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#UGLIEST SOBBING EVER HEARD
snackugaki · 1 year
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“look at her.  she seems whole.”
x-posted twitter
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charmallows · 7 months
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amy and metal 30th anniversary but mighty is the only thing that matters
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greatestmeepboie · 2 months
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Come cry with me (plays elegy on full blast)
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This movie is in my top 4 favorite movies. Godzilla Minus One struck me to my core. It's such an emotional movie and seeing it twice doesn't do it justice. The amount of love and effort put into this movie is amazing and I'm so proud this movie brought home Godzilla's first Oscar. If y'all haven't seen it, I promise you it's worth your time, and you should definitely get the blu-ray when it comes out in your area. Give this movie all of your love
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mangowafflesss · 10 months
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Could you do something with the reader with pretty heavy facial scarring (you could do burns or cuts ) and they hear a couple of guys making fun of them and usually doesn't bother them but they've been having a really shitty day and the CoD boys trying to cheer them up! <33
CW: Talks about scars and insecurities, everything is made up and everything said is not canon <3 Wholesome fluff
It had taken you years to finally accept that the scars on your face were never going to go away so you decided it was not worth hiding them behind some mask. It’s been a couple of years ever since you’ve felt comfortable in your own skin and embraced the ugly scars that ran over your face.
You had the absolute pleasure of training some recruits and it was exhausting, none of them listening and being absolute idiots. You didn’t get much sleep last night and right now all you wanted to do was choke them out. When the session ended you dismissed everyone with great excitement and headed out to leave.
As you were walking you heard the voices of an oblivious group of recruits, you stopped to listen and your heart dropped.
“Did you see their face, it’s disgusting”
“I know right if that was me I wouldn’t set foot out of my house”
You heard them laugh and continue to make fun of your scarred face and it tug a cord so deep inside of you that it physically pained you.
The tears started to well in your eyes and you ran as fast as you could past anyone near you. You headed towards your dorm and locked yourself away not caring that you still had responsibilities for the day.
You knew it was stupid to get upset over it but you just weren’t in the mood to be dealing with your image right now.
You dug through the bottoms of your drawers and pulled out the mask that you were grown so accustomed to. Sliding it over your head you relaxed as you felt it press against the ugliest part of your body. The tears soon soaked through but you didn’t care as you silently sobbed on the floor next to your bed.
“Where's Y/N?” Soap asks the group as they gather together for dinner time.
“No idea, haven't seen them all day, have you, Captain?”
“They were in charge of the recruits today but now I think of it they didn’t come see me afterwards” Price thinks back to his day and confirms that you definitely didn’t see him.
“Ghost, you seen em?”
“No. Maybe they’ll show up here”
When you don't show up for your dinner the boys get confused and worried as to where you have gone. Walking together they stop off by your dorm first just in case you have fallen ill.
Price knocks on the door and presses his ear against it checking for any movement inside.
You heard the knock but stayed as still as possible begging in your mind for whoever it was to just go away. But as you stop breathing for a second your throat lets out an unwanted noise alerting the men on the other side of your presence.
“Y/N? Are you in there?” Price asks through the door but you don’t say anything back.
“C’mon we know ye in there” Soap yells as he also pressed his ear up against the door.
“Well break the door down” Ghost's voice was heard now and you immediately got up because you know he’s serious.
When you opened the door with a little more force than you wanted, Soaps body toppled inside making you let out an irritated huff.
“What do you want”
“You didn’t show up for dinner” Gaz says holding a bag of some leftover food.
They all noticed the mask but didn’t say anything about it until they were inside of your room.
“Are you okay?”
“Of course why wouldn’t I be?” Your voice cracked at that and tears threatened to spill yet again. But when you saw the concerned eyes of the others your heart broke and they flooded down your masked cheeks.
“Oh kiddo, what’s really up”
You sat on your bed and ripped off your mask which shows the damp skin underneath “This!” You point to your face and then hide behind your hands while the tears continue.
“What? Your face?”
“Yes Soap my face!”
You felt the bed dip in different directions and then hands wrapped around you “There’s nothing wrong with your face”
“You’ve never cared before so obviously something happened”
You took a deep breath in while nestling into their holds and sighed “Just some recruits said some shit, it’s stupid really”
There was a moment of silence between all of you until you felt someone move away. Ghost sat in front of you without his mask and tried to give you a smile “You know you’re braver than me, I still hide behind my silly mask” you huff a laugh and go back to frowning.
Another person moved and you turned to look and your Captain looked at you with teary eyes “This is why I’ve never been shirtless around you lot” a massive scar runs across his torso, the jagged lines making it look sharp.
“Captain… you didn’t have to show us if you don’t want to”
“No it’s okay”
The remaining pair unlatch their arms from you in sync and both stop. “Together?” Soap says and Gaz just nods.
“Guys you really don’t have-” you were shut up with a finger to your lips.
You first saw Gaz lift his shirt while Soap pulled down his trousers “Woah Soap PG please”
“A girl I was dating called my burn ugly and I never wore shorts after that moment”
“I’ve always hid this just like you Captain, even though it’s on my back I just feel like people can see it and are laughing”
You bring everyone into a hug and crush them with your weight “I’m so proud of you guys” some of them shook as they cried silently against one another and so did you at how much they’ve hid as they were disgusted by their own scars.
“Why don’t we spend the rest of the evening together and away from everyone, how does that sound?”
“Fuck yeah Captain!”
“We could watch that new movie I downloaded the other day” Gaz suggests and you all get up off the bed to get into a comfy position to watch the film “Well get a move on Garrick we don’t have all day” the sergeant rushes off into the other dorm and comes back in with a laptop in hand.
“I hope you enjoy romance”
“Oh fuck off”
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notti-stellate · 10 months
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Insecure
Jacob Black x Fem!reader
a/n: Writing this definitely healed a part of me.
Warnings: Heavy angst/ fluff at the end, body image issues, insecurities, self deprecating thoughts, ect.
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I stood there in front of my mirror, tears streaming down my face as I turned sideways. I spent too much time staring in the mirror again, all my insecurities slowly revealing themselves the more I tried to hide them. I felt like the ugliest girl in the world, practically burning holes into my stomach from my intense glare. The thoughts plaguing my mind were pure hatred and disgust.
I was glad Edward wasn’t here, his concern when he read my thoughts always made things worse. How could he love someone so disgusting? I thought to myself. I sighed knowing Jacob would practically kill me if he heard me. He hated when I talked badly about myself, always claiming they weren’t true. I could never believe him no matter how hard I tried.
I found myself sitting on my bedroom floor, sobbing, wishing I was someone else. I’m not sure how long I was there before Jacob came in, his original plans of surprising me with a date night going out the window the second he saw me, knowing what happened almost immediately . I was so absorbed in my own self-hatred that I didn’t realize he was there until I felt a warm arm wrap around my shoulders.
I looked up with tears still falling freely down my cheeks, meeting Jacob's own watery ones. Seeing the tears well up in his eyes made a new feeling flood my heart, guilt. 
“I’m sorry” I mumbled out, my voice coming out shaky and small.
“You have nothing to be sorry for” he whispered, pulling my shaking frame into his chest.
There were a few moments of comforting silence as I willed myself to stop crying. 
“Y/n,” his voice broke as he spoke, “I need you to listen to me. You are the prettiest girl I have ever seen. God, I wish you could see yourself from my eyes so you can see just how perfect you are. I’ve loved you for years and no matter what you look like I will always love you just how you are.” 
I felt the corners of my lips tug into a small smile as I listened intently to every word he said. I took his hand as he pulled both of us off the floor and sat me on my bed. I wrapped my arms around him and pulled us both into the comfort of my bed. He laid his body on me with his head resting on my chest and arms wrapped around me, acting as both a weighted and heated blanket.
“I love you, so much” I sighed
“ I love you too, sunshine” he mumbled, pressing a kiss to my shoulder.
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laceymorganwrites · 1 year
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First time calling you mommy
One Piece edition
Kid
when you pull his hair
he recently discovered he´s a switch
still getting used to subbing but you eased him into it very well
he loves it when you´re rough with him, he´s a good boy, he can take it
still blushes and fumbles with his words any time you praise him for being patient
surprisingly he isn´t such a brat anymore, only when he needs a good punishment to take his mind off stressful things
today is one of those days, you already have him on his back, riding him
when you´re close you pull him back up, grabbing fistfuls of his hair and pulling hard
you swear you never heard such a slutty moan come from anyone´s mouth, especially not Kid´s
´mommy!´
his eyes so hazy, mouth hanging open, he looks so fucked out
´harder...please...´
Law
when you yell at him 
he´s so bad at taking care of himself, the whole dating progress was such a mess
you literally had to force him to go out on a date with you because while he does like you he´s always busy with work and kind of forgets about other things
you had sex early in your relationship just because you couldn´t watch him overwork himself any longer 
he´s actually so grateful that you´re the one taking care of him for once
I feel like Law would get tired of always domming, he´s a switch completely, also won´t sub the whole time
but you´re certainly the only one he will ever sub for
he´s a dork and doesn´t know how to express his feelings
he´s had something on his mind for a while now but doesn´t know how to address it so he coops himself up in his room once again to work all nighters, not eating etc.
not with you
it reaches a boiling point at this time because you yell at him for the first time, frustrated that he doesn´t care about himself the way you do and that you feel helpless because you don´t know what to do anymore
´I´m sorry, mommy...I´ll try to be better´
´it´s okay to ask for help, baby. I´m always there for you´
Sanji
when you stroke his hair 
he´s not used to anyone being gentle with him
and honestly he never thought he´d have a girlfriend who´s serious about him, someone who´s not just with him because of a bet or a dare
he was absolutely bewildered when you approached him first and flirted with him like he would
he thinks it´s a joke for the longest time and just rejects you over and over again
but you don´t give up and eventually he gives in, humoring you to just one date
but he realizes quickly that you´re serious about him and he feels very touched at that
he gets crushes daily but actually falling in love? he always thought it was impossible
your love is like something out of a novel, gentle and slow
long walks, holding hands, forehead kisses, cooking together, dancing around the kitchen
but what makes him fall in love with you every day is that you find the ugliest parts of him beautiful too
when he cries, you comfort him, when he´s scared you fight his fears
it´s crazy to him
he´s having a bad day today and just sulking in bed, not wanting to get up or eat
but he didn´t expect you to join him, feeding him some food he likes so that he eats anything at all
you´re genuinely worried about him and it doesn´t go through his head
when you´re so close to him, when he´s allowed to rest his head on your lap and be cared for like this, he truly feels at peace
he closes his eyes when you play with his hair, comforting him, you can feel him sobbing
´tomorrow will be better, baby. Until then I´ll stay with you. I´m not leaving´
he wants to say how grateful he is to you, how much he needs you, needs this, everything 
but no words come out for a while, just broken sobs until he finally looks up at you with teary eyes
´I need mommy..´
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ROTTMNT Headcanons: my class got canceled so y’all get this
The only thing that pisses Donnie off more than stupid people is smart people pretending to be dumb
He’s gotten into actual screaming matches with Leo over this (Leo was only arguing for shits and giggles)
And yeah sure he knows it’s a manipulation tactic and it’s necessary during some missions 
But if he has to hear Leo ask another stupid question he already knows the answer to he’s going to lose his mind
I said in this post that Leo cries like once a week which has led me to other crying headcanons 
Mikey is the loudest crier in the family 
He wails, he hiccups, he screams, he does that gross thing that little kids do where they suck the snot back in
He’s never quite when he’s crying and it’s honestly heartbreaking 
On the opposite side of the spectrum, Donnie is a very quiet and peaceful crier 
He barely makes any noise, his breathing barely changes, and he doesn’t even look like he’s acknowledging the tears 
Leo is the ugliest crier
He’s got snot running down his face, he makes that little hiccup noise that kids make, and his eyes and face always end up puffy 
And when I say puffy I don’t mean barely noticeable I’m talking it looks like he just lost a fight (am I projecting… may-haps) 
This is another reason why he hides from his siblings when he’s crying 
Raph always sobs always
He can’t just let a few tears go and then be done with it oh no
The second the floodgates open there is no going back
April always denies that she’s crying 
And she tries to fight off the tears 
If she feels like she’s about to cry she’ll leave the room to compose herself and then come back
And when she does start crying she still tries to fight it
She cleans the tears, she does that little hiccup thing that kids do when they try to talk while crying, she tries to fan her face in an attempt to calm down
Crying is never peaceful for April and it never will be
So for some reason I’ve seen the whole “he asked for no pickles” meme a lot and it’s made me think: which kid would send their food back if there was an issue 
April: never in a million years
she has worked in too many restaurants to ever think about sending food back
She could order a steak they would give her a salad and she would eat the damn salad 
Raph: absolutely not
He’s too nice to send food back
And he’s heard one too many horror stories from April about what it’s like to be a waitress 
Leo: maybe 
If it’s close to what he ordered then he won’t send it back
But if he ordered a steak and they gave him a salad he would politely correct them
And when the waiter would apologize he’s immediately calm them down and be like “no it’s probably my bad I definitely mumbled when I ordered (no he didn’t) don’t even worry about it”
Donnie: yes 
He wouldn’t want to make a big scene if anything he’d ask one of his siblings to tell the waiter (probably Leo) 
But he wouldn’t eat the food if they got to order wrong 
Even if the mistake was something as simple as pickles 
Mikey: Absolutely 
You could use the wrong salad dressing and this man would send it back immediately 
He wouldn’t cause a scene about it…
But if the waiter was being condescending… then that’s a different story 
My friend was talking about her relationship and suddenly I was hit with relationship headcanons 
April: would only enter serious relationships 
She’s never experienced a fling and never wants to
“What’s the point of starting something if it isn’t gonna last” is a point she constantly brings up
Raph: I can’t imagine him in any kind of relationship 
But I do think he’s absolutely obsessed with the idea of romantic love
He reads/watches love stories he’s just never felt any sort of romantic attraction 
Leo: he’s never been in a serious relationship ever
He dates a lot he’s been a part of more flings than years he’s been alive 
But he looks at April's relationships and knows he can never have that
Because he never allows himself to be vulnerable 
The second a relationship gets too serious he backpedals so fucking fast (am I projecting maybe)
Donnie: I can’t imagine him dating either 
I don’t know what his sexuality would be but all I know is the idea of a relationship disgusts him 
He has his family and his friends and that’s good enough for him
Mikey: he wants to date but can’t  
His siblings are so crazy overprotective and they scare off any potential love interest 
Leo keeps saying “if I had to wait until I was 16 to date then you have to wait until you’re 80” (yes this is something my big brother told me)
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jellojelli · 9 months
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kaveh bf headcanons? I imagine that he's actually really nervous when it comes to being in a relationship, maybe you could write something with that? I just love shy men lol
Kaveh Boyfriend Headcanons
*a/n: I love shy men too just 😩❤️ plus Kaveh is so cute shy or not*
As always, 🛑Minors DNI🛑
Sfw
Kaveh has been through too many rough and traumatic relationships. They may not have been romantic, but they have left him deeply scarred and have broken his confidence in himself and his trust in others. So getting Kaveh to actually fall in love with you was something that took time, anywhere from months to even years before he could ever accept how you feel about him and how he feels about you.
Kaveh had to build up a lot of confidence to confess to you. He spent a lot of those months pining for you trying to fix himself, become smarter, stronger, successful, wiser, just anything that he felt he was lacking. He wanted to impress you so, so badly that Kaveh overdid things a lot. You’ve probably spent a fair share or time in his room caring for him since, other than Tighnari, he wouldn’t let anyone actually take care of him when he got sick from overworking. You’ve also done your fair share of dragging this man back to his and Alhaitham’s house on the evenings where he drank himself silly.
To be honest with you, he’s confessed to you a lot, but he never remembers. Every time he was delirious with a fever and every time you’ve had to help him back home he’s confessed to you. Not just about his love either, he’s confessed his feelings about himself too and why he can’t just say he likes you when he’s sober. He always ends up saying something self deprecating like “if only I was a better person, maybe you’d like me.” He really has no clue that you like or love him. And even when he realizes you do have feelings he spends a long time denying it and ignoring all of the hints and the tension
It takes having Alhaitham, Tighnari, and Cyno set up an intervention for him to finally get the guts to confess to you. He’ll feel really bad about making you wait this long, and he’ll feel really embarrassed because Alhaitham probably snapped after hearing Kaveh say “I can’t confess ;-;” and told him the exact number of times he’s heard him confess to you while he was out of it
The confession is not planned, he literally ran out of the intervention to find you and banged on your door like he was a guard until you opened it. Just blurts out his confession. It’s nothing grand, Kaveh’s way to flustered to think rn and even if he planned it he’d just get anxious over doing it 100% right. Cries when you say yes. Literally shaking and sobbing because he’s so happy you said yes after all he’s done. Kaveh apologizes like crazy that day. He feels incredibly guilty about ignoring your feelings and denying how you felt all this time
Dating Kaveh is very fun and easy. He is always trying to do his best for you and make this relationship the best for the both of you. I can see him cutting back from drinking as much and really doubling down on his work so he can make more mora. Of course, he doesn’t overdo it at work because he doesn’t want to make you worry about him anymore (´;ω;`) he still feels kinda guilty at how much you had to take care of him in the past
Definitely is the type to not let his guard down immediately around you. I’m not talking about saying I love you’s or participating in skinship, I’m talking about letting you see him at his ugliest times. This man would legit fall asleep with make-up and perfectly done hair around you and even wake up early just to fix it before you can see him with some slight bed head. He just gets kinda stuck on wanting to be perfect for you so you don’t leave him, please take the time to reassure him and have patience because I assure you messy bed head Kaveh is top tier
Kaveh is very comfortable giving verbal affirmations and affections to you. He does not shy away from saying he loves you 24/7 and complimenting you every minute he sees you. However, Kaveh gets really shy when you try to touch him. He’s touch starved and touch shy after going so long without physical affection, so even just trying to hold his hand makes him bright red. If you want him to stop arguing with Alhaitham or distract him from an annoying customer he’s ranting about just hug him and he’ll stop talking. Use this power at your own risk though because it makes him shut down for a good 15 minutes sometimes so you might have to start dragging him home or back to his work
He makes you all sorts of little gadgets and even made you a mini house just because he could. Is polite about it, but if you paint it weird colors he’s silently judging you. And maybe giving you small hints here and there about what you could paint it, please don’t be mad he’s an aesthetician and it really bothers him
Funnily enough I think he can and will kill the bugs if you don’t like them. I don’t think he particularly likes bugs, but he can kill them without throwing a huge fit about it. He won’t even make you clean it up either, truly a kind man
Kaveh just about fainted the first time you ever kissed him. He truthfully wasn’t expecting it and he wasn’t planning to kiss you for a while either. He turned bright red and flushed all the way down his neck and on the tips of his ears, he couldn’t even stutter out a proper sentence after that either. Don’t think he didn’t absolutely adore the kiss, he’s just so shy to skinship and romantic gestures that sometimes even simple things make him have an error
Loves simple dates with you. Walks around the Akademiya, cafe dates, and cooking meals together are some of his favorites. Speaking of cooking, Kaveh loves to cook for you and especially loves to bring you lunch when he can. He really likes seeing how much you love it and also be really likes being praised for working hard for you
If you were an architect or loved architecture Kaveh would nonstop ask for your opinions regarding his current and future projects. He would hang on to all of your critiques and praise and try to improve his skills.
His dream is definitely to build y’all’s future home. Don’t tell me this man didn’t already start planning what he wants it too look like and subtly getting you to add what you like by pretending it’s for a customer (it’s not very subtle the longer y’all are together). Would start a savings account at some point so he can start buying the materials for it
Kaveh’s heart would melt and he’d fall in love with you all over again when you help him after a night of drinking. He gets very depressed and emotional about his past and himself, but seeing you there with worry written plainly on your face, well, it makes him want to hold onto you even more. Expect the royal treatment the next day because while it makes him love you even more, he’s also very guilty about making you take care of him while he’s like that
Kaveh’s friends are happy he’s found you and include you into their friend group seamlessly. Alhaitham is happy to have you around because he gets the house to himself more often, plus you always bring goodies for him too when you bring some to Kaveh. Cyno is happy you make Kaveh so happy, but stop stealing his tcg buddy otherwise he’s gonna make you learn how to play if you don’t already. He needs a substitute if you won’t bring Kaveh around (΄◉◞౪◟◉`) and he will come and find you to play
Nsfw
Since Kaveh is so touch shy you will likely be the one who initiates anything sexual, at least at the start
Kaveh can be whatever you want, but he is incredibly submissive as long as you have a gentle or sweet personality in the sheets. If you’re more teasing or ‘mean’ in the bedroom he’ll be a bit more bratty and obstinate
He’s very much a service top. Kaveh loves to give you pleasure in any form, oral, fingering, fucking you just like you want, toys, it really doesn’t matter Kaveh will deliver as long as it’s something he’s capable of
Definitely has some no no’s in the bedroom. Since Kaveh is a bit sensitive to some phrases he really doesn’t like to be degraded unless it’s to call him your slut or whore. Don’t even think of calling him useless, stupid, or pathetic. He will cry and he will put a stop to whatever it is your doing. Not to mention he’ll be incredibly hurt and insecure about it. He’s also not into degrading you either since he wants to treasure you.
Big into giving and receiving praise and body worship
Kaveh seems the type to like being blindfolded and having his hands restricted, but only after he’s completely comfortable with you. He gets off on the fact that you can do whatever you want to him and he’ll never know when it happens
He’s so into being told what to do in the bedroom. Even if it makes him bratty at times, Kaveh will fold so quickly if you tell him you thought he was your good boy
Loves seeing you in lingerie. Can be any type, lots of it, a piece of it, doesn’t matter, he wants to see you in it and he wants it to stay on all night if possible
Kaveh’s moans are so pretty and so very loud. He tries so hard to keep it down but he can’t focus on volume control and cumming at the same time
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aethes-bookshelf · 1 year
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the stench of withered flowers || alucard (castlevania)/reader [part II to 'a garden of my love']
You ever write something so raw you make yourself cry? 'Cause I just did.
Also, if anyone was wondering, yes - I did write this impulsively, at 2am. I regret nothing.
Pairing: Alucard (Castlevania)/Reader
Wordcount: 1.3k
Warnings: hurt/no comfort, angst (a LOT of angst), major character death (Reader), Alucard/Greta plays a big role
Summary: He never celebrated another birthday after that day. Never ate any of the food he found lying by your body on the muddy village road. It tasted bitter like earth and sweet like blood to him. And earth and blood he could not stomach.
Alucard was sitting in a chair, reading, when the growing murmur of a crowd drew his attention. He was warm and comfortable, a blanket thrown on his lap, Greta sitting beside him. They shared a look; he knew she couldn’t hear the people outside as well as he could, but they were still loud enough to worry her. Something had happened — and knowing their luck, it was nothing good.
Greta got up first. By the time Alucard was done folding and putting away the blanket, she was already out the door. And by the time he was nearing it himself, he heard her shout in what sounded like pain.
Instinctively, he summoned his sword. It sliced through the air near his head as he rushed out the door, ready to face whatever was outside.
But no matter how ready he’d been to fight even the ugliest of monsters, nothing could’ve prepared him for what was coming.
The crowd parted when they saw him approach. A few people were crying, children were hiding their faces in their mothers’ skirts. There was a heaviness to the air around them, laced with a quiet, cold kind of shock. Like a splash of freezing water to the face; no one knew how to react.
Greta was in the middle of it all, in the empty space at the center of the crowd. She was cradling someone in her arms, their cloak stained with dark blood. The smell of it hit Alucard like an impenetrable wall. He knew that scent; he knew it from years ago, from the day he’d killed his father.
There was a basket lying nearby. Most of the food carried in it had spilled out and soiled with the bloody mud it was laying on. His favorites — roasted meats and breads, fresh fruit and wine from the castle’s basement. The food had grown cold already; the chill of the upcoming winter cooled it down pretty quickly.
He knew that blood. He knew that basket. Hell, he could even recognize the wine by its bottle — it was the same wine he’d been drinking every year, on his birthday, for quite some time now.
His sword fell to the ground with a dull thump as time slowed down to near-stillness.
No, his mind chanted, over and over again. Not like this. Please, not like this.
He approached Greta on shaky legs. He laid a hand on her shoulder and she lifted her head. She’d been crying, quiet sobs barely escaping her pursed lips.
That’s when he saw your face; and everything came crashing down.
His knees gave out. He, just like his sword, bonelessly fell to the ground. He might’ve been crying, he wasn’t sure. Nothing felt real.
He reached out to you with shaking hands. When his fingers caressed your cheek and he found it to be cold and unmoving, something shattered inside him. Just above the spot he touched, there was a gaping hole in your skull, in the shape of the rock just beneath his feet.
Disbelief turned to anger. How could you have been this stupid? He’d told you to stay put, not to push yourself! Why did you decide to trek through the village all the way to him anyway?! With a heavy basket, nonetheless. Why didn’t you ask for help, why didn’t you say something? Sure it was his birthday, but—
Alucard paused. He took another look at the food sprawled all over the ground. The string around the roast was clumsily tied, the bread had baked unevenly, the fruit wasn’t chopped properly. It all wasn’t right, wasn’t the way you usually made it. Making this — this gift for him — probably took all the strength you could muster.
It hit him then — you knew you’d been dying. Despite his best efforts, you’d been dying for a long time now. You must’ve known you didn’t have long before it’d all be over. For good, this time. This, as far as you knew, could’ve been his last birthday you’d get to spend together. The last feast of yours. Maybe you wanted to make it special; to surprise him in his new quarters.
Or maybe you were just being too stubborn for your own good, like you’d always been. Either way, it didn’t matter now. Not with you lifeless at his feet.
Alucard gently coaxed you out of Greta’s shaking arms. His were shaking too; he dug his nails into the fabric of your cloak hard enough for it to tear just to try and stop them from shaking any harder. He felt Greta curl around him, hand clenching his shoulder, trying to ground him, keep him there. But he felt it all through a fog.
He was so sure that if anyone were to slice his skin open, what would come out wouldn’t be blood, but stuffing of hay and leaves. Nothing felt real.
Your weight in his arms, truly and terribly limp, didn't feel real. The stench of blood, sweet enough to burn his throat, didn’t feel real. The tears, slowly dripping onto your frozen face, didn’t feel real. He wasn’t sure if they were his or Greta’s.
Oh, your face. He couldn’t bear to look at it, but couldn’t force himself to look away. Your eyes were wide open, mouth slightly ajar, as if you were about to speak. But your eyes were cold, expressionless. It felt wrong, seeing them like this. They were the most animated part of your face; usually, he could take a single look at them and know exactly what you’d been thinking.
Not this time.
Trevor and Sypha pushed through the crowd. Sypha’s hand was cradling her pregnant stomach; another one was on her back. She was clearly holding back a wince of pain. Her face went slack with shock when she saw the three of you — you, motionless, and Greta and Alucard, curled around you.
She gasped your name and rushed towards you as quickly as she could. Trevor, on the other hand, didn’t move an inch. He stood, frozen, with his eyes glued to your face. His face was almost completely blank, safe for his eyes. Alucard couldn’t bear looking at them for longer than a second.
It wasn’t supposed to be like this.
He’d always known you’d die someday. At first, he barely thought of it at all, but when he did, he hoped you’d get to die of old age. Peacefully, in your sleep. Then, after your illness tainted your lives, he’d hoped he could be there for you in your final moments. Soothe you to sleep one last time, even if you’d never wake up again.
You didn’t deserve to have died like this. Suddenly, all alone on a village road. Not like this, whispered his mind, heavy with the oncoming bitterness of grief. ‘Not like this,’ he said quietly, almost to himself.
Greta was looking at him, eyes drying but still raw. ‘Not like this,’ she repeated with him, head resting against his.
Alucard’s eyes stayed glued to your face. He took one last, long look at your eyes before closing them for you; saying goodbye to them forever. He tried to memorize their color, but the details were slipping his mind already.
He wanted to scream, wanted to rip and tear and kill whatever hurt you. But he couldn’t kill a rock. Couldn’t kill whatever illness had been rotting you from the inside for months. Couldn’t push down the terrifying realization that one day, he wouldn’t be able to remember your face. Or the sound of your voice. Or your laugh. Or your touch.
He keeled over your body, bent in half by sobs. The entirety of him was shaking now, wrecked by the raw, ugly pain in his chest. Nothing lasts, he thought, trying to remember his parents' faces.
He couldn’t.
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holylulusworld · 1 year
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Christmas Sweater
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Summary: It’s the ugly Chrismas sweater time.
Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Reader
Square 9 filled for: @ultimatechrisbingo: Miscarriage
Square 20 filled for: Lulu’s X-Mas Bingo: Christmas Sweater
Square 16 filled for: Lulu’s Winter Bingo: Sweater
Rating: Mature
Warnings: angst, language, mentions of past miscarriage (no description), hurt & comfort, fluff
Words: 700+
Cute divider by @dawn-petrichor-world​
Lyrics by Michael Bublè (The Christmas sweater)
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Ah, put your Christmas sweater on, it's got to be done.
The uglier, the better, hun, don't be the only one.
Ransom rolls his eyes as you wave the ugliest Christmas sweater he ever laid eyes on in front of his face.
“Over my dead body,” he huffs. “I won’t wear this ugly piece of wool.”
“But…” you whine. “I’m wearing a matching one. Look,” you drop the sweater to reveal you are wearing the same ugly Christmas sweater. 
Ransom steps closer. He lowers himself to glance at your chest and to get a better look at the sweater. A huge snowman is on the sweater, he’s wearing a blue hat, and a red scarf and its nose is glowing.
“Wait, that thing is blinking,” Ransom chuckles. “Baby, no way you’ll get me to wear it.”
“Fine. No matching sweaters for Christmas then,” you crouch down to pick up the sweater you bought for Ransom up. “I’ll wear mine to your grandfather’s Christmas party. You cannot stop me.”
“You want to wear it at the party?” he gasps. Usually, you would wear a dress making him lose control. 
“It doesn’t matter what I’ll be wearing, Ransom. Your family will find a reason to nag about my outfit,” you shrug. “This year I’ll give a shit about their opinion and will be wearing what I want.”
“An ugly Christmas sweater.”
“Yes, an ugly Christmas sweater and a pair of jeans,” you press the sweater to your chest. “If you want to wear a boring suit and your favorite scarf again, go ahead…”
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“Baby?” Ransom softly says. He heard you cry in the showers and is worried about you once again. He knocks at the bathroom door, giving you time. “Can I come in?”
“O-kay,” you sniffle as he silently opens the door. “I didn’t want to worry you. It’s just…”
“I know,” he closes the distance between the two of you with three long strides. Ransom kicks his shoes off before he steps under the spray to wrap you in his arms. 
“I would be seven months pregnant now. My belly would be heavily swollen,” you hide your face in Ransom’s chest, crying even harder. “I wanted to feel them kick.”
“Baby, I’m so sorry,” he chokes out a sob. He presses a soft kiss on your temple. “It wasn’t your fault, you know that.”
“Why do I feel guilty then? I wanted to go to the party. It’s my fault I slipped and—” your voice cracks. “I lost our baby.”
“No-no,” he assures you. “Don’t go there, baby girl. You heard what the doctor said. They said it would’ve happened either way. It’s not your fault.”
You silently cry for a while. Ransom just holds you. He gives you time to calm.
“Your clothes are wet,” you huff against Ransom when you finally stopped crying. “Maybe we should leave the shower.”
“We will stay as long as you want to, Y/N. I don’t care about wet clothes, or anything else. Only you. I only care about you.”
“I know. Can we go to the bedroom and just…cuddle? I don’t want to let go of you.”
“I’ll take good care of you, Y/N,” Ransom helps you get out of the showers. He wraps you into a fluffy towel, ignoring his soaked clothes. 
He walks you out of the bathroom and into the bedroom, helps you lie down, and covers you with a warm blanket before he strips his wet clothes off.
“Give me a minute. I’ll be right there for you…”
Sometimes it frightens you that Ransom only cares for you. He often says he’ll burn the world for you – and you believe him.
You just wish he’ll care for himself a little more. 
After you experienced the miscarriage he stayed up all night to take care of you. He didn’t sleep, eat, or even shower. All Ransom had in mind was to make sure you know he’s there and that you’ll always have him by your side.
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“How do you feel?” Ransom softly asks. “Baby girl?”
“Better. I’m sorry for worrying you. It’s just…Christmas is close, and I got a little nostalgic,” you sniff. 
“You have all the right to get nostalgic. If you need me, I’ll be there, Y/N. Always,” he holds you a little tighter tonight. “I’ll be wearing the sweater for you too. I’m sorry for being an insensitive asshole.”
“You’re not an asshole,” you run your hand over his chest to calm Ransom. “I get that you didn’t want to wear the ugly sweater.”
“It’s a crime against fashion but I’ll wear it, baby girl,” he chuckles. “We will look so good in matching clothes at my grandfather’s party. We will rock it.”
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Tags in reblog.
164 notes · View notes
stormypasta88 · 8 months
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mike and will go see barbie again for the second time just by themselves because they were bored. secretly, mike did want to see it again to truly see if he was just being dramatic or if the movie actually did have an effect on him.
when it's just him and will, mike feels more. he's always thought he's been more emotional and expressive when he's around will. he feels everything around. he could feel this ache in his chest, but he couldn't tell if something bad was about to happen to him or if he was overthinking something he said earlier.
mike lets out a few quiet tears during the movie but nothing compared to what happened after.
the second the movie ends and ice spice is done and "what was i made for" starts to play, mike lets out the nastiest and ugliest sob everyone in the theatre has ever heard.
will, starstruck because oh my god that noise was not human, just sits and holds mike awkwardly in the movie theatre chair and mike just sobs.
is will crying too? a bit, but he's not sure why he's even crying because he shed his tears the first time around.
the lights turn on and the boys make their exit only for the movie to slam into mike's chest once again and he turns into the wall and cries again like he's been put in timeout.
eventually, mike calms down enough to get to the car where they just sit there. until mike gets out his phone to text his mom and nancy.
"i love you, mommy."
"you're the best big sister i could've asked for."
will smiles softly at him, pets his unruly curls back and presses a soft kiss to his forehead.
"you'll always be kenough to me, mike"
..
"will why the hell would you say that, oh my god" mike says before they burst into laughter.
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lyriumsings · 5 months
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karlach is willing to go to hell to get my soULLL bACK *the ugliest sobbing you’ve ever heard*
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redhairedgirl95 · 1 year
Note
What’s Brandon lucas and Anne’s reaction to stellas baby pics like graces and glasses lol
Stella's baby pics
Her father had photos sprawled just about everywhere in the Palace, but she’d managed to hide the most horrendous ones early on, or she thought she had.
“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?”
Eyes wide, heartbeat raced, and not because she’d just come back from her morning run with Brandon. He’d gone straight to his bedroom to take a shower, while she’d decided to stop by to say good morning to her dad before showering and joining him for breakfast. Turns out, he was already having breakfast. With Anne and Lucas. Brandon’s parents had arrived a couple of weeks before to help with the preparations for the wedding. Anne was in charge of Stella’s dress, together with Queen Luna, who occupied her old rooms at the Palace, but wouldn’t spend too much time with her ex-husband if she could help it. At least they were on the same planet, right?
“Good morning, darling.” Radius stood up to hug her, but Stella took a step back, feeling betrayed.
“I asked you to dispose of those.” She said, deadly serious.
“I wouldn’t dispose of your photos, Stella.” The King’s tone was kind, loving, but the Princess turned around and left the room without saying goodbye.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
“May I?”
“Go away!”
Anne decided that was an order she could ignore. Stella was about to become her daughter-in-law, and there were certain matters that needed to be solved, even though she refused to do so. Brandon’s mom opened the door and entered the Princess’ room.
“Oh, Stella!” Anne ran to her, who was sitting on the floor with her back to the bed. She was still in her jogging attire – shoes, sweatshirt, ponytail and all – and she was crying.
The Eraklyan knelt beside her and took her in her arms, holding her tight. “What is it, sweetheart?”
“I … I am sorry …”
“For what, Stella?”
“I … I look hideous. I … I didn’t want you to see me like that.”
Anne put her hands on Stella’s wet cheeks and met her teary eyes. “You would never look hideous, Stella.”
“With glasses AND braces?!” Anne was lying. She had to be lying. “I was the laugh of the school. Of every school I went to!” Until they finally removed her braces and she decided to stop wearing glasses. She didn’t care that she was failing almost every class because she couldn’t see properly. She didn’t care for school, she didn’t need school. She needed to be beautiful, the most beautiful, every second of every day.
So that was the problem. She knew by now that before Alfea, before her second first year at Alfea, Stella hadn’t had much luck with making friends. And all those years of being alone had affected her in ways that haunted her still, sometimes. “People are cruel.” She whispered. “But you were never hideous. You never will be. Never, Stella. Do you believe me?”
“No.” No, of course she said that. She was about to marry her son; Anne couldn’t tell her that she was the ugliest little girl she’d ever seen.
“And me? Don’t you believe me?” They hadn’t heard him enter, but Brandon was standing by the door. Stella looked up at him, eyes wide. She was certain she looked even more hideous than she did in those photos, with her messy ponytail and her face all red with tears. “Your dad has shown me the photos.”
“Of course he has!” She exclaimed and then her whole body was shaken by sobs. “Do you want this back?”
Brandon immediately crossed the room and knelt next to his mom. Quickly, he put a hand on hers, to stop Stella from taking off her engagement ring. “Never.”
Anne was almost as shocked as her son. “Why would you think that, Stella?” It couldn’t be that serious. Why would she call off the wedding because they had seen her old photos …?
“Why?” Why couldn’t they see that? She looked at both. “I was the ugliest kid ever and … and that means I can be that again. I … I still have glasses …” Though she didn’t wear them.
“Then you think us all liars.” It was Anne. Her tone was firm. Angry, almost.
“W-what?” It was her turn to be confused. “N-no. Of course not …”
“But you do. Stella, you are beautiful. You have always been beautiful. With braces and glasses too. and anyone who’s tried to convince you otherwise … they are the ugly ones. Their souls are ugly, and there is nothing more hideous than an ugly soul.”
“But I …”
“If what you’re about to say isn’t I am beautiful, then I don’t wanna hear it!” Anne threatened her and Stella finally smiled. And she cried some more when both mother and son drew her in for a hug.
“My beautiful bride to be. Inside and out.” Brandon added, kissing her cheek. “Who’s in desperate need of a shower!”
“BRANDON!” Anne and Stella said at the same time and a second later all three were laughing.
Lucas and Radius, who were standing just outside the door, smiled.
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debbierhea · 2 years
Text
a small story which never happened / chapter one of ? / better call saul / wc: 3,121 / mailroom-era au <3
summary:
His pants were wrinkled, but in a way that looked as though someone had tried their best to iron them. They needed hemming—his cuffs were dragging on the carpet, already dirty from his morning commute. His shirt was oversized too, billowing out from his waist, leather cracked and dry on his cinched belt. A single pen rested in his left breast pocket.
“Oh, sure. You’re...James?” This could not be James. Mr. McGill’s brother has a shitty mullet and carries his lunch in a knotted grocery sack?
The mailroom had been buzzing for days. 
Locked up for manslaughter? 
No, it was a RICO charge. Ya know, like how they got Capone. 
Dude, no—he’s like a registered sex offender or something real bad like that. 
She didn’t like to gossip, on principle, or judge a person based on their past. Had her coworkers been savvy to her history, the rumor mill would have churned her up and spit her out before she’d even arrived in her scuffed penny loafers and snagged sweater vest for her first day. She kept to herself when the maligning of James McGill was taking place, always in hushed tones between copiers, the rollers whirring and whirring, spitting out warm folios as quickly as rumors spilled from lips. 
The younger McGill had done  something  in Illinois, of that much she was sure. Though she didn’t participate in water cooler gossip, that didn’t mean she hadn’t caught wind of the abrupt departure of Charles from the firm last Wednesday afternoon, mid-deposition—news travels fast through the hallowed halls of Hamlin Hamlin McGill. The story goes, according to Ernie (who heard it from Michael on the second floor who heard it directly from Mr. McGill’s own assistant), that Mr. McGill had been on a roll, each question cleverly backing the witness into a corner of her own creation, answers increasingly misaligned with the established facts, her demeanor haughty. Just before the grand finale, the moment Charles was to finally pounce on his prey, rip through the holes in her testimony with the ease of tearing through tissue paper, his assistant pushed through the door with an urgent phone call. 
Jocelyn, you’re sure this can’t wait? I’m in the middle of a deposition! 
Um, no, sir. It can’t. 
A sobbing Mrs. McGill—his mother, not his wife—was on the other end of the phone, wracked breaths traveling 1,300 miles over copper wire. Jocelyn booked a $288 nonstop flight from Albuquerque International to O’Hare and, within the hour, Mr. McGill was gone.
Today is Tuesday, and James McGill should be walking through the door in seven minutes. Kim stood near the coffee pot, right hip leaning against the countertop, tapping her fingers against the faded Garfield cursing Mondays on the side of her empty mug. Hot water gurgled and spit, percolating into the stained carafe below. The steady drip of coffee lulled Kim into a daze, eyes trained on the timecards filed primly into their slots on the wall. A fresh yellow sheet was resting in the slot just below hers, crisp and unmarked.
“Um, excuse me? Hi.”
Kim startled. 
A man with shaggy hair, a short-sleeved button up, and the ugliest tie she’d ever seen stood just in the doorway. His hand was raised in a sheepish wave.
“Sorry, uh, hi. I’m looking for Ron? At least, I think it’s Ron I’m looking for.” He exhaled an embarrassed laugh. Kim blinked. “It’s my first day.”
His pants were wrinkled, but in a way that looked as though someone had tried their best to iron them. They needed hemming—his cuffs were dragging on the carpet, already dirty from his morning commute. His shirt was oversized too, billowing out from his waist, leather cracked and dry on his cinched belt. A single pen rested in his left breast pocket.
“Oh, sure. You’re...James?” This could not be James. Mr. McGill’s brother has a shitty mullet and carries his lunch in a knotted grocery sack?
He laughed at this. “Jimmy, please. No one calls me James. Not unless it’s 1972 and they’re about to ground me.”
Her brows crowded together and a smile played at the corners of her mouth. “Well, Jimmy, I can—”
Kim was cut off by the harmony of the elevator arriving in the basement. Jimmy glanced over his shoulder as Ron exited the car.
“Jimmy! Hello!” Ron sidled up next to him in the doorway. Clapping his hand onto his shoulder, Ron nodded at Kim and began to steer Jimmy out of the room. “Find the place okay?”
Voices fading down the hallway, Kim stood staring until the shrill beep of the coffee maker rang out through the silence. Steam rolled off the mug as she filled it, sloshing a bit when she ducked into the fridge for some creamer.
———
After three days, Kim had interacted with the infamous Jimmy McGill exactly four times. His first day searching for Ron and again that same evening when he punched his timecard and threw her a chipper, “Have a good night!” He pulled on a worn suede jacket. She waved from her corner of the break room, an amused smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. 
Their third encounter was just as brief. She had approached the back counter in the workroom and wondered aloud, “Where’s the stapler?”
Across the room Jimmy fumbled with something, his elbow colliding with a stack of papers. They fluttered to the floor like giant snowflakes. Then, his hand shot up in the air, stapler held aloft between white knuckles. “Over here! Sorry!”
Kim’s eyebrows rose, a smirk playing on her lips as she moved through the room, her heels clicking across the tile. Barely able to meet her eyes, Jimmy extended his arm offering the stapler, a tattered piece of masking tape across the top with “DO NOT REMOVE FROM WORKSTATION” scrawled across it. Instead of reaching for the stapler, Kim bent down and began gathering the scattered papers off the floor.
She stood and then it was her turn to extend an arm. “Trade you,” she smiled. 
Jimmy’s eyes crinkled as he took the stack of documents in his left hand and released the stapler from his right. Kim strode back to her work, eyes bright and head shaking.
Their fourth encounter began with an empty office. On days where the urgency of document collation and binder making is low, the whole crew tries to take their allotted lunch hour together. Often, they crowd the break room table with their various tupperware containers and vending machine soda cans, swapping stories about which associate never turns in their document requests on time or which partner is sleeping with their secretary.
This particular Friday was different. Jimmy had chosen a whirlwind of a week to begin his position in the mailroom. There had been three disco dumps: one Monday, which was manageable, but a second hit Tuesday morning, and then a third Tuesday afternoon at 4:43 PM precisely. It was all hands on deck, dozens of pots of murky coffee, black as pitch, like the skies that greeted the mailroom staff each evening that week, stars and flickering street lights the only breaks in an inky sky. By Friday mid-morning, they had finally, finally reached the surface of the paper they’d been drowning in, were able to take a deep breath. They were still treading water, it’s true, but near the horizon, dry land was visible and this was enough of a reason for Ron to suggest a field trip to the nearest Mexican joint with a liquor license.
Kim brushed the guys’ invitation off with her standard I really should study.
“All work and no play makes Kim a dull boy.” Prodded Tripp, a UNM undergrad, with a smile full of metal.
“Ah,” she tilted her head, finger marking her place in her textbook, “but all play and no work makes him something worse.” She paused. “Samuel Smiles.”
“I don’t think I’d call going out for one lunch ‘all play,’ but what do I know?”
She musters a gentle smile in his direction. “I really appreciate the offer, guys. I do. I just can’t.”
“Hold down the fort for us, then, will ya, Kim?” Ron tossed over his shoulder as the rest of the crew filed out of the breakroom one by one.
“Sure thing,” she muttered, nose already buried in her textbook, highlighter at the ready.
Time passed in the way it always does when Kim is studying: outside of herself. Time is something that has always moved, it seems, around her, swirling like a tornado while she sits calmly oblivious in its eye. Her ability to block out her surroundings, even her internal experience, and direct her tunnel vision at the law is astounding, inhuman. But, when you spend time in the environments where a small Kim Wexler passed her youth, you get quite good at closing yourself off to get the job done, whatever that job is—studying for an exam on Civil Procedure or sweeping up the shards of a cheap vodka bottle off sticky kitchen tile. She’s always been good at that—neglecting her needs. How could she know any different?
As time flowed around her, Moses parting the Red Sea, something broke her attention away from the study guide she had been marking up. She scanned the dimly lit breakroom. No one had entered, and she didn’t hear anyone in the hall. The elevator sat closed, humming low and steady. Her brows furrowed. Then,
“No no no no no! C’mon, don’t do this to me!”
She placed her pen in the spine of her textbook and pushed back from the formica table as quietly as she could, thankful for the carpet that lined the hallway as her heels tip-tapped to the door. Feet nimble, Kim moved to the mailroom door, held open wide by a ream of legal sized printer paper. She poked her head in. And there was Jimmy, pleading with a copier.
“God fucking…damn it,” he grunted as she stepped fully into room.
“Need some help?” His head whipped around to face her. He was jumpy. She gave him a small smile.
“Uh, yeah. Sure. That’d be great, actually.” Jimmy heaved himself from his crouched position on the floor, knees popping and cracking. He brushed his hands on the front of his khakis.
Kim approached him as one approaches a small, wild animal—slow and wary, footsteps gentle and posture relaxed.
“Y’know, I don’t even know how this happened. It was in the middle of a copy, the first of like 50 and all of a sudden…” He makes a motion with his hands out in front of him, circling each other over and over, mimicking the rotating mechanism inside of the machine. “Kablooey.” He shrugged.
“Mmm.” Kim sidles up next to him, examining the open back of the machine. 
Quiet settled around them like dust on a disused shelf. After listening to the clock’s steady heartbeat for what felt like 1,000 ticks, Jimmy tapped his palm down on the top of the copier, like a mechanic would the hood of a car, breaking the silence. “Well, what do you suppose is wrong with her?”
Eyebrows raised. “Oh, she’s a she?”
“She does her job without complaint, without having to be asked, runs perfectly for hundreds of jobs, really holds the office together but in a very un-flashy way. But the second she needs a little maintenance or makes a mistake, it’s all anyone ever remembers. Sounds like most women I know.” He looks at her through his eyelashes.
Kim smiles. “And what, exactly, has she tried to eat?” She gestures toward the crumpled paper stuck, only just visible, between the rollers.
“It’s the Bachman affidavit.”
She let out a long exhale. “That’s…not good.”
Jimmy gave her a curious look. “What, why?”
“It’s the original?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, the court only issues the original once. If it’s destroyed…Jimmy, that could blow the entire case.”
“It’s just one measly piece of paper!”
Kim widened her eyes, attempting an appropriate amount of gravitas. “Brandon misplaced an affidavit a few weeks ago and they really raked him over the coals for it. Then they ended up losing the case.”
“Who’s Brandon?”
“Exactly.” Her face was grim.
There was a pause and Kim could see the gears beginning to turn in his head. 
“Hold on, hold on. But this isn't even my fault! The machine ate it!” He sputtered. “I didn’t lose it!”
Kim bent down, kneeling on the carpet, praying the friction wouldn’t put a hole in her pantyhose. She glanced back over her shoulder to meet Jimmy’s eyes.
“It’s not like I did it on purpose or—” Kim pulled out one of the rollers, then another.
“Grab a paper towel,” she ordered, tipping her head towards the counter across the room.
Jimmy scrambled, grabbing the entire roll and bouncing back over to her.
“Lay it there.” Kim began placing the rollers in a crisp line, making sure they sat in the same order in which they had been removed.
Jimmy’s eyes followed each swift and calculated movement of her delicate fingers. The turn of one roller here, the removal of another there, a multitool removed from somewhere on her person to loosen a screw deep in the machine. Then, Kim pressed a button hidden on the inside ledge with a triumphant grin. She guided the paper gently through the remaining rollers, teeth glinting in the fluorescent overhead light.
“Et voilà!” Extending her hand, she presented him with a crinkled sheet, ink smeared like a Pollock painting and a tear near the top right corner.
“Oh god.” Jimmy covers his face with both his hands. “How am I gonna explain this to Ron? I can’t...that can’t happen.”
“Well,” a pause. “Maybe Ron never has to know.”
Jimmy slowly spread his fingers, hesitant, eyes peeking out between. “What do you mean by that?”
“Come with me.”
Kim turned on her heel and left the room just as quietly as she entered. Jimmy scuttled after, a few strides behind. She stopped with a knock on a door at the end of the hall, just barely cracked open. The placard hanging on the wall read “DOCUMENTS.”
“Yeah?” A gravelly voice asked. Kim pushed the door open, stepping inside.
“Hello, gentlemen.” She proclaimed, crossing her arms and smiling. Jimmy poked his head over her shoulder.
A young man, cowlick confusing his brown hair despite the stiff gel meant to tame it, raised his eyes, highlighter still in hand. A toothy grin spread across his face. “Kim! Hey!”
A chorus of Hey, Kim-s and How’s it hangin-s rose and fell like the crescendo of a well rehearsed ballad. There were about ten twenty-somethings seated up and down shiny tables that stretched down the center of the room. Shelves of boxes lined the far walls and the lacquered tabletop. Each lawyer with his own box and his own highlighter and his own tie loosened, top two (or three) buttons undone had turned their attention away from marking up papers that had once passed through Kim’s steady hands to the woman herself.
“Who’s got a certified copy of the Bachman affidavit?”
A blonde man with a faint mustard stain just below his starched collar shuffled manila folders and interoffice mailing envelopes before selecting a sturdy piece of cardstock. He raised it above his head, shaking it gently. “Yo.”
“Justin, you’re a doll.” Kim said, crossing the room. 
Jimmy’s brows furrowed just as the door Kim had been propping open with her chunky heel took him by surprise as it moved to close. He threw his arm out to stop it.
“Beers on you Friday?” Justin asked.
Kim indulged him with a smile. “Cute.” She plucked the paper from his fingers and turned to leave.
“We’ll get you out to Louie’s one of these days, Kimmy.” He called after her.
She didn’t look back, striding past Jimmy and the slack-jawed look on his face. When he realized the young men— Just kids, really,  Jimmy thought—were still staring in his direction, he molded his face into a serious mug, gave a stiff salute to the room, and did his best heel-toe march down the hallway. The latching of the door echoed down the dim hallway as Jimmy strode after Kim.
“Hey, wait up!”
She didn’t stop, but instead turned, walking backwards as she faced him, eyes big and blue and innocent. 
“Yes?”
He jogged, slow and serious, until he was close enough to reach out and grab for the paper still clasped gingerly between her fingers. “What’s that?”
She pulled it out of his reach and turned to face forward in one fluid motion. “The Bachman affidavit,” she said, nonchalant.
“How is that the Bachman affidavit when I distinctly remember a certain copier with a disturbing vendetta eating it as a mid-afternoon snack?”
Kim walked through the still propped open mailroom door. “Oh, Jimmy. Do you really think the court hands out original affidavits? To anyone?”
He threw his hands out in front of him, palms facing the ceiling and shoulders reaching for it in a baffled shrug.
“This is a certified copy. As was the one the copier ate."
As understanding dawned, a light sparked behind his eyes. He tried his best for a frown. “Now that’s just mean!”
She shrugged, pressing the large green button on the copier’s keypad. “Some would call it funny.”
The document was sucked into the machine and a low hum filled the room.
“So is Brandon…?”
“Oh, he works in accounting. Nice guy.” She met his eyes over the copier, her lips twitching.
“Cute.” He throws back at her.
“Thank you.” She said, giving an exaggerated bow.
Jimmy’s stern demeanor cracks on a smile, wide and toothy. “So when these ‘certified copies,’” he mimes clumsy air quotes, eyes trained on her face, “get ruined or go missing, you just…what? Charm a new one out of them?” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder, back down the hallway.
A raise of the brows. “Is that what I was doing?”
“You say ‘Jump,’ they say ‘How high, Kimmy?’” He joked, smile bright.
She stiffened. “Mmm.” A pause. Her eyes now trained on the small scuff marring her shoe. “I’d shred the other copy. Ron still doesn’t have to know.” Her lips pressed together, she meets his eyes before turning to leave.
“Yeah, thanks.” 
He seemed to fumble for something to say, she could feel rather than see the moment he gave up his search. Stopping at the door, she turned back. His shoulders were slumped as he balled up the ruined copy between his fists, knuckles white.
“I didn’t realize anyone else was here.” She said, an attempt at apology.
He jumped. Then, turning towards her, “Oh. Yeah, well…gotta keep the wallet in good health, ya know?” He gave her a self-deprecating smile. 
There’s another pause as Kim takes in his answer, the unexpected vulnerability in it warming her cheeks.
“Well, hey, you’re gonna have to teach me how to do that,” he gestures at the humming copier, “for next time.”
A gentle smile. “Sure. Next time.”
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You just have to believe 4
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A/N: In case you missed it, I post 2 chapters today. Because I missed the deadline yesterday. This one focusses on Loki, and you will get to read plenty of him from now on. You can read chapter 3 here.
You just have to believe masterlist
Trouble Loki walked through the streets of New York. He had changed his look, because he didn't want anyone to recognize him right now. He bumped into someone with his shoulder and walked by, he heard the person yell something at him. Maybe walking was the wrong word. The interviewer, that man had really ticked him off. The men kept going back to his personal life, his love life. Why do those things even matter? After a long walk he realized he was a far away from the mansion he was renting. While he started to look around for a cab, he calmed down a bit.
The reporter was right. If he was going to lead his country, be the face of this country, people want to know who he is. All his other candidates had wives, in tight dresses with big hair and, the perfect white teeth they kept showing off by continuously smiling. Sometimes they even had kids, the young ones were always considered ‘adorable’, even if they were the ugliest children, he had ever laid eyes on. And the older ones all were ‘successful’, and everyone neglected the fact that they were just mooching off of their parents. It's easy to be successful in life if you have millions of dollars to fall back on. Loki quickly pushed the thought away, when he realized he kind of had a similar life. Once. Being born as a royal, he had certain advantaged not everyone else were given. He gritted his teeth as he thought about Thor, probably being desperate to repair the Bifrost. The fool didn't know that Loki had destroyed it permanently.
Back to his original thought, he needed a wife. Or at least someone to smile at his arm, pretend to be madly in love with him and that they were leading the perfect life. Where to get a girl Loki started to ponder over the question. While he did, he gave up on finding a cab. He looked closer at his surroundings and realized that he had walked into the ‘bad’ part of town. Stupid phrase, since this isn't even a town. But then again, Midgardians always were too stubborn to change for their own good, according to Loki. There was no way a cab driver would drive here. He groaned in frustration. Teleportation it is. He tried to keep his magic to a limit, not wanting to get caught. But this was going to be an exception. Everything better than taking the metro. He could get behind the invention, but they always were extremely dirty.
But right before he could teleport away, he heard a scream. His ears perked up and excitement shot through him. Someone was in trouble. By the sound of it, big trouble. He did take joy out of the struggles of Midgardians, however so small. But this sounded bigger, and after the night he had, he could do with some cheering up. He walked towards the direction he heard the scream. Wondering how he could locate the situation. He heard another scream. It was from a female in severe pain. Loki started to jog towards the noise, not wanting to miss out on the action. When he turned the corner, he almost sprinted by the alleyway where it was all happening.
‘GIVE ME MY STUFF’ an angry sounding woman screamed. She was with her back against Loki and was holding a knife. The knife was covered in blood. When he took a step aside, he could see a smaller female with her back against the wall. She was doubled over in pain, blood was pouring from her lower abdomen, through her hands towards her pants. Loki saw that she wasn't stabbed fatally, at least if someone attended to the wound. But in about five minutes she would pass out and eventually bleed to death, if you gave her long enough.
‘PLEASE, I didn't know who took your stuff, I don't know anything!’ the woman with her back against the wall sobbed. Pathetic was all Loki thought. Not that she had any chance, but she should get up and fight. It's better than die crying. What did interest him, she wasn't lying. The poor woman had no idea what had happened and definitely didn't take the stuff of the other one. But the other woman was too angry to see. An unfortunate chain of events that would lead to a meaningless death. For a moment Loki wondered if Thor was mourning for him right now, but quickly pushed the thought down.
The woman with the knife moved to strike again. And that would be it. Loki watched as she crept closer to the other woman, who was begging for her life. Loki sneaked closer to watch her more closely. She was quite pretty if he looked through the messy hair and dirt on her face. She obviously hadn't had a stable living situation in some time. There was something about her, he couldn't quite place at the moment. Something innocent? Something kind? No, that wasn't it. Desperation.
The woman lifted the knife over her shoulder, and Loki quickly reacted. He grabbed her wrist and broke it. The woman dropped the knife and screamed in both pain and surprise. With one simple leg sweep the woman lay on the ground, grabbing her broke wrists and crying. Even more pathetic. Loki grabbed the knife that had fallen on the ground. He was tempted to let the woman beneath him suffer for a bit. He looked back and saw the other woman had sat down on the ground, breathing heavily. Struggling to keep her eyes open. Loki cursed. He didn't have much time. In one clean motion, he cut the woman's throat. He threw the knife away and turned his attention to the woman, who by know was laying on the ground.
‘Can you hear me?’ he asked.
He looked in her eyes and saw that she was struggling to keep conscious. With a green glow he stopped the bleeding, he would have to fix the wound by hand. The woman fell unconscious, and even though Loki figured she wouldn't remember, he cast an amnesia spell on her anyway. He watched for a moment how the woman slept peacefully in his arms. She will do nicely he thought. Then he teleported both of them back to his mansion.
General taglist: @benaddictcumberbatch​ @joyful-enchantress​ Story taglist: Let me know if you want to be added!
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uwusillygirl · 1 year
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i truly loved reading your thoughts about this. it would be so fun if maybe you could occasionally post recs of your favorite books/movies/shows and maybe briefly share opinions on them? only if that would be fun for you of course! i'm just saying i, and i'm positive many of your readers/followers, would be delighted to see them!
you are absolutely right regarding NP featuring a parade of horrifying clueless men masquerading as doms where all of marianne's masochistic tendencies seem to get repeatedly exploited without the scenes being "resolved" in any meaningful or helpful way. & instead of an ideal result of her feeling somewhat better and at peace, they leave her the same raw bleeding wound of a girl. and your take on connell needing to prove to himself he's good and good TO marianne when in reality many times he has been anything but... really brilliant. i don't think i've ever thought of it that way, as lost as i was in my harrumphing about what i took as rooney's repeated portrayal of slow vanilla sex being equated to true quasi-soulmate-bond love and affection. though i am first to admit i am a very sensitive girl who will immediately take things to heart if i see myself in a piece of fiction, and sometimes miss the bigger literary analysis picture. i'm so glad i sent an ask! also lol @ paul and daisy definitely sacrificing some canon information to say get behind me BDSM baddies of all types we got y'all. (also idk if you've seen/heard but paul mescal is in a film called "aftersun" that i believe is playing in select theaters right now which from my understanding is a very dreamy and melancholy potentially-hysterical-tear-inducing two hours of him being a young girl dad. i have not seen it yet because i think it might actually break my brain in a very dangerous way that i am not equipped for atm, and i am already pre-mourning my sanity and emotional stability for when i finally bite the bullet)
also as someone who has full on sobbed to your beautiful cathartic words many times over, i am grateful to you for exploring freaky mentally unstable girls who maybe should re-evaluate their relationship to sex but also maybe shouldn't because sometimes it's ok to be insane and slutty if you have a partner to support you through it! if drugs can't fix you maybe having 15 orgasms in a row can! even though i think i am different from your chrissy in many ways, i have never felt so validated by a character and never felt so hopeful and fulfilled seeing her clawing her way to happiness. sometimes it feels like you've taken stuff from the darkest stickiest ugliest parts of my brain and put it on paper and i'm like ok well now i've got to have a three week crisis to deal with this now, except it usually ends in some necessary acceptance and potential healing and always at least a temporary period of bright hope for the future (which is so difficult to come by some days). so thank YOU!
i loved reading what you had to say, as well! thank you so much for sharing (u actually got my brain all crazy and now i'm writing a little something that'll hopefully be up tonight lmao)! i would be SO happy to share recs (including ones tailored to specific interests!) if that's something people would like! anyone can lmk! i watch and read a shit ton for my work, actually, so i'm always so happy to share thoughts. it'll give my loved ones a break from my random excitable rants, too.
going a little out of order here, but i have found that the day i let go of trying to understand, rid of, or narrativize my sexuality, gender expression, and sexual interests and just say "whether it came from some event or is inherent or is a choice, it just is what it is, and that's okay" it paradoxically became way less of an issue for me, and way easier to express what i like and want just for the sake of it. in my opinion, there's only so much exploring we can do before it becomes a sort of ouroboros of "i'm trying to work stuff out for me" turning into "i'm trying to be sexually palatable in a new way".
"get behind me bdsm baddies" is so fucking funny. i have actually seen aftersun and was one of the original hysterical criers over it. i can confirm it is a life ruiner, and yet i'm going in for a rewatch on sunday. best movie of the year in my opinion!
i am so flattered that first one's free has moved you! it's more than okay to be insane and slutty! i don't know you, but can pretty confidently say that your darkest stickiest ugliest parts of your brain are not that bad if my chrissy expresses them - she may think she's a mess but i think she (and anyone who resonates with her) is doing just great and is a good person deserving of good things <3 if i didn't believe that then i'd also be so fucked lmao.
hope the near future brings you those good things! glad to hear you're finding spaces to feel hopeful.
please send an ask whenever, i'm so glad you reached out!
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