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usedtobecooler · 1 year

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if it's not with you | tom grant x fem!reader

Pairing | Tom Grant x Fem!Reader

Warnings | sexual content 18+ minors dni, unprotected piv sex, vaginal fingering, general banter, flirting, all around fluffiness.

Word Count | 5k

A/N | eeeee i'm so excited to share this fic with you all!! honestly i've fallen in love with tom all over again writing this, i hope you all enjoy this flirty fluffy cuteness!!

This caravan park was easily the worst place you’d ever been on holiday to. You couldn’t even lie to yourself — the entertainment area was outdated, the food was far from good, the staff were mostly rude and unhelpful, and the caravan you’d rented for the week was the biggest piece of shit.

Your idea of a nice, relaxing beachside break from the city was basically down the pan the moment you arrived, though you had to admit the one saving grace was in fact the gorgeous beach, barely thirty steps away from your rental, all golden sand and crashing waves. It was peaceful, quiet — the school summer holidays were over so it only left the caravan owners and the odd few stragglers without kids behind.

Summer was barely clinging on, the nights were beginning to close in fast and the air was feeling that bit crisper once the sun set, like it had done every Summer since you could remember. There was still the odd humid, hot day, and this was one of them.

Muggy beyond belief, despite the cool sea breeze rolling in from the East. You were sweating, skin feeling sticky as you sunbathed in peace, laid out in a one piece on your towel. Regardless of the factor thirty, you already knew you were going to burn — you always did, no matter what. The harsh rays from the sun were unforgiving to your sensitive skin, leaving you flushed and freckled.

You feel the figure looming over you pretty quickly. The slight darkness on your left hand side as said person blocked the sun. You let out a deep sigh, using your hand as a makeshift sun visor as you open your eyes carefully, squinting up into the sun.

You spy the caravan park logo on his polo shirt immediately — site worker, clearly. He’s all curly hair, pale skinned and a goofy grin on his face as he clutches onto the magazine you’d taken with you to read, obviously blown off in a gust of wind when you’d been blissfully unaware, “Think this was trying to do a runner on you,” His voice is unexpectedly deep, though still chirpy, as he extends his arm out with the magazine rolled up in his hand.

“Thanks, mate,” You bark out a little embarrassed laugh, propping yourself up on an elbow and taking the magazine from him. Your fingers brush, and you can’t help the flush that creeps up to your cheeks at the barely-there touch, “It’s shit anyway — one of them magazines people get paid fifty quid to share their fake stories to, y’know.”

The man snorts, shoves his hands into the pockets of his cargo shorts, “I know the ones, my mums obsessed with them. Surely nobody believes the ghost stories?” He’s making conversation, not in any rush to get off, and it’s strange. He’s maybe the second worker you’d encountered who was genuinely an alright person.

“Oh I know, in this one they’re claiming the ghost made toast in the middle of the night. Didn’t realise they could open a loaf of bread, who’d have thought it?” You humor him, and he properly laughs at that, kicking his toes in the sand as he looks down at you.

He’s awfully pretty, you notice, as you look up at him properly now the glare of the sun has been blocked a little. Big brown eyes and a freckled nose, tinged pink from too much sun and not enough sunscreen, no doubt. Nice full lips and a cute chin, chains dangling on his neck. Very typical English boy, but that was always your type.

Your mouth runs dry, now that you’re suddenly aware of how attractive this man is and you’ve just called him mate. Ground swallow you now.

“Anyway, I’ve got to get going,” He looks sullen at that, nose scrunching up a little, “Duty calls — these old fuddy-duddies who arrive this time of year always find something to moan about.”

“Well, you enjoy that…” You blush, giggling like a dickhead, suddenly aware of the fact you’re lusting over a man who’s name you don’t even know, “Sorry, I never got your name. No nametag?”

“Tom,” Tom digs in his pocket, a small triumphant noise escaping him when he pulls the old nametag out between two fingers proudly, showing you it, “I usually don’t wear it. Can’t be fucked when these arseholes complain about the staff and name us to management.”

“Well, I’ll make sure to name you to the staff when I check out and let them know you were a very helpful young man, Tom,” Your voice drips sarcasm and humour, and you know you’ve got him hook, line and sinker when he bellows a true laugh, throwing his head back and exposing the vast expanse of his neck, veins protruding. Your thighs clench.

You’re both shook out of the little bubble when somebody starts shouting Tom’s name from behind you both, startling you. He rolls his eyes, tapping the watch on his wrist, “Gotta go, darling. You need anything just ask for me personally when you phone, yeah?”

You nod, dumbstruck as he smiles wide at you, pearly white teeth on display. He takes off in a jog, and for the first time you truly understand the term ‘hate to see you go, but love to watch you leave.’

You bump into him again two days later, in the laundry room as you’re banging on the washing machine that currently had four days worth of clothes and underwear locked in it. It’d swallowed your token, locked the doors then refused to start, and you were raging — three quid down the fucking drain, just like that.

He knocks up behind you unexpectedly, his hip catching on the soft flesh of your ass as he leans over to pop a token into it. You suck in a breath and hold it, watching with awestruck eyes as the tendons in his wrist flex when he turns the dial. The machine whirs to life, water beginning to fill the drum in just mere seconds.

“What’d I tell you about just shouting for me if you needed anything?” Tom’s smug, lips so close to your ear they’re almost brushing the shell and you have to literally shove down the gasp that almost makes its way up your throat. He’s so close to you that you can feel the heat radiating off of his body, and a shiver ripples up your spine.

“I didn’t expect to need maintenance help for washing my underwear,” You bristle, trying to act calm as he brushes past you and opts for leaning against the machine, hands once again buried deep into his pockets — he’s wearing grey joggers this time, clearly to match the miserable and dreary weather outside. You avert your gaze from the obvious bulge in his trousers, willing yourself to just get a fucking grip.

It doesn’t help when you lock eyes with him, and he’s all gooey brown orbs and long eyelashes. It’s embarrassing how much you fancy him, and now you feel like a right slob — down here in your leggings, hoodie and crocs of all things. Hair up in a messy bun and no makeup on, on account of the severe sunburn on your nose and cheeks.

“C’mon, we’ll go back to the token machine and I’ll get you your money back,” Tom nods towards the door, a small smirk tugging at his lips. You want to tell him you don’t need the money back, but a little part of you wonders — and hopes — that he’s offering to do this so that you have an excuse to wander off with him.

“Sure, lead the way my saviour,” You joke, extending an arm out towards the open door. He scoffs, rolling his eyes with a look that could only be described as fond on his features as he saunters past you. You feel your cheeks heat up, and it’s not from the sunburn this time.

“What’s brought you to Cornwall, then?” He asks conversationally — you’re bumping arms you’re that close, and the corridor isn’t even that narrow, he’s just naturally gravitating towards you. You plod along slowly and he matches your pace, your heart thudding in your chest as your hopes were confirmed; he was being nosey, interested in getting to know you.

“Not much, I like the beach but I live in London so I don’t get to see it much,” You admit, shoving your hands into your hoodie pocket, “I work from home, too. So I thought I’d maybe get some work done whilst I was here. The wifi is shit, by the way.”

Tom winces, shooting you an apologetic look, though it’s clearly a mockery, “Yeah, this place doesn’t have much going for it, darling. Though it’ll give you an excuse to actually enjoy your break instead of worrying about work, right?”

You’re walking so slowly you may as well be at a standstill, and you know it’s because the token machine is barely ten feet away, “Yeah, I suppose you’re right,” You admit, because it’s true — you’d hardly even thought about your job since you got here, enjoying your time soaking in the sun and the peace away from your roommate, “What about you? You from around here?”

“Born and raised,” Tom shrugs. You glance to the side, watching as his adams apple bobs up and down when he swallows, “I live on the site now, though, have done since I was sixteen. I’m here all year with Kai, you’ve probably seen him around, angry looking dickhead with a buzzcut. A girl called Jade used to live here too but eh, she’s gone now.”

You hum, acknowledging what he’s saying. You want to pry, the way his voice changed when he spoke about this ‘Jade’ character leaves a bitter taste in your mouth — an ex, maybe. But you were basically a stranger to Tom, so why would he explain that to you?

The both of you stop right at the token machine, and Tom fumbles for his set of keys, flipping them until he finds one with a red tag on it. You watch his hands the entire time, thirsting silently — god, his hands were so nice. For a maintenance guy, they were clean, nails manicured, the skin soft. You could tell he took care of himself, and that made him all the more attractive to you.

He slips the three pound coins into your hoodie pocket, knocking you out of your daze. His hand bumps against your waist when he pulls it out of said pocket, leaving you feeling flustered. There’s no way he’s just being nice, he’s flirting, albeit subtly.

“Thank you,” Your voice is breathy, catching in the back of your throat as your eyes search for his again, though it doesn’t take long before his eyes are locking on yours once more, “Don’t know what I’d do without you. Or that three quid, actually, that’ll get me another shitty magazine from the shop and a bottle of Coke.”

Tom laughs, showing off his ridiculously perfect teeth once again, “You’re right, it will. Hopefully the ghost story in this one’s a bit better —”

There’s a sudden harsh knock on the window behind your head that has you leaping out of your skin. He glances up to where the source of the banging came from, and he’s huffing, rolling his eyes, “Gotta go, darling. Another dickhead to deal with. Remember what I said, need anything just shout for me, yeah? Enjoy your magazine.”

He lands a soothing hand on your shoulder just barely before he’s taking off, and your skin burns even through the thick material of your hoodie.

There’s one day left of your holiday. One miserable day. You hadn’t seen Tom at all since your encounter in the laundry area, and you had to admit you were feeling deflated over it. You hadn’t been avoiding him, in fact quite the opposite, but your paths had just never crossed again.

The weather was unbearably hot once more, worse than the first day you’d met Tom, not even a breeze coming in off the sea, and you were desperate for a cold shower to rinse off the sweat from your now sunkissed skin.

The caravan door slams shut behind you as you step foot inside, basking in the little bit of cool air in the living area that’d been bathed in shade the entire day. You strip off your two-piece without a second thought — your caravan doesn’t look onto any others, and you don’t see anybody around, so there was nobody to scar when you stripped naked.

At the beginning of your holiday you didn’t believe you’d ever become accustomed to the tight living quarters, especially the bathroom, but now that you’d been at the park for a week you almost couldn’t imagine going back home to your shitty little flat in Central London. You actually enjoyed the peace and quiet, and you were saddened about leaving.

You couldn’t deny that Tom was part of that, too. Though you’d hardly gotten a chance to know him you were drawn in, and the thought of heading home the next day and never seeing him again was weighing heavy on your shoulders.

Stepping into the tight shower, you twist the dial to turn on the water, only to be engulfed in a roaring hot heat that has you yelping and gasping. The sharp sting of the scalding hot water hitting your sunburnt chest brings tears to your eyes, your hands flapping to turn the dial back until the stream stops.

You jump out of the shower, grabbing for your fluffy towel that you’d set in the open window that morning, pulling it around your bare body and tucking it in until it’s sat nicely. The ends of your hair drip wet, the water cooling fast, an almost pleasant feeling in comparison to what you just felt.

There’s not a second thought before you’re dialing 0 on the phone in the living area and asking for a maintenance person to come look at the shower, reeling off that the water was scalding hot and had burned you. The person on the other end sounds bored, uninterested and far from shocked when you tell her what happened. You hang up and, in your anger, stick up your middle finger at the phone.

You didn’t even think to ask for Tom. You perch your ass on the arm of the U-shaped sofa, nervously chewing on your bottom lip and shaking your leg as you wait, wondering who it’d be that showed up to your call. You really, really hoped it’d be him.

Not even five minutes go by before you’re hearing a rapping of knuckles on the glass pane of the door, and you answer it quickly, all street smarts going out the window as you pull the door open just clad in your towel. Tom stands on the narrow step, clutching onto a metal tool box, and you breathe out a sigh of relief that it’s him.

“Fucking hell, that burn looks sore,” Tom looks with bug eyes at your chest, taking in the look of your skin tinged a deep red, much darker than the rest of your sunburnt body. You flush, moving out of the way to let him in, “If you put in a claim for that this place would be shut down.”

He laughs about it, but visibly looks nervous. You can’t help but wonder if, as much as he complained about the job, he genuinely liked it. Or maybe it was all he knew, which was also probably true, considering he had told you he’d been here living since he was just a teenager. A pang in your chest asserts itself at that realisation.

“I wouldn’t worry about that, it’s my own stupid fault for stepping into the shower before turning it on like a silly bitch,” You shake it off, a wobbly little laugh escaping you, “Nothing a bit of lotion won’t fix, Tom.”

“No, it’s fucking ridiculous that this even happened,” Tom grunts, stepping past you and wandering the short distance into the bathroom. You follow him like a lost puppy, clutching at the top of your towel with one hand, standing in the doorway as you watch him flip his toolbox open, grabbing for something and banging the shower door open.

“Dunno why they still rent out this caravan every summer there’s so much shit wrong with it, told the manager it was fit for the scrap yard two years ago,” Tom’s conversational, unscrewing the shower tap and fiddling with it as if you’re not standing there basically naked and still slightly damp from your failed attempt at hosing off.

You’re trying to look anywhere but right in his direction. It’s hard, though. Out of the corner of your eye you can see his arm bulging and straining under the tight material of his polo shirt as he uses his wrench to tighten a bolt, “S’okay, I got it pretty cheap. I’m away home tomorrow, didn’t want the next poor sod to get burnt like I did.”

Tom shoots a glance at you, brows marrying for a moment until he’s turning back to the job at hand, “I didn’t realise you were away so soon, fuck sake. If I’d known I would’ve come and seen you earlier. You’re alright, y’know?”

“Thank you?” It comes out as a question, and you can’t help but feel somewhat offended by his choice of words, “I suppose you’re alright yourself. Probably the only decent member of staff I’ve spoken to this entire week.”

“Yeah, the nice face and banter are just a bonus, eh?” Tom flashes you his teeth again and it has you rolling your eyes, though a fond smile tugs at the corners of your mouth, “Not like those posh London boys, they’re stuffy and boring.”

“You’re right about that,” You agree, watching as he throws the wrench back into the toolbox blindly, the tool landing correctly in its place. It’s now or never, you think, as he screws the tap back on. This is it, after this last chance meeting you’re not gonna see him again. “Who’d have thought something as simple as catching a blown away magazine would have a girl weak at the knees?”

You cringe at yourself, though Tom’s head shoots around. He looks at you with a confusion etched on his features, and you have to physically stop yourself from rolling your eyes. Surely you were being obvious enough, right?

You watch him dumbly step out of the shower, even going as far as to shut the screen door behind him, “What do you mean?” He asks, quirking a brow. Clearly you weren’t being obvious, then.

“Is it not totally obvious that I’m into you?” You scoff, wanting to lean forward and rattle that devourable looking neck. He’s clearly so clueless, it would actually be kind of endearing if you didn’t find it so infuriating.

Tom balks at you, taking a step closer to you, which has him almost right up in your face, with how enclosed the space of the bathroom is, “Really? I’m really shit at reading signals, sorry, love.”

Love. You melt at the pet name, going all gooey. You take your chance, fingers tugging at your towel until it’s loosening on your body. He watches you with curious eyes that soon turn lust filled, when you let the towel drop to the floor and pool around your feet.

You blush under his intense gaze, taking in the swell of your tits, the pebble of your nipples, the curve of your hips, the mound of your cunt. He takes another step, so you’re basically toe to toe, and he exhales loudly.

“Not done this for a while,” Tom admits, as his large hands engulf your waist, pulling you closer to him until your naked body is flush against him, the soft material of his worn-in work polo a pleasant feeling against your skin, “Can I kiss you?”

You nod, far too fast, too eager, but he clearly doesn’t seem to mind, leaning in until his plump lips are capturing yours. You melt into it, arms wrapping around his neck to tug him in closer, fingers burying in the hair at the nape of his neck.

Tom deepens the kiss quickly, tongue running over your bottom lip and you open up willingly, letting him slip his tongue into your mouth. His own tongue glides along yours deliciously, has your pussy clenching and your legs shaking. He moves you blindly backwards, like he knows the entire layout of this caravan — which he probably does, has probably been here many a time.

The backs of your legs hit the bed and you let yourself fall backward, opening your legs for Tom to nudge between them, one hand still on your waist tightly, other slipping down your leg, fingertips digging into the meat of your thigh. You shiver, unable to contain it, the feeling of the hands you’d thought about so much the last week finally on you was almost enough to drive you crazy.

Tom’s hand skates higher and higher up your thigh, until he’s cupping the heat of your cunt. He’s the one to break the kiss, pulling away from you to look you in the eyes properly, like he’s looking for confirmation that you’re still good and you’re okay to keep going, “You okay if I touch you?”

You melt. You nod, and he dives in, kissing the side of your neck with spit-slick lips, leaving you gasping and writhing below him. He bumps his hips down into you, and you feel the outline of his hard cock brushing against your inner thigh.

Suddenly, your carnal desire for him overcomes your every being, your hands falling from the back of his neck to fist into his shirt, bunching up big handfuls of the material, “C’mon, you too?” You beg, voice whiny, completely distracted by how Tom bites and kisses at your neck, “Need to see you too.”

He sits back on his haunches, smirking down at you, hands leaving your body and in turn leaving you cold — though it’s not for long, as you watch him pull his shirt over his head, tossing it to the side. He dives back down into you quickly, bumping those godforsaken hips down against your pussy this time, leaving you gasping.

That stupid, shit eating grin never leaves his face until he’s burying his face back into your neck, peppering your skin with kisses, hand nudging between your legs again, until the pads of two of his fingers finally dip in between your slick folds, gathering your juices on them. He grunts against you, rutting his hips down again, “Fuck, you’re so wet.” He mumbles, caught off guard by it.

“Mmph, all for you,” You gasp, breath catching in your throat when he finds the swollen, sensitive bud of your clit and starts rubbing in small, tight circles, until your hips are pushing up into the air, “Oh God —!”

You lose yourself in the feeling of Tom lathering you in kisses, the way his plump lips ghost along the stinging, burnt skin of your chest and soothe it, his fingers working on your clit until your cunt is gushing wetter than before. He’s so sensual, passionate, taking the most attentive care to your body, and it’s driving you wild.

“You feel so good on my fingers,” Tom groans in between kisses, looking at you with those pretty, chocolate brown eyes, now mostly blackened with lust, “Can’t wait to feel you on my cock, babe.”

You squeal, a moan punching out of you when his fingers leave your clit just barely to dip into the entrance of your pussy and glide back up, taking some of your milky wetness with them. You clench, quivering at his words, a deep heat blooming in the pit of your belly, alarmingly fast, “I’m so close,” You admit, losing yourself in the pleasure of Tom’s fingers catching on your clit, winding you up tight, tight, tight.

Tom kisses the swell of your breast, lips dragging down until they latch onto your nipple, licking and sucking until you’re crying out. He can’t take his eyes off of you, watching every contortion of your face as he makes you fall apart. Your fingers grip into his curls, tugging lightly until he’s groaning, vibrations echoing up your chest.

His fingers work at that same torturing pace, sliding in circles until you’re arching off the bed slightly, coil in your tummy snapping, your entire body tensing and going lax just as fast as your orgasm washes over you, a gush of slick slipping from your hole as you shake through it.

Tom works you through it until you’re jerking away, fingers unwinding from his hair and pushing at his shoulders instead. He presses a light kiss to your nipple, pulling himself up and slipping his fingers from your cunt, “Was that okay?” He asks, though he’s smiling, proud of himself, clearly.

You nod, catching sight of the prominent bulge in his grey joggers, sudden desperation to get to his cock overtaking you — you lean up, tugging at the waistband of the offending material until it’s bunched around his thighs, uncut cock springing out proudly, you gasp, “No underwear? You always wander around like this, you slag?”

Tom laughs, shaking his head, “No, I wasn’t on shift but took the call because I knew this was your caravan,” He admits, and you giggle, a little swell of pride in your chest. That little admission was enough for you, he did like you as much as you liked him.

He dives back into you, capturing your lips with his own, and you take that opportunity to get a feel for his cock, deft fingers blindly wrapping around the length and giving him an experimental tug, pulling the foreskin back. He gasps into your mouth as you work him up and down, your thumb swiping over the tip, and he’s punching his hips into your hand.

“Keep doing that an’ I’m gonna cum before I get to fuck you,” He mumbles against your mouth, nibbling at your bottom lip just a little. You take that as your cue to stop, hand dropping from his cock and instead wrapping around his bicep.

He makes a show of it, like an arsehole, grabbing a hold of his cock and sliding the tip through the mess of your cunt, catching on your clit and gliding it back down, until you’re gasping and silently begging for it, digging your nails into the meat of his tanned arms.

“C’mon, Tom. Please?” You whisper, looking up at him with pleading eyes, and he takes the bait — he slips his cock into you in one fluid motion, until his balls are flush against your ass. You couldn’t have been prepared for the sheer thickness of him stretching you from the inside out, a gasp escaping you when the head of his cock brushes along your frontal wall.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” Tom moans, burying his head into the other side of your neck this time, kissing and biting at your flesh until it’s raised. He pulls out, slamming back into you to the hilt, and you clench around him, unable to help it, the curved head of his cock brushing against the spongey part of your cunt perfectly, “God, babe, don’t do that, I’ll cum so quick.”

You moan, clenching around him again until he’s groaning, fucking in and out of you properly, your cunt sucking him in, gushing around his length. You’re overwhelmed by the feeling of him all over you, his lips and teeth on your neck, his hair tickling your face, his toned torso crushing down into yours, his cock sliding in and out of the tight heat of your pussy.

“You feel so good around me, fuck,” Tom’s mumbling against you, words almost getting lost in your skin, but you’re fucking melting for it, the praises having you keening up into him.

You feel your orgasm building quickly, unaware of how loud you’re moaning until Tom’s picking up the pace of his thrusts, the slap of his hips against your ass echoing in the room, the wet schlick of your pussy mixing with the other sinful noises.

“M’gonna cum,” You cry, tears pricking at your eyes as your tummy blooms with heat once again, orgasm building a lot quicker this time than the last time, and Tom pulls himself away from the crevice of your neck, looking at you with his lust blown eyes, swollen red lips open in a constant moan, “Fuck, Tom, s’good, so good,”

You’re babbling and Tom groans, fucking you so rough you’re sliding up the bed — your high hits you so hard you see stars, eyes squeezing shut as your cunt flutters and gushes around the girth of Tom’s cock, fingernails biting into his arms so hard that you know you’re going to leave behind broken skin.

“Oh shit, oh fuck,” Tom’s voice goes high pitched, eyes rolling into his skull as your pussy grips him like a vice, and he’s coming too, hips stuttering as he paints your walls in his release, cock pulsing in the tight heat of your cunt.

You mewl, spent body giving into everything. You feel like you’re floating, unable to comprehend what just happened. Tom’s looking down at you with this big dopey grin and you smile back, leaning up to kiss him languidly as his spent cock goes soft.

Tom slips out of you with a hiss, collapsing down next to you, chest still heaving on breath, “You sure you’ve gotta go home tomorrow, darling?” He asks, voice quiet as he tugs you into him, those big arms engulfing you in a tight cuddle. Your whole body melts into his, your mind blank of anything but him. Maybe you didn’t have to go home just yet.

“I suppose I could see about hanging around for another week… or two,” You admit, and Tom cackles in triumph, squeezing you tighter until you’re giggling into his chest, heart swelling.

#tom grant smut #tom grant x reader #joseph quinn fic #joseph quinn x you #joseph quinn smut #joseph quinn x reader #my fanfic #mine #my writing #x reader #not this being the longest fic i've ever published stoppppp

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axailslink · 1 year

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The Scientist

Shuri x FEM reader

Summary: Wakanda has finally opened it's doors to a few select young intelligent student from colleges all across America and you're one of the few selected. While this is such an amazing opportunity to see some new land and be invited to a new and amazing place you can't help but stare at princess Shuri.

You're amazed by the beauty of Wakanda you had heard so much about it but never once did you expect to be here. The air was so much crisper here there was something inviting and welcoming about this place. The select few approach the lab being led by the powerful and mighty Dora milaje who you admired so much they were not only strong but beautiful women.

Everyone seemed to be terrified while you were just loving this experience the beauty and the authenticity you gently tap Okoye's shoulder causing everyone to look at you as if you're out of your damned mind. "You're Okoye the general of the Dora milaje right?" She continues walking but nods this brings the biggest smile to your face "you're such a badass like the way you handled those French white folks tryna steal the vibranium it was amazing." When you finally reach the lab she turns back and glances at you a bit longer before mumbling "weird kid."

Griot notifies Shuri of the visitors outside the entrance this causes you to finally get nervous you love everything about Wakanda so far the people the beauty. You just weren't sure you were quite ready to meet the queen more or less the fucking princess of Wakanda she was amazingly smart and when you meet someone as smart as yourself or smarter it usually doesn't go too well they're all cocky bastards.

You've admired the princess from afar not only is she just naturally beautiful she's a scientist she's THE scientist.

When her and her mother look up at the group which you're in front of you want to immediately shrink but of course you can't let that be shown so instead you speak. "You are Princess Shuri wow you are so...so very attractive" she blinks for a moment before smiling to herself the group of students murmur along themselves but you don't care. You like to say what's on your mind so you continue to ramble off at the mouth "like it's fucking crazy being here oh shit am I allowed to curse...? I'm sorry but damn... Wow queen Ramonda why is everyone here so pretty? Damnit I did it again but princess I would gladly accept your hand in marriage I mean I'd do anything for you. You're so smart and so talented and wow..." You glance her up and down taking in all of her "I'd do so many th- I mean anything for you" Shuri and Queen Ramonda exchange facial expressions. "I'm sorry we're not here for that right uhm we're smart too" you say referring to yourself and the students behind you.

Shuri can't help but laugh at you for a moment holding her stomach and patting her mother's shoulder "I'm sorry that was one very interesting entrance you are?" You smile and nod "uhm yeah my name's Y/n sorry I talk when I'm nervous and I mean this place is beautiful the people are beautiful the culture and wow you are so...I'm doing it again can someone else please talk?" Queen Ramonda clears her throat and speaks up this time. "You all are very intelligent students and you all are here because of Shuri's program she's decided to take in ten students each year and give them the chance to enjoy Wakanda and learn from Wakandan people. It's the chance of a lifetime but there are rules safety rules mostly..." You can't help but stare at Shuri as her mother continues to speak and you find yourself interrupting again "do any of those rules include flirting with Shuri? Because there's no way I'm going to be able to follow that Mrs. Udaku you've got some amazing genes I mean you yourself you're such a gorgeous woman." Shuri rolls her eyes and shakes her head before grabbing you and bringing you to a chair in the middle of the lab. "Sit here and just be quiet for five minutes I love your input but we have to get through the basics and we can't do that if you keep opening that pretty little mouth of yours can we?" You look her up and down before smiling "if only you knew how often I'd open this pretty little mouth of mine if you are standing over me like this while telling me I shouldn't." She shakes her head and lets her mother continue to speak.

When Queen Ramonda is finally finished speaking she leaves the lab over to Shuri who smiles at all of the faces she dismisses them out of the lab but you stay. "You're still here...?" You nod still sitting in the chair "well I have a request I bet no one knows Wakanda better than the princess and what'd I'd give to have the princess as my tour guide. We could start with your room" she looks you up and down and chuckles to herself "if I were to invite you into my room you wouldn't be leaving any time soon princess." Your jaw visibly drops when she says this feeling quite satisfied with herself before walking towards the lab stairs "you coming? I thought you said you wanted to see my room" oh you were going to love Wakanda and it's princess.

A/n: I'm aware this is cringy but I wrote this like this because this is what would actually happen if a lot of us were to meet princess Shuri it's true it's real.

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ohtobeleah · 1 year

Note

No pressure but it feels like a missed opportunity to ask what Easter is like at Fe and Roosters house!

Terms of Endearment Masterlist

Let’s not pretend that Odette Dolan (Soon to be Bradshaw) isn’t the most spoiled little girl in the entire world, because she damn well is. Now that’s not in the way of, she gets what she wants when she wants spoiled. She’s spoiled in the sense that her parents absolutely go ape shit for holiday seasons. More important—Rooster goes ape shit.

Easter is no exception—and although the Bradshaw household isn’t exactly religious or in tune with the significance of Easter to a large percentage of the world’s population, they do however—enjoy seeing their little girl full of wonder and awe at Christmas, on her birthday, at Easter Time and even Valentine’s Day—because let’s be real here for a minute people…..Bradley Bradshaw crushes the game at keeping the magic of Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny alive until his children aren’t children any more.

“I can’t wait to have to vacuum this flour up tomorrow after it’s been trampled all through the house.” You sighed as you organised Dot's Easter basket. Watching as Bradley stamped small bunny like footprints into flour he’d sprinkled from the front door to the dining table.

“She’s gonna love it, look!” Bradley stood as he pulled a carrot he’d stolen from the fruit and veg crisper out of his pocket. Taking a rather over exaggerated bite. “The Easter Bunny is even gonna leave this strategically half eaten carrot behind on the floor because it might get Dot to eat her carrots.” You couldn’t help but to laugh at your husband's sly ways. “If carrots are good enough for the Easter Bunny they should be good enough for her.”

“She doesn’t like orange fruit and veg Roosters, it's just a phase.” Dot had gone off carrots and oranges a few months ago. Apparently the orange in the food made her tummy hurt. The trend then extended to include cantaloupe and orange bell peppers, although Amilia had her trying to say rockmelon and capsicum because that’s what they call them in the land down under.

“You. Enable. It.” Bradley leaned in over you as you folded the new set of pyjamas Dot was getting in her Easter basket this year. Along with some colouring books, some new texters, and some pink sunflower glasses to replace the ones Jake accidentally broke with his giant ass head. Smirking because you knew you did. “She’s gonna be eating carrot sticks by the end of the day.”

“She’s gonna be running around with a stomach full of chocolate eggs, carrot sticks are going to be the last thing on her little mind.” You counted, putting the finishing touches into your daughter's Easter basket as you sat back, exhaling slowly as you rubbed your stomach. “Last Easter just the three of us.”

Bradley stood before he rounded the corner of the table, placing gentle hands on your shoulders as he kneaded your aching shoulders. Knowing that you’d never say no to an impression massage.

“She’s growing up so fast.” It was a fact that the pair of you weren’t comfortable with. “Where did that little two year old go?” You hummed in response as you felt your child kick at the sound of Bradley’s voice. Their daddy. Your husband and best friend. Your forever soulmate and love of your life.

“She’s our big four year old now—“ In the comfortable silence of the night before Easter, you and Bradley both agreed that time was moving far too quickly. “Here, help me up, I’m done and still need to shower.”

“I’ve got a few more things to set up.” Bradley replied as he helped you stand, watching as you waddled yourself toward the stairs that almost seemed like an impossible feat this far along in your pregnancy. You were ready to blow any day now. “I’ll meet you in bed?”

“Okay, don’t go overboard, Bradshaw—Jake and Amilia are coming over for lunch tomorrow and I’ll want all that flour cleaned up before breakfast.”

“Yes ma’am.” Bradley was just in awe of you, how much your body has changed to bring new life into the world. He was in awe of the fact that even though you’d be through hell? You still manage to be this gentle and kind soul—the matriarch of the family he’d found. “Love you! I promise I won’t be far behind.” Bradley beamed as you turned to look at your husband over your shoulder from the first of many impossible steps. Why you two decided on purchasing a two story house while you were eight months pregnant you'd never understand. “Not too much mess, I just gotta hide the eggs.”

The problem with most relationships was that people spent all their time looking for someone to grow old with. And although Rooster knew he’d have you till his dying days, he thought that the real thing people should be looking for was someone to stay a child with.

So that’s why when Bradley knew you had waddled all the way up the stairs, he got to work hiding his four year olds Easter eggs in easy eye level nooks and crannies that she could easily spot. Only to then turn his attention to the few Easter eggs and gifts he’d gotten you. Hiding them around the house.

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

“Woah!” The first thing Odette saw at a crispy 6am the next morning, was a single Easter Egg placed perfectly on her little night stand beside her bed. It had been dusted with icing sugar because Rooster knew she’d dip her finger into the scattering of white powder he used to make a tiny paw print in. “Mamma! Tooster!” She shot out of her bed in seconds, her bedroom door had been left ajar and the minute she saw the powered footprints in the hall along the hardwood floor? She screamed with so much joy it had you jolting awake. “Ahh! Mamma! The Easwer Bunny came!”

“Dots awake.” You mumbled into your pillow. “Scissor paper rock me?” All Bradley did was hold up his hand in a fist, no words were needed. You both know the rules, best of one, no ifs or buts. You chuckle softly and count through. “Scissor, paper, rock—“ You paper loses to Roosters scissors and you groan. “Fuck, are you really gonna let your heavily pregnant wife get up and tend to your child at 6am?”

“Your child Fe—“ Bradley mumbled as he rolled over to look at you with a smug look smeared across his face. “She’s all you—“

“I’m so sick of that fucking joke—“ You countered, smacking Bradley on the head with one of your pillows. “Fine, I’m going, but I’m spitting in your eggs.”

“Now I know your secret to making them so fluffy, the essence of Felix.” You couldn’t help but to laugh as you got up with a huff, waddling out and around the bed you shared with Bradley to see what all the commotion in the hallway was about.

To your shock and horror the entire hallway was covered in a light dusting of flour, small but noticeable ’bunny’ prints led from Odette's room, down the hall, all the way down the stairs and over to the dining table where Rooster had left his half eaten carrot stick and out to the front patio.

Not too much mess your ass.

“Mama!! The bunny! Came!” Dot beamed as she grabbed your hand and squished her face into your swollen belly. “We gotta go look down staiws!” Under your breath as you waddled down the almost impossible steps with your daughter guiding you, you knew that the ‘Easter Bunny’ would never cum again if he didn’t clean this mess up before lunch time.

“Oh my god Dotty look at this place!” You held a hand over your mouth as you got to the bottom of the stairs, there were floured paw prints all over the place and eggs galore. “Holy hell baby you better go get Rooster before he misses out on this.”

Dot was off in seconds as you padded over to the empty basket next to your daughters. A note was the only thing inside. You couldn’t help but to smile as you read the note your husband had left you as you ran a protective hand across your baby bump.

“Happy hunting ~ Your Easter Rooster.”

“Oh woah! Look at this place Dotty girl, what's in your basket?” Bradley beamed as he held his four year old daughter on his hip. Dodging the dusted bunny paw prints as he made his way over to where you stood by the baskets on the dining table. “Look Dotty, woah! New pyjamas and colouring books and texters too!”

“I needed dose!” Dot giggled as she squirmed in Roosters grip before he put her down to rummage through her basket. “Thanks Mr Bunny!”

“Funny—“ You turned to Bradley as he went to kiss your cheek but managed to catch the corner of your mouth. “I don’t ever remember the Easter Bunny being this messy.”

“He may have gotten a little carried away.” Bradley grinned ear to ear. “But looks like he brought you some gifts this year too mama, but you gotta go on a hunt for them first.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~**

Tags: @a-serene-place-to-be @lilyevanswhore@thescarletknight2014@blindedbythelightt@averyhotchner@emma8895eb@blairfox04@caitsymichelle13 @oxxolovemelikeyoudooxxo @teacupsandtopgun @aemondssiut @feltonswifesworld87@akalei349@notjustsomeblonde@americaarse@avaleineandafryingpan@phoenix1388@xoxabs88xox@je-suis-prest-rachel@pono-pura-vida@rosiahills22@starset21@anarchyrising @caidi-paris @starkleila@criticalroleobssedperson@enchantingdreamergothprune@flrboyd@emma8895eb@endofdays56

#terms of endearment// bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley 'rooster' bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster bradshaw #bradleybradshaw #rooster bradshaw imagine

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drowninginblox · 9 days

Text

Return to Sender

Inspired by this by @noctnis. Please give them ample love. I didnt know the AU but i do know the cannon vers of these cubitos and I see Fit returning to the island looking exactly like that soooooo... ye

"You have some nerves showing up you know!" Pac yelled over the whistle of the wind. In its chaos, the laundry he was hanging brushed into his face. He couldn't give a care in the world though. The emotional battery has long since drained for Pac, and the reserves have all been spent.

Cucarucho has been checking in on him more and more frequently as of late. His robotic laughter, the incessant and condescending voice box, the inventory clogging books- Deus, se ele tivesse que ver aquele urso mais uma vez, ele mataria todos em um raio de cem quarteirões e depois a si mesmo! But, every time, he thinks of Richarlyson. Ever since he and Mike found their beautiful son it's like the world got more- real for lack of a better word. The sun was warmer, the air crisper, the fruit fresher; the hole that Richas left in all of his father's hearts was larger than the world itself. So seeing him back and healthy- it was as if God blessed them all over again. Like it was their first day. And, of course, there was Ramon. Still lost to the federation and located god knows where in this hell hole. But, there is the hope that information will be coming soon. It has to. If the federation knew Pac as well as they claimed to, then as soon as he knew where that sweet boy was, he'd run as fast as he could to get them back. If not for him, then for Fit.

“Se você está procurando o Richas, ele está seguro e longe de você! Então, faça o que quiser comigo. Me sequestrem de novo, me matem, o que for!” He was too tired for this. The weight of all the revelations he's learned are almost as heavy as his eye bags and- to quote from Fit- 'Today is not the day, and I am not the one.'

"Apenas, seja rápido." He sighs, pinning up another one of Richarlyson's many jerseys in the process. In the uncertain silence, he hums a melody from his childhood; a byproduct of being without his children. Their lullabies supplied a little comfort with the knowledge that they were bedridden for so long. If Pac closed his eyes long enough he could convince himself that he just set the boys down for a nap rather than a coma.

A gust blew a nearby basket away from Pac just as his sight fell to it. Its contents either tumbled on the ground or succumbed to the breeze before colliding with the dewy grass. Whatever curses he had dried alongside his throat when he noticed his company reach for his newly washed hoodie. "No fight huh?" A hollowed horse of a question came from the man. He was everything Pac had waited for but far more spent than he thought he would be when he returned. The bags under his eyes were far darker than anything Pac had seen from anyone else. And he was up there on the "experienced fucked up shit" list.

“Quem é você e o que fez com o meu namorado? Fitch...” Whatever Pac was holding was promptly discarded for the sprint he made to the hardened man before him. With every bound the smile that started to form grew wider to the point where the pair were grinning from ear to ear just before Pac made contact. Fit nearly tumbled back but recovered with a laugh he didn't think he had the strength for. "P-Pac! Pac, Pac I-"

"Fitch I missed you so much, oh my god! Are you okay? Are you you? Did you kill your boss? Is he gonna be a problem anymore? Oh- Jesus Cristo! O que aconteceu com seu braço?! MEU DEUS, ME COLOQUE NO CHÃO! NÓS PRECISAMOS, VOCÊ PRECISA! PRECISO LIGAR PARA O MIKE!" He eventually shouted, shoving Fit away to message Mike immediately. All the while Fit laughed. "I love you too Pac," He said, giving into the darkness encircling him as he leaned Pac's way.

Pac caught him just as the sound of the warp pad caught up with Mike. Mike screamed. The pair scrambled to carry him inside Pac's house where Mike would reassemble Fit's arm and Pac would reassemble his man.

#hideduo #fitpac #qsmp fitmc #qsmp pac

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ghostoffuturespast · 8 months

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Glitching The Matrix: Portrait Photos and Getting Up-close And Personal With NPCs In Cyberpunk 2077 Vanilla Photomode

Howdy, folks! Ghost here, back with some more tips and tricks for vanilla photomode. Some of you may have read my previous tips and tricks guide (laundry list?) a few months back, but I’ve learned some more fun things since then that I thought I’d share with you all. Specifically, in terms of taking portrait style photos and getting intimate with your favorite NPCs. (Well, as intimate as vanilla will allow.)

With the 2.0 update and the release of the PL expansion, I imagine a lot of people might be going minimal with the mods until they get up to speed, or maybe you just want to take some bomb photos if you’re running on a console, or you don’t have access to mods. Whatever the case, just know that with the right application of cheese whiz, you too can get dope photos.

I don’t claim to be the world’s best anything, but I’m always happy to share what I know and what I've learned.

Portraits

I have yet to actually play any of the expansion, but I’ve seen that there are some sweet new outfits and some hella cool new backdrops, and who doesn’t want to show off their Vs & OCs?

Now, there is nothing wrong with pulling out photomode and snapping a photo with the standard settings and not touching any of the sliders. I'm not here to ruin anyone's good time or dictate style. However, if you're looking for techniques to add a bit more panache to your photos, I’m going to do a quick rundown of some key things that I keep in mind when I'm taking portrait-style photos.

If you've been taking VP for a while, you may already know these things. But, hey, never hurts to review the basics.

Field Of View

The Field of View (FOV) slider is one of the most important tools in your toolbox and is basically the zoom on your camera. (Okay, it's a bit more complicated than that but I'm not that technical) It’s located on the far left tab. I utilize the shit out of it, and, if you aren't already acquainted, I’d recommend you become friends with it.

Rather than simply moving the camera closer to your subject, which, if you leave it at the standard 60 setting produces a lot of distortion and doesn’t give you much detail of your subject, slide that setting all the way to 15 to zoom in and then adjust the position of the camera to frame your shot how you want. At this point if you want to you can pull the Field Of View out to a higher setting or play around with where exactly you want the camera, for instance if you want to include more of the background or if there’s additional characters.

By using FOV in conjunction with the camera position, it’s possible to get crisper detailed shots of your subject with less visual distortion. And if you have decent lighting and play around with some of the other settings (exposure, contrast, highlights) you can get some stellar shots with minimal editing.

Just for reference, I usually don’t do any post-production on my photos. They’re all straight off my PS5. Photo editing is a bit of a time sink so it's personal preference that I don't do it. I barely have enough time for most of my other hobbies, so it's one less thing for me to do. If you want to do photo editing after the fact, more power to you.

Play with poses, look at camera, rotate poses, and camera location

I know that heading is a long list, but seriously, play with the angles! Since we’re working in vanilla photomode, all the poses are canned, everyone’s got the same stock poses and unfortunately some of them are just downright goofy. Which is fun on occasion, but maybe you're looking for something a bit more natural. So, in order to jazz things up and give yourself as much variety as possible, you’re going to want to keep angles in mind.

A lot of times I’ll cycle through all of the poses to find one that gels with the photo I’m trying to take, and at times I’m surprised at which ones those end up being. You zoom in close enough, you can barely tell you're using the JoJo poses. And rotating your character, rather than having them face straight on, can also help spice up the stock poses.

Swinging the camera around wildly in a circle also helps me scout out interesting compositions and backgrounds. I'll pan the camera around 360 so I can find the spots with the most visual interest. And I typically will make attempts to jam the camera in the weirdest places possible. (Through door ways, behind furniture, along walls, in between people and other objects etc.) I often think I know what I want when I go into grab photos, but often times a change of perspective helps me find something even cooler.

Not every pose has a look at camera option, but some of them do. Rotating your V/OC or changing camera position while using this feature will allow you to add some extra variety to your poses and expressions. You can get your character to look straight at the camera (which can be very striking), get some side-eye action, gaze off into the distance, and my personal fave, over the shoulder shots.

You can also add some additional flair by doing low-angle or high-angle shots too. And if you want a portrait orientation instead of landscape? Rotate the camera 180 degrees. It’s a bit disorienting at first, and try not to crik your neck, but now you can get full body shots. The only editing you'll have to do after exporting is rotating the photo to the intended viewing orientation, which you should be able to do in most photo viewers. No editing software required.

NPCs

If you’re taking photos of an NPC, you don’t have the option of posing these characters in vanilla, but if you time it right you can grab some awesome shots! The easiest time to snag photos of NPCs is usually right before you select dialogue options. They’re static, will cycle through a handful of actions, and main NPCs also eye-track V, so you can use this to your advantage if you need them to turn or want them to look in a specific direction.

It’s possible to grab action shots as well! They’re a bit trickier as it requires a lot of timing and you may need to hop in and out of photomode or even reload a previous save if you miss the monent, but totally doable. It also helps to be familiar with the flow of action for the quest by having done it at least once, that way you know when to bust out the camera. (I've lost count how many times I've played this game... Too many.)

Unfortunately, lighting is going to be very hit or miss during missions. If you keep your eyes peeled for good lighting opportunities it's possible to find them, and sometimes you can even kite NPCs over to it if they're following you. (Turning the muzzle flash on when your character is in a gun pose also works in a pinch, but might look a little silly depending on the context and if you're also trying to get your character in the frame.) When you're out and about free roaming though, it's much easier to come across good lighting sources as you can adjust the time of day or utilize the lighting you do come across.

But remember field of view, camera angles, playing with the poses, and adjusting the effects sliders can all help enhance a portrait shot.

Glitching The Matrix

Sooooo, I may have mentioned previously that I couldn’t do anything to help you all take shippy/otp pics… I’m more than happy to have proven myself wrong. Obviously, there are limits to this (you're not going to be able to get anywhere close to posed pics like you can with mods), but it’s a hell of a lot more feasible than I thought it was.

With help from this post (Thanks again, Heather!) and applications of sheer stubbornness on my part, I did in fact manage to glitch the matrix. It is entirely possible to bypass the collision physics around characters and certain objects with a little ingenuity.

Grandpa V & Old Man River are my otp, but I went ahead and took some additional photos for the sake of science. They aren’t cannon to my V’s timeline, but I just wanted to show you all the realms of possibility. And for all you SilverV shippers out there running vanilla, yeah, you can finally kiss your own brain worm.

This is as close as I'm gonna get to kissing Keanu Reeves lol.

(SilverDyne shippers… I’m sorry, I have no control of either rockerboy. It’s out of my hands, they’re just too spicy for vanilla. Or if you got a multi-ship or rare pair outside of the player character, can't help you there. Ask your local modder for assistance.)

Be advised, in order to take these kinds of photos, there are specific environmental parameters that need to be met and getting your V/OC posed correctly is going to test your patience the first couple tries. It's a finicky technique but once you get a feel for how to do it, it gets much easier and you'll know what to look for in order to setup this kind of photo.

Steps:

Find a time when your NPC is static (i.e. not moving from a particular spot. Doesn’t matter if they’re standing or seated. I don't want to say it's impossible to attempt from moving, but getting everything timed right is mega tricky and I haven't had much luck with the times I've tried so far.)

Make sure you have plenty of overhead clearance and that you have some room to pan the camera around. (If there’s an overhead barrier like a ceiling, cabinets, umbrellas, awning etc. it’ll impede your ability to move your character into position. For those of you that know me, I tried on the water tower and in the kitchen with River. I really did, but no dice. Dumb cabinets, and there weren't any objects at the right height that were close enough to use on the actual water tower.)

Get some height in proximity to your destination. You want something relatively close and around shoulder/head height of the NPC. (Can be anything really so long as it's the right height and close enough. If it's too high up, or too far away, you won’t be able to get your character in range. Too low, you won’t be able to circumvent the collision physics.)

Open photomode and hope you have access to all the action poses.

Find an action pose that has the up/down slider (Off to the Races is a good one to start with) and move your character all the way up. Then position character above NPC, lower them down into the NPC, and pray they clip through.

Mess with all the poses and pose sliders until desired results are achieved.

*If you cannot complete 4 or 5, exit out of photomode, adjust position, and repeat until you can clip through the NPC. If you can't get any kind of clipping to occur or you keep sliding around the NPC when you're positioning, you may not have the right environmental settings and may need to try in a different spot. It happens.

(Trust me, the horror face sucking is a good sign.)

Panning around so it looks less awkward, make some camera adjustments, and voila! (Good thing Judy's rocking that asymmetrical haircut.)

Your object also does not have to be right next to the NPC, like with Judy and the van. I used the white box thingy that Grandpa's hovering over in the photo above. The roof did get in my way on a couple of my attempts, but I did get it to work.

If you can get the full catalog of action poses to populate and you can get your V/OC to fully clip through your desired character/object without suddenly rubberbanding or deflecting when you move them around, know that you made it.

Getting to this point though, may take several attempts. It’s also important that you use the action poses to move your character around as most of those have the up/down slider positioning, which is not available on the idle poses with a few exceptions. I’ve had the best luck with Roundhouse Shot to the Face, Just a Peek, Take Cover (left or right), Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon, and Off to the Races.

Unfortunately, I don’t have any solid advice on best practice for getting them into position however. You’re just gonna have to feel it out as the position sliders have a tendency to behave very erratically since you’re doing shit you’re not supposed to.

Do your best to not accidentally exit out of photo mode, be patient, and if you get a half-way decent shot or even kinda close, snap pictures for posterity in case something goes awry and you have to start over. If nothing else, you can have a good laugh about it later.

Utilize the tips from the portrait section above as well. You can’t change the NPCs expression or make your characters close their eyes (unless you get really lucky with your timing), so you’ll have to pull out all the camera tricks in your arsenal to make the setup look sort of natural.

Behind the scenes is pretty hilarious though.

And you can use this technique for objects and certainly for non-ship pics too. I demoed kissy pics because those are the hardest to set up. Maybe you just wanna hang with the chooms instead, y’know? S'all cool.

Grandpa gets tired and sometimes she needs to sit down. There's no pose to get your character to sit, but with some creative camera angles and poses, it sure does look like she's sitting.

Or you can finally just annoy the crap out of Johnny.

Anyway, hope this was helpful, and feel free to hit up my inbox if you’ve got questions!

May all your cheese be fine and remember the most important thing:

Have fun!

Grandpa's got the best seat in the house as far as I'm concerned.

#yes you can kiss your fave npcs #i made grandpa kiss johnny for science lol #and now you can too #cyberpunk 2077 #virtual photography #vanilla photomode #vanilla photomode tutorial #vp tutorial #tips and tricks #cp2077 photomode #long post #reference #night city streets #return of the cheese #the cheese strikes back #a new cheese #tyromancer #from the top #console shots

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slippinmickeys · 4 months

Text

Three Part Harmony (18/?)

Twelve hours alone in a cell, and then back into the interview room, this time shackled to the floor. When Skinner walked in, Mulder had a distinct sense of Déjà vu.

“When I asked for a lawyer, I wasn’t expecting you,” Mulder said. “We tried that once. Didn’t go so well.”

“I remember,” Skinner said, dropping heavily into the chair across from him.

The room didn’t have a window, just a bluish fluorescent light that hummed at a frequency that made Mulder want to hitch his shoulders up over his ears. Skinner’s countenance was grave.

“What is it?” Mulder asked, his first thought: Scully, Scully, Scully.

Skinner sighed. “They’re sending me back to DC. My task force as well.”

Mulder unclenched a little. “We got a whole task force? The girls at the salon will never believe this.”

Skinner ignored him. “I assembled it myself,” he said. “Level heads. Uncompromised .”

The man was warning him, Mulder realized.

“You worried about the local yokels?”

Again, Skinner breezed past his glib comments. “You’re to be transferred to a federal facility in Utah,” he went on. “Transportation by US Marshals, the whole nine yards.”

“They’re really rolling out the red carpet. I’m humbled.”

“Once I leave, I can’t help you, Mulder,” Skinner said plainly. “The agent taking over was sent from on high. The providence of which stinks to high heaven. You’ll need to be extremely careful. And you are going to need a shit-hot lawyer.”

“Think the mesothelioma guy I saw on TV is available? I’ve heard good things about class action.”

Skinner leveled a crestfallen look at him. “You’re being awfully flippant.”

“That’s because I remember how this goes,” Mulder said, suddenly weary, thinking of a baton ringing off the bars of his military cell. Wrong answer!

Skinner sighed. “Your fate may well be decided, Mulder,” he said sadly. “But hers isn’t. His isn’t. If they’re nearby, they should go. And they should not stop moving.”

Everything inside Mulder went flat. It felt like Mount Weather all over again. He sighed. “Can you tell her?” he said quietly. “Can you let her know what’s happening?”

Skinner licked his lips, nodded solemnly.

“Before you leave town, you really ought to try the pie at this one diner on route 80. Coffee’s good, too.” Mulder gave him a significant look.

“I know the place,” Skinner said, his eyes soft. “I’ll be sure to stop in.”

XxXxXxXxXxX

When she was a girl, just up from Georgia, the stink of burning crosses still sharp in her nose, Rhonda Fitzsimmons befriended a wild doe with black-tipped ears.

The deer had a noticeable limp in her right foreleg, and would frequently bed down under the trees behind Rhonda’s uncle’s cabin with her small matriarchal herd. But when the other deer would wander off in the morning to search for food, Rhonda’s doe would stay put, sometimes lolling for the entirety of the day in the soft, fragrant needles of pine.

Rhonda would watch her from the back bedroom, thinking at first that the deer was just comfortable and lazy, but realizing, when the poor thing tried to stand, that she was in fact hurt, and wasn’t moving on with the other deer because she couldn’t .

The girl recognized in the animal a familiar, as wounded as Rhonda was, equally as unable to move on. She named the doe Peaches, and imagined her fur was as soft as the stone fruit from the fields Rhonda had so recently and regretfully left.

She began sneaking carrots and apples from the crisper drawer, wilting celery, various vegetable odds and ends that she quietly plucked from her uncle’s composting pile, and took them all out behind the house, walking softly and quietly, and throwing them as best she could through the stands of trees toward the injured deer.

The other deer, if they were around, would leap from their beds as Rhonda approached, their tails flung up to reveal the white danger! signal intrinsic to the species. But Peaches, unable to leap like her sisters, would remain prone, her ears swiveling, following Rhonda’s every move, her glistening black muzzle bobbing, sipping the air for information hidden from less sensitive noses.

Rhonda would then back away respectfully and turn to go back inside, watching from her window as the deer would slowly and shakily rise to her feet and limp to whatever Rhonda had left for her, chewing lazily with her right leg pulled awkwardly up, the smooth cloven hoof an arrow pointed at her underbelly.

Peaches and her herd would sometimes disappear for days or weeks at a time, and Rhonda would wake in the night, squinting into the dark, trying to see through the inky black night, convinced the deer had finally succumbed to her injuries. And then, at times she would least expect it, like a soft, rare apracity after long gray winter days, there Peaches would be; thin but whole, her liquid eyes seeming to search out Rhonda’s.

The deer, her leg injury never quite mending, would go on to visit Rhonda for two more improbable years before finally disappearing from the mountain and Rhonda’s life, as though she had waited for the girl to heal where she could not. As though she was a quiet answer to a silent prayer.

Rhonda remembered Peaches now, as she watched the mother and her young son, reminding herself that the chances for a miracle, though infinitesimally small, were not exactly zero.

XxXxXxXxXxX

When Agent Bryson walked in, Mulder pinched the bridge of his nose. He tried to recall if he’d ever seen an episode of Law & Order that took place entirely in an interrogation room. He would have turned it off.

He wondered if the Sheriff department’s door had even shut on Skinner and the rest of his team before Bryson barged into the interview room carrying a thick Manila file folder and the acrid scent of stale cigarette smoke.

The man looked Mulder over eagerly, which irritated him to the point that he casually looked down at his wrist, as if the booking officer hadn’t taken his watch.

“Mr. Mulder, my name is Special Agent Bryson with the Federal Bureau of Investigation. I believe we were once eligible to share the same credit union.”

Mulder ignored him, again looked at his wrist, then rubbed the strip of pale skin.

“You have somewhere else to be?” Bryson asked, a hint of annoyance creeping into his voice.

Mulder shrugged. “Miss Otis regrets she’s unable to lunch today.”

“I’ll say. You’re in some trouble.”

Again, Mulder shrugged, sensing that his blasé attitude was getting under the other agent’s skin, and drawing a small amount of satisfaction from the offense.

Bryson narrowed his eyes and lowered himself into the chair Skinner had vacated.

“You no longer have the assistant director to protect you.”

“That much is obvious,” Mulder finally spoke. “I’m going to exercise my right to remain silent if it’s all the same to you.”

It was Bryson’s turn to shrug. The other man studied him for a long minute and then opened the file in front of him, scanning the contents for far longer than he needed to. Mulder was willing to bet the guy knew that file inside and out.

Finally the other man flipped the folder closed and sighed, looking at Mulder frankly.

“How about we both stop pretending that we don’t know exactly what each other wants.”

The buzzing from the overhead lights seemed to get louder, and Mulder cracked his neck before speaking. “You’re willing to admit that you have no interest whatsoever in justice? That you’re merely a tool in the machinations of more powerful men? That’s unexpected, but refreshing.”

“I’m talking about what we both want, Mulder,” Bryson said. “And only some of those wants are at cross purposes.” The man looked at him as if willing him to get on his page. Finally he asked, “How’s Scully?”

At the mention of her name, his stomach rocked in upheaval, but Mulder remained stonily silent.

“Dry climate, high altitude,” Bryson went on. “Either of you ever get vertigo? Short of breath?…Nosebleeds?”

His inflection on the last word made Mulder’s blood run cold.

“We don’t really care about you, Mulder,” the man went on, not knowing what kind of storm he’d ignited in Mulder’s heart. “And though Scully has proved useful in the past, her contributions… Well, we have what we need from her. In fact, I could probably be talked into dropping the charges against you. Letting the two of you walk free.”

Wants, Bryson had said. The bastard wasn’t off the mark.

“In exchange for what?” Mulder asked, already knowing the answer.

“I have two…colleagues…with a very interesting story about something that happened to them in a little boy’s bedroom across the state line in Montana.”

With the birth of William, Mulder’s wants had shifted. Seismically. With the same kind of tumult currently running roughshod through his heart. In a flash of rage, Mulder pulled on the chains that secured his handcuffs to the floor in impotent fury. Bryson had the temerity to laugh.

“William’s number had been called, but his priority stature has gone through the roof, Mulder. The next time we come for your boy, we’ll be sending a lot more than just four mercenaries.” All pretense that Bryson was an upstanding federal officer whose sole aspiration was the interest of justice was gone.

Mulder tried to stand, but the chains held his hands at knee-level, forcing him to stoop. He wanted to throw himself at the agent, could understand why chained dogs still hurled themselves against their restraints. He wanted to bark, growl, slaver, rip the man’s throat out with his teeth. If Bryson noticed, he didn’t care.

“The forces coming to take William will be like the very hand of God. People will get hurt.” ‘People,’ Bryson said. Scully , Mulder heard.

Mulder dropped heavily back into the metal chair, beads of sweat on his upper lip.

“Bring the child to me, and nothing will happen to Scully. You’ll both be free to go, to get back to your lives in DC, if you want. See your families. Reacquire your assets. No more running.”

Mulder’s mind reeled, but Bryson continued to sit there casually.

“The two of you can make other babies, Mulder,” he then went on. “You’ve certainly had a lot of practice lately.”

Blood was rushing through his head in such a roar, he barely heard the viscous words coming out of his own mouth.

“Fuck you.”

Bryson shrugged. “Suit yourself. Juries don’t take kindly to kidnappers. Though it will take months to bring you to trial. Lot can happen. Life has a way of…metastasizing.”

Mulder had to breathe through his nose to calm down. He had to remind himself; they had sent the chip to Agent Doggett when they’d removed it from Scully’s neck. Should anything turn sideways with her health, she would go to him and they could reimplant it if necessary.

William would need to separate from her until they could figure out a solution, but, Mulder hoped, Bryson’s threats were more empty than he realized. Mulder could withstand anything so long as he knew Scully and William were out there somewhere safe. He could withstand separation. He could withstand death itself.

He’d done it before.

“Tell me where they are.”

Mulder breathed deeply, regained his composure. “Over my dead body,” he said.

Bryson sucked on his teeth, nodded.

“You’re far more useful to me alive.”

When Mulder didn’t respond, the smile that crawled up Bryson’s face was serpent-like, revealing wide, brilliantly white teeth.

“Wherever you are, Dana Scully is never far away,” he explained. “And I know your son is with her. She gave him up once. She won’t make that mistake again. She’s terribly predictable.”

Dana Scully was many things, Mulder thought. ‘Predictable’ didn’t make his top twenty.

“So what does that make me?” he wanted to know.

“Bait,” Bryson said, flashing an incisor.

#the x-files #fanfic #my fic #msr #wip

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inbabylontheywept · 1 year

Text

The Fridges. Oh My God, The Fridges.

This is a continuation of the last piece I wrote on the weird shit that happens in classified facilities. The building I work in has somewhere around 30-35 people in it. It also has around 20 fridges. There's kind of a saga that goes into this, so I'll start with the first part: The Hoarding.

The building has an insane overabundance of space. They just keep adding new rooms every time an old room needs an update, so it just sprawls on forever. There's also an extremely limited ability to get anyone who does not work full time in the building, into the building. This means that while we work on missiles, we also clean our own desks and vacuum the floors and mop and all of those other tasks that most places would consider "non-engineer work." This is fine if it's something anyone with a body can do, but this causes problems when you're looking at the physical limits of engineers. Namely, we are not very muscular people.

Thus, if something needs to get manhandled into a space, it gets manhandled by whatever group of nerds you can bribe, threaten, or guilt into joining you. When a fridge dies, it is a motherfucker to remove it from the building, so they often just...didn't. What they did instead was get the fridges onto dolleys, which isn't too bad, wheel those dolleys to the elevator, and then park them in a relatively empty part of the basement that we shall call The Graveyard of Fridges. This wasn't originally meant to be a permanent solution, but when you have space but lack muscles, it can become permanent really fast. Eventually, someone realized that you can padlock the fronts of the fridges and use them as document storage, which has the added perk of meaning that the people on site don't have to assemble more filing cabinets. Everyone here hates assembling filing cabinets. It's fucking terrible. (It is worth noting that in this era, you would occasionally get directions to a secret file that looked like "1970's model, lime green, left crisper.")

We will call this the peak of the Hoarding Era. It is followed by the Mechanical Engineering Era.

Around 2015, it was realized that the group needed engineers familiar with industrial machinery, and not just standard electronics, so mechanical engineers (MEs) began to get hired. The new ME's made it a sort of rite of passage for proceeding new hires to repair an old fridge. So the site went from having 4 functioning fridges and 15ish being used for document storage to around 15 functioning fridges and 4 used for file storage.

Every time a fridge got fixed, people just put them back on the dolley, wheeled them back in the elevator, and got them wedged in their personal office spaces. If you were a bigwig, you might be able to get dibs on your own personal fridge, and if you were a new guy confined to the cubicle jungle you might have to share one with four or five other guys. But it was still a ludicrous amount of fridge space.

And that is how a base with 35 people on it wound up with 15 fridges.

#fridges #DoD #clearance #blogging #yes #this is what it's like working for shadowy government organizations #we do have a real lime green fridge #the mechanical engineers do have weirdly personal relationships with the fridge they fixed #0.428 fridges per person

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linesonscreens · 8 months

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Let's Read Peanuts (Yes, all of it) - October 1950

As much as I'd like to comment on every strip I don't think the copyright gods will allow it. So instead I'm going to pick a sample of around 4-5 to discuss directly and then list a few others that are interesting or noteworthy at the end using text only. If you want to go read them (and you really should) you can do so at the official GoComics page.

This month starts HERE.

Oct 2, 1950

The first strip! And it's a pretty good one I think. it establishes what the strip will be about (kids being little assholes to each other) while also delivering a solid punchline. In fact I'd argue that this mean streak makes it feel in some ways more at home with modern media than with other stuff from the 50s which often went out of it's way to sand off the rough edges in these kinds of interactions.

Oct 4, 1950

Snoopy's first appearance!

I'm just going to come out and say it: Actual Dog Snoopy is infinitely better than the later versions you're more familiar with. I will get into physical altercations to defend this point.

Oct 10, 1950

Oh hey, this is the one I got my avatar from! I love the expression work here.

Oct 18, 1950

That last panel is one of my favorites in the entire strip.

Also, note that Patty has the traditional lemonade stand while Charlie Brown is selling flowers. It's not in your face about it, but Peanuts actually has a pretty progressive attitude towards gender roles which you will see come up quite a bit as time goes on.

Oct 25, 1950

I find it interesting that Snoopy was fully sentient from day 1. He will go through a LOT of changes over the years but the seeds for it were present right from the start.

Other Noteworthy Strips:

Oct 3, 1950 I love that the punchline here is just Patty slapping the shit out of Charlie Brown. It's so good. Oct 5, 1950 A solid visual gag and one of my favorite early strips. Oct 6, 1950 This is the first example we see of reality operating in very weird ways for comedic effect. This will come up a LOT.

Oct 30, 1950 I never caught that Charlie Brown's birthday happened here. I know for a fact that he's confirmed to be 4 years old later so this means that he was actually 3 years old when the strip started.

Oh? Did you think he was like 9 or something? You naive fool. Oct 31, 1950 This is the first “Snoopy likes candy” strip. There will be a LOT of these. And yes, the fact that Charlie Brown has fed his dog enough chocolate over the years to wipe out an entire network of animal shelters is not lost on me.

Thoughts:

I think these early years are my favorite parts of the strip. There's less emotional nuance but the art is crisper, the jokes are funnier, and everybody is kind of a dick in the best possible way. Schulz really gets how friend groups can actually be kind of horrible to each other despite nobody involved really intending to do so.

#comics #peanuts #peanuts comics #charlie brown #charles schulz #shermy #patty #comic strips #snoopy

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gayravi · 2 years

Note

congratulations again!! <3

💫 + the prompt: 2) “It reminded me of you.”

also 🍄 if that's okay 😊

there ain't language for the things i feel buck/eddie | getting together | 1 800 words

Eddie wants to make it perfectly, spectacularly clear that he isn’t one of the weird farmer’s market people. He’s normal. He’s sane. He doesn’t line up at ass-crack-of-dawn in the morning in order to get his hands on the special lavender honey, he doesn’t wander for hours touching every goddamn vegetable, he doesn’t ask poor vendors if they have any bags for their cactus fruits. Eddie brings his own bags, thank you very much.

His point is—he’s normal about the farmer’s market. He isn’t, however, very normal about Buck.

“Are you looking for something in particular?” The vendor asks. He’s a big, buff guy with two full sleeves, a neck tattoo in the shape of the Spider-man symbol, and there’s script across his chest, beneath his collarbones, spelling out Diana in sprawling black letters. Eddie is at once attracted and terrified of him. There’s a nametag pinned to his black tanktop, naming him as Carter, he/him , and Eddie thinks he definitely looks more like someone who would be named Fang or something, but he lets it slide, just for today.

“Uh, I don’t know,” Eddie says, turning back to the display in front of him. “I don’t usually stop for anything other than vegetables.”

“Ah,” Carter says. He taps the side of his nose and points at Eddie. “You’re one of those shoppers.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You think you’re too good for Whole Foods and the farmer’s market, so you come for vegetables and fruit and maybe to sample some of the sausages over at Nadine’s booth, and then you go on your way pretending the asparagus in your crisper just magically appeared there, because God forbid someone know you have reusable mesh bags and a scheduled visit to Spring Street every weekend.”

Eddie blinks at Carter. Carter blinks at Eddie.

“Was I close?” Carter asks.

“Everyone is too good for Whole Foods,” Eddie says, because somehow, it feels like he just got his palms read, or something. “Whole Foods sucks ass.”

“You got me there.” They stare at each other for another few moments, assessing, and then Carter seems to deem him fit for service because he smiles, wide and bright; he has a gold canine tooth, because of course he does. “So, are you?”

“Am I what?” Eddie says.

“Looking for anything in particular.”

“Oh,” Eddie murmurs, and he glances back down at the display. “I think I want to buy something.”

“Yes,” Carter says, “I did suspect that. But what do you want to buy?”

Eddie looks up at the sign that says Botanical Garden & Home. “A plant?”

He thinks he hears Carter mutter, “Oh boy,” beneath his breath.

“I’m not good with them,” Eddie says, waving a hand toward a chalkboard that says Monstera deliciosa , whatever the fuck that means. “I have a cactus in the backyard, but that’s kind of it.”

“Now we’re getting somewhere,” Carter says, clapping his hands together. One of the tattoos on his sleeve is of a king cobra, and Eddie tries not to be intimidated by its beady little eyes. “Are you going to be caring for the plant alone?”

“No,” Eddie says, glancing at another chalkboard. It says Platycerium bifurcatum , and like, are they making this shit up? “My son will help, and uh, my—Buck. My best friend.”

The corner of Carter’s mouth tilts up. “Ah.”

“Ah what?”

“Nothing. Tell me about the sunlight situation.”

So, Eddie does—he tells Carter about the amount of sunlight his house gets, and the humidity, and the temperature. He ends up telling Carter about Buck, a little bit too, because Eddie is a sad, sad man who is in love with his best friend. He tells him about how Buck loves taking care of plants, and how when he comes to the farmer’s market with Eddie he’ll always by a bouquet of flowers from Cynthia a few booths down, and how him and Christopher did a seed-planting science experiment a few weeks ago, and—

Okay, maybe Eddie understands why Carter said ah .

Finally, when his mouth is dry and his heart feels a little achy, he stops talking, blinking at Carter. “So,” he says, and is only a little embarrassed by how hoarse his voice sounds, “any suggestions?”

And Carter just smiles. “I think I have the perfect thing.”

Eddie gets home and Buck is, predictably, waiting for him.

“Eds,” Buck says, nearly bending over the arm of the couch to look at him; he’s upside down, all Golden Retriever puppy and sunshine and the love of Eddie’s fucking life, probably. “How was the market?”

“Busy,” Eddie replies, setting his mesh bags full of Buck’s requested vegetables on the table. In his other hand, he holds the plant, and he feels silly, and a little stupid, but Carter said it was perfect and then gave him the most embarrassing pep talk that involved telling him the story of Diana from the chest tattoo, so Eddie is—

Eddie’s been waiting a long, long time for this. He thinks, distantly, he deserves it. Even if he is about to confess his love via succulent.

“It’s always busy,” Buck says, and he does a weird little backflip-slash-somersault to get off the couch. When he’s back on his feet, only wobbling a little bit, he walks to the table, rifling through the bags. “That’s why you should go when it opens—”

“I’m not going at nine in the morning,” Eddie says; it’s an argument they’ve had a hundred times, because you can’t just go at nine in the morning; if you go for opening, you have to be there early. There’s a line-up . Buck snorts, pulling out a persimmon and a fig, and Eddie says, “Buck.”

“Hmm?” he hums without looking up.

“Buck,” Eddie says again, and his tongue feels like it’s shriveling up in his mouth. “I bought a plant.”

Buck turns to look at him then, eyebrows pinched together before he notices the succulent in Eddie’s hand, and his face clears. He smiles, all teeth, and takes a step forward. “Dude, you have a black thumb.”

“Yeah,” Eddie agrees, because it isn’t like he’s wrong. “It reminded me of you.”

Buck glances at the plant, then at Eddie. “It did?”

And Buck—Buck isn’t stupid. He’s probably the smartest person Eddie has ever met, and he knows Karen Wilson. But Buck is smart and he’s perceptive , and there’s no way in the world that Eddie could hand him a fucking hoya heart and have Buck miss his point entirely. There’s no way he can hold a literal heart—it’s a fucking heart , Jesus Christ he should have left Carter a bigger tip—in his hands and have Buck not understand.

“Buck,” Eddie says again, and it feels strange in his mouth, like the more he says it the less real this all is. “I’m—”

Gently, Buck takes the hoya from his fingers, cradling delicately in the palm of his hand, and he stares down at it, blinking, blinking, blinking. He traces his index finger over the ridge of the succulent, right over the hump of the heart, and Eddie wishes he’d gotten a cactus so he could stab himself in the throat.

But then Buck looks up, and there’s something determined in his eyes, and he extends his arms out like he’s giving the hoya back. Eddie has a brief moment of panic where rejection settles over him like an uncomfortable, itchy skin, but then Buck smiles, all soft and warm and fond, and says, “I heart you.”

“You—” Eddie starts and stops, eyes flicking from the hoya to Buck and back. “What?”

“I heart you,” Buck repeats, and he takes a step forward, and then another, until the hoya is pressing against Eddie’s sternum. Eddie reaches up, cupping a hand around the plastic container, and his fingers curl around Buck’s at the same time. “Eddie,” he says, and he’s looking at him so earnestly that Eddie really wishes he’d gotten a cactus, because it’s—too much. It’s not enough. “I heart you.”

“I—” Eddie chokes on the words, doesn’t know how to get them out, so he does the next best thing.

He kisses Buck.

And Eddie—he hasn’t really let himself imagine it, to be honest, because if he thought about it even once, of the way Buck’s lips slide against his, of the way his jaw feels beneath his palm, about the way he can taste toothpaste on his tongue, Eddie never would have been able to stop. But he’s glad, somehow, that he never let himself think about it—the real thing is better than his imagination ever could have been.

Buck makes a noise in the back of his throat, a high keening noise, and he presses in further, pushing Eddie back until he hits the wall, head narrowly missing the mirror. Buck slots a leg between Eddie’s, one hand wrapping around his ribs—and Jesus, if it isn’t something to be held but Buck’s stupidly big hands—and Eddie returns the favor, sliding one hand into the short hairs at the back of Buck’s neck. Buck’s tongue is in Eddie’s mouth and his thigh is between Eddie’s legs and his fingers are dipping beneath Eddie’s waistband and—

There’s a crinkle of plastic, and Buck pulls away, nearly panting. “Our heart.”

Eddie doesn’t swoon at that, but it’s a near thing.

“Buck,” Eddie says, and he takes the hoya from Buck’s hands and twists them around so Buck’s the one against the wall. Eddie leans back to set the plant down, and Buck, second hand now free, runs it up Eddie’s chest until it’s resting on the side of his neck. He pulls Eddie back in by the belt loops once the hoya is safe, tugging him in until they’re connected from knee to hip to chest. “Buck,” Eddie says again, “Baby. I heart you, too.” And then— “No, fuck that, I love you.”

“Eds,” Buck says, a little choked.

“I love you so much, Buck, that I want to buy every fucking heart shaped succulent in LA County just to prove it to you.” Eddie brushes his thumb over the sharp, delicate bone of Buck’s cheek, presses it into the corner of his mouth until his lips part. “I want to build you a garden, sweetheart.”

“I have you,” Buck says, and fuck him, honestly, for out-romancing Eddie. “I don’t need anything else.”

“You do have me,” Eddie agrees, and he knocks his forehead against Buck’s; when Buck closes his eyes, Eddie can feel his eyelashes brushing his cheeks. “You’ve always had me, Buck.”

“And I always will.” It’s a promise—it’s nearly a vow—and Eddie’s breath hitches, a little.

“I need to go back to the market,” he mumbles, mostly to himself. “Carter will want an update.”

Buck pulls back a fraction, just enough to look at him, eyebrow raised. “Who’s Carter?”

“I’ll tell you later.”

Any other questions Buck might have is swallowed by Eddie’s mouth on his and—yeah.

He’s definitely giving Carter a bigger tip.

---

tags :)

@himbodiaz @hoediaz @gayeddiaz @queerpanikkar @hattalove @thatbuddie @classical-memeician @mmtions @spaceprincessem @lilythesilly @trippedandfell @goldencereza @buckbuckbuck @make-a-desert-call-it-peace @naguaraquerandom @bibuddie @hughesclues @ediediaz @drinkcrywrite @messyhairdiaz @faithtrustalotofpixiedust @swiftieeddie @transbibuck @cowboydiaz @evandiaz @buckbegns @lawyerlauren @vilanaxxa @bbuddieactually

#buddie #buddie fic #911fic #911 fic #911 fox #evan buckley #eddie diaz #911 #reply #ravipanikar #i hope you enjoy!! <33 #chelsea writes

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essayofthoughts · 7 months

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You know what I'm going to say: Delia AU. Please?

It's getting cromchyyyyy

“You’re from up north, aren’t you?” Vax asks, one evening when they’re keeping watch on a place.

Well - he’s keeping a watch on it, Cass is keeping an eye out for Vex and Trinket, who’d promised to return with some kind of dinner a whole half hour ago and Cass has been praying for those fish pasties they’d had the other week. The unexpectedness of Vax’s question has her turning to look at him with such force it almost makes her stumble out of her carefully wedged position.

“We’re not gonna tell anyone, Cass.” His voice is soft and his expression earnest even as his eyes stay fixed on the house. “Whatever you’re running from - you’re a good person and a tricky customer in a fight. We like you. You don’t want us to tell, we won’t - but we need to know what you don’t want told, so we don’t let anything slip.”

That’s… fair, and Cass hates that it’s fair and feels kind of nostalgic at the same time because this is the exact kind of wheedling reasoning that Percy learned from Julius and used to absolute death. Vax is using it much more like Julius did - simply and plainly and letting the sentence stand without adding on five more arguments.

“Yes,” she says.

“Further than Drynna, right? Vex and I spent a summer there once and your accent is crisper.”

There are, Cass admits, worse people she could admit this to than Vax. Vax who treats her as much like a little sister as Julius ever did. Vax who’s taken a dagger for her not once now but twice, Vax who’s taught her how to lockpick those tricky new bastard locks the Myriad have brought in and where Trinket likes best to be scratched and has twice given her the pouch of looted money to give to Vex.

Vax won’t turn her in. For Vax, family is worth more than money. (Vex… she isn’t entirely sure on Vex yet.)

“Whitestone,” she says eventually.

“Oh,” Vax says. “That’s where that rock comes from, right? Everyone’s been going mad trying to get it after trade was cut off the other year.”

“Yeah,” she says. She swallows; her throat feels dry.

“Know anything about that?” he asks. “Anyway we could get ahold of some? That’d be damn useful-”

“You won’t,” she says. “You won’t get any. And if you try, you’ll just die.”

Vax does tear his eyes away from the building at that: she sees his face turn to look at her out of the corner of her eye but she can’t face him right now because she thinks she might break down entirely if she does and someone has to keep watch.

“Oh,” he says. “Shit, Cass-”

She shakes her head before he can ask anything else.

“Shit,” he repeats. “I knew it was something bad got you down here, with your accent but- shit, Cass.” There’s a pause; politely, he turns to face the manor. “People hunting you?” he asks. Cass can only shrug.

“They didn’t catch me,” she says. “I wasn’t with everyone. I don’t- I don’t know if they know I’m alive. But if they find out-”

“Yeah.” Vax’s shoulders shift and it’s the exact way they do before he does something stupid like threaten a gang’s biggest bruiser. “Right. ‘F you spot anyone-”

“I pickpocketed you because I used all my funds trying to kill one of their people,” she blurts. “And- she saw my face. I didn’t manage it.”

Vax’s eyes snap right back to her.

“... You think she’s gonna tell them?”

Cass can shake her head for that at least. Ripley’s a bitch but she’s a predictable bitch: she loves nothing more than knowledge to lord over other people, knowledge that advantages her over everyone else. Percy’d always been blind to it, but it was one of the reasons Mother had always been a bit sceptical of the Doctor’s advice.

“She’s under their thumbs too,” she says eventually. “She won’t like that.”

Vax understands immediately. “Right-”

He stops dead and it takes Cass a moment to realise why: Vex is walking down the street, Trinket ambling along beside her.

“What a surprise seeing you here,” she says, when she reaches the little alley they’ve tucked themselves into, Vax perched on top of some crates and Cass wedged between some. “Still cosy as cats in a colony?”

“Absolutely,” Vax says, already making grabby-hands at the steaming, wax-paper-wrapped parcels in Vex’s hands. “We’ll be cosier if-”

“Yes yes, food first,” Vex says.

If it wasn’t for her upbringing, Cass could hug Vex. It is the pasties. The manor across the street remains as dull as anything and they all settle in with their food.

“Having fun chatting?” Vex asks, leaning back against the street-facing wall, her hood pulled low in a way that makes her look astoundingly cool if not for the flaky pastry crumbs caught on her leathers.

“Absolutely riveting,” Vax asks, before taking a bite and heedlessly talking around the mouthful. “What took you so long?”

Oh. Cass doesn’t think she’s ever seen Vax keep something from Vex before.

#cassandra de rolo #vex'ahlia #vax'ildan #delia au #ginger-floor-goblin #ask #my fic

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the-cult-of-russo · 1 year

Text

Just Beneath The Flames (Part 5)

Pairing: Billy Russo x Reader

Warnings: cursing, smut at some point probably lmao zombie shit, typical canon violence. You know the drill.

A/N: Just want to remind everyone that I only have 8 chapters of this written up so far. Once those are posted it might be a little slower with updates. I’m trying to keep each chapter long, which is taking me longer to write them and I’m also super sick right now. And I mean like last night I collapsed and was in and out of consciousness and when I came to, I was being violently sick. Turns out my blood pressure took a nosedive and got super low. I’m B12 anemic and I think it’s related but I’ll guess I’ll find out when I see my doctor on Monday lmaooo. I’m in the middle of writing chapter 9 but obviously, I wasn’t able to finish it last night and I’ve been feeling pretty rough and out of it today.

Also, this chapter wound up being 17 pages long and Tumblr was like ‘nah bro, you exceeded the text limit’. I don’t really want to put this as two separate chapters because it’s gonna fuck up my numbering system and I’m lazy and also, the last part of this just isn’t a standalone chapter, so I’m gonna do it as chapter 5.5 and post it right after this one. Fuck the text limit loooool

—-----------------

You moved through the forest quietly, glancing around before you grabbed the arrow out of the squirrel and put it back in your quiver. You crouched, grabbing the squirrel before attaching it to the rope you had around your shoulder with a few other squirrels on it. You were hoping for at least some rabbit but the only thing you’d come across so far were the squirrels, so they’d have to do. You’d taken to hunting for a little more than you usually did so you could take some to Frank’s camp. It had been just over a week since the incident with the van and you’d been by the camp a couple of times with some meat for them, each time they appreciated it greatly. Apart from that, you hadn’t seen them much. Billy had told you the guys were going out all of the time hunting for a vehicle, but coming up empty-handed every time. You stood up fully and started to make the walk back to your treehouse. It was early morning and the air was crisper, telling you that you were on the cusp of winter.

“Artemis, come in, this is Blackbird,” you heard from the walkie attached to your belt and you smiled to yourself as you grabbed it.

“Go ahead, Blackbird,” you smirked teasingly as you slowly walked back. Every morning since you left with the walkie, Billy checked in with you and you’d chat for a bit. You’d admit you liked it. A niggling voice was in the back of your head telling you that you were making a mistake getting attached to these people, especially Billy. You’d grown fond of the group, although you didn’t know everyone very well, but they were good people. You’d especially grown fond of Karen and Frank, and then there was Billy. He’d jokingly mentioned that you’d bonded but it wasn't really a joke. Your time with him had made you feel a little attached to him and it worried you. He’d been so kind and encouraging to you and you hadn’t even worn your scarf since he’d spoken to you about it. He was worlds away from the man you met when he held a gun to your head but that was because he trusted you now, and you trusted him. It was nice knowing someone had your back but it was also scary as you knew what happened when you got attached to people. You’d tell yourself it would be best to create distance but then you’d think of the kids eating nothing but canned food and then having nothing left for winter, so you’d end up hunting so they’d have something to eat. Or Billy would radio you in the morning and you couldn't resist talking to him with a stupid smile on your face. You were getting sucked in and you knew you were and despite the voice in your head screaming at you to stop, you couldn't.

“You out huntin’?” he asked over the walkie.

“Yeah, got a few squirrels but there’s nothing else here,” you sighed. You were worried about how scarce the meat was getting and you knew it would only be worse in the winter.

“Hey, squirrel is still food,” he murmured and you could practically hear the smirk.

“I know… I’m just hoping more will turn up. We need to make it through the winter,” you mused with a frown, unsure of just when you started using we and not I.

“We’ll be fine. Still got a bunch of canned shit and once we find a car, we’re gonna hit up some stores,” he soothed and you nodded even though he couldn't see it.

“How’s the hunt going?” you asked, still feeling that pang of guilt even though Billy had chided you more than enough times at this point that it hadn’t been your fault. He was quiet for a long moment before he replied.

“We’re still lookin’,” was his short reply and you knew it was short for a reason. It would only make you feel worse if he went on and on about how they hadn’t found anything yet but you knew they must all be feeling frustrated.

“Anyway, got any plans later? You should come by for dinner and stop puttin’ it off or Karen’s gonna come by the treehouse and drag you here,” he snorted and you rolled your eyes good-naturedly.

“I’m not putting it off…” you muttered even though it was a lie. You had been putting it off because the more time you spent with the group meant bonding with them more.

“Yeah, yeah. Just come for dinner so I got someone interestin’ to talk to,” he murmured and you heard Frank yell an offended ‘hey’ before he’d stopped the walkie and it made you laugh.

“I’ll think about it. When I’m done with these squirrels I’m gonna head to that little store west of here, see if they’ve got any salt,” you replied. You’d already planned on going by anyway to drop off the meat for them so you knew they wouldn’t let you leave without having dinner, not tonight. The small store you were planning on going to was one of very few in walking distance and all the others had been picked clean. This one had been mostly bare the last time you’d been there but you hoped salt might have been something overlooked and you really needed some to preserve the meat you had.

“Need me to come with?” was his immediate response and you smiled to yourself.

“Nah, I’m good. You just keep looking for a car or something with the guys,” you uttered softly, a warmth spreading in your chest that he’d offered anyway and you knew if you’d said yes, he wouldn't have any issues about it.

“Alright, make sure you stay safe. I’ll keep my walkie on if you need me,” he said firmly and once again you nodded without a real need to.

“I will, you guys do the same,” you replied.

“Copy that. Blackbird, over and out,” he ended and you snorted as you clipped your walkie to yourself once again.

You got to work with the squirrels and it took a few hours to get done since they were small and fiddly. You separated it and bagged it up like you always did and then buried them to keep them cool for when you got back. The idea of going for dinner there made you feel torn in two. Part of you wanted to go, craved the companionship you felt whenever you were in the camp. Everyone always made you feel welcome and gave you a warm reception and you really enjoyed talking to Karen and Frank. A part of you also wanted to see Billy again but you tried to shake it. The last thing you needed was to start depending on anyone else, it would only be harder when you were alone once again. You emptied your backpack, only bringing with you a bottle of water and one can of soup in case of emergencies where you might be caught out there longer than you wanted and you also took your knife strapped to your thigh. You toyed with the idea of bringing your bow on the off chance it would be needed but you didn’t want to take too much. In a perfect world, there would also be some food left over in the store and you’d be bringing it back for you and the other camp.

You set off out and avoided the road, sticking to the tree line for some cover as you walked. You were still wary after what happened with Billy, not knowing if there was a new group in these parts you needed to be wary of. And with you being alone, it would make you an easy target. You weren’t in a rush so you took your time and tried to enjoy the walk. You were still on high alert but it didn’t mean you didn’t try to find the beauty in nature, even if the world had gone to hell. When there were no signs of the dead roaming around it was actually quite peaceful. You’d always loved nature, it had always brought you great peace to be out in the wilderness, although you never thought you’d wind up living in it. It took almost an hour with your leisurely pace before you finally saw the store. You took a moment to look around at the deserted road before you felt comfortable enough to expose yourself from the trees. There were three dead ones wandering around outside the store and you readied your knife, plunging it into the eye of the closest one as it made a move to grab you. It drew the attention of the other two who turned to you, stumbling their way over. Once you took care of those two, you walked over to the door, banging on it a few times. No noise greeted you so you pushed the door open, eyes rapidly sweeping the place to assess for threats. Luckily, it was safe and you walked inside and shut the door. The shelves were mostly empty and seemed to house mostly useless items, but as you walked around to where the salt and condiments were, a grin broke out on your face when you saw the salt. You grabbed all of the containers, knowing even this wouldn't be enough and would run out quicker than you’d like, but it meant you’d be able to preserve at least some meat for the winter. You wondered if maybe you’d be able to bag another deer before it was too late and then you could ration it through the harsher months. With your bag filled with salt, you decided to rummage around and see what else could be here hiding among the stuff most people left behind. You found some dried herbs and decided to take them. While they weren’t essential, it wouldn't hurt to spice up your shitty canned goods for once or even season the meat. You found a large ball of thick twine and you knew it would come in handy so you took that too, then went behind the counter to have a look. You found a small first aid kit under the counter that you presumed was for the staff. As you rifled through it, it didn’t have everything and was more for minor injuries but you took it anyway, hoping Curtis could make use of it at least. You found a jar of Nutella and a jar of peanut butter and figured the kids would love the treat so you shoved them in your bag too, just as your walkie went off.

“You there, Artemis?” Billy’s voice rang out and you grabbed the walkie from your belt.

“I’m here,” you answered as you continued to nosey around.

“Guess who found a pick-up truck?” he asked, sounding like he was smiling. The hand that had picked up a box of cereal stilled as a smile of your own overtook your face.

“Really?” you asked excitedly and he laughed over the walkie.

“Yeah, runs good and shit. I was out with Curt and we finally caught a break,” he grinned.

“That’s awesome, I’m really happy for you guys,” you said softly. It also made some of your guilt ease a little, like every day that passed they didn’t have a vehicle and it hindered them going for runs, it made you feel worse. But now they had a car and the only thing they were missing were supplies.

“What are you doin’ right now?” he asked, still sounding like he was smiling a little.

“I’m at the store,” you answered, finally looking at the box in your hand and realizing it was disappointingly open and empty and you set it back down.

“Find anythin’ good?” he asked curiously.

“Not too much but I found some stuff. I got salt too,” you grinned at the last part of your sentence.

“Looks like we’re both havin’ good luck today,” he laughed lightly and you smiled.

“If you wanna wait there, we can come by and get you. It’s on the way back anyway and then you can come for dinner,” he offered. Part of you told yourself to say no, home wasn’t too far and it wasn’t like you really needed a ride. But the other part wanted to see him and your mouth seemed to be listening to that part of your brain.

“Alright, I’ll see you soon,” you murmured.

“See you soon. Blackbird out,” he said, always taking the walkie talk so seriously when you greeted each other or ended the conversation and it made you snort. You carried on looking around the store while you waited but came up empty-handed. You even tried getting into the back room but the door wouldn't budge and the stench of death seemed to seep out from under it. You wondered if someone had died or killed themselves in there and they were slumped against the door, you didn’t care enough to force your way in. You were walking back through the store when something caught your eye under one of the shelves and you walked over, crouching and peering under it. It was a can of some sort and as you reached for it, you accidentally knocked it further under the shelf.

“Mother fucker,” you huffed, stretching your arm even more and not feeling too great about being so up close and personal with the gross floor. Your fingertips touched the can and while you had no clue what was in it, you really fucking wanted it anyway. In the midst of your struggle, you heard a car engine and you hoped Billy wouldn’t walk in while you were lying on the dirty floor, desperately trying to get the can because you knew you’d never hear the end of it. But just as you managed to roll the can a little closer to you and the engine stopped, you then heard another engine. Your body tensed but then you tried to calm yourself, wondering if maybe Frank and the others had also found a car too. You weren’t quite sure why your brain decided to be hopeful for a moment and you were quickly reminded why it was a stupid way to think as you heard yelling outside.

You left the can where it was, standing up quickly with your knife at the ready. You couldn't see through the glass at the front of the store as it was all covered in a thick layer of dust and grime. You stood as close as you could to try and hear what was going on and used your sleeve to wipe away a tiny amount of the dirt. There was a man standing just in front of the shop door pointing a gun at Billy who was also aiming his gun at the man. The gun the other man had wasn’t a handgun like Billy’s though, it looked like some sort of semi-automatic rifle but you couldn't be too sure, you weren’t a gun person. You moved to look better before you spied Curtis on the ground, some blood on his head and he was out cold. It made a spark of anger flash right through you and part of you wondered if this was one of the guys from the other day, a thought that was confirmed when you saw the black van you knew used to be owned by Frank and Billy. The other vehicle was a Ford Ranger pickup truck.

“Just take me to your camp, man,” the man demanded in a smarmy tone.

“Like hell I will. I wouldn’t tell you that shit even if I was on my last breath,” Billy snarled, glaring at him. The man looked off to the side, in your direction, and you jumped up and out of the way, worried he’d be able to see you through the tiny bit of clean glass. It had the opposite effect of you staying concealed though when you accidentally bumped backwards into a stand that contained decaying postcards and it tumbled to the floor with a clatter.

“I’m starting to think there’s something in there you really don’t want me to find,” you couldn't see them anymore but the man sounded like he was smirking, his tone condescending.

“And why would you think that?” Billy asked harshly, but you picked up in the very faint waiver of his voice.

“You keep looking over my shoulder at the door and I don’t think it’s one of the dead that made that noise,” he answered patronizingly. The door started to open and you darted behind a shelf, peeking out to see the man walking backwards into the store doorway, not stupid enough to turn his back to Billy. You wondered if Billy hadn’t shot him yet because of the gun the man was holding.

“You’re makin’ a big mistake,” Billy warned darkly and your hand tightened around your knife as you tried to think of a plan.

“And why’s that? All I wanted was for you to take me to your camp,” the man smirked.

“Right, so you could kill us all,” Billy snorted and you could just imagine his brows raised like he did when he was being sassy.

“You could have walked away from this scott-free,” the man countered and Billy barked out a harsh laugh.

“You really think I believe that bullshit?” he asked. You weren't sure if Billy was stalling, giving you time to leave out of the back door. And even though that wasn’t really a possibility because it was blocked, you wouldn't have run and left him to face this alone anyway. You crept silently with a tight grip on your knife. The man was in the doorway, his back to you and blocking your line of sight to Billy. That was good though, it meant Billy couldn't see you either and possibly give you away. You were slow to keep quiet as Billy and the guy argued, Billy working mostly on trying to piss him off by insulting him. When you got close enough, you sprang up and shoved the knife roughly into the base of his skull just like you’d do to one of the dead. You didn’t feel any remorse as the gun clattered to the ground and you yanked your knife back out, blood gushing from his wound as he fell to the floor and Billy was now there staring at you with wide eyes. You were just glad the man hadn’t squeezed the trigger when you stabbed him, the possibility hadn’t even crossed your mind until the gun hit the floor.

There was a beat of tense silence as your chest heaved, rolling both shoulders to loosen yourself up.

“You alright?” he asked after a moment. His dark eyes were assessing you, looking concerned.

“I should be asking you that, you’re the one that had a gun pointed at you,” you muttered.

“Right… But you just killed a man,” he frowned. It occurred to you then that he might think you’d never done that before. You knew he had, you’d seen him and Frank do it the night you’d met. But you never really spoke to Billy about some of the things you’d done since the world went to shit. You didn’t get any joy from killing people and it had only ever happened when they’d put you in a position to have to pick between your life or one of your old group’s lives or theirs. You’d never killed an innocent person. You had, however, become desensitized to it over time and you’d admit you had more compassion for the animals you killed for food than you did for the bad people that took advantage of the state of the world.

“It’s not my first rodeo, Billy. I’m fine,” you murmured. His eyes still looked concerned for a moment but he seemed to believe you as he nodded before he looked over to the side. It was then you remembered Curtis. You followed after him as he went over and crouched beside his friend, tapping him on the face.

“Curt, come on. Wake up!” he insisted. After a few harsh taps to the face. Curtis groaned as his eyes fluttered open.

“What happened?” he mumbled, blinking wearily as he touched his head, bringing his hand to his face and seeing some blood.

“You got knocked out. Don’t worry, he’s taken care of,” Billy muttered darkly, helping Curtis sit up.

“At least we found your van though,” you said with a wry smile and when Curtis glanced over to it, he smiled despite it all.

“This guy with the ones that shot at you then?” he asked, letting Billy help him to his feet and he leaned against the truck.

“If the gun he was carryin’ was anything to go by, I’d say yeah,” Billy huffed. Billy walked over to the van, presumably to check if their stuff was still in there but you held no hope for that with the time that had passed. But still, having two vehicles in this world was a lot better than one. While Billy checked out the van, you got a bottle of water out of your bag and some gauze from the first aid kit you’d found, cleaning Curtis’ wound so you could see it better.

“What's the verdict, Doc?” he asked teasingly and you snorted.

“It doesn't look too bad, I don’t think it’ll need stitches. You might have a concussion though, but I’m presuming you know how you take care of yourself with that,” you murmured wryly and he nodded with a smile as you put a large bandaid over his cut.

“What the fuck?” Billy hissed and both you and Curtis looked over, seeing him standing near the open driver’s door with some papers in his hand.

“What is it?” Curtis asked warily and Billy gave him a look you couldn't quite place before he walked over and handed the papers to Curtis.

“Was the stuff in the back?” you asked carefully. Billy didn’t look at you, his eyes pinned to Curtis as he read the paper but he did shake his head in answer. Despite already knowing that would be the case, you still felt disappointed.

“Holy shit,” Curtis frowned as he flicked through the papers and you really felt like you were missing something here.

“We need to get back to Frank,” Billy said gravely. You wanted to ask what was going on but decided to keep your mouth shut. Billy looked more pissed than you’d ever seen him and you’d thought you’d seen him pretty angry when the guys stole the van and rained bullets down on you both. This was different though and it made you feel a little nervous and tense.

You were in the black van with Billy on the way back and Curtis drove the truck. You’d tried to insist you’d drive since he was possibly concussed but he’d adamantly refused so you wound up with Billy. The air was thick and tense, filled with silence as he drove with a thunderous face. You’d told yourself not to ask, not to get involved since this wasn’t your group and none of your business, yet you couldn't help the curiosity that was gnawing at you from the inside out at how he was behaving.

“So… am I allowed to ask what’s going on?” you asked warily. Part of you expected him to snap at you with how he was looking, but instead, he glanced at you for a moment before looking back out to the road with a sigh.

“You said you knew who Frank was before, right? The Punisher?” he asked.

“Yeah…” you answered, curious where this was going. His hands tightened on the wheel and he rolled his shoulder, glaring out at the road.

“You heard about what happened to his family?” he asked, a hard edge to his voice.

“Yeah… Didn’t it turn out to be some military guy?” you asked, remembering when it all came out about the man higher up in the military who had arranged it all. The media had a field day with all that shit when it came out. The man had been on the run by that point since he’d been found out but they never got a chance to catch him as the world fell apart soon after.

“Yeah. His name was Rawlins, but back in the Marines we knew him as Agent Orange. Guy was a piece of work, in charge of a squad me and Frank were on. It was some real bad shit… and I’m-I’m talkin’ about Phoenix Program kinda shit. Anyway, this asshole was the one to kill Frank’s family, tried to kill Frank too but the bastard's too tough to let a bullet in the head take him out,” he rambled and you watched him carefully, noticing how tightly wound he was, how his voice cracked when talking about the family. You knew Frank and Billy were best friends and they’d served together but you didn’t know everything. You did remember Karen’s words about how Billy lost just as much as Frank did and it was obvious Billy cared about Frank’s family too. It made sense given what he’d told you about growing up without his own family in the system.

“The asshole back there… he had some documents in here that has Rawlins’ name on ‘em,” he bit out after a while of you not knowing what to say and your brows furrowed a little.

“And you think he’s connected to him?” you asked hesitantly. He let out a mirthless chuckle as he once again rolled his shoulder.

“I don’t believe in coincidences,” he muttered with a shake of his head.

You weren’t really sure what to say to him to make him feel better. You could sit there and try to convince him that it could be a coincidence but you weren’t about to do that when it could turn out this was connected. This was clearly a sore subject for him and you felt at a loss. You also felt a little uncomfortable at being there when he broke the news to Frank who was probably going to take it just as well as Billy was.

“You can just drop me off on the way there,” you murmured after what felt like the longest uncomfortable silence in your life. He turned to you then, a grin on his face that was in complete juxtaposition to how angry he seemed.

“If I do that, Karen’ll kill me. You’re supposedta come for dinner, remember?” he asked with a raised brow.

“That was before all this. I mean… I don’t think Frank and everyone else want to be told this shit with a stranger there,” you countered with a wary look. He frowned then, all amusement once again gone from his face.

“You need to stop doin’ that shit,” he muttered, his tone harsh and it made you blink at him.

“What shit?” you asked defensively.

“You’re not a stranger to us. You think I don’t know what you’re doin’? You’re pushin’ yourself away from the group, tryin’ to act like you aren’t part of it. And yeah, you’re not part of the group as in you stay with us, but you’re still part of the fuckin’ group, Y/N. You’re still one of us,” he scolded and you looked away from him. You hadn’t thought it was obvious what you were doing and if you were honest, it was uncomfortable as hell to be called out on it to your face. Despite his words, you didn’t feel like part of the group, didn’t feel like one of them. You’d integrated somewhat, an acquaintance. Maybe even a friend. But it didn’t mean you felt like you belonged there with these people who already knew each other before the world went to shit. The people who already had a history and you were the only odd one out.

“I need to swing by my place and get the meat anyway, so you could just drop me off and I’ll get it and come by,” you murmured, very obviously avoiding the topic at hand. The look he gave you made it obvious he knew what you were doing but he blew out a sigh.

“Alright,” he huffed, clearly not happy about it. You hoped if you took your time enough that the awkward talk would be done before you got there. The rest of the ride felt even more tense and you weren’t quite sure why. Maybe it was because Billy seemed like he was in a mood with you over you leaving but you weren’t sure why it was such a big deal. You had no idea who this Rawlins fucker was except from what you’d seen in the news. This whole thing seemed very private and very personal and you weren’t part of it. When Billy pulled up, you glanced at him warily, not liking how your stomach twisted uncomfortably because he wasn’t happy with you. You wondered just when the fuck you started caring so much.

“I’ll see you soon,” you mumbled, grabbing your bag from the floor. His eyes softened for a moment then as he looked at you and nodded.

“If you don’t come for dinner, I’ll send Karen,” he smirked and the relief you felt that he wasn’t being an asshole with you was immense. You snorted and shook your head.

“I’ll be there,” you relented, a smile toying on your lips as you slipped out of the car.

Taglist: (if you’ve been asked to be tagged and aren’t here, it wouldn’t let me tag some people.)

@firexfate

@blanchedelioncourt

@ariesbutalibra

@sunshinedaisies-anddeath

@snowkestrel

@music-indie-tv

@idaofinfinity

@sweetserendipity65

@ramadiiiisme

@k-marzolf

@celestialams

@woowwwee

#billy russo imagine #billy russo fanfic #billy russo x reader #billy russo

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jakeperalta · 7 months

Note

1989TV the most astounding astonishing beautiful ethereal mindblowing piece of artwork to ever exist and anyone who shits on it for not being Exactly the same as the original is wrong and bad and I hate them

it's so good!! if anything I think with this and the other rerecords any differences only elevate them because they've got stronger vocals and crisper production, then the vault tracks on top of that just round it out perfectly

#turnaboutswords #answered #taylor swift

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the1975attheirverybest · 1 year

Note

🌸 anon here -

just got dumped tonight so the caring matty blurb was so nice ty honey :) still pretty upset, but if we could get like a blurb w/ matty comforting reader about what a shithead readers ex is thatd be great ty!

Oh, noooo!!! I’m so sorry babyyyy 🥺🥺🥺 sending you all the hugs and bestest wishes. HE CLEARLY DIDN’T FUCKIN DESERVE YOU!!! I know shit like “don’t be sad” and “there’ll be better people out there,” doesn’t really help and is definitely easier said than done, so I won’t say any of that. Just know that you’re going to be okay. Love you.

——

“Well, I guess, if you and the guys are hanging out on Friday, I’ll just see you next week?”

Matty Matty quirked his brows, looking a bit puzzled. “Huh?”

“What’s the matter?” She shook her head. “You look lost. You’re seeing the guys this Friday, no?”

“Yeah…”

“So, I’m saying we’ll just see each other next week, then!”

“…why’s that?”

“Because you just said, you’re seeing the guys- oh for fuck’s sakes, Matty! Are you listening to me?”

She sighed, exasperated, and took the produce items out of the bag to help Matty unload them into the fridge.

“I am listening! I’m just not understanding. Why can’t I hang out with you AND the guys? Why do the two have to be mutually exclusive!”

She took the bag of fruits he handed her and opened the crisper, adjusting the humidity levels to suit the items that he’d brought. With her back still towards him, she carried on with thr conversation. “Because- unless you can be in two places at once, it’s literally impossible!”

“Yeah, no shit!” He rolled his eyes. “Wasn’t saying I’d be in two places at once. I was kind of thinking you’d join us!”

She turned around instantly, a few apples falling from her hands. The look on her face was of astonishment. “You…you’d…want me there?”

“Yeah, I mean, unless you don’t wanna be there? Patricia might come, Jamie’s bringing is date probably…I’ve bought all this food…someone’s gotta eat it.”

She felt tongue-tied all she could do was look up at him and smile with gratitude.

Matty found the silence alarming, however. “Look, if you don’t wanna come, just say so! It’s not mandatory, or anything. I just- I’d like it if you did. Plus, you’d miss my face. Can’t keep you waiting until next week! That’s too cruel! But, if you have other plans— if you’re still pining over mister douchebag, and you’d rather spend the day crying about it-“

“No, no…I’d love to come. I just- I didn’t think you’d want me there.” She blushed, finally shutting the fridge door and busting herself with the now empty grocery bags.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“Well, Mr. Douchebag -as you so affectionately called him, once to his face, too- didn’t like his friends and his partners mixing. In fact, he didn’t like men and women hanging out together at all….”

Matty made a fake gagging face immediately. “He sounds delightful. Maybe I should be calling him Mr. Delightful. Instead.”

“You don’t have to call him anything. He’s out of our lives. Forever.”

“Just as well! The guy was a wanker.” Matty rounded the kitchen island and went to hug her. “I mean, he clearly never appreciated what he had when he had you.”

“He was…I mean-“

“No! No excuses.” He interrupted her with his index finger on her lips to hush her. “I don’t wanna hear it. He never put you first. He treated you like a game that he would pick up when bored and put back down when something more important was going on. He- he made you doubt how beautiful, brilliant, and wonderful you are. So, the way I see it, he’s-“

“A wanker.” She smiled.

He kissed her. “Exactly; A wanker.”

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ocean-in-my-rebel-soul · 1 month

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Vent post. Cw: food, shitty living situation, mental health

So yesterday mom and I talked about the state of the fridge.

There are five people in the house, of which four use the fridge with regularity. I keep my food to one of the crisper drawers as much as possible. I don't really have access to the kitchen, so it's sandwich supplies and maybe a pre-made uncrustable. As of last night, it held a couple jars of overnight oats, as well.

The reason I keep to this one drawer is because the rest of the fridge gets full quickly, and the situation is tense. We have a habit of sticking full baking pans in the fridge after meals, and keep leftovers even though we don't really go through them (I have texture and flavor issues, so leftovers aren't usually things I eat or enjoy). When I brought up the issue of there being no room in the fridge for my food (which isn't a lot, I swear!), mom just kinda huffed and was like "well if you ate leftovers and cleaned out the fridge it would be fine," but that wouldn't negate that we put things in there that take up a lot of room.

(And don't get me started about how she already throws out my food! The other day, she threw out a whole box of uncrustables from the freezer because she "didn't know whose they were." That was 13 whole bucks! I don't have a lot of money!!)

But I can't just ask for a fridge in the basement, because that would be a whole other layer of drama, and she and my uncle would just be snotty about how I wouldn't be doing my part to make things work and how I'd be cutting off my nose to spite my face, being passive-aggressive, yada yada. I know my family, and that's exactly what they'd think.

I asked Beloved to get me copies of their pay stubs from the last few months, and they got snippy at me, too. I know we don't have the cash up front to move out right this second, but I want to at least have those documents to get a sense for what we can afford. Places here require 3x monthly rent for a income basis! I'm not making as much as I used to be when I was working with clients, since I'm stuck in the office with no overtime, but I have a rough estimate of how much I could make with a certain amount of hours each week.

I'm just so goddamn frustrated. I need out of here. The family's asshole dogs keep harassing my cats whenever I let them out of my room, and the dogs piss and shit in my room if I leave the door open for the cats. Does anyone do anything to correct this? Noooo, because apparently, it's not worth it. I need more than a single bedroom to live in. It's so uncomfortable in the family room, since there's only a broken couch that my mom sits on and my uncle's recliner, and then the dinner table set, where the chairs mess up my back and hips. There's no place for me to be that isn't my room, but when I just stick to my room, they don't include me in things like dinner.

I'm so fucking frustrated here. Beloved is nearing a mental health crisis, I'm nearing a crisis, my cats are unhappy, and there's no outlet for any of us to help ourselves. The therapist I had started seeing suddenly left the practice they'd been at, and now I don't know where they are or what they're doing. Beloved can't do therapy because they don't trust it and they don't have a schedule that would work with standing appointments, and they can't take meds due to federal regulations.

And Beloved doesn't wanna beg on the internet for help again, which is understandable but incredibly frustrating.

I don't know what to do.

#ocean waves

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sweetums0kitty · 2 years

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Things that I think have Edward Nashton ✨Vibes✨ or like random headcannons for him.

The Early Fall Out Boy albums.

Mainly I think he’d love Take This To Your Grave (he’s big into Tell Mick he just made my list of things to do today) and From Under the Cork Tree (Nobody Puts Baby in the Corner, I Slept with Someone in Fall Out Boy and All I got was this song) and Folie à deux (mans screams 20 Dollar Nosebleed driving home after a murder)

Has a beat up to hell DSI he saved a bunch of money up for. Is the undisputed king of Brain Age. Has that DS game that’s just a bunch of public domain classic books.

The DSI itself is like really beat up from riding around in his book bag. He’s changed the battery multiple times so it’s basically running on spite and coffee fumes! Just like him!

I think Eddie would also be an MCR fan, Mama makes him cry his eyes out. Legit heartbroken when they broke up. Absolutely lost his (already gone) fucking mind when Foundations of Decay came out.

Has a deep buried desire to be loved and held and cared for. Does not know how to express it or attain it. Poor guy is the definition of touch starved.

When he does order food at the diner he keeps it pretty simple. Like a sandwich maybe a BLT if he’s feeling fancy. Mostly it’s pie time bay-bee! Also too much coffee

Pretend to hate Starbucks, says Frappes are just milkshakes with like a drop of coffee in them. Loves to play the Coffee Snob™️. But this motherfucker would inject Pumpkin Spice Lattes and Frappes into his bloodstream if he could!

Speaking of Fall things favorite season right there. He loves Spoopy stuff!

The air getting colder, the leaves changing color, it’s crisper and Gotham is allllllmost a tolerable place to be in. Not when you’re right in the center of the city, that’s dank and nasty. But go to the parks or the outskirts and yeah he can vibe with that.

Is strangely enough a master at hair braiding. He picked up the skill from the Orphanage.

Really loved Roald Dahl books as a kid. Back when he was still innocent and idealistic (before everything went to shit and even a little after in the Orphanage) he would try really hard to see if he had Matilda powers.

Like he’s stand in the bathroom and give himself a migraine trying to flip the switch with his mind. It never worked! 😔✊

Shockingly don’t think he’s an Incel, is he dismissive of other people and outwardly rude? Yes, yes he is! But he just can’t give enough of a fuck about other people to give a shit about who’s having sex and who’s not. Still lonely tho…

I think his parents (to make him sadder, who doesn’t wanna kick around the Blorbo a lil) were/are a Rich Girl who was studying at Gotham University with a Law Degree and the son of her Landlord’s who was also studying. A joint study session or two and they had their little fling and boom! Eddie.

His birth mom is from Metropolis actually! His birth dad disappeared under mysterious circumstances. (Rich Girl’s dad paid him a bunch of money to fuck off out of Gotham and never talk to Ed or his mom ever again)

Neither of them have his last name and his records are hella obscured. Trust me, Eddie tried to find out something, fucking anything.

Rich Girl Mom went on to marry some Rich Boy and she ended up with a MRS. Degree and had two half siblings. She often wonders about him. Saw what happened in Gotham and felt terrible and responsible for how he turned out. Just uh… not enough to like actually reach out and help him.

Eddie hates people but will never be mean to a child. Especially not the children in his building. He likes kids, they’re honest and non-judgmental.

Deep down he still wants a spouse, a nice 4 (one room is his office/man cave) bed and 3 bath house on the outskirts of Gotham with 3.5 kids and Golden Retriever or some shit like that.

Watches/watched too many movies and thinks relationships are supposed to be like a rom-com.

Is in a few Discord servers, has his own for the Riddler but also has like a group of internet geeks he plays D&D and like Jackbox or TF2 with.

He is the D&D Dungeon Master thank you VERY much! When he’s not in charge (he will fight tooth and nail on this) he likes to play Wizards, he’s a classic Elven Wizard guy. Always super high intelligence and Wisdom stats. Has the worst fucking luck on charisma throws, even worse luck when it’s a saving throw.

He had/has friends he just self isolates into a pile of hatred for the world and self loathing so his relationships are shaky.

This dude fucking loves the Sims, Sims 2 is his Nostalgia fave but he really got into the Sims 3 and had played that one the most.

I think he smells nice and doesn’t use like 3 in 1 shampoo. It’s still shit like store brand generic green man soap. But he takes care of his skin and his hair.

Avid wearer of sunscreen, will burn if he doesn’t wear it. Objects majorly to going outside during the summer.

Has one faintly chipped tooth from when he got slammed into a toilet in Middle School.

Was a Library TA in high school. Mainly his senior year since he really didn’t need to take anymore classes other than like an elective (shop class and one more language course. He picked German)

Likes the smell of spearmint, vanilla lotion (especially on a pretty girl), leather, old books and the metallic smell of fresh blood. Also coffee but that was a given.

Can technically cook but chooses not to.

Okay, I really should fucking stop this is already so long. 😖😫 But I love him.

By god I have to add onto this post!

My dude is a raging pansexual, like you all saw how feral he was for Batman.

He has such a weird way of getting crushes on people. One time a cute guy was vaguely nice to him when he got his coffee order and this poor guy already planned out their entire wedding and what they’d name their kids.

Cannot initiate to save his life in those situations. Gets too up in his head and his mean ole brain is like “A you’re disgusting, B. You’re getting distracted from your mission you fucking loser and, C. We gotta circle back to what a gross loser you are.”

If someone showed interest in him he’d short circuit and then assume it was some kind of prank. Please reassure him, he needs it.

As for mental health stuff ima project onto the husband here.

Has BPD, why? The outbursts, getting unhealthy attached to Batman without even knowing him, the mood swings. He just seems like the type.

ADHD my dude lives in organized chaos. Nobody else knows where anything is in his place and that’s how he likes it. He’s got his hyperfixations! Riddles and puzzles being one. Numbers too! He seems like the type of person who would bounce their leg a lot.

Pens are his stim toys, you can bite em, you can tap them, you can click them and they write!

Tried to go to a gay bar once, he did not make it through the door, mostly sat in his car trying to hype himself up.

Once he got his Riddler outfit tho…. Ooh he was in there and it still freaked him out. Mostly it was him sitting in a corner trying to blend in and lowkey drooling over every hot person that passed him by.

Watched/watched Gravity Falls. He liked Dipper, kinda hates Mabel but not really and full on loves Ford

He’s always hated Harry Potter, thought it was stupid and whenever someone asked him what his house was he’d be like “I don’t have a Hogwarts house because I’m not a child.

Green Apple and Lime are the best flavors fight him.

He used to drink like way too much Monster and other energy drinks but they kinda give him heart palpitations now so he sticks to coffee.

He likes arcades, there’s one that’s been around forever by his place. The folks who own the place are pretty nice to him.

Very pinchable cheeks. You knew tho!

Wears socks in bed! His peets get cold.

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