#BLOWS UP like FIVE CONSECUTIVE TIMES
Text
ribbons release
actor eren x f!reader
**part of my method acting series
content: happiness for once. until it is not. ronnie's love for foreshadowing strikes again.
an: not a fan of this chapter, but we digress. read it and do not kill me if you don't like it.
song: not explicitly mentioned, but this chapter reminds me of about you by the 1975. ratty healy, I hate you but you ate on this one thing.
previous part linked here
--
“I ju-just sent my loc-location, Eren.”
“I got it, Y/N. I just need you to hold on for ten more minutes, okay? Can you do that for me?”
“Y-yes.”
Seattle is famous for rain. You understand that all too well now. After what you’ve counted as twenty-seven minutes - from when you went to take the trash out to the mailpost you’re hiding behind now - you’re all but soaked. Drenched.
Your phone is blowing up with texts, the rain is only getting harder, and the mini black dress and ribbon in your hair do no favors to keep you warm. You slide out of your call with Eren and quickly scan through the messages, buzzing so loud they’re blocking Eren’s voice.
reiner: so, so proud of you always!!! stop being a big famous pop star and go back to being the little twerp who needs my help killing spiders on set :/
levi: I love you too, kid. And on a real listen, we really do love the album.
armin: ann and i are smelling a triple threat on the horizon. love you to the moon and saturn <3
connie: i was accidentally pooping while i listened to dorothea for the first time and i think the combination of those two things at once gave me like a really visceral reaction. im not ok. u are amazing.
mikasa: u are givg me aneurysm. pls don’t forgor to call me the scnd ur okay.
erwin: Call me ASAP.
erwin: Not urgent. Just feeling emotional about my little Canadian reaching hearts all over the world.
king of bitches (maybe: ryomen sukuna): Fluff shit indeed. Blow me a kiss when you beat James for Album of the Year.
danny: where is the album release post? it’s almost been half an hour.
You have bigger problems at the moment. Like the frozen piece of fabric you’re wearing. You should have named the album sweaters or scarves or something. Then at least you’d be warm. And blend in with the paparazzi.
Fuck.
“W-wait, Eren. Y-you ca-n’t b-be the one to get me.” you murmur, shivering through your teeth.
“Do you want to stay with someone else? I know nice people here. My neighbor is in her late forties and has like two middle school aged girls that are really nice. They’d take care of you, I promise you can trust them and-” he rambles.
“N-no. I want to st-stay with you. But pa-papara-zzi. S-send ss-omeone e-else.”
“Paparazzi? Why are-?”
“Er-eren.”
“Would it be that bad if it was me? Like it has to be someone else, Y/N?”
“Y-yes.”
“I have someone in mind. She’s leaving right now, okay?”
Eren’s sound is muffled over the line now, which has you digging your phone into your ear to catch the ends of what he’s saying.
Blast the heater….butt warmer on before she’s in the car….bring it up and I will kick your freeloading….
“Y/N?”
“H-here.”
“Good. I’m sending her. Don't get upset, this is the best I could do, okay? I-I promise she’s actually nice. You can trust her and-and I’d never send someone who would do something bad.”
“O-okay. I t-trust you. J-just get me ou-out of th-this, please.” you whimper, praying to god the rustling behind you is a rabbit and not the group of them finding you.
“I’m trying sweetheart, okay? She’s speeding. She’s on Main and Third, three lights and she’s there.”
That’s when you see it. The flash of the camera. And hear five consecutive clicks right after. You look around the periphery, before you see two of them, two tall guys speed walking closer to where you’re hiding.
So you do the only thing you can. Stand up and run instead.
You scramble up off the pavement, hiking your dress down, and keep running down the block. Climb up the gates, knock over trash cans to block the way, anything to stop them. And when you look back, after who knows how long, you realize they’re gone.
And sit flat on the messy pavement, finally lifting the phone back up. Only to realize Eren’s no longer on the line because your phone is dead. You drop it straight into your lap and dig your hands into your head, covering your ears to stop the pounding sound of the rain from getting any louder.
God. Just breathe. Whoever is coming to get you is on the way. They’ll come get you and then you’ll be out of this mess.
You hear three resounding clicks and a flash of a light to look up at two different paps, two girls this time, getting a straight on picture of you. And all you can do is put your head down in your lap and cry.
They already got the picture. There’s no point in trying to run out of it anymore.
“Y/N.”
“Pl-please. I’m b-begging you. You already got your picture and can ss-spin it into whatever you want. I-I’m still a person, please. Just let me go.” you respond, the tears blinding your sight of vision.
You feel a towel being wrapped around your shoulders and soft hands lifting you up by your arms. And then all of a sudden you’re in a warm car, being sped out of the neighborhood past the groups of paparazzi in between the houses, and not directly across from them having your picture taken.
You’re in a car. You’re okay. You’re leaving. You’re okay.
You lean back and breathe hard, phantom sobs still racking out of your chest, trying to register that you’re almost there. Safe behind closed, triple locked doors.
“D-did you tell Eren?”
“Yes. He’s not far, we’ll be there soon, okay?”
“Okay. T-thank you. I’m Y/N.”
“Lana.”
You turn your head to actually take in the driver this time, to be met with the Lana you feared. Ricky’s ex-girlfriend, Lana. She has short brown hair - entirely different from her long, beachy waves from the Girlfriend incident - a pointed nose and a very clenched jaw.
“Th-there are more blankets on the floor. I pumped the heater pretty hard, but I’ll turn all the fans your way. And anything you could possibly need is being rushed to the house for you, so just don’t worry, okay?”
“I appreciate it. Thank you for coming to get me. I-I”
“Please don’t thank me. I just-”
She takes a harsh intake of breath and turns to give you a look, her mouth upturned.
“He locked you out, didn’t he?” she whispers.
“Yeah.” you respond.
“What did you do?”
“I told him I didn’t like him back.”
She turns her head towards you, a look of confusion on her face.
“It was a PR thing.”
She snorts.
“Your managers must hate you.”
“I’m starting to think they just might.”
“Well. Don’t feel bad. Not for a fucking second. Just because he likes you, doesn’t mean he’s entitled to you reciprocating back. You like who you like. And if I were you, I wouldn’t stop liking a guy like Eren for a skeeze like Ricky either.”
You lean against the glass, hot air blowing in your face, as you take in her expression - so enraged, so exasperated, so furious that it gives you a chill. But when she looks over and gives you a halfhearted smile, you see the pained expression there too.
That’s when you pinpoint it. Lana reminds you of Historia.
“I’m sorry.” you respond.
“For?”
“You knew he locked me out. He must have done it to you too, no?” you whisper, the tension in the air delicate.
She swallows hard and clenches her knuckles on the steering wheel, eyes laser focused on the red light shining on her face. And beyond the original striking features - her sharp jaw and nose - you see the softness too. The dimples, the wrinkles near her eyes, the light brown freckles.
“I wanted to take time off from acting. It-I did a role that was really traumatic and I just needed a break. And he was just about to go on tour and he wanted me to come to support. Like a little cheerleader.”
“So he locked you out?”
“For two days. He-he’s just. A lot of the fame stuff got to him when he was really little. And now he’s got this convoluted sense of self-image and it just- I don’t know. He’s got problems.” she responds.
“I’m sorry. Really, that’s-”
You stop talking, words failing you. And maybe it’s the way your head was frozen ten minutes ago and it’s being melted now, or that the picture they took is going to leak soon, or that there is no good thing to say to something shitty like this. It only took him three months to turn on you, which you’re guessing is generous now. She must have infinite patience for putting up with it for an entire year.
“In a weird way, I’m glad it’s me and not Eren. You- this does something for me. Making sure you’re not out there for two days, it-it helps me.” she whispers, looking over to give you a smile.
“I really appreciate you, Lana. Thank you. And I-I’m not mad at you for the Girlfriend thing. You had every right to do that.”
“Y/N. I have every right to drag Ricky James’ name through the mud. But not yours. And I- shit. Please don’t tell Eren we talked about this. He’s going to kill me.”
“Why?”
“He told me that if I brought it up, he’d kick me out of his house. I kind of stay there because I-I hate living in our townhouse on set because of how toxic it is and he was nice enough to offer. And he made it very clear that I have to pick you and make sure you’re okay, not make you uncomfortable or anything. We’re here to take care of you and-”
“I brought it up. I’ll deal with him if he gives you a hard time. I used to be really good at that type of thing.”
“I know for a fact that you could tell him to twirl in the air like a show pony and he’d do it.”
“I’ll test the theory and let you know.”
She laughs, giving you a smile which you warmly return. Your phone buzzes in your lap, finally revived, and you send a quick message to Mikasa and Jean before shutting it off.
“I-I didn’t know that it was going to go that far. I knew the song and that we were just going to sing it. Let people speculate it was about you. I-I didn’t know they’d have a girl who looked like you OR bring Eren up on stage. And Eren didn’t know anything about the song or the performance at all - they, they set him up.”
“Why would they do that? I mean, they got horrible backlash in the entire thing.”
“They thought people would like it. And they severely underestimated how much people love you. And they did it because, Eren- he. He doesn’t follow rules and-”
“Follow rules?”
“I’m saying too much. He-he’s going to get mad. Ju-just rest, okay? You’re okay now, we’re two minutes from the neighborhood..”
You give her a questioning look, which she returns with a dismissive shake. Stubborn - she’s Historia alright. You lean back in the chair and reach for the music nob, twisting it on. Only to be met with the Teletubbies Theme blasting through the car and a very flustered Lana turning the knob off.
“Fuck.”
“Teletubbies?”
“I-I can explain.”
“Please. I’d love to hear it.”
She drums her fingers on the steering wheel as the silence hangs in the air.
“Okay. Maybe I can’t explain.”
“No need. I appreciate versatile music taste in prospective friends. Especially classics like this.” you respond, cranking the music back on.
“Friends?”
“Don’t be silly. Not exaggerating, but I think you quite literally saved my life a few minutes ago. You’re like the La-La to my Dipsy.”
“Lame. You’re more of a Tinky-Winky. And anytime. We girls stick together, right?” she responds, reaching for your hand and giving it a squeeze. Like Eren.
Did she learn the hand squeezes from Eren? Is he squeezing her hands? They live together so …are they dating?
“We’re here.”
You nod, appreciative of Lana more than maybe any person on god's green Earth, as she pulls into the driveway and helps you out of the car. It’s only after sitting that you’re realizing your legs are so bone dead tired that you’re barely moving on your own.
You move past the hood of the car as Eren walks into the garage, immediately beelining towards you. His hair is long again - it’s always changing every time you see him - and he’s all wound up with tensions sitting in his shoulders. His hands are warm and cupping your face, yanking the cold towel off and replacing it with a warm one.
“Hey. You-you nicked your face, Y/N. And you’re freezing, you-” he whispers, brushing his fingers across the skin near your eye that stings on touch.
Lana holds the door open as he leads you in, arms aggressively moving up and down your shoulders and his face all pinched up in concern.
“You’re good to go? I put your stuff out by the door.” Eren says, gesturing to Lana.
“Is she leaving?” you ask, looking up at Eren.
“Yeah. Don’t worry, it’ll be just us. And I’m sure Mika and Jean will drop everything to fly out for you tomorrow, I can tell them if you need me to and-”
“Well, don’t make her leave. She shouldn’t stay on that stupid set just because of me.” you respond.
Eren looks over and glares at Lana, who is now wide eyed and giving Eren a sheepish smile. Fuck. He asked her not to talk about that.
“Lana.” he says, in a warning tone.
“Eren. Chill out. I didn’t even-”
“You’re so full of yourself, you know that? You- she got drenched and the rain and you were talking about set?”
“It’s not like that! It just came up and-”
“Oh, for sure. You just happened upon it like you were a villager walking in a town square. Ooh Y/N. You just got drenched in the rain and chased by paparazzi, but more importantly, the girls I work with are super bitchy.” he responds, mimicking her voice.
“You-it wasn’t like that! You’re so aggravat-”
“Eren. Leave her alone.” you ask, looking up at him. And you’re sure you must look horrible because he immediately stops when he looks at your face again and signals for her to leave, which she’s receptive to.
“Okay. Lana, text me when you’re there. And check if you were followed on your way out.” Eren says.
Lana stops and holds both of your arms at your biceps, hands soft on your skin.
“Do call me if you need anything, okay? Especially Ricky related. Whatever you do, I’ll back you up, Tinky-Winky. ”
“Thank you, La-La. I’ll take you up on that.” you respond, giving her a warm smile.
“Oh god. No. No, you don’t get to be friends now. Fuck no, Lana. Please stick to the geriatric grandmas you play Scrabble with.”
“You’re just mad they beat you at mahjong last week. Because you’re a prissy loser.”
“And you’re-”
You jab Eren in the side, signaling him to stop, as they both nod and she slides her way out. From the way he’s arguing, the look on his face is so similar to the one he gives Connie when they argue, you know they could go on for years if they got the chance.
“Fuck you, Eren.”
“Eat shit, Lana.”
She flips him off as the door clicks shut behind her, the lack of her presence making you suddenly aware of your breaths. And of Eren, warm Eren rubbing into your shoulders and concerned green eyes staring into yours.
“I like her.” you whisper.
“Me too. Don’t tell her that though, she’s got an ego problem.” he responds.
You laugh, which has him smiling at you, and suddenly you’re sobbing. And on cue, Eren has his arms around you, his touch warm and his voice oh so soft that it kills you. That you haven’t seen him in two months. And haven’t talked to him for longer.
“Eren.”
“Hey, hey. Don’t cry, it-it’ll be okay. I- we’ll fix this, okay? I’ll call Levi and Hange, whoever you want, they’ll all come and-”
You reach up, tangling your arms around his neck as he keeps nervously talking, trying to hold you closer even though it’s not physically possible. And he’s just so-
So familiar that he feels like home.
“You’re breaking my heart here, Y/N. Please stop crying, I-I’ve got you, okay?” he murmurs, straight into your skin as you nod, trying your best to even out the sobs still leaving you. And slowly but surely, the stream slows and your breath evens out enough to get at least a few words out.
“Okay. Okay, okay. I’m okay.”
“Y/N?”
“Hm?”
“As much as I like holding you, you’re freezing. Take a shower first and we can do this all you want, okay?”
You pull back, wiping the tears off your cheeks and giving him a nod. He gives you a small smile, before placing his hands on your shoulders and leading you down towards the bathroom. And you don’t miss all the posters and pictures he has on his walls - one from each season of Attack of Titan, a few of him and Armin, and even one of him and Lana flipping off the camera together.
He pushes you into the bathroom and immediately turns on the shower all the way to the hottest setting, before turning around and putting his hands on his hips.
“Towels, clothes, shampoo. There’s soap in there already and take as long as you want. Sit in here for three days if you have to just- do-do whatever you have to do and-”
You pick up the bottle of shampoo, the lavender scented Pantene, the one that you’ve been using since you were fifteen. And you know, you know that Eren’s atrocious ass uses a three in one hair and conditioner so it’s not his.
“Eren.”
“Hm?”
“Did you just happen to have the brand of shampoo that I use?”
“N-no. Those are Lana’s.”
“Then why are they unopened?” you ask, giving him a smirk.
He glares at you, before rolling his eyes and holding your face. And now he’s leaning so close, so close that your lips are only a few feet away from yours, when he talks.
“You know why you can’t make fun of me for keeping a spare of your shampoos in my house?” he whispers, green eyes burning in yours.
“Why?” you whisper back, stomach lurching.
“Because you’re actually here. I knew you’d come back to me.” he responds, giving your cheek a pinch before walking out.
And when you watch him walk out, giving you one last smile before he shuts the door, you can’t help but roll your eyes. Typical Eren. Funny, irritating, and soft all in one.
He’s the same as you left him.
--
You pad out of the shower, Eren’s hoodie and sweatpants ridiculously huge on you, as you follow the sweet smell into the kitchen. Eren is leaned over the counter, sliding vegetables into two bowls of ramen as you walk in.
“Hey.”
“Hi. Took a while. Thought you died in there.” Eren responds, pressing his hands to your skin to test how warm they were.
��I almost wish I did.” you respond, laughing.
Except Eren doesn’t find it funny and instead he’s dropping the utensils and standing at your side.
“Y/N.”
“I was joking!”
“Nothing about that was funny. Don’t ever joke about that.” he responds, rummaging through the drawers at your side before pulling out a little tube of gel.
Eren taps the top of the counter, which you jump onto, before he takes his place in between your legs. His hands are focused on reading the instructions, forehead all scrunched up in concentration.
“What’s that?”
“It’s like this…scar ointment or whatever. Helps things heal better, I want to use it on that cut on your pretty face.” he responds, twisting it open and squirting some on his finger.
He brings his hands to your face, eyes intently focused on your cheek. You hiss the second his finger makes contact with your skin, the tingling sensation catching you off guard.
“I’m sorry sweetheart, I know it hurts.” he whispers, smothering the cold gel down the side of your eye.
“I-I fell on the pavement. My knees are pretty bad too, Eren.” you whisper, which he nods at.
After he finishes, he’s carefully sliding the ends of your pants off and carefully placing the ointment on each of the jagged marks on your legs. And you eye the bowls of ramen at your side - knowing instantly that the one without mushrooms is yours - and reach for the food. The broth is so warm it soothes the aching feeling in your throat, still seasoned to perfection the way Eren always makes it.
“Eren.”
“Hm?”
“Can I ask you a weird question?”
“Sure.”
“Are you and Lana dating?”
He looks up from your leg and gives you a devilish smirk. And then starts laughing. Like full on, crouched over, tears from his eyes laughing.
“Okay. It wasn’t that funny.” you murmur, rubbing your hands against the warm bowl and frowning.
“Oh god, Y/N. Jesus-”
“It’s a normal question! She lives with you, you trusted her to come get me, and you guys have a picture together in the hallway.”
“Are you jealous?” he asks, standing up and leaning straight into your space.
“Absolutely not.”
“Are too.”
“Am not.”
“You don’t need to get all embarrassed. Watching you kiss Ricky James made me want to break something, preferably his neck.”
You swallow hard at the mention of Ricky again, the thought of him and what happened was so far away because you were with Eren. In his space, in your shared bubble, after so long. And he catches on too fast because he’s already profusely apologizing.
“Hey. I didn’t mean to bring him up, I-I’m not trying to push you into telling me what happened it’s just-”
“No. No, Eren. It’s okay. I know. I-”
You breathe in hard and put the bowl of ramen down and reach for his hands instead. You keep your eyes focused on them - on the little mole on his left hand, the feeling of his knuckles underneath your fingers, and on him squeezing your hands three times before you start talking.
“Ricky and I were faking the relationship for PR. Since London Boy and all that, it was Danny and Sareen’s idea. That-that’s why I stopped talking to you, I-I felt bad. And I was ashamed that I was even doing it, I-I don’t know. The Little Women press and all that, it would just get people to stream and talk. Make me a triple threat. And then today, I- He told me he liked me. And I said I couldn’t do that right now. That I don’t like him back. I went to take out the trash because it was so awkward and then I was going to go home but he- he locked me out. And when I asked to come back in, he repeated the same words to me. That he couldn’t do that right now.”
Eren lifts your hands, still locked with his, and presses a kiss to the top of your knuckles, as you continue. His lips burn your skin, still.
“I was out there and it-it was cold. And then I heard the cars and I saw seven paparazzi trucks, right on the porch. Ricky, his address isn’t leaked. No-no one knew I was there or that he was but they all showed up, right when I was out there and-”
“He called them, didn’t he?” Eren asks, his tone so harsh, so unyielding that it almost doesn’t sound like him.
“Yeah. And I ran, for so long. I- they got a picture. A few, I know they did and I was just so, so scared that I was going to be out there forever, that I was all alone and they were just going to-”
Eren reaches forward, wrapping you in his arms for what feels like the fiftieth time tonight, but you welcome it. Focus on his heart beating under your ear, running your fingers over his fish tattoo on his bicep, and on his soft, steady breaths.
“Eren.”
“Hm.”
“You didn’t say anything. What are you thinking about?”
“What I’m thinking isn’t productive for you to know right now.”
You look up at him, giving him a questioning look.
“Drop it, Y/N.”
“No. Tell me. I’m sure you’re mad and all but-”
“Mad? I’m fucking furious, I’m livid. That he fucking locked you out and left you in the cold. You-you could have been seriously hurt. You are hurt. And not only that, the fucking paparazzi. You-you ran in the cold, you fell, you can’t stop crying and-and- I’m going to kill this asshole when I see him next because it’s his fault you’re feeling like this.”
“Eren.”
“No. Shut up, Y/N. I’m being serious. I-I don’t like seeing you like this and don’t tell me not to. He hurt you. It’s that simple.”
You deflate, knowing Eren too well to know that he won’t drop this. Especially when he’s overly passionate, deep in the feeling right now.
“Okay. But can you just be here for me right now? I need you here and not all….tense and mad. B-Be soft. And warm.”
He stops, the frustration in his forehead dissolving as he takes a breath and smiles at you. Not fully, but it does the job.
“Okay. I can do that. Let’s watch Fruits Basket. And then go to bed.”
“You hate Fruits Basket.”
“But I love you. Enough to watch your weird bestiality adjacent show and pretend to like it.”
You smile and he reaches forward to pinch your cheeks.
“Look at that smile. There she is. There’s my sweet girl.” he whispers, voice all tangled in his throat.
--
You wake up to an empty bed, Eren’s side cold. And you pull his hoodie on before padding downstairs to find Eren’s phone pressed to his ear. He gives you a wave and points to the plate - a mix of eggs, french toast, and fruits - perfectly placed to perfection.
You give him a smile and he walks off, taking the phone with him. You frown as you watch him disappear, jabbing your fork through the cantaloupe.
What is he talking about that’s so important he doesn’t want you to hear?
You jump off of the stool and quietly pad towards the direction he walked, hiding in the hallway. He’s leaning against the wall, staring at the picture right across - one of Levi and Hange kissing your cheeks at the vow renewal - and angle yourself to hear his words.
“Is he okay?”
“I’m glad. You tell me if you need anything else, okay?”
“Okay, Coco. I missed you too, yeah?”
Who the fuck is Coco?
He hangs up and you immediately scramble back to the kitchen, trying your best to stay inconspicuous as he comes back and gives you a smile. It doesn’t reach his eyes, the expression on his face almost tired.
“Hey sleepyhead. You okay?”
“Mhm. Food is really good, Eren.”
He gives you a smile as he sits at your side, eyes focused on you as you eat your food. He places both of your phones in front of you, and you spot yours with nearly a hundred notifications. But when you reach for it, Eren grabs your hand in the air and locks it on his own instead.
“Just-wait. Eat first.” he says, his tone hollow.
You turn your head to the side and take in Eren’s expression, downtrodden and uncharacteristically unexpressive. The complete opposite of Eren yesterday - moony eyes and soft smiles.
“Eren.”
“Y/N. If I ask you to do this for me, can you trust me and listen?”
“No. You-what’s wrong? You’re being weird.” you ask, reaching for his hand.
He looks over, the look indiscernible, as he leans forward and presses a kiss to your cheek.
“You-I took care of most of it, okay? Levi and Hange are coming. Just, don’t panic. You-it’s okay.”
“Eren. You’re scaring me. Just tell me.”
He takes a deep breath, cracking the knuckles in your hand as he nervously talks.
“You-your pictures leaked. The ones of you running last night. And-and people started speculating really fast - wondering why you were running and crying on the night your album released instead of celebrating it. And-and then Ricky, he tweeted a bunch of things.”
You pale. And reach for your phone, which Eren stops again.
“They’re lies. Obviously. You don’t need to read them, not yet. And Lana told me she’s ready to back you up, whatever you want, when you need it. But, that’s not-”
“What, Eren? Just spit it out.” you respond, frantically.
“They- Ricky’s fans are mad at you. They’re sending you death threats.”
“Oh.”
You deflate, staring at the cold mess of breakfast on your plate. Death threats. Hate, you’re no stranger too. Of people commenting on your looks, how bad your singing is, how lame you are. But wishing you were dead? Full on, unbothered and cursing your existence?
“And not just you, but your family too.” he whispers, watching your face fall.
Your family. Your parents, Colt, Falco-
“Excuse me. What did you just say?
Eren doesn’t respond and the tears fall immediately from your eyes, hot and angry as he reaches forward, immediately swiping them away. His expression's pained, he knows this all too well.
“I sent your family a security detail. Don’t worry. Colt was only minorly injured and-”
You stand up and grab Eren’s shirt, bundling the fabric into a fist in your hands, as you glare at him.
“Injured? What the fuck do you mean injured, Eren?”
He sighs, lifting his hands to move yours, and hold them. You’re still clenching hard, so hard you’re sure you’re drawing blood, but he’s doing his best to uncurl your hands as he talks.
“They threw a brick through the window. And the glass, Colt was sitting right there. I was just on the phone with Falco, he said he’s doing better. The security detailing has medical so you don’t have to worry about that again and they’re both okay and-”
“No part of this is okay, Eren! Quit saying it’s okay when it’s not! They almost killed my brothers.”
“Y/N.”
“No. No, this is horrible, Eren. They-they don’t do any of this stuff. Falco’s barely thirteen. And Colt - he’s going to college. He’s not a celebrity, he’s not a singer, he’s just a student. How is he supposed to go out after this? Why- how is it supposed to be normal? And now, they’re going to be like us. They’re going to feel like they’re trapped in this fucking suffocating ass fish bowl and everyone’s watching and laughing at them and they just-”
“Y/N. Stop. It’s not going to-”
“Falco’s too soft for this. He’s just a kid, Eren. I can’t- no. This isn’t fair. Eren, they didn’t even do anything. They’re literally just related to me, they just love me and they’re getting hurt because of it. You- you’re probably getting dragged in the mud too. Everyone who helps me gets subjected to this, loving me comes with this big thing behind me and I can’t even keep people who get it with me. I let you go when you were the only person who understood and I messed it all up and got myself involved with Ricky James of all people and-”
“Y/N. Stop. Please."
You sit flat on Eren’s floor, head in your hands, and cry, teardrops falling straight onto the floor. And Eren’s sitting there with you, with your big mess of jumbled feelings and mistakes, and trying his best to help you with it.
That’s how Levi and Hange find you two, after pocketing the spare key Eren told them about. After he insistently called them and payed for a private jet, going on and on about how Y/N needed them. And here you two are, despite their original conceived notions that you two were fighting, on the floor, in each other’s arms.
“Some things never change, huh?” Hange whispers.
“Yeah. They keep fucking crying every time we see them.” he whispers back.
--
Between Levi and Hange - Jean, Mikasa, and Connie who make it out that night - and Eren and Lana, they fix things. Most things.
Ricky’s narrative about you is clear cut - half-true and half-fake. Your team forced him to date you and defend you for PR purposes, after the Girlfriend incident. There was an agreement that you two would write certain songs, make certain appearances, and support each other.
But then Ricky turns the gate. Says that you’ve deeply, severely hurt him. That you led him on, that you used him to boost your own ego, and that you were dangerously obsessed with fame and not him. That you were all things - heartless, fake, that he doubted if you were even a real person. A glorious pop-star, empty and hollow on the inside.
And people jump on it fast. Citing the fact that you would throw away your friendship with Historia to be famous, that you stopped dating Eren when he stopped being successful, that you can go to tours but not to Mikasa or Jean’s birthday parties.
The worst part? Ricky lied, but the things they pointed out were true. Every mistake you make is on display and that people make it a point to draw attention o it. That you really were in too deep, too deep into pleasing Sareen and Danny, and being a triple threat that you forgot that they were all there too.
Eren, especially. Sweet, sweet Eren who saved you, who held you when you needed him.
You look over at him and Lana, the two of them very aggressively debating how to use their last turn of their daily Wordle, and feel your heart deflate.
You dropped the ball. You’ll never make it up to him.
Lana, in her infinite kindness, has chosen to share her own story, as a corroboration for yours. That Ricky taunted, mocked, and harassed her the entire time they were dating. That you're anything but the things he says. Because she’s had enough and she’ll do it to help out her Tinky-Winky. (Much to Eren’s dismay, he hates that you’re both becoming closer as time goes on.)
And to complement the announcement, Lana asked for one thing. To go out in style. You wrote a song with her and promised her that she was going to be the lead actress in the music video. A girl rage moment, like The Man. Danny and Sareen approve the move, making no comments or concerns about anything else that happened, and ask to be involved when the time comes.
You sit on it for a few days. Till you’re ready. But where you are now - with these people - needs to stay for a little longer. Before you brace everything again.
“Yo.”
You smile, opening up space for Connie on the couch for you.
“Hi Con.”
“Deep in your thoughts there, princess. Thinking about how your album is about to go Multi-Platinum?”
“No. Just the entire thing.” you respond, frowning.
Connie rolls his eyes, reaching forward to squish your cheeks way too hard.
“Ricky, when I catch you, Ricky-” Connie says under his breath,
You snort, reaching forward to push Connie off. You focus back on Eren and Lana, who are now pulling each other's hair and a nice string of insults, as Mikasa and Levi brew their tea, entirely unbothered in the back.
And when the screen in front of you flashes, when your third album goes Multi-Platinum after a week of being released, they’re all climbing on you. Jean and Mikasa are hollering in the back, Connie and Lana are jostling you in the air and pressing kisses to your cheek, and Eren, Levi, and Hange smile at you, the three of them enveloped in their own hug, across the way.
You split your separate ways at the end of the week, when you’re ready. Connie, Jean, and Mikasa return to set, Lana and Eren are gone with the wind, and Levi and Hange disappear again.
When you sit on your plane back home, it sits in. How lonely this entire thing is. How a week full of your friends who love you only happened because of this sickening thing. That it's not a given, that they're presence is only in the bad times and almost never the good.
Your phone buzzes in your lap and you pick up your phone to read the notification.
eren: don’t be a stranger. fish like to swim in schools, not alone.
It’s something that rings in your mind, time and time again. When everyone else wins the war, when you keep performing and letting them take and take, for the sake of the work. For the art, for your dream.
And when you give up acting, singing, and dancing at the end of it all and make zero intentions to ever do any of this again, the question still bothers you.
If fish like to swim in schools, why did Eren push you so far away? Why was he so intent on swimming alone? Where you couldn't follow?
eren: I'm not saying that for you. and I know that this is selfish but...
eren: I need you just as much as you need me.
.
.
.
Fucking liar.
--
next part linked here
taglist:
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#ok#prepare yourselves#he is getting blocked#HE IS GETTING BLOCKED.#anyways#seeingivywrites!#method acting#eren x you#eren x reader#eren x y/n#eren jaeger#eren jaeger x you#eren jaeger x reader#eren jaeger x y/n#eren yeager#eren yeager x you#eren yeager x y/n#eren yeager x reader#aot#aot x reader#aot x y/n#aot x you#snk#snk x you#snk x reader#snk x y/n#eren fluff
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8 Days of Christmas — Christmas Always Makes Me Cry
pairing: javier peña x f!reader
rating: E (18+ ONLY, angst, javi being homesick, talks of crime, violence, other shit that comes w/ being a dea agent, alcohol consumption, strangers in a bar trope, blowjob, filthy!javi, cunnilingus, ass eating, dirty talk, soft!ending)
word count: 2.5k
8 Days of Christmas Masterlist
It was Christmastime in Bogota, Javi finding himself far away from the comfort and familiarity of Laredo for the third consecutive year—though at this point, Bogota had become more familiar to him than his hometown.
It was summer in Colombia, the heat making him feel all the more distant from the holiday as he washed off the sweat and grime built up from a hard day chasing down sicarios they never could seem to catch. In a way, he felt appreciative for the sweltering air outside—it gave him the opportunity to pretend as though Christmas didn’t exist, and therefore he didn’t have to feel guilty about missing yet another holiday with his father.
But he did miss him. No matter how hard he tried to push the longing out of his head, he missed his dad.
Every year, Chucho and Javi would be sent off by his tias and tios to collect at least five different Christmas trees, the two men helped by a couple generous cousins. They’d drive over to the town’s farm and pack the trees in the back of their trucks before delivering them to each of the Peña households, their payment typically being tamales and, if they got lucky and picked a particularly good tree out, a cerveza.
His family celebrated Christmas on Christmas Eve, as most other Mexicanos did in this part of the country at least. Javi never really did know the reason why—it’s just what they did.
Chucho and Javi rarely spent a Christmas at their own home, the two-story ranch house full of too many memories of Christmases past when his mother was still around to make the holiday feel right. Since her passing, it just felt easier to leave and head over to one of Chucho’s sister’s houses, the crowded, loud, and busy nature of the home providing the perfect distraction for their grief.
But now Javi was left to do his grieving alone, this job of his becoming less of a career and more like a lifestyle with each passing day.
Though he truly didn’t regret going into this line of work—helping people had always been his strong suit—it would be a lie to say that there were days, weeks, months even that he found himself buried beneath the violence and death he witnessed while trying to put these bad guys away. The old Javi, the one that his father and tias knew, was hard to find through the layers of thick skin and numbness he needed to build up in order to survive.
Even if he made it back home for the holidays, he wasn’t sure his family would even recognize him anymore, which hurt him in a way he wouldn’t dare to acknowledge. Not right now, at least.
Needing to blow off some steam, Javi chose to head out to one of the bars catered to tourists and Americans who couldn’t speak a lick of Spanish, hoping to find someone so far removed from everything here in Colombia that suffocated him to take home for the night. While he thoroughly enjoyed his usual exploits here—DEA secretaries and informants, typically—they were all too close to everything he was trying to forget.
“Whiskey,” he ordered once he walked up to the bar, his head turning to the side to scan the room for anything that caught his eye, coming up short in this unusually packed room full of mostly elderly people escaping the northern cold.
When the glass of amber liquor was set in front of him, he paid and tipped the bartender before picking his glass up, taking a full-mouthed swig in hopes of numbing the constant stream of anxious thoughts running through his mind.
One drink turned to four as the hours passed by, the nagging voice inside finally hushed as he continued to watch everyone else have a good time, but no amount of liquor could cure the loneliness he felt deep inside. In fact, he was pretty sure nothing in the world could cure it. He was bound to feel this way forever.
“I’m serious! We went out for a drive and I swear to god I saw a car shot up with bullet holes,” one of the clearly well-off grandmothers beside him recounted to her group, earning a scoff of disbelief from the man beside her.
Javier had never wanted ear plugs more in his life as he sat listening to these out of touch and over-privileged Americans detail how much fun they were having here “exploring the culture”. If only they had any fucking clue that real people lived in this country and had to deal with this shit on a daily basis, maybe that would have removed the smile on their faces, but he doubted it.
“That gonna be it, sir?” the bartender asked, bringing Javi’s eyes forward. Javi held his finger up to gesture for one more drink, hoping that by some act of fate, the woman he’d been hoping for would walk in and help take some of this weight off his shoulders.
With the door opening, Javi turned to look over at the new patron and found his lips parting in surprise. Perhaps the universe was listening after all.
He watched as you walked in, your face scrunching up at the amount of people packed into the bar, a sigh leaving your lips as you weaved your way to the empty spot beside him at the bar. Between your natural beauty and the clear scowl on your face, Javi felt sure that he’d stumbled upon the only other Scrooge in Bogota.
Finding his courage, he managed to clear his throat and gesture to his glass.
“Can I get you one?” he asked, watching you as your eyes flickered to his as though you weren’t sure that he was talking to you.
“Me?” you questioned with a quirked brow, earning a chuckle and a nod. The bartender turned his eyes from Javi to you, awaiting yo ur order. “Uh, yeah. Gin and tonic.”
“I, uh, I’ve never seen this place so packed before,” Javi spoke, the liquor in his system forcing his voice into a huskier tone than usual.
“Yeah, it’s usually dead,” you replied, taking a look around the room before sneaking a glance at him, impressed by his handsome profile as he took a sip of his whiskey. “Must be the tourists escaping the cold.”
“That what you are?” he asked, setting his glass down and looking back to you. You felt your cheeks heat as his eyes bounced across your features with an intense admiration.
“Uh, no, I teach english lit at the University of Bogota,” you informed with a small smile. Javi nodded as though he was proud of you, widening his smile just a bit.
“Impressive.”
“What about you? You here for the season or do you live here?” You noticed the way he tensed a bit at the question and hoped you hadn’t crossed a boundary. Picking up your drink, you decided to take a few needed sips to loosen you up a bit, your nerves clearly still in control.
“I, uh, live here. For now, at least.”
“Oh yeah? Where to next?” you pressed, watching as he weighed his head to the side and shrugged.
“Hopefully back home,” he replied, cracking a somehow sad smile that brought a frown to your face.
“Why hopefully?”
Because I don’t know if I’m gonna make it out of here alive, he wanted to reply.
“It’s…a long story that i’m not allowed to tell you even if i wanted to.” He flashed you a winning smile before holding his hand out. “I just realized I haven’t caught your name.”
You smiled as you slipped your hand into his and told him your name, pleased by the warmth of his palm and how his fingers encompassed your entire hand.
“Javi,” he gave you his name and you whispered it back to him, watching as he nodded in confirmation. “Sounds better when you say it.”
You blushed and rolled your eyes playfully y his compliment. “Well, Javi, what brings you to a bar on Christmas eve? Sú mujer le molesta?” [Your wife bothering you?]
He chuckled. “¿Ves un anillo en mi dedo?” [Do you see a ring on my finger?]
“Figured you took it off,” you shrugged, the liquor in your system turning you playful.
“No, no wife at home nagging at me,” he finally answered your question, bringing his glass to his lips. “What about you? Escaping somebody?”
“Escaping everybody,” you replied with a groan. “Tonight was our work party, and I walked in, took a look around, and walked right back out. Figured getting drunk in a room full of strangers was better than a room full of coworkers.”
“Yeah,” he nodded, eyes flickering to your lips. “Sometimes it’s easier to be with a stranger. You can be whoever you wanna be.”
“And who would you like me to be for you, Javi?” you purred, reaching your hand over to trail a finger up his forearm. Javi’s breath hitched but he quickly recovered, placing his hand on top of yours and intertwining your fingers.
“Just yourself,” he replied, hardly audible over the loud chatter and ambience of the bar.
“Ah, fuck,” Javi had one hand on the back of your head, the other gripping the sink behind him as you took him deep in your mouth. Sinful slurps and glucks filled the single stall restroom at the bar, your eyes wide with tears falling down your cheeks as you bobbed up and down on his cock like you were determined to win a trophy. “So fucking pretty like this, cariño. Gonna make me cum quick.”
You lived for his praise, his husky rasp like music to your ears as you reached to cradle his balls, determined to get him across the finish line in record time. Javi’s neck strained as he tossed his head back, gulping down the strangled moans both of you wished he could let spill freely.
“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” he warned looking down at you with a crease between his brows, s look of awe on his handsome face as he watched you stroke him in time with your slurps and sucks. “Fuck, fuck, fuuu-uck!”
Javi’s coco pulsed as you took him deep into your throat, his lips forming an ‘o’ as he watched you swallow his entire load with ease.
“Jesus fucking Christ, come here,” Javi pulled you onto your feet and kissed you without care of the saliva and cum that remained on the corners of your mouth, his neediness driving you wild. You tossed your arms around his neck and kissed him back with just as much fervor, Javi’s hands reaching for the hem of your dress and lifting it up over your ass. “Bend over. Wanna eat your pussy.”
“Fuck,” you whined and did as he requested, bending over the sink while he positioned himself on his knees behind you. You looked into the mirror, staring at your fucked out state as Javi tugged your panties down your thighs and spread your cheeks to get a good look at your glistening heat.
“So fucking pretty,” he praised before leaning in and licking a broad stripe from your clit to your puckered hole, pulling a gasp from your lips. “And you taste fucking good.”
“Shit, Javi,” you breathed out and reached your hand back to hold his head against you. Javi growled and began his work, lapping at your clit until it swelled before running his tongue all the way up to your ass and back down again. Your thighs shook as you kept yourself upright, your eyes unable to watch yourself anymore as you could hardly keep them open, his tongue pressing into your cunt wiping all coherent thought away. “So good…so fucking good, Javi.”
Javi wrapped his lips around your throbbing clit and started to suck, obscene sounds filling the room again as he spit on your cunt just to slurp it all back into his mouth and do it again.
“Your pussy tastes so good, I could eat you for hours, cariño,” he praised before pressing his tongue to your tighter hole while he circled your clit with two fingers, threatening to push you over the edge. “You gonna cum, baby? Tell me so I can lick it all up. Wanna taste everything you have to give me.”
“Fuck, Javi!” you whined, guiding his head lower to your cunt again as your high began to dawn, Javi’s lips replacing his fingers as he started to suck on your clit again, the pulsing sensation finally pushing you over the edge. “Javi, I’m coming! Fuck!”
“Yes,” he growled against you, sliding his tongue to your entrance to drink you down while you convulsed against the sink counter.
Once your walls ceased their fluttering, Javi stood up, tucking his cock back into his jeans before sliding your panties back up and pulling the hem of your dress down. He helped steady you as you turned around, your hands on his face tugging him down for a searing kiss.
“You wanna come back to mine for the night?” he asked breathily against your jaw, palming your ass as he held you close.
You bit your lip and shook your head, feeling him frown against you. “Sober me wouldn’t be proud of me for going home with a stranger on the first night. No matter how handsome or talented he is.”
“Understandable,” he chuckled against you, his lips now on your neck leaving tiny kisses all over. “I’d like to you see you again, though. Got any Christmas plans?”
“Si, con mi gato,” you replied with a playful grin. “You could come and join us, if you want. I bought a ham and some sides for dinner. Wouldn’t mind sharing it with a handsome stranger.”
“Maybe then you wouldn’t see me as a stranger anymore,” he suggested, pulling back to look down at you. “I’d like that. Might have to take an allergy pill but, for you, it’s worth it.”
“I’ll tell my cat to leave you alone,” you chuckled, stroking over his mustache. “I’m glad I came out tonight. You really made my holiday better, Javi.”
“I can’t tell you just how much I agree,” he smiled and kissed you again. “C’mon, stranger. There’s probably a line of old people outside waiting to scold us for taking so long.”
“Gotta fix this first,” you gestured at your face, your mascara running and lipstick smudged over your chin. Javi shrugged as he took a good look at your fucked out state.
“I think it’s a good look.”
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#pedro pascal#pedro pascal fic#pedro pascal fanfiction#pedro pascal smut#pedro pascal fluff#narcos fanfiction#javier peña angst#javier pena fic#javier peña x you#javier peña fluff#javier pena#javier peña x y/n#javier peña x reader#javier peña smut#javier peña#javier pena x reader#javier pena fanfiction#8 days of christmas
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Guess who finally got a couple hours of time to write? Aw yis.
Here is the first of a small series of non-consecutive drabbles/ficlets I plan to write to expand on the 'Hello My Old Heart' Hickdory series.
First up - a baby hatches!
Forlorn. That would be the word Hickory would use to describe the expression currently on John Dory's face.
John was sat at the kitchen table, his arms folded over the surface, and chin resting atop them. In front of him sat their egg, propped up and half wrapped in the softest blankets they could find. The shell had finished developing its colors a few weeks ago; a soft blue at the top fading into a vibrant orange at the bottom, with yellow speckles chaotically scattered all over, while from the top sprouted a curly tuft of orange hair.
"What's got ya lookin' so sad, darlin'?" Hickory asked, setting a mug of hot cocoa next to John's elbow.
The teal troll sighed as he sat back, mindful of the mug as he moved. "Doctor Moonbloom said it should've hatched by now," he muttered, taking up his mug and cradling it close to his chest.
"It'll happen when it's meant to," Hickory said, pressing a kiss to John's temple, "Ya just gotta be patient."
"I know," John snapped, immediately looking contrite as Hickory raised a brow at him. "Sorry," he muttered, curling around his mug, "I just…what if I did something wrong?"
"Like what?"
John shrugged, blowing on his cocoa. "I don't know. Didn't keep it in my hair enough? Jostled it too much? Sang the wrong song around it? Didn't let /you/ carry it enough? There's a multitude of things I could've done wrong."
"I think yer bein' a bit harsh on yerself, hun," Hickory said with a lopsided smile. "Sometimes eggs just hatch late. I think I recall one egg, back before, well, everythin'," he waved a hand casually through the air, "I think it hatched a whole week later than the doc said it would. Nearly drove their poor parents batty."
"Yeah, that'd drive me batty, too," John grumbled, taking a sip of his cocoa. "My family doesn't hatch late. All of my brothers hatched around their expected dates, almost to the day. Branch was so on time we were all already sitting around his egg, waiting for the first crack when he wrestled his way out."
Hickory let out a quiet snort of laughter at the thought of a tiny Branch struggling his way out of an egg shell. "I wish I could tell ya how my family was, but Dickory didn't exactly share a whole lotta history with me. An' ya know my parents were gone before I could meet 'em, so…" he trailed off with a short shrug.
"I know you probably meant for that to make me feel better, but it didn't," John muttered, tipping his head back to look at Hickory stood next to him. "What if I've already fucked our kid up?"
Hickory sighed heavily, placing a hand on John's shoulder to give it a comforting squeeze. "Ya didn't, darlin'. I promise."
~
Three more days passed, and John Dory was growing restless. He was pacing the living room floor of their pod when Hickory came home from the market, their egg in his arms. He was muttering quietly to either himself or the egg, Hickory couldn't tell which, looking like he was about three seconds from bursting into tears.
"Johnny?"
John jumped slightly, clutching the egg to his chest. He gave Hickory a wide eyed stare while taking in a shuddering breath. "Oh. You're home."
"I am," Hickory said softly with a little nod, setting the bag of food he'd bought to the side quickly. "John, what's wrong?"
"I ruined it," John hiccupped as Hickory cautiously approached, tears welling in his eyes.
"What'd ya ruin, hun?"
"Our baby," John nearly whispered, dipping his chin and squeezing his eyes shut as tears began to run down his cheeks. "It hasn't hatched yet. It's five days late. I ruined it. I wasn't perfect and now it'll never hatch."
"Oh, darlin', no," Hickory was quick to sooth, wrapping his arm around John's shoulder and coaxing him to sit on the floor with him. He tugged John into his chest once they were both kneeling, running his fingers through the teal trolls hair as John cried silently over their egg. "Ya just gotta give it a bit more time, hun. I promise, ya didn't do nothin' wrong. It'll hatch." He held the teal troll closer as he felt Johns head shake under his chin. "Yes. It will. It's bein' a stubborn little bug, but remember about that other egg I told ya about? It was a whole week late. An' I'm sure there's loads a' parents around the village here who have stories a' their own little ones taking forever to come out."
John leaned into Hickory, sniffling quietly. He didn't agree with Hickory, but he also didn't try to actively argue the point again, so Hickory took it as a win.
~
Another day came and went, and the egg still remained unbroken. John was staring at it again at the kitchen table.
"Hey." Hickory bit his lip as John jumped, having obviously been lost in his own thoughts and didn't notice Hickory's approach. "I packed us up a nice picnic dinner. Thought we could go star gaze, an' get outta the pod for a bit."
John blinked owlishly at Hickory for a moment before shaking his head and pulling the blankets and egg towards himself. "No. We can't leave. What if it hatches?"
"We're obviously gonna take it with us, darlin'," Hickory said with a kind smile. He reached out to gently take the egg from John's hands, only to settle it carefully in John's hair. It was large enough now that it stuck out of his teal locks a fair bit, the orange tuft a stark contrast against his own hair.
"But-"
"No buts. We're gonna get outta here, enjoy some good food, an' have a nice time. It's warm out, and the stars are promisin' to look real pretty tonight. Personally, I think you enjoyin' yerself will probably be good fer the egg," Hickory said, tipping John's chair to force him to stand.
"How so?" John asked, stumbling to his feet. He reached up to ensure the egg was secure, following after Hickory at a sedate pace as the county troll scooped up a picnic basket and a couple blankets.
"Because you bein' in a good mood will have better, ah," Hickory snapped his fingers, word on the tip of his tongue, "Uh, vibes? Energy? I dunno, Poppy said somethin' t'me about it the other day. But, the long an' short of it is, you bein' happy will help make the egg happy."
John looked skeptical, but didn't argue with Hickory as they left their pod, gave a brief greeting to Rhonda, and began heading up to the hill that overlooked the village.
~
"This is nice."
Hickory hummed, leaning into John's shoulder as they watched the stars on the horizon. "Told ya."
John chuckled, squishing a small berry into Hickory's cheek, earning a squawk of indignity from the county troll. "Yeah, yeah."
The two continued to sit in pleasant silence for a few more minutes, when suddenly John sat stock still. Hickory was in the middle of trying to ensure the red berry smeared on his face wouldn't stain his fur when he noticed John's panicked expression.
"Darlin'? What's the matter?"
John's wide eyes went from staring at the horizon to looking fearfully at Hickory. "It's moving."
It took Hickory a moment to realize what, exactly, John was talking about. He jumped into action as soon as he did, grabbing the extra blanket he'd brought in case it got chilly, and bundling it up in front of John. He and John reached into his hair, carefully extracting the egg and place it on the blankets. It wiggled weakly at first, before jerking violently to the side.
"Woah!" John cried out, reaching for the egg, only to be stopped as Hickory grabbed his hands.
"Let 'em do it on their own," he breathed, rapt gaze focused on the wriggling egg.
The two at silent attention as the egg wobbled one way, only to jerk in the other direction not a moment later. It was the most movement John could recall seeing from an egg, and he'd witnessed all four of his brothers hatch. "Come on, baby, you can do it," he whispered in encouragement, letting out a quiet whoop as the first crack appeared in the shell.
Hickory's grip had gone from holding John's wrist, to holding tightly to his hands, the two unconsciously leaning forward as more cracks began to form around the first. Finally, a tiny blue fist burst through the shell, grabbing at the air, before disappearing back inside.
"Oh! It's blue," John half cried, tears in his eyes and a grin on his face.
"Yeah," Hickory breathed, in awe as their child's fingers reappeared to pull at the shell, tugging pieces inside, rather than pushing out. He chuckled wetly, his own tears forming. "Hey, bug, I think yer doin' it a little backwards, there."
After a few minutes of the tiny hand yanking bits of shell into the egg, a brilliant green eye peered out of the hole. It blinked at John and Hickory, before disappearing again. The two laughed at their baby's apparent shyness, only for Hickory to yelp and John to reach out in a panic as the egg tipped backwards. It would seem they had little to worry about, however, as two tiny blue legs burst out of the shell, followed by their baby sitting up. The top of the egg shell still sat on his head, while the rest was in little scattered bits all over the blanket. He grinned and giggled up at them, clapping his hands together, before shaking his head to toss the last of the shell away, releasing a head of puffy bright orange hair.
"Oh," John breathed, reaching out to scoop their new baby boy into his arms, "Hello there."
"He's got freckles," Hickory noted next to him, leaning into John's shoulder and gently cupping the baby's cheek. He let his thumb trail over sparkling yellow freckles.
"And your nose," John chuckled, booping the baby gently on his light yellow nose. This elicited a bright and loud giggle from the baby as he tried to grab at John's fingers.
"Did you think of a name?" Hickory asked, letting the baby catch one of his own fingers and snorting a laugh as it was nearly immediately shoved into the baby's mouth.
"What do you think of Sky?" John asked, glancing at Hickory out of the corner of his eye.
Hickory pressed a kiss to John's cheek, curling into his new family with a happy little sigh. "I think it's perfect."
#trolls#dreamworks trolls#trolls band together#trolls world tour#trolls john dory#trolls hickory#trolls oc#trolls fanfic#hickdory#things that i wrote
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Male Dragón Reader Bio
Name: Y/n
Last name: L/n
Height: 178 cm
Race: Adeptus Dragón
State: Alpha
Mate: Ningguang
Region: Liyue
Appearance:
Usual outfit:
Secondary outfit:
Weapons:
Swords:
Spear:
Catalyst:
Tattoos:
Back:
Left arm:
Dragon froms:
Oriental form:
Western form:
Dragon roar:
Likes: apples, chocolate, his fellow adepts, zhongli/morax, qiqi, spicy food, ningguang.
Dislike: liars, abyss monsters/followers, let them hurt his friends, to touch his tail or horns without his permission.
Visions: anemo, cyro and electro(they are all on the left side of your waist)
Normal attack: you make five cuts with your swords to quickly switch to your spear to make another five cuts to finally use your catalyst to attack from a distance generating anemo, cyro or electro damage.
Elemental Skill: you create an anemo element dragón that will attack the enemy. you can create up to four(you can also create them from cyro and electro)
Elemental Brust: you make consecutive cuts with your spear and then jump into the air, transforming into an elemental dragon to deliver a diving blow, generating elemental damage.
Things about Y/n:
He is a five star character.
He is a dps character.
In addion to Ganyu, he is the only adeptus who interacts with humans.
Of all Rex Lapiz's adeptus, is the strongest.
He has a small scar on his left eyebrow and an x-shaped scar on his right arm.
Some voice lines of Y/n.
Elemental Skill: |- 'get out of my way!'
Elemental Skill: ||- 'move!'
Elemental Skill: |||- 'too slow!'
Elemental Brust: |- 'time to end this'
Elemental Brust: ||- 'this teaches you a lesson'
Elemental Brust: |||- 'this is your end!'
Low Hp: |- 'it's just a scratch'
Low Hp: ||- 'you need more than to finish me'
Low Hp: |||- 'that's all?'
Fallen: |- 'l'm sorry... For failing you......'
Fallen: ||- 'So... This is my end....'
Fallen: |||- 'l will still... Be watching you...'
Hello: Greetings traveler, my name is Y/n L/n, adeptus of Rex Lapis, if you need anything please let me know l will do everything in my power to help.
Chat: Time: Time is a mysterius thing, don't you think? It's quite surprising how quickly it passes without us realizing it. Although It's sad how some things are forgotten, It's also reassuring how nations move forward to achieve a better future.
Chat: Fighting: You have a very interesting fighting style, traveler. If you have time, l will gladly teach you others fighting styles.
Scars: Oh my scars? Well, my scar on my arm can be seen with the naked eye, but it surprises me that after seeing the one on my eyebrow, you undoubtedly have a great view. Well, the one on my eyebrow was during my youth and the one on my arm was during a battle against a rather formidable enemy.
When it rains: I have always liked the rain, every time it rains it feels like the rain is singing a lullaby.
When thunder strikes: It looks like a storm is approaching, we should take cover before if gets worse.
When the sun is out: Oh the sun came out It's definitely perfect for a walk.
Good morning: Good morning traveler, l made some tea, do you want some?
Good afternoon: Greetings traveler you need me for something?
Good everning: It's better that we go back home because it's already getting dark.
Good night: Why don't you stay and rest at my house? After all tomorrow we have a lot of things to do.
About Y/n: Apart from being an adeptus of which l am very proud, l am also a great merchant of Liyue and l am the richest man in Teyvat so l have a great influence in Liyue.
About us: A great warrior worthy of admiration who seeks to achieve his goal, l dare to say that you remind me of xiao.
(Unlocks at friendship lv: 6): Whatever path you decide to follow, l will accept your decision and support you.
About visions (Unlocks at friendship lv: 4): The visions have always been a mystery to me. I still remember how l got mine. I was fighting a large horde of monsters and they outnumbered me, but those monsters were heading to Liyue and l was not going to allow them to destroy my home, so with all my strength. I continued fighting and from one moment to the next a great wade of wind drove away my enemies, a large part of the horde of monsters had frozed and a great lightning had struch and killied them and in front of me an anemo, cyro and electro visions had appeared, l suppose that people who have great determination can achieve a vision but it is just my opinion.
Something to share: Oh my swords? Well, both were a gift from lord Morax.
About the Traveler(Aether) (Unlocks at friendship lv4): Someone who is willing to face any challenge to find his sister is certainly worthy of respect and admiration.
About Paimon(Unlocks at friendship lv4): Paimon is... undoubtedly a mysterious creature since throughout my life l had never seen someone o something like her, although a small warning, Traveler, if l hear Paimon calling me a winged lizard again, l do not consider myself guilty of my actions.
About Zhongli(Unlocks at friendship lv4): Lord Zhongli is undoubtedly someone that l have a lot of respect for, he has helped me a lot in the past and although he no considers himself the geo archon, l will always be loyal to him.
About Xiao(Unlocks at friendship lv4): He is undoubtedly a great warrior and a great spear user, l find it admirable that despite being someone who suffered in the past he keeps going no matter what.
About Qiqi(Unlocks at friendship lv4): If l'm honest, sometimes l think that Qiqi is like my daughter, sometimes when l have time l go to the Baizhu pharmacy to her and l always bring her coconut milk since it is her favorite 'hehe' you can't imagine the big scandal that arose when Qiqi called me dad.
About Baizhu(Unlocks at friendship lv4): Without a doubt, he is a great pharmacist. He has cured most of my wounds.
About Hu tao(Unlocks at friendship lv4): If l had to describe Hu Tao l would say that she is the most energetic, lively and childish girl l have known in my life. It is pleasant to spend time with her although l find it somewhat annoying that she constantly wants to touch my horns without my permission, l still can't understand how Lord Morax ended up working for her.
About Yelan(Unlocks at friendship lv4): She is a good friend of mine and is a great informant. She always keeps me informant about what is happening in Liyue although she constantly wants to make bets with me.
About Ganyu(Unlocks at friendship lv4): Ganyu is like a little sister to me, after all l knew her when she was a little girl but unlike Cloud retainer l won't tell you stories about Ganyu when she was little but l can assure you that she was very adorable. As she works constantly for Ningguang the poor thing almost doesn't rest so l always have to remind her to get some rest. I should also tell Ningguang to give her more days off.
About Shenhe(Unlocks at friendship lv4): I still remember how l met her, l was next to Cloud retainer, the poor thing was quite scared and luckily we managed to calm her down. I find what her supposed father did quite unpleasant. I suppose that sometimes l don't understand humans, but now Shenhe is quite happy, although It's hard for her to understand human emotions, she's on the right track.
About Beidou(Unlocks at friendship lv4): Beidou? 'Haha!' To be honest, she is without a doubt my best friend we both always train together and to be honest her blows really hurt sometimes we go out drinking together although she is the one who always falls first l also usually pay her fines for the problems her crew sometimes causes.
About Ningguang(Unlocks at friendship lv4): You know something traveler? I think without Ningguang i would be very sad and i thought that after Miko's cheating i would never fall in love again but it seems i was wrong, i really love her, she had a really difficult chidhood but now she is Liyue's Tianquan and i couldn't be more proud of her, she deserves the whole world and l am ahle to give it to her.
About Keqing(Unlocks at friendship lv4): Like Yelan, Keqing is a good friend and i find it kind of funny how she and Ningguang argue, Keqing sometimes looks like a big angry cat 'hehe'
About Xianyun(Unlocks at friendship lv4): Cloud Retainer or Xianyun in this case is an old friend and is a great inventor. She helped me for me for many years and l am very grateful to her. She was even the one who designed my spear.
Y/n's Hobbies: Well if you are curious about what l do during my free time l really like draw.
Y/n's Troubles: Why should l get involved in a meanningless fight if there are innocent people in the crossfire?
Favorite food: It would definitely be spicy food.
Least favorite food: I'm not a big fan of sour food.
Birthday: Here you have my gift two necklaces made of crystal one for you and well one for your sister when you find her and l hope you both have a great and happy birthday.
Feeling About Ascension: Intro: It seems that my strength is returning little by little but remember we are not done yet.
Feeling About Ascension: Building Up: I feel like my power is growong every day just like the load inside my body. Please don't worry about something like this. It won't stop me or hurt me. After all, l'm a dragon.
Feeling About Ascension: Climax: It seems that my power has become even stronger, it seems that soon l will recover all my strength.
Feeling About Ascension: Conclusion: After so many years l never thought l would be able to regain all my power. I am very grateful to you my friend and if anyone gest involved with you, do not hesitate to let me know and l will show why they called me the blue lightning.
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Faceless Fixation {Sal Fisher}: Caught in #4k [5]
I wake up groggy and exhausted. Definitely not prepared for a full work day, that's for sure.
The Faces and I spent the entire night playing together. It was honestly fun aside from the few times Sally and I got into really aggressive arguments. I was worried one of them would turn into a yelling match, but somehow, we were calmed. I blame-- I mean-- thank Ash for that.
Still, it was about two in the morning by the time I realized how late it was. I told my friends good night and ended my stream that amassed a whopping five thousand and something viewers. I thanked them all the best way I could-- which was just through words. For now.
And the best part of ending abruptly is that Sally wasn't given a chance to bitch at me for getting him killed early in the night.
The only issue is that it's eight in the damn morning and I have no energy. But, I do have a clear and optimistic mindset.
Later, Ash is going to help me link my bank account to all of my socials. For Twitch, I need to at this point. With how often I plan on streaming, alongside my growing number of viewers, I'll actually start making some money, which blows my mind.
But, I'm excited. This is the change I've been looking for. It's something good for me and dad. And hey, who knows, maybe I'll be able to go back to school at some point.
I get ready for my day, sighing upon realizing that I've forgotten to get more contacts again. I'll have to do that soon.
A wave of deja vu washes over me as I situate my glasses onto the bridge of my nose, looking over my form in the mirror. The last time I did this, I wasn't involved with Sally and I definitely wasn't streaming. Come to think of it, VioletViolence didn't exist either yet.
The deja vu feels good this time and I can't help but smile at myself as I pull my stupid skirt higher on my waist and get ready to leave for the day.
Maybe I won't have to work this taxing job soon, too. If I could have true, reliable income from streaming and being a bit of an influencer, that would help me out tremendously. Being online could be my only occupation.
Before I step out of my apartment to start my day, my phone starts ringing. There goes that deja vu again.
I bound over to the elevator, trying to fish my phone out of the side pocket on my backpack. But it's stuck, and I can't get it in time to answer the call.
Hissing, I press the button to go down to my apartment complex's lobby then take my backpack off, man-handling the damn phone and yanking it from its fabric clutches. Life being hard on me just because.
I glance over my lit up screen with furrowed brows due to extreme aggravation. It's going to be a long day.
With pinched lips, I click on Ash's missed call and put my phone to my ear, listening to consecutive rings. It doesn't take her too long to pick up though.
"Hey, y/n! Everything okay?" Ash asks, her kind voice chirpy and cheery like she got a full seven hours of sleep. I'm not sure how she manages to not feel aggravated on little sleep because I know she definitely went to bed later than I did.
"Hey, hun," I start, smiling slightly. Her happy voice makes me feel a bit better. "Yea, I'm fine. Just couldn't get to my phone, it was stuck in a pocket. I'm on my way to work. How are you?"
Ash sucks in a breath. "Ouch, sorry. We shouldn't have kept you up so late," she says guiltily.
I walk into the elevator, scooting in beside an older man with a briefcase. I smile at him. He doesn't smile back. So I face forward and raise my eyebrows. "No, don't worry about it," I tell Ash. "I actually really enjoyed myself! Sally's a bit of an ass, but I can overlook it."
"Wow," Ash gasps. "Is this progress I'm seeing? I noticed you guys getting real flirty, but for you to actually be getting used to him? The gates have fallen and all the little monsters are taking my y/n-bug!"
A giggle leaves my lips and I hold my phone with both hands, trying to hide myself from the man behind me but refusing to let some random kill my instant good mood. "Don't get your hopes up. I think the arguments are fun, but Sally genuinely can't stand me. I'm not sure how to fix that, and I don't really want to make him like me at all either. It's fun making him suffer," I say smugly, grinning at the metallic elevator doors.
The doors-- who are absolutely against me in every way for unknown reasons-- open up to a handful of people the minute the expression envelops my face and my grin drops. Way to make myself look like an absolute villainess in front of potential neighbors right?
I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear and weave through people until I find my way out of the apartment building and into the hot, summer LA air.
The sun is bright, blinding even, and I can already feel a sweat working up, so I keep walking in the direction of the diner and try my best to find some shade.
"Oh well," Ash sighs into the call. "Sally will come around eventually. He's just really hard headed with you-- not sure why. Even just your name-- either one, in fact-- gets him worked up. It's really weird."
I shrug, feeling like an idiot when I remember that she can't see. "Not my problem. He has something against me and I don't know what it is, but I don't really care either." I shield my eyes from the sun, squinting my eyes in the harsh light. "So what's up? Any plans today?"
"Oh, actually, thank you for the reminder!" Ash says, cursing herself lightly. "I called for a reason. I know you said you won't be coming to Vegas. Boringggg." She giggles and the action makes me smile a little more. "But I emailed you the invite a few minutes ago. I wanted to make sure you got it!"
I hum, pulling my phone away from my face to look down at my screen. My eyes are still shielded as I scroll through my recent emails and, sure enough, there's one from Ash. The subject says,, "That party invite-- the one you won't be coming to :("
With a little giggle, I place my phone to my ear again. "Yea, I've got it. I'll check it out a little later, but I'm still not going," I remind her, noting the diner coming into view. "But listen, I'll talk to you again tonight, okay? Are you guys playing again?"
"We sure are!" Ash exclaims excitedly. "We'll be getting on around six in the evening. Can you be there for that time?"
Frowning, I remember that I'm staying until about eight tonight. "I'll be late, but I'll be there," I promise.
Ash squeals. Her cute noises always excite me and fill me with actual joy-- something I don't feel very often nowadays. "Yay! Okay, I'll tell the guys! I'm super excited!"
I huff out a laugh, opening the back door into the diner's kitchen. Nodding toward some of the cooks, I turn into our rest area and put my bag down. "Sounds good. I'm excited too." I glance at my surroundings and realize my shift starts in ten minutes. "I've got to go. I'll see you tonight."
"Barf, but okay! Ich liebe dich. Have a great day!" Ash says, blowing me a kiss then hanging up. Her trademark lately is telling me she loves me in different languages, it's pretty cute.
Most of my day goes by quickly. Well, the first half at least. I couldn't be more thankful for that. But when I'm on break, munching on a burger that the head cook was nice enough to make for me, I spend some time hanging out on Discord.
Ultimately, I come to regret it.
LARBEARAWR: hey vi i have a cewl pic 4 u wana c???
VIOLETVIOLENCE: sure lar :3 send it over!!!
T0DDLES12: Larry and Sally have been off doing something all day. They haven't been home in about four hours.
Ew, so they're together. I hope Larry just sends me a cute kitty picture or something.
ASHYPOO <3: Really? GUYSSSSS what are you doing??? We're literally going to be streaming laterrr. Plus, Larry owes me a ride to that new smoothie shop on the outskirts of nockfell >:(((
T0DDLES12: Sally mentioned something about wanting to practice his guitar at their parents' place down Main Street. Apparently, Lisa and Henry bought some type of studio to open a little meat market but haven't gotten around to it yet. So it's ended up being the perfect place for Larry and Sally to do criminal things.
I reel back in my seat, a bit confused by the information I've been given. I have a mouthful of fries, but I stop chewing as I try to make sense of who exactly Lisa is with.
VIOLETVIOLENCE: wait, who's Lisa and Henry?
I wait with bated breath. Of course, I had to lie about knowing Lisa given the situation I put myself into. But I know Lisa very well, she and I were besties before I moved. She made the most amazing lasagna for me, Larry, Todd, and Ash. She was an awesome second mom.
T0DDLES12: Henry is Sally's father. Lisa is Larry's mother. They're married and it's all thanks to the boys. The guys started out as best friends when Sally first moved to Nockfell, then their parents met and the rest was history.
My eyes are wide. What are the fucking chances that Sally and Larry have ended up being step-brothers? Fuck this is wild. And fuck, this is really not looking up for me. I have to be careful with what I say.
I genuinely hope that Henry is nothing like his son.
VIOLETVIOLENCE: awwweee that's so cute, i'm glad it worked out that way for them :)
It sounds sarcastic and, let's be honest, it kind of is. I'm hardcore freaked out.
A photo comes in from Larry but it takes a second or two to load in. So, I squint my eyes and bring my phone closer to my face.
When I don't have time to decide that I don't want to see the picture, a blisteringly hot photo finally pops up in front of me and I suddenly find myself choking on my fries. A few bits of gross, chewed up potato fly onto the floor at my feet as I rush to cover my mouth with a hand. My phone gets slammed onto the table in front of me as I try to catch my breath.
Every inch of my body is on fire and I feel like I'm being seared from the inside out. My brain is overwhelmed and fighting to hold onto my sanity. And my sanity? My rational, working order that keeps me in check? It's running for the hills-- sprinting over to my phone just so it can lick my screen. I struggle to grip onto the last bits of me that actually make sense.
And, by the way, fuck Larry. Because I lose my grasp on my good-natured superego. My scary ego takes the reins, commanding my hands to bring my phone up to my face again.
Sigmund Freud would have fucking loved me.
With shaky hands and wide eyes, I rake my eyes over the photo that Larry sent. Hell, I even zoom in on it.
In the photo is a shirtless Sally Face. He's dripping in sweat, his hair messy and sticking to his prosthetic, and his guitar is securely hanging onto the front of his body.
His hands are holding onto the body and neck of his bright red, fiery guitar and I'm not quite sure where to look first.
His skin, as pale as the moon on a dim night, glistens with sweat from putting his entire heart into playing the instrument, I'll bet. His arms aren't too muscular, but they're veiny and there's definitely some muscle mass there. Has to be a result of constant working hands. My eyes trail up the various veins in his arms and then over the wide variety of tattoos.
Sally's sleeve is completely free for me to view right now-- and it doesn't just stop at his elbow. The tattoo I saw on his arm-- the one I got to touch-- goes all the way up to his shoulder and I can feel my mouth watering over the attractive, geometric designs.
His other arm doesn't have quite as many tattoos, but he does have a vine of some kind of flower wrapping around his skin. It's not a big tattoo that covers every inch of him, in fact, it's rather small, but it is long. It starts at his wrist and trails along and around his arm, all the way up to his shoulder.
There's a tattoo on his collarbone, but I can't quite make out what it is. Regardless, it's nice to look at and my brain has gone fuzzy.
I can see his shattered dagger tattoo exceptionally well with his head looking down at his finger placement. His neck is reddened just a bit with little pieces of his shoulder length, cerulean hair stuck to his skin in some places.
Fuck, I hate that he's hot and I was doing just fine with ignoring my dull attraction to him until this. The thought of seeing his face covered in sweat and stuck in a focused expression would probably make me lose whatever brain cells I have left.
I cross my legs and clear my throat, slapping my cheeks after a moment. I look up and away from the photo, trying to clear my mind in an attempt to quell my raging emotions. And somehow, I still find myself looking down at the photo again.
Sally's wearing black ripped jeans that hug his thighs in all the right places. Now that I'm looking closer too, I can see little scars littering his pale, glistening neck. And fuck, he has the most beautiful torso I think I've ever seen in my life.
And what is that?
I narrow my eyes and zoom in closer.
My stomach practically drops out of my ass upon realizing that the edge of a tattoo is peeking out of the waistband of his jeans. I'm not sure where it is exactly, but it's probably on his thigh and I'd give anything to lay my eyes on the full thing one day.
My heart is beating wildly and I feel like I can't breathe. If I take a breath, I think I may burst and I'm not sure in what way. There are too many aggressors in just one photo. My head is overloaded and I almost throw caution to the wind, say fuck it, and ask Sally to fucking fly back to LA.
Come to think of it, where's that text to Lexi?
I hiss at the photo and click out of it, finally taking a deep breath and realizing I've broke out into a nervous sweat. My thighs are glued together and I'm afraid to move-- afraid to even think because my head is impure and I haven't gotten fucked in far too long.
Damn.
I lick my dry lips and blink at the Discord chat.
LARBEARAWR: vi if u zoom in on the red thing u can c my name on the bottom
LARBEARAWR: vi do u c it
LARBEARAWR: viiiiiiiii r u bein like sally
LARBEARAWR: ok i'll leave u 2 masturbate in peace
T0DDLES12: Larry, I'm too gay for that picture. Please delete it. Neil and I are trying to find your location and it's not for innocent reasons.
ASHYPOO <3: No wonder Sally's pulling all the bitches... HE NEVER LEAVES ANY HOTTIES FOR THE REST OF US AND THIS IS WHY fuck >:(
T0DDLES12: That must be frustrating for you and Larry. Though, Sally would be the only bitch I need.
T0DDLES12: Also, Vi, I am not cheating on my boyfriend. I casually flirt with my friends and Neil finds it hilarious. I don't actually want to have sex with any of my friends, or anyone else for that matter.
ASHYPOO <3: Todd's lying. He's actually a little whore for hot people. Don't let him lie to you XD
T0DDLES12: No need to call me out, Ashley.
LARBEARAWR: shut up vi is trying 2 get off
LARBEARAWR: gosh u guys have no respect 4 others needs
ASHYPOO <3: True that. Sorry, Vi. We'll leave you to let out some sexy steam~ :3
Fuck, how did I manage to put myself into this ridiculous position. The worst part is that they aren't far off from the truth. Sal is hot as fuck and it pains me to admit it.
This ground is officially dangerous, tainted with bombs that'll go off the minute I make one wrong move. Sally and I cannot meet again. If I see him without a shirt in person, his pants are coming off too.
VIOLETVIOLENCE: sorry guys i'm at work and just getting to my break! sally has a badass guitar. and yes, i see your signature larry lmfao
I didn't even look for Larry's name on the damn guitar. If I click on that photo again, chaos will ensue in my mind and I can't handle that. I still have a few hours left to go in this shift and I'll actually have to talk with Sally tonight. I can't subject myself to that torture while knowing I'll have to converse with him in just a few hours.
LARBEARAWR: lol did u rlly c it
LARBEARAWR: r u sure u weren't looking @ sally's lickable shirtless bod 2 hard
VIOLETVIOLENCE: yes lar, i'm sure lol. i see it, it's there!
LARBEARAWR: lol... that's wild... cause my name isn't on it...
LARBEARAWR: sally wood off me if i ever touched his guitar :P
LARBEARAWR: caught u in #4k hehe
I want to scream and cry and roll around on the floor because, yea, Larry caught me in the most obvious fucking lie ever. I think when I see him again, I'm going to punch him. I don't think I'll feel better until I do.
My eyes squeeze shut and I throw a hand over my mouth again, letting my phone drop to the table a second time. This man is evil. Both men are evil. Larry is smarter than he lets on and Sally is just too damn fuckable. I should have never started streaming.
What do I do. What do I do? I can't let this marinate, I have to fix it.
My lungs are wedged into my throat and my legs are bouncing up and down in a panic. I feel like I'm going to fucking throw up.
I got caught slacking in one of the worst moments of weakness I've ever shown in my life.
In a last ditch effort to restore some faith in myself, I download the photo of Sal and do my best to ignore how badly I want to drool over it.
Zooming in all the way into the bottom right of the guitar, I screenshot and then delete the full photo so I don't have to listen to my insides scream upon seeing his naked upper half again. Fuck, this is aggravating.
Deny until you die, right?
I edit Larry's name onto the screenshot of the guitar then quickly send it in the chat.
The group is silent for a second, and I know that photo is obviously edited, but maybe it'll take a little bit of heat off of me. I chew on my bottom lip, cheeks heating up again as I think abut how to lose every connection to the name VioletViolence. I can start over again. Under a fourth name.
Hell, maybe I have a problem...
All my names are a result of me running away from my unavoidable problems. I'm starting to see a pattern.
My phone pings and I focus in on it again, sucking in a quick breath.
SALLYFʌCɛ: awww, what a cute attempt to save yourself. don't wear yourself out too much. and clean up whatever mess you make along the way.
I'm fucked for life.
————————————
A/N:::::: my good friend drew this photo of Sally for Motherf*cker and he came out so awesome🫶🫶 if you wanna show some love, they’re @ MadamMilky on Wattpad!!!
#sally face#future smut#sal fisher#sally face fanfiction#sally face fandom#ash campbell#enemies to lovers#larry johnson#todd morrison#travis phelps
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Saw The Marvels last night and have been trying to organize my thoughts ever since.
The best part of the film is the chemistry between its leads. Kamala, Carol, and Monica bounce off of each other well. Kamala in particular brings a lot of charm to this group that helps break down the emotional walls that Monica and Carol both have on display.
Where the film struggles is in finding things for these characters to do. The plot is one of the simplest Marvel's ever put-forward; No more complex than "There exists a bad guy and we must defeat her because heroes defeat bad guys," with no twists or turns along the way. We didn't get her the first time. We didn't get her the second time. We didn't get her the third time. But by Thor, we got her the fourth time!
That's basically it. The story consists of fighting Dar-Benn, then going to the next place where we will fight Dar-Benn. Although Nick Fury and Kamala's family provide several great moments to the film (including a hilarious but consequence-free sequence where S.A.B.E.R. forces must be rescued by a litter of Flerkens), the straightforward series of consecutive boss fights offers no opportunities for characters outside our core trio to influence the plot in any meaningful way.
It's really just these three characters carrying the weight of the film, so their dynamic better be gold.
Fortunately, it is. It absolutely is.
This also puts a lot of pressure on Dar-Benn. As a boss fight, she needs to be able to believably juggle three superheroes at once, one of whom is the most powerful MCU character of all time. Here, the film falters. She seems just like every other Kree bad guy, but with a special MacGuffin to give her Dragon Ball Z Power Levels so she can throw punches at Carol's weight class.
She bodies everyone constantly in the fight scenes but it never feels like she should be giving them all so much trouble. It has that vibe of when a solo hero's villain has to be a team-up bad guy for an arc. Like, normally Spider-Man can handle Doc Ock easily enough, but he needs to be an Avengers villain now so suddenly he's powerful enough to take down Thor and the Hulk simultaneously.
Dar-Benn is helped in this endeavor by the film's special gimmick. Carol, Monica, and Kamala constantly swapping places with each other is a cool element that provides both plentiful comedy and some awesome moments, especially as they learn to take advantage of it.
It's also not explained very well and is barely integrated into the plot. It's a weird thing that the Quantum Bands suddenly started doing to to them one day. They learned how to go with it. Then, once the story was far enough along, it stopped of its own accord. More "Sure, I guess this might as well happen" than an interesting new metaphysic.
The story seems either sorely underwritten or utterly butchered by reshoots. Heavy emphasis is placed on galactic worldbuilding and expositing lore than on putting its characters through an emotional and thematic journey.
That's not to say there isn't an emotional journey, mind you. Monica and Kamala's stories are more or less relegated to reacting to Carol. Their parts in the plot are defined by how Carol has respectively influenced them, for better and for worse. As much as the title bills itself as a team-up, this is unambiguously Carol 2. Kamala and Monica are static characters, primarily working to help examine Carol by offering their respective lenses.
But that examination goes deep, and in directions it's rare to see a story willing to take its protag in. Especially a superhero story.
The Marvels primarily interrogates Carol's loner behavior. Carol is Marvel's most powerful hero, but that doesn't mean she can't make mistakes when she takes too much on herself. The unilateral decisions she makes on behalf of others keep blowing up in her face and making things worse. She has to learn to stop talking for five minutes and listen to what other people think.
Which is the central narrative function, both for Kamala and Monica's presence here and for the mechanical decision to handcuff them to Carol's wrists so that she can't run away. It all serves to develop Carol into someone who sees the value in leaning on others, and teach her how to chill for five minutes.
The film also tackles some heavy subject matter with Carol's greatest mistake. This is the thing that's haunting her, and it's a genuinely tragic political mistake. One that world leaders have made many times throughout history.
In short, Carol thought she could bring peace by breaking into the hostile enemy state and decapitating their leadership. She didn't understand that you can't just snipe the king and bail. That leaves a region in chaos. Without prolonged reconstruction, this kind of destabilization can have devastating consequences not only for the destabilized nation, but for everyone else around it.
Unfortunately, while it would be good to see the impacts of this on more than just Carol, we don't. Not really. The only other character impacted is Dar-Benn but. Like. The loss of Hala has turned the Kree from an imperialist people who conquer, enslave, and exterminate worlds into an imperialist people who conquer, enslave, and exterminate worlds. It's a lateral move from what they were doing before to what they're doing now.
The Kree might throw out the name "Annihilator" here and there but it's all lip service. They're more or less the same Evil Overlord bad guys they've always been. Dar-Benn even gets an opportunity for nuance at the very end, but decides she'd rather kill herself out of spite instead. For as high as the stakes are raised for these battles, they have the energy of "Titanium Man is robbing the diamond store! We must stop him from stealing all of the precious jewels."
That a throwaway line at the end assures us that the affected planets - despite Carmen Sandiego stealing their oceans and atmosphere - are inexplicably fine also contributes to this feeling more like a Saturday Morning Cartoon episode than a cinematic blockbuster. Everything resets to status quo in the end. Well, except Monica, who's been drafted for the next round of multiversal shenanigans.
All things considered, this movie felt middle-of-the-road for me. There's a lot here to like but it needed more time in the oven.
Unfortunately, it's also headed for a far harsher reception than it deserves. The SAG-AFTRA strike meant actors aren't doing the usual talk show circuits to market the film. Between that and the film's heavy reliance on Disney Plus homework for its core appeal, it's struggling to find an audience. It's competing with Incredible Hulk and Ant-Man this weekend for lowest opening in Marvel history, which undercuts its legitimate charms by quite a lot.
Hopefully Marvel won't take the wrong lesson from the film's underperformance. But who am I kidding? We all know what studio executives are like.
#marvel#marvel cinematic universe#the marvels#carol danvers#captain marvel#kamala khan#ms marvel#monica rambeau#photon
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fade into you, part 2 (michael corleone x reader) [request]
part 1
summary: It was a lie, you knew, but a beautiful, wishful one at that; regardless of how feeble.
warnings: angst, fluff
words: 1.3k
notes: this is a sequel but can also be read as a standalone ig. sry i suck at continuations <3
The leaves outside dance to the wind blowing, whistling slightly as it enters the open windows. You’d forgotten yet again to close them, it seemed. With a heavy sigh and five consecutive steps to their direction, you felt the cold breeze hit your face as you did the task. Crickets vividly sang from a distance and you stared at the vast garden, wondering if any kind soul had watered your plants for you that day. You were so caught up in Michael’s mafia antics lately, it was a while since the last time you stopped to take a closer look at them.
Your gaze rose to the sky and you breathed in the cool air of the dawn. The sun hadn’t showed yet, but it wasn’t dark anymore. So much time had passed and you didn’t even notice, restless and anxious as you still were. Closing your eyes, it almost felt like everything was fine for a split second. Your life as Michael’s wife wasn’t hanging by a thread and your love for him remained as strong as ever. You’d find him sleeping soundly when making your way to bed that night, hugging his body as if the chain holding a boat to its anchor. It was a lie, you knew, but a beautiful, wishful one at that; regardless of how feeble.
“You’re still here”, comes a voice from behind, and you jump a little. You turn around only to be met with dark, tired eyes examining you thoroughly. His countenance appeared fairly beaten, although he obviously tried his best to keep his customary sternness. Michael takes a step closer and your chest automatically stiffens. He notices your tension. “Am I disturbing you?”
“You make me nervous, yes”, you helplessly confess, letting a deep breath out your lips as you cross your arms protectively. “Lately even more, if I’m being honest.”
“You know you don’t have to feel this way with me.”
“Well, me knowing this doesn’t change how I feel”, you sigh, avoiding his prying eyes still. “It doesn’t work that way, Michael.”
“What can I do to change this?”, you almost want to laugh at his question, but your tiredness doesn’t let you express any humour. He took a step closer and his eyes fell on you intently, much more revealing than earlier that evening. Your whole body shivered when his cold fingers creeped at your shoulder with no rush at all, making you tighten your arms around yourself. “Tell me, (y/n).”
“It is to no use, Michael, you know that.”
“I know I love you”, he cuts through, causing your insides to burn instantly. He was well aware of how words like those affected you, especially as he only ever pronounced them as a last resource in the middle of a fight. And it was ridiculous how every time, every damn time, he had you at his mercy; breath hitching, almost gasping for air as if his love alone was suffocating you. It felt like that often, anyway. He continues by a calm, sweet whisper against your lips now, “and I know you love me too.”
“Michael”, you choked, clinging on to him for dear life.
He pulled you in his arms in reflex, catching you as if you’d fall without his support. But you were falling nonetheless, fading into him, never mind the implications of that line of thinking. You were to leave him, you were bound to do it, yet you just couldn’t bring yourself to at that moment. Not with his whiskey breath kissing your face this close, not with his hands firmly gripping at your sides, compelling you to be under his command. It was ever like this, you reckoned, shivering yet again by the cold wind hitting your back, adding such a contrast to how heated you felt in his embrace.
“Tell me you love me”, he demands, pulling you closer and closer somehow, heavy breathing of his own warming your lips. You were a mix of feelings here, and you almost thought your body would give in and shut down from the hard discrepancies in your senses. Michael noted your wonderous demeanour and pushed you lightly, causing your lower back to touch the window’s marble. It was cold, freezing, and it brought you back to reality in an instant. “Tell me”, he insists, holding you in place still with his palms on your hips.
His hair was slightly unravelled by the sudden movement and you brushed it off his face mindlessly, smiling when you sensed his impatience at your silence. “You know I do”, you mutter, not being able to sustain your grin any longer as the memories from before make their way back into your mind. “But you know it’s not enough. Love can’t mend everything that it’s broken.”
“We’re not broken. We’re not”, Michael spits, hardening his expression. “I can’t, I won’t accept it. You are all I have and all I want, (y/n). Please, don’t ever think otherwise.”
“Michael...”
“I mean it”, he takes his hands to your face, putting his forehead against yours.
You close your eyes for a moment, choosing to forget and forgive all he was during that sole, ephemeral contact. His skin felt like silk on yours, his fingertips roamed your cheeks ever so slightly as if in search for every pore. God, how absolutely in love you were with this man, in spite of everything. No matter how cruel, despicable, cold as the dawn behind you two he could get, you loved Michael Corleone with every fibre in your body. You held onto him and he held you back in similar desperation. Michael took a deep breath, clearing his throat as though his voice was about to crack. But you knew it wasn’t, he would never let it, yet this was the most emotion you had ever seen him express in your entire time as his wife.
He kissed you finally, hungrily, profoundly. His mouth was pure heat on yours and you melted at his touch, letting him in with everything he got. He lifted your hips in a swift movement to sit you on the marble and you put your legs around his waist in response, giving him access to you while he bit at every spot on your neck. Your face was on fire, as was the rest of your body, and you could only moan as Michael caressed every inch of you adoringly, almost as if he’d known too well he’d gotten awfully close to losing you tonight.
“Are you cold?”, he suddenly inquires, taking his mouth off your collarbone. He eyed your face and touched your arms, squeezing them weakly. “You’re shuddering”, Michael points out and you can’t help but chuckle. His lips curve slightly too, but not quite. “I know you’re cold, it’s not because of me. I know when it’s because of me.”
You look at him surprised. He really was able to read your mind. “Don’t you think you’re sounding a little presumptuous?”, your tone is playful, anxiety leaving your chest whenever his hands stroked your shoulders in a quiet attempt to warm you up.
Michael nods once, still with intent in his brown eyes. “But I am right.”
“You are”, you mumble, letting a small grin cover your lips when he gives you a slow, gentle peck. “And I love you for it.”
For the first time in weeks, maybe months, you see an honest smile come across Michael’s features, highlighting his handsomeness some more. The corners of his eyes have faint wrinkles and you can’t hide your own happiness witnessing this, cupping his face to give him a soft kiss. You feel his teeth touch yours and it fills you with joy. It’d been so long since you’d been this close to him, and that made you think it was true when people said it’s darkest before the dawn. The first rays of sunshine linger on you both, eventually, and his arms hold you tighter as the birds begin to take on their morning song.
“I’m going to make you feel safe with me again”, you hear his silent murmur against your neck as he hugs you closely. “That’s a promise.”
You only chuckle, taking in his strong, homely scent. “You already have.”
#the godfather imagine#the godfather x reader#the godfather#michael corleone#michael corleone x reader#michael corleone imagine#al pacino#al pacino x reader#al pacino imagine
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daydreaming - pt.iii
summary: Tess figures out what Rooster wants from her, it ends well.
bradley bradshaw x tess mitchell
word count: 3k
warnings: angst with a happy ending, alcohol, cursing, daddy issues, best friends to lovers and it's not complicated anymore, small age gap, minor editing, roosters an idiot but we love him
a/n: thank you all SO much for all the love on this fic, i'm so happy you all liked it, i love tess mitchell so much and i'm so sad to be leaving her, but also so happy with how this turned out.
the last part is finally here <3 but if you want more of tess and rooster pls lmk i love them a lot
italics are flashback, regular text is about one year after the mission
pt iii is brought to you once again by Shania Twain everyone go thank that woman
that first kiss ->
masterlist || pt.i || pt.ii
stay until the morning
'cause, baby, loving you's the real thing
---
A week. It had been almost a week - five days, fourteen hours, but who was counting - with nothing. Not a text, or a phone call, or a late-night stop into the bar while she was closing up. No smiles, no laughs, no lame dad jokes to break up her monotonous days.
And Tess thought her anxiety was bad before.
She was sure she hadn’t gotten more than one consecutive hour of sleep since the day she walked away from him, and it was that thought - the thought that she’d been the one to walk away, that kept her up the most. Tess cursed every syllable that left her lips that day, every word that pushed him farther and farther away, even if it was only one question. One statement: what the hell do you want from me?
She was almost determined to hunt him down, scream in his face for all he was putting her through, and then tell him to never speak to her again, just for good measure. But every time she got the courage to do it, every time the anger in her gut rose to her chest and lit the fire she needed to get the words out, it would extinguish. Like a bucket of cold water was dumped over her head, she would go numb to the feeling and be right back at the beginning of this never ending cycle.
Why the fuck did she have to open her big mouth?
“Kid,” Penny said, taking the cleaning rag out of her hand, “go home. I got this.”
“No, no, I’m fine.” Tess insisted, trying to grab the rag out of Penny’s grasp.
“You’ve been wiping the same spot for over twenty minutes.” She deadpanned, motioning to the spot on the wooden bartop Tess was taking all her frustration out on.
Sure enough, Tess looked down and realized she hadn’t moved an inch since she picked up the stained cleaning rag. She let out a groan, and dropped her tired head into her pine-scented hands.
“Go home, get some rest.” The older woman walked away before Tess could get in her rebuttal.
The idea of going back to Penny’s house sent a cold chill through her body, like a ghost just passed through. The idea of going to that room where her and Rooster shared so many fresh memories had that sick taste spreading up the back of her throat like butter on a hot knife.
Tess had half a mind to pick a spot on the floor and camp out there until all her problems vanished. The hardwood floor would no doubt leave her back in shambles, but she was sure she would get in a better nap in Penny’s office than back at that house.
She also thought about going back to the house, packing up everything she owned and leaving. Pick a spot on the map and take off where nobody would be able to fly in and find her.
Right then, they both seemed like viable options.
Until Maverick walked into the bar.
Tess’s estranged relationship with Pete Mitchell had gotten… better. He visited every day since he arrived, and while she was sure in the beginning that it was only to see Penny, the day after the blow up with Rooster, he sat in Tess’s section until closing, eye’s never leaving her for longer than a minute. And when she closed out her checks for the night, ripped her apron off and booked it for the back door, he followed, sat next to her in the sand and held her while she sobbed.
Things had gotten easier after that. At least, where he was concerned. Just knowing he was on her side was something she didn’t know she needed, and those small gaps in their relationship didn’t seem to matter so much anymore. Tess knew it was just because she was too tired to fight, too tired to push him away, too tired to care that he left her high and dry again and would most likely do it again.
Deep down, foolishly, she was hoping that things would be different this time.
It was late, long after the last call, The Hard Deck was closed while the girls cleaned and prepped for the next day, so Tess was thankful nobody else was in the room when her father walked in in his dress Whites.
The air rushed out of her chest. Cold, hard fear gripping and squeezing her lungs so tight she thought she may never take another breath.
He didn’t need to say anything. His eyes said it all - Tess wondered for a moment if her’s did the same, if it was why Rooster always seemed to be able to read her thoughts. He wasn’t supposed to fly this one, just coach, lead, train, but there was nobody better in this kind of situation than Maverick. He was flying. And he was taking Bradley with him.
She was outside in the sand without realizing it, feet carrying her around the bar, past a frozen-still Penny, and to the cooling beach on their own accord.
They weren’t supposed to come back from this one. None of them were supposed to survive this. It would be a miracle if they all came home.
She shook despite the warm air, arms coming around her chest, holding herself together before she fell apart into little pieces that would blow away in the breeze.
Hold it together. Hold it together. Hold it-
“Hey, kid.”
Tess didn’t hear the sound of the back door open or close but suddenly Maverick was there, holding his covers under his arm, looking at her.
“We’re heading out soon.”
Tess nodded at the ocean. Everything she’d ever wanted to say disappeared from her brain, like the soft breeze somehow swept between her ears, and carried her thoughts away with it. She could only think about how they would all be out there soon, somewhere in the middle of an ocean and all that anger that had been cresting at the shores of her chest all these days suddenly crashed over her, and turned into solid, ice-cold fear.
He wasn’t coming.
“Promise me,” she pushed out, voice cracking as she fought back the tears.
“Tess-”
“You bring him back.”
She looked at him then, all the fear and hurt and love and pain bubbling up and escaping through her eyes and Pete would have given her the world in that moment, would’ve given her anything she wanted just to make that look in her eyes go away.
“Okay.”
Tess watched him nod slowly. He kept his distance while she schooled her face back to a neutral expression.
“Don’t you dare send him back to me alone.”
Her green eyes shone as bright as the moon. Those green eyes that Pete always thought were his, but really, now he could finally see that they were all her. His perfect clone, and yet so wholly different from him in every possible way.
Maverick didn’t have words, he could only pull her close, savoring the moment, searing it into his memory. His little girl.
The back door opened and closed once again and Maverick forced himself to pull back, placed a lingering kiss on the top of her head before he held her at arm’s length, turning her into Bradley.
Tess didn’t fight it when he pulled her into his body. His scent calmed her immediately and she once again had to fight back tears while he held onto her for dear life. Her own grip was just as tight, hoping that if she just held on tight enough that this wouldn’t be real. She would wake up in her bed to Bradley getting ready for his day of training before the sun was even up, his long legs and arms fumbling and tripping around her small room to find his discarded clothes from the night before, while she scolded at him not to wake up Amelia, holding back a laugh.
“I’m so sorry sweetheart.” His voice sent a chill down her spine. “I’m sorry I’m such a fucking idiot, I’m so fucking sorry.” His words mumbed into her neck, leaving a warmth in their wake and Tess could hear the tears in his voice as he held them back.
Tess couldn’t help but laugh. It was a sad little huff of air that pushed out of her nose, all she could muster up.
Bradley didn’t want to, but he pulled away, only enough to put his hands on her cheeks, not at all willing to let her get too far away, needing to see those eyes he loved so much. Those eyes that held her soul - everything she was on a silver platter - and his heart.
Tess looked back at him, never one to back down from a challenge, meeting his searing gaze with the ferocity of her own. She studied his face, a face she knew better than her own, a face that launched a million daydreams. His disheveled eyebrows, the slight wave of his hair, his almond eyes that turned down a little at the ends. His top lip was almost completely hidden now, but it was always the fullness of the bottom one that caught her eye anyway, and the dimple in his chin that kept her attention there. She traced a thumb over the lines of scars that lay there, remembering the visit to the hospital the night his buddy rolled his car, with Bradley in the passenger seat. Tess thought then that it was the scariest night of her life.
“I love you, Tess Mitchell… I’m in love with you and I’m sorry it took me so long to say it. I’m sorry I’m such a fucking moron and I promise I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you.”
The tears were free falling down her cheeks, cascading over his thumbs and he moved them just enough to lean down and kiss the salt water away.
He looked devastatingly handsome in his uniform, so handsome, Tess had to close her eyes to allow any coherent thought to process in her mind. He wasn’t saying goodbye. He wasn’t just saying I’m sorry. He was saying he loved her.
“I love you so much,” she whispered finally, eyes staying closed even as she felt him press his forehead to her own.
“Marry me,”
“What!?” Tess’s eyes sprung open and she tried to take a step back, but Bradley’s arms kept her from pulling away. She must have looked funny because he smiled and laughed, and Tess could think of no other reason for him to be laughing right now other than some strange contusion of her face. She was stunned. Flabbergasted even. What the hell was wrong with this man!?
“I love you.” He said it through a chuckle, like it explained everything, like it was the answer to any question anyone’s ever had.
“Bradley Nicholas Bradshaw, what the hell is wrong with you?” She said it slowly, hoping to get it through his thick skull that she was not on the same page as him right now. Hell, they were on opposite sides of the library, and he was screaming something in another language through a plexiglass wall.
“Don’t answer right now. Wait until I get back. Think about it.” He placed a kiss on her stunned lips. “I just… I love you, and I’m done waiting. You’re my best friend in the whole world and the most amazing person I’ve ever met and even if you say no I’m not going anywhere because you’ve always been there for me, no matter what, no matter where I am… and I never want to lose you again. Not for another minute.”
Tess didn’t answer. She couldn’t. Her mouth was physically incapable of forming words.
“Rooster,” Maverick’s voice was miles away, Tess could only see Bradley’s profile as he looked at his captain, ripped out of their bubble with excruciating force. It was time for them to go. There was nothing left to do but say goodbye.
The idea of saying that word sent a panic through every nerve on her body. She felt each one get pricked with the ice-cold feeling before going completely numb.
The hands that rested on his broad shoulders landed on his cheeks, bringing his attention back to her. She wanted so desperately to say everything she’d been thinking the past five days, to yell and scream and cry and laugh and kiss him until she ran out of breath; but there was no time for that.
“I love you, more than anything, I love you, and I’ll never leave your side.”
Tess thought about the words that fell so easily from her lips hours later while she sat on Penny’s couch, staring but not seeing the TV in front of her. Amelia had gone to bed long ago, all that was left was the sounds of Penny cleaning the kitchen after their late night dinner. She mulled over the look on his face before he pressed a sickly sweet kiss on her lips, the way her heart thudded off beat in her chest, and the look of the ocean after he walked away.
It didn’t look the same after he left, as if when he walked away he took a piece of it with him. Even the sounds of the waves building and crashing on the sandy shore didn’t sound right. There were only seven oceans, but Tess had seen a hundred of them, all beautiful and unique in their own right, all with their own story to tell, and she knew the beaches of Fightertown the best, but that night they were unrecognizable. The rhythm was off, the salty air smelled different, the sand clinging to her toes was rougher.
Penny interrupted her thoughts for the second time that night, only this time it included a glass of wine.
“I would ask if you’re okay, but I know that’s a stupid question.” She took a seat on the chair to Tess’s left, feet curling under her legs while she balanced another glass in her right hand. Tess admired how expertly and effortlessly at ease she was.
“I don’t know why it’s so different this time. He’s left before.” Tess studied the wine in her glass, swirling it once before taking a sip of the pale yellow liquid, relishing in the rich burn it sent down her throat. It brought her back down a notch, brought her feet a little closer to the ground, so she took another sip, and then another, waiting for her body to land back on Earth.
“I’d guess it’s got something to do with all the kissing I saw earlier.” Penny said, smiling over the rim of her glass. Tess couldn’t fight her grin, as she too remembered all the kissing that happened earlier.
The smiles disappeared all at once, though as she remembered what else happened. A breath came into her body as she prepared to tell Penny what he said - not asked, because as Tess thought about it more and more, he did not ask - but the words stopped dead in their tracks, half way up her throat. How does one explain that they might be engaged?
“I think…” Her eyes danced around, head cocked to the side, searching for the right words. “I think I’m engaged.”
“Alright birthday girl, I think it’s time to go.” Rooster’s arm found its way around Tess’s waist, pulling her gently down from the bar stool she was attempting to climb on top of. It was getting close to closing time anyway, and only a select few friends remained, still drinking and dancing, playing pool and throwing darts, and Bradley was sure they would’ve stayed until the sun came up if nobody cut them off.
“Aww baby no, please, one more drink.” She pouted, arms bracing on his shoulders while he slowly let her body slide down his own. He almost laughed, she’d been saying that for hours, eyes half open, words slurring. Rooster cut himself off about two hours ago, slowly nursing a beer while keeping a close eye on his wife.
“My sweet love, the bar’s closing.”
Her feet touched the ground but he kept her body pressed to his, the tank top she wore rose up, exposing most of her stomach, and while he knew she wouldn’t have cared about anyone seeing the sun-kissed expanse of skin, he minded greatly; especially with all the drunk wandering eyes that were still around.
“Plus,” he lowered his voice, brought his lips down to her ear, “I still haven’t given you your present yet.”
Tess was far gone enough that Rooster knew the only thing they were doing when they got home was getting into bed and going to sleep, but he also knew she was far gone enough that the promise of sex would get her out of the bar the fastest. She would try when they got through the door, would probably get all of her and his clothes off before they got upstairs, but she wouldn’t make it past that, which meant he was just going to have to wake her up with her birthday gift in the morning. Or late afternoon.
It was a surefire way to cure a hangover, after all.
Tess pouted, but agreed. It took them another thirty minutes to get out of the bar, and the rest of the night went just how Bradley predicted. He landed in his bed naked, bite marks littering his collarbones and chest, next to his equally naked, gorgeous wife, whispering his love and affections in her ear until she was snoring on his chest, forever thankful for her constancy in his life.
His hand traced from her spine, up her arm, and to her hand that laid on his chest. His fingers threaded through hers and he placed a kiss to the inside of her wrist, over the words that were tattooed there not too long ago: no matter where, his matching one no matter what tingled on his own wrist as he placed her hand gently back down.
---
thnks for reading, i love you a whole lot
if you liked this, please consider reblogging 🫶🏻
#top gun maverick#bradley rooster bradshaw#bradley bradshaw#rooster#rooster top gun#bradley x oc#bradley bradshaw x reader#bradley rooster bradshaw x you#bradley bradshaw x oc#oc#tess mitchell#pete mitchell#penny benjamin#mitchell!reader#my writings#Spotify
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I'm fully aware I could just look it up, but I kinda wanna hear your pitch: what's Beyonders about? Adding another book series to the to-read pile
okay im legally obligated to drop the simplified video version i made (should link to the correct timestamp) bc my ass spent way too long on it as a whole buuut.
so there's this kid named jason and he's the most Just Some Guy ever. likes baseball and animals. probaby is going to be a dentist someday bc his dad wants it. he gets hit in the head with a baseball and then swallowed by a hippo in that order but not immediately consecutively mind you and the hippo turns out to be a portal into another world (lyrian) where he promptly witnesses a band's group suicide and accidentally gets involved in a quest to bring down the evil wizard emperor, maldor. in lyrian he's called a beyonder bc he's from the beyond (which does not Just include earth but that's not important unless you want to read the other mull books, namely five kingdoms. i digress) and he meets another beyonder, rachel (homeschooler rep for the win) and they set off on this quest to get the magical way to defeat maldor together. there's a giant crab, but no more hippos. this book anyway. basically it's your typical kid falls into another world and ends up fighting the evil ruler to save said world story, except the worldbuilding is super fun and funky and all the magical races are SO cool (there's seed people who can live theoretically infinite lifetimes if you replant their seed that falls out when they die; there's dudes who can just take off their heads and put them back on and such; there's these guys that are just covered in plants? also?) and there's throat mold which will haunt me forever. you got such excellent places as: deadly swamp, deadly jungle, haunted sunken city within the deadly swamp, random library in the middle of the forest, a restaurant that spins in circles for little to no reason, and more!
in the second book it really starts to get into the magic of lyrian and you learn about the history and the interspecies dynamics and stuff. they start a proper rebellion and go on a quest for a prophecy and they blow a lot of things up which i fully support. the whole thing is this wonderful celebration of friendship and how kindness can save the world, and what heroism and sacrifice really mean, and if it's possible to change what others and maybe you see as your nature, and whether it's all worth it or not. in the end so many things happen simply because jason (and rachel) chose to be someone's friend and believe in them and oh my god it makes me want to sit down and cry sometimes. it's about the power found when you come together to make a difference and also the power just one person can have by choosing good. and it's also really heartening to read a story about characters who have absolutely no obligation to this world, to these people, who are still saying no i'm going to fight for you because it's worth it. because it's the right thing. i know a lot of stories have that but sometimes i just need it again y'know. fighting not because you must, but because you choose to.
also there's like excellent levels of snark and banter and jason does some of the most absurd things (like, besides being swallowed by a hippo) and it shouldn't work but it DOES. and lyrian is such a grim world for a middle grade series. maldor's seriously devious in very subtle, fun ways, like how he toys with his enemies and tempts them to his side to the point where people will fight him not to fight him, but only far enough to get an invitation to his pleasure palace where all the heroes go and give up fighting for luxury. i just really really love the worldbuilding which has gotta be Some kind of endorsement bc i'm literally a fantasy hater most of the time (shut up about lotr and narnia those don't count they're classic i hate Most fantasy okay) and i usually think it has too much worldbuilding. idk it's just great! it's great!!!! and it's not perfect and has weird bits and things that make me go eeehhh but at the end of the day. i love it. even when it murders like most of my favorite characters and made me cry a lot. like a lot.
ahem. that's beyonders. give or take several hundred pages.
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Workplace drama time~! It's long but I need to get it off my chest
So back in August I started talking to this guy who worked in a different department and we got into a bit of a "fling" if you want to call it that. He seemed like a nice guy who would respect that I'm not always the most talkative person and often need my space as I'm autistic. Things went pretty well for a few weeks until he put on his Facebook profile that we were dating (yes, I still sparingly use Facebook) and he urged me to do the same. To which I told him "There are a few things I don't want publicly displayed, my relationship status being one of them." He reluctantly dropped the subject.
We were supposed to meet up at a mall on August 29th but as luck should have it (whether good or bad I'll let you be the judge) I woke up with a fever than day and tested positive for covid. Turns out the guy thought I made up the covid diagnosis to blow him off until I missed three consecutive shifts. When he confronted me via text with the "Wait you actually have covid, I thought you were faking to get out of going out with me" and I told him: "Why the hell would I fabricate a covid diagnosis and risk losing almost a full-week's pay because I didn't want to meet up with you at the mall, seems a little excessive no?"
Things went okay for a few more weeks but I started seeing more and more, not quite red flags but yellow or orange flags. And things came to a head when I asked him if we could scale things back because things were moving too fast for me. I then got four days of radio silence where he unfollowed me on everything, Facebook, Twitter, Insta, YouTube. After four days he sends me a friend request on Facebook and when I asked him if he unfriended me he tried to "well I though YOU unfriended me" and I told him to "Cut the bullshit and tell the truth" and he changed his story to "Facebook likes to remove people from my friends list" So I told him: "Oh what about Twitter, Insta and YouTube then? Did those sites also just happen to decide to remove you from my followers too?" We never spoke again after that and I thought it would be the end of it.
Until I found out that he was telling everyone at work we "Went out for a date and I freaked out and called the whole thing off because he got too "handsy"" I heard this from *FIVE* people two of whom I had literally never spoken to prior and all five told me they had heard it from the guy himself. I confronted him, as I expected he denied it, and I went to the store manager saying he was spreading rumors about me and it was leading to people saying nasty things about me (which was a lie but two can play that game jerkass) and he was told in quite a harsh manner that "management was more inclined to side with me and the people I heard the rumor from over him, that it wasn't fair to me to start that rumor, not to discuss private matters at work especially if they involve another worker, and to knock it off." Oh and now the entire workforce has to do a "how to deal with and eliminate workplace harassment" training (myself included) because of it.
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I’ve made some OCs!!! i feel like i never see many wlw stuff on snzblr, so i did it myself. Let me know if you want me to make a post specifically about the two if them and their personalities and such.
CW: mess and sneezes
The morning sunlight streamed through their open window. Molly’s eyes fluttered open, and she inhaled deeply. She rolled over feeling warm and calm after a restful night. By her side was her girlfriend Emilia. Laying on her back, arms spread out around her, dark brown hair splayed on the bed.
Both girls were in their bras and pajama shorts because of the sweltering July heat wave. Molly sat up, straddling Emilia and pressing gentle kisses to her sun-tanned skin. Molly went to kiss behind her ear when she was suddenly overwhelmed with the urge to sneeze.
Molly gasped in anticipation and pinched her fingers over her nose in an attempt not to wake her sleeping girlfriend.
“Hih-gnxxtt!” She smothered between her fingers.
But it was too late, “Good morning, love,” Emilia sighed.
“Sorry I d-didn't me-mean to wake you like that,” Molly tried to hold back, but the itch was now burning in her nose.
“S’all right,” Emilia shrugged, running her hands over Molly’s thighs. “What do you fancy for breakfast?”
“I huh… I huh… h-hold on I’m going to sne-sneeze- HIh-tcchhmp! Hih- Tchchmpt!! Tchhgnnt- guhh!”
Molly spluttered three quick sneezes into her wrist.
“Bless you,” Emilia said when the spurt was finished.
“Th-thank… HIH-GTchchhnnt!!, ugh thank you,” Molly soughed.
“Bless you,” Emilia said more passionately this time.
“Fuck my nose itches,” Molly complained and scrubbed the heel of her palm against her nose to try and get relief from the persistent tickling.
The irritant in Molly’s nose grew itchier, burning her nose. Molly could feel the snot building in her sinuses knowing that it was only a matter of time before it came spilling out. She put her finger under her nose to try and hold back the sneeze. But with every hitching inhale, it became clear that she could not control it.
“I'm… g-going t-to… I’m go-going to snee-huh- sneeze again… HIH-CHhhmptt!! HIH-Tshxxgnt!! Hump-Gnxxtchhh!! HIH- GNXXGTCHH!!! HIH- TXXHCH-Hnnkkk!”
Molly couldn’t hold it in anymore, double over Emilia’s body, rapid sneezes wracking her. She tried in vain to stifle the sneezes; in hopes to keep the mess at bay. This action only brought more to the front. Each sneeze was wetter than before and after the last sneeze exploded from her, she had a trail of snot running down her face.
“Sorry,” Molly said meekly.
“Here,” Emilia said, handing Molly a tissue.
“Guhh, thank you,” Molly said gratefully.
“Good to get all the morning congestion out, eh?” Emilia joked.
“You're not funny,” Molly said, mopping up the mess on her bottom lip.
She then blew her nose with a damp squelching noise from congestion. This proved to be a mistake. The allergen in Molly’s nose was stirred by the blowing; the tickle was back in full force.
“Oh god… not again,” Molly moaned before being subject to five consecutive wet sneezes.
“Bless you, love,” Emilia chimed sympathetically.
Molly had completely drenched her tissue, making it useless. But she could feel another spurt of sneezes coming on, “I… I n-need a huh… huh…” Molly’s breath hitched wildly as she tried to stop the onslaught of sneezes. “I need a-another t-t-tissue,”
Emilia pressed a fresh tissue to Molly’s nose, and as if on cue, she gave in to the volley of desperate sneezes.
“HIH-GNNXXCHH! HIH- TCHXXXMPT! HIH-TCHNNXXMNT!! HIh- GNXXGHTEWW!! HIH- ITCHCHXXNGTEWW!!!”
“Bless you, bless you!” Emilia said, rubbing Molly’s arms to soothe her.
Molly desperately shoved the tissue to her nose trying to catch the snot that was dribbling out after each exhausting sneeze. Her voluminous breast bounced with each burst, spilling out of her bra.
Molly quickly doused her second tissue and reached for another just in time for another bout of sneezing.
Each fit grew in intensity as her nose tried to rid itself of this irritant. Expelling a mass amount of snot, doubling Molly over in the process, her boobs vibrating as explosive sneeze after explosive sneeze took hold of her.
“I c-can’t s-s-stop… HIH-TXXCHHNTT! HIH-TCHHHUNCHH!! I can’t s-stop… heh… huH… HIH- GNNTCHH-GUUHH!!! I can’t stop sneezing-TCHHHEWW!!”
“bless you, poor thing!” Emilia said, feeling useless in this situation. She wanted to help Molly but she knew there wasn’t anything to do but wait for it to end. Molly’s bangs fell into her eyes after each violent sneeze so Emilia took it upon herself to push them back into place after each fit.
Throwing her seventh drenched tissue on the bed Molly reached down to grab another to find the box empty.
“Oh god… huh… guuh we’re o-out if tiss-tissues.” Molly gasped. “They’re too m-messy I… I c-can’t con-control them.”
“It’s alright, you're okay,” Emilia tried to reassure her but she could see the beginning of another fit developing.
“It t-tick-tickles so bad,” Molly gasped for breath. “So… itch-itchy… I can’t st-stop sn-sn-sneezing.”
Molly was hitching trying to fight the sneezes. Her breasts bobbed uncontrollably with frantic heaving breaths, her chest rising and falling rapidly.
“Oh, g-god I-it’s st-starting…” Molly pinched her nose to try and rid the tickle, but her thunderous breaths revealed that they would be no use. “I c-c-can’t hold it… guhh… it’s c-coming… HIH-NXXXXTSHHH! HiH-GNNXXXCHHH!! HUH… HUUH… HIIIH! … HIIH-TSHXXXCHUMMP!! HEH… HEH…EHH… HIIH-TCHXXXCHHTT-GNNXXXT!!”
Molly had her fingers pinched firmly on her nose. Shuddering as her body cried to feel relief. Hitching and moaning in anticipation, Molly gasped for breath. “It… HUUH… it won’t ssstop���. HIIH… I can’t… HIIH!… can’t stifle anymore … GUUHH… UHH…GUUH”
Molly grabbed her enormous breasts as they continued to bounce without restraint. Tilting her head back as anguished never-ending hitches took hold.
“It’s going to b-be s-s-so HEH… HUH… mu-mu-messy… HIIH HEH HEH HEH… HIIH-ITCHSSHHHMMPT! HIH-TCHCHHMMPTT! HUMP-TXCHH-TNXXCHHH-TCCHHSSHEW-TCHHHEWW!”
Molly’s sneezes tumbled out of her, unrestrained and instantaneous. Leaning forwards into her chest soaking her boobs with messy sneezes that wouldn’t stop. The fit continued as Molly’s body convulsed into her jerking breasts. Each torturous sneeze was followed by a breathless moan, mess dripping from her nose creating a pool on her breast.
When the fit subsided; Molly was left messy, moaning, breathless, and exhausted. Her chest is still rising and falling from exertion.
Molly scrubbed her hand under her nose leaving a trail of snot on her hand.
“Bless you!” Emilia said.
“I really need a tissue,” Molly said, looking down at her boobs and hands covered in congestion.
“That’s my fault I should always have an extra box for you,” Emilia said, running her hands through Molly’s hair.
“I hate hay fever,” Molly moaned.
“I’m sorry love, I hate seeing you like this,” Emilia cupped Molly’s head in her hands. “Let’s clean you up, yeah?”
#Dropping this and running#In summary big tiddy sneezes#I’m very nervy about this#sneezefucker#sneezing fit#snzblr#sneezeblr#snz#wlw sneeze#Lesbian sneeze
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Sick
Now I had two migraines today, but either side of them, I managed to churn out over 4000 words of completed sickfic. Why I wrote sickfic, I’m not sure, but I think it was sparked mainly by this post. Not any of the prompts in particular, but more a whole feel of them.
Also, I plead predictable and anyone who knows me and what I write can probably predict the entire plot, but I plead sick myself and poke my tongue out you anyway. So don’t expect amazing writing.
Many thanks to the amazing @onereyofstarlight for reading through and being the wonderful person she is ::hugs her tight::
All the warnings on this. I know we are in pandemic times and this fic involves a nasty bug and hospital scenes. While the content is lightish and not graphic or anything, it does focus on a flu-like bug. So, if that topic might trigger you or hurt you in anyway, do not read. I don’t know why I wrote sickfic in the middle of a pandemic. Maybe I’m just an idiot, but it happened and I wanted to warn you just in case.
Otherwise, I hope you enjoy :D
-o-o-o-
It started with Alan.
It often started with Alan. Of course, the poor kid blamed himself for what happened, but nobody else did.
Alan came home to the Island with a snotty nose. Within the day he had developed a fever and was down for the count.
Virgil, back from three consecutive rescues, ordered him to bed and went about monitoring him disguised as pandering his little brother.
They weren’t concerned, it was a cold, nothing more.
Until the next day when his fever spiked and Scott, who had been up all night with Tracy Industries business plus two of the same rescues Virgil had been entangled in the previous day, was found in the kitchen blowing his nose.
Virgil, who had taken five minutes for a bathroom break and a drink before going back to Alan - who he had dragged into the infirmary by this time - caught Scott red-nosed and glared at him until he joined Virgil with their little brother.
Within the hour, Scott was flat on his back with a fever climbing faster than Alan’s.
Virgil may have been heard to mention the words ‘overwork’ and ‘idiot’ in the same sentence, but considering they were both said with love and a bucket of worry, Scott let him have it.
Grandma, of course, was on the case, liaising with some mainland counterparts and the bug was quickly narrowed down the a very contagious flu…
That was merrily infecting half of Alan’s school mates.
Alan, being the youngest of them, was tough, and though his temperature stayed up and he felt absolutely miserable, he eventually stabilised and moved onto the hack up a lung stage which merely involved turning your body inside out trying to get the bug out of your system.
Not much sleep was being had by anyone at this point.
But Scott was older, overworked, and low on defences for all of the above and went down hard.
With a fever that bordered on delirium, he scared several shades of colour out of Virgil’s hair.
There was a moment where Virgil found himself speaking to Auckland Hospital and mentally prepping Two.
But there were mentions of quarantine and contagion and apparently the mainland was tackling this as a possible epidemic. Having been through one of those pandemic nasties as a child, Virgil decided that they had the supplies and the skillset to treat Scott where they were.
And ultimately, the thought of being kept from his ailing brothers was something Virgil just…couldn’t. So there were selfish reasons as well as medical.
Until Grandma wavered beside him and he had to move fast to catch her as she fell.
Reflexes.
Sure enough, she was burning up and as he cradled her in his arms, he got a very clear education as to why Scott was like he was, because Grandma had obviously been ill for some hours but had refused…
Goddamnit.
He lifted her up, carried her gently to a bed beside Scott, and she became patient number three.
A patient even more alarming than his eldest brother. Scott, whose fever finally broke that afternoon and he slipped into a disturbed sleep punctuated by the occasional coughing fit.
Virgil would have been relieved, but Grandma was obviously in the older age range, something that could be a major issue, so Virgil didn’t let himself relax, terrified their beloved matriarch might need more than he could give her.
Perhaps it was that and the fact that John was as Tracy as any of them, that is was Gordon who found John out cold in his observatory late that night.
As things would have it, this was one of the few times their spaceman had his feet on terra firma. He had been called down by Virgil, yes there was guilt for that, after those three long rescues because Virgil’s medic radar claimed his space brother was as exhausted as they were.
The words ‘downtime, now, John’ had bounced through the atmosphere and up into space.
Virgil had so many regrets.
Because, of course, his space brother was vulnerable and took it as hard as Scott. When Gordon yelled across comms, John was already trying for Olympic gold in the temperature department, initially spiking two degrees above Scott’s highest temperature and mumbling to EOS in his delirium.
The questions he asked Eos were all about his brothers, particularly Scott and Alan and a frantic AI was Virgil and Gordon’s company back to the infirmary, their now unconscious space brother in tow on a stretcher behind them.
There followed a sleepless night surrounded by so many worrying numbers.
It didn’t help that Scott decided he needed to check on John and climbed out of bed, took a step and then collapsed, hitting his head on the way down.
Virgil, who had chosen that minute to rush out and pee, came back to find Scott unconscious on the floor.
There went any hair colour he had left.
He ran vitals and scanned to make sure his brother hadn’t broken anything major. He hadn’t.
Lifting a limp Scott onto his bed had Virgil grunting with the effort, but he soon had him settled and the dent in his head dressed.
John continued to spike nasty temperatures, but he seemed to be stabilising and the advice from Auckland kept them on the Island.
Grandma managed to be the saviour of Virgil’s sanity. Yes, she got the fever, yes, it taxed her system, but being the toughest of them all (and not having spent half her life in space), her fever broke earlier than any of them and while she had a cough, it wasn’t anywhere near as bad as Alan’s.
Within two days, Virgil was confident enough to send her off to her rooms to rest.
Well, more order her, there may have been yelling as Virgil wasn’t at his best, but eventually she went.
He would apologise later.
One small part of his mind was doing a lot of yelling at himself – he had yelled at his grandmother for the first time in his life and that was…bad.
But John was not good. Scott…was awake, and goddamnit, Virgil almost wished he could knock him out again because he kept trying to get out of bed, worried about this, that and everything. But his body had been hit by a freight train and couldn’t deliver.
There may have been more yelling.
But again, he was distracted as a pale Gordon dragged in a paler Kayo.
There was lots of yelling after that.
Both of them had symptoms. Gordon wasn’t stupid and had been in the process of presenting himself at the infirmary when he came across a stumbling, but determined Kayo in the comms room.
The fact she was further advanced in the illness was the only reason Gordon had been able to wrangle her into submission.
Particularly because she could barely stand.
Kayo hated the infirmary almost as much as Gordon.
Of course, the moment the two appeared, Scott made a move to climb out of bed and it was only a scorching glare from Virgil that stopped him.
Gordon’s temperature stabilised at a lower level than all of them and broke reassuringly early within several hours. Kayo did the exact same as Scott and John and tried to be the highest, just missing by a point or two below John, the current record holder, who was now well into the horrific coughing stage with a body as weak as a kitten.
But they all stabilised eventually and Virgil was finally able to take a breath for a moment to find some food. Eos, who was recovering from a fret fest, but was still hovering, promised to keep an eye on them all while Virgil attended a little to himself.
He was exhausted.
Sleep had been sparse over the last five days, food scarce, and stress levels through the roof. He had a suspicion that if he stopped, he would fall on his face and then where would they be? All of them were sick and…he frowned. Where was Brains?
How could he have forgotten Brains?
Virgil swore. “Brains?” His fingers shook on his collar comms and he realised he hadn’t changed his shirt in two days.
There was no response.
Virgil’s heart climbed up his throat. “Eos, location on Brains.”
“Hiram is in his lab, Virgil.” The AI sounded almost herself.
But Virgil was running before she had finished the sentence.
A dash down to the lab revealed their genius engineer collapsed across one of his many keyboards.
Oh, god.
How could he have forgotten Brains? Guilt reared up and shook him.
Reaching his friend, he ran vitals.
No fever.
Breathing regular.
In fact, the only problem he could find was the fact the engineer was prone to electrocuting himself through drooling on the keyboard. In all appearances he was just asleep.
Virgil wilted on the spot, relief almost taking him out right there.
Scooping him into his arms, Virgil deposited Brains on the cot he kept in his lab for this exact reason. He immediately curled up in the light blanket Virgil draped over him and started to snore.
The fear of the moments before melted away into fondness. Brains was just adorable.
Virgil blinked. With adrenalin waning, exhaustion reared its head again. He really needed some decent rack time. But, turning towards the door, he was interrupted by the soft chime of Brains’ computer. “Hiram, you there?’
Virgil strode over and answered the call.
“Oh! You’re not Hiram! Where is he?”
The woman could have been Moffie except her hair was a lighter colour and she wore a name badge with the name Lily from Auckland Medical.
She looked as wrecked as Brains.
“This is Tracy Island, can I help you?”
“I don’t need you, I need Hiram. Where is he?”
Virgil sighed. “Doctor Hackenbacker is asleep. I’m Virgil Tracy. Can I help you at all?”
“Sleep is inconvenient at a time like this!” Virgil couldn’t help but mentally agree. “You need to wake him, tell him it worked, and we have a possible vaccine.”
His brain was slow, or maybe it just needed reassurance. “A vaccine for what?”
“The new epidemic! How can you not…” She peered closer to the screen. “Are you quite alright? Mr Tracy?” He could almost see the penny drop. “Virgil Tracy, pilot of Thunderbird Two????”
“Ah, yeah.” He did not have the energy for this. “Ma’am, I will inform the doctor when he wakes-“
“No, no, no! I need to speak to him now! We need his permission for the next step. This is his solution, we need permission-“
Virgil glanced back at his exhausted friend. So this was what he had been doing down here. Medicine wasn’t his main focus, but genius is genius, and Virgil had some vague recollection of Brains needing samples in the last few days. Seemed like eons ago.
Virgil poked at the computer and brought up what his friend had been working on. Diagram, numbers that blurred, but the science was there and as expected the solution was brilliant. He sighed again. While the Tracys were down for the count, Brains had been down here saving lives anyway.
She was still rambling, obviously stressed and at a panic. He cut her off. “You have it. I can speak for him. Do what you have to do.” He paused as she froze like a deer in headlights. “And get some sleep yourself. Lack of sleep leads to mistakes and that is something we can’t afford right now.” She was still staring at him. “Tracy Island out.”
Well, at least with some production time in play and ownership by Brains, IR could see to distribution to make sure this vaccine made it to all the countries in need.
Not like the last time.
Brains snorted and rolled over in his cot.
Virgil’s eyelids drooped.
Okay, food, check on his family, and then maybe some sleep of his own. At least now everyone was accounted for, he could relax a little.
He made his way back to the kitchen and managed about two mouthfuls of cereal before pushing the bowl away.
Ugh, just no. Pushing to his feet, the world spun a moment, but he steadied himself. He really needed some decent sleep.
Check family and go to bed.
He took the elevator instead of the stairs to get back to the infirmary where he found Gordon, John, Kayo and even Scott asleep, thank goodness. They were all on the mend. Readings were good. Scott was only still in here because Virgil couldn’t trust him out of his sight. The head injury had made for an excellent excuse to keep him in. But tomorrow they could all return to their rooms.
The coughing warranted it.
Gordon opened one sleepy eye and frowned at him.
Virgil shushed him quietly and tucked him in tighter. It was a sign that the fish was not himself in that he acquiesced without an argument.
All was quiet as Virgil slipped out to go check on his grandmother and littlest brother.
He made it halfway down the corridor before a wave of heat washed over him.
Oh shit, he did not feel good.
“Eos?”
“Yes, Virgil?”
“Do me a favour and check on Alan and Grandma for me? I need vital stats and health status.”
The AI rattled off some good numbers and reported that both family members were asleep.
“Keep an eye on them for me?”
“Always, Virgil, you know that.”
Yeah, he did.
“Okay, I’m going to bed. Let me know if they need me.”
“Yes, Virgil.” A pause. “Your vitals are elevated.”
“I know. I just need some sleep. I’m okay.” He was. Really.
“Are you sure?”
Her voice followed him into his quarters where he started shedding his shirt. “I’m good.” His flannel shirt landed on the floor and he reached down to pick it up.
And the world stopped.
-o-o-o-
Consciousness flickered and echoed a familiar roar as Scott yelled something.
For a moment he opened his eyes and found a flash of yellow swimming above him. “G-ords?”
“Virgil, hey there. No, no, stay down.” There were strong hands on his shoulders, far stronger than they had any right to be.
“You should be in bed.” The words fell from his lips with little thought.
A half-hysterical laugh was all he heard before everything washed away as the world took off and left him behind.
He surfaced again when other voices worried over him. A cool hand on his forehead, his grandmother’s voice reciting vital stats that were terrifying. One of his brothers? His brain brought up Scott and John and Kayo and how sick they had all been. Grandma? Grandma was at risk. Allie? Brains?
Worry chased him into darkness and heat.
-o-o-o-
He had no idea how much time had passed when the world finally came back and started making sense.
It was quiet, the only sounds were distant, beyond walls. He wasn’t on Tracy Island anymore, that was an immediate realisation as enough brain came online.
He was in a bed, but the sheets were not his own. There was something on his face. Irritably he tried to swipe at it and found all his strength missing, barely able to lift his arms from the bed.
A gentle hand caught his. “No, Virgil, you need to keep the oxygen mask on.”
It was John’s voice, one he was used to obeying, so he stilled.
“Can you open your eyes?”
Never one to ignore a request from his brothers, Virgil cranked open his eyelids to a darkened room.
“Hey, there you are.” John was looking down at him, standing beside the bed, holding his hand and ever so pale in the dim light. He blurred and Virgil blinked.
“Wha’ ‘appened?” His throat was raw and the attempt to speak set off a cough that had his head spinning and hands grabbing at him.
The world teetered and disappeared for a bit longer.
-o-o-o-
He woke to quiet singing. The world appeared steady and didn’t seem to want to attack him again. At least for the moment.
The voice was Scott’s. Ever so quietly, he was singing a song from a long, long time ago. Virgil realised his hand was being held against something warm, soft and vibrating with music. He opened his eyes to find that hand against his brother’s cheek. Scott’s voice was little more than a whisper, but the words and the tune travelled down Virgil’s arm and straight into his heart.
He dared not open his mouth, the oxygen mask reminding him of what happened earlier and his brain now capable of filling in the gaps.
It was obvious that he was sick with the bug. He cursed it in his head. His family had been so ill, and he had made it worse.
Because this wasn’t a room on Tracy Island. No, this looked more like a hotel, decked out in medical equipment. The ever so distant sound of traffic told him they were in a city. His brothers had had to launch to save him, no matter how ill they had been themselves.
Virgil felt the worst.
He must have moved because he was suddenly the subject of an intense pair of blue eyes. “Virgil? You with me?”
Virgil squeezed the hand in his.
“Oh, thank god.” And there was moisture in his brother’s words.
What the hell had happened?
“Hey, you stay still.” A hand on his shoulder. “No talking. Stay calm.”
Virgil stared at his frightened brother and felt fright himself.
“No, no, you’re okay, Virgil. You’re okay. You just need rest.”
The dim light was etching out Scott’s face in grey lines. He looked exhausted and spent.
“You need to rest.” It was repeated and Virgil wanted nothing more than to say the exact same words to his brother. There must have been something in his expression because Scott rebutted without needing to be told. “We are fine, Virgil. We’ve recovered. Yes, even me. That was two weeks ago. You, on the other hand…” Scott rubbed a hand over his face. “You’re okay. And you’re going to get better.”
A door opened and someone entered. Grandma appeared out of the darkness. “Honey, you’re awake.” Her hand landed immediately on his forehead, cool and kind. “We’re in Auckland. In the hotel across from the hospital. We’ve rented out the whole thing for epidemic victims.” She began checking him over, ever attentive and ever kind.
“Brains?” His voice cracked and for a moment there he thought his lungs were going to protest, but Scott shook his head in exasperation and offered him some water. The mask was lifted enough for a straw.
The liquid was ever so cool.
Grandma’s voice was quiet. “You scared us, kiddo. You collapsed in your bedroom. Eos woke half the house. It became very obvious that your immunity had been compromised by exhaustion and the bug really got its claws into you. Your fever spiked – you now hold the record, by the way, a dubious honour, I’m afraid.” She sighed. “We had to medivac you off the Island as your condition deteriorated. I wasn’t confident we had what you needed, honey. You needed a hospital. Unfortunately, Auckland is currently overwhelmed by this bug.” She turned to adjust his IV. “We’ve flown in some specialists and support staff, and you’re now in the penthouse of the Auckland Hospital Hotel Extension.” Her hand was again stroking his hair off his forehead. “With Brains’ vaccine and your brothers flying assistance, we are getting this bug under control.”
“What about-“ and his throat clogged. He spent the next minute trying to control the spasms of his diaphragm.
The world shook as his brother and grandmother held him. As the coughing spasm passed they let him down gently on the bed.
“Honey, no talking. You’ve been through a lot. Give your body a chance to recover.”
But the thought of his ill brothers having to airlift him to Auckland, probably in Two…his mind rattled. They had all been so sick.
“Now, now, young man, I can see the worry in your eyes. We are all fine. All of us have recovered. It is you who needs to rest.” And she was back to running her fingers through his hair and as always it was calming and he was so tired. His eyes closed without permission, his eldest brother and his grandmother looking down at him was the last thing he saw before sleep claimed him.
He drifted off with the reassurance that his family was well and that he could finally rest.
-o-o-o-
Each member of his family visited him as he regained his strength. No one would let him out of the bed, but they all came to see him. Scott had obviously set up camp in the room. There was a desk and comms that Virgil would occasionally wake to find lit up, his brother talking quietly and obviously directing rescue operations.
Rescue operations that involved delivering medicine and vaccines apparently. Gordon rocked up in full uniform at one point and there had been a suspicious roar from outside. His little brother was a ray of sunshine, spouting about saving the world and preventing spread and all that. The epidemic was contained, a pandemic prevented, and many lives had been saved.
Lives.
It was more than a flu. It was one of those nasty bugs that could kill, almost at random, and Virgil learnt that he had been the one member of their family who had come close to being a statistic.
He stayed in bed as he was told and took it all slowly.
He couldn’t afford to worry his family any further.
Alan was a mess. He knew he had been the one to bring it home. Sure, it hadn’t been a mission and he hadn’t needed decontamination protocols and, of course, how could he possibly have known?
But he was still upset because of what it had done to his family and eventually Virgil.
Everyone was hovering.
But as Virgil recovered, he managed to snag family members and draw them into conversation. Alan ended up on the bed beside him as Virgil drew him a caricature of Scott surfing on One to cheer him up.
Scott was not impressed, but did not seem to mind the caricature of Gordon Virgil handed him the next day.
That, of course, prompted some outrage and a John caricature in the hands of Gordon made it onto social media for a whole five seconds before Eos stamped on it.
Gordon claimed he only did it because he was testing Eos and it was the thought that counted.
John drew a caricature of Gordon being strangled.
Gordon drew John dancing on the outside of Five in his underwear.
Grandma thought it was all hilarious and commissioned a family portrait.
It took Virgil the rest of his convalescence to complete it on his tablet. It ended up being printed and hung below the IR portraits in the comms room.
John frowned.
Gordon grinned.
Kayo rolled her eyes.
Alan posed beside it and took a selfie to send to Brandon.
Brains failed to notice it existed.
Scott glared but for some reason could be caught staring at it when he thought no one was looking.
Grandma just smiled.
Because it was a picture of Virgil with massive arms giving his entire family the biggest hug possible, and they had all been caught squirming in various poses.
Virgil loved it simply because it said what he couldn’t say.
And eventually he got better. It took him a long time, hell, all of them a long time to get back to their former physical level. And his family hovered, checking up on him as much as he checked up on them.
Because that is what family does.
And if he hugged them more often than he should, they just had to put up with it.
-o-o-o-
FIN.
#thunderbirds are go#thunderbirds fanfiction#thunderbirds#Virgil Tracy#Scott Tracy#Grandma Tracy#Sally Tracy#John Tracy#Gordon Tracy#Alan Tracy#nuttyfic
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The 2023 Hater's Guide to the West Region
This blog is not in any way affiliated with the NCAA, its entities, subsidiaries, or member institutions. This is a humor site and should be treated as such. We’re all on our way out – act accordingly.
1. Kansas (28-6). When Texas beat Kansas to end the Big 12 (8?) regular season, the intrepid videographer shooting the game happened to catch a KU coed wearing a t-shirt which read “I (heart) Dick.” A-fucking-mazing. Look, I don’t have to tell you KU fans need this one seed, need the wins, need a title more than anything to justify their continued existence. They live in Kansas for fuck’s sake – Interstate 70 ends in Lawrence and you are stuck wandering the plains like Denzel Washington in Book of Eli until you reach Colorado, and the interstate magically appears again. There is NOTHING to do here other than watch basketball, and that says a lot, because I live in Iowa!
2. UCLA (29-5). This is a Bruin, right? With that face, I am 100% sure his name is “Crick Monin.”
3. Gonzaga (28-5). There is a new Constitutional amendment which clearly states you are no longer allowed to refer to Gonzaga as a Cinderella school. It’s been twenty five years - I think the slipper finally broke. They’ve now been in every final AP poll since the 2008-09 season, and have appeared in every weekly AP poll since 2016-17, a streak of 115 consecutive weeks. I will never stop laughing when eighth year senior Drew Timme appears on my TV screen. All I see is TIMMY from South Park. Fuck John Stockton.
4. UConn (25-8). Go back to the AAC! Biggest group of crybabies in the country and it isn’t even close. When their women’s team had an injury plagued season (lost five games including back-to-back games for the first time in 30 years), Geno Auriemma vented to the media and to his team, telling them they had three days before the conference tournament to fix things. Then he got in his car and drove home to Manchester, wishing he could continue westward. “The way I felt was I want to wake up in California in three days,” he said. “I just want to keep driving, I don’t want to do anything, I don’t want to come to practice.” Jesus man, just fucking quit already and move away from that awful place. Twitter account CrimsonCast put it best: UConn continues to fail to shake the perception that they are simply an analytics darling. Like an east coast version of the Mountain West.
5. Saint Mary’s (26-7). Every bracket, no matter the site, always lists this school as “Saint Mary’s (CA).” Why? No one is confusing this school for the archaeological dig site posing as a university in Maryland, or the all-women’s college in north-central Indiana where many of the enrolled students play for nearby Leprechaun U, also known as Notre Dame. No, this is the school – in California – that gets exclusive coverage on ESPN Australia/New Zealand. Sixty percent of the student body is involved in organized athletics here, so it’s a good chance you’ll be handed a scholarship and some sort of ball upon move-in. It’s either that or forced labor washing jockstraps.
6. TCU (21-12). Their coach gives out a pair of “charge socks” when a Horned Frog player takes a charge. There’s a big bucket of these colorful dress socks in the TCU locker room. Charge socks? You have to be kidding me. You are in the Dallas-Fort Worth metroplex, you can’t find a bag of blow or an extra couple of c-notes for your athletes? (Producer cuts in…garbled static…). Pardon me, I’ve just been informed that the “C” in TCU stands for “Christian.” There is no cocaine on campus. But NIL is legal now, surely you can find something other than a pair of sweaty dress socks to reward your unpaid employees. Perhaps a sad handjob from a coed who has already put on the freshman 15+15+15?
7. Northwestern (21-11). Congratulations, you finished top three in the Big Ten for the first time since 1960. You won your last conference championship 90 (!) years ago. You have made one (1) NCAA tournament and had to be retroactively selected as something called the Helms National Champion. Your most successful head coach played for Phog Allen at Kansas – in 1917! Northwestern basketball is the definition of futility. They are the Chicago Cubs of the NCAA; fitting for a program that markets itself as “Chicago’s Big Ten team” (insert jerking off hand motion here). Even if Northwestern won 25 games a season for the next 25 years, they would still have a losing record.
8. Arkansas (20-13). It is against state law to mispronounce “Arkansas'' while in the state, yet their residents pronounce jalapeno “Holla-PEE-no.” Gun to my head, I wouldn’t be able to look at Sarah Huckabee Sanders naked, playing with a hula hoop, for more than a second.
9. Illinois (20-12). Brad Underwood is a bargain-bin Gene Keady who is very upset about “booty ball.” Every press conference he attends ends with him making a wet fart sound into the microphone.
10. Boise State (24-9). No one gives a shit about this team unless tater tots rise to $6 a bag – then it’s time to storm the blue court. I know exactly one person from Idaho and their personality matches that of the official state produce. This person is incapable of being corrected. They are always right. You are always wrong. If you say the sky is blue, their response will no doubt begin with “well, actually…” Boise is also not a state, you arrogant fuckhead.
11. Arizona State (20-12) or Nevada (23-9). Over 60% of the student body at ASU has some form of herpes. Unless you are a model, they throw you in an engineering building for four years. If you hate Duke just like the rest of America, you generally hate Christian Laettner and Grant Hill. But there’s one player from those early-90s teams everyone forgot: Bobby Hurley. As I’ve aged, my hatred for Hurley has waned, but I’ll always wish maximum pain for whatever team he coaches.
With the growth of legalized sports gambling across the United States, the University of Nevada has introduced several new classes for the 2023-24 school year: Kneecap Relocation, Intermediate Hammer Smashing Techniques, and Advanced Vig Calculation. Another new course addition as of Thursday morning: Getting Your Shit Pushed In By A Sun Devil Pitchfork. Too soon? Probably.
12. VCU (27-7). VCU stands for Very Completely Underwhelming. This isn’t a college, it’s an industrial laundry that has tricked 28,000 students into paying the institution to “work.” If you want a perfect example of the bloat in higher education administration, consider there are over 11,000 non-academic staff at VCU. Never trust a doctor from this school; they only practiced on centaurs.
13. Iona (27-7). Someone is going to give Rick Pitino the best 14 seconds of his life to coach for them.
14. Grand Canyon (24-11). By employing buzzer-beating Valpo alum Bryce Drew, this pretend university has already accomplished more in the NCAA Tournament than Mount Rushmore State, Hoover Dam U, Smokey Mountains College and SUNY-Niagara Falls.
15. UNC Asheville (27-7). Let’s have a quick check-in on how this college is doing. Student enrollment and retention are plunging at UNC-Asheville and top leadership is departing at the highest rate in the entire UNC system. While overall student enrollment in the UNC system has increased 7% since 2015, UNC-Asheville fell by a stunning 25%, the largest drop among the 16 public universities in the system. Of the incoming students UNC-A is able to attract, a high number of them leave before graduation. Retention of students, measured as those returning for a second year of school, is now just 68.6%, the lowest in ten years. Jesus, even Trump University would laugh at these numbers.
16. Howard (22-12). Howard students recently had to protest living conditions in on-campus dorms – mold, mildew, and rats are apparently very commonplace in multiple residences. It is 2023; the only sensible reason these alarming conditions should be issues on your campus is when you have outsourced every part of the student life experience to a call center in the middle of the Himalayas.
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In The Wake of The News(stand)
As you well know, cities contain multitudes.
There are tobacconists, there are clothing stores, there are drug stores, there are shoe stores, and there are places where you can buy erotic pastries. I mention erotic pastries specifically because there was was just such a place near my family's apartment in Seattle. My brother and I would walk by and hope to get a glimpse of a breast rendered in glorious fondant---we were usually not successful.
For centuries, cities have also contained newsstands or some place like a newsstand where you could buy printed materials. My favorite one will always be the now shuttered newsstand in the Pike Place Market. Along with dozens of monthly and weekly magazines, there were stacks of out of town Sunday edition newspapers, including the Washington Post, the Boston Globe, the New Orleans Times-Picayune, and the Chicago Tribune, aka the World's Greatest Newspaper.
Before I started college, my dad picked up the Chicago Tribune on several consecutive Sundays. I pored over ever single section as I learned about the Cubs daily exploits, the seemingly infinite suburban communities surrounding Chicago proper, and the upcoming musical and theatrical shows at places like Drury Lane, the Ivanhoe Theatre, and the Auditorium Theater.
It was a big paper for a big town.
You might imagine my joy when, a few months later, I arrived in Chicago for college and found that there were no less than five newsstands within a ten minute walk of my dorm.
And guess what?
There were real life human beings who sold the paper out on the street. Real "extra, extra, extra!" type stuff over on East 55th Street, over on South Lake Park Avenue and even one fellow who stood at the entrance to Lake Shore Drive who SOLD PAPERS AND BAGS OF FRUIT TO PEOPLE WAITING FOR THE LIGHT TO CHANGE.
It all seemed so very cosmopolitan to a young man from Way Out West.
Fast-forward over twenty five years and the pandemic has added another body blow to the newsstand landscape. Many folks were and still are working from home and the cost of actual newsprint has gone up, up and away. I'll spare you the usual asides about the other changes within the world of newspapers because that's another conversation.
The situation for newsstands continues to get worse in other large cities as well. The numbers continue to dwindle in Philadelphia and the newsstand in Boston's South Station closed during the pandemic. Apparently, the former newsstand space there will soon become a place to buy novelty 3D greeting cards---which retail for $15 each.
In Chicago, the news about newsstands is not great either. The large newsstand on Michigan Avenue across from the Water Tower closed during the pandemic. Honestly, your best bet for getting an actual newspaper anywhere nearby is at Walgreens or 7-11.
The situation in New York isn't much better. In January 2021, I was back in the city to write about the opening of Amtrak's Moynihan Train Station. One early morning I got up and walked for two miles on Broadway before I found a newsstand that was open. Apparently, it's still pretty hard to find a copy of any paper at any newsstand in Zoo York.
I would imagine that within my lifetime the last newsstand will go POOF---at least in the United States. Until then, I will try to make my way to one of Chicago's last newsstands as much as humanly possible.
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I’ve thought about switching jobs for years now. The two months on furlough during the pandemic didn’t do it for me. No. It’s ten years dealing with the public and the many detrimental changes that had me say “enough is enough”.
Ten years ago, I signed up for the sales position to leave an extremely scummy environment back at the Italian market. I was racing to go since the first interview. The first year on the floor was the worst because I fell severely short on what I thought I knew, and paid for it by being yelled at or had my entire sale returned. I felt so embarrassed of myself that I wanted to bounce back as if my position was at stake. What made it even tougher was, almost right after being hired, an addict I was seeing at the time closed the door on me when her boyfriend died from an overdose.
Despite the massive blow she dealt me, I never gave up. I soldiered on. Over time, I got so great at selling to where I exceeded expectations and became the leading moneymaker for five of my ten years there - all in one exclusive location. In fact, one year I was #1 in revenue, #1 in card sign-ups, and…#2 in tech support memberships (lost by one). I was known to be persistent, willing to tackle huge troubleshooting issues, take on multiple departments, and became so dedicated in nailing huge sales that my better customers gave me good words to my leads. Back then we hit bonus as a store frequently and staff even went out to the neighborhood restaurant / arcade after a celebratory month of numbers. If I was lucky, management sent me to sales training at hotels to learn about new products and even enjoy huge lunch platters. That was then.
The pandemic had a profound (though not exactly a positive) effect on capitalism. Most of us retained our positions as we sat home on furlough waiting to return. It was nice for our company to do that for us in an unprecedented situation where many stores and businesses around us shuttered or severely cut back on operations. Our store chose the latter. It had to, because they know customers still wanted to take a look at the newest laptops, tablets, kitchen packages, and new flat-screens. Since we re-opened, our location has been mostly empty for the last two years. Not as busy as we were before. Black Fridays and holiday shopping seasons have been mostly manageable.
Corporate has been severely cutting back as they still try to recuperate their consecutive losses. They took away the bonus structure and hasn’t returned. My company recently expanded their store hours nationwide while cutting ours and our location has had under-staffing issues for years. Many of us are doing the work of two or even three people alone. For the past several months, the new structure has us rotating in and out of customer service; something I did not sign up for. Every trip to the counter felt like I was being punished despite performing. Many times I was riding high nailing huge sales, attachments, and other goodies only to have my momentum come to a screeching halt.
As more time progressed, I asked myself why I was throwing my days away by being forced to stay behind the counter when I’m their biggest seller? I dealt with long lines as many customers dead-on stared at me doing my job when I’m the only one on register. I constantly called for help when management couldn’t get me any. Add major anxiety and other things and my day gets flipped over instantly. Not good when you’re itching to race home and the person taking over for you is either out to lunch or just started a 45-minute conversation of nothing. I’ve also had been making more mistakes because of it, and even in one instance screamed at my managers to take me off the counter once and for all. Have they noticed? Yes. Did they do anything about it? Of course not! Sticking to the store structure was more important.
If not behind the counter, it’s on the floor. All the stars in the sky will never add up to how many days I’ve had ruined because of unwanted drama, needless conversations, and forced interactions from customers. Entitlements, rudeness, superiority complexes, Karens. They’re all there. Many played the ‘fake urgency card’ because they’re too fucking above everything to wait for anything, making my mind to spin out of control and my blood pressure skyrocket. A special few play their childish games where people sneak up behind me and grab my attention while I’m with other customers. There’s no manners or common courtesy stacked with total lack of self-awareness, laziness, loss of critical thinking, and people totally disregarding personal space - some which you can smell divorce, unemployment, or thirty years since peaking in high-school on their breath - anything you could think of that makes you see the worst in people. Like you wouldn’t believe.
No one cares to learn their lesson or grow up. They think they know everything and they’re always right according to them, even when they’re blatantly wrong. You’re either superhuman in their eyes when they push you to do multiple things at once, or less-than-human when you don’t give them what they demand and make you a human target for verbal abuse. As I have seen myself progress, many of the people I dealt with chose to stay in the same place and it’s disgraceful. You know something doesn’t feel right when you’re constantly dealing with so many people one after another and your mind doesn’t have the ability to process and resolve everything instantly.
It came to the point where I was way over it. It was no longer fun working there anymore. No one job or person is worth suffering strokes, aneurysms, or heart attacks over. I deserved better. For a few months, I contemplated what my next step was to take care of myself because at the end of the day it’s me who comes first. I thought that if I worked somewhere else, I’d lose my 401K, my medical insurance, and my time-off. Not so! One of my managers (who happened to be very supportive, caring, and understanding) advised me to find inside positions.
In just a matter of two tries, I got the remote at-home spot. King Of Diamonds card acquired. I’m moving on. Adios. Au revoir, Arrivederci. Auf Wiedersehen, sweetheart. Good. Fucking. Bye.
I learned I wasn’t the only one leaving my location behind. Some of our warehouse staff felt they were doing the tasks of leads without being paid more for it. Fellow co-workers who worked with us for a few years were all of a sudden dissatisfied and lost their desire to be a part of it. I don’t blame them. If you’ve been there for as half as I have, then at least you should get priority because you earned it. That’s how I felt about not wanting to be at customer service.
Last Saturday was my last day at my store. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel a sense of leaving it all behind. I’m not one for goodbyes and I dislike making a huge deal of personal events. At least I left on a high note gunning down big sales, hitting daily goals, and leaving a few potential leads for big ticket transactions. But before I left, I took the last 15 minutes of my farewell shift, sat down in the break room all by myself and decompress in peace. An end none more fitting after the constant daily swirl of chaos. They gave me a huge box of equipment for me to take home, said my last goodbyes, and drove home on a dimming sunny evening.
With this new in-home digital sales position, I’ll no longer worry about being fair game to everyone or look over my shoulder waiting for the next jump scare, and no old men with creepy come-faces waving at me from twenty feet away to get help like I’m a Manhattan taxi. I won’t worry about getting yelled at for fucking up big time or get stressed out over the tiniest trivial things. Instead, I can focus on one customer at a time and do what I need to make it happen for them. Everything is streamlined and easier to do. I can relax and recover much easily. I will save money daily without having to fill up my tank or waste money on junk food. I can sit still and modify my diet. I can also be there for my family in need. I can take paid time-off with only 24 hours notice and take time off accordingly whenever and however I see fit.
No more closing the store one night and opening the following morning, nor the useless gossiping know-nothings who, in bad taste, come up to ask me if we’re going out of business (oh, fuck off). No more having my concentration ruined when my manager screams in my earpiece every fifteen seconds. No customers waiting to approach me in the parking lot, at the supermarket, the gym next door, in front of the break room, or even in the men’s room asking for my help. No more returning wind-up merchants and nutcrunchers who look for me specifically because I was nice enough to put up with them. (They can all go eat a sausage.) No one wasting my time for an hour asking millions of questions about a $50.00 air fryer only to ask for my card, if I worked on commission, and swearing up and down that they'll be back this weekend. And no more working on Thanksgiving and through the last-minute Christmas Eve rush that customers brought on themselves and expect me to hustle my ass around their complacency (ha!).
No more friendly competition of who can get the biggest sales and numbers. No more tips, candy giveaways, gift-card contests, or free food on holiday weekends. No more of my co-workers whom I’ve gotten along with, the ones who let me be and never judged or suppressed me daily, and the ones who moved on and came back just to say “hi”. No more friends whom I haven’t seen since the Brentwood era come in to go all-in with me on massive appliance sales, or the specific couples and families who I loved helping out because we go way back. And - I swear to fucking Christ, Mary, and Judas - no more of the pale Irish ginger with the glasses who once showed me a still-working 1985 Sony Watchman out of her backpack. You, I will never forget.
It’s time for a reset and wipe the slate clean. A new era of self-care starts now.
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