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ddejavvu · 7 months

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I don't know if you're taking requests right now so if you aren't just ignore this, BUT if you are...

Imagine Hotch getting a call from babysitter reader where Jack is in the ER cause he sprained his ankle and, obviously Aaron is a little upset and worried. But when he gets to the ER he sees that reader is an absolute wreck of tears and snot and she rambling on and on about how sorry she is and how she never meant to let Jack get hurt. And Aaron's looking at her like 'omg she's so adorable when she's a mess'. So he calms her down and they go to Jack and Aaron sees that Jack isn't even crying he's just sitting in the bed with a lollipop and a wrap on his ankle. And now Hotch is trying not to laugh at reader for so ridiculously overreacting.

And you can finish it. I know it's a long ask but it's been in my head for a while and it would be such a pleasure and honor for you to make the drabble come true. 😘 love YOU and all your work!!!!!

Aaron's been repeating the phrase sprained ankle in his head over and over since he'd gotten the call from the hospital, but now he's wondering if Jack has since been crushed by some wayward hospital machinery when he spots you hunched over in the waiting room, sobbing into your hands. Your shoulders are shaking and Aaron gravitates towards you rather than the door behind you, letting his shoes click audibly against the linoleum flooring to alert you of his presence.

"Y/N," He calls, and your head shoots out of your hands, your legs trembling as you stand to greet him. You're a wreck, eyes puffy and red and nose dripping obscenely despite the tissues in your hands.

"Mr. Hotchner, I'm so sorry," You gush, and he doesn't hesitate to take you into his arms, voice soothing as he shushes you, "I- I swear I was watching him, but he wanted- he wanted me to wait at the other end of the slide, so when he fell I wasn't close enough to catch him, and he- he- I'm so sorry!"

"I know," He hums, "It's alright. It's not your fault, he's a kid. He gets scrapes and bruises all the time. Where is he?"

"In there," You gladly accept his embrace, even if you don't particularly feel deserving of it, and you jerk your thumb towards the door behind you, "I'm not family, so they won't let me in. They need you to sign paperwork."

Aaron's mouth twists down in a displeased frown, and he makes a mental note to ensure you're on file as one of Jack's emergency contact. Jessica is the only person besides himself that he's added, but in case of any future incidents, he wants you to be able to stay with Jack.

"Come with me," He only withdraws one arm from around your shoulders, keeping the other draped across your shivering frame to keep you steady, "Let's go see him, honey. It's okay, I'm not upset with you, okay? It's not your fault."

"But- but I should have-" You press, but Aaron cuts off your babbling before you can whip yourself up into another tearful frenzy.

"Did you push him?"

You rear back, aghast, "No!" and Aaron has to bite his tongue to stop himself from smiling at the indignation in your eyes. For you to love his son so fiercely as to be offended by such a notion only reinforces his confidence in you as a caretaker.

"Well then, it's not your fault. He almost got a concussion on my watch, you know."

You swallow a sob, composing yourself as he walks through the doorway, pointedly dragging you along with him despite the nurse's suspicious look.

"Really?" You ask, and Aaron nods.

"I was making dinner, and I called him in from the living room. But I'd left my computer charging on the desk, and the cord was on the carpet, and he tripped over it and smacked his head against the wood floor."

You wince at the story, and Aaron internally does the same, remembering the sickening crack of his son's head against the flooring, "It was scary. And that was my fault, I left the cord out."

"But you didn't mean for him to trip over it," You muse, letting Aaron guide you through the hallway towards the room that the nurse had directed him to over the phone, "It wasn't your fault."

"And neither was this," Aaron concludes, stopping in front of door 208, "Ready?"

Your shoulders sag at his artful storytelling skills, and you nod, wiping your hands once more over your eyes. It doesn't do much for your runny nose, and Aaron takes his pocket square from his suit, holding the back of your neck and persisting even when you try to squirm away.

"Aaron- no!" You protest, trying to dodge his grip to no avail. Your words are muffled as he smears the fabric under your nose, "You'll ruin the material!"

"Jack gets macaroni and cheese fingerprints on my suits all the time," Aaron grumbles, his grip firm and tight on the back of your neck, "It's nothing my dry cleaners can't fix."

When he's satisfied that you're as cleaned up as you can manage, he tucks the square back into his pocket, unphased by the grimace you shoot him. The echo of his hand on the back of your neck is still present as he knocks on the door, and he's pleasantly surprised when Jack himself opens the door, his ankle wrapped with a bandage.

"Hi, Daddy!" He grins at Aaron, lips stained red with the remnants of a cherry sucker, "Hi Y/N! You look sad."

"I am sad," You supply feebly, eyeing his ankle warily, "Are you okay, buddy?"

"Mhm!" Jack nods, letting his dad push the door open and guide you inside the room, "The doctor says I can still walk on it, I just hav'ta rest a lot."

The doctor, perched on a stool inside the room, nods with a fond smile at Jack, "That's right. He needs to walk on it for it to recover, but he shouldn't overextend himself. thirty minutes to an hour of exercise each day should do the trick."

"Thank you, doctor." Aaron nods, "Is he free to go?"

"Yes, if you'll just sign these." The doctor pushes forth a modest stack of paperwork, maybe ten pages that Aaron hopes are mainly spots for signatures, "I need to attend to my next patient, so I'll send my nurse in to collect those in a few minutes."

"Thank you," Aaron nods, and you bid the doctor the same thanks as he takes his leave, lingering by the doorway until Jack takes your hand.

"The doctor said to give you this," Jack digs into the pocket of his plaid shorts, pulling out a green lollipop, "He said he saw you crying in the waiting room. Were you crying in the waiting room?"

"I was," You try to smile, but Aaron can tell with only a quick glance at you that you're fighting back tears again, "I was worried about you, Jack. It's okay, you can have the lollipop."

"No, it's for you." Jack insists, and Aaron watches your trembling lips pull into a smile as Jack pushes you over to a chair against the wall, herding you into the seat. You let him direct you into the middle seat, but he bypasses the seats on either side of you to climb right into your lap.

"Here," His tiny fingers pry at the plastic wrapping of the sucker, "I can open it for you."

Aaron doesn't have to look up again from the paperwork he's signing to know there's fondness written all over your face, he can hear it in your shaky, 'Thanks, buddy'. He knows it's there because he can feel the same thing in his own chest, and he doesn't bother trying to keep it off of his face as it flowers equally abundant for both you and his son.

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner scenario #aaron hotchner oneshot #aaron hotchner one-shot #aaron hotchner one shot #aaron hotchner headcanons #aaron hotchner headcanon #aaron hotchner hc #aaron hotchner hcs #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner dialogue #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x reader fanfiction

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a-soft-hornytiny · 1 year

Text

Use it.

Summary: Mingi has a huge dick but is shy about it and has no idea what to do with it.

Word count: 1.7k+

Genre: Smut

Pairing: Mingi x female!reader

Warnings: porn without plot, sub!mingi, virgin!mingi, kinda dom!reader, hand job, blow job, riding, teasing, slight begging, unprotected sex, cumming, dirty talk, breeding (let me know if I missed something) be careful while reading.

Notes: uhmmm @star1117-archives miles you are a genius. I hope this is to your liking. Thank you for the request hehe

Taglist: under the cut (let me know if you wanna be added)

—————————————————————

You couldn’t believe your eyes. Mister “I’m so cool and sexy” Mingi was sitting in front of you, blushing hard and not even able to form a proper sentence as you wide-eyed stared at his monster cock. Two reasons why you were completely overwhelmed.

One: His dick was the biggest you had ever seen and you were genuinely worried if you could take him.

And two: Mingi. The man that never got shy when you teased each other. The man that never flinched away when it got heated. The man that obviously knew about his own sex appeal, was flustered as soon as you pulled down his pants.

“I uhmm.” Your voice cracked while you got on your knees, now sitting between his legs. You wrapped one hand around the base of his cock, making him flinch. “You are…” Your second hand was now embracing the middle part of his length, his tip still being uncovered. “You are huge.” You stated in awe.

You expected him to smile, laugh or make a joke of any kind, but instead he covered his face in his hands and let out a pretty pathetic whine. He was embarrassed. “I-I’m sorry I should- should have warned you.” He stuttered an apology as he tried to turn away from you. But you stopped him.

“You’re sorry?” You couldn’t help but laugh out loud. That was not what you had expected. Packed men were usually pretty proud of what they got but he.. it was almost like he-

“You’ve had sex before right?” You asked, already sensing the answer. However you couldn’t suppress the need to gently squeeze his length with both of your hands.

He immediately whined again. His whole body was squealing and it was obvious that he was trying to avoid the answer. “Mingi.” You said, a certain strictness in your voice. “If you don’t answer then I will stop immediately.”

He instantly shook his head. You smirked. From all the time you had spent together you would’ve never gathered that you were the experienced one of you both. You still remembered that time when he wore this nearly see through, skin tight, dark blue shirt under a shimmering leather jacket and fitting pants. That whole fit screamed Sex.

“Not.. not really.” Mingi finally dared to look at you. “J-Just some petting a few years ago.” He admitted but the glance he sent you, made you weak. His eyes were begging for you to stay and continue. To try and stuff yourself with his enormous cock.

“Okay.” You took a deep breath. “I can show you how to work this.” You gestured to the twitching dick right in front of you. He nodded, still ashamed. You scooted forward slightly and took his shaft into your hand.

“Listen. While you’re in my mouth, it’s important that you don’t move. I don’t know how much I can take but it’s important that I can control it.” Your voice was soft. You sent him a little smile as he nodded before you lowered your head - even though you didn’t really need to lower it to reach him - and opened your mouth.

Your heart was beating up to your throat as you took him in. Inch by inch. He was not only big but also girthy, which made the corners of your mouth hurt slightly. You were breathing through your nose slowly as his tip reached the back of your mouth. Half of his length was still uncovered so you took your hand to help.

During the whole process, Mingi didn’t make a sound, which you didn’t notice since you were concentrating on “not choking”. When you finally felt comfortable to move you looked up to him, and immediately let him slide out of your mouth again. You couldn’t help but giggle as he sharply inhaled.

“When I said don’t move, I didn’t mean don’t breathe.” His face was flushed. “But otherwise it's hard not to..” He murmured, avoiding eye contact as he buried his hands deeper into the bedsheets.

“Come on. I want to hear your pretty sounds, big boy.” You teased him before you pushed him onto his bed. He was now lying beneath you, his dick painted with your saliva and his cheeks the color of a summer sunset.

In the course of the hot make-out session you had before, you had already lost most of your clothing, which meant that as you were straddling him he could see every single detail of your body. And he loved it. His eyes were following your every movement and he couldn’t keep his hands to himself.

And you were still confused about the contrast. Just about 20 minutes ago he had no problem ripping your clothes off of your body and relentlessly sucking on your skin with his plumb lips. He had let out the deepest sexiest groans while his lips crashed onto yours and now he was rock hard, shy and whiny.

“I need your support now.” You said softly before positioning his hands on your waist. He nodded again but it was clear that he wasn’t 100% listening. His eyes were fidgeting all over your body, unable to find one spot to focus on.

Without much hesitation you grabbed his dick again and positioned his tip at your wet entrance. You were very glad that you had prepared yourself for this, even though you weren’t sure if it was enough anymore. Then you slowly sat down.

The moment his tip touched your folds, both of you let out a loud groan. It was finally happening. Both of you had anticipated this for weeks. The sexual tension between you ever since your first date was ripping apart the air any time you were in a private space and you wondered why you hadn’t already jumped him before.

He started stretching you out, causing you to cry out in pleasure. His head was thrown back, pressed into the mattress, but his grip on your waist was strong. And then you passed the first 4 inches. You immediately felt how your body was protesting, sending a sharp pain through your whole body, making you whine.

“Are you okay?” Mingi instantly helped to push you up again. His eyes were big, shimmering with worry. You smiled slightly.

“Yes, it’s fine. I knew it was going to hurt, don't worry.” You reassured him before continuing to move downward. “But- but I don’t want ahhh-“ he wanted to protest but he interrupted himself with a filthy moan as his dick disappeared deeper and deeper in your warmth.

You whined with every single movement. He felt him grind against your walls, stretching you out deeply. It was painful, but at the same time, the best thing you had felt in awhile, and the longer it took the easier it was. Slowly adjusted to his length and girth, you sat down completely. Your hands were resting on his chest, your fingernails digging into his skin. You want to be gentle, but he didn’t mind. All he saw was this you on top of him, tears running down your face as his dick fully disappeared inside you.

“Is it okay?” He wanted to sit up to caress your cheek, but you immediately push him down again. “Don’t move. It’s- it’s getting better.. fuck!” You moaned as the pain was replaced by pleasure. Mingi was looking at you with big eyes. He was scared to hurt you, but at the same time it was driving him crazy. But he listened. He didn’t move, and if he was honest, he wouldn’t know how to anyway.

And that’s when you started to carefully rock your hips back and forth. You were still trying to find the right way to move but Mingi was already a mess. Pretty moans groans and the whines were escaping his mouth as this unknown pleasure washed over his body.

“Fuck you’re so tight..” He tried hard not to move with you but his grip on your hips was getting stronger. “I don’t think I can take this for long.” He admitted, the redness on his face re-appearing.

“Oh, don’t worry you’re not supposed to.” You wanted to sound teasing but everything that escaped your mouth was breathy. He was hitting places that never had been touched before. You clenched around him, as you felt his pre-cum leak into you.

“No seriously I mean I-“ His moans grew louder as you picked up the pace of your movements.

Your mind went blank. The amount of pure ecstasy that was running through your body was immense, numbing. You wanted him to fill you up, not only with his cock but with his cum.

“Cum for me.” You moaned, getting lost in your own pleasure. But Mingi couldn’t relax.

“Are you sure? I- sure? Isn’t that kinda.. dangerous?” He stuttered, trying hard not to cum then and there. You groaned. Now he’s overthinking it?

You leaned forward, setting kisses onto his skin until you reached his face. Your lips were hovering over his.

“Come on good boy. Fill me up. Give me your precious cum.” You whispered before pressing your lips onto his. You moaned into each other’s mouths as you started moving again. Mingi was completely overwhelmed by your words but they showed an effect immediately.

“Faster.. please..” He murmured against your lips and you let out a chuckle. “I didn’t know you could beg.” You responded, listening to him still. Your hips were now moving at the steady but fast pace and you could feel him twitch inside of you.

“Yes.. Yes this is it.. I’m ahh I’m cu-cu-“ Mingi couldn’t help but buckle up his hips as his orgasm washed over him, making you cry out. “I’m cumming!” He whined while painting your insides white. You felt so full. Physically. You helped him ride out his high and just as he relaxed, you started moving again. He instantly cried out in overstimulation.

“Now I’ll show you how you can use this huge dick of yours for good.”

—————

Tags: @jonghoisbabie @multidreams-and-desires @little-precious-baby @yunhofingers-writes @serialee @crimsonbubble @cometoceantrenches @em--ilysm @deja-vux @kawaiiloli00 @ddeonghwva @aaaaajonghooooo @sansbun @cookies-n-joong @plonys @hijirikaww @nari-nim @yunkiwii @mingi-ivity @racheloveyunho @seongsangsgf @jhmylove @lizsvcks @yunhobabygurl @leoninadecorazones @kerra-that-one-random-fangirl @star1117-archives

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chuuyasheaven · 8 months

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bsd men as tits ass or thighs pls :3?? (specifically meursault boys)

“Tits, Ass or Thighs— What do they prefer?”

“—Everybody’s got certain preferences, don’t they? So, what are theirs?”

Tags: Dazai Osamu, Fyodor Dostoevsky, Nikolai Gogol, Chuuya Nakahara, Sigma / afab! Reader, Nipple play?, ooc! Sigma, praising kink, degrading kink, overstimulation, pet names?, hdc format ig, thigh riding?, hickeys, mentioned lingerie?, spanking, mild brat taming, atp everyone may be ooc, face sitting, oral sex (afab! and m! recieving), titty job, messes of their milk, might contain grammar errors, this is a lot holy shit, etc.

Notes: Maybe u just meant Dazai, Fyodor and Chuuya but I added Nikolai and Sigma for funsies— hope this is okay tho!! And I never wrote for Sigma before so sorry if he’s so ooc. . Maybe he’s gonna be added to my list lol.

Dazai Osamu ;

💙 Thighs 💙

💙 I just know that he loves your thighs!! In my opinion, DAZAI lives for seeing you in thigh highs, especially if you have thick thighs. What do you mean you don’t wanna crush him with them??? What else are they made for then— oh, right, hickeys. It’s obvious that he’ll leave some marks here and there for fun, but another thing he lives about them is face sitting. This is literally the best way to die?!!? But also he lives to grab your thighs when he eats you out!!!

💙 Scenario;

He’s been at it for too long, you don’t even remember how many times you came already. . “Dazai, p–please. . S–sensitive!”, you tried to beg, but Dazai was way into this— Once you sit on this mans face, he won’t let go until your too sensitive, Dazai also always leave hickeys while he’s at it. Chanting how he would love to die this way, being crushed by your massive thighs. “—Why should I? You’re still talking properly, I won’t stop until you’re only able to moan my name. Now be a good girl, alright, ‘donna?”

Fyodor Dostoevsky ;

💙 Thighs 💙

💙 In all honesty, this man is a mystery for me– but if I would have to chose, thighs. FYODOR is kinda religious and stuff, meaning he’s definitely gonna be kinda traditional. (i do not know wtf I’m talking abt.) Fyodor doesn’t know what it is, but something about you in white lingerie and white thigh highs sets him off completely. Looking all innocent but being the complete opposite? Yes, absolute approval from him. But being the busy man he is, he’ll let you sit on his lap while he caresses your thighs!! :3

💙 Scenario ;

Seriously, how desperate are you? Walking up to Fyodor in white lingerie and white thigh highs while he’s obviously working? He finds it quite amusing how you think he’ll stop immediately to fuck you, no he won’t, yet. Fyodor just commands you to sit on his lap, now you’re getting off on his own thighs. But you’re still wearing panties, though he doesn’t care, you wanted this, didn’t you? As you keep grinding against it, he slapped your pussy through the fabric multiple times before. The small whines and whimpers are cute, but won’t change his mind to take you right now. “—I don’t really know what you expected me to do. . Well, actually, i did. It’s quite adorable how you think just because you’re desperate I’ll feed into your desires. Anyway, you seem to be getting off pretty easily, slut.”

Nikolai Gogol ;

💙 Tits 💙

Come on, this is so NIKOLAI, seriously. He's so silly, he would literally call them his personal stressballs. (Do not even try to deny it, it's canon.) Nonetheless, he likes to cum on them, Nikolai will make a mess out of them every time whenever you're giving him head. Another thing their useful for, in his opinion, is tit fucking!! It's a nice feeling for him when his dick's inside of your tits. Not to forget, your nipples are pretty fun to play with, but there's one last thing about them. .

💙 Scenario ;

There are many reasons why Nikolai adores you riding him! He loves how he barely has to do anything, hearing the adorable sounds leaving your mouth while you get off on his cock and most importantly, the way your tits bounce with you. All he's doing is laying back and enjoying the view of your tits almost bouncing out of your bra, he would love if they were to actually jump out. “—Hm, would you look at that! Your tits are seconds away to spill out of your bra, dove. I wouldn't mind if they did, maybe you just need to ride my dick faster. . Just like the needy whore you are.”

Sigma ;

💙 Tits 💙

I’m not really sure if it’s accurate, but running an casino ain’t easy. So what’s better than having you and your comfort. .—able tits? SIGMA would never admit it, but he loves them, dearly at that. If he ever needs an break, his head would probably rest on them. On the spicy side, he loves a good tit job. You mentioned this once and Sigma wasn’t against it, sure he was blushing over your suggestion but after he tried it, he loved it!!!

💙 Scenario ;

It felt good, really, Sigma loved your suggestion! He never thought of something like this, he never thought about recieving a tit job, but it felt heavenly. Just the way your tits were rubbing against his cock so good, it felt unreal. . The most beautiful whimpers left his lips, with his flushed expression on his face too, you assumed Sigma was enjoying himself, very. Soon he reached his climax, letting his cum leak on your tits. “—F–fuck. . You did s–so good, darling. Now, lay back and let me return the favor, yeah?”

Chuuya Nakahara ;

💙 Ass 💙

Ah, yes. CHUUYA is, in my opinion, an ass man. I saw a few people say that, and I agree. Like, he’s literally proud of that. He would slap your ass unexpected, respectfully though. He wouldn’t care if you’re carrying a bakery or not, he still slapping it!! Chuuya loves to spend money on matching bras and panties for you, but on your in general. Sometimes it gets to your head or something and you start to act out, which our ginger won’t let slide.

💙 Scenario ;

Lately, you’ve gotten on Chuuya’s nerves. Yeah, he loves to spend money on you and you, but he won’t stand you being bratty. As to right now, he’s ‘punishing’ you for it. The reference for ‘punishing’ is quite just fucking you until it’s stuck in your pretty little brain not to act out again. This time though, Chuuya added something to your punishment. . “Ch–chuuya. . ‘m sorry, I–i didn’t mean to—”, you tried to apologize, only to be silenced by another spank. “—Really? Too bad, you’re gonna take this if you want me to fuck you, baby. Just keep on taking f’me and I’ll fuck you soon enough, m‘kay?”

OH EM GEE YOU GUYS IT TOOK ME THREE DAYS TO FINISH

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mythrilthread · 1 month

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My magnum opus, the jewel of my Binderary round-up, the result of four months of hard work (that is to say, a lot of force applied over distance), the project affectionately known as The Motherfuckers (because it was rather unclear if I was going to finish these books or if they were going to be the end of me).

Force over Distance by cleanwhiteroom. It is currently also on AO3.

I was first introduced to this incredible story by a dear friend, who first sold me on actually watching SGU, and then said that they remember this fic since like 2011, which is always a promising sign. I went digging and found out I was in luck - the story was being rewritten and reuploaded on the author's blog. The next two weeks are described by the same friend as "one of the scariest moments in our cohabitation" as I'd spent literally every waking moment injecting the story directly into my eyeballs, and let me tell you, I'd not been doing a lot of sleeping at that time.

Then I gathered up my courage and reached out to CWR re: my burning desire to bind this story. And the rest, well. Let's dig into it, shall we?

This was my first time typesetting 540k words. Considering I tend to prefer larger font sizes for increased legibility, it was immediately obvious that this was going to be a multivolume project. I settled on three, as it's the relationship between three individuals that forms the core of the story.

I also knew I wanted to keep the typeset in black and white, but play around with light and dark a lot. So I did. One of the first design idea I actually had was the way I wanted to handle projected speech. Mental link between Young, Rush and Destiny is THE most vital part of the story, and I wanted to make it immediatly obvious. I also wanted to be able to take one glance at the page and tell how much of the action is actually just two guys staring each other down :) Hence the blackout effect of thoughts being represented as light over darkness.

I also wanted to preserve as much of my reading experience as possible. So I saved all the chapter quotes/summaries in the TOC, and hid the chapter content warnings in the frame of the gate that marks the beginning of each chapter. For most of the chapter the warnings stay the same, so after a while you stop really noticing them, but then you open a new chapter and see that the familiar shape of the words has changed, and get this UH-OH feeling. Which, I think is very much how it works in my design, because when the warnings change there's usually another line of text added.

For flashbacks and dream sequences I switched from italics to a lighter shade of gray. I woudn't say it's more legible per say, but it's in keeping with the overall light/dark theme.

There are instances of people using handwritten notes in the story. I collected more than a dozen of assorted handwriting fonts, with each character having their own "handwriting". So when, for example, someone begins writing in someone else's hand, you immediately know it.

The most insane, labor-intensive part of the typeset, however, was the way I decided to handle the Ancient translations. CWR's gone through the trouble of setting up hover-to-discover for it, which gives you a very different reading experience than, say, having the translations in the endnotes. So, naturally, I said to myself that I want to replicate that, and footnotes just won't do the trick. So. Every instance of Ancient in the text has an underlay of light gray Ancient script. And an OVERLAY of paper vellum with the translation printed in blue. Now, not to toot my own horn too much, but if looks SICK AS FUCK. You also MAYBE SHOULD NOT LIVE LIKE THIS. For the two copies of this work I had to cut up 10 sheets of vellum into strips, and then spent from 20 minutes to an hour per volume tipping the strips in their proper places. I then had to wear kinetic tape on both my hands to help with the joint pain. (It was worth it.)

Now for the title spread. It is also paper vellum that you see as soon as you turn the first page (the half-title), and see it covering the title of the book and author's name. And then you turn it. And the shields sing the matter wave of Destiny through the black. And yeah, I think that's very, very clever of me, actually.

Then, of course, were the endpapers. All 12 of them are unique abstract paintings done on black cardstock by hand with brush pens and correction tape, I scanned a sample of each set for posterity. All of them are my interpretations of characters' midscapes. For volume 1 I went with the fire wind of Rush's thoughts. Volume 2 was for Young, and I went for the reverse blackout poetry effect (because for all the mental talking they do, the unprojected thoughts are opaque to their counterparts) and all the loops, hairpins and blocks he does. Volume 3 is for the combination - Rush's fire wind, changing its color to match the circuitry pattern of Destiny's AI.

The rest, in comparison, is easy. All volumes are stitched with 3 strands of embroidery floss, a combination of black, blue and silvery-gray. The French double-core endbands are sewn in the same color scheme (though with a different shade of blue and gray switched for white for added contrast). The edges are painted and splattered to look like space.

The covers feature my (signature at this point, I guess) half-cloth river pattern, with the base being dark blue linen and the printed parts being Spitzer telescope images of the W51 star forge, Jack-O'-Lantern Nebula and the Eagle Nebula (courtesy of NASA), waxed by hand for added sheen. The spines are foiled in silver with a foil quill.

Each set is 5 pound of solid hand-crafted book, with one set being my personal copy, and the other sent as a gift to the author.

And that's it, folks! This has been an incredible project to work on, and I'm very proud of what I achieved with it.

#mythril thread books #bookbinding #ficbinding #fanbinding #binderary2024 #stargate universe #sgu #force over distance #stargate

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transgenderteensurvivalguide · 6 months

Note

up until recently i ran a pretty popular radfem blog (stay with me, this ask is in good faith) but after i took a social media detox, i realized i don’t share those beliefs anymore and in fact i might be trans myself. i just kind of abandoned the blog, but i’d feel bad if i didn’t tell my followers what happened. i’m scared of telling anyone because i feel like i’d be a bad feminist if i transitioned. (i know, you can be trans and a feminist just fine, but that’s just the kind of thing radfems tell you.) even worse, i’m scared of posting about it on my main or radfem blog because radfems and trans people by and large hate each other (obv), and i’m scared to mention i’ve been in both groups because of the hate i’ll get

Lee says:

When I first started as a mod, I would have told you that you need to immediately post on all your blogs to disown the transphobic beliefs you had previously expressed to try to make up for the harm that you may have perpetrated as a radfem.

Now that I'm a little older, my feelings on the topic have shifted a bit. Before anything else, I think you need to slow down and make sure that you ensure your own safety and mental health.

If you believe that revealing this change to your followers could result in backlash online that would affect you emotionally, it's crucial to prepare by turning off anonymous asks and muting notifications from social media apps.

You should also make sure you have a non-online place to turn for support. If they used to be your community, you may feel like you've lost online friends, so make sure you don't become too isolated. Instead, lean on your IRL connections and seek support from trans-friendly people in your community.

You may even want to consider looking for a therapist-- questioning being trans can be difficult for anyone, and adding a layer of internalized transphobia doesn't help.

When you're ready to share your feelings on your blog, you should write a thoughtful post explaining your journey. You don't have to justify your identity; rather, focus on your personal growth, how your views have evolved, and how you came to understand yourself better. Acknowledge the complexity of the situation and that you're still learning.

These people were once your buddies and there's a chance you may be able to make some of them question their beliefs too if you don't lash out at them and trigger that instinctual defensive us-versus-them mindset, so I would try to keep a friendly tone even while noting that you no longer support them.

So thank your followers for their support and engagement over the years, but tell them you aren't comfortable staying part of their community now that you've realized that the beliefs underpinning the group are doing damage and you are trying to unlearn that type of thinking.

Gently challenge any misconceptions you once held or promoted. Clarify that being trans and feminist are not mutually exclusive and that everyone deserves respect and equality, regardless of their gender identity.

If you're comfortable, share resources that helped you on your journey. This could be educational materials, support groups, books you found helpful, or contact information for trans-supportive LGBTQ+ organizations. If there's anything you'd recommend to others who were once in the same place as you were on getting out, this is the time to share your advice.

Understand that reactions will likely be mixed. Some followers may feel confused, betrayed, or angry, while others might be supportive or even share their similar experiences. Remember, you're not responsible for their reactions and you don't need to respond to them if you don't want to argue and they aren't willing to have a respectful conversation.

Be clear about your boundaries. Let your followers know what kind of comments you're willing to engage with and that hate or harassment won't be tolerated. You can even stop engaging with the account altogether if you don't think you can deal with the hate that you may receive.

You don't have to post about this immediately. Again, it's okay to take as much time as you need to feel ready. It's okay to wait until you're in a safe and stable position before making any announcements.

If you do post about it and get hate, remind yourself that you're doing the right thing by letting go of that community, and that you're not only making the right choice for your own life in allowing yourself the freedom to explore your gender identity but you're also doing the right thing overall since you're now standing up for the trans community (late is better than never!) and no longer encouraging transphobic narratives.

If you feel that your current blog is no longer a space where you can express yourself authentically, consider starting a new blog or platform where you can write freely about your experiences and beliefs. Or just get offline altogether-- your digital detox is what started this, so maybe it's healthy for you to continue it for a while!

If you tell someone "I support trans folks" and they send you hate, that person is not your friend anyway. This is an opportunity to meet nice people who you can be yourself with. I would really encourage you to connect with IRL activists who are actually regularly volunteering and doing something concrete for their community if you have the opportunity.

When I was in high school, I volunteered at my local library's teen advisory board, and when I was in college I volunteered at a local hospital and through my college. This weekend I'm starting training for volunteering in-person for my town's emergency preparedness group which also does things like help to unload trucks for the food pantry, and I also volunteer remotely for two organizations online.

I'm really pushing for you to get out and volunteer (online or IRL) because I know one draw of the radfem community is feeling like you're an activist and that you're supporting women's rights and protecting and defending women. And it is important to support women's rights and protect and defend women! But there are other ways to do that beyond running a hateful blog attacking trans women.

I have a friend who works at an organization for survivors of domestic violence, for example, and she works with volunteers who help staff events, answer the hotline, etc. You can look around and see what local initiatives there are in your community and if you can't find the thing you're looking for you can start a group yourself or look online and join a national or state-wide cause that you care about, like pushing the legislature to support access to abortions.

Giving up the radfem community doesn't mean giving up feminism, and this is a good opportunity for you to take a look at your own time, your values, and think about how you can take this chance to start working to be a more effective feminist. Not everyone has to be an activist, but if you want to be one, think about how you can start doing good in a way that will actually affect people in a positive way.

I've also often been involved in doing events like conferences and workshops and panels IRL from my time in high school to the present day to try and educate folks on the community, but I also know that sometimes you need to take a step back and prioritize yourself. If you think you're not ready to jump into making change that's also okay. Just join something. A soccer team, a book club, anything hobby-related, to have something else to do and talk about and think about and stay tethered to feeling part of something.

Remember, it's okay to grow and change. You're not betraying anyone by being true to yourself. It's a courageous step to admit when your views have changed, and it's an integral part of personal growth. Be kind to yourself during this process.

Whether or not you end up identify as trans, you still will be doing the right thing by separating yourself from that community. I know it may be difficult because they were a place where you felt supported and part of a movement, but I really believe that you're taking steps in the right direction by letting go of that ideology and just living your life!

Followers, if you have any experiences unlearning toxic beliefs please reply with your advice for anon!

#Lee says #transphobia m

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celaenacc · 1 year

Photo

CDD ~ Fresh Start Styled Look

If you’re like me, the first thing you do in CAS is clear everything off the sim for a nice fresh canvas. This custom styled look (when coupled with Mizore’s hider mod) is intended to make that take as few steps as possible every time.

Download and info below the cut for future updates

Item Details:

Base Game Compatible

Toddler Infant - Elder; Masc & Fem frames (Added infant support on June 16, 2023; please redownload)

1 Variant (per frame)

Custom thumbnails

Needs @mizoreyukii’s Styled Looks Hider to truly be worth it. If you’re overly attached to EA’s styled looks, this cc probably isn’t for you.

Removes all accessories, clothing, shoes, makeup, skin details (excluding acne and scars), tattoos, facial hair and hair (changes color to dark brown for adultFem + children, blonde for AdultMasc, red for toddlers for all of them now I believe (I can’t remember tbh 😅 - if anyone knows how to remove the hair without changing the color, please hmu)

Does not change teeth, eyebrows, eye color, acne and scars (I couldn’t get it to remove these last 2 categories)

Tagged for all outfit categories

Added overrides (June 16, 2023) for shoes/bare feet and masc frame nude tops to resolve the look not applying to those categories after one of the recent patches. If you want to use an alternate override from someone else and it isn’t compatible automatically, (only do this if it’s not working otherwise) open your desired alternative in Sims4Studio, navigate to the warehouse tab, tick the setting box for “ShowInUI”, and save the file. (Edit June 6/20) I’ve been informed by @asixteenthrose that even with changing your desired override to have the showinui checked, you still need my overrides for the styled looks for some reason, and the desired override can’t be in a subfolder/must be in main mods folder.

Added “Stripped Start” (June 16, 2023) which affects the accessories, makeup, facial hair, clothing, and shoes, but does not affect hair, body hair, skin details, or tattoos. You can have both Fresh Start and Stripped Start in your folder at the same time or not; they should not conflict with nor do they depend on each other.

Downloads:

> SFS < (Current Version is a zip)

> Google Drive < (Current Version is a zip)

Needs: > Hider Mod for EA Looks < (by MizoreYukii)

Notes:

There is no way I would have been able to figure out this project without MizoreYukii’s How to Make Custom Styled Looks tutorial, so huge thank you to her.

This look is mainly for simmers who want nothing on their sim when they start in CAS. If there is enough demand for a version that keeps existing tattoos, skin details, and maybe hair; I might make that as a v2 down the road. After receiving nonny asks, I went ahead and added a version like this while updating the original.

I timed myself clearing every outfit category for a new sim using just this look as fast as I could, and it only took 15 seconds total.

I have added patch numbers to the files in case someone needs the outdated version.

Kijiko eyebrow texture defaults cause the fem frame teen-elder not to show Fresh Start.

#ts4cc #s4cc #sims4cc #sims4cas #sims4mods #sims4casmods #mycc

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xhopelessheartx · 1 year

Text

Revenge Blanket Grid Pattern

This is a grid pattern and some notes from me, but I will not be teaching you how to do any of it as such. This grid can be used in crochet or knitting, but I have only provided instructions for crochet.

To complete this project you will have to be able to do the following:

Chain stitch

Double Crochet (UK) (US Single)

Turning chain

Make a tension square

Seamless colour change in the middle of a row

Seamless colour change at the beginning/end of a row

Work from a grid pattern

I have made this pattern free but if you do use it I would love it if you would give me a tip on my ko-fi so I can make more patterns in the future! Please also give me a follow and check out my shop :)

I made my blanket using DK weight yarn and a 4mm hook, and used a double crochet stitch throughout. it ended up being roughly 121cm x 121cm.

Make a tension square:

For this grid to look correct when worked you need to have a tension that is creating a perfect square.

This project has the same amount of stitches as it does rows (220 stitches, 220 rows) so a correct tension square for this project will have the same amount of stitches as it does rows, and will measure the same on all sides creating a perfect square. If your tension square is in fact a rectangle, your whole project will be distorted to a rectangle.

For example; with DK yarn and a 4mm hook, I made a square that was 20 stitches wide by 20 rows tall and it measured 11cm on every side. this was how i knew my blanket would end up as a square.

If you know your tension already then this should be pretty easy, but this part is really important so make sure you get it right.

Changing colours:

You will want to be doing a seamless colour change to avoid having weird looking ‘steps’ up and down from each colour. People change colours and deal with multiple stands of yarn in different ways so you will need to find which method is best for you.

Seamless colour change example, the way I do it: Begin with black. Insert hook into the next stitch, yarn over and pull up a loop. You'll have two loops on your hook. Drop the old colour and pick up the new colour, yarn over and pull through both loops to finish the double crochet.

You can carry your yarn through your project in different way rather than cutting and adding new pieces with each colour change -I dropped my yarn behind on the back (wrong side) and picked it up again instead of carrying it through as I found the contrast of the colours made the carried yarn too visible, but you can do this in whatever way you want.

The grid:

I have not provided written instructions for this grid but there are some things to remember:

You will be working with a Right Side (RS) and Wrong Side (WS). The RS is the side where the text reads correctly, from left to right and the image looks correct.

You can work this grid from any side, it doesn't matter, although it makes more sense to start at the bottom and work up. Just remember to keep track of which direction you are going in and where you are. A big thing to remember is when you turn your work at the end of a row you will then be working in the other direction (switching from RS to WS and vice versa).

Because this grid is so large I recommend using stitch markers to break it up into sections that are more manageable, and transferring those markers to your grid so you can better keep track- this will help you to avoid mistakes.

To begin this grid, chain 220. Turn, and make a turning stitch - you are ready to begin the first row of your grid.

(you will probably need to save this image to be able to view it in full quality)

After I finished my grid I added a row of double crochet all the way around and then did a row of granny clusters to give it a nice border but you could add any border you want or none at all! I am also planning on backing mine with some fleece or flannel to make it tidier but this isn’t necessary.

I apologise for this being so haphazard but I do hope you enjoy making it! If you have any questions please shoot me a message on any platform and I’ll do my best to answer!

Again, if you are using this grid here is a link to give me a tip so I can carry on crocheting and making patterns: https://ko-fi.com/xhopelessheartx. Thank you :)

I would also love it if you tagged me on instagram or twitter with your projects!

instagram: x.hopelessheart.x

twitter: caffeinatedeyes

please do not reproduce this grid or claim it as your own, it is for personal use only and is not to be sold

#pattern #crochet #mcr

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adventuringblind · 8 months

Note

(●’◡’●)ﾉ, I'm in loove with your Oscar Piastri x autistic!reader series, it gives really beautiful perspective on navigating relationships while being neurodivergent. I was wondering if you do a imagine/headcannon for Oscar and reader and how they navigate sexual intimacy in particular, like do's and donts, emotions during it stuff like that. If ur not comfortable writing that then it's ok, I just thought it would be interesting ♡

Bedroom Procedures

Oscar Jack Piastri x Reader

Genre: spicy things ahead but not smut

Request: the way I ran to write this... send me more ideas like this please they are my favorite to write!

Summary: Oscar and Reader navigate through intimacy

Warnings: again... spicy things. However there is no real depiction of anything happening!

Notes: aight, so this is again how I navigate because that's what I know. This is not a depiction of how every autistic person is when it comes to being intimate. Remember that autism is a spectrum and everyone is different.

Masterlist

Being intimate with each other actually took a long time

At least longer than what is probably average

And that's in opinion

She wants to have sex with Oscar

It's just that it's difficultt and there are so many different feelings that is gets overwhelming quickly

It doesn't help she's trying to dive straight in whenever they try it

Oscar pays attention however

Her body language is how he can understand her feelings

So he knows exactly what he's doing even if she doesn't get it yet

The next time things get a little heated, Oscar slows them both down

"Why are you stopping? Did I do something wrong?"

"Absolutely not, just thought we would try something different."

In her head, different is strange because there is usually an order to these things, and it should become routine eventually

Oscar has other plans

He starts taking their intimate moments incredibly slow

Introducing her to different sensations and letting her tell him what she likes and doesn't

Soon, he has a comprehensive list of dos and don'ts

Like how sometimes she prefers to keep on a loose shirt because otherwise the skin on skin is to much

Not all the time

He always asks before they do anything if she would like to wear one of his shirts

Or how her biting him is usually a good sign because it means she's happy

(Something she does even when they aren't having sex)

Oral is a grey area for her

Sometimes, she'll suck him off for hours, and others, she gets overwhelmed just thinking about it

Oscar doesn't care, though, because he loves her no matter what she's feeling up to

One thing he was not expecting was for her to be relatively kinky

Experimenting is everything

Hard yes and no things but down to try before deciding

Oscar got a bit experimental after he got a general idea and their bedroom communication was good

Again... communication is a key point

He's always asking questions and reading her body just as she is with him

The fact that it's a vulnerable state and both of them are connecting in a way with emotions that even sex itself can't give is incredibly intimate

They don't even make it there sometimes because the emotional ties are just so deep that they simply spend time memorizing each other

Another thing is vocals

Oscar is usually composed and level-headed

Sex however is completely different

It's where he is able to express himself in ways he couldn't before

Also, listening to his voice is something that helps her know if she's doing okay

She also experiments with her voice

Vocal stimming during sex happens often, and it happens when she is on the edge

Her parroting is endearing ad well

Sometimes Oscar will moan or hum in a way and she will copy

A non-verbal agreement to keep going

Can go for maybe two rounds maximum

Maybe three or four but that's on a good day

Follows a routine of how things go down and there is definitely communication beforehand

Even if both parties are in the heat of the moment, he will not start anything without giving an idea of what will happen

It's like an unwritten rule so that she isn't trying to read the situation and get frustrated with herself if she can't understand what's happening

Clear cut yes and no

There is no maybe

All communication is cut and dry, and there is no beating around the bush

Because of her willingness to touch, but only from those she's allowed, Oscar is a teeny tiny bit possessive

If anyone touches her who she's not comfortable with he won't hesitate to bite her in reciprocation

She bites him, he bites her, it's a pattern they keep going because he knows its her love language

Also, it creates some fun on other places

Really the two are very good at setting boundaries and communicating

It makes things fun for both of them and there is never any feelings hurt

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nolita-fairytale · 10 months

Text

don't want to walk alone | carmen 'carmy' berzatto x fem!reader | chapter one: june/july

summary: you and carmy plan a wedding like it's the opening of a new restaurant.

warnings: swearing, eventual smut, lots of tooth rotting fluff, marriage, no use of y/n, second person pov

wc: 3.4k

listen to: let's get married (bleachers cover) - mitski

a/n: the long awaited wedding FIC!! welcome to part four of the 'make my heart surrender' universe (four part series). this takes place a month after the end of 'still into you' but before the carmy as your baby daddy headcanon series (my carmy masterlist is organized chronologically, if you'd like to read in order). anyways, i truly adore writing for these two and feel it important to note that after watching season 2, i've realized this has just become an animal of its own -- its own universe/timeline/entity which also means there AREN'T any SEASON TWO SPOILERS! this chapter was inspired by a conversation from two months ago between me and @carmensberzattos so courtesy of us, enjoy some healthy relationship-future husband!carmy. also don't worry syd will be starring in the next chapter. i missed her too. lmk if you wanna be added or removed from the taglist.

masterlist | part two

"let's just get married, don't wanna walk alone, so let's get married, 'cause we don't wanna walk alone or runaway." (bleachers, let's get married.)

'I just want to be married to you' are the words uttered (first by you, you think, but maybe he said it first, you really can’t remember) that lead you and Carmy to the decision that you should elope. Sooner rather than later, preferably, is what you both agree on. It’s not like you’re planning on having a big wedding anyways. How much work can a civil ceremony at City Hall and a nice dinner party afterwards be to pull off?

Famous last words.

You’re not sure how you’ve gotten from there to here, locked in a heated debate over menu edits with your fiance in the middle of your shared apartment when the sun’s just barely come up, but here you are.

“I’m just saying that we should be open minded and leave room for his artistic integrity!” Carmy passionately argues, winding you up as he makes his case.

“Artistic integrity? Carmy, are you kidding me right now? I-!” you fire back, shaking your head incredulously. “We said we were gonna keep everything chill.”

“It is chill!” he defends, matter-of-factly.

Oh, he’s just looking for a fight.

“There is nothing chill about a parm espuma and it certainly doesn’t belong anywhere near the carbonara!” you scoff, stubbornly. “I mean, the only reason he even brought up the idea of a goddamn espuma in the first place is because he was trying to impress you.”

Carmy’s jaw twitches in response as he grinds his teeth, a display of discomfort at the mere thought.

“He-he was not,” he denies with the kind of conviction of a five year old toddler who's sure as can be.

You shoot him a look.

“Carmen,” you warn him.

Sure it’s a silly thing to fight about, but there’s no malice in this argument. It’s all passion, artistry, and for lack of a better term, foreplay. You let out a sigh, softening before you rise out of your chair.

“Baby, when are you going to admit that you’re kind of a big deal and that people want to impress you?” you level with him, making your way over to your very stubborn and very insistent fiance. You settle down onto his lap, before tucking a stray curl behind his ear as you break, giving the sweetest smile.

He laughs dryly, averting his eyes from you because he’s not sure how much longer he’ll be able to stand his ground (especially when you’re looking at him like that).

You’re right. And he knows you’re right.

And Carmy’s never been able to resist you for long anyways.

A fox-like grin spreads across your lips and you know you’ve won the argument when you feel a pair of hands snake around your waist.

“Don’t push it,” he warns you, seeing the look on your face as he shakes his head, finally returning his eyes to yours.

You raise an eyebrow, “You like that I push.”

He nods slowly in surrender, his face softening as he asks you:

“You really want to fight about this?”

You shake your head with a laugh.

“No, of course not! Of course, I don’t want to fight about this!” you exhale, sliding your hands over his shoulders to wrap around his neck. “But I do think that your new buddy is trying to impress us and that it may be wise for us to reign him in – clear the air on what it is we’re looking for.”

A beat.

“Don’t get me wrong. Of course, we can leave room for creativity… but I don’t want our wedding party to turn into some pretentious fine dining fancy party.”

“Well, we did meet because of some pretentious fine dining fancy thing,” he points out, giving your hip a squeeze.

You giggle, “How could I forget?”

You shake your head once more, leaning in to press your lips against his. Carmy inhales deeply, enjoying the feel of your lips on his, your arms wrapped around his neck, the weight of your body on his lap.

You indulge him for a moment, deepening the kiss as you feel your future husband relax against you, because you really are happy that Carmy’s made a new friend.

Carmy had met a private chef a few months ago and had been trying to hire him for the restaurant for a while now. Wanting to work for himself, the chef had respectfully declined all advances, but he and Carmy had kept in touch, and it looked as if the relationship could potentially extend outside of the four walls of a kitchen. Since you both agreed that no one from the restaurant should work the party, it had been good timing (making a new friend and the fact that he was a private chef) and the right move for Carmy to ask his new friend to cater the wedding.

“Fine,” you resign yourself, pulling away from the kiss. “Derek can keep the liquid nitrogen but that is as far as it goes.”

Carmy shoots you a look – one that says he’s not quite convinced.

“And I will be more open minded in the spirit of… artistic integrity. But I’m not changing my mind about courses. Family style or bust, baby,” you negotiate, a serious look in your eyes.

Carmy thinks it over for a moment before finally coming to a resolution.

“Deal,” Carmy nods with the same intensity as a ‘yes, chef.’

You nod too, completing the agreement.

“I want it to be real, Carm. I want it to be us,” you reiterate, your voice soft as you make your condition loud and clear.

“I know,” he returns, just as determined and committed to the idea as he is to you.

You’re satisfied with the resolution – even more satisfied with the fact that you’ve come to it together.

“You know…” he starts, something in his voice that you can’t quite make out, unsure if you’re going to like what’s about to come out of his mouth. “... it could be a perfect menu if you just let me-.”

“Don’t even finish that sentence, Carmen!” you interrupt, knowing exactly what he was going to say.

You are so not playing this game today.

“You don’t even know what I was-!”

“Yes, I do! You are not catering your own wedding party,” you protest, adamantly.

You know him too well.

He laughs, shaking his head as he leans back against his chair, like he’s in high school again, and you’ve just caught him sneaking back into the house.

“God, I love you! But sometimes you drive me up the wall, Carm,” you groan out of frustration, eliciting another laugh from his chest as you hang your head, resting your forehead against his shoulder this time.

“Such a control freak,” you sigh, against his chest.

“Thought you like it when I take control,” he murmurs, beginning to leave kisses across your exposed skin.

You giggle partially because it tickles, and mostly because of what Carmy’s said.

“Yes. Yes, I do.”

You lift your head and Carmy kisses you again, this time savoring the way your lips feel against his for a little while longer – just long enough to remind himself that he wants to have the option to sneak away in the middle of your wedding party to have sex much more than he wants cater to be in control all the time.

Sometimes, he thinks to himself, control is overrated anyways.

Only sometimes.

“Okay, okay,” he mutters, letting go of the idea. “I’ll get back to Derek about final menu edits and make sure he knows that while we want him to be creative, we also want to keep it… you know….”

“Chill?” you emphasize.

“Chill,” he confirms.

“Okay. Thank you, baby,” you smile softly, trying your best to enjoy the temporary moment of peace between the two of you. Carm squeezes your hip as you roll your eyes with a sigh, muttering an:

“Oh fuck.”

“What’s up?”

You shake your head again, laughing incredulously before letting out another sigh.

“Just wait till we go through this again with the cake.”

“Fuck!” Carmy shouts towards the ceiling, throwing his head back as you laugh. “Why did we say we wanted to plan a wedding again?”

“Well baby, I don’t think either of us can pass up on a chance to create a menu,” you giggle, leaving a few kisses along his jawline before you make your way up to his nose. “Can you imagine if we decided to have a full-on wedding? That’d be a freaking mess.”

He chuckles, “It’d be like opening another restaurant.”

“Yeah, pass,” you hum, so glad to have dodged that bullet.

-----------------------------------------

By the time you and Carmy are even ready to focus on the cake portion of said wedding-dinner-party it’s a month later. You’ve been through half of the bakeries in the city, you think, and something’s just felt off. You’re practically eating your words, as it dawns on you that you’re having the exact same thought as Carmy: that it could just be perfect if you were able to make it yourself.

Then again, you remind yourself that a cake is an entirely different thing versus running a dinner service, so it can’t be that unhinged to have these thoughts, right?

But you and Carmy made an agreement, so in solidarity, you decide it’s only fair for you to make like Tammy Wynette and stand by your man.

You’re grateful for the half day you have today (“Summer Fridays”, as it’s so fondly referred to around your office) – and the fact that you get to work from home. What it means for you is that today you can clock out early and pick up samples from the tenth bakery (okay, so maybe it’s the eleventh but truthfully, you’ve lost count) in the running for your wedding cake.

You change out of your pajamas for the first time today, throwing on a slip dress and one of Carmy’s crisp, white Ralph Lauren button downs – worn layered and open like a cardigan – before you head to the bakery, and then eventually, The Bear.

The restaurant is closed for the afternoon, as they do a shift change over: some stay and take a break, others go home, let the dinner crew come in and take over. It’s different these days and while some days you miss it – the hustle and bustle of the kitchen, the sounds of an ‘all day’ shouted by the expeditor, the careful dance that is working in a kitchen – you remind yourself that you’re enjoying a half day, and that when you’d chosen to leave, you were ready for a change.

After entering The Bear, you make small talk with Gary while he finishes turning over the dining room for dinner, catching up over the flag football league he’s recently joined – one, it seems, to be taken very seriously by all participants. You tell him that you’re here with wedding cake samples, and he’s more than eager to give you some space to set up, because who doesn’t love free cake? Mid-sentence, Gary gestures towards a table for you to set up on, as you begin to unpack your large brown paper bag.

“Well, well. Look who it is,” Marcus calls out, as soon as he sees you. “Heard a rumor you were out here. You brought cake?”

“I brought cake,” you repeat as confirmation, turning to see your dear friend and mentee. “But don’t worry. I’ll be thinking about yours the whole time.”

He snickers, moving in for a hug.

“‘S Good to see you, Chef. How ya been?” he asks, enveloping you in his arms for a tight squeeze.

“Good to see you too, Marcus. I’m good. Had a half day today so… you know, we’ve just been busy with wedding stuff. But what’s going on with you? What’s new?” you answer, turning the focus back onto him.

“Oh you know. The usual. Though, I’ve been workin’ on some new shit for Syd’s new menu when I’m not here,” he answers, a broad smile spreading across his lips as he talks about.

“Jeez, Brooks. I know, Carm’s got ya busy. When the hell do you ever sleep?” you ask, as you shake your head.

“I don’t,” he answers plainly.

And just as you’re about to remind Marcus to get some rest, Sugar comes bursting through the front doors, her rounded belly full on display now that she’s had a chance to tell almost everyone the news of her pregnancy.

“Hey! Sorry I’m running late,” Sugar says, announcing her arrival. “Got tied up running an errand and then I had to stop at the store for Tums. This baby is killing me with the heartburn these days. Fucking christ.”

“Oh, no big deal. I haven’t even seen Carmy yet,” you shrug, as she mutters a surprised ‘oh’ and Marcus mumbles something about going to get Carmy. “It’s good to see you!”

“Yo, Carm!” Marcus shouts, heading back to the kitchen while you and Sugar exchange hellos.

“Awww, it’s good to see you too, sweetie,” she smiles, pulling you in for your second hug of the day.

This is something you miss about working in the kitchen: the camaraderie, the found-family, all the love.

“Wow this is… quite the spread,” Sugar mentions, eyeing the cakes you’ve laid out on the table.

“Yeah… they had a lot of ideas, I guess,” you say with a shrug.

Sugar shoots you an unconvinced look.

“Okay, fine. I had a lot of ideas…” you admit guiltily.

“...aaaand no one is going to do it the way you want it to be done,” Sugar sighs in the middle of your sentence.

“And they were more than willing to play. I couldn’t help myself!” you finish, defending yourself.

“Well, your enthusiasm is one of the many things I love about you, but… yeah, this is a lot,” Sugar grins as she gestures towards the overwhelming amount of cake you’ve just laid out on the table.

Regardless, Sugar really can’t wait to be your sister-in-law.

“Speaking of… I thought this was just a small wedding. It looks like you’re preparing to feed the entire French Army during Marie Antoinette’s reign.”

“Oh it still is – small,” you answer, simply. “I went a little overboard, didn’t I?”

“Why go through all this trouble? You might as well have a small ceremony instead of-,”

“No!” you protest, hearing another voice say the same thing.

“Sugar, we’ve already told you that we don’t want to do anything big!” Carmy adds, as soon as he enters the dining room.

“Hey, babe,” he says, sending you the softest smile as he looks your way.

“Hey you,” you smile in return as he approaches you, giving him a short ‘hello’ peck on the lips.

“Fak attack!” Fak cries out, as he enters the dining room. “Ooooh cake tasting!”

“Yeah,” you chuckle, as Fak is quickly followed by some of the line cooks that have just wrapped up lunch service.

It’s then that you hear Tina’s voice, growling something in Spanish as Richie speaks way too loudly about god knows what, as Ebra follows behind, somehow in the middle of a story that has little to do with whatever Tina and Richie are going on about.

You smile to yourself, because you really do miss this part.

“I told everyone we were doing a cake tasting,” Carmy starts, gesturing towards the rest of the staff as they join you. “That cool?”

“Totally. We have more than enough to share,”

“That’s true,” Sugar says. "And I can't complain because the baby is reeeeaaally craving cake these days."

As everyone at The Bear crowd around the circular dining table where you set up the cake tasting, you all enjoy bites here and there, comparing notes, sharing reactions to each flavor combo.

Earl grey & lemon. A classic red velvet. And of course, you had to get a little weird with the black sesame clementine combination you’d dreamed up with the pastry chef you’d been working with.

“I think my favorite is the black sesame and clementine but I doubt it’s a cake everyone will like. Doesn’t have the crowd appeal we probably should keep in mind,” you murmur to Carmy as the two of you watch his staff go on about the tiramisu-inspired one.

“Well, babe, it’s our wedding! We can do whatever we want,” he encourages you.

“I don’t know,” you sigh, paralyzed with indecision.

“The tiramisu one is good. I’m leaning towards that,” Carmy shares with you, eager to hear your thoughts.

“Yeah, I don’t know. Don’t you think it’s a little too on the nose?” you reply, unsettled and unsure that any of these are right.

“Why don’t you guys just let me make it?” Marcus interjects, asking the question he’s been wondering this entire time.

“I-,” you start, unable to help the fact that your eyes begin to wet with emotion. “Really?”

He laughs, glancing sideways at you.

“Uh yeah. I’m a little offended neither of you did in the first place,” Marcus teases the two of you, though you know there’s some truth to it.

You and Carmy exchange a look that says something along the lines of: ‘oh shit.’

“Well, we didn’t think you’d-,” you stammer, beginning to explain the why behind you and Carmy’s hesitation in the first place.

“We just thought you’d want to- that you should be able to enjoy the party,” Carmy adds, finishing your sentence, his eyes widening as he realizes that you both kinda fucked up.

“Chefs,” he says, looking from you to Carmy once more, with a seriousness in his voice as he rises to his feet. “It would be my honor. And just because I’m makin’ the cake doesn’t mean I won’t be able to enjoy the party. I can do it in the days leading up to it.”

“Oh-, okay, yes! Yes!” you cry, leaping to your feet this time, as if you’re accepting Carmy’s proposal again.

Richie rolls his eyes in response, groaning as he mutters something snarky to Fak, as Marcus pulls you into the biggest bear hug.

“You all are a bunch of saps,” he scoffs, directing this next comment to Marcus this time. “You big softie!”

“Richie!” Sugar hisses, glaring the sharpest daggers from her eyeballs into Richie’s skull.

“Oh fuck off, Richie,” you snort, with a laugh. “You’re just salty because… wait. Carm, you haven’t asked him yet?”

“Babe, I-,” Carmy whines, his eyes wide. “You just ruined the surprise!”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah ‘fuck’ is right,” he pouts, though he can never stay upset with you for too long.

“What the fuck are you guys even talking about?” Richie asks, squinting as he looks between the two of you.

You and Carmy share a knowing look, deciding that now is a better time as ever.

“We want you to be our witness, Cousin. At the courthouse,” Carmy says, a soft intensity in his eyes as he answers Richie’s question.

“Jesus Christ,” Sugar snarks, with an eye roll as she realizes she’ll be stuck with him at the damn courthouse as well.

“Wh-?” Richie begins to ask, looking from Carmy to you, then back to Carmy again, tears welling up in his eyes as he realizes what Carmy’s just said. “You-? Really?”

“Yeah, of course,” you reply, in a well-duh kind of tone. “Plus you know I can’t get married without my Ava there.”

“And sign the marriage license and everything?” Richie balks, because he really can’t believe it.

“Yeah,” you reassure him.

“Yeah. I mean, fuck yeah! Fuck yeah!” Richie declares, even more sentimental than Marcus this time. “Shit, Cuz… Hell yeah, I’ll sign the fuck out of that marriage license as your witness.”

Tina snickers, exchanging a look with Sugar, and earning a glare from Richie. He lowers his voice, directing the question towards you this time:

“Oh and uh… cool if Ava still sings “Love Story?” I kinda promised her she could sing a Taylor Swift song as part of my best man speech and she insists that one is about you and Carmy,” Richie asks, looking around suspiciously, afraid of someone else hearing.

“Awwww, Richie. Of course,” you coo, only melting inside a little at the thought.

“What?” Richie snaps, realizing that he hasn’t been as discreet as he thought he was.

Sugar snorts in response, earning a laugh from both Tina and Marcus.

It’s Marcus’ turn to roll his eyes at Richie this time.

“What?” Richie repeats, this time with a little more annoyance in his voice.

Sugar smirks, firing back with a:

“Who’s the big softie now, Rick?”

#carmen berzatto x you #carmy berzatto #carmy x oc #the bear hulu #the bear fx #jeremy allen white #carmen 'carmy' berzatto #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto headcanon #the bear headcanon #carmy berzatto imagines #carmy berzatto fluff #comfort and chaos #still into you #make my heart surrender #dont want to walk alone

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manicpixiefelix · 4 months

Text

head, heart, hand. {Felix Catton/Reader/Oliver Quick}

Part 8.

Summary: The fallout of arguing with Oliver, not fighting with Farleigh, Felix hooks up with your not-girlfriend, and so you provide comfort to his sort-of-ex.

{ masterpost }

Need to Know: They/Them. Explicitly NB Reader. FWB!Reader/Felix. Reader is from a well off family but has pretty much been adopted by the Cattons.

Warnings: someone makes a move on the reader while they're very very drunk and the reader is far more sober, but it doesn't go past kissing, if that's something you're possibly concerned about.

A/N: 5424 words. welcome back. this one goes many different places in the span of one night. the farleigh of it all. the annabel of it all. im worried this one might feel OOC so id really like to hear if there's anywhere i could improve on my characterisation, what worked, what didn't?? as always unedited, and as we're nearing the end of the term (in the fic) we only have a few chapters left at oxford before we get to go to saltburn!! LOVE YOU ENJOY!!

TAGLIST IN COMMENTS!! // TAGLIST ALWAYS OPEN ! (just message or comment to be added)

----

"Didn't have to do that," Felix sighed from his desk, head bent low over his textbook. It's the first thing he'd said since Oliver left. You, still on his bed, picking through a textbook for a class you both share, found half-shoved under his bed, look up.

"Do what?"

"That thing with Michael What's-His-Name's file," it almost sounds like guilt in his voice, but he still isn't listening to you, "you could get in real trouble for having that."

In swift movements he stands, and you catch the sight of his scowl despite how he doesn't turn it upon you. Once again he's sitting on the floor, back to the foot of the bed, lighting up another cigarette, legs crossed in front of him.

"I'll put it back tomorrow." You're not used to Felix disapproving of you, it's a kind of discomfort you want to shake as quickly as you're able to. After a moment you add, "I know it's not really Ollie's fault, I shouldn't have -"

"I don't want to talk about Ollie right now." He's focused on balancing his ash tray on his knee, watching it with such intensity it's as if he's trying to define life's secrets from it.

"Should I go?" Murmured, almost like you're afraid of anyone hearing it, even Felix. It hangs, golden in the hazy heat of the afternoon.

"'m not the boss of you," Felix mumbles softly, head low, again his words coloured almost with guilt. You know he will never shake the quiet shame he sometimes is hit with when he remembers the way people often perceive the relationship you two share; too close, too loyal, too imbalanced.

But you've never cared; you will never treat him differently, never want for anything but his happiness, never beat the canine allegations. One day you hope you'll convince him that's okay.

So instead of leaving, you close the textbook and stretch yourself out across his bed, laying the on your belly with your head resting at the foot, by his. Your hand rests on his head, running your fingers through his hair.

Felix breathes out a lung full of smoke. He doesn't look at you. He leans into your touch and closes his eyes. The moment is a quiet one, tension thick and choking and full of things neither of you can talk about.

It's the strangest afternoon you share in a long while, one full of silence and the slow, mind numbing sound of pages being turned and the scratch of pen against paper.

"I'm gonna get ready to go out tonight," you say softly, finally breaking the silence when the courtyard outside is every shade of gold and orange in the sunset. Felix just hums in acknowledgement from his desk, "Fi?"

"Yeah," he huffs, dismissively, still looking at his notes. You've got the file in one hand, doing up the buttons of the shirt you'd forgone in the afternoon heat of his dorm room, but had to wear back to your own.

"You want me to text Oli?" You watch him grow tense at the name alone.

"Yeah, maybe, I don't know," he mumbles, almost forcibly nonchalant, despite the hard line of his shoulders that hadn't been there moments ago. Then, as if to clear the moment, he sits up straighter, turning to you in his desk chair with a look of determination in his eyes, "India still into me do you think?"

"I know India's still into you," you can't help but snort, like it's the most obvious thing in the world.

"Would you be totally cut up if I -" he doesn't even need to finish before you're rolling your eyes.

"She'd be thrilled," but your smile softens a little, even as you shake your head with exasperation, "she's all yours, Fi."

Perhaps it's the fondness with which you acquiesces to his arguably selfish request that makes him take in the full exchange that had just passed. Felix takes a moment, tension and expression dropping as he turns pensive for a moment, unable to look you in the eyes. After a beat, you turn to the door, fully intending on letting the moment pass, but you hear Felix stand.

He doesn't say anything as he approaches you, still wearing that rather grim, thoughtful expression, but he wraps you up in a hug. He holds you as close as he's able, and after a beat of surprise, you gently drop the file to wrap your arms around him in return.

I love you. I'm sorry. All the tension from the afternoon drains away in this hug, in him pressed against you, leaning into you, breathing deep and even and steady. Pressing your face against his shoulder, you give him a brief kiss against his warm, golden skin, and hope he can feel your smile too.

The hug breaks, but still he holds your face for a long moment. He's smiling again. I love you. Thank you. He kisses your cheek quickly.

"I'll catch you at the King's Arms, yeah?"

"'course, Fi," you assure him with a warm smile of your own.

Back in your own dorm, that single moment of warmth unfortunately can't overwrite the entire afternoon of sickly tension. Looking at Oliver's name in your contacts, you frown. You should text him, invite him, Felix told him he would -

"Yeah, maybe, I don't know."

You don't text Oliver.

Annabel also isn't at the King's Arms that night. Of course you know why, the answer sits across from you with his arm around your not-girlfriend, but part of you still kind of feels bad for if the sweet redhead ever finds out.

"What are you sulking about?" Farleigh's smug voice in your ear, Farleigh's arm around your shoulder, Farleigh's cigarettes you keep stealing, Farleigh who you've tucked yourself up against for the night.

"'m not," you try insisting, frowning at the lighter that's clearly out of fluid and refusing to relight your cigarette. He gives your shoulder a squeeze.

"You sure, Peter Pan? Where's your shadow?"

"You don't give a shit about Oliver," you snap a little too quickly, both frustrated by the situation you're trying to ignore, and the useless lighter, but Farleigh reads right through it and practically cackles. Still, he wraps his other arm around you and squeezes you against his side with glee, even as you try to protest.

"Ooh~" Farleigh teases, poking your side with a wide, fond smile, "trouble in pauper's paradise?"

"That's fucking mean," you rib him none too gently, but he actually snorts with laughter. The lighter still won't bloody well start.

"I feel like you're fucking edging me with that lighter, fuck," Benji, from Farleigh's other side, smacks your lighter out of your hands and holds out his perfectly working one.

"Thank you, Benny, that was pissing me off," Farleigh says with a satisfied smile, his laughter having died down. You, finally take a draught on your cigarette, grateful for the warmth, and the nicotine as it hits.

"Could kiss you, Benj," you finally let yourself smile, "someone remind me to get a new lighter," you add, leaning across Farleigh without hesitation to plant a kiss squarely on Benji's lips after he'd wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, teasingly at you at your comment.

"We'd fascinate psychologists," Farleigh chuckled, but his voice is warm and fond, and Benji turns back to his conversation with Alicia and Jake on his other side once the moment had passed.

"Probably," comes out distracted, however as your teasing mood drops and you look to your phone. Should I have called Oliver? But when you look up, across the table, you see warmth and fondness in the way Felix looks at India, enraptured by whatever story she's telling. With one arm around her shoulders, he lets her distractedly play with his other hand, leaning into her, all attention on her. Making her feel like the centre of the universe, the way only Felix knows how to do. India glows in a way you've never seen before, lighting up under his direct affection, beautiful and elated, maybe even a little bit flustered.

There's not even a hint of jealousy at the sight of them. All you know is how much you love your friends, and how happy and beautiful they look together in this moment. There is contentment, satisfaction, like a job well done... Farleigh might have a point about the psychologists.

Speaking of - Farleigh grabs your chin and tilts your face to look at him. Immediately you smack his hand away.

"Stop that! What is that? What are you doing?" You squawk at him immediately. Again, he grabs your chin, frowning, intent upon gazing intensely into your eyes. This time you let him.

"I'm figuring out what this is," he mutters like he's deep in thought. You let your gaze roam for a moment, hoping he gets whatever this is out of his system. You wiggle your chin in his grip, and it's enough to prompt more of an explanation, "if you're not sulking, then I don't know this -" rolling your eyes, you smack his hand away.

"Fuck man, I'm not sulking," you insist, remembering your cigarette and taking another puff, glad it hadn't gone out.

"You've been weird lately; angry - ranting," Farleigh made sure to stick to your cover story despite having seen through it the minute you'd tried out the other week, "you and Felix have had some weird vibes," he takes the cigarette from you, and you settle yourself against him further.

"Fi and I always have weird vibes," you pointed out with a little smirk, keeping your voice as low as he was, glad he didn't feel the need to publicise this discussion too broadly. Farleigh snorted, but shook his head.

"You, sure," Farleigh conceded, handing back the cigarette, "but," he leans in, leans into your with a knowing, dangerously sharp smile, his hand coming to rest on your thigh, "Felix has been weird about you," his voice slides along the word weird as his hand slides up your thigh, as if to prove a point, before sitting back. Giving you a moment to recover, Farleigh sits back up like nothing happened, letting go of your thigh and taking a drink. He gives you a squeeze, arm still around your shoulders, "or hadn't you noticed?" Back at regular conversation levels like it was the most normal thing in the world.

Across the circle of your friend group, Felix's gaze momentarily flicks to you as India's in the middle of some kind of enthusiastically rambling. Gaze briefly passing to Farleigh, he then looks back and raises an amused eyebrow in silent question. The smile you give him is instinctive and warm, a silent answer. He mirrors the smile for the briefest moment before his attention returns to India.

Of course you'd noticed the change.

"Of course I've noticed." Your gaze dips; you become fascinated with your drink for the moment, trying to brace yourself for whatever comment you knew Farleigh had coming.

"Surprised he hadn't put you on a leash."

You elbow him hard in the ribs. He retaliates by flicking you repeatedly in the forehead. Its a blurry mess of frustration and elbows after that, pulling hair and wet fingers in ears and trying to sink nails into each other's soft sides, all squabbling and cursing and insults not made for polite society.

"- you put your fingers near my mouth I'll bite them off!" You holler even when he's got his arm around your neck in a kind of choke hold, which is around the time the two of you are pulled away from each other.

The rest of the table is staring at you both, while you and Farleigh straighten yourselves up, a little flustered at the many incredulous stares you were getting.

"The fuck was that about?" Felix, of course, is the one to voice the question the others all had. You look to Farleigh, his expression mirroring yours; no malice, no frustration, like nothing had happened.

"Bit of horseplay," you shrugged easily, meeting Felix's eyes, tone bright and chipper. He looked unconvinced.

"Just two dudes being guys," Farleigh's tone was light and breezy as he settled back into the booth, and you alongside him, letting him once more sling an arm around your shoulders.

"Guys bein' pals," you agreed with a nod. Farleigh pats your head for emphasis. The group thankfully decides that they've had enough of the weird moment to go back to their own conversations. Felix was the last to focus back on the conversation he'd been having with India and Alicia, narrowing his eyes as he looked between you and Farleigh.

Before turning his attention entirely away, his gaze fixes on you. There, in the very slight tilt of his head, the look in his eyes, the way his jaw tightens, you see his concern for you. You lean your head back on Farleigh's shoulder and let yourself relax, let yourself give him a genuine, reassuring smile. It's enough.

Farleigh clears his throat.

"It was either that or tell him you said that," you explained under your breath, to which Farleigh nodded in understanding, hand running up and down your shoulder idly as he reached across the table for the communal fries, bringing the basket closer to you both.

"And you don't want to tell him because you know I'm right," Farleigh is back to smug, but at least this time you can join him in his amusement.

"No, but I'm humouring you because I'd like to talk about how good I'd look in a collar," picking up a chip, you eat it with a grin as Farleigh rolls his eyes. After a moment, however, he comes back with this contemplative look, still amused, but eyes narrowed and searching like they had been earlier. You eat another chip and tell him to put his eyeballs back in his head, "seriously, quit looking at me like that, Farleigh -"

"He has been weird-weird," Farleigh says like he's agreeing, though you tell him you have no idea what the fuck he means. Taking a deep breath like he was ramping up to something, Farleigh looks across the group to Felix, before looking back at you with a kind of put-upon smile, "I say this only as someone who's know you for like, more of my life than I'd like to admit -"

"I love you too, go on."

"- so I kind of think that it might not look that different to anyone else, like they don't know it's not your usual brand of weirdness," he wets his lips, giving you a look like he's not even sure if he's meant to be saying this, like he might be letting you in on a secret you're not supposed to know, "he's been really hot and cold with you."

Of course you'd noticed.

"I slept with Oliver."

Beside you, Farleigh appears to go through all five stages of grief at once.

"You make it very hard to be friends with you sometimes," he says, shaking his head. You, however, are focusing on how many chips you can eat in a rush rather than think too much about the topic at hand.

"That mean," you tell him flatly, mouth full of potatoes, "you're being mean again."

"You chose to sleep with Oliver, that is a choice you made; I'm gonna be mean about it, you've earned it, you know you have -"

"Remember," you gave him a shit-eating grin, "how the next time we went drinking after that costume party, you spent a full half hour in the beer garden ranting about how stupid you thought Ollie's costume was," you ate another chip while Farleigh narrowed his eyes at you with barely concealed contempt, but you powered on, "and it turned out that you thought the costume didn't do him justice, which then -" your grin grew wider, "became you ranting about how his eyes are too blue, and why does he dress like that when we can all see his arms, imagine if he wore a shirt that fit!" You gleefully recounted, even as Farleigh's mouth flattened into a thin line, like he's bitten on a lemon, but he couldn't look you in the eyes.

"Hey, that's not what I -"

"And then -!" You spoke over him, "you forgot where you were and tried to take an angry nap in the bushes."

"I don't -" a flustered Farleigh squirms for a moment in his seat, unable to look at you, "remember that, and," he turned a faux serious look upon you, "if you tell anyone I said that, I'll tell them you're lying."

"I'm just saying," you shrugged, "don't act like you don't know part of the reason why I slept with him."

"Fine," Farleigh rolled his eyes, allowing his flustered frustration to ease. After a moment of contemplation, of watching Felix, he hums quietly, thoughtfully, "that can't be it, right?"

"What can't be it?"

"If Felix was going to start being jealous it wouldn't be over Oliver."

"See, that's what I thought."

"So he is jealous?"

"I don't know," you say quietly, still not quite sure how to feel about it; Felix had taken the news fine when you'd told him, he hadn't seemed any different, but of course there'd been a change. Why now?

"That's really stupid of him," Farleigh finally says, dismissively.

"It is, isn't it?" As you try and laugh, your heart's not in it. You look at your phone again, another wave of that strange discomfort that you'd been feeling lately washing over you again. You can't stay.

Everyone's surprised by your early departure as you say your goodbyes. You cite the need to study hard tomorrow, giving hugs and kisses as you start the short journey back to your dorm. Felix murmurs that he loves you and a cheeky thanks in your ear and you know he's talking about India. You kiss his cheek, and then you head off.

Nothing had seemed off when you'd told Felix.

"You look like you're about to burst into song; what happened to you?"

"Something happened!"

"Am I meant to guess?"

"No, no- I mean, like how nothing happened between me and Ollie a few months ago; something happened!"

"Something happened between you and Ollie?"

"The something that didn't happen last time -"

"I don't remember last time, Y/N, you're being so cryptic, I love that you're excited but -"

"Yes, Ollie and I slept together. Finally!"

"Oh."

"Oh?"

"No, good 'oh', promise!"

"Didn't sound like a good 'oh', Fi; is everything alright?"

"Yeah, of course, sorry Y/N, I promise, I'm just... I don't remember you being this excited about a hook up... and I don't think I was excepting it to be Ollie, you know? Was he really that good?"

"Let me put it this way, it was the kind of good that none of our other friends would believe if I told them."

"Fancy that, Ollie knows what he's doing; good for you."

"Great for me."

It wasn't particularly vulgar or explicit, you'd had far more in depth conversations about your various hook ups, Felix had seemed as happy for you as he always did with these kinds of stories. But he'd started looking at Oliver different, you'd noticed it. That too is when he became the clingiest. Farleigh was right; on nights out with Oliver around, Felix threw out any pretence of subtlety or person space. Felix acted like your boyfriend.

But then, any other night, any other group situation, it was like any other day. Sometimes he'd barely even glance at you. Hot and cold.

You're so in your head on the walk home that you barely register someone sitting at your door until you all but trip over them.

Annabel.

She'd been crying.

"Fuck you." Is how she greets you.

"What are you doing here?" A twinge of pity, a twinge of guilt, to see her obviously distraught at your doorstep. She gets unsteadily to her feet, swearing at you again. Reaching out to steady her, she surprises you by lunging at you, grabbing you.

"You were there, weren't you? With the rest of them," Annabel's gripping your collar, makeup smeared with tears and eyes red-rimmed, "with him," lips still inches from yours, her gaze unfocused but searching, "I can fucking smell it on you- you- you and rich boy-" but she stops for a moment, expression falling to confusion, "Farleigh?"

"Annabel -" you ease her hands off of your collar, partly confused, but mostly pitying.

"Why do you smell like Farleigh?" She sounds almost like a lost child, refusing to let go of your hand as you pulled out your keys. God she looks so helpless, tears still welling in her eyes, vodka bottle mostly empty by her feet.

"Why are you so good at telling what Farleigh smells like?" You countered with, swinging the door open. At this, some of the righteous indignation fires up in her again, flouncing into your room.

"You all went to the same boarding school, you've all got these same habits, and same but different scents you cling to," she's scowling at your dresser as you picked up the vodka bottle and brought it into your room, shutting your door. You watch her for a long moment, see how she analyses everything you have there, perfumes, colognes, makeup, skin care, little bits of paper rubbish - she picks up a bottle and flicks off the lid, not caring where it landed amongst the rest of the things there. When she sprays it, she seems to almost relax amongst it's mist. Of course. It's Felix's favourite, Felix's scent as she'd so aptly described it, for when he'd spend the night.

"Of course you have his too," she says faintly, almost derisively.

Allowing your attention to finally drift from her, you start getting ready for bed, heading to your closet to hang up your jacket.

"You all need to mark your territory," she spits, out of your peripheries, you see her move away from your dresser and pick up her vodka again, "need everyone to know who you own, who we all belong to -"

"Anna, that's not -" you sighed, unsure of where any of this was going, but not liking it either way. As you search your drawers for pyjamas, you felt her gentle hands on your hips. Jumping at the sudden touch, when you spin she braces herself against the drawers with hands either side of you, while your hands become trapped, the last bit of resistance between her chest and yours.

"I smelled like you both for weeks," she murmurs, gaze roaming your body, almost hungry, landing back on your lips, "you remember that? I should- I should- should have been fucking sickened," she admits, voice a low whisper, the hunger turning needy, turning into almost a whimper, "the things I want you both to do to me make me sick to my stomach," her lips inch closer to yours, shared breath, heat in the air, "of course I know what the fuck you all choose to smell like, I can't get it out of my fucking head," you should lean away but there's something intoxicating about her rage, her desperation, her desire, "Our Annabel, that's what he'd called me, what you'd -" and she kisses you, vodka still wicked and bitter on her tongue, all but panting into your mouth as her hands find your hips again.

But it can't continue, you can't let this go on. As you lean back to free your arms, to hold her back, she takes advantage of the opportunity to slide her hands beneath your shirt, cold and nimble against your belly -

"Could've been my Felix -" she mumbles, as if in a trance, eyes hazy and full of both tears, like she was looking into a memory. The minute her fingers find your fly you grab her hands firmly. It takes you a moment to regain your composure, to remind yourself that she wasn't in her right state of mind, that she probably didn't even know what she was doing or saying -

My Felix flares bright and hot and possessive in your mind. My Felix.

"Ow," Annabel's noise of pain brings you back to reality, but thankfully it seems the shock to her system brought her back too. Looking down at your vice-like grip on her wrists, she looks back at you as you let her go, embarrassment in her eyes as she perhaps realises some of what she'd been doing.

"I'm not sleeping with you tonight, Anna," still, your voice is gentle. She huffs an embarrassed little laugh, starting to sniffle again. Again, you remind yourself that this poor girl just got her heart broken by your best friend, and decided to deal with that by drinking an entire bottle of vodka. You'd committed to showing her some compassion tonight.

"I know." The tension drops, and she just leans her head forward to rest her forehead on your shoulder. You can't help but hug her, feeling the heavy way she sighs as you're giving her a reassuring pat on the back. The two of you stay like that for a very long few minutes until you hear her start crying again.

"Do you wanna borrow some pyjamas?" You ask softly, and feel her nod.

The rest of the night is quiet after that, taking care of this distraught young woman who got her heart broken by your best friend. It reminds you of nights you'd spend with Venetia back at Saltburn.

Annabel sits on your bathroom counter patiently, ankles crossed, watching the way you focus as you wipe off her makeup with meticulous care. When you take off her necklace, you coil it delicately on top of the nice clothes she'd been wearing, now sitting on top of her shoes by your door. At first she tries to wave you off when you offer to brush out her hair -

"There's -" she hiccups; the full bottle of vodka has finally hit her, but still she tries to shake her head, "too much hairspray, it'll be a hassle -"

"I'll be gentle," you told her softly, assurance in your eyes and a warm smile on your lips, "if you'll let me." Annabel melts under that gaze, sitting in borrowed pyjamas, face clean, cross-legged on your bed in the lamp light. You treat her with the gentlest care, brushing out her hair while you can still hear her occasional sniffles; she sits as primly as she's able, only apologising once at the start for it's length. You assured her it's fine.

"You scare me sometimes," Annabel mutters into the quiet, voice watery. For a moment, you pause.

"Me?"

"Both- both of you. You and Felix," she sniffles again, "and Farleigh too now, I guess," you can tell she swallows thickly, voice catching in her throat. When she tries to dip her head, she can feel the way you're still holding gently, still working, and she apologises faintly. Carefully, quietly, giving her space to organise her tipsy, upset thoughts, you continue to brush out her hair.

"Never met anyone like you, you know? Didn't think people like you guys existed. You're always everything; the most without even trying," she takes a deep breath, but it's undercut by a faint sob that's almost a chuckle, "I kind of think you don't even know what I mean- you especially, you know?" You... don't.

You brush, only giving a faint apology, but all she does is fidget, the words spilling unrehearsed from her, things she's clearly been bottling for far too long -

"Felix is everything everyone wants, and you're everything everyone wants him to be," she says it so forlornly, "the sun and it's fucking warmth," then, almost disgusted as she spits it under her breath, "I think about how he's never going to fuck me the way he looks at you while he's shitfaced, how sick is that?"

With a few more strokes her hair is brushed out, and without even thinking you start to braid it. Annabel's dissolved into tears again, her face in her hands, but you're just careful not to tug on her hair too hard as her whole body shakes with them.

"He never gave a proper shit about me, did he?" Annabel sobs as you're tying off the braid. The minute it's done, she turns and throws herself into your arms, sobbing against your chest, "I'm just another fucking girl to him!"

"He still loves you as a friend, I'm sure; you know how Fi is-" you pet her shoulder carefully as she clutches your shirt for dear life.

"I don't wanna be his fucking friend! I gave him my fucking heart and now he's probably got his dick in that slag India, who said she was my friend!" Spitting her words with fury, with venom, she looks up, but only sees a look of pitying apology in your eyes; she's probably right. Lip curling, she throws herself back on your bed, hands covering her face once more, "he doesn't fucking care," she groaned, fury turning poisonous with resignation, "I know he doesn't care; if I thought he truly cared I would have fucked Oliver -"

"What?"

"- Felix is so fucking fickle, god, seems like he doesn't even care about Oliver anymore, I should have- should have -" she continues on, but breaks down crying again. Getting off the bed, you leave for the common room for half a moment, filling it with water.

"Drink this," you instruct, sitting next to Annabel on the edge of the bed. She scowls, but follows your orders easily, even if she can't properly look you in the eye. The water seemed to have at least helped, as her crying quiets down as you refill the glass in your bathroom sink.

"I feel like shit," she mumbles, watching you come back into the room and place the cup on her bedside.

"Well you look pretty," you tell her teasingly, trying to lighten the mood even a little as you gently pinched her cheek. She does not appear to find the humour in the moment. Still, you turn off your lamp and climb over her into the bed, "please don't throw up in my bed or on my floor."

"I know where your bathroom is."

The two of you kick off the neat duvet but pull the thin, luxurious sheet over you both.

"Thank you..." it sounds begrudging as she says it. You tell her it's no stress, sitting up for a moment in order to open your window a crack, let a breeze in overnight, but still hear her when she says, "you're a bad friend."

Still sitting, you take a deep breath, sighing as a silhouette in the moonlight.

Annabel is more astute than you possibly gave her credit for in this state; amongst all her felt injustices, she'd never once asked about how you felt about Felix fucking India, your well established not-girlfriend. Because somehow she knew, perhaps even that you gave your blessing. You'd never been a cruel person as long as you could help it, but you'd made peace with your priorities too long ago to start apologising for them now. So yes, you'd taken Annabel in for the night, but she knew in her heart that you were partially at fault for her despair in the first place. You both knew.

Enabling Felix was never really about making anyone else happy.

"I know."

Something about your admission seems to be enough for Annabel, however. When you lay back down beside her, she curls up against you, tucks herself all along your side, arm around you, head on your chest.

The next morning, Annabel moves silently around your dorm. When you wake up, all that's even left of her presence is the empty cup of water on your bedside. No kind of note, no text, she'd made sure she didn't even wake you before leaving.

Fucking Christ, what a bloody week did yesterday feel like, is all you can think as the mid-morning sun slashes through your barely parted curtains and paints your chest with light.

You consider sleeping in, consider that you'd definitely earned it after yesterday, but then your phone starts ringing. It's Felix. He sounds grim.

"Hey, can you get over here? We need you."

#felix catton x reader x oliver quick #saltburn x reader #saltburn imagine #felix catton x reader #felix catton imagine #oliver quick x reader #oliver quick imagine #felix catton x y/n #oliver quick x you #oliver quick x y/n #felix catton x you #felix catton x you x oliver quick #head heart hand fic #manic writer

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ivystoryweaver · 11 months

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With you part 8

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Summary: Marc is determined to fix everything

Pairings: Marc Spector x reader, Steven Grant x reader (Jake Lockley x reader) Gender neutral reader. No use of Y/N. Reader is engaged to Marc and Steven.

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings/notables: Angst, complicated relationship stuff, bit of fluff, cursing, crying. joke about taking painkillers/using food/coffee to cope. Mention of alcoholism, mention of Marc's past. Sex implied but nothing descriptive. No gender-specific language. Let me know if I missed a warning. inaccurate DID, based on the show. Not beta'd

PREVIOUSLY, on "With You"...

If there was anything in this world you wanted, it was for Marc to feel accepted and loved - every single part of him. That, of course, meant Steven, but now it meant Jake too. If Jake didn't want your love, you would have to accept that, but the fact that he seemed to think he didn't even have the right to exist outside his protective role - to ever talk or interact with who he called family, including his alters - it killed you.

That was the last thing you remembered before you passed out asleep on the bathroom floor.

Marc woke up to your alarm, blaring from your phone on the bedside table. Realizing you weren't in bed with him, he rolled over and shut off the annoying sound, then promptly plopped back down on his pillow.

With a huge yawn, he wondered why the hell he felt so tired, and then remembered: Jake. Who knew what he did with the body at night? For Khonshu and...well, maybe even with you.

He groaned, running his hands over his face. How could he actually feel this confusion and apprehension about a part of his own system? He never felt anything like this about Steven. But it was like he told you: he knew Steven. He didn't know Jake.

They had communicated a few times. Marc had even offered him a key, so that he didn't keep trying out acrobatics through the bedroom window.

It seemed important to you to know Jake, to include him, somehow, in all of this. He knew you were right. He was certain you even had feelings for Jake, or at least a pretty intense attraction. Damn him.

So Marc was trying. For you. And in a way, for himself. And he knew he should try for Jake too.

With a tired sigh, he climbed out of bed to visit the restroom, but noticed the door was closed. Deciding to give you a moment to do your own thing, he went to the kitchen to start some coffee. Remembering that Steven had class around an hour after your shift started, he also put on the kettle.

Several minutes passed with Marc completing everyday morning tasks, finishing the coffee and steeping some green tea, which he would choke down on Steven's behalf if needed. (it supposedly helped him concentrate?) On occasion, if Steven was dreadfully tired, Marc would be left to attend class, take furious notes and pretend to be interested in all of Steven's courses.

Realizing he still hadn't seen you, Marc made his way back to the bathroom and wrapped his knuckles on the door.

"Hey...I made you some coffee."

No answer.

Knocking again, he added, "You okay, sweetheart?"

Respecting that everyone needed some privacy sometimes, he gave you another minute or two. But he wasn't able to hear the shower or sink, nor could he decipher any sounds of you moving around, getting ready for your day. And this morning routine wasn't like you at all.

After another quick knock, he twisted the door knob; then realized the door wasn't locked. Calling your name, he pushed against the door...but it wouldn't open.

Panic zipped through his body as he shoved the door open, meeting resistance. His firm shove sent you tumbling over on the other side.

You had been dead asleep against the door, and now you were a tangle of Marc's hoodie, the bathroom rug and his frantic arms, which were all over you.

"Baby? Baby, what's the matter? What happened?"

"Marc?" You croaked. You felt awful. "Ow."

"Honey, are you hurt? Talk to me." His hands checked you over carefully, his eyes wild and worried.

"I'm...I fell asleep." You reached up to rub the crick in your neck, blinking your puffy, burning eyes.

Helping you ease into a sitting position, Marc grasped your shoulders, joining you on the floor.

"You slept in the bathroom? Why, baby - are you sick?"

Marc absolutely worshipped the ground you walked on, but even he had to admit - you looked terrible. Your hair was a mess, your eyes were dull and swollen, with dark circles beneath them. You neck was covered in a layer of sweat because you had apparently slept fully dressed, when you were used to sleeping in only his t-shirt.

Leaning your forehead against his chest, you sank into his arms, feeling a few new tears forming. You were so fucking relieved to see him.

Pulling you close, Marc rocked you gently, his heart thundering and his gut twisting with worry.

"It's okay...it's okay, honey," his voice trembled with concern. He couldn't recall the last time he'd seen you like this. You were the steady one. He was the drama queen (according to Steven).

After shedding a few tears, you were desperate to get up off the floor, drink a gallon of water, 2 gallons of coffee and take like 17 painkillers.

"I'm not sick," you mumbled into his t-shirty chest. Finally sitting all the way up, you rubbed your eyes sleepily. "Just had a rough night."

Marc nodded, giving you a moment to explain. Meanwhile his brain was firing off a long list of terrible possibilities about how you ended up here. He was the one who had spent a ridiculous amount of time on the bathroom floor after spending the previous night in a bottle.

Surely you hadn't been drinking...

"Oh god - what time is it?" You climbed off the floor, shoving your hands inside your pockets to find your phone - which was still on the bedside table.

"Not sure," Marc said carefully, standing up to join you. "Your alarm went off about ten or fifteen minutes ago.”

"Shit, I'm gonna be late," you huffed, yanking off your layers of clothes, halfway tripping on them as you reached to turn on the shower.

"Hey...hey," Marc grasped your elbow, the way Jake was prone to do, bringing you to a standstill. Despite losing his mind with worry, he caressed your cheek tenderly. "What can I do? What do you need?"

You started to cry again, unable to believe your tears hadn't dried up yet.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry." Quickly releasing you, he gave you some space, fearing he was only upsetting you more.

"Could you make me a turkey sandwich?" You sniffled, wiping your nose with your sleeve. "And a really big travel mug of coffee?"

"Of course," he nodded, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead. "Need your scrubs out of the laundry basket?"

Your bottom lip trembled as you nodded right back.

Several minutes later, after the all-time quickest shower and morning routine, you found Marc in the kitchen.

"Ah, you smell much better," he teased, hoping a lame joke would maybe cheer you up just a tiny bit. When you paused, he figured he'd fucked up. Typical. He held up your lunch bag as a peace offering.

But you ignored it, sliding your arms around his body and burying your face in his chest. Setting the lunch bag back down carefully, he wrapped his arms around you and buried his nose in your hair. Pressing a soft kiss to your temple. he rubbed your back soothingly.

"Thank you," you murmured after a few quiet moments, peering up into his eyes. "You have no idea how much I needed you this morning. I love you so much."

He melted, grateful for the small measure of comfort he was able to give. And thankful that he was the one able to share it. "I love you too."

Reaching up with one hand, he traced the fullness of your bottom lip with his thumb. "You're sure you're feeling okay, sweetheart?"

Nodding, you leaned into his touch as he brushed his fingers over your cheek. "I'm just tired. I was up most of the night."

His jaw twitched, dark eyes flashing possessively. "With Jake?"

Your gaze dropped. You really didn't want to talk about it, especially since you were running late.

"You're upset, though, so...I'm thinking maybe...it didn't go well?" Desperately trying to piece together anything about last night, Marc assumed the two of you had not come to any kind of agreement - relational or physical. If you had, he figured you would be in a much better disposition. He felt sick over what could have upset you so badly.

He knew better than to ask if Jake hurt you, after you had made it abundantly clear that no part of the system would ever harm you in any way. Still...

"Did he...hurt you? Your feelings, I mean," Marc quickly clarified. "He-he made you feel like this?"

Shaking your head, you pulled away, reaching for your lunch and giant tumbler of coffee. "No," you finally answered, scooping up your bag. "I did."

It became abundantly clear when Steven got out of class because he blew up your phone with messages, a few of which included...

'Heard you had a rough go of it last night. Seems like someone was a right twit. (maybe it was the stupid pigeon) So sorry, love. Hope your day is aces.'

A half-hour later...

'Hate to bug you - just wanted to say how much I love you.'

And another.

'Don't worry about a thing tonight. Already placed an order for your favorite takeaway. It's important to rest, so I'll read to you if you like.'

And that's just what you did. Dinner was warm and ready as soon as you walked in the door and only an hour later, your head was in Steven's lap as he read French poetry to you.

"How could I be so lucky?" You whispered, drifting off to sleep.

The following morning, you were well-rested and much more yourself. Steven's pampering and loving attention definitely helped improve things as well. And you felt anxious and excited for him to do a repeat of that French poetry reading so you could do scandalous things right back to him.

Briefly wondering if your fiancé got enough rest or if Jake was out all night again, you decided that, on this particular day, you didn't give a damn.

(You actually did.)

Marc was expecting you to fill him in a little more on what had taken place to upset you so on bathroom-floor-night. But you didn't really say much at all, and that's how he knew it was bad.

Still, he couldn't complain when you pulled one of his classic moves and decided to use his body for a little stress relief.

He was innocently making your lunch, again, hoping it would cheer you up or at least make your day go smoothly. But halfway through slicing a tomato, you walked up to the counter, boldly took the knife out of his hand and pressed your mouth to his.

He was kind of oddly excited that you were kissing him while holding a sharp knife, but you quickly set it down.

"Good morning," he grinned, forgetting your lunch and wrapping you up for what he assumed was a delicious morning greeting.

It was more than that. Your hands pushed his t-shirt up his abdomen before yanking everything else down. Your hands flew all over him, caressing, stroking, tugging and making him lose his damn mind in the middle of the kitchen.

"Come on," you ordered, dragging him by the arm. He assumed you were headed to bed, but you didn't make it past the first oversized chair in the living room before you were on him. And you were not gentle.

"Need you," you gasped, even as your bodies were already joined.

He was so ready to give you anything you wanted - anything in the world to comfort you, to love you, or just worship your body. After all, being Marc, he felt responsible. For damn near everything.

For his past, for his drinking. For everything that had ever gone wrong in his childhood home. For Randall. For icing Steven out for years. For anything Jake said or did unbeknownst to him. For all the blood on his hands.

Hell, it was probably his fault that the Cubs couldn't win the World Series for a damn century. If there was blame to be assigned, Marc always assumed his name was at the top of the list.

So whatever he could do for you, he would try his damndest.

The two of you finished on the chair and moved to the shower because you had to get ready for work and also because you weren't done with him - not that he was complaining.

But as soon as you left for work, he found the nearest mirror and glared at his reflection.

"All right, assholes," he growled, leaning in as if he could magically summon his alters. "Let's fucking go. My fiancé(e) is devastated and we're going to fix it. Right fucking now."

After a minute of staring, he huffed and rolled his eyes. He knew perfectly well that this wasn't how it worked - he couldn't stare into a mirror and summon Jake like Bloody Mary or Candyman.

Squeezing his eyes shut, he tried to remember any advice from his meetings or therapy sessions. Or from you. His patience didn't last long enough to be reasonable however, so he banged his fist on the mirror in annoyance, but not hard enough to break it.

"Steven? Jake? Come on," he huffed.

'Don't look at me, mate,' he heard Steven say. 'Got no clue. But I bet the stupid old bird's to blame.'

Fine then.

Squaring his shoulders, Marc felt ready to do fucking battle if he had to. Because, even though he didn't realize it, you were right. He was your hero. Drawing a deep breath, he called out,

"KHONSHU!"

@stormydaysxx @laaundromat @kindlover @flyestvenustrap @spxctorsslxt @deezisnotreal @stevenknightmarc @imonmykneessir @marvelouslovely-barnes @evilbubu @usualsworld @rivalriotrenegade @wordacadabra @this--is--music @i-still-dont-like-your-face @cicithemess2000

Dividers by saradika

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anantaru · 4 months

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You think rape is funny? Maybe once you fucking experience it you won’t. Fucking cunt.

hello. so I'll just jump right into this. tw. discourse tw. mentioning r*pe.

@saetoru made this claim about me:

saetoru, could you add proof at least? i can not remember a time where i would repost a joke like that so i'd love for you to show me proof please, this is all I'm asking.

also how was it on your dash, on your own dash and @dottores dash, when you have never followed me? + but maybe it was the for you feature that was the same for the both of you.

accusing someone without proof is not okay, again, i can not remember doing this so if you have a screenshot add it so i can remember and apologize, but i can't do anything because i don't remember saying a joke with SA in mind.

before that i just want to mention: i don't think r*pe is funny, i'm not a dark content blog either so i do not really reblog dark content things because i'm sure most of my readers don't want that + I'm just not into that as well. the only joke i was "called out" for once is when i used a "i want xyz character to smack their laptop on my face or tits" which i got from an andrew garfield interview where he read his thirst tweets out loud, at that time i just deleted it because it's alright.

dottores, your mutuals, two of them to be exact, have sent me multiple of your personal blog hate posts about me and not once, have you made one where you talked about me saying an SA joke. you have only claimed that i am a cunt and that i am a gatekeeping bitch hence why i believed this must be the reason why you would suddenly hate me despite the fact we never interacted.

now, I want to address this next, this is from @dottores post which when i got it sent to me, i would've wished she just tagged me right away and said it with her chest, more so not let saetoru talk about her experience but just handle this with me.

^ this is cat @dottores saying i got it wrong.

^ this is why i believed she meant it just like i said it, why do you go through blogs that grow really fast's notes in the first place? where do you take the right to police other blogs like that when i'm sure your blogs aren't empty of blank blogs either. it is hard to get rid of all of them but i'm sure we all try at least, we don't need you to make us feel bad or come off as belittling, if you have found out a way to get rid of every blank blog, do enlighten us please.

+ at that time of this reblog icks?? post that saetoru added, my blog was blowing up so when a moot of mine (which was also theirs at a time) saw this, they had sent it to me.

"creators that grow really fast" and nowhere has she mentioned she only went through only her own moots notes, aside from that apologies but i still find this weird, i don't think you should invest so much time in other people's blog but this is my opinion.

this is the next thing she said:

i don't know if dottores meant me there but i have never once harassed you nor sent you hate anywhere, again you cannot just accuse me of stuff like that when you have also never reached out to me. The things i claimed about you guys in your callout, i have text messages of the person (your moot) who sent it to me.

but back again, the only thing i did do was block dottores on tumblr and then later ao3 when i saw you in tags, which you made fun of me for later:

also i got this ask that time:

"who blocks on ao3?" i do, ao3 is the platform i use the most so why is it funny when i use the block button? + i just like to point something out here, "they must've clicked to read and realize it was me" you can think that if you want i don't mind, but let me ask you this: i have seen you in tags hence why i was able to block you, but how did you notice i did? you can't see me in tags so surely you didnt click on my work, so you must've searched up my user for whatever reason?

and i know this is about me because she added the "this person called me chronically online" i couldn't find the post but what she was talking about is me calling other writers who reblogged that one "ick post" with not needed things such as "when writers cant characterize a character" or "when they only write headcanons", i have plenty of screenshots of that post but since i don't want to use up all my space here, i don't see why i should show their reblogs from this.

there were plenty of people like that, which reblogged horrible things there so i called everyone under that post chronically online, not just you dottores.

yeah :) like people making fun of someone for blocking them for their own comfort. i just don't want to see you, that's all, but i have never send you hate asks nor harassed you, the only thing i did was block the blogs your own mutuals exposed to me.

^ this is after i felt bad for you after the callout.

this is coming from your own mutuals, i have never alone claimed you guys are jealous of me nor is there anything to be jealous about. i am just a blog, this here is not being popular, no one knows who i am and i do not need to pride myself in having a big blog on tumblr.com, and my readers know that. we are all the same here.

i didn't mean you here saetoru but i understand that it sounded that way, the phrasing was a little off, for that i apologise that i made you upset with this, english is not my first language, i'm french, and when it comes to this callout post i was so fed up with it that i just posted it without looking for grammar mistakes etc. + this is about one of your friends who deleted their personal the second i announced i got their user, that was something with kaeya, when they sent me a hate ask. i won't expose it here but that person was also the one who blacklisted a friend of mine for liking itto.

i think there is a lot more but i will stop it there, this could've ended differently and i'm sad that it ended this way. I wish you all the best and i mean it, i hope we all can learn from this and move on, write on tumblr for our favorite characters because it's fun and stay away from drama. If you made it this far thank you 💓 — yoru

#tw discourse #tw rape

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avatarloverfrfr · 2 months

Text

Dreamwalker Siblings

Chapter I: Cryo-sleep

Masterlist

Summary: Y/n and Jake Sully. Siblings, shipped off into the depths of space to explore the mysterious world of Pandora.

Warnings: Mentions of death, reader is NOT excited at all, Constant reminder of deceased loved one.

Word count: 3,6k

Tag list: @pinkvrydag @neytirismissingtoe @youskawng @tsuteyssyulang @lylalaminated

Note: Trust me guys, this series is going to take an interesting turn around the second or third chapter, be patient. Let me cook. Also just ask to be added to the tag list.

"You cannot ask this of us! Tommy is the scientist not us. He wanted to be shot light years into space, not us. We cannot do it." I shrieked, pleading with my brother for validation, but my cries were met with oppressive silence. His gaze fixed onto our fallen sibling, Tommy, robbed of life right before he went off to do the only thing that put a smile to his face. All sacrificed for the contents of his wallet.

"Your brother represented a significant investment, we'd urge you to accept taking over his contract." The man besides Jake had said, completely disregarding all that I had said. "I'm sure he would hate to have all his hard work go to waste, knowing someone so close to him would be able to continue his legacy." The second man, besides me, added with a curt nod.

Outrage boils within me at the audacity of these men, exploiting the loss of one of us, former triplets, as leverage against us. How dare they use Jake and I with their clear motives of greed, revealing to us that our worth to them is nothing but a budget they refuse to abandon.

"It'll be a fresh start, on a new world. And the pays good, very good." they said staring at Jake and I. Before I could even say something in retaliation. Jake had spoken for the first time that night. "We'll do it." Disbelief swept over me as I locked eyes with him. How could he agree so easily? How could he not see that these men were just using us— he probably could, yet chose to turn a bind eye.

"Perfect, Y/n we will get your Avatar ready, they will mature on the trip there." the men said walking out, leaving me in there with Jake.

"How could you just accept like that Jake. You caved! Just like that? You know they are just playing us, and you still went along with it! Don't you see–" I started, but he interrupted me. "Maybe you don't see it, but I do. We are dirt poor Y/n! Struggling... This cash could change everything. We could finally be able to live." he pleaded, desperate for understanding. "I could afford to use my legs again." he confessed.

While I was sitting there, next to my brother, a big whole blown right in the middle of our lives, I started having these dreams. Dreams that whispered secrets of possibility and untold wonders. Sooner or later though, you always have to wake up.

As I wake up, I glance around and it hits me, I'm in some sort of cryo pod. Flashbacks flood my mind, reminding me of the time before my life had got frozen, five years of my life, gone. The memories of Tommy's death, as if it was yesterday. 'We had to do it, so we could live." I think to myself, trying to find comfort in all of this.

"Rise and shine sleepy head." a doctor had greeted me as I exit the cryo pod I had spent the last five years of my life in. "We're here."

"Exo-packs on! Let's go! Exo packs on! Remember people, you lose that mask, you're unconscious in 20 seconds, and dead in four minutes–" I stopped listening to what the sergeant had to say. Looking around my eyes landing on Jake. We should not be here, this is not our home. But what's the point in dwelling now, there's no turning back. I think to myself while putting on my exo pack, adjusting it so oxygen could freely flow through.

"When that ramp comes down, go directly into the base. Do not stop! Go straight inside wait for my mark!" the sergeant yelled. Standing up I walk over to Jake who was still seated waiting for everyone in front of him to leave the air craft so that he was able to freely able to deploy his wheelchair.

"Let's go special case! Do not make me wait for you Sully's!" he barks. Not bothering to acknowledge him Jake and I walk off the ramp and onto Pandora, our "fresh start." Taking a long look around I spot soldiers, back on earth these guys were heroes, marines fighting for freedom. But out here they were all just a bunch of hired guns, serving the RDA until their last breath.

"You're not in Kansas anymore, you're on Pandora ladies and gentlemen–" the man, Quartrich, continued. Tommy was meant to be listening to this, not Jake and I.

"Excuse me. Excuse me. Jake!" a lanky man rushes up to us after the "safety brief." "You're Jake right? Tom's brother." he asked looking down at him to meet his eyes. I just stare at him, does he just not see me here?

"You look just like him." he says eyes finally landing on me. "Sorry– I forgot he had mentioned he had two siblings, Y/n. I'm Norm. Spellman. Went through Avatar training with him." he says leading us into some sort of bio-lab.

As Norm continues briefing us on the bio-lab procedures, my attention drifts, drawn to avatars in three separate cry-chambers. I approach them, circling until I stop at a particular one.

"Looks like him." Jake and I simultaneously say, not once taking our eyes off what our brother could have been.

"No, looks like you. This is your avatar now Jake." Norm reassures him placing a hand on Jakes shoulder before moving to the last tube in the bio-lab.

"And this is your avatar Y/n. She had to get to the lab as soon as possible, since you know–" Norm starts, but I cut in, "–I wasn't meant to be here. Yeah, I'm aware." I finish, stepping closer to my avatar.

She looks so much like me, except for the obvious differences. Blue skin, a queue, and her sheer size. "She's beautiful." I whisper, touching the glass, feeling a soft heartbeat pass between us.

"The idea is that every driver is matched to their own Avatar, so their nervous systems are in tune... Or something. That's why they offered us the gig. It's insanely expensive... Is this right? Do we just say whatever to the video log?" Jake questions turning to Norm and Max.

"And do we have to share the exact same camera to film these things?" I interject, trying to nudge Jake out of the screens view.

"Yeah, you both need to document everything you see, what you feel. Plus, you're twins, who knows if you both are able to feel the same emotions or not. It's all apart of the science." Norm explains, retuning to his work.

"Plus it'll keep you sane for the next six years," Norm adds chuckling.

"Not if I have to sit next to Mr. Jarhead it's not." I remark, rolling my eyes but smiling slightly.

"Look who's talking Miss. 'I might not be a marine, but I sure can beat your ass,' " Jake adds, playfully pushing me.

This was one the first times I had smiled since arriving to Pandora. Usually keeping a stoic face, only smiling around my brother. My only family, the only thing from my past life.

Entering the link room behind Norm and Max, we're greeted by a voice. "Who's got my goddamn cigarette?" a redheaded woman demands, emerging from one of the link pods.

"Grace Augustine is a legend. She's the head of the Avatar Program. She wrote the book, I mean literally write the book on Pandora botany." Norm gushes. "Well that's because she likes plants more than people." Max adds teasingly.

"Well, there she is, Cinderella back from the ball. Grace, I'd like you to meet Norm Spellman, and Jake and Y/n Sully." Max says pointing at each of us in turn.

"Norm, I've heard good things about you. How's your Na'vi?" she asks, completely ignoring my brother and me, then begins to speak in a language I can only assume is Na'vi.

"Uh- Grace, this is Jake and Y/n Sully," Max interjects, trying to redirect her attention.

"Yeah, yeah. I know who you are, and I don't need you. I need your brother. You know. the PhD who trained for years for this mission? Yeah him." she snaps.

"He's dead. We know it's a big inconvenience for everyone, including me." I reply bluntly. There's no need to sugar coat anything that's already happened.

"How much lab training have you had?" she asks, looking between Jake and I.

"We dissected a frog once." Jake simply states.

"You see? I mean, they're just pissing on us without even the courtesy of calling it rain. I mean hell, the girl isn't even supposed to be here! I'm going to Selfridge, this is such bullshit." she rants, storming off but not before putting out her cigar.

"Well she's kind." I remark dryly.

As Jake and I arrive precisely at the time Max had instructed us to the day before, 0800, Jake and I hasten to catch up with Grace and Norm, who are already stationed at the link pods.

"You're late Sully's. You're in there, you're here." Grace remarks, gesturing towards two pods for Jake and I, and we obediently follow her directions.

"How much have you both logged?" she inquires, turning to the screen besides Jakes link pod.

"Zip, but I read a manual." Jake replies with a nonchalant shrug, as he wheels over to his pod.

"I listened to him read it out loud, if that counts." I confess making my way to my own pod.

"Tell me you're joking." Grace says incredulously, as she abandons her work on Jakes screen to approach mine.

"So you just decided to venture out here, to the most hostile environment known to man with no training whatsoever and see how it went? What was going on through your head?" she questions, setting up both mine and Jakes link screens for launch.

"Maybe I was tired of doctors telling what I couldn't do." Jake retorts, lying down in this link pod. I look at him wondering if that is why he spared no chance in me saying anything back when those men asked us to take the place of Tommy, because he was tired of the life he had.

"Keep you arms in, heads down." Grace instructs, pushing me into my link bed before I had the chance to ask Jake what he had truly meant.

"Just relax and let your mind go blank." are the last words I hear Grace utter before she seals my link pod.

Off to the side, Max examines scans of Jake and my brain. Studying the intently, he remarks. "Jakes brain is gorgeous, with nice activity. However we're detecting some resistance in Y/n's brain. She's unconsciously pushing back against the transfer, if this continues it could potentially harm the link." he informs, turning to Grace for guidance.

"Once the link is established, it cannot be interrupted. It will only worsen the issue," Grace states matter-of-factly, keeping an eye on my Avatar. Stubborn and resistant to change- that's Grace's initial assessment of Y/n, even after less than 48 hrs of meeting her.

As my eyes flutter open, I'm greeted by a blinding light that pierces my eyes. A sharp ache throbs in my head, intensifying until two figures materialize before me- doctors, no doubt.

"She's awake. Y/n, can you hear me? Are you feeling alright?" the female doctor inquires, checking my expression for any sign of discomfort.

"Yeah, I'm fine." I reply, opting not to mention the pounding headache. Slowly, I sit up, only to find my hands adorned with five blue fingers.

"I made it." I murmur to myself in disbelief. Glancing around, I notice Jake already on his feet, a grin stretching across his face. He's standing, a sight I never thought I'd witness again, his legs finally functioning.

"Y/n you've got to see this. When's the last time you saw your brother standing tall, huh?" he exclaims, turning to face me while his tail knocks over everything in it's path.

Finally on my feet, I chuckle, "Bro, we're giants." The realisation hits me as I gaze at Jake and then towards the exit to find that he was already smiling at me– we're thinking the same thing. Tri– Twin telepathy perhaps?

Without a word Jake and I bolt, dodging Avatars engaged in a game of basketball, evading Norm and the two doctors running after us. We hurdle obstacles until a humanoid robot comes into view.

"Sorry! we both exclaim breathlessly, narrowly avoiding a collision as we skid to a stop near some flora. Catching our breath, we're approached by an avatar bearing striking resemblance to Grace.

"Hey, Sully's!" she calls out, closing in on us.

"Grace?" Jake questions, eyeing her up and down.

"Who else were you expecting numbnuts?" she retorts with a grin, with me laughing at the nickname Grace gave him.

As Jake and Grace catch up, I slip away into the area where Avatars are housed, searching for a change of attire. Opting for a top similar to Graces but in a deep shade of blue, that are about a shade darker than my current skin tone, pairing it with green cargo shorts. Hoping to blend in slightly to the flora and fauna of the forest.

Gazing up at the darkening sky, I realize it's nearly nightfall, meaning I had to delink for the night. "Alright, everyone, settle down! Lights out." Grace commands, ushering the remaining humans away.

"See you at dinner kiddos," she adds, flicking the lights off.

Lying back, I can still feel the remnants of the headache, but I decided to let sleep wash it away. Closing my eyes, I drift off into a peaceful slumber.

next II

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