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starlightshadowsworld · 5 months

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The Cat and the Raven

(Or Atsushi escapes that night 6 years ago after killing Shibusawa. And is found by a certain detective and his raccoon.)

He's terrified.

Atsushi doesn't dare look at his hands, knowing their stained with blood. He's not sure if it's better or worse that it's not his.

For once.

Atsushi doesn't know where to go, he just starts walking and doesn't stop. Terrified that if he does, that man or the Headmaster will punish him for what happened.

He doesn't know how long he was walking before entering a building. Atsushi blinks in confusion before realising it was a library.

A quiet rumbling sound is heard, but only by him.

The tiger.

Atsushi smiled and thanked them, they had directed him here. He supposed it makes sense, Atsushi did always did feel more at ease among books.

Atsushi sinks into a corner, hugging his knees. Now that he'd stopped his whole body was shaking.

He was terrified and began to silently cry.

When something soft curled up beside him. Atsushi froze, looking down and to his surprise it was a raccoon.

The raccoon smiles at him, nuzzling his hand and despite his fear, Atsushi giggles.

"Karl!"

The fear returned instantly hearing a panicked yell.

He braced himself.

"Oh my, why hello there."

The raccoon nuzzled his hand again, nudging him. Atsushi hesitantly looked up at the man crouched down in front of him.

A frown was on the man's face before he smiled kindly. "Hello there, I see you've found Karl."

Karl?

The raccoon perked up at his name, and Atsushi nodded slowly. "I erm think he found me?"

The man chuckled, it wasn't the cold one the Headmaster made. But kind and it made Atsushi feel a bit more at ease.

"That sounds like him. Oh! Where are my manners? I'm Edgar Allan Poe, but you can just call me Poe."

Atsushi thought of the book he used to love before... Everything happened.

"Atsushi, Atsushi Nakajima."

It felt right.

Poe smiled "nice to meet you, Atsushi." He looked around "are you here by yourself?"

Poe already knew that, he also knew the blood on the kids hands wasn't coming from a wound. It was also dry, it'd been on him for a while.

Not to mention the kid was breathing heavily, a sign he'd been doing a lot of exercise as well as his anxiety. Which luckily was evening out since Karl had spotted him.

Atsushi was very much malnourished, he was small and pale like he'd never seen the sun. Not that Poe was one to say anything about that.

The fear the kid had when Poe spoke to him as it he was going to be hurt, stabbed Poe in the heart.

If nothing else tonight, he was going to help this child.

"Y-Yes."

Poe nodded, keeping his smile gentle. "I see, well the library is supposed to close soon. Do you have anywhere to go?"

Atsushi shook his head.

He didn't want to go back... Nor there, not ever.

"Would you like to come with me?"

Poe knew he could just call the authorities and they'd handle this. But something about this kid made him pause.

He couldn't leave him.

Not when he was so terrified and alone.

Poe knew what that felt like, he wouldn't wish it on anyone. Especially not such a kind child.

Atsushi nodded, shyly taking his hand. Poe smiled, Karl sitting on Atsushi's head and making him giggle.

There was a cafe nearby, Poe lead him there and helped him wash his hands when Atsushi stared at them.

Before getting him something to eat.

Atsushi didn't say much but happily listened to Poe talk about his new mystery novel, while Karl was curled up in his arms.

Eventually Atsushi began to nod off, Poe smiled and bundled the boy in his cloak and heading to his hotel room.

He went to put Atsushi on the spare bed but the boy whimpered and clung to him.

Poe felt his heart break for the 400th time that night and held Atsushi close in his arms.

His novel could wait for now, Atsushi came first.

A sentence he'd come to say more than he thought he would.

Poe looked at Karl "thank you." Karl only nodded and curled up in Atsushi's arms. Atsushi kept one hand clinging to Poe and the other hugging Karl like a teddy bear.

Not that either of them minded.

Poe pushed the thoughts of what was he doing? He couldn't care for a kid, aside.

Right now it just mattered that Atsushi was safe.

... As for who had hurt him, Poe smiled but unlike before it wasn't kind.

They would pay for it forevermore.

#atsushi nakajima #bsd edgar allan poe #bsd atsushi #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs #bsd poe

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ozwuv · 3 months

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If I have hand pains (as artists get) what’s should I do? Do you recommend any exercises?

hmmm so i don't get hand pains necessarily, but i did damage my ulnar nerve pretty badly end of 2019-2020 from the oz fanbook grind lol. this led to a constant, dull pain in my dominant arm and persistent numbness in my hand. for a long time, i couldn't hold a pencil at all and to this day my grip is pretty weak. i remember when acnh came out in march 2020, i cried out of frustration constantly bc my grip was so lax i couldn't play.

that said, i'm speaking from experience when i say that taking advice on stretching techniques i found online made things way, way worse for me because it exacerbated the nerve damage i didn't know i had until i saw a doctor. the wrong kind of stretches can be more damaging than helpful if you're not doing them correctly, and especially if you have some kind of underlying issue that would be counterproductive for. the same thing goes for wrist braces and such -- a lot of people recommend them, but the wrong kind of brace can damage you further, and you should not be constantly wearing a brace unless a medical professional has told you to; constant usage of braces weakens your muscles over time because the brace prevents you from actually using them. if you have the means for it, i would really recommend consulting a physical therapist for preventative care.

but i didn't have access to medical care for a long time, so i get that's not feasible for everyone. if that's you, basic harm reduction guidelines are good to keep in mind. these are going to be things you've undoubtedly heard before, but they're drilled into your head for good reason:

take breaks. set a timer for every ~30-60 min and every time it goes off, get up, walk around, flex your hands and wrists, etc. ideally at least 10 minutes.

keep plenty of water within arm's reach at all times. hydration manages/prevents pain more than you might think. as soon as my grip gets too slack, i know that i need to stop drawing and drink a ton of water, but you should be drinking fluids at a semi-constant rate so you don't get to that point.

if you're in pain, stop drawing. no "i'll just wrap up the lines and then stop" -- listen to your body. if you're hurting, you've already pushed it too far and anything more is just going to make it worse.

posture posture posture -- any kind of posture advice for office workers generally applies to drawing.

^if you use a screen tablet (like cintiq or ipad) it's going to be virtually impossible to maintain good posture without buying a tablet arm or something. in cases like that, you should place even more of an emphasis on harm reduction or maybe even consider switching to an analog tablet so your monitor is at eye level. personally i'm in it for the longhaul with my ipad though lol

unfortunately advice like this kinda sucks for ppl with ADHD (meee) because pausing in the middle of something can cause you to become distracted or lose motivation. i don't really have a solution for that, but ultimately i got to the point where the nerve damage was so bad that i solidified these habits to prevent making it worse. i do get distracted and lose motivation a lot, but i did that to myself by not treating my body with the care it deserved.

if you take one thing from this response, let it be this: if you don't already experience chronic pain and/or nerve damage while drawing constantly without taking necessary precautions, it's not a matter of "if" you develop these issues, but "when". if you don't already have chronic pain from drawing, your goal right now should not be to preemptively look into things to remedy it, it should be seeking to prevent these issues altogether. work in some good habits, even if it's just taking breaks every now and then. even just one break per drawing is better than no breaks at all. i thought i was immune to these issues for over a decade & then i developed arthritis in my upper vertebrae at 20 years old lol nobody is immune i prommy<3

#sorry that was a lot of words to essentially say nothing lol #tl;dr: advice from strangers can make it worse but at least drink water and take breaks #yip yap

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hee0soo · 1 year

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No practice for you

Summary: Jisoo gets the diagnosis for her ankle

October 2022

„I´m sorry Jisoo-ssi but it looks like you won´t be part of practice for quite a while!”

That´s something Jisoo didn´t like to hear at all! The doctor looked at her sympathetically.

“Could you explain how that happened exactly?” he inquired and looked at the tablet in his hands.

Not wanting to go into any details, Jisoo choose the short version of the accident.

“I had to jump of a horse and landed wrong! Couldn´t walk properly ever since and my ankle is twice its size than it´s supposed to be.”

“Well the x-ray you got done shows us that the bone is fine. There isn´t a fracture or any tears. I suspect the problem lays with the ligaments, they seem to be severely overstretched which is the reason you can´t walk without pain. The swelling is normal and should go down over the next few days. Should that not be the case I’d suggest coming back here. Just put a lot of ice on it to help reduce the swelling! I will also prescribe a brace for your foot, only to hold it in place and prevent that you twist it again! You can try going without it in about 5-6 weeks and start slow with exercising after.”

Jisoo nodded. She didn´t like it but if she wanted to get back to dancing she had to listen to what the doctor said. Eunsook took the prescription and the doctor left.

“Do you want to tell the company or should i?” she asked Jisoo.

“I´ll take Channie-oppa and you the company?” the girl suggested her manager and shrugged.

They left the room with Eunsook helping Jisoo walking. On the way to the van they passed the pharmacy where Jisoo could pick up the brace.

She put it one and could already feel a bit relief since her ankle got stabilized again, but at the same time it was bit uncomfortable since it was wrapped tightly around her leg!

Jisoo connected her earphones to her phone and played some music to calm her down. Immediately the melody of Hyolyn´s Say my name started up and the girl hummed along.

She went to check her KKT messages as she had been ignoring them for the time being, not having the energy to answer any of them. Most of them were from the group chat with the members, one from her mother and one from Hongjoong.

Jisoo answered her moms, updating her on what the doctor said and went to check Hongjoongs.

Hey, Changbin-ah told Youngie what happened. How are you doing? send 10:34 p.m 29th October

Don´t know how I feel right now tbh… send 9:26 a.m 30th October

I´m here if you wanna talk! Hwa is ready to go all mother-hen on you, just so you know… send 9:29 a.m 30th October

LMAOOO, tell him thanks tho send 9:30 a.m 30th October

“We are at the company. I think the boys are in the studio just so you know where to search.” Eunsook advised when the Van pulled into the garage of their destination.

“Thank you Unnie!”

They parted ways after to driver let them out and Jisoo went to search for her members.

She found them in one of the big studios, since they started recording for their next comeback already.

The brace on her foot was the first thing the boys noted when she entered.

“Jiji! You´re back. What did the doctor say?” Hyunjin asked and pulled the girl onto his lap.

The producer left the room to give them a few minutes of privacy.

“Overstreched Ligaments but now damage to the bone itself. Doctor wants me to wear the brace for the next 5-6 weeks to stabilize the ankle! The swelling should go down soon and i´m supposed to ice it. Which means…”

“No practice for you!” Minho continued for her and looked at the others sorrowfully.

Their upcoming tour wasn´t far away and if he heard correctly then it meant she wouldn´t be able to perform with them. The thought of Jisoo participating while having been banned to the chair made her mood turn sour. Well more than it already was.

“Do you have to wear it at night too? The youngest asked carefully.

Jisoo nodded. She didn´t want to but it didn´t help. She wanted to go on tour and not stay back at home!

Taglist: @alyszaen

#stray kids #stray kids 9th member #9th member of stray kids #kpop added member #kpop addition #kpop au #kpop extra member #stray kids addition #stray kids female member #stray kids female addition

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ask-spider-man-61610 · 10 months

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Specs, you’re a good spider, right? At the very least, you’re a hell of a lot better than I am. You don’t need to get down here, we’ll handle ourselves just fine. I need.. I need advice.

How do you steel yourself for the most horrible things you’ll ever see? I feel like a child to admit it but I’m finding.. difficult.. to move forward. I know what I must do to survive down here and for the most part, I was managing this just fine.

But something about my last encounter hit me in a way that I wasn’t anticipating. I recognize it from what I’ve seen from my father when he came back from the war; I believe the term for it is “combat fatigue”. Not a doctor by any means, but I’ve seen it in action for a long enough time to draw some connections to it.

But unlike my father, I don’t really.. have a place to rest. How do I convince the rest of myself to keep going in spite of this?

- @ask-percyparker

I wish there was an easy answer, Perce. I really do.

I've been in that position...a few times over my career. Or maybe a few hundred. I haven't really kept track. I understand the feelings of...of numbness, hypervigilance, lingering fear and anger and guilt...in my time period, it's not called combat fatigue anymore. Its official name is post-traumatic stress disorder. And, if you're very, very lucky, time and distance will eventually take some of the edge off.

I'm not lucky. But that's beside the point.

Methods of managing it--ignoring therapy as an option, because in your case it isn't--tend to be slipshod, and their effectiveness tends to vary. Sometimes the stuff I do works great, sometimes it's all but useless. When I was fifteen and my symptoms were just starting to get debilitating, Aunt May taught me some exercises with controlled breathing that I still use to settle myself during an episode. Talking to people I love and trust takes a lot of the weight off my shoulders...although, I'll admit, it takes some effort and bravery to make myself start those conversations. You've got Theo and MJ; allowing yourself to lean on them will help more than you can imagine, even though I know every instinct you have is terrified of being that vulnerable. It's hard, but it's worth it. Usually.

And to brace myself for the future?

...That's even harder. I'm not sure there is a good way to do it. But what I do is keep those loved ones close to my chest, and keep myself focused on why I put myself through this fuckery.

I was an awful, awful kid in my first few months as a vigilante; mostly just out there to vent my frustrations and get some photos to sell and ease that knot of guilt in my stomach about what happened to Ben. And because I was in it entirely for myself, those first few disasters hit harder than I think they would've now. I almost quit like a dozen times back then. But eventually I started to realize how many people my selfishness hurt, and how much I could genuinely help if I tried, and I started to understand my...my obligation to help where I could. My responsibility.

I won't say that understanding and accepting that responsibility made me a better person, because I'm not sure it did. But it did give me the strength to keep trying. To push forward and roll with the punches, because I wasn't just doing it for me anymore. I can't promise it'll do the same for you--but it might be a start.

#specs #spidersona #Percy Parker | Spider #ask

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whentherewerebicycles · 8 months

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good morning! I felt pretty lousy all week but I feel so much better now—I think in retrospect I was bracing myself for something going wrong with the ultrasounds and delaying me another month. but I did the IUI yesterday and everything went well. I always feel most at peace right after the IUI because the timing is now out of my hands but I’m also still far enough from testing that I don’t feel too much anxiety about it. I’ve tentatively decided I won’t test at two weeks but will just wait for my period to come or not come. I am going to try not to calendar watch—luckily my days are a lot busier now that liz is here, school is starting, and I’m doing choir and voice lessons, so I hope the time won’t drag as much as it did last winter/spring. I’m also going to try to eat really well and will make it a fun meal planning game.

here are my goals for the next two weeks:

walk for 45-60 minutes every day (I’ve been slipping a little as things have gotten busier but I want to carve out time for it again esp while the weather is still so gorgeous)

no (or minimal) processed sugar

eat leafy dark greens every day—the easiest way to do this is to sauté big handfuls of frozen spinach with garlic and red pepper flakes and eat it as a little snack. so I will do that (but will also try to incorporate greens into my cooking).

try making beetroot juice lol apparently it’s very good for implantation in IVF cycles so might as well try it

really focus on whole food plant-based eating (although I am also eating eggs and full-fat dairy at the moment so not vegan)

don’t snack at work—people are always bringing in candy or pizza or treats which is nice but I can really mindlessly graze if it’s easily accessible. I’ll try chewing gum and/or making tea instead

hmm ok what else what else. choir was fine and then I had a great voice lesson yesterday. my teacher is a little eccentric but what person in a music career isn’t lol. she focuses a lot on helping you understand and manipulate the actual bodily mechanics of singing/sound production and I’m finding it really fascinating, so much so that it might be my next research rabbithole. I feel like she’s also good at identifying places where I’ve formed a very fixed rigid idea about what my voice “is” or is capable of doing, then creating exercises that get me to do the thing I thought I couldn’t without realizing I’m doing it. I think what I like most about the bodily-mechanics approach is that it does away with the idea that good singing is just a thing some people can naturally do and others can’t. it’s much closer to being an athlete! you have to strengthen and condition certain tiny muscles, and then through carefully scaffolded drills you develop a fine-grained ability to manipulate certain muscles and ligaments to produce different effects, and you have to be careful about using good technique when you train and perform (because like in sports, people develop bad habits to compensate for real or perceived weaknesses, which can put them at higher risk for injury). I sang for almost two decades and had 10+ years of formal vocal training as a kid/teen and I don’t know if anyone ever presented it to me in that way… or maybe they did but it didn’t click for me back then because I hadn’t yet done all of this reading and thinking about how people learn/improve/gain expertise in their chosen skills or fields. anyway I was originally thinking I’d just do a handful of voice lessons to help me feel more confident in choir but my interest is PIQUED you know my intellect is ENGAGED I think I might want to add weekly voice lessons to my budget. and I want to read everything out there on the subject lol. there is no greater joy for me than working in a focused way on improving at a skill.

okay and now let’s think about the day… here are some things I want to get done:

order peel and stick wallpaper (I am trying to figure out how to fix

plan meals

grocery shop

put laundry away

do old navy + everlane returns

swing by home depot to pick up soil, two paintbrushes, and paint (bring swatches to color match)

hourlong walk maybe on the paved trail

hammock reading in the park??

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kneehab · 2 years

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three months

I hit twelve weeks post op on Monday (two days ago), and I had my first round of isokinetic strength testing yesterday, so lots to catch up on documenting.

First, all the good (and there is lots of good!):

I don’t think about my knee at all, except when I’m at PT, someone asks about it, or I’m trying a new exercise or something at a higher weight in the gym. It occupies very little space in my head on a day to day basis.

I have full and equal range of motion! I have been at full extension since day 1 thanks to me not having hyperextension and due to the leg brace being locked straight, but I hit full knee flexion (about 155 degrees for me) at 8.5 weeks post op, so just after my last update was written. I can also fully sit on my heels kneeling.

I’ve started swimming. Not a ton, but around the beaches in Washington (it’s been so hot) and even in a pool at a gym I got a day pass for.

I’m walking and cycling tons now, sometimes walking upwards of 20,000 steps a day, which feels great.

I tested essentially equally on my functional testing. That includes things like a Y-balance test, where a PT measures how far you can touch your toe while standing on one leg at a time, things like that.

I don’t have any more pain behind my knee when flexing my quad.

Swelling is basically gone. Occasionally after a hard gym day or a really long walk I will get a tiny bit of swelling but it’ll be gone by the next morning.

I’ve started some basic plyometric/jumping/pre-running movements in PT! This includes gently bouncing up and down on your toes and softly landing from one leg onto the other.

... And the tough.

Luckily, the tough is pretty minimal, but the main one is that I didn’t get the strength testing results I was hoping for. I’m at about 65% LSI, in other words, my left quad is about 65% as strong as my right. My PT says this is a solid number for where I am at in the recovery, but it’s hard not to be pretty disappointed as I need to be at 80% to run. But it’s helpful to have the clarity of where I’m at, and what my next steps need to be to hit my goals. My mission for this month is to work my quad hard, consistently, every other day, no excuses, so I can be as close to 80% as possible by my next round of testing at 4 months.

I think I might be struggling to eat enough protein, and also eating enough in general. I want to make this a focus of the next month, too. I can’t build a quad if I’m not giving it protein.

I’ve also just been struggling with a feeling of loss. I’m sad to be missing out on stuff still. Even though things are infinitely better than they were a month or two ago, I’m still not able to do many of the things I love. I can’t run, I can’t do aerial silks, I can’t do a triathlon, and that sucks because the season will be over by the time I could do so physically.

At the end of the day, things are pretty great. My graft is still there and strong, and I’m able to walk and hike and swim and be outside. I’m so grateful that the early stages of recovery are behind me, as I remember in those early days I just couldn’t imagine there would be a day again where I could just take a long walk without limping.

And I am really grateful for the good habits that the regimen of PT is teaching me. It’s building a gym habit. I never did very much squatting or strength training in general and was a bit of a “cardio queen”, so needing to do this to meet tangible goals is giving me the structure to develop discipline around strength training.

Onto the next month, and welcoming a mindset of growth and discipline, as well as a sense of joy in the small moments of new abilities.

#acl #acl recovery #acl tear #acl surgery #acl reconstruction #physical therapy #sports injury

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meditating-dog-lover · 2 years

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Food and health in general

When you go online, you'll see a lot of posts and videos on social media about foods that are good for you, foods that are bad for you, habits that are good for you, habits that are bad for you, etc... What you should be doing is realizing that Google and social media aren't doctors and you should pay attention to how each food or habit makes you feel. Also doing regular annual checkups to assess your health such as blood work, physicals, dental, vision, etc... helps so you have a personalized diagnosis for where your health stands and what may be harming you or what may not be harming you.

For instance, I don't have the perfect gluten/dairy/sugar-free vegetarian/vegan non-inflammatory detox diet. Still, I know that obsessing over food and putting myself in an orthorexic mindstate will make me feel a lot worse and unwell than if I ate normally and not perfect. I developed an eating disorder in college from this obsessive way of thinking. I know that some chocolate and pizza will not bother me, but I also want to be sure I am consuming healthy foods rich in vitamins, minerals, antioxidants, healthy fats, proteins, and complex carbs. I also want to assess how each food makes me feel. For example, eating too much salt makes me bloated and not feel well, so eating too much salty snacks may not be a good idea for me. Eating too much sugary foods makes me feel unwell too. So sticking to small amounts or eating dark chocolate or drinking a sweet drink that is not too sweet (mocha is my go to sweet drink) can help. Soft drinks also make me bloated, so I avoid those and stick to drinking water and matcha tea (unsweetened). This way, I might be avoiding certain foods, but I am avoiding them with the intention of taking better care of myself and paying attention to how I feel rather than depriving and punishing myself like I did in college. Worrying that eating fried foods and sugar will give me premature wrinkles. To some, eating bread or cheese makes them feel very sick and unwell. Personally, I don't have that problem so I don't see the point of avoiding cheese or bread.

Regarding exercise, some people say you have to lift heavy and do weights. I work full time and by the time I get home, I am exhausted. Plus I don't feel like going to the gym and exercising in public and having to pay for a membership. And my body goal is to be generally slim and fit, not super lean and/or muscular. Therefore, doing simple workouts like walking, pilates, bodyweight circuits, and stretching is perfectly enough. It's not that intense and some don't consider it to be exercise. But for my body, it is plenty. And I feel very accomplished and well after completing a workout, not to mention the amount of fat I lost just by doing this.

Besides issues with my weight, I had dental problems. Of course I would spend hours online looking for reasons why I have dental problems from holistic dentists (I don't trust 99% of dentists due to a bad experience as a teenager that makes me avoid most of them). I would read about how I have vitamin and mineral deficiencies and that I need to use natural toothpaste. Well, I used natural toothpaste and it did nothing to clean my teeth. Also, I did blood work and I have no deficiencies. My solution was to see a trustworthy conventional dentist who easily pinpointed my dental issue. My crooked teeth make it harder to clean and take care of them. So brushing and flossing doesn't do a perfect job since my teeth do need braces. This solved a lot more of my dental issues that Google did. And of course, I still don't trust most dentists and I have every right not to. I'm just happy I found a trustworthy one who I am willing to work with on improving my dental health.

Besides all that, I don't have any other issues thankfully. I am in very good health. My sleep is getting better too. I am in a better mood now that I am no longer depressed like I was last year. I want to take better care of my health with each passing week now that I am happier and more productive and I have a job and money. I am wearing sunscreen and am taking great care of my skin, going out for walks, spending time with my family and dog, journaling and relaxing and having "me time" whenever I can. I also don't drink nor smoke which is another thing that helps with my heath. I am also stretching more.

I can't wait to get braces.

#personal #health #fitness #wellness #healthy #happy #google is not a doctor #eating #exercising #teeth #dentist #braces #stress relief #stretching

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questinwitchface · 5 months

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Writing Pattern Tag Game!

Rules: Share the opening of your last ten published works or as many as you are able and see if there are any patterns!

Thank you so much for tagging me @sambambucky !

The Offering

Sam has had a very tiring day. He’d gone to work at the Vampire Assistance Agency at seven PM, just after the sun had set. He’d gone to a meeting at 7:30 for training on new services the VAA will be offering next year and review training on the services they currently offer. When the meeting was over at 8:37 (because these things always run long), he’d gone straight to his office to organize his case notes and prepare for the day. He’d made it to one of the group rooms and run a group session for elder vampires at 9:15, spent fifteen minutes cleaning up the room, and then run the group session for recently-turned vampires at 10:30. He spent another fifteen minutes cleaning up the room, and then he’d finally gotten to take his lunch break at midnight. He was finished by 12:45, which gave him enough time to prepare for his individual sessions, which went throughout the early hours of the morning and finished at five AM.

Falling/Already Fell

Sam’s head is once again spinning at how much older his nephews have gotten. Cass had just recently turned thirteen, and that would be a lot on its own, but Sam and Bucky are playing chauffeurs for his very first date. They’d taken the truck from home to Sarah’s to pick up Cass, who looked nervous and was wearing too much cologne—since when did Sam’s nephew even wear cologne? Then they’d picked up Tia, who seemed shy and quiet and sweet, with her hair in a fancy configuration of braids that must’ve taken forever to do and braces on her bright smile. Cass and Tia had talked in awkward, stilted conversation in the backseats of Sam’s truck while they drove to the movie theater, and then Sam and Bucky had dropped them off and headed to the mall to give the kids their time together.

Bucky and His Books

They’re in Sam’s truck, driving back home from Sarah’s after a long day of helping her with the boat and the boys, when Bucky turns to Sam with a guarded sort of frown.

There Was More Than One Bed (But Who's Counting?)

Sam is not okay.

The Guy Next Door

“Hey, you’re bus fight guy, right?” Joaquín asks, watching his new neighbor stare forlornly at the boxes he still hasn’t moved into his room.

Dear Sam

Dear Sam, This is a stupid exercise my therapist recommended. Apparently, I struggle with expressing my emotions verbally, so I’m supposed to try writing out my feelings. I hate this idea. I think it’s dumb. Sorry to drag you into it.

The Pirate Fic

Bucky folds his arms over his chest. The sun is particularly brutal today, beating down on his head, and he’s glad he’d worn his hat this time. He surveys the tiny island his ship is docked at. It’s little more than a stretch of sand with a dock built on it, big enough for one ship to dock at. A craggy rock face looms at the other end. There’s a small, dark cave entrance in the rock face that connects to the cave network the mermaids come from whenever Bucky and his crew meet with them to trade.

The Valentine Struggle

“I need a valentine that says, ‘I adore you, and I want you in my life forever,’ but in the most platonic way possible,” Yelena tells the store clerk. She’s in a Hallmark store, a store dedicated entirely to cards and gifts, and yet she hasn’t been able to find valentines that express how deep her love is without making it romantic.

Date Night

“So, the thing is, I really need your help,” Sam tells Jay before Jay can even get his usual greeting out.

Bucky Barnes Hates Christmas

Bucky Barnes hates Christmas.

Analysis: So it seems like my openings are either a single sentence or pretty long, with not much in between. Shorter works seem to get the shorter openings. Also if the beginning chapter is going to be angsty, it seems like I enjoy starting with like a single angsty sentence (i.e. "Sam is not okay.") and then further explaining it in the next paragraphs instead of cramming all the characters' feelings into the opening paragraph. I like opening with dialogue, but I didn't do it as much as I would've thought I had, but both of the rareship oneshots started with dialogue, which is interesting because I view the rareship fics as being more "for me" than other fics I write, so maybe I have more fun with them and don't overthink the openings as much as I do with SamBucky fics? Anyway, this was a fun little exercise. If you catch any other patterns, feel free to let me know!

No-pressure tagging @allcolorsoftherainbow and anyone else who might want to do this!

#my fanfic #my fanfic analysis #tag game

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darklingichor · 11 months

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Fosse, by Sam Wasson

This is going to be a very long post, because this book sort of hurts.

This requires a bit of background. I walk weird. Always have. When I was little, I would walk and even stand on tiptoe. It felt natural.

When I was around three my pediatrician recommended that my mom put me in dance classes. This would help strengthen and stretch my very tight Achilles tendons, and hopefully help me drop my heels.

So in to ballet I went.

I loved it, I mean I wasn’t *good* at it, by any stretch of the imagination, but that wasn’t the point. I didn’t have to be the next prima ballerina to get the benefits of the exercises (and it did work, sort of. I don’t walk or stand on tiptoe anymore. I just tend to lead with the ball of my foot rather than the heel) and I never really wanted to be a dancer in the competitive sense. I wanted to do the moves and listen to the music. In fact, it never occurred to me that anyone was doing these classes for any other reason than for the fun of it, until I was thirteen, and the first class after summer break, the same teacher I’d had since I was six started the class by insulting all of us.

One girl had “horrid posture.

Another needed to work on something or other,

And I had “the worse turn out” she’d ever seen.

I looked down at my feet – My first position was the same first position I held three months before.

And it hit me “Ah! This is for real”

I was a little angry at how we were being spoken to, and unsure of whether I wanted do this in such a serious environment.

I became sure when I adjusted my first position and felt my left knee cap slide out of place with a flash of pain. First sign of a knee that would dislocate at a a wrong turn.

I quickly went back to my bad turn out and thought: “Nope.” Feeling my heart break a little. It sounds dramatic, but it’s true.

So that was the end of my classes. But I still loved dance and that’s why when flipping through channels a few years later and happening upon a scene where dancers were leaping and twirling to the song “On Broadway “ I stopped.

1979’s All That Jazz Directed by Bob Fosse.

This was the weirdest movie I’d ever seen, but I was entranced.

Now, it’s was 98/99 by this point.

I didn’t have the internet but I did spend a lot of time watching documentaries on any subject, and in an instance of coincidence meets the frequency illusion, I saw an interview with Ben Vereen where he tells a story about Bob Fosse.

Fosse? Fosse… That batshit movie with that freaky cover of the Everly Brothers!

I began to learn more, see more of his movies and musicals.

While I didn’t like everything I saw, or learned, I did like the dancing, and there was something in Fosse, and his wife/partner Gwen Vernon that I related to (I mean other than Bob had “no turn out” in Ballet and Gwen had to wear braces on her legs as a kid).

Now this book, goes more in depth than anything else I have seen or read. I think I get why I relate so much. Bob Fosse had the worse case of imposter syndrome. Never thinking he was good, always worried people would see through the ol’ razzle dazzle and see he wasn’t good enough for all that they had him doing. He was painfully insecure.

In Bob that manifested in being a workaholic, developing a dependence on uppers, and trying to sleep with everyone.

I just get paralyzed by my imposter syndrome, so my struggle wouldn’t make a good movie, but I get it.

The book hurts a bit because I know that insecure feeling. The author speaks with people who worked with, knew and or loved Fosse, and about his eyes down posture, the getting trapped in his own head, the worrying about worrying when there’s nothing to worry about.

I have had all of this.

In my first years in college I would study for one class for hours, convinced that if I didn’t I would flunk. My goal wasn’t straight A’s, it was to avoid failure.. Then I’d get a perfect score on a test, and wonder how the hell that happened. A fluke, obviously.

I had a friend in high school, I had known for three years. We hung out at least three times a week. We were walking and talking and when I looked at him, he stopped.

“Are you wearing contacts?”

“No, I could never put my finger that close to my eye.”

“I thought your eyes were brown.”

My eyes are on the blue side of grey.

He told me that he didn’t realize until that moment how often I looked down.

I remember once when I was around 16, I had the thought “Huh, I think I’m done with all my homework, it wasn’t that hard.” And that was, at once followed by “Then you have forgotten something.”

So yeah, I think when watching All That Jazz, and then some of his other movies, I saw myself in there.

This book is structured as a count down to Fosse’s death, which is very fitting.

Each chapter is titled for how many years we have to cover before Bob dies of a heart attack in 1987.

It is more in depth than anything I am ever seen or read about Fosse. Sometimes that’s good when in the early years we hear about the things that shaped him, namely being a sickly kid, falling in love with dance, working the burlesque clubs with a dance class friend as a double act between the women’s’ shows, as a teenager. Doing all of this to bring in money for his large family, and to loved.

I liked the detail when he was developing his style, when he was starting to make movies, and when he made All That Jazz.

But it could be tedious too, namely when it goes into details of every show. Not the ones that made each show different, the ones that were the same. The same arguments with writers and backers, the same arguments about the sexual content in the shows.

Of course he was a genius dancer, chorographer and director, and the book does try to analyze it. The problem is that in my opinion it’s nearly impossible to do that with Fosse’s work. You have to see it to understand it. Even this books says something like that near the end.

A good chunk of the book deals with him personally.

There’s a lot about Fosse that is problematic. I knew some before I even read this book (which honestly does its best to soften the edges without ignoring them all together). He was a master manipulator, and just because there were some people he hadn’t slept with didn’t mean he didn’t try.

Flirting and being charming is one thing, but this book recounts several times when his efforts of seduction fell flat, or caused anger. I’m surprised that there was only one episode of the Kneecap -Neuter Two -Step.

This and other biographies paint Bob as a contradiction. Brutal taskmaster at work, but so empathetic to the dancer’s life, it *pained* him to reject someone’s audition. He worked his dancers and actors hard, but almost always left them feeling like he was doing it for them, rather than having them do it for him.

He was a loving father, even if his work life made him distant.

He was a committed friend, and it seems like is friendships is where he really lived When his best friend Paddy died, it broke his heart more than any other loss.

And in his romantic life…

There ‘s a line in Christopher Moore’s Fool where self described “Hornbeast” (“but my horns are tender…”) Pocket says of his many sexual conquests: “I have loved them all, and learned many of their names.”

That line kept running through my head while listening to this book.

Bob Fosse seemed to have had an insatiable sexual appetite. The book talks about his years in therapy, Freudian psychoanalysis. And it made him realize that abuse he suffered as a teenager working as an MC in Chicago’s seedy burlesque clubs, had something to do with this, and his absolute inability to stay faithful to the women he loved.

Makes sense, but knowing the why’s behind this behavior that gave him and those around him pain, didn’t help him change it. Neither did the uppers and downers that his doctor gave him. There were limitations in therapy back then.

But, in an odd way he *was* loyal to three of the most important women in his life.

His relationship with his second wife Joan, emotionally overlapped with his relationship with third wife Gwen Verdon, until Joan died.

His relationship with Gwen overlapped with his relationship with long time partner Ann Reinking. There were others but these three loomed large.

He love all of them, In different ways.

Joan had helped make him as a dancer, and he cared for her long after they divorced. Gwen was a constant, they would separate, but never divorced she was there at ground zero when he developed his style, they had a daughter together. She was there when he died. She was his partner. Ann was his foil, they would argue, it seems to me like she would challenge him keep him on his toes. Basically long after he stopped being lovers with these women, he remained friends, and like I said, that was a higher honor. The “Friendzone” for Bob Fosse was like Mount Olympus, you may have had to go through all kinds of shit to get a place there, but once you were there, it was a better place to be.

He could also be spitting viper mean, both personally and professionally. Especially if he thought that he was being slighted.

I sort of feel like I should say that learning about the darker sides, made me like his stuff less, but I can’t. I still adore the Alley Dance scene in My Sister Eileen.

I still love the moves in Chicago.

I still cry at the end of All That Jazz, when Joe Gideon looks at his wife and says “At least I won’t have to lie to you anymore.” And crying, she sticks her tongue out at him.

I enjoyed this book and the subject a lot.

#books #book #book blogging 2023 #fosse #sam wasson #long post #nonfiction #biography

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duhragonball · 1 year

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Janwum III Update: 20,157 (FINAL)

Welp, I’m done with that.

This just feels like every other off-season writing goal I’ve griped about, all rolled into one. I had lofty ambitions about writing a consistent amount each day, then blew it off and rushed to finish a few days before the deadline. Last year, I had considered doing smaller goals in shorter time frames as an exercise, but that didn’t work out for this month because I was planning to start the Apocrypha Liveblog at the same time. I had envisioned doing one for two weeks and then switching to the other for the next two weeks, but I couldn’t decide which to do first, so here we are.

Going forward, though, I think I ought to try something different. I’m liveblogging stuff from now until July, and I made sure to pace myself in case I fall behind or just get fed up with the grind. So my calendar’s got ten or twelve days each month for free time. I could set up writing goals for each of those months. Nano’s website lets you do that now. If you want to do like, 6,969 words from March 21 to April 3, it’ll let you. They don’t have to be round numbers in calendar months.

But I think that might be too rigid for me now. What I might do instead is just set up one long writing goal across most of the year. February 13 to July 31, let’s say, and make the target something pretty easy to hit. That way I have some pressure to keep writing the fic, but I’m not locked into it for four days, like I have been this week. I’m not sure what the target should be, though. I don’t want to make it too low since that defeats the purpose, but I also don’t want to make it too high or I’ll just be doing a standard month-long goal six times in a row, which sounds like a real pain in the ass. Well, I’ve got time to think it over.

Somehow, I gave myself tennis elbow. This really started at the end of November, and I told myself I would rest up in December, but then I just... wrote more. And now it’s the end of January and I did more of the same. Really, it seems to have gotten better lately, but it flared up again while I was at work, and I’m starting to think it has more to do with when I use a keyboard more than how long I’m using it. I watched a video about stretches and exercises for tennis elbow, and one of them was a warm-up exercise you do before the stretches. I’m thinking that this would explain why my elbow hurt so much in the morning, but seemed to get better over the course of the day. Usually, I work on the fic at night, when I’ve probably warmed up the muscles in my forearms just from moving around over the course of the day. It’s when I spend all day typing that things can go wrong, but if I prepared ahead of time I could probably cut that off. Also, the wrist brace helped a lot, once I finally figured out that keeping my wrist straight would be helpful.

The biggest gripe I have with this month is with the writing itself. I managed to put out 20,000 new words, but I still haven’t wrapped up this part of the plot that I wanted to finish back in November. I’m not sure if this part of the story is just too wordy, or if it was always supposed to be this long and I’m just now figuring that out the hard way. Well, I’m closer than where I was before. That’s what I have to keep telling myself.

#janwum iii

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differentkettleoffishalltogether · 3 years

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Work It Out

Summary: Spencer realizes that he might just have feelings for his neighbor after seeing her in her workout gear.

A/N: I boofed it. Trying to write a blurb and I ended up writing a whole fic. I will never learn.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader (Implied that reader is athletic but no mention of her body type)

Category: Smut, Angst, Fluff

Warnings/Includes: bad communication, cursing, smut, graphic descriptions of sexual acts, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, light spanking, please let me know if there’s anything I’ve missed!

Word count: 2.7k

Masterlist

Requests Filled:

“blurb idea that’s been living in my head, rent-free: reader is spencer’s neighbor and a dancer, who he has a huge crush on. spencer goes over to her apartment to borrow something and interrupts her daily stretches and spencer gets all flustered because she’s wearing leggings and a sports bra, and she’s so flexible”

“okay so this next thought came to my mind while i was doing some exercise lol: imagine that u started a new routine and you feel super tired at the ten minutes of the video haha, then spencer came back to work and when he see u doing some squats he's so turn on and then he just get close to you from behind and whispers "c'mon bunny, u can't with this, the only thing that u can handle is my cock" and then he just fuck y/n so hard aaaaaaaaa btw i'm the anon who sent that visual the past week of Twitter about the flowery lingerie 😌🙏🏻 —🥀”

“okay so like reader working out in Spencer’s apartment and he’s just watching her and getting all worked up. reader noticed and starts teasing him until he can’t handle it - 🐍”

-- -- --

They’d struck up a friendship almost instantly, from that first day that she moved in. He tried to help her with her boxes but he almost felt like he was holding her back, he got winded just going up and down the stairs on his own, let alone while he carried an entire box he later found out had been full of books. She laughed at him when he placed it down on her kitchen table and read the permanent marker label on the side. He still remembers how light her laugh had made him feel, how perfect it was.

From that first day things were just easy, effortless. He liked that he didn’t have to think around her, about work, about anything, he always felt so comfortable around her. Until that day.

The day that he couldn’t find his dustpan and brush after breaking a glass, so he went next door to see if she had one he could borrow. When he knocked on the door and heard a small ‘it’s open’, he walked in as normal, but nothing could’ve prepared him for the sight.

The furniture in her living room was pushed to the walls as she stretched in the centre of the room. He was sure there must’ve been a name for the pose she was in, but all he could concentrate on in that moment was how her body looked in the spandex of her leggings and sports bra. The smooth way her body contorted into strange shapes, the way her back arched so perfectly, and the way he could make out every curve of her body in a way he’d never really noticed before.

Thankfully she didn’t seem to notice his staring as she concentrated on her movements before finishing up her pose.

“What’s up Spence?” she breathed once she relaxed, turning her eyes to him.

And for a moment he wanted to turn around and run away. He was almost positive that his face was a glowing shade of pink, he could feel the heat as it radiated off of his cheeks while she looked at him expectantly.

“Uh, I um- A glass!” he stuttered out, “I broke a glass” he finally managed but she still just looked up at him with a puzzled expression.

“Okay, we’re really low on news today I see” she laughed, and he sort of wished she hadn’t, because it’s his absolute favorite sound.

“Sorry, I wanted to- I uh- I came over to see if you had a sweeping brush?” the words almost get caught in his throat but he fights to get them out, and he’s more proud than he really should be.

“Oh, under the sink!” she tells him, and he makes quick work of finding it before mumbling his ‘thanks’ and rushing back to the safety of his own apartment.

It’s a day he could never forget, even if his memory was normal. And part of him wished he could forget, because he knows that that’s the day he started treating her differently. It wasn’t easy or simple anymore. It was awkward and strange and he had a huge, stupid crush on her.

-- --

It doesn’t take long for her to notice the little changes in his behavior, the way he avoids her in the halls, or always seems to be inexplicably busy whenever she tries to make plans. And on the odd occasion that they do speak he never seems to be able to hold eye contact. It continues like that for a while until she just can’t take it for another second.

She waits until she knows he’s home, staring out the peephole at the door opposite hers until she sees him open it up and walk inside. She gives him about 5 minutes before she marches over and slams her fist against the door, a lot more urgent than necessary.

When he opens the door he looks tired and deflated, and his tie is undone, hanging around his neck. She can see the fatigue leave his features a second later, only to be replaced by a look of pure shock.

“Y/N?” he asks, like he’s not sure she’s really even there.

“Yeah, can I come in?” she asks, but she’s already maneuvering past him and into his living room like she’d done so many times before he’d gotten strange.

“What are you doing here?” he manages to get out once his shock subsides.

“What’s going on with you Spence? We’re best friends until one day you decide you don’t like me? What’s that about, I just have to pretend like I live next door to a stranger now?”

He looks like a deer caught in headlights. She’s not even sure she can see him breathing as his face begins to flush.

“I’m sorry” he breathes out first, “I wasn’t trying to- okay I was avoiding you, but it’s not because I don’t like you”

“Sure seems like it” she sighs, and for a second he looks heartbroken.

“No!” he blurts out, “It’s not that, I swear” he shakes his head, reaching out to touch her before retracting his grip, thinking the better of it.

“Then what is it Spence?” she looks at him with a softness now, with a pleading behind her eyes, and he can’t hold back anymore.

“It’s because I do like you” he says it like he’s relieved, like it had been gnawing at him, “Because I really like you”

“Like me?” she asks, the realization finally dawning. “As in...”

“As in... romantically?” he can’t look at her when he says it, closing his eyes as if he’s bracing for impact. But the next thing he hears is his favorite sound once again. She laughs at him. It’s not cynical, or rude, it’s the kind that’s filled with joy, and maybe just a little exasperation.

“Well I wish you’d’ve told me that sooner” she says once she’s calmed down, and when he opens his eyes she’s smiling at him, taking a step closer.

“You do?”

“Mmhmm” she nods, “That way, I could’ve let you know all about this crush I’ve been harboring on you for a while now.”

He doesn’t have time to think before she’s got her lips on his, soft and delicate against him. For a minute he can’t really understand what’s happening as her hands reach up to cup his face softly, and they stay there after she pulls back. Her thumbs gently grazing his cheekbones as she admires his shocked expression.

“You’ve had a crush on me?” is the first thing he thinks to say, and she nods, smiling up at him.

“Since that first day when you helped me move in” she admits, and the timeline clicks in his head. She’s wanted this longer than he even had. Something about it puts his mind at ease, the though of being desirable to someone like her just makes him swell with pride in a way he’s not even sure he understands.

“Oh” is all he manages to get out though.

“I know, we gotta work on your self confidence because you, Spencer Reid, are a catch” she smiles at him before diving in for their second kiss.

-- --

It’s probably too crass to say out loud, but his favorite part about moving in together is undoubtedly, her daily exercise routine. Sometimes it’s in the morning, sometimes the afternoon, sometimes the evening. He’s actually starting to suspect that she times it for when she knows he’ll be around to see it.

He waited a little while to confess just know much he thought about her in those leggings. The lilac ones that were still in her rotation. Not that he didn’t find her sexy all of the time, he really did. But there was just something, maybe pavlovian, about seeing her in those lilac leggings. The way they hugged her body, he always found himself staring more than he was proud of.

Whatever routine she’s following this morning has her just a little out of breath. And he pretends to be reading the paper at his desk while she pants less than 10 feet away from him. The sound alone is distracting, but when he glances up and he can see her doing squats, all he can focus on is her ass in those fucking leggings.

“8, 9.... 10″ she breathes out, finishing off with a small groan.

“Too hard?” he chuckles, giving in and laying his paper down.

“No way, I can handle it” she turns around to grin at him before turning back around, starting into another set, counting them out slowly.

He seizes the opportunity and gets up out of his chair, making his way quietly over to her while she concentrates on her form. When he’s finally behind her she’s nearly out of breath again, pushing through the last rep when his hand snakes around her waist and pulls her back against him. He leans in to her ear as he whispers.

“C’mon Bunny, I guess you can handle your squats, but can you handle this” he almost moans it as he presses his already hard cock right up against her ass.

“Fuck” she breathes out in a little gasp, her hands moving up into his hair to pull him closer.

“Do you think you can handle it Bunny?” he groans again, grinding himself against her this time.

“Yes! Yes Spencer please, I can take it” she moans out as his hands begin to roam over her body, gently tracing along the exposed skin between her bra and her leggings, feeling the warmth of it.

“Then be a good Bunny and bend over for me, okay?” he growls against her ear and she moves fast, bending over the back of the sofa, and presenting herself to him. He takes a step back to admire the view for a moment before he’s got his hands on her body again. His fingers go straight to the waistband of the leggings, tugging the smooth fabric down, pulling it until it's gathered around her feet, quickly doing the same with her panties until there was nothing in his way.

“Fuck, you look so good like this” he groans, a soft hand caressing the smooth skin of her ass before rising up and coming back down with a loud slap, followed by a high pitched whine from her.

“Did you like that Bunny?” he asks, gripping a rough handful of her ass as she moans out a meek ‘yes’

So he repeats the action, pulling his hand up only to slam it back down again rough and excited against the now sensitive skin.

“Fuck” she purrs, her legs closing, thighs moving together in an attempt to get some friction. But he puts a stop to that right away, placing one of his feet between hers and kicking them apart so her legs were spread for him.

“If you wanted something Bunny, all you had to do was ask” he teases, moving his hand along the curve of her ass until it was hovering between her legs, where she was desperate and wanting. He purposefully lingers just a moment too long before pushing two fingers inside of her. He’s rewarded with a low moan that pours out of her.

“So wet from just a little spanking, you’re so good for me” he groans, “Do you think you can handle my cock yet sweetheart?”

She can’t help the way she clenches and tightens around his fingers at the very thought. It’s not like they didn’t fill her up, they were so much longer and more agile than her own fingers, but nothing could really compare to his cock.

“Fuck, please” she whimpers, wiggling her hips just a little as though that might help convince him that she deserved it.

“Such a good girl, I think you’ve earned it” as he speaks he pulls his fingers gently out of her, and she forces herself not to while at the loss of contact. He pulls his cock out of his boxers, pumping it himself a few times before he lines up behind her. Though they both love this position, she can’t help but miss watching him. The way his eyes close and and he bites his perfect plump bottom lip. But then he’s easing in and the feeling of him is enough to eclipse every other thought in her head.

“Oh god! Spencer!” she stutters out a moan, her hands flying forward to grab at the cushions on the sofa, digging her fingers into the soft down.

“You feel so good Bunny, always so wet for me” he groans as he pushes the whole way in, burying himself right up to the hilt.

His hands make their home on either side of her hips, his grip is tight as he pulls her back against him at the same time that he pushes his hips forward, slamming in on each thrust with everything he’s got.

Hips hit against her ass each time, rocking right up against the quickly forming handprint there whenever their skin collides. The slight burn only intensifying the already overwhelming pleasure.

“So- ah- I’m so close” she manages to moan out in between all the gasps and pants, and without speaking Spencer reaches down to grab the straps at the back of her sports bra, using the leverage to pull her back up. Meeting her halfway he presses his chest right up against her back, one hand snaking around to loosely grip her throat. The other making its way down between her legs.

“Fuck- Spencer- I-” she gasps at his fingers start to run in small circles around her swollen clit, his hips continuing their motions at the same time. All of it building dangerously fast.

“What’s the matter? Too much for you Bunny?” he teases with a groan, right against her ear.

“No!” she rushes out, one of her hands bracing herself against the back of the sofa, the other draping itself loosely over his hand between her legs, encouraging but not interfering with its movements.

“That’s a good girl. Are you gonna cum all over my cock Bunny?”

She doesn’t have time to answer his question before she’s putty in his hands. Melting into his grip as he continues to move inside of her and against her. The only thing keeping her from falling to the ground is her loose grip on the edge of the sofa and Spencers hand around her neck as she moans out his name.

It’s only a few seconds later that his hips begin to stutter and both of his hands are on her hips again, pulling them tight against his own as he grows closer and closer. And then he’s cumming with a rough groan and a bunch of shallow breaths, filling her up entirely as she begins to slump against the sofa once again.

“Spence, fuck” she says with a deep breath, “That was unbelievable”

They’re both covered in a layer of sweat now, and Spencer can feel the hair that’s probably stuck to his forehead. In his exhausted state all he really wants to do is lay down against her back, gathering their breathing again. But he knows that’s just his cloudy mind talking. So he manages to loosen his grip on her hips and pull out slowly before rushing to the bathroom to get a warm washcloth.

He takes it and gently cleans the mess that he made between her legs before it gets the chance to drip down. Once she’s clean he helps her stand upright once again.

Although he’d come a long way with his self confidence there were still times like this where he let himself feel awkward, or unsure. Especially right after he’d just been so bold. But in times like this she knows exactly what to do. Rising up, she places her hands on either side of his face and kisses him, soft and gentle, just for a moment, before pulling back again to look at him.

“Shower?”

-- -- --

Thank you so much for reading x

-- -- --

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writefightandflightclub · 3 years

Note

I really enjoyed your Nathan fluff 🥺 we love this angry peach fuzz king 👑💖 would you ever write him being comforted after having a nightmare? 💕

First of all, LOL @ “angry peach fuzz king” 🤣🤣🤣

Second of all, here you go! 🧡 I will warn you - I think I forgot the fluff a little bit though. It became more hurt / comfort? More angst than expected? It ends nicely though and comfort is given to Nathan - but only after I’ve subjected him to rattling around in his own head and house for a bit.

Through the looking glass (Nathan Bateman x GN!reader)

Summary: Nathan has nightmares after The Incident. After so long alone, he doesn’t realise how badly he needs a little comfort - and maybe he doesn’t believe that he deserves it.

Author’s note: hopefully this isn’t too similar to All Better. I know they both take place post-stabbing, but I tried to give this a different focus. I know I could have made the nightmares based off of anything given the ask, but this timeline / focus seemed most sensible to explore the character.

Warnings: nightmares following traumatic incident (a stabbing); mentions of blood and injury - not graphic. Self-harm (punching the bag until injury); Body horror if you squint (some gruesome descriptions occurring in-dream, but fairly abstract); swearing; implied alcoholism recovery if you squint; mentions of therapy; Nathan mildly injured in fic; reader offering comfort.

Rating: MATURE for themes mentioned above.

GIF: by @santiagogarcia (this whole gifset is magic- check it out + reblog!)

Nathan wakes up breathless, plastered to the covers by a sheen of sweat - and not in a good way. On instinct, or out of habit by now, or maybe somewhere between the two, his palm slides over his body to the site of the wound.

He is so slick that he half-believes he is soaked with dank, deep blood again, until his fingers trace over nothing more than a half-concave, half-ridged scar. The lack of searing pain is the next point of evidence leading him towards an alternative conclusion. He’s not dying (again).

It’s just another gruesome nightmare.

Although… there is nothing “just” about it.

The nightmares are pretty brutal. Brutal enough for him to wake with ragged breaths and a hammering heart, his sheets dampened and coiled up around him. Enough that it takes effort to sift through the layers of terror and distinguish reality.

With what can only be described as a whimper, Nathan swings his legs over the edge of the bed, bringing himself into a seated position and bracing his head in his hands until his racing heart levels.

In his mind, he’s telling himself to be logical about this. That Ava hasn’t truly arrived to finish the job she started; but logic is not the safe haven it used to be.

She could come back.

She’s still out there, somewhere, and Nathan distinctly got the impression, last time, that she was vehemently not a fan of him.

His hand trembling, Nathan reaches for the glass of water by his bedside, glugging it down so eagerly it spills into his bushy beard.

Since the… accident? Malfunction? Functioning just fine, actually? Failed experiment? Greatest achievement known to man? Attempted murder? (Truth be told, Nathan isn’t quite sure what to call it, so he simply calls it The Incident.)

Since The Incident, Ava has begun to regularly visit him in his sleep.

The visitations are not waning with time. In fact, they are happening more often, not less. They are happening more since you moved into the house.

It’s a bad fucking time to have quit drinking.

You’d been sent by the board. Something about Nathan taking “tortured genius” a slice too literally. Something about him being in isolation too long and needing another human around in the compound.

Well, that’s not technically true, is it? The shit all started when he opted to get social, after all.

Fucking Caleb.

Before that, he was doing just fine.

Nathan doesn’t like it at all - having you here. Being watched. Observed. Having someone monitoring his actions. Waiting for him to either fuck up or prove himself.

Ironic really, considering where he kept Ava. The experiments he ran on her.

She’d probably find it poetic, if she could truly understand such a concept.

At the thought of her, Nathan physically shudders, and reaches for an old vest to haphazardly mop the excess sweat from his skin. Then, he balls up a change of clothes and tracks nude to his wet room, feeling relief as the luke warm water sluices over his skin.

He watches himself in the mirror as he stands there naked. It’s not a vanity thing - at least not any longer. These days, he examines the way his form has changed since it happened. He lost some of his muscle and bulk during recovery, whilst unable to exercise, his arms slightly smaller and his abs softer. His stomach a little more rounded.

There’s also the puckered scar, of course - that permanent reminder of where he was skewered through the chest like a piece of kebab meat.

His gaze travels up over his body, until his eyes settle on his still haunted face. He doesn’t have his glasses on, and somewhere between the blurred vision, misted mirror, clouding steam and sluicing water, his reflected face distorts. It transforms - for the briefest of moments - into her.

Still amped with adrenalin from his harsh awakening, this briefest flash sends a surge of panic zipping through Nathan’s chest, his heartbeat racing so hard he can feel the pounding of blood in his ears.

Fuck, he curses, reaching his arms out to brace himself against the shower wall above him, his body trembling and his head dipping down between the cradle of his broad shoulders as his legs threaten to buckle.

He turns the water cold, until it is practically glacial and thundering on to the back of his neck, subduing this spiking heat.

She really did a fucking number on me, didn’t she?

It’s true though.

Ava is haunting him. When he sleeps - and at other times too.

Nathan didn’t know robots could do that. Didn’t know they could spawn ghosts.

Nathan doesn’t believe in ghosts, of course… but he does believe in trauma and its effect on the brain. He at least concedes that it is natural to continue to feel afraid; but this?

Being dogged by the spectre of her taps into Nathan’s deepest insecurities.

After all, there is nothing a genius fears more than doubting his own mind.

Nothing a God fears more than his own mortality.

And the man? Turns out, there is nothing he fears more now, than dying alone.

With a ragged breath, Nathan towels off and pulls on his grey sweatpants, tugging on his black zip-up hoody over his bare chest. And then, keen not to return to his damp, tangled sheets, he tracks towards the kitchen - mainly for want of any more favourable option.

Of course, he had returned to the compound after The Incident. Something about that many fibre optic cables being a bitch to lay down. Sunk cost fallacy and all that - too much already invested.

But it possibly wasn’t the best choice for his recovery.

Nathan has certainly gotten more used to walking down that hallway since he returned from the hospital, and yet he still finds himself holding his breath until he is free of it. Still finds his pace is just a little faster as he passes through. His gaze deliberately averted from that spot.

Once, you’d found him lying in it.

Lying in that exact spot, his body arranged like a crime scene photo, his eyes closed.

Hey, it’s hardly his least healthy coping mechanism, is it?

What in the fuck are you doing, Nathan?

Re-enacting my death, obviously.

Uh-Kay…. A beat. A devious smile. Shall I get some popcorn?

Absurd as it was, he had laughed. Laughed for the first time since it happened, and, with an extended hand, you had helped him up off the floor.

Still, now that he’s alone, he does not dwell in the corridor, colder and darker as it is without your light in it, and he tries not to think about your face or hers as he pads to the kitchen.

When he arrives though, he bypasses it entirely - heading out on to the decking, the crisp night air soothing his hot skin.

He wants to be outside.

There are too many ghosts in his house now.

He has tried to shake it. Tried to desensitise himself to Ava’s face. Spent longer than strictly necessary poring over footage of her.

He built her. Shouldn’t that take the fear out of things? Not to mention the fact Ava’s face was simply a composite of some manipulable nerd’s wank bank browsing history.

Fucking Caleb.

Still, once Nathan had looked her in the eyes and seen a rage that was all too human, things seemed a hell of a lot different.

Nathan crosses to the punchbag on the deck -lit by creeping dawn- on instinct, or out of habit, or maybe some combination of the two, his unease riling him enough to sock some punches at its midsection. Right at the equivalent site of his corporeal puncture.

He punches so hard that the skin on his knuckle splits, but Nathan doesn’t stop. He throws punch after punch until his hands are scathed and bloodied, and a trail of spit hanging from the corner of his mouth. Until he hugs the bag - the closest thing he has to a warm body to hold - and slides down it, coming limply to his knees, wiping his face on his sleeve.

He stays there, dead eyed and still for some time, the pain in his hands raw and singing. Unpleasant, but better. Better than what he was feeling, and worse all at once.

He considers his tired, cumbersome body, and contemplates remaking the world one more time. Uploading his mind into a machine or some shit, so that he doesn’t have to contend with the fragility and failings of his own existence.

He stays there, until some motion in the interior of the compound causes the light and shadows to dance differently over him, and he looks up to see your figure there, cast in a soft halo of yellowed light.

He tips his head up slightly, opening his mouth as though he might cry out to you for help, but no sound comes out - only a thin, dry croak.

So, instead, Nathan watches you for a moment, moving seamlessly around his kitchen as though it is your own. Maybe it is - more yours than his now.

Observing you like this, through the tall, cinematic windows, it is as though he peers in on another world entirely. Something less resembling a nightmare.

Lighter than that. Something more like a good dream, albeit a good dream that Nathan cannot be part of. One he can only ever watch, from the outside looking in, always fated as he is to be on the other side of the glass.

Truth be told, you haunt him too. You represent everything he could have and yet doesn’t deserve.

You appear in his nightmares and his dreams, in various terrifying and beautiful incarnations. Many variations of which his therapist would have a field day with, he’s sure - or, she would, if he’d ever fucking call her.

When you first arrived here, he was plagued by grotesque visions of you. Grotesque visions of the skin being peeled back from your body. Sometimes, circuitry beneath, and other times, muscle and bone. Sometimes, Ava’s face was buried beneath the chilling slip of your fleshy mask.

Sometimes it is a better dream. Sometimes you save him. Sometimes he saves you.

Sometimes it is a good dream. Ava isn’t there at all. But the good dreams never seem to last for long.

Sometimes you kill him, and sometimes...

The glass door slides open.

“Reenacting your own death again, are you?” you tease, though not unkindly, interrupting the spiral of Nathan’s incessant thoughts.

A lump forming instantly in his throat, Nathan swallows thickly, and looks up at you helplessly with a thin, joyless smile. He snorts as though it’s funny, but it really isn’t. “Over and fucking over.”

You nod once, and, without hesitation, you extend your hand towards him. Your gaze cuts through him as you search his face and he feels suddenly see-through, as if he’s about to be hit with some Shyamalan-esque twist. Was he the ghost all along? Did he die here after all?

If so, is this purgatory because Ava is here too, or heaven, because you are?

Christ. So fucking schmaltzy, Bateman.

After hesitating, Nathan takes your hand and you yank him to his feet, drawing him inside, through the looking glass.

The room seems warm on the other side. It feels… safe.

“What happened?” you ask, as you look down at your joined hands, your thumb painting a smear of red across his split knuckles.

You mean now. What happened now, but Nathan’s mind harks back further than that. In his mind, everything is connected. Every thing threaded to another. This one smear of blood to that weeping flower of red.

The thought -the thoughts, all of them- halt him in place, his feet firmly planting on the ground. Nathan’s hand clenches tightly around yours as though it is a lifeline, as he is cast adrift on this familiar crimson tide, his face growing increasingly angular and stern.

“She...” He swallows, unable to complete that precise thought, his eyes dropping down to his feet.

You turn your body towards Nathan as he croaks, still not letting go.

Your eyes flitting around his face, attempting to search his eyes, you tentatively step closer, sliding your palms slowly over his tense shoulders, feeling them rise with an uneven, stuttered breath as you do so.

He’s so tired. He’s so very, very tired.

And it happens all at once on the exhale.

Suddenly, your arms are tugging him closer, and his face is contorting as a violent smattering of tears beads in his long lashes. You are encasing his body in your embrace and rubbing circles into his back as his buzzed head sags all too willingly toward the junction of your shoulder, your fingers splaying along the smooth flesh at the nape of his neck and pads dancing over the gentle prickle of his hair. You are shushing and soothing and reassuring and squeezing and smoothing and cradling and Nathan can feel it. Can feel his heart race in his chest and…

Finally.

Finally, his heart is not pounding because he is reliving his death.

It is pounding because he feels alive again.

When was the last time he cried, even? The last time someone really hugged him? He doesn’t remember the last time. The serendipitous combination of Nathan willing to be vulnerable, and another being willing to hold space for his pain is an all too rare thing.

There’s a reason -or several - he’s so emotionally constipated, after all.

Fuck. I’m taking a huge emotional shit right now.

Nathan remains in the welcome circumference of your arms longer than is strictly necessary - until the tear trails over the bridge of his nose begin to feel cloying. Until his breaths steady, and until his thoughts and ego creep back in. Until he notices the way his hands are clasped at your waist like claws, fingers sinking into your softness, and he thinks to release you.

Then, he leans away, a weight on his brow making his expression stern.

He waits for you to judge him, another swallow trailing thickly down his throat.

However, your eyes are kind and level, dancing with soft concern. Not with judgement or satisfaction or pity, or with anything he fears.

It is refreshing not to feel so afraid.

Finally.

“She…” Nathan begins again, finally finding courage. All at once his eyebrows shoot up towards his hairline. “She fucking stabbed me.”

You take his words in. You listen.

His “reveal” is simple. Plain and factual. A little indignant. Kinda salty. It’s not overly emotional, or articulate.

But it is enough.

Your eyes narrow, and you nod slowly, trying to understand the true meaning beneath his words.

You even reach up to cup Nathan’s face, his springy beard a cushion beneath your gentle palm as you hold him. “Yeah, genius,” you tease, with a tentative, lopsided smile, dropping your arm all too suddenly, perhaps as you catch yourself. “I got that from context.”

In response, Nathan chucks air from between his teeth, bringing his hand up to comb through his beard - perhaps to obscure his involuntary smile, or perhaps chasing your tender touch, the impression of it left warm on his cheek.

As he brings his hand up, your brows draw together, and you hook his bloodied paw delicately in yours, examining the wound, and leading him gingerly across to the couch as though his whole being might be hurting along with it.

It is.

You order him to stay put while you fetch the first aid kit, and then, in stages, Nathan watches you with fascination as you painstakingly clean and tend to his wounds, without ever being asked to.

He watches you carefully swipe the angry red away from his skin, and, to his overactive mind, it’s all connected. This red is one and the same with the flower of blooming red from The Incident.

Ava hurt him then, and she is hurting him now too.

And you…

“Going to tell the board about this?” Nathan asks, his voice weak and scuffed.

You search his eyes, holding your words back for a moment before answering. Then, you launch them on a big breath. “Fuck the board, Nathan. I told those assholes to stick it.”

Nathan blinks in confusion, shaking his head, his hand flourishing emphatically through the air. “Then… what the fuck are you still doing in my house?”

“Well. I’m… here for you,” you admit, sucking in air through your teeth, your voice shrinking. “If you want that.”

Well, that’s news to him.

Welcome news, perhaps?

You’re not watching him at all, are you? Not observing. Not asking him to evidence his humanity. Not waiting to see whether he fucks up or proves himself.

Instead, you’re seeing him. You’re seeing him and you’re not running.

Nathan had begun to think that maybe he was the nightmare. He’d begun to think he might always be haunted.

Always alone. That he might die that way; again.

And now, here you are.

Nathan thinks about that. He could so easily revert to his old ways, in this moment. Of pride and ego and stubborn independence.

But, perhaps those assholes from the board got a few things right - he’ll admit.

Maybe he had been in isolation too long. Maybe he didn’t need to take “tortured genius” quite so literally.

And so, Nathan almost protests. Almost rejects your presence and your comfort and pushes you away. But the truth is, he’s just so… tired. He’s had so many nightmares, and this time, he’d like to be on the other side of the glass. He’d like to step into that dream.

Nathan takes a deep breath, and releases on the exhale. Releases more than air.

He slowly, ever so slowly, shifts towards you on the couch, angling his body until he can safely dip his head towards your lap, his nose pointed in towards your abdomen and his knees curling around you.

“Th.. this okay?” he asks weakly.

You throw your splayed hands up into the air in surprise as the weight of Nathan settles there, but as he curls his arms around your middle and shuffles closer, you ease into it. You snake your fingers in intricate caresses over his head and neck and shoulders.

“Yeah, Nathan. This is okay,” you soothe gently, voice taut with emotion.

You comfort him.

And finally, Nathan does not need to peel your skin back to know what’s underneath.

He knows you’re not a robot, and that, as your kind touch finds him corporeal, that he is not a ghost.

He closes his eyes. And this time, when he next wakes, he knows that whether the dream is bad or better or good, it doesn’t matter. Because you will be there with him.

He wants you with him.

It’s not at all natural to him, to have you around. For the longest time, he didn’t like it. It didn’t come instinctually, and he has formed no familiar habits.

It isn’t easy - he doesn’t make it easy.

But he wants it to be.

And, in your arms, he can finally dream that it will all work out. What’s more; he can dream he deserves it, too.

#Nathan Bateman #Nathan Bateman x reader #Oscar Isaac #ex machina

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high-functioning-lokipath · 3 years

Text

SH - Sherlock x Depressed!Reader - With a Little Help from My Friends - Words: 2,793

IMPORTANT A/N - PLEASE READ: As stated in the title, this story contains discussions of depression. There is mention of suicidal thought and self-harm. I personally don't think it's too intense in it's descriptions HOWEVER!!! If this will trigger you, for your own health and safety please do not read. My messages are always open if you'd like to talk. I wrote this partially based on my own feelings so I can understand to at least a degree. You're amazing and I love you all. As far as this story goes, just remember: it has a happy, very fluffy ending but it doesn't start that way. I hope you enjoy it, feel free to leave a comment!

Brief Backstory: Reader is friends with John and Sherlock. She is a nurse who works with John. The three met shortly after Sherlock came back. Sherlock and Reader have crushes on each other but won't admit to it. I think the story explains everything else.

"Y/N, I'm going to be honest," John said, putting his hand on your shoulder comfortingly. "I may have PTSD but I cannot fully put myself in your shoes. My depression is different than yours." You had called your best friend, John Watson, in a mild panic. You had been feeling depressed for some time, as he knew, but that day had been especially bad. There was no particular reason but your depression had gotten so intense that you knew you needed help to get past this particular wave. John invited you over to 221B, assuring you that his flatmate would be out for the next couple of hours. "As a doctor, I am going to prescribe you some medication. Lowest dose possible and only because I want to help you get some immediate relief but I know you do not want them to become permanent. Let's work on finding another solution for you, ok?"

"I don't know, John," you replied. You'd asked John to be your Doctor since you didn't go to one regularly and he didn't mind your irregular checkups. "I've tried just about everything. The only outlet that seems to help is writing and even then," you trailed off, trying not to cry again. "This feeling just won't go away and I don't even know why it's there in the first place. I just want it to stop."

"I think you should talk to Sherlock."

"What?" You squeaked. "Why in the world would I talk to Sherlock?"

"I can't tell you why, Y/N. As both your Doctor and Sherlock's, I have to respect certain amounts of patient confidentiality. However, as your friend, I think you should talk to him."

"I don't know."

"Trust me," He replied. Smirking slightly, he added, "Doctor's orders."

"Ok, John," you chuckled. He smiled and hugged you. "Thanks."

"Now how about we go and fill this prescription and then maybe get some ice cream?"

"Well, honestly," you sighed. "The ice cream sounds great but I didn't sleep well last night. I was actually wondering if I could just take a nap here for a bit. I sleep better here sometimes." You blushed but John nodded understandingly.

"Of course," He replied. "I'll run down to the drugstore and fill this for you. Meanwhile you get some rest. I'll let Sherlock know you're here just in case he ends up getting back before I do. Will you be ok by yourself?"

"Yeah," You smiled. "This is a safe space for me. I'll go grab a blanket. Thanks again."

"Don't mention it. Just remember, talk to him."

"I'll try."

About 15 minutes later, Sherlock arrived back at the flat. He'd gotten John's texts.

John: If you get home in the next 45 minutes, be quiet. Y/N is over and she's taking a nap. I have to run out for something.

Sherlock: Is everything ok? - SH

John: She said she had a bad night.

Sherlock: She must have had a reason to come over in the first place though. - SH

John: She's going to need to tell you that herself. Don't ask. Do you understand me? Let her tell you. Be nice, ok?

Sherlock: When am I not nice to Y/N? - SH

John: Ok, that is true. You like her too much to be rude to her. If you could just hold back your deductions for one second I will say this: you two have more in common than you think.

He hurried home, not to wake you up of course, but because he wanted to see you. If there was something seriously wrong, he wanted to try and brace himself for it first. He couldn't help the smile playing at the corner of his lips when he thought of you. You two were good friends, that much was obvious to everyone. But Sherlock could see the potential for something more. He liked you a lot. You were just as smart, sassy, and sarcastic as he was. But you also could be extremely kind and caring to others and especially to him. He still didn't quite understand why you cared for him so but he was grateful. Before he could dwell on that too much longer, he arrived at 221B.

He quietly slipped inside and smiled at what he saw. You were curled up on the couch, sleeping like a baby. Apparently, though, you'd kicked off the blanket you had grabbed. Instead of picking up the blanket, he decided to take off his long coat and carefully lay that over you. You quickly cuddled into the warm fabric, unconsciously taking a deep breath, inhaling his unique signature left behind on the coat. Satisfied with what he'd done, he took off his suit jacket and went to the kitchen to prepare some tea for when you woke up. He knew you had a favorite tea and, unless John moved it or drank it all, there still would be some in the cupboard.

You woke to the smell of your favorite tea and a hushed exclamation from the kitchen. Opening your eyes slowly you saw Sherlock in at the counter trying to set up a tray with the teapot and cups. Recognizing your surroundings a bit more, you realized what was on top of you. Sherlock was just about to bring out the tray but you decided to pretend you were still asleep. The chances of fooling the Detective were low, but you wanted to try.

"There," He whispered to himself, setting the tray on the coffee table. You could hear him settling down on his chair, likely getting into his 'palace pose' as you called it. For a moment you were happy. You had actually gotten some quality sleep, you were currently cuddled up in Sherlock's famous coat and Sherlock had even made you tea. But that feeling quickly faded. Tears threatened to spill out of your still closed eyes as self-deprecating thoughts filled your mind.

'John probably told him to make me tea. He probably covered me with his coat so I wasn't as much of a distraction. He doesn't want me here. He never does. Why does he even tolerate my presence? He probably wishes we'd never met,' You thought. Your mind was going a million miles an hour and gaining. Without your notice, the tears began rolling down your cheeks and quiet sobs escaped your lips.

"Y/N?" Sherlock whispered. You're eyes shot open. You hadn't heard him get up. Now he was kneeling right next to you, one hand hovering over your arm. "Are you ok?"

"Oh, Sherlock!" You cried. "I-I wish I knew."

"C'mere," he said, motioning for you to sit up. Once you did so, he pulled you into a tight hug.

"What's this for?"

"You always give me and John a hug when you see us. You haven't done so for the past 5 days. I-" he paused briefly before lowering his voice and continuing. "I missed it."

"Oh." You weren't quite sure how to reply to that. You leaned into his embrace, letting yourself get lost in the moment.

"Y/N? Is there something I can do to help?"

"How much did John tell you?" You asked. You wouldn't have been mad exactly if John had told Sherlock to talk to you, but you wanted to think Sherlock was reaching out on his own.

"He told me you had a bad night."

"That's all?" You asked, surprised. You pulled away slightly and stared into his eyes. Sherlock nodded, frowning slightly as he tried to deduce you.

"Why are you afraid to talk to me?" You turned away, embarrassed and unsure what to say. "Be honest."

"I don't want you to make fun of me. I have-" You took a deep breath, steeling your nerves and preparing to just jump right in. "I have been extremely depressed lately and I didn't want to hear another speech about how all I need to do is exercise and eat right and stop thinking about sad things. Well you know what? I can't stop it! I can't help it if I feel like a useless pile of trash that should be thrown in the bin and burned." By the time you finished your little tirade, you'd gotten up and started pacing the floor. Then you turned and faced Sherlock. His expression was neutral but there was an obvious sadness in his eyes, one you didn't expect to see. It wasn't of pity. If you had seen that you also would have given up on the conversation. No, it was almost an understanding, an empathy. His eyes were actually glistening with tears.

"Have you ever felt like," he paused, voice unsteady. "Like giving up?" He whispered, unable to hold eye contact. You nodded silently. He got up slowly and walked towards you. At first, you thought he would hug you again but then he started unbuttoning his shirt.

"Uh, Sherlock?"

"Just wait a moment. I want to show you something." He carefully shrugged off the purple shirt that you, admittedly, loved so much and tossed it on the chair. "Only one person knows about this. You will be the second. You remember I told you about Moriarty's network?"

"Yes, the day we met. I asked you about your work, a simple question. And I got an answer that lasted 3 hours." Sherlock chuckled dryly.

"Yeah, sorry about that."

"Oh, no. Please don't apologise. I-" You sighed, rubbing your forehead. "I tend to make jokes when I'm nervous."

"I know." He smiled at you with, yet again, a completely unreadable expression. "You remember though." You nodded, opting to stay silent as he explained. "Well, those 2 years dismantling his network weren't easy. Not physically and certainly not emotionally. As a result of the different missions, I received many wounds on my body in various locations. I was," He paused, took a deep breath, and closed his eyes. "I was depressed, guilt-stricken and suicidal. I figured I had hurt my friends enough. If they thought I was dead maybe I should just go on with it."

"What changed your mind?"

"I didn't want to do it on a mission. I wanted to see home again one more time. So to temporarily relieve the pain I," He sighed. Well, I wouldn't let my wounds heal. I'd pick at them. Mycroft finally convinced me to come back officially because he needed my help. I never told him about this. I think he knows but we don't discuss it." He looked down, obviously embarrassed and feeling more emotionally naked than physically. "You can look," he said. It was as if he'd read your mind. You were trying to be respectful and not stare but you realized that's what he wanted to show you. You had, on occasion, seen him shirtless before but you had never realized how bad some of the scars were.

"Sherlock, I-I don't know what to say. I-" You were completely shocked. Not offended. But actually comforted that he understood you. "Thank you," You finally said.

"Actually I wanted to thank you. I didn't just show you this to prove that I understand your feelings." You looked at him confused. "The day we met. You were leaving work, correct?" You nodded.

"It had been my first day there. John had been happy with my work and requested that I stay assigned to his office permanently. John had already finished up and headed home but there was some paperwork I had to finish so I was leaving about an hour late. Come to think of it, John said he had plans with you that evening. Why were you there?"

"That's what I wanted to tell you. I met you less than a month after I came back. I had still been quite depressed so I was still picking at my injuries. That day had been a bad day for me. So I cancelled my plans with John and I decided to go back to where I started this whole mess and finish it."

"Wait, are you telling me that-"

"You saved my life." Sherlock took one of your hands in his own and held it tightly. "I had memorized the work schedules of most everyone there and knew how to slip in unnoticed."

"But you didn't factor in me."

"Correct. When I ran into you, quite literally in fact, as I was entering the building, I was surprised. Not just by your presence but by what I deduced about you. You intrigued me. I had to find out more about you so I invited you to have a cup of coffee with me."

"Which turned into dinner." Sherlock nodded. "And since you were so intrigued by me, you forgot all about that."

"In a manner of speaking. You weren't a cure-all, mind you. You helped, though, by giving me a new mystery to investigate: you. That night, when I got home, I told John everything. He helped me too and when I mentioned you he couldn't stop singing your praises. He is very proud of you and your work you know."

"Yeah, I guess so," You replied, a little embarrassed. "Thank you, Sherlock. I'm sorry that you went through all that, but, I'm glad I have someone who understands. And I'm glad you're here to help me."

"Me too, Y/N. Me too," He replied.

"Can I, um, can I have another hug?" You asked, blushing and smiling. Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"If you must," He sighed, holding his arms out. Any other day, you would have thought he genuinely didn't want personal contact. But today you realized he was simply teasing. You wrapped your arms around his waist and leaned your head on his chest. You felt him relax as he leaned forward a little to cocoon you in his arms. "I care about you, Y/N. I don't care about many people but you mean so much to me. I-" You looked up at him and pressed a finger to his lips to quiet him.

"You don't have to say it, Sherlock. I know." He smiled and looked somewhat relieved. You knew he wasn't good with feelings and that was fine with you. "I love you too."

"I wanted to be the first one to say that," He pouted. You chuckled softly and booped his nose.

"You already have." He smiled and kissed your forehead lightly.

"I know this won't fix everything right away. I know you'll still have bad days. But I wanted you to know you could come to me too."

"I know. Thank you again, Sherlock." At that moment, John walked in with a bag from the store.

"Oh, hello!" He chirped, happy to see you hadn't gotten into a yelling match. Then he noticed Sherlock's shirt, or rather, lack thereof. "So, uh," He stuttered, unsure of what to say. "What should I do with this?"

"First of all, thank you, John, for giving me the guts to talk to him about this. And second, I think I'll give it a try. You know, to try and prevent a really bad day when you guys aren't available or if talking still isn't enough. But for today I think I'll be alright," You said, turning to John with a smile.

"Well, I'm glad. So did you just talk about that or did he finally tell you that he's had the biggest schoolboy crush on you from the moment he met you?"

"John!" Sherlock yelled. You laughed loudly.

"Not in those words exactly, John," You replied. "Don't worry," You added, turning to Sherlock and ruffling his curls. "Your secret's safe with me."

"Good. Now if you don't mind, I need your input on this case."

"Me?" You asked, quite surprised.

"Yes," He said as if it was obvious. "You're a woman after all!"

"And that is important because?"

"The killer was a woman obviously but I can't understand why she would do it!" The two of you went off into your own little world, completely ignoring John as he cooked dinner.

John: Ok, mates, get your tuxs out. Won't be long now.

Greg: He finally proposed? 😀

John: Not yet, give it a week.

Mycroft: John, you forget I monitor his spending habits.

John: And?

Mycroft: He's had a ring purchased for some time now.

Greg: 3 days tops.💍

Mycroft: I would estimate about 3 days as well, Detective Inspector.

Greg: We're in a Group Text. Talking about our friend like a bunch of teenage girls at a slumber party. I think you can call me Greg.

Mycroft: If I must.

John: So, girls, will you help me make the plans?

Mycroft: Of course. He is blood after all.

Greg: Count me in! Wouldn't miss it! 🕵️👰

Sherlock BBC Taglist

@lucywrites02

@delightfulheartdream

@bartv21

@another-crazy-fangirl

@ladylulu143

@gaitwae

@for-hearthand-home

#sherlock #sherlock bbc #sherlock imagine #sherlock fanfic #sherlock x reader #sherlock x y/n #sherlock oneshot #depression #ptsd #mentions of torture #self harm discussion #potentially triggering #trigger warning #TW #anxiety #good friends #john watson #mycroft holmes #greg lestrade

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shemarmooresfedora · 3 years

Text

Collision Course

Summary: You and Spencer were just bound to collide. Only fate could plan a first meeting that unique.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Content/Warnings: fluff, minor car crash (no serious injuries), swearing, sexual harassment (specifically cat-calling from a stranger), mentions of eating a lot of food, implied allusion to sex (not specifically stated)

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: this is my one-shot entry for @ellesgreenaway ‘s 1k follower celebration! congratulations! <3 i’ve had this fic in my drive for a while but i never got around to finishing it until now

Masterlist

The metro was down for scheduled repairs today. JJ offered to bring Spencer in but he politely declined. He figured he should drive his car at least every once and a while so it doesn’t just collect rust in his parking spot.

Leaving his apartment 15 minutes earlier than he normally would to account for his rather slow driving, Spencer cautiously reversed out of his space.

He sighed in relief that he had not hit the neighboring cars. Spencer began to pull out of the parking garage. Unfortunately, he was so relieved from his little victory that he forgot to check both ways when he drove out of the parking garage.

Spencer slammed on the brakes but it was too late. He hit a young woman jogging and knocked her to the ground. Luckily, his average speed was that of a snail so he hoped her injuries were not too bad.

Spencer put the car in park and got out, “Oh god, oh god, oh god. Are you okay, miss?”

“I think so,” you were on the ground, assessing your body for any damage.

“Can you stand?” Spencer extended his hand to help you up.

You carefully stood, wincing a little when you put pressure on your left ankle.

“Is there anyone I can call? Do you want me to drive you to the ER?” Spencer frantically asked.

Your eyes widened, “No!” you stated a little too loudly, “Um I mean no thank you. I should finish my run anyways. I have a 5k for Alzheimer’s research coming up and I need to run or else I don’t raise any money,” you politely waved and took off again, much slower this time.

Spencer cringed as he watched you limp slightly every time you stepped on your left ankle, knowing it was his fault you were in pain. He sighed and pulled out his phone.

“Hey JJ, have you left yet? I need a ride, I’ll explain in the car.”

“Pretty Boy, how was your drive in?” Derek asked as soon as Spencer stepped off the elevator with JJ.

“I got about 20 feet and then hit someone with my car and had to call JJ so not great,” he admitted.

“Boy Wonder, you did WHAT? Are they okay?” Penelope gasped.

“She insisted she was fine but then she was limping away. I offered her a ride but she didn’t seem too keen on getting in a car with me,” Spencer explained.

“I wonder why,” Emily chuckled.

So there Spencer was. In the park in his only pair of short athletic shorts and a hoodie.

He had asked Penelope to sign him up for the 5k as a way to sort of make it up to the woman he hit. Plus, obviously it was for a good cause that was near and dear to his heart because of his mother.

Spencer had to take a lot of water breaks, periodically stopping to walk for a bit.

In the distance, he saw you on a bench and he suddenly felt the energy again to continue running to you. As he approached, he saw you tightening an ankle brace around your left foot and to make matters worse, you had a wrist brace as well.

Spencer considered just leaving you alone but he felt the need to apologize.

“H-Hello,” he awkwardly sputtered.

“Oh, hi,” you replied.

“I am so so sorry. Please let me pay your medical bills and any other expenses that I caused,” Spencer apologized.

“Unless you meant to hit me then it’s fine,” you stood from the bench.

“I definitely didn’t and I wasn’t on my phone or anything like that. I just barely ever drive but the metro was down today,” Spencer explained.

“You don’t have to pay my medical bills. I’m friends with a nurse so she did this for free. However, I would allow you to sponsor me for the 5k,” you answered.

“Absolutely,” Spencer nodded, “And funny story, you inspired me to register as well. I got everyone in my office to sponsor me.”

“That’s so great! The money is certainly going to a good cause.”

Spencer saw you smile for the first time since he met you.

“I’ve never been much of an athlete though. I barely passed my fitness test for work,” Spencer admitted.

“What kind of job has a fitness test?” you asked.

“I work for the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI,” Spencer stated.

“Oh shit, you’re a federal agent? Maybe I will sue you and make bank,” you grinned.

Spencer’s face reddened.

“It was just a joke. You can laugh, then that means the incident is in the past and no hard feelings,” you smiled, “I’m Y/N.”

“Spencer.”

“Well, Spencer, if you ever need a running buddy, I’m more than happy to come along seeing as we both are training for the same thing. But I do have to warn you, this brace is kind of a bitch so I’m a little slower than normal.”

“I can assure you that you will probably still be faster than me with the brace on so maybe it was a good thing for me that I hit you with my car so you won’t be miles ahead,” Spencer grinned.

You laughed wholeheartedly, “See, Spencer! I’m laughing about it so no hard feelings, all is forgiven.”

“I’m just finishing up for the day but I was planning on being here again on Wednesday at the same time if you want to meet at this bench,” you offered.

“Yeah, I can do that,” Spencer nodded.

“See you around, Spencer. Hopefully not in your car though,” you winked and waved.

“Oh god, you’ve fallen in love with the chick you almost killed,” Derek groaned.

“Not love...well, yet anyways. She’s so pretty and easy to talk to and isn’t mean to me after everything that has happened and her laugh is like honey,” Spencer smiled softly, recalling the sound in his mind.

“Okay, lover boy,” Penelope giggled, “Did you get her number?”

“No but we’re meeting for a run tomorrow. We actually met at the park when I was training,” Spencer said.

“So she’s seen you in those short shorts and agreed to another meeting? Maybe you do have a chance, kid, cause you really put it all out there,” Derek smirked.

“Speaking of, I actually need to get more of them,” Spencer sipped his coffee.

“Just go all the way and get spandex. Leave nothing to the imagination,” Derek chuckled as Spencer rolled his eyes.

“Jesus, I’m going to have to hit your right leg this time if I’m going to have any chance of keeping up with you,” Spencer huffed as he bent over his knees to catch his breath.

“Well good news is that was four miles so you definitely will be able to run a 5k because it’s only 3.1 miles,” you encouraged him.

“Technically, it’s 3.10686 miles but I see your point,” Spencer heaved.

“I know a really good smoothie place nearby. Come on, it’s on me,” you grabbed his hand.

Luckily, Spencer’s face was already red from exercising so you weren’t able to see the blush that formed on his cheeks.

“No, it’s definitely on me. I know you said we’re fine but I am forever going to be indebted to you because of the incident.”

“Spencer, really just forget about it,” you assured him.

“I can’t, I have an eidetic memory,” he grinned.

“Ah, I see. Fine, you buy me one smoothie but then we’re even,” you conceded.

You were walking down the street to the cafe when you heard a whistle come from one of the cars driving by.

“Damn, your ass is looking sexy in those leggings,” a man hollered from his passing truck.

You flipped him off and tried to pull your shirt down as much as possible, crossing your arms tightly around your front.

Spencer unzipped his hoodie and extended it towards you, “Sorry, it’s a little sweaty but if you want to wear it, you can.”

You smiled softly and accepted the sweatshirt, feeling more comfortable now.

“I’ve got his license plate number memorized and I intend to file a police report. Unfortunately, reports like these usually don’t go very far but I’ll keep pushing it through. I’ll also call the company that was printed on the side of the truck and ask to speak to his supervisor,” Spencer spoke softly after a few minutes.

“Thanks, Spencer,” you leaned your head on his shoulder and sighed.

“You don’t have to thank me for that. I’m just doing what’s right. He had no right to make comments about your body,” Spencer said, wrapping a gentle arm around your upper waist.

“Welcome to Y/N’s carbo-loading extravaganza!” you opened the door of your apartment to let Spencer in.

“I brought dessert as requested,” Spencer held up a chocolate cake.

“I like how you think, Spencer. Dinner’s all ready,” you smiled.

“Spaghetti, meatballs, and crispy buttery garlic bread,” you pulled the bread out of the oven.

“Looks absolutely delicious,” he complimented.

“Eating carbohydrates before a race boosts the glycogen storage in your muscles allowing you to work out longer,” Spencer informed you.

“Interesting, I never knew the science behind it but I’m never going to complain about eating tons of pasta and bread,” you twirled some pasta on to your fork.

Halfway through the meal, Spencer accidentally got a sauce stain on his pale pink shirt.

“Oh no,” you said as he tried to dab it away.

“That needs to soak right away. I don’t want any casualties at the carbo-loading extravaganza. Give it to me to scrub and I’ll get you another shirt.”

Spencer unbuttoned his shirt and peeled it off. You gulped at the sight of him shirtless, grabbing the shirt and heading to your bathroom sink to scrub it with laundry detergent.

“You can just grab any t-shirt from my room that you think will fit,” you called out to him.

Spencer settled on a light gray shirt with a golden retriever on the front.

“Okay, the stain is out! It’s just soaking now-“ you immediately stopped talking as soon as you saw the shirt Spencer was wearing.

He noticed your eyes were beginning to glisten with tears, “I’m so sorry. I can pick a different shirt,” Spencer was already beginning to pull it over the top of his head.

“No it’s fine, Spencer. That’s just my grandma’s t-shirt. I forgot I even had it.”

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you,” he spoke guiltily.

“You didn’t know, besides it looks good on you anyways,” you smiled, “My grandma is the whole reason I’m running the 5k.”

“My mom has Alzheimer’s too so I understand that it’s extremely hard to watch a loved one go through that,” Spencer pulled you in for a hug.

You cried into his chest as he rubbed soothing circles on your back.

After Spencer hadn’t heard any sniffles in a while, he whispered, “Do you have any tea I can make you?”

You nodded and Spencer guided you to the couch, wrapping you in a blanket before turning the kettle on.

Spencer answered the cheerful knocking at his front door early in the morning.

“Race day! Are you ready?” you exclaimed.

“Ready as I’ll ever be, I guess,” Spencer smiled.

“I promise we are sticking together the whole time because it doesn’t matter how long it takes us as long as we finish,” you held up your pinky.

“Together,” Spencer affirmed, locking his pinky with yours.

The starting line in the park was only a short distance away from Spencer’s apartment so you and Spencer decided to walk there as a little warm-up.

You and Spencer were doing quad stretches when you saw his eyes wander to something behind you and then widen. His face immediately reddening.

“What?” you asked, turning around to see a group of people with a sign that read ‘Go Spencer and his girlfriend!’

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t expect them to do that,” Spencer stammered.

The poor boy was so flustered so you decided to take it easy on him.

“I don’t mind,” you shrugged with a slight smile.

“You don’t?” Spencer clarified, “I’m not very good with words or flirting in general but I would like to see you again after the race is over. Maybe I could take you out to dinner?”

“Yes but my only condition is...I’m driving,” you smirked.

“Oh, you’ll pay for that,” Spencer grinned.

An air horn sounded, signaling the start of the race.

“I think you’re going to have to catch me first, Dr. Reid,” you giggled as you sprinted ahead.

“It’s in sight, Spencer! We can do this!” you pointed to the finish line in the distance.

“Y/N, you’re going to have to carry me. I can’t,” Spencer heaved.

“If you finish this race, I will…” you cupped your hand to his ear and whispered something.

Spencer immediately perked up and started running again.

“Hey, wait up!” you laughed.

You and Spencer crossed the finish line at the same time. Spencer’s legs immediately gave out which caused you to fall too, collapsing on top of him.

“I know I’m really sweaty and gross right now but can I please kiss you?” Spencer whispered.

Your lips were pressed on his as soon as he finished his sentence. You honestly didn’t know how long you had been kissing for but you didn’t look up until you heard one of the race officials shout, “Hey lovebirds! That’s very sweet but other people are trying to cross the finish line.”

“Sorry!” you and Spencer apologized, scrambling to your feet.

“Not really,” Spencer whispered to you and you jabbed him in the side with your elbow playfully, stifling a laugh.

what slightly inspired this fic is one time @samuel-de-champagne-problems commented on one of my posts “i could never stay mad at spencer” and then i thought to myself “same. i couldn’t stay mad at him even if he hit me with his car” and now here we are... 🚙

taglist: (just ask to be added or removed!): @samuel-de-champagne-problems @g0lden-cth @spencerreid9 @averyhotchner @coldlilheart @k-k0129 @ickleronniekinsemotionalrange @harrystylesandthegoobs @cmily @jswessie187 @rem-ariiana @hoodpankow @mochionly

#spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid #cm fanfic #spencer x reader #reid x reader #dr spencer reid #spencer reid fic #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid x fem!reader #ellesgreenawaybookclub

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razorblade180 · 2 years

Text

Special class

Previous captain post <-

Keqing:Hu Tao, here. *hands clipboard*

Hu Tao:What’s this about? Is someone filing a complaint again? I haven’t even been advertising lately!

Keqing:No, this isn’t about your morbid sale tactics. You’re a captain here now. It would be wise to learn the strengths and weaknesses of everyone for future reference.

Hu Tao:*mild frown*….

Keqing:….Sigh….okay, I don’t expect you to learn everything, but you absolutely have to go around and talk to everyone I added a star to. They’re the special class.

Hu Tao:Oh? And what exactly makes them so special?

Keqing:They aren’t captains but they do such good work in various ways that they are allowed to create and lead teams when necessary.

Hu Tao:I didn’t even know that was a group.

Keqing:….You were in it.

Hu Tao:What!?

Keqing:Why else did you think we never stopped you from grabbing supports and heading into the abyss so many times?

Hu Tao:Because nobody questions a person offering to fight Maguu Kenki.

Keqing:Well…yeah. Point taken. Anyways, list isn’t long. Say hello, learn how they operate, move along. There’s always a good chance you’ll team up with at least one occasionally. You actually know a few.

Hu Tao:*reading* Oh, you’re right!

xxxx

Hu Tao:Hi Albedo! I didn’t know you were a special class.

Albedo:*drawing* Ah, Keqing has you going through the list. Yes, I can do what I want but rarely exercise the opportunity. I think of myself as a sort of…brace. I put myself around teams that are shaky or lacking in power. If for some reason Barbara has to fight, she has me to speed things along. Or how your blood blossoms activate inside my field.

Hu Tao:Guess I should be lucky you’re part of my main team. Anyone you lean towards.

Albedo:Not really, however, it’s a pleasure both you and Keqing value me so highly. I’ll be sure to continue to keep an eye out on where to add support.

xxxx

Hu Tao:Jean!!!!

Jean:Hello Hu Tao. Are we going to the abyss?

Hu Tao:Nope.

Jean:Thank goodness…

Hu Tao:Why aren’t you a captain? Your talents are really high even if your ratio isn’t perfect. I’ve seen you do everything.

Jean:That’s precisely why I like my position. I’ve saved you many time in the abyss, fought along side Chongyun, Diluc, bean the lead for Klee. I will be there for anyone who needs my help in any role. Though…corrosion has been rough. At least it’s given me an excuse to team up with Barbara in situations. It’s actually pretty effective. Outside of her, Kazuha, Sucrose, Mona,and Bennett are people I try to in corporate.

Hu Tao:So the Anemo knight leads the Anemo with unyielding crowd control while healing? If you ask me, that’s even more of a reason for you to be a captain, but I guess the others like the freedom of all those characters moving around.

Jean:Kinda like the wind itself.

Hu Tao:!Ohhh.

xxxxx

Hu Tao:…*looks at stats*

60/200

Hu Tao:So…you’re strong.

Rosaria:I try.

Hu Tao:You aren’t a captain because…?

Rosaria:Because then you’d see me walking around with a clipboard doing more work.

Hu Tao:Hehe, I see. Guess you’re no stranger to the questions then. Keqing left a note saying you’re flexible.

Rosaria:All the captains usually take the best they need for whatever they’re doing, meaning there’s a lot of us on standby or even benched at times. I wouldn’t say I enjoy working together but I’m more than capable. I’ve made many teams. Razor, Xingqui, Ei, Fischl, Kokomi, Sucrose, Diona, Aether, you name it. I think I’ve actually worked with the most people here. I remember a few team ups with you awhile ago. Kaeya thinks it’s funny to call me the “unofficial captain” Frankly I wouldn’t say I possess the same level of quality you and the others have.

Hu Tao:It says you’ve lead teams in the abyss before.

Rosaria:Not by choice, but when Jean says you’re the own perfect for the job, saying no is difficult. If you need my a list of the usual, Ei, Sucrose and Barbara.

xxxxx

Hu Tao:Hey it’s the boyfriend.

Kazuha:Hey it’s the best friend. Yoimiya talks a lot about you.

Hu Tao:Not as much as she mentions you I bet. I should’ve known you were special class. I hear stories about you.

Kazuha:*smiles* I try to please. I should really thank Aether. I’m wearing his set so I came here ready for action. Pretty sure he did it to save Sucrose.

Hu Tao:That makes sense. Poor girl would’ve been devastated. So, what’s your story?

Kazuha:Nothing too spectacular. I just like making things convenient. With some teams everything is easier if I spread out one element. For others it’s the same as Sucrose. I make sure it’s almost impossible to miss.

Hu Tao:Guess you and Jean have things in common.

Kazuha:It’s rare I make teams, but it’s enjoyable having Bennett. I never imagined what it was like to wield flames, but with him I don’t have to. If it comes down to it I can protect everyone easily with him in my corner. Most days though if I’m not with Keqing, I’ll be waiting to see who might need me. I’m a little biased to the other Anemo users and Barbara.

xxxxx

Mona:I was wondering when Keqing would force you to do your rounds. It’s been awhile. You’re so strong now.

Hu Tao:And you are constellation four with a crown. I was told you rejected being a captain?

Mona:*makes omen* Haven’t gotten the endurance for it. A good captain takes center stage with their team helping. One bad hit and I’m worse for wear. Still…

Omen explodes for 50k

Mona:Darn, no crit. Anyways you get the idea. I’ll gladly be the power and diversion needed but you know that. That Maguu Kenki is a frightening thing; especially when there’s three. However, I’m no stranger to leading. Zhongli, Kazuha, and Bennett are real sweethearts.

Hu Tao:That’s more high maintenance than me!

Mona:Which is why it’s best I don’t become a captain. Even if I did, I’d probably pick Fischl like I do now. That girl always gets so excited and is perfect for my pace. That’s the beauty of people like her Beidou for most catalyst users. We don’t miss or have to charge forward.

Hu Tao:Charging is cool

Mona:Until you ruin the soles of your shoes from sliding. To expensive. It’s more rewarding having Chongyun and Yoimiya recommend me, or when Jean asks me to join the other Anemo users. My job is simple, make up the difference in strength; give them the edge they need to turn a struggle into a wipeout. *hands on hips* when in doubt, never doubt me.

xxxx

Hu Tao:Okay, so out of everyone I’ve talked to so far, besides Mona and Rosaria, your name was also in bold. Why-

165,000k!!!

Eula:Ugh, not nearly good enough!Curse these flimsy artifacts!

Hu Tao:(Flimsy!?) That…was a crit, right?

Eula:Unfortunately. I still have a long ways to go before I’m dependable enough. Mark my words, Aether will regret not making me a captain immediately. He’ll feel embarrassed once I protect everyone with ease.

Hu Tao:You know it’s been awhile since I’ve actually tracked my burst damage, but I’m sure you got me beat. That’s a heavy hit.

Eula:Heavy, but unreliable. Not to mention second to the astrologist. How a bubble can pop for 300k is beyond me.

Hu Tao:(You know, I take it back. That’s worth the high maintenance.) your talents are on par with Jeans, and your stats are better. Yet the stats are lower than Rosaria’s despite you having higher talents. Second strongest burst, how aren’t you a captain?

Eula:*red*…I might…bruise easily.

Hu Tao:But we have Ganyu as- she freezes. Darn, you are in the perfect spot of great but not spectacular.

Eula:*squints* Perhaps. No matter, Aether acknowledges my effort and put me in special class. If you need my preference, it’s Zhongli, The Shogun, and Barbara. We do good work and they never complain. Can’t really ask for more. Now if you excuse me, I have more training to do.

Hu Tao:You know it’s kinda funny… sure you aren’t perfect, but on paper you’re stronger than more than half the captains.

Eula:Hmph, comparing like that is meaningless. It doesn’t matter that I’m stronger than Amber or Yanfei. What got them their spots was how strong they became. After all, you got here before Yoimiya, yet you’re the new captain.

Hu Tao:That’s true. Never really saw it like that. Guess we all hit our strides differently. Good luck then, I’ll show you the ropes when you get your seat.

Eula:Hmph! Cheeky, aren’t we? Must be a pyro thing.

xxxx

Diluc:…

Hu Tao:…Ummm

Diluc:I work with just about any pyro. Crowd control is helpful and so is Xingqui and Barbara. Simple as that.

Hu Tao:Figured as much. I’m just surprised is all. I hear your name often, heard the legends of your abilities. Yet you don’t really seem all that motivated.

Diluc:When I got here, you, Amber, Klee, and Yanfei were already around. Not to mention Xiangling has her own qualities; same with Xinyan. The need for a pyro was covered. I’ll train and gladly go into domains with Thoma, but I already know everything here is handled. I don’t need a title like certain people. Call me if you need me. Simple as that.

Hu Tao:Fair enough. Guess I got what I needed then. Oh! Can I ask for a request though?

Diluc turned around and swung his sword, sending a brilliant Phoenix flying off into the sunset.

Hu Tao:*smiling* Nice…

xxxx

Hu Tao:Okay, second to last one. How are you Kokomi?

Kokomi:I’m fine. I’ve seen you running around all over the teapot. Keqing already told me what to expect. Honestly I wasn’t sure if I was special class but I suspected as much after I asked to make a second team. Usually I have people asking for me which is humbling to say the least.

Hu Tao:You made two teams?

Kokomi:Yes. Aether helped me with the first when I arrived. The Shogun, Xingqui, and Beidou. I call it Team Jellyfish. Apparently he had gotten the idea while yelling at Childe. I must admit it’s perfect in rotation. The next team was all me. I call it Stingray. Imagine my surprise to find out Mondstadt had its own canine warrior? I personally built him up then asked Rosaria and Sucrose to join.

Hu Tao:…Whose the main attacker?

Kokomi:That’s the beauty, we’re all attacking fairly evenly. All the reactions and the control of the area means enemies have no choice but to perish in place. *smiles*

Hu Tao:…You’re an aggressive healer.

Kokomi:All healers are a little aggressive. Doesn’t Qiqi encourage nonstop attacking. Sayu hurts and heals repeatedly and Diona enables people to charge in faster. Even you hurt people while healing yourself.

Hu Tao:Wow, never really thought about it. Even Jean is aggressive now that I think about it.

Kokomi:Anyways, I’m thankful for the opportunities here. I wasn’t sure I’d fit in but even Ganyu recommends me and Yoimiya loves me unconditionally. I’ve fought alongside so many unique individuals. I couldn’t be happier. I doubt a captain seat is in my future, but if they think I should have a seat, then I’ll gladly continue to do my part.

Hu Tao:…*pats head*

Kokomi:*red*!!!!??

xxxx

Hu Tao:Last but not least, you. Almost everyone on this list has mentioned you.

Barbara:Really? I’m a little shocked. Then again…I have been around since the beginning. Honestly it’s the only reason I’m in this group. I never actually make a team. I just know when I can make the difference.

Hu Tao:I think you’re selling yourself a little short. You are apart of Keqing’s dream team. Not to mention you’re still top pick in the exploration team. Chongyun also mentions all the adventures you used to go on together.

Barbara:*smiles* That feels like forever ago. That really takes me back. It’s funny to think how things have changed. Chongyun, Aether, Amber, and myself. The four of us exploring everything. Even as people tagged along, I was the healer at everyone’s side. Hehe, I remember all the times I was brought to fight the Oceanid with Lisa and Fischl.

Hu Tao:Excuse me?

Barbara:Like I said, I was basically the only healer. It was pretty exhausting if I’m being honest. Especially when certain people sacrifice health.

Hu Tao:Hehehe…sorry. We have had a few funny moments together haven’t we?

Barbara:As much as I fussed with everyone being reckless, I won’t lie when I say it felt weird when Kokomi first showed up. I finally had time to rest. Being benched was okay. Then…it was lonely, just me and a years worth of funny memories and feats I never imagined. I don’t get as many these days.

Hu Tao:…

Barbara:……!? Oh, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to bring the mood down.

Hu Tao:It’s fine. Honestly…a few people I talked to gave of a similar feeling. I noticed several of their picks were people I wouldn’t have guessed. Actually, looking back I remember when Chongyun took the two of us and Xinyan on adventures. We were a mismatched team, yet we did good work.

Barbara:I probably don’t have to tell you this, but Chongyun, Klee, Keqing, and Amber specifically never really stop thinking about unusual teams; not that the other captains don’t. I think they see how some of us get antsy or feel left out. Rosaria complains but I’ve noticed she always makes it a point to talk fight alongside people like Fischl. Albedo asks Noelle and Chongyun is quick to bring Diona places. I don’t think anyone asks Lisa to join besides Klee.

Hu Tao:Now that you mention it, I hear the only person who frequently asks Aether to join is Yanfei.

Barbara:He used to do a lot. I thought he never stop. Then Kazuha showed up and slowly but surely, he’s been seeing others off more than coming back with a wild story about falling into a boss fight. Our last adventure together was the Archipelago. I bet he’s ready to learn dendro. Anyways, I talk too much. I can’t really give you a list of people I like paring with. I like everyone and work with them. It’s much easier now that Kokomi gave me a clam set. Guess me and the bench don’t get along as well as I thought. *smiles*

Hu Tao:Take it from me, sometimes I wish you were around to revive me.

Barbara:Stop rushing in!

Hu Tao:It’s in my nature! Oh well, I’ll see you later okay?

Barbara:Kay. Oh, on more thing! Now that you’re a captain, have fun with it.

Hu Tao:I intend to do just that. See ya!

xxxx

Hu Tao:*sitting* Hmmmmm…

Keqing:Hey. Finished?

Hu Tao:Yep. Anything else?

Keqing:I think I’ve tortured you enough.

Hu Tao:Cool! *stands up* Thoma, we’re heading out.

Thoma:Huh!? Why?

Hu Tao:Got something better to do?

Thoma:N..No! I just want expecting it. I’ll tag along!

Hu Tao:Good! You go grab Kaeya and I’ll get Qiqi. Yeah, let’s see what we can do. *walking off*

Keqing:*smiles* My work here is done.

#genshin impact #keqing #hu tao #eula lawrence #barbara gunnhildr #jean gunnhildr #kazuha kaedehara #diluc ragnvindr #kokomi sangonomiya #gi rosaria #albedo kreideprinz

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