him made you feel hopeless. Silence washed over you both. Your words that had been unspoken for many many months finally spilled out. Unable to stop.

“I want you to make unforgettable memories with you Riki. I wanna be young and dumb and in love with you. Just give me more time.” Ni-ki’s grip loosened around you. He moved his hands from around you to be placed in your hands. He intertwined them together bringing them close to his chest.

“And we can do all that y/n… I promise we have all the time in the universe. I’m not going anywhere as long as your with me.” He placed his lips on yours giving you a soft peck. Bringing his hand up to whip off the dry tears that had made there way on your cheeks. He closed the gap once again. Hoping this kiss would tell you all you needed to know.

He pulled away just enough for your lips to separate. He stared into your eyes, really taking in the fragile moment. As he pulled you close to him a hushed-

“I love you.” fell past his lips.

જ⁀➴ notes: Help idek what i’m doing in this one shit but i had to write it

#enhypen x reader #enhypen #ni ki scenarios #ni ki x reader #ni ki enhypen #enha niki #niki x reader #niki imagines #niki fluff #niki angst #enha fluff #enha angst #niki #niki dabble

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romanestuffsposts · 11 months ago

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Hi hi hi!

Can you write a Stucky x ticklish little reader where Daddy and Papa realize that she laughs more and gets more flustered when they verbally tease her when they tickle her?

Hiii there love! 💜

Of course I can write it for you! That’s such a cute request I absolutely love it, thank you for that!

I’m sorry it took so long to come out, tho.

I wish you a happy new years's eve!!!!

Enjoy <33

****

Warnings : tickles, teasing, ticklish feet, ticklish armpits, ticklish ribs, playful, pet names, fluff, kisses, cuddles

Pairings : Daddies!Stucky ; Daddy!Bucky x Papa!Steve x Little!Reader

Summary : When your Daddies discover something, they'll sure keep their attentions on it...

****

You always loved getting tickled, wether it was from your Daddies or by anything that tickles your sensitive skin by one little touch.

It’s rare that you have a full session where they tickles you until you pee on yourself but they love to poke your ribs whenever you remove your shirt or lightly wiggling their indexes in the allow of your arms when tou stretch in bed in the morning.

They love washing your little toes just to watch them curl and to hear you laughing in the bathtub. But it never went further, or it’s been a long time that it happened and you don’t remember

However, it’s apparently about to change today.

You were currently cooking cookies with your Papa while your Daddy was away on a mission. During those kind of times, when one of your Daddies were working, the other who stay with you do whatever he can to change your mind.

You have the bad habits to quickly getting worried for the most little thing so it's their goals to occupied you. You even sleep in their bed each nights when it happens so you won't be alone.

The morning was filled with laughters and good memories as your Papa taught you how to cook his famous cookies you love so much.

You're now spinning in the cookie dough like your Papa explained to you, sitting on your ankles. You hear your Papa praising you here and there each time he looks over your shoulder to see the bowl

"good job, princess"

"you're stronger than me, you don't seems even tired"

"that's my good girl"

"here, you can drop a finger in the dough because of your good job"

"you're doing it so perfectly good"

At one point, he comes behind you but apparently you hadn't heard him beause you discreetly drop a finger in the dough again, not knowing he was right behind you.

He tilts his head and shakes it with a smirk on his lips. Even tho you weren't allowed to do that, he still find it pretty adorable.

He stands back up and keep watching you quietly from behind. He rests his hands on the counter, right beside you and lower his head, shaking it again as he sees you dropping another finger in the bowl.

He taps his fingers on the counter and watch them as he thinks about what he's going to do with you. The though stop there once he notices your little feet sneaking from under you.

He grins with closed lips and leans down until his cheek is against yours, at the same time, his fingers come closer to your soles and as he whispers the words "what are you doing behind my back, sneaking little one" his fingers fall on your sensitive skin.

Your toes curled at the contact and you giggle as you try to block your feet with your hands behind you. Your Papa anticipited this move tho, he hugs your upper body, which cause him to block your arms. Now that he has full access to your little feet, he won't stop himself.

"what ?" he mocks as he travels the tips of his fingers against your soft soles "ohhh you thought I wouldn't see you eating all the cookies dough behind my back ?" he smirks

"well you're wrong, princess. Remember that i have eyes everywhere" He kisses your cheeks and laughs along with you. You're laughters intensify when he starts to tickle you with his nails

"you can't get away without anything after what you did, huh ?"

You laugh harder after each sentences he makes and that's only when he realizes it.

"you like it when i tease you baby ?" he smirks, his fingers still torturing your squirming soles. You lean your head back against his shoulder and shake your head

"your adorable little giggles tell me otherwise, princess" he chuckles.

A few days later, your Daddy is finally back home but you don't know that right now.

You're in their bedroom because you wanted to wear one of their big shirt that always smell good like them, you're trying to remove your own shirt but you failed.

Everything went perfectly fine before you tried to pass your shirt above your head. You're now trapped in you own clothe, your arms above your head.

You groan in frustation.

The groan covers the sound of the door opening and your Daddy had to contain himself from laughing. He steps to you until he's standing in front of you and enjoy for a moment watching you squirming your way out of the shirt, without success anyway.

He smirks and lifts his indexes up bringing them toward your exposed armpits. The soft touch didn't just took you by surprise, you immediately feel ticklish at just the touch. You bring your upper body down by reflex and let out a scream of giggles.

This cause your Daddy to laugh and to, of course, keep going "what's the matter, little one ?" he teases.

You gasp behind your laughters at the voice of your Daddy. It's been days since you last ehard him and you didn't even know he was home. Of course you could've guessed it was him because of his cold hand but your mind was too busy with the tickles to registering the others sensations on your skin.

"D-daddyy" you whine between giggles. He chuckles but keep going "yessss ?" he mocks with the same tone you used "why don't you come to greet me, baby ?" he smirks "you too busy to come to Daddy ?"

You groan and fall on the ground as you squirm "oh, why are you leaving me ?" He follows you on the ground and reach this time for your ribs. He wiggles his fingers on your upper ribs causing you to scream and kicking your feet "aren't you the cutest" he laughs

"does that tickle ?" He asks knowingly. He's kinda surprise by your reaction, of course he knew you were incredibly tickles almost everywhere on your precious little body but you never react like that, with screams.

Usually you giggle and laugh, you kick them with your feet and try to crawl away but this time, it's clearly different.

"did you get more ticklish during the time i was away or what ?" he laughs, not believing the reaction he gets from you. You yell at him to stop because you can't take it anymore and he does.

He helps you getting out of your shirt and contain his laughters when he sees your messy hair on your face and your angry face as you glare at him.

He tilts his head, a smile on his face. After some secondes he opens his arms "com'here my babygirl" he says with a soft voice. Your glare immadiately vanish and you jump in his ambrace.

"god I missed you so much"

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thesirenwithnovoice · 5 months ago

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Thoughts about how different mediums of a same story may give you different views (and rambling about the Tower of Heaven)//TW: violence

Lately I've been wondering about how manga readers might have very different visions than anime watchers of a same story, because althought the plot remains the same, some little details can change our whole perception of a story.

This reminded me of the first time I read Fairy Tail and how terrified I was at how cruel and dark the Tower of Heaven's arc is.

Jellal's face (that by that time, were only an 11-years-old kid) drippling blood while being tortured shocked me so much as a kid and I still find it one of the most disturbing scenes in the manga, lol.

In the anime, the content itself is the same. We know the kids are slaves that go throught different kinds of abuse, however, I find the manga way gloomier and more graphic. And althought part of it might be just a personal opinion, it's not entirely without basis: Mashima uses different techniques in his art to represent facts whitin the story than the animators, and it leads to a topic I really love: semiotics - how we interpret images, and how detais can be used to convey a certain felling throught art.

Colors and composition helps A LOT creating an atmosphere and causing a feeling on the reader. Proportionally speaking, a manga doesn't have colors, but it has it's own alternatives - the Tower of Heaven arc, in comparison to the rest of the manga, uses a lot more black and hatching.

One can argue some scenes are still "visually darker" in the anime, since it has the advantage of being able to play with shadows and colors in a broader aspect; however, since Fairy Tail is not an anime that changes it's saturation or colour pallete, the loud colors in most scenes end up not helping building the same dreadful atmosphere.

(It doesn't mean you can't make a scary story using bright and colorful tones, tho. A great example is the movie Midsommar. But it's not an easy task!)

Erza's childhood memories in the manga also carry a "dirtier" feeling; the kids are always covered by bruises, and the background is rougher. Also, the anime chooses to represent slavery in a more fanciful way: the kids wear stylized handcuffs and are assaulted with magic attacks, what inevitably softens the scenes by distancing them from real life slavery.

In a story, an act of violence will always be more shocking if your brain is able to automatically make a connection with real life. Seeing blood conveys a feeling of disconfort easier than a character being hit by a wave of magic, even if the author tells you "this is painful"; that's why some people say they started to find difficult to watch horror movies involving kids after becoming parents, because after experenciating something in real life, they connect with fiction harder.

The above scene causes me very different feelings in each media. In the manga, the despair in Jellal's face when seeing they removed Erza's eye is much clearer, and his skinny body, his eyes filling up with tears (he doesn't cry in the anime) shows not only a feeling of worry, but of utter dread and helplessness. All that helps endorsing the fact that, doesn't matter how brave he is, they are still just fragile kids, unable to protect themselves from the cruelty of the world around them.

I want to make it clear, though, that this is not in any way meant to be a critique to the animation team, or an affirmation that one type of media is better than another. We all have our personal preferences, but each media has it's target audience and objective. Fairy Tail's animators certainly do know how to convey the same feelings on the public, they just choose not to, for a variety of reasons. Probably because the anime is aimed for a broader and younger audience, many scenes have been softened or censored somehow. Also, animation consumes more labour than a manga page, so unless you have a lot of time and investment, the art tend to be simpler.

So do you think it affects the plot, Siren?

In my opinion, yes, even if just in a subtle way. In the manga, I think this raw brutality helps Jellal's character to gain a more interesting complexity. To me, he feels less like a hero and more like what he actually is: just a really kind and brave kid trying his best to protect his friends.

Another major change they made in the anime was removing the ambiguity (something that happened more than once in Fairy Tail's adaptation, such as in the famous kiss scene), leaving clear since the beginning that Jellal was a victim of a mind controlling spell; while in the manga, until Urtear's confirmation at the end of the arc, we do not know for sure if he have been brainwashed or just convinced to adore Zeref.

And as much as I can see why some fans might hate it because it leaves room for people to see Jellal as a bad man, I (as someone who is not afraid of loving evil characters, heh), find it interesting and somehow enriching to the plot, because it gives the whole arc a reflection: is extreme suffering, specially at such an young age, capable of changing someone so much?

We are left questioning what did "Zeref" say, or do, that made him change so much. And having so many real life examples where despair has made people easy victims of manipulation throught faith or falling into extremist ideologies, after we seeing Jellal's pain and fragility in a tangible way, it's not that hard at all to understand how he went insane and managed to drag all the other slaves along with him.

Also, I think it makes it easier to understand Erza's empathy towards him. Jellal and Erza are characters connected not only by the affection they nourish for one another, but also for sharing the same pain. She is the only person that fully understands the horrors he lived in the tower, since they were the only kids that have been in the torture chamber. And althought she never tries to justify Jellal's actions, Erza does not only show him compreension, but she feels guilty for not being able to retribute his protection and prevented him from losing his mind.

That doesn't mean, tho, that there weren't many other clues he was not acting on free will: be it his grotesque change of personality, his hysterical laughter out of nowhere or his motivations that doesn't hold (because they were never his to begin with). To me, all that at first glance makes him closer to Batman's Joker, someone that grew insane after so much suffering, than a villain that's genuinely just plain selfish and thirsty for power. And that only makes me find him a creepier villain, since personally, I find sadism and insanity way scarier than ghosts.

So this is just a looong collection of thoughts about how small choices can change a lot the "feeling" we get from a scene or a character. I hope someone can find it interesting too. There are many other examples of adaptations where it happened, and if you remember one you'd like to share, I would love to hear!

Last but not less important, all the love for Mashima's art, the Tower of Heaven arc (that is a personal favorite) and Jellal, a character I deeply love and one that holds for sure the strongest spirit in the manga for being able to become such a kind and mature man despite everything he has been thought. ♡

#Fairy Tail #Jellal fernandes #erza scarlet #jerza #semiotics #manga x anime #anime vs manga #Tower of heaven #Sorry this is too long #Also english is not my main language but I hope this is still understandable sorry #My motivation for writing this was: HOW THE HELL do I see so many people saying Jellal didn't suffer #I tried to understand how people read/watch fairy tail and get this interpretation and this text was born haha #it justifies nothing actually but it's such a fun analysis to do #Bro never had a moment of peace in his head for 27 years and tried to k*ll himself at least 3 times canonically he just needs a hug #siren's thoughts #about stories #plot analysis

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hooked-on-elvis · 10 months ago

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THANK YOU FOR BEING STRONG, LISA MARIE PRESLEY ♥ (1968 — 2023)

I'd like to address a few words on Lisa Marie Presley today, on [sadly] the 1st anniversary of her passing.

BRAVERY. That's the biggest virtue I see in Lisa.

At 5 years old she saw her life drastically changing for the first time, and it was the first moment she had no other choice but to be brave, even not knowing about it, consciously. Her parents, Elvis and Priscilla, divorced in 1973. Imagine how this feels to a child. Imagine now how this feels to a famous child, since gossip is all around and there's nothing anyone could do to prevent her from being exposed to it (even if Priscilla and Elvis tried the hardest to protect young Lisa, the best they could).

Although she couldn't possibly understand what was going on, a child is still very perceptive and sensitive to the world around. At 5 years old is the age we all begin to keep the first memories of being alive, so Lisa must have kept to her adult years, vivid, possibly painful, memories way back from 1973, even if just a few blurred images and soft whispers echoing through her mind.

Then, at 9 years old she was forced to be brave for the second time, but it was harder. Unfortunately, Lisa lost her loving father in 1977 and grief stroke her for the first time, ravaging her fairy tale castle at once, without any warning, and, on top of that, she spent her whole life from then on, having those painful memories being brought up to mind when people, naturally, asked about her phenomenal father, all the time they addressed to her. She could never, and she did never, managed to escape this, to keep herself from thinking about her father's death and avoid suffering.

But the worst about having to heal and "get over" her father's loss, certainly was witnessing people, many, many people, badmouthing him. The man this young girl knew, the one she looked up to, the loving parent that took good care of her, that spoiled her to a fault, the first man that protected her and the first man she ever loved, the one man that treated her as a little princess and made her feel the most special little angel on earth, was gone forever... and the people, instead of being compassionate and protective about her, were all around spewing venom over her father's grave, shouting how bad of a man Elvis Presley supposedly was. And it all started since the day Elvis passed away, from the gossip in the book "Elvis: What Happened".

To little "Yisa" Marie, Elvis was a hero, just a hero... nothing more, nothing less.

But she didn't have him around anymore, to hug her and tell everything would be alright, or to put her at ease and say those things they said about him, those things that were hurting her so much, were all lies — even tho much wasn't, she didn't understand and it would've been good having her father there to make her feel safe.

All she had available now, to help her feeling closer to her daddy, to get to know him a little better for herself and maybe getting a good and sound advice from him, were books. Books with the family and friends own personal accounts on who Elvis was and what he did throughout his life. But those books... the same books that contained the good side of Elvis, contained many things a daughter doesn't want and doesn't need to know about her parent.

To who Lisa could run to, when needing a little support, a little help soothing her sorrow, her grief? Her mother. Now, the worst must have been having her own mother writing a memoir book where she accused Elvis of many shameful, monstrous even, actions and behavior (one of the vital books that tainted Elvis' image forever). Now, Lisa didn't have her father anymore, and her mother kinda looked like an enemy at times. She felt lost, alone, and didn't know why those people kept on talking so badly about someone she utterly loved so much and that gave her nothing but the deepest love she ever felt.

Reading gossip all the time, being asked about things written in book she couldn't possibly tell rather they were truthful or not; things written in books she probably didn't ever read to keep herself from getting even more hurt. Still, Lisa had to sit and hear all those hurtful things about her own father and she couldn't do much to defend him. She just sat there and probably feeling the words cutting her guts like knives being twisted nonstop. This little girl was deeply hurt many times in her life, and nothing could mend this part of her broken heart.

It made her angry the way she was forced to hear some people mocking her father. It maddened her how the press kept questioning her about rather Elvis was or wasn't a bad man. But she had to live with this and keep a straight face. She had to grow up faster than most children/teenagers do while the press - and a good part of the society - kept on trying to make Lisa hate a part of herself, her origin, her own family name. She saw her castle being crushed many times during her life, with only a few quick breaks, here and there, so she could take a deep breath and get herself together again, only so she could prepare herself to the next dark moment she sorely felt would come to find her, sooner or later.

On top of Elvis, Lisa had to deal with many more damaging situations throughout her life, AND I AM ONLY TALKING ABOUT HER FORMATIVE YEARS UNTIL NOW.

Because of her status in society, her name, her fame, her wealthy, she never knew if the ones around her were genuinely loving and caring for her or not (something her father also experienced as an adult, something that Elvis confessed to friends it made him hopeless since he would never know for sure if he had true love in his life or if the people around him were there to get something only he could offer, and something that wasn't his pure love at all. Imagine living a life where you never know if you are loved because of who you are or for what you have to offer. It must make one feels like they worth nothing, like they didn't deserve being loved.

Yes, Lisa was poured with Elvis' fans adoration and love, but its a different love, it's distant. It's a love not even Elvis himself could feel in his soul, even tho he loved his fans so much. He said to friends our, his fans love, was an impersonal kind of love because we didn't know him as a person, just as an image. He was right, back in his time people only knew Elvis' image. As much we adore them, Elvis and little Lisa couldn't possibly feel loved only from the fans adoration.

Not knowing if her friends really cared for her must have been lonely. Like she had nobody she could trust. We know Elvis felt like this.

Living this kind of life isn't easy, it would quickly take its toll on any of us. Lisa must have felt browsing in the ocean, all alone. She needed to escape from those uneasy feelings. So, she had some drug issues during her growing up period in life. I don't blame her, neither should you. Like Elvis sang, "Walk a mile in my shoes". You and I have no idea how it must be unbearable listening to people mocking at your family publicly; saying the meanest things about your father, some mean gossip about her mother too, here and there, and even mean rumors about herself, when people begun judging her body, her relationships, and so on.

Yet, Lisa continued being brave. She lived her life, her own way. Never caring what outsides may think of her. She got married some times, she had children and for a moment things seemed to be doing okay. But the worst thing could ever had happened to sweet Lisa, happened. Suddenly she was losing her only son, her loving beautiful boy, her Ben. All of those things that happened in that little girl's life until now, and then this, the most horrendous nightmare strikes her, breaking not only her heart but her soul, in a way she would never recover from.

Still, Lisa Marie continued being the bravest she could, for herself but mostly for the 3 beautiful daughters she had to be there for, but from now on things were never the same.

I still don't know about Lisa Marie's life in a deep. There's many more things, I'm sure, she had endure, she had to face in her lifetime [the broken relationships, not to mention the inner monsters she had to fight against every single day], but those things everybody knows are enough to make me feel empathetic towards her.

Of course, there's poverty in the world, there's people literally dying from starvation or from guns/knives and bombs - and we all feel deeply for them too, but that doesn't mean the famous and rich people don't suffer as well. Everybody has their own mountains to climb. And yes, I feel very empathetic for the emotional issues Lisa Marie Presley had to face after losing her father as a child, all the press abuse she experienced since a young age and then the tragic lost of her only son.

I'm not trying to make Lisa a saint, much less someone you should pity. Not in a million years. I know, we know, Lisa Marie was happy too. Not everything was darkness in her life. ✨ She managed to find happiness and bliss in the little things. She wrote beautiful, meaningful and deep songs; she performed live onstage graciously, even if it must have felt terrifying singing in front of an audience when people had unreal expectations on her because of her father. Lisa lived life her way. She gave her father's fans her love and affection the best way she could, all her life. She grew a loving family. She had 4 beautiful children. CONTINUOUSLY, SHE LIVED BOLDLY, DOING HER OWN THING, TAKING CARE OF BUSINESS, SEARCHING FOR HAPPINESS WHILE BEING THE STRONG, BRAVE WOMAN SHE WAS BORN BEING.

Lisa Marie Presley is an inspiring woman. She was humble, she was fearless, she was a rock star. ⚡

Unfortunately, Lisa was taken away from her family, from us, fans, too soon, exactly one year ago. But we will never forget her, not because of her father but because of her own soul, the life she created by herself.

Now, something to celebrate is that we, gladly, will read Lisa's own words about her life. About her father, certainly, but most importantly about herself and this is something to celebrate indeed. Elvis didn't had the same good fortune of having the time to collect his memories and writing a book that could speak up for him when he was no longer here. Thanks to Riley Keough, Lisa's beautiful daughter, Elvis' grandchild, Lisa will have this triumph, this final time to set the record straight.

I'm SO, SO, SO happy Lisa's memoir book will be released! She deserves having her story told by herself. Once again, Riley is being the real Presley she is. God bless her.

I love that GIF so much! It's clear to see how Lisa is emotional seeing her father's history being told in such a fair, not full of bullshit way. If we think about other Elvis biopics released previously, where in some Elvis is shown ridiculously talking to his shadow, even tho Baz Luhrmann's 2022 "Elvis" movie isn't 100% accurate, it was the closest we ever got to his real, full lifestory being portrayed. I feel happy the last her father's history portrayed onscreen she got to see was one that made her feel happy, proud and honored. That's all Lisa wanted all her life in what concerns to her daddy memory and legacy. I'm in peace knowing that, even tho she died so young, she was honored and witnessed at last her beloved father being honored and praised for the good, unique Rock and Roll hero, the pioneer, the legend he was.

I'm happy it made her happy. ♥

We miss you so much, EP and dear Lisa. Hope you're both happy reunited. Look down for us, sweet angels. We'll keep your memories alive. May God keep Lisa's angel soul in Heaven, peaceful and together with her beloved father and son.

We love you, Yisa. Thank you for living your life in such inspirational way.

Rest in peace, sweet princess. ♥

#we miss you ♥#lisa marie presley #elvis presley #the presleys #rest in peace

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pineappleswithsugar · 4 months ago

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My forgotten island headcanon: it’s a desert and very windy, so everyone wears the same sturdy, darkless cloak and hat that Siffrin does. They tend to be crafted by your parent(s), and there are classes on how to craft the thread. And if people just can’t do it, or if someone doesn’t have parents, there are charities that make the cloaks/hats for them.

To counteract how boring that looks, people embroider their cloaks, and have really fancy and elaborate clothes for mellow days/nights and festivals.

Cloak embroidering is done by a mix of you, your loved ones, and tailors. All of your loved ones do at least one thing on your cloak. Like, your kids will often do their very first project on you. Some parents only let them do it when they’ve reached a particular skill level tho (typically not very high, still). Your partner(s) will do embroidery on your cloak once you’ve committed to them (divorce isn’t always grounds to have the embroidery removed, as many still consider that person to be a significant part of their life). Parents usually do embroidery for their kids’ favorite constellations when they’re little, and come up with a design that they think symbolizes their kid once they’ve become an adult (sometimes with the help of a tailor if the design is too lofty, and the kid is okay with it). Instead of friendship bracelets, you instead get friendship embroidery. They tend to be smaller designs until you both decide your friendship is deep enough: in which case you’ll both expand on each other’s design.

Doing your own embroidery is a sign of independence. It’s knowing what you want, and having the means to execute it yourself. Siffrin was about the age when he would’ve embroidered his first design on his cloak. When a parent or someone close to you dies, you embroider a design on your cloak, to honor the life they lived (a typical mourning period would last for however long it takes you to finish the embroidery for each person you lost. Your neighbors would take care of you in the meantime, including bringing you new thread). Its taboo to ask a tailor for help, and none of them would do it anyway—quality doesn’t matter so much as it being YOU who does it, since YOU’RE the one with those memories of them.

Tailors basically take the role of tattoo artists (though, those do exist as well). If you have a particularly grandiose idea, or otherwise have a project in mind that you don’t have the skill for, you’d visit a tailor. They can also help with crafting the embroidery to do something like heal you a little during battle (looking at you, starry hat). They tend to be expensive though, something you save up for. Like a farewell gift for someone heading to a new country for their studies? (*looks even harder at the starry hat*)

Anyway, since the weather conditions are rough, I imagine people keep their most precious embroidery either under the brim of their cat, on the inside of their cloak’s collar, or even inside their cloak proper. Any embroidery done on the outside of the cloak would be made small and tight, or would be from a tailor and made with thread crafted to be sturdy (done by a tailor because that kinda thread would be hard to work with). Well, unless you’re okay with the design fraying within a year. The former is how friendship embroidery is usually done. Upon expansion, people either make a small expansion to their current design at the bottom of the cloak, or they move their design to the inside of the cloak and make it bigger (or both!). It’s possible to make a big design on the outside, but that usually takes a while since you need to make the design thick so it’s doesn’t fray quickly, so not everyone likes to do that. As for the inside of the cloak proper, I imagine it’s typically reserved for depictions of one’s favorite constellations, so they can be as a big as one wants without having to worry about making the design sturdy (cloaks are double lined so you can’t see the back of the embroidery lol).

But we’re done with embroidery headcanons! Now to fancy clothing headcanons. Since their work clothes are so practical, I imagine their festival/chill clothes seek to be as flashy as possible. Bright colors, if those were a thing prior to the island disappearing; midriffs showing; skirts a-flowin; boots with the highest heels you can walk with in the desert! (Or sandals.) Jewelry tends to be limited to festivals, but it’s very shiny and jingley! All jewelry would probably end up being heirlooms, but anything from Ka Bue would be especially precious, cuz it’s probably super expensive (especially since Ka Bue isn’t close to island from what I know).

I keep thinking of Indian clothes tbh, but after looking it up Cuban clothing fits pretty well too. Maybe a mix of the two?

Anyways, here’s a doodle of what everyone’s friendship embroidery might look like, tho it’d probably be smaller in real life (hey, Sif, whatcha lookin at there in your collar?) (it’s everyone’s more detailed family embroidery!)

#isat #in stars and time #isat headcanon #in stars and time headcanons #I think they’d at least have one or two constellations on the inside of their cloak #but they wouldn’t know anything about them #and they probably give him a headache to look at‚ until he equips Memory of Memories #after that‚ at least they’d be able to look for them in the sky #(they still wouldn’t be able to name them tho lol)#and the only way that Siffrin would get those friendship/family embroideries is if they found a detailed enough book on their culture #which #good luck?

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thehollowwriter · 4 months ago

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Warnings: Blood, child abuse, unintentional misgendering/deadnaming, bullying, implied sexual harassment (not to Timo tho) Word count: 3554

Summary: A story about Timo and his life and how he came to work for Silas

(Pls reblog and leave a comment ♥️)

Renege

Timo Byun hated empty promises. Words that were just there to fill the air, to provide a sense of comfort and hopefully, get you to leave and drop whatever topic brought up.

Empty words and fake sympathy were a constant in Timo's life. For as long as he could remember, he was given endless assurances and comforts, all of which meant absolutely nothing.

What would you do if you saw a child lost and alone in the streets, wandering aimlessly? Offer your sympathies, whisper your pities? Spare an uncomfortable glance and pretend you don't see him? Give him a glare and wonder what idiot parent lost their noise machine?

Timo was met with all of these in different forms and stages. The sight of a tiny cuttlefish swimming without direction, teary-eyed and hunger stricken, tugged at many a merfolk's heartstrings. But they never did anything, no, that would just be too much effort.

This wasn't a surpise to Timo. He'd been through this song and dance enough times. Most of his early memories were wandering the streets, digging through trashcans or trying to catch fish that swam by, and dealing with strangers ogling him.

"Are you lost?" Asked an elderly lady, her bright purple tail flicking back and forth in concern.

Timo spluttered something incomprehensible and cried harder.

"Oh, poor dear." The lady muttered, then swam away.

A merman talking on his phone drifted past. He locked eyes with Timo and quickly looked away with an uncomfortable expression

A family came swam past, whispering, glancing, sighing.

"Oh, isn't it sad what this city has come to? Children on the street... back in my day, this would never happen."

"Should we help? Give some money or something?"

"I wish we could, dear, but some horrible people send children out to get drug money. It's best we don't risk it."

A couple stared at Timo as he cowered in an alley, one with their phone camera pointed at him.

"Okay, seriously though, should we help her?" Asked one after laughing about how he looked like a scared animal.

"We don't have the time," said the other. "Don't worry, someone else will."

Nobody else did.

"Where's your mama?" A passing stranger asked before taking note of his dirty, hungry appearance and shuffling off before Timo could answer. It didn't really matter. Timo wouldn't know anyway.

It was always the same. Words, words, words, almost nothing done.

Sometimes, people would pity Timo enough to give him food, but it wasn't enough for him to live off of. When he was lucky, he could get his colour changing to work well enough to draw fish to him, but his sequence of flashing colours and lights was quick to fade, and the fish would swim off again.

Sometime bigger, older merfolk would steal his food, threatening Timo with a fate far worse than hunger if he didn't let them. How they kept finding him even when he tried to hide at night, he didn't know.

Neighbourhood kids would try to play with him and give him sweets, only to be dragged away by angry, worried parents giving him dirty looks.

The routine was the same. Wander, scrounge, rest, maybe eat, sleep, repeat.

That changed one day, when Timo woke up and he wasn't in the corner of an alley anymore. He was in a clamshell bed, blankets crafted from seaweed carefully wrapped around him.

"Oh, you're awake." Said a stranger, smiling at him with perfect teeth. "Don't worry, you're safe now. You'll be staying with us at Atlantica's Children's Sanctuary."

Timo was scrubbed clean, and his and dirty, knotted hair was cut short so it could start growing cleaner and healthier.

"It'll grow back," Timo was assured. "Don't worry."

"But I like it short," Timo wanted to say, but he kept his mouth shut.

"What's your name?" A kind lady asked, and Timo couldn't give a true answer. What was his name? Someone called him Byun once, when he was rushing down the street with some food in hand.

"Byun." He said, and she shook her head.

"Oh, that just won't do." She said. "How about I call you Saira? Byun can be your last name. How's that?"

Timo didn't really like that name, but he nodded anyway. He didn't want to risk angering these strangers looking after him.

Once he was cleaned up, he was given a bowl of porridge, which seemed more like slop than anything, and some fish to eat.

The porridge tasted like carboad, and the fish had a tang of crude oil, but he kept quiet. He didn't want it taken away.

"One day, someone's going to adopt you." He was told. "That's what this place is for. You'll have a family."

Empty, useless words.

Timo was introduced to his roommates, the other little kids he would be sharing a tiny room with.

They all looked sad and tired, and muttered a short, disinterested greeting before going back to what they were doing before.

When Timo's hair finally grew long enough, they were done up in pigtails with big pink bows.

"You must catch our customer's attention," He was told. "We can't have you looking scrappy."

His claws were filed down once a month until they were nothing but short nails.

"Nobody wants a feral child," He was told. "If they wanted to be scratched up, they'd buy a pet."

The other children avoided him. They didn't like him because of his mouth. The squirming tentacles that shot out whenever he ate made them cry, made them say he gave them nightmares.

"Scary Saira was in my dreams again!"

"They'll get used to it." He was told. "They'll play with you."

They never did.

Timo's bed was crammed into the back corner of the dorm room, a little further away from the rest. He spent most of his time lying on it, staring blankly at the ceiling.

The others were usually either playing in the playroom or outside. Timo didn't join. He stopped trying a while ago.

"We don't let weirdos in," said Aria, the de facto leader of their dorm room. "Go away."

Possible parents came and went, arriving with happy smiles and high expectations Timo could never live up to.

Only once or twice did anyone express any form of interest in hi. When that happened, an employee would rush to do the usual song of dance of, for lack of a better word, advertising him.

"This is Saira Byun," They would say, smiling. "She's a lovely little girl with a big imagination."

'I'm not a girl,' Timo wanted to say because he was a boy and he was sure of it, but what would the point be? What would they say?

'I'm sure you are." They'll say, and then ignore him because nobody at that god forsaken place cared about what he had to say.

Timo hated that orphanage. He hated it with a passion that burned like the sun.

The building itself was old, very old, and used to house nobility. It was ill-suited for children or, well, anybody.

The stone chipped and cracked, and there was algae blooming in places it shouldn't. It was slowly detoriating, but it was never fixed up.

Due to the historical value of the building and the attention sad little orphans got online, volunteers were often influencers wanting to get some extra views.

They would come in, these people, recording Timo and the others and spouting their sympathies. They weren't so nice when they turned the camera off.

Many were mean, others were creepy. Looking at the Timo and the others weird, talking about how cute they were.

"You know you're very mature for your age," one of them said to a girl not much older than Timo. "It's admirable."

Timo wasn't sure why, but that sentence made his skin crawl.

The staff weren't much better. They seemed to hate the place as much as Timo did, though they also hated their tiny tenants.

"Stop crying." Timo once heard the dorm warden say to a young boy. The "slap" sound was loud and piercing. "If you're going to be a brat, you can leave."

And didn't that just sum up this place perfectly? Be quiet and obey, or you'll either be going to bed with bruises or you won't be enjoying a free bed and food for much longer.

Don't complain, even if the same meal every day for three meals a day is porridge that tasted like cardboard and fish that had clearly been exposed to oil spills. Don't complain, even if you're being recorded by random strangers. Don't complain, even if you think some of the staff are too handsy with you to be comfortable.

It was hell there. Sometimes, Timo even felt that maybe he would be better off on the streets before perishing the thought. He can at least eat food here.

Timo stayed on his behaviour, afraid to get hurt, to get tossed out. He listened and obeyed, did what asked of him, and put on a good show for people looking to adopt.

Timo tried so hard to listen to the staff in the hopes he got adopted. It never mattered, though. Pretty him up with big bows, seashell hairclips, and trendy hairstyles, it. Didn't. Matter.

The potential parent or parents, if they were interested in him at all, eventually lost that interest and moved on to another, better child.

It didn't take long for Timo to realise why. Claws, sharp teeth, creepy mouth tentacles... those weren't desirable. Those weren't cute or good or innocent. It was wrong. It was monstrous.

"What are those?" A person screeched at horror when they saw Timo eating a snack.

"Those are her tentacles. Saira needs them to eat. All cuttlefish merfolk have them."

Then the adults huddled together, whispering amongst themselves and underestimating the sharpness of Timo's hearing.

"Those are just sitting there in her mouth? Are they always so... obvious?"

"When she's eating, yes."

"...Can you not get rid of them? Like, cut them out? Some merfolk do that, you know. Remove unwanted parts."

"No, I don't think so."

Timo was, for once, very glad this couple didn't want him.

As Timo got older, the number of familiar faces dwindled, and new faces came in to replace them until, eventually, Timo was the only one of the original group still there.

"Nobody wants teenagers." An older kid once told him, drumming her fingers against her bedframe. "They want cute little boys and girls, all bright-eyed and easy to control. Teenagers are too old, too set in their ways. Once you hit thirteen, you might as well give up. Nobody will want you, and once you turn eighteen, they'll kick you to the streets because you aren't their problem anymore."

The idea of winding up back on the streets terrified Timo. He would be back at square one, but even worse off than before.

At eighteen, he would no longer have the small advantage of being a cute little kid people could take pity on. He was no longer helpless, no longer "abandoned" or "lost."

No, he would be old enough to be a druggie, a crackhead failure that couldn't get his shit right and ended up on the streets. He would be old enough to be a disappointment, a screw up.

"That's what will happen if you don't work hard and get good grades." They'll say.

"Some people don't realise there are consequences to their laziness." They'll say.

"That's why you shouldn't do drugs." They'll say.

And all Timo would be able to do iss ignore them and bedazzle some fish to get a few scraps of food, and then hope it wouldn't get stolen.

Timo began trying even harder to impress the adults who came to visit. He concentrated hard until his skintone was no longer pink and yellow but instead matching the more human-ish skintone of whoever was looking to adopt.

He couldn't hold it for long, though, and eventually, he would shift back to his original colour and hang his head in shame.

On the rare occasion he was considered, the nightmare that resided within his mouth convinced those people that yes, a normal child would be much easier to deal with.

Not to mention, this child partially mimicking their appearance probably made it worse.

"Aren't just an angel?" And adult cooed to him once. "I promise you'll be coming home with me."

Empty promises. Useless words. Timo found himself very much unadopted years after that conversation.

The staff would comfort him, mostly trying to get him to stop looking so sad and smile for the next volunteer with a camera.

"It's alright, Saira."

"You'll be fine, Saira."

"Someone will love you, I promise."

Talk talk talk.

"You'll need money." That older kid from before told him. "Do chores for pocket money, try get a job when you're old enough. Steal, if you have to."

Timo listened to her. He tried his best, tried to get some madol from the orphanage staff. Some humoured him, giving him the minimum possible amount they could, and others rolled their eyes and scoffed.

"What we give you isn't good enough, is that it?" One hissed. "If you're going to be greedy, you'll never get adopted."

When Timo turned fourteen, he began looking around for small jobs. He applied to as many as he could and was turned down by every single one.

"We'll get back to you."

"I just don't think you're suited for customer service."

"You're far too young. Do some chores for your parents or something."

"Sorry, you don't match our company values."

After yet another rejection, Timo curled up in bed and silently cried through the night, all the way until the faintest slivers of sunlight began streaming through the windows.

He peeled himself out of bed and drifted down to the front entrance, hoping that at least fetching the newspaper would earn him a madol or two.

Timo looked through the newspaper, flipping past advertisements and celebrity drama and political news and then-

And then something caught his eye. In a tiny column at the very back of the newspaper was an advertisement for a business currently hiring.

"Hunter?" Timo mumbled out loud as he read through it. "They accept fourteen and older..."

Timo wasn't much of a hunter. He could put sea creatures in a trance with his colours, sure, but his poor control rendered that ability useless.

He was also clumsy, skittish, and shy, lacking in confidence and prone to crying. That's what the dorm warden told him, at least.

Well, he'd give it a shot anyway. Better than accepting his fate.

Timo soon found himself hovering in front of the dense kelp forest at the edge of the city, feeling more afraid of being rejected than possibly being eaten, like he was warned.

"That man is dangerous, Saira." The warden told him when he told her where he was going. "Have you forgotten all you've learned about those those types? Go, if you really want, but don't act surprised when he clamps his teeth around your throat."

Timo tried not to think about how, besides that brief warning, nobody even bothered to stop him from leaving.

In the end, it didn't matter. Silas Clearcove did not, in fact, try to eat him. Instead, he subjected Timo to one of the strangest job interviews the cuttlefish had ever sat through.

Silas, a frankly terrifying looking man, briefly looked through Timo's CV but didn't seem to actually care about it all that much.

He barely spoke, spending most of their time together staring at Timo. It didn't feel like he was judging him exactly... more like... analysing. In some weird way.

Timo was only asked three or four questions in total. If he was old enough to be hired, how fast he could swim, if he had any knowledge about the butchery business, and if he could handle viscera.

There was no question about Timo's values, no prodding about his work ethic, and nothing at all about his desires for the future or the state of his health.

It was surreal, and yet it was also a breath of fresh air. Though there were still some issues Timo was concerned about.

"I dunno how to hunt, sir," He admitted after a long, awkward bout of silence. The intensity of Silas' gaze made him feel like he was confessing a murder. "Like, catching fish and stuff. And my colours are useless. I can't control 'em."

"I'll teach you." Said Silas after a brief pause, his quiet voice not betraying any emotion. "You don't have to know. You can learn. Come tomorrow if you can."

Timo left in an almost daze, snapping out of it briefly when he bumped into who he would later learn was Silas' husband, Morrigan.

"Aw, did he scare you?" He asked, patting Timo's head. "Silas does that. Don't worry, I'm trying to get him not to freak out his interviewees as much. He's really nice, I promise. Well, sort of."

Timo arrived at home, bewildered at the strange interactions. What an odd pair. But the main thing on his mind was Silas' words.

"I'll teach you." A bold statement. A promise. And for once, they weren't empty. It wasn't a lie.

Silas, Timo soon came to learn, was a man of action, not words. His silence was not some scare tactic to use against Timo, but rather just one of the many facets that made up who he was.

Timo almost couldn't believe it when he returned the next day to find Silas patiently waiting for him, ready to go.

He hadn't lied. He hadn't replaced Timo. He actually did what he said he would.

This was a constant when it came to Silas. He did not ever make false promises. If he said he'd do something, he would do it, no matter how difficult the task seemed to be.

Spending time with him made Timo feel like he was in a fever dream. Someone so scary looking, someone who seemed to have been dragged through hell and back, spoke in a soft but firm voice that gripped Timo's attention like vice, and instructed Timo in a way that oozed nothing but patience.

When Timo made a mistake, he would freeze and expect to be yelled at, to be hit, but Silas simply corrected him and let him try again.

Morrigan would join them from time to time, though he was mostly there to observe and giggle a bit when Timo screwed up.

"It's ok," He said, always more talkative than Silas ever was. "I did that too when I was first learning. You got this."

They were both so.... strange. Especially as a couple. From what Timo knew, romance was going on dates and bringing each other plants and chocolate and kissing.

They were very aggressive with each other. Timo was worried and nearly had a heart attack when he saw them wrestling across the sand one day.

"It's fine," said Silas, wiping blood from his mouth.

"We're not actually trying to kill each other," added Morrigan, sending Timo a bloody smile.

Everything Timo had been taught seemed to tell him to quit, to stay away from these odd people and try somewhere else. But he didn't. He stayed. He liked these two. He liked them a lot, even if he thought they were weird.

They were both good teachers. Silas taught him how to hunt and make traps, and Morrigan assisted him with controlling his colours.

It took a long while, but he eventually found himself able to control them. His body finally began to obey him, shifting to whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted. The fish were drawn to him like moths to a flame.

Timo would stay much longer than intended, preferring his time there over even a second in that orphanage.

Once, when it was lunchtime, Silas slid a huge plate of several crustaceans, fish and seaweed towards him, and stared at him with those large amethyst eyes.

"Uh..." Timo stared at it, then at Silas, and blinked. "Huh?"

"You're not eating enough." Silas said. "Eat."

Timo, wondering if maybe he'd gone insane, mumbled an "Okay," and started nervously nibbling on it, bit by bit. It was probably one of the best meals he'd ever had.

By the time he'd turned seventeen, Timo was a full-fledged hunter working for Silas, helping stun prey as well as prep it all.

He got far closer to the two of them than intended over those three years, becoming, as the other staff put it, "Silas' little protégé."

He supposed it wasn't all that incorrect, especially since he began helping Morrigan pick up on the hunting after they decided to have children.

The news came a bit out of nowhere, and Timo didn't ever think they would be parents... but he was happy for them.

He was allowed to stay with them when they learned he couldn't afford an apartment even with his pay. All they wanted was that he kept his space clean and helped them out.

When Timo told Silas and Morrigan that he was a boy and his name was, well, Timo, Silas seemed very confused but accepted it, and Morrigan gave him a thumbs up.

And... they listened. They called him Timo and didn't call him she. And aside from that, they treated him the exact same as before, with just as much compassion.

Timo never said it out loud, but to him, it felt like they were a little family. Silas and Morrigan taught him to hunt and look after himself, taught him important life skills, and how to control his colours. They showed careful care for him, too. They acted like... well, they acted like parents. It was nice to imagine they actually were.

Morrigan was wonderful, but it was Sillas that Timo utterly adored. Silas, who made a promise and kept it. Silas, who was careful and understanding and kind to Timo, even if it was in a bit of a weird way. Silas, who saved Timo from absolute hell.

Silas was the best, and Timo would do whatever he could to make sure he was happy. No matter what, he'd stick by Silas Clearcove.

...........................................

A/N: I hope you guys enjoyed this juicy bit of Timo lore! Please consider this a sort of PSA as well, as I did research on orphanages for this, and the situation is pretty dire. Orphanage tourism is a thing, along with many other issues. Most of my info came from here. Please check it out. I absolutely accept constructive criticism as, although it isn't the main focus here, Timo is the first trans character I've written a story for. I hope it's OK! Sorry if the ending seems lackluster, I wasn't sure how to end it 😭

Tagging: @distant-velleity @br3adtoasty @rainesol @theleechyskrunkly @jovieinramshackle

@galaxies-and-gore @cyanide-latte @cynthinesia @officialdaydreamer00 @krenenbaker

@offorestsongs @kitwasnothere @elenauaurs @boopshoops @inotonline

@1dont-really-know @kazumify @minteasketches @elysia-nsimp @skrimpyskimpy

@casp1an-sea @offorestsongs @tixdixl @poisoned-pearls @the-trinket-witch

@ramshacklerumble @ghostiidasponk @thegoldencontracts @the-banana-0verlord @cloudcountry

@skriblee-ksk @twstinginthewind @lumdays @theolivetree123 @natsukishinomiyaswife

@authoruio @jewelulu @raguiras @honeynclove @moonyasnow

#timo byun #silas clearcove #morrigan clearcove #twisted wonderland #twst oc #writing

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66sharkteeth · 5 months ago

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Hey man. No offense (genuinely, not sure if theres a bette way to ask this) but why do you care so much about a small handful of fans not understanding a few parts of the story? Yeah it's been explained before but with most if not all works - especially ones with a big audience - there are always people who misunderstand or missed something. Or just have a different opinion coz art can be subjective like that. Not trying to criticize you at all, but just seemed like a good amount of your frustrated rants come from this so, wondering why.

ahaha i literally asked about this on twitter yesterday... asking how i can remind people about events and facts in the story without coming off mean or condescending.

i SWEAR 99% of the time I'm not actually mad at someone just...forgetting or mixing things up, but i've been worried i've been coming off wrong lately so that's precisely why i asked haha. definitely gonna be working on my tone!

if you mean like in my weekly thoughts tho, those are very much kind of just...brain rambles. i know there was one a few weeks ago i was legit kind of mad during...but most of that wasn't even over misunderstandings, it was frustration over people not being able to differentiate their tastes and criticism, like how I get frustrated when people say horror is bad just because...they don't like horror. Like no, it's not bad, it's just not for you. I wanna be able to tell dark stories and it's frustrating when people tell me I'm a bad writer simply because they don't like dark stories. That's the only time in recent memory I've been...legit frustrated haha.

I swear tho, I'm 99% of the time not actually mad in my posts here (regarding misunderstandings) but i know i can get excited and use caps lock a lot which can come off cranky but i swear i'm trying to sound more in the tone of

There's exceptions like the note above and times when people were being incredibly violent and gross to Lyss last season (sorry, I just don't love reading misogynistic comments about how my character deserves a violent death to the point some people legit harassed me about her). but overall, i'm NOT mad and am trying harder to make that clear in my tone.

now... if you mean me getting sad when there's one harsh comment out of 100... sorry, that's just how my brain works ahah. i know i'm definitely not alone in that. it's just a lot easier to remember a bee sting that's still throbbing a few days later than 100 butterflies, no matter how pretty they were.

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quirkle2 · 8 months ago

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you didn't just write that angst down of your zombie au and expect me to go on about my day without crying,,,,

also also, now i wonder what did mob do to finally have reigen and teru trust that he's, well, still him? WHAT HAPPENED I NEED TO KNOOOOW (and the terumob hug oh no, oH NO *RIPS MY HAIR OUT)

((sorry if i'm asking too much i'm just that invested in this au jwnxjwndi i hope you don't mind 🥹))

DW im like so stoked abt the questions i LOOOOVE talking abt the zombie au it makes me ill

i think it's a lot of little things that add up, actually. mob, compared to other zombies, is still quite reserved and quiet. in his weird little sparse mumblings, they occasionally catch what sounds like pieces of their names in the stream of syllables. even tho he's a zombie now and most of them r usually sloppy in their movements, mob still sits with relatively good posture and with his hands politely in his lap

one of the biggest things was seeing him sit down next to ritsu and plop his head on his shoulder. old habit of his when ritsu was bummed abt smth... they saw that and the gears started churning..

a lot of behavior can be explained away if ur desperate enough for sciency proof, which is what teru likely tries to pull at first. zombie mob watches ants on the ground and gets easily distracted by animals and bugs, much like he used to pre-zombie, but many many zombies do that anyway... the hug-back is purely muscle memory there's surely no recollection of emotions or a desire to comfort in there... that thing he still does when he tilts his head at confusing things is surely a Typical Zombie Behavior

when they go to grocery stores to loot them mob stands in front of the fridges with the milk cartons that are 100% expired by now, like he wants one. he seems more quiet and a little bummed when ritsu tells him they're bad by now and that he can't have one. him and teru Totally used to have one of those silly secret handshakes for the funsies and teru starts it on instinct one day and mob returns like ?half of it in a very stilted and sloppy fashion, struggling to remember but doing it well enough.that almost makes teru cry Again

but honestly, even without any of that at all, if they rly search in his eyes, they See it. they see Him, and they never know how to describe it, but he's still there in his gaze, it's just incredibly muted and tired. there's recognition when he turns his head and looks at them, there's even some semblance of fondness when they smile at him. you don't see it if u aren't looking for it, and at first they're convinced that's the deal, that they Want to see it so obviously it's just a trick of their brain that they Do, but...it is there. he is still there

reigen and teru quickly join ritsu in the belief that mob is still very much mob, in almost every interaction they have with him. and they quickly become just as eager to find a cure for him—seeing him be Him But Not Quite is harder on them than they thought it'd be,, makes them miss him that much more

#qktalks #anon #zombie au

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codenamesazanka · 9 months ago

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There was that joke in the fandom about Horikoshi looking through fanfics to see what theories to make canon like the "Dabi being Touya" or "the UA traitor" (even tho most of those were just stuff hinted at in the canon before hand). Since we're doing the whole "sharing memories" bit, the one fanfic trope he can definitely throw in the manga right now is the "Spinner tells Shigaraki he used to have a tail that got cut off by bullies"

Is that a popular trope? Enough to be a thing Horikoshi would pick up on. I don't think it's anywhere near the same level as 'Dabi is the lost Todoroki son' and 'UA Traitor is _____'… but it would be interesting if Spinner Tail Trauma is made canon.

Though at this late stage, I don't know if I want it, to be honest! If it's a memory, it's angst fuel to develop characters other than Spinner - guy wouldn't even be there for it. It would a real iffy choice to show something deeply personal and traumatic that happened to Spinner, something so unjust, without Spinner there—and really only for the benefit of the contrived connection between Shigaraki and Deku.

I guess because Spinner is still unaccounted for, he can still show up so it doesn't have to be just a memory, but. Still leaves a bad taste in my mouth. HeroAca resolutions are less about the victims and what they're owed, and more about how cool and merciful the Heroes are for saving them. This would be that, but even more so, and infinitely worse.

Plus, it would make the heteromorph riot mini-arc even more of a mess. Not to say there's levels of suffering that can be compared, but in-universe and in story, Shoji is kinda framed as having been worst off - his parents weren't heteromorphic like him, he got bashed in the face with a rake and was heavily scarred for life after he saved a girl from drowning, then he even has to wear a mask to prevent people from thinking he's resentful for being the victim of a hate crime. All that, but he came out of it with a strong and golden moral core, ready to be a great and inspirational Hero who protects the status quo.

Shoji's positioned as being in the right: here was a kid who suffered terribly, but he still managed to overcome the odds and be a Good Person, who thought deeply about the Right Way to end discrimination and is putting it into action (which is being a model minority). So what's everyone else's excuse?

Meanwhile, Spinner's backstory is that he only gets sprayed with pesticides, succumbs to being a NEET hikikomori, and goes running off to join terrorists without a single original thought in his head. For the narrative to work, he needs to be the selfish, hypocritical loser who didn't try hard enough to overcome his hardships that were comparatively mild.

If Spinner was revealed to have a tail cut off by bullies, the bnha balance of heteromorphic good and evil would collapse. A young boy's classmates mutilates him as the apex of heteromorphobic bullying, and the victim was left to languish as a high school dropout shut-in? That's not something that can be fixed by waiting out generations (just wait for the adults to die! their mindset would go with them—oh, but the perpetrators are the new generation…) or having the victim change their behavior (there's just no excuse for chopping off a child's body part). That reveals something much darker in the fabric of society that Heroes' plucky 'work-harder! plus ultra!' optimism are unequiped to handle.

At the very least, it's something that "Stop holding a grudge" and "Sorry for not realizing earlier" (as the rando hero tells the PLF guy in Chapter 373) and "Shine bright until your torments feel ashamed" are utterly insufficient and unconvincing in resolving. Not quite as inspirational, you know?

I'm sorry anon! I know you were asking as a joke, offering a fun idea. And I do like it! I'm still not opposed to Spinner having that canon backstory if the writing around it was to suddenly radically change the story and expand it by 300 more chapters to fix everything. I still love the idea that Spinner had a tail. I just took it too seriously and overthought it. My apologies. Thanks for the ask.

#Spinner #Iguchi Shuuichu #nalslastworkingbraincell #ask #asked #answered #anon #anonymous

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nomsfaultau · 5 months ago

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(Potentially) Daily ask №5

Philza edition!

Stares at him with a mix of hesitation confusion fear disgust respect and concern, hhhhhh I have some feelings about that guy. I put him off as the last character to get an ask cause I genuinely didn't know much about him and cause I didn't really like him either. But here we go!

I can't tell how powerful he actually is. Because the foundation has these things called reality anchors which it canonically traps the reality bending entities with. And Phil was still walking around freely and was powerful enough to make contracts with. But if the reality anchors didn't work on him cause he's so powerful, why didn't he just, yk, break his collected out immediately?

Does he genuinely not understand how traumatizing is a lot of the lovely murder sprees he goes on are, at least for Tommy from what I've read? Like, yeah he's a god but surely he must've researched psychology enough to understand that it's highly stressful?

Are there any repercussions to using his godly powers? Perhaps that's why he doesn't use them often. Loss of humanity?

Why does he actually cling to his humanity via collecting people? Seems like a very illogical and unproductive thing to do if you don't want to get manipulated or hurt in other ways over it.

..I don't have any gift for him but uh.. 👍 good job keeping them alive, dude?

Thanks! I wrote him to be a very complicated guy. This one will dip into some of the deep lore behind the magic system that isn’t entirely explored in Fault bc well the main characters have more pressing problems.

1 and 4 since theyre impossible to untangle. What scp lore I use is up in the air honestly, but Philza is not a reality bender. The Blood God would count as one, though that’s mostly in the ‘unfortunate accidents’ department, and Wilbur very much is a reality. Well breaker but still. Luckily the Foundation doesnt realize he’s an Apollyon since Wilbur keeps that thing locked down anyway. Creatures like Phil are what I personally call Conceptuals, which are personifications of two ideas. They get a lot of names in Fault tho, since it covers Philza, The Blood God, Wilbur’s voidlings, etc. These entities are not real* in the same way a person is, as they lack a body and usually have to anchor onto a vessel. They are beings purely made of a soul, and thus are more controlled by the components of a soul -Memories, Emotions, Name, Bonds. People and Real things meanwhile are more than their essence, and can do stuff like change, act out of character, and most pertinent to this question, break their promises. A person has a body to anchor them but an unbound soul is compelled to complete it be it a bargain, challenge, vow, pulled along by their Bonds. Voidlings to their bargains, The Blood God to his challengers, so on.

Philza is a special case, because he is an entity so powerful that he made himself Real. That’s not a vessel he’s using like The Blood God; he made himself into an actual person. And because he has made himself Real, unlike every other god/void/entity he technically can break his promises. But he doesn’t, because Bonds with his Collected chain him to personhood (and it would be a crappy ethical dilemma if he doesn’t have an actual choice). Philza is like actually billions of years old, and humanity is a blink to him if he doesn’t force himself to live in the present. He can’t care about everyone because they’re dead so fast, but he can become attached to a very select few to anchor him. It took millions of years to overcome his essence enough to even be fully sapient, let alone feel human enough to become one since his form reflects how he feels. Like imagine trying to get in the head space of an ant so completely that you become one. Without Collected, it’s harder for Phil to maintain his personhood though he can probably manage a couple decades without one. And having fought so hard to be a person, Phil isn’t willing to lose it, since again it took millions of years last time and humanity could be gone by that point. As a person he gets to be so much more than an embodiment of fire and fury, is able to change who he is, has purpose and goals and cares beyond the mindless rage he used to be. He gets to be real, all for the low low price of loving and being loved by others. Who the hell wouldn’t? So Philza would sacrifice anything to maintain the Collected system, his promises, and thus his personhood.

And unfortunately his current Collected are suffering for that long term goal. Philza made the Collected Contract with the Foundation because all his Collected were captured and short of setting the entire world on fire he couldn’t find them. Philza is a very destructive guy, but he adores humanity, so that wasn’t really on the table. So he made a promise to the Foundation, and had to follow it or risk unraveling himself. It’s a slippery slope fallacy, but in eternity once you’ve done something once you’re guaranteed to do it infinite times, or so goes Phil’s logic. In his own words: “Morals are a slippery slope. That’s why I made myself a ledge. A precipice so I can know where I need to stop before I fall entirely.” In his mind to snap even one promise gives him free rein to break the next, and the next, each easier to justify than the last until there really is nothing tethering him to his own sapience. The only tenet Philza has is to keep is promises, because he doesn’t know if he can remain a person otherwise.

He doesn’t break his Collected out. He can’t unless he breaks himself.

2. Philza has no morals because in his opinion an immortal can’t have any; what is considered ethical will only shift out beneath you like sand as society changes. He generally aligns with the ethical framework that his Collected have at the time, and Wilbur and The Blade are pretty fine with murder so he’s lenient on that front currently, whereas with his last Collected he was a clean and proper stay at home roommate, his white picket fence completely free of blood stains…until the Foundation ruined that. Philza personally doesn’t have much care for human lives beyond his Collected given they’re just going to die in not even a century anyway. That isn’t to say he isn’t aware of murder being bad/ traumatizing to some people. In fact, prior to the Foundation Philza and the rest took pains to sanitize themselves for Tommy’s visits, cremating the evidence, burning the blood off their hands, etc. They were being actively hunted down and are trying to protect themselves, but also letting a kid see what that life is fully like, all the fear and violence of it, is messed up. Perhaps they sheltered him too much. Tommy didn’t know how to recognized he was being followed.

Once in the Foundation, Philza is less cautious about it, though technically is committing far less murder due to the Collected Covenent. He’s practically behaving himself. Philza makes two mistakes in the Hallway Massacre: 1. Tommy’s killed like so so many people at that point so he doesn’t think it’s a problem, especially as he’s murdering Foundation workers who have hurt Tommy. 2. Philza thinks the Foundation has broken their promise and so he’s free. Technically he’s correct, but the Foundation lies well enough that he later regards the Hallway massacre as a mistake, mostly for political rather than traumatizing Tommy reasons. Philza views the Foundation as a far greater source of trauma for Tommy, and all the murder was for the purpose of breaking Tommy out and so justified to him.

In truth, Tommy had already caused as much carnage as he saw during the Hallway Massacre by that time, albeit likely in smaller, more spaced out batches. The reason that moment stuck with Tommy so much was because he saw it as the consequences of choices he made rather than something he was forced to do. Moreso, all his time in the Foundation he’d been told they were violent monsters that would slaughter humanity without reason. This directly conflicted with Tommy’s experience of being forced and forcing others to be violent; until, of course, Philza proved the Foundation right.

In Later massacres during the amnestic arc Philza wasn’t aware he even had Collected that could be traumatized, and anyway only Tubbo was really there to see it. Any later murders on Phil’s part are typically in battles. He does recognize that Tommy doesn’t prefer to fight, and honestly Phil prefers that he doesn’t too since Tommy getting captured mid battle is how the whole group got picked off one by one. Tommy tends not to see most of the fighting. Philza recognizes that Tubbo abhors murder and would ideally solve that through smoking them to sleep through battles so they don’t get traumatized via their partial omnipresence. But Tubbo refuses bc of moral principles or whatever, and so Phil can’t minimize much trauma there without acting against their expressed boundaries, and since the majority of his Collected want to fight and he refuses to let them be killed/hurt/captured, murder time it is. Potentially if they were on better terms he’d smoke Tubbo anyway on the grounds that it’s better for their mental health, but Philza feels ant present Tubbo wouldn’t understand he’s ‘acting in their best interest’.

3. One large factor is that it’s very hard to be a mile long dragon inside of a itty bitty room, although much like he pretends to be human Philza is likewise only pretending to be a dragon. And also it’s hard to hug his tiny little mortals when he’s big. Plus while his Collected are immune to his fire, the smoke generated from burning matter can be hazardous unless it’s hot enough to be a complete combustion.

And unless his human form is killed (which takes an awful lot of effort) Philza can only switch forms through reframing his entire mental schema. His inner world controls his body, and switching between believing you’re a human and a dragon is quite difficult, let alone reverting to his uncontrolled true essence which Philza takes great pains not to do. It’s a tricky balance between loosening his self imposed reigns and fully unbridling his self. Too much and he might lose sapience altogether. When feeling untethered to his humanity, he does also become more draconian. Philza finds it easier to go from dragon to human since all that’s doing is adding more chains, and you can’t really go overboard with that. Though it is certainly easier to go between a human and dragon, which are pretty similar if you think about it what with their brains and meat and what not, than between an animal and fire/fury incarnate.

4. Answered above. And yes it is all illogical to some extent, since love rarely is purely rational. But immortality would be hell without other people. Going insane is even less rational, so Philza picks the former.

5. Philza sweeps a bow. It is unclear if it’s sarcastic. He then pulls out a wallet, which upon opening dumps out long rows of photos, and tries to corner you to gush about his kids. He is a dorky dad first and a deplorable threat to society second.

#I noticed your kudos! Mwahaha you’ve fallen for my devious trap of rambling about au until you were forced to become invested!#And trust me I’m sure your opinion of Phil will get even worse as time goes on #He’s charismatic but when haunting the narrative with a host of atrocities it’s not a good look lmao #its actually really funny given how people on the latest chapter were booing and hissing at Tubbo while trying to protect Phil from them #I’d be doing something very wrong if people came out of Fault liking a character 100% of the time #Their flaws are so fun to toy with #fault au #scp philza #philza #sbi #sbi au #sleepy bois inc #sbi scp au #dsmp #mcyt #ask #something to nom on #fault spoilers #maybe??

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