#and they don't (often) complain even though they'd have every right to | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ghostboneswrites2 · 1 month

Text

You Ran

Summary: Your boyfriend is a known abuser but nobody does anything to stop it. (Similar to the Jess situation.) When Daryl goes out of his way to help, you lash out, realizing that he might have helped you for the night, but it would surely only get worse from there. When Deanna makes it clear she has little to no intentions of addressing the issue, you take matters into your own hands.

18+ MDNI || Warnings: Profanity, non-graphic references to abuse, one instance of descriptive abuse (slapping & pushing), description of bruising, TWD typical violence

Part 2: You Were Found

Note: This story may not be suitable for all audiences. It's not intentionally triggering but as a former victim of abuse / witness to the abuse of a parent I did channel a bit of my own trauma into this.

You anxiously tugged at your sleeves, ensuring the bruising around your wrist would be hidden as you worked your shift at the armory. Usually Olivia would handle the pantry and armory combined, but with rations getting low and runs becoming a more frequent necessity, you offered to help her with one or the other. The Alexandrians were getting antsy, crowding the pantry all hours of the day to try and intimidate Olivia out of extra rations, selfishly complaining that they needed more, regardless of who had to go hungry for their bellies to be filled.

You had only been at Alexandria for a year, maybe. You and your boyfriend bumped into Aaron and Eric on the road, and he graciously invited you to his home. You often found yourself missing what you had with him on the road. He never hit you or raised his voice. He was always tender and protective. The only goal either of you had was to see another day together. Somehow, though, when you arrived here, everything changed. It was like the safety of the walls left him too much time to recall the horrors of the time you spent out in the open. PTSD ravaged him, and he became a mere shell of his former self.

He'd become overwhelmed with rage. He'd shout, break things, attack you.. Truth be told, you changed too. Once the violence began, you became reclusive and shy. You thought if you looked anyone in the eye for too long they'd be able to see your problems at home written all over your face. It wasn't a risk worth taking.

The people noticed, too. When you first arrived, you were goofy and talkative, excited for any human contact. You never stayed inside too long. You always offered to help anyone you saw with yard work, hauling, preparing. You'd see the kids playing or hanging out and offer them a drink or ask to join their game of hide and seek. Slowly, though, that changed, beginning right around the time your boyfriend changed.

See, Ty was the kind of guy to smile at his neighbor and offer a hand in lifting that heavy couch, or ask a fellow passerby how their day was going. He was eager to be given a job, to contribute. It was mere weeks before the depression krept in and stole everything lively about him away, leaving room for the more sinister post-trauma to settle in in the wake of his joy. You tried to pull him out of it. You stayed by his side every step of the way, and at first he was grateful, but somehow he grew to resent you. He felt sick to his stomach at your sweet nature, at how effortlessly you acclimated to any semblance of normalcy. He felt left behind, like you were going to bloom and expose all your petals while he remained shriveled underneath the surface.

That was when his outbursts began. The damage to your surroundings followed soon after, and that only escalated to violence. It wasn't every day, but it was often. Most people avoided him, and even you, but a select few kept in touch. Mostly Olivia and Denise.

"It's hot today, love. Don't you wanna take that sweater off?" Olivia asked innocently as he brought in your clipboard. "I did a quick inventory last night, go ahead and check it out again. They should be by soon to check out for their run."

"Okay." You smiled and nodded, checking off every gun, scope, and round of ammunition. You were quickly bored so you started arranging everything neatly, setting the larger rifles and shotguns on the pegs of the utility wall, carefully laying out each pistol, lining up the mags and ammunition, organizing the sights by magnification.

"Need a few things." A husky voice startled you. You spun to face him fast, relaxing a bit at the familiar face. It was just Daryl. A lot of people found him intimidating or mean, but you figured he was just quiet. Most people in Alexandria were blissfully unaware of the world beyond the walls and what it could do to a person.

"Oh, go ahead." You pressed your lips into a thin smile. "Just let me know what you take so I can.." You held up the clipboard. He nodded and wandered around the room, picking up a few pistols and sliding the mags inside, which you had graciously preloaded for them already.

"Can ya toss me that AR?" He asked. You reached up and lifted it off the prongs, walking it over to him. "Is it loaded?" He wondered as he reached to grab it. His eyes stuck to your wrists, which had been exposed as your sleeves rode up your arm through the mundane tasks you had been performing. You didn't really notice his gaze.

"Yeah, I--" You paused as his hand grabbed yours and turned it over, looking at the purple and blue marks littering your skin. They were clearly left from another hand.

You yanked your hand back and adjusted your sleeves shamefully. Embarrassment encased you. It wasn't that you worried about intervention, perse. The entire community knew what was happening behind closed doors and they all swept it under the rug, not willing to intervene and disturb the peace in their blissfully ignorant suburb.

"Sorry, it's nothing." You mumbled, brushing your dull hair behind your ear. Funny enough, you were a social worker before shit hit the fan. You were well trained in signs of abuse and malnourishment, in both women and children. Thin, dull hair was often a sign of abuse in the sense that one's body can be in a constant state of fight-or-flight and the adrenaline could take a real toll on someone's health. Usually accompanied by less than healthy BMI, timidness, always looking at the ground when they walk, avoiding eye contact, only speaking when spoken to, the list went on. It was like a sick joke, being a poster child for the textbook signs of abuse, the very thing you were trained to protect and remove the vulnerable from.

"It ain't." He said quietly.

"No, really. It's fine." You forced a smile. "Was that all you needed, or..?"

He studied you for a moment, deciding it wasn't the right time to address it.

"Need a scope." He relented.

"Oh, they're right there." You pointed to the shelf. He nodded and picked one.

"Just these." He said, displaying his haul. You recorded each item and nodded.

"Okay. Be safe out there." You smiled. He grunted and walked out. You let out a breath, praying that slip up wouldn't have consequences.

----

You slowly entered the bedroom where Ty would be enjoying his typical glass of whatever booze he could get his hands on. Recently he even resorted to fermenting fruit for his own mead.

"Dinner." You said shyly, setting it on the end table beside the bed, knowing better than to interrupt him too much.

"It's about time." He slurred. "I'm starving."

You hung your head low as you scurried out of the room, gently pulling the door shut behind him. If you closed it too loud, he'd think you slammed it, and that was sure to trigger a response.

You sat down on the couch downstairs, picking at your food in an attempt to grow and appetite. You had a knot in your gut all day after the encounter with Daryl. You had this nagging feeling that it was sure to turn into more than an awkward interaction.

And you were right.

Knock knock.

A casual double knock wasn't typical around there. Most people, if they dared to stop by, tapped lightly and persistently. You set the food on the coffee table and pulled the door open.

"Oh." You blinked at the quiet huntsman. "Don't do this." You pleaded, just above a whisper.

"Do what?" He shrugged. "Just came to drop this off."

He was nonchalant, but you both knew what he was doing. He held out a bag with some rations.

"We usually get rations at the pantry." You said apprehensively.

"Mm. Decided to drop by after we unloaded." He explained absently, more focused on the house behind you as he searched from the doorway.

"Well, thanks." You reached for the bag but he seized the opportunity to grab you hand again and pull your sleeve up.

Carol stepped into view from beside him. She was hidden from your sights before that, right beside the front door. She looked down at your wrist then back up at you.

"Enjoy the rations." Was all she said as she walked away. Daryl brought her along to judge the situation. Given both of their pasts, he thought there'd be no better duo to help.

You snatched the bag back and eyed Daryl.

"What's this?" Ty asked from behind you, empty plate in hand. His eyes lingered on Daryl and flashed with jealousy.

"This is Daryl." You stepped to the side.

"I know his name, damn it. What's he doing here?"

"Just dropping by with some food." You explained hurriedly attempting to avoid any kind of confrontation.

"The pantry out of commission or something?" Ty asked suspiciously, stepping toward you.

"No, they just--"

"Just stocked it up. Olivia asked me to drop some things off for (Y/N)." Daryl spoke up.

"Huh." Ty hummed, looking Daryl up and down and decided it wouldn't be a fair fight. "Thanks." Was all he said before he shut the door in Daryl's face. He watched the door as he listened to Daryl walk down the steps before his eyes found you. You gulped.

"Just some food." You mumbled, extending your arm to show him the bag. He snatched it and you jumped. He looked over the contents inside. Typical things like canned goods and bread. "I needed some--"

You began to formulate an excuse to keep his rage at bay, but he cut you short with an open handed slap across the cheek.

"I told you no guests." He seethed.

"I didn't know they were coming." You whimpered, hand holding your throbbing skin as your hair slipped over your face.

He shoved you into the wall and the impact knocked a picture frame down, shattering all over the tile.

The door swung open just then and Daryl's stocky figure hurdled at Ty, taking him to the ground.

"Ya like beatin' up on little girls?" Daryl seethed, straddling Ty and landing two punches across his face. "Huh? Why don't ya pick on somebody your own size, ya prick?!"

Daryl had walked down the steps loudly to trick Ty, then he waited for any sign he needed to intervene. Carol went to get Rick. It was all planned.

You scrambled away from the scene, stunned. You couldn't watch for very long before you felt compelled to intervene.

"Daryl.." You pleaded, trying and failing to pull him back. Daryl punched Ty over and over.

"Answer me, ya sick fuck! You like beatin' up on your girl? It make ya feel big and bad? Huh?!"

"Daryl!" You pleaded.

That was when Rick rushed over with Michonne and Carol in tow.

"Daryl, stop!" Rick ordered. Hesitantly, Daryl stood up to his feet and Rick stepped in front of him. Rick took in the scene of your bloodied boyfriend writhing on the ground, you cowering away. "What happened?" He asked you. You couldn't speak.

"Bastard's been hittin' her!" Daryl spoke up for you, still pacing and circling like a hungry predator.

"That true?" Rick asked you. He noticed your red cheek and your generally timid nature. You didn't answer, but you didn't need to. Rick nodded and looked back down to Ty. "Alright. Michonne, help me get him to the cell. We can try to explain this to Deanna tomorrow."

Rick and Michonne dragged Ty away as you stared at Daryl bewildered. Suddenly, a flash of rage washed over you.

"Do you know what you've done?!" You shouted through tears. "It's only gonna get so much worse now!"

Daryl was stunned. He took offense to the fact that he went out of his way to defend a stranger only for them to turn around and lash out at him, as if he had wronged her.

"It was only gonna get worse if I didn't do nothin'!" He defended.

"You don't get it! He'll be home tomorrow and it'll start all over again, only worse this time!" You sobbed. "You should have just left it alone."

"He ain't comin' back here."

"Yes he is! Have you ever seen anyone be punished here? Do you see any laws posted? Did you get a handbook when you arrived?" You tried to explain. "Deanna will let him out tomorrow and everyone's just going to pretend like it never happened; like nothing is wrong. That's how things work here."

"Well then pack up and go. Get outta here 'fore he comes back." Daryl shrugged. You scoffed.

"And go where? I barely know these people. You think Deanna's just gonna give me a whole house to myself? Even if she did, how long do you think it'll be before he shows up at my door? Are you gonna be there to save me then too?"

Tears were still streaming freely down your cheeks. Your voice cracked and trembled with fear and rage.Daryl was speechless. He didn't know what to do to help you. He wondered if you were right, if he should've just left things how they were and minded his own business. Maybe he was fool to think he had any right meddling in your life just because he had been through similar things.

"Can't just let ya sit here and get beat." He finally spoke. You scoffed and shook your head, running a hand over your flustered face.

"Well you don't really have a choice. I have nowhere to go." You said, holding your arms out and gesturing around you. "This is where I live, this is where he lives, and this is my life now."

"Nah. Rick's gon' talk to Deanna. He's gon' fix this."

----

The next morning, Rick and Daryl showed up at Deanna's bright and early, with Michonne and Carol in tow.

"So you attacked him?" Deanna asked, eying Daryl. He scoffed.

"After he beat up his girl, again. And from the sounds of it you all know exactly what goes on over there and don't do a damn thing to fix it!" Daryl spat. He was frustrated with the entire situation, but more so with the lack of action from the community or its leader to protect all of its citizens. Rick held his hand out to Daryl and gave him a look, silently asking him to calm down. Daryl began pacing.

"We don't know for sure that anything like that was happening. We can't act on suspicion alone--"

"We saw the bruises." Carol cut Deanna off. "All around her wrists, where someone grabbed her."

"And I heard him throw her into the wall." Daryl added, straining to keep his voice down. "Waited on the porch 'til he thought I was gone and heard it all."

"Her face was red too." Michonne spoke up. "When we got there. The whole left side was lit up."

Deanna looked to Rick, who nodded in confirmation. Deanna pondered for a moment.

"So then what do you suggest I do? Leave him locked up in a cell underneath my house?" She asked rhetorically. It was clear she had no intentions of facing the issue.

"What ya do is tell him to get lost." Daryl said as if it was obvious. To him, it was. No room for abusers in a functional society.

"What Daryl means to say is maybe you van give him an ultimatum. If he can't keep his hands off people, then he has no place here." Rick tried to smooth out the situation. Deanna was already more focused on Daryl attacking Ty than he was on the year-long assault Ty waged against your body.

"I can't just start throwing threats around and --"

"You need to protect your people." Michonne spoke slowly. "That means not leaving one to suffer just to keep everyone else comfortable."

"This isn't a comfortable world." Carol added meekly, maintaining that denmother persona she played so well.Deanna sighed.

"Suppose I give him this.. ultimatum.. Then what? What happens when he hits her again?" Deanna asked. Daryl stopped pacing and stared at her, arms hanging down at his sides. He was baffled.

"Then ya stand on what ya said and throw him out." He deadpanned.

"And what do I tell my people?"

"The truth!" Daryl threw his hands up in frustration.

"Okay, Daryl, maybe you should take a minute to cool off." Rick sighed.

"No need." Deanna held her hand up. "I've heard enough. I have a lot to think about."

----

You had cleaned up the house the best you could and worked hard to make sure food was ready on the kitchen island for when Ty came home. You were sure nothing would contain the rage he'd feel, but you hoped you could butter him up enough to avoid his fist.

Someone knocked just as you were setting the tray of lasagna on the counter. You rushed over to answer, surprised to see Deanna.

"(Y/N). Have time to chat?" She smiled. You stepped aside and let her in, crossing your arms over your chest as she strolled past you and stood facing you. "I've been thinking a lot about your situation."

"Oh...?" You raised your eyebrows.

"I don't believe it's in the best interest of the community to blow this out of proportion." She began. You rolled your eyes and focused on a random tile on the floor. You already knew where she was taking it. "I've heard the testimonies from Rick, Michonne, Daryl, and Carol. They can all confirm that maybe things aren't the most peaceful for you here."

"Huh." You hummed.

"The thing is, I can't just leave Tyler in a cell, or kick him out of Alexandria. That would cause fear. People would be wondering who's next, or what simple mistakes could end up getting them banished." She went on. "I have a duty to my people."

"Am I your people?" You asked suddenly. You didn't mean to say it, but you did mean it.

"Well -- Yes." She stuttered, caught off guard.

"So then what does that mean for me? The need to keep everyone comfortable trumps the need to keep one person safe from another?"

You didn't want Ty to be banished or to be imprisoned. You just wanted a safe way out. You loved him, of course you did. He was good once, but that part of him was gone.

"That's not what I'm saying." She insisted.

"Then what are you saying?"

"I'm saying that I'm not sure what to do to keep you safe." She admitted. "At least not without--"

"Without making the others feel uncomfortable. I get it." You summarized.

"Right, well... I just need more time to think it over, to speak with people I trust to make the right judgement here. I will figure this out for you, (Y/N)."

You didn't believe her.

"When are you letting him out?" You asked. She didn't seem to understand. "Of the cell, I mean. When are you sending him back here?"

"I'm not sure." She said quietly.

"Right. Well I have a lot to do before he gets here, so if you don't mind..." You nodded over to the door. She gave a quick goodbye before she left, and you took some time to think. Maybe nobody else could help you. Maybe you just had to take matters into your own hands.

----

The wall was menacingly tall. You stared up the height of it, gulping, adjusting the straps of your backpack as you did. You had seen Enid climb it before, so you were sure you could do the same. With a deep breath, you hoisted yourself up the steel beam and climbed with all your strength, dropping down on the other side once you had reached the top. You quickly grabbed the biggest kitchen knife you could find from your bag and tucked it into your belt, before digging for the loaded pistol you stole from the armory and sliding it into the back of your waistband.

You double checked that you had food, water, and a change of clothes in the large part of the bag. You checked the front pocket for all the first aid you could fit. When you were satisfied, you tossed one last glance at the walls of Alexandria, and you ran.

Join the taglist! || Masterlist

tags:@kissmeunicornbaobei @thesadcatt0 @clairealeehelsing @duckybird101 @tmntfixationxreader @ryoujoking @blackvelveteen1339 @yondus-girl @ladylincoln @sunshinebug9 @saylum559 @yoowhatthefuck @duffmckagansbandana @celtic-crossbow

#the walking dead daryl #daryl dixon #twd daryl #daryl x reader #daryl twd #daryl fanfiction #daryl x female reader #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl x you #daryl x y/n

290 notes · View notes

xxchumanixx · 2 months

Text

Sing me a Lullaby

Tim Bradford x reader

Warnings/Tags: character death, angst, fluff, hurt

Word count: 482

Authors note: Hey guys, don't know how this happened, but I suddenly had this idea. If my goal is to make you cry? Maybe. I did (but only a little bit, I swear). The song mentioned is Lullabye from Billy Joel.

I would say enjoy, but...

There weren't a lot of things Tim Bradford was scared of.

Still he couldn't sleep, having a hard time to calm down.

With you it was different.

Whenever he couldn't sleep you would sing him a lullaby, calming down his racing heart and erasing the horrible things he saw, when he closed his eyes.

He had seen a lot of things no one should ever see in their lives.

No matter how often he told himself that he was strong, your presence and your sweet voice that filled his head, luring him to sleep, were the only things that helped him at night.

"Goodbye my angel, time to close your eyes." you would sing, your fingers brushing through his hair as you smelled his familiar scent.

"And save these questions for another day. I think I know what you've been asking me, I think you know what I've been trying to say."

It was a song as old as you were, your father singing it to you whenever you couldn't sleep as a baby. It continued even when you grew older, until he died of cancer when you were still very young.

You knew every word of it by heart, the song having a deep meaning for you. Tim knew that, feeling honored that you decided to share it with him.

You were his save haven, his light.

So when you were on patrol with your rookie, a call turning out to be a shooting like you'd rarely seen, his thoughts were trained on you, trying to get you all out of there alive as the supervising officer.

He silently gave administrations, telling you where to go and where to position yourselves, waiting for his signal.

It should have been easy, going in, arresting the drug dealer, going back out.

But it wasn't.

When you stormed the abandoned storage hall, they'd already been waiting for you.

Hiding behind boxes you waited for a clear shot, all the while looking out for the others. Firing whenever you were able to, you shot one down, Tim shooting another one.

There was backup right behind you, Harper, Nolan, Grey, Lucy and some other cops.

When you had shot all of them down, you released a sigh of relief. Even though they managed to surprise you, only one got shot in the leg.

Coming out from your hiding spot you followed Tim and Harper, as they slowly made their way forward.

There was no one in sight, causing you to frown. But you would have never complained about something easier than it looked.

But suddenly, your body jerked forward, straight towards Tim, who's face was sprinkled with blood.

Before you could have asked yourself where the blood came from, you fell into his arms, suddenly having trouble to breathe.

Tim's eyes widened in horror, as he slowly sank down onto his knees with you in his arms.

"No..." he breathed, as you started to feel the pain. A shot rang, as you heard someone call clear.

"No, no, no, no, no!" Tim panicked, frantically pressing his hands to the wound in your chest.

He couldn't lose you.

"Y/N, stay with me!" he shouted, though it seemed to blur, as your fingers slowly brushed over his cheek, adding more blood to it as your body convulsed.

You didn't get enough air into your lungs. It was like something blocked your airways, as you struggled.

Someone called for an ambulance, as Tim pressed harder on your wound. His fingers were full of your blood, as it seemed to just seep through, no matter his attempts of stopping it.

"Y/N!" you heard him shout your name again, as tears formed in his eyes, one after another freeing themselves. "I can't lose you, please, stay with me!"

A hot tear ran down your cheek, as you tried to understand what was happening through the fog in your brain. "I-I love you, T-Tim." you sputtered, blood seeping from your mouth.

"I love you too, so don't dare dying on me now!" he gave back, shaking as he sobbed.

You felt so cold, numb.

"Sing me a lullaby." you asked of him, as you noticed how black blotches started to cover your vision.

He stared at you for a moment, speechless. But he did as you asked him to, silently praying that the ambulance would make it in time.

"Goodbye my angel, time to close your eyes." His voice broke, as a sob racked through him, tears running into his open mouth. "And save these questions for another day."

His heart wrenched, as he fell silent, trying to find back his voice, hands still pressing on your wound.

"I think I know what you've been asking me." he continued, your body hanging limp in his arms. "I think you know what I've been trying to say. I promised I would never leave you, and you should always know, wherever you may go, no matter where you are, I never will be very far."

Anther sob racked through him, his body shaking as he sung the words he remembered by heart.

"Goodbye my angel, now it's time to sleep."

He didn't know that you never heard his last words, even if they meant the world to him.

But as you lay dying in his arms, you knew he was your home. And wherever you may go, you would be his.

Always and forever.

#tim bradford x you #tim bradford imagine #tim bradford x reader #tim bradford #the rookie x u #the rookie imagine #the rookie x reader #the rookie #john nolan x u #john nolan x reader #john nolan imagine #john nolan

191 notes · View notes

cherrieflavouredheadcanons · 8 months

Note

Hello, I hope you are doing well. I saw you started writing for obey me! Which I was really excited about and was wondering if I could request Satan comforting reader about feeling so angry all the time and being afraid they'd hurt one of the brothers if they explode at the wrong time? I really love Satan especially because I can relate to his anger when things are out of my control or I'm feeling down and I thought it'd be nice to see Satan comforting someone who feels the same as him :).

I am sorry that it took me so long to answer, But I still hope you enjoy these headcanons! CW: Reader is afraid to hurt the brothers in anger, Satans anger mentioned, other than that none GN Reader Can be read as both platonic and romantic

Satan comforting an angry reader

He is not stupid, he sees how you often try to distance yourself from him and his brothers when things get tense around you or. He knows what it means, because he does the same thing.

All the tell tale signs are there. Your hands tightening into fists, your nostrils flaring and the sharp inhales and exhales. You are angry. And you are afraid of letting it out on the brothers. Clearly afraid of hurting them, not even physically but rather mentally.

With how well you know everyone of the brothers, you knew how you could hurt them with words, harder than you could ever hit with stones. But you did not want that. So you decided to retreat.

Now Satan knows that he himself prefers to be alone in those moments, but he also knows that it is not healthy to bury everything inside him and hope you don't let it out on others. In his experience it leads to just that. Lashing out on the people you love. So he decides to follow you.

He gently knocks on your door, waiting for an answer but he doesn’t get one. So he knocked again and told you that he is coming in, so that you are prepared for having him enter your room. As he walks in he sees that your pillow wasn’t on your bed anymore, rather it was thrown across the room, probably in an attempt to let your anger out.

You meanwhile were sitting on your bed, back turned to Satan, and your whole body still tense with anger. You didn't turn around, and if it weren't for you asking him what he wanted he would have assumed you didn’t realise he was in your room.

Satan did not answer anything, rather he walked over to where you were sitting and sat down next to you. This made you look at him for the first time since he came into your room, you raised your eyebrow in question at him.

The demon sighed as if to gather himself and began speaking: “You know you are not alone in your anger right? And barricading yourself away is not healthy. I know you are afraid you may hurt us in your anger, but this way you are only hurting yourself. Believe me I know what you are feeling and experiencing and it is scary to feel like if you were to snap you could seriously hurt the people close to you, but I want to help you. You helped me deal with my anger, even when I threatened to kill you in brutal ways you did not waver. I will do the same for you. I will help you find ways to deal with your anger like you helped me. We are stronger together.”

Looking into his eyes while hearing his words, you saw the sincerity in them. It felt good to have someone not judge you for your anger and rather, understand what you are feeling and fearing. You knew that Satan would help you in the future with your anger, and that made you happy. Tears were slowly starting to fall from your eyes, but you didn’t care. You hugged him and whispered a quiet “Thank you” into his shoulder.

Satan was blushing when you wrapped your arms around him, he had to admit he did not expect that. Though he wasn’t complaining, he hugged you back, making sure you knew he would be there for you through every bout of anger you’d feel. You could get through your anger and wrath together. He would be there for you like you were for him, and someday with his help, you’d no longer be afraid that you could hurt the people close to you in your anger.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me nightbringer #obey me satan #obey me x reader #satan x reader #obey me comfort #satan obey me #obey me x you #obey me headcanons #obey me fluff #obey me satan x reader #obey me satan headcanons #satan x you #satan avatar of wrath #satan fluff #obey me satan fluff

132 notes · View notes

ghostssweetgirl · 1 year

Text

stubborn

ghost x reader x soap [smut]

A/N - not my best work. was clearing out a draft i forgot about.

cw - degradation, p in v sex, oral (m receiving), it is all consensual even if it is not explicitly stated, they are in an established relationship, orgasm denial

minors, fuck off, do not interact ! 18+ only!!

nsfw under the cut

You were finally off, and able to change out of your dirty uniform and shower. Glad to be done with the last mission, which was harder than it had to be thanks to some new recruits, you were so excited to see your boyfriends again. You knew they were busy, like always, but you just had to see them. You always did, not caring if they got mad. They'd get over it.

They were working on important paperwork, warning you not to distract them even though you always did - or at least attempted to. You skipped your way to the computer room, peeking in through the window to find the two sat faced away from each other working on their own things. Watching Soap's face scrunched in confusion, agitation, and Ghost sigh heavily as he flipped page after page. You stayed there for a while, stalking them, contemplating if distracting them would be worth the punishment you may endure.

Fuck it, I miss them, and I'll take what I can get, you thought to yourself. They were together all the time meanwhile you were usually placed on missions away from them, and you yearned for them - their touch often, hungrily. You knew they missed you too, but jealousy was the devil, and you were frustrated that they get to spend time together on most, if not every, mission.

You crack open the door and they both almost shot daggers through your soul, although Ghost seemed angrier than Soap.

"Heyyy, handsomes," you greeted coyly.

"Didn't we tell you not to fuck about right now, yeah?" Ghost asked you in a menacing tone. Soap cleared his throat as he looked at you with love-filled eyes, then at his boyfriend.

"I missed you! Wha- it's not fair!" you complained. "You and Johnny get to be together all the time! Is it so bad for me to want to spend time with my lovers?"

"No, but it's bad that you can't obey a simple order of leaving us to do our work. We were going to come to get you later, but since you're already here..." he huffed.

You rolled your eyes, scoffing as you sat next to Johnny, wrapping your arms around him, smiling innocently at him.

"Hey, bonnie, missed ya," he kissed your cheek before looking behind him to see Simon turned around with his arms crossed. Soap couldn't help it; he fucking loved you. He worshipped the ground you walked on and was much gentler than Ghost. Whenever you walked in the room, his heart skipped 1,000 beats and felt like it was about to burst. That doesn't mean that Ghost didn't love you, because he did, so fucking much. He'd kill for you; he'd die for you. But God was he a proper dick sometimes.

You smiled as Soap's lips touched your cheek, but looked back at him, too. You gulped, a hint of regret flooding your brain. Meeting Simon's dark eyes - you knew what that meant.

"Don't listen for shit, do you?" he spoke down to you. "Now we're going to be late on our paperwork because of you, you little brat."

"Y-you can keep working on them, I just wanted to be-"

"Na-uh. We can't focus when you're in here. You know..." Ghost shook his head, looking at Soap. "You enable her, Johnny. You let her prance on in 'ere, able to distract you from your work. Didn't sit down but for a second and you're already up on 'er."

Soap tried to defend himself, blinking rapidly between the both of you, "Aye... Look at her, L.T... I cannae help it..."

"We can't afford distractions. Yet here we are," he clicked his tongue, sighing as he got up, walking towards you, eyes boring into your own. "You don't obey. Punishment doesn't do any good, does it? Stubborn little brat we have, hm, Johnny?"

"Ourstubborn lil' princess," Johnny teased, chuckling in agreement as he rubbed the back of your neck.

You blushed looking towards the ground.

Ghost's hand brushed the side of your face, making you look up into his dark, squinted eyes. "We'll just have to teach her a lesson, yeah?"

Usually, Soap did most of the talking, but Ghost must have already had a bad day as he didn't stop degrading you, and making sure you knew he was frustrated with you. Johnny watched with awe the effect Simon had on you, regardless of your sass, and your attitude. When Simon gave you that look, you knew better.

"Up," he ordered, watching as you obeyed sheepishly. "Sit on Johnny's lap."

Johnny's hand grabbed your hips before greedily groping up your body before settling at your plush breasts, pushing his lips to your ear, kissing up your neck, "Bonnie~, you know we missed you..."

"I missed you guys, too..." you purred, tilting your head back at him. "So much."

"Yeah, I can tell, sweetheart," Ghost said. "My apologies to interrupt, have you forgotten you've pissed me off?"

"N-no sir..." you mumbled.

He stepped towards you, reaching up to your face with his hand. You knowingly leaned into his touch, and he rubbed your cheek before sliding his thumb into your mouth, which you sucked on instantly. Soap ground into you from underneath, earning a whimper muffled by Ghost's thumb. Ghost's hand slid down your lips, rubbing over your bottom lip before he grabbed your jaw with slight force, pulling you down on your knees in front of him. Soap bit his lip as he palmed himself through his trousers, watching his boyfriend take control of you.

"Keep your mouth open," Ghost hummed as he fiddled with his belt. You blinked slowly as you opened your mouth, holding your tongue out. "Gonna use this fuckin' mouth. Shut you the fuck up. Don't wanna hear you whine and bitch. Just be a good cock sleeve for me, yeah?"

You nodded, his hand still gripped at your jaw, his thumb swiping against your wet tongue here and there - his pants fell to the floor with a soft thump as he wrestled his cock out of his boxers. Johnny has already freed himself of his tactical pants, fucking into his fist as he watched you be dominated by Simon.

He teased the slit of his cock on your tongue, letting you taste the salty-sweet bead of precum formed at the tip. You moaned against him as he slid his length slowly into the base of your throat. A long groan fell against the walls, on Johnny's ears as his eyes rolled back.

"Good fuckin' girl," Simon praised, holding a tight grasp on your head as he guided you back and forth impatiently, chasing his own high.

"L.T..." Johnny mewled, the squelch of his cock fucking into his fist with his own expense also urging you on, fueling your desire. "May I touch her?"

Simon's gaze raised to his boyfriend's, his eyebrows furrowed as he stutters. "Shit, y-yeah, don't let her cum..."

Johnny grabbed ahold of your hips as soon as he got permission. He swiftly pulled your pants down along with your underwear. He groaned as he spread your ass cheeks, gawking at your puffy cunt that was already sopping wet. "Pretty fuckin' pussy, lass. So wet."

Soap's hand slid in between your folds, working the slick all over, rubbing your clit tauntingly before pressing up against your entrance, working one finger in. You moaned on Ghost's cock, which furthered his pleasure. His cock was nearly bulging out of your throat as it thrusted in and out, barely allowing you to breathe. Soap reached a hand around your throat to feel Ghost's length rut in and out as he finger fucked you sweetly.

"Listen at how fuckin' wet you sound, you little slag," Ghost degraded you as he held a makeshift ponytail in your hair. "Is that how worked up y' get when my dick is stuffed down your throat?"

You tried to nod, but couldn't seeing how you were held still by both of your lovers. They both chuckled darkly for a moment as Soap leaned up for a moment to lift Ghost's mask and kiss him before returning to his fingers' assault on your pussy. He pistoned in and out harshly, drawing out those lewd muffled whimpers against Ghost's cock. He sighed out as he positioned himself before your ass, rubbing it and grabbing at the fat of it before pushing his length in. Your eyes squeezed shut and your body tensed at the pleasure.

Ghost laughed. "Oh, you're not going anywhere, babe. You're our fucktoy and we're gonna use you until we're through with you, got that?"

Again, your attempt to nod was pitiful. Tears that fell from your eyes as you blinked twice as a 'yes' spurred them on. They continued their moments in tandem, as Soap thrusted, Ghost reached farther in your throat. Slobber had pooled in the floor, how pathetic. You thought you were reaching your euphoria, but as you clenched on Soap's cock, he stopped, pulling out of you.

"Didn't Simon say you can't cum, babe?" he teased. "Keep being a good little toy~.."

You grew needier and needier, wanting to release but knowing you wouldn't be able to, it made you feel just like a pathetic toy for them.

For what felt like hours, Ghost had finally filled your throat full of his cum, white thick ropes spilling inside of you, pooling up in your mouth, some even dripped onto the floor. As he finally pulled out of your mouth, you gasped in greedily taking in all the air before it was followed by sinful moans as Soap rammed into you with no relent.

He didn't take long to finish either as he slammed in harshly, bottoming out as he spilled his seed into your velvety walls, groaning loudly at his release, his grip on your hips tight enough to leave bruises.

He lets go, pulling out of you swiftly. You fall to the ground as your body tried to heal, your mind coming back to you slowly.

After recovering, to your surprise, Ghost is the one gently rubbing your face, making sure you were okay.

"'M sorry... Shit, we may have got too carried away with you, luv..." he softly chuckled. "Let's go get you cleaned up."

115 notes · View notes

inkblot-inc · 3 months

Text

RCD: FWNB

Summary: This is the backstory between Natasha and Skitch, told during NYFW; Friends With No Benefits, also known as Fuckin' With No Bitch.

Pairing: (past) Natasha Romanoff x Reader, Jeweler!Wanda Maximoff x Metalworker!Reader (present, but briefly mentioned)

[Get Familiar With the RCD Universe] [part 1] [part 2] this is part 3

Warning(s): Toxic relationships (romantic and platonic), unrequited feelings handled poorly my dude, brief descriptions of violence, there's language in here bud, I remember typing it. This one is probably the most angsty now that I think about it-

Note(s): This thing right here is significant enough that I wanted to dedicate a seperate part to it.

Word Count: pretty sure we're past 1.5k here

ALSO: *squints* I give NO ONE permission to repost or translate my work. Make your own shit

Let's get into some backstory, shall we?

Natasha and Yelena's dad, Alexei, was ex-military and friends with Logan, and both of them came to see Logan as their uncle and even another parental figure. Since Natasha and Yelena's parents weren't every engaging, they often went over to Logan's, where he looked after them. With Skitch being Logan's adopted kid, they of course got to know each other and become very close. Logan would also bring the three of them to work with him to keep an eye on them. Yelena and Skitch became very close, basically thick as thieves, while it was clear that Skitch adored Natasha.

It was like that when all three of them were in school years together. Yelena and Skitch were definitely a bit closer just because they were the closest in grade, but Skitch couldn't help but be drawn to Natasha; she had brains, beauty, talent, all of it. And they never complained while having to watch Natasha take her after-school dance classes before walking to TMD together.

it was on one of these walks to The Maker's Damned during high school that Skitch confessed to Natasha. She never gave a straight answer, but she did wind up full-on kissing Skitch before they could walk into the workshop.

Your brightness in your eyes could only be outdone by the shine of your smile. "So does that mean you feel the same way?"

Natasha simply rubbed your forearm while giving you a small smile. "Don't think too hard about it, Skitch."

Your eyebrows furrowed as your smile lowered a bit, "I mean.. alright," You opened the door to the workshop for Natasha to go through first.

"Thank you, Y/n," she left a quick peck on you cheek before entering and you couldn't help the dumb smile left on your face.

"Yeah..."

---

'don't think too hard about it,' became Natasha's all expenses paid ticket to your heart, your time, and your romantic attention. While you wanted to remember that nothing was officially set between the two of you, she almost set an expectation for things to go somewhere with all the new one on one time you had with Natasha that felt more like dates than just hanging out, the stolen kisses and makeouts before and after classes. Never anything more than that though...

Skitch's relationship with Natasha began to fray once Natasha got into college. Skitch already knew they weren't going to college themselves (they didn't really know what they'd do there, and they didn't think they'd make it into a good one anyhow), but regardless of whatever confusing fuckery Nat was playing with skitch, she was still considered family to them, and Skitch believed that they'd still be close.

This was not the case.

Natasha, who initially was in college for dance, was scouted to do modelling and made new connections and friends. Upscale friends. It's no secret that Natasha and Yelena's upbringing was far from cushy: they had everything they needed, and they worked for all the extra things they wanted. Natasha even worked a few hours at TMD with logan doing inventory last two years of high school for some extra cash.

But Natasha tried to bury that part of her life, going as far as ghosting Logan and Skitch and all the peoples at The Maker's Damned to focus on cultivating her budding career as a model. Weekly rendezvous and daily calls between Natasha and Skitch turned into once a week if the timing was right. Further down the line, Natasha used her connections to branch out into Fashion and design, creating what is now known today as the Romanova brand.

Natasha had become invested in her new friendships, even started dating some science buff she met in college named Bruce Banner. He was nice enough to start, but he was always just a bit pushy and so different from Natasha. Natasha and Bruce were off and on, and the last time that they ended things, Bruce showed up to Natasha’s apartment and got very aggressive with her. Skitch, who, at the request of Yelena, came to check on Natasha and hopefully patch the rift (she) made. Upon arrival, Skitch saw Bruce trying to force his way inside Natasha’s apartment and pulled him away. This escalated into an altercation between Bruce and Skitch, Bruce not knowing (or caring) who skitch was, got belligerent with them as well.

Remember Skitch's police record? yeahhhh.

Skitch wound up putting hands on the man, breaking his nose and arm while leaving several other bruises on him. Skitch wound up with a nasty gash on their cheekbone, and after getting them to the ground kicked them in the ribs a good few times. Bruce called the police on Skitch, where they were charged with simple battery, [they were able to deescalate the situation to get the incident charged as a misdemeanor instead of a felony]. The public story was that Skitch assaulted Banner unprovoked while he was at his girlfriend’s house, which Skitch was advised to agree to by Logan. Skitch spent six months in jail instead of the sentenced full year due to good behavior.

Skitch and Natasha subsequently had a falling out due to this incident once all three of them are at the police station, where Natasha was further agitated by Skitch showing up to her place unannounced. Nevermind the fact that she very well could have been in danger if Skitch wasn't there.

Logan walked out into the waiting room with Skitch after they gave their statement. "I'm gonna go see about some ice for your...everything, bub. We'll probably put it on your face first to get the swelling to go down." you slowly nodded as Logan handed you a towel to clean up your face a bit, "I saw the other kid though... Good work." He patted your shoulder before he walked off.

Natasha was fuming when she came back from giving her statement. "You Show up to my apartment, that I know I didn't give you the address to, and cause even more problems for me to have to clean up! Just abandon your schoolyard crush on me and leave me the fuck alone!"

You rolled your eyes as you felt a headache coming on. “Never mind the fact that your SISTER asked me to come by to try and check on you, but you've never had to worry about me taking up your precious space when you’ve made it abundantly clear that you don’t give a SHIT about me!”

You took a deep breath since raising your voice made pain shoot through your side. "I didn't just agree to plead guilty cuz I was trapped, Nat."

Natasha scoffed at that, "What, so you're going to jail for me now, too?"

You leaned back on the bench and looked The redhead dead in the eyes. "Who do you think is next on the list of every pompous ass like Bruce Banner if it didn't look like I acted on my own? Who do you think they're gonna wanna ruin next if they knew I was there out of concern for you..."

Natasha bites her lip as the realization sets in; Bruce was a golden boy with a promising future as a Doctor/Biochemist/whatever the fuck he wanted to be, with more than half of his advisors going to bat for him. Natasha's budding modeling career would be clipped at the knees with no effort, all her contacts would turn tail if you didn't say you acted on your own. Even now you were acting in her best interest. Even now You were still protecting her.

With that realization, Natasha got up and left the police station on her own.

'Thank you.'

You watched Natasha leave before banging your head on the wall you leaned up against, your eyes closed.

'You're welcome.'

and that was the last time You and Natasha saw or spoke to each other.

Yelena felt guilty as all hell knowing she sent Skitch to check on her sister and then wound up doing time trying to help her. She yelled and she screamed at Natasha for not sticking by Skitch when that's all they've ever done for the both of them.

"It isn't about love, it isn't even about infatuation or a chance, it was about giving a fuck, Nat! Y/n was there, because I asked them to go, and because I knew they cared that you were okay, which is more than they can say about you."

This incident is also what wound up straining Natasha and Yelena's relationship as well.

Yelena kept close ties with Everyone as she ventured into Coordinating and working as a Sieu Chef in New York. Skitch and the others keep up with Natasha through the public eye and Yelena's updates (that she doesn't get too much of).

There's not even a cosign on the Christmas card Yelena sends in the mail for Skitch and Logan every year. Even as one who believes in forgiveness, after getting out of prison, Skitch stopped thinking "what did I do wrong? How can I fix this?" and started focusing on working at The Makers Damned full-time, though the notion of Natasha leaving "the common people" for a more lavish, glamorous life and career still sticks with them.

Though you could say that Skitch not holding resentment for everyone who live lives like Natasha does led them to pursuing their relationship with Wanda...

22 notes · View notes

imagine-knb · 5 months

Note

Aomine x Momoi post-Winter Cup headcanons? When they realize they have feelings for each other, how they start dating, etc.

everyone seemed to think that Momoi would never get over her love for Kuroko and — to an extent — they were right

that is, until Kuroko starts dating another person

despite all her feelings for him, Momoi knows that to continue pursuing anything romantic with Kuroko after he starts dating someone else would be wrong; she would either win him and they would both be in the wrong, or she would ruin whatever positive feelings he had toward her already permanently

she spends a long time crying over him and, as her childhood best friend, Aomine is her (reluctant, at first) shoulder to cry on

he does what any childhood best friend would do — long talks over the phone in the middle of the night, buying her some of her favorite snacks (though he always complained about the price), even trying to convince her that Kuroko ain't shit (though they both know that's a lie)

eventually Aomine convinces Momoi to try dating other people to forget about Kuroko

for a while, she takes his advice; for months straight she seems to be going on a date with a new guy every weekend, but none of them seem to be good enough for her

Aomine doesn't think they're good enough either and he tells it to her face, too

Staring at the screen of Momoi's phone in a deadpan, Aomine rolls his eyes before tossing the device onto the couch. He waves flippantly as Momoi scrambles to go pick up her tossed cellphone.

"Guy looks like a tool," he snorts.

"Dai-chan, be nice! He's really cute and sweet," Momoi chastises, clutching the phone close, screen pressed against her chest, as she glared at him. "And how do you know? You haven't even met him yet."

"Don't gotta. I can tell by looking at 'im that he's shit for you." Aomine has a glare of his own directed toward Momoi as he says this. "And if you're not going to believe me, then don't come crying to me when it doesn't work out with this jackass either."

Offended, Momoi leaves Aomine's room with a slam of his door.

It only takes her hours to find out that Aomine was right, the guy wasn't for her. It only takes him minutes to take back what he said, welcoming her crying form back into his comforting arms.

one weekend, after a particularly awful date, Momoi demands Aomine takes her out to cheer her up; he doesn't seem as reluctant as usual this time when he says okay

while on the "not a date", as Momoi affectionately called it, they both start to see a different side to each other that they'd never acknowledged before

Momoi starts to realize how dependable Aomine was when it came to her, how often he was willing to drop things just to make her feel better, how he was always around

Aomine starts to realize that Momoi had grown a lot from that annoying little girl who used to follow him around; she'd matured, she was sweet despite some of her shortcomings, and she had always been in his corner

by the end of the "not a date", Aomine is telling Momoi that he wouldn't mind hanging out with her again the next weekend if another shitty date falls through

when the next weekend comes and they do end up going out again, Momoi doesn't have the guts to tell Aomine that she hadn't asked another person on a date; she just wanted to see him

for months they go on these "not a dates" until one day...

Standing at the front doorstep to her home, Momoi watches as Aomine turns to start heading back toward his own house. She bites her bottom lip in thought, knowing she had to make a quick decision before he got too far.

"Dai-chan."

When Aomine turns, looking back at her with a quirked and questioning brow, she swallows the nerves that are thickening in her throat.

"Next weekend..." She pauses, trying to collect her thoughts into words. "Next weekend, can we go on an actual date?"

A dark flush of color finds its way onto her cheeks when he snorts at her, a smirk on his face. She thinks she's about to get rejected when he suddenly starts walking back over to her. When he places a large hand over her cheek, she leans into his touch instinctively.

"Thought we were already doin' that," he murmurs, voice low. He leans down, brushing his lips against hers in a chaste kiss that leaves her face darker than the shade of her hair. It has him snorting out another quick laugh. "But sure. Next week we'll go on an actual date for sure."

#aomine #momoi #aomomo

23 notes · View notes

starpirateee · 22 days

Note

For the drabbles, can I request Owen looking after Curt while he has a fever? (Pre-banana obv, and their in a safehouse)

I love you guys clarifying when something is pre-banana because, can you imagine Owen post fall feeling that instinct to look after Curt? He hates him, but he's got a fever, so what can you do?

And, on the record, I don't write actual fluff or domestic bliss that often, but I gave it an honest go? Honestly, though, I don't know how this reads

"Curt, I know you're incapable of understanding the concept of staying in one place, but for god's sake, you need to rest this off… That temperature isn't just going to blow over itself…"

For all it was worth, Owen was trying to keep his patience intact, but Curt had woken up shaking, claiming he felt needlessly hot when it was less than 10° outside. He had known Curt long enough to immediately know that something wasn't right, because Curt was one of those people who preferred to be warm, especially on a colder day… Normally, under circumstances like this, he would try and stay as long as possible in bed, and then he'd eventually resign and settle for a warm shower to keep him going for a little longer.

But, as it happened, Owen found that he was burning up, and when he spiked a temperature of almost 38.5, he put his foot down. He'd insisted in turn that Curt was to stay put and rest as much as he could, but he'd neglected to think about how the one thing everyone knew about Curt Mega was that he never stayed in one place for very long.

"How bad is it?"

"Almost thirty eight and a half."

"You make it sound like I should be dead from hypothermia," Curt complained. "And I can't be bothered to work it out… Just tell me plain, would ya?"

"That's what you get for using Fahrenheit..." Owen sighed, muttering something about stupid Yanks and their stupid measurement system, and then falling silent while he tried to work it out. Curt mustered a little focus from absolutely nowhere, and tried to watch him as he made an attempt to sound less like Curt was dying a violent death from being frozen. Eventually, his thoughtful expression passed, and his eyes met Curt's once again, as he registered just how expectant he looked. "A little over a hundred and one?"

Curt grimaced. "Where'd this come from?" Both he and Owen tried to work it out, but both of them came up blank. "God! I can't believe I got sick! This sucks!"

"It does mean you get a day off whatever it is Cynthia wants from you... What was it again?" He knew for a fact what it was. The two piles of reports on the dining room table was conclusive enough, even if Curt had never admitted outright what he had to do. Owen knew the system. Curt had to physically separate the work he had to do from that which he had already done, hence why one of the piles was significantly smaller than the other. So far, he'd been looking for any excuse not to do it, but this one was legitimate.

Curt shot him a look. "You know I'm a good month behind on the reports and shit I need to do from... uh, from France, I think. And then there was that one in Toronto, and... god, uh-"

"Copenhagen," Owen offered, helpfully.

"Yeah. Copenhagen. How the hell do you know that?"

"I saw the topmost file, that's all. You wrote the location on a slip of paper."

"... Huh. Wait wait wait, are you gonna be here today?"

"I have nothing better to be doing..." In truth, Owen wasn't going to let Curt try and handle himself, no matter how fine he tried to insist he was. It had been a little while since the last time he and Curt had been completely available like this, and thus he was grateful for every moment, no matter the context for it. This little life they'd built for themselves wasn't worth an awful lot if they were barely there to enjoy it, despite the fact that neither of them were really the domestic type.

"Besides," he added, as a little bit of an afterthought. "I don't want to be the one to just leave when you're like this."

Curt managed a small smile. "Never took you for a househusband..." He tried. The very idea of it was absurd. Owen wasn't the type for settling down and staying still as much as he wasn't, so to think of him like this was almost laughable, in it's own way. Thankfully, Owen found it amusing too, and chuckled softly.

"I dunno, Curt, I think I'd have the knack for it."

"Oh really?"

"You know fine well I know how to cook, and who knows," he leaned back on his hands and gave a wistful smile, "maybe I'd be willing to retire from our debonair old life and give in to the throws of... domestic bliss."

A wave of silence washed over them. Curt stared at Owen, but only because he'd reached a point where the response was that dramatically delivered that it was almost convincing. Owen— the most suave, capable man to ever have walked into his life— actually seemed for a moment to almost suit that idea of domesticity that he had brewed up.

The silence lasted only a moment before Owen started laughing, and Curt only had a second to cherish the sound of it before he was laughing too.

"No, you're quite right," he hummed, clearing his throat. "I don't suit it, but at least I'd suit the idea of it better than you would."

"I dunno, you've kinda convinced me... Maybe not in a traditional way, but god... Something about you being all blissful and-" he broke off with another chuckle when he tried to picture it again. "It's funny, but I dunno, you could probably make it work."

"But, to answer your question, yes. I'll be here all day."

And he stuck by that, too. For what it was worth, he was a little better at keeping himself busy than his companion could ever hope to be. He had about an hour's worth of documentation to catch up on, then there was the book he'd been meaning to finish for a while… And of course, there was always Curt. The first time he checked after as much productivity as he could muster on a busy mind, he was flat out. He seemed to have the whole temperature regulation sorted; or at least, he had it figured out for now.

Owen prepared a washcloth and a bowl of water that had started out as lukewarm, but was significantly less than that by the time Curt came around. He knelt by the bedside with the exact air of the drastic change in situationship they'd both imagined him in, and wrung out the towel before gently laying it across Curt's forehead. The latter took a sharp breath when the sudden cool hit his skin, and then managed a laugh.

"What happened to not suiting it, huh?"

"I'm not saying I do, don't get used to it," Owen's tone was light, but he'd certainly thought about it enough in the last half hour. This was not up his alley by any means, and the idea of doing something like this constantly was somehow both something he could almost find himself doing, and the single most boring ending to his career that he could think of.

"I think it suits you..."

"Of course you do." Owen brushed the droplets from his fingertips onto the sleeve of his shirt, though smiling all the same. "You're the one of us being looked after. Speaking of, welcome back to the land of the living."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You were asleep for over three hours."

Curt's eyes went wide. "Huh? Really?"

"I did tell you that you sleep like the best of them, and I wasn't joking! I suppose it only matters depending on how it made you feel, though."

"I dunno... Better, I guess?"

"Well, you're still-" he could feel the heat of the cloth from the other side, and it hadn't been in place for longer than a minute. He made quick work of turning it over, and then really getting the chance to feel just how warm it had become. One reason why he was glad that water was no longer slightly warm. At least that was something to keep Curt cool while he battles this inner heat. "Way too warm to be normal. I assume nothing has really changed?"

"... Not really, no. But, uh, this feels kinda good."

#spies are forever #saf #curtwen #agent curt mega #owen carvour #void offering #star mail #nova's tags →#this is a good day for curt being really dramatic huh?#oh god he's got that man flu so hard #but y'know owen's probably used to it by now #his fault for having such a dramatic boyfriend #sad: the term “man flu” wasnt coined till the 90s #know that owen would definitely use that phrase against curt

13 notes · View notes

rorywritesjunk · 3 months

Note

Imagineeee every so often Buggy’s 3 wives have a Girls Night on the ship and Buggy is dying to know what happens.

He doesn’t want to encroach on their space, but they always have tasty snacks and hole away somewhere for hours. He can hear them laughing and he’s pretty sure they aren’t laughing at him (right? right??), but how much fun can they be having without their favorite clown?

What do they even do? Maybe pillow fights…is that a real thing? Do they complain about him? No, they love him. They just…want to spend time away from him. He’s okay with that, really. Really. He’s absolutely not jealous. Or clingy. He definitely doesn’t mope around waiting for Girls Night to end.

So imagine his surprise when they invite him to join one night, complete with matching PJs/robes……….

Oh man oh man oh man oh man

I mean it makes sense, right, they sometimes have Wife Cuddle Party in the main bed where they just cuddle each other if Buggy's been a shit at all that day. Of course they'd have a Girls' Night once a month at least. I like to think it got started when Cupcake joined Buggy and Sunny. Sunny thought it would be a good way for the two of them to get to know each other and Buggy was definitely unsure if it was a good idea.

But they kept it going, bringing Birdie into it next, and poor Buggy is so happy that his three ladies love doing this but of course he's jealous. He wants to spend time with them, always, but sometimes they don't want to and he has to accept it (though he really doesn't want to).

This morphed into a little fic, just so you know. Because I love you and Buggy and The Wives.

#buggy the clown #not a fic #asks #buggy and the wives

8 notes · View notes

ohsalome · 1 year

Note

Also, didn't want this in my last ask cause I think it would have been too convoluted but... how to condense this thought?

So I watch a Ukrainian man's coverage of this war, Denys Davydov on youtube, I think he does a very good job of things

When he was covering the russians fleeing mobilization he pointed to that guy who was trying to get into Georgia but had a big Z on his windshield so they didn't let him in and so the russian was complaining

And what Denys said was more or less, "See, a lot of people fleeing russia right now aren't doing it because they don't like the war, they're doing it because they don't want to be mobilized. When they go to these other countries they might remember to scrub the Z off their car, but they still have the Z in their minds. That's why it's not smart to let them in to other countries, they haven't changed any of their opinions, they just don't want to be effected"

I thought yeah, he's pretty much nailing it on the head, and he's pointing out the problem so many westerners were missing when it came to mobilization

They'd be like "well it's less troops they can send" or... you know, all that stuff; and it was just like no... these people are going and harassing people in the countries they're going into, they're still supporting the war

I just feel like a lot of these people really don't get the situation but still feel free to run their mouths over things

Like, and this is my perspective as and American and I'm not saying I'm right and totally don't mind people disagreeing with me, but you show me an actual anti war russian... fine, let's help them out

So many of these russians though, they're not anti war, they're anti losing. They're anti it effecting them. It's clear people being like "oh the poor russians" about people who... you listen to what they're saying and it's like... why on earth am I supposed to be sympathetic

Yeah, I'm sorry that russian soldiers are dying, like in a general sense that death is bad, but I kind of don't have a choice but to be happy every time one of them dies cause that's one less murderer

You want to save russian lives? Support Ukraine, support moves that weaken the kremlin, force russia to end the war. That's how you save russian lives

Like yeah, I have an American's perspective on this. I don't have an Eastern European's perspective... but at least I listen. At least I hear what's being said, think about it, and am able to go... yeah, I get why Eastern Europeans feel like they do about russia. I get the anger after the generations of genocide and the active genocide and like... maybe I can shut the hell up and leave it

Then I see opinions from people, not even the hard core far right or tankie opinions, but stuff where it's like "oh the poor russians" and it's just like man... you're not paying attention at all

I don't know... I really don't, and it's not like my opinion is even super important. Just kind of... as an American I see American opinions and it's way too often I'm going fucks sake, y'all aren't paying any damn attention

Thanks for the support

I think you raise a very good point when you mention "not paying attention". If people don't follow the events of the war, they end up relying on their own assumptions about how world works... Which apparently is like a kindergarten level of telling two kids who had a fight to apologize to each other.

Is it laziness? Is it lack of empathy? Is it russian propaganda? Frankly, as far as outcome is the same, it makes no difference to me.

I will also be leaving a link to the channell you mentioned

#also ''less troops to send'' argument doesn't work when (1) we're talking about +140 mil country #(2) the people who flee are not the people who get drafted en masse

40 notes · View notes

abuddyforeveryseason · 2 months

Text

This is the Buddy for February 26th. It's a Harry Potter thing. I'm a Hufflepuff.

I'll be honest, I never finished the Harry Potter series. I did start reading the last book (the deathly hallows one) but for some reason or another, I didn't finish it. I only know the end thanks to reading spoilers online.

Same thing happened with Star Wars, too - I watched the first part of Return of the Jedi at my grandparents' house one day, and didn't see the end of the story until a few years ago. One of those weird nerd things, I guess. People do think the last movie of the trilogy's the worst, anyway.

The one thing about Harry Potter people are into is the four houses aspects. It's fun to pick a house and have this sort of kinship with other people who share your choice, and to be able to tell people abut yourself through this common pop culture branding.

The four houses are kind of based on the four humors of ancient greek medicine, as popularized in obnoxious detail by Ben Johnson.

Gryffindor is Sanguine - they're sporty, brave and "good at everything" - and of course, the type of people who only exist in fiction, or in the minds of people who think real life works like fiction, and see themselves as heroes. But all attempts at mapping personalities usually has a "good guy" personality just in case.

Slytherin is Choleric - evil. Technically, bitter and angry, which does describe Draco Malfoy. And evil people in general are usually angry, right. Cholera, of course, is yellow bile. Have you ever noticed that, when you're angry, you feel heartburn? That's the bile rising. In Japan, there's even the idea that when someone is really angry, they need to throw up.

Ravenclaw is Phlegmatic - Nerds, pretty much. If all the brainiest students go to Ravenclaw, how come they don't win every house cup? Though the idea that intelligence is an innate personality trait is pretty unintelligent in itself. Phlegm, as we know, is snot. Nerds are always sniffling and complaining about allergies, right?

Hufflepuff is Melancholy - basically "the rest" of the personality group, for people who aren't strong, smart or angry enough for the other three. Melancholy is the worst of the personalities, the opposite of sanguine, having neither the intelligence of Phlegmatic nor the strength of Choleric. Melancholy is the black bile, which totally exists, and comes from the spleen. What else would the spleen do?

So, basically, Sanguine/Gryffindors are strong and smart, Choleric/Slytherins are strong and dumb, Phelgmatic/Ravenclaws are weak and smart, and Melancholy/Hufflepuffs are weak and dumb.

People choose their Hogwarts houses based on their personality, or rather, the personality they wish they had. Choosing Gryffindor means they have a hero complex, or see themselves as brave. Good thing they've never been in an actual emergency situation to see how they'd do, right? Slytherin is the edgelord house. They act like they're above simplistic morality and "know only the strong survive". Ironically, many Slytherin characters were born rich. Ravenclaws are proud of their nerdiness. That often just means reading a lot or being good at math, though. Not so much the scientific humility aspect of nerdiness. And Hufflepuffs are the ones who claim to reject the whole idea of the house system and take pride on being part of the "loser house", since it means they're refusing to put themselves in a box.

Makes sense that I'm a Hufflepuff now, right?

#ab4es #drawing #Harry Potter #Wizards #Houses #Hogwarts Houses #Gryffindor #Hufflepuff #Slytherin #Ravenclaw #Humors #Four Humors #Ben Johnson

6 notes · View notes

dracwife · 1 year

Text

just a story.

ship: about this dream & you → mickey/tim word count: 601 summary: Everyone is asleep quick post the Tim writes Mickey into his next novel ficlet

...And then, of course there was McKenzie Jasinski. His partner, in both solving crime and in navigating their combined hectic stream of life. A novel sight surely, whose penchant to catch eyes made most others' looks pale in comparison.

McGregor could never quite narrow what exactly it was about his partner that drew the attention of the others.

Perhaps it was the strange air of mystery McKenzie carried, whose long dark hair covered the angular jaw underneath -- not quite as sharp though as the tongue that so often spat sarcastic but also helpful remarks or spurred on McGregor's oft bizarre imagination on cases, or the scar that ran across the rightmost of high set cheekbones and struck many as both alluring and daunting, drawing so much attention to those hazel eyes that held such kindness, yet so much pain behind them. Between that, and the perfectly toned muscles, from the collarbones that peek just from beyond that ragged t-shirt McKenzie wears every night, to the deft fingers that so precisely take apart and clean the Glock that rests on their kitchen table, standard issue for their team of course.

They had been friends for years, and yet there was still so little he knew about his partner.

They lived together, in a small one-bedroom apartment shoved in the corner of some cheap New York neighborhood, tucked neatly away from the bustle of the city that never slept, but just near enough to offer astute observation of the town for either of them. They stayed up late most nights, simply talking. They split the rent, and in turn built a relationship of trust and something of a kinship. Two sides of the same coin, they worked together as well as they lived, complimenting the best parts of each other.

McGregor supposed that McKenzie was a little more of the best of them, with a quick mind and lax attitude; Friends came easy, surely as enemies had too. He did not ask about the past, but just as plain as the scar drew attention and those darkly delightful eyes held memories just on the brink of unmistakable certainty, he figured that surely there was unfinished business for his partner somewhere out in the city, and that's what kept them both so desperately tied to each other for company each evening.

But despite his roommate's enigmatic and charming nature, he could not complain. For he always knew that as long as Detective McKenzie Jasinski walked this earth, he would have a friend.

Mickey reads the words, and chuckles. He recognizes himself in them of course, but he finds it rather amusing, the way they're so carefully thought out. It's endearing that his boyfriend thinks of him that way, and took the time to write him into his story. But he's curious:

"Is this really what you think of me?"

Tim's head turns in surprise, he hadn't heard the other man enter the room. He quickly takes the paper from his typewriter, face already pink with embarrassment, his chest and neck burning the same and he knows Mickey is giggling at the way he's blushing and desperately gathers the other papers strewn about his desk.

"It's just a story, Mickey."

He's almost disappointed, hearing Tim's comment.

"Huh. Well, I think McKenzie and McGregor make a good pair. In a soulmate kind of way."

"Me too. I mean," he hesitates, "I can't write that, but…I imagine they would be. They, uhm, they're good for each other. I don't think they'd be the same, if they weren't together. Be as happy, I mean."

"Yeah…I think you're right."

#dex.writes #ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴛʜɪs ᴅʀᴇᴀᴍ ᴀɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ | r. － t.m.

11 notes · View notes

thegeminisage · 5 months

Text

THE FINAL FRONTIER breakdown

as always my first impressions were typed hastily and in shorthand w typos on my phone and i am translating them to proper readable language

opening scene was very reminiscent of mad max and the sound effects made me think of sybok as darth vader, lol. when i realized he was vulcan i knew exactly who he had to be

the first mind meld scene was like. weirdly sexual. that share your pain thing also reminded me so much of sound of my voice lol

cathy's reaction to the names in the credits: sighing heavily on seeing william shatner's name. no reaction to leonard nimoy's name. delight at seeing deforest kelley.

second scene of the movie i watched while blinded by tears because spock was there. to be fair to me i had been primed by the world's longest rock climbing scene ever in which i glorified in the sheer fact that i was NOT watching tng. i needed this so much. my reward for finishing most of the first two seasons which is some of the worst tv i have ever watched in my entire life.

cat lady with three tits. bill shatner is a fucking freak

every time there's a woman catherine and i have a bit where we gasp and go, in shock, a woman! but when it's a romunlan woman we really are shocked every single time. just like in the enterprise incident, so true

uhura is still super mega fucking hot in these movies btw. she's so beautiful. it's very cute that she's with scotty i guess (and i was really surprised!! i guess this explains why i see them as a side pairing in fics so often) but she could be marrying ME instead

thrilled to learn that bones can cook and that spock is. willing to sample his beans, as it were

i loved the whole camping scene. i understand the Plot of this movie is bad but the character scenes were some of the best in all 5 movies and indeed the entire tos series. like this is the most married those 3 old men have EVER been. "we don't have families but we have each other" THEY WERE LITERALLY DOING THE GAY FOUND FAMILY ON ACCIDENT. HOW DID WILLIAM SHATNER WRITE THIS???

"i've always known i'll die alone" is maybe the worst thing kirk has ever said or will ever say and i don't want to talk about it.

my one point of complaint is "marsh melon" or whatever spock said. it was cute but i know his ass read and pronounced it alone in his quarters like 700 times first. it's like when you make castiel not know what an egg is. maybe he was being silly on purpose to amuse kirk and bones <3

LOVED their singing. i didn't think they'd actually do it but they did. times were different back then

bones was in fine form in this movie. he had a lot to complain about but he also jumped to spock's defense at least once that i remember right off hand. i swear he just gets progressively better with each season/movie the way uhura just keeps getting hotter. some things truly do get better with age ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

i loved how when spock had some distress re: potentially recognizing sybok they all had to go in their little longue and have a heart to heart together with him. i don't think this movie ever left anyone out - even in the voyage home, which i LOVE, bones was left out of the kirk-and-spock duo. but almost every single scene they had involved all three of them. truly a win for the throuple enjoyers <3

really mixed feelings about naked uhurua. i'm glad she got to sing her little song. and she is, again, extremely hot. AND i love when she gets to surprprise people even though nothing will ever beat her telling that little ensign to get in the fucking closet. but how could they DOOO that to her william shatner IS going to hell

"hold your horse captain" made me chuckle. also, can you vulcan nerve pinch a fucking HORSE?? i guess you can now. i bet they had to train those horses so well. how often do you see a fucking HORSE play dead

when sybok was like "well spock what do you have to say" and spock, outnumbered 100 to 1, guns pointed at him, obviously in deep turmoil, was silent and expressionless for 5000 years and then replied with "you are are under arrest." KING shit

sorry to be like this but spock with a gun was fucking awesome. i'm glad he didn't shoot his bro but still.

the three of them truly bickered like an old married throuple in the brig. bones coming to spock's defense was so funny he's like fine to gang up on spock until he realizes kirk is genuinely upset and then he switches sides because they're only supposed to gang up on him for fun

"STAND BACK" i knew those idiots weren't going to get the morse code in time and it was still funny. same with scotty like "i know this ship like the back of my hand! [BONK]" anyway he totally came in clutch i love him sm

i don't remember why i wrote "bones is so frail and waiflike" because we said it about 7000 times during this film but it's true

spock's rocket shoes saving the day nearly made me cry again except i got jerked out of it by my SHEER ECSTATIC GLEE that he got to take both kirk and bones ently in his arms while carrying them around. wow <3 love wins <3

"the people of your world once believed it was flat but columbus proved it was round" bitch the fuck he did. i'm blaming william shatner for that one. who knew that in 2023 they would still fucking think the earth was flat

the whole thing with bones's dad was fucking brutal. normally we talk through everything but we were dead silent for that bit. even though i knew what was gonna happen my jaw was on the fucking ground

spock's little baby vulcan ears...wait hold on

LOOK AT HIM!!!

that birth looked brutal. for once i'm giving aos some credit whatever they had going on looked much nicer. sarek seemed less disgusted too. maybe this was just spock's imagination he was like yeah my dad took one look at me when i popped out of the womb and diagnosed me with human cuz i was crying lmao

the second half of this movie was where the plot started getting dicey for me. i didn't really care what was going on before now bc i was having fun but when they started talking about the great barrier i got confused. i thought that was on the outside of the galaxy? and i thought at the center of the galaxy was some fucking anomaly and the devil lived there. cuz that was in the animated series. i know. i watched the whole thing.

like we get there and everyones like wow its so beautiful! like no offense cool rocks bro but ??? there's literally nothing there

the big ribcage rocks popping up out of the ground gave us a laugh. at first were like: hopeful: tentacles? no. just spikes. this place is not a place of honor etc

god as a giant inverted face over white light who shot lasers out of his eyes was the stupidest fucking thing i have ever seen in my life. i laughed so hard. i do love though that kirk is apparently an atheist who enjoys backtalking god. he talked to god the way he talks to computers when he's trying to suicide-bait them

i wish we had gotten some explanation of what that actually was? and why everyone thought it was god? but whatever. apparently this movie was also trying to say something about cults but it didn't. again, whatever, i was mostly having fun with whatever was going on so i didn't care but the plot was really very very bad

at one point in my hysterics i typed "LMAO GOD'S GONNA FUCK THE SHIP" as in "and make jim jealous because that's what he wants to do" but i don't remember why so i'll just leave it as the mystery that it is.

spock's little "get ahold of yourself" when bones started being frantic about jim being al;one down there after the two of them got beamed up. lol.

spock's little "damn you, sir" 🥰

metal as hell and also anime as hell that they killed god. what a ride that was. first i thought kirk was gonna do it. then i thought the klingons did it. then it was SPOCK that did it. i could not have asked for a better outcome

"not in front of the klingons" i finally have context for this. i had seen snatches of it in gifs and videos but it was even gayer than i imagined. WILLIAM SHATNER WROTE THIS???

genuinely in SHOCK they ended it with them camping again. i was like if they start singing i am Going to scream. and you know what they did?? yes. yes. yes.

i don't understand why everyone hates this movie. like, yes, the plot was bad near the end. the villain was bad. the stuff about god being In Your Heart was lame af. but the character moments were PERFECT and the movie was extremely funny and everyone was very charming. it boggles the mind that it almost meant there was no sixth movie. like it wasn't perfect but it had so many redeeming qualities!!

that said. i did watch it after some of the worst tng i have Ever seen AND on the same day i watched into darkness so maybe that has something to do with it lmao

#personal #star trek blogging #tff lb #one day i'll read the novelization...i just got stuck on wrath of khan because i can't find it in a good format

3 notes · View notes

antstarion · 2 years

Note

I HATE YOU SO MUCH I WOULD HATE TO HEAR YOUR THOUGHTS ON POE'S RELATIONSHIP WITH OTHER MK CHARACTERS, PARTICULARLY FRENCHIE AND LAYLA

i think ab them chronically

OMG LOOK AT THEM!!! THAT IS BEAUTIFUL. OH I LOVE THEM THEY'RE BESTIES THAT IS SO COOL. LOOK AT POE I LOVE HIMM. sorry I'm normal I'm normal. just gonna sit and think about them for a bit.

and since you asked so nicely pissee my favourite anon hater, here we go:

frenchie

I touched on this in my other post but, they're drinking buddies. would go dancing together, go to clubs together and do drunk karaoke.

they're both pilots!! big bonding point for them. frenchie would teach poe to fly the moon copter and poe would teach frenchie how to fly his x-wing. they'd talk about how flying is different in space and brag about the coolest things they've see while in the sky, even though poe would win that without a doubt.

while poe is a leader, I think frenchie is more of a follower. frenchie panics a little under pressure and needs guidance from a leader. so I think that would impact the dynamic of their friendship. like poe is the one who initiates a lot of stuff and organises things. not in a controlling way, more that he's the one to reach out to frenchie to hang out and catch up.

they both bond over their crushes. I mean what. imagine frenchie and poe just chatting about finn and jake (or marc, pick your poison).

they'd be great for each other and would help each other open up emotionally. they have very similar backgrounds so they'd understand what motivates each other and where their actions stem from.

their friendship would go from them only talking about deeper things when drunk to meeting up in frenchies restaurant every week to check in on each other. like a fast paced friendship at first, built on going out and having good times, which slowly forms into a strong bond between the two of them as they slow down and settle into a lifelong friendship.

maybe they'd even go travelling together and frenchie could show him the best parts of earth.

they're always texting each other and complaining about how marc never answers his phone.

vibe summary: green, vibrant, growth, effortless.

layla

oooh I had to think about this one for a bit.

I feel like poe and layla could totally be besties.

like layla and poe both have very strong personalities which could clash together but I don't think they would. like they're both leaders so there might be a bit of fighting for power over things, even small stuff, but I think after a while they'd be fine together.

layla would challenge poes ideas and morals. poe thinks he's right a lot but layla would make him question that, which would be good for him. layla could provide alternative and more logical ways to approach things.

but layla is still quite impulsive so maybe her, poe and marc still get together and cause chaos.

layla would love to show poe the artefacts she's "liberated" and tell him stories about her missons. poe would tell her a little bit about his time in the resistance but feels more comfortable talking to marc or frenchie.

mainly they connect through doing stuff together, I could see layla introducing poe to sports on earth and them watching some games together.

fuck it get them all together to have a board games night. layla, frenchie, poe, and marc all trying not to kill each other over monopoly. or uno. theres so many competitive personalities in that group, it's never going to go well.

if they were all a friendship group (steven, jake, marc, frenchie, layla and poe) then poe and layla would be the friends who barely hang out alone, then when they finally hang out as just them they say "why don't we do this more often?" but they still don't hang out more.

vibe summary: yellow, straightforward, strong.

#moon knight #poe dameron #moon knight headcanon #poe dameron headcanon #frenchie #layla el faouly #jean paul duchamp #tw alcohol mention

18 notes · View notes

breakingarrows · 2 years

Text

Replaying BioShock 2

When thinking of BioShock 2 I often lump it with the black sheeps of gaming, the sequels that had to follow up on a video game that was immediately regarded as one of the greatest of all time, and as the maligned entry that is secretly the best of the series. The Metal Gear Solid 2: Sons of Liberty, the The Legend of Zelda: The Wind Waker, the Star Wars Knights of the Old Republic II: The Sith Lords, the Far Cry 2, the Grand Theft Auto IV, the Max Payne 3 games of video game canon. Games that often received reevaluation after the hype cycle had undergone its course and reached the point in time in which a game originally rejected and ridiculed by video game consumerists and forum posters becomes heralded[a] as “Good, Actually.” One game I don’t think has fully received its due recompense is BioShock 2. I first played through BioShock 2 in December of 2012 and it was then and there that I knew that BioShock 2 was Good, Actually.

The announcement of BioShock 2 in late March of 2008 was met with a lot of bewilderment. Commentators stated, “BioShock is the game I've enjoyed most in years. I can't see a sequel coming close to matching it but here's hoping anyway.” Sarcastically, “That's exactly what BioShock needed! A sequel!” “I just don't think the game lends itself to a sequel is all. A prequel could be good though.” “I loved BioShock but I can't think of anything I want in a sequel. They'd have to do something totally different.” “If it's not a prequel, don't bother.” “I don't really understand what they can do with a sequel. The story was nicely wrapped up, and the combat/research system will be hard to improve upon.” “If Ken's team isn't involved. No thanks!” “This is like Titanic getting a sequel. Either take the story in a completely different direction not involving Rapture, or a prequel.” Not every commentator was as dour and skeptical, though those that were had every right to be. BioShock was immediately hailed as a work of art after its release in August of 2007, and Take Two was now seemingly attempting to repeat the success with yet another BioShock game created separately from the original team.

Release day reception was mixed to positive. Surprisingly, a lot of posts were spent talking about the multiplayer component, something you can still hypothetically play today, but I will be ignoring. A general consensus was that BioShock 2 was an adequate-to-good followup to the seminal title that was BioShock. “If I had to give it a score, it'd probably land somewhere right around a 7. It's a fun game that gets a lot better the more you play it, but it's lost a bit of the magic of the original's unexpectedness and allure.” Some felt a little more aghast. “just finished it and can't remember any worthwhile level of this game... I'm on tears [sic], this is easily my biggest gaming disappointment ever, this is even worse than Devil May Cry 2.” Most people on forums did what people on forums do and overanalyze and complain about graphical fidelity. From framerate to texture quality to whether or not the PC resolution options constituted “widescreen.”

One common thread was that people found the game very hard, with low health packs, Eve hypos, and ammo pickups throughout, leaving them having some difficulty getting past the combat scenarios. Reviewing my footage of my hard mode, no-vita-chamber playthrough, while I did die exactly four times, I did find that I was very often handling a surplus of health, Eve hypos, and ammunition of each type for my arsenal of weapons. In the rush of release, the thrill of opening that shrink wrapped piece of plastic with an unmistakable “new game smell,” these terminally online forum posting freaks had blown their way through the game to their own detriment. This was not a Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 2. This was not even a Killzone 2 or a Gears of War 2. This was BioShock 2. In this game in order to effortlessly glide from one combat scenario to the next you have to be slow, thoughtful, and most importantly thorough. You have to check every room and avenue, loot every dead-body-marking lockbox, hack every safe, peruse every locked off area, and then you will have accumulated so much health and ammo that you will force yourself to waste plasmid uses and bullets just so that you can keep looting. BioShock 2 was not hard because it didn’t give you enough health and ammo, BioShock 2 was hard because you didn’t seek out and find enough health and ammo.

Engaging with the combat in BioShock 2 is an overall improvement on the original due to now being able to simultaneously wield and fire a weapon and plasmid at the same time without swapping between the two offensive options. In BioShock you would have to choose between equipping a plasmid or equipping a weapon as your on-hand utility. In BioShock 2 you already have both active and simply have to choose which you want currently equipped in each hand, left is dedicated to plasmids, and right to guns. This makes combat much more active and engaging as your combinations of attacks work more efficiently when both plasmid and weapon can be triggered with the touch of a button. Electrifying an enemy and then bashing with the drill, lighting an enemy on fire and then letting loose a heat-seeking rocket, spearing an enemy before pulling it and shooting it back in with telekinesis, and insect swarming with any weapon’s special ammo as the swarm keeps them in place stunned. Overall the minute-to-minute gameplay of BioShock 2 is better than the original, and the weapons are adapted to fit into your status as a Big Daddy which I appreciated.

BioShock 2 culminates with two encounters that are the epitome of the two scenarios you have been engaging with over the course of the game. The first is a battle against two Big Sisters, the face of the game and one of its best contributions to the overall BioShock entity. They are as hard to kill as a Big Daddy but much more agile and capable of dealing damage. The second is a wave defense, a culmination of the optional but suggested scenario to guard a Little Sister who is harvesting Adam from predetermined corpses littered throughout the map of each level. These defensive scenarios allow you to utilize alternative trap ammo as well as trap plasmids at chokepoints and around the general area of a corpse before putting the Little Sister down to begin the harvesting. During my most recent playthrough I had built up such an arsenal that I could easily just sit back in a corner and allow the plasmid and ammo traps kill every single splicer that attempted to interrupt the harvest. These segments are completely optional but due to their surplus Adam rewards make it something that should be engaged with. Adam is the currency for purchasing new plasmids, upgrading plasmids, and gaining more health, eve, and active plasmid slots, making them the most useful resource in the game. These defense segments also allow you more opportunities to research the different enemy types after you’ve unlocked the camera. Research bonuses are how you get some of the best gene tonics such as the upgraded Armored Shell, Drill Vampire, and Fountain of Youth tonics.

Defending Little Sisters from splicers also prepares you for the battle against Big Sisters, as you’ll learn they only appear once every Little Sister has been dealt with in a level. This allows you to pick which vent by which to resolve the Little Sister decision and prepare the surrounding area accordingly. The subsequent fight was always thrilling as Big Sisters were most often the reason for my death. Mixing and matching defense and offensive options makes a playthrough feel more varied as you bounce from fighting splicers in a new area to looting, fighting a Big Daddy, placing a Little Sister for a wave defense, and repeating.

More critically than in gameplay, BioShock 2 succeeds in telling a compelling story with its characters. Whereas in BioShock the main story was highly regarded for its Big Twist, there wasn’t much more to it than that twist. The characters in BioShock were the highlight, each a twisted and morose individual whose personality made each level memorable up to the moment you killed them and moved on in the dark ride of Rapture. It all culminated in an ending sequence that everyone mostly ignores when talking about its successes, because after the twist it didn’t have anything worthwhile left. BioShock 2 has an idea and executes on it fully for a much more satisfactory whole.

In BioShock 2 you are an example for your adopted daughter Eleanor to learn from. By watching how you decide to deal with not only the Little Sisters but with specific characters who antagonize you throughout each of their levels she will ultimately make a decision that determines the type of ending you receive. This reflection of action is indicative of how our own children learn from us, whether we are aware or intend for it or not. Children are always watching and will pick up on mannerisms you might not even recognize until they perform it. Tantrum throwing objects is a reflection of our own frustration, and imitation-as-play reinforces everyday actions as routine. Eleanor learns from the player and through a more complex flowchart of points compared to the original game, will make the final decision of whether Sofia Lamb, Eleanor’s mother and your main antagonist throughout the game, lives or dies.

The original BioShock’s “moral choice dilemma” was a black and white decision between saving or killing Little Sisters. Killing Little Sisters would net you more Adam in the short term but saving them ended with an overall larger number of Adam to spend on gameplay abilities, making salvation the desired route to take. Sparing or killing a child is not a real moral conundrum, it is a simplistic decision given weight only by the empty words of marketing. BioShock 2 muddles the mechanical reward to its benefit. The maximum overall Adam you can gain is a mixture of saving every Little Sister until a certain point where you gain a tonic that gives you more Adam for harvesting, at which point you use them to gain Adam from corpses before killing them yourself. The decision to kill or spare a child is still cartoonishly simple for a moral decision, but is at the very least made more complex by the mathematical equations behind them. Retaining the save or kill decision reads much more like certain features from Fallout 3 carrying over into Fallout: New Vegas. That is, as a consequence of restricted development time and inheriting another studio’s data within which to chisel your own familiar but new (and superior) piece of art.

More thoughtful choices in the game come in the form of the named characters whose fate is determined by the player. The first character you meet is Grace Holloway, a woman who was entrusted by Sofia Lamb to watch over her daughter Eleanor while Lamb was imprisoned by Andrew Ryan. Holloway failed and Eleanor was inducted into the Little Sister program and bonded with your player character, Delta. Holloway hates you for this. Next is Stanley Poole, an agent for Ryan who was responsible for the flooding of Lamb’s retreat in Dionysus Park and Eleanor’s induction into the Little Sister program after she caught his work as a double agent. Lastly is the tragic character of Gilbert Alexander, a scientist who underwent a radical experiment on behalf of Lamb that left him transformed into an inhuman organism and left behind audio logs prior to his descent into madness that would teach a would-be savior how to deliver him from his current state.

The fates of these three characters, combined with the player's decisions for the Little Sisters they encounter will lead to one of six endings. Thanks to this flexibility it is entirely possible to get a “Good Ending” with Lamb dead, or a “Bad Ending” where Lamb lives, or a “Neutral Ending” where you killed each character and had a mixture of saving and harvesting Little Sisters. My preferred choice of ending is saving all the Little Sisters and only sparing Holloway, as Poole deserved death for his crimes and Alexander was a mercy killing at his own request. Holloway is a traditional misguided henchman duped into villainy, Poole is a classical self-serving villain, and Alexander is a tragic figure whose death is more of an assisted suicide than an outright murder based on vengeance or justice.

Lamb’s fate is not up to you directly. You do not push a button on the controller to decide whether she lives or dies. That is left up to your adopted daughter, Eleanor, to decide, based on the decisions you made up to that point in time. She learns from you as a child learns from their parents. It's a much more compelling undercurrent to the game than the original’s “would you kindly?” being a conceit of a player character lacking agency in most games. Even with the flowcharts explaining the criteria for each ending, the unseen complexity underneath the various avenues available to the player upon their first playthrough means that the ending they receive will be a much more honest reflection of themself put on display by the actions of Eleanor.

Andrew Ryan has become part of video game canon as one of the most compelling antagonists encountered in games. He is the industrialist founder of Rapture, the setting which so bewitched everyone in the first BioShock. The largest hole left by BioShock that its sequel would have to somehow fill would be that of its main antagonist. How could you top Andrew Ryan? BioShock 2 addresses this issue in two ways. The first is that it still includes many audio logs from Andrew Ryan so that you can once again be regaled by his charisma and ego stroking monologues. BioShock 2 also does some retroactive addition with the introduction of Sofia Lamb, a psychiatrist who seeks to create a utopia using her ideology of “collectivism” in direct opposition to Ryan. She is now known as one of the great figures of Rapture, going so far as to even have debated Ryan publicly over the future of the city and being included in a photo of “Rapture’s Best and Brightest: 1952”

Just as Eleanor’s ending decision is a reflection of the player, Sofia Lamb is a mirrored reflection of Andrew Ryan[b]. Both spouted ideological babble in order to bring themselves into power, but neither were willing to separate that power from themself. Ryan founded Rapture so that people could be free from regulation by government or religion, so that anyone could do what they wanted. This propaganda didn’t include the asterisk that stated all this was fine, so long as Ryan stayed on top. The original BioShock is the story of how Ryan’s ideology of freedom fell once his position as top dog was threatened. Sofia Lamb is very much an altered reflection of that same grasping at power. Her “collectivism” is riddled with “common good” sentiments but all with her at the top with no equal or superior authority. Lamb is happy to sacrifice the individuals in her quest for the greater good, exemplified through Holloway, Poole, and Gil. Holloway was manipulated into serving Lamb out of guilt rather than adoration after the abduction of Eleanor, Poole’s allegiance was known to Lamb prior to the drowning of Persophone making her implicitly guilty in his actions, and Gil was coerced into serving as a test tube. Lamb strips everyone of their humanity and turns them into pawns to be manipulated and moved around according to her will. She may be the complete opposite in terms of beliefs but she is as hypocritical as Ryan, ruthlessly more so as she rules not by force but by love. Throughout the game you will come across adoring murals painted in her honor, she refers to her followers as the “family,” and pressures people to carry out her will as examples of their devotion. Ryan is a tyrant, a familiar and often used person to fight against in all forms of fiction. Lamb is much more sinister, having a morally uprighteous front belying a rot of egomania.

This utilization of coercing through adoration most similarly correlates in my own life to the use of religion and “God’s” will to push an individual's agenda onto others. Some of the latest media to tap into this insidious form of religion would be Mike Flanagan’s Midnight Mass in the character of Bev Keane played by Samantha Sloyan and on a more systemic level in Under the Banner of Heaven miniseries based on the book by Jon Krakauer covering the 1984 murder of Brenda and Erica Lafferty. Navigating a murder case involving deeply Mormon families included multiple conversations about faith and “Heavenly Father” as coverage for decisions and in-action that very much harkened back to my own years in service to the church my family attended. Lamb’s many audio logs recording conversations with followers and frequent propagandizing on speakers as you walk through Rapture gave me similar feelings of repulsion. She’s the type of person to stab you while smiling and explaining why this outcome was the best thing that could happen to you and fighting it will only hurt those you love.

Lamb’s indifference to all of those around her extended to her own daughter Eleanor, who wasn’t a person as much as another tool by which to achieve utopia. Lamb never loved Eleanor, she loved the promise Eleanor held as the ultimate mechanism towards whatever Lamb's version of utopia was, most likely something like Human Instrumentality with herself as god. Eleanor, lacking a mother, was nonetheless a person with feelings and opinions. She rebelled against her mother constantly. The more Lamb tried to control Eleanor’s growth the more Eleanor chose the opposite. When Ryan imprisoned Lamb, Eleanor was left with Holloway who cared for her with more love than Lamb did. That love, however, was more a substitute for Lamb than genuine care for the girl. Holloway loved to serve Lamb, and watching over Eleanor was a duty to be performed in that devotion. The loss of Eleanor was less the horror of losing a child and more the horror of having failed Lamb.

With you, Subject Delta, she had more of a parent than before. It may have been a parasitic relationship created to harvest Adam above all else, yet despite this, the mute Delta was a better parent than anyone Eleanor had before. Compared to the motherhood of Lamb, a life bonded to the protector Delta gathering Adam was more freeing and fulfilling than as a subject to the utopia project.

Parenthood is a recurring subject throughout BioShock 2. Andrew Ryan’s audio logs begin with his pondering of fathering of a child, not knowing his son would one day kill him. Holloway talks about how Lamb offering up Eleanor fulfilled her desire for motherhood that was denied by her infertility and the forced disappearance of her lover. A series of audio logs tell the story of a father named Mark Meltzer whose daughter was kidnapped by a Big Sister and his descent into Rapture in an attempt to recover her that ended with him as a Big Daddy you can fight and slay. Lamb and Eleanor’s relationship makes up the core of the game’s drama, with you serving as the imprint Eleanor acts upon. Our forward momentum is a reaction to Eleanor’s love for us in the form of a father/daughter relationship. However, there is also a more utilitarian reason for your desire to reunite with Eleanor and it is due to the Little Sister/Big Daddy bond you share. Brigid Tenenbaum briefly returns in the beginning stages to inform you that death awaits if you do not once again get into contact with Eleanor. This muddies the bond between you into less of fatherly love and into a resolution to live. The dual motivation continues for a majority of the game, as each roadblock puts the player more at risk of death from separation (with flashing red seizures reminding you of this despite it being a fraudulent threat as the player character will never actually die) and blossoms a concern and care for the one who calls you father and leaves gifts behind for you, pushing you ever towards a reunion.

Eleanor reports that Lamb is continuing the utopia project despite the disruption caused by the Little Sister programming, and Alexander serves as a grim warning for what fate might befall her if Lamb gets her way. After your climactic fight with two Big Sisters you are stopped one last time by Lamb smothering her own child in an effort to sever the bond and kill you. She is partially successful, the link is broken but you still live, though bound. Eleanor continues her rebellion by turning herself into a Big Sister after a unique section in which you control a Little Sister and gather the required materials for this transformation. While playing the Little Sister you view Rapture through their eyes. Everything is pristine and heavenly. You’ll occasionally get flashes of reality reinforcing the vast gap between what a Little Sister sees and what everyone else does. Corpses are literal angels, the walls are furnished with expensive decorations, curtains adorn every wall, and splicers look like they might have when attending the 1958 New Year’s Eve party. The finale has you fighting alongside Eleanor as she becomes a summon via the final plasmid slot. The first time I played the game in 2013 I very rarely brought her into the action out of a naive fatherly concern for her safety. This recent time I summoned her often as I recognized the mechanical and narrative fulfillment of her rebellion against Lamb reaching a climax as she now had the means with which to fight back physically whereas before it was all posturing and subterfuge.

BioShock 2 is a game I keep thinking about every now and then years and years after that first playthrough both for the mark it left on me and how underappreciated it still seems to be. Unlike Wind Waker or Sons of Liberty which were lampooned but eventually underwent a reevaluation in the culture writ large to become Game Canon, BioShock 2 remains in the shadow of both its predecessor and successor, and even its own DLC add-on expansion, Minerva’s Den, which had its own success completely separate from BioShock 2. Developer 2K Marin would eventually be handed what would become The Bureau: XCOM Declassified, itself a failed internal project within Irrational Games first handed off to 2K Australia before becoming a 2K Marin project and whose commercial failure would lead to 2K Marin’s closure in October 2013, two months after the game’s release.

Something entirely forgotten between my initial playthrough in 2013 and finishing my recent replay was that my wife and I had decided to name our baby daughter Eleanor in December of 2020. I had already known the connection to The Last of Us’ Ellie when my wife presented the two name options she liked the most but it wasn’t until I booted up BioShock 2 again in order to complete a replay and begin working on this essay that I was met with the audio log of Sofia Lamb discussing her daughter “Eleanor,” and I was hit with a realization that this game forgotten by a majority of the gaming public was now made much more personal to my own life. The lessons taught by the game, of children learning from those they love, bears true and reminds me that my own daughter is watching and learning whether I’m aware of it at the moment or not.

[a] As with all audiences, there are segments that will have always loved a game, segments that still hate it, and segments that don’t really care one way or the other about it. Grand Theft Auto IV was highly rated and sold millions but has mostly been lost in terms of cultural relevance.

[b] I appreciate another subtle reflection in that the first BioShock your transportation between various sections of the city was by Bathysphere, a small private vessel and underwater equivalent to the car. In BioShock 2 they are discussed as a reason for the death of the Atlantic Express railway system, your mode of transportation in the sequel. This reflects the rise of private motorized vehicles, and the machinations of the automobile industry, destroying public transport systems above, as well as serving as icons of each antagonist's ideology.

#BioShock #BioShock 2 #Video Game #Writing #criticism #Video Game Criticism

10 notes · View notes