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hgfictionwriter · 26 days

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Mending

Jessie Fleming x Reader

Summary: Despite how great a girlfriend Jessie is, old hurt bleeds into your relationship with her and threatens to dismantle it.

Warnings: Mentions of emotional manipulation and abuse.

A/N: Bit of angst and hurt as reader recalls past experiences, but very much a comfort and reassurance fic. Happy ending. Based on this request.

"Hey, change of plans, instead of going out for dinner after the game on Saturday, Becky's invited us all to go to her house instead."

A heavy pit immediately formed in your stomach as you read Jessie's message. You totally forgot about dinner with her and the team on Saturday. Suddenly, the memory of you agreeing to come to dinner to celebrate Becky's milestone caps was vivid in your mind, unfortunately too late though.

You chewed the inside of your lip as you stared at her message and fret about what to do.

"Jessie, I'm so, so sorry. I completely forgot. I have [y/best friend]'s birthday that night. I didn't realize when I agreed that there was a conflict. We have reservations and tickets to an event that night. I'm really sorry - I don't think I can go to your game or to Becky's after. I wish I could though."

"I can't believe I didn't notice sooner. I promise I will make it up to you. I know you have plans the next day already, but maybe we could grab breakfast together?"

"All good. I have errands to run in the morning, so can't do breakfast."

You stared at Jessie's message. It wasn't warm like her usual texts. And she didn't offer an alternative or continue the conversation. Your chest tightened.

"That's okay! I wanted to offer. I'm really sorry, Jessie. I promise I'll pay closer attention next time. Maybe I could meet you after my event is over?"

"Or maybe I can skip part of something and join you for a bit that evening?"

A couple of hours passed - no response.

You stared at the messages with Jessie and fidgeted anxiously. You were supposed to be focused on a project right now, but you hadn't typed more than 50 words since Jessie texted.

You checked your phone incessantly. Your mind knew no new texts had come through, yet you checked with blind faith and hope that you'd see a message from her.

Logically, you knew she was probably just busy. She was at training, after all. But she'd made time to text you earlier. And she'd texted at various points of training before.

Your stomach churned, a heavy, deep pit inside of you, as you wondered if Jessie was mad at you for cancelling. And did she actually have errands that morning – or was she just upset with you.

The anxiety and unrest building inside of you was a feeling that was all too familiar and it hit you hard because of it.

You tried to remind yourself that Jessie wasn't your ex. Nor was she like your ex. She wasn't someone who would manipulate you, punish you with mind games and emotional warfare, and dangle her affection above your head as a reward you may receive if you were perfect enough.

At least Jessie wasn't like that so far. It had only been a couple of months. And you've seen people take great care and patience in slowly reveal who they are – and not for the better.

You sighed and felt a lump form in your throat. You hated being stuck in this state. You finally worked up the courage to leave your ex – and she didn't make it easy – but you wanted a better life.

You didn't want to walk on eggshells anymore. You didn't want to analyze every little action and word. You didn't want to try to anticipate your partner – doing your best to ward off her bad moods and brace yourself for when you weren't successful.

So, could you cancel on [y/best friend]? Well, anything's possible. But, you didn't want to. You gave up so much of yourself and your life on account of your ex and you swore you wouldn't do it again. Not even for someone as incredible as Jessie.

Yet, here you were making unprompted, borderline-desperate accommodations. The way you fell into old, bad habits left you dejected and ashamed. It felt like no matter how hard you tried to break cycles or damaging mindsets, simple things pulled you right back.

Several hours passed and you felt like you were going to be sick. Your mind was noisy with self-reprimanding thoughts and endless theories.

On your way home, you were looking at your messages with Jessie again when the typing bubble came up. Your body stilled and your breath hitched in your chest. You mouth was dry as you waited.

"You don't have to do any of that, Y/N. Seriously. Go to your friend's party!"

What did that really mean? Maybe it should've made you feel better, but instead you felt your worry grow.

You chewed your lip and typed out a reply.

"I can do both! I want to make it work. I'm sorry – that's what I should've said from the beginning."

"What? No. You don't need to. Go to [y/best friend]'s party."

"But I want to support you. And I don't want you to think I'm not prioritizing you."

"I'm sorry. I'm not sure what's happening. I think I've said something that's come across wrong. I'm not upset or bothered at all. I know you support me and prioritize me. And to be clear, you shouldn't prioritize me above yourself or everyone else."

You read Jessie's message. While you were dissecting everything she said, this message made you slow down and take a step back. It felt genuine – as far as you could tell. Maybe it was real.

"Okay. I'm sorry. I guess I was just reading into things and getting in my head. I'm sorry."

"Baby. Are you okay? What's going on?"

Without warning, you felt tears begin to prick at the corner of your eyes. You really wanted this relationship to be different. For you to be different, and you were ruining things anyway.

You were lost in your thoughts when your phone began to vibrate in your hand. You stopped in your tracks as your eyes shot down to see Jessie's name and picture. Your pulse quickened, but in a way you weren't used to with Jessie. Normally, it was excitement and anticipation, but in this moment you felt trepidation. You started walking again and reluctantly picked up.

"Hello?"

"Hey." Jessie's voice was warm and despite your concerns, immediately comforting. "I was going to wait for your text, but I thought maybe phone would be better. Things can get misconstrued easily with text. So...what's going on? Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm great." It pained you to muster up the false levity in your voice. "I'm sorry to worry you."

"You know, I'm the Canadian here, and yet you are doing an awful lot of apologizing. And you really don't need to," she offered with a soft laugh.

"I'm-" You stopped yourself with a near flinch before the word 'sorry' came out again. You took a quick breath and spoke evenly. "I'm okay. Really. Like I said, I was just getting in my head. It's all good though. Thanks for clarifying."

"Okay," Jessie said slowly, clearly not fully convinced. "I mean, can you tell me what I said that caused that? It definitely wasn't my intention."

You couldn't prevent your frustrated sigh from escaping you. You quickly spoke up to prevent Jessie from thinking it was about her.

"Honestly Jessie, it's okay. It's not on you. I just wanted to make sure I didn't upset you."

"Why would I be upset? I-" Jessie's tone was curious and not accusatory, but you cut her off.

"I wasn't paying close enough attention and I had to cancel on you. And I know your team was expecting me to be there too, so now you have to make an excuse for me." You swallowed and took a short breath, unsure if you wanted to go on or not. "And, I don't know. You seemed kind of curt? Or not that warm when you first responded? And then I didn't hear from you for a while..." Your voice wavered and trailed off as you heard your own words, a sense of anger rising inside of you at how pathetic you sounded.

"Baby," Jessie said affectionately, though you heard a faint laugh coming through the phone, "I'm really sorry. I was rushing to text you before we went out on the pitch, so that's why my texts were a bit more curt or blunt than usual, but I wanted to reply to you before I'd be gone for a while. I guess I didn't think about how that might be worse."

You listened to her reply, still feeling small, and failed to come up with a response before she spoke again.

"Are you free tonight?" She asked. "And by 'tonight' I mean in like an hour."

You stammered briefly, skepticism and confusion clouding your response before finding your voice. "Yeah." You let a beat pass. "Any reason why?" You asked tentatively.

Jessie laughed gently. "Because I'd like to come over and bring you dinner if you're up for it."

Your jaw clenched subconsciously. This didn't feel right. But still, you nodded. "Sure. That'd be nice." You couldn't stop yourself before you continued. "But you really don't need to. I've already caused issues today. Like, you don't need to change your plans or go out of your way. I'm totally fine."

"Sushi or Vietnamese?" She asked you undeterred.

"I-I don't know. Up to you."

"I would like your opinion," she continued lightly. It took you a couple of seconds to reply.

"Sushi."

"Done. I'll be at your place in about an hour, okay?"

"Jessie..." You weren't even sure what you were protesting anymore. It just all felt unfamiliar.

"I'll see you soon, babe."

True to her word, Jessie showed up at your apartment an hour later, sushi in hand.

"Hi," she said with a warm smile as she stepped in, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you in for a kiss. Even though your reciprocation was delayed and mild, she pulled back and still smiled at you sweetly.

"Thank you for having me over. I got you an extra order of those dragon rolls you like," she announced as she walked further in and set the bag down on your kitchen counter. She started retrieving plates from your cupboards. You stood passively behind, watching her move through your apartment leisurely.

"What can I grab you to drink?" She asked over her shoulder as she carried everything over to your table.

"I'm fine. I have some water," you told her, feeling like your voice was disappointingly meek. You refocused a moment later and straightened, taking a step towards your fridge. "What can I get you?"

"I've got it," she assured you lightly, holding up her hands, gesturing for you to relax. "I'll grab water. Take a seat. Dig in."

You slowly made your way over to the table. Your eyes remained fixed on her as you sat down. By the time she took her seat, you hadn't even retrieved your chopsticks off the table. She held your gaze and took a sip of her drink. She set the glass down and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

"I was going to dig into things after dinner, but I get the sense it's heavy on your mind, so, if you're okay with it maybe we can just talk right now." It was more of a statement than a question, but she did leave the door open for you to object. When you didn't, she stood up slightly and shuffled over with her chair to sit right in front of you, your knees nearly touching.

"Is this okay?" She asked as she took your hands in hers. You gave a few faint nods and she offered you a small smile. "Okay. I guess I can start by clarifying – I didn't mean to sound curt or cold at all. I was in a rush and didn't think about how my words could come across via text. I'm glad you told me though, because now I know if there's something bigger going on I can approach things differently.

"If I don't have time to fully respond, would it be okay if I just tell you that I'm short on time but will answer you more later? And as part of that, tell you things are okay – I just want more time to give a full reply?"

Your posture straightened and you blinked as you processed her words. It just felt so strange.

"Y-yeah. That'd be totally fine." You shrugged before shutting your eyes and rethinking things. "But, that's silly. You don’t need to do that. I just should know and be able to not spiral." While you felt nervous and uncertain a few seconds ago, you now felt a wave of internal disappointment going through you. She brought you back to the moment by stroking the back of your hand with her thumb.

"I can communicate more clearly and intentionally," she assured you gently. "And you don't have to 'just know' - you're not a mind reader." She paused, holding your gaze before visibly exhaling. "But that does make me wonder. Why do you feel like you have to be a mind reader?"

You could almost feel yourself shrink under the weight of her question. You averted your gaze and could feel your hands starting to get clammy.

"Hey," she said softly, urging you to look back at her as she lifted her hand and gently cupped your cheek. "It's okay. I don't want to push you, but, I feel like there's something more going on here, and...I care for you so much. I want to better understand. Better understand you, where you're coming from, and how I can be a better partner to you."

You don't know what happened. All of a sudden you felt your face screw up as tears started to form in your eyes.

"I'm sorry," you said, your voice coming out strained. She shuffled in closer and cupped your face anew.

"Hey, hey. Don't apologize. It's okay to cry. Take your time. I'm here." She caressed your hand and though you couldn't hold her gaze for long, you felt her caring eyes upon you. "You can talk whenever you like – if you like."

A few stifled sobs snuck out of you and you rolled your eyes at your lack of composure. She waited patiently and laid a lingering kiss on your forehead. You took a few deep, steady breaths and began to speak.

"I-I don’t know where that came from," you explained, forcing a mild laugh. She didn't return your laugh and you grew serious once more. "I," you spoke and your words faded. You took another quick breath and set your shoulders back. "I'm just not used to being treated like that. Like you did just now. And," your gaze flicked away out of guilt, "I don't know what to do with it. And I have a very hard time trusting it."

Jessie pulled her hand away from your face to take your other hand again. "Okay. Um. Well, first off, I'm really sorry that you're not used to being treated that way. You deserve to be treated with respect and care." She exhaled quietly. "Can I ask how you're used to being treated?" She rushed to explain. "It's not really my business – and I don't want to open old wounds, but if I knew, it would help me ensure I don’t inadvertently make you feel that way again."

You sighed wearily, blinking back new tears. "Well, I guess they're clearly not old wounds since they flared up again so easily." You pulled your hands back and brought them up to your temples. "I'm so sorry. This is such garbage that you're having to deal with this. I thought I was better."

"Baby," she coaxed gently, placing her hands on your legs and leaning in slightly, hoping to catch your eye. "Please do not apologize. Your feelings are totally valid. And we all have our pasts, and we each have unique hurt and pain from our experiences. And some things are not easy to heal, and I think it's fair to say that in some cases, some things never do fully heal. But, I'm here to help you navigate anything you may be going through as best as possible. I'm here to care for you, not hinder you."

You dug your fingers into your face briefly before dropping them to your lap with a breath that was half sigh, half laugh. You looked at Jessie, taking in her soft brown eyes that searched yours with compassion and sincerity. How did she choose you?

"Oh my gosh." You sniffled. "No one's ever said anything like that to me. Certainly not my ex."

Quiet realization dawned on Jessie's face before she settled back in, remaining focused on you. She waited wordlessly for you to go on. You scratched the back of your head briefly, eyes trained on the floor before you forced yourself to look up at her.

"Remember how I said things with my ex were rocky at times? Well. That was putting it lightly, really." You took a breath. "She could be so affectionate and loving one moment – like I was the center of her universe, and then cold and cutting the next, like I was some burden she had the unfortunate task of dealing with. And she never meant what she actually said – I always had to read between the lines. She'd tell me things are fine, but," you laughed ruefully, "they were not. She'd be withholding, and curt, making passive aggressive remarks. But anytime I tried to address things or call her out, she would insist that it was just me and everything was fine.

"That is, until we'd inevitably have a blow out of some kind, and she'd make it very clear that it was always my fault. That I was being difficult and if she was being cold or mean, it was to protect herself and it was my fault for making her feel or act that way. "

Jessie let out a brief laugh of disbelief, looking at you in mild shock. "Are you serious? That's-" She caught herself mid-sentence, exhaling momentarily before continuing. "That's unacceptable. So she gaslit you and made you feel crazy."

"All the time."

Jessie sat back briefly, slapping a hand on her thigh as she shook her head. "Wow. That's so horrible." She leaned back in and grabbed your hands. "I'm so, so sorry you had to go through that. None of that sounds fair or right. That would've been so hard to navigate." You wiped at a stray tear and let out a short, bitter laugh.

"It wasn't fun. And as you can see, it's royally messed me up." Your lip trembled. "And now you're dealing with the fallout. It's not fair to you."

"Y/N." She said your name tenderly and gave you a reassuring smile. "There is no 'dealing' here – I...I really care for you. And I want you to know that you're safe. I want you to be open and honest with me anytime something bothers you or hurts you. I want to build you up and make sure you see yourself the way I see you."

"See?" You asked, giving her a look. "I’m having a hard time reconciling these two experiences. Realities."

Jessie sighed softly and nodded. "I can understand that. I can only imagine how hard it would be to be with someone who is supposed to care for you and have your best interests in mind, but they're unpredictable or inconsistent in their feelings and actions. It would be hard to adjust after being in a relationship where your partner shows up differently depending on the day. Or uses their affection as a weapon or a bartering tool." She sighed again and lifted your hand to kiss your knuckles before clasping your hand between hers. "I'm so sorry, babe. You didn't deserve any of that."

You shook out your shoulders in an exaggerated shrug. "Except I thought I did for so long. And – I don’t know – I'm scared, I guess. She treated me so well at the beginning. And then over time things changed. Sometimes it's hard to believe that I didn't cause it in some way."

Jessie gave you a frown of concern. "You didn't. I promise you that. Everyone is accountable for their own actions – you shouldn't take responsibility or blame for her behaviour. We can all get frustrated or upset with other people – it's inevitable, but that doesn't give someone the right to mistreat anyone else." She frowned further, her tone now lowering slightly. "And she's an adult – she should be able to express her wants or needs without playing mind games with you."

You looked at Jessie, your eyes glistening with tears. You shook your head.

"Why are you being so good to me?" You looked away, frowning as your own frustration bubbled up once more. "I'm not even mad about it these days. Because I can't change the past, and I learned a lot about myself, what I want, and what I won't put up with anymore. But the worst part is that despite how much work I've done and how far I've come – you're sitting here, being incredible, saying and doing everything I ever dreamed of and all I can think is how long is it going to last until you change." You went on adamantly. "I know you're not her. At all. But, I've been burned before by someone who claimed to care. And apparently I can't seem to get over it."

Rightfully or not, you expected Jessie to get frustrated with you or even insulted by what you said. Instead, she studied you quietly and eventually her expression softened even further and she gave you a faint smile.

"You're right. I'm not her. And I hope I never meet her, because it breaks my heart to know that she hurt you so deeply. I really hope you know, or will know, that someone who loves you doesn't treat you the way she did."

She took a small breath, readjusting her position in her chair and grabbing both of your hands again. She stared down at them and started to speak.

"There's been something that I've wanted to tell you, but I haven't known when the right time would be."

She looked to you with a soft smile.

"I know someone who loves you doesn't treat you the way she did – I know that for sure - because I love you." She let the declaration hang in the air for a moment before continuing. "I love you. I have for a while now. Each day I wake up missing you if you're not next to me, and when I think of you I think of all the ways I want to love you – show you I love you. I want to make your life even better than it is today and do that for the rest of my life.

"Today, even with just the thought that I'd hurt you or upset you, I wanted to see what was wrong, what I did and how I could fix it so we can move forward together. I wanted to know how I could make you feel better. And then learning that you maybe didn't feel safe – I 100% wanted to reassure you that you should always feel safe and comfortable to feel your emotions and express yourself. I would never want you to have to edit yourself or hide.

"And I don't expect you to just 'get over' things. You are free to feel the way you feel, even if it means you can't fully trust that I'm being honest when I say these things. I hope you don't have to question these things forever, but I need you to know that I will always reassure you. And maybe even more importantly, that my actions will reflect my words."

She gave a light shrug and continued, her voice now playful. "And if you didn't notice, I'm a very patient and tenacious person, and it just so happens I'm very set on loving you for as long as you'll let me."

By the time Jessie finished speaking your lip was fully trembling and the tears were you fighting back were rolling down your cheeks. She was watching you calmly, waiting, and you covered your face with your hands. Your shoulders shook with a couple of soft sobs as you absorbed everything she just said.

She rest her hands lightly on your legs and idly caressed your knee with her thumb while she waited.

"Please don't hide," she coaxed gently. "Take your time, but you don't need to hide." A few moments passed and she added with a chuckle. "And I'm hoping those are good tears."

You laughed through your tears and lowered your hands to give her a watery smile.

"Of course they are," you told her, your voice thick with emotion. She cracked a smirk, sitting there so relaxed. You smiled further. Even if it didn't seem like it in the moment, being around Jessie always had a way of calming you and making you feel grounded. You launched forward and pulled her into a tight hug, which she readily returned with a soft laugh. She turned her head towards you to kiss the side of your head.

"I love you, too," you whispered as you gave her a squeeze and she clutched you tighter. She pulled back enough to look at you and this time she had tears in her eyes as well.

"You mean it?" She asked with a crooked and hopeful grin. You gave her a little disbelieving frown as you laughed.

"Of course I do. Jessie, how could I not love you? You're everything I could ever want," you assured her. She leaned in and gave you a soft kiss.

"I just want you to know that even though I said it, it doesn't mean you need to. If you aren't quite there yet, that's completely okay. I'm not leaving until you tell me to."

You rolled your eyes in ongoing disbelief and gave a light shake of your head. "You can't be real." She scrunched up her face at you playfully and you leaned in, holding her face in your hands as you kissed her slow. "And for the record, I am very much in love with you."

When you pulled out of the kiss, Jessie was beaming.

"Then I'm a very lucky woman," she said decisively.

#jessie fleming #jessie fleming x reader #woso x reader #woso #canwnt #jflem #woso imagine #canwnt x reader #portland thorns

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gaylordscooter · 2 months

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I'll Catch You When You Hit Rock Bottom

[warning for self-destructive behavior including drug abuse and self harm]

“i should carve your skull out with my teeth.”

Was what he assumed he'd say when he invited Dust to smoke in his room with him, but he's gotten worse at predicting what people would say.

Yeah, even if Dust did talk he wouldn't say something like that.

That's something Killer would say when flirting. He was totally projecting. Or imagining what he wished he’d say.

Dust’s response was to leave his room.

Killer smirked as they walked over to his room.

It became a habit for them. Killer would manage to snag some weed, mainly from Underswap or occasionally, Underfell, whenever they went out. And then when midnight hit, Dust would come over. It was harmless fun and it let them forget about everything for a moment.

Sometimes Killer would talk to him, either about pointless observations he made about the multiverse or stories of his old life back in his universe. Sometimes they were both silent, because Killer decided to press his mouth against his instead of running it.

Much to his dismay, he didn't mind it, but he blamed that on the drugs.

Killer didn't even like him for him. He was just desperate for any semblance of affection. He was just a hand that held him, a mouth for him to kiss.

How desperate do you have to be to kiss yourself?

Apparently as desperate as he was, because he’d still go over to his room each time.

Killer appeared to forget most of what happened during these moments, but Dust remembered everything.

Killer pulled away from Dust’s teeth. “y’know, this has become a common occurrence for us, huh? like it's a ritual.” He smirked with a scandalous look on his face. “if this keeps happening we might end up banging, heh.”

Something in him snapped. His patience has been waning in recent years and it is certainly showing now. He pushed Killer to the floor, threw his hands around his neck and squeezed.

Killer choked out nonsense. He didn't know if he was protesting or, dare he say it, enjoying it. Taking into account that he wasn't struggling at all…

Dust let go and got off of him, as if he lost interest.

Killer laughed as he tried to catch his breath, already missing the warmth of his fingers around his neck. “wh-why’d you stop?” He reached up weakly to grab at his sleeve. “heh…you're—you’re not leavin’ are you?”

Dust looked down at him. His concern wasn't visible.

Killer looked utterly pathetic. Broken, even. There were more black streaks under his sockets than normal, it looked like he cried with mascara on.

It was a mistake to do this. He should've noticed Killer was acting off recently. He’s been in his room as often as possible these past few weeks, not even coming out for food. Horror had to bring something for him to eat to his doorstep. Well, he didn't have to, but he insisted. He wasn't even sure if he was still down for their irregularly scheduled smoking session, but it turned out to be the only time he responded to anyone knocking at his door.

The drugs made it worse big time.

He should’ve stopped him the moment he saw a glass pipe instead of a blunt.

Killer didn't even notice that he didn't smoke when he handed him the pipe. There was a faint chemical smell coming from it, confirming his suspicions. This wasn't weed this time.

And now they were here.

Killer’s smile widened as he tugged his sleeve. “don’t leave.”

He was begging him. It wasn't even as a joke. He was genuinely begging him to stay.

And he decided to stay; there weren't any drugs to blame for that decision.

Even though he didn't make a move for the door, Killer frowned.

“i mean—you don't have to stay if you don't want to. i know you don't,” his words came out frantically. More of that black tar leaked from his empty sockets. Some of it ran all the way down his face and stained his own clothes. His usually target-shaped soul was erratically changing shape and it wasn't into any proper soul shape. “dammit,” he swore, noticing his fluctuating soul. He forcefully grabbed and examined it.

Suddenly it was as if Dust wasn't in the room at all.

Killer’s full attention was on his own soul, and it wasn't good attention. His hand around it tensed. It was shaking as he gripped it tighter.

Dust lunged forward, grabbing the hand holding his soul by the wrist and yanking it away from it. He shoved him into the wall, pinning that hand with a sharp-ended bone and taking his soul away from him.

Killer hissed at the bone impaling his hand and stared at Dust in the sockets. He laughed, “as hot as this is, give me back my soul.” He reached out for his soul with his free hand, but Dust held it out of reach. “dust. c’mon,” his tone hardened.

Dust stared down at him in pity.

Killer continued to reach for his soul. Dust moved his free hand to grab his wrist and hold it away.

“what’s wrong?” he asked blankly, “can't trust me with my OWN soul?” He was on the verge of breaking down. He hated this. He hated how gently Dust held his soul. He hated that he could see his concern. He hated how powerless he was in this situation.

He laughed, because if he didn't he’d be crying instead. “i hate you,” he spat, “i hate you, SANS!”

He braced for an attack, or the destruction of his soul. Neither came.

The hold was as gentle as ever.

Dust held Killer’s hand close and leaned his head onto his chest.

“stop,” Dust said.

Killer’s breathing was shaky.

Dust didn't even have to look up to know he was crying now.

“damn it all!” he swore, voice breaking. “just give me back my soul and get out.”

Dust didn't budge.

“i hate you so much. you know that, right? i'm not thinking about you when we kiss,” Killer hissed.

Dust moved his head off his chest to make eye contact. His expression was unchanging.

He already knew that.

“don't look at me!”

Dust heard a blaster summon behind him. It was charging up, but he ignored his instincts to move.

He continued to stare.

Killer seemed to take that as a challenge as he gritted his teeth.

Dust realized he wasn't going to back down. He dispelled the bone pinning Killer’s hand and dragged him down with him to avoid the blast.

Killer ended up laying on top of Dust as the blast punched a hole in the wall. Not missing a beat, he reached for Dust’s hand that held his soul.

“give. it. back.”

“then handle it properly,” Dust retorted.

“why do you care how i handle my soul?” he snapped. He whipped his knife out and pressed it to his neck. His ringed eye lights appeared to meet his.

“i think of you,” Dust replied.

Killer narrowed his eyes in confusion until it hit him. His face twisted in shock and he shoved himself off of Dust. “that's not—that's not fair you can't just lie to me like that!”

He brought a hand up to grip his skull. He twirled the knife in his other hand. “so, you're a freak who enjoys kissing himself, huh? wow, you're fucked up,” he said hypocritically.

“i’m not the one high on meth.”

Killer guffawed and then he registered what he said. “wait,” his hands fell to his sides, “you’re sober?!”

Dust nodded.

Killer looked horrified. He dropped the knife, covering his mouth with his hand like he was wiping it. “we kissed.”

Dust nodded.

“and you didn't stop me.”

Dust nodded.

“and you…think of me.” He sounded exasperated. “wh-what, what does that mean? no. no, you're fucking with me—or i-i’m hearing you wrong.” He backed up until he hit the wall. He slid down until he was seated on the floor.

There was a beat of silence.

Dust sat up, noticing the soul in his hand was stable now.

“i’m never smoking meth again.”

Dust chuckled at that. He let go of the soul, letting it float back to its owner.

Killer didn't make a move to grab it again when it got near, but he stared at it with the absence of a grin. “how do you put up with my bullshit?” he sighed.

Dust shrugged but then paused. He brought up a hand to his chin and signed “care”.

Killer cocked his head. “you saying something or scratching your chin?”

Dust sighed. He spelled it out for him instead. At the very least, Killer knew the alphabet.

“really? how corny of you.”

Dust looked at him with half-lidded sockets.

“wow, there i go again,” he chuckled dryly. “you kissed this mess willingly?” he gestured to himself.

Dust didn't reply.

“met your word cap for today, huh? i’m surprised. i managed to get like what? three full sentences out of you.” And all he had to do was be a mess.

He got lost in his thoughts for a moment. He decided to ask a question that was unspokenly off limits.

“why don’t you like speaking anyway?”

A few seconds of silence passed.

“reminds me of who i am,” he finally answered. “...was,” he corrected.

“oh.” So it was the sound of his own voice that bothered him. “good thing we sound so different.”

Dust hummed in acknowledgment.

Maybe there was a time Killer and Dust sounded the same. His voice now was higher pitched than the other three’s, and scratchy.

Dust and Horror sounded more alike, however Horror’s was far more gruff. On the rare occasion Dust would speak, it’d be soft and hardly louder than a whisper, just loud enough to be understood. It greatly contrasted his and Horror’s grating voice.

“if it’s worth anything, i like how you sound,” he said.

He could see a genuine smile under that hood.

“aw, geez, now i’m getting corny!” he groaned.

Dust laughed at his dismay. This time Killer felt that flutter in his soul when he heard it. That was new, probably.

There was another stretch of silence. Killer took that time to remove the hazard that was the knife he dropped a bit ago. He tucked it back in the hidden pocket inside his hoodie and moved over to his bed to lie down, intentionally leaving room for Dust but not verbally offering for him to come over.

Dust seemed to get the memo and sat down at the edge of the bed.

Killer seemed to be doing better than he was in the past few weeks. Well, doing better but not exactly doing good. He rubbed at the black streaks under his sockets, checking his hands if it was still wet and being disappointed when it, in fact, was.

He wondered why exactly he’s been down recently. Nightmare’s been going easy on them this past month so it probably didn’t have anything to do with him. As far as Dust was concerned, there was no obvious cause. He decided to extend his word cap for today. “why have you been in your room so often?” he asked.

Killer’s sockets widened, not expecting the silence to be broken. “i mean we all have our ups and downs, right?” he answered.

Dust turned his head to him, looking unconvinced.

“well, i guess my ups and downs are like falling straight down Mt. Ebbot and being launched up into the sky, but same difference,” he shrugged nonchalantly.

He didn’t like that Dust still looked concerned. It looked unnatural on him.

“listen. this isn’t new. it's just been awhile since it's happened.”

“since what?”

“i dunno! impending dread sneaking up on me and making me it's bitch, i guess!”

That gave Dust an image he didn't want. He scrunched his face in disgust, mainly at his own mind for conjuring that image.

“i dunno why i phrased it like that. i think i’m still high.” He stared at his hands as if that would confirm if he was right or not.

“we gotta stop it with the drugs,” Dust concluded.

“huh?!” Killer sprang upright, he lost balance and fell forward.

Dust ended up catching him.

“noooo,” he whined. “dusty, it's literally the best part of my day, you can't just take that away from me.”

Dust didn't even have to reply, he just gave him a look of skepticism.

“we’ll stick to weed only! i promise,” he bargained, clasping his hands together in a plea. His smile was a frown. “i don't wanna lose…this.”

Dust opted to press his forehead against his, closing his sockets. It was almost like he was cradling him.

Killer’s body went slack as he relaxed.

When Dust pulled away and opened his sockets he was met with Killer’s ringed eye lights. He glanced at his soul. It was the shape of an upside down heart.

“can we just…hang out without it?” Killer asked. That question felt more directed at himself than at Dust.

Dust nodded.

“like actually?!”

Dust snickered at his excitement.

Killer's grin widened as giddiness overtook him. He reached up to wrap his arms around Dust.

He sat there, cuddling with the other skeleton for a little while until they decided to call it a night.

To Killer’s surprise, he woke up with Dust still by his side.

He decided to tuck away that “what are we?” question, for now. He just wanted to enjoy whatever the hell this was.

#killer x dust #kist #utmv fic

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charlie-lec-stories · 9 months

Text

Patience and 1/2 of Double Trouble // CL16

Pairing: Charles Leclerc / Original Female Character

Summary: Charles knew that having his little brother, Arthur, in F1 with him was going to be chaotic, what he didn't expect was to have to deal with Arthur's best friend too.

Warnings: None, this is the fluffiest story on Earth.

Author’s Note: I keep finding old stories that fit this account and I find myself to lazy to keep editing the longer story I started, so this is another one-shot for you guys. Rate: PG.

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Patience. That was one word that had marked Charles Leclerc's personality for as long as he's been alive. Whenever he wanted something he worked for it, no matter how long it took him to get it. If there was a problem, he could think it through and solve it. His older brother, Lorenzo, has always said that it was a bless to look after Charles growing up, he was easy, giving Lorenzo the time to run around chasing the younger child, Arthur, who was the troublemaker of the family. After Charles and Arthur got into racing, Lorenzo ended up following Arthur around, making sure that he stayed out of trouble, while Charles, as patiently as always, worked his way up to the top. Even though they couldn't spend every second together, Charles was fully aware of the hard work that Lorenzo had to put up with looking after Arthur. It didn't matter the age, the boy was constantly up to something and his older brothers were used to it. Charles tried to stop by and stay with Arthur while Lorenzo took some time off. The middle Leclerc felt confident that he already could read his little brother's mind and stay a step ahead whenever Arthur was planning something. Still, he sometimes found himself surprised by his brother, like that time Arthur improvised a ladder with a glue gun and a dozen pool noodles (don't ask why he had them, Charles doesn't even know) and escaped the house through the first-floor-window of his room in the middle of the night to go to a party he was told he couldn't go. Or that other time Arthur tried to learn how to flip pancakes by throwing them up in the air with the pan and ended up covering the kitchen with pancake batter, the three brothers having to spend five hours cleaning up the mess before their mother got back home. There were a lot more of chaotic moments in "Arthur's criminal record" - as Lorenzo calls it - and Charles had managed to stay patient through them all. But after all, he's only human, and at some point he finally lost it.

Arthur finally found his equal in F3, another driver called Y/N. She was everything Arthur was: cunning and energetic, with a love for mischief and a flair for the dramatic. She was the most amazing and terrible girl Charles had ever met, both at the same time. He loved her, loved her friendship with Arthur and thought the world of her but at the same time, the "crime rate" in the Leclerc's household had went exponentially higher with her presence on their lives. The Leclerc family even called the duo "Double Trouble".

"I'm starting to believe that you're trying to kill yourselves". Charles stated and followed it with a sigh as he placed the first aid kit on the kitchen island. The other two just looked at him sheepishly. "But seriously, what the hell were you thinking? Shoving each other around on the stairs? Really?". Charles was making himself a coffee while he listened to them laughing hysterically when he heard the loud thud. He ran to the living room, only to find them both on the floor at the bottom of the stairs, Arthur grabbing his arm and Y/N with a crimson spot on her face.

"She started it!". Arthur accused his friend quickly, while holding up the icepack on his arm.

"Traitor". She mumbled and then winced when Charles placed the gauze with hydrogen peroxide over the little cut on her forehead.

"Stay still". Charles instructed her when she started moving away. "I want to get you cleaned up before this gets infected. You are lucky that you just fell a few steps. This could have ended up way worse".

"She's fine. It's not like it's the first time this happened anyways". Charles stopped his movements at his brother's words.

"What?". If looks could kill, Arthur would be six feet under. "Are you telling me that this happened before?"

"No, it hasn't. He doesn't know what he's talking about". The girl looked at her best friend with a 'what were you thinking' face and Charles decided to cut the subject short.

"Just, please, stop doing dangerous shit". The other two nodded their heads fervently and Charles left another long sigh out.

Of course, they never stopped. Through their whole time in F3 and F2 they kept getting themselves into trouble: burning a kitchen tablecloth when "fixing" the toaster (that they broke themselves in the first place), making a hole on Arthur's bedroom door while playing with a homemade air-soft gun (Charles is still trying to understand how they made it), blowing up the lawn mower by playing with its engine (they wanted to learn how to make it more powerful), breaking the TV while playing "real life goat simulator" (and accidentally smashing into it), and many more. But Charles' least favourite has to be when he had to pick them up from the police station because they fell into a fountain (again shoving each other playfully) and the police thought they were under the influence. Arthur called him from the station, asking for him to pick them up. Charles was already in F1 and was well known around Monte Carlo, he talked to the arresting officer and after they were tested and proved they weren't drunk or worse - just stupid, as Charles stated to the officer - they were free to go. In exchange for some pictures and autographs, the officers agreed not to leak the little incident to the press. It wasn't exactly bad PR, it was a really funny story, but Charles wanted to make sure his mother never found out.

When she wasn't blowing something up with Arthur, Charles actually enjoyed his time with Y/N. She was funny, hot, smart and charming. He had this little crush on her, nothing he found too concerning since he knew that she was off-limits, but serious enough to make him worry about her more than other people normally would. He was usually spoiling her and scolding his younger brother whenever he had to save them from another trouble they got themselves into and Arthur started to suspect that he liked her. Even if it was childish, the younger Leclerc was jealous, she was his friend and Charles was going to steal her attention if they started dating. It wasn't like with her other boyfriends, she spent most of her time with him and his family at his house, if they dated she would be all over Charles and stop spending time with him whenever she visited. With this idea in mind, Arthur did whatever he could to keep his friend oblivious to Charles' crush on her. She dated a few guys while Charles kept his distance and Arthur was happy whenever she confessed little crushes on guys that weren't his brother. Things were alright, they were still Double Trouble and Charles kept saving them with unwavering patience.

Time passed and both, Arthur and Y/N, made it into F1. Y/N driving for McLaren alongside Oscar Piastri and Arthur getting the 2nd seat in Ferrari, Charles' team. For their first season Y/N was single again, her last relationship just a bad memory. With this new promotion to F1, keeping Charles away from his friend was getting more and more difficult for Arthur. By then, he had a contradicted opinion about his brother and best friend dating, a part of him hated the idea and felt threatened, the other find them rather cute together and was aware of how happy they could make each other. His older brother was always around, and whenever she visited Arthur at the garage, Charles would constantly get her attention, but he had learned to deal with that... mostly. Still, even if with age came maturity and he grew more open to the idea, his jealous side shone from time to time. Usually, when Charles played hero and Y/N was all over him. They were still getting into trouble and Charles was there to play his "Ferrari golden boy" card to save them. Since there was no way of getting rid of Charles, he decided that he'd stop getting into trouble so Charles wouldn't be around them too much.

"I think this must taste like shit". Y/N said handing Arthur her tuna sandwich, she loved tuna, but this time she had to admit that it smelled bad. The younger Leclerc smelled it and made a face of disgust.

"I'm not taking a bite of that". She placed the food on the table and shuddered.

"Me neither". Then, she smiled devilishly. "We should put it on Max's bag. He hates tuna". At any other time, Arthur would be totally down for that, messing with Max Verstappen had been their main and favourite entertainment since the start of the season. Even the fans knew that he was their target and joked about it a lot. Max was cool with it and even found their little pranks kind of cute. He was about to deny the offer and be a good boy when he heard the voice he was expecting to avoid.

"What are you two up to?". Charles asked walking to the table then sat next to his brother.

"Nothing good". Y/N replied, honestly.

"Disappointed but not surprised". Charles followed that with a chuckle.

"We should get going, Charles, we have things to do before the race". Arthur said quickly. It was one of those days when he didn't want to have to fight for his friend's attention.

The three of them started walking towards the garages, Charles and Y/N chatting happily about their plans for summer break, which was just around the corner, not even once including the younger Leclerc in the conversation. Arthur was getting bored, they weren't even dating and he was already feeling excluded. Part of him felt bad, it was a long time since he felt like that, he was getting better with his possessiveness. But he was having a really chill day, having lunch with Y/N and getting ready for the race, and Charles had to appear out of nowhere and annoy the hell out of him. The thing is, being a good kid wasn't in Arthur's DNA and even if he tried, he just couldn't help himself. He did the only thing he knew always worked to get his friend's attention: a mess. He tapped on her shoulder and when she turned around to face him, he squeezed his water bottle and sparkled water on her face. Y/N fell backwards, Charles catching her swiftly before she hit the ground, still, her focus wasn't on Charles but on Arthur.

"You brought this on yourself". She said as she tried to launch herself at her friend. Charles quickly sneaked his arm around her and pulled her back against him, raising his other arm at Arthur, an accusing pointed finger directed at the blond.

"Ah ah ah". Charles warned, Arthur backing up. "Stop this before it gets out of hand". Y/N exited his grip and he put himself in front of her fast to stop her too. The two troublemakers ignored him completely, looking at each other defiantly. With Charles in between them, Arthur tried to sparkle some water again but Y/N moved out of the way. They tried a few more unsuccessful attacks and Charles finally accepted that it was useless to try and stop them. He moved away and Y/N took it as her chance to attack Arthur, who stopped her hand on time and moved it towards Charles' direction, half of the water bottle spilling onto his back. The two stopped on their tracks, fully aware that they were in trouble. Charles turned around slowly, an annoyed expression plastered on his face, the water running down his body from his shoulders to his feet. Arthur grew a smug smile on his face, not even caring about the consequences anymore, Y/N on the other hand, had her eyes open wide like a dear in front of a car. Charles was usually the one cleaning up their mess, not the one they messed up, this couldn't be good. The middle Leclerc lost the last bit of patience he had left. Without uttering a word, Charles grabbed both of their water bottles and quickly poured them over their heads, walking away with same pissed off expression he had when he first faced them. Charles had never gotten mad at them before. Scold them? Yes, all the time, but he was never actually angry.

Even if Arthur and her spent the rest of the day laughing about the water incident, she felt kind of guilty for getting Charles into their little war. He gave them the cold shoulder for the rest of the day and she couldn't stand it. Apparently, the middle Leclerc had interviews and their water attack meant a whole new outfit and hair and make-up touch up, things Charles hated to do and that made him waste a lot of time. For once, he was angry at them. Y/N understood their situation as the following silent agreement: They kept their mess within themselves and Charles helped them out from a safe distance. With this, she felt like that agreement was violated. He had to deal with the consequences of their actions himself and that wasn't part of the deal. She had to make things right. She owned him that.

After the race, won by Max (again), Y/N walked to Charles hotel room, hoping to get the chance to apologize before he went out to the party to celebrate his P2. She was already dressed for the occasion and was hoping that Charles wasn't pissed off enough to forbid her and Arthur from attending the party. Thinking about it, she couldn't blame him if he did. She knocked a few times, her hands trembling. It wasn't her first time alone with Charles, but it was the first since she admitted to herself she had a crush on him. And it was that crush that made her so scared of his reaction. She didn't want him to be mad at her, she wanted him to like her, even if it was just as Arthur's best friend. The funny and lovely Charles she was used to wasn't the one that opened the door, his face clearly showing his discomfort with her presence, making her rethink about her idea of apologizing right then and there. She knew that they had reached the limit of Charles' patience and she wasn't sure if she wanted to find out what laid beyond that limit.

"What do you want?". He asked, coldly. He wasn't actually that pissed off, but he didn't need another mess when he was celebrating a new podium. And he knew she was trouble.

"I just wanted to say congrats on the podium and...". She trailed off, playing with her hands and looking at everywhere but him. He softened a little at the sight.

"Come in". He moved away from the door to let her in. She walked inside the room, stopping in front of him. She stole a look at his outfit, black jeans and white buttoned up shirt that had the three upper ones undone. He looked amazing without even trying and she was doing the best she could not to stare too much. The strong scent of his cologne was the only thing that entered her body when she breathed in, leaving her almost dizzy.

"I'm sorry. You know? About today. We were kinda rude and well, I never told you I was sorry. Really dick move from us, from me...". She continued rambling a little. Damn, it was so hard to focus when all she could perceive from the world in that moment was just him. She looked so adorable he couldn't even be mad at her anymore.

"It's fine. No hard feelings". He assured her. She nodded and looked up at him. He was an arms length away, she wanted to close the gap, to grab his face and smash her lips against his, but he was off-limits and she knew it. "It was still not as bad as picking you up from the police station".

"I already apologized for that". She giggled. "We are lucky to have you around, saving our asses". Charles could feel that something was different. He had finally gotten mad at her, stopped treating her like a kid and she was owning it up. Maybe they were ready to face other challenges more than just silly pranks and stupid and unnecessary arrests. Maybe, just maybe, they were ready to be something more, in a more mature form. It was his time to get them into trouble and Arthur's time to deal with it. He moved closed and her breath itched in her throat. They were almost chest to chest, him looking down at her with that mischief that usually clouded her eyes.

"You are trouble, you know that?". He asked close to her face. She couldn't find it within herself to answer. His hands went to her hips, moving her towards the wall and pinning her against it. Their lips ghosted each other for a moment before he finally kissed her. It was as good as they imagined it, and they imagined it a lot. Hands touching, teeth pulling, hips grinding. All the pent up tension from the last two and a half years out in a few minutes that felt like hours. When they broke it up, they were panting for air.

"Arthur's not gonna like this". She said, guilt setting in her stomach.

"He'll survive". He placed his hand on her cheek, making her look at him. She was worried but she also knew that, with some time, her friend would understand. Charles reached down and kissed her again.

They knew they would be alright, after all, even if she was trouble, he was a patient man.

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#charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc imagines #charles leclerc one shot #charles leclerc x reader

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dancing-with-the-madmen · 2 years

Text

The Massive Aggression of Calico Jack, redux

Several kind souls have complained brought it to my attention that my failure to use cut tags is, in fact, not optimal. I don't have any good reason that I don't use cuts - mostly I'm just throwing these thoughts out here so they don't endlessly rattle around my brain. Frankly, I'm endlessly astonished anyone but me can be arsed to bother wading through them at all. So, after a truly epic tantrum thoughtful consideration, I've decided to edit my longer posts to add cuts. If you've already read them, (may endless blessings rain down upon you) there's no new content (vile lies and calumny. I'm going to take this opportunity to fix errors and add a line here or there, but nothing major). Just making it more scroll-friendly. You'll know it when you see the word "redux" in the title. So without further ado...

I’ve been trying for a while to put my finger on exactly what it is about Our Flag Means Death's Calico Jack that makes me want to crawl out of my skin and smother him to death with my own abandoned ecdysis.

I mean, I normally love me a spurned admirer/cock-blocking ex. Romantic comedies have their beats, and there’s obviously no serious danger the love interest will end up with anyone other than their intended, so I may as well sit back and enjoy the machinations. After all, the course of true love never did run smooth, and these bitches are here to rough some shit up for sure. I also love Will Arnett. Hands down favorite recurring character on 30 Rock. The second best Batman after TAS (fight me). I can even cheerfully bear his Reese’s commercials if I must bear commercials at all.

Real-life Calico Jack? One of my v. favorite pirates. He wore floral-printed cotton from India as a fuck you to the British tax man. He had an affair with Anne Bonny and offered to purchase her divorce when her husband found out. The two ran away together into piracy when Bonny’s husband refused to quit her and had her whipped for her infidelity. Mary Read was part of Jack and Anne’s crew, and possibly their lover. We love a hopeless romantic, possibly polyamorous king.

So what is it about OFMD Calico Jack that makes him so acutely punchable?

I’ve rewatched the episode several times (oh my v. dears, I really hope this write-up is worth it. I am SO BRAVE to subject myself to this), and I think I’ve finally got it. It’s not just that he’s a loud, vulgar, hectoring, drunken jackass of a bird-murderer. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I have as little patience for his brand of mindless destruction and violence-for-violence-sake as Stede does, but that’s not all. It’s that he’s also a master of passive aggression.

Jack does the little whisper-y “Sorry! Sorry!” when Stede wants to know what’s with all the cannon fire, but immediately starts grinning like an unrepentant varlet as soon as he drops his hands.

And then accepts Stede’s introductory handshake with clear derision.

When Stede says he wasn’t expecting guests and there’s only two settings at brekkie, Jack doesn’t wait for Stede to sort things out, and he’s already lowering himself into Stede’s chair by the time Stede invites him to take his spot. He then purposefully keeps steering the conversation to topics that exclude Stede from participating, and cuts Stede short when he tries to reign the conversation back.

He insinuates Stede is less of a pirate for being “store bought”

He refuses to get Stede’s name right, even when corrected. Twice.

And is just SO insincere when calling him back.

And, just, the whole pissing contest scene.

But so what? We’ve had other passive aggressive assholes on the show; Badminton with his cracks about Stede’s tiny dick ship, the French captain’s slurs, Gabriel simpering about Jeff the Accountant’s dining manners. I’m not shedding any tears for their respective fates, but none of them made me want to crawl through the screen and sew all their face holes shut. Because Jack isn’t just passive-aggressive (and aggressive-aggressive), he might just be the most savvy reader-of-rooms we see on the show, and purposefully and systematically leverages his passive aggression to manipulate the actions of those around him for the purpose of making Ed and Stede betray their better selves and make them do the work of driving a wedge between themselves. That was a lot in one sentence. Let me break it down.

Jack uses passive aggression to achieve one of four goals: to nettle, to undermine, (seemingly paradoxically) to reinforce connections, or to coerce. And, if he can manage to achieve different goals for more than one target with the same attack? So much the better. And he’s frankly just astonishingly good at doing so. Like, I’d admire him for it if it didn’t also make me want to make him swallow all of his own teeth.

The basic gameplan goes thusly (this is not a strictly chronological list, a lot of these tactics take place concurrently and recurrently): Stede is the primary target, so Jack nettles him with passive aggressive comments, which puts him on the back foot and undermines his self-confidence. He reinforces his relationship with Ed in ways that excludes Stede and undermines Stede’s relationship with Ed and Ed’s relationship with Stede. Jack uses coercive tactics with Ed and the crew, which undermines Stede’s relationships with them, isolating and othering Stede, which further tanks his mood, which leads him to self-isolate. When Stede eventually lashes out at Ed for falling for Jack’s bullshit, Ed has no idea what’s got Stede so out-of-sorts; Jack has so carefully lead Ed to making the choices that have alienated Stede that they seem like they were Ed’s ideas in the first place. And if Ed has made the choices to do these things, then they are clearly just a reflection of who he is, which, if Stede is lashing out against them, then Stede is rejecting him. Wedge set and match.

So let’s look at the specifics.

Jack’s interactions with Ed are like a masterclass in neurolinguistic programming for evil. First, he plys Ed with booze from the very start. Just look at the bottle in this shot from right after they blow up the dresser drawer.

That bottle or rum is over half gone, and the sky in the background is the peachy-pink of sunrise. This isn’t the bottle Jack had with him in his dinghy; that one he drained and then threw in the air and tried to shoot before coming aboard the Revenge. Which means that they’ve consumed over half the bottle between just the two of them in a very short amount of time. Alcohol, of course, is a social lubricant - the physical warmth it produces mimicking the “warm, fuzzy” feeling of true comradery, and, more importantly, decoupling the decision-making process from inhibition (that is to say, Ed isn’t necessarily doing anything he absolutely wouldn’t otherwise do, but he might otherwise think twice).

But it’s more insidious than just having a few drinks with an old friend. Jack specifically gamifies the consumption of alcohol to reinforce the coupling of the feeling of inebriation with the comradery engendered by teamwork and excitement of success in order to encourage Ed to drink more than he necessarily otherwise would. Ed confirms to Stede during his apology that the idea to use the drawers of the armoire for target practice came from Jack, and we saw that a bullseye meant that Jack had to take a drink, but Ed didn’t. Presumably, there would have been some consequence for a “miss”, and it seems likely that it would be Ed has to take a drink and not Jack. In this way, Jack is able to exert a measure of control over how much Ed is drinking (by missing on purpose) while making it look like the responsibility lies with Ed and his skill as a thrower. This pattern of sneakily controlling Ed’s actions while making it seem like Ed is the one who made or is responsible for the decision will pop up again and again during their interactions.

After the apologies for waking Stede, Jack steps into the space where Ed is gesticulating to make himself readily available to be touched, reenforcing the bond between them, but letting Ed be the one to instigate the touching.

At brekkie, he pours rum into Ed’s teacup without asking or being asked while Ed’s attention is diverted by getting food.

Jack’s collaring of the conversation does not just function as a means of making Stede feel excluded, he’s also refreshing and reinforcing the bonds he and Ed forged under adversity. Talking over Stede also demonstrates that what he has to say is more important than anything Stede might contribute.

Note that just before Jack cut him off, Stede had referred to Ed as Blackbeard (“Blackbeard and I met on a ship”). This may be innocently explained away; if you meet a person from a facet of a close friend’s life with which you do not intersect, you might refer to said friend by their given name instead of a nickname that the other person might not know, for the sake of common frame of reference. But this is the opposite of that - referring to a friend by a nickname instead of the given name that you both presumably know. That suggests to me that the seed of the Ed/Blackbeard dichotomy has already been planted in Stede’s mind by the morning’s shenanigans. And when Jack invites Stede back into participating in the conversation by talking about something he knows Stede would find upsetting (the wanton cruelty of Ed purposefully trapping people to be burned alive, couched in what sounds like sincere admiration for his friend’s piratical prowess), Jack has picked up on that distinction and is leaning into it HARD. He WANTS Stede to see Ed as a collection of behaviors he finds palatable, and Blackbeard as a collection of behaviors he finds repulsive, and then coerce Ed into performing those “Blackbeard behaviors” in order to coerce Stede to drive the wedge by rejecting him. Fucking diabolical.

When Jack is calling Stede a “big girl,” or “store-bought,” or purposefully getting his name wrong, he’s not just throwing barbs that play on Stede’s insecurities (and with such harrowing precision, too; calling on the effeminacy for which he was tormented as a child, his body image issues that we’ve also seen him struggle with under the tender mercies of Badminton - both brain-ghost and original flavor - and the authenticity of his claim to piracy, which we’ve seen him confess that he fears he’s ill-qualified to claim to Jim, Oluande, and Ed. I mean,triple bullseye for this fucking guy). He’s also using these public declarations to undermine Stede’s authority in front of his crew, and establish himself as the real authority on things like piracy and masculinity. He further reinforces this idea by withholding the story of how he saved Ed’s life under the guise of false modesty; people never want something more than when they’re told they can’t have it. And what they’re being told they can’t have is the story of how Jack was so amazing that he even managed to save the life of the coolest, most legendary pirate they know. This withholding primes the crew to think even more highly of Jack and hang on his every word.

This puts Jack into a position where he can pressure the crew into things that sound fun at first blush (like diving off the yardarm or having a snowball fight, but with coconuts), but end up hurting more than anything. Of course, within this dynamic, no one wants to admit they aren’t having a good time, or don’t want to do it; to do so would be tantamount to admitting you are less of a man or not a real pirate. So when Stede refuses to participate, or admits his discomfort or disgust with the proceedings, he’s doing Jack’s work for him, and further alienating himself, and solidifying the roles Jack had put into place where Jack is the fun, cool guy, and Stede is the killjoy that no one should listen to.

Stede unwittingly plays right into Jack’s design when he tries to stand up for himself and wrest back a modicum of respect before things get too far out of hand. He’s well-versed in the world of passive aggression, and sees what Jack is doing. He also knows that you can’t call it out because passive aggression comes with a built in cover of plausible deniability gaslighting. So instead, he tries to push back with a little passive aggression of his own, suggesting that a real pirate has a ship and a crew. Sadly, Stede is not nearly so adroit at wielding passive aggression as Jack is. Jack uses the story (and we know that Izzy sent him, so I wouldn’t be surprised if the whole mutiny thing is just a story; I could even easily read that slight hesitation after Stede asks his question as Jack deciding on what would be the most effective cover story, instead of hesitancy to admit to something shameful) of his crew’s mutiny to casually re-sow the idea of mutiny on the Revenge. It’s played for comedy when the crew starts talking about how they almost mutinied on Stede and probably will again, but you can’t tell me this hasn’t been a major concern for Stede ever since the first episode. So Jack’s not only got the crew trying to buoy his spirits by assuring him that his crew mutinying on his doesn’t mean he’s a bad person; it’s just something that happens! He’s also got them low-key committing to a future mutiny WITHIN EARSHOT OF STEDE.

Additionally, while Stede is well-steeped in the ways of passive aggression, his crew and Ed are not. They are not particularly sophisticated at identifying passive aggression on its own merits as opposed to the reaction it provokes, which can make it look like they don’t care when it’s being leveraged against Stede, undermining his ability to trust they will look out for him. Stede stoically putting up with Jack’s jibes makes them even more difficult to identify as hurtful. Jack’s (fake) emotional reaction to Stede’s sally might make him look momentarily weak, but allows Ed and the crew to unequivocally identify who is in the wrong and react accordingly. By positioning himself as a victim, he villainizes Stede, further undermining Stede’s authority, and placing him in a position where he owes Jack recompense. Thus, Jack is able to manipulate Stede into the trap of Dead Man’s Cove and make it look like it was Stede’s own idea. I mean, the Xanatos Speed Chess of it all.

What’s heartbreaking to me is how Jack’s wedge-driving and othering of Stede is working so well that at this point we start to hear it from other sources. As they approach the island and Stede suggests going for a swim or taking a nature walk, Ed is the one who tells him, “I think with this crowd, I think they want something a little more…” Not Jack would want something more exciting, this crowd. Jack’s exclusionary rhetoric out of Ed’s mouth.

Which is exactly the time Jack decides to up the ante.

I want to take a minute to look at the immediate lead up to yardies, because I think it’s an excellent illustration of how Jack looks like a lumbering boor, but his actions are actually so carefully considered and nuanced. He runs up from behind Stede and Ed and throws his arms around them shouting “Yardies!” literally insinuating himself between them, which interrupts anything that was going on between them, puts them off balance, and focuses the attention on him. Then, when he says “Who’s up for yardies?” he makes eye-contact with Ed - the implicit social expectation being “You, Ed, are up for yardies.” When he turns to Stede, it is to literally laugh in his face. I mean, the absolute cheek.

Until this point, the crew of the Revenge have been passive participants in Jack’s hooliganry. They watched him perform whippies, and got whipped at without encouraging him to do so. They listened to his and Ed’s stories. But now Jack is cashing in on his established expertise of what real pirates do to coerce the crew into taking part in a dangerous stunt. It’s more of the “Blackbeard behavior” dichotomy he started sowing in Stede’s mind at brekkie, but now he’s extending it beyond Ed to the whole crew. He wants Stede to feel like he’s all alone in a sea of idiocy, but he wants him to come to the conclusion on his own by making it seem like Ed and the crew are doing things of which he would disapprove of their own accord.

Once we get to the island, we see the activities take a turn from the careless Jackass-ery of whippies and yardies to the abject cruelty of turtle vs. crab. There’s no saying that Jack organized the fight, but we do see the crew handing him various trinkets to be used in gambling on a winner, which certainly suggests he was the central figure in how the game was established. We also see that, though he has been presenting himself as a drunkard, there’s no bottle in his hand or around him in the sand. There is, however, one in Ed’s hand, who is directly to his side. I can easily see him handing it off so he could handle the gambling stakes, the real intention being to keep Ed readily supplied with booze.

And then we have the pissing contest. Jack’s got Stede literally and metaphorically isolated, and now it’s time to really drive it all home. Every moment of their interaction is designed to drive Stede to distraction; the amount of derision he lays on the phrase “Your good, close buddy,” the insinuation that he and Ed are just alike, and then being as rude and crass as possible. And because he’s read the room - the intimate breakfast for two, Ed’s little touches and the way Stede smiles at them, the way they keep going off together for little chats - of course Jack’s just got to twist the knife and allude to his and Ed’s former sexual history. So now that he’s got Stede primed, it’s time to name the fear: “Maybe you don’t know him at all.”

At this point, Stede is left to wonder: does he? Blackbeard’s reputation preceded him, after all. And he’s been acting so differently since the appearance of one of his oldest friends. It’s not the violence qua violence, per se; Stede is by turns delighted and impressed by the violence he’s seen Ed and his crew employ in the heat of battle in the pursuit of piracy. It’s the cruel and senseless violence that Stede objects to, and that’s exactly the brand that Jack has been peddling, and which Ed has gone along with so enthusiastically. And it’s not JUST the violence; Ed apologizes for Jack when he recognizes Jack has crossed a line in a typically agro way (destroying Stede’s belongings, and insulting Stede to his face), but it never occurs to Stede that his insistence on persevering with quietly aggrieved dignity in the face of Jack’s slights would make it nigh impossible for Ed to identify that Jack has crossed all sorts of other lines, and Stede is hurting because of it. For Stede, it must be frustrating and mystifying why Ed keeps letting his friend get away with his passive aggressive bullshit. Doesn’t he care?

Is it any wonder that one more failure to notice how Jack has riled him, and one more act of coconut-flavored Jackass-ary is enough to break the dam, and for Stede to spill all that built-up hurt on Ed? Is it any wonder that Ed is bewildered at where all this is coming from? I’ve talked before about Ed’s tendency to fawn on people, and how, as an emotional chameleon, he would have difficulty identifying when the motivation for his actions is self-directed or externally dictated. Jack has further confounded this distinction by manipulating scenarios to make it seem like participation in all the Jackass-ary he has instigated was voluntary instead of coerced. When Stede says “I don’t like who you are around this guy” what he means is “I don’t like how this guy is able to manipulate you into acting on your very worst impulses”, but what Ed hears is “I don’t like you”. For who is he, if not the collection of behaviors he chooses to exhibit? And were those choices not entirely his to make? With the rift clearly established, if in its infancy, of course Jack is going to do everything he can to foster its growth. So again, he interrupts Stede, again implicitly signaling that Ed should pay attention to what he says and not Stede. By lobbing the coconut at Ed at that moment, he forestalls any possible clearing of the air between Ed and Stede, and causes Ed to literally turn his back on Stede, in the way Ed feels Stede has emotionally turned his back on him just moments earlier. Jack reinforces this idea of turning his back on Stede again moments later when he says “Don’t go!” and immediately turns Ed around by the shoulders.

I know that I’ve been laying it on a bit thick and prolly sound like the written embodiment of the red string conspiracy meme, but I’m about to get a whole lot worse, and I’m going to ask you to stick with me, oh my v. dears. I think Jack killed Karl on purpose.

I know, I know. It was an accident! He was flailing drunkenly! But was he?

Have we seen him take so much as a single drink since the cannon fire at the beginning of the episode? Even though he’d been drinking earlier, did he not have devastating precision and accuracy when he first demonstrated Whippies - shattering every glass, snapping the cards from the Swede’s fingers, and ball-tapping Ed without permanently maiming him or even splitting the leather of his pants? In fact, while nearly every other crew member on the deck has a bottle in hand, just like on the beach, Jack does not.

Jack knows he has to get Ed off the ship before the British show up, but he can’t just say “Let’s ditch these losers” and expect Ed to agree, especially since he’s spent most of the day roping the crew into his schemes. The most effective way to get Ed to follow is if Jack is rejected for just being himself and doing what he does, just like Ed feels he was earlier by Stede. I think the original plan was to goad Olu into seriously hurting the Swede, the fallout of which would be recriminations that Jack made them do it, and Jack getting aggrieved that he was just trying to show this ungrateful lot how to have a good time, skulking off and leading Ed to follow him and reassure him that he’s really a good guy - how could he have known it would turn out like that? But when Buttons calls a halt to the proceedings and it looks like everyone is going to pack it in, Jack has to think fast. If HE maims a crew mate, that would be a bridge too far, painting him as the bad guy. But Karl? He’s just a bird. And if Jack can get a little revenge on the weird bird guy who made him change his plan, so much the better. AND, as people with far fewer auditory processing issues than I have pointed out, Jack mutters that he expected there to be more feathers. Could the evidence be any more damning?

Of course the whole ship turns on him, and then here’s Stede to order him off, explicitly rejecting him the way he metaphorically rejected Ed. But when even that isn’t enough to get Ed to follow him, Jack pulls out one last, desperate manipulation - the debt of life.

Jack’s tragic flaw is that he can’t turn it off. Once he and Ed are alone, he turns his passive aggressive assault on Ed, pressuring him into drinking the morning away by sarcastically saying he didn’t know he had an audience with the pope when Ed expresses disinterest, and, ultimately, giving up the game when he mentions with casual derision how he’d heard of Ed shaking up with Stede, and then deriding Ed for his failure to spot Jack’s machinations.

Too bad Jack didn’t know that the punishment for passive-aggressive fuckery on this show is death…

#ofmd #our flag means death #ofmd meta #calico jack

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ax-y10 · 1 year

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this is an incredibly self-indulgent request, but maybe a reader who has a speech impediment and feels insecure about their voice and wilbur being all soft and fluffy about it ??

Love Through Jumbled Words

In which- It's hard to understand you, but Wilbur finds ways

Definition of a speech impediment: Speech disorders or speech impairments are a type of communication disorder in which normal speech is disrupted. This can mean fluency disorders like stuttering, cluttering or lisps. Someone who is unable to speak due to a speech disorder is considered mute.

Chapter Info: Stuttering, Fluff, Wilbur being a soft man, Cuteness, I'm too lazy to look through for anything else

A/n: I had no clue what a speech impediment was, and when I searched it up, I realised I have a speech impediment (stuttering) so I have to write this with a reader who stutters because I sadly can't relate to anything else, sorry. I also decided to do a platonic and romantic version separate with a short blurb at the bottom of each. This is long so sorry

Pronouns: None (You/Yours)

Masterlist:

Platonic (Friend)-

When Wilbur first started talking to you, he immediately realised that he would have to help you through many things, such as ordering food or talking to other people.

And when you trusted him enough to open up, he found out that you had always had problems with things like that, stuttering through every sentence.

And that exact moment is when he opened up about his stutters from kindergarten and primary school, and how he overcame them, offering to help you through yours.

When he introduced you to his friends, they would make light-hearted jokes about your small stutters, but would immediately apologise and call it cute.

Especially when you tried to introduce yourself and got really frustrated while trying to state your name, them obviously being great people and waiting for you.

And they definitely got pissed off at Wilbur when he tried to help, even though you were getting through it, them not knowing that you had asked him to help.

And Tommy (That fucking jerk) would have already had a nickname for you when he heard you through that very first discord call on Wilbur's account.

They obviously loved you from when they met you.

And introducing Wilbur to your closest friends would be an experience... to say the least.

The first comment one of them made was "Is he your boyfriend? Y/N WITH A BOYFRIEND?"

And oh my god did that start an argument between everyone.

But you brushed the comment off... After laughing at Wilbur's shocked expression.

They loved him to say the least

Okay- they adored the lanky bastard -but don't talk about that

Everyone was so welcoming for Wilbur, and he loved your friends.

And helping you get through it was so tough but you guys got it, through months of therapy and practice.

As he sat down across from you at the coffee shop, he realised just how shy you were. One of his friends had given him your number from college, and he had asked you to meet up at the coffee shop down the road from campus. You both hadn't talked to each other in person, which definitely made communication hard. And when you greeted yourself, stuttering through it, he realised how hard it would be to understand you. But luckily for you, he had such a large amount of patience and understanding, having had the same problem as a child.

Platonic (Sibling)-

Him being your older brother, there was definitely going to be so much overprotectiveness in that household.

He wouldn't let anyone near you who decided to make even the most light-hearted joke that you didn't care about, near you.

Like, he would beat them up if they did that

He doesn't care. His Y/n needs to be safe and out of harms way because you are way too special to him

And the funniest part of the whole situation was that he is only 1 year older than you, making it seem weird but it's cute because he cares for you so much.

He is always next to you or helping you throughout conversations or even saying something simple.

When you were both in school, he would beg for the principal and his teachers to sit in class with you to make sure you were doing alright.

Although he was the same age as lots of your classmates, you were still a grade below him.

And everyone in your classes loved him so much.

He was always a sort of underdog in school, so having that attention from other students definitely boosted his confidence and ego, and he got a lot more popular with the younger students, often helping them out at after school events.

He also got into being a bit more mischievous in school, that making him more popular

He would never forget to help you with anything at all.

They were the reason he asked your parents if he could do sports with you, because the kids that liked him were your friends, and you played sports with them.

He definitely didn't join because he wanted to help with your stutters and to boost his ego more...

He was always the kindest person with other people.

"Excuse me, miss?" He asked the principal. He never really learnt teachers names, calling them 'miss' or 'sir', but he had a question nagging at the back of his head for weeks, and he couldn't hold it in any longer. "What's the matter, Mister Soot?" The principal replied with a somewhat annoyed tone, him jumping back slightly. "Would it be alright if I was able to sit in with some of my sister's classes? She has a stutter and struggles with communicating with people and I feel really bad not being there for her. Even if it's once a week. Anything works. Please?" After a little while of pondering from the principal, his hopes lowering from each passing second of silence, she finally speaks up. "Fine. But you need to let your teacher know when you're going to her classes, and you need to attend at least two out of the four lessons you have each day." He was finally excited for once today, and you could tell wen he stumbled into your second lesson of the day, him sitting in the seat next to you and immediately helping you.

Romantic (Relationship) -

When he first had a conversation with you that night in the parking lot of Tesco's, and when you both exchanged numbers that night, he knew it would take time to overcome your stutter or at the very least, die it down a little but.

But he would never push anything onto your shoulders.

Your very first date was definitely the fluffiest thing ever. It wasn't so public as others would definitely recognise him, and you had openly told him about your insecurity with your stutter, so he decided to keep it inside the comfort of his apartment dining room, a cute spaghetti date.

After each bite, you would both look up at each other and when you attempted to make small talk, he would be so patient with your stutters, just admiring you and the way you got so frustrated when you kept repeating vowels.

Now, we all know this man is very touchy and loves affection

So you better be prepared for hugs everytime you get a sentence correct without a stutter or interruption

Even if it was as simple as your first "I love you" without a stutter, he would be all over you (not in the weird wat obv), and smothering you in affection, so proud of your progress.

He would definitely kiss you if you aren't able to finish a sentence after repeatedly trying to complete it, giving you a fresh start, and making you stutter even more due to the sudden affection, and he would keep doing it until you just couldn't bother talking.

Anytime you would try to talk to him when tired and in bed next to him, he would just stare at your lips while you attempt to talk to him, but falling asleep and not being able to get your statement out

And it would be so hard to complete a sentence when tired because your stuttering would just get worse, but to him, you would just get cuter.

If you ever asked his friends about how much he talks about you, they wouldn't be able to count it in their head, Wilbur would have to explain.

And everytime he talks about you, it would always somehow bring up your cute stutter, and how he loves it when you aren't able to form a string of words, and him having to end up ordering food for you.

He just loves you and helping you through your stutter and your stutter and your cute frustrated hand movements and your stressed eyes when you aren't able to get a food order out at a restaurant and when you're embarrassed when you have to talk to a fan of his and keep failing.

he loves every part of you and your cute self.

And he would just be so patient with you when you are trying to say something important to you, like when you want to go somewhere with him the next day, or what to eat for dinner, or anything in general.

Anyway, he just loves every part of you.

"And I- I sa- saw the cute- st little kitt- tte- kitten today on the stre- street and I took a ph- photo of i- it for you and I- I want to sho- show you bef- befor- before we go t- to bed?" You stuttered out tiredly. He didn't reply, but just kept staring at your face, illuminated by the moonlight shining through the blinds of your shared bedroom. "D- Darling?" "Oh yeah, I'd love to see the photo. I just love cats, but not as much as you" He spoke, causing you to chuckle slightly. You pulled your phone off the charger from behind you, unlocked it and pulled up the photo to show him, a cute little ash grey kitten right in front of his face on the screen. And soon after the conversation slowly died down, he realised you had fallen asleep. Pulling you closer into him, he fell asleep not too long after.

#wilbur soot #wilbur soot imagine #wilbur soot x reader #wilbur soot fic #wilbur soot x you #wilbur #wilbur imagines #wilbur soot headcanons #wilbur headcanons #wilbur x reader #wilbur x you #wilbur fic #speech impediment #request #tommyinnit #wilbur just being a scrunkly little guy #but speech impediments are so cute #I told my friends to fuck off while i wrote this /j

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presidentbungus · 1 year

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how the mercs deal with anger (please god get them some group therapy)

scout: gets white-hot over threats, mother-related insults, or stubbing his toe, but stays SO FUCKING MAD for a total of about thirty seconds and then he's fine again. tries to hold grudges but is really, really bad at it, since he usually starts missing whoever he's mad at within two hours, and anything that manages to stick around residually he forgets about the next time he falls asleep. be expected to have to hold him back from fights in public, but if there's an argument he won't stay mad at you for longer than half an hour. averages out into a kind of chill guy. kind of.

soldier: his default state seems to be anger, if you could call it that; maybe something closer to conviction, or blind, self-righteous stupidity. he never really leaves said default state outside of extreme circumstances that would make anyone react twice as much as he does, anyway. fights anyone who looks too long at him but that's just kind of a result of who he is. if he likes you he'll accuse you of being a traitor-communist at every conceivable opportunity but barely seems to believe it, if such a thing were ever possible. if you're friends now you're friends forever. have fun with that.

pyro: exists in a constant state of "fuck it we ball". if you fuck up his shit she'll fuck up your shit but like who give a fuck. chillest guy alive have some fire

demo: fierce-tempered in battle, relatively cool outside of it, with an honor code so esoteric and layered you'd need a spell book and about nine thousand history textbooks to figure any of it out. aside from the routine massive deals he makes out of the regular things like bravery and chivalry, he's mostly pretty chill; a little more aloof than strictly necessary, but thinks most situations a lot of people would get mad at are just pretty funny, but aye if you wanna pick a fight with me I don't mind chopping off a few heads. likes to fight for the sake of fighting; initiates brawls just to punch people, as god intended.

heavy: grudgeholder, to put it simply. burns impossibly slow with the patience of a mountain and the stereotypical stoicism of a large bald man who grew up in a wintry wasteland but, trust me, he remembers everything you have ever done to him. he forgives easily but he does not forget. god forbid you manage to set his temper off; your death will be slow, painful, and if you manage to claw your way out of it you will wish you hadn't. that said, it usually only happens when you commit some deep infraction against something he holds dear, like his trust in you or, god forbid, somebody he cares about. good fucking luck

engineer: is by all accounts a very small, angry man, who will give you a list of everything he doesn't like about you in alphabetical order if you're a little too annoying for a little too long, and who knows about nine-thousand ways to ruin your life forever and is kept away from deploying them by rapidly declining sanity and a seemingly endless supply of straight black coffee. very good at pretending to be calm, that said, and you'll almost never know he's mad at you until you've got seventy guns pointed at you in the middle of the night. cries when he's real mad; gets angrier that he's crying; cries more. seems mature on the surface but has the emotional development of a piece of wet toast. he'll get there someday.

medic: irritable, but it seems difficult to slight him beyond mild annoyance considering his general aloofness in almost every situation. prone to barking his words when he's mad, and gets in murderous fits, but he doesn't like to hold grudges because, frankly, they're stupid and he doesn't have any time for them. just give him an hour or two to cool off and you'll both be fine. don't keep pushing him when he's already reached his breaking point or he'll get dangerous, though, because he doesn't care about killing someone in broad daylight and he certainly won't care about dismembering you right here in the infirmary. whatever he needs to do to get some peace and quiet.

sniper: gets annoyed at people over extremely trivial things, gets mad at them for weeks afterwards, and feels super bad about it. rarely feels anger without some massive tinges of sadness. tends to self-isolate and mope around for a while when she's mad about something, since even the thought of confrontation makes her want to puke. has no idea how to handle any of this

spy: practiced not to feel anger, since anger leads to mistakes, long-held habits slipping on the flip of a dime. still gets mad sometimes, but in private, where he can take it out on a punching bag and then smoke until he falls asleep. very good at not letting situations overtake him. past a very specific point, though, if he does end up getting overwhelmed (which happens despite his best efforts); almost as a defense reflex, he completely shuts down, and often either runs away or finds another way to discreetly escape the conversation as quickly as possible. master emotion bottler in all the world. hasnt cried in 50 years. should probably get that checked out

#bungus headcanons #i dont know if ive ever done one of these all 9 mercs posts before. send me reqs btw this was fun #tf2 #tf2 scout #tf2 soldier #tf2 pyro #tf2 demoman #tf2 heavy #tf2 engineer #tf2 medic #tf2 sniper #tf2 spy #ok thats everyone. phew #she/her sniper supremacy btw. thats all im saying

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livinglouderx3 · 8 months

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SNS Month day 6 - There was only one bed

"What do you mean there are no other rooms available?", even though the question was adressed towards the inn owner, his eyes were glued to Naruto,noticing the slight flinch of the blonde in front of him.

"Unfortunately we are fully booked. As the reservation had been made for a team only four rooms have been booked-"

Kakashi only let out a laugh behind him. Sasuke wanted nothing more but to punch him. His old teacher had surely known or at least suspected something like this yet he had choosen not to share this small but completely relevant information with Sasuke. Sasuke should have known better though. He shouldn't have agreed to this, to join this "team 7 trip for old time's sake" Naruto had pestered him about for the last month. Of course the idiot had forgotten to take into account that their team was no longer just a 4 man squad. Or technically it was. Sasuke wasn't sure anymore. He tried to ignore Sai's unsettling smile, no matter how much time passed he couldn't quite figure out what his deal was.

"We apologize for any inconvenience. We can only offer to upgrade one room to a double bed-"

"Now that seems like a plan.", Kakashi quipped, unable to hide his obvious amusement. Yes, he had definitely known.

Smiling under that stupid mask of his, he clapped Sasuke on the shoulder. "It's fine right Sasuke? You will just share a room with Naruto." He even had the audacity to wink. Sasuke's sharingan flared up, his patience threatening to crack.

"I don't-"

Almost immediately the blonde turned around, a glint of hope written all over his face at the possibility of Sasuke still staying, making him stop midsentence. He remembered Naruto's expression from two days ago when Sasuke had told him that he would join this trip. He had been smiling that huge warm smile, melting Sasuke's heart, making him all fuzzy. It had been the first time since Sasuke had returned to Konoha that he had agreed meeting up with his old team. Naruto had been more than happy, he had been burning with excitement.

Of course at that time, Sasuke hadn't taken into account that Sai would be there too. He hadn't expected to see him as a part of Team 7. He couldn't explain it, yet it didn't sit right with him.

Anyway, Naruto had been happy. He is happy now, hoping that Sasuke would accept. He could do it. It wasn't that big of a deal. They would share a room and then-

"Sasuke could also share with me."

Sasuke cringed internally at Sakura's sudden proposal. He would absolutely not do that. Under no circumstances. What was she even thinking proposing something like this all of a sudden?

"Or ...Naruto could share with me, then Sasuke could have his own room. Problem solved.", Sai smiled and without even meaning to Sasuke shot him the iciest glance. That was even worse than him having to share with Sakura, which already said enough. There was no way he would let that happen.

The next words were no more than a reflex, like a wolf protecting his territory (which technically didn't belong to him), Sasuke spit, "No need. Naruto and I will share."

Out of the corner of his eyes he saw Sakura visibly deflate as always. A small part of him felt bad for her.

Though he really couldn't get it why she just wouldn't give up instead of chasing such an hopeless crush.

Or well, maybe, when his eyes met Naruto's - the lopsided grin he was giving him-, maybe Sasuke could relate to her situation only a tiny bit.

Calling it a double bed had been too overdone. Even though they were back to back, due to the tiny bed there was barely any space between them and Sasuke could feel it - how the matress shifted each time Naruto moved, each time he breathed - just everything. He could feel Naruto's warmth, the delight truly radiating from him just because Sasuke -his friend- was back, going on this stupid trip with him. Sasuke let out a small sigh. He really should have more empathy with Sakura, he was just as hopeless as her.

"...Sasuke. Are you asleep?"

Naruto's small voice pulled him out of his thoughts. For a moment he contemplated keeping his eyes closed, keeping quiet. He could barely deal with the situation at hand, yet his curiousity got the better of him in the end.

"What is it, usuratonkachi?"

Naruto let out a small laugh. He remained quiet though, for a while, making Sasuke impatient. Why did he even ask if he would chicken out in the end. He kicked him under their shared blanket,earning a yelp.

"Ouch-" Naruto shrieked, feigning pain, "is that how you treat your bedmate Sasuke?"

Sasuke rolled his eyes. There was a slight blush at Naruto' choice of words, so now he was happy that only his back was facing Naruto, "What did you want?"

Now there was silence again. Sasuke thought about kicking Naruto again, he was obviously overthinking something and Sasuke didn't want him to fry his brain over it, so he would just insist once more. "Nar-"

"I'm happy."

Sasuke suddenly let out a breath he didn't even realize he had been holding. There it was again, this fuzzy feeling.

Me too. I'm happy too. He wanted to tell him, but his mouth wasn't cooperating. Damn it.

"Usuratonkachi.", he whispered instead.

He could feel Naruto smile.

#snstober #snsmonth23 #sasunarumonth23 #narusasumonth23 #naruto #sns #naruto fic #sns au #naruto uzumaki #sasunaru #sns fanfic #narusasu #sasuke

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evelhak · 4 months

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I felt implicitly tagged by @lilypheria. Here's the template too.

It may seem like I only write KnB these days but I don't consider myself to be done with my SPOP comics yet.

Tagging all my writer friends but I'm going to mention @active-mind-15 because you're kind of new to me. But I really want to hear about all my writer mutuals and followers. By the way if you've written one unfinished fic or tried to start to write your ideas but can't, or haven't written for years, or have any other struggle that makes you feel invalid, you count as a writer.

Going to elaborate under the cut because I felt like it.

My old account was FinFanFun, a Finnish site I used mostly for reading Facebook wall fics about that which should not be named.

AO3 is where I publish my KnB fics though I've considered branching out to see if there's still some fandom corners I haven't reached.

I'm slowly introducing myself to writing smut but the only story I've published has been called mild and soft smut or smut-ish, and I doubt the rest will be much different.

I frequently beta-read for friends, though fanfiction is the minority.

I used to have two beta-readers but they're unable to do it anymore so all my fics rely solely on me for now, which makes me really anxious sometimes. I am pretty desperate for a new beta-reader so if KagaKuro and a million words of "homework" doesn't frighten you, please jump into an adventure with me!

All my fics are self-indulgent in that they're what I want to see play out in the story. They are not personal fantasies, or necessarily what I want to see in real life, but it's what I envision for these characters.

I'm always reading old favourite fics again and I need to branch out actually.

If I'm in need of a short fic to read I will probably pick fluff.

Have written m/m and f/f (and m/? and m/f) but honestly it's weird to put them in the same category when m/m is so overrepresented.

I'm not actually sure if I consider fanfiction as a genre or rather a medium, because all genres exist inside fanfiction. Medium is probably more true but I seem to have checked it anyway because I feel like the point here is whether fanfiction is valid literature and that it is.

I don't know if two fandoms with one being dormant would be considered multifandom so maybe no.

I do anxiously wait for feedback since I'm very community oriented but I'm also very introverted and internally motivated so the lack of it doesn't discourage me. I have patience and I can wait for connection for years and years. Not that lack of connection doesn't affect me, of course it does, but giving up is just a very antithetical concept to my beliefs and life.

I have one on-going long KnB story and one unfinished She-Ra fic that is waiting for a better time. Which is an exception since I tend to finish what I start before moving on.

Editing fanfiction is actually not as bad as editing original fiction because I put much less pressure on myself, partially because you can always edit your fic again.

Always listening to hours long conversations in my head between characters when I'm trying to sleep. They're really bad at shutting up and I'm supposed to remember this stuff in the morning?

I was mildly drunk for ten days straight to write Anything Can Happen. Haven't done that since but it was really fun.

My main KnB storyline gets most of my attention. It's just my thing, I pour everything into it.

I didn't check 'wants to be a professional writer' because after three traditionally published books I consider myself to be that already. I actually went the other way around than seems to be the norm: I was an original fiction writer first and then branched out to fanfiction in my twenties. I can see it greatly affects how I write fic, and it's probably the main reason I feel like a bit of an outsider.

#fanfiction #writing #bingo

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virtuouswhitehatorganization · 8 days

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Green Rod Sees Miss Heed's True Colors For The First Time

[It takes place after the PEACE New Years Eve Party where she and Miss Heed privately talk to each other in her limo. She is working with Ms. Sensation at the time and they went to the party together. She wants to discuss about how Coyote and Omega have changed since they've "patched things up" and began working under her. Omega and Coyote are guarding them outside as they begin chatting.]

Miss Heed: So, Green Rad.

Green Rod corrected: Rod.

[Miss Heed tried to hold back her displeasure of being corrected but continued to fasly smile.]

Miss Heed: Ok, Green Rod, what did you want to discuss?" (Internal thoughts: It better be good because even if she's currently side kicking with Ms. Sensation and was Omega's sidekick it was already enough allowing someone like her into the VIP section due to her current mentor convincing me.)

Green Rod coughed as she looked at her former mentor and his archnemeses (and her crush) outsided: I was wondering about Omega and Coyote.

[Miss Heed perked up an eyebrow in curiosity about her interest in both men she secretly brainwashed to further her own image and bolster her fanbase.]

Miss Heed: What about them?

Green Rod: Well, I don't know how to properly say it but I think something's changed since they've been working with you.

[Miss Heed internally twitched but again kept her false perky self on.]

Miss Heed: You mean them getting along better. Well, that's the power of what love and understanding can do which is make enemies into besties. (Internal thoughts: This brat is too observant for her own damn good.)

[Green Rod tried to agree with her, but she then remembered her and Omega's previous fights with Coyote and even if he was supposed to have turned a new leaf this wasn't the same man who they had gotten into tussles before (who she also grew to have forbidden feelings for). The man before was proud and deviant to his core, while the current "reformed man" just seemed to do anything Heed did. The same thing with her mentor before it seemed he and Heed happily got along like best buddies, but now she saw most photos on account and it seemed like her mentor wore a frown where it had previously been a glowing smile and like Coyote just seemed to follow the pink clad heroine's every direction.]

Green Rod: I just don't know. I tried talking to them both, but it's like talking to zombies which ironically Coyote is but one of those braindead ones that have no thoughts of their own and only follow orders.

[At this point Miss Heed's patience was growing thin, but no matter what she was still going to maintain a facade while getting a point across to Green Rod.]

Miss Heed: Look you will realize that this change is for the betterment for everyone so get used to it.

[Green Rod began to pick up at Miss Heed's condescension and was a bit confused at what she was saying. The pink heroine then held up her chin by her finger as she said in a passive aggressive threatening way.]

Miss Heed: Sometimes it's best to keep out of other's business rather than butt in. Because maybe you could have the honor of joining with your mentor and Coyote if you persist in asking questions.

[Green Rod began to sweat as she absolutely knew this was a threat and whatever she did to them to make them that way she would do to her. ]

Green Rod: Well, it was nice talking to you. But I think me and Ms. Sensation should head home now.

[Miss Heed giggled deviously.]

Miss Heed: Ok, get there safe. (Internal thoughts: Yes, you better run because if you get too close to the truth again you will be one of my devoted followers.)

[Green Rod reluctantly smiled as she rushed out of the limo while the hypnotized Omega and Coyote looked on robotically as she tried as hard as she could to find Ms. Sensation and get away from Miss Heed as far as possible. Any hints of her previous admiration and crush on her evaporated as she now knew in her gut she had done something to her mentor and secret love.]

#villainous #villanos #villainos #villainous oc #oc #villanos oc #miss heed #omega nuclear #villainous coyote #villanos coyote #elflora #icarus #vanity bolt #bulldozer #bicep #tritan #g-lo #ringworm #instagram

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thebunnednun · 2 months

Text

New profile pic!! Oh and updates 4/14/2024 (Master list too)

Finally, something that looks like me!

Oh, btw the names Angellica or Angie for short. I don't mind being called BUNNEDNUN either babes.

Now let's get down to business,

An updated schedule will be as follows:

Mundane Monday: The beginning of the week is always dreadful so let's make it fun with some crack fics. Memes, Memes, MEMES galore!

Tearful Tuesdays: Angst posts will be the main thing on here. I'm thinking of some hurt and comfort fics. I'm already working on a Buggy fic for this. I'm not opposed to happy endings but in general, think of an onion cutting itself for these. They don't all have to be romantic and I'm creating something for Trafalgar Law here.

Wonderful Wednesdays: I will update two of the current fan series on this day maybe three if I have the time. So far the list includes:

*Enchanted meeting (Buggy The Clown x Straw-hat reader)

*Shadows of the Blade (Dracule Mihawk x Assassin reader)

*Capturing hearts (Iñaki Godoy x Photographer reader)

*Please Don't Hate Me! (Juan Ruiz x Imperfect reader

*Whispers of the heart (Dracule Mihawk x Maid (Pirate Queen) reader)

*Love Sick (Buggy the Clown x Straw-hat reader)

*Bound by Justice (Sabo x Marine! Reader)

*Carnival Confessions (Portgas D. Ace x Straw-Hat! Reader)

*If you only knew how much I love you (Sabo x Straw-hat! Reader x Ace)

*Make you mine!~ (Trafalgar D. Law x Cheeky~ Crewmate! Reader)

*Throw Me Overboard! (Buggy the Clown x Fm! Reader)

*Gone Fishing (Sabo x Sea creature Straw-Hat! Reader)

*Good neighbors (Farmer! Bakugou Katsuki x Gardener! Reader)

*Dancing Under the Stars (Red-Haired Shanks X Bar/ DanceClub Owner! Reader)

Sanji, Usopp, Nami, Ace, Law, Robin, Boa, Chopper, and Zoro will be loading soon. I have many, many, MANY, ideas but no time right now.

Thoughtful Thursdays: Just some random conversations and ideas thrown out there. I'll try to host polls so you guys can vote on what you want next. Basically a rest day for me though because there's just no way I could write everything in one shot. (/@ ~@)/~* I've tried and it ends with me updating around 3AM or sum.

Follower Fridays: Requests from followers are posted. If you have a story request or anything you want to ask go ahead and do so on this day. Just make sure you send them in early so I can get to it in time. If you send something the day of I might be able to make it happen.

Sexy Saturdays: Send me your best Saturday night requests: ie dancing, funny adventures, or crazy antis with the one-piece crew or another fandom. I'm very familiar with Naruto and MHA (and any other anime honestly I doubt there's anything you could request that I don't know.)

It's all about having fun and having those Saturday night vibes babe!~

Sweet Sundays: Romantic One-shot posts! Any character of age and as long as it's not a child. I would be open to doing a reader insert where they are a parent or parental figure though. I find them to be very endearing.

As always your requests are welcomed and comments are very much appreciated. Sorry again for being gone for so long. I want to pick up my serious especially and make the chapters juicy again.

If you need a post to hold you over I posted a Juan Ruiz x reader last night. The character is from the Netflix series 'The Imperfects' so give it a try! I'm writing a prequel and sequel for them

Thank you guys again for your patience and understanding.<<333

Don't forget to check out my a03 account of the same name!!

My new goals are to keep up with the schedule and get 50 followers by the end of the month! I wanna keep growing our family. :3

Most of all, remember that you are safe here and loved.

Until next time my loves!~

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gakehc · 4 months

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Cringe Lord

Joel can be so cringe that bothers you a lot but you can't deny that he is hot and he obviously thinks the same about you. Just the two of you alone in the studio can lead you to a naughty game.

♡ Author's note: I saw someone calling Joel "cringe lord" and I had this idea. Not my best work but I decided to post it anyway.

♡ Warnings: This is a work involving real people but it's 100% fiction writen. Please remember that this is only for fun purposes and it doesn't reflect their real thoughts and behaviors. Don't take this work too serious. +18 only. Oral sex (m and f); dirty talk.

♡ Characters: Joel Hokka × fem reader

♡ Words: 1.956

♡ MASTERLIST HERE.

You run through the sidewalk avoiding bumping into people as you try to get to the studio as fast as you can. You are already late – one hour to be exact – so you don't want to make the boys wait even more for you. Niko and Joonas thought that it would be a good idea if you could help with the backing vocals for the next Blind Channel album since – according to them – you have a beautiful voice. You never really sang something professionally, just on drunk karaoke nights or Instagram stories so you are a little bit nervous; you would hate to do a bad job and disappoint your friends.

When you finally arrive you find it strange to hear only silence since the boys are always talking loud and laughing. Soon you realize that you are almost alone, the only one here besides you is Joel. He is sitting on the couch with his cellphone in hands, trying to take a good selfie or something like that. You hold a laugh when he starts to film something that probably is for his Tiktok account.

“Hey cringe lord” you say, making him jump in fright.

“Shit!” He says, dropping his phone on the center table.

“Don't stop because of me, please. I was having fun watching you being so ridiculous” you drop your purse at the table, sitting on his side on the couch.

He just rolls his eyes as he keeps recording himself. You two don't get along very well, you think Joel is kinda boring; always trying to be the vampire prince of darkness like Ville Valo or something. It makes you want to puke. On his side, he doesn't have enough patience for you because he thinks you are too nice – or miss perfect, like he always calls you.

“Where are the rest of the boys?” You ask.

“They got tired and hungry so they decided to go buy some food… You know that it's really bad when people have to wait hours for someone” he says, his eyes still locked on the cellphone screen.

“I got stuck at work. I'm sorry to make the other guys wait. About you… well, I'm not sorry” you give him a grin “What are you doing?”.

You grab the phone from his hands, reading the title of the filter he was trying on: Your love story in 2024. A loud laugh comes from your mouth and you try to hold but the idea of Joel caring about this kind of stuff sounds like a joke to you – even though he is just having fun.

“That's so pathetic!” You roll his eyes.

“I don't fucking care”.

He presses the button and starts to record, and soon the result appears: enemy to lovers. He tries to hide the result from you but your eyes already caught everything. A heath grows in your stomach just to think about the possibility of things changing between you and Joel. Yes, he is very – very – attractive and it would be nice to kiss him if he wasn't such a dumbass.

“Impossible” you say.

“Why? Are you the only enemy I have in my life?”.

“Well… if you are open to a relationship with those jerks from record labels who tried to take advantage from the band, I think I am the only one who would fit in this enemy to lovers type of shit. The other girls would kill to suck you small dick”.

“You don't know shit and it's not small”.

“Yeah, right!” You sound sarcastic.

“I bet I would make you choke on my cock with such an ease”.

“It's good for you to have such high self esteem but please you need limits. And I bet you couldn't make me cum even if your life depends on it”.

“Oh I know I could… give me five minutes and I will prove it to you”.

You laugh again but the idea doesn't sound bad to you. It would be nice to see how good mr. cringe lord can be and that doesn't mean you need to show him that you – maybe – are enjoying. Taking him by surprise, you pin him against the couch and straddle his lap. His blue eyes show desperation as he is still trying to figure out what to do with his hands.

“What is this?” He ask.

“You asked for five minutes. Show me what you can do”.

You can see his chest going up and down with the rhythm of his heart that is certainly beating really fast. He stares at your lip before finally kissing you, your mouth immediately open for his tongue to enter. He tastes good like mint drops or something, feels freshening. Joel is not as wild as you thought he would be, maybe he is a little afraid of pushing your limits. His big hands roam through your back, entering above your shit and touching your skin, making you shiver from head to toe. You lift your arms so he can take your shit off and so he does, taking his own shirt right after. The scar next to his shoulder steals your attention and you lick it, making sure to look deep into his eyes and smile.

“Fucking whore” he gruns, bitting his lower lip.

“And you're boring. I can't believe I am still wearing my bra”.

Joel finally opens your bra and tosses it to the other side of the room. He bites your nipple carefully, making you feel a soft pain that takes a moan from you, which makes him smirk. His hand is so big that he can hold your boob entirely and squeeze roughly, his fingers playing with your nipple.

“You're not impressing me” you tease him.

He rolls you and makes you lay on your back, taking off your shoes and jeans. He laughs to see that your underwear is wet, proving that he has impacted you. He pushes the fabric to the side, revealing your soaking wet folds. He inserts two fingers inside of you without warning, hooking them until he finds the spongy spot that surely will make you cum.

“Hm… you're smart” you say, noticing how quick he can find your sweet spot.

He takes his finger in and out but what makes it almost impossible for you to hold your moans is when his tongue touches your clit. He licks you right there when you need the most, fast and intensely, taking you by surprise on how fast you are feeling your orgasm growing. It's almost impossible to hide the fact that your clit is throbbing, Joel is probably feeling on his tongue, but you try to put on your best bored face because you would never admit that he is making you cum so fast. You can feel him smiling while he sucks your folds non stop, deep inside he is enjoying finally tasting you. He can act like he hates you but the fact it's that he always thought about eating you out. His big nose all smeared with your juices is such a nice scene for you.

You bite your lower lip when you feel your apex taking control, trying not to show any emotion but Joel notices that your back is contracting and your legs are shaking involuntarily. He grins sensually, feeling satisfied to know that he was right: your orgasm took less than five minutes to come.

“It seems that I was right” he says.

“Maybe. You also said that I would choke in your cock. I doubt that”.

He gets on his knees on the couch and unbutton his pants, your eyes shining as you watch his bulge getting bigger inside his underwear. It doesn't seem to be small at all. He pulls down his underwear, his cock free and hard as a rock, precum leaking and making your mouth water. It's not that thick but it's definitely long and can easily reach your throat. You lean towards his crotch, looking in his eyes before taking your tongue out and leaving a small lick at the tip of his cock. He seems nervous – maybe desperate to feel your pretty lips around him. He holds your head and pushes against his cock, making you suck the whole thing, the tip touching the deepest part of your mouth. You close your eyes and try not to cough as he pulls it in and off, fucking your mouth slowly. Joel is enjoying seeing you struggling to suck him, your eyes already watering. You try to breathe with your nose while he quickens the pace, even though it's hard to have everything in your mouth you are enjoying. Soon, you hold his shaft with your hands and then go slow to play with his balls. That's a clear sign that you are having fun.

“Look at you… you are enjoying it, aren't you?” He says, his voice sounding almost like a groan.

You roll your eyes but you keep going, Joel doesn't even need to move his hips anymore. Saliva starts to drip down your chin and you know you probably look like a total mess.

“What if the boys see you here sucking me like the whore you are?” He asks.

His words turn you on even more and you wish you could feel him inside of you but it would be too risky – the door is unlocked, the boys could enter at any minute. You feel the rush making your heart beat faster, Joel cursing and groaning as he feels that he is about to cum.

“Fuck, I'm gonna cum…” he closes his eyes with pleasure.

“Fill my mouth, then” you only take his cock out from your mouth to say those words.

Joel's moans are extremely sexy when he reaches his orgasm, the warm liquid reaching your throat as you swallow everything quickly. He puts his underwear and pants back as you do the same with your jeans and your shirt. You see your face on your cell phone screen and your face is smeared in saliva and melted mascara. You quickly wipe it with a tissue that you always carry on your bag, looking normal again. Soon, you hear the voices from the other guys: they are finally here. Joel smirks as he thinks about how lucky you are because he finished on time for you to not get caught.

“About what happened…” he says.

“We will finish this later, at my apartment”.

Your answer takes him by surprise. He didn't expect you to want to be with him again and it seems that you have plans.

“Let's see if your cock is good inside my pussy” you say, without looking at him as you wait for the door to open.

Finally, you see Niko, Joonas and Aleksi entering the door. They are happy to see you as they carry some paper bags with food.

“Hey! You're here!” Joonas says “Sorry to make you spend time with Joel”.

“Not a big deal. Actually, I was pretty late so I am the one who needs to apologize”.

“That's ok”.

“Joonas?” Niko asks “Is that your bra?” He lifts the bra that he found next to the door.

“That's not mine, dude! I like to let my beautiful tits free”.

“Aleksi?”.

“Nope. Not mine” Aleksi laughs.

The three boys look at you and Joel, waiting for an answer.

“Well… it's mine” Joel says, taking the piece from Niko's hand.

“Yeah, I see…”.

You feel your face getting red. How could you forget your bra? Now it's clear to everyone that something naughty happened here but the boys are nice enough to not talk about it and make you feel ashamed.

“Mystery solved. Now let's work”.

#blind channel fanfiction #blind channel #joel hokka

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radioactivepeasant · 1 year

Text

Fic Prompts: Free Day Thursday

Back to Meddling Mar, picking up where we left off

Part 1, Parts 2-3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11

Narrowing his eyes, Damas glanced from Jak to Mar and back again. "You never met your own parents. But you would have been old enough to remember when Seek was born?"

Mar shrugged angrily. "Loghead said he wasn't s'posed to remember I existed."

It was all Damas could do to refrain from pinching the bridge of his nose to stave off an impending headache.

These kids were going to make a lot of paperwork for the monks, he could already tell.

"...no parents or guardians," he sighed, making a mental note to look into getting some regular supervision in place once these kids were released from convalescence. "Alright. Do you have any particular skills or interests that you feel should be taken into account in your placement?"

Daxter raised a paw. "Does "surviving murder attempts on an almost daily basis" count?"

Precursors give me patience...

"Nobody should live in Haven," Damas grumbled under his breath.

"It's a pretty crappy place," Jak agreed easily. "But Dax is right. You people are all about survival, right? We've been scraping by on nothing since we were kids."

The king fixed him with a sharp look. Stern, but not skeptical. He seemed to have no trouble believing what Jak had said, it was just that he didn't like what he was hearing.

"Since you were..." Damas leaned back and drew a hand over his face. Peering over his fingers, he examined the boy.

"What is it you generally do when you aren't fighting to survive?"

Jak stared at him. "I don't...um, I don't know, I've never had a chance to find out."

Then, as an afterthought, he added, "I guess I'd explore. Find weird Precursor crap. I'm pretty good at that. I race, if the competition is any good."

"I own a bar," Daxter volunteered, "Drink mixing, finances, non-life-threatening skills."

Well at least one of them had some actual life skills. Of course, their scars and hostile attitudes did suggest they knew how to fight to survive. He didn't expect the child to offer the same kind of answer, but he looked to him anyway.

"I cause problems," Mar announced unrepentantly.

The king cracked a smile, welcoming the mischievous boy's attempt at a joke. "Hm. I see that."

Returning his gaze to the older boy, Damas asked, "Do you have any combat experience?"

"Combat makes up the bulk of my experience," Jak shot back. He folded his arms across his chest and tried to look intimidating.

Damas didn’t look intimidated. He looked troubled.

"I suppose in a city like Haven you would've had to learn to defend yourself young."

Daxter scoffed. "If we'd grown up in Haven, we wouldn't have had the guts to fight. Gotta know freedom first to recognize a cage."

"Hm. Well said," Damas commented, but his frown remained. "How did you come to be in that city? Most people don't move to Haven by choice."

"Neither did we," Jak growled. "Got tricked into a-"

He paused to think of a convincing half-truth. "Sabotaged transport ring. It dropped us miles apart, and Praxis's attack dog was waiting."

Errol's face flooded his memory and he shuddered.

"Waiting?" Damas pressed, but the boy seemed to shut down.

"Not in front of the kid," he said. It was probably supposed to be firm, an imperative.

Damas heard a plea underneath.

He thought of the scars along the boy’s arms and nodded slowly. The instinct to wince was tamped down harshly; pity was not what this young survivor required.

"You may speak to me about it later if it becomes relevant," he allowed. "At the moment, the House of Praxis and their ilk are less important than determining where, precisely, you will fit best in my city."

"I can pull my own weight," Jak grunted.

The rock began to dig into his legs, and he shifted in a futile attempt at getting comfortable. "The kid’s, too."

There, he'd said it again. It wasn’t Damas’s imagination, the castaway was actively avoiding using the little brother's given name. An odd quirk under more standard circumstances, to be sure. But for reasons he was afraid to put his finger on, something about that bizarre behavior set his instincts screaming in the back of his mind.

"Why," he asked bluntly, "do you refuse to tell anyone Seek's proper name?"

He watched a retort form and then disintegrate on Jak’s tongue.

Had he not expected to be called out on it?

Jak and "Seek" shot worried looks back and forth for a moment before Jak relented.

"His name has...history. People...expect things of us when they hear it. They demand things, actually. We're not people to them. Just tools."

This time, Damas knew that it wasn't the brothers' resemblance to Mar that kindled a growing empathy in his chest. He was the only surviving son of King Arez and Queen Maegera for his entire youth. The pressures placed on him by the history attached to his blood had been enormous, threatening to crush him with every passing day. Every look of disappointment on his mother's face when he failed another channeling test his older brothers had excelled at, every reprimand by his father's counselors while Arez sat silently and did not defend him -- they'd all added to the weight on his soul. Becoming nobody in the desert-

Earning his rank with his own blood and sweat had been liberating.

He tapped his fingers restlessly against his forearm and nodded again.

"You want him to experience life free from the burden of other's expectations," he guessed.

Jak’s eyes slid away. "Well one of us should," he scoffed.

Somehow, Damas didn’t think he'd meant to say that out loud.

If only I could say I'd never felt the burdens you carry, young castaway. But if nothing else, perhaps I can show you how to let them go...

"Why not both of you?" He gestured between them. "You have some years yet before you'd be expected to earn your gate pass and work more than just chores."

"Because someone has to keep us fed?" Jak answered slowly, like he was afraid it was a trick question. "What else would we even do here?"

"Well, what kind of education have you had?" Damas asked, seeming to change the subject.

He had a feeling he could guess by the bewildered faces staring back at him.

Jak looked uncertain and embarrassed, and Seek just looked uncertain. If they'd been surviving on the streets in Haven -- which so far sounded like the case -- Damas didn't suppose they'd had much opportunity to pursue more than the most basic education. And with no parents to speak of, any money that could've gone to tuition would have, by necessity, been funneled to mere survival.

"I...think Dax might be the only one with more than basic reading, writing, and cartography," Mar admitted. "Because he knows math with ration cards and ratios and stuff."

"Cartography?" Damas raised his brows. "Not many still study map-making, I'm impressed!"

Mar lit up at the praise, only to realize a second later that this was still "the Snitch", and he still bore a grudge. Quickly, and not very convincingly, he schooled his face back into a skeptical scowl. Jak was even less convincing as he tried to look like the compliment had meant nothing to him. As if he wasn't sitting that little bit straighter, holding his head that little bit higher.

Damas felt something inside him loosen just a little at the sight. So, they weren't so hard to crack after all. The castaways wore tough outer shells to be sure, but here and there he could glimpse the children underneath. They responded to praise like most other young ones, it seemed. Well, if they were truly determined to pull their own weight in this city despite their age, doubtless they'd find their share of approval out there.

Damas nodded and rubbed his chin. "That will serve you well out here. New citizens are required to learn a basic history of Spargus -- lest we repeat the mistakes of the past -- but whether all three of you require any other remedial schooling will be determined by the head of education."

Daxter jolted so hard that he fell off his rock and into the water. He came up spluttering.

"What?! You can't make us go to school!"

He got a wry look in return.

"I most certainly can. Citizens of your age may choose whether they pursue a more academic education, or a more experience-based education, but make no mistake-"

Damas leaned forward and pointed.

"-you will have to learn some things if you wish to thrive here."

Jak stared him down.

"I'm not leaving my brother by himself," he challenged.

For a moment, they kept eye contact, one trying to gage the other's meaning and the other refusing to be the first to look away. Then with a tired grumble, Damas stood up. "Follow me," he said shortly.

He picked his way across stepping stones to the dais carved from stone. From there, he followed a narrow walkway between planters and water to a doorway half obscured by a linen curtain. Then he paused, and turned to regard the boys.

"Sometime tonight, younglings," he called dryly.

They hesitated, but dragged themselves from the pool to follow.

"The school day," said Damas briskly as he led them up a short flight of steps, "Begins at dawn and ends at noon. Six hours are generally allotted for education, to allow the city's handful of children the same schedule as adults. Regardless of whether you chose the temple school or an apprenticeship, you still wouldn't be leaving Seek "by himself" for an entire day."

Daxter scrambled up the steps behind him. "Well whaddya do after lunch?"

Wryly, Damas gestured around. "Perhaps you hadn't noticed, but it gets very hot in the summer months here. We try to accomplish most of our work in the morning and evening. Midday is for resting and doing indoor work. Even my predecessor -- may even the ground reject his bones -- knew that it was best to give families time together during midday."

Unexpectedly, Jak snorted. ""May even the ground reject his bones"? Wow. Someone's got dad issues."

"Probably," Damas agreed, giving the boy an annoyed squint, "But my predecessor wasn't my father. Gods, what a nightmare that would've been."

The thought stayed in his mind a second too long and he shuddered.

"If I'd had to call that stunted slime my parent, I think I'd have just disowned myself."

Behind him, Seek giggled. And though the older two boys were clearly trying to look like cool, aloof, teenagers, Damas could tell it had amused them, too.

See, Pho, someone appreciates my wit around here-

He cleared his throat.

"No, titles in Spargus are not inherited. We earn them. I am king because I had the practical experience necessary to keep a city running. And also because I killed the old king in single combat."

Jak blinked. "....yeah, that would do it."

He hurried up the next couple steps to put him level with Damas.

"So uh, where exactly are you taking us?"

"Map room."

It turned out to be more of a utility room than a map room, full of gages and pumps for what looked like a truly massive water filtration system. A flickering, scratched screen took up the back wall, showing a readout of the city, and it was here that Damas led them. Spargus was smaller than Haven by a good fifty percent, but it was still far larger than the boys had anticipated. Just the northwest district alone could have comfortably fit all of Sandover at once!

"I'll have to ask around and find out what rooms are open at the moment," Damas said, eyes fixed on the map.

The lines around his mouth deepened.

"There are always some. Even the most experienced warriors are not immortal."

Mar grimaced and silently commented to Jak, "Morbid guy."

"He's not wrong, though," Jak agreed.

When Mar tired of squinting at the screen, trying to decipher the tiny writing, he boldly poked Damas in the back. Jak stiffened, but Damas didn’t seem unduly bothered by the impertinence.

"Yes, little one, what is is?" he asked, turning slightly.

"Are there other kids here, or are they all teenagers like Jak?" Mar demanded.

If he was going to be the only eight year old in a class, then he refused to go.

Damas turned back to the screen and rapped sharply on the side until some of the fuzzy quality cleared a bit.

"Spargus, at the moment, is home to twenty people between the ages of fifteen and nineteen," he said, "and twelve between the ages of two and thirteen."

Only Jak caught a flicker of what almost looked like pain in Damas’s eyes as he added quietly, "Far too few..."

He blinked and seemed to shake himself, then made a sound of triumph as he tapped a spot on the northwest edge of the map.

"Alma's place, of course!" He glanced back at the boys, realizing they wouldn't have the slightest idea who Alma was.

"One of our non-warrior citizens. She keeps rooms for newcomers. Rent is a touch eccentric, but at least it shouldn't put much burden on you."

Daxter hopped up to grab the edge of the console. After several seconds of struggling, he managed to claw his way up to a sitting position and folded his arms.

"Rent?!" he demanded, "All we got is a fiver ration card! Exiles don't get severance pay!"

For a second, Damas pressed his lips sharply together. If he found the ottsel's way of phrasing things funny, he was never going to admit it. Ever.

He cleared his throat and set about downloading the map into an odd-looking talk-box plugged into the side of the monitor.

"We don't use ration cards here. We barter. Time, food, water, shells, artifacts -- mostly artifacts. Most rooms come with a set of scales -- you'll need them."

Daxter looked a little put out, having become rather adept at making financial decisions based on Haven's currency. Jak and Mar, however, were relieved. It sounded far more like Sandover's way of life, except it applied to everyone and not just them.

Damas unplugged the talk-box and handed it to Jak. "Batteries are hard to come by out here. Try not to use this if you don't have to."

"Um...thanks." Jak switched on the boxy device's bulbous screen and cycled to the map. "We don't have anything to trade for this."

The king studied him for an uncomfortable moment, then his lips twisted at the corner into a smirk.

"You let me fix that haircut you gave yourself, and I'll call it even."

Jak did not appreciate Daxter's howl of laughter. Or Mar agreeing on his behalf.

#meddling mar au #free day thursday #fic prompts #writing prompts #jak and daxter #jak and daxter au #jak and daxter mar #king damas #dadmas #long post #Following this interview Damas basically assigns himself their guardian #it's because Jak insists they don't need one and Damas is trying to prove a point. Jak comes by his stubbornness honestly.#game Jak runs around during the hottest part of the day while the rest of Spargus takes siestas like sane people

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theroundbartable · 3 months

Text

Scam warning

Hello guys (/n), I'm going to tell you a little story about how I almost got scammed today. THANKFULLY, I'm extremely skeptical about people and don't make rash decisions, but more to that in a second.

So, the story begins with an instagram request for a commission by a private account (with a name where a few letters had been replaced with numbers). Or rather, whether or not I do take requests. Now, it wasn't the first time I've received one, but it was the first time I thought: You know what? Why not try it out for once? In hindsight, these may already have been scam accounts who simply gave up once I shut them down at first contact. (Instagram has loads of scammers.) At that point, I was, of course, already aware that scams are a thing, so I was wary from the very beginning but naive and curious enough to try. I don't HAVE a business account on paypal or anything, I made it clear to the user that it's the first time I've ever tried this, so I ask for patience to bear with me trying to figure out how it works. For that reason alone I stated fairly low prices and what not. But I also made clear that I would charge for my work and payment via paypal.

The first thing that seemed... OFF to me, was that I was sent a reference picture and a 'can you draw this'. I expected ... more. Like, a prompt, a certain style or something specific like a tattoo design (to which I would have declined). Nothing came, they just agreed on the highest price range I offered. So, I figured they wanted a full on colored picture. I assumed that this person may have paid for commissions before and was therefore kind of used to these exchanges and didn't wish to bother me, the artist, too much. As I mentioned above, I do not have a business account on paypal. I never upgraded and paypal TELLS me, I need to give in a firm address. And since I live in Germany, I KNOW there are tons of restrictions for these. I'd have to have official paperwork and everything to do this, but I didn't want to risk publishing my parents' address and so on. NEITHER did I feel comfortable even sharing my private E-Mail. And here is where I was smart for once, because this E-mail was set up running about max. an hour before I responded to the Instagram request. Now, after all the necessary precautions were done, they told me they already sent me the money on paypal. Which... odd? I expected some reluctance and mistrust on their part. But again, I assumed it had to do with their experience. So I looked and found that I had received nothing. I checked again, nothing. What I did receive, was an Email from what appeared to be Paypal.

It looked official at first glance... And here is where my mind went cray cray. Because, okay, here me out, I'm easy to fool and don't like bothering people with my shit. I actually believed that this instagram user would have to pay 300$ to have me have a business account. And I thought, hold on, this doesn't make sense. If there is a fee to pay, why do THEY have to pay it, and why do they get it refunded? What's the purpose of these 300$ that appear and disappear out of and into nowhere? But I was fooled enough to believe it. Or at least assume it was a coincidence and that if this email was scam I did not suspect the instagram user.

Although, I did think, if this was a scam, it would make sense. Because they'd be playing me to believe they were the ones being fooled and I'd offer to pay them their money back out of my own pocket. Which I had early decided would be the last, LAST resort. Or in this case, none at all. Because I would have simply finished the drawing, sent it to them and then lived without the profit. They would have paid, I would have done the work, the payment would simply have been lost at sea and I'd feel like crap about how it all went, but without making a minus. But of course, as a morally just person, I could not let them pay that money to paypal for no reason, so I told them to wait, I would try to open a business account manually, because that should have fixed the problem, right? And I would find these requirements somewhere on the app, and likely in the process of opening a business account, right? There should be no such thing as automatically upgrading to business paypal without extra steps. That's why this seemed weird in the first place. But of course, there have been Loads of AGB changes without my notice, so what do I know? So, I tried. It didn't work and it didn't add up with the mail. The user told me, they would pay the fee, I told them to wait until I figured out more. I couldn't find anything about this, so of course, I grew more skeptical. Because I do not like when I don't understand how something works and how it's all connected, so I refused to give up just yet. (kinda weird how I assumed they would be just as mistrusting of such a money demanding email as I was. They didn't seem to be, but I didn't trust it.) I then told them that paypal usually allows you a refund if you didn't get what you asked for, but they said they tried and it didn't work, and that I would have to send THEM the initial fee back. I hesitated. Because at this point, it was beginning to feel ... weird. And surreal. Because I assumed they would focus more on receiving the art, but the focus wasn't on that at all. They didn't even ask me how long I'd need to do it. They didn't seem worried or stressed, they were calmer than me, and I was holding myself together remarkably well for my own temper. And I told them as much.

I asked them to wait again, as I would ask a friend of mine who DOES have a paypal business account and who knows these things. They asked me why we can't do it alone. So, I told them as follows:

It's obvious, isn't it? I KNOW my friend personally, I know what they know, what they can do, etc. I do not know you, the stranger over instagram and you don't know me, so I don't expect there to be THAT level of trust between us. They may as well expect that I'm the scammer, right?

And I guess that's when my suspicion slowly hardened, because wouldn't people NORMALLY be glad if I knew someone who could help? Why keep this between us, who have no clue what's going on? Of course, I thought, it could simply be pride. But then why let ME handle it all, instead of insisting they know what to do?

My next course of action was then to text that friend, while I already readied myself to respond to the paypal mail. Because how DARE they expect random people to pay 300$ for someone else's account? (Told you, I'm a naive fool.) But then... in the middle of typing, I paused. Because as I mentioned, Germany has a ton of restrictions. And ONE of these restrictions is that in Emails, they have to link an Impressum. Contact data and stuff. The email seemed... too short, so I went and looked up the email address. At first, I couldn't find anything. Which was even weirder, because if this was officially paypal, it SHOULD be linked somewhere, right? So, I tried looking again. And this time, there was one meager result. And THIS was it:

The email was fishy, because it had an onmail. ending. I cross examined it by googling the official paypal mail and.... BABAM. That one has a dozen results on google. At this point, I was honestly, more impressed than upset. And maybe a little proud that even my moral justice and naivety hadn't completely betrayed me. And you know? I would have felt bad to assume that the instagram user was at fault for this, and this wasn't just a coincidence... If it weren't for the fact that my intended business email had existed for less than an hour, therefore nearly impossible to have been open for data leaks or what not, and THEY were the first person I sent it to. It was the third mail in total I got, next to the "welcome to gmail" and "Your account has been linked to paypal" mail. So, finally, I could be sure. I reported and blocked the instagram user and I do hope that they get taken down. Check the email-addresses that want to send you stuff. Never trust people you've never met, ask for a second opinion if you're unsure and cross examine everything. I hope that by reading this little story, you guys will find the red flags that the idiot I am refused to see at first glance. I've highlighted them in bolt letters to make sure you see how MANY there are. Everything that's bolt are where my mind went: hold on a second. You can tell... it's quite a LOT I ignored before I reported them, isn't it? Don't be like me. Make sure you block them before this happens.

#bbc merlin #vld #scam #hp #op #a little real life story #commission #scam mail #scam accounts #instagram #long post #personal

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redfurrycat · 10 months

Note

May i respectfully ask how you can enjoy a ship if u didn't see the show for canon's sake?? 😄👀

Hey Anon! :)

Talking about Sterek are we, right?? :D

Upon reading your ask, I reflected on how I got into the Sterek fandom in the first place, and wow what a nice journey down the memory lane!!

Short answer to how I can enjoy a ship if I didn't see the show?

COLDFLASH.

Confused, are you? =D

The longer version of my babbling is under the cut, and so very sorry about that, coudn't help myself! :D

In case you don't know about the Coldflash ship, Anon, just a quick word. Tis the hero/villain ship from the Flash tv-show, aka Barry Allen/Leonard Snart.

THEM:

I started following this ig account ss.sterek [@holycafe if I'm not mistaken], liking all the coldflash posts, then getting curious about their other posts as well.

This is how Sterek came to be.

At first, it was a polite indifference, but the more I saw the sterek posts the more it got interesting to me, until one day I started searching for any Sterek content.

Until I started searching for any content on Tumblr, specifically.

Until I liked so many incorrect quotes and crack posts about this so-called Sourwolf and Spaz.

At some point their dynamic became SO addicting, I decided to start reading fics.

Did I understand any of the mentionned canon? Heck no.

(The Teen Wolf Wiki Page was a huge help in that regard, explaining to me what a kanima or a nogitsune was for example.)

Still, I remember the first fics I read were about Stiles being Pack Mom to the Wonder betas!! =D

Also fics closely (ish) related to canon...So yeah they always referred to stuff happening in the show that I usually didn't get...

With patience, some research, and LOTS AND LOTS AND LOTS OF FICS, I began grasping things and characters surrounding the Sterek pair.

So I may not know about the Derek and the Stiles from the show, but I know of the fandom version of them.

Beleive me, it puzzled me how big it got to me. (BUT I'M LOVING IT!)

Like I probably have 2,000 bookmarked Sterek fics on AO3 plus the ones I've yet to read on my marked-for-later and the other ones I read without bookmarking them (rookie mistake xD).

I think the writers and the Sterek content creators have taken the grumpy-sunshiny & dry-sarcastic dynamics and wrote....how to say it? almost different characters than from the show? To the point I didn't need the show to understand them.

Nor did I wish to.

Actually, I tried watching after S06 got out, but didn't last more than 15 min maybe? My brain was too wired up on the Sterek vibe to fully appreciate the show. (Maybe my teenage ass would have liked it... But as I was watching soooo maaaaany tv-shows already, it was impossible to start watching Teen Wolf, and when I first heard of Sterek I was at Uni and really didn't have the time - But OH LORD THE NUMBER OF FICS I READ... My life saver to countless sleepless nights unable to close my eyes xD)

I've only watch THE famous Sterek Supercut!!!! :D <3

I don't know if you are aware of my Tumblr really, but if you are, you may notice I'm VERY MUCH INTO PLANES AND PILOTS these days... (okay it's been a year)....

YEAH YEAH YEAH TALKING ABOUT TOP GUN AND TOP GUN MAVERICK AND BLONDE AND BRUNET PILOTS SO WHAT OF IT?!

*I'm super chill, whatddyamean???? :D*)

Make NO mistake though, Sterek is still a favourite pair of mine, and I AM OH SO GLAD to see old and new content popping up in my dash. Still reblogging and reading!!!!!!!!!

ETERNAL STEREK!

Thank you to the original account that got me into Sterek. Thank you to THE STEREK FANDOM FOR CREATING THE MOST AMAZING CONTENT AND FICS.

Dear you go, Anon, rambles over. :D

(((I started writing the reply in the morning, and it is now the evening. I got distracted by real life stuff in the middle, and I AM EXHAUSTED. I hope you can make sense of all the babbling (or word-vomit, more like it.) I won't be reading again cause otherwise I'll keep adding stuff :D))

Have a good day Anon! ;)

#answered anon ask #coldflash got me into sterek :D <3 #and I'm ever so grateful for it! <3 #eternal sterek #sterek is eternal #I love sterek #I also mentionned coldflash and top gun.... AND I LOVE YOU TOO.#good lord this bean needs sleep xD #🐈red🐈furry🐈cat🐈tag🐈

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tufzy-baybey · 1 year

Text

Hi hi! Welcome to my first official post on my account!

I only had time for a few characters this time since I just want to get as much out as fast as possible :3

ʚ♡ɞ ʚ♡ɞ ʚ♡ɞ ʚ♡ɞ ʚ♡ɞ ʚ♡ɞ ʚ♡ɞ

This post contains:

Child! Reader x Reaper (platonic obviously)

Child! Reader x Zenyatta (platonic too)

Child! Reader x Cassidy

(All these are platonic obviously lol)

Anyways enjoy my little babies!

Something about Gabriel Reyes/Reaper makes him feel like an angsty father figure XP

Reader is a child/minor here! :3

Honestly a chill dad/father figure

Barely any patience tho :'3

If he's a father figure or adoptive father, he definitely wasn't planning on taking care of you full time, he knew his limits, after all.

Life turned out to really force you two together though, as you ended up being in his care for two years when he had the chance to find a family for you.

He decided to officially adopt you/let you stay when he had accepted to fact he had gotten attached to you (he'd never tell you though, he'd use your attachment as the excuse to keep you around)

Usually tired.

Has not patience but let's you get away with a lot more stuff than with everyone else

Of your having trouble with grades he would help to some degree, but he'd come with you to visit Moira if you need help with any scientific or mathematic subjects. (Or any, actually)

Extremely protective over you.

If he took care of you when you were younger, he'd so read you bed time stories.

Just don't tell anyone or tease him about it, or he'll give you the cold shoulder for a bit

And no bed time stories ˚‧º·(˚ ˃̣̣̥⌓˂̣̣̥ )‧º·˚

Sombra found out about you, she's like and older rebellious sister who tries to get you to join her in her shenanigans.

Expect sombra to get scolded by Gabriel (or yelled at by reaper, depending on the timeline) if she ever gets caught being a bad influence.

Not very physically affectionate :'3

He is verbally affectionate, but only when he thinks you are asleep or otherwise don't hear him <3

Zenyatta is so perfect for gentle parenting it's so canonnnn (includes a little of Ram, genji, kiriko and hanzo)

You were adopted by zenyatta as he took you in

You were just a baby when you were abandoned by your own kin, left in the front of the temple where zenyatta spends most of his time at.

Zenyatta was more than happy to take you in, as he's Genji's mentor, he's already experienced in some fields, but you were so young, so raising a human from practically the start of your life was a learning experience.

Ramattra didn't exactly hate you, you were just a baby after all, but he still would avoid you, he felt that deep down you were just like the others, whether or not he was mistaken or correct is up to you :3

Your abandonment is just another excuse for Ramattra to hate humanity.

When you had tantrums, Zenyatta was extremely forgiving to you, and patient, but still a little awkward having to deal with you screaming, rolling, kicking around and punching the air in the middle of meditation session with a group of omnics

This caused him to decide on meditating some place else, just you and him and who ever wanted to visit you two at the time.

He taught you how to handle your emotions better, and how to meditate without feeling weird about it.

Star gazing was definitely a #1 calming activity you two did if you had a bad day.

He is physically affectionate, always with permission though

Also verbally affectionate, honestly sounds like he's reading a poem of a loving father it probably would make any sensitive person tear up a little <3

As a kid you were pretty mischievous, but also well behaved, Ramattra was a little more comfortable with you, as when Zen was busy he'd leave you with Ramattra to keep watch on you.

The most you two do together is talk, literally about anything.

If your having a bad day and a human is making it worse, Zenyatta would advice to not tell or worry your uncle Ram, you don't know why though.

You still scare Ramattra at times, you know how kids are, sometimes they just say creepy ass shit >w<

Genji is definitely an older brother figure.

It's nice to have a sibling figure that actually has a good relationship for him :3

Kiriko and you are literally so mischievous together in the most wholesome way.

You don't know hanzo, and you hope one day you 4 can finally reunite, become siblings and live your live happily ever after :3

Yes I counted kiriko because she's so genji's sister you can't convince me otherwise.

When your a small child genji's or kiriko definitely play with you 24/7

Probably hold you up and pretend your an airplane lol

I wanna be a cowboy, bayyybeyyyyy!!!

He found you as an orphan roaming around the streets, you could barely walk, it'd haunt him forever if he just left you there to fend for yourself

He didn't know how to take care of a toddler, much less how to parent you into becoming a good child

Honestly tries to be more of a cool young uncle, kinda fails at that though.

He stopped smoking as much since you were near him most of the time, but he definitely had cigar breaks from the added stress of taking care of a child.

Definitely washing planning on keeping you around but every family open to you had.... Problems that he wouldn't feel comfortable leaving you to their care.

Not like he could give you a better life though, at least that's his insecurities talking.

Maybe he was being selfish, not leaving you at an orphanage or to foster care, maybe he was looking for excuses where you would be better off staying with him.

Not like you wanted to get adopted anyways, you felt comfortable in his care, of course you weren't spoilt, but you live a humble if not exciting childhood, you got more than you can ever ask for, even if you weren't in the safest of situations simply because of your connection with Cassidy.

Cassidy feels extremely guilty for any instance where you got hurt or in trouble because of him.

If you didn't smile at him anymore after everything you two have been through it would eat him alive.

Once you fall asleep after he had tucked you in, he's most definitely stressing about how you're both going to get by or survive.

Life's definitely a lil rough, but he's definitely a good dad, even if he doesn't agree :3

Piggy back rides! Lots of em

Loves to annoy you with physical affection.

He loves picking you up and hugging you while your kicking your feet in the air as he tickles you with his beard rubbing on your cheek!

Plays tickle monster a lot!

Loves playing pretend whenever you two can, that's actually how he gets you to stay happy and calm or quiet when you two are in danger :')

Let's you wear his hat for fun.

Definitely stole a horse plushie just for you.

You two have a specific diner you two go to, as it's hard to find on maps and lowkey in general, you guys can go there and order food when ever needed.

The owner is also in hiding so he's no snitch :3

When you were a toddler, you would hold on to his index finger since your hand was so small, it honestly made his heart melt.<3

#ow2 #ow2reaper #ow2zenyatta #owcassidy #aggression #agere headcanons #agere #ow2 agere #cutecore #overwatch #child!reader

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