#but my psych was saying it's probably good for me to have some rest and recovery time after this hell semeste

[vampiricsheep]

so since I may be free this summer after all, would anyone be interested in an RP event that's a potluck? I've been wanting to do it for ages but there's never any interest compared to other themes

for a discord rp, I would make a separate server explicitly for this purpose so you don't have to be in any guilds or anything! I would also delete the server (or at least channel, if people would like an event-planning server long-term) after a week - enough time for people to read over their stuff but not preserved forever and ever.

#actually remembering to make this a week-long poll this time! #if you've never heard the term before: a potluck is an event where everyone brings a food they've made to share in a communal feast! #there is no skill floor for this - if you (your character in this case) only knows a simple cornbread recipe they follow by the book that's #-just as welcome as an elaborate roast #and I know people have brought things they bought instead of cooked (like a bakery pie) #the point isn't to show off your cooking skills as much as it is to come together as a community and share :) #its historical origins were a little more complex in function than that but I'm going with what I was raised with #but yeah. it's a theme I've wanted to do a while because it's so community #I AM upset that I won't be busy this summer (rejected from every internship I applied to and can't apply to ones that require a- #-drivers license which is uhh MOST OF THEM! #but my psych was saying it's probably good for me to have some rest and recovery time after this hell semeste #(it wasn't hell but two of my classes have really been fucking with my head) #I DID get to try out darting guns last week in my wildlife sampling/id classes though and I hit the target dead center both times! #and that was fun. but the writing assignments from those other classes are incomprehensible in rubric #OH RIGHT MY TAGS #gw2 open RP night #gw2 rp

[shelleyspeare]

i think i might have ocd

#had to say it #not gonna try to get diagnosed because (a) i don't have time (b) my intrusive thoughts are too much to talk about with anyone rn and (c) i #dont want to get stuck with a diagnosis like that for the rest of my life #because it feels so much more official and permanent than good old depression and anxiety. like i could never get over this #but i just wanted to put it out there into the universe that I'm like 99% sure if i described what's going on with me rn to a doctor they #would diagnose me with ocd. wild. #once i started thinking about it i wrote down a list of compulsions and it was like a full page long #i barely even think about them as weird because theyre so familiar to me but i do them constantly -- like probably hundreds of times a day #and most are textbook ocd stuff like even down to which numbers my brain registers as like. safe numbers to count to. like the number 4 is #good powers of 2 are good etc. and i touch light switches and doorknobs a certain number of times and i count my steps and the words i read #and i count how many times i blink and look at people so it all comes out right #and beneath all of that control is just a whole pit of obsessive anxious thoughts i can't control. so. #now i know that this is a Real Issue and not just my generalized anxiety being spicy #idk. maybe ill find help in some informal way that doesnt involve a psych eval lol #it's good to know this about myself

[irisintheafterglow]

blood moonlit, must be counterfeit

summary: a guy at a party has a really good dynamight costume, and you two get to talking about your favorite heroes. (pro!bakugo x you)

wc: 1.68k

cw/tags: swearing ofc cuz it's bakugo, mentions of drinking and alcohol, halloween party, first meeting, emotionally constipated katsuki and reader is kinda oblivious lol

note: NEW HALLOWEEN HEADER BABY also this idea had me by the throat so i needed to write it down before it consumed my entire psyche. i'm back to writing for bakugo again because iykyk and halloween fics are giving me a lot of motivation right now. hope you enjoy!

likes, reblogs, and replies are always appreciated <3

“I have to admit–your costume is pretty damn good.”

“Yeah? Just ‘pretty good?’”

“Mhmm. Almost looks like the real thing,” you remark, taking another sip of the dangerously sweet jungle juice in your cup. It's an unreadable mix of bad ideas and bold flirtation, perfect for a Halloween party of barely 21 adults. The blonde guy beside you on the worn leather couch tilts his head slightly like he's re-affirming what you just said in his mind. “I think the real Dynamight would be impressed.”

“Would he, now,” he huffs under his breath, mouth curling into an unreadable smirk. He exhales a quick breath of what you think is amusement through his nose, eyes flicking over your body for the umpteenth time since he sat down with you. It makes your face heat up and you casually avert your gaze downward, catching more details of his costume that you didn’t notice before. 

The gauntlets were obviously the star of the arrangement, covered in numerous scratches, burns, and dents that attested to their “battle” usage. The boots were impressive, too, and you wondered how long it took to place every individual orange eyelet over the front of each calf. The cinder block rectangles sitting on his broad shoulders truly looked like real stone, solid like the toned muscle holding them up. It was the domino mask that threw you off the most, though. The guy must have been wearing bright red contacts, or something, because to look so similar to the actual Pro should have been considered a crime. 

“Who’d you come to the party with?”

“Just some friends,” he replies, shrugging an infuriatingly sexy shoulder. His entire look was putting the real Dynamight to shame, in your opinion. He nods upward in the direction of a guy in an equally accurate Deku costume standing with a very convincing Shoto lookalike. “They dared me to wear this and I lost the bet.”

“Must have been some bet, if you’re moping over here like a toddler.” The shrewdness of your words escapes you until they’re already past your lips; thankfully, he just smirks again and leans his head back, resting an arm on the back of the sofa.

“I’ll ignore that you said that, 'cause you're clearly intoxicated” he mutters, shooting you a brutal side-eye. Thanks to the alcohol, though, you’re far from deterred. 

“How gracious,” you chuckle and his smirk gets a little more arrogant. “What was the bet?”

“Some dumb drinking contest. That asswipe in the green can put down more shots than he looks.” He scowls and you fight down the urge to giggle at his bitter expression. He was the only guy you’ve ever seen that could make a grumpy face look hot. The only guy besides Bakugo himself, of course. “I wouldn’t have worn this shit to a party to save my life.”

“What, Dynamight isn’t your favorite Pro?”

“I’m more of an All Might guy,” he replies nonchalantly. He appreciates the classic heroes. Good sign. “If I had to choose a different one, I’d probably say Jeanist.”

“Jeanist is pretty cool. My best friend had a cardboard cutout of Eraserhead in her closet growing up.” He barks out a laugh and it startles you, but a mysterious feeling in your stomach wants to make him do it again. “What do you think of the current gen of heroes?” He hums thoughtfully, running his tongue over his top lip and you swallow back your drool.

“Red Riot’s a good guy. Deku pisses me the fuck off, but he’s got a good head on his shoulders. Same thing with Pinky and that Half-and-Half asshat. Chargebolt…” His expression turns into a frown so deep you’re worried that Chargebolt killed his family or something heinous like that. 

“What about him?”

“He’s just dumb. If given the choice between his life and a grain of sand, I’d take the sand,” he deadpans and you choke unexpectedly, wincing as your drink travels up the wrong tube and into your nose. His eyes widened in concern, reaching out to pat your back but deciding against it at the last moment. His glove-covered hands hover around you like you’re radioactive matter, carefully watching as you regain your composure. “You good, nerd?” Uses the same vocabulary as the real guy, too. Kind of weird, but I guess we all have our idols. 

“Yeah, I’m good. I just didn’t expect you to badmouth him like you two were friends from high school or something,” you joke lightheartedly and the guy blinks at you twice before computing what you said. 

“It’s whatever. They’re super fuckin’ easy to read, in any case,” he states with an air of finality and you down the rest of your drink, the dim lighting starting to blur everything around you into a single greenish-orange blob. “What about you? What are your thoughts on the new gen?”

“I can’t make such bold judgments as you, but I do think Dynamight is pretty cool,” you admit, suddenly feeling a little bashful when having the same question turned on you. The truth was, you followed the lives of the heroes a bit too closely than the average person should. It fascinated you so much that you were majoring in Quirk-specific journalism, studying the social and economic consequences of being a Pro. “I think his public persona is an interesting case when compared to other heroes.”

“How so?”

“Well, I’d like to imagine that he’s not always the loud, arrogant, obnoxious piece of shit that the press shows,” you start and narrow your eyes in confusion when he flinches at your description. You continue anyway but choose your words a little more carefully. Probably isn’t good to upset the guy who might have fashioned functioning gauntlets, if the costume truly is accurate. “There’s a side to him that I think the public doesn’t know about and doesn’t care to know about, since it’s easier to understand him as a loudmouth with no sense of manners. I just wonder who that guy is under all the yelling and testosterone.” His silence is deafening and you worry that you somehow offended him, but his tone is so gentle that your assumption becomes an impossibility.

“Seems like you’ve given this guy a great deal of thought,” he says lowly, voice barely audible over the sound of the blaring house music. 

“Well, he is my favorite,” you add quietly, not expecting him to catch what you said. He does, though, and that mischievous smirk returns to his face. Somehow, you two had inched closer together over the course of your conversation, and you were now close enough to smell his cologne. It was something deep and smoky, with a surprise note of sweetness, like caramel. “I’ve been following his hero career since I was in high school.”

“I didn’t take you for a superfan, but I do appreciate your support,” he chuckles and your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “You seriously haven’t figured it out?”

“Figured what out?”

“That I’m Dynamight, stupid. This is my actual costume and those are my actual friends. Hell, I'm paying for this whole shitty party,” he says incredulously, genuinely shocked that you didn’t come to that conclusion already. Your skepticism, however, rears its head and you burst out into rude laughter. 

Dynamight? Yeah, right. More like Dyna-maybe. 

“Excuse me?” He stares at you like you’d grown three heads and your heart drops into your stomach. You must have said your thoughts out loud. Fuck! “You’ve got some nerve, testing the patience of a Pro.” His words, under any other circumstances, would have cut down your pride like a knife. However, his eyes were conveying a different story, one of lust and want and holyshityouwantedhim. “Got anything to say, sweetheart? Or are you gonna just keep gaping like a fuckin’ goldfish?” You abruptly snap your jaw back into place, leaning your head into your hand and smiling in triumph when his gaze again uncontrollably rakes over your body.  

“I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“See what, gorgeous?”

“That a Pro kisses better than a normal person,” you murmur and his pupils blow to the size of pool balls. He wastes no time, gently but firmly grabbing your chin with two fingers and pulling your mouth onto his. His lips are ridiculously soft and you muster up the courage to bite him softly, heartbeat racing when he groans into your mouth. One arm drapes itself over the back of the couch, the other pulling you as close to him as humanly possible without practically sitting on him. Your hand combs through his hair and the other keeps him on you by the back of his neck.

Right when you run out of breath, he pulls away and swears colorfully at the phone buzzing in his pocket, answering it with one hand while his forearm is still pressed against your lower back. You absentmindedly trace his jawline with a finger while he curses out the person on the other line, eventually chucking the device over his shoulder like it was the last thing he was thinking about. “You need to go somewhere, sweetheart?” He lightly pinches your side at your mockery and you jump, flicking his forehead in defiance. 

“Nah, that was a job for Dynamight. Right now, I guess I’m still fuckin' Dyna-maybe,” he rasps and leans back in to kiss you again but you push his face away, giving him as sober of a look as possible. “What?”

“If you need to go kick ass, then go kick ass. I’m just some random makeout at a party,” you remind him, painfully aware of the sting if he was to leave you alone. His expression contorts into indignancy again but you still try to convince him to alleviate whatever situation he was called in for. “Your job is more important than a hookup.”

“I don’t do hookups, dumbass. I’m interested in you,” he states plainly and your face is set on fire. The Pro, who you just insulted to his face, was interested in you? “So, let’s get out of here, yeah? I can make you dinner that isn’t shitty pizza.” His mouth breaks into a devilish grin and you’re already grabbing onto his hand like your life depended on it. 

“If someone messes with us?”

“It’s a good thing I’m already in costume.” 

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

#mha x reader #bnha x reader #mha x y/n #bnha x you #bakugo katsuki #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugo x you #bakugo x y/n

[sturniolo-fall-enthusiast]

Meet the Parents

Request: Hii🩷 can you maybe make like a fic where reader is matt’s girlfriend and friends with the triplets and after like a few months of dating Matt she meets their parents in Boston and she’s like nervous and stuff and they all try to calm her down and their parents and other brother end up loving her

The triplets are going to visit Boston for a little bit and Matt invited his girlfriend of five months, the girl immediately accepting the invitation. The general idea of meeting the rest of Matt's family and seeing where he grew up was amazing at first, but now that they're about to leave, she has nothing but anxiety coursing through her.

"What if your parents totally hate me? What if they think I'm not good enough and you deserve much better?" Y/N rants off any question that comes to mind.

"They won't think that." Matt insists. "I've talked about you countless times and my mom already loves you."

"So your dad might hate me." Y/N says.

"He doesn't hate you either." Matt says. "Stop psyching yourself out, sweetheart. I know you're nervous, but it'll go great. I promise." He kisses her on the forehead.

"We're back!" They hear Nick yell out, the other two triplets having gotten an Uber to go pick up some food for the group, Matt needing to stay and pack.

"Come on." Matt grabs her hands, pulling her to her feet. He leads her out as she continues to wrack with nerves.

"I'm not gonna be able to sleep tonight. I could totally embarrass myself and they'll hate me forever." Y/N whines.

"Baby..." Matt tries.

"What are you talking about?" Chris frowns.

"Y/N's nervous about meeting mom and dad." Matt says. "Despite me assuring her that it'll all be okay."

"They've been looking forward to meeting you." Nick says. "Mom will probably be attached to your hip all day asking questions and gushing over you." He laughs.

"Yeah, they ask about you whenever Matt talks to them." Chris says.

"What about Justin? He could totally hate me. You're his little brother, it may not--"

"Justin will be fine." Chris promises.

"Long as you and Matt are happy, that'll probably be all they need to be happy." Nick says, his brothers nodding in agreement.

"It'll be okay." Matt promises, cupping his girlfriend's face. "And if you're too nervous, I'm right there the whole time. I promise." He pecks her on the lips.

"Can you guys save that for later so we're not throwing up during our meal?" Chris pleads.

"Shut up, Chris." Matt rolls his eyes.

---

They're at the airport in Boston, waiting on the boys' parents. Y/N barely got sleep and has been anxious the whole day, Matt doing his best to calm her nerves by making her focus on things other than meeting his family.

Matt grabs onto Y/N's hand, intertwining their fingers and gently squeezing.

"They'll love you." Matt assures.

"Hey, there they are." Chris points. "Oh, Justin came." He smiles.

Y/N stands back, watching with a soft smile as the boys reunite with their parents and older brother.

Her smile falters for a moment when the attention is turned to her and Matt quickly wraps his arm around her waist, gently squeezing her hip in reassurance.

"Mom, dad, Justin, this is Y/N." Matt introduces, a grin full of love directed to his girlfriend.

"Hi, sweetheart. It's so nice to meet you." Mary Lou immediately greets her with open arms, pulling the girl into a hug.

"Hi." Y/N softly replies, gently hugging the woman back.

"Nice to meet you, Y/N." Jimmy smiles, giving her a quick hug.

"Hey, nice to meet you." Justin gives her a small wave, Y/N returning it with her own wave.

"Nice to meet you guys, too." Y/N smiles.

"Oh, we've heard so much about you. I can't wait to learn more." Mary Lou smiles. "Come on, let's get you guys something to eat and get home."

"Sweet." Chris excitedly whispers at the idea of eating.

"Y/N, what food do you like? We can go out somewhere." Jimmy offers.

"Oh, uh... I-I'm okay with wherever." Y/N smiles.

"She loves Italian food the most." Nick speaks up.

"Ooh, perfect! There's a really good place we all enjoy, you can try it." Mary Lou grins.

"Can't wait." Y/N nervously smiles, reaching for Matt's hand.

"All right, let's go, boys." Mary Lou urges.

"See? Not so bad." Matt quietly says.

"It's only the first five minutes. I could still totally fuck up." Y/N insists.

"You won't. It'll be amazing, promise." Matt tells her, kissing her cheek.

After lunch, Y/N's anxiety had finally started to dwindle after spending time with the triplets' family and being able to converse with the three just as easily as she can with the boys.

#matt sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo

[all-mirth-no-matter]

Time After Time | Chapter Eighteen

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader, Tommy Shelby x Original Female Character

Summary: Tommy has an important question for Grace, Ada and Freddie get married, and someone else comes back from the dead

Warning: language

ao3 link | catch up on tumblr here

Chapter 18: Trouble

Will it come to pass, or will I pass the test? You know what they say, yeah the wicked get no rest. You can have my heart, any place, any time.  Got so much to lose. Got so much to prove. God, don’t make me lose my mind.  — Trouble, Cage The Elephant

“Do you like races?” 

The way Tommy asked the question made your heart clench. 

You sat in the back room of the pub, peeking through a small crack in the doorway as you tried to remind yourself, It’s not real. You were trying to unsuccessfully distract yourself with the inventory as you stayed out of the way. 

But your eye caught the way Grace’s head tilted as she offered him her shy smile.

“Is it Cheltenham?” she asked sweetly. He hummed out a yes. “And you want to take me?” 

The way she emphasized the last word made you want to roll your eyes. 

You heard him clear his throat. “You’ll fit in. Prim, posh, like the rest of the rich girls who come in for these races.” 

You couldn’t help but look down at your own outfit, so dingy next to her deep red sweater and bright blonde hair, not a soft curl out of place. Get it together, you chastised yourself, completely over the self-loathing streak you’d been in lately. 

But the way Grace’s cheeks pinkened slightly at the compliment felt like twist of the knife already plunged into your psyche. 

This had been Tommy’s plan, you tried to remind yourself. The night before, after he’d come over from his altercation with Billy Kimber in the pub, he’d explained how he’d persuade the new barmaid to accompany them. 

You’d almost laughed at the way you had to remind him that he couldn’t just force someone to prostitute themselves out just because he said so. You had to remind yourself that in this period, with Tommy’s influence, he probably could. But you’d been successful in steering him away from that method. 

And while his proposal still felt very daunting, he’d decided to go the more flattering route. Still, you didn’t like the idea of leading her on. Not just because of your own feelings, but because you didn’t like putting someone in potential danger. Even if Kimber had good intentions (which you severely doubted, even though you’d never met the man), it wasn’t fun being blindsided that way. 

But Tommy had convinced you to ease her into it. Not to tell her something until there was something to tell. Again, you weren’t happy with it — but you’d come to learn how far Tommy was willing to bend on matters like these. 

You heard coins dropping on the counter, Tommy’s voice pulling back to their exchange. 

“Here, for the dress. Make it red.” 

“I’ll need more than that.”

Tommy huffed out an amused breath before you heard another coin be placed on the table. “That’s three pounds.”

“And how much did you pay for the suit you’ll be wearing?” 

“Oh, I don’t pay for suits.” You heard the clinking of glass as he collected the bottle of whiskey and glasses he’d asked for when he originally entered. Then he continued, “My suits are on the house, or the house burns down.”

“So you want me to go lookin’ like a flower girl?”

“What I want makes no difference. It’s not me you’re dressing up for.”

The sound of the snug window doors closed, and you felt yourself exhale, knowing the conversation between the pair had come to an end for now. A few seconds later, you heard the pub doors open and close, then the distinct sound of the snug doors close. 

Tommy had a meeting — some men who’d reached out wanting to discuss some potential business. 

After a few minutes, now back on the inventory, you got up and opened the door to the main room to check on something. You stopped when you noticed Grace leaning against the wall of the snug, her ear pressed against the window. She didn’t notice you, her concentration focused on overhearing whatever conversation was going on in the other room. 

You were deciding whether you should stop her, or continue to observe to see what she was up to, when the sound of singing began to grow louder from inside the snug. The singing caused her to push away from the wall, but not before her eyes finally met yours. Her mouth dropped in surprise before snapping shut as she tried to busy herself, but you didn’t miss the slight panic behind her eyes of being caught. She grabbed a crate of bottles and hustled into the side room behind the bar.

“All right, boys,” Tommy boomed as he opened the doors and gestured for them to exit, “when I know who knows what about what, I’ll let you know.” 

One of the men pushed the second man still singing out the pub door, and you caught the last bit of his song. 

“—I long to see the boys of the old IRA!”

Tommy shook his head as he set the bottle on the counter. 

“Pretty bold of them to sing that with the new Inspector running around,” you commented as you moved behind the counter, grabbing the paperwork you’d originally come out for. 

He huffed out a chuckle, bringing the cigarette to his mouth. “They’re only rebels because they like the songs.” 

You rose your brow, “Will they be back?” 

“Nah,” he shook his head, blowing out smoke. “They’ll go back to the Black Swan in Sparkbrook. I have to go, but tonight,” he pointed at you as he walked backwards toward the door. 

You nodded, a slight flush across your cheek at the bluntness of his comment. Only a few men sat in the far corners of the booth, but still, it wasn’t like Tommy was trying to be discreet. 

It’d been two nights in a row now that Tommy had closed out the day in your apartment. Nothing scandalous had happened either time— he hadn’t even kissed you since you’d gone to the races. Not that you were necessarily opposed to things moving a bit further — but knowing your luck the minute the two of you did, the world would swallow up into itself to stop you. 

The sound of Grace clearing her throat as she reemerged from the side room caused you to turn around. 

“That wasn’t what it looked like,” she began, and you were surprised at her gumption to address her obvious snooping. 

Your brow creased, “Really? You’re going to pretend like you weren't eavesdropping?” 

“I was just— they were my countrymen,” she stumbled, her eyes looking down to her hands. “I got curious. I know I shouldn’t—”

“No,” you emphasized. 

You could see her throat bobble. “I’ve never seen them before. I haven’t seen many Irishmen in this pub, really. It was a Republic song they were singing, wasn’t it?” 

“I think so,” you answered, still skeptic but curious. “Tommy said they don’t normally drink here.” 

“Oh,” she said, chancing a look back at you. “Did Mr. Shelby say where they do?” 

“Tommy wasn’t exactly whispering just now, I assume you heard him say where,” you answered. Her eyes dropped quickly, her cheeks pink as she met your eyes again. Unsure what her angle here was, your curiosity piqued. “Are you interested?” 

“I have no sympathies for them,” she said sharply, almost out of instinct. Her facial expressions shifted from disgusted to shameful, and then back to a forced neutral, as she must have realized her own tone too late. 

But in the quick moment, there was pain behind her eyes that you couldn’t help but notice. You didn’t completely understand, but you knew enough to know that what was going on with the division of Ireland at the moment was delicate. Especially with the reputation the Inspector had brought with him. And based on the history you knew, it was only going to get worse.

“I didn’t mean to imply—“

“The keg is empty, I’m going to refill it,” she said instead, avoiding your gaze as she went into the inventory room. 

“Grace.”

She stepped back into the doorway, her eyes still downcast. You waited for them to meet your eyes again before you continued. 

“Just… be careful.”

Ada had disappeared. You nor Polly had heard from her since Freddie came back and proposed to her at the train station, ignoring Tommy’s request for them to flee the city. 

So when a knock on your door startled you early in the morning, you were surprised to see the girl, who flew into your flat with a handful of white fabric. 

“YN, you’ve got to help me.” 

She threw everything in her hands to the bed as you asked if everything was okay. 

Turning around, her grin answered that question for you. “I’m getting married this morning. You have to help me get ready. Please.” 

Without another thought, you jump to start helping her. Her dress was beautiful white and ivory layered fabric that resembled very much what you imagined the women’s fashion was going to become. It was loose around her stomach, her baby bump finally prominent. 

“Where are you gonna go after the ceremony?” you asked, helping her tie the back of her dress. 

She sighed, “Nowhere.” 

“But I thought Tommy—”

“Freddie won’t have it. He’s insistent we stay here for now at least,” she said, her previous bubbly mood falling.

“Well since you’re staying, are you sure you don’t Polly to be here now? I mean, it’s not every day you get married.” 

She shook her head. “She’ll just try to stop me.” 

“And you didn’t think I would?” you asked, half joking. 

“I did.” Her answer surprised you. “I’m not an idiot, Y/N. I know that you and Tommy have been seein’ more of each other.” 

“It’s all still pretty platonic,” you countered, fiddling with a piece of her jewelry. When she creased her brow at your use of phrase. You offered her a shrug. “We’ve kissed, but I just can’t tell what he wants. I don’t even know if it’s a good idea, I just… I can’t help myself.” 

She gave you an empathetic smile, sitting with you on the bed as she took the jewelry out of your hand and replaced it with her own. “I may hate my brother right now, but I do love him. And I know him. I see glimpses of the boy he was before the war when he’s with you. Polly sees it too — we have a bet going on how long it’ll take before the two of you will make it official.” 

Your mouth gaped at that, shaking your head. “I’m choosing to ignore that comment.”

She chuckled. “Don’t worry, we wouldn’t dare say anything to Tommy. He’s nearly as stubborn as I am.” 

“Fine. But why then did you come here if you thought I was going to try and stop you?” 

She paused, biting her lip before fastening her shoes. “Because you didn’t tell Tommy about Freddie. He was genuinely surprised when I told him. Honestly, I’d assumed you’d told him already—”

“I wouldn’t.”

“I know.” She offered you a smile before tilting her head. “And, I know you don’t normally like to talk about the deep things — at least, not with me — but… can I ask you, why?”

Ada hadn’t pried much into your life. It’d been one of the things you’d been more grateful for in your friendship. 

Honestly, previously you had assumed she hadn’t pried because of her immaturity. She was very much a carefree, live-in-the-moment kind of girl, keeping most emotions and conversations at the surface level. 

But the look on her face made you wonder if you hadn’t been giving the girl credit. Maybe she was all those things sometimes, but she really did surprise you on how sympathetic and slightly intuitive she could be when she wanted to. And maybe she’d always been aware of your aversions to personal prying this whole time. 

You took her hand and offered her a sincere smile. “I moved around a lot growing up. I found it difficult to make friends, even through adulthood. When I first got here, you welcomed me in when I had no one. You helped me make the most of this life I found myself in and helped me miss my old life a little less. You welcomed me into your family and you were always there to remind me of a cheerier world. I’ll always be grateful to you.” 

Ada pulled you into a hug. “I knew I made the right decision.”

You wiped away the small tear that’d rolled down your cheek as she pulled away, busing yourself with the final piece of the ensemble.

You stood up and began tying on her veil. It was so delicate and ornate, adorned with flowers around edge that matched the free spirit you’d always seen in your friend. 

You stood her up and smoothed out her veil, then turned her to face you, your eyes scanning for any final touches. When you were done, you took a step back and covered your mouth, your smile bursting. Her own smile widened at your reaction, turning to appraise herself in your mirror. 

“Oh Ada,” your heart was bursting, “you’re beautiful.” 

She blushed, her grin wide and excitement infectious. Despite the circumstances of her fiance, you really were happy for Ada. As the first person who’d accepted you in this new world, you felt very protective and loyal to Ada. 

It’d been why you kept her secret about Freddie from the rest of her family, and why you’d promised to wait and tell Polly until that afternoon, after you knew the ceremony was official. 

While anxious, the matriarch had taken the news better than you expected. Though you guessed she was anticipating them getting married, what she hadn’t was Tommy’s deal with the Inspector to get Freddie out of the city. 

Apparently, Polly’s attempt at ‘dealing with it peacefully’ hadn’t worked out the way she expected. Ada turned up at the Garrison flushed and out of breath, looking for either her brother or husband. 

“They’re gonna kill each other,” she’d nearly cried when you grabbed her arm, stabilizing her as she bent forward. 

“Ada, you need to calm down,” you tried to push the cup of water back into her hands. She breathed sharply as she rubbed her stomach. “This isn’t good for the baby.” 

“I don’t care,” she said through a haggard breath. “I have to find them. I have to try—“ 

You followed her outside and kept up with her until Freddie emerged from the stairway of a canal bridge. She threw herself into him, and you urged him to take her home and make her rest. You watched from the side of the road as they crossed it. 

“He’s going to ruin her life,” you heard Tommy’s deep voice behind you. 

“You can’t keep doing that to her,” you said without turning around. You felt him move beside you, both of you still looking in the couple’s direction until they turned down an alleyway. “The stress isn’t good for the baby. She nearly passed out in the pub just now worried you two were going to kill each other—“ 

“I should have.” 

“But you didn’t.”

He took a deep breath, “He loves her.” 

Your eyes shifted over to finally look at him, his eyes still staring at the empty alleyway. 

That was the first time he’d ever acknowledged their feelings for each other. You were convinced he thought Freddie was using Ada — hell, since they got back, you were tempted to start thinking that way too. It wasn’t a secret how dedicated he was to the communist party, and you knew most of the strikes around here were either spearheaded by Freddie himself, or encouraged by him. There were times you began to question what he loved more: Ada or his cause. 

But time and time again, Ada assured you that their love was real and strong enough to combat even Tommy’s fire. 

And now, it seemed, something had finally assured Tommy that Freddie wasn’t just in it for her last name. 

“What convinced you?” 

“When we were kids, Ada used to chase us around, shouting at us to slow down, to wait for her, to include her in our little games.” Tommy’s throat bobbled as you watched the reel move behind his eyes, lost in his childhood memories. “Freddie would always slow down. I never realized… or maybe I did.” 

He blinked, breaking the trance he’d been in as he reached into his jacket and pulled out a cigarette. He ran it between his lips and lit it. 

Blowing the smoke away, his eyes hardened. 

”He asked about the guns,” he said, his voice low despite the relatively secluded spot. “You haven’t told Ada—“ 

“No,” you said firmly, not letting him finish his question. 

He hummed approvingly. Another moment passed before he spoke again. “You never asked me why.” 

Your brow creased as you tried to decipher what he meant. 

“Freddie and me.” He blew out a puff of smoke. “I’ve seen you watch us, when we’ve been in the same rooms. You heard what he said in the pub the day Danny blew in. And I know Ada has told you how close we used to be. But you’ve never asked me why Freddie and I fell out.”

“You never offered,” you countered, meeting his eyes again. You crossed your arms, not sure what he was playing at with bringing this up now. When he brought the cigarette to his lips again, it was obvious he wanted you to continue. “I guess I just assumed you both returned from the war with different outlooks on the world. He doesn’t accept the powers-that-be and wants to change them.” 

He hummed, blowing out his smoke. “And me?” 

“Did you ever feel that way?” you found yourself asking, head tilted as you considered him. You hadn’t thought about it before, but it would have made sense. Freddie’s passions weren’t new, they were deep and rooted, and it would make sense for him to have been a member of the communist party either during the war or before. You were realizing now that there was a chance Tommy could have been entertaining the idea as well before he left. 

The way Tommy’s lips tightened into a hard line and he lifted his chin told you enough. But surprisingly, he offered you a short answer. “Once. Before.” 

“And now?” He didn’t answer that one. You took a deep breath as you continued. “Maybe you still don’t agree with the powers-that-be, but I don’t think it matters to you anymore. Freddie wants to change the world; you want to use it.” 

“I won’t let ‘em put us back in the mud,” he said, his voice calloused as he stared forward. He swallowed, “I need a drink.” 

Instead of walking toward the Garrison, where you knew Grace was closing up for the night, Tommy turned right, toward your apartment. 

You felt your breath let out, not realizing you’d been tensed up since Ada had blown into the Garrison. 

Catching up with Tommy, you decided to lighten the mood a little. “I’m gonna need to restock if you keep drinking all my whiskey,” you teased.  

He let out a humored breath. “Well, next time you’re at the Garrison, just grab a bottle on me.” 

You rolled your eyes, “Yeah Harry would love that.” 

“Not up to Harry anymore what happens to the inventory.” 

Tommy let out a puff of smoke as you turned back to face him before letting him into your flat. 

“What do you mean?” 

“I bought it.” 

“What?—“ your brow creased as his words sunk in. “You bought the Garrison? Can you even do that?”

“I made Harry a very fair offer,” Tommy said plainly as he made himself comfortable in your flat. It was beginning to feel less strange to have company. “He’ll stay on for as long as he wants and still manage the place.”

You felt a pang of sadness for the former owner. Harry loved that place, and always had such pride for it and its patrons. 

“But why?” You asked, starting to take your shoes off. Despite you traveling in time, there were still some little rituals that you just couldn’t shake. And taking your shoes off when you got home was one of them. 

Tommy began to pour two glasses. “Arthur needs some direction.”

“A distraction, you mean.”

He rose his brow, but nodded. “Regardless. He needs to keep his head out of the bloody bottle and on the business. Besides, weren’t you the one who said we needed to find a way to pass the influx of money coming in from the shop?”

It’s true, you had raised that question to Tommy recently after the Monaghan Boy win. Not that you knew much more about money laundering than you’d learned from watching Breaking Bad. But it’d apparently been enough to pique Tommy’s interest and take you seriously. 

Tommy was right though. What you’d been anticipating was finally coming to a head — Tommy was, for all intents and purposes, the head of the Shelby family and the Peaky Blinders. Arthur, who had been feeling the effects of his slow descent for the past couple months, was drowning his sorrows almost daily and picking a fight whenever he got the chance. You’d even begun watering down his drinks by the time he’d get to through half a bottle on nights when you were working in the pub and he was working his way to being sloshed. 

“You’ll have to help him,” Tommy spoke up after you didn’t comment. 

You breathed out a disbelieving laugh, “Like Arthur would ever listen to me.”

“You’ll have to make him,” he took a step toward you and offered you your drink. When you met his eyes, he smirked, “Like you did me.” 

You rose your brow. “You want me to nearly push him in the Cut and play a get-to-know-you drinking game with him?”

His smirk turned into a small smile, “Maybe not exactly like you did with me. But you’ll talk to him. You’ll reason with him. He’ll come to accept it.” 

“You’ve been promising he’d come to accept me for months now,” you countered. 

“And he has, you just haven’t noticed.” 

You shook your head, still not convinced and beginning to worry about how you’d get along with Arthur now that you’d be essentially working for him. 

“You two and can discuss the Garrison’s future at the next family meetin’.”

You rolled your eyes, half laughing at the comment. “The only reason Arthur invited me to the last one was to accuse me of influencing you. There’s no way he’d be cool with me coming to more—“

“He won’t have a choice.”

Your brow furrowed, “What does that mean?”

Tommy pulled your hand into his, causing you to stop pacing and stepped into you. The act surprised you, meeting his eyes again. They were soft, a small crease in the corners as he looked between your own, then to your lips. 

“You’re mine, ‘member?” his deep voice vibrated against you as he reached up and ran his thumb across your cheek, then down to your chin. You got deja vu from that first night outside of your apartment building as he reminded you of the words you’d said to him Christmas Eve in his bed. “Well I’m yours. We’re in this together, ya?”

Your heart pounded at his words. Whatever hesitations or insecurities you’d been feeling were gone as Tommy held you against him, his eyes waiting for your response. 

“Yeah,” you said easily, welcoming his lips to meet yours. 

His kiss was soft, a gentle tug that showed no signs of being rushed, but savored. You hummed contently into it as you felt his lips smile against yours. 

What was it about this man that made your brain go fuzzy and speech cease? Every time he brought his lips to yours, you felt like everything made sense. Like you weren’t standing in a room surrounded by puzzle pieces — but that the final piece was falling into place, even just for a moment. You laced your fingers through his hair, desperate to hold on to this feeling for as long as you could. Even if it was just a taste. 

He pulled away slightly, his forehead rest against yours as you caught your breath. “Whatever we face, whether it’s Arthur or Ada—“

“Or Kimber or Campbell,” you added with a slight mocking mirth. 

He breathed out a soft laugh and rolled his eyes. “Or whatever else might come our way — I know we can face it. Together.”

You lifted on your toes slightly to meet his lips again when a hard knock at your door caused you to jump. 

You and Tommy looked to each other confused — no one aside from Tommy or Ada ever came to your apartment. A second knock prompted Tommy to take the lead in opening the door as you grabbed for your bag with Polly’s gun inside. 

“Danny?” Tommy greeted opening the door wider for the formally dead man to come into your apartment. 

Danny Owens gave you a shy smile and wave before offering Tommy a salute. “Danny Whizz-Bang reporting, sir.”

You dropped your bag, pointing at the man and looking between him and Tommy. “You’re supposed to be dead.” 

Tommy nodded, “at ease. What are you doing here, Danny?”

“Charlie said to try here if you weren’t at your place,” he said before taking a seat. Tommy offered him the bottle of whiskey and he poured himself a drink. 

“So no one is gonna explain the very alive friend of yours sitting at my kitchen table?” you asked, still unsure what was going on. 

Tommy took a deep breath before running his hand through his hair. “It was a trick to fool the Italians. Danny’s been living in London, keeping an ear out. Apparently, there’s news he couldn’t wait on.”

“I was in a pub,” Danny began, gripping the edge of his hat in his hands. “It’s called the Mother Redcap, an Irish pub. I was talking to some old bloke about Birmingham. He said there’s been trouble. An IRA man shot. He said a lot, but the only bit I heard was that their high command think it’s the Peaky Blinders who shot him. I came up on the next boat to warn you.”

“I heard about that guy,” you said softly. “It was outside of the Black Swan. Was it one of the men you met with the other day?”

Tommy nodded.

You thought about the way Grace had eavesdropped on the men, and how she’d been so interested on where they were from. Your brain ticked that there was a connection there, but you brushed it aside on the grounds that you were just searching for something to be horribly wrong with her. While you believed she still had some kind of secret, you didn’t think she’d go as far as shooting someone. 

You looked down at your own hands, a vision of blood covering them from your own dirty deeds, and knowing that anything was possible. 

“Is it true?” Danny asked, pulling your attention back to the men in front of you. 

“No,” Tommy answered, taking a deep breath. “But lies travel faster than the truth.” He thought for a moment before gesturing toward Danny. “Get a message to them. Tell them to send someone to parley. Tell them there’s been a misunderstanding and we don’t want any trouble.”

Danny swallowed the rest of his drink before rising. He saluted Tommy again, then gave you a slight bow. “I will do my duty, sir. Ma’am.”

He left before you could ask anything more. “Tommy, what the hell—“

“Just another thing to add to the list,” he said, shaking his head as he grabbed his own glass and threw it back. “Right now, our focus is on Kimber. And tomorrow is Cheltenham. We’ve gotta be ready.”

>> next chapter: coming soon << chapter masterlist

#peaky blinders #tommy shelby #thomas shelby #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby imagine #thomas Shelby x reader #tommy Shelby x oc #thomas Shelby x oc #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinder imagine #time after time #mine #fanfic #fanfiction

[payasita]

Good job getting ADHD medication! I’m so proud of you :D

thanks so so much im very happy and so hopeful for the first time maybe ever but also it TOOK ME LIKE. A YEAR. A YEAR.

like yall for real?? for real. for real i have been diagnosed since i was like six. (funny story my teacher thought i was on the spectrum so my parents get me tested with the nodes and shit and according to mom, who loves this story, my neurologist did all that and talked to me and then just turned to my mom and went "she's not autistic. she just hates the other kids" but they DID find an adhd diagnosis in there so net win for all of us)

diagnosed since i was SIX. on stimulants until i turned 8, and you know why i got off em? my pediatrician retired. we could not find another who would take our low-income insurance. so i just had to rawdog The Rest Of My Fucking Life. diagnosed when i was six. legally neurodivergent for 20 slutty slutty angry years.

and it still took me like. a few months to get a psych appointment. a few weeks to reaffirm my diagnosis as an adult. a few more weeks for another appointment for meds. he doesnt Want to do meds first, because i must have been doing fine without them if its been two decades, right? i got a job and a car and everything. well gee fuckin shittickers Dr. Brain Guy, just WHAT was my alternative? would you prefer i be maladapted to the point of incapacitation; is that what it takes for someone to be considered? i cheated my way through school. every day after work i sit for an hour in my car because i dont have the executive function to stand up and walk the ten steps to my house. garbage just appears around me. i have three empty bags of hot chip and two cans of sprite on my desk as we speak, neither from today. at that point i hadnt had a debit card for six months because that would have required me to Drive To The Bank, a location that was new to me in this area, so i just did everything on credit. is this all normal? is this fine? am i GOOD, actually, Dr. WeirdBrain?

so we cordially agree that yes i should probably be medicated. i want to do a stimulant. he does not want to put me on a stimulant. "stimulants can mess with your heart," he says, "and you're young, you don't want heart problems." i say ok because i dont want to make him think im just looking for narcotics. even though i am. because they WORK. i agree to try some kind of antidepressant.

the antidepressant gives me tachycardia. i go to the emergency room after reading a heartbeat of, oh, 140 bpm, which is about like double what it normally is and juuuust below the You Are Having A Heart Attack threshold. i get to the ER and the doctor there is very obviously convinced i'm a local addict having some sort of episode. it is the most ironic experience i've had all year and i feel an abrupt and all consuming kinship with those birds in australia that will swoop you and peck at your face for seemingly no good reason.

so yeah, we narrow it down to the antidepressant. as it turns out, these particular meds are known to, semi-commonly, Mess With Your Heart. i have my next appointment with my psych and somehow refrain from pecking his eyes out. he puts me on a noreprinephrine inhibitor(iirc) that isnt actually FDA approved to treat ADHD specifically(i DEFINITELY rc) but it IS given to smokers to help them quit. i dont smoke. i may very well fucking start before this whole ordeal is at the point where someone listens to me

it obviously does a combined total of jack and shit, and the man waffles with this one because he has "had success" using it as treatment for other ADHD patients. he ups the dose. twice. three months on the smoker meds, which are also apparently notorious for destroying your appetite, but they didnt even do THAT. no change to the average amount of hot chip on my desk.

he wants to try quelbree after that. i finally tell him i'm tired of this shit and would like to have more than two hours of usable daylight to function before it all falls to uncontrollable youtube shorts binges and a daily experience i like to call The Weighted Nothings and i would very much like to PLEASE. TRY A STIMULANT.

he's been friendly enough with me over these past four or five or whatever months but at this he gets suddenly very very business-baseline. gives me the whole spiel about the north american shortage. gives me a spiel about how i absolutely cannot, under any circumstances, lose or sell this medication, because they will not refill it if i do. i am sitting here wondering if he he's telling the truth about having other ADHD patients at all like ever in his career, and also, am i nuts or should the "don't sell your prescription drugs" bit apply to EVERYTHING? i dont fuckin know man i just live here

he says he wants a urine test first. its scheduled for two weeks out. i take it.

"hey uh, your piss came back with cannabis in it" "well it'd be weirder if it didn't, we are in california and i am a kitchen manager" "you can't have weed if you want adderall" "fine i'll stop" "we'll schedule you another test in a month" "aight bet" it didnt go exactly like that but this is kind of what the vibe between us has devolved into by this point.

anyway i wait a month and get a good grade in piss. i get the meds prescribed. i go to fill out the prescription

all i really need to say to you are the words "prior authorization error" for most of you to get what happened next.

the psych isnt even aware. i wait another month for our next meeting, which was yesterday. i do not yell at him. he tells me to take it up with the pharmacy, and yell at them. i am going to yell at them.

so i go, and guess what, it actually went through a while ago! NO ONE TOLD ME OR DR. FEEL-BAD OVER HERE. but we can't fill it right now because its a controlled substance so come back in a few hours. hey it's ready where the hell are you? TAKE YOUR METH AND GET OUT

anyway i started it today, reorganized my pantry, and fixed the fire alarm in my hallway that's been chirping at me for a week. i no longer have to wear earplugs to bed.

and with my newfound executive function superpowers, i will be spraying my weed-free piss all over Reagan's grave.

#personal #anyway thanks for the kind words anon #i am going to go lie down #ADHD #long post

[miguel-manbemel]

There's one thought that came to me today about Sanders Sides, and specifically the nature of the Sides. So many people have missed one important, crucial point about the Sides. They're not human, and I don't mean that they can shapeshift, appear and disappear and all that stuff. I mean that each of the Sides represents just one limited zone of c!Thomas' psyche, and therefore they're only confined to that zone of Thomas.

What does it mean to judge them as humans? It means many people demand of them the complexity of action humans have, the same capacity to grow and evolve as if they were a fully fledged human, and that, my friends, just cannot happen, because it's not in their nature. I'll try to explain my point. We've seen the Sides learn and grow from different situations they went through in the past, and I say "have we?"

Don't mean they didn't go through the situations, I mean, did they really get a long term growth? In some cases they did, in others, the growth was incomplete or null, because the Sides are only able to grow in their own area of action in Thomas' psyche, and will remain, not oblivious, but, like that student that simply doesn't get how to solve a problem at school, and tries and tries to solve it right, but it just doesn't stick in their head. They will only learn the part of the solution in their area of expertise, and the rest will simply not stick at all.

For instance, Virgil knows if he causes a panic attack, Thomas will suffer and that will help no one, but he just can't help it, it's in his nature to cause panic attacks if the conditions are met. Other example, Roman knows that too much fantasy can be harmful, it can disconnect you from reality and that can break Thomas' heart. He knows, he's been told, but he can't help it. He's literally Thomas' dreams. Same way, Patton cannot escape the morality he was created with during Thomas' growth, Janus can't help making Thomas deceitful, Remus will show his creative thoughts at all cost no matter how it makes Thomas suffer, and Logan will always have problems to put feelings in the equation when trying to find solutions to an issue.

Does that mean that the whole show is a lie and the Sides are hopeless beings that can't learn from their mistakes? Not entirely, because when they face issues, they all face them together as a team, they go through them together and find a global solution that can help Thomas grow.

Then why do they revert back after learning so much about Thomas in the past? As I said, any item the Sides are not capable to learn according to their nature will not fully stick and they'll be prone to repeat problematic attitudes, even if they try not to.

What can be done then? The solution comes from Thomas. The Sides are Thomas and Thomas is all of them, and most important, he knows, or is learning, how to combine the different aspects of himself. In another analogy, the Sides and Thomas are like an orchestra and the orchestra conductor. Each instrument has only access to their partiture and can only play their own sound, even if they know how they're all supposed to sound together, only Thomas has the full information of the song, and only he can tell any of the Sides when to play and when to stand back.

To be fair, Thomas still doesn't have the full partiture ready, he's still writing on the fly, that's why the song is incomplete and both the Sides and Thomas are still struggling, but as the series goes on, the song keeps writing itself, slowly but surely and when it's complete, Thomas will have the full song and will learn how to make their Sides sound perfect in harmony...

Well, most probably, the song will never be fully complete or perfect, but eventually it will reach a grade of completion enough to make Thomas and his Side harmonious enough to make good, melodious songs. That is, eventually, Thomas will know how to be the best of a person he can be, because no one is perfect, but he will learn how to feel good enough, and how to be happy with himself and get as best as he can be.

That means the Sides will learn how each can help the other Sides in the areas they lack expertise so they don't repeat the same mistakes from the past. But they must learn to work together to reach that goal, they can't do it each on their own. When they learn this ultimate lesson, everything will get better for Thomas and the Sides.

#thomas sanders #sanders sides #sanders sides essay #virgil sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #remus sanders #janus sanders #character thomas sanders

[kiradrabbles]

Tim wright x Afab reader NSFW alphabet? 👀

yes!

Tim wright how I love you… sorry this took a million billion years

Tim Wright x AFAB reader NSFW alphabet!

A = Aftercare In my humble option Tim is a master at aftercare!! Very gentle and careful, will pick you up in his arms and take a shower with you or order you food, whichever you prefer. If he’s been a little rough he’ll apologise and kiss any bruises better. also a cuddlebug :) if you’re sleepy I think after he’s cleaned up he’ll totally pull you close and rest his head on your chest and kiss you. He’s the best person to snuggle with I swear to god, who wouldn’t want a chubby hairy man to cuddle to sleep.

B = Body part (his favourite body part) ass man!!!! Sorry but Tim Wright is such an ass man to me. Will flip you over. will have you sit on his face. sit on his lap and his eyes will pop out and turn into love hearts like those cartoon characters, bro probably says awooga. I joke but if you do actually sit on his lap he’d be so awkward and pop a boner like. Immediately. Yeah, ass.

C = Cum I imagine he’s a cream pie man to be honest. It does something to him to have your cum leaking out of him like that, I think it also appeals to his breeding kink which we will discuss in detail later.

don’t get me wrong, he’s *not* opposed to cumming on you, and loves to see you covered in it, I just think seeing it leaking out of you (especially your pussy and ass, but also your mouth) does something to him he can’t explain.

D = Dirty secret hm.. I was wracking my brains on this one. I think he’d largely be pretty open with you on his desires. I’d imagine probably that he wouldn’t mind doing something a little… risky.

I honestly can imagine him being the type of mf to let you give him a handy while he drives.

E = Experience I think he has some experience in a few things. Things getting freaky in the psych ward fr 🔥🔥

okay okay jokes aside, I honestly think he’s a virgin? He’s definitely made out with a few people before, and maybe even had a relationship with someone, but I don’t think he’s really gone too far with it. I like to think he’d wait for someone he felt he could really trust and who understood him before doing that. And his person is you :)

F = favourite position ass up! Honestly anything where he gets a good view of you, but I’d say his favourites would probably be you riding him cowgirl style or doggy (so, ass up).

just imagine him pressing your head down, grabbing your hair and fucking you hard from behind, grunting…

G = Goofy (whether or not they're serious during sex) I honestly think it depends on his mood!! Most days I don’t think he’d be especially silly, but I imagine if it got awkward or if he’s make a mistake he’d laugh it off with you, and I can definitely imagine him biting somewhere ticklish to tickle you, or kissing down your stomach to make you laugh.

now if it’s stressed angry sex? Bro is not being goofy, just pounding into you, hair messy, sweat running down his face. You’re how he takes it off after all.

H = Hair body hair!! Probably has arm hair, leg hair, stomach hair, the works. I imagine he has a happy trail too (I’m such a sucker for happy trails).

I do think he’d keep his pubic hair pretty trimmed since it’s hygienic and he wouldn’t want you to be disgusted by it or anything. Would clean shave if you specifically asked, but prefers to just keep it trimmed.

I = Intimacy like i said, total cuddlebug!!!! When you're not having sex he's cuddling you and giving you soft kisses, even just holding your hand. I think when he's not stressed he's very gently and intimate with the sex too, gently kisses up and down your body, gentle bites, muttering that you're pretty and perfect and that he's so lucky to have you, praise in between kisses (and thrusts).

J = Jerking off Honestly i don't think Tim would Jerk off too much. That's not to say he isn't horny a lot, he just.. tries to keep it in. Especially with the psych ward he wouldn't have had much privacy as a teen so he'd always be pretty paranoid about getting caught, so he wouldn't do it as often.

that being said, he probably increases it once he starts dating you, probably imaging you while he's at it. Bro probably wouldn't mind getting caught by you of all people....

K = Kink(s) Right! here it is folks, what you've all been waiting for...

face sitting. Theres something about it honestly. I imagine Tim as more of a soft top, but you sitting on his face? he can't get enough of it, will eat you out until you're screaming with you riding his face and enjoy every second, holding your thighs so tight it leaves fingerprint bruises. Probably have to safeword to get him to stop this man EATS. Will beg for you to break his neck sitting on it.

Similar to the above, also loves 69'ing. He gets your pretty ass on his face and he gets your lips around his cock? It's a win/win situation.

Sort of said it already, but just.. thighs and ass. Sit on his lap instead of his face? fine by him! will pop a boner and probably fuck you right there and then if you want him to. Any clothes that show that sort of area, anything tight, you'll have him tugging you into the bathroom by a hand.

Angry sex. If he's stressed out or mad (this happens a lot) honestly nothing helps him cool down more than banging your brains out and cuddling down with you afterwards. Of course if you aren't up for it, he won't, but..

To contrast, he also loves softer, lazy loving sex. Like early morning just woke up sex. Gentle kisses, running his hands up and down your body, fucking on your sides in bed, just.. comfortable stuff.

L = Location He likes being in bed or on the sofa the most, somewhere private and comfortable the two of you can get it on without accidentally hurting yourselves (or getting caught).

That being said desperate times call for desperate measures, and if he's really horny (or, really stressed) he will plow you in a bathroom or in the back of his car. Sorry, i don't make the rules (i do!).

M = Motivation (what turns him on) Honestly i'm sure a lot does but specifically i can imagine him getting super worked up when you dress up for him. ESPECIALLY things that show off your ass or chest. If you wear a pretty skirt or dress for him he would have to stop himself from lifting your skirt up and just shoving his face in.

N = No (boundaries) Cheating stuff, like NTR. whether it's you or him cheating, he still feels really... icky about it. He'd feel guilty if he fucked someone else (and honestly probably wouldn't in the first place, he really only feels that comfortable with you) and he'd get pretty upset if you fucked someone else, even if you'd discussed it before.

O = Oral Likes receiving and WILL fuck your throat and praise you through it with his hands in your hair, but remember what i said? this man EATS. i mean breakfast lunch and dinner bro will eat you out until you safeword. I'm talking leaving fingerbrint bruises on your ass from gripping so hard and hickeys on your thighs from biting up them. I imagine he's pretty good at it too, and especially loves it when you moan out his name or grab his hair. after all, what's better than a little encouragement.

P = Pace depends on how he's feeling!! Normally i already said this but he looves slow, sweet gentle sex that lasts an hour or more, just practically worshipping you and your body. Sweet kisses all up and down your stomach, thighs, legs, tits, everywhere until you're both giggling and kissing each other and he's finally in you or eating you out.

Now if he's stressed? ohh boy... bro will pound you into the mattress. the neighbours will know his name and your hips will probably have fingerprint bruises from when he's grabbed you so hard. Prepare to be sore (and have trouble walking).

Q = Quickies I mean... he'll take a quicky if you've gotten him all worked up at a party and he wants to get it out, but he wants time to be able to properly enjoy your body you know? That being said, he isn't opposed to one.

R = Risk He's okay with some risk!! in fact, he's even into it to a degree. remember that car thing i mentioned? yeah, he'd go crazy for something like that. Same sort of thing with giving him a handy in a movie theatre or something. would he suggest it himself? hell no. would he agree without hesitation if you asked? hell yes.

S = Stamina Honestly i feel like he has pretty high stamina, especially with how he spends a lot of it doing foreplay and eating you out, so the sex probably feels longer than the actual penetration part is. And if he's tired he can always eat you out until he's ready and rearing to go again. Get's him hard every time without fail.

T = Toys I think he isn't crazy on toys as he prefers being able to feel you himself and have the experience of his skin on yours and both of you together, getting all sweaty, but he won't say no if you suggest some? he might feel a little inadequate so i'd imagine you'd have to really reassure him that that wasn't what was going on.

Probably wouldn't mind if you had a vibrator for when he wasn't there, though.

U = Unfair (teasing) When he's not stressed, i think he'd try teasing you just a little, if only because he finds your reactions super cute. Might just stop eating you out right before you orgasm and make you ask nicely just to hear you beg. He'd probably give in and give you the best orgasm of your life after, though. Maybe even two or three.

V = Volume/Vocal I imagine he's not too vocal, but you will be able to tell if he's enjoying it.I imagine he grunts and groans like no tomorrow, and if he hits just the right angle or you hit just the right part of his cock with your tongue? he will whimper your name out and it will be the hottest thing you've ever heard i promise you that.

W = Wild Card (misc) His prominant southern accent makes for some fun times. I imagine he calls you names like "doll" or "darlin'", something like that. "darlin, you wore that just for me? How 'bout you come over here and i'll show you what i think of it~" (he eats you out)

X = X-Ray Grah!!! chubby tim wright supremacy!!! My dad bod king. I imagine under it he's actually pretty strong as troy confirmed that worked in construction while in collage, but he's still my chubby king. Just one who could pick you up and throw you onto the bed. Member wise? pretty average - large, though he isn't really sure what constitutes large. I'd say around 6.5-7 inches? perfect size if you ask me.

Y = Yearning (libido) Not always horny, especially if you're not around, but i imagine when you're around it's more likely that he's horny than not, if you catch my drift. Plus, it's very very easy to make him horny if you're in the mood and he isn't!

Z = Zzz I already said this but he loves to cuddle and fall asleep with you after sex :) Lay your head on his chest and snuggle him back and he's in a veritable heaven.

#tim wright marble hornets #marble hornets #tim wright #tim wright x reader #headcanons

[thatone-brightstar]

The Bear & The Fox (Carmy Berzatto x Fem!Reader)

Chapter 12: A Carmy shade of blue

Words: 7.4k

Summary: It all comes down to this...

a/n: I made Fox’s set and it came out so good omg! Can we please talk about the dedication! Also I’m posting the Epilogue right after this one so enjoys both and remember comments are always appreciated!

Ps. reader is Latina in this so there will be some Spanish!

‘You can do this. You can totally do this. You don’t have to talk to him, just show up.’

You had been trying to psych yourself up for the better part of the last half hour. After clipping on your earring and fixing the curly pieces of hair that frame your face, you thought you’d feel brave enough to move. But your legs stayed locked in place, tightly knotted over the vanity stool that had started to dig into the sides of your bare thighs. 

The bubbling nerves had you doubting all your decisions. The dress didn’t seem appropriate so you changed, then your makeup felt cakey so you rinsed it off and started over. The necklace was too small, the hoops too big, the urge to call Carmy too grand and the noise from the living room too overstimulating. Between the volume on the stereo and your aunts’ joyous laugh, the thin walls didn’t stand a chance and neither did the vibrating pulse in your skull.

You finally push yourself off the stool and stalk past the hallway to the kitchen, slamming your door in the process. The circle of heads turn in your direction as you appear in the space, each sister cradling a glass of wine in their hands.

“Mamá -mamita- por favor, can you turn that shit down!” You say louder than intended and you know you fucked up just from the look on her face.

“Que te dije de azotar puertas en mi casa, eh?! Cuando vivas en tu casa entonces-”

“-puedes hacer lo que se te dé la gana-” You recite over her words, rolling your eyes and causing the nerves to pound harder in the back of them. “Yes, I know, mami but can you please just turn it down? My head is killing me…”

“Okay- okay. Ya, see? It’s down.” She says, making a show of pointing the control to the stereo and lowering the volume to the lowest. “What, are you hungover again?”

You drag yourself around the counter to greet your aunts with a kiss, then take the empty space beside your mother and rest your aching head over her shoulder. “No, I haven’t gone out… It’s probably just my period, I dunno. Y mi abuelo?” You ask and rub at the empty space between your brows.

“Playing cards with his friends.” Angie answers, picking at the platter they had set in the middle of their circle. “You sure you’re not pregnant?”

“Why does everyone keep asking me that!?”

“Ay dios, pues maybe cause you’re all moody!” Tere adds.

“Maybe cause I’m nervous!”

“Then that’s why your head hurts…” Your mother says as she gently runs her fingers through the soft curls. Then she laughs out of nowhere. “Remember that time in the school choir, when you had the solo and you were so nervous you-” She’s laughing too hard to finish and the echo of all three only makes you groan.

You pull your head from her shoulder and rest it over your palm with your elbow on the cool surface of the counter. “One: I was like five, and two, you remember that but can’t stop calling me ‘mijo’ every time I walk into a room?”

Her laughter dies down as she waves her hand dismissively and takes a drink from her glass. “You two have the same stride, it's not my fault!”

“So what are you nervous about?” Tere changes the subject while she peels the skin off her grape.

“She’s nervous to see her ex..” Your mother answers, as if you weren’t in the room to speak for yourself.

“Ay, el de los ojitos?” Angie asks surprised. “I like him, he’s cute.”

“Y’know who I like? The other one- the tall one-, give me two more glasses and I’ll climb ‘em like a tree-”

“Ma ya!” You call out with a grossed out expression, trying to avoid the mental picture of your mother and Richie from even materializing in your head.

“Qué? How do you think you got here!?” She says between the chorus of chuckles.

‘Jesus, fuck’ You think and shudder, then take the wine glass from her hand and down the rest of the liquid that successfully drowns your nerves.

With the soft music floating in the air, Angie takes the bottle and pours a hefty amount of liquid into the glass in your hands.

“So, boy troubles?” She asks, only receiving a nod from your part, eyes fixed on the swirling maroon. 

“He’s catering tonight and we didn’t really… end things on a good note.”

“So what? This is your day too and you can’t let a little fight get in the way…”

You don’t have the time or energy to entertain them with the whole story of your failed situation with Carmy. They know about the car crash but not the bridge or of Mikey and the last thing you need is all three finding out over wine and a cheeseboard.

“I just won’t go, it’s easier like that…” You take another sip. “I’ll stay with you guys instead.”

“Ah-ah, no. Mira-” Your mother grabs a hold of your knees and turns your body to face her. “Mi amor, if you stay cause you’re nervous that’s fine, your painting’s will still be there. But you can’t stay just cause you’re scared you might see him.” Her hand feels warm and soft over your knees. 

“I feel like I fucked it up worse with what I said yesterday…” You confess to the women and even when you thought your eyes had gone dry, a few drops seem to accumulate on your bottom lid. “What if that was it, what if the last thing I told him was to get his shit together…”

“Then you were telling him what he needed to hear. You said it because you care, not because you wanted to hurt him and if he can’t tell the difference, then you did the right thing by stepping off that train early.” She wraps one arm around your shoulders and pulls you to her side. “But you won’t know if it works out unless you go…”

A hefty sigh rattles your lungs, the wisp of your mother’s familiar perfume filters through your nostrils and calms you down better than the wine ever could. She was right, you couldn’t go through life scared that you might run into him all the time. This was more important to you than having to hide from him, no matter how things had ended.

“Now I know I raised a bad bitch not a little one, asi que andale, finish getting ready or you’ll be late-” A soft laugh bubbles in your throat as she playfully shoves you off the stool and in the direction to your room, turning up the volume again once you’re gone.

“And show us the look before you go!” You hear your aunt Angie’s voice bounce through the hallway.

**********

The whole 24 hours leading up to the auction felt like a fever dream for Carmy. Since the moment you fled the grounds with bloodshot eyes, to the obscene amount of cash they kept pulling out of canned tomatoes, he had felt not at all there. In a daze, flashes of blurred out scenes from a third perspective take the space of memories every time he tries to recall. Like a long ago dream that he can’t quite make out if it’s real or not. Except it is, and they did find that money… and he also did break your heart. 

He still remembers the overwhelming impulse that itched under his skin with every empty can that was thrown into the garbage. To reach for his phone and call you, or better yet, to drive to your place and back because there was no way in hell you would believe him if you didn’t see it for yourself. Even at the end of the day- when he was home washing out the thick pulp from under every fingernail- he wondered if he could still try. Run to your house and confess how much of an asshole he was for not noticing the shit he put you through. Girls dig that shit, right? 

But even if he did run after you now, what would he say? He already proved himself incompetent word-wise, inside the walk-in. The surprise to see you again had rendered him speechless, as if an ice cube had been dropped down his shirt and he had no other choice but to pretend like the cold wasn’t piercing his skin. Pretend with tight fists and wavering stares like it wasn’t eating him alive to refrain from pulling you into his arms. The plain touch of your skin as he nursed your wound was enough to rile up weeks’ worth of shrouded emotions he was too afraid to confess, because every time he tried dialing your number, the words would constrict his throat and leave him heaving over the bathroom sink. 

“I still don’t understand why we gotta wear this…” 

“I think we look fine as hell!” Marcus says grinning and checking himself out in the dull reflection of the oven. “Like professionals…”

“Speak for yourself, mine’s all itchy.” Sweeps mutters under his tone while pulling around the neck of his new chef’s coat.

“Alright, take ‘em off before you stain ‘em with something.” Sydney calls from the entrance with an impatient motion in her hands. “They’re for the event tonight, so we actually look put together and not- well, whatever this is...”

“..Cute?”

“..Sexy?”

“Late. We’re gonna be late, if you don’t quit messing around and finish filling up the truck!” They both yell a hard ‘Yes, Chef!’ then continue hauling the plastic boxes with the preparations for the evening into the van Syd had borrowed from one of her cousins. 

Carmen watches half concentrated to make sure that nothing is thrown around, although he trusts them enough to know they’ll be careful. Instead, he’s focused his attention on finishing the last of the sauces, a sweet Demi Glacé that he insisted on making himself. Now that they would be closing for renovations and the tension of staying afloat wasn’t straining his back, he enjoyed every second of the process. Cooking didn’t feel like something he had to do anymore, but something he wanted to as well as enjoyed, and he wasn’t sure how long it had been since the last time he felt that way. He did know, but the images carried a bitter sensation that weighed thick on his mouth and he was trying excruciatingly hard to stay above his regular broody mood.

“Yo, chef, you not comin’ with?” Marcus asks once they’ve compacted everything inside the small van.

“No, I -uhm-” Fuck. He swallows hard and tries to rack his brain for any plausible excuse. “-I trust you can manage.”

A groan echoes through the small space. “If you’re a little bitch just say that!” Tina chimes in with a mocking tone, setting down the tall metal cylinder filled with spoons and tongs that they’d be using for that night.

“T, c’mon-”

“Yeah, man just say that, don’t bruise my ego like that!”

“I’m not a little-”

“You gotta fight for love, man!”

“Even if she rejects you again-”

“Alright, shut up for a sec-” He grips the edge of the table in irritation, head hanging low. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I broke it off, okay?”

The words feel wrong as they tumble from his mouth. Not because of what they might say, if anything they were the few people he trusted most in the place, but something inside him didn’t like the sensation the words unearthed. They made his chest wither and crack, like the clay you had used to cover his fissures was popping off with every reminder of your absence. 

“...Why?” Marcus asks, breaking the silence. 

Carmy doesn’t answer, and even if he wanted to he wouldn’t know what to say. He chooses to shrug instead, heavy and noticeable in hopes that this is a sufficient response that will get them off his back.

Tina takes a step closer and reaches out to softly pat his shoulder. “No offense Carm, but I don’t think you’ll be able to pull anyone better than her…”

Her words rip a soft snigger from his throat, from his side view he watches her pick up the cylinder again and walk to the back where he assumes the rest of the team awaits by the van.

Marcus stays beside him, contemplating the words around before letting them out. “Shit got rough, then?” 

“That's an understatement” He mutters through bared teeth as he fears another word will split the last piece of clay holding him together.

“My statement still stands… Shit gets rough for everybody but that doesn't mean you gotta go through it alone… just sayin’.”

Marcus pushes himself off the table to leave, taking the sauce with him and leaving Carmy with his tumultuous thoughts in the restaurant that hadn’t known this much peace since its opening day.

**********

The typically calm ambience of the gallery had been replaced by the buzzing sounds of chatter and movements as the last details were polished with only a few hours to the opening. You had been in a hectic frenzy since your arrival, only finally catching your breath when you were certain everything was where it needed to be. The decorations sat strategically by the entrance and away from the attention of the artwork, clipboards and pens had been placed for whoever wanted to bid and the bar stations had been successfully assembled around the perimeter of the room.

“Thanks again for the help, I owe you one.” You say as you help carry the last box of champagne bottles to one of the bars.

“No prob, to be honest I’m just here for the free booze-” Nico answers with a grunt, picking the box from your hands and taking the bottles out to chill in ice.

“As opposed to what? The other free booze at your regular gig?” You ask your cousin in a teasing tone.

“Hey, just cause I drink it, don’t make it free.” 

“Just try not to black out, okay? Angie ’ll kill me if I let you drive home like that!” 

You hear a mocking ‘Yeah, yeah’ as you leave him to go open the back door for Syd, after reading the text from Marcus that they had arrived. The floor feels slightly unstable as you walk past the back, to the door that leads onto the side alley, but you credit it to the irritating thought that it may be Carmen’s face that you’ll see once you open the door.

A sigh of relief- and partial disappointment- parts from you at the sight of Marcus and Sweeps dragging out a long white cooler from the back of a beated van, but no Carmy in sight. They both greet you quickly as you guide them into the area they’ll be occupying temporarily. It’s the same space your easels had been standing in for the last month, though the only evidence of it were the small stains and smudges of cyan and teal on the gray concrete.

“There are another two tables up front, by the expo, so you can serve up there. This one’s just for like, mise en place, if you need anything from scratch.” You say to Syd while the rest of the team finish unpacking.

“Yeah. no this is fine. We finished everything this morning. I only brought a portable burner for a few of the sauces, but other than that, we’re set.”

You nod in response as you watch them observe their surroundings in awe, the multiple rows of never ending art catching their attention.

“Sorry for bailing like that… yesterday.” You blurt out as the words seem to catapult straight from your guilt. “It was a dick move.”

Syd acknowledges it with her own nod. “It was a dick move- but, y’know… I get it.” She shrugs.

Your throat itches to ask about him, if he’s considered coming, even with the excuse to check up on them. But you know that regardless of the answer, the pressure over your chest won’t subside, so you resign to bite the soft flesh inside your mouth to keep the words at bay.

“Uhm. well let me know if you need anything. The whole thing starts in an hour so just make sure to have everything over by the tables by then.”

A chorus of ‘Heard’s resonates in the large space and Syd turns to you with a proud smile, wiggling her brows. You give her an enthusiastic thumbs up before stepping back and out into the busy room, striding directly into Nico’s bar.

“Pour me a glass, will ya?” You ask with a soft knock on the counter, applying pressure between your brows.

“Bro, I haven’t even opened anything yet…” You stare up at him through incredulous slits, earning a sigh from his part, then he pulls an open champagne bottle from the small fridge and a glass.

As soon as he sets it down, you take it and rapidly chug the amber liquid, bubbles burning the sides of your throat and filling in the void in your chest.

“Woah, woah- cousin! We’re not gonna run out, chill…”

You place the glass back down and wipe the corners of your mouth. “Sorry, I really needed that.” 

“You good?”

“Yeah… yeah.” You sigh, then turn to scan the room one last time.

Past the glass walls, you can see a small crowd already beginning to form at the entrance. The culmination of months of hard work stands behind the transparent barrier, and a part of you can’t help but to think of all the ways tonight could go wrong. ‘What if the lights go off in the middle of the event?’ or ‘What if the whole thing blows over and we don’t raise any funds?’ and the worst of all ‘What if no one likes my work and they’re the only ones that don’t sell?’. 

“You sure?” He asks with a creased brow. “You’re kinda hyperventilating…”

“Yeah…” You say for the third time, less convinced than the first two. “Y’know what, Nico can you pour-”

“-Way ahead of you.” The soft sizzling of the drink is muted by the instrumental music playing over the speakers, but you still hear the glass slide by your palm, where it rests over the cool surface.

You know it’s a bad idea to drink two glasses straight, especially when all you’ve had to eat is a granola bar you found at the bottom of your bag on the train ride there, but the thought is soon chased away by the cooling liquid trickling down to your empty stomach and drowning it completely. You only finish half of it before being whisked away by Syd to help with setting their station. 

With a pair of latex gloves and your hair thrown into a bun, you paint streaks of raspberry coulis along the bottom of the small dishes, then above that, you place the small tapas that Marcus is assembling beside you. The alcohol has calmed your fingers enough to draw steady lines over the canvas and the repetitive actions soothe the wavering anxiety.

“They turned out fire…” Marcus comments by your side.

“Hmm?”

“The Brioche bites. The chai filling was a good call.”

“Oh, right- yeah, I’m glad!”

“Can’t wait for you to try them, chef. These things are gonna fly!” His excitement is contagious and you can’t help but to smile up at him too.

“I’ll definitely try one before they do…”

“I saw your set by the way, on my way here…”

You swallow dryly, flicking your gaze to him from your hunched position then back to your task.

“Yeah? And, uh, w-what did you think?”

Marcus shrugs lightly and stands to his full height, even in your heels you barely reach his shoulder, let alone without them. Everytime you stand beside him, you’re reminded to straighten your posture, as if that’ll do any good in stretching you up.

“I don’t know shit about art, but I thought it was baller. I like what you did to The Beef. I’d bid, y’know… if I had any money.” 

You nod slowly with a slight smile flourishing on your face and turn back down to fill up a tray for one of the waiters. 

With most of your concentration on the kaleidoscope of served plates, you don’t notice the room starting to slowly fill up. Only when the music grows a little louder and the chatter reaches your ears, you lift your head to spot the swaying crowd already holding bubbling flutes in their hands and gravitating in your direction. 

“Think you can manage, chef? Or do I call for backup?” You challenge Marcus, pointing with your head to the oncoming group.

“Nah, I’m all good, you go ahead. Run ‘em dry” 

“Yes, chef” You respond with a salute and a click of our tongue, then throw your apron under the table and cautiously round it on your way to the open space.

It wasn’t as bad as you assumed it would be. Once you broke through the initial awkwardness of having to answer questions about some of the pieces, it all seemed to flow naturally. You had the most knowledge about them, after all. Months of planning and studying the best layout for each work had you inevitably remembering details that hadn’t seemed useful until now. You could gladly keep answering questions all night if it meant keeping your thoughts shut and your mouth busy.

You avoid your set like an active minefield, though. Now that you think about it, you’ve only seen it complete once -two weeks ago when you finished it- around three in the morning and slightly high. It was the only way you were able to do it without throwing up and turning into an angry sobbing mess. It was also the only set you didn’t hang up yourself, asking instead two of your coworkers for help while you stood outside with the cigarettes you had recently picked up again. In a way it was intentional. You had poured the most turbulent contents of your soul into each stroke, plastered it in the open for everyone to see and dissect. You didn’t want to see it in fear of hating how exposed you felt and pulling the plug. You do wonder. What it may look like under the dimmed lights, if the colors swirl with the shades you intended or if they fall flat against the canvas with no real sentiment.  

The memory of the five paintings laying side by side is a bit foggy in your head and you bite your lip as your feet guide you deeper inside the maze you’ve been avoiding. 

You stop by a wall that harbors your student’s final projects and the dread is momentarily overshadowed by pride. Each painting has its own bidding sheet, it’s not part of the actual auction of course, but it helps boost their morale. Before leaving, you take a closer look at the lists and smile as you read the name of the respective parent, along with the copious sum they wanted to ‘offer’ for their child’s work.

A faint wave of insecurity stirs inside as you spot a sparse crowd discussing technique and motivations of the artist and you gulp down a bit of the liquid in what has become your emotional support glass. 

“I think it’s too obvious…”

“Is it? Really? How so?”

“It’s obviously the crashing result capitalism has had on the smaller businesses of the city…”

“You definitely just made that up-”

A gentle snort blows over the rim of your glass while overhearing the stranger’s conversation. Your heels click softly as you settle by the back wall and eventually drag your eyes up to the five frames. Swirls of pearl, browns and aquamarine decorate the desolate icy blue eyes of a grizzly as it stares directly past the canvas. The sorrow has fallen heavy over droopy lids, patches of ash scatter over its matted fur. Under the large canvas, another three smaller ones depict angry oranges and blood reds swallowing up a pot, a stove top and ultimately engulfing the whole perimeters of The Beef.

The last painting spreads across the bottom of the smaller ones, same dimensions as The Bear. It sits cleaner, in faux composure, with defined lines around the borders of a stainless steel counter observed from the front. A mess of open bottles and jars rests beside a dish, meticulous yet chaotically plated. Splashes of a thick orange sauce invade the surface under a perfectly cooked salmon. It contrasts with the mess surrounding it as it seems like every tiny herb was tweezed on to every spot with perfection. It’s perfect. 

Too perfect. As if it were trying to disguise a deeply rooted impotence, impostor syndrome. An anxiety that is blatantly obvious in the cinder-patched arms that finish plating the dish, fingers gripping onto the steel utensils for dear, dear life.  The small letters ‘S.O.U’ are barely visible under the black soot and repeat a second time over a thick line of green tape along the counter line.

Your ribs rattle with a deep inhale as you knock back the remaining liquid. The crowd in front of you sways in thick groups that momentarily cloud your view of the pieces, giving you seconds to breathe before the piercing eyes you tried to replicate wash over you again. It’s until the bodies disperse, that you catch an unnervingly familiar back leaning down to scribble something on your sheet, then rising and walking in the opposite direction to you. The sensation you feel can only be compared to slowly climbing up the rails of a roller coaster, as if the pit of your stomach had been stuck on land while you crawled up the treacherous metal.

You place the empty glass on the tray of a waiter passing by and despite the alarms ringing in your head that your actions would only cause more harm, you force your stiff legs to move in the direction of your work. With shaky hands you pick up the sheet to inspect the name. An eerie chill claws at your arms and you grip on to the flimsy material with all your strength or you fear you might collapse in front of everyone. In a recognizable cursive- taunting you motionlessly- sits the name ‘Isaac H.’ bidding six thousand dollars. One for each month you spent together. For each fucking month he made you believe he loved you, the sick fuck.

The panic in your veins turns to anger, hot and scolding, traveling at light speed and triggering your neck to check around the space for the familiar face. You’re moved by hatred, stalking out of the maze with the crumbled page digging into your wounded fist, still searching around. A familiar head swims through the crowd then disappears past the door. Your heels click again in the direction of the entrance, throwing the ball of paper into one of the trash cans on your way out. The rage boils too heavily and you have every intention to smack your fist in his face until your rings leave a dent, once you spot him outside.

However, he’s not alone. There’s a girl with him, lovingly hanging on to his arm. It’s not his wife, but someone that closely resembles you from a distance. From the same hair length to stature and the complexion of her skin. It’s a strange mirage that has your steps faltering to a stop and wanting to rub your eyes in hopes that it may all be in your head. She steps up on her toes to leave a kiss on his cheek with a small giggle when his arm pulls her closer to him.

“Oh, you poor thing..” You expect the blatant display to stir your insides in memory, yet pity is the only emotion that seems present over your screwed brows. Pity and shame, that you could not notice how fucked up he truly was so long ago.

You have half a mind to call out to the girl and save her from a similar fate to yours, but before you can, they’re hailing a cab and leaving in the opposite direction to the gallery. A heavy sigh escapes you and you soon find yourself pulling the beaten package and lighter from your cleavage for the third time tonight. 

Goosebumps rise on your skin from the evening air as you walk further away from the door, blowing smoke into the light breeze. You rest your exposed back over the cold glass wall, eyes focused on the passing cars and only moving mechanically to take a drag every few seconds while your other hand unconsciously fidgets with the lighter.

You feel exhausted, the bulk that hovered over your shoulders all through the day finally falling over them like a weighted blanket, rendering you still and heavy against the glass. You thought that seeing Isaac might have made you want to cry, but your exhaustion is far beyond physical at this point and your eyes have grown tired above all else. You rub your finger in the center of your brows, careful to not crush the cig resting between them. 

The low hum of the music playing past the glass lulls you into a state of calmness while you finish your cigarette, hot skin enjoying the soft breeze that comes in through the river.

“Shit-ah-” You hiss and look down to your hand, where the embers have caught up with the filter and nibbled at the delicate layer of skin, the throb makes you drop the bud to the ground. You inspect the small burn, then turn your palm up to see the uncovered cut that Carmy had nursed the evening before and another hefty sigh mixes with the wind. It feels like all you ever do is sigh nowadays.

With the slight lightheadedness of the nicotine and the booze floating in your system, you push your body off the glass and slowly walk back into the gallery in hopes that the event will end soon. As you make your way past the doors, one of the other coordinators tells you that someone interested in purchasing your paintings is waiting by them and for a second your blood runs cold at the thought that Isaac might have come back. But the idea soon falls through, when your eyes try to adjust to the change in lighting and you’re greeted by the blurry image of Carmen.

He stands with all his undivided attention towards the pieces in front of him, with a bouquet of red flowers hanging from his hand and you think that- despite everything else in the day- this is definitely the moment that’ll give you a heart attack. He’s wearing his chef whites, like the one the team is currently sporting, but he looks completely different from that one picture you had seen of him, with his sullen eyes and glossy hair. You swallow hard and deep, eyes racking the flexing muscles that now seem too noticeable under the white material. His sleeves are rolled up, letting the few tattoos peek out from under and his hair holds the messy curls that make your fingers twitch with want.

You stop in your tracks once you’ve spotted him, but don’t take your eyes away from his form, afraid that his presence is only a fiction of your tired imagination. It’s only when his attention is ripped from the frames and directed towards you, that your legs seem to gravitate without option towards him. There’s a mixture of emotions blending with the champagne in your system that makes your breath ragged and your skin hot despite the cold air invading the large room.

Your steps are cautious and after what feels like eternal seconds of anguish, you’re standing by his side, the heat radiating from his body matching your own.

“Hey…” He breathes out.

“Uh… hi.”

“I-uh- I know you’re supposed to get, like, flowers for actors and stuff but… didn’t know what to get for artists…” He speaks while lifting up the bouquet of what you can now distinguish as red carnations, fresh and full ones that make your heart grow too big inside your chest.

You nod your head slowly to acknowledge them but don’t speak, afraid the little control you have left will evaporate into thin air with your words, the sight of his soft baby blues already have you like a fly to a Venus.

“This is…” His eyes fall back to the wall, scanning over the frames in awe as you fidget with your fingers by your sides. “..a-amazing.” Then he takes a closer look at the bottom painting, brows slightly creased. “You… painted me?” He asks surprised

You shrug and point to one of the smaller frames. “I also painted The Beef on fire…”

“I almost did set The Beef on fire-” 

“What?”

“-O-on accident.”

You sigh out the heavy breath trapped in your chest, shoulders slouched in defeat. “Carmy…” His name feels at home over your lips, sweet honey suckles coating each syllable.

“I know, I really suck at this, just… gimme a sec-” He scratches the ghost of an itch over his forehead, more out of habit as he scrunches his eyes shut and searches his brain for the words that have been circling inside since last night.

“You’re right. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you- and it was a complete dick move to react like that when all you did was try to tell me something important. I’m sorry for… everything. For thinking that you were only with me cause Mickey- for never calling you back to try and fix things…”

You tear your eyes away from his wounded ones, only to direct them to the similar expression harbored by your creation.

“I thought that… if I stayed away long enough, then maybe you’d notice how fucked I was a-and not want anything to do with me anymore.” He plays with his hand to try and calm the nerves, cracking his knuckles multiple times until the little bubbles won’t budge anymore. “I wanted to, though… call you.”

His soft confession slowly turns the tap on your barely contained feelings and you find yourself staring his way with hopeful eyes.

“Every time I was home I- I had to hold in my breath cause just the smell reminded me of you, and when I saw you in the restaurant I thought I had finally lost my shit” Carmy laughs softly under his breath. “And when you left-”

He swallows the knotted sensation blocking his throat and you take his pause to sniff back and swallow your own batch of tears.

“I tried to let go of it, to forget and just let you go- I really did Fox- but all that’s been running through my head since then is how good it felt to hear you say you love me-” He takes a decisive step towards you, palms growing sweaty under the cellophane wrap. “-and how much I want to hear it over and over and over again- but… just from you.”

Your sight of him grows blurry again past the tears that you thought dry,  coating your eyes.

“I didn’t know how to tell you before but I’ve been going to therapy. It’s al-anon family, for-uh- a couple sessions now… around three months.” He notices your expression is more confused than before and mentally cringes at his lack of communication skills. “It’s helped out a lot. You had nothing to do with what Mickey did, it’s a really fuckin’ awful coincidence, I get it now. But I’m glad he was there to stop you- to save you- cause I don’t know what I’d do with myself if you weren’t here, Fox.”

And there it was, the second you felt your heart stop and any trace of oxygen leave your body, a feeling only he could ever give you. Your lips tremble slightly with the tears in your eyes and you pull your bottom lip under your teeth to stop its shaking. He takes another step, then another, until your chests are so close, you’re both only a deep breath away from sealing the space.

“I searched half the city cause I wanted to get you Carnations…” He mumbles, raising up the bouquet in your direction a second time. “I know they were your-”

“-Grandmother’s favorite” You speak in unison and chuckle. “...yeah” 

This time you don’t reject his approach, wrapping a hand around the base, fingers lingering over his for a few moments. Your gaze stays glued on the ruffled rouge petals, a soft smile curving ever so slowly at the ends of your lips.

“Whatever happens, I want to be by your side when it does. As a friend or-or more- if you’ll still have me…”

Beat. Exhale. Beat. Inhale.

It’s soft and tender and calm. The way your heart at last feels at rest. Like it had worked in overdrive all this time to keep you alive for this precise moment and can now take a step back in relief. A hue of sapphire invades your surroundings, drowning the walls and bystanders in what you’ve baptized as a ‘Carmy shade of blue’. Incomparable and unique to the man bathing you in his loving stare. 

Your body reacts before your mind, losing the last bit of self control under the gentle waves, with arms circling his shoulders like a raft. It’s as if you can breathe again, nose clear, lungs full and head above the water; and you know very well that damned is the person that deposits all their stability on to another but you don’t seem to care. Not when the arms pressing you tightly to his sturdy chest feel like coming home.

“I missed you.” You whisper against the dip of his neck, nose nuzzled into the wild strands.

“Me too.” He sniffs to pull back the joyous tears. “I meant it Fox, I really do fuckin’ love you-” Empty hands cup your cheeks and tilt your head up to press your lips to his.

You don’t try to hold back the grin the awaited kiss brings you, instead sliding your hand to his chest and gripping around his uniform to pull him impossibly closer. A pleased sigh escapes your chest when he pulls back and presses his forehead over yours.

“I love you too, Bear.” Is all you can say.

The bustle of your surroundings grows quiet in deaf ears, silenced by Carmen’s steady breath and the resting beat in your chest.

“Alright Van Gogh, let's see what you got- holy shit…”

You can hear Richie’s voice around the corner before you even see him and take a step away from Carmy, he still keeps his arm around your waist to hold you close once his cousin joins you in front of the frames. 

“This you?” He gawks pointing towards the wall. You nod. “Damn. Badass…”

It’s the most quiet you’ve seen him since you met the man, he’s just standing still while absorbing every detail in great concentration.

“So anyway, you two fuckin' again or what?” He turns to you after a few little seconds of silence. 

“Jesus, Cousin! Why you gotta go make everythin’ weird-”

“I had to ask just in case I fucked up again-” They start talking over each other as you just stand there and smile at the banter. “Sorry sweetheart, you and I wouldn’t have worked out anyway…” Richie directs towards you.

“I am truly shattered.” You respond, hand sarcastically over your heart. 

“Yeah, yeah…” He groans. “Listen cuz, some rich guy’s asking if we do weddings and shit. You go talk to ‘em, I didn’t know what to say since we're closin’ and all that, plus rich people give me hives-”

“Wait, you're closing the restaurant?” You ask up at Carmy in confusion.

“Renovating-” He blurts out.

“Didn’t he tell you ‘bout the money?-” The taller of the two throws your way.

“Money?- The fuck did I miss…”

“It’s kind of a long story…” His grip on your waist pulls you in closer. “Tell you at home… yeah?”

You can’t say no to the way his eyes glow under the fluorescents, though it seems something more shines behind them than just the brightness in the room. You bite down on your lip with a smile and only speak a soft ‘okay’ with a kiss to the corner of his lips. Richie groans again from a few steps away, crossing his arms and rolling his eyes, though deep down he knows he feels relief that his cousin won’t be so alone anymore.

You stay in each other's line of sight for the rest of the night. While he helps out plating the canapes, Carmy sneaks a couple peeks in your direction. Seeing you move freely through the space with a new found delight while speaking to some of the guests brings a peace to his chest that he had been afraid to never feel again. You catch his stares each time and share a complicit smile with every one of them. It’s subtle, just for him- a loving message delivered in a crowded room- ‘i love you’s scribbled in little notes and slipped across the desk in silence. 

The room started to die down around 11. You had bribed Nico with the promise of food if he gave you some drinks that the team gladly took once they were done carrying everything back into the van.

The gravel in the back alley of the gallery groans under everyone’s  tired feet, but in spite of that, there’s a jovial spark in the cold breeze around them. Crates and long empty coolers serve as makeshift seats for the family huddled together. You and Carmy sit on the edge of the van, doors open wide and with a drink in the hand that isn’t holding the others’ while everyone debriefs their day. 

“Dude I swear if one more person asked me for some gluten free, keto, low calorie bull crap I was gonna lose my shit.” Tina groans before taking a swig off her drink.

“Yeah, I heard you saying ‘No hablo ingles’ halfway through the night.” Sweeps jokes, earning a sincere laugh from the group.

“Hey too bad your work didn’t sell.” Syd says in your direction. 

“No one bid on ‘em?”

“Dunno-” You shrug, leaning into Carmy’s side with his arm around you, feet swinging peacefully and heels fully abandoned by the door. “Marge told me there was no way they could know who won cause they couldn’t find the bidding sheet.”

“Tough luck…” Richie mumbles from his own seat. “They were pretty sick, kid.”

“Thanks… It’s not that bad really, she let me take ‘em home. Maybe it can be an early opening gift for your new place…” You turn to Carmy, who holds a loving smile to you and nods warmly.

“What’re we gonna call it, anyway?” Marcus asks after a couple minutes when the conversation broke down into smaller ones.

“Oh, we already got a name.” The man by your side answers.

“We do?”

“Yeah… ” He turns to you for a microsecond while his other hand scratches a phantom itch under his nose in nervousness. “It’s-uh, it’s The Bear.”

“The Bear..” Marcus repeats, swirling the words around in his mouth and smiling approvingly to the taste. “I like it. To The Bear.” He raises his glass in the center of the circle you’ve created and everyone follows suit.

Tonight, the midnight sky is bright with millions of stars and the unspoken promise that whatever happens, you will be by each other’s side when it does. 

So you scoot closer to the edge, toes grazing the cold gravel and lips pressed to Carmy’s beaming face as you all toast ‘to The Bear’.

Epilogue.

Taglist: @pearlstiare @teteminne, @beebslebobs, @harrysmatcha, @yum-yahgurt, @pussy-f41ry, @kirakombat and that’s it lmao

#carmen berzatto x reader #the bear & the fox #carmy berzatto #carmy the bear #carmen berzatto x fem!reader #carmy x reader #carmen berzatto x you #carmy smut #the bear fx #jeremy allen white #the bear tv #carmen 'carmy' berzatto #carmen berzatto smut #carmy berzatto imagines #carmy berzatto fluff #carmy berzatto smut #carmy x poc reader #carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto fic #carmen berzatto imagine #carmen berzatto the bear #the bear fic #the bear imagine #the bear #carmen berzatto fan fiction #jeremy allen white imagine

[darlinguistics]

'its just IMPOSSIBLE to not be addicted to your phone nowadays its UNREALISTIC-'

heres some advice to being less chronically online. for gen z (and younger??) who dont even know how to start thinking about it and have only heard shitty advice from older adults who just genuinely do not get it, from a fellow gen z and my experiences so far.

*these are personal and may not all 100% resonate but its still good prompting to start thinking about things! PLEASE feel free to add your own stories/advice in the notes! support your fellow humans, dont gatekeep what youve learned, lets have these conversations! and no negativity/pessimism please <3

first thing is to make it a less scary thought, a more concrete idea and not a hypothetical. it doesnt have to be all-or-nothing, cold turkey, a huge announcement and a fundamental shift in your personality. the internet will be in your life for the rest of your life, this is an ongoing relationship you are trying to make healthier thats all! and it takes one step at a time and some self-compassion, but a true effort nonetheless. 'dont you think thats a bit too serious-' if youre my age you quite literally grew up and developed online, it is literally part of your psyche the way your childhood is, it IS serious, you deserve to treat it seriously.

dont save your login info/dont stay logged in for social media accounts, having to manually log in when you want to go on like youre on some elementary school chrome book is a really healthy and clear boundary to have between being logged off and logged on.

-> bigger challenge - uninstall it on your phone in general, only log on on your laptop/pc if applicable for you!

if youre motivated to, try to work on your posture too. i only say that because most of our bad posture is at least partially related to being on our phones a lot, and when i started wanting to fix my posture, completely separately and unrelated from trying to break my phone addiction, it made it easier to lose interest in my phone since i didnt want to ruin my progress with my posture. it made me start to have a mindset like 'well if you cant do this on your phone with good posture then dont do it' and 'if youre on your phone so long your posture starts to cave in, youve probably spent too long on your phone anyway'

listen to music more. its easier for me to kinda write off my phone and do other things if i just open music or a podcast or long youtube video on it. i know we all love long video essays, but i recommend music more specifically for me at least because im less inclined to pause music or scroll while listening to it for some reason? whereas using a show or video or podcast for white noise, im way more likely to also be scrolling on my phone and that is my activity lol. music for some reason i dont want to interrupt and instead of being on my phone i can clean or do something productive on my computer etc

this one is sooo hard but try to fall asleep with some distance between you and your phone, even just a couple feet. mine stays on the desk next to my bed which isnt that far but its better than on bed like it used to be. when you wake up you probably wont feel like reaching for it right away if its far and even better if you have to get up for it because then at least you stand and move your body first thing instead of looking at your phone first thing. and try to get more and more of your morning routine done before touching your phone over time.

-> for me, i started by just trying to at least wake up a bit in bed before touching it, then stand up before touching it, then stand and stretch, then going to the bathroom first, making coffee first, feeding the cat first, etc. its surprisingly helpful to have a specific chore/task in mind that is The requirement so that everytime you do it you get a lil dopamine rush for unlocking your phone from yourself lmao. when the weather was nice i used to make my Requirement being outside first before going on it and i LOVED that. esp as it got easier and i started doing more and more before going on it and finally walking outside with coffee and my phone felt like such a pleasant little reward.

find a hobby that uses your hands. example: i really need to get back into knitting because when i did it regularly so much time that wouldve been on my phone was spent knitting with music/podcasts/shows/(even online lectures! when i felt productive lol) playing. its the same amount of physical relaxing - barely moving lol - but uses a longer attention span and a much better dopamine hit than scrolling, i literally MADE things.

-> you might be thinking, 'but mindless knitting isnt better than mindless scrolling is it?' but that mindless feeling on your phone is just that, mindless. the mindless feeling you get when doing something like knitting is actually closer to a flow state, which is actually incredibly good for you, like a fulfilling nutritious meal as opposed to 'empty calories' or whatever

get a widget for your homescreen that shows your screen time. i have one and of course it doesnt always stop me but seeing that time go up all day the more i use it and the pride of keeping it low is really helpful

practice grounding. in general.

spend more time on anonymous activities and have more privacy and less attachment with your 'persona' - what i mean by that is, i consider things like scrolling through tumblr (for me personally!) to be relatively harmless because i dont try to like,, brand myself here. if youre a tumblr regular you know the jokes - 0 follows, 0 notes, screaming to the void, moots you dont talk to, blorbo pfp and urls, fake names everywhere, and we're having fun! basically targeting the 'everyone is famous now' thing with this one - embrace being a nobody with no personal stakes here

-> personally ive never kept up with having social media accounts that are actually just, me irl - like a facebook or main instagram, like a locals account yknow? but i think it goes for that too - stop spending so much time trying to further personalize your online presence in the hopes of it representing you perfectly - because it never will, and it shouldnt, and you shouldnt aspire for that. your social media presence is lighthearted and incredibly surface-level, treat it like that! thats not me bashing social media either, having that mindset will make it more enjoyable bc youll be using it as it should be used!

do following/followers or camera roll/files or app purges. this is also a soft launch type of way to practice easing into a better mindset. aside from just literally getting rid of junk, the process of trying to judge whether or not you need something is good practice in mindfulness! even if you dont delete everything you feel like you maybe should, thats fine, youll do other purges in the future too. eventually youll get better at parting with things and realizing when things that feel good in a moment are actually bad for you. and it forces you to regularly check in on your more long-lasting parasocial relationships online and how theyre serving you or not

speaking of parasocial - for actual friends, if theyre irl, think about how much you interact with them online vs in person and why you think that is and how it affects you. maybe youll wanna see them more irl if possible (i promise its better for your friendship), maybe youll realize you dont need to keep tabs on them anymore (old high school acquaintances lookin at you). for celebrities and fandom things - try to think about the bare minimum content from them you could do with. you dont have to unstan all your faves and stop enjoying things - but do you need their notifications on? do you need to have a stan account? do you need them on all the platforms? do you need to have all that saved content of them? are there aspects of this that you love that could be found elsewhere?

if youre of the genre of online where you just cant help yourself from getting involved in big discussions or discourse and arguments - i recommend journaling when you get upset by something online, articulating your feelings without the idea of someone ever reading it and without the goal of 'winning' or being the most correct and logical or even the most sympathetic and morally good. take away every audience aspect of it. what is this really about for you, and why would strangers online deserve to hear your personal well-thought out opinions? why would your thoughts deserve to be simplified and misconstrued and underappreciated the way they would be in this discussion? is there even an outcome to this where you feel truly satisfied? are their people who are more worthy of hearing your thoughts who arent part of this audience? is this a conversation that is best held online where so much communicative nuance is inevitably sacrificed?

in the end these are all just practices in remembering how in control you are. and that goes for if any of these are scary or too difficult sounding too! these all become less scary if you remember that as soon as anything becomes too uncomfortable or painful, you have all the power to stop doing it, make a change, and try again later. so much of advice for quitting bad habits can be intimidating because the pressure and the shame that would come from failing scares you out of the possible benefits of trying - just go ahead and kill that shame from the jump. of course youre going to fail! you are going to have setbacks! thats part of it! you have agency in this, always. the internet is not inherently or completely evil nor good. build trust in yourself to make the calls on when it is serving you and when it isnt on a case-by-case basis, and then give yourself permission to learn through trial and error.

and remember you are worth all of this effort. i believe in us <3

#phone addiction #screen time #gen z #chronically online #i have no clue if any of these are even real tags tbh #mental health #parasocial relationships #<- very risky tag i better not get dragged into some discourse somehow #i have 0 interest in arguments resulting from this post #i am peace and love rn <3 good vibes only lol #this is also in honor of like literally all my friends saying 'less screen time' as a new years resolution lol #🌟.txt #adhd studyblr #new years #new years resolutions

[mysecretlittlelibrary]

Just Let Me Adore You Pt. 1

Pairing: Stucky x Reader

Word Count: 4.2k

Warnings: none here, we've just begun

Genre: mostly fluff ig

Summary: You’ve been dating your boyfriend, Bruce, for 3 absolutely blissful years. He’s a scientist and professor who is as smart as he is kind and if anyone asked, you were sure you’d spend the rest of your life with him. That is until two mysteriously charming men that Bruce swears are dangerous take an interest in you that threatens to turn your entire life upside down. I mean… what exactly are you supposed to do with two gorgeous men telling you something that suggests that basically everything you think you know is a lie? And why does part of you have enough doubt to wonder if they might be telling the truth?

Series Masterlist

***

It's a beautiful afternoon as you're wrapping up your shift at the cute little cafe/bookstore you work at.

"See ya later y/n!" Your coworker, a kid named Peter calls after you when you leave.

"See you! Have a good shift!" You wave at him with a smile. Peter's 18 and has only been working at the store for a couple of weeks, so far he's doing pretty well. Most of his shifts are in conjunction with yours and today's one of the first times he'll be working with some of the others. You trained him well so you know he'll be fine but it's kinda like leaving your kid somewhere for the first time. Your walk home is nice, late spring bringing warmer temperatures that aren't yet sweaty which you take advantage of. When you walk into your shared apartment, you find your boyfriend of three years sitting at your kitchen counter. Your boyfriend Bruce is a professor and researcher, and you moved in together almost a year ago.

"Hey y/n." He calls over his shoulder, papers scattered around him and his laptop.

"Hi Brucey. You done with lectures for the day?" You ask draping your arms over his shoulders and kissing his cheek.

"Yeah, I cancelled my second lecture for the day- they've got an exam next class." Bruce tells you.

"Ah I see. So how was your first lecture?"

"It was fine, it was my psych class and we ended up having some very interesting discussions. How was your day? You still training that guy?"

"You mean Peter right? His training is pretty much done, actually today he's working a different shift than me."

"Well how's it going for him?"

"I think he's doing alright honestly. He's a little nervous sometimes but it's kinda cute." You giggle.

"Cute, huh?"

"Yeah, the kid's a ball of nervous energy actually. Sometimes he talks like he's had too many espresso shots and it's so fast he's almost unintelligible but apparently he doesn't even drink coffee, which, I think might be for the best. It's so interesting though, I don't know many teenage boys who display energy that way." You hum.

"Maybe he's got anxiety or something."

"Hm, I hadn't considered that. He probably does." You muse grabbing a bottle of water from your fridge. "Well that's the uni update, anything interesting going on in the research area for you?"

"Oh, yeah we've got a vampire coming to the lab tomorrow actually."

"I'm not sure if I like that honestly." You hum.

"Not to worry sweetheart, it's safe. I won't even be alone with him." Bruce says.

"Right of course, not alone just- with others that are part of a vampire's diet."

"You know not all vampires feed on humans."

"What's the alternative? Animals?"

"Yes, exactly." He nods.

"And the vampire you're studying tomorrow eats animals?"

"Correct."

"And you're sure about that?" You ask.

"Well we're studying him because he's animal fed so I sure hope he is."

"Have you ever studied vampires that do eat humans?"

"Yes, back when I was a research assistant. Honestly, the hardest part about studying vampires is hunting them. Once they're caught you can sedate them and that makes it much easier."

"You hunted them?"

"I mean vampires aren't exactly jumping in line to volunteer for this kind of thing you know." Bruce shrugs.

"So this animal-fed vampire, did he volunteer?"

"Yes he did. I don't really run tests on unwilling participants these days. It's unethical."

"I know that. Sounds like your old research boss didn't feel the same." You say.

"Well, that group of researchers mostly tagged creatures to study their patterns in nature. They weren't so much running tests but it's a bit hard to tag a vampire that's trying to rip your heart out so-" Bruce shrugs.

"Alright well I'll take your word on of yours this vampire tomorrow. Be careful." You say.

"Always darling." He winks at you. In all honesty, you try not to ask too many questions about your boyfriend's research of supernatural creatures. He swears to you it's all ethical but you're not sure how well it sits with you. You've been to the lab once and the asylum-like observational rooms you saw were offputting. Stark white walls and a small bed in an otherwise empty room doesn't seem very morally sound to you despite what Bruce tells you. Granted the observational cells were empty when you visited so you can only hope nobody's been in there against their will.

"Y/n!" Bruce pulls you from your thoughts and your head snaps to his confused face.

"Sorry, I- spaced, did you say something?" You ask.

"I said I was thinking we'd order something for dinner, does that sound okay?" Bruce chuckles.  You want so badly to trust that his work is virtuous because that's what he tells you.

"Yeah that's fine with me. Did you want Chinese or Thai or there's that Italian place too, maybe pizza?" You list off some options, shaking the uncertainty from your mind. They say ignorance is bliss.

"Do you have a preference?" He asks.

"Let's do Chinese."

"Sounds good. I'll finish grading these assignments and then order in a couple hours." Bruce says.

"Yeah that's fine." You nod giving Bruce a quick kiss and leaving him to his papers. With the few hours you have to spare until dinner, you crack open your latest read, a book recommended to you by a coworker that you've been meaning to start for a while. Eventually, Bruce orders dinner and gets your attention once the food arrives. Your night is pretty relaxed, you eat and chat while watching TV together for a while before you turn in for the night. You and Bruce do have different rooms because it's important to have your own space, but most nights you sleep together in his room. You'd consider your life pretty ordinary. You have routines and habits and while you have lots of fun experiences, you'd say most of your life is very much average.

~*~*~

The tinkling of the bell over the door doesn't pull your attention from the magazine you're reading but you do greet the customer since you're at the register by the door.

"Hi welcome in!" You say with mild cheeriness.

"Hiiii y/n!" The sing-song greeting comes from your best friend and you look up when you realize.

"Wanda! Hey love." You smile at her.

"Hi! Hi Peter!" She waves at Peter, who's learning how to work the coffee bar today.

"Oh. Hi miss Wanda!" He says with a shy wave.

"I've told you sweetie you don't have to call me miss." Wanda chuckles.

"Sorry." He mutters.

"What a cutie." Wanda hums.

"Isn't he?" You agree quietly. "Anyway, what brings you here babes?" You ask.

"Is your shift almost over? I wanted to hang out today."

"Well I'm supposed to be out of here in the next half hour or so but of course, I've gotta wait for Matt or Layla to come in before I can actually leave." You shrug.

"Peter! How good are you at that coffee bar?" Wanda calls across the store.

"Uh- I- I'm alright I think." Peter says.

"Wanna try making me a vanilla latte?" She asks.

"Well I- I can try."

"Confidence honey, you've got the recipes, you can do this. Don't act like the coffee bar's gonna bite ya!" You tell him.

"Right! Confidence. Vanilla latte coming up." Peter nods grabbing items to make Wanda's drink.

"And if you have any questions I'm right here!" You call.

"I'll wait for your shift to end and then can we do something together?" Wanda asks you.

"Of course we can." You nod.

"Done!" Peter says after a few minutes. Wanda takes the coffee from Peter and drops a five on the counter for him before sitting at a table with her drink and a magazine.

"This is pretty good for how unsure you were Peter." Wanda tells him.

"Good job Petey! I told you, you got it." You smile at him and again he hits you both with a shy smile.

"Thanks." He says quietly. A few customers come in and leave before Eric arrives and you clock out, leaving arm in arm with Wanda. She seems to have a destination in mind as you walk together.

"So where are we going lovely?" You ask her after a few minutes of her dragging you down city streets.

"Well I have a date tonight and I need something to wear, so the mall." She tells you.

"A date? You have a date? Why didn't you mention this before now?!" You blink at her.

"Honestly I forgot about it until I realized it was tonight." She shrugs.

"You forgot about it? Are you even interested in this person?" You laugh incredulously.

"I am! He's very sweet, I just have been busy with other things this week."

"Alright well let's get you something to wear for this second thought date." You snort.

"It wasn't a second thought. It's just that I can only prioritize like three things at a time."

"Seriously? You can lift a plane with your mind but can't remember your date until the day of?" You scoff. Wanda's a witch. It's the only real secret you keep from Bruce. She's not totally comfortable with him knowing that information and since it's her life you have no problem supporting that decision. To tell the truth, she's not very comfortable with him in general because of the whole research thing but he makes you happy so she gets along well enough for your sake.

"I didn't forget forget I was just, you know, too busy to think about it."

"Yeah sure whatever." You laugh as she pulls you into a store near the mall's entrance. "So how do you know this date of yours? Friend of a friend? Someone from work? A dating app? One of Pietro's friends?"

"He's a friend of a coworker." She tells you.

"A friend of a coworker? Is this a blind date?"

"No. He came to a work function and I had a nice enough time talking to him there that when he asked me on a date I said yes."

"It sounds like your coworker was setting you up and just played the long game." You chuckle.

"Hang on I'd like to circle back to your suggestion that it would be one of Pietro's friends. Why would I ever do that?!" She looks at you over a clothing rack.

"Oh come on Pietro's adorable." You laugh.

"This is about his friends, not him."

"Yeah I know but I'm of the belief that hot people hang with hot people so naturally-"

"Yeah that's not. No."

"Why? Is it the fact that the halfling has mostly vampire friends? I know you have ethical reservations about the whole blood sucking thing despite being raised by a vampire." You ask as the two of you leave the store you're in. Wanda and Pietro are twins but apparently since their father is a vampire and their mother is a witch one twin got each supernatural gene, making Pietro a vampire halfling.

"Most of Pietro's friends hunt animals so no it's not that." She rolls her eyes.

"Wait they hunt animals?" You blink.

"Yeah? So does Pietro, you know that."

"I know he does but I guess I didn't think about his friends- I think one of them might be volunteering for Bruce."

"What?" Wanda's eyes widen.

"A couple of weeks ago Bruce told me a vampire was going to the lab and they were going to study him because he's animal fed and well, considering we live in New York and not Idaho I can't imagine there's a large population of animal diet vampires." You explain.

"What if he finds out about Pietro? About me?" Wanda gasps as the two of you enter another store.

"He won't. Even if this guy knows Pietro why would he put another person on Bruce's watchlist that didn't ask to be there? His loyalty should be to other vampires not to a bunch of researchers." You say quietly. The shop you're in is empty besides the employees and while supernatural creatures aren't a secret, some people are more reserved when it comes to them.

"Some of them don't accept Pietro because of our parentage. He could rat him out on purpose for-"

"Bruce isn't going to go hunting people down, I've mentioned Pietro like once so he might not even know you're related, it's not like Pietro would rat on you, and if Bruce does find out that you're twins well, you aren't a vampire. I'll simply tell him that twins of a vampire and a nonvampire split the gene, and only one gets it. Plus it's been a couple of weeks since this happened, if the vampire had mentioned Pietro or Bruce had any suspicions about you, he'd have given himself away by now. He's not going to find out you're a witch. He's not going to find out Pietro is a halfling. Your secrets are safe."

"Man I hope so." She sighs.

"Yeah well I know so." You tell her.  The two of you flip through racks of clothes for a while, pulling different items for Wanda to try on in the dressing room. "So where are you going with this guy?" You ask her when you finally reach the dressing rooms at the back.

"Dinner! Maybe something else after but we're starting with dinner." Wanda says through the door as she tries on the first dress she picked.

"Hm, what's his name?"

"Wes."

"Wes? Is it short for Wesley or- is that the whole name?"

"It's short for Wesley." She pushes back the dressing room curtain to show you the dress. "What do you think?"

"That's cute. Although maybe not right for a first date." You say. It's a short dark blue dress with lace trimming and as much as you like it, it's not a dinner date outfit.

"Yeah- maybe you're right." She looks at herself in the mirror for a moment and then closes the curtain.

"Hm, Wesley? That's not the worst name in the world." You hum.

"Y/n!" Wanda laughs.

"Look! I'm not trying to be mean, but you know, some names just don't... roll off the tongue the right way ya know." You shrug even though she can't see you.

"Now why would you say that?" She tries to scold you but you can hear her hiding her laughter before she shoves back the curtain again. "This one?" She asks. This dress is a green off-the-shoulder pick with bell sleeves.

"I think it's the wrong shade of green for you honestly." You tell her.

"Ya think so?" She hums and closes the curtain again.

"Anyway, I said it because it's true. Like I'm not saying you're going to fuck this guy or anything but imagine trying to moan a name like Bartholomew or Yolanda. Ya know? Wes or even Wesley you could probably get away with though."

"Don't be crude! I don't think anyone born in the last century is named Bartholomew but- I guess I get your point." Wanda chuckles.

"Also it's cute that your names are alliterative. Wanda and Wesley. You'll have to come up with some cute introduction when you meet people as a couple."

"It is one date. You are for sure skipping ahead." Wanda pulls back the curtain in a new dress, pointing an accusing finger at you. This one is a two-toned red and black dress.

"I mean if you think about it now you're ready for if the time comes." You shrug.

"You and your ability to romanticize things." She shakes her head. "Thoughts on this one?"

"Life is better when you romanticize things. Honestly, I think this is your dress. You should get this one. It's gorgeous on you. If he's not speechless when he sees you, leave." You tell her.

"That's dramatic." She laughs.

"It's in my nature." You shrug.

"It is a nice dress though. Should I bother trying the others?" She asks as she closes the curtain again to change back into her clothes.

"I mean if you want to but I'm pretty much sold on this one." You say.

"Excuse me." You hear a voice behind you that causes you to spin around. A sales associate for the store you're in is smiling at you when you do.

"Hi! Can I help you?" You ask.

"This is for you." She says holding out a shopping bag with the store's logo on it. Your hands fly up as if you're surrendering.

"I- didn't purchase anything so that cannot be right." You shake your head.

"Actually the items were purchased for you by someone. It's a gift."

"A gift from whom?" You frown in confusion.

"They've asked to remain anonymous."

"That- sounds increasingly suspicious. Um can you, hold the bag open for me?" You ask her.

"Excuse me?" Now she's confused.

"I am not touching that bag if I don't know what's inside it. So, if you could just open it so I can look inside?" You explain. "Wanda! You almost done in there?" You call as the associate opens the bag. Wanda rushes out of the dressing room when she hears your voice.

"Everything okay?" She asks you.

"Somebody has anonymously gifted me some items apparently." You share a look at her before looking into the bag to find a dress, a jacket, and a jewelry set each that you'd commented on while shopping with Wanda. You spin around to face Wanda almost too fast. "Holy shit it's all stuff I said I liked while we were shopping." You speak quickly and quietly to her.

"What?"

"It's the dress and the jacket that I put down right before we came to the dressing room." You hiss.

"Woah." Wanda blinks. You turn back to the associate.

"Did they pay with a card? Can you refund this person somehow? I can't just take this gift from a stranger." You tell her.

"All of the items they bought are final sale so unfortunately, a refund would not be possible, plus they paid in cash."

"So- there's really nothing I can do but take this?"

"I mean if you don't take it I'll simply sell them again. It'd be unfortunate for the purchaser." The associate tells you. You look at Wanda again.

"This is like a $200 purchase what the fuck?" You whisper to Wanda.

"Then I guess you should take it." Wanda whispers back. You mull it over in your head for a moment before turning back to face the associate.

"Alright fine. Thank you." You take the bag from the associate with a small smile. "If the, anonymous gifter returns please inform them that I appreciate the gesture but not to do it again because this is very weird." You tell her.

"I will pass on the message." She nods and walks away.

"I cannot believe you've got a secret admirer." Wanda loops her arm through yours and pulls you towards the counter with her chosen dress in hand.

"This is absolutely ridiculous. What do I tell Bruce?" You frown.

"The truth. That a stranger bought them and you have no idea who it is." She shrugs. The two of you check out and leave the store and subsequently the mall, Wanda deciding she has enough shoes to choose from at home. "Do you have any idea who it might be?"

"No. I only talk to like 5 people and none of them are spending $200 on items I only mentioned liking while we were just shopping."

"Even Bruce?"

"If Bruce did it, he wouldn't keep it a secret. So I know it's not him." You tell her.

"Well, you'll have to tell me how he reacts. I'm going to head home so I can prep for this date. I'll call you later." Wanda says hugging you tightly.

"Have fun babes." You kiss her cheek and then part ways, heading back to your apartment. When you unlock the door and kick off your shoes, the smell of food welcomes you so you head to the kitchen.

"Hi Bruce!" You say wrapping your arm around him from behind.

"Hi babe, welcome home. Work a longer shift at work or something?" Bruce asks.

"No Wanda came to my job and we went shopping once I got off. She's got a date tonight!" You tell him and Bruce turns enough to see the shopping bag sitting on the counter.

"I see you got some things too. What's in the bag?" Bruce asks.

"A dress, a jacket, and some jewelry."

"Impromptu mini shopping spree?" Bruce chuckles.

"Well I didn't buy any of that stuff actually." You shrug. Bruce frowns at you for a moment before turning back to whatever he's cooking. A past dish from the looks of it.

"Honey I know we don't really keep secrets from each other but if you're going to commit a crime-"

"I didn't steal them. Why is your first thought that I stole?" You chuckle.

"You said you didn't buy them."

"Yeah I didn't. They were gifted to me while I was shopping."

"What?"

"Someone bought these things and had a sales associate bring them to me."

"Who?"

"I don't know."

"You don't know? You didn't ask any questions?"

"I asked like a dozen questions, including if she could refund whoever it was that did this and she said no. She also told me whoever it was asked to remain anonymous, what was I supposed to do? Force the information out of her? She probably doesn't know who it is either."

"What if he was watching you? You accepted the gift he might think he has an in with you."

"How do you know that this person has any intention of doing that?"

"Can you think of any other reason that they'd spend hundreds on stuff for you? This is basically a secret admirer stunt y/n."

"Look I told the sales lady to let whoever it was know that this was incredibly inappropriate but it's too late to do anything else. Even if they're stalking me I have no idea who they are so, what do you want from me here?" You cross your arms.

"I don't mean to snap at you I'm just worried about your safety." Bruce pulls you to his chest.

"Yeah, I get that, but it sounds like you're blaming me for receiving an anonymous gift." You mutter.

"I'm not trying to blame you I promise. This is just weird and it concerns me."

"Honestly as weird as this situation is I dunno I just don't hear the alarm bells I usually notice before something goes wrong. Of course it's only one incident, things could escalate."

"Well, even if you don't feel alarmed by this, be careful anyway." Bruce kisses the top of your head.

"Always." You wink at him. The rest of your evening is quiet, you discuss work over dinner and watch TV before eventually getting ready for bed.

~*~*~

You hum along to the music playing in the store as you restock some items by the register, it's pretty slow around this time in the afternoon usually so you've got Peter in the back learning inventory stuff.

"Hi welcome in!" You call over your shoulder instinctively when the bell by the door goes off.

"Hey, excuse me." You turn around at the voice to see two men looking at you, one Black and one white.

"Hi! Is there something I can help you with?" You smile.

"Actually we're looking for someone. An employee, Peter Parker. Is he here?" The Black man asks you.

"Mind telling me what this is about?" You ask keeping a polite smile on your face although their question concerns you.

"Excuse me?" He blinks at you.

"Well Peter's a kid so I hope you can understand my reservations in disclosing information about him to men who haven't identified themselves or their relationship to him, and seemingly don't know his schedule which to me means he does not want you popping up at his place of employment unexpectedly." You cross your arms and the one who hasn't spoken quirks an eyebrow at you.

"Look is the kid here or not?"

"I'm not authorized to give out information you don't already have about anyone who may or may not work here." You tell them.

"This is ridiculous- Parker! It's Wilson and Barton come up here." The Black man calls loudly. You spin around and intercept Peter when you hear his footfalls behind you.

"Peter do you know these men?" You ask quietly. He looks over your shoulder.

"Yeah they're friends. I'm sorry if they're causing you trouble." Peter tells you nervously.

"They aren't causing me trouble but they're looking for you and I wanna make sure you aren't in any danger."

"No. No danger. It's alright, they're alright. Is it cool if I step out with them for a moment?"

"It's empty so fine but you probably shouldn't do this often."

"I swear this won't happen again."

"Go, make it quick." You wave towards the door and he leads the two men out of the store.

"She seems protective of you." Clint points out.

"She's real nice, it's kinda like having an older sister at work but that's besides the point you guys cannot just show up here while I'm working!" Peter tells them.

"That's cute, and relax you're just a cover, we were told to check on her." Sam says.

"She's wearing the jacket." Clint mutters.

"She's wearing the jacket! Did she mention anything to you Parker?" Sam looks from you to Peter.

"About her jacket? No? Why should she?" Peter frowns.

"No reason. The fact that she's wearing it bodes well for them I think." Sam says.

"Bodes well for who? Wait did they buy her that jacket?! She's been in a relationship for like three years!"

"Relax kid leave this to the adults." Sam nudges him.

"They can't just poach someone's girlfriend."

"No one's poaching anyone don't worry about it, Peter. Oh, but they do wanna see you after you get off so- head to the offices when your shift is over." Clint claps Peter on the back and then he and Sam leave.

"Sorry about that." Peter says as he rushes back in.

"Everything alright?" You ask.

"Yeah! Totally fine, I'm gonna go finish learning inventory."

"Holler if you need anything." You hum. You know it's not really any of your business but you do hope Peter was telling the truth and those guys weren't here to hassle him.

***

Part 1/???

Tagged Users: @cjand10

#marvel fanfiction #marvel #stucky fanfic #stucky x reader #stucky fluff #stucky smut #stucky #werewolf bucky barnes #werewolf steve rogers #werewolf au #stucky angst #Just Let Me Adore You #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #steve rogers

[blueisquitetired]

The Birth of a Shadow

Context for this one: This was the originally planned chapter 15 that….. obviously didn’t work out. The original conceit was that Emmet was having trouble using magic, so he had to dive through his brother’s memories to learn what it felt like. It was supposed to be a journey backwards in time, featuring different times of Ingo’s life before he met Emmet.

Unfortunately, that didn’t really work out, and I ended up cutting the whole thing. We didn’t lose too much in the process, just the exact specifics of Ingo’s past and an explanation for his beef with moms. 

So yeah, here’s what got written out, featuring Ingo’s origin story and a tone that really doesn’t match the rest of the fic.

Length: 2,000 words

Rating: G 

CW: Child endangerment? I guess???

Deep breathes. In and out. Reach inside and-

Opening his eyes, Emmet threw out one of his hands, attempting to channel some unknowable energy. 

Nothing happened.

“Any luck?”

Mai sat on the grass next to him, idly plucking strings on her guitar. This was his third day of magic lessons with her and so far….

“No. Nothing.”

Sighing, Emmet lay down on the grass next to her, looking up at the bright blue sky. At least it was a nice day.

“Maybe it did work, but you just didn’t notice?” Lady Sneasler was sitting a bit away with the rest of the peanut gallery. Not close enough to get in the way, but still easily reachable. “It’s supposed to be kind of subtle right?”

“He would feel it. Probably.” Mai sighed. “At least that’s how it works for me.”

“Right. Because that’s been such a good indicator so far.” It was Melli who spoke this time, the warden having joined the group to help Elesa with her embroidery and just enjoy the show. Emmet was starting to understand why Lady Sneasler didn’t like him much.

Still, he had a point. As much as Emmet appreciated Mai’s assistance, one just couldn’t escape the fact that their magics were completely different. Mai’s were nature spells cast via music, and Emmet’s…

Well it certainly wasn't that.

“Well, does Ingo feel his magic when he casts it?” Mai asked, bringing the group back on track. “His magic would certainly be more similar to yours than mine.”

“Not sure.” Shrugging, Emmet tried to remember times that his brother had used magic- and came up frustratingly short. “He does not like using it. Or talking about it.”

“Too bad.” Mai sighed. “That would have been helpful.”

“Hang on.” Elesa finally spoke up, having been far too concentrated on her embroidery to join in the conversation so far. “Didn’t you say you had Ingo’s memories? Doesn’t that mean you can learn straight from the source? Maybe even figure out how he learned magic originally?”

“Wait what do you mean he has his memories-”

That…. was a good point actually. Emmet had been kind of avoiding touching that part of his psyche at the moment, but there weren't any actual barriers. Still, he was still sort of… put off by the idea.

“Those are private.” He managed finally, working around the bitter taste in his mouth. “I have not received permission. Snooping is a breach of trust.”

“Normally yeah, but this isn’t exactly a normal situation.” Pointed out Lady Sneasler. “You’ll need to be prepared for whatever comes our way. I think Ingo will forgive you for a bit of snooping if it helps save his life.”

“I suppose…”

It still didn’t sit right with Emmet. Sure, they could read each other’s minds whenever they wanted- but that didn’t mean they did! Boundaries were important, and privacy was to be respected. Still, Lady Sneasler was right that this was a special situation….

“….alright.” Taking a deep breath, Emmet attempted to calm his racing heart. “I will look through Ingo’s memories. Try to find out how magic feels. Or how he learned it.”

“Attaboy!” Lady Sneasler grinned. 

Mai seemed a bit more skeptical.

“So how exactly does that… work?”

Emmet shrugged.

“It is like meditation? Kind of? I close my eyes and….” He let out a deep breath and closed his eyes, going boneless. “This will take a while.”

“How long is a while?”

But Emmet didn’t answer, already beginning to tune the rest of the world out and sink into his own subconscious. Carefully, he reached for his brother’s soul, embracing it and sinking into his brother’s memories. He wasn’t exactly sure where to start- memories had a tendency to be a bit finicky after all, but if he just started somewhere familiar and worked his way back….

He thought of the first time they met, an old and messy memory colored by time and his subpar human recollection, only still around because of how many times he’d watched his brother’s version.

A version that was responding to the memory he had fed it, sparking up around him and begging to be recalled.

So he let it.

oOo

Someone was crying.

The monster stopped and listened for a moment, the sound of soft sniffles and a human in distress. It really shouldn’t get any closer, shouldn’t approach, especially not after last time- but there was crying! Crying was something it knew well, and if it could help…

Maybe it could assist from the shadows. As long as it wasn’t seen, there would be no reason for the human too….

This time would be different.

It followed the sound.

As much as Emmet would love to relive that particular memory again, now wasn’t the time. Instead, he honed in on that mention of “last time” pulling on it and looking for the related memory. It wasn’t hard to find.

oOo

[This section would contain several scenes from Ingo’s past in reverse order. This would include him disguising himself as another child and getting run off for being a duplicate, trying to take a human form and not doing a very good job (and getting run off), and him visiting Hisui and having a bad time.]

oOo

First, there was nothing.

Not pain, or sorrow, or even emptiness- no, there was just nothing at all.

And then-

“Oh. It’s beautiful.”

There was something.

A… a face? Yes. A face. A… a red face who was…

“Dude it just looks like a blob with eyes.”

A different voice. A different person? Yes, there they were, behind the face-

“That’s just because you can’t appreciate the sheer craftsmanship on display here.” The face moved, getting taller and… further? Further away. (From what?)

“Sure. Whatever. But does it work?”

“Of course it works! I made it after all!”

“…so you haven’t tested it yet.”

“What’s the point of a test? It’s a changeling. They aren’t complicated.”

There was a conversation happening. That’s what this was. Understanding was… difficult, but possible. The whole thing was quite alien overall.

“Anyway, I’m releasing this bad boy today. You wanna see?”

“Sure I guess. Don’t have anything else planned.”

The face came back(?) bending forward and-

SENSATION!!!!

THERE WAS TOUCH HAPPENING!!!

WHAT?!!!

And with touch came feelings!!! Pride and confidence and-

“Huh. It’s being more squirmy than normal.”

Squirmy? Movement? Was something moving?

“Maybe cause you finished it? So it’s ‘coming to life’ and all that?”

“Yeah maybe. Let’s get going before it gets harder to carry.”

And then.

AND THEN.

Movement! Lots of movement! The squirmy apparently! So much movement and things that had names but there was no time to ponder such things as MOVEMENT WAS HAPPENING.

And then movement stopped happening.

And everything was dark.

“This place good?”

“I think so. I checked out a few houses beforehand and this one had a baby.”

“Cool.”

Movement started up again, going a bit before-

THE TOUCH WAS GONE!!!!

Where did it go?!!!

“Now what?”

“It’s supposed to eat the baby.”

“….maybe you need to move it closer?”

The touch returned briefly…. before disappearing again, replaced by-

Different touch?

Calm touch. Sleepy touch. Touch full of dreams, muted sensations of lightssoundscolorsemotions. Touch that-

There was hunger.

Hunger. Hunger. Hunger.

And emptiness. Something that needed to be filled. Something that could be filled if- if-

If there was eating.

And so there would be eating. There would be devouring. There would be biting and tearing and-

yes

YES!

Yes! There was taste, there was warmth! There was energy and magic and-

PAIN

Pain that caused screaming, pain that caused crying. Pain that was more intense than hunger or pride. Pain that encompassed all else and-

Light.

“Yes yes Johny. Mommy’s here. Now what’s got you so-”

A sharp gasp, thudding footsteps and-

“GET OFF MY BABY!”

Touch. But not gentle touch- rough touch. Pulling and grabbing and flinging. Flying before impact, new fresher pain as-

New impact. New pain. New-

This was danger.

Danger. Danger! Pain meant danger and there was so much pain, so there was so much danger but how was-

And then something happened.

Something happened and suddenly the shadows reached out, sweeping in and pulling out of danger. 

The shadows were gentle. Calm. Quiet and dark and-

Grabbing, pulling, RIPPING and angerangerANGER

“What was THAT!?”

There was laughing.

“I believe that’s what we call a failure Alimar.”

“Shut up. Shut up. This is just- just a slight hiccup. We can just try again.”

Try what again? Why was there anger? Why was there failure? Was it the danger?

And why was the pain still there?

Movement. More. Movement that made the pain stronger. Movement that pulled at somethings. Somethings that could be felt. Somethings that could be moved.

“Stop squirming.”

That wasn’t the only somethings. There was more! More somethings that could also be moved. Easier even, since the voice was not holding them. They could be moved, and they were moved because it was fun and made the pain less noticeable. Oh! Fun! That was new!

“What in Titania’s name has gotten into you?!”

More yanking. The face was back! But it was dark. Because it was night. Strange. Night. Had night existed before? What was night?

“Looks like yelling at it worked.”

“Yeah I guess.”

Night was something that came after day. But day came after night. That didn’t make sense. How could it come before and after?

“Okay. Here’s a new place. Let’s try this again.”

That was how time worked right? Yes, day and night were based off of time. Which was. Harder to understand then day and night combined.

The touch that hurt was gone and the somethings were dropped. They were dropped and-

Huh.

They felt.

The somethings were moved, and where they moved they felt. The feeling was soft. Soft because it was a blanket. That’s what it was. 

“Eat the ####ing baby already.”

The somethings were- they were tendrils? Yes. That’s what they were. The tendrils moved and felt and they felt each other and oh! That was not soft! That was… smooth! Smooth! And both tendrils could feel the other tendril and wasn’t that strange. What were tendrils anyway?

…limbs? Right. And limbs were… uh. They were attached to something alive! And they could do things! 

Obviously. They could move and feel.

But what were they attached to?

“….What is it doing?”

“UGH.”

Touch again! Not good touch!! But! There were more tendrils! More! And they were attached to-

Uh-

“Dude I don’t even think it sees the baby.” 

“Yeah I noticed.”

Actually, what was ‘it’ anyway? There was the human baby- but that couldn’t be ‘it’. And the blankets could not see so. Maybe the tendrils? They were attached to something alive, and if it was alive it could probably see!

But what were they attached to???

They were- They-

???????

No seriously what were they attached to.

There was hunger.

Yes but the tendrils!

Hunger.

The tendrils lead to something but that something did not exist but it could be felt which meant it did exist-

Wait.

Was that seeing?

Hunger

If seeing was happening then seeing was ‘it’ and the tendrils were attached to the it (which was seeing) and seeing happened with eyes that could be moved-

MORE MOVEMENT!

Hungerhungerhungerhunger

Movement that changed seeing!! Yes! Good! Good! That was-

Pride! Pride for figuring it out! Pride for-

hunger

Okay okay hunger. Hunger which meant movement which meant-

What was that?

“…is it broken?”

New thing to move!!! It could be moved and it moved a lot and how many more movement-

HUNGER

Right, right, okay. Movement again which was biting and biting on the baby which brought warmgoodenergymagiclife- AND PAIN AND CRYING!!!

PAIN AND CRYING MEANT DANGER!!! DANGER MEANT SHADOWS AND LEAVE AND AWAY!!!

“Wha- hey where’d it go?!”

“#### it shadow sneaked again. I have to catch it before it-”

NOPE!!

IT WOULD NOT BE GRABBED!

GRABBED WAS PAIN AND PAIN WAS BAD AND IT DID NOT WANT THAT!

“Come back here you little-!”

The shadows pulled it far away. Far far away.

Where it would be safe.

#submas #blue’s writing #submas au #submas fae au #pokemon #subway boss emmet #subway boss ingo #WIP

[ryuichirou]

Replies

Alright, let’s talk about Kalim (related to the latest comic), new official stuff, Idia being annoying and Lilia being possessive over Silver! And some other stuff, I think…

Anonymous asked:

So you seen the latest chapter of 7 ENG. If you do, any particular thoughts on two certain individuals with helmets.

We haven't watched ch7 at all yet, Anon. There are certain spoilers that are unavoidable, but since we didn't watch the story itself, we can't really say anything. We also don’t follow ENG updates, more on that in a reply below.

hipsterteller asked:

the only dorm leader who didn't overblot and same time the only sunshine

Yep, that’s our Kalim! He’s just here to have a good time :)

Anonymous asked:

Kalim, the only housewarden not to overblot.

Jamil, the only vice housewarden to overblot.

Aren’t they just perfect for each other? 🥰

Anonymous asked:

Good thing Jamil is not part of it...actually, I think he already did before the meeting.

I guess it depends on whether Kalim has asked him about how he is doing or not this day 🤔 Check on your friend, Kalim!

Anonymous asked:

Kalim (walking to his room): Oh, wow! That housewarden meeting was wild! Six people overblotting all at the same time... What are the odds of that?? I sure am glad to be finally back to the peaceful familiarity of my dorm, where I can rest after such a stressful day!

Scarabia student: Housewarden, please! Come quick-

Kalim (still walking): We're not doing this today :)

LOL sorry, Kalim, you have no choice but to deal with this, Jamil is clearly not dealing with this well on his own. Oh wait. Kalim probably shouldn’t intervene, he’ll just make things worse lol

asteampvnk asked:

Love your newest drawing. Although, to be fair, with how much Kalim gaslights himself that everything’s fine I half expect him to overblot.

I don’t know, to be honest it’s still very difficult for me to picture Kalim overblotting over anything other than Jamil getting seriously hurt because of him, but maybe it’s Kalim’s gaslighting that’s so powerful that it completely skewers my perception of his overblot chances…

Anonymous asked: I don't know why, but I find Kalim's eyes so cute the way you draw in the latest comic.

Thank you so so much, Anon!! ❤️

Anonymous asked:

Ryuichi and Katsu, you guys probably only play the EN Version of Twist but i wanted to ask if you guys had heard of the new JPN Event 'Red Carpet in the Shaftlands'! Have you seen the new cards and outfits? Especially Vil and Azul look very handsome!

Hi Anon! We don’t play the EN version, or any version for that matter; we just watch the main story + events on youtube. We also prefer fan translations over the official ones :) This isn’t what you asked about, but I thought I’d mention that. So yeah, we did hear about the new event! Even though we don’t have time to watch events these days, we’ll probably and hopefully get to it eventually; so I have really high hopes for this one! I already said it the other day, but: show us Eric Venue god damn it >:(

As for the cards…

Anonymous asked:

HAVE YOU SEEN THE NEW OUTFITS FOR ACE, JAMIL, AND AZUL!?!? I NEVER THOUGHT AZUL WOULD LOOK SO GOOD IN THAT COLOR SCHEME!

AZUL LOOKS LIKE A MEAN RICH AUNTIE, ACE LOOKS LIKE THAT ONE DOUCHE FROM A RICH FAMILY THAT ALWAYS ASKS FOR MONEY (AND HIS RICH AUNTIE DOESN’T GIVE HIM SHIT), JAMIL LOOKS LIKE THE MEANEST GIRL IN A HIGH SCHOOL MOVIE FROM 90-00S, AND IT LOOKS GREAT!!

Azul does look good, although I am a bit conflicted about his hairstyle: I can’t quite figure out whether I like it or am just okay with it; but even if it’s the latter, I’m always excited to see new hairstyles. And this shape of glasses looks so stupidly good on him! He is indeed very handsome, this style of clothing suits him a lot.

Vil is gorgeous, I can’t even yell about him anymore. The richest mom in Hollywood.

Ace looks very good; Jamil does unimaginable things to my psyche, I can’t quite put it into words. I think the colour scheme of the new outfits suits him the most, but I might just be biased.

Anonymous asked:

Ryu they released the choreography of absolutely beautiful, did you see???? Im soso normal about it LOOK AT MY WIFE SPITTING BARS AND LOOKING ALL CUTE I watched it so many times already i was pacing around my room for an hour

I honestly can’t believe they did, this is so nice of them?? Now people can actually perform the dance themselves, this is so cool.

Jamil’s rap is one of my favourite parts of the song (original, I know), so it’s great to actually see him shine. But also? Also?

Epel short.

Anonymous asked:

I’m so sorry but in reference to the ask about Idia getting into a verbal sparring match with someone: imagine they’re both getting ruder and nastier and then, they somehow end up in bed together????

YES this is basically how we write Sebek/Idia LOL But also Azul/Idia to be honest, these two argue and get annoyed with each other a lot…

This is one of our favourite tropes in general, and with Idia it suits him to perfectly lol He always ends up verbally sparring with someone and getting someone heated over the argument, it’s like he’s begging for it (absolutely unintentionally though).

Anonymous asked:

Your art is really wonderful! (I love how you draw Lilia.) Sililia is a bit of guilty pleasure for me as well. I think you mentioned in a previous post about yanderes that Lilia’s trying not to get attached to anyone at this point in his life. So, if someone else were to hit on Silver or tried to woo him, would he reluctantly accept it? Or would he instantly act possessive once he sees someone moving in on his?

Thank you so much, Anon!! I am very happy you like our Lilia and that you enjoy his relationship with Silver <3

I think I talked about it in one of our previous LiliSil posts, but I’ll reiterate: in theory, Lilia would absolutely encourage Silver to spend time with someone else, even if this is just a little high school fling and not something serious. He does want Silver to socialise more and to have a lot of people around him, because unfortunately Lilia won’t be around forever, and he isn’t cruel to the point of wanting Silver to be loyal to him even after his death. That would just ruin the young one’s life forever, wouldn’t that be a waste?

But in actuality, I think Lilia would still get somewhat jealous and possessive if Silver found someone for himself. Lilia might try to rationalise it by thinking that he just doesn’t want any rascal to hurt Silver’s feelings, he might even enjoy acting like a strict dad for a short while, but he’ll very soon realise that he is just being super jealous and doesn’t want to share Silver with anyone lol It might be easier for him is Silver starts dating Sebek, at least Sebek knows his place… in Lilia’s eyes, at least.

Anonymous asked:

*looks at violet art*

*looks at Idia art*

Now we need a universe where those two meet each other because I swear some alternate universe thing is happening here.

I absolutely should’ve replied to this one as soon as we got it, sorry for fucking up the chronology of this whole thing, for some reason I just couldn’t shut up about Idia and Violet LOL

Ah, these two. Artsy goth Idia and Otaku tech-nerd Gregory.

Honestly, I wonder how these two would interact. The easiest thing would be to assume that they’ll just sit in their own corners doing their own thing because neither of them is particularly chatty. Also, at first it seems like despite their similarities, they are the opposites of each other, because of the whole arts vs tech thing… but in actuality, Idia is one of the most artistic people in NRC?? With good taste and outside-the-box creative thinking?? Considering how much he loves a good design and how even Vil praised the ceremonial gear he made for Ortho. As someone who likes anime and stuff, he is definitely a connoisseur of art lol

So yeah, it’d be funny to think about them getting weird vibes from each other from the start, maybe seeing some of their own “bad” qualities and being annoyed by them, getting weird uncanny-valley feeling, but ultimately ending up creating something together. I just want them to create something together…

Although…both of them are such individualists, they might have creative disagreements and do their own things separately from each other. God damn it boys you were supposed to have fun interactions!

#replies #lilisil

[takecareluv]

jack gives the reader a head massage and she ends up falling asleep 🤣🤣🤣 i’ve had those before and they just feel so good and a great way to relax.

a.n. i’ve never experienced this in my life but it sounds so amazing and relaxing. i’m jealous 😭

relax, baby || jack harlow x reader

it had only been a couple weeks into your fall semester and you already felt yourself falling behind. you found yourself waking up earlier each morning just to get a few extra minutes at the library, as well as staying up later than usual, shuffling through your never ending list of assignments and attempting to catch up on your readings.

you were beyond stressed to say the least and jack took immediate notice of this.

he hated seeing you get like this, especially with how much he knew you already struggled with your mental health. every semester for the last three years he watched as you shut yourself out from everyone, spending ever waking hour studying and prioritizing receiving an A mark in every class over taking care of yourself. he knew how stubborn you could be, but this semester he wasn’t going down without a fight. he was going to get you to step away from that mountain of textbooks sitting on your desk and finally have you relax.

* ࣪. ⋆ ✧ ﾟ: * ♡ * : ﾟ✧ ⋆ ࣪.* ࣪ ♡ ࣪.* ࣪ ⋆ ✧ ﾟ: * ♡ * : ﾟ✧ ⋆ ࣪.*

it was approaching midnight and you were on your fifth consecutive hour of studying.

jack watched as you tiredly typed away on your computer, trying to finish a paper for your psych class before the sun came up. 

he decided then that you needed a break, walking over to were you sat hunched over a book that probably weighed ten pounds. he threw the book aside, swiftly lifting you into his arms.

you let out a squeal from suddenly being picked up and thrown over your boyfriend’s shoulder. “jackman, what are you doing? put me down! i need to finish my paper!”

“nope,” he simply replied. “you need to take a break, baby. you’re working yourself too hard.”

“i promise i’ll take a break once i’m done but i need to finish this.” you tried to counter, but jack was as stubborn as you were and he wasn’t taking no for an answer.

“the paper will still be there in the morning, after you’ve relaxed and had a good nights sleep. and i’m sure you’ll be much happier with what you write after you’re well rested, bub. you need to get some rest, please baby, for me.” jack was almost begging at this point. he hadn’t seen that usual glimmer in your eyes in days, let alone that smile that never failed to light up the room. he missed it, and he missed you.

you accepted defeat as jack continued to carefully carry you into the bathroom that was connected to your shared bedroom.

he softly set you down on the counter before he walked towards the tub, starting a bath for you. you watched with love in your eyes as jack moved around the room, grabbing your favorite bubble bath, that was only to be used on special occasions, along with a fresh, warm towel straight out of the dryer. he was always so good to you and you absolutely adored him for it.

once the bath was filled enough, he helped you undress before assisting you into the warm water.

he turned to walk away once you were settled in, but you quickly grabbed ahold of his wrist asking him to stay.

“of course, baby. i’ll be right back. just going to throw a sweatshirt in the dryer for you so it’s warm when you come out.”

he exited the room and returned only a few minutes later, although it felt like much longer to you, with one of your favorite scented candles in his hand to light. you smiled to yourself, his sweetness was never ending and you couldn’t help but fall more in love with every small, caring gesture he made.

you didn’t realize you had been staring as he stripped and joined you in the tub. “like what you see, baby.” jack teased with a smirk on his face that caused you to blush.

“you know i do,” you admitted quietly, the warmth rising to your cheeks.

* ࣪. ⋆ ✧ ﾟ: * ♡ * : ﾟ✧ ⋆ ࣪.* ࣪ ♡ ࣪.* ࣪ ⋆ ✧ ﾟ: * ♡ * : ﾟ✧ ⋆ ࣪.*

you stayed in the bath with jack resting behind you, and your bodies intertwined until the water became too cold to find relaxing any longer.

jack got out first, quickly drying himself off before holding out a hand to help you get out of the bath. once you were out, he wrapped you up in a towel and guided you to sit back on the counter so he could help you complete your nighttime routine.

he situated himself between your legs, grabbing your toothbrush from behind you, wetting it before putting a line of toothpaste on it and, of course, wetting it again. he helped you brush your teeth, and even held your hair back so you could spit into the sink when he was finished.

he then pulled out your face wash and night cream, softly applying them to your skin, all before placing a quick peck to your lips. “beautiful, baby.”

once he was finished with that, he picked you up, carrying you back into the bedroom, slipping one of his old hoodies over you head that was extra cozy, having been fresh out of the dryer.

you cuddled up close to him, throwing you leg over his and wrapping your arm around his waist. his hand found it’s way to your head, giving you a scalp massage that had your eyes rolling to the back of you head. you didn’t realize how much you needed this relaxation until now.

jack continued to give you a head massage until you breathing stilled and he heard faint snores, the most adorable snores might he add, falling from your lips.

he smiled to himself in victory that he finally got you to rest.

he placed a gentle kiss to your forehead, whispering a faint, “good night, baby. i love you,” before falling asleep himself.

#jack harlow #jack harlow blurb #jack harlow fluff #jack harlow fic #jack harlow imagine #jack harlow x you #jack harlow x y/n #jack harlow x reader #meg writes : ♡₊˚𓂃⠀◟

[stickyspeckledlight]

lol have you ever thought about what your readers would be like if they were playable?

hmmm, i only really have one reader, which is onset reader who is, well. no hate but kinda a wimp u know. listen.

they were able to delay ONE mental breakdown (doing the gamble w/ aven) but at the same time, they could sort of consolidate with the fact that they thought they were gonna die, so then there would be an end to look forward to. but also note this: that scene is ENTIRELY from their perspective. I'll just say maybe a tear or two, a shake, or freeze went entirely unnoticed by them, y'know? (aventurine didn't interject too much with that because. well. he can't say he minds seeing them crumple, F).

And, realistically, they would much rather blow themselves up than kill someone. even post-onset after the cotton fields have been uprooted, they still aren't gonna just wanna kill someone. for the most part. if it involves aventurine, they will change their tune pretty quickly, but like, that's not unique to killing ppl lmao. they are indeed koo koo krazy but its a bit more layered than "I will become murderhobo for you anyways here's the head of that guy you talked to for 0.5 seconds." I'll stop there since I do intend on exploring their psyche in a fic eventually.

Anyway, as I've said: realistically, they would much prefer running away or blowing themselves up than directly confront an opponent. ofc, if really pushed, they will begin to fight back and lash out, but like....even before aventurine and stuff happened, I'll just say their mindset crippled them in a LOT of ways. as evident, their mind will always circle back to what's the most self destructive and ideally it'll be something they can do to "take them down with me." so yeah. blowing themselves up is perfect. kill themselves and kill their enemies, destroying themselves and leaving the rest of the world with the fallout.

BUT. that's not very fun. you came for gameplay. and I'm a meta slave. so let's get right to it. note that this is purely imaginary, and wouldn't really work in this fic's universe---BUT I DON'T CARE. WE ARE GONNA BE GIVING ONSET READER THE KIT THEY DESERVE. hell maybe I should do this with all my readers LMFAO.

(Long post because I’m figuring this out as I go, but if you wanna skip the jargon just skip to the bottom of the post lmao)

Firstly, let's start with some basic criteria/restraints:

Their ideal teammate should be Aventurine (for obvious reasons)

They should also be Aventurine's ideal teammate, or at the very least they boost his own performance in some way

In other words, Onset!Reader’s kit should enhance Aventurine’s kit, but also in some ways have their own kit be greatly (almost dependent wink wink) on having him in the team. Not impossible to play without him but…definitely struggling to muster any semblance of life without his presence….feeling empty and dead…heheh

Ok. Back to work.

With these restraints in mind, what should Onset!Reader’s role be? They can’t be a sustain, since Aventurine already does that; and having them be a full on support or harmony would mean I’d have to tune them to fit aventurine exactly, and as funny as that is, not very poggers game design IMO.

Well, I think that these two paths, which fit them well, are a good place to start:

1. Destruction

2. Nihility (explanation: they are generally slothful and like. They were definitely having really negative nihilistic thoughts especially during that “transition” period. Also, if it wasn’t obvious, there are the Self-Annihilators.)

However, I think after mulling it over, Destruction seems like the way to go, with some Nihility elements in their kit (sort of like how huohuo is an abundance, but also a pseudo-harmony with her ult regen energy and atk buff).

So, then, with that, they are a DPS! Or at least a subdps, because we also wanna boost Aventurine’s own kit, right? Probably with some debuffing in their kit, so a subdps pseudo support like topaz. What element they are doesn’t really matter, so let’s say they’re ice. We could use more ice damage dealers bc I don’t wanna use yanqing anymore.

This game hates Arlan, so it will be fitting to give Onset!Reader HP drain in their kit. Goes with the self destructive tendencies nicely, as well as making Aven’s shields really crucial to keeping them alive. Arlan L

But here’s what they specifically do to drain their HP: they hit their skill and do some damage, but in the process, they drain their HP and then deal a little damage to some of team. Not specifically an HP drain like Jingliu, just directly hits their team; that way it counts as adding stacks to Aven’s FUA tally. Maybe they don’t deal dmg to the entire time (at least at E0 kekw), and so like maybe they can only deal dmg to one other character and themselves…..I imagine that the skill would then work as self targeting then, and the best way to get more stacks of Aven’s shield is to put them right next to each other��for gameplay, ofc. Aven eating up those 3 free stacks he gets every turn from them.

But now, we gotta figure something else out: their talent, or FUA. How is it triggered?

I’m thinking of something like this: they skill, which launches their FUA, however, this FUA is “unenhanced.” Like how topaz’s skill is a numby FUA, their skill launches their own FUA (aoe). However, whenever someone else launches their FUA (like Aventurine), or if they’ve taken enough hits or hp loss, an “enhanced” FUA is unleashed, which does a just a little more dmg, but more importantly, applies a debuff to enemies, reducing their ice res as well as res to the element of other FUAs which hit them, albeit to a lesser extent (ex. Reader uses FUA and applies debuff, and then Aven launches his FUA which then reduce’s the enemy’s imaginary res; or Jing Yuan launches his FUA and enemy’s lightning res is reduced, and so on). Tho maybe we don’t really need to FUA requirement as a hardline here, since then they’d just be a discount Topaz? So maybe something like: reduce enemy RES occurs if they are hit with a FUA or an ULT.

Look this is kinda bonkers but to be fair. HSR is already pseudo power creeping so I’m only following the trends.

Alright, so we’ve got their skill & talent. We need their ult now. Honestly nothing too fancy, just a aoe or blast ult which also restores a little HP, and maybe some self buffing???

I think they’ll need to give themselves some spd or action forwards so they can launch their FUAs a bit more consistently. Let’s link this to their HP to increase the dependency on Aventurine keeping them alive

This also makes the synergy better even if you wanna use Gepard because remember: shields are based on turns taken. So even if you wanna use Gepard you’re gonna have to be careful with your timing, or use an abundance in exchange for less actions and then so less FUAs, decreasing their dmg. Bc their skill can grant Aven blind bet stacks, he can still sustain them while not sacrificing their own dmg.

Ok, so let’s put their kit into words (don’t make fun of my cringe ass names ok I’m really bad at names). I might also add some extra stuff here just because lmao.

DESTRUCTION, ICE

Basic: Razed Field: Scales with HP (literally the only way they don’t die w/o a shielder)

Skill: Salting Fields, Held So Dear: Targets self and ally, dealing minor ice dmg and drains Reader’s HP. The ice dmg dealt by the skill will count as ally’s being attacked. Grants 1 stack of Cracking Sunset.

Ult: Dawn’s Afterglow, Crimson Pooling Beneath: Increases Crit DMG by 20%. Deals AoE blast ice dmg and restore Reader’s HP by a certain percent. Grants 3 stacks of Cracking Sunset.

Talent: Bleeding Heart, Fermenting in the Sun: When Reader reaches 3 stacks of Cracking Sunset, launch a FUA , dealing AoE ice dmg. Enemies hit with FUA will be inflicted with Weeping Ink for 2 turns. Enemies w/ Weeping Ink will have their Ice RES reduced by 20%.

Traces:

A2: I Weep Tears of Joy: FUAs launched by allies grant 2 stacks of Cracking Sunset. Allies who trigger their ultimate will grant 1 stacks of Cracking Sunset.

A4: I Crave A Poison So Delectable: When HP is not full, increases SPD. Increases further if below 50%

A6: I Dance in a Meadow: When allies launch a FUA or Ult against an enemy inflicted with Weeping Ink, decreases the Elemental RES of the attacking ally’s Element by 60% of the Ice RES decrease granted by Weeping Ink.

Eidolons:

E1: Salted Cotton Stew: The Ultimate will grant the team a 25% def boost and 12% crit rate boost.

E2: Crumbled Chocolate Tower: Whenever HP decreases, action is advanced forward by 15%

E4: Champagne, Bubbling Holes Down the Throat: The skill targets the entire team. Each ally hit by the skill is grants a stack of Satiated. Each stack of Satiated grants a 8% FUA dmg boost, stacking up to 4 times.

E6: Casu Martzu: Weeping Ink additionally decreases all Elemental RES of enemies by an amount equal to the Ice RES decrease of Weeping Ink. The additional Ice RES decrease of Weeping Ink, as well as the Elemental RES decreases of trace “I Dance In A Meadow”, will stack on top of this Elemental RES decrease.

What are their animations? Uh, idk. They throw a bunch of shit. Maybe the cover the enemies in blankets so their movement is inhibited. And then throw more random shit they find laying around. Uh yeah. There. All of the destruction is caused by haphazardly thrown plushies and scrunchies and baseballs.

And since their kit is bonkers anyway let’s give them a light cone too because why the hell not. Yea yea they would be more like a 4 star but 5 stars are more fun to design Im afraid.

5* Destruction, The Sweetest Thing

Shattered Porcelain: Increases wearer’s crit rate by 16% (28%). Grants a stack of “Moonlight’s Shadow” when wearer deals dmg to allies and self, boosting dmg dealt by 15% (35%), up to 2 stacks for each ally hit. When wearer uses ult, grants 15% (27%) DEF ignore.

“Are you having doubts?” A gloved hand stacks a chip.

“No...” They pursue their lips, regarding the challenger hobbling out, a young man, with an empathetic gaze. But pity and sympathy are nowhere to be found, even if cotton did not flower. “If anything, you should wrap up. It’s late. Here. Let me help you with your coat.”

“That’s it? You know you can tell me anything.” They imagine his fingers coiling around their heart like a boa constrictor.

They coax him off the couch, and help him with his jacket just as they said. “You’ve sent the house running. Staying here’s pointless now.” They pause. “And best to turn in for the day, don’t you think?”

The man smiles. “Aren’t you just the sweetest thing?” A small piece of chocolate slides into their mouth: sugary sweet, sorrowfully bitter, and resigningly sour.

lol but they’d be really good with Jade lmao. They could be good with Blade too. But if you wanna see bonkers number and an insane amount of attacks them + Aventurine is the way to go. Honestly something like Reader, Aven, Jade, Robin/RM/Topaz could be pretty dang good.

LMFAO in the ipc dream team they can just replace ratio if there’s a ton of ice weakness. Like. No. That’s not your boyfriend. I AM and just kicks ratio outta there. But he will be much better in single target than them lmao.

Wait pela would be pretty good too lol. The discount harmony you use with them rofl

This was pretty fun! Had a blast working on this throughout the. Uhhh. Idk. Week? I forgot the pandemic has made my sense of time foggy.

#speckled blabbers #speckled plays hsr #speckled answers #speckled tries game design #this was pretty fun! you know what I’m actually considering doing this for future readers lmfao

[pocketsizedquasar]

HI please shout about your ahab and fedallah ideas im so curious, what you did say sounds sooo cool and good. theyre... i have my own normal feelings about them general, but its more of a narrative relationship thing than like- them actually interacting?? idk. im fascinated your work has a grasp on my psyche for real

HI YES OK I LOVE THEM SM ok ok so

all of this was kinda just born from me thinking abt what i can do w/ fedallah to fix how shitty & racist he’s treated by the og narrative and just sorta. asking questions abt him and taking those answers to their logical conclusions , and filling in the gaps w my own personal thoughts where needed

ie: why is fedallah on this ship? why would be put his life at risk for this? not just the general deadly risk of whaling, but also the legal/social implications of the fact that he’s a stowaway and the shipowners definitely do not approve of him being on board? he (and the other four of ahab’s oarsmen) certainly is not getting paid by the shipowners for this; did ahab offer them portions of the captain’s pay instead? we know ahab wanted a boat’s crew of his own, but why did he ask for fedallah, specifically? why does he trust fedallah so much — both to be his harpooner, and with his prophecies&foresight? why are they so devoted to each other, such that fedallah is constantly referred to as ahab’s shadow?

the answer to a lot of these came very naturally like: okay, they must’ve been friends. they must’ve been close. they must’ve known each other for some time, and in such a way that ahab would trust fedallah this much, and fedallah would be so willing to massively inconvenience & risk himself for him.

^thats what i can get from the text (wringing it out though i must, since melville refuses to tell us this himself, but it’s what we can infer based on what we know)

the rest of this is my (head)canon territory (aka canon to the comic) and me filling in the blanks:

- ahab saved fedallah’s life, once. i think that’s how they met. in ch 19 “the prophet” elijah tells us ahab was once in a “deadly scrimmage with [a] spaniard;” i’m stealing that to say that that fight was an encounter where aforementioned spaniard was targeting fedallah, and ahab as passerby got a bit caught up in it but, seeing a fellow brown dude tm in trouble, stepped in & saved him.

(also: consider—sexy sword fight ahab. that is all. i know the text just calls it a “scrimmage” without specifics but like. sword fight. swords. ahab w a sword. that’s all)

anyway. they’re in spain maybe? the text says “deadly scrimmage with a spaniard before the altar in Santa,” which i can only assume is referring to holy week in spain / santa semana? and, since we also know this fight was “deadly” and ahab is, ahem, not dead, by this point, obviously the other guy must’ve died, so ahab&fedallah probably skedaddle very quickly. back to ahab’s ship, probably, which was likely just temporarily making port in spain for whatever reason.

- from then, fedallah very much clings to ahab — you saved my life; i owe you a debt; if ever you need anything of me etc etc, you know how it goes. ahab brushes off the offers and claims of a favor in return; you don’t need to do anything for me, i don’t begrudge you this, i don’t feel you owe me anything. it’s fine mdude.

- anyway. they’re besties!! they enjoy each other’s company! fedallah is a frequent (though not necessarily permanent) member of ahab’s ship rosters. they bond over being SWANA in the good ol’ us of a. fedallah teaches ahab how to make chai properly — he never got to learn; his mother died far too early in his life (book canon). they probably fucked once (1) on a drunken night and then mutually decide never to do that again /lh.

fedallah’s also disabled — he wears a knee brace on his right leg, perhaps an aftermath of that fight w the spaniard, perhaps from something before — when ahab gets disableified by The Dickening TM fedallah’s council on how to manage pain and other things like that is extremely helpful.

and ahab never takes fedallah up on that favor. he doesn’t think he needs to; he has no desire to. fedallah is his friend. he doesn’t view their relationship that way; he genuinely doesn’t feel like fedallah owes him anything, for saving him or for anything else.

- & then moby dick happens.

- moby dick happens and ahab loses his leg and spends weeks on his own ship tied and restrained to his own bed because his own crew decided that him — in his newly disabled, unable to walk, but in Pain and “Insane” state — is too much of a threat to be allowed to exist freely. and he spends weeks straitjacketed to his own bed.

and then he gets back to shore and his own prosthetic snaps underneath him and stabs him in the abdomen and nearly kills him and it’s taking him weeks to recover, and those shipowners are talking about sending him out again anyways, even though he’s still in the middle of recovering from That, and if we’re being honest still hasn’t properly recovered or healed from losing his leg in the first place — did you know that the first few months after an amputation are the most important when it comes to long term healing of the scar tissue? and we know he wasn’t able to take care of himself in those critical weeks, lashed to his bed, muscles atrophying and whole body growing sore as it’s forced to stay in one position for god knows how long on end, and oh he’s going to be in pain for the rest of his life because of this, isn’t he.

so they’re putting him back on the pequod while he’s still in recovery. the last time he was on that ship while recovering from a major wound, his officers tied him up like an animal. he doesn’t know if he can trust these new officers, though they weren’t on that voyage. he doesn’t know if he can even trust his own body, his own prosthetic leg, to not fail him, to not break on him and incapacitate him again.

so he needs an ally on this ship. he needs someone he can trust.

so he asks for fedallah. finally calls in that favor, even though he’d never planned to.

- anyway, in terms of how i’d describe their relationship, it’s basically what i said in the tags of that post fjskdjsj they’re not friends they’re not lovers they’re not family but also they’re all of the above and also more; there aren’t words for them to talk about what they are to each other; they trust each other and are devoted to one another and imo losing fedallah on the second day of the chase is the final nail in the coffin of the tragedy that just keeps building.

like, when fedallah tells ahab in chapter 116 that fedallah will die first, and ahab will follow, ahab doesn’t take that as a thing to be worried about: he takes it as another pledge that he will survive this voyage.

and when it actually happens, well. look how ahab responds:

even with melville’s inability to treat fedallah like an actual person, ahab is more panicked than we ever see him when he realizes fedallah is gone. and yeah, you could argue that he’s just panicked that he’s going to die because fedallah died first, but if you listen carefully to a lot of what ahab says throughout the book, he’s not actually that afraid of himself dying. that might still be cause for panic here, sure, but i also very much choose to read this as shocked grief — gone? not gone! not gone! — his friend is fucken dead!!!

- (also worth nothing that immediately between those two passages^ is starbuck begging ahab to turn around once again, saying how many awful things have happened already, and one of the things he says is “thy evil shadow gone” — and immediately after starbuck’s speech, we get ye infamous “of late I’ve felt strangely moved to thee; ever since that hour we both saw—thou know’st what, in one another’s eyes” from ahab immediately followed by him ultimately rejecting starbuck and life and the possibility to turn around and etc etc — and with this context? w the context of having Just lost fedallah only to have yet another person calling him ahab’s “”evil”” shadow in a long litany of people who have spent the entire book hounding fedallah as evil and the devil? i don’t know, it’s hard not to read these lines from ahab as almost spiteful. i once saw something in your eyes. i can’t see anything anymore but this. this was always going to be the outcome — ‘twas rehearsed by thee and me a billion years before this ocean rolled.’)

- ow.

- fedallah makes me ache. we know so little about him and he does nothing tangibly wrong but he spends the entire book being derided by both the narrative and the other characters as some evil hellish monster. and for what. look at him. he’s just a silly little guy. he was ahab’s friend. he had to have been.

- it’s important to me that you know that fedallah is much, much shorter than ahab. he’s a short king

plus bonus fedallah’s full design because i love him:

#fedallah #ahab #captain ahab #fedallahab #mobydick #moby dick #whale weekly #whale weekly spoilers #quasartalks #ask #holocephal1 #long post #melville #herman melville #of hfhdhdhdhd oh. oh. i love and care them so much #this is so fucking long so whoops lmao thank u for bearing w my yelling but. ough. ogh. ogh. ogh. #-> me taking psychic damage every time i think about fedallah and how he did literally LITERALLY nothing wrong and yet was demonized from- #-all sides by the entire narrative and characters constantly #the forgotten phantom of the pequod #also my best friend #i def (always) habe more thoughts abt them but. this is already long as fuck lol