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#It's the most useful thing to have during a fight if someone's out of view because I instantly know to be on my guard
oharaslover · 4 months
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crazy scientist!miguel smut and you’re his experiment 👀
(i mixed the request with ‘stressed out miguel accidentally overdosed himself with the spider injection thing and calls for spider readers help.’ so i hope you both don’t mind :p)
greatest accomplishment
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pairing: miguel o’hara x spider!fem reader
contents: substance abuse (?), smut, oral (f and m receiving), face fucking, unprotected p in v, ice play, mirror sex, spanking, biting, web bondage, male masturbation, fingering (sorry if i missed anything 🫣)
author’s note: thank you for being so patient, i hope you enjoy <33
word count: 3.9K+
You were what Miguel considered his greatest achievement and his greatest failure. during his time at Alchemax, he'd worked on several human trials with few of them showing any signs of success. At most, he managed to regenerate lost limbs but the achievement still felt little to what he believed he could do. that was, until you showed up at Alchemax with glossy eyes and anticipation.
You had been used as a weapon in private government affairs until eventually the operation shut down. While everybody involved had some kind of direction in their life, you didn't know that anything existed beyond fighting or living to serve the purpose of someone else. You'd signed up for the human trials that Alchemax was offering, being aware of all the stakes at hand, in hopes of being able to lead a normal life.
"So, you basically have spider-like abilities that are in the control of someone else and you want me to change your DNA?" Miguel asked, pushing his glasses back up as he looked up at you from the clipboard. "Well, I know that ai can't really get rid of the powers, but I was hoping that maybe you could help make them my own. because even as we're sitting here, I still feel that urge to need to protect," you responded, hoping that he'd be a little sympathetic towards your situation.
While Miguel didn't feel anything towards your situation, he did feel a thrill of doing something more than regenerating lost limbs. He didn't feel the slightest bit of guilt towards using you to fulfill his personal desires. "Alright, well I can't really promise that the operation's going to be successful. Are you okay with those odds?" He inquired before the two of you got started, calling in a nurse to take your vitals and do your blood work. "Sounds good."
The operation had gone successfully, much to Miguel’s disbelief and he felt that thrill rushing towards him again. The excitement of being a geneticist once more. You enveloped your arms around him, your superhuman strength threatening to pop his eyes out of the sockets.
"Thank you," you whispered, though you felt the words couldn't convey how grateful you were at the opportunity Miguel had given you. He tapped on your arm, forcing you to let him go before he fixed up his jacket. "Thank you," he muttered after you left, completely fascinated as he looked through your file.
A couple of years had passed when you got a phone call from a strange number, excitement coursing through your veins as you answered. Though you'd had the desire to live out a civilian life, a part of you would always long for being able to use your abilities. "Hello?" You asked, hearing someone's breath on the other side. "It's Miguel, I'm not too sure if you remember me. Can you meet me at my place? I'll send you the details," he spoke quickly before he hung up, leaving you confused as you looked down at your phone.
You opened the door to miguel's penthouse, noticing that the curtains were all pulled to darken up the room. You sat down on the couch, deciding to wait for him to come out to talk. "Would you like a glass of water?" A yellow hued hologram woman appeared in front of you, pushing her heart shaped glasses up her nose. "No, but thank you," you responded, watching her as she faded away. You looked up when Miguel came into view, sweatpants hanging low on his waist.
"Sorry, I know you wanted to escape fighting when you came to see me last time but I'm starting up this society for spider people," he spoke up, sitting on the couch next to you. "Spider people? Does that include you?" You inquired, looking over at him as you noticed how much he changed throughout the years. He'd bulked up immensely, his biceps almost the size of your head and his eyes almost had a red hue to it. "It does, but that's not the point here. I'm asking if you want to help me," he responded, keeping eye contact with you.
You'd felt immensely grateful towards Miguel for allowing you to take control of your life once more so you'd agreed on joining him. Despite the fact that Miguel seemed to easily irritated, he helped you out in using your abilities for good this time around. While you were skilled at harnessing your abilities, you'd only used them to inflict pain on others. He helped you establish a good workout routine without pushing you too hard past your limitations.
The days had started to blend together for Miguel, losing all concept of time. Anomaly reports hadn't stopped coming in and spiders were currently working on overtime to be able to control the damage. His eyes were bloodshot as he looked at the monitors, dark circles under his eyes with only coffee to fuel his body. He grabbed his mug from the table, filling it up with some coffee he'd made three days ago? Maybe four. The cold coffee provided no taste as he sipped it, but it did provide him with the caffeine rush he needed.
His eyes drifted over to the collection of empty vials he had on the corner of his desk, having used most of the drug he'd created throughout this week. He deactivated the shoulder part of his suit, the green liquid providing him with the strength that he needed to continue staying up. His eyes strained as he returned his attention back to the monitor, the brightness hurting his dry eyes.
As the anomaly reports started to die down, he overheard through some of the speakers at the society about what the spiders were planning to do after work. He turned on the cameras, instantly spotting you talking to one of the spider-women and decided to listen in on the conversation. He felt his right eye start to twitch and his fist clench up as he heard you mention going out on a date tonight, immediately turning off the camera.
He grabbed the monitor like he wanted to crucify it for your actions, tossing it on the ground as he stomped on it. "You know, half our budget goes to replacing shit you break. Soon enough, we'll just be working with broken computers," LYLA spoke up, appearing in front of him as she folded her arms. "Like we'll ever go bankrupt," he mumbled, picking up the scraps of the monitor. "What's got you all pissed off now?"
Miguel ignored LYLA, eyeing the last bit of the serum that he had left. He was starting to feel his body want to submit to humanly desires such as sleeping and eating, but he genuinely believed that he didn't have any time to spare towards those things. He grabbed the last vial and headed toward the chemical lab at HQ, looking over what he could mix it with. He wanted to make the mixture more potent, something that would keep him up and keep him strong for a long time.
He mixed a couple of chemicals that looked like they would work, the mixture turning a bright purple. Normally, he would've been more cautious about mixing things he wasn't sure of but he felt like a junkie desperate to have his next fix. He deactivated the shoulder part of his suit once more, injecting himself with the strange liquid. He was expecting to feel that instant bit of relief like he did with the original serum, but he didn't feel like it did anything. Miguel let out a loud scream, pissed off at himself for messing up the mixture so much that it didn't have any effect.
A couple minutes later passed by when he felt sweat dribbling on his forehead though the temperature in the room had seemed to drop a couple degrees. He gripped the corner of the table as he coughed, his body rejecting the modified version of the serum. His head began pounding and suddenly, everything was too bright and everything was too loud. He hastily opened up a portal to his house, unwilling to stay at HQ where anybody would just come in and find him in that state.
He laid down on the ground as he stepped out of the portal, bile building up in the back of his throat. He brought his hand closer to his face, the limb feeling like deadweight as he scrolled through his watch. He texted you to meet him at his house urgently, his text morphing into one word. He knew that you were out on your date even in his drug-infused state, but he wanted you to pick him instead of your stupid date. He told himself that allowing you to work on the antidote would provide you with experience your college wouldn't give you, but he just wanted your company.
Miguel’s lids were starting to shut when you arrived at his house and you shook him awake, helping him up to his feet. "Stay awake for me, please," you spoke softly, seeing the pained expression on his face as you helped him to the couch. He pointed to a couple empty flasks with labels on them and you rushed to get them so you'd have an idea of what you needed for the antidote. "I'll lead you the lab," his speech slurred as he talked and you had to offer him some kind of support as you walked with him.
"What are you doing here, anyways? Thought you had a date," he mumbled, his brows furrowed as he unlocked the door. "He didn't show up," you simply said, walking with him inside as you looked over at the multiple shelves filled with chemicals. Truth was, you'd cancelled on the date because you didn't think it would make you happy. You weren't sure when, but in the midst of all the gratitude you felt towards Miguel, you'd started to catch some feelings for him. He was easy to like despite his attitude, he was protective of those he cared about and would do anything for them.
"You could've called one of the more experienced spiders for this, so why'd you call me?" You inquired as you read over the labels on the flasks. "I wanted you to be here. Plus, i figured you'd get some hands on experience," he responded, his speech still coming up garbled. You mixed up a concoction of chemicals, whispering a silent prayer that it would work as the colors began to blend together.
You injected the drug into miguel's shoulder, still exposed from the last batch he'd taken as you watched intently for any more adverse reactions. You watched as his body slumped with relief, the color returning back to his face as his eyes opened. "Thank you," he muttered, standing up from his chair. You nodded, picking up your jacket as you got ready to leave. "Don't go yet, I still have some ways to express my gratitude towards you."
You were unsure of what he meant by that but when you turned around, his lips were already on yours. "Tell me you don't want this and I'll drop it. We can go back to just being coworkers," he mumbled, pulling back slightly to give you enough space to leave if you wanted to. You stayed in your place, wrapping your arms around his neck as you returned the hasty kisses he was giving you. His lips enveloped yours in a thirsty way, almost like he needed this to live. It morphed into a clash of teeth and tongue as he explored every inch of your mouth, letting out a soft moan at the taste.
He picked you up, placing you on one the lab tables before restricting all movement with his webs. Though he knew that you could easily break through them, he found himself needing to be in control of the situation. He glanced over at the mini-fridge in the corner of the room, getting a bucket of ice before placing it to the side. His talons unsheathed and in one swift motion, he'd ripped the dress you were wearing in half. The tattered pieces scattered to the ground, leaving you in just your lingerie at his mercy.
He held one of the ice cubes between his front teeth, dragging it across your skin as he made his way down from your neck. He loved seeing the way your body fidgeted under the cold substance, his tongue lapping up the small water droplets. Your nipples hardened as he rubbed the ice cube on them, his tongue swirling against your areola. You whined at him to keep going but he pulled back, stopping his movements. You were nervous that you'd scared him off but he tore your panties off, shoving them in your mouth.
"Don't think for a second that this is for you. It's all for me, understood?" He told you, his hand resting on your thigh as he spoke. You nodded rapidly, arousal leaking to the lab table as you waited for his next movements. He brought the ice cube back to your breasts, the difference in temperature between his tongue and ice cube having you shiver. When the cube melted, he picked up another one and dragged it across to your pussy, swirling the cube on your clit. Your hips bucked up to get more of the sensation but your body couldn't help but want to squirm away at how good it felt.
The ice cube melted, the water droplets combining with your slick as it made a mess on the table. His tongue began to collect the slick on your folds, his eyes intently on yours. The small muffled whimpers that you were letting out spurred him to keep going, his tongue thrusting inside your pussy while your walls clenched around it. He let out a small moan as you released more slick, the taste of you threatening to take him over the edge. His fingers took place instead of his mouth as he kissed on your thigh, sucking on the skin to leave his mark behind.
You let out a muffled yelp as he bit down, the sting from his fangs overwhelming your senses. You couldn't help the arousal that leaked out of you at the sensation, the pain mixing in with the pleasure of having his fingers stretching you out. He moved his fingers in a scissoring action to stretch out your walls, his mouth still kissing your thigh. You heard some moaning coming from Miguel, looking down to see that his hand was tightly wrapped around his cock while precum leaked onto his palm.
Just the fact that he found getting you off as a turn on made your mind grow hazy, your toes curling as his mouth circled over your clit. His tongue swirled against it, his fingers curled up to hit your g-spot. He let out another moan, the vibration hitting your clit directly and you couldn't help but clench around him even more. His fingers were hardly moving with how hard you were gripping them, arousal coating them knuckle deep as his teeth gently pulled on your clit.
He looked up at you, desperation evident in his eyes despite the dominant presence he was putting on and your orgasm approached you quickly. You moaned into the cloth, the sound coming out muffled as your release coated his fingers completely. He took them out, his mouth closing around his fingers while he sucked them off. You looked down at his cock, the tip angry red as it dripped precum onto the glass floor of the lab.
Your head was tilted to the side, immediately at eye level with his cock while he reached down to take out the makeshift gag. You opened up your mouth, the tip of his cock inside of your mouth as you swirled your tongue around it. You collected the precum leaking out as he began to thrust his hips, using your mouth at his disposal. "Who would've known you liked to be treated like such a slut? Pinche puta," he spoke, his voice coming out with a small groan as your eyes watered when he pushed further inside of you.
Your cheeks hollowed as you tried to take the length and girth of his cock but you felt tears forming at your waterline from the intrusion. His hips snapped forward, the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat and you couldn't help but gag as your nose hit his pubic bone. "You're all good, don't worry. You're taking it so well. Esa boquita esta haciendo tan buen trabajo," he mumbled, feeling your tongue running down the sides of his cock. (that mouth is doing such a good job)
Your tongue traced the two veins running down the side of his cock, a small shiver running through Miguel’s body as he felt the sensations hitting him all at once. He grabbed the back of your head, thrusting into your mouth repeatedly as he took out the amounts of stress that had piling up out. The tip of his cock kept hitting the back of your throat repeatedly, your tongue brushing up against it with every thrust. You felt his cock twitch in your mouth, a clear sign that his orgasm was approaching him rather quickly. The salty substance went down your throat in his final thrust, his eyes locked directly on yours as his chest heaved.
His talons worked on releasing you from the webs but before you had the chance to move, he picked you up and led you to the bathroom. You were bent over the counter, his cock slightly pressing up against your folds before he pushed it in one swift thrust. Your walls clenched up against his cock instinctively and he took a couple seconds to let himself bask in the feeling of you before he started moving.
He pressed your face against the mirror as he forced you to look at yourself while his cock stretched out your cunt, your knuckles turning ghost white from how hard you were gripping the counter. Your breath fogged up the mirror as he kept pushing inside of you, his cock reaching places that no one had ever had. His hands came to rest on your hips as he eased you in and out before one of them squeezed your ass. You yelped as you felt his hand strike your ass, the pain morphing into pleasure as he rubbed at the reddening skin.
You stood on your tippy toes as you tried to remain upright, your hands coming to grip his arms. "Look at what he's missing out on, then again, I don't think he could please you the same way I do," he murmured against your skin, bringing you up right as his mouth closed around the sensitive skin on your neck. He bit down, not hard enough for his fangs to release any of the venom but just hard enough to protrude your skin a bit. Your nails started digging into his skin as you felt him shift the angle a bit, his cock hitting you in all the right places.
One of his hands was on your breasts, tugging at the nipple as the other one played with your clit. He kept his gaze with you on the mirror, enjoying the way you squirmed underneath him and the way you couldn't keep eye contact for too long. Your pussy was gushing around his cock, allowing him to focus on giving you an angle that would provide pleasure, that would make you cum all over him. His fingers on your clit and as his mouth bit down on your shoulder, and you couldn't help the orgasm that washed out of you.
Your release formed a creamy ring at the base of his cock as he pushed deep into you, his thrusts becoming more sporadic and his moans becoming incoherent babbles. "Taking me so good, mami," he murmured, whispering other sweet nothings about how good your cunt was to him. He pulled out of you just in time, his cum dropping on the globes of your ass. He reached over, grabbing a piece of toilet paper to clean you off.
As he pulled his cock out of you, he couldn't help but look at you with a concerned expression. "I didn't hurt you too bad, did I?" He asked, taking note of your tear-stained cheeks and the bite marks all over you. "No, no. Don't worry about it," you responded, shooing him away so you could do your business. Truth be told, you'd never experimented having rough sex before but the idea of someone having an animalistic-like need towards you always enticed you.
You finished up in the bathroom, expecting to find Miguel ready for round two but he'd left the lab. You cleaned your slick off the table with a piece of toilet paper before heading up to the bedroom to check up on him. You opened the door, hearing his snores pouring over from the bed. His exhaustion had finally caught up to him and he had relaxed enough that sleep came easy to him. You left his house after getting dressed, not thinking too much about the encounter with him.
The day that you showed up at the office, you heard rumors circulating around that Miguel was more approachable to others. Though the marks he'd left on your skin had faded away due to your healing powers, the mark he left on you still lingered. You figured that he'd just used you for some stress relief so you didn't pursue anything with him. You walked to your desk, finding a cup of coffee with a note from Miguel sitting there but you refused to let yourself think about it too much.
A couple of days passed by and miguel continued to leave coffee cups before you showed up at work, leaving them with small notes. You figured he was thankful for the antidote so you pushed away the thoughts that made you a bit delusional, focusing on your work. You couldn't help but notice that even though he'd been more gentle with you, he'd gone back to his stoic personality with everyone else.
"If you didn't have any feelings for me, you could've just said so instead of ghosting me," he finally approached you one day, staring down at you coldly. "Excuse me?" You inquired, your brows contorted into an expression of confusion. "I thought that it was obvious that I liked you," he muttered and your eyes widened a bit. "No, I thought you were just thankful," you muttered, watching as he walked closer to you.
"I should've been more obvious given how clueless you are, but I'm telling you straight up that I like you," he spoke up, holding your hands in his. “Sorry I didn't take the hints you gave me," you responded, tilting your head to give him a small kiss on the lips. The kiss was nothing like last time, taking the time to enjoy each others presence rather than having the clash of tongues element to it. He walked with you to his office and just having you around as he looked at the monitors kept him from getting too stressed.
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astonmartinii · 6 months
Text
we don’t play about halloween | max verstappen social media au
pairing: max verstappen x fem reader
max doesn’t play about three things: formula one, his cats and his girlfriend’s love for halloween
MASTERLIST | TIPS
yourusername
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liked by oscarpiastri, maxverstappen1 and 607,344 others
tagged: maxverstappen1
yourusername: yes we dress up to carve pumpkins, it’s rude if you don’t.
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user1: gosh they are so cute
user2: did max just dress as himself whenever he’s within 5ft of y/n?
maxverstappen1: i get why the americans don’t play about the statue of liberty
yourusername: i think they should build one of you in zandvoort
maxverstappen1: and they still wouldn’t worship it as much as i worship you
yourusername: i literally light candles in your name and pray for you with you mum, i think i worship you more sorry
maxverstappen1: the ONLY loss i’ll take
user3: i feel lonely year round because of them but it’s SO much worse during halloween
user4: they are the definition of the couple costume they invented it and they PERFECTED it
landonorris: i thought your apartment was a safe space, why did i get harassed over my costume?
yourusername: it was more of the lack of costume? “streamer” does not count
landonorris: who actually dresses up to carve pumpkins?
maxverstappen1: COOL PEOPLE
yourusername: imagine not dressing up and having an awful pumpkin … could never be me
landonorris: STOP BULLYING ME
maxverstappen1: do better then.
user5: obsessed with how peace and love y/n is for the whole year but as soon as someone doesn’t care about halloween it’s fight time
charles_leclerc: remind me to never accept an invite to a halloween event at the verstappen-l/n household - far TOO much stress
yourusername: but you’re like the only one who deserves an invite to next year because the air max costume slayed
maxverstappen1: i might even let you back on it
charles_leclerc: might???
maxverstappen1: follow me on instagram
yourusername: 2019 was so long ago we really need to move on
danielricciardo: you seriously underestimate just how petty these men are
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maxverstappen1
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liked by danielricciardo, yourusername and 894,560 others
tagged: yourusername
maxverstappen1: halloween is a full family affair
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user8: JIMMY AND SASSY I CAN'T
user9: yall looking at the croissant and the lobster i'm focusing on AMY AND NICK?
user10: has max even seen this film?
maxverstappen1: nope i just like doing the costumes y/n wants to do
user11: i wish i had enough friends to have like ten billion halloween parties
oscarpiastri: i didn't know what to expect but i did not think i was going to see alex trying to drown george at the apple bobbing station
yourusername: i let them work out their own mess as long as they don't accidentally flood our living room again
oscarpiastri: AGAIN?
maxverstappen1: f1 drivers are just competitive about apple bobbing as they are about driving
alexalbon: in my defence there is a sick trophy for the champ i simply cannot let anyone else win it
user12: they got a trophy made? and girlies are serious about this?
yourusername: custom trophies for apple bobbing, pumpkin carving and best costume
alexalbon: three time apple bobbing champ right here
charles_leclerc: i'm coming for best costume this year
danielricciardo: pumpkin carving was an easy dub last year
maxverstappen1: but no one has out done us for costumes thus far
yourusername: and that's not bias, there is a democratic voting process x
user13: i need to be in this friendship group right now
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yourusername
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liked by georgerussell63, maxverstappen1 and 723,409 others
tagged: maxverstappen1
yourusername: it's the most wonderful time of the year ! thanks to everyone who came out and making the spooky season special. p.s. shout out to max who found this wig while going through our costume box and insisted on not taking it off the whole set up.
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user16: NOOOOO WHY IS HALLOWEEN OVER ALREADY
user17: rip to all of us who were hoping for a sexy y/n x max costume
user18: they heard we wanted sexy and gave us ratatouille i hate their asses
oscarpiastri: okay so lando wasn't lying when he said you guys go insane for halloween
yourusername: i fear not. i hope you enjoyed your dip in the pool, we found you in a guest room in my bath robe at 3am
oscarpiastri: oops.
maxverstappen1: you fared better than others on their rookie halloween appearance, just ask lando and charles
landonorris: you told me there was no alcohol in the jelly so it's not my fault i ate the whole bowl and threw up in your shower
yourusername: wow way to blame the victims there lando, you literally blocked the drain
landonorris: MAX SAID THERE WAS NO ALCOHOL
yourusername: it was labelled with the ingredients. you just can't read
landonorris: no comment
yourusername: and charles got so drunk that he decided he would sleep on the couch but got 'lonely' and insisted on cuddling with us
charles_leclerc: Y/N!!!! YOU SAID YOU'D KEEP THAT A SECRET
maxverstappen1: don't worry we thought it was cute
carlossainz55: wait is that why you came as a "cuddle bug" this year?
charles_leclerc: NO
alexalbon: and that must be why he got best costume RIGGORY
yourusername: no riggory here, you and lily as mavis and jonathon were a close second
user19: i won't rest until i have an invite next year.
maxverstappen1
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liked by charles_leclerc, yourusername and 821,309 others
tagged: yourusername
maxverstappen1: sorting the recycling with your head barely attached is always the worst part of halloween
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user20: drunk max looks like so much fun
yourusername: i think i might drink my weight in coffee today but i need to see the kitchen floor soon before i lose my mind
user21: ma'am i know you're clinging to life rn but can we know who won what?
alexalbon: ALEX ALBON APPLE BOBBING CHAMP FOUR YEARS IN A ROW
charles_leclerc: i won best costume and it's purely because i'm cute cause NO one there knew about my cuddling escapades last year
landonorris: ugh pretty privilege back at it again
charles_leclerc: jealousy is a disease get well soon
oscarpiastri: my pumpkin ended up winning !! turns out people love a kangaroo in the ghostface mask
maxverstappen1: first rookie to win that title (i am so impressed by the kangaroo)
yourusername: you were actually so good you have to help me with all the decorative ones next year
oscarpiastri: i'm in
user21: but who won the real award - most embarrassing moment?
maxverstappen1: daniel got stuck in the door in his inflatable horse/cowboy costume
danielricciardo: NO esteban dressing as the cheese string man was worse
estebanocon: that's real creativity at least i didn't fall asleep in the bath like carlos
yourusername: not to gang up on carlos but the blanket you took in their is damaged beyond repair and i request a replacement
carlossainz55: fair, but it was me, lando and george in the tub
georgerussell63: fake news @carmenmundt
carmenmundt: i was also at the party babe, it was impressive how you all fit in there
user22: the fact they do all of this and race like two weeks later and the teams just deal with it
maxverstappen1: we've done much worse on race weekends
yourusername: someone didn't have to try and get home after abu dhabi 2021, halloween is nothing compared to that
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note: a lil halloween one for you all. i also DO NOT PLAY ABOUT HALLOWEEN. and am currently planning my costume lol. just wanted to get a small one out before all my work comes in tomorrow, much love xx
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gatorbites-imagines · 9 months
Note
Hobie x deadpool reader or spider reader
Hobie Brown x Deadpool male reader
Headcanons
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I love Deadpool, who doesn’t love Deadpool? I tried to think of what Deadpool would be like in Hobies’ earth, and I just feel like he would kinda just be the same as always, except maybe with a metal aesthetic. And any chance to work my favorite music into stuff? I’m taking it.
You were Deadpool, and had been Deadpool for a long time. In the beginning it had just been your musician and artist name. Much of your music was different types of metal, with lyrics focused on judging the system and pointing fingers at its corruption.
Of course, a lot of people hated your music, but there was also those who loved it. One of them being Hobie Brown. Even before he became spiderman, hed always been a very righteous person with strong opinions about corruption and capitalism, so finding an artist who shared his views was great.
That was until you got a little too popular and stepped on the wrong people’s toes with your music and art. When you started pointing fingers at Osborn and his wild corruption, those against you grew more and more violent.
And at one of your biggest concerts to date, one that offered all the proceeds to those in need, you were assassinated right on stage. Theories would go around saying it was Osborn wanting to get rid of you, and telling everyone what would happen if they crossed him.
Panic consumed the arena after you were shot right on stage, and in the panic your body was whisked away. Deadpool became an icon in the anarchist circle, as one of the first to stand up against suppression and never back down no matter what.
Time would pass, Hobie would become Spiderman, and he would fight people like Osborn, even killing the guy with his guitar in the end.
But even after killing Osborn, the world was still in disarray, meaning a lot of work had to be done. So, when someone who went by Deadpool started popping up in stories and rumors, it caught people’s attention.
It was assumed you were just a fan, who wanted to use the legendary name of Deadpool to spread your message, or maybe the honor the original Deadpool. That was until people met you though.
You had the same clothes, only now wearing a mask. Your boots, your jacket, your spikes, and patches, even your guitar, you had it all. And on closer inspection, true fans could see it was the real thing.
You were almost like a ghost of the past, stories would go around that you were the angered spirit of the musician Deadpool, having crawled out of hell to wreak havoc on the upper class and tear out the roots of capitalism.
Hobie would want to meet you of course, you were like his hero and biggest inspiration. The first time you two would meet would be during a fight of some sort, and you’d chuck your guitar across the battlefield to nail a corrupt cop in the head before they could get a lucky shot at Hobie.
After that you two became close like two peas in a pod. Hobie would never treat you like you were someone above him, even though he had admired you for years, because he doesn’t believe in treating celebrities like gods.
Soon Deadpool and Spiderman being spotted together was a common sight, and so was seeing spiderman swing around with Deadpool in his arms or hanging on his back like a koala.
You never really take off your mask in the beginning, but when you do Hobie learns why you keep it on. You have a large scar taking up part of your head where the bullet had blown your head apart all that time ago.
You had apparently always been a mutant with a light healing factor, which had kept you alive, but you had been whisked away from Osborn researchers who wanted to use your healing factor. But in the end, they’d simply boosted your powers and you became pretty much unkillable.
This leads to you taking most of the hits during battle, since you can easily take it, anything you lose will just grow back. That doesn’t stop Hobie from worrying though, because seeing someone get their arm sliced off is pretty extreme.
Your first kiss is something you’d only have with a version of Deadpool. Hobie would be carrying your head after it’s been sliced off, and you would be asking him for a kiss and blowing him kisses from where hes carrying your head.
Now, anyone normal wouldn’t do what Hobie does, but Hobie doesn’t like to fit the mold. So, he would lift your severed but still living head and kiss you on the lips. Cue a make out until your body stumbles over and you can get your head back on.
You two never actually put a label to what you are, because that’s not the type of person you two are. But you two are pretty much dating now. You move into an apartment together, and sleep in the same bed at night, and kiss whenever you want.
Spiderman and Deadpool pretty much become icons in your community, for standing up towards oppression, and also being two hot guys who hold concerts after fights.
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meyobe · 8 months
Text
Pretty privilege…. No MC privilege pt.2
Satan
Mc can always expect him to take their side no matter what.
Mc was the first person to see past his angry and treat him like a person.
He is forever imbedded to them.
No matter how criminal the crime.
Mc was the one to start a fight? Well why was the other person fighting back?
Mc broke an expensive vase? If it’s so expensive why it is out, where anyone can reach it?
Mc started a fire in the kitchen? Devildom ingredients can be dangerous for human use-age.
He will most likely find a way to flip Mc problem on the person who accused them.
He his mind you do no wrong.
But not to be mistaken, he knows Mc is reckless but guidance is key! (He thinks)
Asmo
He will put Mc comfort over his.
He’s spent millennials admiring himself and put himself over other by default.
Mc showed him that his soul is more blinding then any gold or highlighter he puts on.
Mc has showed him a new way of viewing life.
Mc looks uncomfortable sitting on the floor during movie night? Just take his seat… matter a fact his kicking his brother off so you can have space.
Mc is tired of wearing their heels? He’ll switch shoes with you.
Mc is carrying a lot of bags that look heavy? He’ll carry them himself no matter how ugly he thinks it is.
He is letting go of his persona of being perfect because Mc taught him your flaws make you unique.
Buttt old habits die hard but Mc just has to look at him and he knows to settle down.
Beel
Mc can use him as a stress reliever( not that way ^_^)
He is the strongest brother( without and magic or demon forms) he works out and knows it can take stress away.
Mc showed him it’s not enough to be strong physically, but mentally.
Mc and beel are two side of the same coin.
He never wants Mc to hold what their really thinking or feeling back.
Mc’s had a really bad day? Are we going to the gym or on a run?
Mc is refaced with a bad memory? Does Mc need to yell he will listen? Or does Mc want to punch someone or something? He is right there.
Mc feels the need to let out some energy? Does Mc want to practice with him and his team?
He knows that sometimes people need to get violent to relive their stress.
Nothing that Mc May do can hurt him. So go crazy >_<
He thinks Mc is the strongest person he will ever meet.
He strive to be just like them.
Belphie
Mc can expect him to make an effort.
He’s had lots of time to dwell on his past mistakes and understand where he went wrong.
He will spend an eternity trying to make things right.
He wants Mc to know he’s trying his hardest for them.
He’s trying to living up to the honor them Mc gives him.
Mc has been feeling stressed? Flowers and a gift basket are at their door with a note that has the letter “B” on it.
Mc has to go to a meeting but also need to do my chores? He’ll make sure they’re done before Mc is back.
Mc and Belphie got Into a fight? He’s still texting them “ Goodnight, I love you “ because he knows how easily you can be taken away.
All his life his been deemed lazy or useless. It never bother him until Mc.
He is becoming the best version of hisself because he wants to be the demon whose worthy of a pact with Mc.
A/n/: should I write this for the dateables?!?!
I should also mention that I love writing so feel free to request!!
A new post about volleyball will be up soon!
Ty all!❤️
Pt.3 is up!!
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nobodyfamousposts · 4 months
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Do you think people cling on too much to Adrien's high road advice as a reason to salt on him?
Yes, especially when there are plenty of other reasons to salt him that have previously been ignored. But to that end, it DOES serve as the final straw for people after a SERIES of problems that had previously gone unaddressed.
Much like many aspects of the show, Adrien has displayed problematic behaviors that have been overlooked and waved off in the earlier seasons. This is likely or especially due to the way how in each and every incident, Adrien was narratively shown to be correct. In his stance. In his choices. In his behaviors. He was always right. It doesn't matter if he shouldn't be, because he is.
Now unless you're a hater or anti or salter or whatever negative name people tend to get for not liking a story as it's presented, readers and watchers tend to follow along with the narrative as it presents things and how it presents things. It's a common setup in any story. Protagonist Centered Morality, I feel framed best by Susan in the Discord series:
Susan: ...and then Jack chopped down the beanstalk, adding murder and ecological vandalism to the theft, enticement and trespass charges already mentioned, but he got away with it and lived happily ever after without so much as a guilty twinge about what he had done. Which proves that you can be excused anything if you're a hero, because no one asks inconvenient questions.
Pretty much this. Most people will follow what the narrative says because it's the narrative. If the narrative wants you to focus on Marinette being embarrassed, you're going to focus on how much she's cringe. And if the narrative wants you to view Adrien as a perfect sunshine boy who never does anything wrong, anything he does is going to be framed through that lens and it's difficult to break from that view and call out the times when he is wrong. Not unless he does something particularly severe.
It should be noted that outside of Chameleon, Adrien had, among other things: lied to his partner, caused someone to get akumatized and had his partner take the blame, was messing around during life-threatening and city-threatening situations, did nothing as Chloe tormented people right in front of him, DEFENDED Chloe after she tormented people right in front of him, bailed on an event with friends to set up a date with someone who said she had other plans and then got mad at HER for it, tried to flirt or confess in the middle of an active crisis which took necessary attention away from said crisis, caused himself AND his partner to get hit by akuma powers and needlessly be taken out of commission.
And yet people could mostly overlook these instances. They weren't his fault. Chloe is his friend. Marinette is worse. He's just a kid. He has a tragic backstory. So on and so forth. Easy to overlook. Easy to ignore in favor of the Sunshine Boy setup people were given and want to believe in.
But there were three major instances that really grabbed people's attention and stayed:
His attitude in Frozer. It probably wouldn't have been so bad except this rejection already happened in Glaciator, where he was supposed to have learned a lesson and accepted just being Ladybug's friend and now apparently didn't, despite it happening earlier that very season. Then in response, he decides to date Kagami as a rebound, drags Marinette with him on his date (without realizing how he's asking his friend to be a third wheel on a DATE) and focuses on her when he's supposed to be with Kagami, throws another tantrum in the middle of an akuma fight and refuses to work with his partner when the city is literally frozen, and requires Ladybug to apologize to him for hurting his feelings before he finally working with her. Again. But okay, he's a teenage boy in love. Not used to rejection and got his feelings hurt. Lovesquare is endgame so of course it'll work out anyway, so it's not like this bump in the road is really going to matter long term so we shouldn't hold it against him. Fine. Dumb, but fine. We've forgiven it in other shows and other poorly done teen romances, we can forgive it here.
His behavior in Syren in which he demanded to know secrets from people when the secrets were not theirs to tell him, and went so far as to attempt to blackmail his kwami (which was funny) and threaten to quit and abandon the Ring that the big bad is after while the city is flooded and people were trying to not drown (which was decidedly less humorous). But it was played for wholesome when Plagg reassured him and he got what he wanted by Fu revealed himself even if Adrien did nothing to actually show he earned it, so all's well that ends well, I guess? And people could justify it because "they're partners" and "part of a team" and "she should trust him" and "it's not fair he's the only one left out of the loop" and "he has a right to know" and just general "Fu is an idiot" (which is admittedly hard to argue). So people were disgruntled, but most were willing to overlook it.
His holier than thou lecture to Marinette in Maledictator over everyone being happy Chloe was leaving. When all Marinette was doing at the time was watching everyone else have fun. When Adrien specifically guilted Marinette and not any of the other actual partiers involved who were literally throwing a party over his friend leaving and probably should have warranted a lecture more than the girl just standing there. When the girl in question was also Chloe's main target and out of everyone had valid reasons to be happy that her bully won't be around to bully her anymore. When Adrien himself has historically been present to witness Marinette being targeted including twice he witnessed Chloe attempt to steal from Marinette, once he witnessed her try to blackmail Marinette, and numerous other times when she actively caused harm to Marinette and others. When Adrien then proceeded to sit in a corner and pout rather than do anything else or just leave if the party really bothered him. When Adrien, if he really cared so damn much, could have gone after Chloe himself! Or y'know...have stood up for Chloe earlier when she got upset in the first place. But fine, okay, Chloe is his childhood friend. So maybe he's just being biased and oblivious to the fact that his "friend" is a horrible person. But people can excuse and justify it in that they are friends and friends support each other, and the longer someone is friends with someone else, the harder it is to break from them. And that Marinette was probably just the target of his lecture because she was the one there in the moment (and the only one who would listen without arguing). And her calling Chloe useless was "mean" despite it being quite frankly the least of what she could have said about her in the moment (coughcough theft cough blackmail cough punished the entire school cough TRIED TO CRASH A TRAIN AND NEARLY KILLED HER AND HER PARENTS COUGH-FREAKINGCOUGH). Fine. Childhood friend means Adrien supports her in all her horrible and even deadly actions. Frustrating, but again, able to be explained and you can see where he's coming from.
These are all things that definitely got Adrien some side eye at best and some detractors at worst.
BUT if you really think about it, all of these examples are objectively worse than his lecture to Marinette in Chameleon. Not accepting being told "no" and continuing to chase a girl who isn't that in to him (while leading on another). Putting lives at risk over personal wants that could quite honestly wait until AFTER the crisis is over. Defending someone who is harmful and guilt tripping the victims. Compared to those, telling someone to leave a liar to their lying seems relatively minor.
So why this? Why here? Why is it Chameleon that has people saying enough is enough? Why is it this episode that is causing the sunshine boy to be so tarnished and the subject of salt in fan fiction?
Because this is the time when it couldn't be rationalized. There wasn't even a valid sensible canon-based reason for his stance. The arguments that Adrien "knew confronting her wouldn't work" or that he "handled her like paparazzi" or that he "knew Marinette previously failed when she tried" (even though he wasn't there and didn't know) or that he "didn't think anyone would believe him" don't come from canon. Those were fan arguments made after the fact to justify him after the base was broken and the outcry became too much to ignore.
This case didn't have any of the ties or rationales of the previous incidents. Adrien wasn't defending himself or his place in a partnership. He wasn't fighting for his love or his dream or an outcome he wanted and that we all knew was coming—if anything, he was fighting against her. He wasn't defending a friend like he did with Chloe—I mean, it's pretty evident he doesn't even really know or like Lila at this point, and for all intents and purposes, this is apparently only the second day he actually had any interaction with her. There was no notable reason Adrien really had for why he essentially chose to protect Lila over literally anyone else as she wasn't a friend and it wasn't in his interests to protect her from a consequence that wouldn't hurt her short term as much as it would likely harm everyone else long term.
And yet, he still defended her and her freedom to lie. Over Marinette. Over Ladybug. Over his friends. Over any sense of right and wrong he seems to have no problem throwing around when it comes to Marinette/Ladybug. Which seems like he targets her 9 times out of 10 compared to pretty much anyone else by this point. So it's little wonder then that people who didn't already hate the lovesquare because of the cringe factor from Marinette started to hate it for being incredibly unhealthy given that their relatively limited interactions tend to involve him lecturing her for failing to live up to his double standards that only seem to apply to her in any given situation.
This incident by itself doesn't seem like much, but when looked at as part of the series as a whole, it's when people couldn't keep overlooking this trend. Where he seems to admonish the wrong person. Where he acts like a mouthpiece rather than a person. Talks like he’s wise in a situation he seems to have a childish and one-sided view of. Acts like a brat but is treated as though he has no accountability in the situation he causes. Where he is wrong but no one and certainly not the narrative acknowledges it (not until season five and two seasons too late when it doesn't matter and he's still not the one facing consequences for it).
And it's not like he actually follows the stances he himself promotes. In Chameleon, canon presents him with this idealistic stance that Lila could change if given a chance, except he doesn't give her a chance. He doesn't push her to be a better person. He doesn't support or in any way help her to be the better person he insisted to Marinette she could be. He also doesn't do anything or warn anyone when she keeps lying and actively harms the people he says he cares about. He doesn't do anything one way or the other other than some lackluster encouragement to stop lying and a warning that goes nowhere. It just further gives credit to the argument that Adrien either simply doesn't care about other people, or that he doesn't care for Marinette specifically. Neither is conducive to the lovesquare or the increasingly tarnished view of the "sunshine boy".
And it could have worked. Canonically and intrinsically to his character. His idealism and trust in the wrong person comes back to bite him. He learns and grows from it. Except that, much like with nearly everything he does in canon, Chameleon set it up that Adrien was the writers' mouthpiece and thus was not "wrong". I'll grant that they did have him admit it and apologize to Marinette for it two seasons later, but it is pretty evident that during Chameleon, they intended his lecture to be right, with no foreshadowing and no implication otherwise. And I'm fairly certain they only backtracked and had him do that much because of the amount of fan outrage over the episode.
So yes, I think his lecture in Chameleon was really a final straw since unlike Chloe, Adrien has NO relationship with Lila to justify his defense of her. Especially when the argument is in favor of letting her lie to the people he's supposed to care about. That combined with how jarring it was how most of the class just sided with Lila over the seat issue in the first place, and I think people were less inclined to just ignore the problems in the episode specifically and with the series as a whole as they were compared to the first and second seasons. Not just with Adrien, as we see that Alya also started getting more callout and salt since then as well as more retrospective scrutiny over her behavior in earlier seasons.
But yeah...Chameleon was where things seemed to take a 180, so it's bound to be the deciding episode and deciding incident that sticks out in people's minds with these characters. That's probably why it ends up the go-to for salt and complaints on the characters involved instead of any of the other incidents that would arguably warrant it more.
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cookinguptales · 11 months
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Can I ask you to do a post about Disney & disability please? You mentioned it and I’d love to know more!
Well, my notifications can't get any messier, so why not?
This post got very, very long because I ended up talking about a lot of the accessibility solutions in detail (and... ranting about how accessibility at Universal was so bad that I got physically injured there) so I'm putting it under a cut for you.
To preface this, I have mobility issues (as well as a lot of food intolerances/allergies) and general chronic illness, my sister is Deaf, and I have friends who regularly attend the park with autistic family members with high support needs. These are the disabilities I have experience with, so while I've heard a bit about others (such as portable descriptive devices for visitors with visual impairments) I can't speak as much about those accommodations.
I have also traveled quite a bit, mostly as a disabled adult. I can work from anywhere and my family enjoys traveling, so I've been very lucky in this regard. I also used to live in central Florida, not too far from Disney, and benefited from their FL resident rates.
So I'm coming at this from a person who has a lot of experience traveling while disabled and a fair amount of experience going to WDW, though I haven't been nearly as often since I moved out of Florida.
(Good fucking riddance.)
So know that I am speaking from experience when I say I have never, without exception, been to a single place half as accessible as Walt Disney World. It is literally the reason my family would go there; it was one of the only places we could all safely go together. One of the only places I've been on earth that even approached their level of thoughtful accommodations is Barcelona, which apparently did significant renovations throughout the city in order to prepare for the 1992 Paralympics.
(Hey, if anyone is reading this from Barcelona: I teared up the first time I used one of your curb cuts in my wheelchair, just so you know.)
Going through those parks in a wheelchair is a breeze, though you will probably have to fight a lot of clueless parents with strollers who are hellbent on using resources intended for wheelchair-users and then glaring at you when you try to use them yourself. Level ground, spacious sidewalks, accessible transportation, well-kept gradual ramps, roomy buildings, lots of accessible restrooms, alternate entrances at many rides for wheelchair users, special wheelchair rows in movie theaters that we're loaded into first, accessible queues in most rides designed or renovated in the last fifteen years, special viewing areas for shows/parades/fireworks so you don't end up staring at able-bodied butts for a half hour...
Like, structurally-speaking, the parks are very easy to get around in if you're a wheelchair user. That was built in and you can see a lot of very mindful design choices. As far as the rides go, most of their rides actually have special cars that you can load into while still in a wheelchair. They're pretty neat. I can transfer, but that means often leaving my wheelchair and/or cane with a cast member during the ride. They are always, without fail, waiting for me on the other side of the ride, no matter how far the exit is from the entrance. I have never once had a problem with this. A cast member will be there to put my assistive devices in my hand before I even have to think about getting up. Guaranteed.
Wheelchair users always used to be able to skip the line, but there was unfortunately a problem with able-bodied people pretending to be disabled to skip lines (because god forbid they not have access to a single thing we have to make our lives livable) so now there's a system where if you cannot wait in a line, they'll basically give you a special time to come back that's equivalent to the length of the line. Which feels fair to me as someone who often cannot be in even an accessible line for extended periods. (I have problems with sunlight, heat, and often need emergency food or restroom.)
More important than all this, though, is the fact that cast members are impeccably well-trained in all of this. Any disabled person can tell you that the most accessible design on earth isn't worth shit if the people working there aren't well-trained. (More on this later, when I take a giant shit on Universal Studios.) But Disney trains their employees, many of whom are disabled themselves, incredibly well.
Every employee will know where the accessible entrances are. Every employee will know the procedure for getting a return time. Every employee will know about first-aid centers, and every employee will know where the quiet areas are for people with sensory issues. Every time you make a reservation for a meal, hotel room, transportation, etc. they will ask for all accessibility needs and they'll be ready for you.
Every waiter you have will be incredibly careful and knowledgeable when it comes to special dietary needs, and chefs will often come out to discuss them with you. They often have specific menus for different dietary needs, and they are scrupulous when it comes to allergens. I have a few intolerances that suck and allergies that could kill me and I have always felt very safe in their hands. This ranges from fancy sit-down restaurants to quick service burger places.
And -- honestly, I have just always been treated with respect. I know that sounds like a low bar, but most people do fail to clear it. Disney has their employees very well-trained on how to interact with disabled guests. People speak directly to me, never to the able-bodied people over my head. They never treat me like I'm a child. They never ask invasive questions or make uncomfortable jokes. They never, ever get impatient with my accessibility needs.
The few times I have misjudged things and have injured myself or gotten extremely ill, they were professional and caring as they provided much-needed first-aid. It's kind of embarrassing to be doted on by a costumed character while you wait for a doctor to come help you sit up again, but also kind of endearing, I'll admit.
They also, in addition to captioning all videos in the park, have some of the best sign language interpreters in the world, bar none. They're very personal and professional, they're easy to reserve, they will always be in a visible place during shows, and they're incredible performers as well as being very technically proficient. In addition to the professional interpreters, many cast members, performers, and characters can sign as well.
In addition to that, and this brings me to my next point, you'll meet a lot of disabled employees throughout the park. In front-facing positions. Deaf employees, employees using mobility aids, etc. They're well-known to hire disabled people and treat them well. This is. Fuck, this is incredibly rare, I say as someone who was never able to find a job in Florida with my health conditions. It's the moral thing to do to hire disabled people, but also -- selfishly, there's something so heartening and normalizing about seeing people who look like you working at the park. I'm happy every single time.
I have a little less personal experience when it comes to accessibility for neurodivergence, despite being neurodivergent myself, but I've been told that Disney is very, very accommodating for people on the spectrum. A lot is done to lessen crowding, waiting, sensory overload, etc. for autistic guests. Cast members are usually super good at this; finding designated quiet areas, helping autistic guests avoid more crowded areas, keeping them out of long lines, making sure they have access to any particular experiences that are special to them, etc.
For folks who need help from their group, whether that's an autistic child who needs to be with a parent or a disabled adult who needs someone to push their wheelchair or anything else, Disney has a rider switch-off model. In other words, if you're there with both of your able-bodied parents, for example, and you need one of them to be with you at all times and you don't want to be on the ride yourself, Disney will allow one person to go on the ride while the other waits for them to finish, then will allow the second person to go on without any additional wait. This makes sure that everyone in the family gets equal access without leaving disabled people alone. (Which... can be a very shitty feeling, I assure you.)
I know that Disney has also pioneered a lot of assistive technology. The accessible rides, obviously, which can be ridiculously cool (like Toy Story Midway Mania has an accessible car with alternative "guns" for people with dexterity limitations so they can play the carnival games as well) but also handheld assistive devices for visually impaired guests, etc. Like they are literally inventing new forms of accessibility technology, which is so cool.
And honestly, I'm always learning about new ways they assist disabled guests. I've stayed in Disney's accessible hotel rooms before (they're very nice!) but I don't like to swim so I've never been in the pools. But even just this week, someone told me that Disney has pool lifts for disabled guests, which I had never even considered. That's so cool.
The best part about accessibility at Disney is that in some ways it's very casual. A lot of their design decisions are so intuitive that you never even notice how accessible the parks are until you go somewhere where that's... not the case.
Like -- just so you don't assume that any of these things are industry standard, let me tell you about the two times I went to Universal, a park very close to Disney. I went there once for an event and once with my family.
The first time I went was for an event at the opening of the Harry Potter park. (This was before JKR made her most appalling views public, to be clear.) It... was frustrating. Guests asked if there would be food and drink available for people with special dietary restrictions (such as sugar-free butterbeer) and were pretty much told that no, that was not something they were interested in pursuing. It became very obvious very quickly that the park itself was so narrow that it only barely fulfilled ADA standards -- when empty. We were told that JKR had actually specifically insisted that it feel "cramped". Which is a nice way to say that I couldn't actually get around in any of the stores while people were in them.
It was overall a frustrating experience, but it was like. One night. I figured it was probably a fluke and they were still ironing out all the details. So I ended up going back with my parents later.
Y'all, it was a shit show.
Broken elevators that prevented disabled guests from accessing rides. Performers being up on raised platforms/sidewalks so disabled guests couldn't get to them. Sidewalks being made inaccessible by putting movable signs directly in the middle of them. Stores (even outside of the HP part) that were so damn narrow that I actually ended up getting hurt trying to navigate one of them. And no -- it was not easy to get first aid.
And my god, was the training bad. We went to one of the new HP rides, asked if there was a specific entrance for disabled guests. We were told no. We waited for a very long time in a line that honestly I shouldn't have been waiting in, but I wanted to be a good sport. I was pretty sick by the time we got through it, and the line itself had some very dangerous inclines/turns for wheelchair users. We get to the front of the line -- and the employee asks why we didn't just use the accessible entrance. 🙃
(Side note: several of their rides are also just unrideable if you don't fit within a pretty narrow body type of thin and able-bodied, so... there's that.)
We'd asked repeatedly and gotten incorrect answers, and I'd been put in physical danger as a result. Wild. I started to notice that if you asked different employees, you'd get different answers about almost anything, really. Just exceptionally poor training. Even stuff that should've been a no-brainer, like loading wheelchair users into a stationary movie theater, ended up creating chaos when they did it incorrectly and we had a giant wheelchair pileup.
Like -- let me stress to you that many of the things that happened could have caused actual injury to people. Some of these situations were dangerous. And some of them were just alienating, like when I'd have to wait outside a store while my family could go in.
I never went back after that. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ We just kept going to Disney.
One thing that'll probably show how good Disney is at accessibility is the whole Make-A-Wish thing. A lot of people know that it's a popular Make-A-Wish request, and you're likely to see at least a couple kids with Make-A-Wish buttons during your visit if you keep an eye out. One reason for this, is that, y'know, Disney World is fun. Kids want to go there. But more important, I think, is that Disney can accommodate people with at-times severe medical needs. Those kids can safely go anywhere and do anything in those parks that able-bodied kids can, and that's important.
All in all, the parks are just so accessible and you will never, ever be made to feel like you're lesser for needing those accommodations. You will be treated so well and you will not have to worry about accessibility because the cast members are always doing it for you. They'll usher you into the correct entrance as soon as they see a mobility device, and they'll do it with a very warm welcome. It's one of the very few places on earth where I have never felt like a burden.
Again, y'know, I know that Disney does not have a perfect track record on a lot of issues. I would never defend them from rightfully earned criticism. I strongly support labor action against them, and I do think they should be criticized whenever they fuck up. I have been uncomfortable with the sheer amount of power they have both in Florida and in the entertainment world just because no one should have that much power. But I am far more uncomfortable with that power being stripped away for blatantly discriminatory political reasons.
I do have some loyalty to Disney just because there is no other place on earth where I've been able to safely have fun with my friends with so little agony. That's... I mean, it's important, really. To be able to just exist in public without getting grief for it. And I have some loyalty to them because they were a safe space for me as a young, queer kid who was not safe being out in other areas of my life.
(Like, I am talking about actual literal safety. I kept seeing notes on my post saying that Disney didn't care about creating a "safe space for queer people" but as someone who lived in Florida for the entirety of my teenage years? It was the safest goddamn place there.)
I do not have enough loyalty to defend them when they do immoral bullshit, but I do have enough to make sure that people know the good that they do as well.
I want other businesses to follow Disney's model for disability. I will praise them forever for what they've done in that regard because if I don't, there's no reason for other companies to follow suit. I want to praise them for the good things they've done so they have incentive to keep doing it, and other companies have an incentive to do it as well.
Like bro, I just wanna be able to move around and be treated with some dignity, y'know? My bar is so low. lmao
But yeah. That's why you always see so many disabled guests at Disney. It's literally the only place some of us can go to have fun.
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hihomeghere · 5 months
Text
Unspoken thing | Five Hargreeves / Reader
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Word count : 1.7k Summary : Part 2 of One Bed, after that fateful night in the hotel room. Five has been avoiding you and now you're called into the Handler's office to take responsibility for the delay in exterminating the target. After a minor injury caused by the Handler, Five patches you up. You can no longer take the tension of the unspoken thing between the two of you. ( I do not own The Umbrella Academy or any of it's characters) Warnings / Tags : Allusions to smut, cursing, mentions of blood and surgery equipment, tension, use of y/n, Aged up!Five. Not requested. Part one here
“Impressive work, Y/n.” The handler said with a sickly sweet tone. She flipped through your completed files. You watched as she licked her finger before turning a page. You swallowed, fighting the urge to cower before her. “I see here that you suffered from a headache during your mission, is that correct?” She asked, cocking her head in false concern. It wasn’t just a headache. 
“Yes.” You answered, not daring to say anything more. Anything you said could and most likely would be held against you. She read the paper, her eyes flying from left to right.
“Hmm, yes it seems that this delayed your extermination of the target?” She phrased the statement as more of a question. Treating you as a child instead of an employee. She clicked her tongue leaning forward, clasping her hands. You bit the inside of your cheek. 
“No.” You tried to keep your voice steady, with no discernible tone. She raised her eyebrows, her fake smile falling.
What delayed the job was unforeseen circumstances, Five was looking for you instead of the target. You had split up, and he couldn’t find his way back to you. Which had then led to a very interesting night in a hotel room. 
You should have known that you would get called in for this instead of Five. Even though it had been both of your responsibilities to eliminate the target. But Five was one of the handlers favorites. 
“Hm.” She hummed, clicking her tongue, “You know Y/n if you let any of our trained scientists here poke around in that little brain of yours. We could figure out why you’re getting those headaches.” She pointed to your head with a well manicured red nail. You froze, all the air seemed to be sucked out of the room. You were transported back to that lab. The sounds of drilling, cold sterile instruments, the excruciating pain. Your screams echoing off the walls. The scientists with bloody gloves and masks.
“No. No one is going to ‘poke’ around anywhere.” You said quickly, shaking your head, wiping your sweaty palms on your pants. The handler smiled, pleased by your reaction. You sighed looking down at your lap. In for 4, hold for 7, out for 8. 
“Well, the offer remains if you change your mind.” She said standing up, you stood up as well. Glad this interrogation was over. “Although if you wish to stay Number Five’s partner, you’ll need to start pushing through your headaches to complete the mission.” She said false encouragement in her voice. Her hand gripped your shoulder as she led you out of her office, her sharp nails digging into your skin. You winced, pulling away from her. She cocked her head as though she was surprised by your reaction.
“You won’t have to worry about finding him a new partner.” You said through gritted teeth, “We’ll manage just fine.” You turned on your heel, striding towards the stairs. Once you were sure you were out of her view you let out a shaky breath. In for 4, hold for 7- Tears started to prick your eyes. You took in a shuddery breath, your hand coming to your heart. You rushed down the stairs, a stabilizing hand on the railing. Your other hand moved from your heart to cover your shoulder. You started breathing rapidly, your heart pounding in your ears. You turned down an empty hallway, leaning up against the wall. A cool hand wrapped around your wrist, Five blinked you both into his office. You would never get used to that, like someone was injecting ice into your veins.
He led you to one of his office chairs, the same one you had sat in when you first met him. He squatted in front of you, inspecting you for any injuries. His cold fingertips landed on your shoulder, he stopped, his eyes meeting yours.
“Who did this to you?” He asked his jaw clenching, you lowered your gaze. He tilted your chin up with his hand, forcing you to look at him. His gaze was deadly, calculated, ready to strike whoever did this to you.
“The handler.” You whispered, biting your lip. Five clicked his tongue, a scowl on his face.
“Of course, I assume this after the mission debrief?” He stood up walking around to the other side of his desk, rifling through his drawers.
“Yes, Five it’s fine-” You said, picking at the skin on your hands. 
“Fine? That bitch dug her claws into you.” He scoffed, shaking his head behind his desk. He stalked around his desk to kneel in front of you again. He rolled up his sleeves to his elbows, his forearms bare except for the umbrella tattoo. Part of you wanted to trace the veins on his arms, to touch him in any way. You thought that being with him physically would have scratched the itch, instead it only fed the fire inside you. You missed his touch, most of all you missed him. You could count on your hands the number of words he had said to you since that night. He opened up his first aid kit, pulling out a small bottle of hydrogen peroxide. He carefully poured a small bit onto a cotton ball gently dabbing it against the bleeding crescent marks in your shoulder. You flinched but prided yourself on keeping quiet as he pressed the cotton ball onto the wound. You felt the prick of new tears in your eyes, you raised your gaze to the ceiling. Your vision clouding with unshed tears, you sniffled as quietly as you could. Although every sound seemed amplified in the tiny office.
You watched Five work, this wasn’t some gaping wound he had to patch up by himself. It was a scratch, but you could tell he had a system, doing this many times before. His jaw was set with an unreadable expression. He moved like a machine, programmed only to do this task. He opened up a bandaid, covering the wound on your shoulder. 
“Done.” He said, rising to his feet.
“Thank you.” You said slowly getting to your feet. He walked back to his desk, opening the drawer and setting the first aid kit back in its normal spot. Now to leave, he had only done his duty as your partner. Nothing more. He had made it clear he didn’t love you, and made it clear that you were only partners. You were ready to go home, curl up in your bed with a good book. You walked to the door, your hand settling on the door knob.
“Leaving so soon?” He questioned, you looked back at him. He was pulling out a bottle of scotch, two glasses balanced in his hands.
“What?” You asked, your brows pinching together. 
“Can I not ask my partner to share a nightcap?” He asked, recoiling, a teasing smile tugging on his lips. Your heart thumped in your ears, you longed to be close to him again. Longed to be back in his corner where you belonged.
But he wasn’t yours.
“No.” You bit your cheek, avoiding his gaze as you looked away from him. Unspoken things always seemed so romantic, full of tension, the will-they-won't-they of it all. It didn’t feel romantic  right now, full of tension yes. This tension that made you want to tear your skin off, instead of your clothes.
“No?” He raised his brows, setting down the glasses on this desk before loosening his tie. 
“Is that what I am to you? Just your partner?” The words slipped out before you could think to bite your tongue. You clench your fists, grounding yourself with the dull pain in your palms. He scoffed, pouring the golden liquid into his glass. 
“You should know what you mean to me.” He turned his eyebrows pinched together, “I’m not some womanizer.” He knocked back the glass, hissing as the alcohol ran down his throat. Your face burned, shame creeping up your neck.
“Well I don’t know, so what am I to you?” You asked. His chest rose and fell rapidly, he hung his head bracing himself on his desk. 
“Fine.” He said standing to his full height, “You want to know what you are to me?” his lip twitched as he waited for your response. You nodded, crossing your arms. “You’re my everything.” It was like someone had dumped a bucket of water over you. He walked around the desk, you were frozen like a deer in the headlights. He stalked towards you, “I can’t think when you’re around- you-” he huffed clenching and unclenching his fists. “You drive me crazy.” he said softly, his eyes meeting  yours. 
“I-” You began when the door opened, pushing you forward into Five’s arms.
“Oh! So sorry Y/n!” Herb squeaked, pulling the case file close to his chest. You looked up, directly into Five’s face. His jaw was clenched, his stern gaze turned on Herb now.
“No worries.” You breathed, holding onto Five’s arms for balance as you got back on your feet. Once you were able to support yourself again, Five reached out and snatched the file from Herb’s hands. He began to thumb through it, “You’ll be leaving immediately.” Herb clasped his hands together, “Handler’s orders.” You internally groaned, what a fucking cock block. 
“Thank you Herb.” You said walking up beside Five, “We’ll take it from here.” You said with a reassuring smile. He nodded before closing the door behind him. Once Herb had walked down the hallway you put your hand on Five’s shoulder. He turned his head to look at you, his eyes full of emotion. “Let’s get the job done, and once we are back we can pick up where we left off.” You smiled softly, moving to stand in front of him. You reached up and straightened his tie, he relaxed under your touch. 
“Alright, tesoro.” He smiled, the corner of his lip pulling up. You pulled him forward by his tie, softly kissing his cheek. You’d have to thank the Handler for her hand in all of this, maybe an edible arrangement? You chuckled to yourself as you walked toward the briefcase department, Five’s hand resting on your lower back.
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killerpancakeburger · 13 days
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Dating Soap HCS: (Combatant!Reader)
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A/N: Shoving in there all the thoughts I've had about him and couldn't squeeze into my current fic ideas.
When I say Combatant!Reader, I mean they can fight/kill/use a gun but aren't part of the Task Force nor a soldier.
SFW:
Two words: power couple. You guys could take on the world if you wanted, so good for the world that you’re part of the good guys.
Soap is one of those freaks who’s out of bed by 6 a.m on his days off and starts the day with a jog. He can’t help it, he’s got energy to spare and is addicted to the endorphin he gets from it. Before meeting him you’d have said that a partner up so early was a pain; but how could you be mad at him when he takes such care to not wake you up, and has coffee and a mouth-watering breakfast ready when you emerge? You enter the kitchen where he rewards you with the luscious view of his sculpted body covered in sweat, having already shed his shirt, then sneaks an arm around your shoulders to press an adoring kiss against your temple, along with a “G’morning, Bonnie.” before heading to the shower.
Sometimes you show up unannounced on base - well not completely unannounced cause you’d get shot -, barge into the sparring room like you own the place - and considering the company you keep, you might as well -, and hit all its occupants with a “What’s up losers?”. Before anyone else can react, Soap’s already leaping over the ring’s ropes and running to you, hugging you with so much enthusiasm that your feet leave the ground. “Ye didnae say ye were comin’!” His voice booms with unadulterated joy. “Yeah, that’s called a surprise MacTavish. Now let go of me, you stink.” He throws you a cocky, challenging smirk at that: “Make me.” His voice is way lower, intended for your ears only this time. The glint in his eyes, as he’s staring right into yours, is just as provocative as his smile. You retort with your own. “I could, but I would hate to humiliate you in front of the new recruits, Sergeant.” Cue Ghost, joining you by walking like a civilised human being, and already sick of your flirting. “If you two are done makin’ a spectacle of yourselves, we could have a smoke outside.” There’s no real heat to his words though.
During some evenings at the base when Ghost snuck up God only knows where, Soap, Gaz and you compete to see who can do the best impression of the Lieutenant. Soap’s in the lead with the advantage to be the one having exchanged the most words with Simon, but you’re confident you can turn it around.
Will touch you all the fucking time (except on missions), whether it’s an arm around your shoulder, or your waist, or a hand in the back pocket of your pants, or holding your hand. Will restrain himself if you’re against it but if he can’t cuddle in private he will be sad.
No PDA on missions, but he will definitely flirt over coms. You’re both skilled enough that you can afford to fuck around a bit while still doing your job expertly.
Talking about flirting, he is smooth… until the other person reciprocates. Then he needs a moment to get back in the saddle after short-circuiting. 
Fervently loyal. If someone comes onto him, he will reject them frankly. And if they dare to bad-mouth you, they’re getting an earful from him.
The rare fights you have are intense but brief. He always wants to apologise as soon as possible afterwards but he gives you your space if you need it. 
You patch each other up after missions. One day you pore over each other’s scars during a lazy morning in bed, asking how the other got them.
He loooves seeing you put assholes in their place. He’s so fucking proud and aroused. Tend to snap at them faster than you though. And if you’re not in the mood to fight, he will gladly take over. “You know I can fight. Pleaaase let me fight”
Your #1 supporter. Will Smith showing off his wife.meme. He admires you a lot. Not as much as Ghost, sure, but that’s still a lot. If you wanna try new things, especially thrills inducing ones like canyoning or bungee jumping, or push back your own limits in the gym or in combat prowess, he’s always down and so, so enthusiastic. First because he’s so thrilled to share these with you, and second because he relishes in seeing you become a better version of yourself and/or the person you wanna be.
He’s proud of his job and will rant about it for hours if you ask about it. Especially explosions. Your idea of a romantic evening is taking in the sunset with a couple of explosions fireworks. 
He’s a freaking sunshine and sometimes the light feels blinding. You worry you’re bringing him down. He has such an optimistic outlook on life, and you… simply don’t. You also fear that one day he realises he’s too good for you, whether it’s in terms of looks, personality, morals, or mental resilience… he’s always quick to appease your worries though. 
Not getting along with the TF would be a deal breaker. Not that he’s expecting you to become BFF with Ghost or anything, that role is already taken by him
Will not hesitate to use his sad puppy eyes on you. Or even pout. To get what he wants.
He demands a kiss for good luck before every mission, a bit lOUDLY, which makes Ghost rolls his eyes and Gaz makes gagging sounds. Price is just like "Lord Give Me Patience".
NSFW:
Don’t be afraid to (wo)manhandle him: pulling his hair, slamming him against a wall, grabbing his jaw… that will make him moan more often than not. 
Call him a good/pretty boy, praise him, tease him, make him beg… He will tease back to challenge you but it just means you should keep going.
He’s a good soldier, he follows orders well. Do with that what you will.
Endless stamina. Will wear you out first every time.
Gets off when he gets you off.
Did I mention that he’s terribly competitive? Will ask you what’s the highest number of orgasms you had in one night and will immediately try to beat that record. 
If he doesn't make you laugh at least once during the do, he has FailedTM 😔
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ravenclawerised · 1 year
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Rewatching DS9 again and I am just so interested at how an average Bajoran would view Kira by the end of the series. How an average Cardassian would? We know that a lot of what she does is known to the Bajoran people. Shakaar mentions Furel and Lupaza bragging about her whenever they get news of the station. But lets actually take a look at this:
She is the highest ranking Bajoran on DS9 outranked only by the Emissary
Most times Sisko did anything in the capacity as the Emissary, Kira was one step behind and to the right
She was with Kai Opaka, the most widely loved and respected Bajoran, when she made her journey through the Celestial Temple and “answered the call of the prophets”
She was highly respected (and loved) by Vedek Bareil who was hugely popular on Bajor (he could very well have been Kai if he hadn’t taken the blame for Kai Opaka’s actions during the Occupation)
She and Kai Winn had a well known feud and after Kai Winn’s fall from grace at the end of the show, Kira must come out pretty great to everyone else
She is the one who found and saved the great Bajoran hero, Li Nalas, from a Cardassian work camp and then within a week saved Bajor from a civil war that had been encouraged by Cardassians.
Between her saving Li Nalas and his fellow prisoners AND finding the Ravinok and saving the Bajorans (and Cardassians and Ziyal) from the Breen mines, was she the person Bajorans turned to when searching for their lost love ones? Was she a symbol to those who kept looking for their loved ones because Kira Nerys found those thought to be lost?
She prevented ANOTHER Bajoran Civil War and helped elect Shakaar as the First Minister of Bajor. Again being associated with a widely loved and respected member of Bajoran society.
Kira was in charge of DS9 during Dominion Occupation and started up the station’s resistance cell
She was permitted to use the Orb of Time, one of Bajor’s most sacred objects
She was the chosen by a Prophet to be their vessel during the Reckoning with the Pah-Wraith...and the KAI was on the same station. But it was KIRA who was chosen
She plays chicken with a Romulan fleet...and wins!
She was a key figure in the Dominion War. She started as a resistance fighter who was assigned to a falling apart, unimportant old Cardassain station and becomes the Colonel of the single most important port in the Alpha Quadrant. She is the right hand of the Emissary. She is widely respected by many beloved figures in Bajoran society.
And this list is just the most public things that have happened to her. This doesn’t even take into account any of the stories about her that involve her dealing with whatever BS the Star Trek universe decides to throw at the characters that week. Klingons beam in and fight? Gets stabbed and keeps fighting. Emissary is transported to 2024? Kira is on the team that pulls him out.
By the end of season seven, do politicians on Bajor hold their breath or breathe a sigh of relief if Kira gets involved? Do Vedeks seek her out to ask her about being possessed by a prophet? About her experiences with the Orbs? About Kai Opaka’s last words? Do families still grieving those missing from the Occupation petition her to look for the lost?
And how about the Cardassians?
The Cardassian government would probably never publicly admit to any time she foiled their plans, but Tekeny Ghemor tells her that she has her own section in the Cardassian Central Archives and is a public figure on Cardassia
Would the Cardassians in the Breen mine whisper their thanks among their family that Kira Nerys found them?
Tekeny Ghemor, someone who was respected enough to be considered as the face for the Cardassian resistance against the Dominion controlled Cardassian puppet government, publicly considered her his daughter/family by asking her to participate in the Shri-tal ritual and give her all of his secrets prior to his death (something highly valued in Cardassian society)
She was a part of Damar’s resistance. She helped them fight the Dominion and was with Damar when he died for Cardassia. In the story of how Damar was martyred for Cardassia’s freedom from the Dominion, Kira Nerys, a Bajoran, is heavily featured.
In all Bajoran/Cardassian relations, do Cardassians seek to involve Kira as a woman of her word who will treat in good faith or do they cross their fingers and hope she is nowhere near their business?
Can you tell I think about Kira Nerys a lot?
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theninthwonder · 5 months
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Tight Grip
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Featuring: Sefa Fatu x black female reader
Content: SMUT, 18+, Minors DNI
Word Count: 2.1k
A/N: Special shout out to my beautiful sis @harmshake ! She sends me the most delicious pictures of long hair don't care Sefa and the two of us had a simultaneous light bulb moment: WE SHOULD WRITE A FIC ABOUT THIS GORGEOUS ASS MAN WITH THE BEAUTIFUL ASS HAIR! This was meant to be the more devilish fic in companion to the beautiful fluff she posted last week! Please go read hers here 💗!
Tagging the Lovelies: @siriuslyblackonback ; @whatdoeseverybodywant ; @southerngirl41 ; @nayys-world ; @reci24 ; @bebesobrielo ; @empressdede ; @1-800anklebully ; @christinabae ; @gomussy ; @jeyusosgirl ; @m3llowww ; @harmshake ; @wooahmiri ; @msbigredmachine ; @daddydraco0 ; @alichesmi ; @vebner37 ; @visionarymode ; @alyyaanna ; @mzv11 ; @afterdarkprincess ; @harlem11680
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The first time you’d ever set your gaze on Sefa Fatu, you couldn’t believe the sight before your eyes. You stopped dead in your tracks—garbage bag in hand on your way to the complex dumpster—at sight of the man donned in a tank top and basketball shorts. The most ordinary of ‘fits a man could ever wear, but unordinary to you was the dark, voluminous and gorgeous hair that hung loose and wavy in all its splendor.
You never wanted to touch someone else so badly.
You had started to notice him as a new regular in the fitness center of your apartment complex, because you were down there all the time working out yourself. When you two happened to board the elevator together, you realized he lived just a floor beneath yours. He spoke to you first and that’s when you found out he’d just moved in. Your crush on him deepened with every interaction. Luckily for you, there were plenty. He continued to speak whenever he saw you, the simplest of greetings putting not only a smile on your face but a tingle in your lower abdomen.
During subsequent conversations, you silently admired his hair. You loved whether he had his top bun or fresh braids installed, but your absolute weakness was when he’d wear it down. The view of those dark curls cascading down to his shoulders belonged in an art gallery. Yet, where they frequented was in your imagination; you’d have fantasies of touching his hair, twisting his curls in your fingers, and pulling on them.
“Aye, do you know how to braid?”
One afternoon, on the way out of the elevator, Sefa caught you off guard with his inquiry. He eyed you with kind curiosity and interest. Your stomach fluttered in response to those beautiful brown eyes on you, but had to fight a wince as you opened your mouth and a lie reverted back to your ears.
“Yeah.” You said it quickly. Too quickly for you to snatch it back. Sefa was none the wiser, it seemed. His lips pulled into a relieved grin.
“Okay, cool. I would go to my usual girl, but she outta town. I’m kinda in a bind and—”
“Yeah, yeah, I can braid. I can do it up however you’d like it.”
“Cool,” Sefa was smiling wider. “If you free later on, at about 7, can I swing by?”
“For you, hell yeah.”
First things first, you couldn’t braid for shit.
You admired those who had the talent to create complex corn rows, with what seemed to be magic strokes of their fingers. You hadn’t acquired such talent—had never learned as a teen or going into adulthood. Even YouTube couldn’t save you, for the easiest tutorials seemed like a foreign dance to your uncoordinated fingers. The model head you’d purchased from Amazon with the kinky afro sat in the closet collecting a fine layer of dust on top of said afro. And the reason why your bouncy braid outs-and or-bohemian box braids were so beautiful, was purely thanks to someone else's hands.
But, as agreed, Sefa was at your place by 6:50. In the hours between, you struggled with internal panic. You had also watched thirteen YouTube videos. Not that it mattered; you wouldn’t be able to master braiding in three hours and you knew it. You didn’t know what the hell you thought you were doing. Sefa would quickly discover your secret, would be pissed you wasted his time, and ignore your ass from here on out.
Your jaw dropped as you opened the door. He looked so damn good. He’d washed and blown out his hair in the time since you last saw him. Your heart ran laps at the sight of all that hair you’d guaranteed to braid. Beautiful, thick, and so enticing to touch.
…just like Sefa.
“I appreciate you helpin’ me out on short notice. I can give you a coupla dollas for your time,” he offered as you let him in.
Your cheeks burned. “Oh my God, stop. You do not have to pay me, that’s an insult.”
Sefa laughed quietly. “Okay. I’ll repay you in a different way.”
“Can I get you some water or something to drink?”
“Water is cool. Thank you.”
You didn’t miss how his eyes traveled south of your cotton tank top and biker-short clad body, just as you turned around to head to the kitchen. Slow heat rushed through you as you’d caught him in the act, and a tiny giggle escaped your glossy lips. You hurried back with a bottled water, then took one of your pillows off of the couch to place it on the floor for him.
You weren’t sure how long you’d be able to go along with this rouse. Especially when Sefa sat with his head between your open thighs. For one, you were sure he’d expect you to begin braiding. And two, your pussy began to throb at his proximity to you. Fantasies from each night since you met him were suddenly unlocked. So many times you had imagined Sefa right here, with the main difference being him facing you with his tongue between your wet lips.
Your fingers dipped into his hair. So damn soft. You’d always wanted to know and now that you did, you were scared you’d never stop touching it.
“I never told you this, but… your hair is sooo damn gorgeous.”
“Thank you,” he said. His chuckle beforehand vibrated against the couch. Your fingertips grazed his nape, and you stroked his scalp in up and down motions. You heard another sound from him—a moan.
“Shit, that feels good,” Sefa mumbled. You caught every syllable. He let out a lower, sexier chuckle on top of it. “Massages come with your braiding services?”
You bit your lip. “Oh, I can give you a massage. But… Sef, I gotta be real with you.”
He detected the shift in your tone. He’d sat up a bit straighter, inclining his head so you could stare at his handsome profile. “What’s up?”
“I lied to you. I don’t know how to braid… like, at all. I was actually gonna try to fake it ‘til I make it, but… yeah, I can’t do it.”
You waited for him to get mad, but it never came. He simply stared at you until an amused smirk played on his full, pink lips.
“You ain’t have to lie to get me up in your apartment. You coulda just told me to come through….”
“Really?” Your surprise was evident. Flutters filled your abdomen from his darkened gaze, and how his attention soon drifted down to your mouth. Tingles spread from your core throughout your body as he ran his tongue along his own lips.
“You know, I’ve peeped the way you look at me.” His voice lowered an octave, the amusement absent from his tone. Oh. You kept your hair in his hand, playing idly with it, as the heat of desire made its slow spread through your loins.
“And how do I look at you?” you inquired softly. He slowly turned his body so that he faced you. On his knees. His arms placed on either side of you, brushing against your bare thighs.
“Like you wanna do somethin’,” Sefa whispered. He coasted his tongue tip over his lip one more time before he added, “I wanna do somethin’ to you, too.”
Sefa’s mouth covered yours in a kiss that grew like wildfire; hot, desperate and damn near lethal. You hadn’t been kissed with lust like this in a while. You reached your opposite hand up to clutch at his head, fingers twisting into his dark mane. Moaning into his mouth, you couldn’t help but pull at his hair. Sefa’s groan was of pure satisfaction; and if you couldn’t tell he liked it, he yanked your hips toward him. The seat of your biker shorts were hot and beginning to dampen from just his tongue kiss alone.
“Take them shorts off,” Sefa growled. His demand made you drip even more, and you just knew not to make him say it twice. You shoved your thumbs into the waistband of your shorts, ready to follow his command. “Panties too,” he added gruffly.
“Not wearin’ any,” you said breathlessly.
“Yeah, I ain’t think so,” Sefa retorted with a smirk. “That ass so round and smooth, I never see any panty lines when I’m eyin’ it.”
Any comeback you had was effectively stolen when he pinned his mouth onto yours once more. He helped you get rid of shorts; you arched your hips off the couch in assist. True to his profession, Sefa’s tongue wrestled with passion against yours. You floated on cloud nine as you ground your exposed pussy into his clothed torso. You heard the rustle of him going into his pocket. When y’all parted for air, you saw the flicker of a gold condom wrapper in his fingers.
“You okay with this?”
“Hell fuckin’ yeah,” you asserted. With haste and a smirk, Sefa pulled his shirt up and over his beautiful head. He shoved his sweats down to his knees, and the dick that sprung out of the confines made your eyes widen. In your fantasies, you hadn’t imagined him big enough. His dick swung like a bat as he tore the wrapper open with his teeth. He extended it to you, his chuckle deep as he peeped your hesitance.
“Don’t be scared, Ma.”
“You about to tear me open with that thang.” You took the condom from him and rolled it on, his penis jumping at the mere contact of your fingertips. In spite of the nervousness that loomed, you wanted to drool. His dick was so heavy and smooth, so hot and hard. His opposite hand placed on your inner thigh; his fingers had trailed upward in the process of you speaking your fears.
“Wet as this pussy is? I’ma slide right in, baby.”
You moaned at his middle finger breaching your entrance… but it wasn’t enough, not by a long shot. Sefa slid his finger out and traced it around your lips like gloss as he slid his dick inside you, inch by inch. Your eyes watered at the way he stretched you, bit by bit. Not only did this man have the best and most gorgeous head of hair you’d ever seen, Sefa had the biggest dick you’d ever taken at this point in your life.
He pulled your ass to the very edge of the couch and held onto your hips as he dug deeper into your hole. You glanced down with blurred vision from your unshed tears, still seeing the base of his dick. You cried out, “Gawd damn, Sefa.”
“You’re good, baby. You can take me deeper,” Sefa’s teeth were clenched. He swore, “But shiiit, ya pussy grippin’ me tight, baby.”
He pulled out a little and back in, slowly working your hole to accommodate his girth. Eventually, the burn of the stretch subsided into a more pleasurable fulfillment. Once you started letting out moans as opposed to sighs of pain, Sefa could tell you were ready for full throttle. His dick in you was like a hammer to a nail—continuous, hard slams. You just knew you’d be hearing from the land lord by tomorrow morning, due to the volume Sefa was causing you to make.
Sefa’s head came down to yours. He covered your mouth with a sloppy kiss, mostly tongue and not a lot of lip. He spoke, “Shh, babe, you screamin’.”
“Y-you fuckin’ me too good,” you whined. Involuntarily, your walls vice gripping his dick. You lost yourself as your hands reached up to grab at the back of his head. You grabbed a fistful of hair like reins, moans of pleasure and desperation fleeing your open mouth.
“Shiiit,” Sefa hissed. His jaw twitched with you pulling on his hair. He thrust his steel even harder into you. The tension that had built within your core was ready to ignite; the agitation of his penis head knocking against your sweet spot was beginning to be too much.
“I’m gonna cum,” you exclaimed.
By the way his dick throbbed in you, you knew he wouldn’t be too far behind. He assured you of this with his own announcement of being close. You let out a scream as your orgasm rocketed through you, intense and blinding. Your juices milked Sefa’s condom covered dick, and you barely noticed his thrusts becoming wild and uncontrolled. Within seconds of you coming, Sefa’s grip on your hips became bruising tight, and a throaty, loud groan tore from his mouth.
He collapsed next to you on the cushion that had slipped halfway off the couch without y’all even noticing. Your hand still cradled the back of his head, buried in the hair that had grown a bit puffier from the tussling and the exertion. All thanks to you.
“Damn! I’ma need you to braid me up more often,” Sefa said through heavy pants.
You giggled. “Anytime, boo… anytime.”
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sheisjoeschateau · 1 month
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"Oh, so we DO love Steve..." | PART VI
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Steve Harrington x Bauman!fem!reader enemies to lovers, heavy angst, hurt/comfort, upside down mayhem, S2-S4, post S4 universe hot-take, end-of-the-world / dystopian setting, ugly fights turned smut (...but with hella plot). 18+
CHAPTER WARNINGS: tw - mention of death, injuries, emotional smut (minors: DNI), language, end-of-the-world terror talk, newfound shared codependency. 18+
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You felt like you could sleep for five years. 
That electric fence had robbed you of your energy, draining your battery completely.  No doubt you were useless at this point.  But you were just so exhausted, you couldn’t even bring yourself to fight against what you were physically experiencing.
Everything hurts.  Your chest.  Your shoulders and back.  Your legs, your lungs.  Even your neck. 
Guess being brought back from the dead can take it outta you.
A lot of what went down after you…well…blacked out… It’s honestly a blur. 
You remember Steve eventually lifting you up, carrying you bridal style.  And you remember seeing his eyes. Dark brown orbs, scanning you like a hawk and uncharacteristically glassy.  You also remember Hopper over the walkie, telling your group to abort the plan and head back to base for a re-group.  His crew was on their way back, and Group 1 would be back with the supplies later that night.
Jonathan offered multiple times to help carry you, along with Eddie. But Steve just shook his head every time, insisting he was fine, clinging to you tightly while tucking your head against his chest. Dustin worriedly asked them if you would be alright a handful of times, and you kept wanting to tell this sweet kid all sorts of sweet comforting things. But damn, you were wiped. So you just let the guys assure him that you are fine.
The way Steve held you felt so…safe.  Almost familiar, despite the nurturing touch from him being so foreign.  Just last week, you never would have thought him capable of being so gentle.  Then again, it seemed that the ones who show the least amount of affection tend to be the most capable. He definitely struck you as someone who is affectionate in a relationship, given how he used to be with Nancy.  You gathered that much.  Touchy, flirty, all that jazz. 
But this?  This was different.
He was different.
You were right.  You fucking knew it.
The past few days had changed so much between you and Steve. And if you could think straight at the moment, or even think at all, it would overwhelm you. You knew that it would eventually.
…you also knew that your uncle was never gonna let you live this down.  The thought made you internally laugh, as you were carried through the trees until you all reached your destination.  Although, Murray probably would cut you some slack. Given the whole… temporarily dying thing.  At least that would work to your benefit, you think to yourself morbidly.
You had drifted off in Steve’s arms during the journey back.  As you all approached the house, you stirred back awake.  You could hear everyone shuffling out the front door, getting closer to you guys.
Murray was the first to race his way over to you, hovering above you in Steve’s arms.  His eyes were uncharacteristically glassy, his scruffy face etched with worry and relief.  He struggled with what else to do or say.  Sentimentality did not come naturally to the Bauman bloodline…
But after he swallowed, thickly, he told you — “Don’t do that to me again kiddo, alright?  The rest of our family is crazy, you’re gonna have to…stick around.  Got it?”
You smiled faintly.  “Love you too, Murray.” 
Your uncle gave you a curt nod, but you could see him tearing up.  He sniffed aggressively, biting back emotion and looking up at Steve.  Lucas and Erica stepped closer, coming into view for you.  Poor babies looked so worried.
Murray managed to convince Steve to hand you over to him, but that didn’t stop him from staying glued to your uncle’s hip.  Everyone else shuffled inside, too.  Steve asked Eddie to stay and watch the kids, giving his shoulder a grateful squeeze.  Jonathan said he’d wait up for the rest of the gang to make it back while Steve moved to give Dustin a bone-crushing hug.
You were carried off to the master bedroom downstairs, where Joyce and Hopper have been sleeping.  Suddenly you hissed in pain as Murray sat you down on the bed. 
Steve knelt in front of you, immediately asked you nervously, voice soft, “What is it, what hurts, talk to me...”
You tried to lift your arm but couldn’t.  The adrenaline was wearing off, now letting your body really feel the damage done.  “M’shoulder.”
Your uncle and Steve looked you over, realizing. 
“Might be broken,” your uncle murmured, then sighing, “shit.”
“We have to tell Owens,” Steve said, his hand on your thigh. 
Murray nodded, “I’ll tell Jim we need to get him over here.”
Your uncle watched Steve gingerly take your hands into his, assessing the deep tears in your palms from where the fence had scorched through them.  Even Murray had to admit — the Harrington kid definitely exudes sex appeal, especially when he looks dismayed.  It’s very Patrick Swayze.  But more than that, your uncle could tell this wasn’t just some puppy love thing.  It seemed like the real deal.
...ahh fuck, he thought.
When Jim answered his call, Murray walked away to talk and let him know they’d need to get you medical attention.  Steve was examining every single inch of you, touching you carefully and protectively.  He stood, moving to carefully lift your good arm over his shoulders.
“Bathroom.  Need to wrap up those hands.”
You leaned into him, and when you finally got into the restroom inside of the master, Steve put the toilet seat down and helped you sit before moving to get the first aid kit out from underneath the sink.  Steve was back in seconds, kneeling in front of you and pulling out the items he needed for patching you up.  You watched his perfect hair flop in front of his eyes while his head was down, admiring him silently.
“Here,” he spoke gently, moving to delicately hold one of your hands.  He looked up at you, his eyes rimmed red from earlier.  “S’gonna sting.  But we’ll get them done quickly, yeah?  Tell me if I need to stop?” 
Off your dazed nod, he moved to peck the swiftest of kisses to your cheek before getting to work.
Your eyes were closed while he did, scrunched shut in pain with a small hiss as the antiseptic made contact with your ripped palms.  Steve murmured, so quietly, “Sorry, baby, I know,” along with other whispered apologies that included the word baby or angel.  It made something strange flutter inside your stomach, despite all the pain.
You made yourself find joy in the unlikeliness of it all, grateful for the fact that you all were still alive and in one piece.  Otherwise, the dreaded truth that you were all a day behind schedule — putting you all in even bigger trouble — would consume your mind. You felt guilty. Everyone had to slow down because you’d been the one to get hurt. You’re the one who went and died on everyone, having to be resuscitated. 
Jesus, you thought. As if I wasn’t already a nag.
The feeling of Steve’s fingers tenderly closing around both of your hands made you realize that Steve's self-appointed nurse work was finished. Yours hands were freshly wrapped up and covering the raw, bloody cuts that the electric fence had seared into your palms.
Steve carefully brought all of your fingers, curled around his, to his lips.  He planted a long, soft kiss over all of your knuckles. You opened your eyes and saw his gaze fixed on the gauze wrapped in a makeshift pattern, encasing your small damaged hands.  He held them delicately, more than you ever thought him capable. He was always so brash, cocky and arrogant with you. But right now, that person didn’t seem to exist. This Steve was gentle. Soft.  His pretty brown eyes seemed lost, deep in thought.
You looked at him fondly.  God, you loved this boy.  You realized that now, that you loved him. Truly loved him. You couldn’t help but reach one of your gauzed hands up to his cheek, and he turned his head to lightly kiss your palm and hold it there, his large hand curling around your wrist.
“Steve,” you breathed.
He still stared at nothing, but finally his eyes glanced up at you.  They were sad, bloodshot and strained.  You hated it.  This was your fault.  
“You alright?” you breathed.
He pinched his brows together, nodding with feigned assurance, pressing his lips into a tight-lipped smile.  But he didn’t speak.  And you knew that was because he wasn’t alright.  Not at all. 
But he clearly was not ready to say that.  He sniffed, standing up.  “Let’s get you some water, yeah?” he asked tightly. 
You nodded, letting him help you stand while minding your bad shoulder.
The kids were already outside of the bedroom door, anxious to see you.  Lucas, Erica, Mike, Will and El.  They all went to ask questions, hesitant but unable to help themselves.  They kept their voices lower, knowing they needed to not bombard you fully.  You gave the kids all a soft smile, wobbly on your legs as you reached to pull them in for a little group hug. 
“Careful of her arm, guys, it might be broken,” Steve told them, motherly.  They obeyed.  “Let’s get her some water,” Steve added.
Erica immediately went off to fulfill the request.
Steve and El guided you over to the living room with Murray, who walked over to you to put an arm around you and walk you over to sit. 
Hopper now stood in the living room.  Jonathan was standing with Argyle.  Dustin was there still, with Eddie.  Poor kid looked so shaken up.  You gave him an apologetic look, extending an arm to him -- and he raced over to you after you’d sat down.
You ruffled his hair, letting him wrap his arms around your waist for a hug.  “I’m so sorry,” he mumbled against your jacket. 
Your heart broke.  “Dude, don’t be.  Better me than you.  Still, I’m…m'sorry you had to see that.” 
Hopper was looking over at you with a relieved expression, walking in your direction.  He glanced over at Steve as he did, seeing him standing there with his arms crossed and teeth sunk into his bottom lip with a pensive expression.  Hopper gave his shoulder an assuring squeeze, and a hard pat on the shoulder. 
Then, looking back at you and kneeling, “How you doin’, champ?”
You sighed.  “Feel like my battery’s on its last percent.”
Hopper nodded, breathing a light laugh.  He ruffled your hair.  “A little static-y up here.  You been sticking your finger into some sockets?”  You snorted, feeling tired all over again.  
Erica got back with water for you, handing it over.  You sipped, feeling the couch sink down beside you.  It was Steve, sitting next to you.  He had to physically restrain himself from pulling you into his arms, knowing that the kids — well, aside from Dustin — didn’t know anything yet, or Hopper.  Maybe not even Murray.  Although, Steve was beginning to highly doubt that now.
Everyone began talking about what happened.  What went wrong, why didn’t it work?  Lucas explained that the calculations weren’t wrong, regarding the hacking into the breaker switch system.  Murray flusteredly agreed, saying it didn’t add up. 
But then Eleven spoke up, saying, “Another hacker.” 
You all looked at her, confused.  She explained. 
“With their mind.  Someone used their mind.” 
It turns out, she had used her powers to see that it was being tampered with by some invisible figure.  Meaning that they had sensed your whereabouts.  Who “they” were, exactly?  That had yet to be figured out.  Point was, you all were doomed from the start. 
The kids started saying something about El being able to control it with her mind — to “counter the counter.” 
Hopper wasn’t keen on the idea, nor was Murray.  Steve definitely had his doubts.  Eddie and Jonathan did, too.  But Eleven said it could work, as long as she went there in her mind. 
But that raised an even bigger question: were you all at even bigger risk now that your visit had clearly been known by someone?  Something? 
Eleven said it was just an entity.  Not human.  But that made everyone gulp… Was it Vecna?  Was he not dead after all?
“Regardless,” Hopper was saying.  “We’ll need to lay low.  The evacuation mandate starts next week.  If we’re gonna stay here and figure this thing out, we’ll need an entirely new plan.”
“Orrrr,” Mike interjected.  “We do this before the mandate happens.”
It was definitely a light argument amongst the group now.  More of a debate than anything.  The kids were insisting that it could work, while Steve was insistent it was too dangerous to risk it again. 
“Hopping that fence is clearly out of the question right now,” he said, shuddering. 
Jonathan looked at him sympathetically, along with you. 
“...what if we go over it?”
Everyone turned to look at Eddie, confused.  He looked at everyone nervously, but with an idea clearly in mind.  The lightbulb over his head flashed. 
“What if Miss Superpowers here — gets us over it?  Meaning we don’t climb it, or mount it.  We just…float…?...over it…?”
Dustin begins to grin, looking over and Mike and Lucas.  Even Eleven looks hopeful.  She turns to Hopper.  “I can do that.”
Hopper sighs, battling it still.  “That doesn’t mean we aren’t in for a rude awakening on the other side.”
“We’re in for a rude awakening no matter what we do,”  Lucas speaks with fervency.
It’s a lot of back and forth from there, and you feel Steve’s arm slip across the back of the couch so that he can massage your neck with his fingers.  You sigh at the touch, relieved to have him touching you somehow.  You inch closer to him, and he does everything in his power not to lift your legs so that they can drape over his.
“But if we all wait until after the mandate,” Jonathan is saying.  “That’ll only put us in even more danger rather than doing it now.  Or, well, before this weekend.  Before next week.”
“I think it’s worth it.” 
Your voice causes everyone to look in your directions.  Steve’s fingers halt but stay in place.  You take a breath, continuing. 
“If we…branch off again.  In our groups.  This time we’d only need 2.  The group here, and group 1, can go with us, or with Hopper and El over to where the gate might be re-opening.”
“That’s true,” your uncle agrees.
“Actually, no, we’d need 3,” Jonathan points out.  “Someone has to stay here.  Make sure no one seeks shelter here, or tries to break in and steal supplies.  Shit’s getting gnarly out there.  Nancy said so over the walkie.”
“Okay, so 3 groups,” Mike said.  “That’s worth it.” 
Lucas and Dustin verbally agreed with him.
Hopper was contemplating it deeply. 
Murray nodded at him, “Jim, this could work.” 
The retired cop pursed his lips, still thinking.  But he didn’t argue it.
Just then, the others got back.  Will, Joyce, Robin and Nancy all walked in.  When they saw you, they sagged with relief. 
Joyce made her way over with Robin, kneeling in front of you.
“Sweetie, how’re you doing?” Joyce stroked your arms while Robin gave you the saddest of smiles. 
You returned their smiles, weekly.  “M’alright.”
Joyce fawned over you like a doting mother, and you saw Robin looking over at Steve with a furrowed brow.  She could tell he wasn’t okay, and it worried her.
“We have a plan,” Dustin said enthusiastically.
“Nooo.  We have an idea,” Jim corrected firmly.  Dustin scoffed along with Mike, both beginning to argue back.
“Guys, we have to make sure no one else dies out there, alright?”
Steve’s words come out harsher than he meant for them too, and his voice slightly hitches at the end. 
Everyone stares, and the silence is thick. 
You look over to see Steve, his eyes hardened with trauma.  He sighs, feeling bad and running a hand through his hair as he looks down and mutters an apology to Dustin and Mike -- who both honestly can't even blame him. 
You reach out to squeeze Steve's thigh, unable to not offer him comfort.  You really don’t care who sees it right now as your thumb massages his pant leg.
Robin definitely pinches her brows together, looking between the two of you.  But she figures that Steve just probably feels bad, given how he has treated you like shit then had to deal with bringing you back from the dead.  That’s probably it…right?
But Nancy knows that look in Steve’s eyes.  He doesn’t ever look that way unless he’s…in love.  No matter how traumatizing or upsetting something is, this look is different.  And that’s confirmed for her whenever Steve goes back to massaging your neck, instinctively tilting his head towards you, even as he stares down at his lap.
Jim clocks Steve’s outburst, frowning.  “Exactly,” he agrees in a low voice, carefully.  “No one’s going through that again.”
Everyone shuffles their feet.  After some silence, Mike speaks first: “I’m really glad you’re alright, Bauman.” 
That breaks the ice, and everyone adds their verbal agreements.  You feel your cheeks flush.
“Bauman Squared is a badass,” Jonathan adds, smiling softly.
“Never seen someone cheat death like that,” Eddie nods.  “Most metal shit I’ve ever seen.”
You let out a breathy, sheepish chuckle while Steve’s fingers absentmindedly trace the nape of your neck and top of your spine, seeking silent comfort. 
“You guys saving my life was way more metal,” you say, voice weak but grateful.  You look at Eddie and Jonathan, then turn to Steve — squeezing his leg again.  His hand on your neck slips to rest there, wrapped around the curve protectively.  Almost possessively.
Now Robin is onto something.
“Steve never stopped,” Dustin adds.  "Not for a second."
Jonathan's nodding. "Not one."
Steve digs his toe into the ground, eyes staring a hole into the carpet.  He’s seated so close to you, letting it ground him as he frowns at the ground.
Jonathan can tell someone needs to change the subject, for both your sakes.  He clears his throat.  “So let’s figure this out then.  A plan that won’t cost any of us our lives again.”
You turn to look at him, nodding.  Everyone else nods, too.
Hopper takes a deep breath, looking at everyone intently before turning to Joyce.  “Alright.  First, let’s sift through the supplies you all got today.  Get it stashed.  We also need to start storing things in the basement soon, so that we can all stay there safely after the mandate gets put in place.  We'll need to do it this weekend.”
Joyce gets everyone to follow her outside to her car and unload everything into the kitchen, so that they can all sort through the canned food and other supplies.  Robin quickly knelt to give you a tight hug first, saying how fucking relieved she was that you were still here.  You hugged her back before she ran off to help the others.  Hopper stays behind with you, Murray and Steve.
“Dr. Owens will be coming here in the morning to check on your shoulder,” Hopper is telling you.  He really is a comforting father figure, and a strangely calming presence.  “Here, lemme take a look real quick.” 
You let him feel around, swallowing down the urge to hiss out in pain.  Hopper says it could just be sprained, or maybe even fractured.  But he says it's best if you don’t take any chances.  “Go ahead and lay down for the rest of the day, alright?  Get some sleep.  You’ve done…more than enough.”
You look down, ashamed.  “I’m so sorry.”
That makes Hopper look at you quizzically, brow furrowed.  Murray does too. 
“Why in the world are you sorry?” Hopper asks.
Steve looks at you in silent dismay. But you're sighing with your eyes downcast, not noticing...instead feeling his gaze.
“...'cause, if this hadn’t happened," you were saying, "We might’ve actually gotten something.  This put everyone behind.  I just…hate that I did that.”
Your uncle looked so disheartened.  “Kiddo, this isn’t your fault.  You didn’t do this.”
“It’s my fault,” Steve murmured, shamefully.  “I should’ve – should’ve…”
“No one is at fault here.  Period.”  Hopper spoke firmly, but with parental empathy and assurance.  He looked at Steve, hard now.  Then back at you.  “You guys did everything you could.  Alright?  We’re not behind.  If anything, we’re farther along now that we’re all safe and can actually come up with a better plan.”
You nodded.  He was right.  Hopper gave your knee a squeeze, ruffingling your hair for a moment before looking back at Steve sadly.  Steve hadn’t looked up again, frowning at his lap.  Hopper ducked his head to his eye level.  “Hey, kid.  You busted ass in making sure we didn’t let us lose a soldier today.  You get that, right?”
Steve shuddered a deep breath through his nose, curling in his lips.  After a few beats, he gave a curt nod.  Hopper’s frown deepened. 
“Steve.  You saved a life today.”
Steve looked up at him with the saddest eyes.  Murray was watching him with more empathy than you’ve ever seen.  You reached over to take Steve’s hand with your wrapped one.  He clutched it instantly, mindful of your injured palms and applying the pressure of his grasp to your fingers. 
“Yeah, you did,” you added softly.
Murray swallows, shuffling.  “Thank you.  For saving my niece today, Steve.”
Steve gives him the quickest of smiles and nods.  It’s clear that he’s fighting off emotion.
Hopper can tell that Steve is really struggling, and he gives his shoulder a squeeze before rising to stand.  He looks between the two of you.  He’s…picking up on the vibe.  He thought that maybe Steve just felt really shaken up about having to watch someone actually die today, then save their life.  That shit causes lifelong PTSD.  But Hopper could tell, it was more than that.  He cleared his throat.  “Let’s help her upstairs.”
But Steve immediately stood. “I got her.” 
Hopper and Murray watched him help you up, hooking your good arm over his shoulders.  Tenderly.  Kindly.  Protectively.  Steve's eyes, soft and fond, never looked away from you.
…yeah, the two grown men knew. They were 19 once.
Robin rounded the corner.  “Steve, can I help?”
Steve was walking up the stairs with you.  “S’okay, I got it.  Love you, Robs.” 
Robin scrunched her eyebrows together, confused as she watched her best friend continue to mount the stairs with you.  But Hopper, who was still watching you both as you walked upstairs, just gave her a reassuring nod.  Robin cocked an eyebrow.  What did Hopper know that she didn’t yet?  And Murray, who had an all-knowing expression on his face.  It was much more somber, compared to his usual shit-eating-grins that he wears when he’s onto something.  But still.  He was onto something. 
Murray cleared his throat awkwardly, before moving towards the kitchen. 
Hopper stopped him.  “Hey.  You alright?”
The smart-alec know-it-all actually paused to reflect before answering that question.  He took a deep breath. 
“You know that feeling you get when you’re worried sick El won’t come back, or something’ll take her?” 
Something flashes in Murray’s eyes, and it holds more vulnerability than he has ever shown. 
“I get it now.  That’s how I felt today.  And it did get her.  And I was the one here, telling them –” Murray stopped, intasking a sharp inhale and collecting himself.  “I get it now.”
Hopper’s concerned gaze exuded empathy and kindness towards Murray.  He patted his shoulder, hard, before Murray nodded and walked off to his room, muttering something about being back to help in a bit.  Hopper let him go.
Robin was still standing there, awkwardly.  “Hop, should I…do something?  I mean, my best friend just brought someone back from the dead today, and I’m not really sure he’s alright because he’s never one to crack but I know that he needs to eventually and —”
Hopper sighed, giving her a polite shake of the head and gently cutting her off.  “I think he needs to be with her for a while.  Trust me.  He’ll thank you for it.”
With a pat on her shoulder, he walked to the kitchen.  Robin stood there, perplexed.  Because while the circumstances were grim, and Steve was the most giving person that she knew — since when did her best friend fall hard for the girl he hated the most?
***
Steve was helping you slip out of your combat boots and socks.  Then your army pants.  He carefully helped slip some of his sweatpants over your legs, fasting them over your hips and tightening the string as tight as they’d go.  Then, he gingerly peeled your shirt off — mindful of your bad arm.  He slipped your hands into the arms of his yellow crewneck before you ducked to let him pull it over your head.  It was all definitely baggy on you...which you found yourself adoring. It felt intimate. Special.
The whole time, Steve was quiet.  The air felt tense.  And you knew that he was not about to make it much longer without finally releasing whatever it was that he was holding back.
Until today, you had never seen Steve Harrington cry.  You began to wonder if he ever let himself cry.  Even when the Russians were torturing him, he panicked instead of crying.  The only time that Steve had allowed himself to even get tearful was about Max.  But even so, he didn’t let it show much.  You figured that he maybe let himself cry whenever he was alone, or whenever it was just him in Max’s room.  He’d shown vulnerability that one day, when you both sat with her, when you read her letter to him out loud.  Steve was just…determined not to break down. 
So yeah, seeing him like that today?  Bawling his eyes out over you, of all things?  You were still processing that.
“Hey… How you feeling?” you asked him in a low voice, ducking your head and trying to catch his gaze.  Reaching up with your good arm, you played with the ends of his hair.  But he didn’t answer.  He seemed distracted, lost in thought as he stared at his shirt on you, his hands on your hips.
You swallowed, trying again.  “...wanna talk about it?”
He pursed his lips so you wouldn’t see them tremble. The words he should have said got stuck in his throat.  He swallowed thickly, Adam's apple bobbing.  He settled for —
“M’gonna shower real quick, okay?” 
Your heart sank at his words, breathed more than spoken.
Steve looked up at you with his best tight-lipped smile. You almost cried at the pain you saw behind it.  It was unfamiliar.  Completely foreign for him.  But there was a time for everything, and you knew it best not to push him right now. Not that anything had stopped you before. Normally, you’d grill him and not pay any mind to whatever argument it would cause.  But something about the way that Steve looked right now — so solemn, almost defeated — made you want to forget any sort of friction that the two of you so often had. It had seemed to subside a bit.
After that night.
Not completely, of course. Would it ever be gone completely? This catastrophic rivalry between the two of you? Unlikely. Then again, maybe it was just a matter of figuring out what to do with it.  For now, you knew it best to let him be.
You cautiously cupped his cheeks and dared to peck his lips. “Okay.  I’ll be right here.”
He didn’t say anything, but you knew that he was silently grateful.  He gave you a nod and headed into the bathroom.
You laid in bed, waiting patiently.  Some time passed before you heard the shower turning on.  Maybe ten minutes or so.  Finally, you could hear the faucet squeaking and the water began to run.  You laid underneath the covers, twiddling your thumbs and trying to not feel the pain in your shoulder.  But when another 20 minutes went by…then another 10…you couldn’t help but feel worried.  Something inside of you told you to go check on him.  It was like this…gut feeling. Still, you waited.
...and then you heard it.
A strangled choke.
The door had been left cracked, so you followed the sound and slowly pushed it open.  The air was hot, steamy.  You swallowed hard, hesitant to speak.
“Steve?”  Your tone was wary, timid. “I just…wanted to check on you.”
The silence that followed felt like it lasted a year.  The water splashing onto the ceramic floor of the tub is all you heard behind the shower curtain. 
"Can I come in?" you asked softly, pleading.
Then finally, a tight voice answered —
“Please."
Your clothes were on the floor in seconds, even though you grunted and hissed in pain when removing the shirt.  You couldn’t get into the shower fast enough.
Peeling back the shower curtain, you found Steve’s back to you with his head underneath the stream of water. He was engulfed in steam and mist, yet you could make out his back muscles and how tense he was as he leaned a palm against the tile wall.  His head was down, the hot water seeping down and hard onto the tub at his feet near the drain.  God, he was beautiful.  Even when he was such a prick in high school, you knew even then that Steve was still pretty. If you were being honest, though, he seemed far more beautiful now.  His toned, athletic torso glistened underneath the shower head, his skin the perfect shade of sun kissed tan.
Steve turned his head over his shoulder in your direction, slowly.  Almost afraid.  His gorgeous brown eyes were red and bloodshot, even more than they had been before.  Sad brown orbs stared back at you, water clinging to his lashes and his soaked hair.  There were unshed tears pooling inside those eyes, and he was just a blink away from letting them all fall down. 
He finally turned his whole body to you as you looked back at him, heartbroken, stepping towards him and reaching for his waist.  You could see his breathing intakes were short, the way you get just before you have a breakdown.
“Steve,” you started, devastated.
“I just — c-can you just —”
Hold me, you knew he was trying to ask.  Just hold me.
Steve’s voice broke halfway, timid in a way you’d never heard before. Not even that night, when you two had let all the walls come down. You knew what he was asking now. To be held, comforted. He just couldn’t say it, because he didn’t know how. For a fleeting second, you wondered if he considered the possibility of you saying no. If he thought that maybe his pain was some kind of burden, or shameful.
You brought him into your arms without saying a word, using your good arm to wrap up around his neck and your bad arm — screw it — to hold his waist.  You stroked and gripped at the wet hair that sat at the nape of his neck, feeling his lips dig into your shoulder.  You turned your head so that your lips were pressed to his temple, breathing against him.  Steve clung to you desperately, as if trying to use it as confirmation that you were actually still here...
Despite the last two nights, this is the first time you both truly felt naked in front of each other. You both stood, skin to skin, the water falling around you both, and while there was nothing sexual about this time — that seemed to make it stronger.  It felt as though your bodies were connecting in some sort of irreversible way.  Two souls being tethered, permanently intertwined.
“I almost lost you today.”  
Steve’s words sent shivers against your skin. You felt them more than you heard them. 
The memory of it was haunting for you, yes — but the way that his body trembled against yours with a barely restrained sob in his throat while in your hold, made you believe it had been even worse for him. It’s not every day that you witness someone’s eyes go lifeless in front of you. It’s not every day that you almost have the person you began to care about be taken from you in the worst possible way.
“You’re not getting rid of me that easily, Harrington,” you tried, but when the only answer you got was him squeezing you tighter, you stopped deflecting. 
“I’m so sorry,” you murmured into his shoulder, brushing your lips against his skin. “M’really, really sorry.”
You felt him shake his head against you. No, don’t be sorry.
“I know that you…” you trailed off, sighing.  “You guys went through hell.  Bringing me back. But hey, I knew that you’d be there for me. Even when I was astral planing.”
He still didn’t laugh.  Not even a little.  He just clung to you like a lifeline, trembling against you and haunted by the memory. 
You knew he was mentally fucked up from it.  Hell, you were too. But if you were being honest, there’s not much hell you’d had to go through on your end.  You were out like a light, then back again.  Sure, the pain was excruciating.  But for you, it was over just as soon as it had started.
Steve didn’t have such luxury, though.  You realized now that he’d had to watch you.  
Watch you fall.  
Watch you get hurt.  
Watch you die. Before —
“You saved me, okay? I’m right here.”
Pulling back only enough to look at him, you dared to cup his cheeks again and brush away his stray tears with your thumbs. Normally, he’d cringe at the mere thought of being emotional in front of you. That just wasn’t like him to be that way in front of anyone, least of all you. But right now, he looked lost and afraid. And he didn’t seem to care in the slightest how weak he looked or felt in front of you right now. 
In fact, the way he was looking at you — so haunted and traumatized — brought your heart a sense of pain that it never usually felt. You wanted to take it away from him, make it go away.
“Not going anywhere,” you promised him in a whisper, gently pulling the nape of his neck towards you so that he was leaning his forehead against yours.
In this moment, you thought back on how Steve had always had an oddly comforting presence about him, despite his cocky attitude. It surprised you, really. It came so naturally to him. But right now, it’s him who needed it. And that was alright with you.
“You guys got me,” you murmured.
Steve closed his eyes, his sharp nose nuzzling yours. 
“But what if we didn’t?” he breathed.
You watched as trails of shower droplets and tears made trails, finally released and passing over his perfectly placed moles and faint freckles.
“Fuck, Bauman, if I didn’t — if you’d…”
You held your breath as he choked on his whispered words, scared of them as he bit down hard on his lip. He couldn’t say it. He just couldn’t. 
“God,” he shuddered in a whisper, clenching his eyes shut again as he leaned his forehead to yours. “If you were gone…”
“Hey, hey,” you shushed him gently.  
“After everything I’ve said, fuck…”
“Steve, it’s okay,” you breathed, your fingers stroking the wet locks of his hair near the nape of his neck.
“Can’t lose you,” Steve said in the most inaudible, croaked whisper.
“You didn’t, okay?” 
“I did,” he managed to wheeze, whispered and cracked. “I fucking did.”
You pulled back, forcing him to look at you.  His chocolate brown eyes were rimmed red, strained and distraught at the memory. 
Your hands still cupped his cheeks, gently tugging at the skin beneath his anguished eyes.  “You didn’t, and you won’t.”
You carded your fingers through his dropping locks of hair, pushing it away from his face so that you could look him dead in the eye when speaking to him.  You spoken in that foreign hushed tone that you seemed to only have reserved for Steve, breathing the words against his skin in the hot mist of the shower.  You pecked his lips between the words of comfort, letting each one linger long and longer.  And Steve leaned into each one, becoming more desperate and passionate each time.  And he physically refused to part his lips from yours, even when coming up for air was something you both needed. He just kept pressing short kisses, both feather-like yet urgent, to your lips in a series multiple pecks before burying his head back into your shoulder again. Steve curled more into you as you stroked his back.
“I’m right here, Steve,” you murmured to him.
Finally, he choked on a broken sob that he’d been so desperately holding back. The way it sounded so strangled and strained, you could tell just how painfully lodged it had been in his throat this whole time. It broke your heart into a million microscopic pieces, and as you held him in your arms you realized just how vulnerable this boy was despite never letting it show. Steve Harrington might’ve been an arrogant heartthrob in his teen years, but underneath it all he was just a boy longing for something more. He had so much love to give, despite not knowing what it felt like to have it given to him.
Except with you. With you, he could. 
He would.  He did.
“Here as long as you’ll have me,” you promised him.
The two of you stood there in the shower for God knows how long. You let him break down for however long he needed, which still felt cut off too soon. And after you both finally got out, Steve kissed you all the way from the bathroom to the bed, mindful of your injury. You let him lift you up and carry you there, lowering you onto the mattress with his lips still glued to yours. You let him feel every inch of your skin, delicately exploring it with hunger and need, as his lips glided across your jaw and his perfect teeth nipped at your neck. You let him suck your nipples as he squeezed your hips, keening in his grasp and allowing yourself to let go. 
And when Steve’s hard length pushed against your thigh, you let his hand lift you from underneath the bend of your knee so that he could push into you until you felt him up in your ribcage.
Everything was slow, lovesick and heartfelt.
This time it wasn't sex. This was lovemaking.
You let him groan into your mouth as you moaned into his. You let him whisper things to you that were somehow dirty yet beautiful, and when he began to quietly murmur into your lips something about needing you — something about not leaving him alone — you pulled his perfect mess of damp hair and swore into his lips that you would never leave him. Never never never, thrust thrust thrust.  He fell apart, and so did you. He was desperate, and so were you. He needed you, and you needed him.
Steve loves you.
And you love Steve.
Neither of you said it yet. But it didn't matter, because your uncle was right. 
We do love Steve.
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thank u angels sm or supporting this series. :''') it's been so fun writing a reader related to someone other than Dustin or Hopper, or even the Wheelers. feel free to send me requests related to this series -- do you have ideas or things you might wanna see unfold in this? I'm open.
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zeldasnotes · 2 years
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➷ If you have a Moon-Pluto aspect You probably grew up wondering why people love the same people you cant stand because you saw things in people that others didnt see. You see the little smirk someone makes when telling a lie, you notice everything.
➷ Lilith in the 9th house might go against cultural expectations. Someone I know with this placement moved in with his girlfriend without being married and a lot of his relatives shames them because he is the only one in his family whos not married.
➷ Having a strong Neptune in your chart especially Neptune in the 1st house can make it very hard to know what to wear, what to work with and how to act without getting inspiration from others. Like you might not know what clothes you like until you see someone else wearing something that you find attracive and then you go buy the same pair of pants you saw someone else with.
➷ You will be at your most powerful when you act like your chart ruler in conflict. Example:
Saturn: act calm, your cold facial expression does the intimidation for you. You dont look good screaming or fighting.
Mars: You are at your most intimidating when you are all up in someones face and when you are being straighforward letting it all out, your angryface is scary.
Venus: Your social skills and way of looking innocent is your best weapon, people will take your side anyways
Mercury: Your words!!!
➷ The best time to start to work out or diet is when Venus is transiting your 6th house. You will be more organized and driven during this transit.
➷ One thing Ive noticed with women who have Venus or Moon aspecting Neptune is that they tend to copy and idealize other women a lot and other women do the same to them.
➷ Lilith in the 2nd house are the kind of people who wont leave their food in the fridge at their job because they are so afraid of someone stealing from them.
➷ People with Venus in the 1st house tend to not only be good looking but also have a wonderful life. They are well liked and people like to be around them. They usually get what they want and find partners get jobs very easily.
��� If you have Lilith conjunct North Node you will keep being put in situations where you have to stand up for yourself ,bring out your inner bitch & stand alone until you learn.
➷ Moon conjunct Chiron in the natal chart is a sign that family members will be the ones to cause you pain especially female family members.
➷ I was friends with someone with Scorpio Mercury and I noticed that she never wrote anything bad about anyone in our group chat or in text messages at all like the rest of us did(This was in high school) She only talked bad about people irl. She never said or did anything that anyone could prove. She was also friends with the right people and only started drama with people who were not popular. So calculating.
➷ Mars in the 9th have strong opinions and dont like when people disagree with them. They are also not the type to like you if you have different opinions and see you as a good person in spite of your opinions. If they dont like your political views they dont like you. They dont separate a person from their views. (I have this placement and im like this😂)
➷ Do you even have Lilith Square Ascendant if you never experienced a person walking out of the room because you walked in or a person refusing to go to a place if you are there
➷ If you have Moon or Venus aspecting Pluto you will get to see the worst side of women and if you have Sun or Mars aspecting Pluto you will see the worst part of men and masculinity.
➷ Chiron in the 9th house are constantly put in situations where they cant escape and feel trapped. Like trapped at a job they cant leave.
➷ With Moon in the 1st house synastry there is no getting to know eachother phase you just instantly know the other at first sight which is really good if you are about to move in with the person.
➷ People with 1st house ruler in the 2nd house wants to be seen as rich and elegant. This is the placement of people who grew up poor and then when they started making money they only dress in gucci and prada.
© 2022 Zeldas Notes
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gatheringbones · 5 months
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[“When I first came out as a lesbian in 1971, identity politics were so pervasive that this modality didn’t even have a name; it was simply the sea in which every queer sank or swam. One of the key assumptions of identity politics is that we can reveal in one grand social drama of coming out the absolute inner core of truth that makes up one’s “real self.” Coming out is seen as a process like peeling away the layers of an onion or the petals of an artichoke. Identity politics also assumes that your political allies will have to be people who share your identity because nobody else could understand your oppression or really be committed to fighting it; that people who share some aspects of your sexuality but not others are either afraid to come out or traitors to the cause; that it’s not possible for someone to change the way they label themselves without being dishonest or cowardly.
Now I see queer politics quite differently. I know from personal experience that I can’t trust somebody just because their sexual preferences or their gender identity resembles my own. I know we can make allies who are indignant about injustice even if it does not impinge directly upon their own lives. I see coming out as a lifelong process that proceeds as I become ready to understand and accept aspects of myself which bear lessons I need to learn at different points in my life. Each new coming out does not recreate me as a whole new person; I think some people view it this way, but this is crazy-making and too compartmentalized for me. It’s more like being able to see each and every spoke of the wheel that makes up my being, or like opening up and furnishing another new room of my soul.
I wonder what coming out would be like if we were not forced into these defensive positions of tribal loyalty and us-them thinking. What if we could say to a friend who was embarking on a new coming out, “I love you, and so I must also love this new aspect of yourself. Because I care about you I want to know more about it. Let’s both learn from this.” Instead, what usually happens is a great deal of indignation, betrayal, and rejection. I think this is because a person who is coming out threatens the identities of former acquaintances, partners, and coworkers. If someone else’s identity can be fluid or change radically, it threatens the boundaries around our own sense of self. And if someone can flout group norms enough to apply for membership in another group, we often feel so devalued that we hurry to excommunicate that person. This speaks to our own discomfort with the group rules. The message is: I have put up with this crap for the sake of group membership, and if you won’t continue to do the same thing, you have to be punished.
We seem to have forgotten that the coming-out process is brought into being by stigma. Without sexual oppression, coming out would be an entirely different process. In its present form, coming out is reactive. While it is brave and good to say “No” to the Judeo-Christian “Thou Shalt Nots,” we have allowed our imaginations to be drawn and quartered by puritans. I believe that most of the divisions between human sexual preferences and gender identities are artificial. We will never know how diverse or complex our needs in these realms might be until we are free of the threat of the thrown rock, prison cell, lost job, name-calling, shunning, and forced psychiatric “treatment.”
I do not think human beings were meant to live in hostile, fragmented enemy camps, forever divided by suspicion and prejudice. If coming out has not taught us enough compassion to see past these divisions, and at least catch a vague glimpse of a more unified world, what is the use of coming out at all? I have told this story, not to say that anybody else should follow me or imitate me, but to encourage everyone to keep an open mind and an open heart when change occurs. The person who needs tolerance and compassion during a major transformation may be your best friend, your lover, or your very self. Bright blessings to you on the difficult and amazing path of life.”]
patrick califa, from layers of the onion, spokes of the wheel, from a woman like that: lesbian and bisexual writers tell their coming out stories, 2000
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oleworldblues · 1 year
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Ghost with an SO with a mask as well but they are less serious about it? Like… they take their mask off to eat in public but don’t like to show their face too much so they wear it when it won’t get in the way. It annoys ghost a little because there is tinted glass covering their eyes and he find it hard to see if they are paying attention to him or not. Some how their mask gets broken and suddenly ghost feels their eyes on him all the time and constantly catches them staring.
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I kind of combined these two asks (am I allowed to do that?)
Simon 'Ghost' Riley X Shy!F Reader Words: 1.9k Warnings: canon-typical violence
“Captain, with all due respect,” says Ghost,” this is a waste of my time.”
“With all due respect, Simon, this is an order.” Captain Price takes a puff of his cigar. “She won’t slow you down.” “Then why give me this assignment at all?”
“Her combat skills are damn fine. She needs a mentor. You did such a fine job with Soap, yeah? What's one more?”
“Fuckin—,” he gives up. He really can’t fight his captain. “Where is she?”
“Behind you,” says Price, holding out his hand. There is no way someone snuck in here without him realizing it.
“Ghost,” Price says, “meet ‘Sunshine’.”
You’re standing in the corner hiding in the shadows. Were you always there? Or did you show up during this conversation? Either option isn’t ideal. Ghost is not a man that allows people to get the drop on him. You’re wearing all black fatigues, a black gaiter over your mouth, and a pair of aviator sunglasses.
“Nice to see you again,” Price tips his hat to you. You nod in response. Ghost nods back. Price pats Ghost on the shoulder. “Maybe you can teach her to lighten up.” He never asked if your callsign is ‘Sunshine’ because of the sunglasses or your sunny disposition.
********
Captain Price thinks he’s fucking hilarious, pairing up the two people that wear masks. Johnny got quite the kick out of it; couldn’t stop laughing for quite awhile. Ghost thought maybe, just maybe having someone else with a mask meant a mutual understanding of privacy. 
If more than one person is committed to something like a mask people just assume it’s a team gimmick.
Of course that’s not how you operated.
Ghost thought the two of you would grab dinner from the mess and make your way to privacy to eat. Instead you sat down at a table, pulled down the mask, and took off your glasses. Soap let out a laugh. Everyone in the 141 was convinced you’d be just like Ghost.
“See? Most people take off the masks sometimes,” Soap ribs. You didn’t join in the chatter; only looking down at your food and staying quiet. 
You were always extremely quiet. Ghost started to get a kick out of how often you snuck up on Soap or Gaz.
“Steamin’ Jesus!” Soap jumps to the side. “How come she never gets you?”
“Some of us are just observant, Soap.” The truth is, he makes an effort to keep track of you at all times. You snuck up on him once and he won’t let it happen a second time. Even if you were on his team now, that could always change. Ghost doesn’t get caught off guard. That meant spending a good amount of time observing you and your mannerisms, learning your quirks.
********
“We’ve got a truck incoming,” orders Ghost over the radio.
“Copy that,” you reply and zoom in on your sniper scope. “Four armed personnel, but no sight of the second target.”
“Keep an eye on it.”
“Roger.” It’s been several hours laying in the snow waiting for an arms deal to begin. You and Ghost found separate scouting spots in view of the determined location. Now all they had to do was wait quietly. And, wait you did.
“It’s quite rude, innit?” You emphasize the British slang. 
“You takin’ the piss, Sunshine?” Ghost asks. After weeks of stilted silence you finally started to open up. The thing is, it is only over comms. You make light banter and joke during isolated missions; the moment you were in person you zipped up tight and hardly spoke.
“Maybe, L.t.” You Reply, “I’m just saying, Tygrys is being rude. He’s at least 2 hours late to this deal. What do you think his deal is?”
“Maybe he never had the goods to begin with. Or, he’s waiting for an opening to kill the other party. Gets to keep the guns and the money.”
“That’s what I’d do.”
“You plannin’ on changing careers, Sunshine?”
“It would be a horizontal move.”
You hear it, a boot scuffing against the ground. The hair on the back of your neck stands straight up. Someone is slowly approaching your position. They aren’t walking right to you, it must be a patrol. Either way, you can . You slowly reach for your silenced SMG for close combat. Does he work for the arms dealer or the buyer?
You take deep, even breaths to remain calm. He’s stepping closer. You can’t even warn Ghost without giving your location away. He gets closer. Something shifts in the bushes near you and it draws his attention. That critter was a traitor and that man realized you were hiding nearby.
“Oh, shit!”
You turn over and aim down the sights of your SMG.
“Contact!” You push down on the trigger and the unsuspecting man jitters as every bullet rips through his body. He goes down quickly without much noise and you bolt up to inspect the corpse.
“Sunshine, give me a sit-rep,” Ghost orders over the radio. You’re hands are digging into the pockets 
“Ghost, there are people scouting the area. I took one down, might be others.”
“Rog, I’ll circle back to you.”
“It’s either the buyer’s men or Tygrys. I’m checking—"
You feel the fabric around your neck tighten and pull against your throat.
“You fucking bitch.” Another man wearing the same uniform pulls you back as he chokes you. “You’re coming with me!” The fabric stretches, but when it’s pulled taut enough it starts to choke you. Your hands desperately grasp for a knife, anything, to cut yourself free. 
When the blade starts to cut the cloth the man’s leverage works against him. He was pulling back so much to try and choke you. Without that resistance he falls back on his ass and loses his grip on you.
You fall forward and clutch your neck. You’re struggling to breathe. You’re dizzy and can’t hear that enemy approaching again. 
“You bitch!” He yells before grabbing your hair and pulling your hair back. He slams your face against a nearby tree. You cry out in pain. He repeats it for good measure. A white flash of pain blurs your vision and you hear your glasses break from the impact.
The man pulls you up by your and proceeds to drag you across the ground. When your vision finally clears, you reach up and scratch at his arm. 
“Fuck y—”
His words die off. His grip loosens and you fall back on to the ground. You turn your head to look at him and see a hole coming out of the back of his skull. 
“Gotcha, Sunshine.” You hear his voice over the radio. “I’m heading to your position. We’re falling back. The deal fell through.”
“Hard copy,” you say as you pick yourself up from the ground. Your voice is shaky and you look around desperately for anything to cover your face. The lenses of your glasses are cracked to pieces and the gaiter is ripped in two. There isn’t enough fabric to comfortably tie it around your face.
Shit.
********
“She’s shaken, but not injured. We can be back at base in two days.” Ghost updates Captain Price over a video call. “She’s hardly talking. As usual.”
“It’s odd. I thought she’d open up by now,” Price remarks.
“What are you on about?”
“She was practically bouncing off the walls, well her version of that, when I told her she was going to be working with you.” Ghost didn’t mention that you were actually opening up, just in private and only when he wasn’t actually nearby. In person you shut yourself down. At first, he assumed it was his demeanor; it keeps most people at bay.
Without the mask, without a filter, your emotions were plain as day. You tried to cover your face with a scarf, but it kept falling down your nose. You gave up and tossed it aside. You were biting your lip as your eyes darted around everywhere. Worry was painted across your entire face. Were you always this expressive behind those glasses?
During the trip back you kept staring at him. Whenever he looked back your eyes darted away. He would hold out his hand to help stand you up or carry something heavy for you. You would turn your face away and stammer something incomprehensible. 
You weren’t nervous. It was almost like you had a crush on him.
After that thought crossed his mind he couldn't stop thinking about it. Have you always been staring at him like this? Your head was usually pointed towards him. Now he’s picturing if you were admiring him the whole time. When you didn’t wear the mask there were always other people around. You would have something to focus on or other people were drawing attention. You also never looked at him when the mask was off.
You finally arrive on base and sprint to your room. Ghost sees you at the debrief with your face covered again and a different pair of sunglasses. He pushes his previous thoughts out of his mind and focuses on his job.
When it’s back to business things are different. He notices your head is turned in his direction and he tilts to look right at you. Despite your covered face, you dart your head away. You must be staring.
He continues to test his theory, he quickly turns his head when he can tell your staring. He starts sneaking up behind you and starts to enjoy the stilted jolt that shoots across your body. He’s not one to toy with someone, especially a co-worker, but there’s an almost playful enjoyment he hasn’t felt in years. 
Ghost called you a burden before he was introduced to you. Now he realizes he’s quite fond of you. He hasn’t felt like that in a long time. He wants to test this bond between the two of you. He knows you will never make a move. So, it must be up to him.
Weeks later he realizes he has an opportunity.
Their mission is out in a desert. After a long day of recon the two of you are sitting outside on a bench drinking up as much water your bodies will take. It’s too dark to wear your sunglasses. Your gaiter is pulled down and his mask is pulled up to his nose.
He peeks in your direction and can tell you're watching him. This is the first time he’s shown you part of his face. You are really staring at him and he ignores it. He’s feeling cheeky and even lets some water spill from his lips. He feels it drip down the column of his throat. He would give anything to see your reaction.
When he pulls the bottle away from his lips, his eyes move to scan your face. Like always, you dart your gaze away from him and look down at your feet. He smirks as he reaches and gently holds your jaw. Your eyes open wide and you try to pull away from his grasp.
He stops you by holding your chin a bit tighter. Not too tight, he doesn’t want to scare you away. When you finally seem to relax, he pulls you to look directly at him.
“Eyes on me, Sunshine.” He looks down into your wide eyes. He sees your throat bob as you swallow and your cheeks get pink.
“Yes, sir.”
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cedarxwing · 2 months
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Hannibal Season 4 Plot Ideas
The main concepts that keep coming up in interviews of Bryan Fuller and some of the cast are:
"Will Graham's broken mind" and "memory palace bullshit"
"Inception meets Angel Heart"
an interesting return to season one dynamics, but flipped
deeper exploration of Will and Hannibal's relationship than in previous seasons
stuff from Hannibal the novel that no other adaptation has done yet.
we're in Cuba
So based on that, here are some possible story beats for S4 (picking up right after the Fall as if the show was never cancelled):
We start out in Cuba. The most obvious reason? To hunt down one of their victims that have fled the country, as Hannibal does at the end of Silence of the Lambs. Based on interviews, it's clear that Chilton would remain in the US to head the BSHCI again (how is he alive, let alone working?), so it's more likely that they're hunting Bedelia for the post credits leg scene.
Will Graham's Broken Mind
During the Fall, Will suffers a mental schism that splits his personality, similar to the detective in Angel Heart. I don't think he literally has a split personality disorder, but he compartmentalizes his killer/Hannibal self from his moral self. When he participates in murders, he's not quite himself, viewing it through a dream lens (we saw a little of this when he was killing the Dragon). It's possible that he takes on personality traits from killers in season one, or even has to fight against a Red Dragon personality ("You can always toss the Dragon to someone else." "Will Graham interests me.")
I think we'll see a return of the teacup metaphor relating to Will's mental schism, since their reunion represents the "teacup coming together again" the way Hannibal wanted it to in Digestivo. "Not even in your mind?" Well, the teacup HAS come back together in Will's mind, because there's no other way for him to accept his feelings for Hannibal. He mentally regresses back to season one/two and we see the return of the Abigail imago we last saw in Primavera, as well as Beverly and Hobbs and Gideon and all our other friends. Maybe Will thinks they're all alive again! Or maybe he thinks he's dead! This would be really poetic from Hannibal's perspective, since his arc in the novel is about dropping a teacup and "being satisfied when it does not gather itself together." So it would be perfect for the cup to gather itself in Will's head and for Hannibal to realize that's not at all what he wants.
Will hallucinating Abigail would be a fun way to get the "murder family" dynamic. "It's hard to grasp what would've happened, could've happened. In some other world… did happen." Well, we can see that world in Will's broken mind!
I don't have a clear guess of what a "return to season one but flipped" might mean. There are lots of possibilities...
1. Could refer to Will's encephalitis days when he wasn't sure if he was committing the murders or not, except this time he's committing them. Maybe he has a pendulum wipe moment and thinks he's reconstructing a murder instead of committing it (like a reverse of the Georgia Madchen murder in Buffet Froid). Going extreme in this direction, maybe he analyzes his own crime scenes with Hannibal in therapy. Maybe Beverly shows up at an actual crime scene and helps him "analyze the evidence."
2. Could refer to his dynamic with Hannibal. According to the rest of my bullet points, they return to their therapy sessions, but with memory palace elements and hallucinations, etc., but this time Hannibal is trying to fix Will instead of breaking him down.
Something from Hannibal the novel that no one else has adapted
This could be a few things, but I think it's most likely the end of the novel where he's brainwashing Clarice. Hannibal would use drugs and hypnosis ("therapy") to help Will merge his two halves and fully accept who he is. This happens in different places in their memory palaces, kind of like the white space dinner scene from Dolce, or when they were jumping around to different places in the Red Dragon investigation. To be clear, they're on friendly terms. Will consents to this. He has ample opportunity to escape and go back the US if he wants. We might get a lot of information on Will's childhood and backstory, maybe a "saving Hannah the slaughterhorse"/"silence of the lambs" moment. I'd like to see him as a cop working in New Orleans. The time he got stabbed. The time he didn't have the stomach to pull the trigger. This would be a nice reverse from the S3a dynamic where Will was delving into Hannibal's backstory. :)
Part of this "therapy" could be helping Will let go of Abigail the way Hannibal helped Clarice let go of her father. This plot beat has already been done twice in the show (1. The Primavera line "A place was made for you, Abigail. The only place I could make for you" refers to the place in Will's mind. 2. The WCWTS scene where Hannibal helps Abigail let go of her father. "What you need of your father is here, in your head.") BUT I still want to see it with Will/Hannibal. What I'm really saying is it would be cool if Hannibal showed Will Abigail's skeleton to convince him that she's dead and Will cried over her skull.
For the other half of Will's therapy, Hannibal has to get him to really delight in a murder when he's fully present as himself (Similar to how Clarice ate Paul Krendler's brain. Similar to how Hannibal wanted Will to kill Mason Verger.). Ideally the victim wouldn't be a criminal (Will is already fine killing murderers like Dolarhyde and Bedelia), but a representative of the corrupt judicial system. Someone who has personally slighted Will. An FBI official that Will HATES enough to eat their brain. The perfect option is Kade Prurnell (whose name is an anagram for Paul Krendler!). So yeah I think Hannibal catches Kade Prurnell and they have a dinner party where Will kills her and realizes, "Hey, I don't care what Jack or Alana or the FBI or anyone thinks about me anymore. My personal ethical code is good enough for me because I am MORE ethical than the law." And then he and Hannibal can be full murder husbands after that.
Side character subplots
While all this is happening, there's an international manhunt for Will and Hannibal going on. Jack/Price/Zeller are still at the FBI, probably beefing with Kade Prurnell to establish how awful her character is. Either Clarice Starling, Miriam Lass, or Alana Bloom are on the case. The murder/disappearance of Bedelia (or whoever) in Cuba is their first lead, so everyone gets to go to Cuba!
It's been nearly two seasons since Will interacted with Prurnell, so maybe they need to have a cat and mouse dynamic in Cuba to reignite his loathing. Idk why she would be in Cuba, when she works for the OIG... but who cares! She's there, motivated by greed, basically acting as Will's Pazzi. Maybe she's bullying her underlings in true Krendler fashion.
At this point, Jack is the only somewhat moral person in the entire cast. His primary motivation is saving Will. Yep, that's right, he still thinks there's a chance to bring Will back. He's leading the investigation, but he's hoping to catch Will alone before anyone else finds him so he can try to talk him back onto his side. This would continue the God vs. Devil thing with Hannibal, fighting over Will's soul.
Maybe Jack finds Will when he's in his broken state of mind and they have a chat. I'd want this scene to function like Clarice's hypnosis scene where she talks to her "father." Jack and Will address the vague father/son dynamic they have ("I'm not your father, Will." "Abandonment requires expectation." Jack as God/Will as the Lamb). Jack forgives Will for his crimes. Will forgives Jack for sacrificing him. The conversation helps Will along in his "therapy."
Last time we saw Alana, she was fleeing on a helicopter with Margot and their son. My first thought was "Omg they're going to Cuba! They're going to get Chilton'ed in Cuba!" but Fuller has mentioned that Margot would be actively managing the Verger meat packing company as a vegan girlboss lesbian so idk. (I personally don't see how a vegan could run a meatpacking company... maybe it transitions to tofu packing).
Anyway, I think Alana's character has gotten even darker since Hannibal's escape. She's given up on Will and is completely focused on protecting her family. Knowing Hannibal is going to come to kill her, maybe she sets up some sort of trap for when they come (or she puts Will's dogs under a cardboard box held up by a stick and waits). Maybe she catches Will and Will has to pull a Bedelia and pretend he was kidnapped and brainwashed (and he kinda was, if Hannibal used hypnosis and drugs like in the book). I think it would be fun for her to finally give into her "professional curiosity" about Will and try to study him (like a Bedelia/Mason hybrid character). Maybe she teams up with Jack to use Will to catch Hannibal. It would be wild if W+H actually killed her, but maybe! Maybe she gets the Chilton treatment and lives, but gets a nice facial scar like every other fallen character in the show.
Freddie Lounds would have to come back! And I want her DEAD haha. She's escaped punishment for too long, so in my ideal S4, she writes a book about Abigail even though Will asked her not to. Maybe she's investigating/contaminating Will's crime scenes in Cuba? She's definitely gonna die, but not before W+H use Tattlecrime for some shenanigans!
Chilton loses a limb (that's really all he has left to give). In an actual S4, I'm sure there would be a plot reason for this and some other killer would probably do it, but in my mind it's a comedy beat. W+H don't even set out to get Chilton. They don't hate him, they just find him pathetically entertaining at this point. Through Chilton's own incompetence or some karmic twist of fate, he runs into them (like Barney at the opera). W+H take one look at each other and go, "You know what would be funny..."
I have NO idea what to do for Molly. I assume she's living with Wally's grandparents in Oregon. Maybe Will mails her some signed divorce papers and that becomes evidence in the investigation lol. I'd rather leave her in peace!
More serial killers who used to be Hannibal's patients! W+H read about a former patient's murders in the news and go to catch him before the FBI can (running into the FBI in the process, of course).
Other stuff
I'd love to skip around to Brazil or Buenos Aires, the South American locations from the books. Maybe Hannibal gets injured and needs surgery in Brazil, and his medical records are another lead for the investigation. Maybe the season ends with a happily ever after in Buenos Aires. <3
They pretend to be recovering from plastic surgery to hide their faces in bandages. I just think that would be funny.
Will escapes Alana's clutches by using all the serial killer skills he learned in season one. He pretends to be a dead body, wearing someone else's face as in SotL. (This was actually in the Digestivo script but it got cut.)
They steal an ambulance (and turn off the radio!) again like SotL. And then the "This is very educational" line from Sorbet would come full circle.
Someone has to send a secret message using book code. What if W+H got separated and that's how they had to communicate? Or maybe they communicate to another killer that they're hunting? Or maybe they do it just to taunt the FBI?
Jack vs. Hannibal fight scene (round 3)! This time over Will's soul. Will watches, amused (maybe in broken mind state).
(If anyone else has thoughts I'd love to hear them!)
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matan4il · 22 days
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Daily update post:
Another day, another independent Palestinian terrorist attack in Israel. This time, a 64 years old man was stabbed in Jerusalem, in the northern neighborhood of Neve Yaakov. The terrorist is a 14 years old Palestinian from East Jerusalem. I honestly wish we could arrest the people radicalizing these teenagers, using them like their lives and their futures mean nothing. Technically speaking, actively recruiting a teenager to a terrorist organization IS a war crime, but as we know from the way ISIS recruits people, it's not always done in a manner straightforward enough, for someone to be arrested. In this case, there is an estimate that someone has helped this teenager, and searches for this person are currently underway.
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We're five months into the war, and the IDF has arrested 250 terrorists in Khan Yunis, among them are terrorists who had participated in the Oct 7 massacre. We're talking about thousands of people who were a part of those war crimes and crimes against humanity perpetrated on that day, and I hope Israel manages to bring them all to trial, if they choose to surrender.
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Israel's National Security Council has issued an official travel warning for Israelis who happen to be abroad during the month of Ramadan this year, when there is an increase in Islamist calls for violence. I know this is for Israelis, but I personally think this is a good warning for all Jews, given that most Islamist organizations target us all, and make no distinction between Israeli and non-Israeli Jews. So please, wherever you are, whatever your political views, if you're Jewish, be extra cautious this upcoming Ramadan (starts Mar 10), and please pass it on to others as well.
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In ocntinuation of what I wrote yesterday, that Israeli officials believe Hamas isn't interested in a hostage deal that would include a truce, and that American ones seem to think the same, now we have sources that say that yep, that's exactly US officials' impression.
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Israeli minister (and Prime Minister hopeful) Benny Gantz is in the US, and has apparently tried to explain to American officials that de-militarizing Gaza of Hamas' terrorist forces, without touching the organization's last stronghold, Rafah, is like putting out 80% of a fire, and that in such a scenario, Hamas would be able to use a truce to re-arm, keep fighting, and will overall prolong the war.
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Loay Al-Shareef, a Saudi man who speaks up for peace with Israel, has to be one of the bravest people I've heard about. Here is a short vid from an interview with him, talking about how he came to know Jews, and stopped hating them:
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And here's a short intro for the full interview he did (I haven't had a chance to see the whole thing yet, but I want to, so this link is for me as well), which I found very interesting:
This is 71 years old Batia Holin.
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She's an amateur photographer from kibbutz Kfar Azza, who has also believed deeply in coexistence, and even managed to put together a joint photography exhibition with a Gaza photographer. Here's a part of the Facebook post she used to find a Gazan partner for this:
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Out of 5 photographers who contacted her, 4 ended up backing out, which is how she ended up with the one partner she did have for the exhibit. On Oct 7, as she and her husband (Nachum) ran into the bomb shelter, she saw strange men with headbands in their courtyard, realizing these must be terrorists. Batia and Nachum were scared for their family, which also lives in southern Israel, and went for 18 hours in the bomb shelter without food and water. When the soldiers arrived, she refused to be evacuated before she would know that her daughter and two grandchildren are, too. During that day, the Gazan photographer who became not just a partner, but also a close friend, called her. Claiming that Gaza was being bombed (this was a lie, the IDF was not yet operating in Gaza, it was still fighting terrorists in southern Israel), he asked her for info on the number and position of Israeli army forces. She realized he needs this info for Hamas, and hung up. Rotem, Batia's daughter, was shot and wounded, but they were all eventually rescued.
(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)
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