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astoryisaloveaffair · 2 days

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Fix You - Chapter 16 - Genesis

Pairing: Frankie “Catfish” Morales x Fem!Reader

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Read on A03

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Chapter Summary: 🤷‍♀️

Word Count: 4K

Rating: Explicit

Chapter Warnings: cussing, graphic violence, mentions of sex. I'm not giving more warnings than that, sorry.

A/N: Hey all. First I want to say I'm sorry. I literally had no time or motivation to write this. I'm gonna be honest, this is a really tough chapter, and it was hard to get in this headspace. Suffering a recent heartbreak, things in this chapter are things I have thought also, and so it was really hard for me to voluntarily want to address that. I also started working in veterinary medicine, i do not have the spare time that I used to. We also recently adopted a puppy who we named Bucky! And if you read my earlier posts, you know that I was SA'd last January. All that to say, sorry I couldn't do this faster.

Also want to wish a happy birthday to @musings-of-a-rose, my beloved, my bestie, and my constant support. This is for you. Sorry it's not a happier chapter....

* If a character is speaking fully in Spanish, I will put “[ ]” around the dialogue. I speak pretty decent Spanish but not good enough for this

Suggested Songs: "Exile" Taylor Swift feat. Bon Iver, "I Love You" Billie Eilish, "Vampire" and "Logical" by Olivia Rodrigo, "The Night We Met" by Lord Huron and Phoebe Bridgers, "Genesis" by Grimes

You didn’t even flinch at the landing, which was rough, so that’s saying a lot. When the janky cargo door (which looked like at any time during the flight would be ripped right off) opens, you barely even lift your eyes from the floor. You felt heavy and hollow, somewhere suspended in between shock and just not giving a fuck anymore. The only thing you could still fell was the pinching in your heart. It was still broken.

At some point during the journey, the co-pilot had taken pity on you and untied your arms from behind your back and bound them in front of you instead. You hadn’t struggled. There was no point. Where would you go? Jump in the ocean? You weren’t that great of a swimmer and you loved sharks and everything but the open ocean is not where you are supposed to be.

You have no sense of space and time, so you have no actual clue where you are other than not the mainland. You’re dehydrated as fuck, groggy, your vision’s blurry and you’d figured out the sticky moisture on your face was your own blood.

Because when you had suddenly blacked out it was because they’d hit you, and had absolutely no hesitation doing so. They did not care about you, they did not see you as a human being, they didn’t even bother strapping you into a seat so you had been sliding around the cargo bay the entire flight, bumping into everything. You were in deep danger, any hope that you would have some ransom protection had pretty much disintegrated. You had hoped that the boys wouldn’t come for you at first. Then you had hoped that they would, because if you’re ransom, even if at the very least you’d be alive until then, right? But “alive” doesn’t mean unharmed.

A shadow looms over you and it finally makes you look up, squinting to adjust your eyes to something so close, as well as the brightness of the sun. It feels like it takes you 10 whole minutes to process that you were being spoken to in English.

“Eh!” The man leaning over you snips, and when you simply blink in confusion and don’t answer, he slaps you lightly on both cheeks. You’re stunned enough to finally look at him, his oval face, beady eyes and unique sideburns seeming so familiar to you but quite frankly you wouldn’t trust yourself with recognizing even your dad at the moment, so you push that thought aside.

He kneels down in front of you. “You listen to me. We don’t want you. We want the money. This means if you don’t fucking piss me off, I might be nice and not kill you, you understand? Be a smart little girl, eh?.”

You nod, you probably should be feeling some sort of panic setting in but you don’t. Whatever. Who even cares anymore.

He takes your silence as submission. “Bueno.” He whispers, leaning down and grabbing you by the arm, lifting you until you are back on your feet. He tilts his head and steps to the side, revealing 5 additional men with AKs pointed straight at you. From behind, you feel the sharp tip of another poking your back, urging you forward and down the precarious ramp. The pilots.

You didn’t trust that they wouldn’t hurt you, but you knew you had no other choice. Trying to fight was asking for it, and once you step out of the hold and realize you were in the fucking jungle, there would be no sensical place to go even if you did get away.

You step out of the plane onto a rickety steel ramp that bounces as the footpad of your sandals touches it and shuffle slowly down it. You feel suffocated sandwiched between four men, your hands chafe where they are tied and you have been in the same positions for so long your whole body is sore. Every touch and movement hurt.

You stumble as the ramp ends but one of the men grabs your arm and yanks you so you don’t fall. It wasn’t kindness. It was a way to hurt you that he could get away with. The tiny dirt landing strip is almost canopied completely by the jungle trees, leaving large patches here and there where the plane flew through, not noticeable from far above. It looks like you’re walking to nothing, just a dirt road that ends right into the thick middle of the jungle, but you don’t stop at the edge. You push through.

It’s hot as shit and you felt sweat buildup in every crevice of your body, your thighs are rubbing raw from your asinine decision to wear short shorts to the fair, and you could feel a heat rash growing under your tits that you couldn’t even scratch because your hands are bound.

You walk for forever. You walk until the friction rash on your inner thighs turn to lesions. You haven't drank water in almost 48 hours and it feels like 150 degrees out, with full humidity. You’ve had to stop twice already to vomit from heat exhaustion and you still occasionally gag even though there’s nothing in your stomach to come up anymore. All the years that you did not appeal to insects are making up for it now, they’re all over you and you can’t walk 3 steps without one getting in your eye. The jungle gets tighter and you can’t breathe because it’s pushing in on you almost as tight as the hands on your shoulders pushing you forward..

You start crying. At least, that is what you tell yourself as you whimper and sob as quietly as you can. You know you’re strong, but this is just beyond reason that any normal person could take. And when you think about how this is probably what life was all the time in Delta for the boys, you cry even harder because you feel guilty, that you have no right to complain.

Finally, after what feels like forever, the tightness of the jungle seems to loosen. More open. You notice some of the trees look more oddly arranged than others. As you get closer you realize they aren’t trees at all, but tents and dilapidated buildings built into the shadows of the trees. The huge roots and overhanging canopy of the jungle transformed a bustling camp into what looks like a little village. At the entrance, a line of guards in jungle fatigues that were impossible to detect until you got right up to them. You hear someone speak above you, alerting you to a man up in the trees on a platform tucked between the branches. There was another in the tree on the opposite side. He calls to the man with the sideburns, saying something in Spanish you can’t interpret fast enough, but it’s jovial and they laugh, and it makes you feel like you’re going to go mentally insane.

It’s like it’s not even serious to them. And it’s so serious to you.

You are pushed through the camp quickly, but not quick enough that you don’t see the insane amount of cocaine packages piled up in the makeshift buildings, sheds, and tents toward the back. Men were milling about checking them, moving them and glaring at you as you walked past.

You continue past the main camp, crossing over a bustling creek whose bridge was literally just planks of wood, but you noticed there were tire marks across them so you felt at least safe it could handle a car’s weight. Across the creek, an old stonework manor stood. You can tell at one time it must have been glorious, but the white stone-worked walls were dirty and crumbling in many places, the fountains out front had dried crusty palm fronds and dirt in them and looked like they hadn’t sprayed water since the 1980s.

It was still oddly beautiful. You thought about how this house came to be, what it might have looked like when it had been first built. A beautiful Caribbean sea mansion. A jungle that hadn’t closed in on it yet. Fountains spraying and colorful birds resting on the rooftops. But then you realize that this place has probably always been used for what it is now. Someone like Carl Lehder probably lived here and ran an entire cartel within this very jungle. Maybe it was the same one, just run by someone else.

There was a shabbily made shack to the left of the manor with padlocks, piles of debris piled next to the door. You assume that’s where you would be taken, but you were instead led up the stairs to the manor proper. And as your eyes focus in on the ground while you were being guided to the mansion instead, you realize the heap of matter by the shack that you thought was some dying plantation was actually a crumpled human body. A boy looking not much older than 17, shot execution style in the head and left to rot.

Then smell hits you, your knees buckle and you vomit on the stonework stairs, a scream of shock and realization pierces the jungle, making the nearby tropical birds explode from the treetops. When the sicarios pick you up and carry you through the mansion door, you’re still screaming.

Eventually whoever was carrying you became fed up, and simply dropped you at the bottom of the stairs and dragged you up backwards by the armpits instead. You didn’t even feel the step edges hitting the small of your back all the way up, but you would later.

You were tossed stricken and shivering on a disgusting, top-sheeted mattress on the floor in the corner of a room, your feet still bound together and your rope-bound hands looped through a radiator that was long enough only for you to lie down or shuffle over to a bucket for your business. Everything stank and you still had vomit on your chin so you curled up in a ball and slammed your eyes closed, hoping that in time the voices and smells and fear would give way to just simple numbness. You didn’t hear a female voice speaking to you for several seconds.

Your eyes snap open, skin pulled taut from dried unwiped tears,and you jolt upright to look in the direction of the voice. A woman who wasn’t even tied up was propped up against the adjoining wall, and as you take in her condition you could understand why they hadn’t even bothered. She wouldn’t have been able to run.

Her legs look..wrong, splaying at angles that shouldn’t be possible. They look like they could be broken, but you can’t tell for sure because she was wearing jeans that cover up most of her skin. The jeans were ripped in some places and stained with dark blood spots, the color turning brighter wherever her skin shows through the tears in the fabric. She’s missing several fingers on her left hand that had been burnt at the ends to cauterize, and her face was black and blue, swollen and smeared with more blood that seemed to be coming from her scalp somewhere. Her lips are pale and cracking and her eyes are glazed over and barely open. When she speaks, she already sounds like she is dead.

She swallows and winces slightly in pain, then licks her cracked pale lips.“Is…my…her–my brother. Did you see him? Out there?”

Your face scrunches in confusion, which actually hurts a little and you’re not sure from what specifically. Perhaps you look just as bad as the other girl. “Your–I—I don’t understand.”

She’s too exhausted to even be annoyed with you. “My brother. They took him from me days ago. They do not talk to me anymore. They don’t—need me anymore.” A single tear falls down her swollen cheek and you suddenly feel so much connection with this woman and how incredibly fucking strong she is. Her eyes roll over to you, meeting yours for the first time. There are burst blood vessels in them.

“I think that they killed him.”

Your lips part and you utter a shuddering breath as you connect the dots. There’s no point in sugar-coating it. You nod slowly. “I think so. But it’s not…recent.” You look away as her eyes slowly close, the additional tears she was holding back finally spilling over and cascading down her cheeks.

“Bueno.” She says. “Then at least he is not suffering like me.”

You both fall quiet and you look over her again. Her pants aren’t completely done up and her t shirt is ripped at the neckline, exposing a gashed shoulder. Almost like…

You start crying again, and you feel even worse about it this time because you have in front of you a woman who has been through much worse and is somehow NOT crying. You curl tighter into yourself to try and hide.

But she simply asks. “Who are you?”

You swallow, raising your head up off your arms, quickly wiping the access tears off on your sleeve. It’s incredible how adrenaline and fear can sometimes make you the most clear-headed you’ve ever been. Your thoughts are swirling but you knew one thing for damn sure, if they didn’t know your name yet, you weren’t going to say it now.

If I look forward I am lost. Focus on right now. Nothing else. It’s my best chance.

You know enough about trauma that compartmentalizing this moment is your best chance. You can’t think what will happen if you don’t escape, if you aren’t found, if they never come for you. You need to stay focused. You need to keep hope alive. You need to stay coherent, because if a chance pops up, you need to be able to think quickly.

“I’m no one.” You mumble. “Just happened to be dating the wrong person.”

She sniffs and looks away, but it’s muffled because her nose sounds congested. You don’t miss her tone though. “Mmmm. His new one then.”

You blink. “What?”

Her glazed over, discolored eyes snap back to yours. “Pope.” She spits. “Your man. Santia—”

“NO!” You cut her off with a shout, you know there is a guy who is in the area and you still don’t know how much these men do or do not know. “Don’t. Don’t give them names if they don’t already know it.”

“I don’t give a shit about Agent Garcia, or his friends, or anyone else, it’s their fault I am here and it’s their fault my brother is dead and..” She finally, finally starts to cry. “I told him I didn’t want to do it. They said they would let us go if we gave them what they wanted.”

“It was you.” You exhale with a shuddering breath. “They found us cause of you. You told them.” You shake your head, and for some reason you feel betrayed by this woman even though you’ve never met her. “How could you?”

“Because all I care about is my brother, do you understand?! I wish I’d never met him, Garcia, we would have just snuck away and no one would never seen us, but no, instead we listened to him and helped them steal from fucking Lorea, and now they found us and I knew they would, and YES, I gave them EVERYTHING because they said they’d let us go so long as they found you and–”

“Eh!” A voice trails in with a watchman you knew was hanging out somewhere in the hallway beyond. He slips through the doorway, a smaller man you were not expecting from that voice, and leans against the deteriorating door frame. He crosses his arms and his legs and it makes the handgun on his hip jut out prominently from his skinny hips. “No talking to each other.” His voice is silky and the words all slide together so it sounds like ‘no talkintoeeachother.’

You shrink back into the dirty wall behind you as your associate spits a bloody phlegm ball in the man’s direction. “FUCK you!” She snarls, a tirade of cuss words in Spanish flying from her lips.

A loud pop almost bursts your eardrums and your heart and you exclaim in terror as your associate is shot point blank in the head, her back slumping against the wall and her head hitting with a bang, pieces of blood and brain tissue spraying over the back wall with pieces flying in your direction.

The man remains completely motionless with his arms still raised before huffing a laugh to himself, putting the gun back on his hip, and looking at you with the such an unaffected gaze it leaves you feeling dizzy and you scream and scream and scream yourself hoarse, crumpling onto your mattress in a terrified heap, arms over your head, sobbing hysterically.

A gentle but firm palm wraps around your forearm, yanking you back up to a seated position. You look away, but the man’s other hand takes you gently by the jaw and makes you look at him. And just behind him, the woman slumped in a pool of blood and brain matter. You try to wriggle out of his grip but he tightens ever so slightly, and you can’t help but notice how different it is when Frankie would grab you like that versus this man. Frankie held you the same, sometimes harder, but you had trusted his domination and his care of you and because of that, it made it arousing. That same motion with this man has you more scared than you ever have been in your life.

“Bebita.�� He coos, thumb lightly caressing your jaw. He wipes at a small speck of blood you don’t know is even there. You can feel yourself shaking and breathing so fast you can see his half waxed back tousled locks that hang past his temples are blowing in its breeze. You can’t answer him. “Look at me.”

You do. His eyes are a dark, almost black chocolate brown, shape mismatched, a scruffy beard and goatee and thin lips. In another world you would find him devastatingly attractive and the fact that you do makes you feel absolutely violated and disgusted with yourself.

“Do not cry.” He continues. “You have no reason to if you behave, si? You be good and you listen and I will keep you safe you understand? Well, at least for now.” He shifts closer to you, you can smell his breath. It smells like orange and cloves. “There are a lot of men here Bebita. I am sure you understand what this means, si? Answer me.”

“Yes.” A final fat tear spills from one of your eyes, and it stings as it mixes with your sweat and the raw skin around your eyes.

He juts his head in the other woman’s direction. “This one, she fight the whole time. I like a easy job. Make my job easy, I make sure you always deal with me. Do not make me call in the other guys, they are not as nice. Understand?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” He releases your chin and you scoot back quickly as he saunters over to the other woman’s bloody body, grabs it by the arm, and casually drags her as dismissively as possible out the door and out of your sight, leaving a bloody trail behind.

At first you just sit there in a slump staring at the opposite wall,, you don’t know for how long. Probably hours. Maybe days. The man, whose name you figured out from when he spoke to someone else in the hall, is Angel. Sometimes he would sit up and watch you, as if figuring you out, your body and the way you shift and switch positions when you are uncomfortable, what it looked like when you were crying and trying to keep quiet and unnoticed. But most of the time he ignored you. Occasionally others would come into the room and either speak to him or approach you, but upon noticing Angel watching them they would hiss or spit a curse and slink off.

The room reminded you of those old houses from the 70s that had those drafty unfinished basements that were simply concrete floors, painted stucco or white brick. To the sicarios, it served as an overflow area, there was a rotting desk along the side wall with a metal folding chair and piles of scattered papers and random household tools on them. Against the opposite side wall was a pretty nice tv, considering, which was always playing soccer. Angel seemed to make that his home base, his lithe frame sprawled across a grandma-fabric sofa, head resting on one of the puffy arm rests. He binge-smoked cigarettes and his right hand was always stretched over his head resting against his forehead in the direction of to an end table with an massive overflowing porcelain ashtray on it. You didn’t used to mind the smell of cigarettes too much but now it makes you feel sick.

You’re ashamed of how little you actually think about your current situation and like the hopeless romantic idiot you are, mostly all you can think about is Frankie. The things he said–you knew he said mean things when he was mad, or things he didn’t mean, but isn’t there always some truth to things that are said in the heat of the moment? That was enough for you to silently spiral. You thought about every memory you had of him and how it could be viewed through the lens that Frankie just wanted to fuck you. Your self confidence was low enough it was believable, and your mind races through every instance of an older man being in a relationship with someone much younger and how of course it was predatory, and how could you not see it, that you didn’t have anything in common? It’s a tale as old as time. He just wanted to fuck you, he wanted to fuck you and dominate you, his dark desires seducing you into feeling so wanted you can’t believe you thought he loved you and didn’t see right through it.

And his friends, well, they were all in on it weren’t they, because why would they want to hang out with someone like you either? Why would men such as that actually want to be friends with you when you have never experienced half of what they have.

Fuck him. Fuck him and his lying ass, he was a fucking loser addict and you’re pissed at yourself for even considering him. Like how lonely were you?? To choose an old man with a kid who served in an institution that represented everything you hated about this country? To be so easily blinded by pretty words and love bombs to immediately take your clothes off. Because how, if he actually loved you or even like you, could he possibly have lied about something so big?! Or bought you something nice with all that fucking drug money he stole. Not that you’d want it or expected it, but why wouldn’t you want to treat someone you love as much as he claimed to?

How could he sit there and make up what happened to Tom like that, when you were being so coddling and trying to be a caring ear. And Benny…Pope...if they were your friends they should have told you, that’s what real friends do…

But they weren’t your friends. They were never your friends.

And if you went the other way, and considered that it was all true, that he did love you, that they were all your friends, and that he lied to you and threw stones to hurt you and push you away, how was that any better? You couldn't even think about a future not being with him, but obviously he could. He could watch you cry and question him and not even look at you, completely ignore you, then not even think about you again. No texts, no calls. No “I’m sorry, please come back.” Silence.

How could it be so easy for him? How can he just go about his life like you never happened? Why did you still care?

Why did you still want him?

Why did you still love him so so much. Part of you wishes they’d get on with it and just kill you. At least then you wouldn’t have to feel this excruciating pain. You wouldn’t have to see him show up to rescue you because he has to, to have to see his fucking face and every line, crinkle, scar, the bald patch in his beard and the tousled little curls that pop out of his hat…only for him to save you and then leave again, or die and then you have the guilt of killing a man who no longer loved you.

Yea. You think you’d rather die.

You feel like you’re going to throw up again. You’d let him force his cock in your mouth as far as it could go, let him tie you up and fuck you hard enough to leave bruises you had thought of as a badge of honor. You’d let him cum on your face. You’d let him fucking cum inside you! He’d gaslit you so you actually wanted him to tie you up with zip ties—-

Your heart almost stops. You can picture how his face looked exactly when he said it.

Sometimes rope can give over time.

That’s why we always used zip ties.

You look down at your bound hands.

They’re bound with rope.

#fix you fic #triple frontier fanfic #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x reader #frankie catfish morales x you #frankie catfish morales x reader #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfic

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affarista · 8 months

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the itch to add neuvillette.... but i'm gonna wait until the rest of the fontaine story is out.

#△･ﾟ 𝑶𝑶𝑪 ¸ i'm just trying to vibe #it always feels like people rush into writing new characters skjfhsdf especially from leaks.#which is fine you do you ofc but #personally i don't enjoy picking up on a muse for a brand new character #and establish a portrayal with headcanons and stuff only to have it crushed by canon within a month or something KSJDHFSDF #ofc canon divergence is fun and all but personally it's much more helpful to me if i know *what* i'm diverging from if i'm gonna do it.#i'll probably start working on icons for him in advance but imma wait for a while before adding him.#probably until neuvillette's banner drops - when there's more info out there.#but boy do i love that man so much cries. reminds me so much of zhongli in some ways.... my beloved.

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tvrningout-a · 5 months

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i should've switched to writing original stuff ages ago bc i could've been overcoming writer's block if i did :' )

#connecting mine and vee's lore in written form is something i've wanted to do forever bc i love love love gaia and kaiya's relationship!!#but i had a mental block towards bio's for... man i dunno how long tbh #i always got really stuck with them which is why i started doing bullet points where i could jot down all my thoughts #but i should have just?? been unafraid to write lengthy bio's i think #and then i could've done fun stuff like this way earlier!! without feeling stuck and slow!!#like honestly i don't even care about the people who won't bother to read my bio's bc those probably aren't the people who will #end up writing with me #i always avoided lengthy bio's bc i didn't wanna inconvenience someone #but how is it inconveniencing if i'm trying to make something interesting and enjoyable to read?#how is it inconveniencing if i'm just?? writing about my muses?? it's silly to water down my creativity and i'm sorry i did it now #now pls know i can give you the tldr on any of my muses bio if you need it asdfgh but i'm gonna just!! do what's fun for me from now on #that's gonna be a very important rule i need to enforce for myself with this blog move #no more doing things that make it harder for myself bc i'm worried about other people #there needs to be a balance and that's what i'm gonna keep in mind going forward uvu #so sorry for the rant oh my gosh asdfgh i just got to thinking and truly my writer's block has not bothered me with dorverold stuff #like it has in the past for other things and i think it's how i've approached writing and world building aka not worrying about length #if i'm struggling it's because i'm tired or busy #ANYWAY ASDFG i promise i'm going to bed now :' ))) good night!!#get ready to ramble | ooc

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angorwhosebabyisthis · 1 year

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the urge to make a multi-muse LL rp blog even though i will probably not do much with it and have mostly sworn off tumblr rp

#LL tag #pros: powerful urge to do public rp. cons: hate setting up rp blogs. past experiences with tumblr rp spheres have been tirefires #would almost certainly be multi-muse if i did though because i am incapable of just limiting myself to one #or a small enough number to make separate blogs for all of them #or might make separate blogs for a few; then split other muses off from the main one if i decide they've gained enough steam for their own #all i know is i miss doing public rp and i am very selective about who i'll rp with in private spaces these days #for a number of reasons including just being a socially anxious motherfucker w/ very few spoons for non-asynchronous interaction these days #i already know i'm gonna go for ivan five and both versions of nine #and probably also the retconned version of five who was with the mogs since he was tiny. and possibly adam #MAGGIE. i'd like to write maggie #along with various au versions of all of the above lmao #selkie five sphinx ivan white deer maggie college student cody villain nine my beloveds #possibly others i'm forgetting #There's a Lot #RP tag

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masquenoire · 1 year

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Your most beautiful feature ~

Roman Sionis's most beautiful feature is their shiny skin.

“Fuck you.”

Stolen from;; @halfghcst

#💀 || dashboard games #💀 || musings #I'm writing right now and wouldn't have posted otherwise but #The shade #The fucking shade #Roman has very shiny skin #Especially on his face :')#He is NOT amused #Gonna do one response tonight thank you all for putting up with my dumb ass!#Hope this all made you smile just as much #Kirk's best feature was his chin?#Man-Bat apparently has beautiful kidneys #Probably not something Chimera needs to know :x

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blindedguilt · 8 months

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//Happy 20th Anniversary, Drakengard! I've been fighting to write and finish up my inbox asks before the 25th of Obtober gets here (I have plans and i INTEND to follow through on them), and currently... I have a bunch of drafts :,) I'll get some soon, I promise!! I thought to myself "If I even get at least two done before the month is up I'll feel content with myself" so fingers crossed!! //Anyways, I made some art of the boy to celebrate~

//I'm gonna try a challenge run for Drakengard after this: I'm honestly doubtful it can be done entirely, but I'm going to try and see how far I can get in the game just using Leonard lmao //I'll keep you posted on how far I get fkghsdkghbkdjf

#||OOC||#{/dark souls has been devouring my LIFE.... did you know its easier just to book it through sens fortress than do it LIKE YOURE SUPPOSED TO #{/im tired of grinding. im level 55 they shouldnt be this mean to me}#{/sucks bc now i'm like 'make a verse for leonard heehee' and what i HATE is that personality-wise he'd fit right in}#{/but i don't know HOW I'D INCORPORATE HIM OR EVEN ENOUGH ABOUT THE LORE TO CONFIDENTLY DO ANYTHING}#{/that's not to say i don't have ideas though lmao}#{/it's funny because thinking about it its like drakengard is just 'we have the crestfallen warrior at home' crestfallen warrior at home:}#{/ANYWAYS!! dark souls HAS been consuming my life but ive been on a leonard binge again for like these past few days}#{/and that's another technical difficulty}#{/because nothing in my inbox is actually FOR leonard and half of me is going 'well just ask for memes for him then; get your moxy back}#{/and boom! get the other asks' but rational simon is like 'NO NO NOOOO YOU *KNOW* YOURE PROBABLY GONNA LOSE MUSE FOR HIM IMMEDIATELY AND}#{/IF YOU DONT THEN YOURE SURE AS HELL NOT GONNA ANSWER THOSE OTHER ONES EVER EVER AGAIN; YOU SHOULDN'T EVEN BE *THINKING* ABOUT OPENING}#{/ASKS UP AGAIN WHEN YOU ALREADY HAVE FIVE' and im just.... hrrrhgghhhrGRRRRRR}#{/anyways that's all from ~simon radio~ harrass me on discord im lonely lmao}

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apollos-boyfriend · 1 year

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1 6 19 25 for mcyt (do we gotta specify fandom..)

6. which ship fans are the most annoying?

. 🌎

19. you're mad/ashamed/horrified you actually kind of like...

i've said this before but. those stupid ooc chat fics. they're my guilty pleasure and NONE of them are good enough to warrant the times i've reread them

[choose violence ask game]

#muse talk #monachopsissssss #ask game #u guys can all probably tell what that ship is #that's all i'm saying #sorry but i'm gonna skip some of the ones that have already been asked!!#i do not have That many opinoins in my head. it is mostly empty there

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nagititiis · 1 year

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*stares out into the distance* ........i miss haru. i miss him a lot.

#OOC; *puts on fake stache*#((hey my tags are still here!))#((i miss my wife tails..))#((i miss s.okka too..i need to rewatch a.tla man))#((i literally want to redo everything for both of them so i #'m probably going to make new blogs))#((but fun fact for haru a small part of me *doesnt* want to ONLY bc i have so many musings posts i like here..gonna rb them all AGAIN))#((but you know what. i think i will redo lmao))#((i'm not gonna say 'soon' bc *looks at my last posts here* sometimes i say im going to do things and then i dont))#((also classes are gonna start again soon so.))#((but yeah just dropping here in to say hi i guess <3))#((I AM ON OTHER BLOGS THO I JUST REALISED THAT SOUNDS LIKE I DROPPED OFF THE FACE OF THE EARTH))#((i'm over @/primordyalsoul and @/sffroncloaked !!))#((also i dont really rp on disco.rd bc i suck at it but if you want my handle!! ask!! im much easier to reach and talk to there!!))

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apoapsis · 1 year

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sorry for low activity btw, i was a little depressed because the food bank i usually go to wasn’t open last time i went so i was stressing for a min there, but we finally got some things today so i’m feeling a bit better now :)

#++|| OOC #i wanna open up for 10$ doodle/lineart commissions #but i always feel bad even bothering with trying to ask #since everybody's kind of broke around this time and have enough to worry about #i'll probably make a small post for it but idk #being poor and diabetic really fucking sucks bro 🥺🥺#dont worry abt this tho! its just a heads up #i just dont want anyone to feel left out just because i kinda do my own thing #i just want anybody tht's been wondering if im interested in interacting #to know that i am in fact interested in interacting #regardless of my thread count #anyway i'ma try to focus on replying to some starters #and goin thru my inbox call #and then i'm gonna try and work on the muse doodles some more! :)#i didnt wanna post them until i got most / all of them done #i kind of want to post all the doodles all together tho #just so everybody is kinda forced to look at each other's blogs via being tagged #kinda force everybody to acknowledge each other :)

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abrushwithdeath · 2 years

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Love is such a central part of her character, I feel. But not... not in the way it should be, perhaps. It's difficult for her when things get real because, suddenly, that's another weak point to be exploited- by others, by the person she loves. She’s not afraid of much, but vulnerability and, by extension, love, terrifies her. And yet, she craves it. It creates this kind of cognitive dissonance, her actions and her thoughts don’t always align, and that can be absolutely devastating, not just to her but to the people she loves. She has survived abandonment. Been discarded, been disowned for things she couldn’t control, had no say in. She has been picked back up and pieced back together... only to then live with love that is limited and conditional; easily discarded like it, and she, never meant a damned thing. She has had her love manipulated and warped and weaponized- the never ending search for approval from others like a drug. And yet she's stuck in the mindset of self sufficiency. She doesn't WANT to need anyone... Even though she strives to find meaning outside of herself, in others. In what she can do for them. In how she can give herself up to them. While her own love knows few limits (she tries to hold grudges, but offers forgiveness too easily- her relationship with Mystique is a prime example), her personal perception of how others love her is cemented in how useful she can be to them. A means to an end. And she doesn’t want that to be the case, of course. She wants love that is limitless. Love that doesn’t require her to constantly be walking a thin, winding, line of suitability. In fact, she strives against all of it, against being used, presses upon herself the need for independence. I have this page I’m writing up for her (it’s a basic bio), and in it I wrote: “self reliance assures self preservation” because that’s how she thinks... but she also falters in that time and again because she wants to be self reliant, yes; however, she has a hard time with actually committing to it. So she wavers. Hot and cold, so to speak. One moment she’s all in, giving her everything to someone. And the next? She’s pulling away as if she’s been burned. And the littlest things can set it off, push her from a place of comfort to a place of fear. In the comics she has often left Re//my for that exact reason- because things got too real, she gets too attached, he gets too close. Because in that propinquity she catches a glimpse at a piece of him that makes her feel like he’s only going to hurt her, or she him. It’s an excuse to step back, to walk away, to escape. Re//my caught onto that game quickly, and he loves her enough to offer her the space she needs, but he’s smart enough to often come to her first because he knows that if he doesn’t, she won’t come back. She gets so caught in her head, in these thoughts that she’s protecting both his heart and her own by keeping away, even when that couldn’t be further from the truth. And it’s the same in most of her relationships at some point or another. It’s hard to picture her being absolutely, unquestioningly, confident in a relationship when every time she’s felt comfortable with love it’s suddenly been ripped out from under her. Add to all of this the fact that, emotionally, she’s stunted, still childish to a degree, especially when she’s younger- late teens, early 20s, still trying to figure herself out, still dealing with what she has been and who she wants to be. Her anger was fed and, like her love, weaponized from early on. It became a substitute for every other, harder to bear, emotion. She’s sad? Hurt? Heartbroken? It bleeds into anger and aggression more often than not. Even something as small as confusion can cause impatience and, to a degree, vexation. She can’t help it. In a respect, it’s how she’s been trained. To lash out. To wield her emotions like a blade. They wanted her to be angry because then they could aim that at their intended target, let her take it out in brawls that left her battered and empty, regardless of whether she won or lost. As she gets older, she gets better about all of that- the fear of love, the way she handles her emotions. She grows more comfortable with herself. Finds a way to take a step back and collect herself and try to place what she’s feeling and why she’s feeling it. She’s got a better handle, in general, on her emotions over time. It’s what, eventually, helps her learn to control her powers (to varying degrees at different times, mind you). It’s also why there does, in time, come a point that she marries Re//my and feels safe in their relationship. Of course, she still finds hesitations in her marriage sometimes because that’s never going to leave her entirely, I don’t think. It is such an engrained thing at this point that it’s hard to separate it from the rest of herself. It’s practically instinct. But that doesn’t mean that she loves in halves. She can’t. It’s an all consuming thing for her. To put it simply: she’s ride or die to the furthest extreme. To the point of telling Re//my “While I live, you don’t die”. To the point of throwing herself atop him so that they are impaled together. They die together. Because that’s how she shows love. Affection, itself, is difficult for her. More so when she can’t even touch the people she loves, feels detached from them because of it. There’s always a gap. A space between her and everyone else. A distance she can only bridge through carrying their burdens, through some form of self-sacrifice: whether that means literally sacrificing herself in the name of keeping them safe (in the name of proving her love), or even something as simple as suffocating her own emotions, her wants and needs, her concerns and fears and even her joys, to assure that the other person’s needs are met first. She is absolutely all in. ...until she realizes the power that that gives the other person. Then she quickly reels back. It’s cyclical, and it’s hard as hell to get her to break that cycle because she’s lived it her whole life, so much so that it’s become a comfort.

It’s... hard to explain the exact way her brain works, how it’s reacting. Like, I know that this probably all sounds convoluted and confusing to a degree (so if you’ve bothered reading even part of this- kudos to you <3 Seriously <3) But she perceives love as this unattainable goal, this pure, beautiful, little piece of nirvana... and she also perceives it as destruction. It’s empty and cold and cruel and manipulative and meaningless. It exists in both spaces simultaneously, as something to strive for and something to be avoided at all costs. Again- it’s all contradictory and she knows this. Even in her own head she can’t make sense of it. And it’s why she chooses to pull away even when she doesn’t want to. Because there’s a disconnect while these two conflicting ideas tumble around in already mixed up, fucked up, head. And I just hate and love that about her. Because these complexities are so intriguing and yet so frustrating.

#ooc.#cw long post #long post #long post cw #((I'm tossing this under a read more AND tagging it in the hopes I'm not #gonna accidentally clog up someone's dash with my stupid headcanoning lol #But anyway- if you bother reading all of this you're the real mvp bc literally I'm the only person who probably cares about any of this lol #I just have a lot of feelings about her conflict with love and affection because there's so much nuance to it #and I feel like people who don't really pay mind to her character overlook it as her being frigid or just straight up annoying or whatever #when there's SO MUCH to it.#Tho also that could just be me digging too deep but ya know. It's fun for me and that's what matters.))#((Also yes I spent the last hour just typing this all out instead of doing anything productive #and now I'm tired so I might go to bed. But I love ya'll lots <3))#musings.

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formosusiniquis · 3 months

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This one goes out to that old guy I saw at walmart yesterday loading up his pioneer woman cookware onto his motorcycle while enter sandman played

steddie | G | WC: 1154

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“Hey baby, can you?”

“No.”

Steve's sweet tone sours immediately returning to the much more familiar gently bitchy tone Eddie knows and loves. “You don't even know what I was gonna ask.”

“Twenty-five years of marriage, lawful and not, Sunshine. I know when you're about to ask me for some shit we don't need.”

“Why would I be calling you if we didn't need it?”

“Because if you needed it you would have told me about it when I said, ‘Stevie, sweetie, light of my life, sun to my dawn,’” he looks around trying to figure out where the hell they moved the oranges and why the produce section is never in the same configuration anytime he comes here. He makes eye contact with a kid wearing an artificially faded printing of his own tour merch looking at him with a starry eyed look of recognition not of the celebrity but of family.

“Did you forget where you were going with that old man?”

He decides he might as well put on a show, both halves of this conversation already know he's going to do what he's told. “‘Stevie, my one truth north, my muse, my reason to continue living, my dearest husband, I'm going to Walmart,’ I told you not but thirty minutes ago and asked if you needed me to get you anything and you said no.”

“Oh, you aren't going to monologue for your adoring public all the sweet names I called you?” Steve is amused, he can tell, he's always been able to tell. He's accepting this as his penance for not giving Eddie an actual grocery list when he left.

“Well dear heart I am in public, but if you think we can find another grocery store to go to after getting banned from this one. I guess there is the Kroger on the other side of town.” The kid laughs, tries to hide it behind their hand, but if Eddie has had anything in this life it's experience with teens eavesdropping on conversations they shouldn't be.

“Oh you're really hamming it up, huh, Teddy. Can I tell you what you're getting me yet or do you still have a couple minutes in your set?”

He's given up on oranges, moves on to the onion he actually came here for, the lone ingredient for dinner that he'd forgotten from his clicklist. If they want to actually have the roast tonight it needs to start soon. “What is it that you remembered we needed, oh song of my heart.”

“I already sent you the link so you get exactly what I want.”

It's just ominous enough of a non-answer that he pulls his phone out of his pocket, juggling it and the five things he'd already grabbed that weren't on his one item list. He doesn't have the time to regret not grabbing the cart he was sure he hadn't needed when he sees what he's been sent.

“I'm on my bike! Where am I going to put that?”

“I'm sorry, am I hearing you correctly? Was I right when I said, ‘Teddy bear, my stars, my bard-’”

“You aren't on speaker.”

“My beloved damsel in distress, maybe the motorcycle isn't the most efficient of midlife crisis vehicles. Aren't you going to want something with more trunk space, why don't you get a Caddy or a Bimmer for old times sake. And what did you say?”

“I don't recall.”

“Probably for the best wouldn't want you banned from Walmart, what would the tabloids say?”

“Nothing that would match your wit, Sweetheart. Does it have to be this one?”

“Yes, the plaid matches the kitchen remodel, so be a good boy and strap it to your bike. And remember we've still got one kid to put through school if she decides to go, don't bring home any strays with you. Do you need to do your encore now, baby?”

“I accept your quest, my dashing prince. I shall return home with my bounty posthaste.” Encore complete, audience still enraptured, Eddie dips into the sincere. It's been nearly thirty years together and he's not once ended a call without saying, “I love you.”

“Love you too, my knight in denim battle vest. I'll see you when you get home.”

The call ends with the usual dull toned beep beep, the playlist the call interrupted starts to filter back into his earbud. He realizes he's going to have to walk right past the kid to get to the side of the store with Steve's Instant Pot.

“Hear they're about to have a reunion tour,” he says gesturing down at the reprint of their Came Back Wrong Tour shirt. The faux-fading has left a crack through his own face at the bottom making him unrecognizable, not that he looks the same now as he did at 25. “Those old bands just don't know how to retire.”

“I think it's smart that they're playing up the recent tik tok fame.” The kid says, “No one's even seen their lead singer since the 90s and after their first national tour he'd started wearing that mask.”

It hurts a little bit the way the kid says 90s like it's some bygone era lost to time. Tries to appreciate instead how good the mask idea had been, he'd really been an innovator. “That was a pretty sweet gimmick, you think he'll bring it back? It's kind of Orville Peck's thing now isn't it.”

The kid slumps, managing the impressive feat of looking desolate while standing over the tomatoes. “Probably, not that I'll see it. I couldn't manage to get a ticket.”

That is something he can fix, “Here,” he manages to grab ahold of his wallet, “as luck would have it, I've got a couple spares.”

The kid looks torn between fear and elation, it's likely at least the second strangest thing to ever happen to them in a Walmart. “Oh I can't-”

“No strings, I got it through work for my sister-in-law to go with my husband. She asked why none of the good bands ever have reunion tours so… not going obviously. And my husband insists he's too old to be that close to the stage. You'd be doing me a favor really.”

“If you're sure,” they say, the hesitance more a mannered necessity than real.

“Sure as shooting. Seriously, here give me your name so my husband knows who to make the thank you note out to.”

“Aspen, thank you really!”

Twenty minutes later when he’s got a kitchen appliance bungied to the back of his bike he’ll appreciate that something good came out of this. Three weeks later when he’s standing at the front of a sold out arena he’ll mostly appreciate another chance to be dramatic, “This next one is for Aspen who didn’t laugh when an old man tried to flirt with his husband in the produce aisle. Gareth, count me in.”

#steddie #steddie fic #old man steddie #rockstar eddie munson

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tvrningout-a · 10 months

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this is gonna be ambitious of me, but once i send out the last of the asks i owe, i'm gonna focus on clearing out my inbox! and... if i can stop myself from feeling bad about it... whatever i can't find muse for, i'm gonna delete ( with the exception of any unprompted asks, ofc! ). you're welcome to send me something while i'm doing this, especially if we aren't writing together atm or you wanna test the waters with a new character! i won't delete anything new if i can't find muse for it right away -- i'll give those asks a bit more time. i just wanna try to get to a more manageable place with my inbox, and today feels like a good day to do that!

#after poloma sent me memes i've got 109 in my inbox which had me kicking my feet!!#before i realized i've let my memes pile up and i need to clean them up asdfg #and i feel really excited to write responses ( already wrote a few actually ) so!! i'm gonna try to ride that excitement!!#and do the right thing for my brain and clear out the stuff i just can't write #109 is excessive let's be honest asdfg i shouldn't have let it get so high ;v;#i'm gonna write all my drafts offline in my notebook first though so y'all might not see the responses straight away #especially bc i'll probably queue everything!#i don't wanna flood y'all with writing or with just one muse #anyway!! lemme stop rambling and get to work!!#get ready to ramble | ooc

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tartarusknight · 5 months

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I want more platonic stobin and bisexualy disaster Steve and gay disaster Eddie in my life. So I wrote some :)

Steve wanted to scream as he tried the handle again. "Steve. Steve!" Robin pulled him away from the door. "They aren't opening the door, and you're just gonna break the handle. Keith already hates your guts. Don't make it worse." She pointed out, weirdly calm about all of this. "Plus, it's not like we don't share space normally." She says and sinks down to the floor, tugging him down with her.

Steve looked at the door, "Why can't they accept that we're only ever going to be platonic?" He asks and runs a ran through his hair. He was sick of this. Of the comments and the teasing. It stresses him out.

They kept pushing the two of them together, and Steve was worried that it could mess up what friendship he had with Robin. Because Steve's used to messing up and hurting someone, and he really doesn't want to hurt Robin. He has nightmares of outing her by accident and ruining her life. It terrifies him.

"Steve, come on, it's okay. It's just a stupid bathroom. We've shared a bathroom stall. This is bigger than that." She jokes, and he pulls his knees up to his chest.

"I can't do this, Rob." He admits and watches her freeze. Her walls climbed up like he said something really stupid. "I'm sorry, but I'm just-"

She cuts him off, "I get it. You don't want to deal with the backlash of being a lesbian's friend." She says, and he blinks.

"What? No! I don't want to say the wrong thing. I get bitchy when I'm annoyed and I'm easily annoyed when I'm stressed. And I'm stressed! So I don't - I can't be the one to out you. I can't mess that up for you." He says, and it's nice to finally admit his fears.

Robin blinks at him, "That's what- Steve, that's what bothers you about all this?"

Steve nods, "I mess up everything I touch. I can't do that to you, I won't do that to you. Honestly, you should probably find better friends. One who thinks with his brai-"

"Shut up." Robin snaps, and he stops speaking. Looking at her with wide eyes. "You can't talk about my best friend that way. I won't let you," She states.

"You're best friend?"

Her eyes soften, "yeah dingus. Who else would be my best friend? We're soulmates," She decides, and he's confused because she sounds like she means it. "Platonic, with a capital p, soulmates."

He swallows back a ball of emotion, "even if all the kids I babysit-"

"Mother."

"Babysit," he stresses, and she smiles. "Try to get us together at every opportunity and won't believe that we aren't in love. Or that I'm in love with you at the least. I think you're better off because you call me dingus more than my name," he mused.

Robin sighed, "I won't say that it's not annoying. But I'm used to dodging questions about boys, and this way... with you, I have someone to be myself with. That's more important to me than some stupid preteens who think locking us in a bathroom would get us together."

Steve smiles, "last time we shared a bathroom did go pretty well, honestly." She knocked her knee into his. He glanced over at the door. "Do you think they'll give up?"

Robin snorts, "Dustin's more invested in your love life than you are. I don't think he'll give up unless you're dating someone else or the truth comes out."

Steve sighed, chewing his lower lip until something clicked in his head. "What If I come out?"

Robin blinked, "you- what?"

Steve nodded, "I mean I like both but I could just say I favor guys." He shrugs, "it's not like they could disprove it since it's mostly true."

Robin stared at him, "Steve... since when did you- what? Steve oh my god," She shifted onto her knees and slammed into him. "Since fucking when! Why didn't you ever tell me!"

Steve raised an eyebrow, "what do you mean since when? I literally point out hot guys all the time! When we watched watched Rocky Horror, I said Tim Curry was sexy!"

She shook his shoulders, "you did no such thing! You ask if I also think a guy is hot and you said- oh." It clicks for her and she falls back on her ass. She covers her face, "holy shit."

Steve smirks, "holy shit."

A giggle escapes her lips, "you so have a type."

"Shut up," he groans.

But before they can really dig into it, there's a loud knock on the door. "We're gonna open the door in 5, 4, 3, 2, 1!" The door swings in a Dustin's hand is over his eyes like he's gonna be scarred at the sight of them.

"We're literally just sitting on the floor Henderson. Not having freaky bathroom sex," Steve rolls his eyes and stands, Robin following suit.

Dustin looks upset like he expect his plan to work. "I don't get it." Steve ruffles his hair as he passes the kid. Robin lets out a small laugh as she stretches her limbs like she had been stuck in there for more than just 15 minutes. Steve turns, and she locks eyes with him, a silent question.

"Kid, I've said this a million times, but I'll say it one more time." He glances at the other kids that had either always been there or gotten here at some point since he'd been locked into the bathroom. "Robin and I will never date. She and I have no romantic feelings for each other. And if you pull this shit when we're at work again, I'll kill you."

"It's not like it was hard to figure out how to check someone out," Max shrugged and Steve huffed at her nonchalant grin from behind the counter.

Steve ushers the kids out from behind the counter before taking his normal spot, looking around at the empty store. Robin moves and bumps shoulders with him. "Platonic feelings only." She gestures between them.

Dustin groan, "I just don't get why!"

Steve glances at Robin, "because I'm too gay for her." He states and everyone goes quiet. "Honestly boobies are so high school." He winks at Robin who looks at him like he's bravely stupid.

"Wait but you dated Nancy?" Mike questioned arms over his chest.

Steve rolled his eyes, "so? I am more picky on who I date. Doesn't matter the gender. Robin doesn't tick my boxes."

"But she should!" Dustin complains and Robin groans.

But then Steve sees someone in the windows, heading towards the doors to Family video. "My type is more," and he just gestures just as the door dings to call their attention to the newcomer.

Eddie Munson glances at the kids and then at Steve. "Sheepies," he says. Eyebrows raised in confusion at the eyes on him. Eddie glanced at Steve, "Harrington, you break the kids?" He asks as all the kids continue to stare at him as he moves to the horror section.

Steve waves his hand, like he can brush off the confusion. "Nah, they're just shocked that I'm not completely in love with Birdie over here."

Everyone's jaw is on the floor as Steve leans his arms on the counter, not even bothering to hide the way he checks Eddie out when the man looks away. "Right," Eddie sighs and grabs a movie. "Well, not everyone's type is jocks." Eddie teases slightly, having warmed up to Steve little by little when Steve picks the kids up from Hellfire.

Steve takes the movie from Eddie, giving him his one free movie he gets for the week and hands it back to Eddie without charging him. "I'll win ya over." He winks, and Eddie's eyes go a little wide.

Eyes glanced around like he could ask if anyone else saw that. "Um, well, yeah, how-how much for the-"

"Consider it on me." Steve waved his hand and then leaned more into Eddie's space, "I haven't seen this one yet."

Eddie swallows, "You should check it out. It's, uh, pretty good."

Steve smiles, "I'm shit with horror, maybe if I had someone to hold my hand through it." He sighs overdramatically, then snaps, "Oh, I know! If you're not busy we could watch it together. I mean, it seems like a scary metalhead like yourself would be capable of holding my hand through the jump scares."

Eddie's eyes are blinking rapidly, "it's for the boys." He says, looking lost. Steve frowns, and Eddie jumps into action, "But I could-" He stops himself and groans. "I've got to- plans- fuck-" He stumbles and practically smacks into the door in his rush to leave family video.

Steve sighs and leans his head down on the counter. Robin pats his back, "I miss my whiteboard." She sighs and he looks up to glare at her.

#eddie screams in his pillow when he gets home #gareth calls him pathetic #jeff just tells him how much he fucked up not ditching them to hang out with steve #because have you seen steve?#dustin begins to start to plot how to get steve and eddie together not long after this #platonic stobin #steddie #stranger things #knightly talks #pre steddie

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bob-artist · 2 months

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Hi, New People?

For some unfathomable reason, Tumblr has decided to suggest my blog to brand-new accounts to follow, so I've had a crazy influx of followers who, of the ones that are genuine accounts, probably have no idea what they've signed up for. (sorry.)

Oh, and I also have some new bittern-loving followers who have a slightly better idea but might not know the whole story!

So, here's your chance to escape, if you so choose.

Anyway, I'm Bob! I've been here since like 2012. I mostly make comics, but I also do some prose writing, game dev, and general shitposting. Should you choose to continue following me, you will be subjected to such content as

Canada geese.

Like... a LOT of Canada geese.

Also ferrets, the love of my life. And other art and general musings about my favorite animals, including but not limited to bitterns, grebes, pheasants, parrots, crayfish, eels, every single other type of mustelid, alpacas, etc.

But, because I can't be bothered to make myself a consistent "brand," I also make

Very Gay Comics.

I can't emphasize this enough, because I kinda suspect all those plumbing company blogs didn't know this before following me. I make very gay comics.

I'm working on a new webcomic called Into the Smoke that's gonna launch soon. It's about a gay medium who binds himself to a killer ghost, and I think my new follower with the car financing blog is gonna love it.

Lots more on that soon.

Anyway, I don't want to make a super long post. I just want to make sure y'all understand that if you follow me, you will get

Canada geese

and

Very Gay Comics.

Cool? Cool.

#huh maybe i have a brand after all #artists on tumblr #intro post #I thought they were ALL spambots till I made a new test account and was prompted to follow myself before I could even set a user pic #so I’m sorry if I blocked any actual accounts before that #but not sorry to the ones that clearly were spambots

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eat-limes-bitches · 2 months

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Attitude Adjustment

PAIRING: Female! Chiropractor! Reader x Avenger!Bucky Barnes

SUMMARY: Pain affects everyone. Even 106-year-old assassins

WARNINGS: Smidge of Angst, mostly Fluff. Grumpy! Bucky. Some of Bucky's negative self-image but very little. Talks of chiropractic adjustment so cracking joints but nothing too bad. Sam's a little shit. Probably poorly written but oh well.

Word Count: 1006

A/N: Hey guys! I know the last two posts have been really heart-wrenching so here is something a little light-hearted to counteract what I'm gonna be posting next. I am going to be starting chiropractic school in the fall and I know that it has really helped me with some chronic pain stuff that I have going on even with my crazy high pain tolerance so thought Bucky could use some adjustments too!

Enjoy! <3

Dividers by Rookthorne

Y/n watched Bucky from across the gym, analyzing his movements as he tried to continue his set. There was a slight dip in his step as he walked over to the weight plates and a subtle clench of his jaw as he lifted the plate onto the bar. Maybe he’s just sore, she mused as she returned to her stretches. The room around her was slowly disappearing when there was a loud bang and a shout. She jumped, eyes flying open as she shot her gaze across the room where Bucky held his ribs under his left arm while Sam laughed.

“What’s wrong, tin man? Age finally catching up to you?” Bucky shot a nasty glare at the man,

“You won’t be laughing when I drown you in the creek,” Bucky growled as he took a threatening step toward Sam.

“Woah, woah, woah!” Sam placated as he took a step backward. “I was just messin’ with ya man!” Bucky just glared at him again and knocked his metallic shoulder against Sam’s as he stormed off towards the exit. Sam made eye contact with Y/n, shrugging his shoulders and motioning towards the door as if he were saying, ‘Get a load of that guy’. Y/n shook her head and made a mental note to check on him later.

Sometime later after Y/n had finished her workout, she ventured to Bucky’s room, pausing just outside the door. Steadying herself with a breath, she gently rapped on the door. There was a deep groan from the other side of the door, and before Y/n was able to make some space between her and the door, it flew open, revealing a rather disgruntled Bucky, eyes narrowing as he took in her form.

“What.” He grunts out glare unwavering from her smaller form in the doorway. Y/n steadied herself with a reminder that he was in pain and to not let it get to her. She instead matched his gaze.

“You’re in pain.” She stated cooly observing his reaction as he shifted weight off of his left leg, rolling his eyes.

“Right, ‘cause you can tell from across a room.” He scoffed. Y/n let out an indignant huff as she looked him up and down.

“You’re favoring the left side of your body, and anyone can see that. Your hips are crooked from compensating the extra weight on the left side of your body. You have a slight limp which is throwing your body further out of alignment, and since Steve pinned you during training on Tuesday, you’ve been protecting your left ribcage which was then further aggravated from your bench pressing today.”

Bucky stared at her, eyes wide. “H-how do you know all that?” Y/n’s gaze softened as she gave him a gentle smile.

“Buck, I’m a chiropractor, I’m trained to see these things. I can help you feel better if you’d like.” She noticed the hesitance in his eyes as he thought about her offer.

“You know you are allowed help right?” She whispered, placing a hand on his arm.

Bucky searched her eyes for a moment, waiting for the other shoe to drop, for her to pull away and just laugh, tell him it was all a joke, and walk away but it never came, she just stood there, hand spreading warmth through his arm, smile sending butterflies straight to his stomach. Letting out a breath, he nodded, letting Y/n take his hand and lead him to her office.

The room was bright, the afternoon sun coming in through the window painted everything in a golden glow. Y/n motioned to the table in the middle of the room.

“Here, lay face down for me.” She said gently, patting the table. Bucky did as he was told, and melted into the comfortable cushion as Y/n danced her fingers up and down his spine. She paused at the very base of his neck moved her fingers towards his shoulder and gently pressed down. Bucky yelped slightly and jerked away from her touch.

“I’m sorry Buck, I won’t do it again but that just confirmed my suspicion,” Y/n murmured as she walked around the table, placing the heel of her palms on his upper back.

“Yeah, and what's that?” Bucky grumbled, starting to regret his decision.

Y/n gave a sharp thrust, and a satisfying pop rang out through the room, startling Bucky. “Your first rib was out of place.” Bucky pushed himself up to look at Y/n wide-eyed.

“My first rib is out of place!” She just smiled.

“Was. I put it back. That's what that sound was.”

This went on for a few more minutes. Y/n would palpate different parts of his body, there would be a pop, and Bucky make some sort of surprised noise. Eventually, Y/n made the last adjustment and helped Bucky sit up before taking a seat next to him.

“How do you feel?”

Bucky rolled his shoulders before stretching both of his arms above his head. His eyes widened as he snapped his head to meet Y/n’s gaze. Shock was written all over his features as he stood up and wasn’t greeted with the sharp sting that he had grown accustomed to in his lower back.

“Wow, that-that’s amazing!” He sent a heart-stopping grin in Y/n’s direction.

“Thank you, Y/n I feel much better.” He said sincerely, taking Y/n’s hand in his as thanked her. Y/n blushed.

“Of course Bucky. Anytime.”

The pair wandered into the main living room where everyone was gathered. Bucky gave Y/n’s hand one last squeeze before strolling over to Steve and putting him in a headlock, laughing and carrying on. Y/n smiled as she watched them when Sam wandered over.

“What did you do to him?” He asked. Y/n just smiled, not taking her eyes off of Bucky, who was now arm-wrestling Tony who was using his suit.

“Nothing really just gave him an attitude adjustment.”

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